《Reincarnated as an Elf Prince》 Chapter 1 1: Prologue The air inside of a training hall was thick with tension, so dense it was nearly suffocating. The sharp clash of swords echoed off the wooden walls, each strike carrying the weight of sheer determination. CLANG. Ragged breaths filled the space, two figures locked in a relentless duel, their movements precise yet desperate. A swift parry¡ªthen a counter. The exchange was brutal. "Come on, Felix! If that''s all you''ve got, you might as well walk out now." ''Damn you old man..I''m not giving up!'' Adrian''s voice was sharp, laced with expectation. Felix''s muscles burned, his lungs screamed for air, but he grit his teeth and pressed on. Every dodge, every counter was an uphill battle against his own exhaustion. He fought like a man possessed. Yet it still wasn''t enough. A feint. A strike. Another point lost. ''Fuck.'' Felix froze. His hands trembled from exertion before he ripped off his protective helmet and hurled it to the ground with a loud clatter. "How many times have I lost already?!" he spat, his voice raw with frustration. But the fire in his tone wavered, his breath heavy as he slumped against the wall. Adrian watched him, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "That was yet another loss, Felix. If you keep this up, you won''t have a place in the tournament¡ªwhether you like it or not." ''He''s right.'' Felix clenched his jaw, refusing to meet Adrian''s gaze. A cool breeze drifted in from the open window beside him, but it did nothing to cool the heat of his frustration. No matter how much effort he poured in, no matter how hard he pushed himself¡ªit still wasn''t enough. He wasn''t the same after his ankle injury. And Adrian knew it, too. "Maybe it''s time to give up, Felix." ''I can''t..'' The words cut deeper than any blade. Adrian''s voice wasn''t cruel. There was no mockery, no scorn¡ªjust an undeniable weight of reality pressing down on him. "I know this isn''t what you want to hear. But you''re not the same anymore. And maybe you never will be." Silence. Felix stared at the floor, his fingers curling into fists. Then, a soft thud. A towel landed on his head. "You know I can''t give up." His voice was quieter now, almost uncertain. His fingers tightened around the towel, absorbing the sweat on his skin. "This sport... it''s all I have left. If I walk away from this too, I''ll have nothing." Adrian let out a slow breath before sitting down beside him. The wind from the window brushed against their necks, a fleeting contrast to the heavy silence between them. Felix looked up. His green eyes still burned¡ªbut dimly now. He ran a hand through his short blond hair, exhaling sharply. "I know I''m not the best anymore. But my father would have wanted me to keep going. I can''t stop¡ªespecially not when I''m this close to the trophy." His voice was soft, but beneath it lay a quiet, unyielding resolve. Adrian met his gaze, his eyes steady. "Felix... you are not your father." Felix flinched. "You don''t have to prove anything to anyone," Adrian continued. "Not to me. Not to your father''s legacy. You''re not him, Felix." His tone was gentle, but the weight behind it was heavier than ever. "You don''t have to follow the path he wanted for you. Your leg won''t hold up. If you keep pushing yourself like this, you''ll only hurt yourself more." Something about the way he said it¡ªregret, maybe. Adrian wasn''t just talking about Felix''s injury. He was mourning all of it. The accident. The struggle. Everything Felix had been through. Even if none of it was Adrian''s fault, he still carried that burden too. "Think about it," Adrian said, rising to his feet. "We''ll talk tomorrow. Go home for today." No more words. No hesitation. Adrian simply walked out of the training hall, leaving Felix alone with his thoughts. ''What a joke.'' For a while, he didn''t move. He just sat there, staring at the floor like a lifeless zombie, lost in frustration. Then, out of pure anger, he slammed his fist into the ground beside him. His knuckles ached from the impact, but there was no blood¡ªjust another reminder of his helplessness. Leaning against the windowsill, he let the cool night air wash over him. It rushed in like a wild river, refreshing yet relentless. ''Tomorrow, I''ll show him.'' The thought burned in his mind as he clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. Slowly, he gathered his things, changed, and left the training hall behind. The streets of Cologne were eerily quiet at this hour. Streetlights flickered, their glow reflecting softly on the pavement. Felix walked at his own pace, his headphones blasting music at a volume that could probably rupture someone''s eardrum. ''This is such a good remix.'' Then¡ª As he crossed a pedestrian lane¡ªsomething he had done a thousand times before¡ªa blinding light flared from his right. His instincts screamed. His head snapped to the side. A massive truck was barreling straight toward him. His breath caught in his throat. His legs locked in place. There was no chance¡ªno way to dodge. The truck''s brakes screeched at the last second, but it was already too late. "NO¡ª!" He never got to finish. Everything went black. He couldn''t move. He couldn''t feel anything. But he knew one thing for certain. He was dead. The darkness stretched endlessly, suffocating and vast. ''So I''m dead..'' He wanted to cry, to beg for another start. But there was nothing. Only the endless suffocating void. ''Is this seriously all there is after death?'' His thoughts echoed through the void like a cannon blast. ''Why can I even think? Is my soul going to wander forever or some shit?'' Again, his voice reverberated through the emptiness. The longer he stayed in this endless abyss, the more fear crept in. Then¡ª A deafening noise. A screeching, overwhelming sound, like someone forcing water into his ears under unbearable pressure. ''Enough please!'' He couldn''t take it anymore. His mind screamed. His body trembled¡ªif he even had one. Then, suddenly¡ªa light. Blinding, searing, all-consuming. Like a flashbang in a video game. It didn''t disappear. Slowly, it softened. ''What''s happening?'' He tried to voice his thoughts, but instead¡ª A sharp, piercing wail escaped him. A baby''s cry. "My lady! A boy! You''ve given birth to a boy!" The voice rang out beside him, but the words barely registered. His mind reeled as he turned his head¡ªif he even had control over it. Several women stood before him, dressed in flowing robes of white and gold. Their hair cascaded down to their knees, shimmering under the moonlight that bathed the grand chamber in an ethereal glow. But what truly shattered whatever fragile grasp he had on reality¡ª Their ears. They were long and pointy. ''What the fuck?!'' Panic surged through him, but before he could even process what was happening, a voice¡ªloud, commanding, triumphant¡ªboomed inside his head. [Congratulations on your reincarnation, Host!] Chapter 2 2: A System? A voice echoed through Lindarion''s mind, sharp and jarring. ''What the hell is this?!'' It wasn''t spoken aloud¡ªit resounded inside his head, making the experience even more unsettling. [This is your system, Host!] The voice boomed as if it were speaking through a loudspeaker, reverberating through the empty spaces of his newborn consciousness. [Adjusting the volume!] Lindarion flinched at the sudden shift. A system? The realization sent a barrage of thoughts racing through his mind. ''Where am I? Did I seriously get reincarnated?'' Countless questions flooded his mind, each competing for dominance. Hesitantly, he directed his thoughts toward the system. [Yes, the reincarnation was successful! However, I believe you should focus on something else right now.] There was something almost amused in the system''s tone, as if it found his confusion entertaining. Before Lindarion could question it further, a strange sensation overtook him¡ªhe was being lifted high into the air. When his vision adjusted, he found himself staring into the face of an otherworldly beauty. Long, silken hair cascaded past her shoulders, shimmering beneath the moonlight. Her soft breath fanned across his forehead as she pulled him close, pressing a gentle kiss against his skin. "You''re so beautiful," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth. Lindarion blinked in confusion. Was this... his mother? [Yes, Host. She is your mother.] The system''s voice confirmed his suspicions, though its presence in his head remained as unsettling as ever. The woman seemed to take something from one of the servants and she drank it without hesitation. ''The hell is that, a potion or something?'' After that she lifted him again, cradling him in her arms with reverence. "Lindarion Sunblade," she declared. "This will be your name from now on, my son. Lindarion, a child born of the stars, a little prince who will become the greatest." Lindarion nearly recoiled at the name. ''Couldn''t she have chosen anything better? Even I could chose a better name than that!'' "Lady Melion, both you and the child need to rest. Even though you''ve drank a high level potion it didn''t fully recover you..yet." an older maid interjected, noticing the newborn''s ceaseless cries. Lindarion barely registered the exchange, his mind latching onto the one piece of crucial information. ''So her name is Melion..'' Even though she wasn''t the woman who had given birth to him in his past life, an inexplicable warmth stirred in his chest. A strange, almost foreign sense of connection. Melion gently placed him in what could only be described as a crib¡ªthough it was nothing like the ones he had known before. The bed was lined with soft leaves and delicate white flowers, their petals faintly glowing beneath the moonlight. The maids and his mother cast lingering gazes at him, admiration clear in their expressions. ''Are they for real?'' Lindarion thought dryly. Melion leaned down, brushing a final kiss against his forehead. "I''ll be back soon, Lindarion." Then, with a graceful sweep of her gown, she left the room, walking carefully as the maids followed closely behind her. For the first time since his rebirth, silence settled around him. And yet... something felt off. A presence lingered in the air¡ªwatching. Observing. Lindarion pushed the unsettling thought aside and focused on something far more pressing. ''System.'' The moment he directed his thoughts toward it, the irritating voice returned. [How may I assist you, Host?] ''Where am I?'' [You are currently on the planet Eryndor. This is where you will live from now on. After you were hit by a truck, your rather pitiful life came to an unfortunate end. To preserve your soul and grant you a new beginning, you were placed in this body.] Lindarion fell silent. He had read enough novels to recognize the situation he was in, but it still felt surreal. ''Eryndor? Tell me more about this place.'' [As I mentioned, this planet is called Eryndor. You have been reincarnated as an elf¡ªone of noble blood, as you may have noticed from the maids'' behavior. However, you must uncover more details on your own. That is a rather trivial task, so I''m sure you''ll manage. Besides, I''m not allowed to tell you everything.] Lindarion''s eye twitched. ''Not allowed? Did you seriously just say that?'' Frustration boiled inside him. His tiny hands flailed in the air as he let out a series of irritated cries. [...] [First of all Host, you should open your status window. Simply thinking about it will be enough.] ''Status window?'' The moment the thought crossed his mind, a bright panel materialized before him, nearly blinding him right after birth. [INFO] [ATTRIBUTES] [????] [TECHNIQUES] [SKILLS] [BLESSINGS] Lindarion stared at the glowing white panel, filled with more question marks than actual information. ''Wow... my stats are seriously low.'' He sighed internally. Given that he had just been born, it wasn''t exactly surprising. Still, the sight of his pathetic stats was nothing short of demoralizing. Just as he continued scanning the screen, a faint creak interrupted the silence. The door was slowly, quietly opening. His gaze flicked toward the entrance, confusion settling in. ''Didn''t they say they were letting me rest?'' A tall figure stepped through the doorway. The dim lighting made it difficult to make out his features at first, but as he moved closer, the moonlight cast sharp relief over his form. Long blonde hair cascaded down his back, nearly reaching his waist. His emerald-green eyes gleamed with an almost piercing intensity as if they could see straight into Lindarion''s soul. Without hesitation, the man reached down and lifted him from the crib. Lindarion squirmed instinctively, his tiny limbs flailing in protest. In hindsight, trying to fight against an unknown elf wasn''t the smartest idea. The man simply laughed¡ªa deep, amused chuckle that sent a shiver down Lindarion''s spine. "You''re just like me, my son." The words caught Lindarion completely off guard. His mind reeled. ''So... this is my father?'' Chapter 3 3: Mana loves me? Lindarion felt something strange about his father, though he couldn''t quite understand why. [I didn''t expect you to notice, Host. But your father is incredibly strong¡ªthat''s why he feels strange to you.] The system''s voice interrupted his thoughts, catching him off guard. The realization was unsettling, yet at the same time, it filled him with an odd sense of security. ''I understand now.'' Knowing his father was such a powerful elf made him feel protected, as if nothing in the world could harm him. "What''s wrong, little one?" His father looked down at him, his expression unreadable. Lindarion couldn''t tell what the man was thinking, so instead of trying to figure it out, he did what any smart baby would do¡ªhe reached out, grasping at his father''s clothes with his tiny fingers. ''What the hell do you want me to do'' His movements were clumsy, his body still uncoordinated, but he tried nonetheless. The fabric felt soft yet strangely durable, almost like a battle-worn suit of armor despite its thinness. A faint smile appeared on his father''s face¡ªbut just as quickly as it came, it vanished. Lindarion hadn''t expected that. Yet, for some reason, the brief, fleeting smile made warmth stir in his chest. "Look here, Lindarion." His father''s deep voice resonated through the room, powerful despite its gentleness. Then, without warning, he stretched out his hand. Golden, star-like particles began to gather in his palm, as if he were summoning the very stars themselves. The radiant light illuminated the entire room, and for a moment, it felt as though a miniature galaxy had appeared before Lindarion''s eyes. The tiny lights moved with purpose, flowing as if responding to an unseen command. Then, they began to take shape. A deer. The golden light wove itself into a delicate, shimmering form¡ªsmall enough to fit in the palm of his father''s hand. It looked almost alive, every movement fluid and graceful. [Mana Manipulation.] The system''s voice barely registered in Lindarion''s mind as he instinctively reached for the tiny creature. The moment he did, a childish giggle escaped him. ''Woah..this is amazing..'' His wide eyes sparkled with fascination as the golden deer hopped from his father''s hand into his own. A soothing warmth spread through his tiny fingers, seeping into his very being¡ªlike an invisible embrace, wrapping him in comfort. Then, the deer began to dissolve. The golden particles shimmered, sinking into Lindarion''s skin before vanishing entirely. His father''s body tensed. The color drained from his face as if he had seen a ghost. His voice, when he finally spoke, wavered with disbelief, yet carried a distinct note of pride. ''This is... unbelievable...'' Lindarion frowned. What was so strange? The particles had simply entered him. He hadn''t even done anything. [Host. The mana entered your body entirely on its own¡ªwithout your will or influence. This only happens to those who are loved by mana.] ''Loved? And what''s so unusual about that?'' [...] ''System?'' Silence. Lindarion''s father remained frozen, staring at him as if trying to process what had just happened. Then, without another word, he placed Lindarion back in the crib and disappeared from the room. Just like that. As if he had never been there at all. A powerful gust of wind swept through the chamber, shifting the cradle slightly. The air brushed against Lindarion''s skin, carrying a familiar sensation¡ªthe feeling of standing in an open field, where the world stretched endlessly in all directions. ''Is that teleportation, System?'' [No, Host. He simply used his speed to move.] Lindarion fell silent. His speed? But he vanished while standing completely still. That doesn''t make any sense. Just how powerful is he? Before he could dwell on the thought, a sharp sound rang in his mind. A gentle hum resonated as ethereal white letters materialized before his eyes. The notification pulsed with an otherworldly glow, filling the air with a serene warmth. [DING!] [Hidden Quest Completed!] Quest: Be Loved By Mana - Completed! Difficulty: ???? Rewards: Blessing of Mana [ERROR! ERROR!] [Host is currently unable to receive the reward. Storing reward...] ''What¡ª'' Before Lindarion could even finish his thought, something shifted inside him. He couldn''t describe it¡ªlike having a word on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach. [Reward successfully stored!] He had no time to process what had happened before his mother and father suddenly reappeared in the room. They hadn''t used the door. One moment, they were absent. The next, they were simply there, like ghosts emerging from the void. "Melion, my love, you have to believe me. I''m not crazy. The mana entered his body on its own." His mother''s voice was firm, yet tinged with disbelief. Lindarion frowned. ''I''m starting to get the feeling this is something extraordinary... especially since even you rewarded me for it, System. Am I right?'' [...] ''Your silence says enough.'' He let out a small, amused laugh. Catching the system off guard felt oddly satisfying. "Eldrin, that''s impossible. He was only just born," Melion said with a sigh, resting a hand on his father''s shoulder. "Believe me. I''ll show you." Eldrin''s voice was calm yet resolute as he stepped forward. The moment his father conjured another deer, Lindarion''s attention was once again captivated. ''Still just as mesmerizing... this place is truly unbelievable.'' Without thinking, he reached out¡ªthough his clumsy infant limbs barely moved the way he intended. ''I''m not used to this body... It''s going to take a lot of time and effort.'' The deer leaped toward him, dissolving into golden particles as it touched his hand. The familiar warmth spread through him once more, wrapping him in a comforting glow. ''It''s almost like alcohol... This feeling is kind of addictive.'' Then, his mother''s reaction mirrored his father''s. Melion went pale as a sheet, nearly stumbling backward. Both of them simply stared at Lindarion as he giggled in his crib, unable to contain his amusement. Seconds passed. Then minutes. Neither of them moved. Slowly, his laughter faded as he glanced between them. ''How long are they going to keep staring at me...?'' Chapter 4 4: Locked in After a few more moments, Lindarion''s parents finally stopped staring at him. They exchanged glances before disappearing from the room again, vanishing like ghosts. At this point, he wasn''t even surprised by their speed anymore. The golden particles of mana still swirled within him, like a gentle wildfire contained within his body, refusing to leave. ''It''s like it found a home in me... like it wants to stay.'' [That''s because it loves you, Host.] ''Tell me more about this whole Loved by Mana thing.'' Instantly, a flood of information poured into his mind, the system''s voice ringing out like an instructor delivering a long-overdue lesson. [Mana is the fundamental energy of our universe, permeating all things¡ªboth living and non-living. It can be used for spellcasting, enhancement, manipulation, and countless other applications.] [However, there are rare individuals whom mana chooses to love. These people have an extraordinary connection to it, allowing them to instinctively use and control mana without the usual years of study.] [In addition, while others must train tirelessly, those loved by mana manipulate it as naturally as breathing. They can move up levels faster than others.] [The ambient mana in the environment protects them, enhances their abilities, and even subtly guides their actions.] Lindarion processed the information slowly, realization dawning on him. ''I''m starting to see why my parents freaked out... but why didn''t you tell me this sooner?!'' [Because you should figure things out on your own Host.] ''You just enjoyed watching me feel awkward, didn''t you?'' [A little bit. However Host can''t expect everything to be handed to him.] ''Way too shameless..but you are right I guess.'' One month passed in the blink of an eye, as fast as a bird soaring endlessly through the ocean-blue sky. Ever since his parents discovered that mana loved him, Lindarion''s life had changed drastically. Servants were no longer allowed inside his room. No nannies, no maids, not even a handmaid to take care of him. Only his parents were permitted to be near him. At first, he hadn''t cared. But after a month of seeing the same two faces every day, it started getting boring as hell. ''Do they seriously have nothing better to do than babysit me 24/7?'' At the moment, his mother was rocking him in her arms, humming softly as she tried to lull him to sleep. Her voice was ethereal, resonating throughout the room like a divine melody. It was mesmerizing¡ªalmost unfairly beautiful. But no matter how soothing it was, he wasn''t tired. Instead, he was restless. The system had given him zero opportunities since he got here. No guidance, no development¡ªnothing. He was stuck growing naturally, and he hated the feeling of wasting time. ''At this rate, I''ll die of boredom before I even get to step outside...'' Lindarion had turned one a month ago. Time moved frighteningly fast in his new life. A whole year had passed since his arrival, yet he had spent it locked inside his room, a prisoner in his own home. But he understood why. The system had explained everything while he was locked away...and he was a baby to be honest. It was obvious he wouldn''t be fighting just yet.. According to the sytem, individuals Loved by Mana only appeared once every 100 to 200 years. If word got out that he was one of them, he would become nothing more than a walking target. He had already learned to walk, yet he wasn''t able to walk anywhere at all. Just small circles in his room. At first, he had struggled, but mana¡ªbeing the clingy entity it was¡ªhad made the process absurdly easy. Every time he fell, it gently corrected his balance, like an invisible hand guiding his movements. Of course, when his parents first saw him stand and walk without support, they paled like ghosts again. At this point, he was half-expecting them to faint. ''It''s like I''m giving them a heart attack every month...'' He sighed, walking up to his bed before collapsing onto it face-first. ''It must be nice to have a normal childhood here as well...'' Not that he would know. Two years passed in a blur. By the time Lindarion turned three, he had tried to fully adjust to this world¡ªor at least, the tiny fraction of it he was allowed to see. He had learned to speak... well, more or less. He could form simple sentences with varying degrees of success, but expressing his full thoughts was still impossible. Not that it was surprising. ''Three whole years... and I still haven''t stepped outside the house.'' Yesterday, he had managed to convince his mother with his ultimate secret weapon¡ªcrying. After three years of confinement, he finally won the right to explore the mansion freely. It wasn''t much, but after spending three years in one room, it felt like breaking out of prison. Sitting up in bed, Lindarion stretched his arms with determination. ''Alright... time to make the most of my new freedom.'' He reached out and placed his hands on the door. Strangely, it was warm to the touch. Golden and white markings adorned its surface, intricate and almost pulsating with life. ''Finally.'' Summoning every bit of stored strength in his small body, he pushed against it. The door groaned softly as it slowly but surely swung open, revealing what lay beyond. A long corridor stretched out before him¡ªornate, vast, and alive with movement. Servants bustled about like tireless ants, tending to every corner with practiced precision. The floor was covered in a deep crimson carpet woven with golden threads that shimmered under the soft glow of enchanted crystal lamps. The walls, carved from pristine white stone, bore intricate elven patterns¡ªeach swirl and symbol crafted with the delicate mastery of an artist who had dedicated centuries to his work. The moment the door fully opened, an unnatural silence fell over the corridor. Every servant stopped in place and turned to face him. Lindarion stiffened. For a brief second, he wanted to retreat, to slip back into his room before anyone could say a word. But no¡ªhe had come this far. ''I have to keep going.'' Steeling himself, he stepped forward, walking down the grand hallway with as much composure as his small legs could muster. The whispering started immediately. "The young prince... He finally left his room." "Why was he locked away for so long?" He ignored the murmurs, though a part of him itched to hear more. But just as he passed by a group of maids, something unexpected happened¡ªsomething that nearly made him stumble backward in surprise. They placed their right hands over their hearts and bowed. Not a small nod of courtesy. A full, formal bow. As if he were their king. Lindarion''s mind blanked. Heat crept to his cheeks as his thoughts scrambled for an appropriate reaction. In perfect unison, their voices rang out, filled with nothing but reverence. "We greet the young prince with respect!" It was too practiced, too smooth¡ªit was clear they had rehearsed this moment long before it ever came to pass. And yet, despite the rehearsed words, there was something genuine in their tone. Respect. Sincerity. It was... comforting, in a way. ''But what am I supposed to do now...?'' Chapter 5 5: First Quest! Lindarion swallowed and lifted his chin slightly, doing his best to appear composed¡ªdespite the faint redness creeping onto his cheeks. "...You may rise." His voice came out softer than intended, yet it carried enough authority to be heard. The maids straightened immediately, their gazes carefully lowered, their postures stiff with discipline. ''Alright... that worked.'' Taking a steady breath, he continued down the long hallway, though he could still feel the weight of their lingering gazes. He didn''t belong in that room anymore. ''I''ve been locked inside for far too long...'' [They had their reasons, Host.] ''I know, System, but still... it''s been too long.'' Eventually, Lindarion reached a vast, open hall. The walls were adorned with countless paintings, each so intricately detailed that their artists had likely dedicated their entire lives to them. Overwhelming in complexity¡ªyet undeniably beautiful. At the center of the hall stood a long white wooden table, its edges lined with gold, stretching so far across the room that it seemed endless. At the far end sat his father, as was fitting for the head of the family. Lindarion approached with a composed expression, doing his best to maintain his dignity. "Father, I am glad to see you." He spoke with a slight bow of his head, his voice as steady as he could manage. "Sit, my son." His father''s voice was far stronger than his¡ªcommanding, regal. Every word carried the weight of authority and years of experience. Slowly, Lindarion pulled out a chair, climbing onto it with as much grace as he could muster. Even then, his height barely allowed him to see over the table''s surface, but there was little he could do about that. His father remained focused on a stack of documents, his gaze sharp and unwavering. Yet, even when he wasn''t looking directly at Lindarion, the prince could feel his presence¡ªsubtle, yet impossible to ignore. For a while, silence filled the hall. His father studied his papers. Lindarion studied him. Then, from the corner of his eye, something caught his attention. A thin golden thread... floating in the air. His father remained absorbed in his work, giving Lindarion the opportunity to move. Slowly, he climbed down from his chair and began walking toward it. "Where are you going, my son?" His father''s deep voice echoed through the hall, filled with power. "I am just going to look around, Father." His answer was soft, yet it carried across the vast space. Even so, his feet refused to move until his father responded, as if an invisible weight had rooted him in place. "Be careful." A small nod signaled his approval. Lindarion bowed slightly and continued forward. As he followed the golden thread, the System''s voice rang in his mind, urging him onward. [Host, follow it.] ''Follow it...?'' The closer he got, the clearer it became that the System was referring to something significant. His eyes widened in both surprise and excitement. The golden thread wasn''t just floating randomly¡ªit was leading him somewhere. Following the System''s advice, Lindarion pursued its path, weaving through the palace halls like a character in a dream. Countless maids bowed as he passed, but he didn''t stop. He had a goal now. Finally, he arrived at a grand open doorway leading into a breathtaking garden. The air was thick with the scent of flowers. Ancient trees stretched high into the sky, their canopies casting dappled shadows below. At the garden''s center stood a magnificent fountain, its stonework adorned with elven runes, as if sculpted by the hands of a master craftsman over decades. ''Should I go outside...?'' He hesitated at the threshold. His mother had told him not to leave the palace, but... the garden was still part of the palace grounds, wasn''t it? Looking down, he saw the golden thread extend further, leading him deeper into the garden. [Quest Created!] ''A quest?'' For the first time in so long, the System had given him a task. A bright, glowing panel appeared before his eyes. ¡ª[Quest Window]¡ª Objective: Follow the golden threads to the deepest part of the garden. Reward: +2 Intelligence, +1 Strength, +2 Wisdom, ???, ??? Failure Penalty: None. Status: Pending. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª He accepted the quest. [Quest Initiated! Good luck, Host!] Taking a slow, steady breath, Lindarion stepped through the doorway. The moment he did, a fresh breeze caressed his face, crisp and invigorating¡ªlike a salty sea wind despite the dense forest surrounding the palace. His steps quickened. The golden threads led him deeper into the garden, and he followed them like a man possessed. ''How far will these threads take me...?'' Just as he passed a thick hedge, his eyes landed on something unexpected¡ªa massive circular stone platform surrounded by towering trees and vibrant flowers. But that wasn''t what made him freeze, his breath catching in his throat. ''Who in the world is this?!'' At the center of the platform sat an elven woman, her legs crossed, her eyes shut in deep concentration. ''Is she meditating...?'' Her long, silken hair spilled over the ground, rising slightly with each slow breath she took. Her beauty was beyond anything he had ever seen¡ªethereal, almost unreal. Her skin glowed under the dappled sunlight, yet she wore nothing but a simple white robe. No gold, no elaborate designs¡ªjust simplicity. But what truly left him speechless were the thousands of golden threads floating around her, flickering like stars in broad daylight, dancing just above the ground. His heart pounded in his chest. A warmth spread through his body at the sight of those glowing strands. "Welcome, Prince." ''So she''s going to call me just Prince as well...'' The woman''s voice rang through the air¡ªpowerful yet elegant, carrying a weight that sent a shiver down his spine. But what startled him most was that her lips hadn''t moved. Instead, her luminous blue eyes slowly opened¡ªvast and endless, like an ocean with no shore in sight. Suddenly, the golden threads wrapped around his body, vibrating softly as if they were... celebrating. ''Are they happy to see me?'' The woman''s lips curled into a gentle smile, her beauty so divine it felt otherworldly. "Yes, Prince. They are." ''?!'' Shock pulsed through him. His mind reeled. His body tensed¡ªnot out of fear, but from a strange, excited anticipation. His legs felt rooted to the spot, the realization hitting him like a bolt of lightning. "You... you can read my thoughts?" His voice came out slightly unsteady¡ªnot because he was afraid, but because he was in complete awe. The woman tilted her head slightly, amused, her smile deepening. "Yes, Prince. Now, sit." She extended her hand gracefully, motioning to the space before her. ''This still seems sketchy, but I don''t have another choice.'' With slight hesitation, his legs moved on their own, carrying him toward her far faster than expected. Lowering himself onto the ground, he sat directly in front of her. The golden threads still swirled around him, their energy buzzing in the air. Then¡ª A blinding white panel suddenly appeared before him, so close he nearly flinched. [Quest Completed!] Quest: Golden Threads> ¡ª Completed! Rewards: +2 Intelligence +1 Strength +2 Wisdom ??? ¡ú New Ability Unlocked: Mana Sense! ??? ¡ú New Ability Unlocked: Mana Thread Manipulation! Bonus Reward: First Quest Completed! (+5 Free Stat Points) [Congratulations, Host, on completing your first quest!] Lindarion stared at the glowing panel in disbelief. The rewards were incredible¡ªfar beyond what he had expected. For the first time in his new life, he had finally taken a step forward. Chapter 6 6: Meditation His eyes gleamed mischievously, as if the sun itself shone within them from sheer joy. Suddenly, he snapped out of his thoughts¡ªsomeone was still sitting in front of him. Someone who could read his mind. The woman simply smiled, her deep blue eyes shimmering like the endless ocean as she gazed at him. "Prince, close your eyes." It wasn''t a command, nor did she attempt to compel him. Yet, without hesitation, he closed them. ''What is she trying to do...?'' "Don''t waste time overthinking, Prince." Her voice was calm. He heard the rustling of fabric as she rose from the ground and began walking. He couldn''t tell where she was going or how far she had moved from him. Then, all of a sudden, he felt her footsteps approaching from behind¡ªfollowed by the cold press of her palm against his back. ''What is this...?'' "Focus, Prince." ... He concentrated deeply, attuning himself to the sounds and sensations of his surroundings. ''Just how talented is he?'' The woman marveled at his natural aptitude, though her expression remained serene. He felt it. Every little noise became more vivid¡ªthe enchanting melodies of birdsong, the soft yet mystical whispers of the wind through the trees, the distant murmur of flowing water, and even the gentle rhythm of the woman''s breathing. It was divine¡ªso mesmerizing that time itself seemed to slip away. He had no idea how long he had been meditating. Then, a sharp, piercing chirp shattered his concentration, jolting him back to reality. [Intelligence +0.5] His eyes snapped open as a notification appeared before him. ''How much time has passed...?'' "Three hours, Prince." The woman''s voice was steady as she withdrew her hand from his back and rose to her feet. "It''s time for you to return." Her words carried a gentle finality, filling the entire space without flaw. "Understood." He quickly stood. ''Mother is going to kill me...'' His hand instinctively went to his head as he braced for the inevitable consequences. The woman chuckled softly¡ªshe had read his thoughts again. "I''ll take care of it, Prince. But for now, hurry along. We''ll meet again." Before he could respond, she turned and walked deeper into the vast garden, vanishing among the towering trees. ''Just how big is this garden, anyway...?'' Shaking off the thought, he sprinted back toward the palace as fast as his small legs would carry him. His parents were going to kill him for this. He could almost cry just thinking about the consequences. Even though she had promised to handle it, he didn''t even know who she was. He reached the palace entrance faster than expected, dashing through the same door he had snuck out from. Gasping for breath, he had to stop for a moment. He felt like an old man struggling to walk. ''That wasn''t a bad run, though. Pretty impressive for my little legs.'' Once he regained his composure, he made his way toward his room. He didn''t run into his mother or father, only a few maids who bowed upon seeing him. He awkwardly nodded back, still unused to the etiquette. ''I''ll have to get used to this...'' The moment he stepped into his room, he collapsed onto his bed, which practically swallowed him whole. ''Status window, show me my attributes.'' ¡ª[INFO]¡ª ¡ª[ATTRIBUTES]¡ª ''Not bad... I''ll save these points for later. Who knows when I''ll need them.'' [A wise decision, Host.] The system chimed in, almost as if it were proud of him. ''Then I should get a wisdom point, right?'' He asked cheekily. [...] The system remained silent. Lindarion chuckled at its reaction before slowly closing his eyes, exhausted from the day''s events. ¡ª¡ª Eldrin "The Prince can already meditate properly." A blue-eyed woman stepped into his study, delivering the report. "So soon, Seraphine?" His voice wavered slightly, his body heating with excitement. "Yes, my Lord. But there is no need to rush. If he continues at his own pace, he will successfully form his Mana Core by the age of seven or eight." Seraphine''s tone was cheerful, yet her face remained cold and emotionless. Still, her words sent a chill down his spine¡ªone filled with both pride and the weight of the future. "Continue observing him. Report any developments." He ordered. Seraphine bowed before vanishing into the shadows as if she had never been there. ''So you''re this talented, Lindarion... As expected of my son.'' A rare smile crept onto Eldrin''s lips as pride swelled within him. ¡ª¡ª Lindarion Two years passed in the blink of an eye. He spent a lot of time with his mother during these years. His father, however, was always buried in paperwork, making it nearly impossible to see him. He had grown used to the maids and could now freely explore the palace gardens¡ªthough his mother never realized he had already been sneaking out before. It was better that way. Yet, most of his time was spent meditating, as it required little physical effort with the aid of mana. Now, he was at a peak¡ªhe could feel it. Something within him was on the verge of change. Mana and the system guided him toward the realization of what it was. My Mana Core is almost complete. He tried peering into himself through meditation, hoping to witness the core''s formation. But no matter what he did, he couldn''t see it. ''What''s missing...?'' He racked his brain, searching every corner of his mind. Then it hit him. He finally understood. Jumping to his feet, he sprinted out of the palace. The maids must have thought he had lost his mind, but none of them stopped him. ''System, tell me the basic tiers of Mana Cores again!'' [Mana Cores are divided into 16 levels. Due to your current weakness, Host, I can only reveal the beginner stages: ¡ª Faint Core ¡ª Lesser Core ¡ª Stable Core Each core type is further divided into four sub-ranks: Low, Mid, High, and Peak. This is all I can disclose for now, Host.] He slowed slightly, taking deep breaths as he processed the information. Then, with renewed determination, he resumed running, his still-small legs pushing forward. It didn''t take long before he reached the garden¡ªthe place he had become so familiar with over the years. Yet, he had never once stepped into the stone circle again after meeting the woman. He had always been afraid someone¡ªespecially his mother¡ªwould find out. ¡ª[Quest Window]¡ª ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª ''Let''s do this... I accept the quest!'' [Quest initiated! Good luck, Host!] He stepped into the center of the stone ring, steadied his thoughts, took a seat on the ground cross-legged, and began to meditate. Chapter 7 7: Mana Core Lindarion began to perceive everything around him on a microscopic level. The tiny, restless movements of insects scurrying across the ground. The soft chirping of birds. The whispering melody of the wind threaded through the trees. It was a phenomenal sensation. Then, his blood ignited. It surged through his veins like molten lava, bubbling violently inside him. He bit down on his lip, stifling a scream, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. ''I have to... I can''t give up.'' He pushed forward, piecing the core together in his mind like a puzzle¡ªexcept the stakes were his very life. The pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced. His head spun wildly, thoughts crashing into his mind like an unrelenting storm as he desperately tried to fit the fragments together. Blood trickled from his ears. His nails dug deep into his palms. He stood at the precipice of his mental breaking point, convinced this was it. But even then¡ªhe refused to yield. [Warning: Host''s life signs are weakening!] Mana crackled violently as the core inside him took shape. Then, golden strands of ethereal energy appeared around him, drawn to his struggle as if coming to his aid. He shut his eyes, unable to see them, but he could feel them. They wrapped around him, weaving a cocoon of warmth, gradually easing the searing pain in his body. The golden strands seeped into him, accelerating the formation of his Mana Core like a bolt of lightning, surrounding him in an ethereal glow. ''I''m close...'' The core began absorbing the golden threads¡ªno, devouring them like a starving beast, pulling in the surrounding mana as well. And then, all at once¡ªsomething clicked. Everything locked into place. His eyes snapped open, and the world looked utterly transformed. Tens of thousands of mana threads stretched around him, intertwining through the air like living currents. ''I did it... Unbelievable! I actually did it!'' He wanted to jump up, to shout in triumph¡ªbut his body refused to move. Exhaustion crashed down on him like a collapsing mountain, paralyzing him where he lay. He had no idea how much time passed before the bleeding stopped, the pain faded, and the mana particles that once surrounded him slowly sank into his body. Gingerly, he stretched out his limbs. He felt... lighter. Weightless, as if he were a feather caught in the wind. [Quest Completed!] Quest: The Beginning of Power - Completed! Rewards: +3 Intelligence +5 Mana +3 Wisdom ??? ¡ú New Skill: Pure Mana Shield! ??? ¡ú New Skill: Mana Shot! ??? ¡ú New Skill: Accelerated Regeneration! Bonus Reward: Mana Core Formation!(+10 Free Stat Points) [Congratulations, Host! You have successfully completed the quest and formed your Mana Core!] "Finally." He exhaled deeply. ''Now, show me my status window.'' ¡ª[INFO]¡ª ¡ª[ATTRIBUTES]¡ª ¡ª[TECHNIQUES]¡ª Mana Thread Manipulation (New!) Mana Sense (New!) ¡ª[SKILLS]¡ª Accelerated Regeneration (New!) Mana Shot (New!) Pure Mana Shield (New!) ¡ª[BLESSINGS]¡ª Blessed by Mana ''Not bad... I''m finally getting stronger.'' He scanned through his stats, unable to hold back a chuckle at his newfound power. ''The blessing finally showed up. So, it must be a passive ability.'' [Correct, Host!] ''Yeah, I figured that out on my own.'' [...] The system seemed mildly offended by his response. Lindarion couldn''t help but laugh a little. "All that meditation finally paid off." He tilted his head back, gazing up at the clear blue sky. Flocks of birds chirped as they soared above the garden, unbothered by anything below. Slowly, he pushed himself off the ground, gathering his strength. "Time to test my new power!" He looked around for the perfect target¡ª A tree! Standing perfectly still, just waiting to be struck. He got into position, clenched his fist, and pulled his arm back. His stance was flawless. "Let''s see what I can do!" He threw a punch at the tree... and¡ª Absolutely nothing happened. Except for him screaming in pain. "Ahhh! That was a terrible idea!" [...] He gritted his teeth, staring at his fist as blood slowly trickled from his bruised knuckles. "Yeah... Fantastic idea, Lindarion..." "Accelerated Regeneration!" He shouted like a complete fool, only to watch the small wounds on his knuckles close up almost instantly. [Host, you only need to think about the skill... You don''t have to yell it out loud.] The system sounded like it was holding back laughter. And honestly... he felt pretty damn embarrassed. ''You could have told me that earlier...'' [But then it wouldn''t have been as fun.] ''You always say that. It''s getting old, System.'' With an exasperated sigh, he dusted himself off and made his way back toward the palace. ¡ª¡ª Seraphine Seraphine had been following the prince ever since he left the palace and entered the garden. ''Where is he rushing off to?'' Moving from shadow to shadow like a phantom, she concealed her presence with mana, ensuring she remained undetected. Then, he suddenly stopped. Right at the stone circle. He sat down and... started meditating? ''What is he¡ª'' The next thing she saw nearly drained the color from her face. Her pupils dilated, and her blood boiled with excitement. ''A Mana Core! The prince is forming his Mana Core!'' She gritted her teeth and prayed he would succeed. If anything went wrong, he could suffer severe consequences¡ªshe had to be ready to step in at any moment. She could feel it happening. His core was slowly taking shape... and then¡ªout of nowhere¡ªit accelerated. And just like that, it was complete. ''Unbelievable... this little monster.'' She watched as he gathered his thoughts¡ªthoughts she honestly didn''t want to know at this point. ''Wait... what is he doing now?'' He walked up to a tree, took a perfect stance... and threw a punch. "..." To absolutely no one''s surprise, nothing happened. Seraphine had to physically stop herself from laughing as she watched him heal his bruised knuckles. ''Interesting. I need to report this to my lord.'' Silently, she melted back into the shadows, slipping away unseen as she made her way toward her master''s office. Chapter 8 8: Elven Council Eldrin Eldrin sensed Seraphine''s presence lingering in his shadow as he sipped his Sunleaf Tea in his office. "What is it?" he asked, taking another sip, barely acknowledging the heat. Seraphine stepped forward from the shadows, bowing beside him with her right hand over her heart. "My lord, the prince has successfully formed his Mana Core." The shock was immediate. The tea trembled in Eldrin''s grip as a wide grin of pride spread across his face. But just as quickly as it appeared, the smile faded. He let out a deep sigh, one that Seraphine instantly picked up on. ''This will have consequences.'' "I need to inform the Elders'' Council." Seraphine''s body tensed at the mention of the council. "My lord... are you sure about¡ª" A snap of Eldrin''s fingers cut her off. A parchment materialized onto his desk, and with swift strokes, he detailed the report of Lindarion''s Mana Core formation. Without hesitation, he handed it to Seraphine. "Take this to the council. That is an order." For a moment, she remained silent, her cold gaze betraying her unease. But she bowed without protest, then melted back into the shadows, vanishing from the room. A melancholic sigh left Eldrin''s lips as he leaned back in his chair. ¡ª¡ª Lindarion Lindarion had been resting in his room when the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. His hearing had sharpened¡ªheightened by his newly formed Mana Core. A maid entered, looking slightly nervous. As usual, she bowed before speaking. "Prince Lindarion, the king requests your presence in his office." She stood still, waiting for his response. ''Father? What does he want now?'' [He might know about the Mana Core. He could have sensed it.] ''That''s possible, but would he summon me just for that? It''s a normal thing to¡ªright?'' [It shouldn''t be a problem.] "You may go." His voice came out firmer than intended, a tone he had unconsciously adopted when addressing the palace servants. The maid flinched slightly before hastily bowing and rushing out of the room. ''Guess I''ll find out soon enough.'' Changing into more appropriate attire, Lindarion made his way toward his father''s office. The palace was eerily quiet. His footsteps echoed as he walked, and the usual presence of servants was noticeably absent. Something felt off. Before long, he arrived at the grand doors of his father''s office. The moment he reached them, his mana sensitivity flared to life, sending a chill down his spine. ''The air feels... intense.'' He gathered his thoughts and knocked. The doors swung open on their own. ''That was unexpected.'' Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside. Eldrin sat in his royal chair, waiting. "Sit down, son." His voice carried an undeniable weight, filling the room effortlessly. Lindarion obeyed without question. "So, your Mana Core is complete." His father''s gaze locked onto his, emerald eyes gleaming like a forest filled with stars. "Yes... I''m sorry for¡ª" "You do realize this will have consequences, don''t you?" The coldness in his father''s voice sent a shiver down Lindarion''s spine. He had never heard him speak like that before. ''Consequences? What does he mean?'' "What do you mean, Father?" "The Council has been informed." There was a strange sadness in Eldrin''s tone, though his expression remained unreadable. ''The Elven Council... but why?'' Lindarion had only heard about the Council once before. They handled territorial disputes, political matters, and expansion strategies. Even though his father was the king, the Council wielded significant political power. "Why?" His voice was quieter than he intended, uncertainty creeping in. His father sighed, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "Because you are special. The first elf since our very first ancestor to form a Mana Core at such a young age. He did it at six years old." He paused, then looked Lindarion straight in the eye. "And you did it at five." The weight of those words settled over Lindarion like a storm cloud. ''I thought this wasn''t a big deal...'' [It shouldn''t be a big deal. They''re just making it one because you''re talented.] ''I know... but why does that matter?'' "So, what happens now?" A knot formed in Lindarion''s stomach. He had no desire to be tangled in Council affairs at such an early age. "Even I don''t fully know. The decision will be theirs¡ªand yours." Eldrin''s honesty unsettled him. "Mine?" "They''ll be watching you. To see whether you walk the right path... or the wrong one." His father''s helpless expression spoke volumes. He didn''t want this either. "I see..." Lindarion exhaled a slow breath, the weight of the situation sinking in. "When you''ve gathered your thoughts, you may go, son. But know this¡ªI will do everything to protect you." The sincerity in his father''s voice provided a small comfort. Lindarion didn''t want to die again¡ªhe had barely lived a few years in this world. "Thank you." With a slight bow, he left the office. His mind remained clouded as he made his way back to his room. But when he opened the door, an unexpected sight greeted him. His mother sat on his bed, humming his favorite song. "Lindarion, I have news for you." Please don''t let it be worse than the last one. He sighed before speaking. "Yes, Mother?" "King Leon of the Human Kingdom has invited us to his daughter''s ball. I hope you''ll come with me." Melion''s bright, excited smile reminded him of a child awaiting a gift. ''...Actually, this might be worse.'' "Do I really need to-" Before he could finish his sentence Melion cut in with an otherworldly smile in a tone that seemed polite. Seemed. "You really want your mom to go alone?" Lindarion forced a small smile that seemed to twitch. "Of course not, Mother. I''ll go with you.." She clapped her hands in delight before pulling him into a hug. ''She doesn''t know about the Council situation at all, does she?'' Melion released him after a few seconds, her smile stretching wide. "The ball will be held next year, and it will be just the two of us attending. We''ll be representing the Sunblade name and the Elven Kingdom as well, so you''ll need to behave properly, alright?" She cupped his cheeks, squishing them like he was still a baby. ''So... Eldrin isn''t coming.'' "Of course, Mother. Everything will be just fine." His voice was confident¡ªafter all, he was human at heart. "But until then, you''ll need to learn how to dance!" She practically flew out of the room before he could react. His forced smile cracked. His lips trembled. His fists clenched. ''...This is far worse than the Council.'' Lindarion collapsed onto his bed, covering his face with his hands. ¡ª¡ª[Quest Window]¡ª¡ª ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª ''Maybe they''ll reschedule it...'' Even in his own mind, his voice sounded pathetic. Because deep down¡ªhe knew there was no escaping this. Chapter 9 9: Outside A few months later, Lindarion found himself facing an unexpected challenge¡ªlearning how to dance. He didn''t know whether to laugh or cry from the sheer frustration. ''This can''t be real...'' That thought crossed his mind as he tripped over his own feet for what felt like the hundredth time. His dance instructor, an elven woman named Sylvie, looked young¡ªat least by elven standards. He couldn''t quite tell her actual age, but she was probably somewhere around fifty or sixty. Lindarion barely had time to finish the thought before he stumbled again. "Prince, you''re not moving your feet correctly! I''ll show you again!" Of course, she moved flawlessly. Her brown hair shimmered in the sunlight as she twirled effortlessly in the center of the room. ''...I''m supposed to do that? Do they realize I''m five?!'' This whole dancing nonsense felt harder than forming his Mana Core. "Now, your turn, Prince." [Yes, give it a try...] Lindarion nodded and stepped onto the dance floor again. To any outsider, he must have looked like a fool, especially since he could feel the system trying to hold back its laughter. ''You wouldn''t do any better, he thought.'' That thought was immediately interrupted as he fell straight on his butt. [We''ll never know, will we?] ''...Fair point.'' "I think that''s enough for today, Prince. Get some rest." "Alright, Sylvie. Thank you for the lesson." He gave her a small nod, and she bowed before leaving. With a sigh, Lindarion slumped against the wall. ''System, put 7 points into Dexterity, 4 into Endurance, and 4 into Mana. Then show me my stats.'' [Points distributed.] ¡ª¡ª[INFO]¡ª¡ª ¡ª¡ª[ATTRIBUTES]¡ª¡ª ''I''m growing stronger, slowly. Only at the second sub-stage...'' ''Alright, this should make things easier. Let''s try again.'' Lindarion stepped onto the dance floor once more, carefully focusing on every tiny movement as if handling a newborn. It wasn''t perfect, but it was progress. ''I''m getting better... it''s just a matter of time now.'' A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, followed by a deep voice. "You''ll get the hang of it soon." Lindarion immediately recognized the voice. ''Eldrin.'' He quickly turned toward his father and gave a small bow. "Father, it''s good to see you. It''s been a while." Eldrin placed a hand on his shoulder, an unfamiliar gesture. "Follow me, son." Without another word, he strode out of the room, and Lindarion followed behind him like a lost puppy. ''Why is he always so mysterious?'' They walked past the palace gates. For the first time, Lindarion was leaving through the main entrance. "Where are we going?" "..." No answer. The walk felt endless, as if they were moving through a timeless void. Just as Lindarion thought he might die of boredom, his father finally stopped. ''A training ground?'' Elven men and women filled the vast open field, moving in synchronized drills. The place stretched for hundreds of meters, as far as the eye could see. As they walked closer, whispers spread around them. "Is that the prince...?" "The prince?" "I think so... what was his name again?" "Lindarion." His father''s voice cut through the murmurs like a blade. "This is where our warriors train." There was weight behind those words¡ªmemories, unspoken but present. Even children trained here, ones slightly older than Lindarion, around nine years old. Weapons filled the area¡ªswords, bows, spears¡ªall gleaming as if forged by a master craftsman from the purest, strongest metal. "These are the most talented of the new generation. Though they lack real battle experience, their potential is immense." Eldrin sat down on a nearby bench, far more casual than one would expect from a king. ''So casual'' [Because he''s strong.] ''True...'' "You have even greater talent, son." His words were quiet, meant only for Lindarion. Still, a few warriors nearby glanced in their direction. "But I''m still just a kid." Lindarion sighed, sitting beside him. For hours, they watched the warriors train. Sparks flew as their swords clashed, their movements a blur to Lindarion''s eyes. And yet, deep inside, something stirred. His blood boiled. He wanted to fight. To test his strength. ''If only I were older...'' "Take my hand, son." The sudden request broke the silence. Lindarion hesitated but nodded, reaching out. The world around them distorted, warping like shattered glass. Before he knew it, they stood in a massive library. ''That was teleportation, wasn''t it?'' [Correct, and at a very high level.] ''Then why did we walk so much earlier...?'' "I''ll leave you here for now. Something urgent came up." And just like that, Eldrin vanished like a phantom. ''...Are you kidding me? What kind of father does this to a child?!'' Alone now, Lindarion glanced around. The library was eerily silent. If anyone else was there, they remained unseen. ''Might as well read something...'' He browsed the shelves. ''The Prince and the Princess... No.'' Shoving the book back, he frowned. ''Is there anything actually useful here?'' [Yes. A lot.] ''That was a fast answer.'' With thousands¡ªno, tens of thousands¡ªof books, the system was probably right. One title caught his eye. "Swordsmanship Guide Vol. 1" "So there''s more than one volume..." Flipping it open, he found illustrated techniques, almost like a manual. The first few pages covered basic forms, but they were still useful. "Shame I don''t have anything to practice with." He read through the book in minutes, committing every technique to memory. Like a fanatic, he scoured the shelves for the other volumes. He needed to read them all. ''Knowledge is addictive...but I still hate studying.'' After gathering three more books, he realized he wouldn''t finish them before his father returned. Just as he debated what to do, a small black circle appeared before him. ''What''s this?'' [Inventory. You can store books and retrieve them later.] Lindarion froze. ''I have this?! Why didn''t you tell me earlier..'' [You never asked, Host.] ''Thanks for nothing.'' Without hesitation, he tossed books into the black void. ''"Basic Manipulation of Mana"¡ªthis will be useful as well.'' He threw the book in. No one will miss a few books in a place this big. Eventually, he ran out of books to stash and picked one to read. "The World of Mana" A particular passage caught his attention. "The Elven scholars believe that the first beings to wield mana were not mortals, but ancient spirits that still slumber beneath the roots of the world." ''Interesting... I never thought of that.'' Another line stood out. "The greatest flaw of mages is arrogance. One who controls mana must remember¡ªthey are not its master, only its conduit." ''What about those loved by mana?'' Lindarion chuckled. The book had a point¡ªarrogance led to downfall. But one line made him pause. "Beyond mere spells and incantations lies the deeper truth of mana: it is not a force to be wielded, but a language to be understood." ''A language...?'' Before he could finish the thought, a hand landed on his shoulder. "You''ve made a good choice, son." Lindarion nearly jumped. "Father?! Don''t scare me like that." Lindarion exhaled as he looked at his father. "We should go now." Eldrin said as he grabbed Lindarion''s hand carefully. A moment later, they were back in his room. "Read as much as you can, Lindarion. You can use the Palace''s library like you did just now. Knowledge will be your greatest weapon." With that, Eldrin ruffled his hair and disappeared once more. ''So technically... I stole from my own library. Congrats, me.'' Chapter 10 10: Teleportation The months passed in the blink of an eye, and the date of the ball quickly approached. Sylvie had practically evolved from a dance instructor to Lindarion''s full-time private tutor. He hated studying. She drilled etiquette, elven history, world history¡ªmath, communication... everyday blurred into the next. ''Dancing is more enjoyable than this.'' "The Sunblade dynasty is one of the oldest noble families, known for their swordsmanship and light-based magic," Sylvie lectured, her voice unwavering. She had been going on about the origins of elves for two hours straight, and since his family had played a major role in that history, Lindarion had no choice but to listen. ''So, we''re good with swords, huh?'' "Why swordsmanship, though?" he asked, more to keep himself engaged than anything. Sylvie''s eyes gleamed at the question. ''This was a mistake.'' "Every noble and royal family has its own unique combat technique or magic that only their heirs can learn," she explained, stepping forward as if about to demonstrate. "These techniques are passed down through generations and are often closely tied to the family''s mana affinity or fighting style." Lindarion stiffened. She was taking this way too seriously. "The Sunblade family, for example, wields the Style of the Sunblade. It''s an extremely refined and destructive sword art infused with light and fire. Only those of the Sunblade bloodline can truly master it because it requires not just physical skill but a special kind of mana perception." Sylvie moved her hand through the air as if wielding an invisible sword. Lindarion had to resist the urge to laugh. "Other families have their own unique techniques as well. The Nightgem House, for instance, uses the Moonlight Step¡ªtheir movements are so fast and graceful that they practically become shadows in the night." She smirked, clearly enjoying herself. ''She talks too much...'' "These techniques aren''t just weapons," she continued. "They symbolize a family''s legacy, history, and strength. Anyone who wields them must also be worthy. Learning the moves isn''t enough¡ªyou have to understand the principles behind them." Finally, her expression grew serious, the air around them shifting. She locked eyes with him, voice solemn. "And you, as the heir of the Sunblade family, will one day fully master this power. But until then, you have a long way to go. Your heritage is a great responsibility." Lindarion held back a sigh. ''So every noble family has its own technique... I should look into this more. It could be useful.'' He glanced at the clock. His heart skipped a beat. "Thank you for today''s lesson, Sylvie," he said quickly. "The pleasure is mine, Prince. Until nex¡ª" He didn''t wait for her to finish. The moment he saw an opening, he bolted out of the room like a runaway prisoner. ''Run, run!'' His feet carried him straight to the garden¡ªhis sanctuary. Here, he was free. No tutors, no lectures, just the sounds of nature and the occasional wandering animal. He exhaled deeply and lay on the grass, arms behind his head. "Nothing can disturb me now." [Famous last words.] ''Huh?'' Soft footsteps approached. Light, elegant¡ªprobably a woman. "My dear little son, would you mind telling me what you''re doing out here instead of getting ready?" Lindarion froze. ''Oh no.'' He jumped to his feet, coming face-to-face with his mother. "Hi, Mom. What do you mean? Getting ready for what?" "We''re leaving for the human kingdom tomorrow," she said with a smile. "Didn''t I tell you?" ''...No, you definitely didn''t, Mom.'' He had to fight the urge to facepalm. "No, Mom, you definitely forgot." Melion giggled behind her hand. "Oops, I guess I forgot. You better start packing, my son." She leaned in, kissed his forehead, and turned to leave. "I''ll go prepare some things as well." Lindarion watched her disappear into the palace before sighing. "So... I should start preparing." Reluctantly, he made his way back to his room. A few hours later, a well-dressed man knocked on his door. The man wore a black suit with a golden tie, standing with the poise of a professional butler. "Good afternoon, sir. I''ve come to collect your belongings." He bowed slightly. Lindarion returned the gesture¡ªonly halfway, as was proper. "I''ll be ready in a moment." Most of his important items were already stored in his black void. He doubted he had missed anything. He handed the man a few suitcases, watching as the butler whispered something under his breath. The luggage vanished into a ring. ''Ah, a portable storage ring. That makes things easier.'' "We can depart as soon as you''re ready, sir," the man added. "Already?" Lindarion tilted his head slightly. It felt too soon. "Yes, sir. The teleportation gate is prepared." ''...Got it.'' "Alright, lead the way." The butler bowed again and turned, but Lindarion suddenly stopped him. "Wait here a moment." Without explaining, he sprinted toward his father''s office. The moment he arrived, he barged in without ceremony. "Father, we''re leaving now." His father, Eldrin, barely looked up from his mountain of paperwork, though a flicker of surprise¡ªand amusement¡ªcrossed his eyes. "Alright, son. Take care of yourself... and your mother." Lindarion gave him a respectful bow. "I will, Father." Then, he rushed back to the waiting butler. By the time they arrived at the teleportation gate, his mother was already waiting, surrounded by a few guards he didn''t recognize. He approached and nodded slightly when they bowed to him out of respect. "Please, raise your heads. I should be the one thanking you, as you are the ones protecting us," Lindarion said calmly. The head guard, a tall and imposing figure, smiled¡ªhe clearly hadn''t expected such words from a child. "Therion Stormfang, sir! It''s an honor to serve as your escort!" Therion bowed even lower. "Please, sir, lift your head," Lindarion said, his voice firm yet gentle. Therion obeyed immediately, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before the guard gave him a single nod. "Alright, let''s get going," his mother interrupted, stepping into the teleportation gate. Lindarion followed without hesitation. A wave of dizziness washed over him, his vision darkened, and then¡ªsuddenly¡ªthe scenery changed. Before them stood a grand castle wall. "Welcome, representatives of the Sunblade family¡ªMelion Sunblade and Lindarion Sunblade. It is a great honor to have you here." A strong male voice greeted them. "I hope you enjoy the ball... and Leonhardt Valerian''s castle." The man smiled and bowed. ¡ª Eldrin He sensed someone running toward his office long before the doors burst open. He already knew from the breathing pattern¡ªit was Lindarion. ''He decided to come before leaving.'' "Father, we''re leaving now." His son''s voice carried a trace of excitement. "Alright, son. Take care of yourself... and your mother." Eldrin wished he could go with them, but duty held him back. Lindarion gave him a small bow, standing straight like a well-trained soldier. "I will, Father." Eldrin''s expression softened slightly. ''Seraphine, follow them and keep them safe.'' ''As you command, my lord.'' The moment Lindarion turned away, Seraphine melted into his shadow like a phantom, vanishing without a trace. Eldrin leaned back in his chair, letting out a quiet sigh. ''I hope nothing goes wrong... It''s just a ball, after all.'' With that thought, he returned to his paperwork. Chapter 11 11: Human Kingdom "My name is Edric Kane, and I will be your guide." Edric couldn''t help but feel a surge of disdain. ''These filthy elves... I can''t believe Leonhardt entrusted me with this task.'' "Thank you, Sir Edric. We truly appreciate it," Lindarion spoke from beside his mother, offering a slight bow. "Please, Your Highness, the honor is mine," Edric replied, his voice steady, though for a brief moment, Lindarion thought he detected a slight wavering. He wondered if he was imagining it. ''I wonder what this place is like. It''s been a long time since I last saw humans.'' "This way, please," Edric instructed, turning and leading them toward the massive gates. It didn''t take long for them to pass through the grand entrance and step inside the city walls. The sight before them was nothing short of breathtaking. The streets buzzed with life¡ªbazaars lining the roads, houses packed tightly together, merchants shouting their deals, and the constant hum of haggling and negotiation. ''...Some things never change.'' A small, unconscious smile crept onto Lindarion''s lips. The liveliness of the place, the way people carried themselves, reminded him of his past life. "Do you like it, my son?" his mother''s soft voice reached him. "Yes," he admitted, not bothering to hide his feelings. It felt... familiar, like home. But the human side of the city left an unsettling impression on him. As they walked through the streets, hushed whispers and murmurs filled the air. Some of the people glared at them with open disgust, others radiated condescension, while a few gazed with envy. "Filthy elves, how dare they set foot here?" one voice muttered. "Disgusting creatures. They don''t belong among us," another whispered. Lindarion''s mother kept walking, unfazed. But Lindarion turned his head toward the men who had spoken. His gaze met theirs. Therion, standing beside them, instinctively moved his hand toward the hilt of his sword. Lindarion glanced up at him. ''It''s not worth it.'' Therion hesitated, then released his grip on the hilt and continued walking. "Damn elves," the whispers continued, trailing behind them like shadows until they finally reached their designated lodging, granted by King Leonhardt for the duration of the ball. The place seemed secluded and isolated from the rest of the city, giving a sense of security. Stepping inside, Lindarion was taken aback. The interior was far grander than the modest exterior had suggested. ''Some kind of magic? From the outside, it looked much smaller than this.'' [Not quite, Host. But it is related. This is an advanced Spatial Magic artifact.] [Mana Perception.] As Lindarion activated the skill, he felt the mana saturating every corner of the building, woven flawlessly into its structure. After confirming its presence, he deactivated the skill. ''Strange. Using such a powerful artifact for something like this seems... wasteful.'' Edric turned toward them with a polite smile. "I hope you find the accommodations suitable. We look forward to welcoming you at the ball tomorrow." He bowed, and Lindarion gave a slight nod in return. His mother, however, spoke directly. "That will do, Edric. Thank you, everything is satisfactory." She gave a brief nod, signaling for him to leave. Edric took his leave. "Is everything alright, Mom?" She seemed oddly focused on Edric, but Lindarion wasn''t particularly surprised. "Yes, darling. Don''t worry about it. Go ahead and explore the house." With that, she turned to speak with the guards, their conversation quickly fading from his interest. ''If I''m being honest, I don''t care about this whole ball...'' Lindarion quickly found his room and threw himself onto the bed, lost in thought about the world outside. ''This is exhausting...'' An hour must have passed when he heard a knock at his door. He''d been completely absorbed in a novel. His mother entered, smiling, a book in her hands. "I didn''t forget your birthday, my son. Happy Birthday!" She handed him the book with a wide grin. ''Oh... right. It''s my birthday today... How does someone even forget their birthday?'' Lindarion has forgotten to his birthday being today due to elves only celebrating major birthdays, such as the turning age ceremony, which he was looking forward to. [A skill book.] "Thank you, Mother." Lindarion smiled politely and hugged her. ''What exactly is a skill book? I mean, I have a general idea, but how does it work?'' [Skill books contain pre-set abilities ranked from 1 to 7 stars, but they rarely grow stronger.] [Unlike skill books, system-granted abilities have unlimited growth potential. They evolve with you, Host, and can even surpass the most powerful techniques found in books.] [Skill books are also incredibly rare, and most techniques can be learned through direct training with a Mana Core, which is why inner techniques are much better. And that''s why only a few people still use them. On top of that, mastering a skill from a book takes a long time.] ''...You don''t have to brag so much.'' [I''m simply better, and I know it.] "What kind of skill is it?" "Your father got it for you. It''s a movement skill." Lindarion glanced down at the cover, his eyes lighting up. ''Phantom Step... Sounds cool. I like it.'' "Seriously, thank you, Mom." She simply smiled and ruffled his hair. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day." With that, she left the room. Lindarion leaned back on the bed, still holding the book. ''How do I even use this?'' [As I mentioned, most people take a long time to master a skill from a book.] ''And how long will it take me?'' Lindarion asked with a smirk. [Just place your hand on it, Host.] Following the system''s instructions, he pressed his hand against the book. Instantly, it began to glow with a dark light, releasing wisps of black smoke before vanishing completely. [Skill absorbed.] [New Skill Acquired ¨C Phantom Step (¡ï ¡ï ¡ï)] [Effect: Enhances agility and footwork, allowing short bursts of speed and silent movement. Growth Potential: Can evolve into advanced mobility techniques like teleportation or afterimages.] ''Now I have three skills and a few techniques. System, is there a way for me to differentiate them? Maybe by their rarity or strength?'' [Possible. Skill rarity.] [Activating Skill Rarity Display.] [Activation successful.] [Skill rarity applies only to techniques!] Got it, I understand everything, don''t worry. I''ll check them out later¡ªI need some rest for now. A day passed in the blink of an eye. As Lindarion prepared for the ball, his mother handed him the outfit he was supposed to wear. It was a simple black and white suit, embroidered with golden threads. A finely stitched sun emblem rested near his heart, and the clasps were made of solid gold. He glanced at the mirror and had to admit¡ªit suited him well. "Not bad..." He murmured, tilting his head with a smug grin, checking out his reflection from every angle. The colors highlighted his emerald-green eyes and golden-blonde hair. He was quite tall for his age, standing around 145 cm, likely due to his lineage¡ªor maybe just good genetics. He walked out of his room and out of the house¡ªcalm, steady, but with purpose. Outside, a white-and-gold carriage awaited, standing beside his mother and the elven bodyguards from before. "Are you ready, Lindarion?" Her voice was warm and confident. Melion wore a gold-and-white gown, embroidered with the same sun emblem that adorned his outfit. She must be excited. "Yes, Mom. We should go now." ''System, I accept the quest.'' A loud chime rang in his head as he stepped into the carriage. ¡ª¡ª[Quest Window]¡ª¡ª ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª [Quest started! Good luck, Host!] As they set off toward Valerian Castle, Lindarion felt countless eyes on them. But by now, he had learned to ignore them. ''Pointless. Humans never change.'' The castle sat atop a hill¡ªnot quite a mountain, but high enough to be impressive. ''Why didn''t we just teleport?'' As soon as they arrived, attendants guided them out of the carriage, and Lindarion was immediately met with a familiar face. ''Edric.'' "Welcome, Sunblade family. I trust the accommodations were to your liking. I wish you a most enjoyable evening at the ball." He bowed with a smile¡ªbut it was not the warm kind. It was the sharp, knowing grin of someone who played a different game entirely. Not the kind of smile a mother gives her child for doing something good. ''Something about him makes me uneasy.'' He followed his mother into the grand ballroom, where a wave of conversation filled the air. But as soon as they stepped inside, silence fell like a crashing tide. Hundreds of eyes turned toward them at once. Then, from the far end of the hall, a bearded man in golden robes rose from his throne-like chair and called out. "WELCOME! THE ROYAL SUNBLADE FAMILY OF THE ELVES!" "IT IS A GREAT HONOR TO HAVE YOU HERE!" His voice boomed through the hall¡ªnot just powerful, but loud. Loud enough that Lindarion wondered if he thought yelling made him sound more important. Melion gave him a graceful slight bow, so Lindarion did the same, following her lead. ''So this is him. Leonhardt Valerian.'' Chapter 12 12: The Ball "It is a pleasure to have been invited, Lord Leonhardt," Melion said, her voice firm as she rose from her slight bow. ''Not a pleasure for me...'' "Oh please, Melion, we''ve known each other for years. No need for formalities," Leonhardt replied, his tone lighthearted. In an instant, he closed the distance between them, moving so fast that Lindarion barely registered it. The young elf''s eyes widened in surprise, but he forced himself to remain composed. Whispers rippled through the ballroom. ''I hate being in the center like this'' "And this must be your son, young Prince Lindarion, correct...?" Leonhardt seemed ready to continue, but the moment his gaze met Lindarion''s, his pupils dilated. A sudden smile spread across his face. "Yes, Leon. He''s quite the talented child¡ªsmart as well," Melion said, dropping the formalities as requested. "Of that, I have no doubt." His voice carried a strange certainty, as if he knew something others did not. ''Did he notice the Mana Core?'' [Maybe Host.] "It is an honor to be so highly regarded, Lord Leonhardt," Lindarion said, offering a slight bow toward the King of Humans. "Come on, Lindarion. You''re the son of my best friend. It''s unfortunate that Eldrin couldn''t make it..." Leonhardt''s grin widened, but something about it felt off¡ªa bit too broad, a bit too knowing. An unease settled in Lindarion''s stomach. "Enjoy the ball," Leonhardt declared before vanishing back to his throne in an instant. ''That was... unpleasant.'' The whispers only grew louder, the weight of countless stares pressing down on Lindarion. His mother ignored them entirely, gracefully making her way toward a couple nearby. With little else to do, he simply followed. The pair appeared to be around fifty. "Melion," they greeted with polite bows. "Evelyne, Darius," Melion responded, returning the gesture with a slight nod. "And this must be the young prince." They turned to Lindarion and bowed slightly. He returned the gesture out of courtesy. "Lady Evelyne, Lord Darius. My name is Lindarion Sunblade," he said, standing straight as an arrow. "You''re quite the polite little prince," Evelyne noted, her voice gentle yet refined. "Our children didn''t want to come, though we had hoped they would," Darius added with a light chuckle, though there was genuine regret in his tone. ''I don''t want to be here either...'' Before Lindarion could dwell on the thought any longer, Leonhardt''s booming voice shattered his focus. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! PRESENTING MY DAUGHTER, PRINCESS VIVIENNE VALERIAN, AND MY SON, PRINCE JACK VALERIAN!" All eyes snapped toward the grand doors as a young girl and boy walked in. The entire hall erupted into applause¡ªMelion included. ''So we need to clap...?'' Not wanting to stand out, Lindarion hesitantly joined in, watching the two as they entered. Then, as if by fate, the princess''s gaze met his¡ªbut almost immediately, she turned her head away. ''...What was that?'' His smile faltered slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. ''Did she seriously just turn away?'' He couldn''t even process what had happened. He didn''t even know her. ''Whatever. It''s not important.'' Turning back to his mother, he found her already deep in conversation with Darius and Evelyne. ''Great. Now what am I supposed to do?'' With nothing better to do, he found an empty seat and sat down, tuning everything out as he sank into his thoughts. ''This whole thing is pointless¡ª'' A tap on his shoulder pulled him back to reality. Turning to the side, he found himself momentarily confused¡ªuntil he recognized the boy standing before him. ''Jack Valerian?'' "You''re sitting in my seat." Jack pointed at the chair''s back, where his name was engraved. His voice was laced with disgust, though Lindarion had no idea why. ''Is he serious?'' "I must not have noticed. I''ll move¡ª" Lindarion began to stand, ready to vacate the seat, but before he could step away, Jack clicked his tongue. "Do you think anyone wants to sit where you just sat?" ''...What?'' A few heads turned in their direction. "Excuse me?" Lindarion''s voice was soft, his expression calm, as if he hadn''t quite processed what he had just heard. Because he hadn''t. "I said, do you think any human wants to sit where an elf has sat?" "..." "I''m sure they can bring another chair if His Majesty finds this one unsuitable," Lindarion said smoothly, his tone dripping with irony as he exaggerated the words His Majesty. Jack''s expression darkened. Frustration crept into his face. By now, a couple people had taken notice¡ªamong them, his guards and Lindarion''s as well. Especially Therion, who immediately started moving toward him. ''I don''t want to cause a scene in a place like this.'' So, Lindarion did the last thing anyone expected. He was the bigger man and let it go. A hushed silence followed. Even Therion''s eyes widened. "I will be more mindful in the future." "Get lost." Jack muttered under his breath, low enough that no one would really hear¡ªbut by now, only some people were watching. Without hesitation, Lindarion turned and walked toward Therion. As he reached him, he looked up, and Therion looked down at him. Fury burned in the guard''s eyes. "How dare he speak to the Elven Prince like that...?! We must tell Lady¡ª" Therion muttered under his breath, his hand drifting toward the hilt of his sword. But before he could go any further, Lindarion stepped in front of him. "Therion." His voice was steady¡ªfirm, but understanding. He grasped the sleeve of the knight''s tunic and began leading him away from the scene. "Do you really think this is worth making a fuss over?" Despite what had just happened, Lindarion''s tone remained calm. "Even so! A prince should never be talked to like that! It''s¡ª" "Is it worth it? We aren''t in our own land. Letting it go is the best choice to avoid conflict." Lindarion''s words seemed wise, his voice sharper this time. It indeed was the best choice, causing a conflict in a place full of high ranking nobles wouldn''t be the best decision. Not at all. Therion''s grip on his sword loosened, but the fire in his eyes remained. Lindarion sighed. ''At least I know he''s loyal. But he''s not very wise... He could use some self-control.'' Just then, music filled the ballroom. ''...No. No, no, please, anything but this.'' And once again, Leonhardt''s voice thundered through the hall, loud enough to make Lindarion''s eardrums ache. "ONCE AGAIN, I WELCOME EVERYONE WHO HAS COME TO HONOR MY DAUGHTER TONIGHT! THIS BALL CELEBRATES HER SIXTH BIRTHDAY!" A soft elbow nudge from the side caught Lindarion''s attention. Melion leaned down and whispered into his ear. "It''s not actually her birthday today. They just took a long time to organize it. Vivienne has been six for weeks now." She let out a quiet chuckle. ''And what exactly am I supposed to do with this information?'' Silently, Lindarion sipped from the glass of water a young servant had placed beside him. ''Hopefully, no one''s name is engraved on this one.'' "AND NOW, THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE NIGHT¡ªMY LITTLE GIRL''S FIRST DANCE! VIVIENNE, CHOOSE A PARTNER, PLEASE!" Vivienne nodded and began walking toward the crowd. Naturally, Jack shot to his feet, standing tall with a bright, confident smile as he stepped toward her. "Sister, would you do me the hono¡ª" But Vivienne simply walked right past him. ''...She''s heading this way. Please, gods, tell me she''s not coming here...I just wanted to live this life to the fullest..why must this happen to me.'' Step by step, she kept moving forward. Melion smiled knowingly, as if she had expected this all along...maybe she did or maybe she didn''t. ''...I''m doomed. Someone, please, save me.'' Then, Vivienne stopped in front of him. Lindarion''s eyes widened. The smile on his face began to crumble, his lips trembling slightly. And then¡ªshe spoke. "I want to dance with him." The entire hall went silent. All eyes were on him. Then on Vivienne. Then back on him. ''...This has to be a joke. Right? Right?'' Chapter 13 13: Dance Time seemed to freeze in place. Lindarion''s smile fractured, piece by piece, as Vivienne gazed up at him with innocent eyes. He turned to the side, looking at his mother¡ªwho was grinning like the devil himself, giving him two enthusiastic thumbs up as she smiled innocently. Then, he looked forward¡ªat the king. Leonhardt was grinning just as devilishly. ''I''ve just walked into the worst trap of my life... there''s no escape from this...did they seriously plan it or was it just a coincidence?'' So, he did what had to be done. He bent slightly forward and extended his hand. ''This is beyond embarrassing... everyone is staring.'' "Princess Vivienne, it would be an honor." He forced the fakest smile in existence as he looked into her eyes. She simply nodded, took his hand, and pulled him straight to the center of the ballroom. Every single pair of eyes was on them. He hated it. ''...I hate my life.'' "LET THE REAL MUSIC BEGIN!" Leonhardt''s voice boomed through the hall once again, nearly shattering Lindarion''s eardrums. A moment later, a slow, ballad-like melody began to play. He gently took both of Vivienne''s hands, forcing a smile, praying he wouldn''t trip. ''Mother... why have you done this to me?'' They glided across the dance floor like the wind. Whispered murmurs filled the air, but he had long since grown used to them. "Who is that boy?" "An elf... the princess chose an elf..." "Unbelievable." Their dance was flawless¡ªevery step perfectly in sync. He held one of Vivienne''s hands, the other resting on her waist. ''This is a strange feeling... I don''t like it.'' Then came the finale¡ªhe spun Vivienne around before they both came to a stop. She looked up at him, gazing into his eyes. Then, she gave a single nod. ''...?'' Meanwhile, the prince¡ªJack¡ªwas grinding his teeth in pure frustration. Suddenly, the king began clapping, his applause echoing through the ballroom. One by one, everyone followed suit. Vivienne and Lindarion bowed. Then, he turned to leave, heading back to his seat. Even with his back turned, he could feel the stares burning into him. Then, he heard it¡ªhurried, angry footsteps approaching from behind. He whipped around. "JACK VALERIAN!" Leonhardt''s voice roared through the hall. But it was already too late¡ªJack''s fist was flying straight toward Lindarion''s face. ''A six-year-old is trying to punch me... I can tolerate a lot of things, but this is ridiculous.'' He dodged it effortlessly. It felt like a toddler had swung at him. He didn''t strike back¡ªhe wasn''t about to cause trouble for himself. But this was getting annoying. Before Jack could throw another punch, the guards surrounded them, and Jack''s own guards restrained him. "How dare you humiliate me?! That dance should have been mine!" ''...?'' ''Is this some kind of joke? Is he actually this stupid?'' Lindarion shook his head as the guards dragged Jack away. The king said nothing¡ªhe just buried his face in his hands, clearly exasperated. The entire ballroom fell silent. Everyone''s eyes were either on Lindarion... or on the king, waiting for his response. Then, Leonhardt stood up and declared: "I apologize for the disturbance. Now¡ªlet the ball continue!" And with that, he vanished somewhere, too fast for anyone to track. For a moment, the ballroom was filled with silence. Then, slowly, conversations and dancing resumed. Lindarion''s mother rushed over to him. ''Took her long enough.'' "Are you alright, sweetheart? We will deal with him, I can promise you that¡ª" Lindarion pulled her into a hug quickly cutting off her sentence, his arms wrapping around her as he held her close. "I''m fine, Mom. It''s nothing. Don''t bother with this. He''s just a little kid." He glanced at Therion¡ªhis face was about to explode with rage as well. It was understandable, but they couldn''t have him lash out now. Lindarion subtly gestured for him to stay calm. The rest of the ball was uneventful¡ªeveryone had their own share of fun. Drinking, dancing, and subtle conversations filled the hall. Except for one thing. Lindarion noticed Vivienne sitting alone. So, he did the impossible. ''This will work.'' He approached her¡ªto find out the reason behind all this. "Princess, I''d like to know¡ª" "I only danced with you because my father asked me to." Her voice was cold. "I have no idea who you actually are, and I don''t want anything to do with you beyond this accident. I hope that''s clear." The weight on his chest instantly vanished. "Thank you. That''s all I needed to know." He gave a small bow and turned to leave. He felt her gaze on his back as he walked away. But he didn''t look back. ''Finally, it''s over. I''m free.'' His eyes nearly teared up with pure joy and relief. The ball ended sooner than expected, and the king had everyone escorted out one by one. For some reason, Lindarion''s group was the last to leave. "Melion, may I steal the boy for a moment?" The king''s voice was strong and commanding. His mother''s expression was unreadable, but her smile didn''t waver for even a second. "Of course, but be careful with him." Her voice carried a slight edge, almost like a warning, though her smile remained intact. Leonhardt nodded and gestured for Lindarion to follow. "Come, Prince." ''What does he want?'' They walked deep into the castle in silence, the quiet stretching between them. It was suffocating¡ªuntil Leonhardt finally broke it. "I sincerely apologize for what happened. I wasn''t able to restrain Jack in time." ''Oh... so that''s what this is about.'' Lindarion''s eyebrow twitched slightly. Had the king really dragged him all the way here just for that? Or was there something more to this? "As an apology, let me offer you a gift." ''Bingo. I knew there was more to it.'' He had to fight the urge to rub his hands together and do a little victory dance. Before he knew it, they stood before a massive, warehouse-like chamber. Leonhardt spread his arms wide. The grand doors slowly creaked open, a cool gust of air rushing past him. Magic hummed in the atmosphere, sending a brief shiver down his spine. "To express my apology for my son''s behavior. Please, choose something from the royal vault, Lindarion. And fret not, my son will be properly punished and educated due to his behavior today." "!!!" His face paled, his eyes widening in disbelief. ''This reward is way too good to be true.'' Stepping inside, he found himself in what seemed like an endless hall¡ªmountains of gold, gleaming gemstones, and legendary weapons sparkled under the torchlight. Yet, none of it truly caught his attention. Then, suddenly, a dusty old book on a separate shelf caught his eye. No title, no markings, no sign of what it was. It had clearly been left to gather dust. ''This is it.'' [Choose that one, Host.] The moment his fingers touched the book, a strange resonance pulsed between them. Only a single image adorned the cover¡ªa serpent devouring its own tail. Lindarion stepped out of the treasury, the book in hand. Leonhardt gave him a strange look, his expression unreadable. "Lindarion, you can choose anything... Are you certain about this book? It''s been here for years, and no one has ever found any use for it. The text inside is incomprehensible." "Yes." His answer was immediate and firm. He didn''t hesitate for even a second. Leonhardt simply nodded. "Very well." With that, they returned. Lindarion followed Leonhardt back through the castle''s winding halls, his grip tightening around the book. The weight of it felt... unnatural. Almost as if it was pulsing in his hands. But he said nothing. When they arrived at the entrance, his mother was already waiting. She glanced at him, then at the book, her expression unreadable. "Melion, Lindarion. I''m glad you came. Please, give Eldrin my regards. I would also like to apologize to you for my son''s behavior today, I hope one day I can make up for it for you." Leonhardt said, his voice composed. His mother returned a warm but deadly smile, inclining her head slightly. "We will. The pleasure was ours, Leon. And don''t mind it , it''s just between children after all, just make sure it doesn''t happen again." Lindarion followed suit, giving a brief bow before stepping into the waiting carriage. As the door shut behind them, his mother finally turned to him. Her gaze lingered on the book in his hands. "You did well, my son. I''m proud of you." He nearly scoffed. ''You planned nearly everything, though...'' Still, he held his tongue. The carriage rolled forward, but instead of heading toward their estate, his mother subtly signaled the driver telling him to head towards the gate. A few moments later, they were redirected toward the teleportation gate. Waiting there was Edric, standing stiffly beside the swirling vortex of energy. "You''re leaving already? Don''t you want to return to the¡ª" "We''re leaving," Lindarion''s mother interrupted coldly. Lindarion glanced at her. He had never heard her speak like that before. Edric hesitated, then nodded. "...Understood. Activating the gate now." The portal flared to life. With a single step forward, Lindarion returned home. Chapter 14 14: Ancient Book Lindarion''s pupils finally adjusted to the light just as a loud chime echoed in his head. [Quest Completed!] Quest: Human Ball ¨C Completed! Rewards: +3 Dexterity +2 Wisdom +2 Charisma +2 Luck ??? ¡ú Insight (Legendary!) ??? ¡ú Flow (Rare!) [Congratulations, Host, on completing the quest!] "Status Window." ¡ª[INFO]¡ª ¡ª[ATTRIBUTES]¡ª ¡ª[TECHNIQUES]¡ª Mana Thread Manipulation (Mythic) Mana Perception (Common) Flow (Rare) [New!] Insight (Legendary) [New!] ¡ª[SKILLS]¡ª Accelerated Regeneration Mana Shot Pure Mana Shield Phantom Step (¡ï¡ï¡ï) ¡ª[BLESSINGS]¡ª Blessed by Mana ''Wait... Mana Thread Manipulation is Mythic?! Plus, I got a Legendary technique! My Mana Core also moved up two sub-ranks...'' Lindarion froze, standing stiffly beside the palace guards. They gave him odd glances but said nothing. His mother, however, was staring at him with an unreadable expression. ''What''s wrong with her?'' "My little one, you''re growing more beautiful by the second," she mused, a sweet, innocent smile gracing her lips. But he hadn''t forgotten her devilish antics from earlier. ''It''s probably the Charisma stat... I should test out my new skills and techniques later.'' "Thank you, Mother," he replied with a small shake of his head, allowing a faint smile to slip through. With that, they made their way into the palace. His father wasn''t there when they arrived. ''He must be in his office.'' "Mother, I need to speak with Father." She gave him a strange look, as if searching for something in his words. "...Very well, son. Go ahead." He didn''t wait for her to finish. He bolted toward the office like a madman. "Father!" He practically kicked the door open, his voice ringing through the chamber. His father, seated at his desk, blinked in surprise at the abrupt entrance. "Good to see you, son. How was the ba¡ª" "I want to start training. Like a real Elven soldier." Lindarion cut him off, knowing full well that interrupting the Elven King was a grave offense. But he didn''t care¡ªhe needed to get straight to the point. His father stared at him, clearly caught off guard. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk as he considered. "You''re too young, Lindarion. You can''t train with the others yet." ''...Damn it. I didn''t expect that.'' "What if someone trained me one-on-one?" A deep sigh left his father''s lips. His brows furrowed slightly. "...Seraphine." A presence emerged from Lindarion''s shadow. He stiffened. His breath hitched. His eyes widened. ''Wait¡ªshe was at the stone circle that day!'' The memory was crystal clear. She had guided his meditation for hours, then disappeared without a word. He hadn''t seen or heard from her since. "You''ve met before, if I recall correctly," his father said. "From tomorrow onward, Seraphine Nightgem will be your teacher. She is the Sunblade family''s head guardian." "...Seraphine Nightgem." Lindarion turned to her, meeting her piercing gaze. "Thank you, Father. I accept." A genuine smile crossed his lips as he bowed. His father and Seraphine exchanged glances before nodding. "The training will be hell," Seraphine warned, her voice colder than ice. A chill ran down his spine. His instincts screamed that she wasn''t exaggerating. "I understand." He straightened, meeting their gazes head-on. They tried to hide it, but he saw it. Pride. ''Makes sense. After all, it''s me we''re talking about.'' [Don''t get ahead of yourself.] ''Shh... don''t ruin the moment.'' He smirked. "Meet me at the stone circle tomorrow," Seraphine said before vanishing like a ghost. Lindarion''s eyebrows shot up. "...You''ll get used to it, son," his father chuckled. ''What a strange woman'' "Now go. Tomorrow will be a big day." "Yes, Father." With a final nod, Lindarion left his office and made his way to his room. The palace maids brightened upon seeing him. "Your Highness, welcome back," they greeted in perfect unison, bowing with practiced elegance. He chuckled awkwardly. "Please, don''t mind me. Carry on with your work." Waving a hand, he quickly escaped the mildly embarrassing situation. Tomorrow was going to be hell. And he couldn''t wait. He rushed back to his room and locked the door with everything he could find. "Alright, the book, please." A black hole appeared before him, and the snake-covered book fell out. The moment he grabbed it, a familiar resonance pulsed through him. [Come on, open it, Host.] The system had never been this excited before. As he opened the book, strange symbols filled the pages¡ªnone of them made any sense. "Uhh, system... a little help would be nice." [Translation...] [Error! Error!] "What the fuck? What happened?" [Retrying...] [Translation successful!] The symbols began to shift before his eyes, forming a strange sentence: "Breaking through the veils of the past, shaking the boundaries of the present, I call upon the secrets of the future to flow through me. From the fate of this book, which I seek, I cannot part. Come, now, that I may reach what is lost...?" The moment he finished the sentence, control slipped from his body. The world went dark. "System?" [I''m here, Host.] "Phew... so I''m not dead." Suddenly, a hissing sound echoed through the void. "You are a brave child. You remind me of him, Lindarion." "Him... who?" A massive white snake emerged before him. His face paled, his body freezing in place. "Lindarion, boy, this book is not mere paper and ink. It is the voice of time''s depths, brought forth by the ancient wind. One single motion, and the boundaries of the world could blur¡ªor disappear entirely. The knowledge you seek is no gift, but a price you must pay. Every word inscribed, every magic invoked, carries weight. You don''t just seek answers, but deeper questions: Are you ready to pay the cost of the secrets that lie within you?" "...Yes, I am ready. I will do what I must." "You have chosen wisely, Prince. Now, extend your hand." Lindarion obeyed, and suddenly, a white snake tattoo coiled around his arm. "Remember, time shows no mercy. What you now begin cannot be undone. Prepare yourself, for the past and future will intertwine, and you will be the one to change everything. Take the beginning, but do not forget that the end is also part of your story. Step forward, and let time guide you." As the voice faded, he found himself back in his room. A terrible pain shot through his head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." It felt like his skull was splitting¡ªbut the pain faded quickly. "Finally, that''s over¡ª" [New title unlocked.] "What?" [Ouroboros''s Disciple.] Chapter 15 15: Training (1) ''...Ouroboros''s disciple? [Title: Ouroboros''s Disciple] [Master: Ouroboros (??? Level)] [Disciple Level: 1] Acquired Bonuses: Endless Growth ¡ú Training Efficiency +50% Serpent''s Endurance ¡ú Regeneration Rate +30%, reduces exhaustion during prolonged battles. Ancient Wisdom ¡ú Faster understanding of martial arts, magic, and philosophy. Ouroboros''s Mark ¡ú Passive resistance to mental manipulation and soul corruption. [Unique Technique: Serpent''s Flow] Type: Time Manipulation | Cooldown: 5 minutes Upon activation ¡ú For 5 seconds, the time around the user''s body slows to 0.33x, making the world appear in slow motion. The user, however, moves at normal speed. [The Serpent''s Flow technique can improve over time] ''...What the fuck? Isn''t this a bit much?'' [Ouroboros has granted the Host power befitting his disciple, of course.] ''Then just how powerful is he..?'' Lindarion shook his head suddenly, sitting up on the bed. He could still feel the soft velvet as he propped himself up on his arms. ''Show me the Insight technique.'' [Legendary Technique: Insight] Level 1 Ability: Grants heightened awareness of body language, emotions, and surface-level intent in others. Can detect basic deception and recognize feints in battle. [The Insight technique can improve over time.] ''Wow... It''s pretty impressive even at level one, but the potential for growth makes it awesome.'' Leaning back, he felt the softness of the pillow against his tired body. ''What exactly was Ouroboros thinking...?'' "Step forward and let time guide you." Ouroboros''s last words echoed in his head as his eyelids grew heavy from exhaustion. ¡ª The next morning, Lindarion woke up feeling refreshed, hearing a knock at his door. "Come in." A maid entered, the smell of freshly baked breakfast filling the air as she placed it beside him on the bed. "Thank you." "Of course, Your Highness," she said with a bow before leaving the room. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and blooming herbs, mixing with the cool morning breeze. He picked up a piece of flatbread, made with forest almonds and honey, and let the flavors slowly flood his senses. The sweet, slightly chilled moonberry fruit provided a pleasant contrast to the slightly crisp bread, which felt as soft as a pillow when he touched it. He finished his meal with a cup of moonleaf tea. The warm herbal drink cleared his thoughts and sharpened his senses. ''That was incredibly delicious.'' Then he quickly stood up to stretch his limbs and started searching for training clothes. His search was successful as he found a perfectly white fabric outfit and quickly put it on. It still smelled new¡ªnever worn before. "This will do." The fabric hugged his body, allowing him to move with ease, without any hindrance or discomfort. "Time to go." He opened his door and walked through the seemingly endless corridors of the palace. "What should I expect?" Soon, he reached the garden. The cold breeze brushed against his face, carrying the scent of fresh water and blooming flowers as he walked through the paths. Before long, he arrived at the stone circle, but Seraphine was nowhere in sight. Despite scanning the area with his eyes, he couldn''t spot her anywhere. Minutes, or maybe even hours, could have passed. He had no idea how long he''d been waiting. Suddenly, he felt a cold touch on his shoulder. Reflexively, he jerked forward and whipped his head around. Seraphine stood still, her hand extended toward him. "I''ll take that as a signal to start the training. Don''t worry, I''ll hold back. Give it your all, Your Highness..." She flashed a devilishly cold smile before springing forward, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. ''What kind of training is this?!'' Seraphine thrust her arm out like an unrelenting spear, an attack with no escape. Lindarion quickly dodged sideways, narrowly avoiding her strike. At the same time, his eyes searched for an opening on her body where he could strike, but he couldn''t find a single one. So, he pulled back, staying on the defensive. "Not bad, Your Highness..." she said, and before he could react, she launched another attack. Her right arm came down from above, aimed directly at his head. Using both arms, he tried to block her attack. He braced himself, but the impact made his whole body shudder, as though his bones were cracking under the pressure. "You''re dead," she said coldly, and when he looked down, he saw her left arm just inches from his throat. ''...This is going to be hell.'' "50 push-ups. Let''s go." Her voice was icy, and he could tell she was enjoying this. Lindarion dropped to the ground, pressing his palms against the cold floor, and began the push-ups with ease. Given his stats, this task wasn''t exactly difficult. Within a minute, he was done. He pushed himself up, hearing that devilish voice again. "I''m attacking again." She declared it plainly, and he saw her approach, this time walking slowly toward him, her movements as graceful as a swan. ''What''s she planning...?'' He tried scanning her arms and legs, searching for any signs of an incoming strike, but he had no idea what she was going to do next. ''No openings at all. I must try something, though...'' He couldn''t wait any longer; he had to give it his all. Dashing toward her, he poured all his strength and agility into the movement. A flicker of surprise crossed her face before it twisted into a devilish smile. ''...Fuck.'' Then he aimed for her solar plexus with his right arm, but she blocked it with her hand easily with a swift motion. So, he pulled back, repositioning himself toward her side, but her eyes tracked every move he made. She extended her right hand toward him, but before it could reach him, suddenly, it froze. [Mana Thread Manipulation] The Mana Threads coiling from his fingertips wrapped around her arm, binding it like a puppet''s strings. Surprise was evident on her face as her brows shot up, but before she could react, his punch landed against her right ribs. Seraphine didn''t even flinch, as if she hadn''t felt it at all. The satisfaction of landing the hit lingered on his face¡ªuntil he heard her cold voice. "Not bad, Your Highness. I guess I''ve been holding back too much." Suddenly, a black fire appeared in her hand, swirling up her arm and incinerating the mana threads like they were nothing. "Good luck." Seraphine''s voice was cold and confident. Lindarion leaped backward instinctively, but before he could gain any distance, she closed the gap in a heartbeat and aimed a kick at his stomach. ''What the hell... why did I decide to do this...'' The kick knocked the air out of his lungs, sending him flying back a meter. By the time he could get to his feet, she was already there, her hand hovering just inches from his throat. "You''re dead again, Your Highness." Chapter 16 16: Tranining (2) And The Smithy Now, he had to do 100 push-ups. It took a while, and he could feel his muscles activating with each repetition. "I saw you using threads," Seraphine said, her voice as cold as ever. "But you''re not utilizing them to their full potential." Lindarion looked up at her as he finished his last push-up, confusion flashing in his eyes. "Why only the threads?" She tilted her head slightly as if questioning his entire approach. "Do you not have other techniques or skills?" "I do... but I''ve never¡ª" "The techniques and skills we gain through our Mana Core exist to be implemented in real combat," she interrupted. "So why aren''t you using them?" Her words hit him harder than any of her attacks. His jaw clenched as he stared at the ground. She was right. Why was he holding back? These abilities were his. He had earned them. In his past life, he had to restrain himself because of his injury¡ªduring training, and competitions. But now, he didn''t have to anymore. "Then I won''t hold back any longer." "Good¡ª" Before she could finish, he channeled as much mana as he could into his legs and vanished into her shadow. [Phantom Step] Seraphine reacted instantly, twisting her entire body around, her lips curling into a wide grin. He poured mana into his hands and fingers, feeling his reserves drain fast¡ªhe wouldn''t be able to keep this up for long. [Mana Threads] The threads shot out from his fingertips, wrapping around her body. Her brows lifted in surprise. She immediately ignited her black flames, burning through them¡ªbut he had expected that. The moment she focused on the fire, he gathered all his remaining mana into his palm, forming a concentrated sphere. Sparks crackled from it, the raw energy unstable. [Mana Shot] A blast of mana shot from his hand, striking her directly in the stomach. The black flames around her flickered and died out. He felt his mana reserves deplete completely, and the threads lost their form, dissolving into the air. Seraphine glanced down at herself, then at her clothes. Lindarion grinned in triumph, even as his knees hit the ground. He had barely managed to graze the fabric of her uniform. It was a mere scratch¡ªinsignificant. But he hadn''t expected more. He knew she was leagues above him. Wounding her was impossible. ''But this... this is still my victory.'' "Nicely done, Your Highness," Seraphine said. There was no mockery in her tone. Just surprise. She hadn''t expected that at all. "Pull yourself together. Drink this." Seraphine pulled a small vial from her pocket and tossed it toward him. He barely caught it before it could hit the ground. "?" "Mana restoration potion." Her voice was cold, but there was something else beneath it¡ªsomething he couldn''t quite place. He uncorked the bottle, and an overpowering stench hit his nose. His stomach lurched, and he nearly gagged. Seraphine arched an eyebrow, watching him with mild amusement. ''So I have to drink this...'' He pinched his nose shut and forced the vile liquid down. It tasted just as bad as it smelled. He thought he might pass out. ''What the fuck...'' Lindarion shook his head, trying to rid his mouth of the lingering taste. "You''ll get used to it." Seraphine''s tone was unreadable as she sat down on the ground. "Turn your back to me." There was an unmistakable authority in her voice. ''What is she planning...?'' Despite his hesitation, he turned around and sat down. The cold stone beneath him sent a shiver up his spine. "Now, start circulating mana through your body." He closed his eyes and focused on his Mana Core. Mana had always come to him naturally¡ªhe only had to call for it. A surge of energy flowed through him, spreading into every part of his body. Seraphine''s eyes widened, her confident smirk faltering for the first time. "Faint Core Master tier... Impressive, young prince." ''How is it this high?! That''s nearly on par with new recruits in the army!'' Seraphine''s thoughts were momentarily shaken, but she quickly masked her reaction. "Starting tomorrow, we''ll change your training regimen. You''ll need a weapon, Prince." His eyes lit up. A sword¡ªor any weapon¡ªfinally in his hands. A rush of excitement filled his chest, and he nearly teared up from the overwhelming joy. He could have danced. "Let''s get you a weapon forged." "Forged¡ª?" Before he could finish his sentence, Seraphine grabbed him. The world around them shattered like glass, and in an instant, they were somewhere else. A thick, metallic scent invaded his nose, mixed with the acrid smell of burning coal. His skin prickled from the intense heat, a sudden wave of warmth making him feel as though he might combust. "Follow me." "Where are we?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity as they stepped into a massive chamber. It looked like a regular smithy. "Ironhold." "Ironhold?" he repeated, barely hearing his voice over the rhythmic clang of metal striking metal. "The land of dwarves." "!!" ''I had no idea this place existed...'' The scent of molten metal and burning coals hung thick in the air, blending with the raw essence of forged steel. Along the walls, massive forges lined the chamber, each one radiating an orange glow as dwarven blacksmiths worked tirelessly. The rhythmic hammering echoed off the stone walls, the sound of metal striking metal reverberating through the vast hall. Sparks danced through the air before vanishing into the dim light, while rough, calloused hands shaped swords, armor, and weapons of unmatched craftsmanship. ''It''s scorching in here...'' "Incredible." He spoke without thinking, mesmerized by a master blacksmith working on a long-bladed sword. A deep, hearty laugh rang out as the dwarf smith turned to him, his beard singed at the edges from years spent by the forge. "If you think that''s impressive, lad, you''ve never held a true dwarven blade in your hands." "He hasn''t yet, Baldrek. This is the Elven Prince, Lindarion." The moment Seraphine spoke those words, Baldrek''s eyes widened. He halted his work, setting his hammer aside, and strode toward Lindarion. "How old are you, boy?" His voice carried the weight of years, deep and powerful, filled with the authority of a master who had seen and done it all. "I''m six years old, sir," Lindarion declared loudly, making sure his voice carried through the smithy. For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then, Baldrek let out a booming laugh, the kind that came from deep within his chest. It echoed off the stone walls, and soon, the other dwarves joined in, chuckling among themselves. "Seraphine, tell me the real reason you brought him here," Baldrek said, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. "We need a blade for the Prince¡ª" "Say no more." He cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "There''s no way in the gods'' names that I''m forging a sword for a child. Prince or not, he wouldn''t even be able to hold a proper blade." A few of the nearby dwarves smirked, barely containing their laughter. ''He thinks I can''t? Who does he take me for?'' "Baldrek." Seraphine''s voice dropped, her expression hardening as she locked eyes with the dwarf. Baldrek met her gaze but remained unfazed. "My answer stands," he said firmly, turning back to the weapon he had been forging. Chapter 17 17: A Weapon He couldn''t let this go¡ªhe needed a weapon. "Sir Baldrek, surely we can come to an agree¡ª" "Listen, kid." Baldrek cut him off, his voice laced with irritation. "You''re not the first to come begging for a blade. Even that thick-headed king showed up once, but his whelp couldn''t even swing a sword." ''Thick-headed king?'' Lindarion and Seraphine exchanged glances, both raising an eyebrow at the unexpected information. "Baldrek, don''t be so¡ª" Seraphine started, but Lindarion interrupted before she could finish. "What if I can wield a sword?" The entire forge fell silent. The rhythmic hammering stopped, and every pair of eyes locked onto him as if trying to burn a hole through his skull. Baldrek let out a short laugh before turning back to his unfinished blade. But Lindarion wasn''t going to let him dismiss him so easily. He stepped forward, his voice ringing through the quiet workshop. "I''ll prove it." ''What is he thinking? He''s never even held a sword...'' Seraphine''s thoughts were written all over her face, her expression a mess of disbelief and frustration. She struggled to maintain her usual composed and cold demeanor. A murmur rippled through the workshop. Some dwarves smirked, others chuckled, but the majority watched with wary interest. Baldrek stayed motionless for a moment, then slowly turned to face Lindarion, his sharp gaze drilling into him. "You''ll prove it?" He repeated with a chuckle, crossing his thick arms. "And how exactly do you plan to do that, kid?" Lindarion didn''t hesitate. His eyes flicked to a training sword resting on a workbench beside one of the dwarf apprentices. Without waiting for permission, he strode over and grabbed the weapon. A longsword. Some of the dwarves sneered, but their expressions shifted the moment he took his stance. As his fingers wrapped around the hilt, his muscles remembered¡ªhis instincts returned. Years of experience, of training from long ago, flooded back into his body. He took a deep breath and executed a clean arc through the air, followed by a precise thrust. The steel hummed as it cut through the space before him. A few dwarves let out approving hums. ''This... this is what I was missing.'' A rush of emotion surged through him. His eyes gleamed with excitement. It felt right. It felt like home. Seraphine, on the other hand, looked like she had seen a ghost. Her wide eyes, her raised brows¡ªher entire face had paled. Baldrek snorted loudly. "Not bad, but that doesn''t make you a swordsman, boy." He gestured to one of his apprentices, who stepped forward with a heavy training blade, a broadsword meant for power over finesse. "If you really want to prove yourself, fight him." Seraphine stiffened, ready to intervene at any moment. Lindarion exhaled slowly, focusing his mind. His grip tightened around the sword. The dwarf charged first¡ªfast, powerful, just as expected from a battle-hardened smith. Lindarion stepped back, barely dodging his strike. Then, his instincts took over. [Phantom Step] In an instant, he vanished from sight, reappearing behind his opponent like a shadow. Before the dwarf could react, his blade was at the apprentice''s neck¡ªstopped just a hair''s breadth away. Silence. Seraphine''s face was frozen in pure shock. Every dwarf in the forge gawked, mouths agape. Except for Baldrek. A slow grin spread across the dwarf''s face. He let out a deep, hearty laugh, elbowing Seraphine, who still hadn''t recovered from what she had just witnessed. "Well, the kid''s not completely useless." Laughter erupted throughout the forge¡ªnot mocking but impressed. The air had shifted. They no longer saw Lindarion as just some noble brat. Baldrek sized him up one more time, his gaze thoughtful. ''What''s he planning?'' Finally, Baldrek let out a long sigh. "Alright, Prince. Let''s see what kind of blade you deserve." Seraphine stood beside Lindarion, still stunned into silence. She was trying to mask her reaction, forcing herself back into that cold, unreadable expression. Baldrek turned abruptly and strode toward the depths of the workshop. "Follow me." They followed him deeper into the forge, where the air grew thick and blistering hot. The steady rhythm of hammer strikes gradually faded until there was nothing but the crackling of flames. At last, they reached a massive iron door. Baldrek pulled a heavy key from his belt and, with a single firm motion, unlocked the door. The metal groaned as it swung open. ''Amazing... It''s hot as hell, though.'' Inside lay a private smithy, far more refined and organized than the outer one. The walls were adorned with masterwork weapons¡ªexquisite blades, reinforced armor, and rare weapons, unlike anything Lindarion had ever seen. The room carried an air of reverence as if every weapon here had a history, a soul forged in its steel. Baldrek folded his arms and met Lindarion''s gaze. "Well, boy, if you''re so determined to prove yourself, it''s time you wield a blade that''s worthy of you." Seraphine remained silent, but Lindarion could feel her watching him, studying him. ''Is she trying to read my thoughts?'' His pulse pounded¡ªnot with nerves, but with something deeper. Anticipation. Excitement. The pure, unfiltered thrill of knowing that soon, he would wield a dwarven masterpiece. That soon, he would be able to wield a sword yet again. Baldrek exhaled loudly, his gaze never leaving Lindarion''s. "A real sword isn''t simply chosen, boy. A true weapon is forged for its wielder. But before I begin, I need to know¡ªwhat do you seek in a blade?" His words carried weight, pressing against the air between them. This wasn''t just about steel and fire. He was asking about Lindarion. His intent. His purpose. ''What kind of blade do I seek...?'' Lindarion clenched his fists, scanning the weapons displayed around the room. Finally, he took a breath and spoke. "I need a sword that moves with me." The words came slowly at first, but then they gained strength, his thoughts solidifying as he voiced them. "Something fast. Precise. A weapon that strikes before my enemy even realizes I''ve drawn it." Seraphine raised an eyebrow, visibly surprised by the certainty in his voice. Baldrek, on the other hand, smirked. His thick brows lifted slightly, and amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. "A duelist''s blade, then. A weapon built for speed and finesse, not brute strength." "Yes," Lindarion said without hesitation. "Exactly." Baldrek grunted in approval and turned away, making his way toward a massive stone chest reinforced with thick iron bands. With a grunt, he grabbed the lid and swung it open. Inside, rare ingots lay stacked in neat rows¡ªsome as black as the void itself, others veined with gold and silver. A few pulsed with an eerie, faintly glowing blue light. Seraphine''s sharp gaze flickered with recognition, an unusual reaction from her. "Eldersilver," she murmured under her breath, nearly inaudible. Baldrek chuckled. "Aye, that and much more. These metals aren''t tamed by ordinary smiths. Only the heart of a mountain and the hands of a master can shape them into something worthy of a warrior." He reached in and pulled out a small, shimmering ingot, no larger than his palm. Its surface rippled like liquid mercury, shifting between silver and deep violet. "Voidsteel," he said, his voice quieter, more measured. For a brief second, Seraphine''s expression faltered¡ªjust a flicker of something unreadable before she schooled her face back to indifference. "This metal is light as a feather, harder than any mortal steel, and bends to mana like nothing else." ''Incredible...'' The moment Lindarion laid eyes on it, something stirred in his chest. A pull. A whisper. As if the metal itself was calling to him. [This is it, Host.] Baldrek noticed his reaction and let out a deep laugh. "Hah. Seems we''ve found our core material, boy." ''For once, we agree.'' He tossed the ingot into the air, then caught it with practiced ease, and turned toward the forge. "Well then," he said, rolling up his sleeves in a single, fluid motion. "Let''s forge you a blade, brat." Chapter 18 18: Forging The Sword Baldrek strode toward the forge, gripping the small chunk of ore in his calloused hands. The flames roared inside the furnace, embers swirling in the air like fireflies. The intense heat pressed against Lindarion''s skin, sweat already forming on his brow. When Baldrek reached the forge, he placed the ore into the searing flames. The fire hissed softly as the metal absorbed the heat. "This isn''t a job to rush, boy," Baldrek muttered, his eyes fixed on the slowly heating metal. "Mastery isn''t about speed. Metal needs time to take shape." ''Sure, sure, dwarf.'' With a single, practiced motion, Baldrek reached for a massive hammer. His weathered hands¡ªstrong yet precise¡ªlifted the tool as if it weighed nothing. Leaning over the forge, he watched the metal carefully, his sharp eyes tracking its gradual transformation. The air shimmered from the overwhelming heat. Then came the first strike. The hammer fell with a resounding clang, its rhythm echoing through the workshop like a heartbeat. Each impact was measured, deliberate¡ªthe strokes of a master shaping raw material into something greater. "You should know¡ª" Baldrek''s voice was steady, even as he worked. "A weapon is a reflection of its wielder. If you lack patience, you''ll never wield the blade you desire." Seraphine gave a slow nod, her gaze locked onto the forging process. [That''s right.] Her face glistened with sweat, her blue eyes gleaming with sharp focus. ''He''s a true blacksmith,'' Lindarion thought, watching as the sword slowly took form. Sparks flared with each strike, showering the ground like molten stars. The blade grew sharper, more refined with every blow. The heat, the rhythm, the skill¡ªall blended into a single, seamless motion. "This is the secret, Prince." Baldrek landed a final, resounding strike, the impact sending a wave of heat through the air. "Speed and sharpness aren''t just about brute force. It''s about precision." After a while, the blade was gleaming and red hot. It had taken shape. The last explosion of sparks flared like a dying ember, a final touch to the masterpiece. Seraphine observed in silence, her expression unreadable. Baldrek turned, lifting the sword in his hands and examining it with a discerning eye before handing it to Lindarion. "This is yours now, Prince. A dueling sword, forged by a true craftsman." ''It''s perfect.'' The room fell silent, save for the crackling embers and their steady breaths. The newly forged blade gleamed under the forge''s light. The heat still lingered, but the time, the effort¡ªthe very soul poured into the weapon¡ªhad taken physical form. Baldrek studied Lindarion as he turned the sword in his hands, testing its weight. "It''s not every blade that deserves to be wielded," he mused, his fingers brushing over ancient relics hanging on the workshop walls¡ªforgotten weapons of long-dead warriors. "This sword requires more than just strength. It demands a warrior with a sharp mind." His words didn''t intimidate Lindarion. If anything, they confirmed what he had already felt. Every curve of the blade, every groove whispered the same message¡ªthis weapon was meant for him. [The Void Blade is beginning to accept you. Resonance level increasing.] ''!!!'' His grip tightened around the hilt, but he masked his surprise. Lindarion gave the sword a few experimental swings. The movement felt... natural, as if the weapon was an extension of his own body. Each slash cut through the air effortlessly, flowing with an elegance he hadn''t expected. Baldrek watched, nodding in approval. "Now, get out of here," he grunted. "You''ve taken enough of my time." Before Lindarion could respond, Seraphine grabbed his arm, ready to leave. But he turned back, lowering his head in a deep bow. "Thank you for this weapon. I swear I will bring honor to it. We will meet again." He smiled as he spoke, but Baldrek only scoffed. "Don''t make me laugh, boy." Still, Lindarion caught the flicker of pride in his gaze before the dwarf turned away. "The King will be grateful," Seraphine added with a cold smirk, her voice sharp as ice. "Blah, blah¡ªtell your King to leave me alone. And stop smiling like that. It''s creepy. Now, get out." Baldrek''s gruff voice carried the weight of finality. A moment later, the world around them fractured, dissolving like shattered glass. When the distortion settled, they stood once more at the Stone Circle. Gone was the metallic scent of molten iron. Instead, the air carried the refreshing aroma of damp earth and blooming flowers. Lindarion glanced down. The sword¡ªcool and solid¡ªrested in his grip. ''Beautiful.'' He swung the sword through the air, reveling in the familiar motion. It had been too long since he last wielded a blade. Each strike cut cleanly, leaving a faint hum in its wake. The weapon moved effortlessly, responding to his every command. Seraphine watched him closely, her gaze unwavering. "Your Highness, your father wishes to see you." ''..? How does she know that? Telepathy or something?'' [Possible, Host.] ''...I wasn''t being serious.'' "Alright, then let''s go¡ª" Before Lindarion could finish, Seraphine grabbed his arm. A blink later, they were standing inside his father''s office. "I see you managed to convince Baldrek," King Sunblade said in his usual stern tone. Yet, behind his cold demeanor, there was a glint of pride in his eyes. Lindarion inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Yes, Father, I did." He unsheathed the blade, holding it up for his father to see. The King''s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. ''Voidsteel... a flawless sword.'' Eldrin''s thoughts didn''t waver as he observed the weapon. "I summoned you here because of tomorrow, son." He rose gracefully from his throne-like chair. "Tomorrow?" Lindarion frowned. "I thought I had training scheduled." He glanced at Seraphine, but she remained silent. "Tomorrow is the Elven Festival, and now that you''re six, I want you to participate." His voice carried both authority and pride. Lindarion tapped his fingers against his leg, considering his response. ''Hmm... a festival, huh?'' ¡ª¡ª[Quest Window]¡ª¡ª ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª His eyes lit up as a white, celestial window materialized before him. "I''ll be there, Father," he said without hesitation. Seraphine glanced at him as if she found it strange that he agreed so easily. "Okay, son, but remember¡ªthis will be your first public appearance as a prince outside of the ball. You must dress appropriately and behave accordingly." "I understand, Father," Lindarion said, nodding in unison. "Good. Now, rest for the day. Your attire will be delivered to your room. Seraphine will be your bodyguard during the festival." With that, Seraphine nodded and vanished into the shadows. ''This is still fucking creepy.'' "I understand, Father." "You may return to your room now." Lindarion bowed slightly before leaving the office. Slowly, he walked back to his room, the endless corridors stretching before him. The maids glanced at him as he passed, but it wasn''t him they were focused on¡ªit was the sword hanging at his side. Once he entered his room, his thoughts returned to the mission. ''System, I accept the quest.'' [Quest started! Good luck, Host!] Hearing the familiar voice of the system, he placed his sword next to the bed, then flopped down onto the mattress, sinking into the soft bedding as he looked up at the ceiling of his room. Chapter 19 19: Practice makes perfect Lindarion was too excited about the sword to even think about resting. Grabbing it once more, he made his way through the endless corridors, his steps carrying him back to the stone circle hidden deep within the gardens¡ªthis time, alone. ''Is she watching...?'' For a moment, he wondered if Seraphine was keeping an eye on him, silently observing his every move. But he quickly pushed the thought aside. It didn''t matter. Drawing his sword from its sheath, he savored the sound¡ªthe crisp, flawless slide of steel against the scabbard echoing in the still night air. A distinct metallic scent filled his nose, sending a thrill through him. ''I missed this...'' Lindarion thought as the blade sliced cleanly through the air, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next, like a dance where the sword was his only partner. It felt natural, effortless¡ªan extension of his body as if they were one. A radiant glow traced the weapon''s path, like a streak of lightning flashing across the sky. Hours passed as he lost himself in the motions, completely immersed, his focus unshaken. Then¡ªBEEP! An intrusive chime broke his rhythm, nearly making him lose his footing. [Dexterity +0.5, Strength +0.5] ''So I can improve like this too...'' A grin spread across his face at the thought, the kind a child wears when they receive a long-awaited toy. Taking a deep breath, he summoned the swordsmanship manuals stored within the Black Hole. The moment he read through them, knowledge flooded his mind, each technique unfolding with perfect clarity as if an invisible master was guiding him. ''Let''s see...'' He planted his feet firmly, one hand gripping the hilt while the other hovered near his center of balance. First Technique: The Straight Cut. He tightened his hold and executed a smooth, fluid strike. The blade cut effortlessly through the air, leaving a faint whisper in its wake. Again and again, he repeated the motion, refining it with each pass¡ªrelaxing his wrist, focusing his power at the right moment. ''Feels good...'' Second Technique: Parry and Counterattack. Stepping back, he simulated a defensive maneuver, blocking an imaginary opponent''s strike. The moment his unseen foe''s blade "connected" with his, he retaliated¡ªswift, precise, cutting sideways in a controlled arc. Technique after technique, he moved with growing confidence, his motions becoming second nature. The cold, windy air did little to cool the heat building in his muscles from the relentless practice. Finally, he stopped, drawing in a deep breath. The sword remained steady in his grip as if it had become a part of him. Mastering the fundamentals wasn''t flashy, but every movement brought him closer to the true art of swordsmanship. As he stood beneath the sun, he knew¡ªthis was only the beginning. Flipping through the summoned manuals again, one particular technique caught his attention. Wave Dance ¨C The Art of the Flowing Blade. The description emphasized fluid movement and rhythm shifts. It wasn''t about brute force but about disrupting the opponent''s tempo, making it impossible for them to predict the next strike. ''Interesting...'' Adjusting his stance, he held the sword lightly as if it were a fallen leaf resting in his palm. The first step of the technique was a smooth, wave-like motion¡ªan initial lateral slash that didn''t fully complete, instead transitioning seamlessly into another swing in the opposite direction. [Strength +1, Dexterity +1] The blade practically danced in his grasp. Again and again, he repeated the movements, refining each slash until they became softer yet deadly precise. The key was never giving the opponent a moment to react¡ªeach strike served as the foundation for the next. As he moved faster and more fluidly, he felt his body attune itself to the technique''s natural rhythm. The sword was no longer just a weapon¡ªit was a flowing current, and he was its guide. [Strength +0.5, Dexterity +0.5] White streaks blurred in the air, and the sound of the blade cutting through the wind resonated around him. Every movement was in perfect sync. Finally, he halted, taking a deep breath. ''This will be a useful technique.'' Collapsing onto the ground, slightly exhausted, he could feel the effects of the Serpent''s Endurance and Ancient Wisdom passives granted by his Ouroboros'' Disciple title. He could grasp techniques quickly and barely fatigued during training. Still, he knew it was time to stop and return to the palace. Springing up lightly, like a small bird, he made his way back, strolling leisurely through the beautiful gardens. By the time he navigated the endless corridors and arrived in his room, he noticed a stand holding a carefully arranged suit. A white ensemble with gold embroidery. Running his fingers over the fabric, he felt its rigidity¡ªit was as if the outfit was impenetrable, resembling armor rather than mere clothing. ''So this is what I''m supposed to wear tomorrow. Not bad.'' Examining it once more, he changed out of his training gear. Instead, he slipped into an elegant noble outfit, entirely black. ''Time for dinner.'' Fastening his sword onto his belt, he stepped out of his room, moving with unhurried grace. The dining hall''s warm glow illuminated the marble pillars and the long, finely crafted table laden with steaming dishes. The aroma of honeyed wine blended with the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meats. Seated at the head of the table, his father, Eldrin, poured himself a drink in quiet contemplation, while his mother, Melion, delicately took a bite of her food. Lindarion sat upright, his sword resting at his side. Just as he reached for his fork, he caught his mother''s gaze¡ªher eyes fixed, not on him, but on his blade. She slowly set down her utensils, her gaze narrowing slightly as a knowing smile curled her lips. ''That devilish smile... This isn''t going to end well...'' "Lindarion," she spoke softly, yet her tone carried clear surprise. "Why, exactly, do you have a sword with you?" He placed his goblet down, his fingers grazing the hilt absentmindedly. His smile faltered slightly as he struggled to maintain composure. "For my training, Mother." She was already aware of his training since his father had told her about it. Though truth be told, she hadn''t been too fond of that either. Melion tilted her head slightly, then turned to Eldrin, her sharp gaze demanding an explanation. "Seriously?" she arched an eyebrow. "The boy is only six. Why is he carrying a weapon already?" Eldrin set his goblet down with practiced ease, meeting Lindarion''s gaze for a long moment before answering. "Because he earned it." For a brief second, Melion''s lips parted, as if caught off guard by the simplicity and certainty of his response. "Eldrin..." she began slowly, her smile widening. "Are you sure it''s time?" ''Yes, he''s sure...'' "Baldrek forged this sword for him personally," Eldrin replied, calmly cutting into his meal. "Had he not been worthy, he wouldn''t have received it." His words made Lindarion raise an eyebrow. ''That was unexpected.'' Melion''s gaze returned to him, yet it was different this time. It wasn''t just maternal concern but something deeper¡ªperhaps recognition. "If Baldrek truly deemed him fit..." she mused, her voice softer now. "Then I suppose I''m curious to see what you''ll do with such a responsibility, my son." There was no reprimand in her words, but the unspoken expectation was clear. So was the quiet fear of a mother who worried for her child. Lindarion nodded firmly. "I won''t disappoint you." A faint smile touched Melion''s lips before she turned back to her meal. The rest of the evening carried a lighter atmosphere¡ªhe shared the story of how he convinced Baldrek to forge his sword. Eldrin shook his head, barely hiding his smirk, while Melion listened, mouth slightly open in astonishment. As they finished and began to head out, Eldrin gently placed a hand on Lindarion''s shoulder. His voice, though calm, carried a weight of authority. "Don''t let anyone underestimate you, son¡ªnor our family. You are the heir, after all." He ruffled Lindarion''s hair, a gesture of rare tenderness, before walking out of the room. ''I won''t let them...'' Chapter 20 20: The Festival The golden light of dawn streamed through the palace windows, casting a soft glow over Lindarion''s room. The silk curtains swayed gently in the morning breeze as he opened his eyes. For a moment, he lay still, wrapped in the warmth of his blankets, letting the quiet of the early morning sink in. Then, the reason he had to wake early returned to him. "The festival... fuck." Taking a deep breath, he sat up. His gaze landed on the clothing stand, where his ceremonial attire waited¡ªa white tunic with gold embroidery, elegant yet strong, almost like armor woven from silk. He ran his hand over the fabric. Cool to the touch, yet reassuring. "Time to get ready, I guess." He went through his morning routine quickly¡ªa refreshing bath, a few strokes of a comb through his hair¡ªbefore putting on the attire. It fit well, snug around his shoulders but comfortable. Lastly, he fastened his sword to his belt. The familiar weight grounded him. Just as he finished adjusting his outfit, he sensed movement in the room. Seraphine stepped out from the shadows, as silent as ever. Her sharp gaze swept over his attire, then lingered on his sword. ''Did she just watch me get dressed...?'' A slight warmth rose to his face, but he pushed the thought aside. "Are you ready, Prince?" she asked in her usual cold tone. "I am," he replied evenly. ''She''s always like this...'' Lindarion shook his head with a quiet sigh and glanced at his reflection. It was strange seeing himself like this¡ªnot in training clothes, but in full ceremonial attire, ready to face the public. A knock at the door broke his thoughts. "It''s time, Your Highness," a maid announced, bowing as she entered. He took one last look in the mirror before stepping forward. ''This will be a long day...'' Seraphine followed as he walked down the grand palace halls. The morning air was crisp as they stepped outside. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, and birds sang in the distance, creating a peaceful melody. "Son." His father''s deep voice pulled him from his thoughts. Eldrin stood beside Melion near the royal carriage, waiting. "Are you ready?" his mother asked, smiling warmly. "I am. We should go," he replied. His father nodded, and they climbed into the carriage. With a knock, the coachman set the horses into motion. "There will be many noble families at the festival today," Eldrin said, his voice firm. "Not just from our kingdom. The Elven Council will also be there. Remember what I told you." Lindarion glanced at him. "Which families will be attending?" "Our kingdom, Eldorath, is hosting," Eldrin began. "Lorienya, the land of the Wood Elves, will also be present. That''s where your instructor, Sylvie, comes from." His expression darkened slightly, and his hand curled into a fist. "Sylvarion will be there as well. They are known as the Moonfolk¡ªyou can recognize them by their white hair." His tone grew even heavier. "And then there''s Tirnaeth... the kingdom of the Dark Elves. They haven''t been invited to any events for years. But this time, the Council decided differently." He met Lindarion''s gaze. "These are the nations of our elven continent, Vaeloria." ''So many kingdoms..'' "I understand, Father," Lindarion said, storing the information away in his mind. Eldrin gave a brief nod before continuing. "You must pay close attention to the royal families and their children. These are the people you''ll have to deal with in the future." Lindarion nodded again, acknowledging his words. The rest of the journey passed in conversation between the three of them, with Seraphine remaining silent, listening from the shadows as always. Eventually, they arrived at their destination¡ªElarion, the city known as the heart of Eldorath. Towering silverwood trees intertwined with luminous crystal spires, their branches forming pathways that shimmered with soft, enchanted light. "We''ve arrived," Eldrin announced. A moment later, the carriage doors swung open from the outside. As they stepped out, a sea of people surrounded them¡ªguards standing at attention, noble spectators watching from a distance, and musicians whose ethereal melodies drifted through the air. Among the guards, Lindarion spotted Therion, his sharp gaze meeting his. The man gave a subtle nod of acknowledgment. The music was unlike anything Lindarion had ever heard. It didn''t seem to come from a single place but from everywhere at once. ''Some kind of sound magic?'' [Correct, Host] The realization sent a small thrill through him, but he pushed it aside. The festival was only beginning, and he had much to prepare for. The crowd swirled around them, nobles and guests casting curious glances their way while the guards moved in a tight formation, ensuring their path remained clear. As Lindarion stepped forward, the sheer scale of the square took his breath away. Vibrant silk banners fluttered overhead, enchanted lanterns floated gracefully above the buildings, and the streets buzzed with the energy of the festival. The scents of freshly baked sweets, spiced wines, and rare flowers blended into an intoxicating mix, adding to the dreamlike atmosphere. Eldrin strode ahead with his usual confidence, while Melion gently touched Lindarion''s arm before moving to walk beside him. Seraphine, with her usual silence, followed closely behind like a shadow, her sharp gaze scanning the surroundings. ''Silent as always... still creepy.'' Then, a commanding voice rang out, cutting through the lively chatter. "Welcome the Royal Family of Eldorath! The Sunblade family!" At the announcement, the crowd parted slightly, revealing a tall man dressed in regal attire. His broad smile exuded confidence, his posture one of effortless authority. "In the name of Elarion, we extend our warmest greetings!" He stepped forward, offering his hand to Eldrin. "We have long awaited this day, Arthion." Eldrin accepted the handshake, a faint smile playing on his lips. "As have we, King Eldrin. This year''s festival promises to be exceptional." Arthion''s gaze drifted over Lindarion before briefly flicking to Seraphine. "And he is my son, the prince¡ªLindarion Sunblade." Eldrin formally introduced him, and hushed whispers rippled through the crowd. Lindarion bowed politely, as was expected. "It is an honor." "The honor is mine, Your Highness." Arthion stepped closer and, to Lindarion''s surprise, inclined his head in a respectful bow. "These coming days will hold many opportunities for you, Prince." There was something in his tone¡ªsomething layered beneath the surface. His words carried weight, a hidden meaning Lindarion couldn''t quite grasp. ''What is he trying to say...?'' Before Lindarion could respond, Eldrin took a step back and gestured toward the city with an open hand. "Let the festival begin!" The crowd erupted into cheers, the music swelled, and the city came alive with renewed energy. The festival had officially begun. Chapter 21 21: Rough Introductions The crowd erupted into applause as Arthion officially announced the start of the festival. People eagerly began roaming the streets, sampling food and drinks, their laughter and conversation blending with the festive atmosphere. Meanwhile, Lindarion and the other nobles were led into a grand hall where an elaborate feast awaited them. The interior gleamed with white marble and gold embellishments, exuding an air of luxury. ''The usual pomp and extravagance...'' Shortly after, two more noble families arrived, clearly from different nations, judging by how their gazes swept across the hall, taking in every detail. Including him. Not all of them looked on with kindness. ''What was their problem?'' He remembered that his father''s words about them had been odd, but this was something else entirely. "They''re sizing you up." Seraphine''s voice was barely more than a whisper in his ear¡ªsoft, subtle, meant for him alone. ''So, they''re assessing me.'' Before he could dwell on it further, the doors swung open once again, revealing three figures stepping inside. ''Sylvarion...?'' Lindarion immediately tried to guess their homeland upon seeing their silver-white hair flowing like strands of moonlight. Two adults and a young girl strode in, their presence commanding the room as if they owned it. All three wore the same cold, detached expression. ''Is everyone from that country this icy?'' Without hesitation, they made their way toward the Sunblade family. The man among them had short hair, deep black eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard that reached his shoulders. The woman''s hair cascaded to her waist, and her golden eyes shimmered like stars in the night sky. Then there was the girl¡ªher hair barely touched the middle of her back, and her pitch-black eyes resembled the void itself, as if staring into them could pull in one''s very soul. ''That''s... unsettling.'' "The Silverleaf family," Seraphine whispered in his ear like a passing breeze. ''Why is she whispering... It''s creepy.'' "Eldrin, we meet again." The man''s voice matched his appearance¡ªfrigid and unyielding, like an ocean frozen over. "Vaelion, Sylvaris, it is good to see you," King Eldrin replied respectfully, addressing the man and woman. "And this must be your daughter?" His gaze shifted toward the girl. "Luneth Silverleaf," she answered curtly, her tone sharp as ice. ''Why are they all so cold? Oddballs'' "Melion." They greeted Queen Melion with a simple nod as she approached from somewhere¡ªLindarion hadn''t even noticed she was gone. "And this must be your son. He looks just like you, Eldrin," Vaelion observed, his frigid gaze landing on Lindarion. "Lindarion Sunblade," he introduced himself with a slight nod. The girl¡ªLuneth¡ªkept staring at him. Her presence felt... ghostly. ''She reminds me of a certain individual..'' Lindarion glanced at Seraphine, only to find a questioning look on her otherwise stoic face. "?" ''Never mind...'' Shaking off the thought, he turned his attention back to the others. Before any more words could be exchanged, another noble family approached. Both kings raised their eyebrows at their arrival. A family of four, their jet-black hair instantly recognizable. ''Tirnaeth maybe? Based on their looks'' "Eldrin, Melion," the man said with a chilling laugh, his gaze fixed on the Sunblade family. Something about him felt... off. "Vaelion, Sylvaris," he continued, his eyes shifting to assess the Silverleaf family as well. "Zael, Selith," Eldrin greeted in return, his voice steady. Vaelion frowned, his expression tightening as he instinctively pulled his daughter behind him. "Oh, come now, Vaelion, there''s no need for such caution." Zael''s voice oozed amusement, his grin stretching wider. "And she must be Luneth, am I right?" His laughter was unsettling, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to crawl out from the darkest pits of the abyss. "These are our sons," Selith spoke with an eerie, composed tone, her voice both cold and unnervingly smooth. "The younger one is Draven, and the older one is Sylas Vaerath." Her expression remained unreadable, but there was a weight to her presence that made the air feel heavier. Zael''s gaze flicked to Lindarion, his lips curling into a sharp, predatory grin. "And this one?" "Lindarion Sunblade," Lindarion answered firmly before his father could speak. Zael''s grin widened. "Oh ho ho, Lindarion, you sound quite confident." ''What? How did this guy even come to that conclusion?'' Before he could respond, his father''s firm grip landed on his shoulder. "He has every reason to be," Eldrin stated, his voice steady and authoritative. Zael let out a dark chuckle. "Oh? And how old is this little warrior?" His amusement was clear, and it only irritated Lindarion further. He caught sight of Seraphine subtly grabbing his mother''s hand, stopping her from doing anything rash. Lindarion kept his voice strong as he answered. "Six years old." For a moment, there was silence. Then, he saw it¡ªZael was barely holding back a laugh. Lindarion didn''t give him the chance. "Even at six, I could defeat either of your sons in a duel." That shut them up. Zael and Selith exchanged glances before suddenly bursting into laughter. ''What''s so funny?'' Lindarion glanced up at his father. His brow was furrowed, his jaw tight. Zael wiped away an imaginary tear before shaking his head. "Kid, Sylas is about seven years older than you, and he is soon to take the entrance exam for Evernight Academy. You wouldn''t stand a chance. Right, Sylas?" He clamped a hand onto his son''s shoulder. Sylas merely smiled¡ªcalm, unfazed, like some lifeless doll. Vaelion and Sylvaris remained quiet, watching every little detail of the exchange with sharp, calculating eyes. Then Eldrin spoke. His voice thundered across the hall, cutting through the laughter like a blade. "I think he would." The room fell silent. Eldrin turned to Zael, his expression unreadable. "Would you like to test that theory?" Every noble in the hall turned to watch. "Ah, Eldrin, you truly are a comedian. Very well, let''s have some fun!" Zael let out a booming laugh before motioning his son forward. Sylas stepped ahead, glancing at Lindarion with an amused smirk before turning back to his father. "Father, I request two wooden swords¡ª" "Why wood? Are you afraid?" Lindarion cut him off, stepping closer as his hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his sword. Zael''s expression darkened slightly, but he didn''t protest. Instead, he gestured to one of his guards, who promptly handed him a real sword. Without hesitation, he placed it into his son''s hand. "Show them what you can do, my son." Sylas nodded and began walking toward Lindarion. Before the duel could begin, Eldrin''s voice rang out, loud and authoritative. "The match will continue until one of the guards deems an injury inevitable and steps in to intervene." ''Sounds easy enough. This won''t take long anyways.'' At the mention of injury, Queen Melion''s expression tightened. She cast her husband a sharp look, but he didn''t acknowledge it. Seraphine and Sylas'' guard both stood ready, prepared to interfere at a moment''s notice. Sylas and Lindarion locked eyes, a silent agreement passing between them. The Silverleaf family watched intently, their cold gazes unreadable. Around them, the other noble families murmured amongst themselves, eager to witness the outcome. ''I''m going to finish this quickly...'' Then¡ª "Begin the duel!" Eldrin''s voice exploded through the hall like a cannon blast. Chapter 22 22: Duel Lindarion''s father''s voice thundered through the chamber, echoing off the marble walls. "Begin the duel!" Sylas moved first, lunging forward with a swift, decisive strike. No hesitation, no testing Lindarion''s defenses¡ªhe was trying to overwhelm him with sheer force from the start. Lindarion moved instinctively. Dodging was almost effortless. His reflexes were sharp, honed, and as Sylas''s blade cut through empty air, Lindarion countered, slashing toward his exposed side. ''He''s pretty clumsy.'' Steel clashed against steel, ringing through the hall. Sylas managed to block at the last moment, but Lindarion felt the slight tremor in his stance¡ªhe had caught him off guard. "Hm. Not bad." Lindarion''s voice was calm, almost indifferent. The flicker of irritation in Sylas''s eyes told him he didn''t appreciate the remark. Lindarion didn''t give him time to recover. His blade cut through the air again, pressing the attack. The wind from his strike ruffled Sylas''s hair as he barely pulled back in time. Sylas''s gaze sharpened. Now, he was taking this seriously. "This is getting boring, Sylas." The chamber fell into stunned silence. The gathered nobles'' eyes widened as if Lindarion had just insulted their entire lineage. Sylas''s response was immediate. He charged, his movements faster, more precise. His strikes carried weight now, his attacks relentless. But it still wasn''t enough. The sharp clang of metal rang out as Lindarion parried each blow, feeling the surge of adrenaline with every deflection. Sylas tried to force his own rhythm onto him, to make Lindarion fight on his terms. Lindarion refused. With a sharp movement, he drove his hilt into Sylas''s stomach. Sylas staggered back, gasping, before jumping away to regain his footing. For a brief moment, they simply stared at each other. Sylas''s breathing was uneven, his grip on his sword tightening. His frustration was written across his face, barely contained. "This isn''t over!" he roared. And then, the air around him trembled. A ripple of energy surged from Sylas''s body. The gathered nobles tensed, eyes flickering with alarm. From the corner of Lindarion''s eye, he saw Seraphine prepare to step in¡ªbut his father stopped her with a simple gesture. "What are you doing?!" Melion turned to Eldrin, her voice tense. "Trust our son," Eldrin answered calmly. His gaze never wavered from the duel. Sylas''s mana erupted like a storm. The floor beneath him trembled as raw energy coiled around his arms, crackling with power. His sword pulsed with glowing blue light, the air around him growing heavy. He launched himself forward, his speed now completely different from before. The stone beneath his feet cracked as he propelled himself toward Lindarion, his blade cutting through the air like a hurricane. Lindarion didn''t wait for him to reach him. "It''s over¡ª" Sylas barely got the words out before Lindarion moved. [Phantom Step. Mana Threads.] Golden threads of mana shot through the air, wrapping around Sylas''s limbs, locking his body in place. The momentum of his attack was stolen in an instant. His sword froze mid-swing, his eyes widening in shock. Lindarion materialized behind him like a shadow, pressing the cold edge of his blade to the back of Sylas''s neck. A hush fell over the chamber. Whispers spread like wildfire as the nobles processed what they had just seen. "It is over." Lindarion''s voice was calm, firm, undeniable. Sylas''s jaw tightened. He clenched his teeth, but he didn''t move. He knew¡ªif this had been a real battle, he would already be dead. A humiliating defeat. The silence stretched. Then, suddenly, a single clap echoed through the room. It was Eldrin. The applause spread slowly, hesitantly, until it filled the chamber. Some nobles looked stunned, others nodded in reluctant approval. Zael strode forward to retrieve his son as Lindarion released the mana threads. "So, the boy already has a mana core at six years old, huh?!" Zael''s voice was sharp, laced with indignation as he stepped toward Lindarion. A new voice cut through the tension. "Try to do anything funny." A figure emerged from the shadows¡ªSeraphine, standing behind Zael, a sharp needle pressed to his neck. Zael froze, frustration tightening his expression. "And why hasn''t the council been informed of this?" he growled. "We have." An elf with a long, silver beard stepped forward, his very presence radiating wisdom. ''A council member?'' Zael was enveloped by the elder''s aura and suddenly dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "My apologies, Thalorin." ''So that''s his name'' Thalorin studied Lindarion, stroking his beard, before letting out a chuckle. "So, you''re the boy who formed a mana core earlier than even our ancestors?" The entire chamber stilled. Gasps echoed among the nobles¡ªeven the Silverleaf family, who stood beside Eldrin and Melion, reacted with shock. The Vaerath family''s expressions twisted in displeasure, their narrowed eyes focused on Lindarion. Luneth, standing just behind her father, watched him with something different in her gaze. ''Admiration...?'' ''What does she see in me?'' "Yes, my lord," Lindarion answered, bowing slightly before Thalorin. Thalorin hummed, his sharp gaze sweeping over Lindarion from head to toe as if measuring his worth. Then, suddenly, a voice echoed in Lindarion''s mind. But it wasn''t his own. It belonged to the old elf standing before him. ''We will speak later, boy.'' ''Telepathy. So he wants to speak to me..'' The weight of Thalorin''s presence in his thoughts sent a chill through Lindarion. Instinctively, he bowed once more. "Well then, I believe the festival should continue. Wouldn''t you all agree?" Thalorin''s voice shattered the lingering tension. Some noble families exchanged hushed whispers, their expressions wary. With a snap of his fingers, every candle in the hall flared to life, casting a warm glow over the room. New dishes appeared on the banquet tables, their rich aroma filling the air. The music swelled once more as if nothing had happened. Eldrin stepped forward, inclining his head toward the elder council member. "Thalorin." "Eldrin, King of Eldorath," Thalorin greeted him with an amused tone, stroking his long silver beard. "It has been quite some time since we last spoke, wouldn''t you agree?" ''He''s an odd one as well it seems.'' Lindarion sighed, turning toward Melion, who stood nearby with a devilish smile. "That was a little dangerous, don''t you think, dear?" Before Lindarion could react, she pinched his cheek, tugging at it like he was a baby. "I had everything under control, Mom." His voice was steady, unwavering, like a well-forged blade. It was enough to make her pause, momentarily surprised. Behind her, Seraphine simply nodded, giving Lindarion a subtle thumbs-up. ''...'' "Well fought, Prince Lindarion." A cold voice cut through the air. Lindarion turned to see Vaelion approaching, his family following closely behind. "Thank you for the compliment, King Vaelion," Lindarion responded smoothly, his tone carrying confidence that resonated through the chamber. "I appreciate it." "Yes, young prince," another voice added, equally distant. Sylvaris. Her sharp, calculating eyes studied him, her tone and expression as unreadable as before. "We didn''t expect such strength from one so young." Luneth, standing beside them, nodded in agreement, her expression unreadable. ''Even when they offer praise, they''re as cold as ice... What a family.'' A sudden, high-pitched chime shattered Lindarion''s thoughts, and in the next moment, a bright white system window materialized before him. [Quest Completed!] Quest: The Elven Festival - Completed! Rewards: +2 Dexterity +2 Intelligence +2 Charisma ??? ¡ú Sovereign''s Veil (Legendary!) Bonus Reward: Mana Core advancement available! [Congratulations, Host, on completing the quest.] The glowing text lingered before fading into shimmering particles. ''Another Legendary skill?'' Lindarion''s eyes narrowed as he focused on the name¡ªSovereign''s Veil. ''I''ll check it out later..'' Lindarion exhaled slowly. And then there was the Mana Core advancement as well. The significance wasn''t lost on him. His mana core was already leagues ahead of what it should be at his age, and now... another step forward. He clenched his fist, feeling the lingering echoes of his earlier fight coursing through his veins. Chapter 23 23: Master from the Council After a while, Eldrin joined the group with Thalorin as they discussed the duel with Lindarion''s mother, Vaeliron, and Sylveris. Luneth remained silent, simply observing with her deep, unreadable eyes¡ªlike a specter drifting at the edge of the conversation. Then, without warning, a firm hand settled on Lindarion''s shoulder. He turned his head to see Thalorin staring down at him before shifting his gaze to Eldrin. "Then Eldrin, mind if I steal the boy for a bit?" Thalorin asked. A flicker of unease stirred in Lindarion''s chest. ''What does he want now? Didn''t he say we''d talk later?'' Eldrin looked at his son, then back at Thalorin, before giving a slow nod. Lindarion''s mother''s lips pressed into a thin line, and her gaze flicked between the two men. Eldrin met her eyes with silent assurance¡ªwhatever this was, he deemed it safe. The Silverleaf family, along with several other nobles, exchanged subtle glances as Thalorin led Lindarion out of the building. Their curiosity clung to his back like a heavy cloak. Thalorin guided him into a private chamber, and at first glance, the room felt... wrong. It was too clean, too empty, as if no one had ever truly lived in it. The air carried the faintest trace of something sharp¡ªlike ink mixed with old parchment. The walls were painted an almost sterile white, devoid of any decoration. Not a single personal touch, just a lone table and two chairs. Then, without warning, Thalorin tapped the table with his palm. A glowing white circle materialized around them, a faint hum vibrating through the air. ''What the¡ª?'' "A sound barrier." His voice cut through the silence. "Keeps unwanted ears from eavesdropping. No one outside this room will hear a word." His expression was calm¡ªtoo calm. He gestured toward the chair across from him. ''So it''s going to be one of those talks...'' Lindarion sat down, but before Thalorin could say anything, he got straight to the point. "What do you want from me?" A deep chuckle rumbled from Thalorin''s chest. "Straight to the heart of the matter, huh? No dancing around it?" His fingers stroked the edge of his beard as if considering something amusing. "You really are your father''s son." Lindarion didn''t respond. He simply held Thalorin''s gaze, his silence sharper than any blade. Thalorin''s grin widened. "Fine. Let''s not waste time." His tone shifted¡ªstill casual, but carrying an underlying weight. "My full name is Thalorin Evernight, and I want you to become my apprentice." ''Is he serious?'' For a moment, Lindarion just stared at him. He had prepared for a lot of possibilities¡ªan interrogation, a veiled threat, maybe even a cliche? assassination attempt under the Council''s orders. But this? This felt... unexpected. A test? A trap? Or something more? Thalorin didn''t give him time to dwell on it. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp with amusement. "Before you refuse, let me explain what that means." He steepled his fingers, his voice dropping just enough to feel conspiratorial. "I am one of the most powerful and influential members of the Council. That means I can offer you a degree of protection from them¡ªat least to some extent. I''m also the principal of the Evernight academy." Lindarion''s fingers curled slightly. ''Protection? Why would I need protection from the Council unless...? And seriously? This guy is the principal?'' Thalorin saw the flicker of realization in Lindarion''s eyes and smirked. "And if you plan to enroll in my academy, we can ensure that the process is seamless in a few years. Your talent alone guarantees it." Lindarion exhaled slowly, keeping his expression unreadable. ''He''s not just offering an apprenticeship. He''s offering leverage¡ªconnections, security, influence. But why?'' Then, Thalorin''s next words hit harder than the rest. "You are the youngest in our history to awaken a Mana Core at such an age. And I can tell¡ªyou''re already close to your next breakthrough, aren''t you?" Lindarion stiffened. ''His eyes are too damn sharp.'' Thalorin leaned back, satisfied with Lindarion''s reaction. "So tell me, Lindarion," His voice was softer now, almost coaxing. "What will it be?" For a moment, Lindarion just stared, frozen in place, unable to form a response. ''System, will this affect my relationship with Ouroboros?'' [A mere mortal like this holds no interest to Lord Ouroboros.] ''...You could''ve just said no, it would have been enough..'' Lindarion exhaled a quiet sigh before speaking. "How will this affect my relationship with my family? I mean... I won''t have to move away or anything, right? You don''t live in our kingdom." At his question, Thalorin let out a deep, amused laugh. "Kid, I doubt you know this yet, but once you reach your third Mana Core¡ªthe ''Stable Core''¡ªyou can start acquiring affinities." Lindarion frowned slightly, the words clicking into place but leaving him with more questions. Seeing his confusion, Thalorin continued. "I have a spatial affinity. Distance means nothing to me. So you don''t have to move away yet." ''Yet huh?'' Thalorin''s grin widened slightly. Lindarion gave a slow nod, absorbing the information. ''So affinities unlock at the third core... that''s good to know.'' "My second question¡ªhow will training work?" ''If it''s not a huge change from what I''m doing now, then¡ª'' "You''ll be fighting monsters. Low-level dungeon creatures, among other things, to build real combat experience." Lindarion''s thoughts stalled for a second. ''Monsters...? There are dungeon creatures? Could that be why my parents kept me locked in my room for so long?'' He let the realization settle before nodding. "Alright, I accept your offer." Thalorin extended a hand toward him, and Lindarion took it, clasping it firmly. The moment their hands met, a strange weight settled in the air¡ªalmost as if an unseen contract had been forged. Then, Thalorin stepped back and said something that made Lindarion instinctively raise an eyebrow. "Turn around." ''Is he secretly a pervert?'' "I''ll help you break through your Mana Core." His voice was calm, but his eyes carried the certainty of someone who had done this before. Lindarion hesitated for only a moment before turning his back to him. Almost immediately, he felt the pressure of Thalorin''s palm pressing against his back through his suit, right between his shoulder blades. "Start guiding your mana toward your core." Thalorin''s tone was sharp and instructive, leaving no room for hesitation. Lindarion obeyed, channeling mana through his body. It responded to his will with flawless obedience¡ªlike a well-trained child eager to please. The energy swirled toward the core in his head, but then¡ª A foreign mana invaded his body. A sharp pain erupted in his skull. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms as his jaw tightened. Sweat dripped down his forehead, trailing down his temples as the sensation grew¡ªan unrelenting pressure, like an axe splitting through his mind. Then, just as suddenly as it started¡ª Ding! Thalorin''s brows shot up in surprise but then changed back a second later, masking his surprise immediately. [Mana Core Breakthrough Successful!] [New Mana Core Rank: Lesser Core (Low)] Thalorin removed his hand and pressed his fingertips lightly against Lindarion''s forehead. In an instant, the lingering sweat evaporated, his hair and clothes returning to their pristine state. ''That''s... useful.'' "Congratulations, Lindarion." He gave a slow clap, the kind one would give to a child who had just learned to walk. "Now then¡ªany questions, my young apprentice?" His voice carried an unmistakable amusement. Lindarion didn''t hesitate. "As a member of the Sunblade family, what will my affinity be?" Thalorin''s smirk deepened as he met Lindarion''s gaze. "Since the Sunblade family wields the Radiant Sword Style, your affinity will almost certainly be tied to either light or fire." Thalorin fell silent after that, simply watching Lindarion. Lindarion let the answer sink in before asking his next question. "And... what''s the academy like?" A chuckle rumbled from Thalorin''s chest. "Ho ho, now that''s something I can''t put into words, kid." He leaned back slightly, eyes glinting with something between pride and nostalgia. "But if I had to sum it up in one word¡ªit''s magical. Absolutely extraordinary." His excitement was clear. ''A bit egotistical, isn''t he?'' Lindarion held back a small chuckle of his own. Then, Thalorin''s expression shifted back to calm authority. "Come, Lindarion. The other nobles are surely waiting for us." With a simple tap of his finger, the sound barrier shattered like glass, the hum of the outside world rushing back in. And just like that, Thalorin led him out of the room, back to where the others waited. Chapter 24 24: A Message As they returned to the hall, almost no one noticed them¡ªexcept for Seraphine. Everyone else was too occupied with the festival, lost in conversations and merriment. When they reached Lindarion''s family, he spotted another noble house nearby. Their distinct brown hair was unmistakable. ''Lorienyans?'' Thalorin cleared his throat, a subtle yet commanding gesture that immediately drew everyone''s attention. ''Of course he would do that.'' Eldrin stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Lindarion''s shoulder before looking at Thalorin. The older elf simply smiled and gave a small nod. Eldrin returned the gesture. ''So they had this planned all along...?'' "These are Vaelthorne, Sylwen, and Orlan Ironbark¡ªthe noble family of Lorienya," Eldrin introduced them, motioning toward the man, the woman, and the timid young boy hiding behind his mother. "Lindarion Sunblade, a pleasure to meet you." Lindarion inclined his head slightly. They returned the gesture with warm smiles. "We''ve heard much about you, Lindarion. Your duel against Sylas was nothing short of extraordinary. To wield such power at your age¡ªtruly remarkable." Vaelthorne, the king of Lorienya, spoke first, his tone carrying both admiration and curiosity. "Tell me, when did you begin training? And how is it possible that you''ve already awakened a Mana Core?" His manner of speech... It reminded Lindarion of someone. ''Just as talkative as Sylvie.'' Suppressing a sigh, Lindarion shook his head slightly before answering. "It was all thanks to my exceptional teacher." He turned slightly and gestured toward Seraphine. The entire group¡ªincluding Seraphine herself¡ªraised their eyebrows. ''Sorry.'' He mouthed the word at her. But he had no choice¡ªhe had to deflect all this questioning somehow. Seraphine responded with an icy, almost devilish smile before turning to them. The moment their eyes met hers, the questions ceased entirely. ''I still have much to learn.'' The rest of the festival passed uneventfully. Nobles feasted, drank, and conversed as if this were nothing more than a grand family gathering¡ªwith the added twist of politics, alliances, and power struggles in the background. ''So, almost like a family gathering after all.'' As the night progressed, the noble houses gradually began to retire. Then, amidst the fading revelry, Lindarion heard Arthion''s voice ring out from outside. "People of Elarion! Now, our King Eldrin shall address all of us!" Eldrin placed a hand on Lindarion''s shoulder and led him up to the stage¡ªa grand structure of dark oak, its edges adorned with golden carvings. ''I don''t like this... What is he planning?'' The plaza pulsed with life, torchlight casting golden hues over the assembled crowd. Eldrin Sunblade, Lindarion''s father, stepped forward. With a single motion, the voices of hundreds if not thousands fell silent. "Children of Eldorath!" His deep voice echoed across the city. "Tonight, we celebrate not only our traditions but who we are! Warriors, scholars, sages!" Passion burned in his words as his gaze swept over his subjects. ''He definitely rehearsed this.'' "Our strength lies in our roots, but our future is ours to forge! And tonight, a new era begins!" He paused, then turned to look at Lindarion. "Lindarion Sunblade, my son, my heir... the leader of the age to come." ''No way. He can''t be serious.'' The crowd held its breath, all eyes now locked onto Lindarion. He stepped forward, inhaling deeply. The weight of the moment pressed against him. "The elves will be the strongest race. And I will lead us to the top." The words were simple, yet their impact was immediate. Silence lingered for just a second¡ªthen the plaza erupted into deafening cheers. ''Like children.'' Lindarion mused, allowing a small smirk to slip through. From the side, his mother and father nodded in approval, while Thalorin watched with a satisfied grin. The festival was no longer just a celebration of tradition¡ªit had become the dawn of a new age. An age Lindarion was now expected to lead. ''This is going to be hard.'' He let out a quiet sigh as the night''s festivities gradually drew to a close. A few hours later, the noble families began to take their leave. As expected, the Vaeriths left without a word, as if they had never been here at all. ''Who would''ve thought.'' Lindarion shook his head. The Silverleaf family approached them next. "We will likely meet again soon," Vaelion said coolly, his sharp gaze passing over Eldrin and then settling on Lindarion. "You two will meet again at the Academy if all goes well," Sylvaris added, placing a hand on Luneth''s shoulder. The silver-haired elf stared at Lindarion with those ghostly, unreadable eyes. ''...Creepy.'' "Yes, it was a pleasure meeting you," Lindarion replied, inclining his head slightly. After exchanging parting words with the Ironbark family¡ªwho, true to form, spoke at great length¡ªthey neared the end of their farewells. Then, Thalorin approached Lindarion. "Your training will begin when you''re ready. Until then... I''ll be watching you with ominous eyes, Prince." He stroked his beard, smirked, then patted Lindarion''s shoulder¡ªbefore vanishing into thin air. Quite literally. His form dissipated like mist in the wind. ''I''m starting to get used to this.'' Lindarion sighed, shaking his head before stepping into the carriage with his parents. "The destination is Solrendel," Eldrin declared, knocking once on the carriage wall. The horses stirred, and the wheels creaked forward. Seraphine, arms crossed, observed everything in silence from the corner of the carriage. Ever watchful, like a phantom. ''As always.'' The journey home was quiet. Exhaustion hung over them like a thick mist, and no one spoke a word. Lindarion, too, felt its weight pressing down on him. Before he knew it, his eyelids grew heavy, and sleep overtook him. Then, as if slipping between the cracks of reality, he found himself floating in a familiar, endless darkness. ''I''ve been here before.'' A voice broke the silence. "Congratulations on forming your Lesser Core, my student." Before him stood Luneth. No... not Luneth. "Master Ouroboros?" His head tilted slightly, confusion flickering across his face. "Not fond of this form?" Ouroboros asked, amusement lacing his voice. "It''s... an odd choice." Lindarion rested his chin on his hand, studying him. "Then perhaps this is better?" In an instant, Ouroboros''s body expanded¡ªtwisting, shifting¡ªuntil a colossal serpent coiled before Lindarion, stretching hundreds of meters into the void. Lindarion''s breath hitched as he took in the sheer scale of him. The weight of his presence pressed down on his very being. "Honestly... yes." Lindarion''s response was firm, surprising even Ouroboros. The serpent let out a deep, resonant chuckle. "You really do resemble him in every way." Ouroboros''s voice held an air of nostalgia as he slithered closer. "But I doubt you came here just to congratulate me," Lindarion said, narrowing his eyes. "There must be a reason for this meeting." Ouroboros''s laughter faded, replaced by a knowing smirk. "Use the powers I''ve given you more often. You''ll find them... quite useful in the future." With those parting words, he shifted back into Luneth''s form and snapped her fingers¡ª And Lindarion woke up with a start. The gentle rocking of the carriage returned, the familiar sounds of hooves striking the dirt road filling his ears. Through the small window, he saw the faint glow of Solrendel''s torches in the distance. ''Use my powers more?'' Was it a warning? A test? [Ouroboros wouldn''t give meaningless messages.] Eldrin''s voice cut through Lindarion''s thoughts all of a sudden. "We''re home." The carriage slowed as they passed through the palace gates. Outside, a row of maids stood waiting, their heads bowed in greeting as the wheels came to a final stop. As Lindarion stepped out, the weight of Ouroboros''s words still lingered. Chapter 25 25: Goodbyes Five years had passed since the festival. A few days ago, Lindarion had celebrated his eleventh birthday. "Time is but a thread." He murmured the old saying as he stared into the mirror. A striking young boy gazed back¡ªtall, poised, and undeniably handsome. His height had already reached 178 centimeters, and his silver-gold hair flowed freely down to the middle of his back. His once-soft features had sharpened over time, sculpted into something fit for a fairy tale prince. Then again, he was a prince. ''But when will he arrive...?'' Lindarion''s father had informed him days ago that Thalorin would be coming for him today, taking him to the place where he would train until the academy began. His mother had opposed the idea at first, but after hours of pleading¡ªand a well-timed use of his best doe-eyed expression¡ªshe finally relented. He slid a golden bracelet onto his wrist, the metal cool against his skin. Its intricate design mirrored the one his mother always wore¡ªa silent tether between them. ''It tracks my vital signs.'' The moment it fastened, a faint pulse of mana resonated against his skin, syncing with his body''s natural flow. He flexed his fingers, watching the metal shift seamlessly against his movements. It was a small price to pay. Dressed in a sleek ensemble of silver and white, he stood ready, his belongings packed and waiting for Thalorin''s arrival. ''I shouldn''t keep the old man waiting.'' For five years, Thalorin hadn''t contacted him once¡ªexcept to inform his father that he would be coming soon. "He was probably busy..." Lindarion exhaled and opened his Status Window. [STATUS WINDOW] ¡ª[INFO]¡ª ¡ª[ATTRIBUTES]¡ª ¡ª[TECHNIQUES]¡ª Serpent''s Flow (Unique) Sovereign''s Veil (Legendary) Mana Thread Manipulation (Mythic) Mana Perception (Common) Flow (Epic) Insight (Legendary) ¡ª[SKILLS]¡ª Accelerated Regeneration Mana Shot Pure Mana Shield Phantom Step (¡ï ¡ï ¡ï ¡ï) ¡ª[BLESSINGS]¡ª Blessed By Mana Blessings of Ouroboros (Passive abilities) ''Sovereign''s Veil.'' After years of training, Lindarion had finally grasped its purpose. It cloaked his Mana Core, masking his true strength. A pointless technique¡ªuntil the day it would prove to be useful. Power was a dangerous thing. Best to hide the fangs until the right moment. He clenched his fist, feeling the energy humming beneath his skin. He had reached the threshold. He could feel it. Grabbing his bags, he slung them over his shoulder. ''Time to say goodbye.'' The golden halls of the palace stretched before him, the soft scent of jasmine and polished oak filling the air. Every step echoed against the marble floors, a quiet reminder of the home he was leaving behind. The maids paused as he passed. Some teared up. "Our young prince..." "Please be safe, and return soon, Your Highness!" Lindarion chuckled under his breath. ''They''re adorable.'' At last, he reached his father''s office. The door opened with a quiet creak. Inside, the people who mattered most awaited him¡ªhis mother, his father, and Seraphine. He turned to Seraphine first, his voice steady. "Look after my parents while I''m gone." She did something unexpected. Rising to her feet, she embraced him. Her first time ever doing so. The warmth of her arms caught him off guard, sending an odd flush of heat through his face. He coughed awkwardly and stepped back. "Take care of yourself, my prince," she murmured, bowing deeply. Then came his mother. Tears already glistened in her eyes. She lunged forward before he could react, pulling him into her arms. Even though he towered over her now, her embrace still felt the same. Warm. Safe. "I''ll be back, Mother." "You better be." She sniffled, brushing away her tears before smoothing his hair one last time. At last, his father stepped forward. Lindarion straightened, meeting his gaze. "Father." He studied him, then nodded. "You''re ready. But never be arrogant, and never turn your back on an opponent unless you''re certain they''re finished." His words were carved from iron¡ªa lesson Lindarion would never forget. His mother scowled and shot his father a glare, the expression so fiendish that his father coughed and swiftly changed the subject. "It''s time to go. Be careful. We will see each other again." His hands settled on Lindarion''s shoulders for a brief moment¡ªa rare, unspoken display of affection. Lindarion nodded once. "I will, Father." With one last glance at them all, he stepped away¡ªleaving behind his family, his home, and his childhood. The palace gates loomed ahead. As he approached, space itself tore apart¡ªa jagged rift forming in the air. ''So flashy... was this really necessary?'' A familiar figure stepped through the breach, stroking his silvered beard. His presence settled over the landscape like a heavy fog. Even without doing anything, his mana pressed down on the world around him¡ªancient, vast, and unyielding. His smirk was knowing, amused. "Are you ready, Lindarion?" Thalorin''s voice carried the weight of certainty. As if Lindarion''s answer had already been decided. He met Thalorin''s smirk with one of his own. "Yes." With one final glance behind him, he stepped forward¡ªinto the void. The world lurched violently. A crushing force pressed against his chest¡ªthen suddenly, he landed flat on his ass. Meanwhile, Thalorin stood completely unbothered, landing gracefully on his feet. His mouth twitched. ''Not funny, old man...'' Lindarion pushed himself up and took in his surroundings. Nothing. Just an endless expanse of windblown grasslands. The only structures in sight were a well and a dark cave entrance leading deep underground. He frowned. "And this is...?" Thalorin waved lazily. "The well restores stamina, the fields are for training, and the cave... well, that''s where you''ll find the monsters." Lindarion exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers. "Got it." "Let''s start with your Mana Core. You''re close to breaking through again, aren''t you?" "You could say that, I''m pretty close." His voice wasn''t as confident as before. "Then we''ll begin with that. But this breakthrough will be different. This time, your affinities will manifest within your Core¡ªand by extension, within your mana itself. The process is extremely painful, depending on how many affinities you can attune to. You have to pull the affinities in yourself." "So, I have to draw them in myself. I see." Lindarion nodded, signaling his understanding. "In short, it''s going to hurt," he muttered before lowering himself onto the ground. With a quick motion, he removed the upper half of his armor, letting it fall beside him. For an eleven-year-old, his physique was already impressive¡ªhis stomach lined with defined muscles, a product of relentless training. "I guess we should begin," he said, rolling his shoulders before settling into a lotus position. Thalorin stepped behind him, his presence as steady as ever. Lindarion heard him shift as he took a seat, the weight of his experience pressing against the air itself. A chill ran down his spine as Thalorin''s cold hand met his bare back. The evening breeze whispered across his skin, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Then his voice came¡ªdeep, commanding, and absolute, resonating in Lindarion''s ears like a bell tolling in the night. "Let us begin." Chapter 26 26: Affinities Lindarion gathered every last drop of mana in his body, pulling it toward his Mana Core. The moment he did, his senses sharpened, his blood boiled, and an intense heat surged through his veins. It felt as if his entire being had become a furnace, the mana within him roaring like a caged beast. Slowly, he began circulating the energy, bracing himself for what was to come. Then, the air around him shifted. Thalorin''s sharp gaze snapped toward him, his brow furrowing in concern. ''What the...?'' It was then that Lindarion saw them. Ten rings. They floated around his Core, each glowing in elegant, distinct hues¡ªsome vibrant, some subdued, but all undeniably powerful. The moment Lindarion sensed them, he knew. ''These... I have to claim them.'' He reached out with his will, drawing them in. Some obeyed effortlessly, while others fought, resisting his pull. And then¡ª The pain struck. Agony unlike anything he had ever known exploded through him. It wasn''t just pain¡ªit was as if his very existence was being rewritten from the inside out. His muscles tensed, his breath hitched, and sweat poured from his body, soaking his clothes. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth as it dripped from his nose. His vision flickered, the world swimming in and out of focus. Thalorin''s expression hardened, his instincts kicking in as he attempted to stabilize the chaotic mana surging through Lindarion. The rings resisted. They weren''t just power¡ªthey were entities of their own, demanding submission. But Lindarion refused to yield. ''I won''t let go. I need this power.'' He forced the rings into his Core. And then, everything collapsed inward. A deafening silence filled Lindarion''s mind, followed by a voice. [Congratulations on your breakthrough, Host!] [Affinities unlocked! Stable Core successfully formed!] For a fleeting second, Lindarion thought the worst was over. He was wrong. Pain erupted from within, so raw and unbearable that his body convulsed. His skull felt like it was being split apart, his very essence wrenched into something new. ''It hurts...it hurts... it hurts...'' The words echoed in his mind, over and over, a mantra of survival. Then¡ªwarmth. A soothing energy spread across his back, numbing the agony just enough for him to breathe again. Thalorin. His healing magic pulsed through Lindarion, working to keep his body from breaking apart completely. Lindarion barely registered the blood he coughed onto the dirt before gasping for air, his lungs burning as if he had just clawed his way back from death itself. "Lindarion." Thalorin''s voice cut through the haze. Lindarion''s head felt heavy, his vision swimming, but he forced himself to listen. "...How many affinities was that?" Thalorin''s voice held something rare¡ªhesitation. As if he himself couldn''t believe what he had just witnessed. Still panting, Lindarion swallowed thickly and forced out the answer. "Ten." Silence. Then¡ª Laughter. A deep, booming sound that didn''t fit the situation at all. Through the fading pain, Lindarion managed to glare at Thalorin, who, despite everything, was laughing. "Incredible... truly incredible." Thalorin exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. "No one¡ªno one¡ªhas ever had ten affinities before." ''You''re kidding me...'' "This is a new milestone," he mused, rubbing his beard, eyes still gleaming with amazement. Lindarion frowned. "What''s the usual limit?" Thalorin shot him an incredulous look. "Four, kid. Four. You more than doubled that." "Oh." [Affinities Unlocked] Void (Tier 1) Blood (Tier 1) Astral (Tier 1) Lightning (Tier 1) Fire (Tier 1) Divine (Tier 1) Darkness (Tier 1) Time (Tier 1) Water (Tier 1) Ice (Tier 1) [Congratulations, Host! Importing basic affinity knowledge...] The next moment, pure information flooded Lindarion''s mind. Each affinity, its basic principles, its fundamental laws¡ªall of it burned into his brain in an instant. The overload nearly sent him into shock. He groaned, gripping his head, his breath coming in short, pained gasps. ''Holy¡ª'' Thalorin crouched beside him, watching carefully. "It''s time to continue training." Lindarion barely mustered the energy to glare at him, but Thalorin ignored it, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. Another surge of healing magic washed over him, stabilizing his exhausted body. "I won''t pry into your affinities," Thalorin said. "That''s your own business. In our world, secrecy is power. The element of surprise is your greatest weapon. Remember that." Lindarion exhaled slowly and nodded. "You have more to learn than most," Thalorin continued. "Having so many affinities means your path will be harder. Others refine a single craft, while you must master many. But I''ll do what I can to guide you." He stood then, rubbing his temples as if still trying to process what had just happened. Then he turned back to Lindarion. "What do you know about the monsters in the caves?" "...Nothing." The answer came instantly. In his past life, Lindarion had read about dungeons in novels, but here? He had never faced anything like them. "Perfect." Lindarion blinked. Then froze. ''Wait. No. That''s not perfect.'' "The best way to learn is through discovery," Thalorin said. "I''ll be back in a week. Until then, train however you like. Fresh food and water will appear by the well daily." "...Wait, hold on. What?!" Lindarion''s voice cracked in disbelief. He wasn''t training him¡ªhe was throwing him to the wolves. "If you have a space affinity," Thalorin added, "I''ll give you one piece of advice." The air around him distorted. Reality itself fractured, warping as he prepared to leave. Lindarion lunged forward. ''I can''t let him leave me here!'' "Lindarion, listen well." Thalorin''s voice was calm, unwavering. "Space affinity isn''t just about controlling emptiness. It''s about understanding that the fabric of reality is constantly shifting. You must learn to move with it, not against it. Don''t fight the flow¡ªguide it. If you can master that, space will not be your enemy, but your greatest ally." He smirked. And then¡ªhe was gone. Lindarion stood there, fist clenched, teeth grinding. "What kind of teacher does that?!" His frustrated shout echoed through the empty field. Seething, he slammed his fist into the ground. "This is insane... This isn''t training¡ªthis is suffering!" He forced himself to stand, shaking the dirt from his clothes. ''Now what? How the hell am I supposed to train alone?'' [Host, first test your affinities to determine their combat viability.] [Though knowledge was imported, practical application is key. After that¡ª] ''Let me guess. Go into the cave. Kill monsters. Return to the well. Rinse and repeat. Right?'' [Exactly, Host!] A notification blinked into view. ¡ª¡ª[Quest Window]¡ª¡ª [Quest: Monster Slayer] Objective: Kill 100 monsters in the cave. Reward: +1 Strength, +1 Intelligence, +1 Charisma, Choose 1 Passive Skill. Failure: None. Status: Pending. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª ''...The system''s starting to cheap out on stat points. But the passive skill thing is new.'' Lindarion wasn''t about to complain. [Quest Accepted!] He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. Time to get to work. Chapter 27 27: Affinity Testing(1) Lindarion inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the crisp scent of the meadow. His arms were stretched out, waiting¡ªno, hoping¡ªfor something, anything to happen. A vein twitched dangerously on his forehead. Ready to explode at any moment. Thalorin had left him. In the middle of nowhere. Alone. The bastard didn''t even give proper directions. Just dumped him here with some vague instructions about a well and a cave. Lindarion exhaled sharply, forcing his mind to focus. "First things first, let''s test these affinities. Then I''ll go punch that cave or whatever." The wind whispered through the clearing as he took his stance, readying himself foor the test. Closing his eyes, he pulled mana from his core, guiding it outward through his body. ''Let''s start with Void.'' Void wasn''t like fire or water or even thunder. It wasn''t raw destruction. It wasn''t anything. It was absence. He extended his hand, focusing. The world around him was constantly moving, always shifting. But Void? Void ignored the world. It was basically nothingness. He envisioned a space where reality simply ceased. And¡ª ¡ªThe world went still. Birdsong vanished. The wind stopped. The air trembled violently. A swirling black dot appeared in front of him, absorbing light, sound... everything. A tiny hole, in reality, a place where existence refused to continue. Lindarion stared, transfixed. ''Holy shit. Reminds me of some Anime power..'' Then he let go. The black dot collapsed instantly without doing anything, snapping the world back into motion. The birds resumed chirping. The wind picked up again. And Lindarion? He was dying. Sweat poured down his face. His legs trembled like wet noodles. And then¡ªhe collapsed like a sack of bricks. ''That... that was a Tier 1 technique? I didn''t even do anything flashy, and my whole body just gave up?'' His fingers dug into the grass as he struggled to push himself up. He felt like he had just been hit by a celestial beast¡ªseveral times. ''If this is the lowest level of Void techniques, then the higher tiers are going to be absolutely busted.'' A weak chuckle escaped him. ''I should''ve tested this one last...'' His hands were still shaking. No, his entire body was still shaking. And he had nine more affinities to go. A slightly manic grin tugged at his lips. ''Hell yeah, this is going to be fun as fuck.'' But first, he needed to recover. Immediately. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself forward, crawling toward the regeneration well Thalorin had graciously neglected to specify the exact effects of. His master''s words echoed in his mind like an annoying chorus. "The well accelerates recovery." Yeah, that was all he got. Fantastic. Eventually, after an embarrassingly long search, he found it. Basically hidden behind the overly large cave. Piece by piece, he stripped off his clothes, and then slid into the water. Instantly, pain. A sharp, burning sensation tore through him, like a thousand tiny needles stabbing every part of his body at once. ''Oh, so this is how I die. Cool.'' Then, as fast as it came, the pain vanished. A deep, overwhelming calm settled into his bones. His muscles loosened. His mana core felt like it was being refilled. ''Okay... still stings, but not bad. I might survive after all.'' The exhaustion faded. Not completely, but enough for him to move again. Lindarion stepped out of the well, shaking off the water. ''Next up¡ªBlood Affinity.'' He turned his palm upward, drawing mana from his core once more. Unlike Void, this affinity wasn''t about nothingness. It was life itself. A rhythmic pulse filled his ears, syncing perfectly with his heartbeat. His blood carried his mana, weaving together as one. ''Okay, this feels... way too good.'' Lindarion clenched his fist. With a single thought, he commanded his blood to move. A thin cut opened on his palm, but there was no pain. Instead of spilling, his blood hovered, swirling in the air. His eyes widened. ''That''s insanely overpowered what the fuck.'' A flick of his fingers¡ªhis blood hardened, forming a thin, crimson blade. Then, with another thought, it collapsed back into liquid and slipped seamlessly into his skin. He exhaled. ''So I can turn my blood into weapons. This is either the coolest thing ever or the fastest way to die of anemia.'' He wasn''t going to question it. Moving on. "Let''s go continue with the Astral Affinity." According to the system, Astral wasn''t tangible. It wasn''t something that could be touched or seen, yet it existed everywhere. It was space itself. He focused. Immediately, his body felt lighter. Like gravity had loosened its grip on him. For a fleeting moment, he felt himself slip into something else. ''This feels like being weightless in space...'' His eyes snapped open. Thin, glowing threads pulsed around him. They shifted, waiting. He reached out¡ª ¡ªThe world shuddered. He stepped forward and then suddenly reappeared three meters away. Lindarion froze. ''Did I just... teleport?'' "System. What the hell just happened?" [Host did not fully leave this world. Instead, you utilized the Astral Plane to bridge the distance. For a brief moment, you existed in two places at once¡ªthen chose one.] He processed that for a second. ''That''s the coolest thing I''ve ever heard in my life.'' He tested it again, aiming for a shorter distance. The moment he willed it¡ª ¡ªHe moved, effortlessly slipping through space. But his mana? Already running on fumes. Wiping sweat from his brow, he checked his reserves. Two uses¡ªand he was almost empty. ''Yeah, I can''t spam this. Would be nice if I could, though.'' Sighing, he dove back into the well. The instant healing kicked in again, restoring his drained core. By the time he climbed out, he was more than ready for the next affinity. "Most people take years to master the fundamentals, right?" [Exactly, Host.] Lindarion smirked. "Sucks for them. But I''m not most people." He cracked his knuckles. ''Time for Lightning.'' Mana surged. Immediately, his entire body hummed, as if a thousand tiny sparks crackled beneath his skin. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. ''Oh... I really like this one.'' Unlike Void''s eerie stillness or Astral''s weightlessness, Lightning was wild. Unpredictable. It demanded control. Which Lindarion did not have yet.. The air thickened with electricity as he raised his palm. For a moment¡ªnothing. Then¡ª BOOM. A blinding arc of blue-white lightning exploded from his fingertips, shattering the air with a deafening crack. The ground trembled beneath him. And then¡ª He was launched backward like a ragdoll. His body tumbled violently, rolling across the dirt before crashing into a bush. His ears rang. His vision spun. ''That... was a bit too much.'' But he wasn''t done. Not yet. Lightning wasn''t just power. It was speed. Mana flooded his legs. He tensed¡ª ¡ªand vanished. The world blurred. He became a streak of energy, reappearing four meters away. ''I''m amazing¡ª'' Then¡ª His vision blacked out. His body crumpled, completely drained. ''Mana exhaustion... again.'' The ground met him like an old friend. Lindarion lay there, unmoving. He had reached his limit. For now. Chapter 28 28: Affinity Testing (2) Lindarion''s consciousness drifted back in pieces. The first thing he felt was the wind¡ªsoft, cool, brushing against his skin. The scent of damp earth filled his lungs, and somewhere in the distance, water trickled over stone. Birds chirped. Leaves rustled. It was actually kind of peaceful. If not for the fact that his entire body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched back together by a blindfolded novice who used a rusty needle. Pain flared in his muscles, a dull, aching soreness that made him groan as he shifted. His mana circuits burned, the remnants of overuse still tingling through his veins. ''Yeah... never doing that shit again.'' Lightning Affinity was a bastard. He had expected it to be fast and explosive¡ªwhat he hadn''t expected was nearly frying himself from the inside out. Mana exhaustion wasn''t a joke. Still, at least he wasn''t dead. And his mana had fully recovered. Which meant... It was time to test the rest of the affinities as well. ''Alright. Let''s see if my other affinities want to kill me too.'' First up¡ªFire. One of the most basic elements. Lindarion extended his hand, focusing. Mana surged through his veins, answering his call. Immediately, heat flared around his palm, coalescing into a burning crimson glow. The fire twisted and pulsed, shaping itself into a blazing sword¡ªlong, sharp, and deadly. The blade''s edges flickered like liquid flame, yet despite its heat, he felt nothing. It was completely under his control. He swung. A searing arc of fire tore through the air, leaving a glowing ember trail in its wake. The sword slammed into the ground¡ªfire erupted outward in a violent shockwave. The grass disintegrated. A deep, charred crater was all that remained. Lindarion stared at the destruction. ''...Yeah. I should probably be careful where I swing this thing. Don''t want to cause mass destruction everywhere I go.'' Lindarion exhaled slowly collecting his thoughts. ''Well, at least not yet..'' Next in line was the Divine Affinity. ''Kinda makes me sound like a priest, to be honest.'' Golden light bloomed around him, spreading warmth through his body. Unlike Fire, this mana didn''t burn¡ªit soothed, wrapping around him like a protective veil. He had a theory. Lifting his hand, he bit down on his finger. Hard. Pain flared¡ªthen, instantly, the golden glow enveloped the wound. Seconds later, his skin had completely healed. Not even a scar remained. Lindarion flexed his fingers. ''...This is insane. Instant healing? That''s... ridiculously useful.'' But it wasn''t just that. As he focused deeper, the golden energy pulsed stronger¡ªand suddenly, his mana was recovering faster. ''So it boosts regeneration too? ...This shit is way too fucking broken.'' He wasn''t complaining, though. Next¡ªDarkness. The eternal opposition of the Divine. The thing that swallowed light, that devoured everything in its path. The moment he called upon it, the world dimmed. The light struggled against the creeping shadows, and a heavy stillness settled over the air. A black mist coiled in his palm, laced with streaks of violet lightning. It flickered¡ªalive, hungry. Lindarion shaped it into a dagger. Its edges blurred, shifting between solid and intangible. He threw it. The moment it hit the ground, it melted into the earth. Silence. Then¡ªthe shadows pulsed. Lindarion exhaled. ''...I don''t know whether this is terrifying or amazing.'' Both, probably. Now for the one he was most excited about. Time. A slow breath. Lindarion focused. The world shuddered. For one second¡ªeverything stopped. The wind. The rustling leaves. The water, frozen mid-drip. Then¡ªthey continued to move without a problem. ''So I can basically stop time for one second without a problem.'' A grin tugged at his lips. ''Alright. Now we''re talking. This definitely has to do something with me being Ouroboros''s disciple though.'' But there was more. He turned toward the grass ahead and willed time to slow. A pulse of silver mana spread outward. Immediately, the air thickened¡ªthe space before him became sluggish, movement trapped within its confines. The blades of grass barely swayed, locked in unnatural stillness. The stillness seemed to last for about two seconds. But even those two seconds were useful. Lindarion tilted his head. ''...This is so fucking ridiculous. I love it. It seems similar to the skill I got from Ouroboros though.'' He quickly took a quick bath in the well, as his reserves got completely exhausted due to the usage of the time element. ''I shouldn''t use the time element too much. Depletes nearly all of my mana with barely two usages..'' Lindarion quickly jumped out and then continued. Next¡ªWater and Ice, they were basic elements as well, but powerful. Summoning Water felt calm¡ªfluid mana gathered in his palm, forming a rippling sphere. With a flick of his wrist, it stretched into a flowing blade, effortlessly shifting between liquid and solid. Then¡ªhe froze it. The sword crystallized into sharp, jagged ice. ''Not bad, actually seems useful'' He pressed the tip against the ground. Frost exploded outward. The earth crackled as thick layers of solid ice coated the ground in seconds, jagged icicles forming like a defensive barrier. Lindarion whistled. ''Instant terrain control? Yeah, that''s definitely useful.'' With that, he finally exhaled, stepping back to assess his progress. Every single affinity had real power, and this was only Tier 1. The potential at higher levels...could be mindbreaking. ''There are other things I can do with these affinities as well, but for now, testing only this much is enough. I can make discoveries during my training.'' His gaze flickered toward the cave in the distance. It was time to start exploring it finally. His fingers twitched. A slow smirk spread across his face. ''Time to clear that quest and see what''s waiting for me inside.'' First, he took a quick bath in the well, regenerating all of his mana quickly. ''Alright, let''s destroy these little shits'' Without hesitation, he stepped into the darkness. The shadows swallowed him whole. No light. No sound. Just the suffocating emptiness stretching in every direction. Then¡ªsomething slammed into his face. Lindarion let out a sharp scream¡ªhigh-pitched, unrestrained. Like a little girl. His heart pounded as he staggered back, eyes darting wildly¡ªuntil he spotted the tiny creature flitting around him in frantic circles. A bat. Just a bat. "...Right. No problem. No big deal." The words did nothing to calm his nerves. The bat, completely unfazed by the near-death experience it had caused, continued to spin around him like a damn carnival ride. Lindarion exhaled, rubbing his temples. "You know what? Fine. You''re actually kind of adorable. Come here" Then, with a flicker of mana, using his full speed he reached out¡ªfaster than the normal eye could follow and the bat wasn''t able to fight back. His fingers snapped shut around the bat''s tiny body. Its frantic flapping froze as he looked scared. For a brief moment, the little creature hung there, trapped in stillness. Lindarion looked at the bat with a devilish smile. A small flame flickered to life in his palm. Heat surged. The bat crumbled to ash. He watched the embers drift away. "Rest in peace, you little fucking bastard. Try not to startle me in your next life." [1/100] ''Wait it was actually a monster? Not just some bat?'' [It was a monster yes Host, not a very powerful one though.] A chill settled in his gut. The bat''s remains scattered on the ground like some kind of powder. One down. Ninety-nine to go. The endless dark pressed in from every side, an abyss so deep it felt like reality had unraveled around him. Lindarion forced himself to breathe. ''Alright. Which way to go now?'' He strained his eyes, searching for anything¡ªany flicker of movement, the faintest outline of a path. Nothing. His Darkness Affinity helped¡ªa little. He could make out vague shapes, enough to keep him from walking face-first into a wall. But beyond that? He was blind. And the deeper he went... The hungrier the shadows became. Lindarion rolled his shoulders, exhaling. "This is fine. Just another challenge. No big deal." Now, he just had to find his way through this goddamn cave¡ªwithout getting eaten alive. Chapter 29 29: Pro Cave Explorer (1) ''Alright, System. Tell me something useful about these cave monsters before I get eaten.'' Lindarion''s voice echoed through his mind as he trudged forward, forcing himself to focus on anything other than the suffocating abyss around him. If he let his mind wander too much, the silence would creep in, and then he''d start questioning his life choices. Again. [Let''s start with the basics. Monsters are categorized into the same ten tiers as affinities. Unlike affinities, however, monsters have sub-tiers within those categories.] ''Wait. Affinities are ranked in ten tiers too? You could''ve mentioned that earlier,'' He grumbled, casually slicing a bat in half as it lunged at his face. [2/100] [As for these Dungeon monsters, they follow the same tiering system. A Tier 4 cave will generally contain Tier 3 to Tier 5 creatures.] ''Caves have tiers now? Are you telling me these so called dungeons have difficulty settings?'' Lindarion nearly tripped over a loose rock in the dark. [Correct. These dungeons are also divided into ten tiers, with sub-tiers similar to Mana Cores.] Lindarion exhaled through his nose. ''So basically... there are potentially thousands of different monsters in this world.'' [More. Tens of thousands, even. Who knows what lurks in the dark?] ''Oh, that''s very reassuring. Thank you, System. Love the optimism.'' His Darkness Affinity flickered faintly in his palm, giving him just enough vision to move without breaking his neck, but not much else. He briefly considered using his Fire Affinity to make some light¡ª Then he remembered that mana wasn''t free, and he might need it to fend off some creature lurking in the darkness. ''Alright, so what about these bats? What tier are they?'' [Tier 1, Low-Tier. Gloombats.] ''So, basically trash mobs. Great.'' Lindarion''s sarcasm was cut short when his nose was violently assaulted by the most gut-wrenching stench he had ever encountered. A putrid, metallic odor. Thick. Suffocating. Wrong. His stomach twisted. "What the hell is that¡ª" Before he could finish, his body betrayed him. He vomited. Right there. On the cave floor. Like a weak-willed NPC. [...] "Disgusting..." He wiped his mouth, grimacing as he forced himself forward. But the smell only got worse. His instincts screamed at him to turn back. Then¡ªlight. A faint glow flickered in the distance. ''Okay. This is either a trap or my paranoia acting up.'' As he approached, he realized the glow was coming from torches mounted along the cave walls. Their eerie light cast jagged shadows that danced like mocking specters. ''This is unsettling as hell.'' [Mana Perception] Lindarion reached out with his senses, expecting to feel something. Nothing. An empty void. Like a graveyard abandoned by time itself. ''...Cool. Not ominous at all.'' At least now he could see. He followed the torch-lit path, his grip on his sword tightening as the stench of blood grew even thicker. Then, he saw it. A massive gate. Slightly ajar. And from within... the unbearable, overwhelming stench of death. ''Well, guess I''m walking straight into a fresh nightmare.'' Taking a deep breath. Lindarion pushed through the opening. The moment he stepped inside, he regretted it. His stomach twisted. His vision blurred. His body convulsed. And then¡ª He vomited. Again. "What the actual fu¡ª" The chamber before him was a slaughterhouse. Twisted, mutilated corpses of adventurers lay sprawled across the ground, their bodies torn apart like ragdolls. Monstrous remains were mixed in¡ªa grotesque mess of guts, claws, and shattered bone. The floor was slick with blood, forming dark, unholy patterns. Some of the stalagmites... were impaling bodies. Water dripped from above, the sound echoing like a death knell. Lindarion''s hands trembled. His breath came in ragged gasps. ''What the hell did this...?'' The world tilted. His vision swam. Every part of his body screamed at him to run. But then¡ªdeep within his Mana Core¡ª Something stirred. Darkness. His affinity pulsed. Then it moved. "The fu¡ª?!" Shadows slithered from beneath his feet, stretching toward the monstrous corpses. One by one, the bodies were swallowed by the abyss. Gone. Devoured. Left as nothing but bare bones. Lindarion gagged. ''Holy shit.'' He wiped his mouth again, looking at where the bodies used to be. But the human corpses were untouched. His affinity had only consumed the monsters. ''Okay. That''s... weird.'' Before he could even process what just happened, his system bombarded him with notifications. [3/100] [25/100] [78/100] The numbers kept climbing. [165/100] [200/100] Then¡ª [Quest Completed!] Quest: Monster Slayer ¨C Completed! Rewards: +1 Strength +1 Intelligence +1 Charisma +1 Choosable Passive Skill [Hidden Quest Completed! Extra Rewards Granted.] Bonus Reward: +1 Mystery Box [Congratulations, Host. The Darkness''s consumption contributed to the quest''s completion.] Lindarion''s brain short-circuited. ''A hidden quest? A mystery box?'' He stared blankly at the notifications. ''The darkness counted as part of my kills??'' There were too many questions. ''Yeah. Not dealing with this right now. I''ll check everything when I get out of here.'' Suppressing the urge to overthink, he turned his attention to the human corpses. His stomach twisted again as he forced himself to step forward. And then he noticed¡ª The bodies seemed fresh for some reason. No decay. No rot. ''That''s... not normal.'' Cautiously, he knelt beside one of the fallen¡ªa young woman impaled on a sword. Her lifeless fingers clutched something. A badge. Lindarion''s hand trembled as he pried it from her grip. An insignia was etched into the metal. One he didn''t recognize. ''What... is this?'' His instincts screamed at him to keep it. So he did. Tucking the badge under his amor, he pressed forward, his mouth covered with a hand as he continued stepping over corpses like they were just another part of the scenery. ''This place is definitely cursed.'' The next chamber was different. No blood. No bodies. No obvious signs of death. But something felt wrong. [Mana Perception] His breath hitched. Beneath the stone floor¡ªmana surged. Wild. Unstable. Barely restrained¡ªlike an ocean held back by a fragile dam. His entire body tensed. His instincts screamed at him. Like something was sealed below. ''Well... there''s no other way, huh?'' Lindarion sighed, staring down at the crack in the stone floor, where ominous wisps of mist coiled out like some bad omen. Every part of his instincts screamed bad idea, but at this point, he was getting used to ignoring those. ''Alright... whatever doesn''t kill me makes me stronger.'' With that inspiring bit of self-delusion, he reeled his fist back, ready to smash through¡ª Only for the ground to betray him first. "Wait¡ª" The stone crumbled like wet paper beneath his weight, and before he could even process what was happening, he was falling. THUD. "Ow. Ow. Ow." Lindarion groaned, pushing himself up. Well, that wasn''t too bad¡ªaside from the everything hurting part. He rubbed his sore shoulder, blinking as he took in his new surroundings. Pitch. Black. Barren. Creepy. The cavern was massive, the silence so overwhelming that even the distant drip of water sounded unnaturally loud. Stalactites loomed from above, casting jagged shadows, and the air? Thick. Musty. Heavy with something very bad. That''s when he felt it. A presence. Goosebumps prickled along his skin. Lindarion didn''t hesitate¡ªhe dashed backward, purely on survival instinct. And that was when he saw it. A figure. Big. Humanoid. Wrong. It stood motionless, draped in tattered black robes. Twisted, jagged horns curled from its skull like a demon straight out of a nightmare. And its torso¡ª Half gone. ''Oh, that''s nice. Real comforting.'' But despite being very clearly dead, the thing practically radiated death. More importantly¡ªLindarion''s eyes landed on what it was holding. A book. No, not just a book¡ªa grimoire. Completely black. No title. No markings. Just an overwhelming presence that screamed bad news. The aura surrounding it was thick, dark, and so suffocating that it felt like even the cave itself wanted nothing to do with it. ''And I have to go near that, huh?'' He sighed, glancing past the corpse. The cavern stretched deeper, ending in another massive, ominous stone gate. His only way forward. So, in summary he had two choices lingering in his mind. ''I either go back and pretend I never saw this, or approach the probably cursed book and hope for the best.'' Lindarion let out a deep sigh. ''Well... I''ve made worse decisions before, one of them was coming here.'' Carefully, he approached. Each step felt like he was walking straight into his own grave, but hey¡ªnothing ventured, nothing gained. His fingers hovered over the grimoire for a moment, then, with a deep breath¡ª He grabbed it. And... Nothing happened. No explosion. No surge of dark energy. No whispers in his head promising ultimate power at the low price of his soul. Just silence. Lindarion blinked. ''Huh. That''s... anticlimactic.'' Then, BEEP. A piercing system notification rang through his skull so loudly that he nearly jumped out of his own damn skin. [Host, the book has triggered Ouroboros''s Mark. It''s mental attack has failed.] Lindarion froze. Mental attack? He slowly turned his head back to the book in his hands. ''...Was this thing just trying to brainwash me?'' He squinted at it. It remained silent. Suspicious. His grip tightened around the cover, the weight of what just happened slowly settling in. ''Alright, well... guess I own an evil book now?'' Yup. Definitely one of his top three worst decisions ever. Chapter 30 30: Pro Cave Explorer (2) ''So, now I have a cursed book...?'' [It''s a skill book, apparently, Host.] ''A skill book?'' What kind of skill book could emit such ominous energy like this? Lindarion didn''t even dare imagine the destructive skill it might hold. ''Do you think I should learn it if it''s a skill book?'' [Currently, I don''t know much about the book, Host. It could belong to an ancient god, or something else. I can''t be sure until you absorb the skill.] ''Then I shouldn''t learn it... it could be cursed or something, right?'' [I don''t think that''s possible. However, it is likely that the skill you gain might come with a huge drawback.] ''But if I don''t use it, then no problem.'' Lindarion couldn''t take his eyes off the book, as the sound of water dripping from the stalactites in the cave filled the silence. ''I''ve already made so many bad decisions. I might as well continue the streak.'' He muttered to himself before placing his hand on the cover of the book, focusing on absorbing the skill. The book exuded an aura of death, causing Lindarion to collapse as blood started pouring from his nose. ''What the hell was that?'' [Skill Absorbed] [New Skill Acquired ¨C Sovereign''s Dominion (¡ï ¡ï ¡ï ¡ï ¡ï ¡ï ¡ï)] ''What the actual fuck... a seven-star skill?!'' Lindarion recalled the day the system had told him about the ranking of skill books... And the seven stars were the highest. [Host, the stronger a skill, the bigger its drawbacks.] ''Show me the details of the skill, System.'' Despite the intense emotion, Lindarion''s voice was almost like that of a child, filled with excitement. After all, a seven-star skill was a seven-star skill. He leaned back on the cold stone floor, and a long window appeared in front of him. [Skill: Sovereign''s Dominion (7-Star Absolute Authority Skill)] [Description: The wielder of this skill is granted the abilities of a true ruler, capable of dominating everything they claim¡ªpeople, space, even reality itself. However, with every use, their mind must resist the whispers of the Forgotten Monarch.] [Abilities] I. King''s Command -The user can issue a single-word command imbued with power. -If the target is weaker, they are forced to obey. -If the target is stronger, they feel an urge to comply but can resist. -Overuse results in mental exhaustion, and if abused, the user''s own free will may weaken. II. Realmwalker -The user can manifest their domain¡ªa shadow of the Forgotten Monarch''s empire. -Within this domain, they gain enhanced abilities and can manipulate the environment. -However, maintaining the domain drains sanity as the whispers of the past ruler grow louder. III. Thronebearer (Passive) -The user naturally exudes authority, making those around them more likely to obey, respect, or fear them. -Those with weak wills may even kneel upon direct eye contact. -However, over-reliance on this power detaches the user from humanity due to mental attacks. IV. Monarch''s Decree (Ultimate Technique) -The user imposes an absolute rule upon reality for a limited duration. (Examples: "No one may lie.", "Fire shall not burn me.", "You cannot step forward.") -The decree cannot be broken by those below a certain threshold of power. However, every decree comes at a price¡ªwhether it be lifespan, memories, or emotions. Lindarion''s eyes, once filled with excitement, turned bitter as he read the drawbacks. ''This... is ridiculously strong. How many abilities are there in one book?!'' [Well, it''s a seven-star skill, Host.] ''But the drawbacks seem huge.'' ''The whispers of the Forgotten Monarch? Who knows how strong or dangerous they could be.'' Lindarion''s shoulders slumped. Another bad decision to add to the growing list. ''But if this whisper is a mental attack, I could resist it completely using Ouroboros''s Mark, which would mean the drawbacks wouldn''t even matter, right?'' [That''s correct, Host. Mental attacks that target your state of mind would be nullified.] ''But that ultimate technique... it''s such a cliche?, like something straight out of a game. Oh well, not only does it attack my mental abilities, but it also affects my lifespan...of course.'' So, in the end, Lindarion had received a book with four abilities, only one of which had drawbacks, while the others either weakened his will if overused or could be spammed endlessly. Typical. ''So I have a skill I can''t use too much, two I can basically just spam, and one with a massive drawback.'' Lindarion tried to process the information. [Host, your mind can also experience mental fatigue, which weakens your mind and will over time if you use the abilities too much.] ''That''s true... the book did mention that.'' Lindarion sighed and struggled to get up from the cold stone. His sense of smell hadn''t returned yet, but the bleeding had stopped. ''Well, whatever. Time to move on. I don''t want to waste any more time. We might return to this later.'' He shook off his thoughts and began walking toward the massive gate. [Mana Perception] Lindarion was prepared. There was an overwhelming mana radiation coming from within. However, compared to the book, it was nothing¡ªit felt like an ant trying to exert pressure on him. ''Let''s see what disgusting monster is in there.'' Lindarion pushed open the massive gate with all his strength, and the moment he did, he was hit by a wave of mana like a crashing ocean. It felt as though the door was holding back an ocean of murderous intent, pulsing from inside. ''What the fuck was I thinking, coming here...this might be the top one worst decision I have ever mase..'' He found himself in a large circular room, and in the center of it, a woman was sitting. What the hell was a woman doing here? As Lindarion sharpened his gaze to get a better look, his limbs started trembling. The woman... was a ghost? Her body was transparent, and she wore a black velvet wedding dress. The sounds of death echoed in his mind like warning bells. He should have fled, but he couldn''t move. A voice shattered the silence, sending a chill down Lindarion''s spine. It was a voice so cold, it could have belonged to a ghost. "Oh... so you''ve finally come... I''ve been waiting... so long..." ''What the hell... finally? Me?'' Lindarion''s thoughts were interrupted by a loud crashing sound from behind him. Suddenly, the gate slammed shut, and Lindarion''s body began to tremble even harder. ''Of course, this is my luck... so I''m going to die here, huh?'' "Oh... I can feel it... on you... the presence... of the... successor... or...?" The woman asked, her head turning unnaturally, her voice cold and chilling, colder than anything Lindarion had ever experienced. If Seraphine had been cold, this was colder than freezing point. Lindarion didn''t even dare speak, his gaze locked onto her, his body trembling. "Oh... the successor... of the Monarch of Destruction..." ''Monarch of Destruction...? What the hell is she talking about...?'' Then it hit him. The damn skill book had mentioned a Monarch... this must be it. ''Could it be, System?'' [It is possible, Host.] "I-I used the... the book." Lindarion''s voice trembled, and the woman looked at him strangely. But as he spoke, it almost seemed like she bowed her head...? Lindarion''s eyes widened more than they ever had before. "No... need to fear... Oh... Great Monarch... successor... I serve... the Monarch..." Her voice was so melancholic, as if she had been here, alone, in solitude for centuries. "I was entrusted... with the book''s... guardianship... You are... the successor." ''The successor? Don''t fuck with me.'' Lindarion''s trembling subsided slightly, but the woman''s words rattled him. "My... name..." ''What?'' The woman bowed again. "My... name... is... Selene... Monarch... successor..." ''Selene? What the hell should I do...?'' Lindarion stayed where he was, not daring to move closer. In fact, if he could have, he would have fled, but there was no opportunity for such a thing. "Lindarion. Lindarion Sunblade..." He said, looking at the woman whose neck twisted unnaturally. Then, slowly, she began to rise. "Oh... Lindarion... I sense... the darkness... within you..." Lindarion suddenly wasn''t sure what she was talking about, but then, he looked deep inside himself, his mana core. ''Aha, I understand now.'' The darkness spun in a spiral inside him, like an endless railway track. Chapter 31 31: First Servant of Darkness Lindarion sat cross-legged, staring at the swirling darkness in his mana core. It twisted and pulsed like a restless child tossing in its sleep. "Young... Master... you... don''t... know... how... to... use... darkness... yet..." Selene''s voice echoed slowly, as if she were some ancient oracle reading from a prophecy. Lindarion frowned. Well, no shit. "Of course I don''t. I just got this affinity," he muttered. His voice was quieter than usual. He still wasn''t used to... whatever Selene was. A ghost? A spirit? A hallucination from overusing mana? Perhaps all of the above? "The... Young... Master... has... many... affinities..." Lindarion squinted. Did she just... smile? It was so faint he wasn''t sure. "Yeah, I''ve got a few," he said casually, but he wasn''t about to start listing them. Thalorin''s words echoed in his mind, something about keeping a few cards hidden. "Young... Master... is... smart... and... has... a... good... sword..." Her gaze roamed over him like she was looking into his soul. ''Alright, this is getting creepy. And why the hell does she talk like that? Is there a ghost language barrier or something?'' Before he could voice his concerns, Selene spoke again. This time, her voice carried a weird warmth to it¡ªlike a mother proud of her child. "Young... Master... I... can... help..." ''...Help? With what exactly?'' Lindarion eyed her warily, but she only smiled. This time, he definitely saw it. Selene stepped closer, suppressing her mana completely, making sure he didn''t feel even an ounce of pressure from her presence. ''Okay, now I''m really suspicious.'' She extended her hand. "Take... my... hand... Young... Master..." ''This is a trap, isn''t it?'' Lindarion hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him not to trust a weird, slow-talking ghost. But curiosity won out, and he reached out. Their hands barely touched¡ªmore like passed through each other¡ªbut the moment they made contact, something shifted. The darkness in his mana core stirred violently. ''What the¡ª'' Shadows stretched from his feet, reaching toward Selene like eager vines. "Young... Master... don''t... be... afraid..." Her voice was calm, almost soothing, even as the darkness swallowed her whole. No screams. No resistance. Just a serene smile as her body faded into the abyss. "Selene?" [Darkness Summon Unlocked!] [Host has achieved a great feat! (Absorbed the First Servant of Darkness)] ''The fuck?'' Before Lindarion could even process what had just happened, a flood of notifications popped up. [Mana Core Level Increased] [Stable Core (Low) ¡ú Stable Core (Peak)] [Mana Capacity and Mana pool has been increased by a giant margin] [Host can now summon: The First Servant of Darkness, Selene Noctis Vireth] [Darkness Affinity has evolved to Tier 3] [Host has been rewarded with:] +21 Strength +32 Intelligence +30 Dexterity +12 Charisma +15 Luck +18 Vitality +29 Wisdom +80 Mana +22 Endurance +2 Choosable Skills ''...'' Lindarion went completely pale. Like, ghostly pale. He probably looked more like Selene now than before. ''Did I just... kill someone who was trying to help me?'' A million thoughts swirled in his head. His breathing grew shallow as he stared at the messages. ''What the hell is happening? Why did my mana core shoot up so much? What do they mean by summon? First Servant of Darkness?? Tier 3 Darkness Affinity???'' His vision blurred slightly. His head was spinning. And then¡ª [Summoning the First Servant of Darkness!] The air trembled. His shadow flickered wildly. His darkness affinity surged like a storm, consuming the entire room. ''Oh, hell no. Did I just summon some eldritch nightmare? A giant, man-eating dragon? Some abyssal horror??'' As the darkness slowly cleared, Lindarion''s hand instinctively tightened around his sword, ready to fight whatever abomination had just been birthed into existence. "Alright, bring it on, you damn monste¡ª" "Young Master!!" A high-pitched, almost mouse-like voice rang out. Lindarion flinched. His whole body tensed. ''...What the fuck was that?'' The shadows finished dispersing, revealing¡ª A fairy? No, something like a fairy. But instead of a flower-themed outfit, this one wore a pitch-black wedding dress with a matching dark veil. She floated in the air, her eerie yet elegant form beaming at him. "I am here, Young Master!" The fairy thingy? Twirled gracefully midair, smiling brightly. Lindarion blinked. Once. Twice. His brain refused to function. "What... am I looking at?" The small being bowed deeply. "I am Selene! From now on, I shall serve you, Master!" Lindarion''s lips parted, but no words came out. His hand twitched slightly as he stared at the scene before him. ''You''ve gotta be kidding me.'' Lindarion stared at the floating figure before him. "So... you''re Selene?" "Yes, Young Master! I am Selene Noctis Vireth!" She placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest like she was trying to look... stronger? ''She can''t be serious.'' Lindarion slapped himself. Hard. Selene tilted her head, watching with mild concern. "Young Master, is something wrong?" "I don''t know... Maybe the fact that I just watched you get eaten by my darkness like some corpse in a horror story¡ªonly for you to reappear as a damn fairy?" "I am not a fairy, Young Master! Don''t compare me to those pathetic creatures! And what is a horror story?" Selene murmured the last part almost silently. ''So fairies do exist...'' Lindarion resisted the urge to bash his head against the nearest rock. "From now on, I can always assist the Young Master!" Selene beamed, clearly pleased with her newfound freedom after who-knows-how-many millennia. Lindarion exhaled sharply. "Great. So what now? Just waltz out of here like nothing happened?" "Yes! The cave ends here, so we can leave anytime!" ''You''ve gotta be kidding me.'' "Fine." Lindarion forced a smile, but it twitched uncontrollably, betraying his internal turmoil. "Lead the way, Young Master," Selene said softly. Then¡ªbefore he could react¡ªshe floated over and sat on his head. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. ''Oh, fuck no¡ª'' His temples throbbed, and for a brief moment, he debated throwing her off. But he didn''t. ''Everything is perfectly fine. I am not losing my mind.'' Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and continued to feed his delusions. ¡ª The cave was eerily silent as they walked. Lindarion, desperate to break the tension, spoke up. "How long were you trapped down there, Selene?" "I''m not sure, Young Master. It must have been thousands of years..." Her voice had a faint sadness to it. Or at least, Lindarion thought it did. It was hard to tell. Before long, they reached the chamber filled with human corpses. "The battle for the book," Selene murmured. Her tone was soft, almost nostalgic. Lindarion glanced at the lifeless bodies. "The monsters were devoured by my darkness." Selene simply nodded. "I could feel it from below when your darkness consumed them, Young Master." ''Of course, you did. Why wouldn''t you?'' Suppressing a groan, Lindarion let out a deep sigh and finally stepped out of the cave. The moment he felt fresh air on his skin, he wanted nothing more than to collapse on the ground and sleep for a week. But, unfortunately... that wasn''t an option. Not yet. ''I should check my rewards soon... I''m curious about what I get.'' Just as Lindarion was about to bring up the system window, a small tug on his hair made him pause. "Young Master, don''t you want to break through?" Selene''s voice was soft, almost playful, as she sat comfortably on his head, gripping a few strands of his hair like reins. ''Right... my mana core breakthrough is still pending.'' Absorbing Selene had pushed his mana core to its absolute limit. He was standing at the edge¡ªhe just needed to take that final step. "Can you help with that?" Lindarion asked, skeptical. He knew Selene was strong, but just how much? "Of course, Young Master! Just focus on your mana core," she chirped. Her cheerful tone didn''t match the eerie darkness surrounding her, which somehow made it even more unsettling. Lindarion exhaled sharply. "Alright." He dropped to the ground, crossing his legs, and shutting his eyes. His mana pulsed wildly, unstable. The sheer density of his accumulated energy pressed against his core''s limits¡ªlike an overfilled waterskin about to burst. And sitting right on top of his head, legs crossed like she was lounging on a throne, was Selene. "Young Master, your circulation is terrible." "...Thank you for the incredibly helpful feedback." Lindarion resisted the urge to swat her off. Selene huffed, resting her chin on her hands. "If you keep forcing it like this, you''re going to explode." "Alright, Great Master. What should I do then?" "Good question!" She grinned, then casually started yanking his hair. Lindarion tensed. "Did you just¡ª" "Just relax." Her voice was surprisingly soothing. "You''re trying to control everything too much. Let your affinities flow. Don''t force them¡ªjust let them move naturally." Lindarion took a deep breath. He did as she said, releasing his grip on his mana. His affinities stirred, weaving through his veins before gradually converging in his mana core. And then¡ª Crack. It was like something inside him had split apart. His vision blurred for a moment, but there was no pain¡ªjust an overwhelming surge of energy washing over him, flooding every inch of his being. [Mana Core Evolution¡ªGreater Core (Low) Achieved!] His entire body buzzed with raw power. "Young Master did it!" Selene cheered, spinning happily atop his head. "And you didn''t even explode!" Lindarion exhaled, his breath shaky as he opened his eyes. "You''re a demon." Selene gave him an innocent smile. "Not at all. Just your humble servant." Lindarion tilted his head back, staring at the sky. ''What did I do to deserve this...?'' Chapter 33 33: A Change in Plans Training continued day after day, each session sharpening Lindarion''s understanding of his affinities and their applications. Selene had long grown accustomed to his absurd talent, but even she found herself occasionally taken aback by his rapid progress. Before they realized it, a full week had passed. Lindarion''s daily routine had become almost mechanical¡ªwake up, train, eat, train again, and sleep. The meals that appeared at the well, just as Thalorin had mentioned, were barely enough for the two of them. And yet, Selene didn''t even need food. Lindarion let out a slow breath, stretching his muscles as he finished another practice session. Then, out of nowhere, he spoke: "I''ll have to send you back for now. My dear master, the one who so kindly abandoned me in the middle of nowhere, should be showing up today since a week has passed since my arrival." His voice carried a rare hint of disappointment. He had grown used to having Selene by his side, helping him through each step of his training. "I understand young master," Selene responded calmly, her voice smooth and unshaken. "But don''t leave me locked away for too long." As soon as she finished speaking, shadows enveloped her, swallowing her figure whole. Lindarion exhaled sharply. ''What''s the next part of my training going to be...?'' He had become exponentially stronger since arriving here. ¡ª[INFO]¡ª ¡ª[ATTRIBUTES]¡ª ¡ª[TECHNIQUES]¡ª ? Serpent''s Flow (Unique) ? Sovereign''s Veil (Legendary) ? Mana Thread Manipulation (Mythic) ? Mana Perception (Common) ? Flow (Epic) ? Insight (Legendary) ? Phantom Onslaught (Epic) ¡ª[SKILLS]¡ª ? Abyssal Rebirth ? Mana Overflow (Passive) ? Accelerated Regeneration ? Mana Shot ? Pure Mana Shield ? Sovereign''s Dominion (¡ï ¡ï ¡ï ¡ï ¡ï ¡ï ¡ï) ? Phantom Step (¡ï ¡ï ¡ï ¡ï) ¡ª[BLESSINGS]¡ª ? Blessed By Mana ? Blessings of Ouroboros (Passive Abilities) ''...I''ve gotten a hell of a lot stronger than before. But that''s mostly because my darkness devoured the little Selene.'' He gripped his sword, flowing into a series of precise, elegant movements¡ªslashing, thrusting, pivoting. Every strike was calculated, fluid, natural. ''Who knows when that old man is going to show up? I might as well keep myself busy.'' Hours passed. Lindarion remained in the field, spinning and weaving through his footwork like a dancer, his blade cutting through the air in rhythmic patterns. Then, all at once, he felt it. The space near the well distorted, rippling like shattered glass reforming. A presence emerged¡ªcalm, steady. Thalorin had arrived. He looked as indifferent as ever, as if he hadn''t abandoned Lindarion in the middle of nowhere for an entire week. ''You senile old bastard.'' Lindarion''s lips curled into a devilish grin as he slowly made his way toward Thalorin. A vein twitched on his forehead, his smile trembling with unrestrained irritation. "!!!" Thalorin''s eyes widened the moment he sensed Lindarion''s mana leaking out. ''Already at the Greater Core stage?! It''s only been a week!'' His thoughts halted when he noticed something even more shocking¡ªLindarion''s own blood rising from his skin, forming blades mid-air. ''So one of his elements is Blood Manipulation huh?'' The crimson swords shot toward Thalorin. Without so much as blinking, he sidestepped, effortlessly evading each attack. Then, instead of reacting with caution, he burst into laughter, as if he had gone mad. "Lindarion! You''re absolutely incredible!" ''What the hell is this old man raving about?'' Lindarion''s head throbbed as Thalorin dodged his attack without a single drop of effort. "Sit." The moment Thalorin uttered that word, an invisible force crashed down on Lindarion. ''W-What the¡ª?!'' Even the pressure from Selene inside the cave hadn''t been this suffocating. His entire body trembled, his limbs quaking as he struggled to remain upright. ''Oh?'' Thalorin observed him with keen interest and increased the pressure even further. Lindarion gritted his teeth. He had other cards to play¡ªhis darkness, his affinities¡ªbut he wasn''t about to waste them on something like this. Instead, he did the rational thing. He clicked his tongue and sat down. "..." He stared at Thalorin in silence, expression unreadable. "So... you finished exploring the dungeon." Thalorin nodded to himself. "That settles it. Your next phase of training won''t be here." ''...What?'' Lindarion''s brain nearly short-circuited. "Didn''t you say I''d stay here until I could start at the academy?" His question was entirely reasonable. That was exactly what Thalorin had told him. "Oh, I did," Thalorin admitted without hesitation. "But you''re growing at an abnormal rate, so I changed my mind." A thread inside Lindarion''s brain snapped. He couldn''t keep it in anymore. "Then shouldn''t you have consulted me first? Or maybe¡ªI don''t know¡ªmy parents?" Before he could finish, Thalorin cut him off. "Your father already agreed." "..." Lindarion fell silent. His smile froze. His expression turned blank. ''They screwed me over again. Tricked me. Again.'' The vein on his forehead throbbed harder. "Fine. Then where am I going?" He forced out the words through clenched teeth, his smile cracking apart. "A military training camp." ''...What?'' Lindarion''s mouth hung open. He felt like a baby duck blinking in confusion. "To put it another way¡ªyour father called in a favor. You''ll be heading to one of Leonhardt Valerian''s cities. A military training camp in Everhallow!" ''...'' Lindarion''s mind blanked completely. Meanwhile, Thalorin simply stood there, grinning. "Everhallow? What the hell is that?" Lindarion had never heard of it. Not even once. He was getting real tired of people making decisions for him behind his back. Thalorin let out a long sigh before starting his explanation. This was going to take a while. "Everhallow is a city in Velmora. You could call Velmora a country for everyone¡ªelves, humans, and dwarves all live there in harmony under Leonhardt Valerian''s rule." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Everhallow is home to Velmora''s military training camp. It''s tough to get in, but Leonhardt secured you a spot... at your father''s request." Lindarion''s smile twitched. His eyes slowly closed. ''How long are they planning to keep screwing me over?'' "I don''t know if you''ll enjoy it, but it''ll definitely be useful for you." Thalorin''s voice was calm, but his gaze was sharp, studying Lindarion''s reaction. Lindarion had to admit it¡ªeven if he didn''t like being sent to some random place without warning, this was exactly what he had wanted. To train like a real soldier. His father had refused to let him go before. But now, suddenly, he was the one sending him there? Lindarion exhaled, then gave a slight nod. "When do we leave?" "Now. Gather your things¡ªwe''re heading out immediately." ''So much for a damn rest day...'' Lindarion got to his feet. Thalorin had already withdrawn his pressure, making it easier to move. He grabbed his things¡ªhe didn''t have much. Just a bag with a few clothes and, of course, his sword. "I''m ready. Let''s go." Thalorin smirked before grabbing Lindarion by the shoulder. The space around them cracked and distorted. And in an instant¡ª Lindarion found himself standing inside a room. ''...'' Chapter 34 34: Pathetic Trainees ''...'' Lindarion scanned the room. It was simple¡ªbare walls, an oak wardrobe, and a small wooden bed barely big enough for one person. A plain white sheet and a single wool pillow lay on top. Functional, but nothing more. He walked around, inspecting every corner. A small washroom was attached. Basic. A tub, a toilet. No luxury. ''Could be worse.'' When he stepped back into the main room, Thalorin was already sitting on the bed, waiting. "This is your room. You''re already inside the training camp. Someone will knock soon¡ªwhen they do, put this on." He pulled a uniform from the wardrobe and handed it over. Black, smooth, almost velvet-like. Lindarion took it in his hands. The fabric was light and soft, yet felt unnaturally sturdy, as if nothing could pierce it. It reminded him of his ballroom attire. Elegant, weightless¡ªyet unyielding to the touch. "Good luck, Lindarion." Thalorin offered a small smile. Lindarion simply nodded. Then the space around Thalorin twisted. A tear in reality swallowed him whole, and just like that, he was gone¡ªleaving Lindarion alone with his thoughts. [Sovereign''s Veil] A pulse of mana spread through his body. His Greater Core concealed itself, shifting its presence to that of a mere Stable Core. Still extraordinary for his age. Probably unmatched by anyone his age in the world. ''I knew this would come in handy. No need to reveal my full strength immediately. Only if I have to... or if someone irritates me.'' He let himself fall onto the bed. It practically devoured him. ''Finally... I missed this.'' For five blissful minutes, he lay there. Then¡ª A knock. ''Of course.'' Remembering Thalorin''s words, he sat up, slipped into the black uniform, fastened his sword to his waist, and moved toward the door. The moment it swung open, he found himself staring up at a walking fortress. A giant of a man stood in the hallway. At least two meters tall. Broad as a siege tower. His head was completely bald, his face marred by scars. Dressed in dark green, he had the air of a war veteran. His eyes¡ªhazel, cold¡ªlocked onto Lindarion. "Lindarion?" "Yes sir." Lindarion straightened his posture instinctively, standing like a trained soldier. "You''re Trainee #1." The man slapped a numbered tag onto his uniform. It sank into the fabric as if it had always been there, fusing seamlessly. ''A mana inscription?'' Lindarion gave a slight nod before stepping past him. The hallway stretched long, lined with doors on both sides. Dozens, maybe hundreds. As he walked, he noticed something¡ªhe was the only one outside. By the time he reached the exit, the training ground spread out before him. Vast. Racks of weapons. Rows of training dummies. Archery targets. Every kind of combat tool imaginable. And the size¡ªmassive. At least a kilometer long and just as wide. ''Damn. That''s bigger than any training ground I''ve seen before.'' One by one, the other recruits began stepping out. Lindarion immediately noticed the looks. Stares. Curious glances. Whispers. He was the only child here. The others¡ªadults. Some elves. Mostly humans. Even a handful of dwarves. As expected, the murmurs started. "What''s a kid doing here?" "Who cares? He won''t last long." Scoffs. Chuckles. Some didn''t bother whispering. Men and women alike smirked as they exchanged glances. Then¡ª The walking fortress stepped into the field. Silence. The entire group tensed. Some flinched. Others outright shook. ''The fuck is their problem?'' Lindarion barely felt anything. Compared to the crushing pressure of Selene and Thalorin, this was nothing. "ATTENTION!" The voice exploded through the air. Thunderous. Commanding. Everyone snapped into position¡ªincluding Lindarion. ''Was that really necessary, baldie?'' Suppressing a sigh, he focused his gaze ahead. "My name is Magnus Krieg." His voice cut through the silence like a blade. "I am your instructor. Today, two hundred of you stand here. But do not assume you will all remain." Tension crackled in the air. Expressions hardened. Some paled. But no one dared speak. There was something about him¡ªsomething beyond just presence. A raw, unshakable authority. ''What a charming fellow.'' Lindarion remained impassive. Magnus swept his gaze over the recruits, scanning each face carefully. ''What''s he looking for?'' Lindarion had no idea. He simply stood still. Silent. Then¡ª "Start running. Now." The moment the words left Magnus'' mouth, everyone moved. ¡ª Magnus He watched. Footwork. Endurance. Weakness. By the tenth lap, people were already dropping. His eyes settled on one in particular. ''Leonhardt... what the hell are you thinking, sending a kid here?'' Apparently he didn''t have a background. No noble house backing him. Nothing at all, just a name. Yet¡ªLindarion wasn''t even sweating. ''Let''s see how long you last, boy.'' ¡ª Lindarion ''Already?'' Dwarves fell first. Expected. Humans soon followed. ''We''ve only done ten laps. Seriously?'' For Lindarion, this wasn''t training. This was a warm-up. Minutes passed. Then half an hour. Then an hour. The field was nearly empty. Only three remained. All elves. ''Well, that''s not surprising.'' Everyone knew elves had superior stamina, but... this was brutal. The difference was obvious. "How is he still running?" "He has to be cheating." "Who the hell is that kid?" The whispers continued. Lindarion ignored them. ''This test is practically made for us. We''re dominating.'' He shook his head and kept running. The two elves collapsed, gasping for breath. Lindarion remained. Alone. He kept running, his steps light, controlled¡ªuntouched by exhaustion. ''Who would''ve thought? They''re weak...'' He shook his head. They weren''t soldiers. Just applicants. But still¡ªthis was disappointing. "Enough!" Magnus'' voice boomed like a cannon blast, shaking the air itself. "First place¡ªTrainee #1!" A murmur spread through the group. Magnus caught snippets of their whispers. "He must''ve cheated¡ª" "Silence!" The force behind his words was like an explosion, cutting through the crowd like a shockwave. ''...Does he really need to yell like a lunatic?'' Magnus took a step forward, scanning the exhausted, defeated recruits. "Are you not ashamed?" His voice was filled with pure disdain. "Some of you dare to call yourselves warriors? Soldiers? Yet you were left in the dust¡ªby a child?" The camp fell dead silent. Lindarion''s fingers twitched as he covered his mouth behind Magnus. He was trying not to laugh. ''Holy shit.'' Magnus had a point¡ªthese so-called warriors had performed pathetically. The recruits, however, didn''t take the words well. Their glares darkened. But Lindarion? He stood there, perfectly still. Unbothered. Uninterested. Magnus didn''t give them a chance to sulk. "Strength training begins now!" he barked. "Use any equipment you want!" Then, he stepped back, watching. Lindarion didn''t hesitate. He strode toward the weights, passing the silent, bitter-eyed recruits without sparing them a glance. His hands wrapped around two 40-kilogram dumbbells, lifting them effortlessly before starting his reps. The stares continued. Some filled with jealousy. Some with admiration. Some with thinly veiled hostility. He ignored them all. Repetition after repetition, he moved with perfect form. Controlled. Steady. Strong. Then¡ª As he finished his final rep, someone approached. A girl. She was an elf. Her long blonde hair reached down until her waist. She was quite tall...taller than Lindarion in fact. Lindarion recognized her origin country immediately. ''She''s from our kingdom.'' She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Lindarion Sunblade, Prince of Eldorath. It''s an honor to meet you." Her tone was polite. Her smile¡ªsmall, unreadable. Lindarion didn''t react. His gaze met hers, calm and commanding. "Keep my identity a secret." Nothing more. No warmth. No friendliness. Just a simple order. He wasn''t here to make friends. He was here to become stronger. The girl nodded¡ªthen turned and walked away as if nothing had happened. Lindarion exhaled. ''This is going to be troublesome.'' Lindarion continued his training alone. Then¡ª A man approached. A human, he was pretty tall and broad-shouldered. His dark obsidian black hair cascaded down onto his shoulders as his brown eyes glowed. His steps were heavy with unearned arrogance. Lindarion didn''t even spare him a glance. ''Are people really this pathetic?'' The man scoffed. "Not ashamed of yourself, kid? Cheating your way through training?" Lindarion didn''t react. Didn''t pause. He simply kept lifting. The man''s eye twitched. "Oi! I''m talking to you!" Still¡ªno response. Lindarion barely acknowledged his presence. He finished his rep, then¡ªcalmly, coldly¡ªspoke. "Cheating? Don''t make me laugh." His voice was low. Steady. Unshaken. But beneath it was something hidden, authority. A quiet, effortless dominance that made the air grow heavy. The man''s expression darkened. "Who the hell do you think you''re talking to like that?!" He stepped closer, fists clenched. Lindarion finally glanced to the side¡ªtoward Magnus. Nothing. The instructor wasn''t moving. Wasn''t stepping in. ''So he''s letting this happen?'' Fine. Lindarion let out a slow exhale, then¡ª Dropped the weights. The impact thudded through the ground. The man flinched. Lindarion turned to face him. His green eyes were empty. His voice¡ªcold. Unshaken. Uncaring. "Get lost, you miserable failure. You''re pathetic." Silence. Every eye in the training yard turned toward them. The man''s breath hitched. His face twisted¡ªanger, humiliation, something in between. But he didn''t move. He couldn''t. Chapter 36 36: The Only Hope Lindarion continued his training, slashing at a wooden dummy with his practice sword. His movements were refined, elegant¡ªlike a dancer lost in his art. ''I''m not fast enough.'' He channeled mana into his legs, his figure turning into a blur. To an ordinary human''s eyes, he was invisible right now. A few trainees stood frozen, mouths agape at his speed. ''Faster. Faster.'' Lindarion didn''t stop. Even as the other trainees left, including the eighth-ranked one, he remained alone on the training grounds. He continued training alone for a while. Without rest, without pause. ''I''m not good enough. Not even remotely close'' He accelerated, pouring every drop of mana into his sword¡ªthen slashed. The training dummy split in half. His sword, however, shattered into pieces. ''...I should head inside.'' Just as he turned to leave, a figure walked out of the building. ''Of course, my luck is great as always'' "Number One Trainee. What are you still doing here?" Magnus''s voice was calm, different from the one he used during training. "Sir Magnus, I just finished my session and was heading back to rest," Lindarion replied evenly. Magnus glanced at the wreckage¡ªthe destroyed dummy, the remnants of a broken sword¡ªthen sighed with an amused smile. "How strong are you, kid?" He let out a chuckle. "As far as I know, sir, it''s not polite to ask such things," Lindarion responded, voice cold but carrying a faint smirk. Magnus''s smile faded slightly. "Fair enough." "Rest up for tomorrow. You won''t like it." He patted Lindarion''s shoulder before walking away. Lindarion turned after him. "What do you mean by that?" No response. ''I guess fate will decide what awaits me tomorrow.'' Shaking his head, Lindarion slowly made his way back to his room. He collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. With a flick of his mana, shadows coiled around him¡ªSelene appeared beside him, her long black hair cascading down her back, eyes as dark as the void. "Wow, young master! It''s been so long since I''ve been in an actual room," she said, flopping onto the bed. "How was your first day?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice. Lindarion smirked. "Pretty average. Beat some guy, won every sparring match." Selene beamed with pride, puffing out her chest. "That''s my master!" "I''m going to sleep. Something''s happening tomorrow." Selene tilted her head. "Something?" "Even I don''t know yet." Lindarion sighed, laying back as Selene curled up near his head. "Goodnight Master." "Goodnight Selene." Magnus''s words echoed in his mind as his eyes slowly closed. ¡ª Magnus Magnus sat in his office, sorting through the trainees'' reports. A letter lay in his hands. ''They''re not ready. Not even close.'' The letter was from his superior. A Tier 2 dungeon had appeared. He was to send ten trainees¡ªhis best ones. But in his honest opinion, only the first-ranked trainee was truly prepared. ''But he won''t be able to clear a Tier 3 dungeon alone. There is no chance.'' Magnus exhaled, leaning back in his chair, scanning through the list. ''Trainees One, Five, Eight, Twelve, Thirty, Forty-Two, Seventy-One, One Hundred Twelve, One Hundred Eighty-One, and One Hundred Ninety-Eight.'' Those were the names. The names of the strongest trainees in the camp. If they couldn''t clear it then no other trainee could. Even if he doubted them. ''I just hope they make it out alive.'' ¡ª Lindarion Morning arrived. Lindarion rubbed his eyes, stretching as Selene floated in the air before him. "It''s time for you to go back, Selene." Her face fell, but she nodded. The darkness swallowed her, and she disappeared. Lindarion pushed himself out of bed. He wasn''t tired, yet something felt off. ''Something feels off.'' Ignoring the unease, he stripped off his uniform and stepped into the bath. The cold water ran over his skin, refreshing yet sharp. When he was done, he dried off with a thick woolen towel, the sensation pleasant against his skin. The lingering scent of the water left him feeling more awake. Dressing back into his uniform, he walked out of his room¡ªheading straight for the training grounds. Some of the trainees were already warming up, but not everyone had arrived yet. Magnus was also missing. ''Old man''s probably running late.'' Lindarion quickly dismissed the thought. Then, as if on cue, the rest of the trainees arrived and began lining up. Still no Magnus. ''Just where the hell is he?'' And just as the thought crossed his mind, the office doors slammed open. Magnus stormed out, his booming voice shaking the entire training grounds. "EVERYONE! ATTENTION!" His voice was like an explosion, obliterating the fragile silence. ''Pretty sure everyone was already looking at you, old man.'' Lindarion shook his head as Magnus continued. "Today is going to be a difficult and special day. You will be sent to explore a Tier 2 dungeon." The trainees collectively froze. His words hit them like a thunderclap. Whispers spread like wildfire. Some trembled. One guy¡ªwas he crying? "They''re sending us to die!" "Why?! Why do we have to do this?!" "They want to get rid of us!" ''Tier 2 doesn''t even sound that bad...'' Lindarion massaged his temple, watching the chaos unfold. "Only ten trainees will be participating." ''Considering my luck, I''m going to be one of them.'' A wave of relief washed over the crowd. Some looked even more nervous. Magnus began listing names. "Trainee One, Five, Eight, Twelve, Thirty, Forty-Two, Seventy-One, One Hundred Twelve, One Hundred Eighty-One, and One Hundred Ninety-Eight. Step forward!" Those whose names weren''t called looked like they''d just been given a second chance at life. ''So I''m in. Who would''ve thought? Definitely not me.'' Lindarion was the first to step forward. As he walked, he could feel the stares burning into his back. He slowly arrived next to Magnus, but the whispers didn''t stop. "They''re sending a kid?" "What the hell are they thinking...?" Lindarion ignored the whispers. He was just about to tune everything out when¡ª [Ding!] A sharp beep rang in his head. ¡ª[Quest Window]¡ª ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª ''...??? Excuse me? What the hell'' Lindarion''s eyes flicked to the Failure section. Meanwhile, the other chosen trainees stepped forward¡ªyesterday''s girl and the elven man included. But Lindarion''s focus remained locked on the screen. ''So failure could be death?'' [That depends on your abilities, Host.] ''...Fantastic. Just what I needed..'' Lindarion let out a quiet sigh. ''System I accept the quest.'' [Quest Started! Good luck in the dungeon, Host.] Magnus scanned the ten trainees, then reached into his coat, pulling out... a wristband? "A captain''s armband. Whoever wears this will lead the mission." His voice was firm. No one dared to object. His eyes roamed over the group. Then¡ª He stopped on Lindarion. ''Oh, of course. Who would''ve thought.'' "Number One Trainee! Step forward!" The murmurs started immediately. "Is he serious?" "This has to be a joke..." Without hesitation, Lindarion stepped forward. Magnus secured the golden armband around his wrist¡ªit melded into his uniform like it belonged there. "You will lead this mission." Magnus''s voice was steady, filled with expectation. ''Because you''re our only hope, kid.'' Chapter 37 37: Dungeon Clearing (1) "Understood, Instructor Magnus," Lindarion''s voice rang out confidently across the courtyard. Magnus nodded, and the murmuring students fell silent. His gaze held something strange¡ªwas it fear? Or regret? ''What''s with him? He''s acting weird.'' "A portal will materialize behind you. It will take you to the dungeon''s entrance." Then, he pulled a small triangular object from his pocket¡ªsomething like an Illuminati symbol. ''That tiny thing is supposed to open a portal? Really?'' Then Lindarion reminded himself¡ªit wasn''t the size that mattered, but the artifact''s power. Magnus placed the triangle behind the ten trainees, and the very air trembled. ''There''s so much mana in the atmosphere...'' He stepped forward, handing each trainee a small cube¡ªabout the size of a smartphone, but without a screen. "You''ll use these to communicate. Just channel mana into them when you need to speak." ''So basically... a mana-powered walkie-talkie?'' Magnus took a step back. Mana surged, distorting the air itself. The trainees'' bodies tensed as the portal fully materialized before them. The other students instinctively backed away, leaving only the ten chosen and Magnus near the portal. "Step through, one at a time!" He had to shout over the howling winds and the unstable space around them. ''This is insane...'' Lindarion nodded and stepped toward the portal. Magnus'' thoughts swirled. ''Good luck, kid.'' One by one, the trainees crossed without hesitation. As Lindarion entered, darkness swallowed him. Space twisted around him¡ªthen, suddenly, he hit the ground. This time, he landed on his feet. The others? Not so much. They rolled and tumbled out of the portal behind him. Ignoring their groans, Lindarion took in his surroundings. They were deep in a forest. Trees stretched as far as the eye could see¡ªnot that it was far, given how dense the woods were. The scent of flowers filled the air, and birds chirped in the distance. And right in front of them¡ª A massive dungeon gate. Its entrance was sealed by a translucent, glowing purple barrier. {Can you hear me, trainees?} Magnus'' voice came through the cubes, still firm despite the distortion. Lindarion gripped his device, channeling mana into it. {Trainee One reporting. We hear you loud and clear, Instructor.} He tested the device while the others surveyed their surroundings¡ªsome with confidence, others with hesitation. ''What''s waiting for us inside...?'' Lindarion shook the thought away and refocused. {Instructor, we''re ready to move in.} Magnus'' voice echoed through the cubes. {Team Leader, the dungeon entrance is blocked by a mana shield. It should allow you to enter freely but prevent monsters or any other creatures from escaping. Report back once you''re inside.} The trainees exchanged glances before turning to Lindarion. ''I''m not exactly leadership material...'' Still, he exhaled and steadied his voice. "Prepare your weapons. We have no idea what''s inside." The others nodded. They knew the truth¡ªthey weren''t chosen at random. And Lindarion wasn''t placed in charge for nothing. He scanned his team. Four swordsmen. A spear-wielding girl. Three archers. And one trainee with... a staff? ''Looks like a supporting character from a video game.'' "Trainee 112, what''s your specialty?" He turned to the blue-haired girl. Her hair shimmered like ocean waves, but her deep brown eyes held uncertainty. "I¡ªI use enhancement and debuff techniques. The staff helps me cast them faster." Her voice was soft, unsure. Understandable, given the situation. "Stay in the back. No exceptions." Lindarion''s tone was firm, allowing no room for debate. The girl only nodded in response. "Let''s move¡ªtogether." His voice carried authority and confidence. He had to project strength. Weakness wasn''t an option. The trainees gave their final nods. Then, moving as one, they stepped through the dungeon''s entrance. The moment they passed the barrier, the world twisted. When they regained their senses¡ª They stood in a long hallway. ''This... doesn''t feel right.'' Lindarion took in their surroundings while the others got back on their feet. Stone columns lined the passage, torches casting flickering shadows against the walls. At the far end, a massive marble door loomed shut. His sharp gaze swept across his team, making sure they were all accounted for. ''So far, so good.'' He activated his cube, sending mana into it. {Instructor Magnus, we''ve entered the dungeon.} {Understood, Team Leader. Begin dungeon exploration and report if you encounter major issues.} Magnus''s voice echoed through everyone''s devices before all eyes turned to Lindarion. ''...Time to step into the unknown.'' "Move out. Archers stay at the rear, swordsmen take the front. 112, you stay at the very back." Then, he glanced at the spear-wielding girl. ''Where would she be most effective...'' "Number Eight, position yourself slightly behind the swordsmen." The girl nodded, following his orders without question. ''I''m just using strategies I''ve seen in games... I hope they actually work.'' The team quickly adjusted to the formation before approaching the massive stone gate. Lindarion stood at the front¡ªnot because he wanted to, but because he had to. He hated this role. He didn''t even want it. But if his father had sent him to this camp, he had to have known about today''s dungeon. There was a reason for everything. ''Let''s see what''s waiting on the other side.'' "Stay ready, we don''t know what''s waiting for us." Lindarion didn''t shout, but his voice carried enough weight that everyone heard him loud and clear. Placing both hands on the heavy gate, he began to push. A deep, grating noise echoed through the dungeon as the stone doors slowly groaned open. ''If nothing knew we were coming, they sure as hell do now.'' However, once the doors fully opened... nothing happened. Silence. A thick mist blanketed the entire chamber, dense enough to obscure everything past a few steps. ''...This is way too suspicious.'' [Mana Perception] As his vision pierced through the fog, a cold chill ran down his spine. There, within the mist, stood ten armored humanoid creatures, their swords gripped tightly. The eerie fog billowed from their mouths as though they exhaled it, cloaking them in a perfect veil. "There are ten of them," Lindarion whispered. The group''s reactions varied¡ªsome stiffened in fear, while others simply nodded. ''There are also ten of us though. We can handle this.'' {Instructor Magnus, we''ve encountered ten humanoid figures. Engaging in combat now.} Lindarion''s voice was barely above a whisper, but Magnus''s response came almost instantly. {I understand, good luck kid.} Lindarion stowed the communication device away. "Attack formation. Archers, get ready. 112, be prepared to support all of us. The rest of you¡ªon me." Keeping his voice low, he advanced deeper into the mist, the others following close behind like some loyal ducklings. The moment he stepped forward, the figures lunged toward them¡ªfast, too fast. All at once. "Attack!" Lindarion met their charge head-on, sprinting toward the nearest enemy. As the figures came fully into view, unease flickered across some of his teammates'' faces. But none of them backed down. "Archers, fire!" His command rang through the battlefield as he narrowly dodged a sword slash, his movement fluid¡ªalmost like a dancer. But before he could counter, another enemy aimed straight for his back. ''Fuck.'' [Pure Mana Shield] The attack rebounded harmlessly off the barrier, sending the figure skidding backward. The creature was hit by a sudden arrow on its chest, however, it didn''t die just yet. "They attack in pairs! Watch each other''s backs! Swordsmen, fight in teams¡ªdon''t leave anyone alone!" Lindarion kicked an enemy away just as two others tackled one of his teammates to the ground. ''God damnit already?!'' [Phantom Step] He vanished, reappearing beside the downed trainee in an instant. A swift slash cut through the air instantly, the sheer mana behind it distorting the air itself. One enemy managed to retreat in time, narrowly escaping the fatal blow. However the other vanished into nothingness as Lindarion''s sword cut through him. "Number Twelve, get up! Keep fighting!" The silver-haired elf scrambled to his feet, his expression hardened. "Team Leader, enhancements ready!" ''How is he this strong?'' 112''s voice rang out from behind the archers whilst her thoughts spun around. A sudden surge of power coursed through Lindarion and the others, strengthening their bodies. ''It''s not over yet. We need to keep pushing forward.'' Lindarion''s gaze flickered across the battlefield, spotting two swordsmen finally managing to cut one of the figures down. It collapsed into the mist, vanishing into nothing. "Swordsmen, press the attack! Only eight of them are left! We can do this!" His voice echoed through the chamber¡ªa true battle cry. Lindarion kept up his attacks, his eyes darting across the battlefield, tracking his teammates'' movements. He had no idea how a leader was supposed to act, but he knew one thing¡ªhe didn''t want to let anyone die here because of him. ''I will keep pushing.'' Mana gathered in his palm, condensing into a sphere about the size of a tennis ball¡ªbut far denser, pulsing with raw energy. [Mana Shot] He fired it at the figure that had dodged his sword strike. The projectile struck true, and within seconds, the enemy dissolved into mist. "Only seven left!" "Six," an archer corrected. Lindarion barely had time to register the comment before he saw a mana-infused arrow pierce straight through another enemy''s head. The two locked eyes for a brief moment, exchanging a quick nod before returning to the fight. "We''re close! Don''t let up now!" His voice rang through the battlefield, and his teammates responded¡ªpushing forward with everything they had. Chapter 39 39: The Dark King (1) [Shadow Step] Lindarion glided forward like a shadow, slicing through the air itself as he broke past the skeletons. ''I have to give it everything. If we lose here, we all die.'' His sword flashed, carving through bone like a knife through wet parchment. But even as he cut them down, more rose from the ground, their hollow sockets glowing with eerie blue light. "Don''t you dare give up!" His voice thundered across the battlefield. A shockwave of will. The archers trembled. They had thought they''d won, but the enemy refused to fall. Now, they stood frozen in fear, their hands gripping useless bows. 198''s fingers quivered as the undead lurched toward the archers, their movements stiff yet relentless. Lindarion''s sharp eyes caught the hesitation. His gaze burned with fury. "If you surrender now, then everything was for nothing!" The entire unit turned toward him. The swordsmen, mid-slash, faltered for just a second. The archers, whose morale had already shattered, clenched their jaws. Even 112, the support mage, who had been desperately chanting, raised his head. And Eight, the guardian of the archers, stood her ground¡ªkeeping the archers alive but listening. "Did you just act on impulse back then? Or was 42''s death meaningless to you?" Lindarion''s voice cut through them like a blade sharper than his own. He casually bisected a skeleton as he spoke, its bones already beginning to knit back together. The words reached 198''s core. Her hands stopped trembling. ''How the hell is a kid motivating me like this..?'' She exhaled sharply and met Lindarion''s gaze. A silent signal. "ARCHERS! SUPPORT THE CAPTAIN! CLEAR A PATH!" No hesitation. No fear. Only obedience. They nocked their arrows, their mana surging as the projectiles crackled with power. The air shimmered with volatile energy, and the next volley rained down, obliterating the undead that dared to approach Lindarion. "112! WE NEED EVERY SUPPORT SPELL NOW!" Lindarion''s command echoed. 112 snapped into action, gripping her staff as she muttered a rapid incantation. Azure light ignited the battlefield. Lindarion moved. He danced through the skeletons, his every step fueled by an overwhelming surge of mana. His core burned, the darkness within him spiraling into motion. His mana was not endless. Not even close. Lindarion knew this. ''I have to be fast.'' Mana-enchanted arrows zipped past him, shattering skulls and ribs in perfect synchronization. The path to the Lich was wide open. He lunged forward. The Lich¡ªif it had a face¡ªwould have worn an expression of sheer disbelief. But Lindarion didn''t know if this gamble would work. He had bet everything on this one moment. The darkness inside his mana core swirled violently, like a planet spinning in an inescapable orbit. Then¡ªit erupted. A shadowy mist spilled from Lindarion''s feet, creeping like ink bleeding through paper. The Lich was consumed. For the first time since the battle began, fear filled the battlefield. Even his companions stared in shock. ''H-how?'' Eight''s thoughts scrambled as she barely held the defensive line before the archers. "Team Leader! We''re getting overrun!" 12''s frantic voice broke through the battlefield noise. Another wave of skeletons crashed into them, forcing the entire squad backward. But Lindarion did not stop. The shadows devoured the Lich whole. Then¡ªa scream. The Lich''s shrill, an ear-piercing wail rippled through the air as if the very fabric of reality had torn. The skeletons froze. Then¡ªthey crumbled. Bone turned to dust, disintegrating like sand slipping through fingers. Silence. Lindarion collapsed to his knees. Blood trickled from his nose. His vision blurred. [New Darkness Summon Unlocked!] [Host Can Now Summon ¨C Wretched Necromancer, Kaelvox Morvain] [Mana Pool Increased Slightly.] [Rewards] +5 Strength +3 Intelligence +5 Agility +6 Charisma +2 Luck +4 Vitality +5 Wisdom +4 Mana +2 Endurance The Lich itself had never been truly powerful. It was the endless waves of undead that made it so. If not for that, it was nothing but an overgrown corpse in a robe. But Lindarion''s darkness had erased it. Completely. ''In the end... I did almost everything myself.'' So much for teamwork. Lindarion exhaled sharply, rolling onto his back. His body ached a little here and there, but it was manageable. His absorption with darkness was too much for his mana pool. It was a really taxing ability, maybe a little too taxing honestly. When he absorbed Selene it was way easier due to Selene letting herself be consumed. However, the Lich was resisting which made Lindarion exhaust himself even more. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. ''For now, we won.'' 112 rushed to Lindarion without hesitation. "Captain..." she knelt beside him, placing a hand over his chest as healing magic surged. "You big big...don''t overexert yourself" Hearing 112''s words made Lindarion smile a little. She was like a child. In truth, Lindarion wasn''t injured. He had simply burned through too much mana at once. ''Still... this feels nice.'' His exhaustion lingered, but the warmth of the spell was soothing. The rest of the squad gathered around him, tension still clinging to the air. Then¡ª198 stepped forward. "That was impressive, Captain." She lowered her head slightly. "If you hadn''t been here... none of us would have made it." A quiet admission. Regret flickered across her face. She had doubted Lindarion before. Resented him. But now? It was different. However, no one blamed him for resenting him. Some of them had felt the same at some point. "Y-You are powerful captain, thank you for saving us" 112 said as she looked at Lindarion with an innocent smile. It was warm, extremely so. Her brown eyes were shining endlessly. "You''re ridiculously strong, Captain." 12''s voice cut through the silence, matter-of-fact but firm. Even Eight¡ªsilent as ever¡ªnodded. Lindarion exhaled. ''I''d like to rest a little longer... but we need to keep moving.'' He steadied his breath, already gathering mana. His Blessing accelerated the process, allowing him to recover far faster than an average person. Then¡ªa hand. Eight offered it without a word. Lindarion took it, pulling himself up. His body still felt heavy, but it didn''t matter. His gaze shifted past the throne. On to the gate behind it. Scribbles were visible all over the gate like they were drawn by some kind of ancient child playing a game. "We should move. I think we''re close to the end." The others exchanged glances, then nodded. This could be the final chamber. But that would mean this is the final challenge. And the strongest enemy yet. ''I have to be ready.'' Lindarion took a deep breath, then spoke¡ªloud and firm. "Let''s go." He pulled the communication device from his pocket. {Approaching the third gate.} The response came instantly. {Good luck, trainees.} Magnus didn''t hesitate. Lindarion''s grip tightened around the device. ''Luck huh, I guess we will need it.'' He turned toward the massive doors, looming over them like the entrance to another world. What could be waiting for them inside? ''A dragon?'' He shook his head. If it was a dragon, they were already doomed from the start. They didn''t have any second chances. No miracles either. But Lindarion wasn''t planning to die today. And so¡ªhe stepped forward toward the large gate. "Maintain formation. No matter what''s on the other side, don''t break it at all costs." The squad nodded, tightening their grip on their weapons. As they reached the gate, its sheer size felt even more overwhelming up close. ''Let this be the last one.'' Lindarion placed both palms against the surface. Then¡ªhe hesitated. ''Why is it...so warm?'' Unlike the previous doors, which had been cold and lifeless, this one felt alive. A strange, pulsing heat radiated from it, sinking into his skin. His instincts screamed at him. Something was wrong. Way too wrong. The gate groaned and trembled as it slowly pushed open, shaking the entire cavern. ''Alright... let''s see if we live or die.'' A massive hall unfolded before them¡ªfar grander than any they had encountered before. Towering marble pillars lined the chamber, reaching toward a vaulted ceiling that disappeared into darkness. Golden torches illuminated every corner, casting an eerie, unnatural glow over the floor. ''Again...?'' At the far end, a throne. But unlike the previous ones, this wasn''t made of some kind of sculpted stone. It was black. A deep, gleaming obsidian-gold, as if it had been forged from darkness itself. This was the real deal. And upon it¡ªa figure. ''A knight?'' Lindarion wasn''t sure. A floating black crown hovered above its head, its edges flickering like a dying flame. ''Not a knight, maybe some kind of king...?'' The figure''s armor was entirely black, the metal absorbing the torchlight instead of reflecting it. A double edged sword the size of a child rested in his arms. And its eyes¡ª Twin voids, endless and empty. Darkness bled from the gaps in its plate, a suffocating presence that made Lindarion''s squad shudder. "Stay ready for anything¡ª" Before he could finish¡ª The throne was empty. Gone. ''Fast¡ª'' Lindarion''s head snapped around, scanning¡ªwhere? Where did it even go? "On guard!" Then¡ªa sound. Drip. A single drop of liquid echoed through the chamber. Lindarion''s body froze upon hearing the sound. None of them could even react to the king''s movement. Then¡ªa gurgle came from behind him. ''You can''t be serious..'' Lindarion spun around, his heart slamming against his ribs. And then¡ªhe froze. His breath hitched. His fingers trembled. There it stood. The Black King. And in its grasp¡ª A severed head. Still twitching. Then¡ªa dull, wet thud. THUD. Lindarion''s heart sank, almost like he was thrown into the middle of an endless ocean. The body lay collapsed on the stone. Lifeless. The rest of the trainees turned to face the king, their bodies shaking with pure fear. 198 tried to say something as his voice came out shaking like the words of a newborn. "N-No..t-this can''t be.." Her bow dropped to the ground, the large sound echoing in the chamber. ''No...'' Lindarion''s blood ran cold. And then¡ª the Black King turned toward them, his eternally dark armored hand gripping the head of its first victim. Chapter 40 40: The Dark King (2) Lindarion''s body trembled, his breath shallow as his gaze locked onto the abyssal eyes of the Black King. A severed head dangled lifelessly from its grasp. The others barely dared to move. It was 112. Her innocent brown eyes were still open¡ªstill staring at him, even in death. A sickening chill crawled through Lindarion''s gut, twisting his insides. ''No... this can''t be happening.'' The Black King let go. The head fell with a sickening sound. THUD. The dull, wet sound echoed through the vast chamber. For a moment, there was nothing but the ragged breaths of the living. ''No... No... No...'' Guilt sank into Lindarion like jagged hooks. ''Why didn''t I move?'' ''Why couldn''t I stop it?'' ''Why?'' ''WHY?!'' Then, his seemingly frozen body moved. As if breaking free from the ice. "You''re fucking dead." His voice rang out, cold and absolute. A ripple of sheer killing intent spread across the battlefield. [Shadow Step] Lindarion vanished¡ªonly to reappear before the Black King like a lightning strike. His sword slashed forward, aiming for the neck. The Black King tilted its head. A sidestep. Effortless. Like it wasn''t even trying. "MOVE!" Lindarion roared, his blade a blur of relentless attacks¡ªeach faster, sharper, more precise. Still, not a single strike landed. The Black King slipped through them like an untouchable shadow, an entity beyond mortality itself. The others still didn''t move. Their bodies stood frozen in place, drenched in cold sweat. "Damn it, I said fucking MOVE!" Mana surged into Lindarion''s blade as he swung again. A single black gauntlet caught the attack. The world seemed to still. Damn it. [Mana Thread Manipulation] Golden threads erupted into the air, wrapping around the Black King like a thousand unbreakable chains. ''Let''s see you dodge this you fucking bastard.'' For the first time¡ªit stopped. Lindarion''s eyes locked onto its empty black visor. Then¡ª A flicker of movement. The Black King ripped through the threads like tearing apart cobwebs. ''Impossible.'' His instincts screamed at him. "NOW OR NEVER!" Dark energy gathered in Lindarion''s palm¡ªpure, concentrated destruction¡ªbefore he hurled it straight at the Black King. It hit. Dead center. For a fleeting moment¡ªhope. Then, despair. The Black King sliced through the attack as if it were nothing. As if all of this¡ªeverything they had¡ªwas meaningless. A blur of movement. A sword appeared behind the Black King, cutting through the air in a deadly arc. "You''re right on time." 12 had moved. His hands trembled, but his blade did not falter. 8 followed immediately, her spear thrusting toward the King''s exposed side. Sadly, it was all useless. The air distorted. And the Black King was gone. "MOVE!" Lindarion''s command was desperate. But 198¡ª She stood frozen. Her wide, horrified eyes still locked onto 112''s corpse. A sudden warmth bloomed in her chest. Then¡ª A sharp, twisting pain. She looked down. A blade¡ªlong, black, endless¡ªhad pierced straight through her body. Like slicing through a sheet of paper. ''So... this is it...?'' She had never stood a chance. Her gaze flickered sideways¡ªLindarion was running toward her, mouth open in a silent scream. ''I''m sorry, everyone...'' A single tear slipped down her cheek. The Black King ripped the sword free. Blood sprayed. "Please...save them, Team Leader." Her body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud. Lindarion''s vision blurred. Then¡ªrage. 12 and 8 surged forward. ''Only seven of us left..'' And only three of them were still able to fight as of right now. The others? They seemed to be in a mental state of shock. But they were as good as dead if they didn''t move soon. "MOVE!" 5, 30, 71, and 181 turned to Lindarion. Their expressions were unreadable. But one thing was clear¡ª They didn''t want to die. Gripping their weapons, they charged. [Shadow Step] Lindarion appeared before the King, his blade carving through the air in a ruthless arc. The Black King stood still. Like a statue. Then¡ªjust as the sword was about to connect¡ª It vanished. A single mana-infused arrow whistled through the air, aimed straight for its head. 5 had taken his shot. Hope flickered once more. ''We can do this... We have to do this at all costs. We must keep trying.'' 5''s thoughts stirred as he loosed more arrows. ''We can''t afford to lose. If we do... then they all died for nothing.'' And yet¡ª The Black King was just playing with them. It swung its sword. A single, effortless motion. The arrows split in two the instant they made contact, detonating in flashes of mana. Then¡ªthose abyssal eyes turned toward Five. 5 froze in place, the pressure pushing down on him. However, Lindarion moved without hesitation. His body blurred as he stepped in front of the king, unleashing a storm of slashes while 5 fired again. The Black King didn''t even flinch. ''I won''t let them all die. I can''t. I have to give it everything I have¡ªwe must win.'' Blood began dripping from Lindarion''s arms. The others noticed. Twelve hesitated, eyes widening. "Blood Manipulation...?" The thick crimson pooled at his feet, then rose into the air¡ªtwisting, shifting. Swords. Countless blood-forged swords. ''Now.'' With a flick of his wrist, Lindarion hurled them toward the Black King. It moved. Swift. Precise. Effortless. Like a dancer who had honed their craft over centuries. Every blade missed. Lindarion closed the distance again, his sword carving through the air. Arrows rained toward the King¡ªdodged. Eight''s spear lunged¡ªdeflected. Twelve''s blade slashed¡ªparried. Even together, they couldn''t break through. Like striking at an unbreakable mountain. Then¡ª The Black King... sighed? A slow, disappointed exhale. As if it had grown bored. And space¡ª shattered. Lindarion barely had time to react before a thunderous crash shook the chamber. His eyes darted to the source of the sound as Five''s body hit the ground. Two halves of it. THUD. Blood sprayed across the stone floor, painting it red. It pooled like a crimson fountain. Lindarion''s breath caught in his throat. His stomach twisted. The Black King shook its blade once¡ªflinging the blood away. Like it was filth. ''You fucking son of a bitch.'' [Shadow Step, Mana Shot] Lindarion vanished. He forced every last drop of mana into his palm. He reappeared behind the Black King. This time¡ª The monster was too slow to react. No, it was more like it didn''t even want to bother reacting. However, he was mistaken. CRACK. The dark armor cracked. The Black King stilled. Then¡ª It turned. It was a sudden swift motion without hesitation. It launched a kick toward Lindarion. He barely had time to raise his arms before the impact sent him flying. A searing pain exploded in his limbs. He crashed, tumbling across the stone floor. A ragged scream tore from his throat. The others charged. This time, they weren''t frozen in fear. This time, they fought. Chapter 41 41: The Dark King (3) Lindarion''s thoughts swirled as his teammates desperately tried to hold back the King. But without him, they had no chance. It was as if their efforts were meaningless. His arms throbbed with pain, his ribs trembled with every breath, and he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his head. ''Move, you useless body... I have to move.'' His vision blurred, but surrendering wasn''t an option. Not even close. The King dodged every attack effortlessly, not even needing to try. Without Lindarion, the fight was dull to him. He knew only Lindarion had even the slightest chance of opposing him. Lindarion crawled across the ground, his broken hands refusing to support him. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up using his knees, pushing off the floor with sheer will. The sight made all his teammates turn toward him. Some looked at him with admiration, others with concern, fearing he would push himself too far. ''Everything... I''ll put everything into this.'' Darkness writhed inside his Mana Core, an unstoppable force surging like a train with no brakes. The King''s gaze snapped to Lindarion as if he had immediately sensed the abyss within him. Lindarion locked eyes with Twelve. No words were needed. They understood each other perfectly. "WE NEED TO BUY TIME FOR THE CAPTAIN! GIVE IT EVERYTHING YOU''VE GOT!" With a war cry, they charged at the King, while Lindarion gathered his energy. Twelve struck first, his sword slicing through the air in rapid arcs. Wind engulfed his body as he activated his affinity, his movements becoming faster, more precise. But sweat soon covered him, and his breathing grew heavy¡ªhe wouldn''t be able to maintain this for long. Eight followed up, her spear blazing with an inferno as she lunged at the King. The King stepped back to evade, but Twelve was already attacking from behind. A single slash cut through the air¡ªEight barely dodged it, retaliating by driving her flaming spear into the King''s abdomen. The armor cracked. But then, the King moved again. His speed¡ªalmost like teleportation¡ªwas too fast to track. He was targeting Twelve. Then¡ªhe froze. A voice rang through the hall, an absolute command that resonated in every soul present. A voice that demanded obedience. [Thronebearer, King''s Command] "Stop." Everyone in the chamber stopped moving the moment Lindarion''s words echoed. His teammates collapsed to their knees. The King remained motionless. Slow footsteps echoed in the silence. Lindarion walked forward, an unknown energy swirling in his hands. [Realmwalker] An absolute domain. Where only Lindarion had authority. Blood poured from his nose. His vision started darkened. But he couldn''t stop now. Void energy coiled in his grasp, flickering ominously. His teammates watched, wide-eyed, as he approached the frozen King. The King did not resist. He stood, waiting for death. Lindarion raised his trembling hands¡ª And uttered a single word. "Die." The void energy erupted from his hands, consuming everything in its path. A massive explosion rocked the chamber, sending Lindarion and the others flying backward. The King''s armor shattered. A thick cloud of dust blanketed the battlefield. As it settled, Lindarion''s fading vision made out his teammates¡ªalive. Then, he looked to where the King had stood. Or rather, where he should have been. A black crown clattered to the floor. No sign of the King. As if the void had disintegrated him entirely. The crown spun on the ground before coming to a stop, radiating an ominous darkness. Then, Lindarion''s world faded to black. ¡ª Eight Eight stirred, her body covered in bruises and burns. The moment she regained her senses, she searched for Lindarion¡ª And found him, lying motionless against a pillar. "Captain!" She and Twelve shouted at the same time, rushing toward him as fast as their battered bodies allowed. The others were already gathering themselves, stumbling to their feet. Twelve lifted Lindarion''s limp body as if he weighed nothing. "We need to get him medical help, now!" His voice echoed through the ruined chamber. The trainees exchanged glances, still reeling from what had happened. But in the next moment, they sprang into action, carrying their fallen comrades. Eight pulled out her communicator, activating the link to Magnus. {Instructor Magnus! The team captain is unconscious! We successfully cleared the dungeon! Requesting immediate assistance at the portal!} Magnus'' response was instant. {Healers are on the way. Get to the gate¡ªnow.} The trainees broke into a run, carrying Lindarion and the others through the dungeon. The moment they crossed the portal, it was as if reality itself shifted¡ª They were back in the middle of the dense forest. But this time, others were waiting for them. "Lay him down now!" A woman''s voice rang out. Twelve hesitated for only a moment before carefully placing Lindarion on the ground. The healers'' eyes widened at the number of bodies. "How... how can there be this many casualties?" "Wasn''t this supposed to be a low-level dungeon?" Eight had no idea what they were talking about. A healer knelt beside her, gently guiding her down and beginning to mend her wounds. Meanwhile, a group of healers surrounded Lindarion, working frantically to stabilize him. Then, Magnus arrived. He stepped through a portal, his gaze sweeping over the trainees. "Instructor Magnus¡ª" Twelve began, but Magnus cut him off. "I''ll hear everything from the captain when he wakes up. For now, all of you¡ªgo back to the trainees through the portal." The trainees exchanged glances before looking at Lindarion. They knew they couldn''t disobey Magnus. He was their leader. But leaving Lindarion behind¡ªafter everything he had done to save them¡ªfelt wrong. ''He''ll be okay...'' Eight placed a reassuring hand on Twelve''s shoulder. Their eyes met, and they nodded. Then, they stepped through the portal¡ªreturning to Everhallow. "Take him back to Everhallow and continue treatment." Magnus'' voice carried authority, and the healers immediately complied. ¡ª Magnus Magnus examined Lindarion''s unconscious form. Burns. Lacerations. Bones on the verge of breaking. His Mana Core¡ªoverloaded. ''You did it, kid.'' Suppressing a smile, Magnus clenched his fists as he gazed at Lindarion. The boy looked as if he were simply sleeping. ¡ª Lindarion He woke in an unfamiliar bed, sinking into sheets so soft they felt like clouds. Then¡ª A loud voice shattered the silence. "He''s awake! The Captain''s awake!" Before he could process anything, a woman practically threw herself onto him. ''The fuck...?'' Blinking, Lindarion recognized her face. And the faces surrounding him. The trainees who had fought with him in the dungeon. They were all here. ''So... this is how many of us made it.'' Eight, Twelve, Thirty, Seventy-One, and One-Eighty-One. Only five remained from the original ten. Well, six including him. Not a great result. But better than losing everyone. Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed. Lindarion''s body tensed. His arm twitched involuntarily. A memory¡ª The King''s looming presence. The way he slaughtered his comrades. The faces of his slaughtered teammates..112''s innocent eyes even after her head was severed. His stomach churned. Then, he vomited continuously in a bucket next to him. ''Shit.'' A firm hand patted his back. As he wiped his mouth, he looked up¡ª And met Magnus'' amused smirk. Chapter 42 42: Serious Talk With Magnus Magnus''s gaze held the quiet pride of a father, though Lindarion was far from being his son. "Step out. We need to discuss the things that happened inside of the dungeon." His voice, as always, was authoritative¡ªyet there was an unusual softness laced within it. The trainees exchanged glances, then nodded. Numbers Eight and Twelve lingered a moment longer, their eyes briefly meeting Lindarion''s. Once he gave them a slight nod, they exited. As soon as the door closed, a circular barrier materialized around them. "A soundproofing barrier?" Lindarion asked with a faint smirk. "The topic''s that serious, huh?" Magnus simply shook his head. "Of course it is, kid. You must''ve realized it¡ªthe dungeon wasn''t normal. It was far stronger than it should''ve been." Lindarion exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Then why send us?" His emerald gaze sharpened, piercing into Magnus''s like a blade. "Why not a professional team?" "That..." Magnus sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I can''t tell you." Silence stretched between them before he finally added, "But I want to hear your side first. I''ve been waiting for you to wake up." ''Fine. Let''s begin.'' Lindarion leaned back, collecting his thoughts. "We encountered some fog creatures first, they were humanoids. They exuded mist¡ªthick enough to try and drown our senses." He recounted the first battle, how Number 42 fell, how 112 tried everything to save him, and how it was all in vain. Magnus listened without interruption, his expression darkening. His brows furrowed as he processed the details, but he didn''t speak. "The second fight was a Lich." Lindarion''s voice was even. "Summoned multiple armies of skeletons. He was an annoying fucking bastard." He explained how they won. But when it came to his affinity, he kept it vague. Just a passing mention. Magnus narrowed his eyes. Lindarion wasn''t stupid. He wasn''t about to reveal how he devoured the Lich with his darkness. Magnus studied him for a long moment before motioning for him to continue. "The third one..." Lindarion exhaled, brows knitting together. "I don''t even know what it was. Black armor. A crown. It moved like a sovereign of the abyss. It was like a King Of Darkness." Magnus''s posture stiffened. "...A Black Crown?" The reaction was immediate. A flicker of recognition. Lindarion noticed his reaction instantly even though Magnus tried to mask it a second later. ''So, he knows something about it.'' "Yes. It felt like the crown itself was darkness." He continued, describing the fight. The deaths of 112, 198, and 5. This time, his voice carried weight¡ªnot just the recounting of a battle, but the loss that came with it. The loss of his teammates. Guilt settled in his chest. If he had gone all out from the start¡ªif he hadn''t been so hesitant to use Sovereign''s Dominion¡ªmaybe they''d still be alive. Maybe he could have saved them all. ''It''s my fault partly that they died.'' Again, he left out the finer details. Again, he simply said he used his affinity. Magnus shook his head slightly. ''What is his affinity...?'' The unspoken question hung between them. "After that, everything went black. Then I woke up here." Lindarion finished his report, scanning the small, sterile room. White walls. A black-tiled floor. A simple bed and a cabinet¡ªnothing more. "...I see." Magnus propped his elbow on the armrest, resting his chin on his hand. With a flick of his fingers, the barrier dissolved. "Rest up." His tone returned to its usual strictness. "Training resumes soon. Everyone gets a short break, that''s all." Just before leaving, Magnus glanced back over his shoulder. "Don''t worry. The ones who didn''t go into that dungeon? They''re suffering through hellish training as we speak." Lindarion smirked, nodding slightly. ''Good. They should be.'' As the door shut behind Magnus, he was finally alone. [Quest Completed!] Quest: Dungeon Clearer ¨C Completed! Rewards: +2 Strength +2 Dexterity +2 Intelligence +1 Selectable Active Skill [Hidden Quest Completed! ¨C Slay the fragment of The King of Darkness!] Bonus Reward: +1 Passive Skill Lindarion froze. ''Just a fragment? You''re joking.'' He recalled the King''s movements¡ªfluid, precise, like a predator beyond human comprehension. ''Was it a skill? A technique?'' He shook the thought away. Focus. Time to check the skills. Opening the system menu, three glowing options appeared before him. [Active Skill Selection] [1. Eclipse Fang] ? The User''s weapon becomes coated in shadow energy, extending its range slightly and allowing it to phase through non-living matter (armor, shields, walls). It lasts 3 seconds or until the user lands a hit. ''...This is insane.'' A grin spread across his face. This skill was ridiculously good. He could already picture the ways he''d use it¡ªarmor meant nothing if his strikes phased through it. Still, he knew better than to celebrate too soon. The stronger the skill, the harsher the mana cost. His gaze moved to the second skill. [2. Phantom Edge] ? Creates an illusory afterimage of the User''s last attack, which appears 0.5 seconds later in the same spot. The illusion does not deal real damage but can deceive enemies into dodging the wrong attack. ''Deception... Not bad.'' A well-placed feint could be the difference between victory and death. [3. Useful Presence] ? For 8 seconds, the User''s aura sharpens, making his allies within 5 meters feel more focused and resistant to fear effects. In this state, his attacks leave behind faint aftershocks that slightly disrupt an opponent''s balance. (Cooldown: 25 seconds) ''A solid support ability. If my teammates are weak, this would help.'' But there were only three choices. [Yes, Host.] ''...Great.'' Lindarion exhaled through his nose, eyes flickering over the options once more. He made his decision. ''Eclipse Fang.'' [Eclipse Fang selected!] As the skill was added, Lindarion stretched, testing his limbs. His muscles felt stiff, as if he had been lying there for far too long. ''Must''ve taken the healers a while.'' But there was one more reward to claim. He clasped his hands together, murmuring a mock prayer to the system. ''Give me something good. Please.'' Four glowing panels appeared before him. Lindarion''s grin widened. "Not bad. Not bad at all." Chapter 43 43: Who is the better Swordsman [1. Aegisflow] ? Effect: Enhances reflexes and agility when dodging or parrying. Successfully evading an attack within a split second grants a brief speed boost, making the next counterattack 20% faster. ''This seems perfect.'' He thought as he examined the skills carefully. [2. Sunforged Resilience] ? Effect: Increases endurance and grants minor regeneration when exposed to sunlight. Also provides slight resistance to fire-based damage. [3. Echoing Bladewill] ? Effect: Repeatedly striking the same point on an enemy increases damage dealt with each consecutive hit. The effect resets if attacks are interrupted for more than three seconds. [4. Verdant Pulse] ? Effect: While standing on natural terrain (grass, soil, stone), stamina consumption is reduced by 15%, and mana regeneration slightly increases. ''Not bad at all.'' Lindarion stretched lazily on the bed as he scanned through the skills again. ''Which one''s the most useful though.'' He read each one carefully. None of them were game-breaking, but they were solid enough. ''Aegisflow it is.'' [Passive skill chosen!] With a small sigh, Lindarion confirmed his choice and sat up. His limbs felt normal again, moving without issue. His arms, once stiff and aching, now obeyed him without protest. ''Like hell I''m staying in bed all day. I feel like I''m reaching new heights for myself.'' Swinging his legs over the side, he stood up¡ªonly to realize just how underdressed he was. ''...I''ll pretend I didn''t notice that.'' He grabbed the fresh set of clothes left for him. ''The old ones were probably shredded in the explosion.'' The fabric was smooth, the scent crisp and clean as he pulled on the simple black outfit. It fit comfortably, the material light against his skin. The simple number one was on his outfit again. With his mind now focused, he stepped out of the room. ''Alright, let''s see what''s happening.'' The hallway stretched endlessly before him as he made his way toward the training grounds. By the time he arrived, the trainees were already mid-workout, running laps under Magnus''s watchful eye. The moment Lindarion stepped in, heads turned. Whispers spread like wildfire. "That''s the dungeon squad captain..." "They say he soloed the monsters." Lindarion ignored the murmurs. They were insignificant. His chest rose and fell steadily as he took in the sight of the trainees. The sun bathed the field in golden light, stretching shadows across the ground. Magnus, having sensed his arrival, glanced over. With slow, deliberate steps, Lindarion approached. "You''re already up, trainee? I know the healers patched you up, but isn''t this a little fast?" Truthfully, Lindarion didn''t need more rest. Only his arms had been injured. He just overexerted his mana core. "Everything''s fine, Instructor Magnus," Lindarion replied, flashing a grin. Something about that grin unsettled Magnus. The trainees, still stealing glances at him, kept their eyes glued to his every move. After what happened in the dungeon, the rumors had turned him into something of a spectacle. Magnus exhaled through his nose, as if debating whether to send him back to rest. Instead, he simply waved him over. "Get in line then, Trainee One." Lindarion nodded and took his place at the front. The other trainees followed suit, though their gazes lingered on him. Moving to his position, he heard Magnus''s voice cut through the field, clear and commanding. "Begin sparring! No affinities allowed!" Silence. Lindarion stood alone. After all the rumors, no one wanted to fight him. Except one. A familiar figure stepped forward. "Round two?" Trainee Twelve. His silver hair shimmered in the sunlight, flowing like the waves of an endless ocean. "So are you up for a rematch, Squad Captain?" His tone was flat, but excitement flickered beneath the surface. But in truth he knew he didn''t stand a chance. "Sure, not like there''s a long line," Lindarion replied, his smile sharpening. Twelve''s face paled. The hairs on his arms stood on end at the sight of Lindarion''s creepy ass smile. Each picked up a wooden training sword. Lindarion gripped the handle, feeling its weight trying to settle into his palm. He made a couple of slashes and stabs but the weight of the sword felt off, for his style of fighting at least. He placed the sword back and tried another one. This one settled in his hand perfectly as he gripped the wooden handle. ''Perfect fit.'' He gave it a few test swings, the blade whistling softly through the air. Twelve tightened his grip on his own sword at the sight. Both took their stances. Lindarion rolled his shoulders, exhaling. ''This won''t take long.'' "Begin!" The moment the word left his lips, Twelve moved. Lindarion''s gaze followed Twelve''s every movement, tracking even the slightest shift in posture. ''At least he doesn''t hesitate. Not bad still.'' Twelve struck without warning, his wooden sword slicing through the air¡ªyet Lindarion remained completely still. Then, at the very last second, he moved. Effortlessly sidestepping the attack, his body surged forward, his leg already lashing out toward Twelve''s midsection. ''That''s game.'' Twelve barely registered what happened before the impact sent him staggering backward, his breath escaping in a sharp gasp. A full meter. That''s how far he flew. Yet, to his credit, he pushed himself back up almost immediately, his grip tightening on his sword as he charged again. ''Oh?'' Lindarion''s grin stretched wider. He danced around Twelve''s attacks with practiced ease, weaving through each strike like a seasoned performer¡ªexcept instead of an elegant waltz, it felt more like a cat toying with a mouse. Or an adult dangling candy just out of reach from a child. The clash of wood against wood echoed through the training grounds as they moved, their weapons colliding in rapid succession. Lindarion held back. There was no point in going all out¡ªif he did, Twelve wouldn''t last more than a few seconds. This wasn''t about raw strength. It was about skill. Who was the better swordsman? Twelve or Lindarion? Their eyes met as another exchange began. A few trainees who had finished their drills turned to watch, murmuring among themselves. Magnus was among them. There was a barely noticeable curve to his lips¡ªa smile so faint that if you weren''t standing half a step away, you''d miss it entirely. ''He''s not bad, really.'' Lindarion mused as he sidestepped yet another swing, his footwork precise, controlled. Then he struck. Fast. Blindingly so. ''Time to end this.'' Twelve''s eyes widened as Lindarion''s sword became a blur. Before he could react, his fingers instinctively flinched¡ªhis weapon was already gone, knocked clean from his grasp. Lindarion followed through, his sword stopping just short of Twelve''s throat. "At least you didn''t look away this time." His voice was light, almost teasing, as he offered a small smile. "No... but you still won." Twelve exhaled, shaking his head in acceptance. Around them, a few trainees stared, eyes wide as they witnessed Lindarion claim yet another victory. Chapter 44 44: Welcome to Hell Lindarion shook Twelve''s hand, their gazes locking for a moment. "I know I won, but don''t compare yourself to me." Lindarion said jokingly, after that he realized how bad it sounded. ''Wow. That was incredibly cringe to say out loud.'' Lindarion''s smile twitched slightly as Twelve shook his head and said something before he walked away. "It''s good to compare yourself to better people sometimes. Helps with improvement." ''That''s the half truth. I guess.'' Then, out of nowhere, a massive hand clamped down on Lindarion''s shoulder. His body reacted instantly¡ªpushing off and twisting backward as if his life depended on it. Magnus raised an eyebrow at him, looking both amused and unimpressed. "Paranoid little brat, aren''t you? Come with me." With that, he turned and strode toward the building. "You lazy bunch, keep those spars going!" he barked over his shoulder, and suddenly, the trainees'' movements sped up as if their lives depended on it. ''...Well, if it works, it works.'' Lindarion shook his head and followed Magnus inside. "You know, Trainee One, you''re too good for the others. You''re not improving at all fighting them. It''s obvious you''re holding back." Magnus''s voice was level but firm as they stepped into his office. ''Not bad.'' Lindarion''s sharp green eyes flicked over the room. Two massive windows let the endless sunlight flood in. A grand oak desk sat at the center, covered in disorganized papers. Two leather chairs were around it, worn but they looked expensive. The walls bore paintings¡ªnot as refined as the palace in Eldorath, but they radiated dedication, the kind that couldn''t be faked. "I know. But that''s life. I still have room to grow. Whether it be swordsmanship or anything else." Lindarion sank into the leather chair with deliberate ease. It felt relaxing. ''I need to get one of these someday.'' He leaned back, resting his chin on his palm, eyes flicking to Magnus. "Of course you do. But you''re fighting people years older than you. They''re not the best. Not geniuses like some people." Magnus smirked, locking eyes with him. Lindarion smirked back. "This is the part where you tell me you have a ''special training plan'' for me, right?" "Haha... You catch on quick, brat." Magnus''s grin widened. "Yeah, I called in someone who can actually push you." Something in his expression set off alarms in Lindarion''s head as his long pointy ears twitched. That smile looks... shady as hell. "I''ve got a few months before the academy. At least tell me who this mystery training partner is." Lindarion''s voice cooled, and for a split second, Magnus felt like he was standing before a king. Yet his smile didn''t waver. ''So the academy''s on his mind.'' Magnus seemed to ponder something before finally speaking. "He''s standing behind you." Lindarion''s instincts flared. His body twisted around, ready to react¡ª And there he was. A tall figure stood motionless, draped in a pitch-black cloak that swallowed light itself. Long black hair framed a face marked by a single deep scar, stretching diagonally across his cheek. His eyes¡ªblack, yet glowing¡ªpierced through the dim room. What the hell? I didn''t even sense him. Lindarion''s pupils shrank slightly. His voice remained steady. "Who is he?" Magnus grinned. "Meet Erebus." Magnus walked towards him and clapped a hand on the man''s shoulder¡ªonly for Erebus to brush it off with a flick of his fingers, as if discarding dirt. "Don''t touch me again." His voice was sharp, cold. Magnus''s grin twitched. Lindarion exhaled through his nose. "Fine. Let''s just get to it. Show me what you can do." Erebus didn''t respond. Instead, he pulled out a small black cube and placed it on the desk. Lindarion''s eyes narrowed. ''Oh, great. Let me guess¡ª'' "You''re gonna teleport us inside it, aren''t you?" he deadpanned. Erebus simply nudged the cube forward. The world around them shattered. They landed on an endless stone pathway stretching as far as the eye could see. The air was dense, heavy with something... unnatural. "Wow. Shocking," Lindarion muttered, rolling his shoulders as he turned to face Erebus. "Alright. Let''s not waste time, show me how strong you are." Without hesitation, Lindarion kicked off the ground, launching toward Erebus at full speed¡ª Erebus didn''t move. Then, from beneath his cloak, chains slithered into the air. ''What the hell...Chains?'' They whipped forward, twisting like living serpents. Lindarion''s instincts screamed. He pivoted mid-air, barely dodging the first strike¡ªonly for another chain to coil around his leg. Before he could react, the world flipped upside down. ''I''m fucked.'' SLAM! His head smashed into the stone ground. SLAM! Again. "It might be enough, Erebus." Magnus said from next to Erebus however he clearly didn''t reach his ears. SLAM! Erebus smashed Lindarion''s head into the ground again. ''What. The. Hell. Fuck. My. Life.'' His thoughts rattled as his skull met the pavement over and over like a cursed drumbeat. Magnus and Erebus stood in silence, watching the one-sided beatdown unfold. Then, as suddenly as it started, Erebus released him. Lindarion''s body hit the ground with a heavy thud¡ªmotionless. "..." The three of them stood still, well, two of them stood to be more precise in complete silence. Erebus walked toward Lindarion, his footsteps eerily silent. Without a word, he knelt beside him, reached into the abyss of his cloak, and produced a vial filled with a murky liquid. He pried Lindarion''s mouth open and poured the concoction down his throat. ''What the...?'' The sharp bitterness jolted his senses. A strange warmth spread through his body, and the fog clouding his mind began to clear. Lindarion groaned, pushing himself up. His hand instinctively went to his head, expecting pain, blood¡ªsomething. But when he looked at his hand, it wasn''t bloody at all. Instead, when he looked down, the only thing bloody was the ground itself. ''Did he just... heal me?'' His moment of clarity lasted all of three seconds. Because Erebus''s cloak stirred. And from its depths, the chains emerged once more. ''Oh, you have got to be kidding me¡ª'' Lindarion''s body reacted before his mind did. He twisted, barely dodging the first chain, then the second, his movements fueled by pure desperation. ''He just smashed my skull into the ground, and now he''s already going for round two?!'' The frustration boiled over. He activated his skill¡ª [Shadow Step] The world blurred, his body flickering through the distance And then, instantly, a chain caught his arm mid-movement. Before he could process what had happened¡ª CRACK. A sickening, bone-deep snap rang through the air. Lindarion''s vision whited out. His entire body seized up as agony shot through his shoulder like molten metal. Erebus remained still, unbothered. Magnus, on the other hand, flinched ever so slightly. Lindarion''s breath hitched. His pupils shrank as he stared at his arm¡ªhanging limp, useless, searing with pain. And then it hit. "AAAGH!¡ª" His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground. His fingers clawed at the stone, his breathing ragged. The pain was raw, relentless, unlike anything he''d felt before. Except for the time when he fought the Dark King. "F¡ªfuck...!" The words barely escaped his clenched teeth. Tears stung at his eyes, his body trembling as the weight of his own voice cracked the air. ''T-This fucking bastard...he broke my shoulder..'' Chapter 45 45: Brutal Reality "Quit whining. You''re acting like a damn whore." Erebus'' voice echoed through the empty space as Magnus furrowed his brows. ''P-Pfft... as if it''s that e-easy...'' Lindarion''s eyes were bloodshot as he looked up at the approaching Erebus, who forced another potion down his throat without a word before turning to Magnus. "Leave." Magnus disappeared instantly without hesitation. ''...Why...'' Lindarion''s thoughts swirled as his dislocated shoulder began mending itself back into place, sending another wave of searing pain through his body. "AGHH!" "Stop whining." A sharp kick to the gut sent him flying several meters before he crashed onto the ground, gasping for breath. "You think life is all smiles and rainbows?" Erebus'' voice was cold as he approached the struggling Lindarion, who clutched his shoulder in pain. Grabbing him by the collar, he yanked him up effortlessly. "Answer me. Life is a battle, a fight against time itself. One day, we all die. Everyone struggles, giving everything they have just to rise above the rest. But you geniuses¡ª" Erebus spat the word like a curse. "You just bask in the power you were born with, never needing to lift a damn finger, isn''t that right?" His gaze flicked toward Lindarion''s long, pointed ears. "Or maybe, you''re just one of the lucky ones. To you, time doesn''t even matter." He threw Lindarion like a discarded doll, sending him skidding across the floor. ''Lucky...? Me...?'' I guess...I am lucky...a system..my blessings..all my skills and affinities. It''s all luck..'' Lindarion''s mind was clouded, the pain in his shoulder slowly fading¡ªbut it left behind something far worse. A bitter aftertaste, a memory that refused to leave. "Tell me, boy, have you ever killed someone before?" Erebus'' voice cut through the silence, his slow, deliberate footsteps echoing in the space between them. "..." Lindarion didn''t answer. "Have you ever taken a life to protect someone?" Erebus pressed. "Have you watched innocent people die? Have you seen the horrors humans are capable of?" "..." Lindarion stared at the stone floor beneath him, silent. Because Erebus was right. Everything¡ªhis system, his reincarnation, Selene, his family, Seraphine¡ªit was all luck. He had been given everything. Seeing his silence, Erebus grabbed him by the hair and lifted him like a lifeless puppet. "How does it feel, knowing you''ve never had to struggle for a damn thing in your life?" His voice was ice-cold as he stared into Lindarion''s eyes¡ªonce shining with arrogance, now hollow and lost. "Even though I''m lucky I trained just like anyone else...I¡ª" Lindarion''s voice cracked as he tried to voice his thoughts, veins bulging in his neck, his eyes devoid of any emotion. Before he could finish, Erebus'' fist drove into his face, sending him crashing back again. "Don''t make me laugh. You earned it just because you trained? Who the hell are you to decide what you deserve?" His tone grew sharper, colder. "I''m not here to coddle you. I''m here to show you how cruel this world really is. To make you understand that life isn''t filled with kind smiles and warm embraces." His gaze dropped to Lindarion''s unmoving body sprawled across the ground. "A great genius? That is what Magnus said when he told me about you." His voice was as cold as ever. "Do you know what you really are?" Erebus spat on the ground beside Lindarion. "You''re a pathetic creature." ''Pathetic...'' Lindarion''s mind drifted back to his past life¡ªendless hours spent honing his skills, all for a god to decide he wasn''t worthy. That all his efforts would go to waste just because of one accident. ''I did everything... everything I could.'' His arms trembled, his heart pounding. "You''re right.." His voice was soft, almost fragile. Erebus'' eyes narrowed. "I''m lucky." Erebus'' lip curled as Lindarion finally admitted, and without hesitation, he kicked Lindarion again, sending him tumbling across the ground. "Get up." His voice was cold, but there was an edge to it¡ªsomething seething beneath the surface. Lindarion pushed himself up, unsteady but rising. "If you want to be a warrior, not just some privileged genius who has everything handed to him¡ª" Erebus tossed a black robe at his face. "Then wear it." Lindarion stared at the fabric in his hands for a long moment. Then, without a word, he slipped it on and pulled the hood over his head. "..." Erebus moved. One moment he was standing, the next he was right in front of Lindarion, a phantom in the dark. His palm pressed against Lindarion''s forehead. The space around them cracked. Shattered. And in the blink of an eye¡ª They were somewhere else. A village. Or what was left of one. Half-collapsed houses surrounded them, streets packed with people scurrying like ants. Dust filled the air. Some villagers hesitated, stepping aside as the two cloaked figures appeared, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods. "Look at them." Erebus pointed at a cluster of children, huddled against walls in ragged clothing, some lying on the dirt, others just... sitting. Empty. Silent. Then his hand was on Lindarion''s head again. The world shattered once more. A prison. The air was thick with filth and rot. Shackled prisoners cowered in their cells, staring at the hooded men with wide, fearful eyes. Chains rattled. Whispers ceased. Lindarion stood still. ''What is he trying to show me...?'' Erebus stepped forward. He reached into a cell and dragged a man out, throwing him to the ground at Lindarion''s feet. "P-Please, no¡ª!" The man whimpered, scrambling backward, but Erebus planted a boot on his skull, grinding his face into the stone. The man''s screams were muffled. Lindarion swallowed. Erebus stared at him from beneath his hood. "Kill him." The words were cold. Absolute. The prisoner''s entire body trembled as he tried his best to resist. "P-Please please I''ll do anything, no!" Before he could continue, Erebus pressed harder, forcing him deeper into the dirt. Blood pooled beneath his cheek. Then, without looking away from Lindarion¡ª "Murderers. They slaughtered women and children without hesitation." His voice was almost quiet now. "If you want to be a warrior, you have to get used to killing." ''...he''s serious.'' Lindarion''s hands trembled as he looked at the helpless man before him. He knew he was a murderer, a guilty man, yet he couldn''t. He couldn''t do it. "You''re truly pathethic." Erebus exhaled loudly then stabbed a chain right through the man''s head. Blood splattering all over Lindarion as the rest of the prisoners broke out into screams at the sound. Chapter 48 48: Camping With Corpses Lindarion moved across the rooftop with all the grace of a seasoned assassin¡ªwell, more or less. ''I can do this... one at a time.'' His movements were fluid, blending into the darkness like a shadow. His black attire helped him vanish into the night. ''Knew this robe would come in handy.'' Slowly, he approached the camp, his steps nearly silent. His first target was conveniently... throwing up into a bush, a bottle of something strong still clutched in his shaky hand. Short blond hair, watery blue eyes, and an overall pitiful state. ''Disgusting.'' [Shadow Step, Mana Thread Manipulation.] Lindarion moved like a specter, slipping into the bush. Two thin golden threads materialized, wrapping around the man''s neck and tightening. "M-Mmgh¡ª" His voice barely escaped in a strangled whisper, eyes widening in shock. Lindarion yanked him further into the bush, one hand clamping over his mouth, the other choking the life out of him. ''Sorry, wrong place, wrong time.'' The man thrashed, swinging at Lindarion in a weak attempt to fight back. It felt like being hit by a child¡ªutterly ineffective. Lindarion pressed harder, squeezing with his full strength. A small crack was made in the night. He let go. Blood dribbled from the man''s lips as his lifeless body slumped to the ground like a broken puppet. Lindarion''s hands trembled. ''That makes it five now.'' The weight of each kill lingered. His stomach twisted. ''Not now.'' Forcing the nausea down, he took deep breaths and moved to the next shadow. ''Only nine more to go I guess.'' He scanned the camp. Unfortunately, no one else was conveniently isolated. Crouching near a bush, he contemplated his options. ''Let''s see if this works.'' Drawing on his affinity, he blurred his presence slightly within the darkness. ''Oh, I like this.'' ...And now, he had no idea what to do next. All nine of them were huddled together. The tents, though, seemed empty. ''Should I wait?'' As much as he probably could take them all, he had no idea if more people were nearby. Best not to take the risk. So, he waited. And waited. And waited... Until, finally, they dropped like sacks of potatoes into their tents. Lindarion''s gaze locked onto his original target as the man stumbled toward his tent. ''Here we go.'' Like a shadow, he followed. The man stepped inside, turned¡ª [Shadow Step] Lindarion materialized behind him. "M¡ª" Before he could scream, Lindarion''s hand clamped over his mouth. His sword plunged into the man''s chest, straight through the heart. ''Not as tough as the bartender dude made him sound.'' Silently, he withdrew the blade, catching the body before it fell. No noise. No evidence. With slow, deliberate steps, he carried the corpse back toward the rooftop. ''...How do I get back up?'' Looking up at the high ledge, then at the body in his arms, he sighed. ''Got it.'' Mana surged into his legs. He pushed off the ground¡ª Like a missile, he shot up. ''Oh sh¡ª'' His trajectory was off. He crashed headfirst onto the rooftop. The dead body flopped next to him with an unceremonious thud. Lindarion lay there, staring at the stars. Next to a corpse. ''Wonderful.'' Then, a hooded figure appeared. ''Erebus.'' "Well done," Erebus remarked coolly. "You actually used your brain. See? No need to kill everyone." Without another word, he grabbed the corpse and turned toward Lindarion, who was still on the ground. ''Come on...'' Erebus placed a hand on Lindarion''s head. The air around them ripped, distorting space. A moment later, they stood back in front of the bartender. ''Of course.'' Lindarion pushed himself up as Erebus tossed the body behind the counter. "This one took longer," the bartender mused, dragging the corpse out of sight. Then, he pulled out a heavy sack of coins¡ªfar larger than last time¡ªand handed it to Erebus, who tucked it into his cloak. "Let''s go." Erebus''s voice was cold, like an unforgiving sea. He walked toward the door without another word. Lindarion glanced at the bartender, who flashed him a far too cheerful smile. "Come again, gentlemen." There was something unsettling about it. As they stepped into the night, the city was mostly quiet. A few drunks stumbled around, some people wandered the streets. ''Where exactly are we going...?'' Lindarion followed Erebus through the dark alleys, lit only by the faint glow of the stars and moon. They stopped in front of a multi-story building, glowing with faint magical lights. "Fred''s Inn." Lindarion read the sign hanging above the entrance. Erebus walked in without hesitation. Lindarion followed. The door creaked. Inside, the place was empty except for an old man behind the counter. The innkeeper''s hands trembled as he looked up at the two shadowy figures standing before him. He forced a smile. "...Two rooms." Erebus pulled out a handful of coins. Lindarion finally got a closer look at them. ''Gold... and whose face is that?'' His eyes narrowed. ''Leonhardt?'' The innkeeper took the money and handed over two keys. "Th-The room numbers are on the keys," he stammered. Erebus read his key and tossed the second one to Lindarion, who caught it effortlessly. "Room 10." Lindarion climbed the stairs after Erebus. The doors were numbered along the hallway. Erebus, however, continued up to the second floor. Without a word. Lindarion stopped at Room 10. ''Guess this is it.'' The key turned smoothly in the lock. The door creaked open. ''...Not bad.'' A plain room. However no bathroom..none at all. ''You''re kidding.'' A single bed. A nightstand. White walls. Minimalist. The nightstand was black-painted wood¡ªLindarion tapped it. Solid. He sat onto the bed. ''Terrible.'' It was stiff. Rock-hard. ''They charge money for this?'' He sighed, stripping off his black robe. Underneath, his training clothes were still on. A single digit was marked on them. ''One.'' His mind drifted back to training. Only a day ago. Somehow, that felt better than this entire night. With another sigh, he laid down onto the bed shut his eyes. ¡ª Screams. Horrible, gut-wrenching screams. Begging. The room was drenched in blood, dark stains seeping into the walls like they belonged there. A sword floated in the middle, slick and glistening red, and a shadowed figure loomed over the corpses that were piled up like a macabre collection. Then, the figure turned. Lindarion jolted upright in bed, grabbing his head. ''Just a dream. A fucked-up dream.'' His chest heaved, his skin damp with sweat. His heart hammered against his ribs like a caged beast. He exhaled, rubbing his face, and glanced out the window. The sun was beginning to rise. ''Morning already?'' With a tired sigh, he reached for his cloak, throwing it over his shoulders. ''Maybe today will be slightly less shitty than yesterday.'' A knock on the door shattered the fragile silence. Lindarion stiffened before pushing himself up. With a quick pull, he flipped his hood on and swung the door open. Erebus stood there, draped in his usual shadowy cloak, expression unreadable. "It''s time to go." Lindarion nodded, shutting the door behind him. ''Well, the place could have been way worse.'' Descending the stairs, they were met with a stark shift in atmosphere. The once quiet inn was now bustling with patrons, but the moment Lindarion and Erebus appeared, a heavy silence fell over the room. The old innkeeper, standing behind the counter, gave them a nervous, stretched smile. ''You really don''t have to do that, old man.'' Lindarion and Erebus handed back their keys. The innkeeper fumbled to take them, his hands twitching slightly. "T-Thank you for staying with us..." Neither responded, just gave a brief nod before heading out the door. As they stepped into the cold morning air, Lindarion shot a glance back. ''Poor bastard. He''s probably traumatized for life.'' Erebus led them into an alleyway. "Knew it. Another teleport¡ª" Before Lindarion could finish, a firm hand clamped onto his head. Space twisted, the world tore apart at the seams, and his stomach lurched. ''I fucking hate this.'' When the distortion settled, Lindarion quickly surveyed his new surroundings. Towering stone walls. Armored figures moving in disciplined formations. Swordsmen, archers, and even mages filled the space like a military outpost. An army? A fortress? He wasn''t sure. Then, a voice rang out. "Erebus!" It was light, almost excited. A woman strode toward them, her snow-white hair flowing in the breeze, eyes shimmering like cut sapphires. She was small, almost delicate-looking, her frame slender and agile. ''Well, damn.'' Lindarion''s gaze flickered over her, sharp but concealed beneath his hood. She stopped in front of them, casting a curious glance his way before shifting her focus to Erebus. "And who is¡ª" Erebus cut her off before she could finish. "This is One. Luna." ''Luna?'' Her gaze swept over Lindarion again, but the heavy cloak made it impossible for her to see much of him. However, Lindarion wasn''t paying attention to that. His mind was too busy reeling from something far more disturbing. Erebus... sounded happy. His voice was¡ªwarm? Almost polite? Lindarion stared at him, his brain short-circuiting. ''What the actual fuck?'' Chapter 49 49: Little Elf Getting Beaten Lindarion stood still, watching Erebus, who didn''t even acknowledge his presence. Luna, seeing this, cleared her throat and turned to Erebus. "So, why are you two here?" She smiled as she spoke, her voice lighthearted. "He needs to improve. Let him spar with some of your people." Luna''s smile stiffened as she raised an eyebrow, glancing at Lindarion, who returned her look. "This is a military camp, not a training ground." Shaking her head, she turned back to Erebus. "You know that very well, Erebus." Erebus sighed, pulling back his hood. His hands reached for Lindarion, yanking down his hood as well. Lindarion''s long blonde hair spilled out, his emerald-green eyes gleaming like an endless forest. His tall, pointed ears sat elegantly against his face. "I know exactly what this place is. But once you see what he''s capable of, you won''t believe your own eyes. The brat''s a genius. He''s not like us." Luna''s gaze swept over Lindarion, unimpressed. "An elf genius? That''s hardly rare, y''know." She turned back to Erebus and sighed. "Fine. Just this once." Erebus nodded, and Lindarion did the same as they followed Luna toward the gathered soldiers. "Attention!" Luna''s voice boomed, and the soldiers immediately snapped to order, abandoning their relaxed postures. ''That was fast...'' Lindarion found their sudden discipline strange, but his face betrayed nothing. Luna surveyed them before pointing at Lindarion. "Erebus brought a fresh elf for some sparring." Then, with a smirk, she added, "Who wants to fight him?" Silence. Nothing. Not even a cough. ''Are they serious?'' Some soldiers scratched their heads. Others whistled, pretending not to hear. Luna''s smile twitched. A vein bulged on her forehead. "Are you scared?" Before anyone could reply, Erebus''s cold voice cut through the air. All eyes turned to Lindarion. ''Did you have to say that, you bastard?'' "Scared? Us?!" "We''re warriors!" A few soldiers shouted, puffing up their chests. Lindarion''s eye twitched. ''The brainpower here is concerning...'' Then, a towering bald man stepped forward. He was built like a lighthouse crossed with a bulldozer. ''I''m dead.'' The giant rested a massive battle axe on his shoulder. "I''ll take the little elf." Lindarion could feel the weight of his voice. Luna cut in, her tone sharp. "Get into formation properly." The giant only smiled sweetly, like some angelic brute. In an instant, the soldiers formed a circle around them, eager for the show. ''This is bad.'' "Begin the duel!" Luna''s voice echoed, followed by cheers from the soldiers, some already holding drinks. Erebus and Lindarion locked eyes. Erebus nodded. ''You fucking bastard.'' The giant smirked. "What''s your name, little elf? I''m Kelldor." His footsteps shook the ground as mana surged around him. "..." Lindarion didn''t respond. He just tightened his grip on his sword. Kelldor''s grin widened. "Then I''ll beat it out of you!" With a roar, he lunged. The sheer force of his takeoff left a crater behind. ''This is a goddamn giant.'' In a blink, Kelldor was in front of him. His massive axe swung, splitting the air like a bolt of lightning. ''If I don''t dodge, I''ll snap like a twig.'' Lindarion stepped back, using his speed to avoid the attack. But Kelldor didn''t stop. Using his momentum, he brought the axe down, aiming for Lindarion''s head. Mana surged into the blade. Luna''s eyes widened. The soldiers roared. ''This is gonna hurt.'' Mana flooded Lindarion''s body and sword. He tried to block. A thunderous explosion shook the camp, kicking up a dust cloud. Erebus remained still, watching. Luna''s body tensed. Had she miscalculated? Had she just sent some genius noble kid to his grave? "...Is he dead?" The question lingered in the heavy silence. The tension was thick enough to cut with a blade. Then¡ª "It''s not over yet." Erebus''s usually cold voice sliced through the air as the dust settled. Gasps rippled through the soldiers. Lindarion was still standing. His feet were buried a little in the ground, but his sword held firm against Kelldor''s axe. "Unbelievable!" "That elf''s strong!" The cheers resumed as Lindarion stepped back. [Shadow Step] He created distance between himself and Kelldor. ''I really thought I was dead.'' Strengthening his body and sword had drained a lot of mana. Shaking his head, he locked eyes with Kelldor, who remained still. Then, the giant grinned. And laughed. Loudly. His voice was booming. So loud it felt like an explosion. "Hahaha! You''re not bad, little elf!" Slow, heavy steps carried him forward. Lindarion readied his stance. ''This giant''s completely insane...'' Kelldor dashed toward him, axe raised. [Shadow Step] Lindarion blurred away. Kelldor smirked. [Mana Thread Manipulation] Golden threads wrapped around Kelldor''s axe as they tried to hold it up. "These little tricks won''t work on me, elf!" He channeled more mana into his axe, slashing through the golden threads with ease. ''That''s definitely a problem.'' Lindarion barely dodged as the axe slammed into the ground, splitting it apart. The earth trembled. ''...What the hell.'' Kelldor wrenched his axe free and attacked again. [Flow] Lindarion''s movements became seamless, flowing like water. Dodge. Dodge. Dodge. But Kelldor grinned, pouring even more mana into his axe. Lightning crackled around it. Luna bit her nails. Even some of the soldiers started cheering for Lindarion now. Erebus remained motionless, watching. [Serpent''s Flow] Time slowed. Lindarion stepped forward, slipping past the incoming axe. To everyone else, he vanished. Then¡ª Time snapped back. He reappeared in front of Kelldor, sword glowing with mana. His blade slashed forward¡ª But Kelldor smiled. In a flash, lightning surged into his legs. His knee slammed into Lindarion''s side. ''I''m cooked.'' Lindarion soared across the battlefield, rolling across the dirt. By the time he scrambled up, Kelldor was already standing over him. His axe loomed. "You lost, little elf." Then, he laughed, grabbing Lindarion and yanking him upright. "Good fight, elf-chick." He patted Lindarion''s back so hard he nearly fell over. "...Yeah." Lindarion coughed, dragging himself toward Erebus and Luna. The soldiers erupted into cheers and applause. Kelldor strolled over, grinning. "Not bad!" Luna said, smiling. Lindarion nodded. Then he looked at Erebus. Erebus nodded back. "You didn''t stand a chance against Kelldor." His tone was cold as he turned to Luna. Luna hesitated. "Well... true. Kelldor''s strong, but he''s not even in our top three." Lindarion froze. He turned to Erebus. Then Luna. ''What?'' His eyes twitched as Luna''s words echoed in his head. ¡ª That day had been... eventful. Lindarion had fought three more men¡ªand won against all of them. None of them were anywhere near Kelldor''s level. ''Not bad. Way, way better than the ones I fought back at the camp.'' His thoughts drifted back to Twelve and Eight, and before he realized it, a small smile tugged at his lips. ''I wonder what they are up to." Before he could spiral deeper into his memories, a firm hand landed on his shoulder. "Come." Erebus. ''Come? That''s it?'' Lindarion sighed but got up, following Erebus, who was already making his way toward Luna. "You''re leaving already?" she asked, an amused smile on her lips. Erebus nodded. ''We are leaving? Since when?'' "Good luck," Luna said, her warm voice lingering in the air like an omen as she smiled at the two of them. Before Lindarion could even ask where they were going, Erebus pulled his hood over his head¡ªand then Lindarion''s as well. Erebus''s hand pressed against his forehead. The space around them ripped apart without hesitation. Next thing he knew, they were standing in a dimly lit room, the familiar scent of alcohol and cheap tobacco clinging to the air. A familiar bartender looked up from polishing a glass and gave them a knowing grin. "Welcome back, gentlemen." ¡ª Ten months passed. Ten. Every single day, Lindarion and Erebus hunted bounties, piling up more money than he''d ever know what to do with. More importantly, his mana core had advanced by a whole tier. No, more than just a whole tier. His mana core was at the Refined Core, Mid-Tier currently. ''Not bad.'' He lost count of how many people he had killed. At some point, the numbers stopped meaning anything. He stopped caring about them and stopped counting every kill. At present, Lindarion was doing push-ups in the middle of a forest. Erebus, as always, was watching him with the same cold, analytical gaze. "Five hundred." Erebus''s voice cut through the silence like a refined blade. Lindarion pushed himself up and got to his feet, rolling his shoulders as he relaxed his tense body. His body had changed. Lean muscle, honed definition¡ªhis hair now reached his waist, and his face had become sharper, more striking. Like a damn male model. "It''s time to return to the camp." Erebus tossed him his cloak. Lindarion caught it with one hand and slipped it on. "Appreciate it." It fit perfectly. Erebus took a step forward, placing his palm against Lindarion''s forehead. A sharp rip in space. Then¡ªan office. And sitting in front of them... was a very familiar face. A face that he hadn''t forgotten even after months. Chapter 50 50: Welcome Home, Prince ''Magnus.'' Lindarion''s sharp gaze swept over the man. Ten months had passed, yet Magnus looked exactly the same¡ªannoyingly composed, infuriatingly unreadable. "One, Erebus. So, you''re finally back?" Magnus''s face remained blank as his eyes flickered between the two men. "The academy starts soon. Training had to end," Erebus cut in, his voice as cold and emotionless as ever. "Indeed, just one week left until it begins." Magnus shook his head as space cracked open beside him. Another familiar presence stepped out. ''Thalorin is here too? That''s just great..'' The old elf strode forward, calm as ever. Erebus and Magnus immediately bowed. Magnus''s voice wavered as he asked. "L-Lord Thalorin?" "I''m here for the kid. I''m his Master after all." Thalorin said with a wink as Lindarion shook his head. ''Master my ass..'' Both Magnus and Erebus looked at Lindarion...like the pieces were finally getting put together in their heads. "P-Prince Lindarion Sunblade?" Magnus asked as Erebus''s face remained completely...the same as before. Lindarion nodded as Thalorin continued. "So, kids, training''s over, huh?" Thalorin''s voice was warm, his eyes locked onto Lindarion. ''Ah. So he knew I was with Erebus. But how the fuck? Was this old perv watching or something?'' Lindarion sighed, then nodded slowly. Magnus was still frozen as he processed the information. "Then it''s about time you head home, don''t you think?" Thalorin said as Erebus and Magnus both turned to Lindarion. He hesitated just for a moment, then nodded again. Thalorin clicked his tongue. "What''s the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Lindarion had grown used to Erebus''s silence¡ªso much so that actual conversation now felt strange. "...No. Just a habit." He was sad as he sneaked a glance at Erebus. Thalorin hummed in amusement. "Then say your goodbyes." Lindarion turned to Erebus first. The man, unsurprisingly, said nothing. Instead, he extended a hand. ''Wait. He actually knows how to shake hands?'' Lindarion took it. A rare moment. Teacher and student. As soon as their grip loosened, Erebus bowed to Thalorin and Lindarion then vanished without another word. Thalorin stroked his long beard, watching with an entertained glint in his eyes. ''He''ll never get tired of teleporting, will he?'' Lindarion shook his head and turned to Magnus, who smirked. "Well, uh..Prince it is time for you to go. Don''t you want to say goodbye to the others¡ª" "No. Just tell them that we shall meet again if that''s what fate desires." Lindarion cut him off before he could finish. Magnus chuckled and nodded. Thalorin clapped Lindarion''s shoulder. "Let''s move." Space cracked again, distorting the air. Magnus watched as they stepped forward. Just before they disappeared, Lindarion met Magnus''s gaze. "We''ll meet again, Instructor." Magnus gave him a small nod. Then, in a blink, Lindarion was gone. ¡ª A palace stood before him, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. White stone, surrounded by lush trees and blooming flowers. ''Home, sweet home.'' A wave of floral scents filled his lungs. Then, a light touch¡ªa hand on his shoulder. Thalorin. His voice was characteristically gentle. "I''ll see you at the academy, kid." A portal cracked open again. Thalorin flashed him a grin. Lindarion smirked back. "If you live that long, old man." Thalorin''s eyes widened slightly before he burst out laughing. With a wink, he vanished into the portal. ''At least he''s still normal.'' Lindarion exhaled, taking a slow step toward the palace. It had been nearly a year. Nearly a full year since he was last here. It started with Thalorin tossing him into the wilderness, continued with Magnus''s training camp, and ended with Erebus being... Well, Erebus. Even though Thalorin claimed he would train Lindarion himself, he had passed him around like an unwanted package. Except for that bastard Erebus¡ªhe kept Lindarion close, not letting him slip away. As Lindarion approached the entrance, he felt their gazes. ''The guards. At least they''re doing their jobs properly.'' Just as he was about to continue¡ª BANG! The massive doors burst open like they had been locked for a century. ''What the hell?'' A golden-haired blur shot out like a lightning bolt, hurtling straight for him. ''Oh, fuck no.'' Lindarion instinctively reinforced his legs with mana¡ªjust in time to avoid being sent flying. A soft, tearful voice reached his ears. "You''re back, Lindarion..." His mother. Lindarion sighed, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. "Yeah, I''m back, mom." She clung to him as if he might disappear at any moment. "Took you long enough to return...!" Behind her, slow footsteps echoed. Another familiar figure. "My son." Lindarion turned, his grin widening. "Father." Eldrin''s piercing gaze locked onto him. For a second, his eyes widened¡ªthen, a slow, knowing smile formed. ''He''s reading me again like I''m some kind of book..'' Lindarion shook his head as they stepped inside. "So, tell me everything." His mother clung to his arm as they walked toward the dining hall, unwilling to let go, as if he''d vanish if she did. "Where do I even start?" He gave them the short version¡ªhow Thalorin had definitely not trained him and how Magnus was a terrifying drill instructor. At Magnus''s name, his father merely nodded. ''So he knows him? Figures.'' Then, he mentioned Erebus. Eldrin froze. His mother kept nodding along, oblivious. ''Wait. Does he know Erebus too? What the fuck?'' "You trained under Erebus?" Eldrin''s voice wavered slightly, his usual composure cracking. Lindarion nodded. Eldrin''s sharp eyes swept over him, as if truly seeing him for the first time since his return. His aura, his presence¡ªeverything was different. ''So that''s why.'' Eldrin exhaled, shaking his head. Lindarion ignored it and stepped into the dining hall. "Surprise, young master!" A chorus of voices erupted as the maids lined up, beaming. The table was stacked with food¡ªroasted meats, fresh vegetables, nuts, and fruits, a feast straight out of heaven. "Welcome home, young master!" "We''ve been waiting for you!" "Finally, you''re back!" The maids beamed, their enthusiasm borderline overwhelming. Lindarion chuckled. "I''m happy to be back." His mother smiled warmly. His father sighed, shaking his head at the sight. Then¡ª From Eldrin''s shadow, a figure emerged. Cold blue eyes gleamed as she stepped forward, bowing slightly before Lindarion. "Welcome home, young prince." ''Seraphine.'' Lindarion narrowed his eyes. "Glad to see you again, Seraphine." Lindarion smiled as he stepped closer, his voice softer than usual as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "The honor is mine, my prince. You''ve grown much stronger, it seems the training was very successful." Seraphine''s voice carried through the room as her sharp gaze measured him from head to toe. Eldrin cleared his throat, then shifted his attention between Lindarion and Melion. "That''s enough reunions for now. It''s time we start our meal." The maids practically beamed with joy as they guided Lindarion to his seat. Across the table, Seraphine met his gaze once more, gave a slight nod, and then¡ªjust like that¡ªmelted back into the shadows. ''She''s gone again... figures.'' With that, the meal began. For the first time in nearly a year, the three of them sat at the same table, eating together in quiet contentment. ¡ª After lunch, life in the palace carried on as usual. Lindarion returned to his room, only to find his travel bag neatly placed on his bed. ''I thought I lost this...'' Everything was still inside, untouched. ''Must''ve been Thalorin... the old man and his weird habits.'' Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside and made his way to his father''s office. The walk through the halls was... less than enjoyable. The maids kept stopping to greet him, giving him lots of compliments, their cheerful smiles never wavering. ''This is getting a little awkward...'' By the time he reached the familiar doors, he was already questioning his life choices. Pushing them open, he found Eldrin exactly as expected¡ªburied under a mountain of paperwork. Eldrin sat behind his desk, holding a sheet of paper, his brows furrowed like he was deciphering an ancient prophecy. Lindarion, standing in front of him, tilted his head. "What''s wrong, Father?" Eldrin sighed, setting the paper down. "I''m facing a tricky decision." ''Tricky?'' That could mean anything from war to deciding which wine to serve at a banquet. Lindarion crossed his arms. "Do you need my help?" Eldrin gave him a long look before nodding. "Two other nations have requested military aid from us. The problem is, we don''t have enough capacity to send troops to both. What do you think should be done?" Eldrin already knew the answer, however he wanted to see how smart and wise Lindarion was currently. Lindarion tapped his chin thinking for a moment, he then sighed and started. "So, we don''t have enough troops, but rejecting them outright could strain our relationships..." He paused for a brief moment and then continued. "Why not send something else instead? Equipment, strategic advisors, maybe even training programs? That way, we support them without weakening ourselves." Eldrin smiled, leaning back in his chair. "That''s exactly what I had in mind." Lindarion smirked as he looked at his father signing some papers with a smile. ''It''s really good to be back.'' Chapter 51 51: Solrendel (1) The days passed quickly, and only three remained before Lindarion would officially begin his time at the academy. At the moment, though, he was enjoying a rare moment of peace in his room. ''Finally... some time to relax...'' Then, of course, came the knocking. ''...Who would''ve thought'' It was such a predictable moment that Lindarion''s peaceful smile began to twitch. "Come in." His voice echoed through the room as an otherworldly beauty stepped inside. "...Mother?" Lindarion blinked as Melion walked in, her radiant smile practically blinding. ''She''s up to something. I don''t trust that smile...'' She gracefully sat down on the edge of his bed. "How about I take you on a tour of Solrendel? Before you leave for the academy, you should at least see our city properly once." Her warm voice and unwavering smile bored a hole straight through Lindarion''s defenses. ''I mean, I have never actually explored my own city.'' After a moment of consideration, Lindarion let out a long sigh. "Alright, we can go¡ª" "Wonderful! Let''s go right now!" Melion cut him off with a clap, already rising from the bed. ''...Now?'' Lindarion''s eye twitched, but seeing how excited his mother was, he sighed again and stood up. "Fine, let''s go." Melion beamed and strode out of the room. The moment she was gone, a group of maids swept in like a well-trained ambush unit. ''She knew I''d say yes.'' ¡ª It wasn''t long before Lindarion was dressed and stepping out of the palace. A lavish carriage awaited them, the ever-present gazes of royal guards burning into his back. He ignored most of them, focusing on the four men standing near the carriage¡ªone familiar face and three strangers. ''So, he''s still here.'' Lindarion shook his head with an amused smile. "Glad to see you again, young prince!" Therion''s booming voice nearly shook the palace walls. ''Was that for real necessary?'' Lindarion sighed and gestured for them to rise from their bows. "I appreciate your presence. I trust everything will go smoothly." Therion nodded and¡ªpredictably¡ªshouted again at a volume that could wake the dead. "Everything is under control, Your Highness!" Lindarion, already regretting all of his life choices, stepped into the carriage. "Let''s hope so." The guards boarded behind him, and Melion''s already brilliant smile somehow grew even brighter. "You look wonderful, my son." Lindarion glanced down at his outfit¡ªan elegant white ensemble embroidered with delicate gold threading. His sword hung at his waist as if it were a part of him. "Thank you." He looked back at Melion, noting how her own outfit mirrored his¡ªwhite and gold, almost bridal in appearance. She flashed another dazzling smile before knocking on the side of the carriage. "We''re ready." ¡ª They traveled through the city streets swiftly, passing elegant buildings adorned in white, green, and gold. "The Golden Sun Square," Melion murmured with a small smile as the carriage came to a stop. "The Golden Sun Squ¡ª" Lindarion''s words died in his throat as he stepped out. The square was massive, lined with towering marble pillars and obelisks engraved with ancient runes. At its center, a grand floating fountain shimmered with golden light, the water droplets reflecting sunlight as if they were liquid gold. Elves filled the place¡ªnearly all of them blond, most of their gazes landing on Lindarion and Melion. Unlike in human cities, there were no whispers. No murmurs behind hands. Only silent, respectful gazes and faint smiles with most people bowing down to them. ''I should probably get used to this at this point.'' Lindarion shook his head and followed his mother, who was already leading him into a busy street lined with stalls. "The Sun Market," she explained, noting his curious look. ''What kind of name is that?'' Lindarion nodded and kept pace beside her. "It''s famous for its jewelry, potions... but mostly, its food." As they walked, the air was filled with the scent of roasted meat, fresh bread, and exotic spices. Lindarion swallowed instinctively. ''Smells good as fuck, man I got hungry..'' They passed cloaked figures selling mysterious trinkets and rune-carved artifacts. Melion suddenly nudged him, pointing toward an elderly woman seated behind a stall piled with gemstones. ''A fortune teller?'' Lindarion had a vague guess as to what the woman''s trade was, but his mother took it upon herself to announce it to the world. "Look Lindarion a fortune teller! She looks awfully familiar though.." She turned to Lindarion with a bright smile before promptly grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the stall. ''...Why must I suffer? And why does she have to look familiar..'' As they approached, Lindarion noted the woman''s golden hair, streaked with silver. Her eyes remained shut, hands resting calmly on the table. ''She''s creepy.'' Without opening her eyes, the woman lifted her head. "Prince Lindarion Sunblade. Lady Melion Sunblade. I have been expecting you." Her voice was low, solemn... yet she smiled faintly. "Matilda...It has been a while" Melion nodded in greeting, still smiling as she recognized the lady. ''So mom actually does know her..'' Lindarion''s thoughts churned. His mother had definitely planned this. "Come, young prince. Give me your hand. I shall glimpse the fate that lies ahead. For free of course." Her tone was smooth, unwavering. ''Alright, what''s the worst that could happen?'' Maybe a dragon appears? Or a giant meteorite could strike down at any moment with Lindarion''s great luck. Anyways, he extended his hand. Matilda placed a gemstone in his palm and gently closed his fingers around it. ''Alright, let''s see what she''s got.'' Melion watched, utterly fascinated. ''...'' And then nothing happened. Matilda remained still, eyes closed, fingers lightly touching Lindarion''s hand. The gemstone did not glow. The air did not shift. Silence. Melion''s serene smile did not waver. Matilda''s, however, began to twitch. ''What''s going on?'' Lindarion thought as the fortune teller withdrew her hands, cleared her throat, and hesitated before speaking. "I cannot see the prince''s future..." "..." Both Melion and Lindarion remained silent. ''I''m sorry... what? That was not on the list of things I expected to happen..'' Matilda, looking more nervous by the second, quickly added, "T-This does not mean the prince has a bad fate! It simply means¡ª" Her voice trembled slightly as Melion''s smile darkened, taking on an almost demonic quality. Lindarion felt his soul leave his body. Clearing his throat, he forced a reassuring smile and turned back to Matilda. "Thank you, Matilda." His voice was even, polite. Melion finally glanced at him, her ominous aura fading. Matilda''s shoulders relaxed. "I... I am sorry I could not offer more, Your Highness." "It''s alright. These things happen, don''t they?" Melion chimed in smoothly, her tone warm¡ªbut her smile sharp. Matilda nodded rapidly, her movements just a little too frantic. ''Judging by her reaction... this has never happened before.'' Lindarion gave his mother an innocent smile and took her hand. "Shall we continue, Mother?" His voice was gentle, the picture of a good son. Melion finally let go of whatever brewing frustration she had and chuckled. "Yes, let''s continue darling." ¡ª As they walked away, Matilda kept her eyes shut, her fingers still trembling slightly. ''This... has never happened before...'' When she held Lindarion''s hand, it was as if she had been cast into an endless void. And in that void, she had heard only one thing. A soft, hissing whisper. Something inhuman. And it had looked straight at her. ''I don''t know what I just came upon...but it was not of this world...'' ¡ª Lindarion and Melion continued their leisurely tour through the bustling market, stopping at various stalls without a care in the world. Well¡ªMelion didn''t have a care in the world. Or at least that''s what she made it seem like. Lindarion, on the other hand, was still stuck on what had happened earlier. Matilda''s words echoed in his mind. ''The young prince... I couldn''t make out his future at all...'' No matter how he twisted it, that sounded bad. ''What the hell did she see? She seemed genuinely scared as soon as she looked into my future. Like she was possessed by something.'' He shook his head, trying to push the thought away. Meanwhile, his mother was in her own world, casually buying any jewelry he so much as glanced at for more than five seconds. By the time Lindarion snapped back to reality, they had stopped in front of a food stall. Melion was already approaching, holding two pastries in her hands. "Moonberry pastry." She pressed one into Lindarion''s palm before he could react. A soft, warm crust. A fragrant aroma. A familiar tartness that lingered in the air. Lindarion stared at the pastry. ''This smells like... raspberries? No..it smells even fancier..'' Something about it felt suspiciously unroyal. "Is this really appropriate for someone of royal blood?" he asked, eyeing the treat with mild skepticism. Melion, already chewing, swallowing the piece she smiled innocently. "You tell me." Lindarion hesitated. But seeing his mother munching on it like it was a delicacy straight from the palace kitchen, he figured... why not? He took a bite. ¡ªBOOM. An explosion of flavor. His taste buds were assaulted, overwhelmed, drenched in sweetness and tanginess as if someone had uncorked a high-pressure fruit hose straight into his mouth. Lindarion froze. ''...This is incredible.'' His eyes fluttered shut as he let the pastry''s complex layers of flavor wash over him. Melion, watching her son''s reaction, let out a quiet chuckle. ''He needs to try things more often.'' She continued eating, savoring each bite as if she were seated at a royal banquet instead of standing in the middle of a crowded market. Chapter 52 52: Solrendel (2) Lindarion and Melion continued their walk, four guards trailing behind them. Yet, Lindarion could feel more eyes on them. ''Yeah, there''s no way only four guards would be with us.'' Shaking his head, he looked ahead¡ªan endless expanse of ocean stretched before them, dotted with ships. And not just any ships. These things were humming with mana. "The Solrendel Port." Melion smiled, gently grabbing Lindarion''s hand as they walked closer. Her voice was soft when she spoke again. "They run on mana." ''Oh. That explains it.'' Lindarion''s gaze swept across the vessels, each one massive¡ªpalaces on water. ''They seem like...warships.'' Armed men and women roamed the docks, chatting among themselves, their weapons gleaming under the sun. "Let''s keep moving," Melion said with a smile, placing a hand on Lindarion''s shoulder. ''Right...'' He cast one last glance at the ocean stretching into infinity before nodding. They continued toward the city center, the guards close by, and the rest... lurking in the shadows. ¡ª The city center loomed ahead, dominated by an enormous building, surrounded by heavily armed elves. And in the shadows? Even more. Perhaps hundreds of them were hidden. ''What the hell is this?'' The building dwarfed everything else...except for some gigantic tower. It adorned in gold and white, completely windowless. Some kind of Ancient Elven inscriptions were carved into its walls. Lindarion''s eyes scanned the markings. Yeah. He had no idea what they meant. "We''re here," Melion announced, smiling as she approached the entrance. ''Here? Where exactly are we?'' Lindarion shook his head and followed. As they neared, the guards stepped aside and bowed without a word. ''...What''s inside?'' Melion glanced back at him, her smile never fading. "Come, my son." Her voice echoed as she stepped inside. Around them, elves filled the streets, many stealing glances their way. ''Alright, let''s see what''s in there.'' The moment Lindarion entered, he was greeted by a massive staircase leading down¡ªas if into a dungeon. Melion descended with unhurried steps, but Lindarion could feel the sheer amount of mana surging up from below. It was like standing at the edge of a stormy sea. Melion spoke softly, yet her voice carried weight. "Only the royal family and council members may enter." Reaching the bottom, she turned to him. "Come." There was something incredibly ominous about the way she said that. ''Alright, fine. I''ll see what''s so special down here...'' As Lindarion descended, Melion pulled out an ornate white-gold key, pressing it against a door. The moment it made contact, the door began to glow... and then¡ª It opened in a flash. ''What... the hell?'' The moment they stepped inside, a wave of mana washed over him, rattling his very bones. ''What is this place...?'' His eyes widened. The room¡ªno, the space¡ªwasn''t a room at all. It was an open field. Trees stretched toward a sky that shouldn''t exist because, logically speaking, they were underground. ''Okay. What the actual fuck.'' The scent of flowers filled his nose as Melion walked deeper inside. "Bow," she whispered, still smiling. ''What do you mean bow¡ª'' Before Lindarion could even question her, something appeared. A... fairy? No, its ears were long and pointed¡ªclearly elven¡ªbut it was small, hovering midair with delicate wings. Its golden hair floated around its head, and its emerald-green eyes glowed. ''What the¡ª'' Lindarion''s knees buckled. He barely caught himself before faceplanting. "Melion Sunblade. Lindarion Sunblade." The tiny elf''s voice didn''t come from her mouth. Instead, it reverberated through the very air itself. "Nytheris." Melion greeted the being warmly before standing up. The oppressive force lifted, and Lindarion sucked in a sharp breath. The tiny elf moved forward and snapped his finger and suddenly Lindarion''s chest tightened. ''What the hell was that?!'' Pushing himself up, he stared at the hovering figure, who remained perfectly composed. "Any information you are about to hear from now is confidential, if you ever spread it your Mana Core shall explode into pieces." Melion cleared her throat. "All of the Royal family members bear this. It''s a must." Nytheris nodded at Melion''s words. ''Seriously..?'' Lindarion wanted to drive face first into the ground. "As I have said, her name is Nytheris," Melion explained. "The ancient guardian of Eldorath. For thousands of years, she has protected our people and sustained the life force of Eldorath''s Core." ''...'' Lindarion''s brain stalled. If his mind could produce smoke, it''d be pouring out of his ears right now. ''Eldorath''s what now? Ancient elf guardian?'' His gaze darted between Melion and Nytheris, both of whom looked way too calm for what was happening. With a sigh, Nytheris continued. "Eldorath''s Core sustains all plant life. I nourish the Core, which in turn preserves the forests and greenery of Eldorath. Without it, the land would wither and die." ''...'' Lindarion''s lips twitched. "And," Nytheris added, "according to the ancient elves, the Core holds a secret knowledge of our people. But only a chosen one may access it." She turned to Melion, who gave a knowing nod. "I believe you may be that chosen one." Nytheris''s voice echoed inside Lindarion''s head. ''Chosen one? Ancient elves? Core? This is way too much to process at once.'' He shook his head and looked at Nytheris. "So... should I go check it out¡ª" "No," Nytheris interrupted without hesitation. "You wouldn''t survive more than a few seconds in its presence." Her ever-present smile remained, her lips never moving as her voice filled the air. Melion, ever the silent observer, simply watched Lindarion struggle with an innocent smile. Nytheris turned to him once more. "The Core is also a prison." Lindarion''s shoulders tensed. "It contains a being born of ancient chaos." The weight of her words sent a chill down his spine. ''...Are they trying to kill me? What the hell kind of being?'' "Well, that''s enough for now," Nytheris said lightly. "You''re far too weak, boy." With that, she casually floated away, vanishing into the distance. Melion cleared her throat, then smiled at Lindarion like she hadn''t just dropped a cosmic horror revelation on him. "Let''s go. I still have a few more things to show you." She grabbed his hand and gently pulled him toward the exit. Lindarion''s eyes flicked to the inside of the now-closing door. From this side, he could see ancient runes carved into it. ''This is some crazy shit... So I have to come back later? What the hell is inside that Core?'' As the heavy doors shut behind them, he followed Melion up the stairs, his thoughts an absolute mess. As soon as Melion and Lindarion stepped out, the four bodyguards were already waiting. At the front stood Therion, their ever-loyal watchdog. Seriously, if he wagged his tail any harder, he might start flying. But Lindarion wasn''t thinking about that. His mind was a complete mess. ''...This just threw everything I thought I knew out the window.'' A hidden core, buried in the largest building in the city, locked away behind layers of security. ''Of all places, here?'' Then again, it did make some sense. The building was surrounded by hundreds of armed elves, most hidden in the shadows, watching. No one was getting in. And even if they tried, they''d still need that key. Lindarion sighed and rubbed his temple as Melion led him somewhere else. ''There''s more?'' Honestly, after all that, he just wanted to go lie down and pretend none of this ever happened. That thought died the moment he spotted the tower. Tall as hell. Glass dome at the top. ''Great. Let me guess¡ªthat''s our destination.'' And, of course, it was. Melion, smiling like she was taking a child to see the festival, practically dragged him inside. She always seemed happiest when she was with him. It was... weirdly comforting. ''So this is what it''s like to have a mother who actually cares...'' His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to his past life. To a mother who had barely acknowledged his existence. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. ''Not important anymore.'' Instead, he focused on the endless climb up the spiral staircase. Step after step. And step. And step. ''Does this damn thing even have a top?'' Just as he was about to consider throwing himself out the nearest window to speed things up, they finally arrived. "The Celestial Observatory," Melion announced, her voice echoing through the chamber. It felt like they had stepped into the sky itself, way too close to the sun for comfort. Elves in pristine uniforms moved throughout the observatory. As soon as they spotted Melion and Lindarion, they stopped what they were doing and bowed. "This is where our scholars study the stars," she continued, her voice filled with warmth. Lindarion glanced at the massive telescope, then at the daylight pouring through the glass dome. ''...this isn''t exactly what I had in mind for today'' A long silence stretched between them. Melion coughed lightly and turned to him with a perfectly straight face. "We can learn a great deal from the stars," A white robed female elf approached them interrupting their silence, her tone was monotone yet happy. She had long blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. Melion''s smile widened as she looked at the elf. ''A scholar..?'' Lindarion had a feeling his day was far from over. Chapter 53 53: Parting Ways The lady bowed as she arrived before Lindarion and Melion. "Welcome, members of the Sunblade royal family. It is an honor to have you visit our institution." Her voice was warm¡ªlike freshly baked pastries¡ªas she smiled at Lindarion. And... were her eyes sparkling just now? Melion flashed her a devilish grin. The woman suddenly cleared her throat, straightened her posture, and composed herself. ''??'' Lindarion''s thoughts swirled. Not only had he just learned information he wasn''t sure he even wanted to know, but once again, he was surrounded by strange people. "I am Sylven Vaelora, the head of this institution. It is a pleasure to have you here today." Her voice wavered slightly as she glanced at Melion, who remained smiling¡ªsilently, ominously. "I only wanted to show my son around. Please continue your work as usual." Melion''s voice was... cold? As if she really didn''t like Sylven. No, wait¡ªwas that actual hatred in her voice? ''Why, though?'' Lindarion''s gaze darted between them as they locked eyes. Sylven bowed, her voice turning soft. "I hope His Highness finds the institution to his liking." Then, with a fleeting smile, she turned and walked off¡ªto do... whatever it was she actually did here. Melion grinned at Lindarion before taking his hand. "Should we leave darling?" ''...What just happened?'' Lindarion shook his head and sighed. "Yes, we should go." The guards followed them closely as they descended the tower. And honestly? The trip down took so long that coming up in the first place had been a complete waste of time. Lindarion let out a deep sigh as they finally reached the bottom of the seemingly endless stairs. As they walked back to the carriage, he mulled over the overwhelming amount of information he had gathered today. Despite not actually doing much, time had flown by. ''It wasn''t bad... I guess.'' He glanced at Melion, who strolled gracefully toward the carriage, her steps elegant, almost swanlike. Once they climbed in, Melion smiled at him. "Shall we depart?" Her voice was gentle¡ªlike a harmless caress. The guards settled in as well. Lindarion nodded, his tone firmer than before. "Yes." Melion tapped on the carriage door, signaling the driver, and they set off toward the palace. From the corner of his eye, Lindarion noticed Therion repeatedly glancing at him. ''What? I''m not going to disappear...'' He shook his head and focused on the road. Fortunately, the ride home was smooth¡ªand, more importantly, quiet. It gave him time to process the day''s events. Not that he had too much to think about. One thing was certain, though. He would have to return to that place. And he really wasn''t thrilled about it. ¡ª Lindarion and Melion walked into the palace at a relaxed pace¡ªonly to be greeted by Eldrin, arms crossed, waiting for them. "My son, may we talk?" ''What does he want now...?'' Lindarion''s thoughts stalled as Eldrin''s gaze flickered to Melion, a silent request to leave them alone. "I can''t listen in?" Melion asked with a dramatic pout. Eldrin shook his head. "This is something for the two of us." With a small shake of her head, Melion turned toward the dining hall. "Fine, fine..." Once she was gone, Eldrin placed a firm hand on Lindarion''s shoulder. "Are you nervous about the academy, my son?" The question hung in the air. Lindarion blinked. That''s it? No way. It couldn''t be that simple. "...Honestly? No. After training with Erebus, I doubt I have anything to be nervous about, Father." His voice was steady, confident. Eldrin nodded approvingly. "True. Not many can endure Erebus''s brutal methods." He shook his head before leaning back in his chair, his sharp gaze locking onto Lindarion''s. "I expect nothing less than your very best." ''The best, huh?'' Lindarion didn''t dwell on the words. He knew¡ªno, he wanted to be the best at the academy. "The academy is going to be long," Eldrin continued, folding his hands together. "You''ll have peers far older than you, as you are just going to be a first year student." Then, with a smirk, he added, "But just because they''re older doesn''t mean you should lose if anything happens." ''Yeah, figured as much. Not that I planned to.'' Lindarion shook his head, stepping forward slightly. "I understand, Father. I won''t disappoint you." Eldrin nodded again, then pulled out a few sheets of paper. "The strategy you suggested worked. We were able to assist both sides." A rare smile touched his lips as he met Lindarion''s eyes. Lindarion nodded. ''So it worked, after all.'' Eldrin tapped his fingers against the desk, watching Lindarion with an unreadable expression. "I''ll give you some things you should engrave in your mind Son." He said with a small smile as Lindarion nodded quietly. "The academy isn''t just a place for learning," he finally said. "It''s a battlefield in its own way." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound very dramatic father." Eldrin sighed. "It is dramatic. Power struggles, alliances, backstabbing¡ªit''s a reflection of the real world, just wrapped in textbooks and training grounds." ''So... basically politics, but with more homework.'' Lindarion gave a small nod. "I understand.." Eldrin leaned forward. "You''ll meet nobles, warriors, scholars¡ªsome will want to befriend you, others will want to use you. You must be sharp. Observe before you act." Lindarion hummed. "So, I basically shouldn''t trust anyone?" Eldrin chuckled lightly then looked Lindarion in the eye. "That''s a bit too paranoid, son. Trust those who earn it." He just nodded. "I understand.. Is there anything else dad?" Eldrin handed him a sealed letter. "This is from me to the academy''s headmaster. It is for Thalorin to see, nobody else shall open it. Do not lose it." Lindarion turned it over in his hands. The wax seal bore the Sunblade crest¡ªofficial, important-looking. ''It must be something important...but why didn''t he give Thalorin the letter?'' Lindarion was about to ask but Eldrin shook his head and interrupted him. "Get some rest. You still have some days before leaving." Lindarion nodded quietly then left the room. Walking towards his own bedroom as the maids greeted him with warm smiles. ''I''m going to miss this.'' ¡ª The days passed in the blink of an eye as Lindarion laid in his bed, the morning sun shining through his window. BANG BANG BANG! His door practically shook from the force of the knocks. "Wake up, Your Highness!" Lindarion groaned. "Five more minutes..." The door slammed open. Melion stood there, smiling way too brightly for this ungodly hour. "Five minutes? How about now darling?" Lindarion buried his face in his pillow. ''I hate waking up early...what day is it even..'' Melion laughed, dragging the blankets off him. "Rise and shine, my little son! Your glorious academy life awaits!" Lindarion sat up, squinting at the sunlight streaming in. "Why are you so energetic Mom?" Melion twirled a strand of her hair as she smiled. "Because I''m excited for your future in the academy!" Lindarion groaned again as he sat up in his bed. Melion leaned in, smirking. "Oh, and Thalorin is waiting for you outside. All of the staff members came to see you off as well." Lindarion blinked. "Wait¡ªwhat?" Melion clapped her hands as she left his room. "Better hurry Son, you don''t want to ruin your grand exit!" Lindarion sighed. ''This is going to be a long five years.'' Lindarion took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and swiftly changed into a fitting outfit. His father''s letter was tucked neatly into his coat. As he glanced into the mirror, a strikingly handsome young elf stared back. Dressed in an elegant black-and-white ensemble, he exuded nobility. His long hair was tied up, yet it still cascaded down to his waist. His emerald-green eyes glowed faintly as he adjusted the hem of his clothes and secured the sword at his waist. ''Alright. Time to leave I guess..'' Stepping toward the door, he hesitated for a moment. ''Huh... they really are outside. It''s very quiet.'' The grand hallway¡ªusually bustling with attendants¡ªwas eerily silent. Completely empty. It felt almost abandoned. A strange sense of nostalgia welled up in him. ''I''m going to miss this place...'' Pushing open the doors, he stepped outside... And immediately wished he hadn''t. His heart nearly dropped to his feet. The entire palace staff was lined up outside. Maids, cleaners, guards¡ªeveryone was present, all bowing deeply in his direction. A thick, solemn atmosphere filled the air. ''...Is this a farewell or my funeral? I''m gaining aura with this...'' Lindarion kept his expression neutral as he slowly walked past them, his presence commanding yet... slightly awkward. At the very end of the line stood Seraphine, his parents, and Thalorin. All of them were smiling slightly¡ªeven Seraphine! That was rarer than someone finding a seven-star skill book in some cursed dungeon! As Lindarion reached her, Seraphine gave him a slow, formal bow. "Take care, young prince." Without hesitation, Lindarion stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "You take care of my parents." For a brief moment, Seraphine stiffened... then, surprisingly, she hugged him back. Lindarion felt warmth creep up his face. ''A-Ah. Abort. Abort mission¡ª!'' A throat cleared behind him. He turned to see his mother, Melion, watching them with a knowing smile. "Mother. Father." Lindarion quickly moved on, stepping toward his parents. Melion approached and embraced him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Be careful, my son." Lindarion nodded before turning to Eldrin, who extended his hand. A firm handshake. Two strong grips. "Stay safe, son. And don''t forget what I told you." Eldrin added a subtle wink. Melion''s eyes narrowed slightly, but¡ªperhaps wisely¡ªshe decided not to ask. With a final nod, Lindarion turned to the last person. ''Thalorin.'' The old elf was... scratching his head, his wild beard looking particularly unkempt. ''Hard to believe he''s a member of the Council sometimes...'' Shaking his head, Lindarion stepped closer, only to find Thalorin grinning at him like a mischievous child. "Shall we?" Lindarion took one last look at the people he was leaving behind. Even Theiron, the guard, was smiling at him. Wait. Was he... tearing up?! Thalorin placed a firm hand on Lindarion''s shoulder. "Let''s go." And with that, space itself fractured¡ª Lindarion barely had time to process his own thoughts before the world twisted. And then, suddenly¡ª CRASH. Chapter 55 55: Academy (2) Lindarion and the lady locked eyes. "..." Silence. Uncomfortable, awkward silence. For Lindarion, it was borderline unbearable. "Well, I''ll take my leave then." He gave a small nod, and the lady did too¡ªher expression still trembling slightly as she watched him disappear from the tent. ''What kind of monster did you bring here...?'' Her thoughts drifted to Thalorin and the shattered crystal. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Ever. ¡ª Lindarion stepped out of the tent at a slow pace. Strangely, he didn''t hear any murmuring or gossip. Most of the students stood tensely outside their respective tents, waiting for their turn. ''This is going to take a while.'' He shook his head and made his way back to the podium, where a few future students had already gathered. The moment he arrived, a few glances turned toward him... then, just as quickly, they averted their gazes. ''Not many of us.'' He scanned the group. Maybe ten people, give or take. He didn''t bother counting heads, but if the first student from each tent had already finished, then yeah, ten sounded about right. Just as he sat on the ground, he felt something¡ªno, someone¡ªtouch his shoulder. ''Huh?'' Turning his head, he saw... a little girl? No, wait. An elven girl. Her silver-white hair cascaded down to her waist, her eyes were as dark as the night sky, and she was... incredibly short. ''Who...?'' They just stared at each other in silence. Lindarion had absolutely no idea whether he was supposed to recognize her or not. "..." The girl, almost ghost-like in presence, remained expressionless. "Luneth Silverleaf." Her voice was as cold as her appearance. ''Luneth Silverleaf...?'' Lindarion''s brows furrowed as his mind raced. The name sounded familiar, but from where¡ª? "The Traditional Festival. We met there." Luneth''s monotone voice interrupted his thoughts. Ah. That was it. Though it hadn''t been that long ago, his time with Erebus had made it feel like an eternity. ''Right... Sylvaris'' daughter. The princess of Sylvarion.'' Lindarion cleared his throat, putting on a polite smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Luneth Silverleaf. I am Lindarion Sunbla¡ª" "I know who you are. That''s why I came here. And just call me Luneth." ''...Call her Luneth... Then why does she look at me like I''m a ghost?'' He vaguely recalled her parents at the festival. They had the same demeanor. Cold, emotionless, like they had been frozen solid at birth. "What do you want, Luneth?" Lindarion asked with genuine indifference. He truly had no clue why she was here. "..." Luneth merely shrugged. Lindarion''s face twitched. ''You came here to me... and you don''t know why?'' For a brief moment, he contemplated burying his face in his hands. Or better yet, burying himself. "...My parents wanted us to be close." ''...'' Lindarion''s expression began to crumble. Why would her parents want that? They were both just kids¡ª His eyes suddenly widened in horror. ''THEY''RE NOT TRYING TO SET ME UP FOR MARRIAGE, RIGHT?!'' He shook his head violently. Luneth''s face remained as impassive as ever. They stared at each other again. "..." Then, out of nowhere, Lindarion''s instincts flared, warning him of something. He snapped his head away. Luneth followed his gaze. An older man stood in the distance, his long black hair flowing and his piercing blue eyes sweeping over the crowd. ''Who the hell is this guy?'' The aura around him was suffocating. It oozed a predatory sharpness, like a blade honed to perfection. The man cleared his throat. His voice thundered across the training grounds like an explosion, drawing everyone''s attention. "Those who have finished, follow me to the Strength Assessment. Now." Lindarion and Luneth exchanged glances before looking back at the man. ''He''s like Magnus... but way, way worse.'' Lindarion got to his feet and started walking toward him at a steady pace. The man''s gaze shifted to him, scrutinizing him with a slow, deliberate look. His expression remained unreadable¡ªno twitch, no emotion, nothing. ''Yeah. He''s bad news.'' Lindarion glanced at Luneth. She followed without hesitation, her cold demeanor unchanged. Meanwhile, the other candidates whispered among themselves. ''Now what...?'' The man led them to an open area where a strange machine stood. Lindarion blinked. ''Is that... a strength tester?'' It reminded him of the carnival games from his past life. The ones where you hit the target, and the machine judged how strong you were. A pang of bitterness hit him. He had never been good at those. So much money wasted... for nothing. The machine itself was made of what looked like steel, with a black display screen above it. ''I''ll probably rank first..'' "Line up," the man ordered, his voice like a detonation. "You will channel mana into your fist and strike the target." He pointed to a red circle in the center of the machine. ''It is just like those carnival games...'' Lindarion sighed and found himself at the back of the line. Luneth stood right in front of him. Unfortunately, more students arrived, and before he knew it, he wasn''t at the end anymore. ''Damn it.'' The line moved slowly. One by one, students stepped up and announced their names before striking the machine. A boy with short black hair went first. "Nimbus Orros." His voice echoed across the grounds as he stepped forward. The man gave a curt nod. Nimbus focused his mana and punched the target. BANG. "1099," the man announced. Silence. Lindarion frowned. ''Is that good or bad?'' The instructor''s expression didn''t change. "You may return to the podium." Nimbus hesitated. "S-So... is my score good?" "I said return to the podium." The instructor''s voice boomed like a cannon, releasing a faint pulse of mana. Lindarion''s face twitched. ''Is he seriously using mana pressure against kids?'' Nimbus, now visibly trembling, nodded and shuffled away. The line continued moving. Some students scored much higher. Others... much lower. Then, it was Luneth''s turn. She stepped forward, unfazed as she announced her name calmly. "Luneth Silverleaf." The man nodded. Luneth struck the target. "..." Lindarion''s eyes widened as he saw the score. The display flickered. Then, a number appeared. "9910." Silence. Lindarion smirked a little. ''...so she ended up scoring the highest so far.'' He glanced at the others. Their expressions ranged from confusion to outright terror. Even the instructor''s eyes twitched¡ªjust the tiniest bit, but it was there. Luneth, on the other hand, simply stepped back, her face as blank as ever. ''Ha...she doesn''t even seem to care about it.'' Lindarion swallowed calmly, Luneth was the strongest contestant so far he had seen. Then, he noticed something even more horrifying¡ªthe ghost like Luneth was now looking directly at him! A thought crept into his mind. ''So she''s expecting me to beat her score?'' His smile widened. It was his turn now. "Lindarion Sunblade." Lindarion sighed whilst announcing his name as he stepped forward. He stared at the machine. It stared back. ''This isn''t going to be hard, I just need to punch it properly once.'' Taking a deep breath, he channeled his mana. It gathered in his fist, humming with power. He clenched his jaw, focused on the target, and¡ª BANG! The machine whirred. The screen flickered. The number appeared. Lindarion''s eyes widened as he saw the number. The instructor''s face seemed to freeze as well. Luneth''s mouth hung open at the sight. It was a bizarre sight¡ªlike a ghost about to devour someone. The entire field was silent as the instructor cleared his throat and, with visible hesitation, read out the score. "42,420!" "..." ''This is aura..'' Lindarion flexed his hand, shaking off the lingering force from the strike. He glanced at Luneth, who simply gave him a silent nod before turning back to go back to the podium. "...Y-You can... return as well," the instructor finally managed, his voice unsteady for the first time ever. Lindarion nodded and followed after Luneth, his pace slow and deliberate. Behind him, the whispers erupted. "H-How is that possible?" "D-Did he cheat?" No one had even come close to that score. Not even remotely. Lindarion exhaled sharply. ''How the hell would I even cheat at this? I''m just better.'' Shaking his head, he ignored the murmurs. The test continued behind him, but the atmosphere had shifted. As he reached the podium, Luneth glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as she murmured nearly silently. "...strong." Lindarion sighed as he clearly heard her. ''I hope she doesn''t become my fan or something.'' Lindarion and Luneth stood silently, watching as more and more candidates returned to the square. The tests continued, the lines were moving steadily at each of the tests. ''Something''s about to happen, isn''t it?'' The air felt tense, anticipation creeping in as the group grew larger. Then, amidst the murmuring crowd, a familiar figure stepped forward. It was her¡ªthe woman from the tent. ''Shouldn''t she be in the tent?'' Lindarion thought as her igraceful steps barely made a sound as she approached, holding a parchment in her hands. "Participants, follow me to the next test." Her voice rang through the space, firm and unquestionable. ''So there is another one.'' Lindarion sighed but followed along, Luneth walking beside him. The other candidates hesitated before trailing after them, whispering amongst themselves. The woman led them into a closed-off room. It was... too clean. Stark white. No windows. No decorations. It looked like the kind of place where lunatics were locked away. Lindarion and Luneth exchanged glances. ''...What now?'' As the last person stepped inside, the woman turned¡ª And then, without warning¡ª The door slammed shut. Chapter 57 57: Sylric Lirandel Lindarion woke up the next morning without a problem. The bedding was incredible, soft enough to swallow him whole like an endless night... though, of course, not quite as comfortable as it was at the palace. He sat up and slowly put on his uniform. It slid onto him effortlessly, like butter on warm bread¡ªfitting perfectly but still loose enough to be comfortable. The fabric was flawless to the touch. ''Not bad.'' The uniform resembled a blazer, though not quite. The only glaring difference? A huge white number 1 engraved on the right side of the chest, practically screaming for attention. He strapped his sword to his belt, it looked perfect. Like a small decoration adding a little detail to his simple uniform. ''They could''ve made it a little smaller... maybe a lot smaller.'' Shaking his head, Lindarion left his room at a relaxed pace. ''Hm?'' Students were rushing down the hallways, their hurried footsteps echoing off the academy walls. He looked up at the clock at the end of the corridor. ''...You''ve got to be kidding me.'' He was almost late. If he wanted to make it to class on time, he had to step on it. Less than ten minutes left. The countdown had begun. Without hesitation, he started following the students running ahead of him. ''I should be fine.'' Effortlessly, he caught up with them in no time and soon found himself before the grand academy. Its architecture was bathed in dark hues, giving off an aura reminiscent of the night itself. ''Seems perfect, exactly my style.'' He shook his head again and rushed inside, scanning for Classroom 1. After all, he was in Class One¡ªthe supposed best of the best. After a short search, he stopped before a door marked with two bold number ones. One for the year, one for the class. But there was one problem. It was too quiet inside. ''That''s suspicious for a classroom..even if it''s the best of the best students of the first years...'' Slowly, he pushed the door open and stepped in. The classroom was almost full. The number of desks was... concerning. In fact, there were far fewer than he expected. Massive windows lined the walls, framed by luxurious black-and-white curtains, giving the room a sophisticated atmosphere. At the front stood a small podium and an enormous chalkboard. The moment he stepped in, every student turned to look at him. ''They are staring so openly.'' Ignoring the gazes, he casually looked around for a seat¡ªpreferably in the back. Lindarion had been an enthusiastic student in his past life. ...Or not. Not at all. He settled next to a white-haired girl with striking blue eyes, who was quietly gazing out the window as if nothing in the world could bother her. ''This is the perfect place.'' Just as he got comfortable, a familiar figure walked in. Silver-white hair flowing dramatically behind her¡ªdespite the complete lack of wind. Lindarion and Luneth locked eyes. Then, without hesitation, Luneth walked straight toward him. ''...'' Lindarion''s thoughts froze as he got a closer look at Luneth''s uniform. The female uniform. It was completely different... at least on Luneth. Wait... she chose to wear that? Up until now, he hadn''t noticed because the girl beside him was wearing long pants. However Luneth was wearing a small skirt and some...big socks? Or thigh highs maybe...? Without a word, Luneth sat down next to him. Now, the three of them sat in silence¡ªLuneth staring forward, the girl still gazing out the window. And Lindarion? Stuck in the middle like an unwilling participant in a sandwich. Defeated, he sighed inwardly. Then¡ª BAM! The door slammed open. No, it was basically kicked open as two guys¡ªones he had just overtaken earlier¡ªcame rushing in, panting. ''Right on time, they nearly got cooked.'' Immediately after them, a tall man walked in. Short black hair, an unkempt beard, and eyes barely visible beneath his messy bangs. He strolled toward the podium at an almost painfully slow pace, while the two latecomers quickly scrambled into their seats. ''So this is everyone. I''m assuming.'' The man exhaled heavily before tapping his fingers lazily on the podium. "Haa... Twenty of you, huh? Alright, guess that means everyone''s here." His voice was dull. Flat. Completely uninterested. ''He doesn''t even want to be here, does he?'' Lindarion propped his chin on his hand as the man thought. And thought. And continued thinking. Students exchanged awkward glances. No one had a clue what was going on. ''This guy''s a teacher? Seriously?'' The man''s deadpan gaze slowly swept over the class. Then, with another sigh, he finally opened his mouth. "I''m your... hmm..." ''...He has to be trolling, there is no way he is doing this normally.'' Lindarion glanced around. The other students were giving him the same look. Even the white-haired girl beside him¡ªwho had been perfectly calm up until now¡ªwas now staring, her blue eyes twitching in irritation. Luneth, however, remained unmoved. Cold. Unfazed. Completely indifferent. After what felt like an eternity, the man finally continued. "I''m your homeroom teacher... Sylric Lirandel. Homeroom teacher... yeah, I think that''s the right term?" As soon as he finished, he yawned. Then, as if nothing had happened, he casually ran a hand through his messy hair. His completely unimportant messy hair. His sluggish gaze slowly crawled across the class... like a snail. "So... today..." A long pause. Then, rubbing his eyes, he sighed again. "..." At this point, the students looked like they were about to explode. Until¡ª A voice rang out beside Lindarion. "Is he seriously not going to finish that sentence?!" ''...'' All eyes turned toward the source. The white-haired girl, who was now leaning on her desk, a visible vein throbbing on her forehead. She said what they were all thinking. Lindarion, still resting his head on his hand, shifted his gaze back to their so-called professor. Who, in response, simply scratched his beard. Like nothing had just happened. "Hm... uh... Elara Hargrave...right? Maybe keep it down a little?" His tone was completely neutral as he looked at some papers in his hands. He seemed detached from the world. Like a child still figuring out how words worked. ''This has to be a joke. Is this seriously the best academy in the world?'' Lindarion''s eyes widened in disbelief. And he wasn''t alone. Meanwhile, Elara''s vein only pulsed harder. Any second now, it might just pop. Sylric Lirandel blinked slowly, as if processing the situation at a glacial pace. His fingers lazily scratched his beard while his other hand rested on the podium in a way that screamed, I don''t want to be here. Meanwhile, Elara was visibly shaking. The throbbing vein on her forehead looked like it was about to burst. The tension in the room was unbearable. Lindarion shifted uncomfortably in his seat. On his right, Luneth remained completely unmoved. On his left, Elara looked one second away from leaping onto the podium and shaking the life back into their so-called professor or homeroom teacher...whatever it was at this point Then, just as the silence became unbearable, Sylric finally spoke. "Right, so... what was I saying?" A collective twitch ran through the class. ''He doesn''t even remember?'' Lindarion stared in sheer disbelief, as did nearly every other student in the room. "You weren''t saying anything sir Sylric!" Elara snapped, finally losing her patience. Sylric blinked again. "Huh. That''s a problem." "Yes it is a problem sir!" Elara slammed her hands on her face. Lindarion could almost hear the crack forming in her patience. The other students, meanwhile, were somewhere between horrified and entertained. Some had started whispering to each other. Others just stared at Sylric like he was a rare species of idiot. Sylric, for his part, just sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair again. "Well, if I wasn''t saying anything, then I guess we should start class." "You guess sir?!" Elara looked like she was questioning every life choice that led her to this moment. Ignoring her completely, Sylric grabbed a piece of chalk and lazily scribbled his name onto the board in large, looping letters. Sylric Lirandel Then, turning back to the class, he crossed his arms and nodded. "Right. That''s how my name is spelt for...uh anyone wondering." No one responded. Silence. Unbearable, awkward silence. Lindarion slowly blinked, waiting for some kind of explanation. Nothing came. That was it. That was the introduction. The entire class just stared at him in silence. "...And?" Someone finally said, breaking the silence. Sylric frowned slightly, as if the student was the weird one. "And what?" "And what do you teach?!" Another student protested. A beat of silence. Sylric looked genuinely caught off guard by the question. As if he hadn''t thought about it before. Then, after a painfully long pause, he nodded to himself and said. "Magic." A long silence followed. Elara''s fingers dug into her desk, her frustration boiling over. "Magic what?" Lindarion asked from the back as heads turned towards him. Sylric tilted his head slightly, as if the question confused him. "Magic... things?" ''This guy...'' Lindarion exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temples. Somewhere in front of him, a student groaned in despair. Another muttered "We''re doomed." Even Luneth, who had remained indifferent up until now, briefly raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Elara had reached her limit. She stood up so fast that her chair nearly toppled over. "Magic things? What does that even MEAN?!" Sylric, unfazed, simply waved a hand. "Relax....relax. I''ll figure it out, student Elara..." "YOU DON''T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU TEACH SIR?!" Sylric scratched his beard thoughtfully at Elara''s question. "That''s a...strong accusation," he murmured. "It''s not an accusation, it''s an observation!" Another student chimed in as Sylric sighed dramatically, as if he was the one suffering. "Alright, alright. Let''s not be so hasty my dear...students.. This is only the first day." Elara looked like she was about to throw something at him. Or maybe throw herself out the window. Lindarion, meanwhile, sank further into his seat, covering his face with his hand. ''This is going to be a long long year.'' Chapter 59 59: Duo Sparring (2) Victor and Vivienne were both on the edge now. The sudden shift in Nikolai''s presence had caught them a little off guard. Elara dusted off her sleeves, her smirk still present. "About time you started acting like you belonged here." Nikolai exhaled, his hands clenching into fists as the air around him grew heavier. The ground trembled slightly beneath his feet. Victor cracked his knuckles, his grin returning. "Alright, I take back what I said. This might actually be fun." Vivienne glanced at him. "Don''t get reckless." Victor waved her off, stepping forward as the water around his arms thickened, forming solid, twisting tendrils. "Relax. I''ve got this." Elara scoffed. "Do you, though?" Then she moved. It was subtle¡ªjust a shift of weight, a slight lean¡ªbut in the next second, she was gone, dashing toward Victor with frightening speed. Victor reacted quickly, swinging an arm up. A wave of water surged forward, a crashing tide aiming to intercept her. Elara didn''t even slow down. Instead, she dropped low, sliding across the ground, a thin layer of ice forming beneath her as she skated past the water like it was nothing. Victor''s eyes widened¡ª And then Elara was behind him. She pivoted on her heel and launched a sharp kick straight toward his back. Victor barely twisted in time, raising an arm to block¡ª BANG. The force sent him skidding forward, his feet digging into the dirt. "Shit¡ª" Before he could regain his balance, the ground rumbled again. Nikolai had finally stepped in. A massive chunk of earth erupted beneath Victor, knocking him further off balance. Vivienne acted fast. She flicked her wrist, and a whip of fire lashed out, striking the earth and shattering it before it could fully trap Victor. Victor landed in a crouch, shaking off the dirt. His expression had finally lost its casual amusement. "...Alright," he muttered, standing up straight. "Guess I can''t slack off." He lifted a hand, and the mist around him darkened, the moisture in the air condensing. The temperature dropped slightly¡ªnot from cold, but from the sheer density of water magic gathering. Vivienne took a slow step forward. Nikolai shifted his stance, his feet pressing firmly into the ground. The energy in his core pulsed, syncing with the earth beneath him. Elara rolled her shoulders. "Finally taking us seriously?" Victor exhaled, a smirk forming. "Yeah." Then he moved. Water surged like a tidal wave, splitting apart into sharpened tendrils. Each one coiled like a serpent, striking toward Elara and Nikolai in unison. At the same time, Vivienne snapped her fingers. A ring of fire erupted around her before she dashed forward, heat distorting the air around her. Lindarion leaned back in his seat, watching with open amusement. ''Yeah, this is getting good.'' Elara flicked her wrist, and a sharp spike of ice shot forward, aiming straight for Victor''s chest. Victor didn''t flinch. Water surged around his arm, swirling into a dense shield that absorbed the impact before splashing to the ground. He smirked. "Not bad, but¡ª" Vivienne dashed forward, cutting him off. Her flames roared to life, blazing up her arms as she closed the gap between her and Elara. Elara barely had time to react. She brought up an icy barrier¡ª Too slow. Vivienne''s fist smashed through the frost like it was paper, her flames detonating in a burst of heat. Elara gritted her teeth as she was sent flying, rolling across the ground before skidding to a stop. Steam hissed from her body, her uniform slightly singed. Lindarion winced from the sidelines. ''Yeah... that one had to hurt.'' Nikolai, seeing his partner take a direct hit, finally moved. He stomped down, and the ground beneath Victor and Vivienne cracked, a jagged wall of stone shooting up between them. Victor reacted first. Water surged at his feet, propelling him up and over the obstacle like a tide. He landed smoothly, raising his palm¡ªthen snapped his fingers. The mist in the air condensed instantly. Water droplets floated midair¡ªthen solidified into thin, razor-sharp needles. Before Nikolai could react, Victor flicked his wrist¡ª The water needles shot forward like a storm of arrows. Nikolai managed to raise a stone shield, but it was rushed¡ªseveral needles tore through, slamming into his arms and legs. He grunted, staggering backward, blood trickling from small but numerous wounds. "See?" Victor grinned. "Told you I''d take this seriously." Sylric scribbled something in his notebook. Possible sadist? Lindarion choked back a laugh. Elara struggled to get back to her feet, but Vivienne was already on her again. A swift kick to the ribs sent her back down, breath knocked out of her lungs. "Stay down," Vivienne muttered. "You fought well." Elara scowled but couldn''t argue¡ªshe was done. Nikolai, seeing Elara defeated, hesitated. He looked at Victor with growing desperation¡ªhe wasn''t ready to admit this was over...after finally mustering up the courage to fight. Victor''s grin faltered just a bit as Nikolai raised his fists to the sky, the earth beneath him shaking. The ground split apart. Nikolai was charging his final attack, all his energy channeled into a massive tremor that rippled across the battlefield. Victor and Vivienne barely dodged as boulders and spikes shot from the ground like spears. "Is this your last stand?" Victor called, his voice almost amused. "I-I''m not giving up!" Nikolai growled, teeth clenched. Victor glanced at Vivienne. "Ready?" "Let''s finish it." Then, with a snap of Victor''s fingers, a flood of water rushed forward, drowning Nikolai''s attack. He raised his arms in defense, but it was futile. A massive wave crashed into him, and his entire body was thrown backward, tumbling across the battlefield. He groaned, unable to rise. Vivienne shook her head. "It''s over." Victor exhaled, watching the defeated warriors with a smirk. "See? Told you it''d be fun." Sylric sighed. "Match over...Vivienne and Victor wins..." The spectators clapped¡ªsome cheered, some groaned, depending on who they had been rooting for. Sylric flipped his papers. "Next fight¡ªLindarion Sunblade and Luneth Silverleaf versus... Adam Pierce and Valen Nighthollow." An average-looking human boy and an elf stood up. Lindarion raised an eyebrow at Valen who had the typical silver like hair. ''Nighthollow, huh? He seems to be from Sylvarion..'' The two stepped onto the battlefield. Adam cracked his knuckles, while Valen simply smoothed down his sleeves. Lindarion didn''t wait. Lightning crackled around his fingertips as a grin spread across his face. ''Time to put on a show.'' Lindarion smirked, hands in his pockets as he watched Valen and Adam carefully position themselves. His golden hair swayed slightly, faint sparks of lightning crackling along his fingertips. Luneth stood beside him, arms crossed, watching their opponents with a blank expression. Ice misted around her fingertips, but she hadn''t made a move yet. Sylric raised a hand. "Begin." Adam reacted first. He slammed his foot down, and magma burst from the ground, surging toward Lindarion and Luneth in a molten wave. ''The fuck? A magma affinity?'' Lindarion thought as Luneth sighed. With a flick of her wrist, a cold gust erupted around her, and the magma froze mid-flow, instantly solidifying into black obsidian. Adam''s eyes widened. "What¡ª" Before he could finish, Lindarion was already moving. He didn''t even use his full speed¡ªjust enough to appear as a blur to their eyes. CRACK! Lightning surged as he tapped Adam''s shoulder. Not a strike, not even a real attack¡ªjust a teasing, harmless jolt. But Adam flinched, his body locking up from the shock. Lindarion grinned. "Too slow." Valen took his chance, wind swirling around his feet as he darted forward, moving faster than before. His dagger gleamed as he slashed at Lindarion''s side. Luneth acted before he could land the strike. A wall of frost shot up between them, forcing Valen to twist mid-air to avoid slamming into it. But as he landed, Lindarion was already there, crouched beside him. "Hey there." Lindarion smirked. Then¡ªZAP. A tiny spark jumped from Lindarion''s finger to Valen''s arm. Valen barely had time to react before a sharp, tingling sensation shot through his entire body. His muscles locked up as the static numbed his nerves, forcing him to stumble back. Lindarion leaned on Luneth''s ice wall, stretching lazily. "You guys sure you don''t want to surrender?" Adam scowled, shaking off the lingering shock. "You''re playing with us." Lindarion tilted his head. "Maybe." Adam roared, slamming both hands into the ground. A massive surge of molten rock exploded around him, forming an eruption of flaming projectiles that shot toward Lindarion and Luneth. Luneth exhaled, her breath misting in the air. Then she moved. With a single elegant step, she raised a hand, and a small blizzard erupted around her. Every fiery projectile that came near was instantly extinguished, the sheer cold snuffing them out before they could even reach her. Adam''s eyes widened as his strongest attack was effortlessly negated. Lindarion chuckled, glancing at Luneth. "Show-off." Luneth didn''t respond. Instead, she flicked her wrist¡ª SHHNK! Sharp ice spikes shot forward, aiming for both Adam and Valen. Valen managed to summon a powerful gust of wind, knocking some of them away, but a few still grazed his arms. Adam had it worse¡ªhe barely avoided getting impaled, rolling to the side as the ice shattered against the ground beside him. Lindarion sighed. "Well, this was fun." Then he disappeared. Adam barely had time to blink before¡ª BZZZT! A powerful surge of lightning shot through his body as Lindarion appeared behind him, delivering a gentle tap to the back of his neck. Adam''s eyes rolled up as he collapsed, body convulsing slightly before going still. Lindarion turned to Valen, flexing his fingers. "Your turn, I guess?" Valen hesitated. He was panting, already drained from deflecting Luneth''s attacks. His gaze flickered between Lindarion and Luneth, assessing his chances. Luneth stared at him blankly as her voice was cold like a blizzard."You won''t win." ''Wow, didn''t expect her to say that.'' Lindarion stared at Luneth whilst Valen exhaled sharply. Then¡ªhe dropped his stance, raising his hands. "I surrender." Sylric didn''t sigh this time, his eyes seemed to be spread wide open like never before as he marked something on his notes. "Match over, Lindarion and Luneth win." No cheers or anything of the sort. Just a shock of silence enveloped the arena. Chapter 60 60: Duo Sparring (3) Vivienne watched the match with wide eyes. Well, if you could even call it a match. It ended fast. Luneth and Lindarion completely wrecked Adam and Valen. ''Adam''s all brawn, no brain. And Valen... well, he doesn''t like trying too hard when he knows it''s pointless.'' Vivienne replayed the entire battle in her mind¡ªit probably lasted a couple of minutes, at best. Lindarion''s performance was... absurd. His strength? Even more so. ''So this is how strong he''s become...'' She remembered the young elf who had once danced with her at a ball. But the one before her now? He was leagues beyond them¡ªso much so that it felt like he was toying with them. A chill ran down her spine. Her brown eyes flicked to Lindarion as he casually sat down beside Luneth, completely unbothered. ''Just how much more strength are you hiding...?'' ¡ª ''Hm?'' Lindarion blinked as he took his seat, the weight of countless gazes pressing into him. But one, in particular, stood out. ''Vivienne?'' Her brown eyes bore into him, steady and unreadable. Their gazes locked for a fraction of a second¡ªthen, as if nothing had happened, she turned away. His brow twitched. ''Why does she always do that?'' Shaking his head, Lindarion shifted his focus to Sylric, who was scanning his papers with the energy of a man who regretted all his life choices. "Ahem... Let''s continue. Next up... Jack Valerian and Rowan Vailis." Lindarion exhaled through his nose. ''Jack... Valerian?'' A very familiar, self-satisfied boy strutted into the arena like he was royalty. His short brown hair sat so neatly on his head that it might as well have been glued in place. Behind him followed a red-haired boy. Lindarion recalled a certain incident¡ªJack had tried to punch him before...once. Tried being the keyword. It went about as well as one would expect. ''You''re kidding. This clown made it in too?'' Sylric let out a sigh of his own, clearly sharing Lindarion''s sentiments. "And facing them will be... hmm... Cassian Holt and Solren Graves." A boy with green hair stepped forward, alongside an older man with blue hair. Lindarion squinted. Wait. Was Cassian a boy? Or a girl? ...Honestly, it was hard to tell with that build. But one thing was certain¡ªthe badge Cassian had just slipped into his pocket. [ 1 | 2 ] Second place, huh? Cassian''s lips curled into a wry smile, his violet eyes shimmering like fractured glass. ''...Creepy.'' Sylric''s voice echoed across the field. "The match begins... now!" Cassian wasted no time. A single motion¡ªand he was gone. A blur. Wind wrapped around him, sharpening his already ridiculous speed as Solren gathered air into his hands, accelerating Cassian''s movements. A faint shimmer trailed in Cassian''s wake¡ªcrystalline dust, refracting the light like a thousand tiny mirrors. Lindarion''s fingers twitched. ''What the fuck is that affinity?'' Jack barely had time to react before Cassian was on him. With an elegant twist, Cassian swept low, his hand grazing the ground. A thin layer of translucent crystal spread outward in an instant, forcing Jack to jump back. But Cassian was faster. A solid spike erupted from the ground, aiming straight for Jack''s chest. "Tch¡ª!" Jack threw himself to the side, a burst of flames propelling him out of danger. He landed poorly, skidding against the dirt. "You little¡ª" A sudden gust of wind knocked him off balance. Solren. Jack''s face twisted with irritation, but before he could retaliate, Rowan moved. Dark crimson tendrils lashed from Rowan''s fingertips, whipping toward Cassian in a flurry. Cassian didn''t even flinch. A slight tilt of his fingers¡ªcrystals bloomed in the air, forming a smooth, impenetrable barrier. The blood tendrils slapped against it uselessly before freezing in place, trapped within the crystalline structure. Lindarion let out a slow breath. ''Efficient. Too efficient. He seems to have some kind of affinity with crystals...?'' Jack, of course, refused to accept reality. His palm ignited, flames roaring to life. "Let''s see you block this, freak¡ª!" The inferno surged forward. For a split second, Lindarion wondered if Cassian would dodge. He didn''t. Instead, he took a step forward¡ªand breathed. The moment the fire touched his skin, a layer of crystal surged outward, swallowing the flames whole. The air shimmered, and when the light faded, Cassian stood untouched, his body encased in delicate, glass-like armor. Jack''s confidence shattered like brittle ice. "You¡ªwhat¡ª" Cassian moved. A pulse of crystalline energy shot through the ground. Jack barely had time to blink before his legs were encased in solid crystal. Sylric''s calm voice cut through the tension. "That''s... enough now." The restraints melted away at once. "The winners are... Cassian Holt and Solren Graves." Jack''s face burned with humiliation. Rowan exhaled, brushing dirt off his sleeve with a resigned sigh. Cassian, meanwhile, stepped back without a word, his expression unreadable. His hands slid into his pockets, gaze lowered, as if uncomfortable with the attention. Lindarion''s sharp eyes followed him. ''Strong. Too strong. But... he doesn''t want to stand out?'' A stark contrast to someone like Jack, who practically begged for recognition. Solren gave Cassian a nod. Cassian returned it subtly before vanishing into the crowd. Lindarion leaned back, tilting his head slightly. ''Interesting.'' Sylric clapped his hands together, already looking tired. "Next match...let''s keep going." Lindarion exhaled slowly. He wasn''t particularly interested in the rest of the spars¡ªnone of them would be as one-sided as Cassian and Solren''s. The fights continued, some more balanced than others. A few students displayed impressive coordination, but for the most part, it was clear who the stronger ones were. Some matches ended within seconds, others dragged out with drawn-out exchanges of magic. Vivienne made occasional comments under her breath, barely more than whispers. Luneth, however, remained quiet, arms crossed, watching with a faintly amused look. Eventually, Sylric ran a hand through his hair, looking over the names on his list. "Alright...I guess that concludes the spars for today." A few groans of exhaustion echoed from the group. Others looked relieved. Lindarion rolled his shoulders as he stood. ''Finally.'' Sylric''s gaze swept over them, his usual sharp expression returning. "Back to the classroom. I guess..." The group shuffled toward the main building. Lindarion walked a few steps behind Luneth, listening idly to the murmurs around him. Jack was still fuming. "That was rigged," he muttered under his breath. Rowan shot him a dry look. "You lost." "I slipped¡ª" "No, you got crushed," a voice cut in¡ªVivienne, for once, looking entertained. Jack scowled but said nothing, shoving his hands in his pockets. Up ahead, Cassian and Solren walked side by side, neither saying much. Lindarion let his gaze linger on Cassian for a moment. ''Quiet. Strong. But he still seems like he doesn''t want attention.'' A contrast to the loudmouthed idiots still bickering behind him. He sighed, stuffing his hands into his cloak pockets. ''This is going to be a long year.'' ¡ª The classroom was filled with the low hum of murmured conversations as the students filed in, some still nursing bruised egos from their earlier spars. Lindarion took his seat next to Luneth and Elara, stretching out his legs as he leaned back slightly. His eyes flicked toward Jack and Vivienne, who had settled into their usual spots. His ears perked as he listened to their conversation. Jack was still sulking, arms crossed, jaw tight. Vivienne, on the other hand, looked unbothered¡ªif anything, she seemed amused by her brother''s misery. "You know," she said casually, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "for someone who never shuts up about being the best, you certainly don''t win much." Jack shot her a glare. "Oh, shut up, Vivienne." "I mean, I get it," she continued, ignoring him completely. "Cassian''s strong. But you? You''re supposed to be the great Jack Valerian, heir to the mighty Valerian family." She placed a hand on her chest mockingly. "So tragic. So humiliating." Jack''s eye twitched. "Viv¡ª" "I can only imagine what Mother would say," she sighed dramatically. "What would she think if she knew her precious son got frozen in place like an idiot?" Jack slammed his hands onto the desk, flames flickering at his fingertips. "Vivienne¡ª" "Jack Valerian...," Sylric''s voice cut in, lazy and unimpressed about the whole thing. "Control...yourself." Jack stiffened, the fire instantly extinguishing. He clenched his jaw and slumped back into his chair, muttering curses under his breath. Vivienne smirked in victory. Lindarion raised a brow. ''She''s relentless.'' His gaze drifted toward Cassian, who sat at the other end of the room, quiet like a ghost. His crystal affinity was undeniably powerful¡ªLindarion had seen affinities in action over his months with Erebus, but Cassian''s control was on an entirely different level compared to most of the people he had seen. ''And yet... he seemed to be holding back.'' Lindarion could tell. Cassian didn''t use more force than necessary, he didn''t let his emotions get the best of him. He was measured. Careful. And that was more dangerous than raw power. Luneth nudged his arm, breaking him out of his thoughts. "He''s good," Luneth murmured. "Cassian, I mean." Lindarion hummed in agreement. "Yeah." Sylric cleared his throat, dragging everyone''s attention back to the front of the room. "Now that you''re all done...uh embarrassing yourselves¡ª" His gaze lingered on Jack for a moment, "Let''s move on." Lindarion let out a quiet breath. ''Finally.'' Chapter 61 61: Weapon Art Sylric leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand through his already disheveled hair as he let out a slow yawn. His posture was loose, almost lazy, but his voice remained sharp. "Right... let''s talk about affinity utilization," he mumbled, flipping idly through a stack of papers. "You''ve all seen enough today to know magic isn''t just about throwing fireballs or swinging a weapon harder." He barely glanced up as he continued. "Take Cassian, for example. Crystals and...stuff, right?" He waved a hand vaguely, as if the topic bored him. "You think you saw him using his affinity? Realistically, that was just a taste. You can''t really tell unless you''ve seen it up close¡ªand even then, it''s like watching a snail crawl. Slow, but it gets where it''s going." A student raised an eyebrow as she lifted her hand. "You mean he was holding back?" Sylric finally looked up, blinking as though the effort physically pained him. "Yeah, sure. Holding back. But that''s not the point. The point is, he was using his affinity in a way that makes everything look effortless. The way he stopped Jack''s fire with those crystals? That wasn''t raw power. That was control." Another yawn. He looked ready to pass out. "And that''s what most of you need to focus on. Not strength. Control." Lindarion leaned forward slightly, his attention sharpening despite Sylric''s lethargy. "So it''s about knowing when and how to apply it?" Sylric nodded absently, his head tilting as if he might fall asleep at any moment. "Yes... The real key is not just throwing your affinity out when you need it, but to¡ª" he made a vague motion with his hand, "¡ªfeel it. Like it''s part of you. You don''t just build a wall of crystal. You guide it. Make it work for you." Vivienne straightened, her gaze flicking from Lindarion back to Sylric. "But how do you even start? How do you feel your magic?" Sylric let out a slow exhale, his eyes half-lidded. "You practice. You throw magic at a wall a thousand times until you figure out what works and what doesn''t. But if you force it, you''ll burn out. And trust me, you don''t want to burn out." Lindarion''s fingers twitched slightly as he raised his hand again. "So, it''s not just about controlling the affinity, but controlling yourself?" For the first time, Sylric''s gaze sharpened, his usual sleepy detachment slipping for just a moment. "Exactly. If you''re not in control of yourself, you won''t be in control of your magic. And if you''re not controlling your magic..." He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Well, then you''re just a walking disaster waiting to happen." He stretched, letting out a lazy groan. "Anyway, that''s the gist. Feel your affinity, control it. The rest follows." With that, he slumped back, arms draping over the sides of the chair. "Now, if you''ll excuse me, I''m going to take a nap. Think about all that affinity stuff on your own." Lindarion resisted the urge to sigh. Seriously? Elara snorted, amused by Sylric''s attitude, while Vivienne muttered under her breath, "Well, that was... enlightening." Lindarion said nothing, but his mind was already working through the concept. Feel the affinity. Control it. It sounded simple. But something told him it wouldn''t be. ¡ª Lindarion followed his classmates down the hall, the hum of conversation and the soft shuffle of feet the only sounds accompanying them. He could feel the weight of the day catching up to him, but this next class was different¡ªone he was actually looking forward to. Weapon arts. The door was slightly ajar when they arrived. Inside, an elven woman stood with an air of quiet confidence. She was tall, blonde, and moved with a grace that was effortless yet deliberate. Her long hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, and her bright blue eyes carried the sharpness of someone who had lived by the blade. ''She''s from my country.'' Lindarion studied her as she adjusted the straps of two finely crafted swords resting on a nearby table. The weapons were perfectly balanced, not just in weight, but in how they seemed to belong to her. As the students entered, her gaze flicked toward them, measuring, assessing. "Ah, you''re all here." Her voice was calm but carried an authority that demanded attention. "I am Lady Elandria, and I will be instructing you in the foundations of weapon arts." Lindarion didn''t miss how her gaze lingered on two students in particular¡ªCassian and himself. ''She''s looking at us?'' He wasn''t sure what to make of that. Lady Elandria stepped forward, her posture poised but relaxed. "Today, we focus on foundational stances and footwork. Weapon arts are more than simply wielding a sword. They are about understanding your body and the energy of your weapon. Without a solid foundation, no strike will have true power." Lindarion straightened instinctively, years of training kicking in. He exchanged a glance with Luneth, who was already eyeing a nearby spear with interest. Vivienne, as usual, looked indifferent¡ªbut Lindarion knew she wouldn''t slack off in a class like this. Lady Elandria motioned to the weapons lined against the wall. "Choose one, or use your own." She paused. "Pick something that feels right to you." Lindarion tightened his grip on his sword. He already knew. The weapon felt like an extension of himself¡ªbalanced, familiar, alive in his hand. As the others made their selections, Lady Elandria stepped forward. "We begin with stances." Her movements were fluid as she demonstrated, feet positioned with precision, weight evenly distributed. "This is a neutral stance. The foundation for all forms. Your weapon is ready, but not committed. Balance is key." Lindarion shifted his stance, mirroring her. His feet moved without hesitation, his posture firm. Elandria''s sharp gaze flicked to him. ''He''s experienced.'' "Good," she said, before moving on. "Now, the forward guard." She shifted, her front foot taking the lead, sword raising with a smooth, controlled motion. "This is an offensive stance. It allows for quick strikes, but still maintains balance." Lindarion followed suit, feeling the familiar tension in his body. But as he moved, he recalled Sylric''s words from earlier. Feel the affinity. Be one with it. Was basically the same with swords. The concept made sense now. Magic and swordplay weren''t so different. Both required control¡ªof the energy, the motion, and ultimately, of oneself. Lady Elandria moved through the class, correcting postures, adjusting grips. When she reached Vivienne, she murmured, "Your body must be fluid, like water. Rigid stances are weak stances." Vivienne narrowed her eyes slightly, adjusting her footing. "Now, footwork," Elandria continued. "Without proper footwork, your strikes will be slow. You will lose control." Lindarion took his first step, shifting his weight, his movements smooth. Too smooth. The years of fencing didn''t fail me, at least. As they continued, the motions became more natural. He wasn''t just stepping¡ªhe was flowing. By the time the lesson ended, Lindarion wasn''t even tired. If anything, he felt exhilarated. Lady Elandria gave them all a measured look. "Tomorrow, we will begin offensive moves. And perhaps... sparring." Lindarion exhaled, gripping his sword. For the first time in a while, he knew he was on the right path. Lindarion exited the training hall, his sword still in hand as he absentmindedly wiped the blade with a cloth. His classmates dispersed in different directions, some chatting excitedly about the lesson, others lost in their own thoughts. The evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and burning torches that lined the academy''s corridors. His muscles still held the ghost of movement from the drills¡ªhis body thrived on the repetition, on the discipline of control. As he turned toward the dormitories, a quiet voice stopped him. "Um... Lindarion Sunblade right...?" Lindarion turned his head slightly. Cassian stood a few paces behind him, looking like he was debating whether or not to approach. His posture was tense¡ªshoulders slightly hunched, hands fidgeting at the edges of his sleeves. Lindarion arched an eyebrow. Cassian didn''t seem like the type to start conversations. In fact, he seemed more comfortable with his crystals than with people. "You need something?" Lindarion asked, keeping his tone neutral. Cassian hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His green hair caught the glow of the torches, and his violet eyes flickered downward before glancing back up. "I¡ªum. I saw you in class today. With your a-amazing sword." Lindarion waited. Cassian cleared his throat and quickly added, "You were good." Then, as if realizing how abrupt that sounded, he ducked his head slightly and murmured, "Really good." Lindarion blinked, taken aback. Cassian seemed to be many things¡ªreserved, soft-spoken, perpetually lost in thought¡ªbut not particularly vocal about his opinions. "I''ve had training," Lindarion said simply. He studied Cassian for a moment, noting how his fingers twitched slightly, like he wanted to say more but wasn''t sure how. Cassian inhaled, as if bracing himself. "You... you move differently than the others. It''s like..." He frowned, searching for the right words. "Like you already know what the outcome will be before you even take a step...like you already know the perfect way to move...if that makes sense." That was an interesting observation. Lindarion had never thought about it that way, but Cassian wasn''t wrong. His movements weren''t just learned¡ªthey were instinctual, the result of years of experience...training. "...I suppose that''s the goal," Lindarion replied. "Control, precision. Knowing exactly what to do before the movement even starts." Chapter 62 62: Troublesome People Cassian nodded quickly, looking almost relieved. Then, after a brief pause, he muttered, "I don''t have that." Lindarion tilted his head slightly. "What do you mean?" Cassian''s gaze dropped to the ground, his back pressed against the wall. "I''m not... like you. Or Luneth. Or even Vivienne." His voice was quieter now, like he wasn''t sure he wanted to be heard. "I can''t really fight with...weapons. I can only use magic, but it''s different. It''s slow. Calculated. People don''t¡ª" He stopped, pressing his lips together before exhaling softly. "People don''t think it''s impressive." ''Who cares about what they think...?'' Lindarion thought to himself. But Cassian wasn''t wrong...in a way. Crystals weren''t like fire or lightning¡ªthey didn''t explode or tear through a battlefield with sheer destructive force...well, they could..kind of. But that didn''t mean they weren''t powerful. "You stopped Jack''s fire with a flick of your hand," Lindarion said. "Made it look easy." Cassian flinched slightly, like he wasn''t used to being praised. "That wasn''t power," he muttered. "It was just... knowing where and when to use the crystal. How to use it properly." "Which is exactly what Sylric was talking about today," Lindarion pointed out. "Control over raw strength. Making something difficult look effortless. That''s not unimpressive." Cassian''s fingers curled slightly around his sleeve. "I guess." Lindarion wasn''t sure why, but something about Cassian''s uncertainty irritated him. He wasn''t the type to go around reassuring people, but he also wasn''t the type to let someone dismiss their own abilities so easily. So he shrugged and said, "If you ever want to test that slow, calculated magic against a sword, let me know." Cassian''s head snapped up so fast it was almost comical. His eyes widened. "Wait¡ªyou mean¡ªlike a spar?" Lindarion smirked. "Unless you''re too afraid." Cassian blinked, clearly caught between wanting to protest and not knowing how to respond. His fingers twitched again. "...I wouldn''t win." "Not with that attitude." Cassian opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking genuinely uncertain. But there was something else there too¡ªsomething thoughtful, lingering just beneath the hesitation. Lindarion rolled his shoulders and started walking towards the cafeteria. "Think about it." Cassian sat there for a moment, watching him go, before rubbing the back of his neck. "...I will." And for Cassian, that was probably the closest thing to a yes. ¡ª Lindarion stepped outside, the cool air brushing against his skin as he made his way towards the cafeteria. At least it''s refreshing. He hadn''t been at the academy long enough to memorize all the paths, but he figured if he just followed the flow of students, he''d get there eventually. Unfortunately, it seemed he wasn''t going to get there without something getting in his way. "Are you lost, little elf?" The voice came from his left¡ªcasual, amused, but with an edge that immediately set Lindarion on alert. ''What now?'' Turning, he spotted a group of third-years stepping out from under a stone archway. Four of them. Their postures were too relaxed, too casual¡ªlike they expected to be in control of whatever came next. ''I hate people like this.'' The one who had spoken was a tall, broad-shouldered boy with auburn hair, his smirk edged with something sharp. "The first-year prodigy," he drawled, arms folded. "You look lost." Lindarion''s expression didn''t change, but internally, he frowned. ''How does he even know who I am?'' He didn''t respond immediately, just shook his head and kept walking. The group spread out slightly¡ªnot enough to seem obvious, but enough to make it clear they weren''t letting him through. "So this is how it''s going to be." Lindarion''s voice was flat, his gaze sweeping over them. All older. All taller. Except for one, lingering at the back, shifting on his feet like he wasn''t sure he wanted to be there. The auburn-haired boy stepped directly into his path, forcing Lindarion to stop unless he wanted to walk straight into him. "Come on, humor me," he said, smirk widening. "You don''t really know where you''re going, do you?" Lindarion sighed. "I do." The boy blinked, as if thrown off by the sheer lack of reaction. Then he chuckled. "Really?" "Really. Now move." One of the others snorted, but the leader''s smirk sharpened. "You''ve got a mouth on you, huh? First-year prodigy." Lindarion didn''t answer. Another one, a blond boy, took a step closer, voice mock-thoughtful. "Lindarion, right? Heard a rumor about you. Some people say you cheated on the entrance exam. That''s really fucked up, man." Lindarion''s fingers twitched. The blond boy grinned. "That''s it, isn''t it? You cheated, didn''t you? You''re not actually some prodigy, just a cheating little bastard." A slow, creeping heat curled in Lindarion''s chest. He could ignore them. Could walk past. But the way they stood, the way they looked at him¡ªlike he was beneath them¡ªmade his patience wear thin. The auburn-haired boy flexed his fingers, a flicker of magic sparking at his fingertips. "C''mon," he said, almost friendly. "Let''s see if you''ve got the skills to back up that attitude. Just a little spar. No hard feelings." Lindarion exhaled. Then, without a word¡ª He moved. Not towards the auburn-haired boy, but toward the one standing behind him. The uncertain one. The one who hadn''t spoken once. The boy flinched as Lindarion closed the distance between them, eyes darting to his friends as if expecting a cue. Lindarion stopped just short of him, tilting his head slightly. "You don''t look like you want to be here." The boy swallowed. His mouth opened, then closed again. Lindarion held his gaze. "So why are you?" A tense silence followed. The other two shifted slightly, glancing between them. The auburn-haired boy''s smirk faltered. "Hey¡ª" The uncertain boy hesitated. Then, finally, he stepped back. Lindarion took that as his cue. He turned and walked away. For a moment, none of them moved. Then¡ª "Tch." The auburn-haired boy clicked his tongue, but he didn''t try to stop him. Lindarion didn''t look back. He kept walking, but as he passed, he let his aura flare. The air turned heavy. Their bodies tensed¡ªone of them staggered back, nearly dropping to his knees. "W-what¡ª" Lindarion didn''t stop. Didn''t even look at them. "If you try this again," he murmured, voice cold, "you''ll regret it." He left them standing there. And next time, if they really wanted to start something¡ª He wouldn''t bother with words. ¡ª After wandering around for what felt like forever, Lindarion finally found his destination. ''The cafeteria, finally.'' The moment he stepped inside, a wave of scents hit him¡ªfreshly baked bread, spiced meat, something sweet lingering in the air. The place was packed, voices overlapping in an unending hum of conversation. Some students were already eating, but most were still standing in line, waiting for their turn. ''Great. A huge line...'' With a quiet sigh, Lindarion moved toward the line¡ªonly to stop when a hand wrapped around his wrist. "I got you one." The voice was flat, expressionless. When he turned his head, Luneth was already holding out a tray, her dark eyes unreadable. She balanced the two trays effortlessly, her posture stiff, almost unnatural¡ªlike a server who hated their job. Lindarion took the tray without argument. "Thanks." Finding a seat turned out to be more of a struggle than expected. Every table was full. Every spare seat taken. ''You''ve got to be kidding me...'' His eyes scanned the room, and eventually, he spotted an open space¡ªright next to a familiar green-haired boy. He walked over and sat down without waiting for an answer. "This seat taken?" Cassian''s gaze flicked between him and Luneth. He swallowed, then shook his head quickly. Lindarion raised a brow. Was Cassian nervous? Luneth wasn''t even doing anything. She just existed in that detached, unreadable way of hers. Either way, none of them bothered with conversation. The three of them ate in silence, tucked away in the corner of the room, ignoring everything else. Meanwhile the cafeteria buzzed with conversation, the clatter of utensils against plates filling the space, but at their table, silence reigned. Lindarion didn''t mind. He wasn''t one for mindless chatter, and Luneth certainly wasn''t either. Cassian, on the other hand, seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn''t bring himself to. His fingers drummed lightly against the edge of his tray, his posture tense. Lindarion ignored it, focused on eating. The food wasn''t bad, but it wasn''t anything special either. Still, it was warm, and after the irritation from earlier, he welcomed it. Cassian cleared his throat suddenly. "Uh... so..." Lindarion looked up. "What?" Cassian hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing." Luneth barely spared him a glance. "If you have something to say, then you can say it." Cassian exhaled, then muttered, "I just... saw what happened outside." Lindarion didn''t react immediately, simply taking another bite of his food. "And?" Cassian fidgeted. "Nothing. Just... those guys, the third-years, they''re not the type to let things go." Lindarion finally met his gaze, chewing thoughtfully. Cassian''s expression was uncertain, but there was something else too¡ªconcern, maybe? "They looked pretty weak for people who don''t let things go," Lindarion said flatly. Cassian winced. "That''s not the point. They''re part of a bigger group, and they''ve got older students backing them. If you embarrassed them, they will try something again." Lindarion wasn''t worried. "Let them." Chapter 63 63: Mana Studies (1) Cassian sighed, clearly realizing that arguing wouldn''t get him anywhere. "You really don''t care, do you?" "No," Lindarion said. "Not at all." Cassian shook his head, muttering something under his breath before stabbing his food with his fork. Luneth finally spoke. "It was handled efficiently." ''So she saw it as well?'' Lindarion raised an eyebrow as Cassian shot her a look. "That''s not the point." Luneth blinked. "Isn''t it?" Cassian gave up. The conversation¡ªor what little of it there was¡ªdied again. The three of them returned to eating, lost in their own thoughts. Then¡ª A tray suddenly slammed down on the table beside them. Lindarion didn''t react, but Cassian nearly jumped. Luneth barely looked up, her expression as unreadable as ever. "Lindarion, right?" The voice was new, but the tone was the same as the third-years from earlier. Amused, condescending. Irritating. Lindarion didn''t even glance at the newcomer as he took another bite. "Who''s asking?" The boy sitting across from them had silver hair, sharp golden eyes, and an air of entitlement that immediately rubbed Lindarion the wrong way. His uniform was crisp, the insignia on his chest marking him as a second-year¡ªbut he just seemed like a wealthy one. The type who had never faced real consequences in his life. He smirked. "I heard you caused some trouble earlier. Gave a few of my acquaintances a hard time." Lindarion finally met his gaze, unimpressed. "And?" The boy tilted his head, as if studying him. "Just wondering if that''s how you usually act. Arrogant, reckless. Making enemies before you''ve even had time to settle in." Lindarion wiped his mouth with the edge of his sleeve and set his utensils down. Cassian tensed beside him. Luneth simply watched, her gaze unreadable. "Is there a point to this conversation?" Lindarion asked. The boy''s smirk widened. "Not really. Just thought I''d introduce myself. Nathaniel Veyre. You''ll probably be hearing my name a lot." Lindarion didn''t respond. Nathaniel leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table. "A little advice, from someone who actually understands how things work here. You might be strong, but strength alone doesn''t matter at this academy. You''re new. You don''t have connections. That makes you vulnerable." Lindarion arched his brow. "Is that a threat?" Nathaniel chuckled. "It''s a warning." Lindarion stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he leaned forward as well, his voice lowering just slightly. "I don''t care. I''m not scared of you or your little friends either." Nathaniel''s smirk twitched. Lindarion tilted his head. "You want to act like you run this place? Fine. I won''t stop you. But if you come to me, looking for trouble..." His voice remained calm, but the air around them grew heavy. "Then don''t expect me to just let it slide." Nathaniel''s expression didn''t change, but his fingers twitched slightly. He felt it. The pressure. The subtle warning beneath Lindarion''s words. The tension stretched for another moment. Then¡ª Nathaniel exhaled a quiet laugh. "Interesting." He pushed himself back from the table, standing smoothly. "You''re different from the usual first-years. I''ll give you that." He turned to leave, but paused just a step away. "Oh," he added, glancing back. "You might want to watch your back. Just a thought." Lindarion didn''t respond as Nathaniel walked away. Cassian let out a breath he''d apparently been holding. "Yeah. So. That was... something." Luneth took a sip of her drink. "You attract attention easily." ''Seriously..?'' Lindarion sighed, pushing his tray aside as he looked at Luneth.. "I didn''t plan to attract this kind of attention. I hate people like them. Cassian groaned. "You and me both." Lindarion leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he watched Nathaniel disappear into the crowd. He hadn''t been at the academy long, but one thing was already clear¡ª ''This place is going to be a little annoying.'' Cassian cleared his throat. "A-Anyways, our next class is Mana Studies with Professor Nyx Astrel.." ''...who the hell is that..?'' Lindarion didn''t have a single clue about who she was...but he couldn''t even be bothered about it right now. ¡ª The three of them stepped into the classroom, and Lindarion immediately noted how bare it was. No extravagant decorations, no unnecessary frills¡ªjust rows of desks, heavy black-and-white curtains draping over the tall windows, and a single massive chalkboard at the front with a ginormous table.. ''So it''s just like our own classroom. The only difference is... more seats.'' Lindarion slipped into the back row, Luneth wordlessly following suit. Cassian hesitated for a second before sitting beside him, a small, uncertain smile on his face. He probably doesn''t know many people yet. Lindarion glanced at him before looking away. ''Not that I do either.'' The people he did know... well, he didn''t exactly have the best memories with them. ''Except Luneth.'' Luneth, as always, sat perfectly straight, staring ahead with that blank, ghost-like expression, as if she weren''t really there. More students began pouring in, filling up the seats, until the classroom buzzed with conversation. Everyone sat. Everyone waited. And waited. And then¡ª A familiar figure strode into the room. Lindarion''s stomach dropped. ''Oh, you''ve got to be kidding me.'' The woman''s emerald-green eyes gleamed like sunlight filtering through a dense forest, her long, jet-black hair tied up neatly. The faint reflection of daylight bounced off her thin-rimmed glasses as she smiled at the class. ''So her name is Nyx Astrel.'' The woman from the tenth tent. Nyx cleared her throat lightly before addressing the students. "Well then," she said, her voice smooth, amused. "Let''s begin." Her sharp gaze flicked over the students, scanning them as if mentally checking off names. She stopped. "...Jack Valerian?" No response. Nyx turned her attention to Vivienne, who simply shrugged. "Not here." Nyx hummed in acknowledgment, clearly unfazed. "Well, that''s a problem, then. I''ll report it to your homeroom teacher." She set her notes down on the desk, then strode toward the board with unhurried confidence. "Today, we begin with Mana Cores." Nyx moved like a shadow, her robe flowing behind her as she stepped into the center of the room. She clasped her hands behind her back, her gaze flickering between the students. "Magic without control," she said softly, "is chaos. And chaos without understanding is weakness." Her voice wasn''t loud, but somehow, everyone heard her. "All of you possess mana. But possessing something and wielding it properly are two entirely different things. So tell me..." She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "What is a Mana Core?" The class remained silent for a moment before a hand slowly lifted. Nikolai. He hesitated, then said, "...I-It''s where magic comes from?" Nyx let out a quiet breath through her nose. It wasn''t exactly a sigh¡ªmore like a mix of mild disappointment and amusement. "A half-truth." She flicked her fingers. A ripple of dark energy shimmered through the air. In the next instant, a glowing orb of swirling violet and indigo materialized in front of her. It pulsed¡ªslow, steady, like a heartbeat. "A Mana Core," she said, her voice steady, "is the heart of a mage''s magic. It is not merely a source¡ªbut a vessel, a refinery. It absorbs raw mana, purifies it, strengthens it." The orb dimmed slightly as she twisted her fingers, shrinking to the size of a marble. "A weak core," she murmured, "means limited mana." Then, with a flick of her wrist, the orb expanded¡ªdoubling, tripling in size, swirling like a small storm. "A strong core," she continued, eyes gleaming, "is what separates mages from legends." The class leaned forward slightly, drawn in by the display. Lindarion''s eyes narrowed slightly. ''The amount of control she has...is insane.'' Cassian and Luneth remained silent, watching with rapt attention. Nyx let the orb hover for a moment before closing her fingers. The energy collapsed in on itself¡ªsilent, seamless, gone. She turned back to the class, continuing as if nothing had happened. "Your Mana Core is not static. It can be strengthened, refined, expanded. And there are three ways to do so." She held up a single, slender finger. "One¡ªMana Circulation. A disciplined mage cycles mana through their body, refining and expanding their core over time. This can also be done through meditation. However, what about those who do not do this?" She smiled, the curve of her lips almost playful. "They stay weak. Forever." A second finger rose. "Two¡ªExternal Boosters. Potions, relics, artifacts. Some rely on these. They may work¡ªtemporarily. But what happens when you remove the crutch?" A third and final finger. "Three¡ªExperience. The simplest, yet the hardest. Your Mana Core grows when pushed to its limits. Combat, real-life application¡ªpressure forces it to adapt." She lowered her hand. Her gaze swept across the classroom once more, her tone light yet firm. "Some of you will grow stronger." A small pause. "Some of you will not." She smiled. "That is magic. And that... is reality." ''Interesting, I actually like this class so far.'' Lindarion thought as a heavy silence followed Nyx''s words. Then, Nyx turned, chalk in hand, and wrote something on the board in elegant, sharp strokes. "Now, let''s discuss core ranks¡ªand why most of you will struggle to reach the top." Chapter 65 65: Bunch of Bullies Nyx let the silence stretch, watching the students absorb the information. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she snapped her fingers. A faint ripple spread through the room¡ªa pulse of mana, unseen but deeply felt. Some students stiffened, others flinched. Cassian''s fingers twitched against his sleeve. Even Luneth''s gaze flickered slightly. Lindarion? He simply narrowed his eyes. ''She''s demonstrating something.'' Nyx smiled slightly, the faintest spark of amusement in her green eyes. "Right now," she said, her voice smooth and effortless, "I''m using Passive Circulation¡ªbarely any effort, barely any strain. But even this..." She shifted slightly, and the faint pulse of mana grew denser, wrapping around her form like an invisible shroud. "Is enough to make you aware of me." The room was silent. Then¡ª The air itself shifted. Before anyone could react, Nyx vanished. Lindarion''s instincts screamed at him, his body tensing, but before he could track her movements¡ª She was behind them. Not a sound. Not a single flicker of movement before she reappeared at the back of the room, arms crossed lazily. A few students audibly sucked in a breath. "This..." Nyx continued, unbothered, "is Controlled Circulation." Lindarion exhaled slowly. ''She moved that fast... without even using magic properly to boost her speed?'' Nyx turned back to the class, walking toward the front once more. "Those of you who can''t even sense where I moved?" She smiled. "You would''ve been dead already." Silence. Then she tapped the board one final time. "I expect all of you to begin practicing these techniques today. You will not progress far in this academy without them." She dusted off her hands, as if she were finished. And then, as if the entire room had been waiting for it¡ª The bell rang. The tension cracked. Students exhaled, some rubbing their arms, others stretching out the stiffness in their shoulders. Conversations immediately started bubbling up. Lindarion remained seated for a moment. He didn''t like to admit it, but... that had been impressive. She hadn''t just given them a lecture. She had shown them, in real time, what a difference circulation mastery could make. And from the looks on the other students'' faces? Some of them were only now realizing just how far the gap between them and a real mage was. Luneth stood, adjusting her uniform. Cassian exhaled beside him, still looking deep in thought, before finally pushing himself up. "That was... something," Cassian muttered. Lindarion didn''t respond, still lost in his own thoughts. Then¡ª As he finally stood and followed Luneth toward the door, he felt it. A familiar, irritating presence. His shoulders stiffened. ''You''ve got to be kidding me.'' The moment Lindarion stepped outside the classroom, he saw them. A group of third-years¡ªthe same ones from earlier. Leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, their expressions just barely masking their annoyance. And standing in front of them? Nathaniel Veyre. The silver-haired second-year had his smirk in place, his sharp eyes practically radiating amusement as he looked Lindarion over. "Well, well," Nathaniel mused, his voice perfectly casual. "It looks like you''ve had an interesting lesson." Lindarion exhaled through his nose. ''Great.'' Because this was exactly what he needed after class. Lindarion didn''t stop walking. Didn''t pause. Didn''t even acknowledge them at first. But the second he tried to pass¡ª One of the third-years stepped into his path. Auburn hair. Smug expression. The same idiot from before. "Well," the guy sneered, crossing his arms. "Look who finally decided to come out." Lindarion stared at him blankly. Then turned to Nathaniel. "Is this your idea of a joke?" he asked, voice flat. Nathaniel''s smirk widened. "Joke? No, no. This is just... a friendly follow-up." Lindarion''s gaze flickered toward the third-years. ''Right. Friendly.'' He could already feel their hostility, even if they weren''t stupid enough to act on it yet. Cassian and Luneth stepped up beside him, silent but watchful. Cassian looked nervous. Luneth? Completely unreadable, like always. Lindarion sighed. "So what?" he asked, crossing his arms. "You all waited here just to glare at me?" The third-years stiffened slightly at his tone. Nathaniel chuckled, slow and easy. "Not quite. But I figured we should have a conversation." "Oh? Again?" Lindarion deadpanned. "Because last time me and them had a conversation, I recall them trembling on the ground." The auburn-haired third-year''s jaw twitched at Lindarion''s words. For a second, just a flicker of a second, Lindarion could see the frustration in his eyes¡ªthe memory of being forced to his knees under the weight of Lindarion''s aura. ''It seems like he didn''t like that. Good.'' Nathaniel, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. Amused, even. "You''re sharp," Nathaniel said, voice casual. "I like that." Lindarion gave him a deadpan look. "I don''t care." Nathaniel let out a soft chuckle. "You will." Lindarion''s patience thinned. He wasn''t in the mood for games. If they were going to try something, they needed to get on with it. Otherwise¡ª He''d leave. Nathaniel tilted his head slightly. "The way you handled them earlier? Impressive. You didn''t even lift a hand, and yet..." His eyes flicked toward the third-years. "It seems they still haven''t quite recovered." One of the other third-years¡ªthe blond one¡ªvisibly tensed. Lindarion glanced at them, unimpressed. "I thought we were done here." "You thought," Nathaniel echoed, smile sharp. "But that''s where you''re mistaken." ''Isn''t this a little too cliche?..?'' His gaze locked onto Lindarion''s, his usual amusement still there¡ªbut there was something else beneath it now. Something calculated. "You made an impression," Nathaniel continued, "and now, people are watching." Lindarion''s fingers twitched slightly. He didn''t like where this was going. Nathaniel took a slow step forward, closing the space between them ever so slightly. Not enough to be threatening, but just enough to test the waters. "You see, this academy runs on more than just talent," Nathaniel murmured. "It runs on alliances." He gave a small, knowing smirk. "And right now? You don''t have any." Lindarion didn''t move. Didn''t react. Nathaniel waited. And when it was clear Lindarion wasn''t going to respond the way he wanted, he let out a small breath, shaking his head slightly. "Just a thought," he mused, stepping back. "I''d hate to see someone with potential make the wrong kind of enemies." Nathaniel continued to strengthen his aura as Luneth took a step next to Lindarion. Lindarion exhaled slowly. ''There it is. At least he''s revealing his cards now.'' The real reason behind this little meeting. A warning. A test of some sort. ''For what though, I don''t want to join his little gang games...'' He didn''t blink. Didn''t move. Didn''t even react...not even the tiniest bit. Nathaniel was waiting for something¡ªexpecting something. A response. A hesitation. A sign that his words had landed. But Lindarion just stared. Unbothered. Clearly unimpressed about the whole situation. Then¡ªhe exhaled. And in that breath, something shifted. The air grew dense. Heavy. Suffocating. The third-years stiffened. Their bodies locked up, muscles coiling like they were preparing for an unseen attack. One of them¡ªa blond¡ªshuddered, his breath hitching ever so slightly. Lindarion hadn''t moved. Hadn''t raised a hand. Hadn''t said a single word. But his aura¡ª It pressed down on them. Like an unseen weight, curling around their limbs, sinking into their bones, making it feel like the very space around them had turned against them. Their legs began to tremble as they all stared at Lindarion, including Luneth and Cassian. One of them inhaled sharply. The auburn-haired one clenched his fists. The blond took a half-step back¡ªinstinct, self-preservation kicking in before he could stop himself. Lindarion''s expression never changed. But his voice? Low. Cold. Absolute. "I don''t care though." Nathaniel''s smirk didn''t fade¡ªbut his fingers twitched. He felt it too. He wasn''t trembling, wasn''t panicking like the others¡ªbut he noticed. He noticed, and for the first time, Lindarion saw something new in his gaze. A flicker of something beneath the amusement. Something sharper. Something calculating. ''Is he just all talk?'' Lindarion stepped forward. Just one step. Nathaniel didn''t move. Didn''t flinch. But the third-years? They did. Their legs trembling like little rats waiting to be hunted down. And Lindarion saw it. All of it. He let the silence drag. Let the weight of his presence settle. Let them feel it. Then, finally¡ªhe pulled back. The air lightened. The invisible weight lifted. The third-years exhaled, shoulders sagging just slightly. Nathaniel''s smirk returned, but this time? It looked extremely forced. Lindarion tilted his head slightly, voice smooth, uninterested. "Are we done here?" Nathaniel studied him for a long moment. Then¡ª He laughed. Soft. Amused. Almost genuine laughter left his lips as he stared. He ran a hand through his silver hair, shaking his head slightly. "Well," he mused, his tone light. "That''s an answer I guess. Let''s see how long your arrogance lasts." Then, with a final glance at Lindarion¡ªsharp, knowing¡ªhe turned on his heel and walked away. The third-years hesitated. Then, one by one, they followed. Even after they disappeared down the hall, the tension still lingered. Cassian finally exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "...That was extremely uncomfortable..." He muttered quietly as he looked at Lindarion. ''He looks scared...'' Lindarion looked at Cassian then turned to Luneth who said nothing...as usual. But her gaze flicked to Lindarion. Studying. Calculating. Almost analyzing him. Like she had just confirmed something. Lindarion ignored it. He had other things to think about. Nathaniel hadn''t come here just to gloat. He had been testing him. For his own reasons. ''I can''t just upright attack them when they are provoking me, I need to wait until they make the first move..'' He wouldn''t need to make the first move. They would come to him eventually. And when they did¡ª He''d make sure it was their last mistake. ''Fuck, what''s our next class anyways..'' Rubbing his temples he looked at Cassian who just stared back innocently. "What''s our next class for today..?" Lindarion''s voice came out softer than intended as he stared at Cassian. "I-It''s Geography." "..." Cassian''s answer left Lindarion speechless as Luneth patted his back. ''Why is she doing that..'' Chapter 66 66: Geography The classroom was quiet. Not the expectant silence of a class hanging onto their instructor''s every word¡ªbut the sluggish, dull kind that came from boredom. From students who had already decided this was going to be another long, uneventful lecture. Lindarion wasn''t one of them. Unlike the others, who were half-slumped in their seats or fighting back yawns, he sat still¡ªeyes fixed on the massive, aged map spread across the front of the room. He didn''t know much about human geography here... And if there was one thing Lindarion cared about as much as magic, it was understanding the world he lived in. Power wasn''t just about magic¡ªit was about knowing where power was held. At the front of the room, an older man adjusted his glasses, stacking a few dusty scrolls on his desk before looking up at the class. He wasn''t particularly intimidating. His robes were simple, practical, without the unnecessary details of nobles who wanted to look important. But his eyes? They were sharp. Too sharp for someone so easily dismissed. The kind of sharpness that suggested he had long stopped caring whether his students respected him. After a moment, he finally spoke. "I am Professor Rodric Fausten." His voice was steady, even, carrying the weight of long years of teaching. "I have been an instructor at this academy for thirty-four years." A pause. No dramatic flourish. No attempt to command the room. Just a fact. And yet, somehow, the students listened. Lindarion noted the way some students barely reacted¡ª how some had already started to drift off, treating this class like a minor inconvenience. They were idiots. Because a man who had survived this long in an academy that valued strength above all else? Was not someone to be ignored. Professor Fausten adjusted his glasses and turned toward the massive map, his fingers tapping lightly against the parchment. "Today," he said, "we will be reviewing the geography of Elarion." Lindarion''s gaze followed the motion. Elarion. The human continent. Not three separate kingdoms. Not divided nations constantly at war. One land. One ruler. Professor Fausten''s chalk moved smoothly across the board, outlining three major regions. "These are the three territories that make up our kingdom," he said. "Ruled under the banner of High King Leonhardt Valerian." Lindarion''s fingers curled slightly against his desk. He only knew a little about Elarion. Not too many specifics. He had known that humans were different from the elves. The elven continent was completely divided into multiple parts, with each part being a different kingdom and a different ruler. But the humans, they had one ruler over an entire continent. It kind of made sense why some hypocrite humans looked down on the elves, however it was still unacceptable. Of course, not every human was like that. ''So he holds that much power huh?'' Lionhardt Valerian seemed to be way stronger than he had expected.. Professor Fausten tapped the northernmost region. "Everhallow. The capital of Velmora." Lindarion''s brows furrowed. ''That name...'' Lindarion remembered the training camp he had been in for a little bit. "The military stronghold of Elarion," the professor continued. "The backbone of our kingdom''s army. It is home to our greatest warriors, our most disciplined soldiers, and the foundation of our High King''s strength." Lindarion knew that name already, the training camp was residing exactly there. His hand gestured toward another country, its name written with a bold style. "Veldoria." "The industrial core of Elarion," he said. "Veldoria is not built for war¡ªit is built for production." Lindarion''s brows furrowed slightly. ''Production?'' "It is the foundation upon which the kingdom''s economy thrives," Fausten continued. "It supplies weapons, armor, ships, and arcane technology to support Velmora''s armies." His hand tapped the capital. "Eldenholm is its capital." "The largest trade city in Elarion," he said, "and home to the royal palace." Lindarion''s head tilted slightly. ''So this was where Leonhardt Valerian ruled from.'' Not from the military capital, not from the richest city, but from the center of it all. Professor Fausten moved once more, tapping the northernmost region. "Caldris." "The coldest and most isolated region in Elarion," he said. "Unlike Velmora and Veldoria, Caldris does not fight wars. Nor does it forge weapons." He tapped the capital city. "Solhaven." The professor seemed to sigh. "The final city before the endless tundra," he continued. "A land of merchants, scholars, and trade guilds." Lindarion''s gaze followed the markings on the map. Markings of caves, woods, whatever a person could imagine. "Caldris isn''t known for war or production... but it has wealth. Not just gold, but something far more valuable. Resources, students." He leaned against the board, his fingers softly tapping against its surface. "Rare minerals. Mana-infused products... Perhaps even artifacts buried beneath the frozen wastes. It doesn''t need the strength of Velmora or the scholars of Veldoria." Lindarion started putting the picture together as the professor continued. "Because it has something both of them need. It has leverage." ''So that''s how it is.'' Professor Fausten finally set the chalk down. "These three territories," he said, "form the backbone of our kingdom." Then¡ª He turned, lifting a single piece of chalk once more. And, in bold, precise strokes, he wrote the name that ruled over them all. "Leonhardt Valerian." The weight of the name settled over the room..Vivienne seemed to adjust in her seat as the professor mentioned his father''s name. Professor Fausten''s gaze swept the class. "You all know the name," he said. "You all know who he is." A beat of silence. Then¡ª "What you don''t know," he continued, "is why the balance of these three territories is more fragile than it seems." Lindarion''s gaze remained on the name Leonhardt Valerian, boldly written across the board. The one man who ruled over three entire nations. Professor Fausten turned back to the massive map, tapping it lightly with his chalk. "The three territories of Elarion form the foundation of our kingdom," he said. Then¡ª He tapped it again. "But that foundation is far from unshakable. As I have said. It''s fragile" Lindarion narrowed his eyes slightly. From the corner of his vision, he saw Cassian shift uncomfortably and Vivienne seemed to be uncomfortable in her seat. Even Luneth¡ªwho had been eerily still the entire time¡ªtilted her head slightly, as if listening more intently. Professor Fausten gestured toward the easternmost territory. "Velmora." "The greatest military force in Elarion," he said. "And the most restless." Lindarion frowned slightly. ''Restless?'' "Velmora produces warriors," Fausten continued. "It thrives on battle, on discipline, on conquest. But tell me¡ª" His gaze swept the class, expectant. "How do you keep an army sharp if there is no war to fight?" Silence. Then¡ªslowly¡ªunderstanding settled in. Lindarion exhaled softly. Velmora was built for war. At first, the idea of an army without war didn''t seem dangerous. But then¡ª A thought struck him. An army with no enemies to fight... ''Would they start looking inward?'' Professor Fausten nodded, as if reading their thoughts. "There have been no major wars in over a decade," he said. "Which means Velmora''s generals, knights, and commanders have been left without purpose." He tapped the region again, his voice quiet. "Armies without purpose do not remain loyal for long." A few students stiffened. Lindarion''s fingers curled slightly against his desk. That meant dissatisfaction. That meant potential rebellion. He had never thought about how dangerous peace could be for a nation built on war. Professor Fausten let that sink in for a moment before moving to the center of the map. "Veldoria." "The industrial core of Elarion," he said. "And yet¡ªthe most vulnerable." Lindarion''s brows furrowed. ''How can the economic center be the weakest?'' As if answering his unspoken question, Professor Fausten tapped Eldenholm. "The capital city," he said. "And the seat of the High King''s power." His grip on the chalk tightened slightly. "But power does not come without a cost." The room was silent. Even the students who had been half asleep earlier were now completely alert. "Veldoria is strong," the professor continued. "But its strength is unnatural. It does not produce soldiers. It does not have great military academies. It does not control vast resources." His voice lowered slightly. "It simply holds all the money." Lindarion''s thoughts raced. Veldoria wasn''t strong on its own. It was only strong because of the two nations that relied on it. Which meant¡ª ''If either Velmora or Caldris ever decided to stop supporting the throne...'' The entire kingdom would collapse. Professor Fausten exhaled softly. "The High King holds the kingdom together through wealth, alliances, and influence. But that kind of power? It is not absolute." Lindarion leaned back slightly in his seat. He was starting to see it now. This wasn''t stability. It was a balancing act. A fragile, dangerous game where one wrong move could send the entire kingdom crashing down. Professor Fausten moved again, this time to the northernmost region. "Caldris." "The most isolated of the three nations," he said. "And the most unpredictable." Lindarion''s gaze flickered to Solhaven, its capital. Caldris wasn''t known for its armies. Nor was it known for its factories or forges. But it had something far more valuable. Rare minerals. Ancient artifacts buried beneath the tundra. Resources that both Velmora and Veldoria depended on. Professor Fausten tapped the region again. "Caldris does not require the High King''s protection," he said. "It does not rely on Velmora''s warriors or Veldoria''s economy." A slow, knowing pause. "If Caldris were to ever withdraw from the kingdom entirely..." Lindarion''s breath hitched slightly. It would send everything into chaos. No weapons. No armor. No magical resources to power Elarion''s war machines. The entire foundation of the kingdom would begin to crumble. The realization settled over him like a weight. This wasn''t just a kingdom. This was a house of cards. Held together by a single ruler, a single balance of power that could be shattered at any moment. Professor Fausten finally set his chalk down. "This," he said, his voice calm but firm, "is the reality of our kingdom." His gaze swept the class. And when he spoke next, his voice was quiet. "But the question is..." His eyes glinted slightly. "How long can it last?" Lindarion exhaled slowly. He suddenly had a very bad feeling about the future of Elarion. Chapter 67 67: Questions A heavy silence filled the classroom. Even after Professor Fausten''s final words had settled, even after the weight of his lesson had sunk into the minds of the students, no one moved. For a moment, it was as if the entire class was still processing. Then¡ª The bell rang. Like a sudden snap back to reality, students began to stir. The tension broke, and the usual shuffle of chairs, the rustling of papers, and the murmur of quiet conversations filled the room. Some students stretched, others rubbed their arms, as if trying to shake off the heaviness of what they had just learned. ''This was some heavy information..'' Lindarion didn''t move right away. His gaze lingered on the map at the front of the classroom, his mind turning over everything he had just learned. Elarion. A kingdom that looked stable from the outside. But beneath the surface? It seemed to be on the edge of breaking. He exhaled slowly. Cassian nudged him slightly, nodding toward the door. "Are y-you coming?" Lindarion blinked, pulling himself from his thoughts. "You two go ahead," he said. "I have some questions." Cassian hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Alright. Don''t take too long, we''ll wait outside," he said before heading toward the door. Luneth didn''t comment. She simply glanced at him, unreadable as ever, before following Cassian out. Lindarion waited until the rest of the students had filtered out of the room before he stood, making his way toward the front desk. Professor Fausten was already gathering his notes, sorting through his scrolls with deliberate, careful movements. He didn''t seem surprised when Lindarion approached. "What can I help you with student Lindarion?" Lindarion slowly walked forward. "I have a few questions, professor." Professor Fausten set down his quill and leaned back slightly. "Go on then." Lindarion''s gaze flicked briefly to the map before returning to the professor. "Velmora," he started. "You said its warriors are... restless." Fausten nodded. "Yes." "If they''re so dangerous and restless without war," Lindarion continued, "then why hasn''t the King done something to control them?" The professor gave him a long, measured look. Then, after a brief pause, he chuckled. Lindarion''s brow furrowed. "You think controlling Velmora is as simple as giving an order?" Fausten said, shaking his head. "Velmora is the backbone of Elarion''s military. The High King relies on their strength." A pause. Then, in a quieter voice¡ª "But he also fears it." Lindarion''s fingers tapped idly against the desk. So even Leonhardt Valerian¡ªthe man who ruled over the entire continent, seemed to not have control over everything. ''Interesting.'' "And Veldoria?" Lindarion asked next. "You said it''s vulnerable. That it doesn''t have its own power." Fausten nodded. "Veldoria is the heart of the kingdom''s economy, but it produces nothing of its own. Its wealth comes from trade, alliances, and taxation." His voice lowered slightly. "It thrives only so long as the other two territories allow it to." Lindarion absorbed that in silence. If Caldris and Velmora ever turned on the High King... ''Would there even be a kingdom left?'' His mind was racing now. The more he learned, the more fragile Elarion seemed. And the more he wondered... How long did Leonhardt Valerian really think he could hold it all together? Ruling over an entire continent was an insane amount of responsibility, not to mention the amount of details you have to pay attention to. Lindarion glanced at the last marked territory on the map. Caldris. The most isolated. The most independent. The one place that seemed untouched by the kingdom''s power struggles. "If Caldris doesn''t need the kingdom," Lindarion asked slowly, "then why haven''t they left already?" Professor Fausten was silent for a moment. Then, finally, he said¡ª "Because Caldris is patient." Lindarion''s brows furrowed slightly. Fausten picked up his chalk again, tapping the frozen northern region of the map. "They have everything they need to survive on their own," he admitted. "But they haven''t left. Not yet." A pause. "Because they are waiting." Lindarion''s stomach tightened slightly. "...Waiting for what?" The professor set his chalk down again, looking him in the eye. "That is all I can tell you, young student." Silence stretched between them. Lindarion didn''t speak.. Professor Fausten exhaled softly, then motioned toward the door. "You should go," he said. "Your next class won''t wait for you. I already said too much, student Lindarion. Only because you are that old bastard''s disciple." ''Old bastard? Oh...'' Lindarion slowly realized what he meant. He was talking about Thalorin.. ''So the old man told him.'' Lindarion hesitated then shook his head. There were still more questions. But he knew better than to push too far. "Thank you for your help professor." So, with one last glance at the map¡ª He turned and left. ¡ª Lindarion stepped out of the classroom, the door creaking shut behind him. The hallway was quieter than before. Most students had already moved on, their conversations fading into the distance. But two familiar figures waited just ahead. Cassian and Luneth. Luneth stood with her arms crossed, expression unreadable as always, while Cassian looked mildly impatient. "You took your time," Cassian muttered. Lindarion ignored him. His mind was still turning over everything he had just learned. The three territories of Elarion. Velmora¡ªthe warrior''s land. Veldoria¡ªthe kingdom''s wealth. Caldris¡ªthe untouchable land. And above them all, Leonhardt Valerian. A king who wasn''t as untouchable as he seemed. A kingdom on the edge of breaking. Cassian''s gaze flicked toward him. "You actually had questions about that class?" Lindarion exhaled through his nose. "Yeah." Cassian raised an eyebrow. "About what?" Lindarion glanced down the hallway, then back at them. "...I just asked some questions about the continent." Cassian looked confused. Luneth''s eyes narrowed slightly. Before either of them could push further, the distant clang of steel echoed through the halls. Lindarion blinked. Cassian straightened slightly. "That''s the next class. Basic hand to hand combat." Lindarion''s gaze flickered to him. "Basic hand-to-hand combat?" Cassian nodded. "Yeah. The first physical training session for first-years." Lindarion exhaled slowly. ''Right...how does he even know all of this?'' His mind was still filled with maps, with politics, with Fausten''s quiet warning. But now? It seemed he was about to get a different kind of lesson. Without another word, he started walking after Cassian''s lead whilst Luneth followed next to him. ¡ª The closer they got to the training grounds, the louder the noise became. The distant clang of metal, the sharp barks of commands, the rhythmic thuds of fists meeting flesh. It was a completely different energy from the previous class. Very different. This wasn''t going to be just theory and knowledge. Lindarion could already tell. The three of them stepped through the wide-open archway leading into the training grounds. The space was massive. Unlike the enclosed lecture halls, this area was an open courtyard, lined with sand and hardened stone. The sky stretched wide overhead, the air thick with the scent of sweat, steel, and earth. Rows of students were already gathered, some stretching, others wrapping their hands in preparation. And at the center of it all¡ª A presence. An overwhelming one at that. ''What the hell.'' Lindarion''s eyes flicked toward the towering figure standing near the front. A woman. But not just any woman. She was huge. Not just tall, but built¡ªmuscles packed onto her frame like she had been carved straight from solid stone. Her vibrant red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a few wild strands falling across her sharp, battle-hardened face. Her arms were crossed, exposing scarred, powerful forearms. And then there were her eyes. Fiery red. Burning. Like a hellfire. Like they could see straight through you and would enjoy breaking every bone in your body just to prove a point...it was scary. Lindarion didn''t need to be told. This was the instructor. Cassian shifted slightly, his voice trembling."T-That''s..." Before he could finish¡ª "ALRIGHT, YOU USELESS EXCUSES FOR STUDENTS!" The voice BOOMED across the entire courtyard like a war horn blasting before battle. A few students visibly flinched. ''God damn she''s loud.'' Lindarion did not flinch but was annoyed already instead. The red-haired woman grinned, stepping forward with all the grace of a battle-hardened warlord. "WELCOME TO BASIC HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT! IF YOU THINK THIS CLASS IS OPTIONAL, I''LL MAKE SURE YOU REGRET IT!" Her voice was raw power, filled with the same unyielding intensity as a battlefield. Lindarion had no doubt that if someone tried to walk out, she''d personally drag them back and beat them into the dirt for even considering it. She stopped in front of the class, rolling her shoulders as if she was already preparing to fight someone. "NAME''S SERA VALLORA!" she barked. "AND I''M HERE TO TURN YOU LOT INTO SOMETHING THAT DOESN''T CRUMBLE UNDER PRESSURE LIKE A DAMN ROTTEN FRUIT." A few students shifted nervously. Sera''s grin widened. "OH, YOU LOOK NERVOUS." She cracked her knuckles. "GOOD. YOU SHOULD BE." Lindarion arched an eyebrow. ''This... might actually be interesting instead of annoying.'' Chapter 68 68: Hand To Hand (1) Sera let the silence settle for a moment, her fiery red gaze sweeping over the assembled students. Some looked nervous. Others were eager. However Lindarion? He just watched silently. Because there was one thing he was certain about with Sera. A woman like this didn''t care about fancy titles or theories of combat. She only cared about one thing. ''She cares about action more than words.'' Sera suddenly clapped her hands together with a thunderous smack, making several students flinch. "ALRIGHT, SINCE MOST OF YOU LOOK LIKE YOU WOULDN''T LAST FIVE SECONDS IN A REAL FIGHT, WE''LL START SIMPLE." Her grin widened, the kind of dangerous, amused expression a predator wore before sinking its teeth into its prey. "I NEED TWO STUDENTS TO DEMONSTRATE. YOU''LL SPAR, AND THE CLASS WILL ANALYZE YOUR MOVEMENTS." She didn''t even pause before pointing a scarred, battle-worn finger straight at Lindarion. "SUNBLADE!" Lindarion blinked once, slow. Then exhaled. ''Of course...this is just my luck.'' A few murmurs rippled through the students, heads turning toward him. But Sera wasn''t done. Her crimson gaze locked onto another student, standing toward the back. "VALERIAN!" The murmurs grew louder. Lindarion turned his head, expression blank, as Jack Valerian pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against. Sharp-eyed, and every bit as arrogant as expected. Jack''s lips curled slightly as he stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. "You''re picking me for this? Professor?" "DAMN RIGHT, I AM," Sera barked. "YOU THINK HAVING THAT LAST NAME MAKES YOU SPECIAL?" Jack''s smirk twitched slightly. Lindarion could already tell. He didn''t want to fight...not because he was scared. But because he thought people were unworthy of his attention... Sera crossed her arms, looking between them. "One of you is a Sunblade, the other''s a Valerian." She grinned. "SHOULD BE ENTERTAINING." Lindarion tilted his head slightly. He wasn''t particularly interested in Jack, not after what he did at the ball back then. It was beyond embarrassing. But this? This was a great opportunity. To see how human nobles fought. To gauge their movements, their techniques. ''I''ll have to hold back a little, don''t wanna go all out just yet...This is just a spar after all.'' Without another word, he stepped forward, hands loose at his sides, expression unreadable. Jack did the same, though his movements were more deliberate. Too confident. Sera took a step back, gesturing to the wide sparring circle in the center of the training ground. "BOTH OF YOU, GET IN THE RING." Lindarion walked forward without hesitation, stepping onto the hardened sand of the sparring circle. Jack followed, rolling his neck. The energy in the courtyard shifted. This wasn''t just some casual demonstration anymore. The class was watching. Sera Vallora grinned. "RULES ARE SIMPLE. NO WEAPONS, NO MAGIC. JUST FISTS, STRIKES, AND TECHNIQUE." She stepped forward, lowering her voice slightly. "Show me what you''re made of." Then¡ª "BEGIN!" Jack moved first. Fast. He lunged forward, aiming a quick jab toward Lindarion''s ribs. ''Seems like he doesn''t remember me at all.'' Lindarion''s body reacted instantly. Not with thought¡ª With pure instinct. His fighting wasn''t perfect, not even close. However he had fought people during his stay with Erebus...they were definitely unforgettable memories. He shifted just out of range, the strike grazing past him. Jack''s footwork was solid. His movements were controlled, practiced. But Lindarion had seen better. And more importantly? He had seen faster. Way faster. Jack twisted, going for a follow-up hook toward his side. Lindarion ducked under it, smooth, effortless¡ª And drove his heel forward, aiming for Jack''s legs. Jack barely managed to shift his footing in time, stepping back just before Lindarion''s leg could sweep his balance out from under him. A few gasps rippled through the watching students. Sera grinned. "NOT BAD! KEEP GOING!" Jack''s smirk had vanished. Now, he was focused. ''Good, seems like he''s trying.'' Jack adjusted his stance, hands raised higher this time. Lindarion watched. Waited. For the perfect opportunity. Jack exhaled¡ªthen suddenly rushed forward again, feinting left before twisting his weight into a sharp elbow strike. Lindarion moved with perfect precision. Not backward¡ª Forward. Towards the strike. Instead of dodging, he caught Jack''s wrist mid-motion, stopping the strike before it could land. A brief moment of pause. Jack''s eyes widened. ''Got him.'' Lindarion tilted his head slightly. Then, with a sharp movement¡ª He yanked Jack forward and twisted, throwing him straight to the ground. The impact kicked up a small cloud of sand. The class stared. Jack let out a soft grunt, pushing himself up immediately, but his expression was no longer amused. Now, there was something else in his gaze. A flicker of something that wasn''t arrogance anymore. It was annoyance, perhaps anger. Sera chuckled. "Alright, STOP." Both of them stilled. She took a few steps forward, nodding to herself. "INTERESTING." Her gaze flicked toward Jack first. "YOU''RE TOO RELIANT ON YOUR SPEED. YOU EXPECT OTHERS TO PLAY INTO YOUR TEMPO, AND WHEN THEY DON''T¡ª" She smirked. "YOU GET PREDICTABLE." Jack exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulder. He didn''t argue..or he just didn''t care. Sera''s gaze turned to Lindarion. "And you." Lindarion met her stare, unblinking. Sera raised an eyebrow. "YOU''RE CONTROLLED. CALCULATED. YOU DON''T WASTE MOVEMENT." She crossed her arms. "BUT." Lindarion waited. Sera grinned. "YOU DON''T PRESSURE ENOUGH." Lindarion''s brow twitched slightly. "YOU''RE REACTIVE," she continued. "GOOD AT READING ATTACKS, GOOD AT ADAPTING. BUT I DIDN''T SEE YOU PUSH FOR ADVANTAGE." She pointed at the ground where Jack had fallen. "YOU HAD AN OPENING. YOU DIDN''T FOLLOW UP." Lindarion exhaled quietly. She wasn''t wrong. It wasn''t a mistake, it was necessarily that way. It was purely just the way he fought. But Sera? She wanted aggression. She wanted him to push harder..to crush his opponents. ''A real meathead..'' He made a mental note of it. Sera clapped her hands together. "ALRIGHT, THAT''S ENOUGH FOR NOW." She turned back to the class. "THAT''S HOW WE LEARN! WATCH, ANALYZE, ADJUST. COMBAT ISN''T JUST ABOUT STRENGTH¡ªIT''S ABOUT UNDERSTANDING YOUR OPPONENT!" She turned back to Lindarion and Jack. "YOU TWO, GOOD WORK." Jack exhaled, rubbing his wrist. He glanced at Lindarion briefly, then muttered under his nose¡ª "...God damn it." Lindarion simply tilted his head slightly. "Try again next time." Jack snorted, a vein throbbing on his forehead as he shook his head and walked off. Sera, meanwhile, clapped her hands again. "ALRIGHT, NEXT PAIR! LET''S SEE WHO ELSE NEEDS A REALITY CHECK!" The lesson continued. ¡ª Lindarion stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched Sera''s eyes slowly scanning the students. He could still feel Jack''s gaze flicking toward him occasionally. But Lindarion didn''t exactly care. He was already thinking about the next fight. He didn''t bother with such thoughts about Jack. Sera clapped her hands again, her voice booming across the courtyard. "NEXT PAIR!" The tension in the air shifted, eyes darting between students. Sera''s fiery gaze scanned the class, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she pointed. "YOU." Her finger landed on Cassian. Cassian froze. "...Me?" "YES, YOU," Sera barked. "WHAT, YOU WANT AN INVITATION? GET IN THE RING." Cassian swallowed but nodded, stepping forward hesitantly. Lindarion could already tell. This was not going to end well for him. Sera then turned her crimson gaze toward another student. And grinned. "YOU''RE HIS OPPONENT." Lindarion blinked. Sera was pointing directly at Luneth. Luneth stared for a second. Then, without a word, she walked forward. Cassian visibly tensed. Lindarion understood why. Because if there was one thing they both knew, it was this¡ª Cassian had no chance...based on what he said earlier..he was talented in magic. Extremely so. But in hand to hand combat, he wouldn''t be able to beat Luneth. Both students stepped onto the hardened sand of the sparring ring. Cassian rolled his shoulders, taking a deep breath. He looked determined. Luneth, on the other hand... She simply stood there. Silent. Expressionless. Like this wasn''t worth thinking about. Sera folded her arms, watching. "SAME RULES AS BEFORE. NO WEAPONS. NO MAGIC. JUST HANDS AND TECHNIQUE." She paused. Then, with a sharp smirk¡ª "BEGIN." ''This is going to be a complete disaster..'' Lindarion thought as Cassian moved first. He wasn''t slow. His footwork was decent. His stance was steady. But Luneth? She didn''t move at all. Cassian lunged, throwing a quick jab toward her shoulder. And then¡ª Before Lindarion could even fully process what happened¡ª Luneth tilted her head slightly, her eyes sharp¡ª And Cassian''s attack whiffed through empty air. He stumbled slightly, caught off guard. Luneth stepped in quickly. Her movements were fast, efficient¡ªbrutal in their simplicity. Her elbow shot up, striking Cassian squarely in the ribs. Cassian let out a choked grunt, stumbling back. But Luneth wasn''t done. Her knee struck Cassian''s ribs hard.. The impact of his ribs being hit again stole his breath, staggering him just long enough for Luneth''s legs to sweep under him. Sending him crashing onto his back. Silence. Lindarion exhaled softly. It was already over. Cassian blinked up at the sky, stunned. Then¡ª Luneth crouched down, staring at him with her usual blank expression. "...You were too slow." Cassian groaned. "I¡ªyeah, I noticed." Luneth blinked once. Then stood, stepping away. Sera let out a booming laugh. "HAHA! OH, THAT WAS BRUTAL." She grinned, walking over and nudging Cassian''s shoulder with her boot. "YOU GOOD, KID?" Cassian grumbled something unintelligible before pushing himself up. Sera shook her head, still smirking. "LESSON FOR YOU ALL¡ªIF YOU HESITATE, YOU LOSE." She turned toward Luneth. "AND YOU." Luneth tilted her head slightly. Sera''s grin widened. "YOU FIGHT LIKE A DAMN PHANTOM. GOOD TIMING, MINIMAL MOVEMENT, NO WASTED ENERGY." Luneth said nothing..just stood still like a doll. Chapter 69 69: Hand To Hand (2) Sera let the moment settle, a satisfied grin on her face as Cassian pushed himself up from the ground. The class was silent, the weight of what they had just seen still lingering. Lindarion exhaled quietly, arms crossed as he analyzed the match in his mind. Luneth''s fighting style was brutal in its efficiency. No wasted movement. No unnecessary aggression. Cassian? He hesitated. And in combat, hesitation meant defeat. Sera Vallora clapped her hands again, snapping everyone''s attention back to her. "ALRIGHT! WHO''S NEXT?" Her fiery gaze swept across the gathered students, lingering for a moment before her grin widened. "YOU." She pointed directly at Vivienne Valerian. A fresh wave of murmurs rippled through the students. Vivienne, who had been watching the previous fights with mild disinterest, slowly pushed herself off the wooden bench she had been sitting on. She moved with ease, every motion precise¡ªalmost aristocratic in nature. Unlike Jack, she didn''t react to being chosen. No arrogance. No complaints. She simply walked forward, stepping into the ring with measured grace. Sera turned her attention to another student, her grin turning slightly sharper. "AND YOU''RE HER OPPONENT." She pointed to a boy, his uniform slightly disheveled, arms crossed with an easy smirk. ''Adam Pierce.'' Lindarion''s brow twitched slightly. ''So she''s going to keep testing the nobles for now?'' "The Pierce family isn''t as well-known as the Valerians, but they are still a high-ranking noble from Veldoria." Cassian muttered as Lindarion turned towards him. "A family that controls vast industries and trade routes." ''So that''s how it is.'' He didn''t seem like Jack, who carried his arrogance like a blade, Adam seemed to have a different kind of confidence. The kind that came from knowing he was strong. Vivienne glanced at him briefly, expression unreadable. Adam chuckled, stepping forward. "Huh. Never thought I''d get the chance to beat you up princess." Vivienne''s lips curled into a faint smirk. "You can try." Sera clapped her hands again, eyes burning with anticipation. "RULES ARE THE SAME. NO WEAPONS, NO MAGIC. JUST TECHNIQUE." She took a step back, arms folded. "BEGIN." Adam moved first. He was big, but he wasn''t slow. His stance was aggressive, forward-leaning, clearly favoring raw strength over speed. He stepped in, throwing a powerful straight punch toward Vivienne''s chest. Lindarion''s eyes narrowed slightly. Too predictable. Vivienne didn''t react immediately. Then¡ª At the last second, she shifted. Not dodging. Redirecting. Her fingers barely grazed Adam''s wrist, guiding his strike just inches off course¡ª And in the same motion, she stepped into his space, her elbow snapping toward his exposed side. Adam grunted, twisting just enough to absorb the impact with his shoulder¡ª Before immediately retaliating with a sweeping hook aimed at her jaw. Vivienne leaned back, the punch missing by a hair''s breadth. A sharp exhale left her lips. She was calculating. Precise. Unlike Luneth, who fought like a phantom, Vivienne fought like a duelist. She wasn''t looking to overwhelm. She was looking to exploit weaknesses. Adam grinned, shaking out his arm. "You''re quick." Vivienne''s smirk didn''t fade. "You''re sloppy." Adam''s eye twitched. And then¡ª He stopped playing around. Breaking the Stalemate Adam lunged in again, but this time, it wasn''t just a straightforward attack. He feinted left¡ªthen twisted his body mid-motion, launching a sharp knee toward Vivienne''s stomach. Lindarion''s gaze sharpened slightly. That was better. Vivienne''s eyes flickered with mild surprise. She moved to block¡ª But Adam expected that. At the last second, he twisted his momentum, using his weight to force both of them into close-quarters. Vivienne''s foot dragged slightly against the sand. Her balance¡ªmomentarily off. Adam''s grin widened. "Got y¡ª" Vivienne exhaled. And then¡ª She dropped. Not in retreat. In control. She let gravity take her just low enough to avoid Adam''s follow-up strike¡ª Then twisted, sweeping her leg out hard. Adam''s footing vanished. His eyes widened as his body tilted¡ª Before he crashed onto his back. Silence. Then¡ª Sera grinned. "WELL, DAMN. THAT WAS PRETTY." Adam groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "...I hate fighting people like you." Vivienne smoothed her uniform. "I know." Sera let out a booming laugh. "ALRIGHT, GET UP. GOOD WORK, BOTH OF YOU." Lindarion watched the entire thing, arms still folded. It had been a closer fight than expected. Adam was stronger. Vivienne was sharper. But in the end? Precision beat power. Cassian exhaled next to him. "She''s... kind of terrifying." Lindarion hummed. "She knows what she''s doing." Lindarion tilted his head slightly. ''It was a good fight.'' Vivienne dusted off her sleeve, barely winded, while Adam pulled himself up with a muttered curse. Sera smirked, rolling her shoulders as she addressed them. "Not bad. Smart footwork. Good use of momentum. Could''ve pressed harder, but clean execution." Vivienne simply adjusted her collar. "I know." Adam let out a sharp breath, rubbing his neck. "Arrogant." "Accurate," she corrected smoothly. Lindarion watched the exchange, arms crossed. That had been an interesting match. Adam had strength, but Vivienne had technique. She didn''t overpower¡ªshe controlled. Calculated. Precise. She waited for the right moment, then struck. A true noble''s way of fighting. Sera turned back to the class. "Alright, next pair¡ª" "Wait professor." The word was soft but carried weight. ''What is she planning..?'' Lindarion blinked once, shifting his gaze. Vivienne had stepped forward slightly, her sharp blue eyes settling on him. "I want to fight Lindarion next." ''What the fuck?'' The class went still as Lindarion''s face twitched. A few whispers broke out, students glancing between the two. Sera raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? You got a reason, or just looking for a challenge?" Vivienne didn''t hesitate. "I want to see what he''s capable of." Lindarion exhaled. ''Of course.'' He should''ve seen this coming. She didn''t seem like the type to let anything unknown stay unknown. Before Sera could respond¡ª Another voice cut in. "Not yet..." The statement was quiet, but undeniable. Lindarion''s gaze flicked sideways. Luneth had stood up. Her posture was relaxed but unshakable, dark eyes unreadable as she looked at Vivienne. A shift rippled through the students. Vivienne turned to face her, head tilting slightly. "Oh?" Luneth didn''t blink. "If you want to challenge Lindarion," she said, voice calm, "then beat me first." The reaction was immediate. A low murmur spread through the gathered students, some whispering to one another. ''Alright...what the hell is going on?'' Lindarion narrowed his eyes slightly. Luneth wasn''t the type to seek fights without reason. So why¡ª He just couldn''t understand why she would do that. Could she be testing Vivienne? He didn''t know. He knew that Luneth had watched Vivienne''s fight with Adam. Perhaps even analyzed her movements. But so what? ''I''m so clueless.'' Did she want to see if Vivienne was even worth his time..? Vivienne studied Luneth for a long moment. Then¡ªshe smiled. It wasn''t mocking. It wasn''t cruel. It was a smile of interest. "I see," she murmured. "Very well. I will fight you then." ''Why did she even agree to this?'' Lindarion shook his head as Sera''s grin returned instantly. "WELL, DAMN. NOW THIS IS GETTING FUN." She gestured toward the sparring circle. "BOTH OF YOU. IN THE RING. NOW." Neither hesitated, not even for a second. Luneth stepped forward with silent, fluid movements, her presence like a shadow slipping into place. Vivienne followed, just as composed. But Lindarion just remained perfectly still...still shocked by the whole turn of events. He crossed his arms, watching as Luneth and Vivienne stepped into the sparring ring. ''At Least it''s going to be interesting.'' Two fighters with completely different presences. Vivienne, calm and deliberate, her every movement measured¡ªnot a single wasted motion. Luneth, silent and unreadable, moving with a kind of effortless stillness, like a phantom deciding whether to exist at all. The other students shifted, murmuring among themselves. They had seen Luneth fight earlier, but she hadn''t needed to try against Cassian. Now? Now they were about to see what happened when she faced someone actually worth her time. Sera''s grin was wide, sharp. "ALRIGHT, SAME RULES." She took a step back, her arms crossed, anticipation burning in her fiery eyes. "BEGIN." Neither of them moved immediately. No reckless lunges. No testing jabs. Just a long, stretching silence. Then¡ª Vivienne stepped in first. Fast. Not aggressive, not hesitant¡ªjust precise. A clean, direct strike toward Luneth''s center. No unnecessary flourishes. Luneth tilted slightly, her body shifting just enough for the attack to slip past her by a breath. No blocking. No counter. Just completely avoiding the strike. Like it couldn''t even bother her. Vivienne adjusted immediately, twisting into a second strike. Another miss. A third. A fourth. Hit after hit follow as Luneth kept dodging. Every time, Luneth barely moved at all. Her footwork was impossibly light, like she wasn''t even touching the ground, it completely amazed Lindarion. ''She might have better footwork than me..'' He exhaled through his nose. But she wasn''t fighting back. Not yet. She was just watching. Calculating every movement and event that could happen. Vivienne noticed it too. Her movements became sharper, forcing Luneth into a tighter space, restricting her options. Finally¡ª Luneth stepped in. Not fast or sudden at all. Just a clean movement. A clean, precise strike. It was completely unavoidable. Vivienne reacted instantly, shifting her weight to counter¡ª But it didn''t matter. Luneth''s fingers brushed past her guard, slipping against her wrist¡ª And in the next breath, Vivienne was off-balance. Not thrown. Not struck. Just¡ªmoved. Her footing faltered, her stance breaking just slightly. ''Isn''t Luneth kind of a monster...? What the hell?'' Lindarion tilted his head. Vivienne stepped back smoothly, fixing her stance, her eyes flickering with something new. Luneth simply stared, her posture completely unbothered. Another pause. Then Vivienne exhaled softly. "...I see." She stepped in again¡ªfaster this time. Her style was different now. No more head on approaches. She adjusted. Adapted to Luneth. Her attacks came from new angles, shifting before impact, forcing Luneth to react differently. And for the first time¡ª Luneth had to move more. Not by much. But it was enough. Vivienne pressed harder. A feint. A shift. A sudden reversal in momentum, she tried everything in her power to win. She was fast. Smooth. Sharp. Everyone stared at her movements, the tension palpable in the air. And then¡ª Luneth''s expression changed. Barely. It wasn''t noticeable to most. However, Lindarion noticed it. ''Am I dreaming?'' A shift in her gaze. A flicker of something, like she was amused. Vivienne threw another strike¡ª And this time, Luneth caught it. Not with force. With effortless control. Her fingers curled around Vivienne''s wrist just before impact, halting it mid-motion. For a single, frozen second, neither of them moved. Then¡ª Luneth twisted. Not hard. Not violently. But precisely. With enough precision to mess up Vivienne''s entire stance. Vivienne''s balance broke completely from the movement. Luneth pulled her arms forward in a single motion, sweeping her legs out. Vivienne managed to recover immediately after falling, standing up and stepping back before Luneth could follow up¡ª But she knew. Everyone knew. ''That was a clean loss.'' Silence hung in the air as Lindarion''s thoughts burned. Vivienne straightened, adjusting her uniform as Luneth stepped back. Then¡ªVivienne smiled. "...Interesting." Lindarion narrowed his eyes slightly. She didn''t seem frustrated. Nor was she annoyed. She was intrigued. Sera let out a sharp laugh. "WELL, DAMN. NOW THAT WAS A FIGHT. I BELIEVE IT''S ENOUGH." She clapped her hands once, turning to the rest of the class. "LESSON FOR YOU ALL¡ªSOMETIMES WINNING A FIGHT ISN''T ABOUT HITTING HARDER. IT''S ABOUT NEVER GIVING YOUR OPPONENT THE CHANCE TO HIT AT ALL." Her gaze flicked between Luneth and Vivienne, eyes burning with interest. "GOOD WORK. BOTH OF YOU." Luneth simply nodded. Vivienne exhaled, brushing a stray hair from her face. Then¡ªshe walked back towards the students and turned back to Lindarion. Her gaze met his. Her smirk returned. "...Next time," she murmured, voice quiet but certain, "I''ll fight you instead." Lindarion sighed internally. ''Why does she seem so obsessed with fighting me?'' He nodded silently, after that Luneth walked up next to him and Cassian. "G-Good fight!" Cassian muttered as he stared at the ground and Luneth just nodded and turned towards Lindarion. "It was a good fight." Lindarion''s words echoed in her ears as she quickly cleared her throat and nodded silently. Chapter 70 70: Hand To Hand (3) The tension on the training grounds shifted yet again. Luneth had dismantled Vivienne without much effort, and now¡ªSera looked like she just wanted more. Lindarion had seen it coming the moment Vivienne hit the ground. This wasn''t about rankings, wasn''t about rivalry¡ªSera wanted a real fight, between the strongest students. Her burning red eyes locked onto him. "Sunblade. You''re up." Lindarion exhaled. ''Of course...who would''ve thought. This is just my luck.'' Some students straightened, others whispered, sensing the weight of what was about to happen. Cassian muttered under his breath, "Oh, she''s just throwing you to the wolves now." ''What the hell is he talking about?'' Lindarion ignored him. He had fought before¡ªreal fights, life-or-death fights. Luneth? She fought like someone who had never struggled, never needed to desperately survive. She moved like she had always been in control. And now? Now, he was about to show her what it meant to not be in control for once. Sera''s smirk widened as she turned to Luneth. "And since you''re on a winning streak, let''s see if you can keep it going." Luneth, as always, didn''t react. She simply stepped forward. No hesitation. No fear. That was fine. Lindarion had fought people like that before. They always thought they wouldn''t lose. Until they did... Erebus taught him lots of things. Torturing methods, how to properly kill, how to kill silently. Of course that wasn''t just with bare hands. Sera clapped her hands together, grinning. "Alright, same rules! No weapons, no magic! Just skill!" She took a step back. "BEGIN!" Neither of them moved first. The air between them felt thicker, heavier than it had for any of the previous fights. Luneth''s dark eyes were unreadable. Lindarion simply watched. He wasn''t going to fight seriously. Not yet. Then¡ª Luneth suddenly shifted. It wasn''t a charge, not even a true attack. Just a single silent step. She was testing the waters. Lindarion tilted his head slightly, not reacting. Another step. This time, he adjusted his stance¡ªjust barely. But Luneth noticed. She moved. Fast. Her palm flicked toward his ribs, clean and efficient, no wasted motion. Lindarion let it hit, it didn''t hurt for him, nor did he react to it. It wasn''t a test for him. It was a test for her. Luneth barely reacted, immediately following up with a sharp elbow toward his side. Lindarion sidestepped¡ªeffortlessly. Her attack brushed past him, missing by inches. For the first time, Luneth''s eyes flickered. Lindarion exhaled. She''s actually pretty good despite me holding back.'' She had fought Vivienne. Cassian. But none of them were him, Lindarion was built different. Luneth adjusted. She pressed harder, her movements fluid, barely stopping between attacks. She didn''t fight like a normal brawler. She fought like a phantom, making it feel like she was never truly there. And most people would crumble under that. But Lindarion wasn''t most people, not even close. He let her press the pace. Let her dictate the tempo. Just for now, he didn''t want to reveal all of his strength. She was fast. Efficient. But she wasn''t unpredictable. Every strike, every movement, every slight shift of her weight¡ªhe saw it all. Luneth threw another sharp jab. Lindarion moved at the last second¡ªjust enough for her knuckles to graze his uniform instead of his skin. A faint flicker of surprise flashed in her gaze. Lindarion had let it get that close. Luneth stepped in again, this time pivoting into a sweep. Lindarion lifted his leg before it could connect. Another miss. Another minor adjustment. But this time, before she could fully recover¡ª Lindarion moved. One large step forward. No hesitation. No warning at all, his movements were fluid. His hand snapped out, catching Luneth''s wrist mid-motion. She reacted instantly, trying to twist out of his grip¡ª But he had already shifted, breaking her stance before she could escape. For the first time, she was off-balance. Lindarion didn''t follow through. He could''ve. But he didn''t. Instead, he let go. Luneth immediately reset, stepping back smoothly, her gaze sharper than before. She knew. She knew. Lindarion wasn''t going all out. And that annoyed her. She exhaled, dark eyes locking onto his. "You''re holding back." Lindarion''s lips twitched slightly. "Obviously. I don''t really want to hurt you, and this is just a spar." A few students sucked in a breath. For the first time Luneth''s expression seemed to change as she quickly shook her head. And there was something different in her stance now. Less patience. More intent. She adjusted her footing, shoulders relaxing slightly. She was going to push harder. Lindarion rolled his shoulders. ''Good. She''s trying even harder now.'' That was exactly what he wanted. The class was silent, everyone leaning in as the energy shifted. Sera''s grin widened. "WELL, HELL. NOW IT''S A FIGHT." Luneth didn''t hesitate this time. She moved with real intent. Not to pressure. To win. Her next attack came from a completely different angle, sharper than before¡ªan upward strike meant to force him into a counter. Lindarion didn''t counter. He sidestepped, pivoted¡ªand cut her off before she could reset. A single, sharp movement¡ª And he had her. Before Luneth could fully adjust, Lindarion pressed forward, forcing her back. Not with brute force. Not with aggression. With control. She barely avoided his next step, twisting to reposition¡ªbut he didn''t let her. A flick of his wrist, a shift in momentum¡ª And suddenly, she was the one reacting. For the first time, she wasn''t in control. Lindarion saw her recognize it. She didn''t panic. She just adapted. But it was too late. One more movement¡ªclean, efficient¡ª And Luneth hit the ground. Complete silence. Not even shock. Neither confusion..not at all. Just pure, focused stillness. Lindarion stepped back, exhaling through his nose. Luneth didn''t move immediately. Instead she sat up slowly. She blinked at him, dark eyes calculating. Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "You hesitated." Luneth exhaled. "I know." Sera let the silence stretch. Then¡ªshe barked out a laugh. "NOW THAT WAS A DAMN FIGHT!" She turned to the class, throwing out an arm. "SEE THAT? THAT''S HOW YOU LEARN!" She clapped Lindarion on the back, nearly knocking him forward. ''What the fuck is her strength..'' "GOOD WORK, SUNBLADE. NEXT TIME? DON''T WASTE TIME LETTING PEOPLE THINK THEY HAVE A CHANCE." ''She''s doing way too much now..'' Lindarion sighed and helped Luneth stand. She brushed herself off. "Thank you." She glanced at him once more. Then¡ªshe smirked. Lindarion''s brow twitched. She wasn''t mad. She just seemed more interested. Cassian whispered from the side, "So... are you two gonna kill each other or get married?" Lindarion ignored him. ¡ª The class continued as multiple students kept sparring without a break. Sera''s loud bomb voice broke the tension in the training arena. "CLASS IS OVER. GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" A collective sigh of relief rippled through the students as the tension finally eased. Some students were still whispering about what they had just witnessed. Others were avoiding eye contact with Lindarion and Luneth entirely. Cassian just shook his head. "Okay... so I''m never fighting either of you. Ever." Lindarion shrugged. "Why not?" Luneth didn''t react. Cassian sighed. "Because I seriously value my life." Vivienne smirked slightly, brushing dust from her sleeve as she walked past the three of them. Cassian muttered something about "noble-born sadists" under his breath as they all walked off the training grounds. Lindarion glanced back once before leaving. Luneth was watching him. Not in an aggressive way. Not in an antagonistic way. Just¡ªwatching. Like she was already analyzing their next fight in her head. Lindarion sighed. ''Great. I''ve made my life harder.'' Cassian stretched as they walked. "So, uh... what''s our next class?" Lindarion frowned. That was a good question. "...No idea." Cassian paled slightly. "Oh. That''s... not great." Luneth finally spoke. "Strategy and tactics." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "How do you already know that?" Luneth simply tilted her head. "I looked into it." Cassian muttered, "I should have already known...." Lindarion sighed, rolling his shoulders. ''This is just amazing.'' First, a fight. Now? A class that was going to be full of nobles acting like they were smarter than they actually were. ''This day just keeps getting better and better.'' Cassian let out a sharp sigh beside him. "So. Anyone wanna place bets on how long it takes for someone to say something stupid?" Lindarion glanced at him. "Five minutes." Luneth, walking just ahead of them, didn''t even hesitate. "Two." Cassian groaned. "Gods, you''re probably right." Lindarion smirked slightly. At least this class wouldn''t be boring. ¡ª The strategy classroom was different from the others. Unlike the wide training grounds or the towering lecture halls, this one felt more personal. The walls were lined with ancient maps, some marked with the faded ink of old war plans. Several massive tables filled the room, each one clearly designed for group exercises. But the most noticeable thing? The atmosphere. It wasn''t the quiet, sluggish boredom of a normal class. It was far different from Geography that''s for sure.. It was tense. Watchful. After all, the room was full of Noble heirs....and commoners as well. Some of them were even military prodigies. ''Pretty intense atmosphere...'' People who had spent their lives being told they were brilliant before they ever had to prove it. And now, they were all sitting together, just waiting to see who was actually right. Lindarion took a seat near the back. Luneth sat beside him, as silent as ever. Cassian slumped into the chair next to them, muttering under his breath. "I swear, if I hear the words ''my father''s battle tactics'' one more time¡ª" He cut himself off as the doors at the front swung open. A man strode inside, his movements crisp and deliberate. Dark navy robes. Silver embroidery. But most importantly? A single, sharp gaze that immediately silenced the room. Chapter 71 71: Strategies (1) The man''s presence was commanding, but quiet. Not loud like Sera. Not casual like Fausten. Just efficient. He walked straight to the front, set down a thick collection of scrolls, and then finally looked up. "I am Instructor Verrian." His voice was even, steady. "I do not care about your backgrounds. I do not care about your names. I do not care about the titles you will inherit." A pause. Then, he smiled. "But I do care about how quickly you will lose a war if you act like idiots." Lindarion felt a flicker of interest. ''Oh, he looks amusing at least..'' This guy might actually be worth listening to. Cassian let out a soft laugh, clearly impressed. Several nobles, however, did not look amused. Verrian ignored them. Instead, he lifted a hand and gestured toward the massive maps hanging behind him. "Today, we will begin by discussing the fundamentals of warfare. Territory. Movement. Logistics." His gaze swept the class. "You all think strategy is about outsmarting your enemy. And you''re right. But if you don''t understand the battlefield itself?" His lips curled into a sharp smirk. "Then you won''t even make it that far." Lindarion leaned back slightly, considering. ''This class will probably teach information that will be one of the most important ones in the future.'' Of course, fighting was also important. But without tactics and proper plans you are as good as dead on a battlefield. Instructor Verrian stood before the class, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room like he was already evaluating them. He was a man who had clearly seen war firsthand. Not just studied it. Tall and broad-shouldered, but not bulky¡ªhis frame was built for endurance rather than raw strength. His silver-threaded navy robes were neatly pressed, but practical, the kind that wouldn''t get in the way if things turned violent. A thin scar cut across the bridge of his nose, a reminder of a past battle, and his dark brown hair was streaked with strands of gray, giving him an air of experience rather than age. But his eyes? They were the kind of eyes that saw everything. The class was silent as Verrian took a step forward, his boots tapping against the polished floor. "As I have said, I am Instructor Verrian. Engrave that in your minds." His voice carried a quiet authority, the kind that made people listen without needing to shout. "I have served as a military strategist for twenty-three years. I have commanded troops in battle, planned defenses against enemy invasions, and studied wars far older than any of you." His gaze lingered on some of the more arrogant nobles, a flicker of amusement crossing his face before he continued. "And again, as I said, I do not care about your lineage. Your titles. Or what your family name means outside this room." The tension shifted. A few students sat up straighter, some clearly uncomfortable. Lindarion? Perfectly relaxed, since he didn''t care about the families of others either. Verrian''s smirk widened slightly, as if noticing. "Here, you are all the same. Because on the battlefield, no one cares what bloodline you come from." He turned, gesturing toward the massive maps lining the walls. "What they care about¡ª" He tapped one of the maps, the inked lines showing a detailed war campaign from decades ago. "¡ªis whether you know how to win.. If you don''t then you are basically useless or just be used as a meat shield." Verrian turned back to the class, crossing his arms. As some of the students chuckled at his comment. "Let''s begin with a simple question. This is fairly easy and a common situation." He pointed to the map behind him¡ªa region divided into two opposing forces, one clearly larger than the other. "You are the general of the smaller army. Your forces are outnumbered three to one. The enemy has cut off your supply lines and controls the high ground." His eyes narrowed slightly. "How do you win this encounter?" A moment of silence. Then¡ª Vivienne raised her arm instantly as she smiled. Verrian nodded toward her. "Speak." She sat up straight, her uniform perfectly flowing around her body. "We should retreat and fortify our position elsewhere," she said confidently. "Engaging in battle would be foolish." Verrian''s face did not change. "Retreating means abandoning territory. That''s not a victory." Her expression faltered. Another hand shot up. A different student¡ªit was Elara. "An all-out assault," she said. "Hit them hard and fast before they can reinforce." Verrian smirked. "And if their numbers overwhelm you in the first wave?" She hesitated as her smile wavered completely. Verrian didn''t wait for an answer. His eyes scanned the room, searching for the right mind. Then¡ª He found Lindarion. "You." Lindarion leaned back slightly, arms crossed. He had already worked out three different solutions in his head before Verrian had finished the question. But he wasn''t about to rush into the first answer. Instead, he tilted his head. "Are there forests in the area?" A few students blinked. Verrian''s smirk widened. "Yes," he said, intrigued. "Dense forests along the northern pass." Lindarion nodded. "Then we don''t fight them head-on." Now, the class was listening. "We move our forces into the forests," Lindarion continued. "We use the terrain to our advantage. The enemy has the high ground, but they also have supply lines. If they''ve cut off ours, that means they have supply routes of their own." Verrian''s eyes gleamed. Lindarion met his gaze. "We burn them." A low murmur spread through the students. Verrian tapped his fingers against his arm. "Go on." Lindarion''s tone was calm, measured. "They have more numbers. More supplies. But they also have more people to feed, more soldiers to equip. If we can''t cut them down directly, we force them to starve." He gestured to the map. "We send small units to harass their supply lines¡ªburn their food stores, attack their messengers. Keep them moving. Make them desperate." He leaned forward slightly. "Then, when their morale is low¡ªwe choose the battlefield. Somewhere narrow. Somewhere their numbers don''t matter." He shrugged. "By the time we fight, they''ll be exhausted, hungry, and demoralized. And then we finish them." The class was silent. For the first time, Verrian actually grinned. "Well, well." He chuckled. "Looks like someone here actually thinks." ''I just played lots of strategic video games...'' Lindarion simply shrugged. "It''s just common sense." Cassian muttered under his breath, "That is not common sense...." Verrian turned back to the map. "That, class, is how you win a battle you weren''t supposed to win." His gaze flicked back to Lindarion. "Sunblade, was it?" Lindarion nodded once. Verrian''s smirk remained. "I''ll be expecting more from you." Lindarion sighed as his smile faded. ''I just set more expectations for myself didn''t I?'' Another professor who wanted to test him. Luneth, seated beside him, finally spoke. "You''re good at this." Lindarion exhaled. "A little." Verrian turned back to the board. "Alright. Next scenario. Let''s see if anyone else in this room actually has a brain." Lindarion smirked slightly. A few nobles shifted uncomfortably. Vivienne simply raised an eyebrow as she muttered quietly. "Not surprising." Lindarion rolled his eyes. ''Of course she''d say that.'' Cassian nudged his arm. "Y-You could''ve at least hesitated before answering. Let them pretend they had a chance." Lindarion smirked. "That wouldn''t be fun." Cassian sighed. Verrian straightened, his hands clasped behind his back. "Now that we''ve established that charging into battle blindly is a good way to die¡ªlet''s move on." He gestured toward a different map, this one depicting a coastal fortress. "New scenario. You are defending this city. The enemy has a fleet twice the size of yours, heavily armed, with siege weapons capable of tearing through your walls." A pause. "What''s your move?" This time, students hesitated. A few scribbled notes. Others glanced at each other, waiting for someone else to speak first. Vivienne was the first to break the silence again. "We sink their ships before they reach the shore." Verrian gave her a half-amused glance. "With what?" Vivienne''s lips curved slightly. "Traps. We place barriers in the water¡ªhidden structures designed to break their hulls. If we can''t match them in numbers, we force them to come to us in pieces." Lindarion tilted his head. ''That isn''t a bad answer.'' But it wasn''t perfect. Verrian nodded. "Clever. But what if they expect that? What if they send smaller vessels first to test for traps?" Vivienne''s smirk didn''t waver. "Then we set up decoys. Give them false weaknesses to exploit. Let them waste time thinking they''ve outplayed us." Lindarion had to admit¡ªshe was good. Cassian whispered, "I think you''re the only one who could actually argue with her." Lindarion exhaled. ''Fine, we''ll play the game then.'' He sat forward slightly, his eyes flicking over the map as he completely analyzed it. Hundreds of game scenarios played in his head as he remembered all the conquering games he played before. Honestly, Vivienne''s plan was solid, but it was too dependent on the enemy playing into their hands. Lindarion wasn''t the type to gamble. He was the type to make sure he won at the very least. Chapter 72 72: Strategies (2) Lindarion leaned forward, his eyes flicking across the coastal fortress map. Vivienne''s plan was clever, but it assumed the enemy would fall for false weaknesses. Lindarion didn''t like leaving things to chance. He liked forcing the outcome. So he spoke. "They''ll expect traps in the water," he said. "They''ll assume we''ve prepared defenses along the coastline." Vivienne''s sharp blue eyes flicked toward him, intrigued. "Go on." Lindarion pointed at the map. "They want to siege the fortress, right? Which means their goal isn''t just landing their troops¡ªit''s controlling the city." A few nobles leaned in slightly, listening. Lindarion''s gaze stayed on Verrian. "They''ll try to destroy the walls first. Siege weapons are slow, but they have range. They''ll sit just outside of our attack radius and bombard the defenses until there''s a breach." Verrian nodded slightly. "So?" Lindarion''s lips curled. "So we let them." Silence. Some students looked confused. Others alarmed. Cassian muttered, "Okay, you seriously lost me there.." Lindarion pointed towards the fortress. "We let them destroy a section of the wall. We make them think they''re winning. Let them believe they''ve created an opening." He dragged his finger inward, toward the streets leading into the city. "And then, when they rush in¡ªwe collapse the surrounding buildings on top of them." Several students stiffened. Vivienne''s smirk widened. Verrian? He grinned. "You''re talking about a controlled collapse," Verrian mused. "Turning the city into a trap itself." Lindarion nodded. "Instead of defending the walls, we force them into kill zones. The moment they break through, they won''t find an open city waiting for them. They''ll find an ambush." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "They''ll waste resources destroying their own escape route. By the time they realize it''s a trap, they''ll be stuck in our territory, on our terms. And then we wipe them out." A slow, knowing silence stretched through the room. Then¡ª Verrian laughed. It wasn''t loud. It wasn''t mocking. It was genuine. "Now that," Verrian said, his smirk sharp, "is how you turn a losing battle into a slaughter." Cassian muttered, "You''re actually terrifying." Vivienne tilted her head slightly backwards to turn to Lindarion. "You''re better at this than I expected," she mused. Lindarion rolled his eyes. Vivienne smiled faintly at him. Verrian clapped his hands together, drawing attention back to the front. "Well, that''s enough for today." His eyes flicked across the class. "Some of you have potential. Some of you need work. And some of you need to stop thinking with your family''s outdated war strategies." Several students shifted uncomfortably. Lindarion smirked. He was going to enjoy this class. Verrian turned back toward his desk. "Next time, we''ll discuss real wartime case studies. You''ll be given battle scenarios with limited information and forced to make real-time decisions." His gaze landed on Lindarion once more. "Some of you," he added, "I''ll be watching closely." Lindarion sighed internally. ''I''m attracting too much attention...But it is what it is..'' Cassian patted his shoulder. "You''re attracting way too many people who want to test you." Lindarion exhaled. "I noticed." Verrian gestured toward the door. "Class dismissed." ¡ª The moment they stepped outside, Cassian let out a long breath. "I don''t know if I should be impressed or deeply concerned that you figured out multiple ways to trap an entire army in like, two minutes." ''All those video games I played are finally coming in clutch..'' Lindarion shrugged. "It''s not that hard." Cassian stared. "It is for normal people." Vivienne walked past them, her usual composed expression still in place. "I wouldn''t call him normal." Luneth, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. "You hesitated before answering," she said, glancing at Lindarion as Vivienne just kept walking without saying anything else. Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "I was thinking." "You shouldn''t, you''re smart." With that Luneth walked off leaving Cassian and Lindarion by themselves. ''Is something wrong with her..?'' He sighed as he tapped Cassian on the shoulder. "I''m gonna go train now, you should as well." He turned to leave before Cassian could even say anything. ¡ª He made his way toward the training grounds. The sun was starting to dip, casting long shadows across the academy''s open courtyards. Most students were either heading back to rest or wasting time in the city. But Lindarion? He had no interest in either. ''I want to get stronger, people have such high expectations of me..'' Expectations. It was a curse but a blessing at the same time, which haunted him even in his past life as Felix. The times when during competitions people looked at him with those eyes. They were the eyes of believers, people who wanted and knew he would win. He always wanted to meet the standards of others. Just like a puppet. But, it wasn''t the thing he had to focus on at the moment. Today''s lessons were useful. More useful than most of the empty lectures people loved to waste time with in his past life. But learning and applying were two different things. And Lindarion wasn''t someone who half-learned anything. So he walked past the main sparring rings, past the areas where students usually practiced drills¡ª And found a quieter spot. An empty section of the training field, far from prying eyes. ''This is perfect.'' Lindarion exhaled, rolling his shoulders. Then, slowly, he let his mana stir. Not flare. Not explode. Just move. The techniques they had learned today weren''t about raw strength. They were about control. Most people thought power came from pushing harder. Pouring more mana into every strike, every spell. But what Nyx had shown them today? It was about efficiency. Refinement. Making mana work for you. Lindarion extended a hand, focusing. The first technique¡ªPassive Circulation. Mana flowed through his body in a steady, uninterrupted stream. No force. No strain. Just an invisible hum beneath his skin. It felt natural. Too natural. ''How long have I been doing this without realizing it?'' His control had always been precise. It had to be. After all, he was loved by mana. But now, with the techniques spelled out so clearly, he realized¡ª He had been refining his circulation long before stepping into the academy. A small smirk tugged at his lips. No wonder it felt effortless for him...well, it would have been weird if it wasn''t effortless. He adjusted, shifting into the next technique¡ªControlled Circulation. This one required more precision. Instead of just letting mana flow, he directed it, channeling it into specific points of his body. Faster circulation through his arms. Denser mana reinforcing his core. He could feel the difference instantly. His muscles felt lighter. More responsive. Like he was moving with half the effort, twice the speed. ''This could be dangerous.'' Not for him. For his opponents. Because if he had been fighting this whole time without fully utilizing this¡ª Then what happened when he did? Lindarion flexed his fingers, testing the balance. Then¡ªhe took a step forward. And vanished. He wasn''t actually teleporting. He was just moving more efficiently than ever before. A blur of motion¡ªthen he reappeared several meters away, barely winded. The technique wasn''t just meant for speed. But it made speed effortless. Lindarion exhaled slowly. He had only started using it, and already, he could see the potential. In a real fight? This would be devastating. He adjusted his stance, rolling his neck. Now for the final one¡ªMana Reinforcement. The most aggressive of the three. Not just controlling mana, but enhancing it. Not just refining energy, but turning it into a weapon. He focused¡ªand his aura sharpened. The air around him shifted. The stillness broke. And for a brief moment¡ª The entire training ground felt heavier. Not from weight. From presence. His own. Lindarion clenched his fist. This technique wasn''t about power. It was about turning your very existence into a threat. If Passive Circulation made him efficient¡ª If Controlled Circulation made him fast¡ª Then Mana Reinforcement made him an actual unit.. Lindarion let go, pulling his aura back in. The air returned to normal. The pressure faded. But his mind was already racing. With these techniques mastered, his fighting style would shift entirely. He had relied on speed, precision, and instinct before. But this? This was another level. He exhaled. ''Good. This is exactly what I needed.'' He turned, ready to leave after practicing for a while. But then he suddenly felt it, multiple presences walking towards him. He exhaled sharply, turning¡ªjust in time to see a group of figures stepping out from behind one of the stone pillars near the training ground''s entrance. The third-years. The same ones who had bothered him before. The auburn-haired one, the arrogant idiot from earlier, was leading them, a smirk already stretching across his face. However Nathan wasn''t with them this time. Lindarion immediately felt his patience evaporate. ''These idiots again?'' The blond one was there too, along with two others he didn''t recognize. They moved casually, like they weren''t even trying to be threatening this time. Like they were pretending this was just a coincidental meeting. Lindarion didn''t buy it for a second. The auburn-haired third-year tilted his head slightly. "Well, well. Out here training all alone, huh?" Lindarion didn''t respond. Mostly because he was debating whether it was worth acknowledging their existence. The blond one grinned. "You trying to get stronger, first-year?" Lindarion blinked slowly. "No, I was actually just trying to get worse." A pause. Then¡ª The blond''s grin twitched. Chapter 73 73: Bullies The auburn-haired one exhaled through his nose, still smirking. "You know," he mused, taking a slow step forward, "I heard some interesting things about you today." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" The third-year crossed his arms. "You embarrassed Jack Valerian." Lindarion tilted his head. "Did I?" The blond one scoffed. "Don''t play dumb. You threw him around like he was a toy." Lindarion shrugged. "He attacked first. I just helped him find the ground faster." A short silence. The auburn-haired third-year chuckled. "See, that''s the problem with you," he said, eyes glinting. "You don''t know when to shut up." Lindarion sighed. ''Ah. So that''s what this is about.'' They weren''t here to talk. They were here to correct him. To remind him that first-years weren''t supposed to stand out. That he wasn''t supposed to be better than them. And that? That was hilarious. Lindarion tilted his head slightly. "You all keep talking like you''re going to do something." His voice was calm, indifferent. "But you don''t actually seem brave enough to try." The air shifted. The blond''s jaw tightened. One of the other third-years stepped forward slightly. The auburn-haired one''s smirk remained¡ªbut his fingers twitched. They were trying to stay composed. Trying not to remember what happened last time. Lindarion saw it immediately. They were still scared. He exhaled. This was getting boring. "If you''re done wasting my time," Lindarion said smoothly, "I''d like to get back to training." Then, without waiting for a response¡ª He turned his back on them. A deliberate, blatant dismissal. Lindarion had already dismissed them. Had turned his back. Had given them a chance to walk away. But they weren''t smart enough to take it. The blond one moved first¡ªexactly as expected. A sudden rush forward, a fist crackling with mana, aimed straight for Lindarion''s side¡ª It was sloppy. Predictable. Slow. All of the mistakes someone can possibly make. Lindarion didn''t even sigh. He just moved. A half-step to the side, a slight pivot¡ª And then he caught the blond''s wrist mid-motion. The idiot barely had time to process before Lindarion twisted. A sharp, clean motion¡ª And the blond''s entire body flipped over his own arm. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, face-first into the dirt. His breath left him in a choked wheeze. Lindarion didn''t even look down. Because the next idiot was already attacking. The auburn-haired one, of course. Unlike the blond, he wasn''t just swinging wildly. He was faster, more controlled. A direct jab to Lindarion''s ribs, his stance balanced¡ª It was better. But still useless. Lindarion tilted his body just slightly¡ªjust enough to make the attack miss by a hair. The auburn-haired third-year''s fist sailed through empty air. And before he could react¡ª Lindarion struck back. A sharp, effortless movement¡ªhis palm slamming straight into the idiot''s chest. Not hard enough to break anything. Just hard enough to launch him off his feet. The third-year stumbled backward, coughing. And by then, Lindarion was already turning. The third lackey¡ªwho had been waiting for an opening¡ª Finally realized he didn''t have one. His hesitation was obvious. But Lindarion was already done. He let out a slow breath. And released his aura. ¡ª The world shifted in the training grounds. It was no longer the same place. The air around them turned thick, suffocating. The three third-years froze. It wasn''t like before¡ªno, it was completely different from the last time. This time? It was deliberate. A heavy, invisible force pressed down on them. Their bodies tensed. Their breath hitched. Their instincts screamed. Because something was very, very wrong. Lindarion''s golden eyes locked onto them. And for the first time¡ª They realized they had made a mistake. A bad one. Lindarion tilted his head slightly. "You just don''t learn, do you?" His voice was calm. Too calm. The blond, still struggling to get up, visibly shuddered. The auburn-haired one gritted his teeth. But he didn''t attack again. None of them did. Because they couldn''t. Lindarion took a single step forward. And that was enough. The blond flinched back. The third lackey took a shaky step away. The auburn-haired idiot tried to hold his ground. Tried to pretend like he wasn''t affected. Lindarion saw it easily. He couldn''t trick him. The slight tremble in his fingers was visible. The way his breath had turned just a little too sharp. Lindarion let the silence drag. Let them feel it. Then¡ª He exhaled, pulling his aura back in. The pressure lifted instantly. But the damage? It was already done. Lindarion''s lips curled slightly. "I suggest," he said smoothly, "that you stop wasting my time." His gaze drifted over them. "You won''t get another warning." Another pause. Then¡ªthe auburn-haired idiot finally broke. He clicked his tongue, turning sharply on his heel. "Let''s go," he muttered, voice tense. The blond didn''t argue. Neither did the third one. Lindarion watched the last of the third-years disappear into the distance, their retreating figures tense and humiliated. ''God finally..'' Maybe now, they''d actually think before trying something so painfully stupid again. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. That had been a waste of time. He had come here to train. To refine the mana techniques he had learned. Instead? He had spent the last few minutes reminding weaklings of their place. Lindarion let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. His body wasn''t tired. His patience was. He glanced at the sky¡ªthe sun had dipped lower now, streaking the horizon with deep oranges and purples. ''Guess that''s enough for today.'' His movements were effortless as he made his way back toward the dorms. Each step was quiet, controlled. Even now, even in something as simple as walking, the mana circulation techniques flowed through him naturally. Not forced. Not rigid. Just efficient. And the more he used them, the more he realized¡ª ''This is going to make everything so much easier.'' ¡ª The pathways leading back to the dorms were mostly empty. A few students lingered in the courtyards, some finishing late training sessions, others huddled in small groups, murmuring about whatever noble drama was currently unfolding. Lindarion ignored them. He wasn''t interested in pointless talks with them. He had enough people wasting his time already. As he passed by one of the larger fountains near the main halls, he caught a few lingering stares. Some students whispered. Some pointed subtly. No doubt about his fights today¡ªhis spar with Jack, his match with Luneth, and whatever rumors had already spread about what just happened at the training grounds. Lindarion didn''t react. Let them talk. It didn''t matter. By the time he reached the dorms, the corridors were quiet. Which was perfect. He didn''t want distractions. He reached his door, pushing it open with an easy motion. The room was exactly how he left it. Simple. Neat. Uncluttered. ''Finally I''m back..'' A large, dark-wood desk against the far wall, a single bookshelf stacked with a few academy texts. The bed¡ªuntouched since this morning. A single window, overlooking the distant lights of the townscape. Lindarion exhaled, shutting the door behind him. For the first time since morning¡ª Silence. No fights. No annoying classmates. No third-years trying to make a statement. It was perfect. ¡ª Lindarion raised a hand, mana curling around his fingers¡ªnot fire, not lightning, but something far colder. The shadows in the room stirred. They stretched toward him, twisting, shifting¡ªobeying. And then, with a quiet pulse of magic, they took form. A delicate figure emerged from the swirling black, stepping forward as if she had always been there. A small girl, her frame draped in dark wedding clothes that trailed behind her like a veil of night. Silver eyes glowed softly beneath her dark lashes, her pale hands folded neatly in front of her like a phantom. And when she spoke¡ª It was in the same knowing voice as always. "...Young Master." Lindarion lowered his hand, the shadows settling back into place as the summoning completed. Selene blinked up at him. Then, she frowned. "You didn''t summon me for days, Young Master.." Lindarion sighed. "I was busy." Selene tilted her head slightly. Her expression remained unreadable, but there was a weight in her gaze. "You should still call for me," she murmured. "Even if just for a moment." Lindarion smirked slightly. "You''re upset." Selene huffed. "I don''t get upset." He raised an eyebrow. She crossed her arms. "...I just don''t like being forgotten." Lindarion shook his head. "I didn''t forget you." Selene stared for a moment longer. Then¡ªshe sighed. "...Good." She turned, gracefully settling herself onto his desk, arranging her gown neatly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her silver eyes flickered. "So? Tell me." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "Tell you what?" Selene gave him a pointed look. "You had a long day." She wasn''t asking. She already knew. Lindarion exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "...Annoying, mostly." Selene''s lips twitched slightly as her mana seemed to gather. "Are people bothering the Young Master? Should I massacre them all?" Lindarion hummed. "Yes and no, don''t massacre anyone..." Selene tilted her head the mana around her calming down. "Did you break the people that bothered you?" Lindarion scoffed. "I embarrassed them. That''s enough for now." Selene tapped a gloved finger against the desk. "Merciful Young Master." Lindarion shrugged. "I''m practical." Selene smirked slightly. "If you say so. But remember, they won''t ever learn unless you actually do something." ''She is right...'' He sighed as Selene folded her hands in her lap. "What else?" Lindarion talked about everything. The sparring. The lessons. The fact that every professor seemed to have their eyes on him now. But one thing stood out. "...Luneth." Selene blinked as Lindarion finished his sentence. Then¡ªshe smirked. "Oh?" Lindarion frowned. "What?" Selene tilted her head. "You don''t usually mention people by name." Lindarion sighed. "She was interesting." Selene leaned forward. "She''s strong?" Lindarion nodded. "Yes, compared to others her age." Selene''s smirk widened. "But you''re stronger." Lindarion rolled his eyes. "Obviously." Selene gave a satisfied nod. "Good." She paused, then tapped her chin. "Perhaps I should meet her." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "You? Socializing?" Selene shrugged. "I should know who my Young Master finds ''interesting.''" Lindarion scoffed. "It''s not like that." Selene smirked. "Isn''t it?" Lindarion sighed. Chapter 74 74: Tester Selene watched him carefully, silver eyes gleaming in the dim candlelight. She always did this¡ªpicked apart his words, his expressions, the tiniest shifts in his tone. Lindarion sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You''re reading too much into it." Selene simply tilted her head. "I only read what''s already there." Lindarion exhaled sharply. It was pointless arguing with her. She always had a way of making things sound more meaningful than they actually were. Selene adjusted her dark wedding gown, her small hands smoothing out the fabric as she continued. "So," she mused, "if your fights weren''t the most interesting part of your day, what was?" Lindarion shrugged, leaning against the desk. "The strategy class." Selene raised an eyebrow. "You were interested?" Lindarion smirked. "The instructor wasn''t an idiot." Selene huffed a quiet laugh. "Rare." Lindarion nodded. "He actually knew what he was talking about. Knew how war worked." He tapped a finger against the desk. "It wasn''t just theory. It was experience." Selene studied him. "Did you learn anything new?" Lindarion considered that. He had already known the basics¡ªhow to turn a disadvantage into an advantage, how to manipulate an enemy into playing into his hands. But what Verrian had shown him? It wasn''t just about battle. It was about the balance of power. How entire kingdoms could be held together not by strength, but by fragile alliances. How even the strongest empire could crumble if one pillar was knocked out from underneath it. Lindarion leaned back slightly. "Not new," he admitted. "But useful." Selene nodded slowly. "You''re thinking about something." Lindarion glanced at her. Of course she noticed. He never got away with keeping thoughts from her. Selene waited patiently, hands folded neatly in her lap. Lindarion sighed. "I''m thinking about the kingdom." Selene''s expression didn''t change, but something in her eyes sharpened. Lindarion continued. "The balance between Velmora, Veldoria, and Caldris¡ªit''s not stable." Selene nodded. "No kingdom ever is." Lindarion tapped the desk again, his thoughts drifting. "Leonhardt Valerian holds everything together right now. But if something happens to him..." Selene smiled faintly. "The weight of a kingdom is a dangerous thing to balance." Lindarion exhaled through his nose. He didn''t care about politics. But he did care about understanding how things worked. Because in the end, understanding power meant knowing how to control it. And after today''s lesson..He was starting to see cracks in the foundation. Obvious cracks. Selene watched him quietly, her gaze unreadable. After a moment, she spoke. "You''re not thinking about getting involved, are you, young master? It''s not your responsibility to¡ª" Lindarion scoffed, cutting Selene off. "No. I''m just watching. A bystander." Selene smiled slightly. "You always say that." Lindarion rolled his eyes. "Because it''s true." Selene hummed. "For now." She leaned back slightly, her hands resting in her lap. "Shall I stay?" Lindarion hesitated. Then¡ªhe shook his head. "No," he murmured. "You can rest, and I don''t want anyone noticing your presence." Selene gave a small nod, then rose gracefully to her feet. "As you wish, Young Master." With a quiet pulse of dark mana, her form began to fade¡ªher wedding gown dissolving into the shadows, silver eyes lingering for just a moment before vanishing completely. The room was silent again. Lindarion exhaled. Finally, he pushed away from the desk, heading toward the bed. He wasn''t tired. But tomorrow would be another long day. And he needed to be ready. ¡ª Lindarion awoke to the faint golden light spilling through his window. ''Morning already...I wanted to sleep more.'' Sleeping always felt the best by the time you had to wake up... He sighed, pushing himself up from the bed, his body moving with the same effortless control as always. No grogginess. No sluggishness. Just awake. The academy''s schedule was strict, but he had never needed an alarm. His body simply adjusted. Training did that to a person. Lindarion stood, rolling his shoulders as his mana circulation naturally stirred to life. Even without focusing on it, the techniques he had refined yesterday were already becoming second nature. ''Good..it''s feeling natural already. As expected of the blessing.'' He moved through his routine quickly. Brushing off the creases in his academy uniform, fastening his coat, ensuring his weapons were secured properly. By the time he left his room, the hallways were already filling with students. Some still looked half-asleep. Some walked in groups, talking about absolutely useless things. Lindarion ignored all of them. He made his way toward the dining hall, already expecting to find Cassian and Luneth waiting. As expected, he spotted them at their usual spot¡ªa table near the back, away from the louder groups. He took a breakfast plate and slowly with deliberate steps approached them. Cassian had his head buried in a book, his plate mostly untouched. Luneth, as always, sat in perfect silence, eating with careful precision. Lindarion approached and took his seat without a word. Cassian noticed him first, glancing up from his book. "You''re late," he muttered, but there was no real accusation in his tone. Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "I''m right on time." Cassian clicked his tongue. "Based on the information about you...you should be showing up before us, that counts as late." Lindarion didn''t bother arguing. Instead, he simply took a bite of his food. Luneth finally glanced at him. "You trained late." It wasn''t a question. Lindarion didn''t react. "Of course." Cassian sighed, closing his book. "You know, normal people sleep...try considering it." ''At least he isn''t that shy anymore.'' Lindarion smirked. "And yet, I''m still ahead of everyone in class." Cassian groaned. "Yeah, yeah, we get it. You''re insufferable." Lindarion chuckled under his breath, but before he could respond¡ª A new presence approached the table. A familiar one. ''The hell is she doing here..?'' Vivienne. Her presence alone was enough to make nearby students whisper¡ªbut Lindarion simply exhaled through his nose. ''Of course she has to appear..just when I thought everything was going to be perfect.'' Vivienne moved with purpose, her uniform perfectly pressed, her sharp eyes locked onto Lindarion as she stopped beside their table. Lindarion didn''t look up. He took another bite of his food. Vivienne''s lips curved slightly. "You seem calm today." Lindarion finally met her gaze. "I usually am." Cassian, between them, looked nervous without saying a single word. Luneth? Unbothered. Vivienne exhaled. "Good," she said smoothly. "Because I''d hate for you to be distracted when we spar later." Lindarion paused. Then, he smirked. "...Is that a challenge?" Vivienne''s lips curled at the edges. "Of course not," she said lightly. "Challenges are for uncertain fights." Lindarion chuckled, shaking his head. This day was about to get a lot more interesting. Lindarion took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes watching Vivienne with mild amusement. "So," he mused, "not a challenge, then?" Vivienne''s smirk didn''t waver. "A test, to be precise." Cassian visibly tensed. "You two are actually going to spar?" Lindarion shrugged. "Seems like it." Vivienne folded her arms. "Unless you''re suddenly afraid?" Lindarion scoffed. "Hardly." He wasn''t surprised by this. Not even slightly. Vivienne was proud, competitive, and ruthless. If she saw someone worth testing herself against, she wouldn''t ignore it. But Lindarion wasn''t someone who fought just to prove something. He fought to win. Cassian looked between them, then sighed. "Should I start preparing an eulogy?" Luneth finally spoke. "For who?" Cassian blinked. "Uh¡ªVivienne, obviously." Vivienne raised an eyebrow. Luneth simply tilted her head. "...I wasn''t asking you." Cassian froze. Vivienne laughed under her breath. Lindarion smirked. Luneth rarely spoke up unless it was necessary. The fact that she immediately dismissed Vivienne''s chances? That was interesting. Vivienne, however, seemed completely unfazed. She turned back to Lindarion, her sharp gaze holding his. "The training grounds," she said smoothly. "During hand to hand combat class." Lindarion leaned back in his seat, studying her. Then¡ªhe nodded. "Fine." Vivienne smiled slightly. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away. The moment she was out of earshot, Cassian let out a strangled groan. "Oh, come on," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Do you have to fight every Valerian noble you meet?" Lindarion sighed. "It''s not my fault they keep throwing themselves at me." Cassian shook his head. "I feel like that''s exactly your fault." Luneth, as always, said nothing. But her sharp gaze lingered on Lindarion for just a second longer than usual. Like she was thinking something she wasn''t saying. Lindarion noticed. He always did. But he didn''t ask. Not yet. Instead, he finished his meal, stood, and stretched. Cassian groaned as he followed. "I swear, one of these days, you''re going to get into a fight you can''t win." Lindarion tilted his head slightly. "You think today is that day?" Cassian hesitated. "I¡ª" Luneth cut in. "No." Cassian blinked. "Wow. Not even pretending to consider it?" Luneth shrugged. "It''s obvious." Lindarion smirked as Cassian sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. "Does no one else see how ridiculous this is? You''re fighting Vivienne Valerian. The Vivienne Valerian." Lindarion exhaled as he said mockingly. "She''s skilled. Strong. Dangerous. Might as well treat her like your goddess..." Cassian nodded. "Exactly!" Lindarion''s lips curled. "But I''m better." Cassian let out a deep, pained sigh. "Why do I even bother?" Luneth, for once, agreed. "You shouldn''t. Even I beat her, It''ll be a cakewalk for him." Cassian shot her a betrayed look. But Luneth had already turned, walking toward the exit. Lindarion followed, Cassian trailing behind them, still muttering to himself. ¡ª The first half of the day dragged on normally..nothing exciting or out of the ordinary happened. Lindarion had always found theoretical lessons tedious. The professors spent too much time explaining things he had already figured out. Combat theory...it sounded exciting. However it wasn''t. It was things he already knew. Since they were just the basics. ''It will be harder later on..'' Even when the instructors attempted to engage the class, his answers were always too efficient. Too quick. The moment he responded, there was nothing left to discuss. Cassian called it ''ruining the fun.'' Lindarion called it ''moving the lesson along faster.'' By the time the final class ended before the hand to hand combat lecture, he was already stretching his shoulders, ready for something interesting. Chapter 75 75: Interest Word had spread. By the time Lindarion arrived at the training grounds, a small crowd of students had already gathered. ''Of course they would gather..'' Vivienne Valerian didn''t challenge people often. And when she did? She didn''t lose...well, except to Luneth. But she was built different. Lindarion scanned the onlookers, noting familiar faces¡ªsome first-years, some upperclassmen. Even Jack Valerian was there, arms crossed, watching with a blank expression. Lindarion smirked slightly. ''He probably thinks she will embarrass me, how insane is he mentally..?'' Vivienne was already waiting in the center of the sparring ring, her posture relaxed but poised. She turned as Lindarion stepped into the ring, her sharp eyes assessing him. Then¡ªshe smiled. "Good," she murmured. "You actually showed up." Lindarion rolled his shoulders. "You sound surprised." Vivienne''s expression remained unreadable. "I wasn''t sure if you''d take me seriously." Lindarion exhaled. "I only take actual fights seriously." Vivienne''s lips curled slightly. "We''ll see." Instructor Sera Vallora stepped forward, arms crossed. "ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP." The murmurs in the crowd quieted. Sera''s fiery red gaze swept over them. "STANDARD RULES. NO WEAPONS, NO MAGIC¡ªJUST TECHNIQUE." She looked between Lindarion and Vivienne. "FIRST TO SCORE THREE CLEAN HITS WINS." Vivienne nodded once. "Understood." Lindarion tilted his head slightly. Easy enough. Sera stepped back, raising a hand. "BEGIN!" Vivienne moved first. She was fast. Not just physically¡ªbut mentally. Her approach was clean, controlled¡ªtesting his reaction. She threw a sharp feint toward his ribs¡ªnot meant to land, just meant to see how he moved. Lindarion didn''t take the bait. Instead of dodging, he simply shifted slightly, just enough to make the attack useless. Vivienne''s eyes flickered. She adjusted instantly, following up with a real strike¡ªa precise elbow aimed at his jaw. Lindarion leaned back. Barely. The attack missed by a breath. Vivienne didn''t hesitate. She flowed into the next motion, her body turning with perfect efficiency, aiming a sharp kick toward his legs¡ª Lindarion stepped forward instead of back. And with perfect timing¡ª He caught her wrist. A brief moment of pause. Then¡ª Lindarion twisted. Vivienne''s eyes widened slightly as her balance was thrown off. She was quick. She adjusted immediately, avoiding a full takedown¡ª But she couldn''t stop him from scoring the first hit. A controlled tap against her ribs. Point to Lindarion. The watching students murmured. Vivienne exhaled slowly. Then¡ªshe smiled. "How amusing." She adjusted. Vivienne was many things. Prideful. Arrogant. But most of all¡ªadaptive. This time, she didn''t rush. She watched. Waited. Lindarion took a step forward. She shifted her weight slightly¡ªnot committing to an attack, just responding. ''Ah.'' She was learning. ''Good. Make this worth my while.'' Lindarion tested her. He feinted a strike toward her ribs¡ªsimilar to how she had tested him earlier. Vivienne didn''t fall for it. Instead, she countered instantly¡ªaiming for the opening he had left. Except¡ª That was the trap. Lindarion had anticipated her reaction before she even moved. The moment she committed to the strike, he was already gone. A clean sidestep¡ª A smooth pivot¡ª And another controlled tap against her shoulder. Point to Lindarion. The watching students murmured louder. Vivienne didn''t react. She simply breathed. Then¡ªshe smiled again. But this time, it was sharper. Vivienne changed her approach. Instead of engaging directly, she adjusted her distance. Not attacking immediately¡ªwaiting for him to move first. Lindarion raised an eyebrow. ''Clever.'' She knew she couldn''t outread him, so now she was forcing him to act first. But that was fine. Because Lindarion had already won. He stepped forward¡ªa deliberate movement. Vivienne''s body tensed slightly, preparing to react. And that was all he needed. Because at that moment, he did nothing. He just stood there. Vivienne hesitated. A brief second of uncertainty. And in a fight of this level¡ªthat was death...or loss. To be more precise. Lindarion moved instantly. A clean, precise strike¡ªhis palm pressing lightly against her shoulder. Point to Lindarion. Silence. Then¡ª Sera grinned. "AND THAT''S THREE." The match was over. Vivienne exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders. Then¡ªshe laughed. Not bitter. Not angry. Just genuinely amused. Lindarion tilted his head. "Something funny?" Vivienne shook her head, smiling. "You really are something." Lindarion smirked. "I know." She laughed again. Then¡ªshe turned sharply on her heel and walked away. The watching students whispered. Jack Valerian was still stone-faced. Cassian groaned. "Of course you won." Luneth simply nodded once. Lindarion stretched, sighing. "Alright," he muttered. "What''s next?" Cassian groaned again. "Can you just let the rest of us catch up first?" The whispers in the crowd hadn''t even died down when Sera Vallora stepped forward. Lindarion immediately noticed. Not because she was loud¡ªshe was always loud¡ªbut because the air shifted around her. The natural command in her movements, the way students instinctively made way for her¡ªit wasn''t just respect. It was recognition. Sera Vallora was not a normal instructor. She was a warrior. And now? She was looking directly at him. Her crimson eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "Not bad, Sunblade," she said, rolling her shoulders. "Didn''t think you''d handle Vivienne that well." Lindarion sighed. ''Why do I sense a ''but'' coming?'' Sera grinned. "But..." she continued, cracking her knuckles, "you still haven''t fought someone like me." Cassian made a strangled noise. "Wait, wait¡ªhold on¡ª" Sera ignored him. She tilted her head, eyes locked on Lindarion. "Since you''re already warmed up..." she smirked, "how about you and I have a little match?" The training grounds fell silent. Even the upperclassmen students who were watching from the sides were surprised, they usually had nothing but arrogant expressions , but that changed now completely. "Is... is she serious?" someone whispered. "She''s an instructor," another muttered. "That''s not even fair¡ª" "Maybe she''s just going to test his skill?" Lindarion exhaled sharply. He wasn''t stupid. Sera Vallora wasn''t challenging him to win. She was challenging him to see what he was made of. And more than that? ''She is going to be holding back.'' Of course she would hold back. If she went all out, he''d be on the ground before Cassian could count to fifteen. Lindarion rolled his shoulders. "Fine," he said simply. Cassian''s jaw dropped. "You''re actually saying yes?" Lindarion glanced at him. "Would you say no?" Cassian hesitated. Then, very quietly, "Yes." Sera laughed. "Good," she said. "Let''s make this quick." Lindarion stepped into the ring again, standing across from Sera. She wasn''t even in a stance. She stood completely relaxed. But Lindarion knew better than to be fooled. Sera Vallora didn''t need to stand properly. Because she was already prepared to move the second the fight started. She grinned. "Rules are the same," she said. "First to three points wins." She flexed her fingers. "I won''t use my full strength." A pause. Then¡ªher grin widened. "But you better use yours." Lindarion''s eyes sharpened. Then¡ª Sera moved first. Lindarion had been watching her carefully. Even before she moved, he knew her speed would be a problem. And still¡ªhe barely saw her move. One second, she was standing across from him. The next? She was already at his side. Lindarion reacted instantly. A hard pivot, his arms snapping up to block¡ª Too slow. Sera''s strike was already past his defense. A solid hit¡ªjust a tap against his ribs. But in a real fight? That would have been enough to break something. Sera stepped back, smirking. "Point for me." Lindarion exhaled. The students were muttering now. "She''s that fast while holding back?" "Lindarion couldn''t even block it¡ª" But Lindarion? He wasn''t discouraged. He had learned something. Sera wasn''t just faster. She was unpredictable. Which meant¡ªhe couldn''t fight her normally. This time, Lindarion moved first. The moment Sera stepped toward him, he attacked immediately. He knew he couldn''t match her in pure speed¡ªso instead? He forced her to react. A sharp feint to the left¡ªthen a real strike to the right. Sera''s grin widened. "Clever." She dodged¡ªbut barely. And that was the opening Lindarion needed. He adjusted instantly, his movements precise, striking where she was moving instead of where she was. A light tap against her shoulder. Point to Lindarion. The crowd erupted in whispers. "He actually scored?" Cassian looked like he was about to faint. Luneth, however? She simply nodded. As if she had expected it. Sera stepped back, shaking out her arms. "Well," she mused, "that''s interesting." Then¡ªshe grinned. "Let''s pick up the pace, boy." Sera stopped holding back. Not completely. But enough for Lindarion to feel the difference immediately. She closed the distance so fast it felt like she had teleported. Lindarion barely managed to react, dodging by a hair''s breadth. But Sera was already moving again. She vanished. Not literally¡ªbut she might as well have. One moment, Lindarion saw her in front of him. The next? She was gone. His instincts screamed. His body reacted before his mind could catch up¡ªa sharp pivot, his arms coming up to guard. Too slow. A fist slammed into his ribs¡ªcontrolled, precise, just hard enough to knock him back. Lindarion barely managed to recover his stance. The moment he blinked, she was already moving again. Another strike¡ªfaster, sharper. Lindarion dodged¡ªbut only barely. He countered immediately, aiming for the gap she had left. Sera''s grin widened¡ªlike she had been waiting for that. She twisted, her movements fluid, unreadable¡ª And before Lindarion could adjust¡ª A sharp tap against his ribs. "Point." The crowd erupted. "That was insane¡ª" "He almost had her, though¡ª" Lindarion exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. Sera took a step back, flexing her fingers. "Not bad," she admitted. "You lasted longer than I expected." Lindarion didn''t respond. Because his mind was already replaying everything. Chapter 76 76: Geniuses This time, Lindarion didn''t wait. He moved the moment Sera adjusted her stance. A direct, powerful strike¡ªbut not reckless. Every step, every motion was deliberate. Sera smirked, meeting his attack head-on. Their strikes collided¡ªa brief clash of strength against strength. The ground beneath them cracked slightly. For a moment...just a moment, Sera''s expression flickered with something new. Not just amusement. Genuine surprise. Then¡ªshe grinned devilishly. "Now we''re talking." Her aura sharpened. Lindarion reacted instantly¡ªbut it wasn''t enough. Sera slipped past his defenses like water through cracks. One clean, effortless motion¡ª A precise strike to his shoulder. Another point and the match was already over.. Lindarion took a slow, measured breath, forcing his body to relax. His arms were tensed. His heartbeat quickened. But not from exertion. From realization. Sera was holding back. And even then, she was still beyond his reach. Sera stretched, rolling her shoulders. "Not bad, kid." Lindarion tilted his head. "That''s it?" Sera raised an eyebrow. "What? You want me to give you a medal?" Lindarion exhaled. "No." Then¡ªhe smirked. "I want to fight you again." The crowd stirred. Cassian made a strangled sound. "Lindarion¡ªwhat." Luneth blinked. Sera grinned. "Oh?" Lindarion nodded. "I need to see how far the gap is." Sera chuckled. "It''s wide." Lindarion narrowed his eyes. "But not impossible." For the first time, Sera actually paused. Then¡ªshe laughed. Loud. Unrestrained. "Damn." She wiped a hand down her face, shaking her head. "Alright. I like you, Sunblade." She cracked her knuckles. "You want another match?" She smirked. "Get stronger first." Lindarion exhaled slowly. The match was over, but his mind was still replaying every exchange. Every movement. Every opening. Every failure. He had fought against talented students before. Against nobles, against trained warriors before and won. But Sera Vallora? She was beyond them. Not because of overwhelming strength. Not because of speed. But because of something far worse. Experience. ''Perhaps...no. Erebus is still stronger than her.'' She had seen everything he tried before he even attempted it. But Erebus flashed in his mind. The way he effortlessly toyed with people, with him as well... Sera had let him attack, let him adapt¡ªbecause she already knew how it would end. Lindarion''s fingers curled slightly. ''She''s right. I need to get stronger.'' Sera stretched, rolling her shoulders as if the fight had been nothing more than a light warm-up. "Alright," she said, clapping her hands. "Show''s over, kids. Get back to training, or get lost." The crowd hesitated for a moment, still murmuring amongst themselves, before slowly dispersing. Cassian was still staring. Luneth? She was looking at Lindarion more intently than usual. Lindarion finally turned back to Sera, his golden eyes sharp. "I''ll take you up on that offer." Sera grinned. "Knew you would." Lindarion adjusted his sleeves. "I won''t lose next time." Sera laughed. Loud. Unrestrained. And not in a mocking way. She actually looked pleased. "Oh, I like you, Sunblade." She pointed at him. "Keep that attitude. It''ll take you far." Then¡ªshe turned and walked away. Lindarion watched her go, his mind already shifting gears. He had a goal now. Get stronger. Close the gap. Win. It was a simple but effective plan. Cassian let out a long breath, rubbing his temples. "Okay. Let''s take a moment to process what just happened." Lindarion tilted his head. "Why?" Cassian shot him a look. "Because you just fought an instructor, nearly held your own, and instead of, I don''t know, taking a break like a normal person, you immediately asked for a rematch." Lindarion shrugged. "And?" Cassian groaned. Luneth, however, remained silent. Still watching. Still thinking. Lindarion noticed. But he didn''t ask. Instead, he stretched, rolling his shoulders. "I''m going to train." Cassian''s jaw dropped. "Now?" Lindarion nodded. "Now." Cassian ran a hand down his face. "You''re actually insane." Lindarion smirked. "And yet, I keep winning." Cassian grumbled something under his breath but didn''t argue. Luneth finally spoke. "Where?" Lindarion thought for a moment. Then¡ª "Do you happen to know a place?" He asked Luneth calmly. She nodded once. "The northern training grounds. I''ll come..as well." Cassian sighed. "...Fine. I''ll come too..But if I die of exhaustion, it''s your fault." Lindarion smirked. "Then don''t fall behind." And with that, they left. ¡ª The northern training grounds were nearly deserted. Most students had already finished their sparring and returned to the dorms, exhausted from the day. But Lindarion, Cassian, and Luneth? Their training had only just begun. The three of them stood in the open field, the cool night air brushing against their skin. The sky above was painted in deep hues of violet and indigo, the academy lanterns casting a faint glow over the training grounds. Lindarion took a slow breath, his eyes sharpening. ''Time to see how good they actually are.'' Cassian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright. So let''s go over this again." Lindarion crossed his arms. "You were paying attention in Professor Nyx''s class, weren''t you?" Cassian gave him a flat look. "I was trying, but, you know..." He gestured vaguely. "Some of us aren''t prodigies." ''Says the idiot that has one of the best affinity controls in the class...'' Lindarion smirked as he shook his head but didn''t argue. Luneth, standing beside them, remained as expressionless as ever. "We start with passive circulation," she murmured. "Then controlled circulation." Cassian nodded. "Right, right. And what was the last one?" Lindarion''s voice was calm. "Full-body circulation." Cassian grimaced. "Right. The one where if you mess up, you either pass out or accidentally blow up!" Cassian stared at his hands, as if expecting them to spontaneously combust. Lindarion sighed. "You''re not going to blow up you know...." Cassian gave him a skeptical look. "You don''t know that." Luneth, standing as still as ever, finally spoke. "You will fail if you think like that." Cassian groaned. "Right, because confidence is the key to not exploding. Good to know." Lindarion ignored him. Instead, he took a slow breath, rolling his shoulders as he felt the mana in his body begin to stir. Passive Circulation. The easiest step. Letting mana flow naturally, without forcing it. Like breathing. Like second nature. It was the foundation of everything else. Lindarion''s body responded instantly. The mana inside him moved without resistance, without hesitation. A smooth, effortless current flowing through his limbs, reinforcing his movements. ''Good..it''s working fine now.'' Then¡ª Controlled Circulation. This was where things became deliberate. Lindarion exhaled slowly, feeling the shift. The moment he transitioned from passive circulation to controlled circulation, his mana flowed sharper, more precise. It responded instantly, like a blade being drawn from its sheath¡ªeager, ready. No hesitation. No instability. Just control. He flexed his fingers slightly, feeling the energy settle exactly where he wanted it to. His body felt lighter, stronger¡ªlike every movement could be executed with perfect efficiency. This was how magic should be. But then¡ª Cassian coughed violently. Lindarion glanced over. Cassian stood stiffly, his arms trembling slightly, his mana flickering wildly around him. The flow was unstable. Choppy. It surged in bursts instead of forming a steady current. Luneth, standing beside him, looked completely unbothered. But when Lindarion observed carefully¡ªhe noticed it. Luneth stood still, her posture perfectly composed, but¡ª Her mana? It was pretty unstable. It wasn''t as obvious as Cassian''s¡ªit didn''t flicker wildly, didn''t surge out of control. But it wasn''t flowing properly, either. Lindarion could see it. The way her mana hesitated, lingering for a fraction of a second before moving. It wasn''t natural. It wasn''t instinctive. It was forced. She was fighting against it¡ªtrying to control something that wasn''t cooperating. Lindarion exhaled through his nose. So even she has trouble with this. Cassian, on the other hand¡ª "Shit¡ª!" His mana flared violently, the unstable current nearly throwing him off balance. He stumbled back, coughing again, his face pale. Lindarion sighed. "You''re forcing it too much." Cassian shot him a frustrated look. "I''m trying to circulate it like you are!" Lindarion tilted his head slightly. "No, you''re trying to move it like it''s something separate from you." Cassian blinked. Lindarion crossed his arms. "Mana doesn''t respond to brute force. You can''t push it around like you''re shoving a boulder uphill." He tapped his temple. "You have to guide it." Cassian exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. "Right. Sure. Easy for you to say." Luneth remained silent. But Lindarion noticed something. She wasn''t trying again. She was watching. Not just observing¡ªstudying. Measuring his technique. Lindarion raised an eyebrow. ''Interesting.'' Luneth wasn''t the type to ask questions outright. Instead, she watched, analyzed, and dissected every detail. She was trying to understand why his worked while hers didn''t. Lindarion turned his attention back to Cassian. "Try again." Cassian groaned. "I really feel like I''m going to explode." Lindarion smirked. "Then don''t." Cassian shot him a flat glare. Luneth blinked. "You know we can''t just give up, and it''s not that simple at all.." Lindarion shrugged. "I know. But it works exactly as I explained it." Cassian let out a long, suffering sigh. "Yeah, well, not all of us are freaks of nature." Lindarion chuckled. Then¡ª Without warning, he transitioned into full-body circulation. Chapter 77 77: Unwelcome Presence Cassian and Luneth froze. The shift was immediate. Mana surged through Lindarion''s body, flowing perfectly. Not just reinforcing his limbs¡ªbut synchronizing. Everything became sharper, faster, smoother. Even his breathing was flawless. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then¡ª Cassian threw up his hands. "Okay, screw this." Luneth said nothing. But her dadk eyes narrowed slightly. Not in frustration. In understanding. Cassian groaned. "So what you''re telling me is that you just naturally circulate mana through your entire body perfectly after, what, one lesson?" ''I can''t just say I''m blessed...'' Lindarion tilted his head. "...Yes." Cassian let out a long, exhausted breath. "Unbelievable." Luneth finally spoke. "You don''t think about it." Lindarion glanced at her. "What?" She stared at him. "The mana," she murmured. "You don''t process it. You don''t force it. You just... let it happen." Lindarion shrugged. "Why wouldn''t I?" Cassian made a strangled noise. Luneth remained silent for a moment. Then¡ªshe exhaled. "...I see." Lindarion narrowed his eyes slightly. She wasn''t saying it lightly. She had understood something. And knowing Luneth? She was going to figure out how to replicate it. Cassian, meanwhile, flopped down onto the ground. "I give up." Lindarion smirked. "Already?" Cassian groaned. "I need food. Or sleep. Or both." Luneth didn''t respond, still standing in quiet thought. Lindarion watched her for a moment longer. Then¡ªhe relaxed his stance, letting the mana fade. Tonight had confirmed something. Cassian struggled. Luneth analyzed. And Lindarion? He was ahead of them both. Not just in talent. But in control. And control? Was everything when it came to mana. ¡ª After practicing for a while Lindarion exhaled, letting his mana settle back into a dormant state. Even after cycling it through his body at full efficiency, he didn''t feel the slightest bit drained. It was natural. Effortless. Unlike Cassian¡ªwho was currently sprawled on the ground, looking half-dead. Luneth, however, stood in complete silence. Still thinking. Still processing. Lindarion watched her carefully. He could already tell. She was piecing it together. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow¡ªbut soon. And when she did? She would be dangerous. Lindarion smirked slightly. ''That will be interesting to see.'' But before he could say anything¡ª A slow clap echoed across the training ground. Lindarion''s amusement immediately faded. Because he knew that sound. That mocking, arrogant rhythm. Cassian groaned. "Oh, for fuck''s sake¡ª" Lindarion turned his head. And there, standing at the edge of the training field¡ªsmirking like he owned the place¡ª Was Nathaniel Veyre. Nathaniel strolled toward them, his silver hair catching the moonlight, his smirk annoyingly present. Two upperclassmen followed behind him, their gazes sharp, watching everything. Lindarion didn''t miss the way the couple students in the background that were there had subtly stepped away. Nathaniel''s presence alone made people uneasy. Lindarion wasn''t one of them though. He was just annoyed by the entire situation. ''Can I just have one peaceful day please.'' Nathaniel stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Impressive," he mused. "Really, Sunblade. Watching you humiliate your friends with ease? Quite entertaining." Lindarion''s eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you come here just to waste my time?" Cassian, still lying on the ground, muttered, "I''d like to second that question." Nathaniel chuckled. Luneth, however, didn''t even look at him. She simply stood there. Silent. Calculating. Lindarion knew that look. She wasn''t ignoring Nathaniel. She was waiting. Nathaniel sighed dramatically. "Must you always be so hostile, Lindarion? I was simply admiring your progress." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "I don''t need your admiration." Nathaniel smirked. "No, but you might need my connections." Lindarion''s fingers twitched. Ah. There it is. Nathaniel wasn''t here to waste time. He was testing the waters...yet again. It was starting to get annoying at this point. Probing. Measuring. Trying to see if Lindarion could be useful to him. Lindarion sighed. "Let me guess." His voice was flat. "This is the part where you offer me something I don''t want?" Nathaniel''s smirk widened. "My, my. You wound me." Lindarion tilted his head slightly. Nathaniel had power in this academy¡ªnot just because of his skill, but because of how he played people. Manipulation. Connections. Influence. But now he was just trying. Trying to see if Lindarion could be pulled into his orbit. Nathaniel glanced at Cassian¡ªstill lying down¡ªand then at Luneth. His smirk turned slightly sharper. "Your little group is quite the anomaly." Lindarion didn''t respond. Because that wasn''t a compliment. That was a statement. A test. Nathaniel studied Luneth for a moment longer, as if trying to figure her out. She met his gaze without hesitation. No fear. No reaction. Nathaniel grinned. "You''re Interesting." Then¡ªhe turned back to Lindarion. "I''m simply here to offer an opportunity," he said smoothly. Cassian groaned. "Oh, here we go." Lindarion just crossed his arms. "I''m not interested." Nathaniel laughed. "You haven''t even heard what I''m offering." Lindarion''s gaze was flat. "I don''t need to." Nathaniel''s smirk didn''t fade¡ªbut his eyes sharpened. Just slightly. A flicker of something beneath the amusement. A hint of calculation. Then¡ªhe sighed dramatically. "Well," he mused, "I suppose I''ll just have to try again another time. A time when you won''t have another choice but to join me." ''Should I just finish him right now?'' Lindarion''s fingers twitched as he thought of multiple possibilities of ending him. But the backlash would be way too troublesome for killing a noble, especially here in the academy. But he knew that Nathaniel wasn''t going to give up. This wasn''t a one-time thing. It was just the beginning. Nathaniel clapped a hand over his chest. "Until next time, then." And just like that¡ªhe turned on his heel and walked away. His upperclassmen followed. ''Just like mutts.'' Lindarion watched him go, his eyes cold. Cassian sat up with a groan. "I hate that guy." Luneth, finally breaking her silence, murmured¡ª "He''ll definitely come back." Lindarion exhaled, clearly exhausted by the whole thing. "I know." Luneth spoke first. "So, what that was about?" Her tone was calm, but there was an edge beneath it. Cassian, still sprawled on the ground, muttered, "Politics. Power. Nathaniel trying to make Lindarion his new best friend. Usual bullshit." Luneth''s violet eyes flickered toward Lindarion. He held her gaze. "He wants something," Lindarion said simply. "And he won''t stop until he gets it." Cassian grunted. "Yeah, well, he can take his offer and shove it up¡ª" Luneth cut him off. "What does he want from you specifically?" Lindarion was quiet for a moment. That was the question, wasn''t it? Nathaniel didn''t waste time on people unless he saw value. Which meant he saw something in Lindarion. The problem was, Lindarion had no idea what. But he would find out. Eventually. Lindarion turned away. "I don''t care what he wants." His voice was flat. "It doesn''t matter." Luneth studied him for a moment longer. Then¡ªwithout another word¡ªshe nodded. Cassian stretched, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Well, that was a fun distraction," he muttered. "But if we''re done with the brooding silence, how about we get back to training?" Lindarion raised an eyebrow. Cassian smirked. "What? Just because I suck at Nyx''s techniques doesn''t mean I''m giving up." Lindarion smirked slightly. That was the thing about Cassian. He might be reckless, but he was stubborn. Luneth crossed her arms. "Fine." Her voice was dry. "But if you collapse again, I''m leaving you there." Cassian grinned. "I would expect nothing less." Lindarion rolled his shoulders. "Then let''s get back to it." And with that¡ªthey resumed. ¡ª By the time Lindarion walked back to his dorm, the moon was high, casting a pale glow over the academy. The halls were quieter now, most students already retired for the night. Lindarion exhaled, his body thrumming with residual energy from the training session. He was improving. But it still wasn''t enough. Not yet. He reached his room, pushing the door open with a flick of his fingers. The moment he stepped inside¡ªshadows stirred. A faint, chilling presence swept through the air. And then¡ªshe appeared. A small figure, clad in tattered black wedding attire, her pale hands delicately smoothing over the lace of her veil. Selene. She lifted her head, empty eyes peering through the shadows of her veil. Lindarion met her gaze. "You''re late, Young Master." Her voice was soft, almost whisper-like, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. Lindarion sighed. "I was training." Selene''s head tilted slightly. "You push yourself too much." Lindarion scoffed. "You know I need to get better." Selene didn''t answer immediately. Instead, she floated closer, her veil barely shifting as if untouched by the air itself. Then¡ªher lips curled into the faintest trace of amusement. "Yes, Young Master." Lindarion sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck. Selene simply watched him. "Another pointless day?" she murmured. Lindarion leaned back slightly. "Not entirely." He thought back to Nathaniel. To the subtle shift in his gaze. Something was coming. And Lindarion had no intention of being unprepared. Selene was silent for a moment. Then¡ª "You should rest..it''s going to be tough tomorrow again." Lindarion let out a quiet chuckle. "Are you going to tuck me in too?" Selene''s veil barely moved, but he could feel the unimpressed stare. He smirked. Chapter 78 78: Private Lesson (1) The classroom buzzed with quiet conversation as students settled into their seats. It was a large, designed in tiers so that even those in the back could see clearly. Sunlight streamed in through tall windows, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden desks. Lindarion sat near the center, arms crossed, his usual expression unreadable. To his left, Cassian leaned back in his chair, tapping a quill idly against his parchment, while Luneth sat to his right, ever silent, her gaze calmly sweeping across the room. At the front of the hall stood Professor Nyx, the academy''s renowned instructor for Mana Studies. Unlike most professors, who dressed in elaborate robes or adorned themselves with magical insignia, Nyx kept things simple. She wore a fitted, dark-blue coat over a white tunic, sleeves rolled up just past her elbows. A faint trace of mana shimmered around her fingertips as she casually adjusted the stack of books on her desk. Her eyes carried a sharp intelligence, but her expression was kind¡ªwarm, even. Despite her reputation, she lacked the cold and distant demeanor of many other professors. "Alright, let''s begin our second lesson." Her voice was smooth, carrying an effortless authority that silenced the room. "This is Mana Studies, which means we won''t be swinging swords or flinging fireballs. Instead, we''ll focus on something far more important this lesson...which is¡ªunderstanding mana itself." She let the words hang for a moment, then smiled. "Of course, most of you think you already understand it, don''t you?" A few students chuckled. Nyx leaned against her desk. "Then let''s test that. Who can explain the fundamental nature of mana?" A few hands shot up. Predictably, they belonged to the more studious types¡ªnoble-born mages who had likely spent years being drilled on magical theory. Nyx pointed to a girl in the front row. "Go ahead." The student straightened. "Mana is the life force that flows through all living things. It exists in nature, within our bodies, and in the atmosphere. By manipulating it, mages can cast spells." Nyx nodded. "A textbook answer. Not wrong¡ªbut incomplete." She looked around. "Anyone else?" Another student raised a hand. "Mana exists in different affinities, which determine what kind of magic a person can use." "Also correct," Nyx acknowledged. "But still not the full picture." She glanced across the room, her gaze landing on Lindarion. "What about you?" she asked, a knowing glint in her eyes. "You''ve been quiet." A few heads turned toward him. Lindarion exhaled slowly. He could already tell what was happening¡ªNyx wasn''t just looking for a generic answer. She wanted his answer. He uncrossed his arms. "Mana is not just a tool for magic," he said, his voice even. "It''s a fundamental force of existence. It binds the physical and ethereal worlds together. Every living being has it, but only some can shape it consciously." Nyx nodded. "Go on." Lindarion tapped a finger against the desk. "Most mages think of mana in terms of casting spells, but that''s a limited perspective. It influences everything¡ªperception, instincts, even emotions. Mastery of mana isn''t just about controlling it externally, but internally as well." Silence stretched for a moment. Then Nyx smiled. "Now that is the right answer." A few murmurs ran through the class. Cassian shot Lindarion a glance, impressed. Luneth remained unreadable, though he swore he caught the faintest flicker of interest in her eyes. Nyx straightened. "Lindarion is exactly right. Mana is not just fuel for magic¡ªit is existence. Those who truly understand it don''t just cast stronger spells. They perceive the world differently." She turned back to the board and began drawing a complex diagram. "This brings us to today''s lesson. We''ll be discussing how different things affect the magical output of a mage." She suddenly snapped her fingers and books appeared before every single student. "Open your books to page forty-three." ¡ª The lecture continued, diving into the intricacies of mana pathways and the ways different affinities altered circulation. Most students scribbled notes furiously, struggling to keep up. Lindarion, however, absorbed the information with ease. It wasn''t arrogance¡ªjust experience. After all, he had been taught by far more... unconventional instructors. Some who didn''t believe in "formal lessons" and instead preferred trial by survival. As Nyx explained the different mana circulation methods again, he mentally compared them to what he already knew about them as she haven''t ventured into new information. ''Most of this is standard theory. The same as the last lesson..'' But then Nyx said something that caught his attention. "However, there is one rare phenomenon that occurs when mana flow is fully optimized." She tapped the board. "It''s called Resonance." A few students perked up. Nyx smiled. "I see some of you have heard of it. Can anyone explain?" One student raised his hand. "Resonance is when a mage''s mana harmonizes perfectly with their body, allowing them to cast spells with almost no loss of energy." "Correct," Nyx said. "It''s incredibly difficult to achieve. Some mages spend their entire lives trying and never succeed." Lindarion leaned back slightly. ''Resonance...that sounds amazing.'' He had felt something like that before... fleeting moments where his mana reacted too smoothly, where spells became effortless. But he had never actively pursued it. Maybe it was worth looking into. ¡ª By the time class ended, most students were mentally drained. Cassian stretched, groaning. "I swear, my brain is going to explode." Lindarion gave him a flat look. "That''s because you don''t use it often enough." Cassian gasped, clutching his chest. "Betrayed...." Luneth, walking beside them, simply muttered, "He''s not wrong." Cassian shot her an incredulous look. "You too, Luneth?" Before they could continue, Nyx''s voice rang out. "Lindarion, stay for a moment." Cassian raised an eyebrow. "Are you in trouble?" Lindarion ignored him, stepping back toward the professor''s desk. Nyx waited until the other students had filtered out before crossing her arms. "You understood today''s lecture far better than most." Lindarion shrugged. "I''ve had good teachers." Nyx studied him for a moment. "Your understanding of mana is already beyond what we typically cover in this course. Which makes me wonder..." She tilted her head. "Where did you learn all this? Of course, it''s not necessary for you to answer at all." Lindarion met her gaze. For a moment, he considered how to answer. He could lie¡ªpretend to be just another noble-born prodigy who had been tutored by prestigious scholars. But Nyx was sharp. And more importantly... he wasn''t ashamed of his instructors and masters. Not that he should be. So he simply said, "From people who don''t care about titles or academy rankings." Nyx exhaled, amused. "That''s an interesting way to put it." She leaned against her desk. "Well, whatever the case, you have talent. Real talent." There was no flattery in her tone¡ªjust a simple statement of fact. She studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright. That''s all for today. You can go." Lindarion turned to leave¡ª Then paused. "...Professor." Nyx raised an eyebrow. He hesitated, then asked, "This Resonance you mentioned. Is there a way to train it?" Nyx''s lips curled into a slow smile. "Ah. Now you''re asking the right questions." She leaned forward slightly. "Meet me at the training grounds tomorrow evening. I''ll show you something." Lindarion nodded. "Understood." As he stepped out of the lecture hall, he found Cassian and Luneth waiting for him. Cassian smirked. "Soooo, what was that about?" Lindarion exhaled. "Nothing important." Luneth, ever perceptive, simply glanced at him. "...You''re lying." Lindarion smirked. "Maybe." As they walked, he let his thoughts drift back to Nyx''s words. ''Resonance, huh?'' Maybe this class was going to be more interesting than he thought. ¡ª Evening had settled over the academy, casting long shadows across the training grounds. The usual crowd of students had dwindled, most having retired to their dormitories or the library to cram for upcoming lectures. But Lindarion was still here. He stood at the center of the field, waiting. His arms were crossed, his posture relaxed, but his mind was alert. It wasn''t long before Professor Nyx arrived. She carried herself with the same effortless confidence as in class, but there was something different now. Less of the composed lecturer, more of a seasoned instructor sizing up a student. "You''re early," she noted. "You''re late, professor." Lindarion countered. Nyx chuckled. "You remind me of someone." She didn''t elaborate, and Lindarion didn''t press. Instead, he watched as she stepped closer, her eyes scanning him thoughtfully. "Tell me, Lindarion¡ªwhy are you interested in Resonance?" Lindarion considered his answer. Because he had felt it before. Fleeting moments where his mana moved so smoothly it felt effortless, like his body and magic were one. Because despite all his training, there was still a gap¡ªa thin but infuriating one¡ªthat separated him from the likes of Sera. Because if he wanted to stand on that level... he needed to push beyond the limits of conventional mana control. But instead of saying all that, he simply replied: "I don''t like wasting potential." Nyx''s gaze lingered on him before she nodded. "Good answer." She took a step back. "Then let''s begin." Nyx didn''t start with any flashy displays of magic. Instead, she raised a single finger. "Resonance isn''t something you force," she said. "It''s something you cultivate. A mage''s mana should move through them as naturally as blood through their veins. Most people rely on spells to shape their mana, but Resonance requires something deeper." She tapped her temple. "It requires alignment¡ªmind, body, and magic acting as one." Lindarion listened carefully. "First, we test your natural mana flow." Nyx gestured toward the training ground. "Stand there. Close your eyes. Don''t do anything fancy¡ªjust feel your mana." Lindarion frowned slightly but obeyed. He closed his eyes and focused inward. Mana was always there, just beneath the surface¡ªan extension of himself. He could sense it pooling in his core, flowing through his limbs like an unseen current. It was steady, controlled, precise. Nyx watched him for a moment before speaking. "Good. Now, accelerate it." Lindarion adjusted his breathing, letting his mana flow faster. It was like adjusting the tempo of a song¡ªsmooth, controlled, effortless. Nyx raised an eyebrow. "Hmph. Your control is already above most advanced mages." Lindarion opened his eyes slightly. "Is that surprising?" Nyx smirked. "Not really. But control alone won''t get you Resonance." Chapter 79 79: Private Lesson (2) Lindarion''s gaze remained steady as Nyx circled around him, arms crossed, her sharp eyes assessing him like a puzzle she intended to solve. "Control is important," she continued, "but Resonance requires more than that. You have to reach a state where your affinity doesn''t just obey¡ªyou and it should move as one. Right now, you''re treating your mana like a tamed beast. It follows your orders, flowing naturally. But it''s still separate from you." Lindarion frowned slightly. He had always considered his control over Lightning Affinity to be exceptional. If anything, it felt closer to an extension of his will than a separate force. But what Nyx was describing... it was something different. "Then what am I missing?" he asked. Nyx stopped in front of him, tilting her head slightly. "Instinct." Lindarion''s brow furrowed. ''Instinct.'' He prided himself on his control. On his precision. Ever since he could remember, magic had been something he shaped with purpose, bent to his will. And yet, here she was, telling him he was doing it wrong. He frowned. No¡ªnot wrong. Incomplete. Nyx studied him for a moment, then took a step back. "Let''s try something simple. Summon your lightning." Lindarion didn''t hesitate. Mana surged through his body, gathering in his limbs as arcs of electricity flickered along his fingers. The familiar sensation of raw power hummed beneath his skin, waiting for a command. Nyx nodded. "Good. Now, react." Without warning, she flicked her wrist. A sudden burst of wind shot toward him, faster than a normal spell¡ªunnatural, controlled. Lindarion''s body tensed. His instincts screamed, and in a flash, he moved. Lightning surged to life, propelling him to the side just as the wind cut through the space he had been standing in. He landed smoothly, barely phased. Nyx smiled. "Not bad. But you had to register the attack first. You saw it coming, then you moved." Lindarion exhaled through his nose. "That''s how dodging works." Nyx chuckled. "Not if you''re aiming for Resonance." She lifted a finger. "Tell me¡ªwhat is lightning''s nature?" Lindarion thought for a moment. "It''s fast. Unpredictable. It strikes before you see it coming." Nyx nodded. "Exactly. But you don''t. You still think before you act. You''re treating your lightning like a weapon instead of a part of you." He frowned. ''That isn''t true... is it?'' She gestured for him to close his eyes. Lindarion hesitated, but obeyed. Darkness settled around him, leaving only the hum of energy in his ears. "Lightning isn''t about seeing," Nyx said. "It''s about feeling. Predicting. You should already know where the attack will land before it happens." And then she struck again. A sharp gust of wind came from his left¡ªno, from behind¡ª Lindarion barely managed to twist out of the way, but it was sloppy. He felt the edge of the spell graze his sleeve, and his lightning flared out in retaliation, unfocused. Nyx exhaled. "See? You reacted. That''s too slow." ''Then how am I supposed to do it...this isn''t really helping.'' Lindarion clenched his fists. He had dodged¡ªbut that wasn''t enough. Not for what she was trying to teach him. Nyx crossed her arms. "Let''s change the lesson." She lifted a hand¡ª And suddenly, the air shifted. Lindarion''s breath hitched. His instincts flared, warning him that something was wrong. The training ground didn''t change physically, but something about it felt different. The atmosphere thickened. The space around them felt... controlled. Like the very air obeyed her. "What¡ª" He stepped back, his lightning flickering wildly. What just happened? Nyx smirked at his reaction. "You feel it, don''t you?" Lindarion didn''t respond immediately. He was too focused on the sensation crawling over his skin. His mana... it felt off. No, not off¡ªcontained. Like it wasn''t entirely his anymore. Nyx tilted her head. "This is what true mastery of mana control looks like. Welcome to my Dominion." Lindarion narrowed his eyes. "Dominion?" Nyx extended her arms, and the very air pulsed in response. "A Dominion is an advanced mana technique¡ªone that only those with complete affinity mastery can achieve. It''s when a mage doesn''t just wield mana but imposes their presence onto the world around them." Lindarion''s mind raced, analyzing everything he felt. His mana was still there¡ªstill inside him¡ªbut it was harder to move, like something was pushing against it. "You control the environment itself?" he asked. Nyx nodded. "Inside my Dominion, my affinity is absolute. The wind isn''t just something I cast¡ªit is me. Every movement you make, every spell you try to summon, I can feel it." Lindarion''s heart pounded. He had never heard of this. Not in any lesson, not in any book. How was something like this possible? Nyx smirked at his expression. "High-level affinity mastery isn''t about casting stronger spells. It''s about reaching the point where your magic and your very presence are indistinguishable." She stepped forward, and the wind around her moved with her. Lindarion clenched his fists. His lightning still sparked around him, but it felt... restricted. Not by force, but by presence. This wasn''t like fighting another mage. This was like fighting the air itself. Nyx''s gaze sharpened. "If you ever want to reach Resonance, you''ll need to understand this. Magic isn''t something you command¡ªit''s something you are." Lindarion exhaled, steadying himself. Then he smirked. "Then teach me." Nyx grinned. "Gladly." She didn''t waste a second. She lifted her hand, and the wind responded instantly. A sudden gust surged forward, not in a straight line, not in any predictable pattern¡ªbut twisting, shifting, changing directions mid-air. Lindarion''s instincts screamed at him to move, but¡ªwhere? He barely managed to sidestep the first strike, only for the air itself to compress around him. His lightning flared, reacting on its own, but it was sluggish¡ªdelayed. The wind wasn''t just pushing against him; it was anticipating him. Nyx''s voice cut through the storm. "This is why your control alone won''t get you to Resonance. In my Dominion, your spells won''t work the way you''re used to." Lindarion gritted his teeth, lightning crackling along his arms. His mana wanted to flow, but something was interfering¡ªsomething subtle, yet absolute. ''This isn''t normal magic.. This is complete suppression.'' The realization sent a thrill of both frustration and intrigue through him. Nyx continued, her tone almost amused. "You''re thinking about it too much. I can feel you trying to analyze my mana instead of reacting to it." Lindarion exhaled sharply. "Then what am I supposed to do? Let instinct guide me?" Nyx smirked. "Exactly." And then the wind attacked again. This time, it didn''t come in a single burst. The air around him shifted, warping like an unseen force was sculpting it second by second. Lindarion''s mind worked fast¡ªif he relied on his eyes, he''d lose. If he tried to match her control, he''d lose. He had to stop reacting like a mage. He closed his eyes. The wind howled, and then¡ª He moved. Lightning surged through his body, not as an attack, but as an extension of his very being. He sidestepped the first strike, not because he saw it, but because he felt the shift in pressure before it happened. The second attack curved toward him, but this time, instead of dodging¡ª He let his mana flow. Lightning sparked, his body twisting with the momentum instead of against it. The wind grazed past him, but it didn''t knock him off balance. Nyx raised an eyebrow. "Not bad." Lindarion smirked, breathing steady despite the storm around him. Nyx''s Dominion was suffocating, but if he stopped treating his magic as something external¡ªif he let it flow with him¡ªhe could move inside it. But that wasn''t enough. He wanted to push further. Lindarion clenched his fists. ''If Dominion is at the high level of affinity mastery, then what is the next step?'' He needed to break through it. Nyx must have noticed the shift in his stance, because she suddenly grinned. "You''re thinking about how to counter it, aren''t you?" Lindarion met her gaze, silent. She chuckled. "You can''t. Let me show you something else." ''Is she just flexing on me now isn''t she?'' The wind around her stopped. Not faded. Not dispersed. It simply¡ªstilled. Lindarion''s breath hitched. The pressure around them didn''t lessen¡ªit compressed. Like the air itself was holding its breath. Then¡ª The world seemed to crack open around them. The air exploded outward, an overwhelming presence flooding every inch of the training grounds. Lindarion staggered back, eyes wide. This wasn''t just Dominion anymore. This was something else. Nyx''s voice was calm, but there was power behind it. "This is called Manifestation." Lindarion''s heart pounded. ''What the hell is this pressure..?'' Nyx continued, as if reading his thoughts. "Dominion makes the world conform to the affinity. But Manifestation?" She lifted her hand¡ª And the sky above them seemed to darken for a moment but then it returned to normal "This makes the affinity real. That''s the best way to put it." The air crackled with energy. The wind wasn''t just moving¡ªit was alive. It was no longer just a spell, or a technique, or an extension of her mana. It was her will made tangible. Lindarion''s fingers twitched as his smile was shaking abruptly "...Every affinity has this?" Nyx nodded. "At a very high level of mastery. When a mage stops treating magic as something they use, and starts treating it as something they are, their affinity begins to manifest beyond normal limitations." ''....I''m lost for words.'' Lindarion swallowed his eyes beaming with nearly literal stars in them due to his awe. He had never heard of this. Not once. Not yet from the academy, not from his teachers, not even from warriors who had fought in real battles. This wasn''t just advanced magic. This was rewriting the rules of magic itself. Nyx let the wind settle, the pressure fading as quickly as it had come. She studied him for a long moment. "I''m telling you this because you have the potential to reach it. But not with how you''re approaching magic now." Lindarion inhaled, steadying himself. His mind was racing, his instincts still on high alert from what he had just felt. Then he exhaled slowly, the corners of his lips curling up. "...Alright." He met her gaze. "Teach me how to stop thinking then professor." Nyx grinned. "That, I can''t properly do it comes with experience and training..and you are still yet to master your affinity. It''s lacking." ''Only if she knew I had a bunch to master...this is what the old man meant when he said I''ll progress slower..'' With Lindarion having all of his affinities...it would take him way longer to master them each compared to others who only had one. Just like Thalorin said to him before. Chapter 80 80: Outing (1) Lindarion followed Cassian through the Academy''s courtyard, his pace steady but reluctant. The towering spires of the Academy cast long shadows in the late afternoon light, a stark contrast to the bustling city that lay just beyond the gates. Cassian, walking ahead, radiated the kind of confidence only a man with absolutely no responsibilities could possess. "You''re unusually insistent about this," Lindarion remarked. Cassian grinned, not even glancing back. "Because you never leave the Academy." "I''m training." "And yet you''re still getting hit." Lindarion sighed through his nose. "...Do you have another point?" Cassian slung an arm around his shoulder like they were old war buddies. "You need to get out more. Clear your head. See the city. Maybe even enjoy yourself." Lindarion frowned. "I don''t¡ª" "You''re coming." Cassian patted his shoulder before continuing forward, speaking like the matter had already been settled. Ahead, near the main gates, Luneth stood perfectly still, silver hair swaying slightly in the breeze. She wasn''t leaning. She wasn''t pacing. She wasn''t doing anything except waiting. Cassian waved a hand in front of her face. "Hey. You alive?" Luneth blinked once, black eyes settling on him. "Yes." Cassian glanced at Lindarion. "See? She''s thrilled." Lindarion ignored him. The gates of Academy loomed ahead, separating them from the sprawling city beyond. Beyond those gates, Eldenholm pulsed with life¡ªmagic lanterns glowing overhead, merchants shouting over one another, the smell of fresh bread and charred spell residue mixing in the air. ''I can already tell this is going to be troublesome..'' Lindarion exhaled. He had a bad feeling about this. But he followed them through the gates anyway. ¡ª Eldenholm was nothing like the Academy. The streets were alive, packed with students, merchants, and wandering mages. Stalls overflowed with enchanted trinkets, glowing potions, and spell-forged weapons, each one more overpriced than the last. Floating runes hovered in the air, marking shops with names like The Arcane Bazaar or Madam Yveris'' Discount Divinations (Results Not Guaranteed). Cassian stretched. "Now this is civilization." ''These are just scam artists.'' Lindarion eyed a nearby vendor aggressively shoving a supposedly rare artifact into a noble''s hands. "That''s a strong word for this place." Cassian shrugged. "Semantics." Luneth, meanwhile, had done what Luneth always did¡ªdisappeared without a word. ''Where the hell did she go?'' Lindarion scanned the crowd, eventually spotting her standing near a street performer who was summoning tiny glowing wraiths from their fingertips. The performer met Luneth''s empty stare. Their magic immediately fizzled out. Luneth just kept watching. The performer coughed awkwardly. "...Uh. Donation?" Lindarion sighed and grabbed Luneth''s hand, pulling her away. "Stop scaring people." Luneth blinked as she looked away. "I was watching." Cassian chuckled. "We''ve been here five minutes, and she''s already haunting the locals." Luneth tilted her head slightly. "Unintentional." "Yeah, no kidding." Lindarion exhaled. ''God it''s only been minutes.'' They were barely into the city, and things were already going wrong. ¡ª Navigating Eldenholm''s streets was like trying to dodge a series of invisible spells¡ªtraps laid out in broad daylight, waiting for unsuspecting victims. Cassian, naturally, walked right into them. "Oy! You there, with the fancy coat!" Lindarion turned just in time to see a street merchant shove something suspiciously shiny into Cassian''s hands. "A fine choice, sir! This pendant is infused with the essence of an elder dragon''s breath. One-of-a-kind artifact!" Cassian whistled, turning the pendant over in his palm. "Elder dragon, huh?" The merchant nodded vigorously. "Yes! Only two exist in the world!" ''You can''t be serious.'' Lindarion rubbed his temple. "Then why are you selling it from a cart?" The merchant hesitated. "...Limited-time offer." ''Limited time offer my ass.'' Lindarion grabbed Cassian by the collar and pulled him back before he could actually consider buying it. "Let''s go." Cassian chuckled, tossing the pendant back. "Alright, alright." They moved on, weaving through the crowd. Luneth, as expected, had no issue navigating the chaos. She didn''t get bumped, didn''t get stopped, didn''t even get noticed. She simply walked, untouched by the world around her. Lindarion was certain if he let her, she''d probably drift into the void itself. Cassian, on the other hand, was the chaos. "Oooh, a game!" Lindarion turned to see Cassian standing in front of a makeshift spell ring. A grinning vendor gestured to a row of floating elemental orbs, each one swirling with unstable magic. "Knock down three, win a prize!" Cassian cracked his knuckles. "Easy." Lindarion immediately sensed disaster. He grabbed Cassian''s wrist. "Don''t." Cassian smirked. "Come on, you think I can''t win?" "I think you shouldn''t try." Cassian ignored him, flipping a coin to the vendor. He stepped up, summoning a small orb of compressed wind magic. The moment he threw it¡ª Boom. A sudden crystal detonated against the orbs, sending them flying everywhere. One nearly took out a passing noble. Another shattered a window. The vendor''s smile twitched. Cassian turned to Lindarion. "So... does that count as three?" ''...'' Lindarion grabbed Cassian''s sleeve and dragged him away before the vendor could start shouting. Behind them, Luneth followed without comment. ¡ª After successfully not getting arrested, they stopped at a small cafe? tucked away in a quieter part of the city. Cassian leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. "See? That was fun." ''So that''s fun for you..'' Lindarion stirred his tea, unimpressed. "You destroyed a game stall." Cassian waved a hand. "Barely." Luneth, sipping something faintly glowing, chimed in. "The noble nearly lost an eye." Cassian grinned. "But he didn''t." Lindarion resisted the urge to sigh. The city wasn''t bad. Loud, overwhelming, filled with scams and reckless spellcraft¡ªsure. But it wasn''t that bad. As Cassian launched into another story about some ridiculous bet he once made, Lindarion glanced out the window. Eldenholm stretched beyond the streets, its towers standing tall against the setting sun. Maybe there was something worthwhile here after all. ¡ª For once, the three of them managed to walk through Eldenholm without getting involved in potential crimes, financial scams, or explosive property damage. ''Finally.'' Lindarion considered this a personal victory. The cafe?s and merchant stalls thinned out as they moved toward the older part of the city. Here, the roads were paved with ancient stone, and the buildings had an undeniable weight to them¡ªevidence of Eldenholm''s long history. It was quieter here, less crowded. Cassian stretched his arms behind his head. "You know, it''s kinda nice walking around without needing to dodge flying spells." Luneth, floating a few steps behind, tilted her head. "You''re the reason we usually do." Cassian grinned. "And yet, here we are, unharmed. Which means I was right to try." ''What the hell is he talking about.'' Lindarion pinched the bridge of his nose. "That''s not how logic works." Cassian patted his shoulder. "It is if you don''t think about it." Luneth gave an almost imperceptible nod. "That explains a lot." Before Lindarion could contemplate violence, something caught his attention. A small market square stretched before them, but unlike the more chaotic streets they had passed earlier, this one was calm. The stalls here sold artifacts, books, and enchanted trinkets instead of cheap spell-gimmicks. The people browsing weren''t casual shoppers but scholars, mages, and collectors. Cassian immediately headed toward the most expensive-looking stall. ''He''s seriously acting like a normal kid...'' Lindarion let out a slow breath. "We''re about to get scammed again." Luneth simply followed without comment. ¡ª Cassian, to no one''s surprise, hadn''t learned anything. "Oy, this one looks legit." He held up a silver ring embedded with a dark gemstone. "What do you think?" The merchant smiled. "Ah, an excellent choice! This ring is imbued with ancient protective enchantments." Lindarion, glancing at the barely visible runes, immediately knew it was a lie. "Cassian, don''t." Cassian ignored him. "How much?" The merchant rubbed his hands together. "For you? Only two hundred crowns. A rare bargain!" Lindarion grabbed the ring from Cassian''s hand and held it up to the light. The rune markings were faint¡ªas if they had been partially erased. Luneth, observing over his shoulder, spoke softly. "The enchantment is incomplete." Lindarion nodded. "This was part of a larger set. It won''t function on its own." The merchant''s smile faltered. "N-Now, hold on¡ª" Cassian clicked his tongue, setting the ring down. "Tsk. Almost got me." Lindarion narrowed his eyes. "He did get you. Twice already." Cassian pretended not to hear. ¡ª They wandered further into the market, passing stalls filled with old tomes, enchanted scrolls, and intricate artifacts that looked far more promising than the earlier scam. Cassian, surprisingly, kept his hands to himself this time. Luneth, meanwhile, paused at a small antique bookshop, running her fingers along the spines of ancient texts. Lindarion leaned in slightly. "You see something interesting?" Luneth''s black eyes flickered toward him. "Many things." Lindarion waited. Luneth, as usual, did not elaborate. Cassian, bored, stretched dramatically. "Alright, we''ve been good. No explosions, no arrests, no cursed objects. I think we deserve food." Lindarion considered pointing out that not causing destruction wasn''t exactly an achievement, but¡ª His stomach grumbled. Cassian smirked. "See? Even you agree." Lindarion sighed. "Fine." Luneth, still looking at the books, spoke absently. "You two have strange priorities." Cassian grinned. "And yet, you follow us." She didn''t deny it.. Chapter 81 81: Outing (2) Cassian, in an impressive display of confidence with no basis in reality, insisted he knew the best place to eat. Lindarion and Luneth followed with a mix of reluctance and morbid curiosity. ¡ª The place Cassian led them to? A small, hidden tavern nestled between two older buildings, its wooden sign swaying slightly in the breeze. Lindarion narrowed his eyes at the faded lettering. "Cassian." Cassian beamed. "Yes?" "This place looks abandoned." "Nah, it''s fine." Cassian pushed the door open without hesitation. The lack of immediate catastrophe was somehow more concerning. ¡ª The inside was unexpectedly warm. Dim lighting cast a soft glow over wooden tables and hanging lanterns. There weren''t many customers, but those present were quietly enjoying their meals, lost in conversation. Lindarion scanned the place for visible health hazards and, upon finding none, reluctantly sat down. Luneth, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke. "This is... different." Cassian grinned. "Right? It''s one of Eldenholm''s hidden spots. Not many people know about it." Lindarion crossed his arms. "Because it looks like a haunted ruin from the outside." Cassian ignored him. A waitress, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes but a warm smile, approached their table. "Welcome. What can I get for you?" Cassian, without hesitation: "Everything." Lindarion and Luneth stared at him. The waitress raised an eyebrow. "Everything?" Cassian grinned. "Everything that won''t kill us." She snorted, jotting something down. "So, nothing from the specials board." Lindarion stared harder. Cassian looked way too interested. Luneth tilted her head. "What''s on the specials board?" The waitress smirked. "You don''t want to know." Lindarion, with perfectly reasonable caution, asked, "Why?" She simply walked away. ¡ª Minutes later, food arrived and Cassian paid for it with a little complaining. To Lindarion''s surprise, it was actually good. A mix of roasted meats, seasoned vegetables, and fresh bread, along with a side of warm spiced cider. Cassian, mouth already full, gestured wildly. "See? Told you." Lindarion didn''t respond because he was busy actually enjoying his meal. Luneth, despite her usual ghostly demeanor, was quietly focused on her food. The only sign of approval was the way she occasionally paused before taking another bite. Cassian smirked. "Admit it. Best decision of the day." Lindarion exhaled. "...Fine." Cassian held a hand to his chest in mock emotion. "You hear that, Luneth? He acknowledged my greatness." Luneth took a sip of her cider. "That''s not what he said." Cassian chose to believe otherwise. ¡ª For a while, they just ate. No training. No near-death experiences. No overwhelming magical discoveries. Just food and quiet conversation. Lindarion found himself relaxing¡ªjust a little. Of course, this couldn''t last. Because halfway through their meal, the door to the tavern slammed open. Lindarion sighed. Cassian, already reaching for another bite, muttered, "That better not be for us." The person in the doorway looked around, eyes scanning the room¡ªbefore locking onto them. Cassian groaned. "It''s definitely for us...there is barely anyone else here.." Lindarion picked up his drink and took a slow, deliberate sip. This was supposed to be a normal day. He really should have known better. The man in the doorway strode in like he owned the place. Dark uniform, a badge clipped to his belt, a tired expression that suggested he deeply regretted his life choices. Lindarion didn''t recognize him, nor did he recognize the man''s uniform. "Eldenholm City Watch." Luneth muttered under her nose. Cassian, still holding a piece of bread, muttered, "We didn''t do anything illegal. Right?" Luneth tilted her head. "Not that I recall." Lindarion exhaled. "You don''t recall?" She blinked. "I do not engage in crime. Usually." ''Usually..?'' That wasn''t comforting. ¡ª The watchman reached their table, arms crossed. "You three students from the Academy?" ''Why do I feel like I''m going to regret this.'' Lindarion gave him a flat look. "We are." Cassian, ever the conversationalist, grinned. "We look that obvious?" ''We are in our uniforms dumbass..'' Lindarion shook his head as the man ignored Cassian. "We need a favor." Lindarion''s grip on his cup tightened. Luneth''s voice was quiet, but steady. "A favor?" The watchman sighed, rubbing his temples. "It''s nothing serious. Just... a minor situation." Cassian leaned forward. "Define minor." The man hesitated. Which was never a good sign. ¡ª Lindarion didn''t want to ask. But he did anyway. "What happened?" The watchman exhaled through his nose. "A merchant''s cart tipped over near the marketplace. Normally, not a problem." Cassian raised an eyebrow. "And?" "...It contained a cage." Luneth''s fingers tapped lightly against her cup. "A cage?" "A cage full of rift lizards." ''Rift lizards?'' Lindarion stared. Cassian blinked. "I feel like I should know what that is." The man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Small, fast, incredibly annoying to catch. Not dangerous¡ªbut they do bite." Luneth hummed. "So you want us to help?" "Yes." The watchman looked exhausted. "We''re short on hands, and people are screaming about ''monsters'' loose in the streets." Cassian grinned. "I love public panic...however not to that extent." Lindarion sighed. "That''s concerning." The watchman ignored both of them. ¡ª ''The hell should we do?'' Lindarion considered his options. On one hand, not his problem. On the other hand... Cassian looked way too excited about the idea of chasing lizards through the streets. Luneth, as always, looked unreadable. Lindarion exhaled. "Fine. Let''s go." Cassian fist-pumped the air. Luneth finished her drink in one elegant motion before standing up. The watchman muttered a tired "Thank you" before leading them outside. ¡ª Lindarion followed, already regretting this decision. Because the moment they stepped into the street¡ª He immediately saw the problem. Half a dozen small, scaled creatures darted across the cobblestone path, their quick, erratic movements making them hard to track. A group of merchants and civilians were yelling in distress, some standing on crates like that would help. Cassian whistled. "They''re fast." Luneth''s eyes glowed faintly. "They seem... agitated." The watchman groaned. "Yeah. Good luck." Lindarion clenched his jaw. He was a mage...not a high level one but he was at least decent. He was a warrior trained in combat. And now? He was chasing lizards... Lindarion took a slow breath. ''Alright. It''s just lizards. Nothing complicated.'' Then one of the creatures sprinted up a fruit stand, launched itself off a barrel, and disappeared onto a rooftop. ''...Perhaps it''s more complicated than I expected.'' Cassian stretched his arms. "So. What''s the plan?" Luneth adjusted her gloves. "We could lure them into a confined space." Cassian nodded. "Smart. How?" Luneth blinked, as if that wasn''t her problem to solve. Lindarion massaged his temples. ¡ª The watchman crossed his arms. "Look, if you can just get most of them, that''s good enough." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "Most?" "We can''t catch all of them," the man grumbled. "There''s always a few that escape. People just get used to them." Cassian looked amused. "So the city just has wild rift lizards running around?" "Only a few," the man said. "They usually end up in someone''s basement." ''Seriously?'' Lindarion gave him a look. The watchman shrugged. ¡ª Lindarion rolled his shoulders. ''Fine. If we are doing this, we need to do it properly.'' He glanced at Luneth. "Can you track them?" Luneth''s black eyes flickered. "Not conventionally." Cassian grinned. "Oh, this''ll be good." Luneth lifted a hand¡ª And a cold breeze rolled through the street. For a moment, the air itself shifted, a faint shimmer of ice tracing the ground¡ªlike invisible ripples moving through the world. Then¡ª Luneth pointed. "There." Cassian''s eyes widened. "That was cool." Lindarion didn''t comment¡ªbecause he agreed. ¡ª The three of them took off. Cassian, naturally, was having the time of his life. "This is basically a game. I love it." Lindarion, sprinting after a lizard that had somehow climbed halfway up a wall, did not share that enthusiasm. Luneth moved almost soundlessly, her gaze locked on another lizard that tried to duck into a crate¡ªbefore she grabbed it by the tail. It froze. Cassian slowed. "Wait, you actually caught one?" Luneth tilted her head. "Yes?" Lindarion scowled. "Why does it look like it''s the one experiencing an existential crisis?" The lizard, suspended in her grip, was completely still. Like it had no idea how this had happened to it. Cassian leaned in. "You''re really good at this." Luneth blinked. "Should I not be?" Lindarion exhaled. "We don''t have time for this. That''s one. Five more." Cassian cracked his knuckles. "Time for some real strategy." Lindarion did not trust that statement. ¡ª Unfortunately, Cassian''s ''strategy'' turned out to be... Pure, chaotic energy. "I''ll chase them your way, you grab ''em!" ''This is the worst idea ever.'' Lindarion opened his mouth to protest¡ª But Cassian was already running. And so were the lizards. "...This is the worst plan," Lindarion muttered. Luneth, holding the first lizard in one hand, simply nodded. Cassian was enjoying this way too much. "Ha! You little bastards are fast!" he laughed as he vaulted over a crate, sending two lizards scurrying in different directions. Lindarion was not amused. "This is not a game, Cassian." "Isn''t it, though?" Cassian suddenly kicked a barrel, sending it rolling¡ªdirectly into a lizard''s path. The creature bounced off it, flipped in the air, and landed squarely on Lindarion''s shoulder. Lindarion froze. The lizard blinked. Luneth tilted her head. Cassian burst out laughing. ''Slowly..'' Lindarion slowly reached up to grab it¡ª And the lizard leaped off his shoulder and disappeared into an alley. Cassian wiped a tear from his eye. "That was amazing." ''I fucking hate this.'' Lindarion was going to kill him. Chapter 82 82: Outing (3) Eventually, they adapted. Luneth, as expected, was the most efficient. She barely needed to move. She would watch, step once, and catch a lizard with eerie precision. Cassian, on the other hand¡ª "Well, that''s four," he said cheerfully, holding up a squirming lizard. "Who knew they''d respond to food?" Lindarion stared. "You just fed them?" Cassian grinned. "I call it ''distract and snatch.''" Luneth nodded in approval. "Simple, but effective." Lindarion hated that it worked. ¡ª Five lizards down. ''Only one left.'' And, of course, it had to be the worst one. Lindarion glared at the last lizard, which had somehow managed to get itself on top of a hanging shop sign. It flicked its tail mockingly. Cassian squinted. "I think it knows." Luneth''s voice was calm. "It is learning." Lindarion exhaled sharply. ''No. Absolutely not.'' He refused to let a rift lizard outsmart them. ¡ª Cassian tried food again. The lizard stared at him. Then, in an act of pure defiance¡ª It knocked the food off the ledge. Cassian looked personally offended. Luneth tilted her head. "It appears to have rejected diplomacy." Lindarion rubbed his temples. ''This is getting ridiculous.'' ¡ª In the end, it took all three of them. Lindarion cut off its escape routes, Cassian distracted it, and Luneth¡ª Luneth simply waited for it to make a mistake. And when it did¡ª She grabbed it mid-air. Cassian clapped. "That was beautiful." Lindarion sighed in relief. The lizard looked betrayed. Luneth held it up. "We are done." Lindarion turned back toward the watchman''s post. "Let''s get this over with." Cassian slung an arm around his shoulder. "See? That was fun." ''Fun my ass.'' Lindarion ignored him. ¡ª When they finally returned the lizards, the watchman looked impressed. "Didn''t think you''d actually catch all of ''em." Cassian grinned. "You lack faith." Luneth handed over the last lizard. "They were predictable." Lindarion adjusted his coat. "Can we go now?" The watchman laughed. "Fine, fine. You did good. Here¡ªtake these." He handed each of them a small coin pouch. Cassian immediately opened his. "Huh. Decent." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "How much is ''decent''?" Cassian grinned. "Enough to get food again!" Luneth nodded approvingly. Lindarion sighed. ¡ª They ended up at a small tavern. Cassian ordered first. "I''ll take whatever''s biggest." Luneth chose something light. "Something warm." Lindarion... just ordered something simple. By the time the food arrived, Cassian was already talking. "Alright, so what''s next?" Lindarion blinked. "Next?" Cassian grinned. "We should pick another job." Luneth nodded. "That would be efficient." Lindarion wanted to rest. But Cassian was already looking through a new list. "...What about bounty hunting?" Lindarion closed his eyes. ''This is going to be a long day.'' ¡ª After finishing their meals they made their way towards a bounty board. "Look I''ve done bounty hunting before...we need to be careful." Lindarion spoke as he remembered the bunch of hunts he completed with Erebus. "Seriously?" Cassian asked as both Luneth and him look at Lindarion weirdly. ''Is that such a bad thing?'' Lindarion nodded innocently as they arrived in front of the board. He had one rule when it came to bounty hunting. Never take a job without knowing the details.. Cassian, unfortunately, did not share this philosophy. "This one looks good!" he said, snapping the bounty notice off the board. Lindarion looked at it. Then he looked at Cassian. Cassian grinned. "It pays well, and you are experienced! Should be easy!" Lindarion read the bounty again. Target: Ralven the Grin Crime: Theft, smuggling, resisting arrest Location: Last seen near the east docks Reward: 200 gold Luneth tilted her head. "The name is odd." Cassian shrugged. "Maybe he just smiles a lot." Lindarion exhaled. ''No. Absolutely not.'' Cassian took his silence as approval. "Great, Let''s go." The east docks were exactly what Lindarion expected. Dirty, loud, and filled with people who were either working, stealing, or doing both. Cassian seemed at home. Luneth... was Luneth. Unbothered, untouchable. Lindarion was already regretting this. "Alright," he muttered. "We need information." Cassian nodded sagely. "Got it." Then he immediately walked up to the shadiest man in sight. Lindarion barely had time to stop him before he was casually asking a dock worker if they knew a wanted criminal. The man looked at Cassian. Then at Lindarion. Then at Luneth. Then back at Cassian. "...Who''s asking?" Cassian hesitated. "Uh¡ª" Lindarion stepped in before Cassian got stabbed. He placed a few gold coins on the table. "We''re looking for Ralven. You know where he is?" The dock worker stared at the coins. Then at Lindarion. Finally, he sighed. "You bounty hunters?" Lindarion nodded. Cassian shifted awkwardly. "He is. We''re just... assisting." Luneth nodded. "He has experience." The dock worker looked deeply amused by this information. "Well," he said, pocketing the coins, "if you''re looking for Ralven... I''d suggest you check the old warehouse near the pier." Lindarion narrowed his eyes. "Why?" The dock worker grinned. "Because you''re not the first ones to come looking for him." Cassian frowned. "That''s... not reassuring." Lindarion was already walking away. Luneth followed silently. Cassian sighed and jogged after them. "This is starting to feel like a mistake." Lindarion didn''t bother to answer. It absolutely was. ¡ª The warehouse was quiet. Too quiet. Lindarion didn''t like it. Cassian hesitated at the entrance this time. A good sign. Luneth... simply stared into the darkness. "There are bodies." Cassian froze. "Wait¡ªwhat?" Then he saw them. Two men, slumped against the crates. Alive, but unconscious. Cassian let out a low whistle. "Well, that''s ominous." Lindarion was already moving. He crouched next to one of them, checking for injuries. Bruises, shallow cuts¡ªnothing fatal. Whoever did this... wasn''t trying to kill them. Lindarion exhaled. "We need to be careful." Cassian nodded. "Yeah, I¡ª" The doors slammed shut behind them. Cassian cursed. "Oh, come on." Luneth remained perfectly calm. "Expected." Lindarion exhaled. "Of course." A voice chuckled from the shadows. "Well, well. More bounty hunters." A man stepped into the dim light. Dark clothes, a dagger in one hand, and a wide, unsettling grin. Ralven. He twirled the blade between his fingers. "Let me guess¡ªyou saw the reward and thought you''d try your luck?" Cassian shifted uneasily. "Something like that." Lindarion ignored him. His eyes were on Ralven''s stance. Loose. Relaxed. He was confident. That meant one thing. He thought he had the advantage. Ralven laughed. "I''ll give you credit for making it this far." Cassian exhaled slowly. "We''re not looking for a fight." ''...we are bounty hunters...'' Lindarion sighed and Ralven''s grin widened. "That''s disappointing." And then he dashed forward. Lindarion reacted instantly. Cassian fell back with Luneth. And just like that¡ªthe fight began. Ralven''s blade moved fast¡ªbut not fast enough. Lindarion saw the attack coming before it even finished. His sword was already in place when Ralven lunged, sword meeting the blade. Sparks flew as the force of the clash rippled through the air. Ralven pushed, flames licking up the edge of his dagger. A desperate move. Lindarion didn''t flinch. Lightning surged through his sword¡ª Ralven barely had time to react before the shock slammed into him. His body seized. The flames on his dagger snuffed out instantly. Cassian whistled. "That was fast." Ralven staggered. His legs buckled beneath him, but before he could fall, Lindarion stepped forward. ''That was easy..'' One smooth step¡ªhis knee slammed into Ralven''s stomach. A sharp gasp. The thief crumpled. Lindarion grabbed him by the collar before he could hit the ground. The entire fight had lasted seconds. Luneth tilted her head. "Huh. Expected more." Cassian crossed his arms. "Well, that was anticlimactic." Lindarion exhaled through his nose. He never liked dragging fights out against criminals. Ralven groaned weakly. "Was that¡ªreally necessary?" ''Oh..he''s still conscious.'' Lindarion didn''t answer. Cassian crouched beside him, poking him in the side with his foot. "Think he''ll stay conscious long enough for us to turn him in?" Luneth blinked. "Unlikely." Ralven let out a weak, pained laugh. "You guys are¡ªawful." ''Tough luck..'' Lindarion rolled his eyes channeling lightning onto Ralven''s neck making him unconscious. He dragged Ralven up with one hand, tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Cassian chuckled. "I gotta admit, that was a little impressive." Lindarion didn''t bother responding. He hated bounty hunting. ¡ª Dragging an unconscious thief through the streets of Eldenholm should have attracted more attention. It didn''t. The people here had probably seen worse. ''I thought it would attract far more attention.'' Lindarion carried Ralven with practiced ease, his weight barely an inconvenience. Cassian strolled beside him, hands in his pockets, whistling. Luneth trailed behind, her gaze flicking between the buildings as if cataloging everything in sight. The bounty office wasn''t far. A squat, weathered building with a reinforced door and thick, iron-barred windows. A place built for frequent, violent visitors. Lindarion pushed the door open with his foot and dropped Ralven unceremoniously onto the wooden floor. A clerk glanced up from behind the counter. He didn''t even blink at the unconscious man at Lindarion''s feet. "Name?" Cassian grinned. "Ours or his?" The clerk sighed. "The bounty." Lindarion spoke before Cassian could make another joke. "Ralven, thief operating in the eastern quarter. Wanted for robbery, assault, and multiple escapes from detainment." The clerk nodded, flipping through a logbook. After a moment, he pulled out a slip of parchment, scanned it, then gestured toward a back room. "Take him to the holding cell. Payment will be processed once he''s secured." Lindarion didn''t argue. This part was routine. He grabbed Ralven by the back of his collar and hauled him into the cell like luggage. The guards inside barely spared him a glance. By the time he returned to the front, Cassian was leaning against the counter, idly tapping his fingers. Luneth stood beside him, patient as always. The clerk counted out a stack of coins and pushed it forward. "200 gold coins, here." Cassian picked up a coin and flipped it between his fingers. "Good enough for a couple of meals." ''We already ate anyways.'' Lindarion took the rest of the stack without comment. He didn''t do this for the money. Luneth simply blinked. "Are we done?" Chapter 83 83: Assignment Leaving the bounty office was easy. Navigating Eldenholm''s streets without Cassian getting distracted was not. "Wait, is that a bakery?" ''Nope, not today.'' Lindarion grabbed the back of his collar and kept walking. Cassian groaned. "Come on, just five minutes¡ª" "You just said the bounty wasn''t enough for a meal," Lindarion reminded him. "That was before I smelled fresh bread," Cassian argued, eyes lingering longingly on the shop window as Lindarion dragged him away. Luneth trailed silently behind them, the faint crunch of her footsteps the only sign she was still there. The academy gates weren''t far, and soon, the towering spires of the Academy loomed before them. The entrance was still bustling with students, some returning from errands, others simply lingering outside to talk. Lindarion didn''t break stride, heading straight for the dormitories. Cassian groaned dramatically. "We should''ve taken another bounty. Maybe something exciting. A monster, maybe." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "You do realize that if we took a monster bounty, you''d actually have to fight?" Cassian waved a hand. "I''d let you handle that part." Luneth exhaled softly. "Coward." Cassian clutched his chest. "I prefer ''strategically cautious.''" Lindarion ignored him and kept walking. When they finally reached the dorms, Cassian stretched. "Alright, I''m going to sleep for about a week." Luneth merely nodded, already drifting toward her own quarters without another word. Lindarion watched them go, then exhaled. ''Finally. Some peace.'' Or so he thought¡ªuntil someone cleared their throat behind him. "Lindarion." He turned, already half-expecting trouble. Standing at the entrance was an unfamiliar figure. Older, sharp-eyed, with the posture of someone who didn''t waste words. "You''ve been summoned." Lindarion frowned. "By who?" The man didn''t answer immediately. Instead, he handed over a sealed letter. Lindarion''s gaze dropped to the emblem stamped into the wax. He recognized it. It belonged to the Academy''s Headmaster..Thalorin. ¡ª Lindarion stared at the wax seal for a long moment. Thalorin wasn''t the type to summon people without reason. Which meant this was either important, or incredibly annoying. Without another word, Lindarion tucked the letter into his coat and made his way toward the Headmaster''s office. ¡ª The air inside felt different. It wasn''t just the size of the chamber. It was the mana. The sheer presence of it. Stepping into this room felt like stepping into a slightly different reality. At the center, behind a desk that looked too old to still exist, sat Thalorin Evernight. Long hair, a massive white beard, and eyes that shimmered with something vast. He didn''t look up immediately. He was scribbling something in a book, quill moving smoothly. Lindarion waited. Experience had taught him that interrupting was a mistake. After a few moments, Thalorin finally spoke. "You made quite the mess today." Lindarion blinked. "You''re going to have to be more specific." Thalorin snorted. "That bounty hunter you fought¡ªRalven." Lindarion crossed his arms. "Right...It wasn''t my idea. "I''m sure it wasn''t," Thalorin mused, setting his quill down. "Still, making an enemy out of a group like the Red Vultures is... not ideal." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "Red what now? He wasn''t that impressive." Thalorin gave him a look. The kind that made it very clear he wasn''t amused. Lindarion didn''t look away, though. After a long pause, Thalorin exhaled. "You need to be careful. You''re not just any student, Lindarion." ''Here it comes.'' "The Council watches you closely." Lindarion''s expression didn''t change. "Because of my affinities..and perhaps add my mana core to the endless list of things they are watching me for¡ª" Thalorin nodded, cutting him off. "No, because of what you could become." Lindarion resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I''m already aware of that," he muttered. Thalorin leaned back in his chair, watching him. Then, his lips twitched. "Good," he said. "Then I won''t lecture you." That was a lie. Thalorin loved lecturing. Lindarion stared at the insignia resting on Thalorin''s desk. The metal shimmered faintly, mana woven into its design. But beyond that, it meant nothing to him. "...And this is?" Thalorin leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard. "An assignment." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "For me?" Thalorin nodded. Lindarion waited for him to continue. He didn''t. "...Right." He exhaled sharply. "And what exactly does this ''assignment'' involve?" Thalorin gestured toward the insignia. "A request came through the Academy, directed toward ''capable individuals.'' You qualify." Lindarion frowned. That still didn''t explain anything. "From who?" Thalorin''s lips curled slightly. "House Valciel." Lindarion blinked. "...Who?" Now Thalorin looked mildly entertained. "I keep forgetting you don''t care about noble houses." "That''s because they have nothing to do with me," Lindarion pointed out. "They do now." Lindarion sighed. "Alright. So, what do they want?" Thalorin''s expression didn''t change. "They didn''t say." Lindarion stared. "You''re joking." "I rarely joke." Lindarion dragged a hand down his face. "You''re telling me a noble house wants something, and they didn''t bother to explain what?" "They simply requested a mage from the Academy. You were selected." Lindarion had so many questions. For one¡ªwhy him? There were plenty of mages at Eldenholm, and plenty of them were more willing to deal with nobles. For another¡ªwhy was Thalorin acting like this was normal? He crossed his arms. "And if I say no?" Thalorin shrugged. "Then I have to explain why my disciple is ignoring formal requests from one of the most influential families in the region." Lindarion muttered something unkind under his breath. Thalorin definitely heard it, but wisely chose to ignore it. Lindarion exhaled through his nose. "Fine. What about my studies here, then?" "It''s already dealt with, you will continue without a problem once you are back." Lindarion clenched his jaw. "You assumed I''d agree." Thalorin smirked. "No, I assumed you''d be smart enough to know when you don''t have a choice." Lindarion hated that he was right. "...How long is this going to take?" "As long as it needs to." ''Vague. Wonderful.'' Lindarion pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a headache. Thalorin studied him for a moment, then his tone shifted. "Just be careful." Lindarion glanced up. The amusement in Thalorin''s gaze had faded. "You don''t know much about House Valciel," the Headmaster said, "but understand this¡ªthey don''t send out requests lightly." Lindarion frowned. He didn''t like the sound of that. But it wasn''t like he had much of a choice, did he? "...Understood." Thalorin nodded. "Good. You leave in two days." Lindarion froze. "Wait. What?" Thalorin smirked. "Dismissed." Lindarion stared at him, then at the insignia, then back at him. "...I don''t like this." Thalorin chuckled. "See yourself out." Lindarion gritted his teeth and walked out. Two days. That wasn''t nearly enough time to prepare anything.. But it looked like he''d have to make do. ¡ª Lindarion left the Headmaster''s office feeling like someone had dumped a problem into his lap and walked away whistling. Two days. Actually, what did he even have to prepare for? He didn''t even know what this noble house wanted. ''This is so troublesome.'' He rubbed his temple as he stepped outside, barely avoiding a group of first-years who were enthusiastically waving around books. Someone nearly set their own sleeve on fire. ''Typical.'' A familiar voice called out. "You look miserable." Lindarion glanced over. ''Shouldn''t they be resting?'' Luneth stood nearby, watching him with her usual ghostly presence¡ªarms crossed, silver hair shifting slightly in the breeze. Next to her, Cassian was leaning against a tree, tossing a small crystal in his hand. Lindarion sighed. "That obvious? And what are you guys doing here?" Luneth raised an eyebrow. Cassian chuckled. "We waited after seeing the man approach you. I don''t think I''ve ever seen you look this annoyed," Cassian said. "Did the Headmaster give you a lecture about responsibility?" "Worse." Lindarion ran a hand through his hair. "I''m being sent on some assignment for a noble house I''ve never heard of." Luneth blinked. "Which one?" "Valciel." That got a reaction. Cassian stopped tossing his crystal. Luneth''s expression didn''t change, but she tilted her head slightly, which meant she was interested. "That''s... unexpected," Cassian muttered. Lindarion frowned. "You know them?" "More than you do, apparently," Luneth said dryly. "House Valciel is one of the more reclusive noble families. They don''t interact with the Academy much." "They don''t interact with anyone much," Cassian added. "Which is why it''s strange that they''re suddenly reaching out." Lindarion narrowed his eyes. ''This is just great.'' So not only was he being sent on some vague assignment, but it was from a noble family that didn''t usually ask for help in the first place. That just made it more suspicious. Cassian studied him for a moment. "You''re not going alone, are you?" Lindarion paused. That was a good question. Thalorin hadn''t said anything about taking others with him, but he hadn''t told him not to, either. "...Not sure," he admitted. "I should have probably asked" Cassian exchanged a glance with Luneth. Then he grinned. "Well, if you need company, we''re available." Luneth sighed. "Are we?" Cassian elbowed her lightly. "Come on. You''re not curious?" She didn''t answer, which meant she was absolutely curious. Lindarion eyed them. "You two are just looking for an excuse to leave the Academy, aren''t you?" Cassian shrugged. "Maybe." Luneth didn''t even bother denying it. Lindarion exhaled through his nose. "...I''ll ask tomorrow." Cassian grinned. "Good. Let us know." Lindarion nodded, but his mind was already turning over what they had said. A noble house that rarely interacted with outsiders. A sudden request with no explanation. And now his friends acting like this was a bigger deal than he initially thought. Something about this didn''t sit right. And that just made him want to find out what the hell was going on. However, he was going to rest for today. Chapter 84 84: Departure The next morning, Lindarion stood outside Thalorin''s office again. This was starting to become a habit. An annoying one. He exhaled and knocked. "Enter." Pushing the door open, he stepped inside. The room was the same as before¡ªmana humming faintly in the air, the weight of it pressing down like an unseen force. Thalorin sat behind his desk, looking up as Lindarion approached. "You''re back earlier than expected." The old elf studied him. "Something on your mind?" ''Such pressure still..'' Lindarion didn''t bother with pleasantries. "Can I bring people with me?" Thalorin stroked his beard. "Your friends, I assume?" "That''s a strong word. They want to come," Lindarion said. "And I doubt I''d be able to stop them even if I said no." Thalorin hummed, seemingly unsurprised. "I never said you had to go alone." Lindarion''s eye twitched. "You also never said I could." Thalorin smirked. "You didn''t ask." Lindarion muttered something under his breath that definitely wasn''t polite. Thalorin''s amusement didn''t fade. "I assume you have a reason for bringing them?" Lindarion crossed his arms. "Cassian and Luneth are capable. If this turns into something bigger, I''d rather not handle it alone..I mean I could. But it''s better if I have a team." It wasn''t the only reason, but it was the one Thalorin would care about. The old elf nodded. "Fair enough." He tapped a finger against the desk. "Fine. They can accompany you. But remember¡ªHouse Valciel requested a mage from the Academy. You''re the one they want. If they take issue with your companions, that''s your problem to handle." Lindarion exhaled. "Understood." Thalorin leaned back. "Then you''d best prepare. You leave in two days." Lindarion turned toward the door, already thinking about what he''d need to get done before then. "Oh, and Lindarion." He stopped. Looked back. Thalorin''s gaze was sharp. "Be careful." Lindarion met his eyes. Something about Thalorin''s tone put him on edge. ''What exactly are you not telling me old man..?'' He didn''t ask. He doubted he''d get an answer. "...I will." And with that, he left. ¡ª He found Cassian and Luneth exactly where he expected them¡ªoutside, near one of the Academy''s training fields. Cassian was lounging on a bench, tossing a crystal lazily in the air. Luneth stood nearby, arms crossed, watching a few students spar. They both turned as he approached. Cassian grinned. "So?" Lindarion stopped in front of them. "You guys can come." Cassian fist-pumped. "Nice." Luneth tilted her head. "That was fast." "I didn''t give him much of a choice." Lindarion shrugged. "We leave in two days." Cassian whistled. "That soon?" Lindarion shot him a look. "You were the one who wanted to come." Cassian held up his hands. "I''m not complaining. Just means we should start getting ready." Luneth nodded slightly. "Agreed." Lindarion ran a hand through his hair. "We don''t even know what we''re preparing for yet." Cassian smirked. "That''s what makes it fun." Lindarion sighed. This was going to be a long two days. Two days seemed like a long time until you actually had to prepare for something. Then it vanished in an instant. Lindarion realized this when he found himself standing in front of his bag, staring at its contents with mild irritation. What was he even supposed to pack? He had no idea what House Valciel wanted. It could be a formal request, or they could be sending him to wrestle an earth golem in a swamp. Either way, he needed to be prepared for everything. With a sigh, he started sorting through his belongings. Clothing? The standard Academy uniform would do, but he packed an extra set just in case. No formal attire¡ªif they expected him to wear something ridiculous, they could provide it themselves. Supplies? His sword, of course, though he doubted he''d need it. Some mana-infused parchment, an inkstone. Nothing heavy, just things he might regret not bringing later. He was just finishing when someone knocked at his door. "Lindarion, open up!" Cassian''s voice. Lindarion debated ignoring him. "Luneth''s here too," Cassian added, as if that somehow made it more convincing. Lindarion sighed and pulled the door open. Cassian and Luneth stood there, looking far too awake for this hour. Cassian grinned. "We''re packed." Luneth nodded. "You?" Lindarion stepped aside, letting them see the neatly packed bag. Cassian looked mildly disappointed. "You''re too organized." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "You aren''t?" Cassian crossed his arms. "I packed the essentials." "...Which are?" Cassian held up a pouch. "Some crystals, some rations, and a deck of cards." Luneth sighed. Lindarion pinched the bridge of his nose. "You do realize this is an official assignment, right?" Cassian waved a hand. "Relax. Luneth overpacked, so we balance each other out." Luneth shot him a look. "I packed normal supplies." "Which is overpacking for you," Cassian said. Lindarion exhaled slowly. "I''m traveling with an idiot." Cassian grinned. "And yet, you let me come." Lindarion ignored him and shut his bag. "Fine. We''re ready. Now what?" Luneth tilted her head. "We still have a day left." Cassian tapped his chin. "We could find out more about House Valciel." Lindarion frowned. "...That''s actually a good idea." Cassian gasped. "See? I do have them sometimes." ''Once in a blue moon.'' Lindarion shook his head as Luneth was already turning toward the door. "The library, then?" Lindarion nodded. "Let''s go to our classes first though." And with that, they set off. ''One day left. Might as well use it wisely.'' ¡ª The day passed slower than Lindarion would have liked. Classes were a blur of lectures, practical demonstrations, and the occasional explosion from the training grounds. He paid attention, of course¡ªhe always did¡ªbut his mind kept drifting back to the assignment. House Valciel. Why had they requested someone from the Academy? And why him? By the time their last class ended, he was more than ready to leave. Cassian stretched as they exited the lecture hall. "Finally. I thought that would never end." Luneth gave him a look. "You slept through half of it." "Which is why it felt so long," Cassian said. "Time moves slower when you''re barely awake." ''He''s such a crybaby.'' Lindarion sighed. "Come on." They made their way through the Academy corridors, weaving between groups of students. The library was one of the oldest buildings on campus, a towering structure with arched windows and mana-infused lanterns that flickered even in daylight. The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere changed. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and ink, and a quiet hum of magic lingered between the shelves. Rows upon rows of books stretched into the distance, sorted meticulously by subject, importance, and level of restriction. Lindarion headed straight for the historical records. Nobility wasn''t something he cared much about, but if Valciel was influential enough to request someone from the Academy, there had to be something on them. Luneth followed without a word, already scanning the shelves. Cassian, on the other hand, got distracted almost immediately. "Look at this," he whispered, pulling out a book titled Ancient Curses and How to Ruin Someone''s Week. Lindarion gave him a flat look. "Put that back." Cassian pouted. "You never let me have fun." Luneth ignored both of them and pulled out a different book. "This might be useful." She set it on the nearest table. The cover was simple, embossed with the title Bloodlines of the Northern Nobility. Lindarion took a seat and flipped it open. House Valciel was listed among the older noble families, though they were noted for their seclusion. Unlike other houses that thrived on political maneuvering, they rarely attended major gatherings. "Not much here," Lindarion muttered, turning the page. "It just says they prefer to operate in the background." Luneth frowned. "That''s unusual. Most noble families love attention." Cassian leaned over his shoulder. "Anything about what they specialize in?" Lindarion skimmed further. "...Alchemy." Cassian blinked. "Huh." Luneth tapped the page. "If they deal in alchemy, they might be researching something dangerous." Lindarion frowned. That did make sense. If they were requesting an Academy mage, it could mean they needed expertise beyond their own. Or they needed someone to clean up a mess they''d made. Cassian hummed. "Well, at least it doesn''t sound boring." Lindarion shut the book. "We won''t know for sure until we get there." Luneth nodded. "Then we should prepare for anything." Cassian stretched. "Great. More vague assignments." ''This is troublesome.'' Lindarion sighed. "Let''s just finish up here. We leave tomorrow." Tomorrow. Whatever House Valciel wanted, they''d find out soon enough. ¡ª The next morning, Eldenholm was as busy as ever. The Academy''s halls bustled with students hurrying to classes, instructors discussing research. But for Lindarion, Luneth, and Cassian, today wasn''t like every other day. They were leaving. Lindarion stood outside the dormitories, adjusting the straps of his pack. It wasn''t much¡ªjust the essentials. He''d packed extra supplies out of caution, though he wasn''t sure if he''d need them. Across from him, Luneth was quietly adjusting the clasps of her coat. She looked as composed as ever, but there was a slight tension in the way her fingers moved. Cassian, on the other hand, had somehow already lost track of his bag. "Where¡ª" He turned in circles, checking behind a barrel. "I just had it." Luneth exhaled. "You left it in your room." Cassian snapped his fingers. "Right. Be right back." He dashed off, leaving Lindarion and Luneth to exchange a glance. Lindarion sighed. "This is going to be a long trip." Luneth nodded. "Yes." By the time Cassian returned¡ªbag actually in hand¡ªthey made their way to the main gate. Thalorin was already waiting. The Headmaster stood with his usual unreadable expression, arms crossed over his long robes. His silver hair and beard made him stand out even in a crowd, and students passing by gave him a wide berth. "Prepared?" Thalorin asked. Lindarion nodded. "As much as we can be." Chapter 85 85: Road Thalorin glanced at the three of them, lingering on Cassian and Luneth for a moment longer than necessary. "...You''re actually taking them with you?" Lindarion crossed his arms. "I was serious yesterday." Thalorin sighed through his nose but didn''t argue. "Very well," he said. "Then listen carefully." Lindarion, Cassian, and Luneth straightened as the Headmaster continued. "House Valciel is not a house that asks for aid lightly. Be mindful of their customs, and more importantly¡ªbe wary of what they aren''t telling you." Lindarion frowned. "You think they''re hiding something?" Thalorin gave him a pointed look as he chuckled. "Everyone is hiding something." Luneth nodded slightly, as if she already agreed. Cassian just sighed. "Great. This is already sounding ominous, Headmaster." Thalorin ignored him. He reached into his coat and handed Lindarion a small silver insignia. "This will verify your authority as an Academy representative," he explained. "Use it wisely." ''So we are the representatives, I see.'' Lindarion turned it over in his fingers. The emblem shimmered faintly with mana, its weight heavier than it should have been. Something about it felt... final. Thalorin took a step back. "Your destination is Silvermere, follow the road outside of the city. If you ever get lost you can ask fellow travelers for help. That is all. If things go poorly, you can contact me through it." ''Hopefully that won''t be necessary.'' Lindarion nodded, tucking the insignia away. Cassian clapped his hands together. "Alright. Let''s get moving before I change my mind." Luneth tilted her head. "You were given a choice. You wanted to come." Cassian sighed dramatically. "I like to pretend that I make good decisions." Lindarion ignored them both. With their supplies secured and their destination ahead, they stepped through the gates¡ª And left the Academy behind. ¡ª The sun had reached its peak, casting golden light over the rolling hills as Lindarion, Luneth, and Cassian walked along the winding road. Behind them, the towering spires of Eldenholm had long since faded into the horizon, replaced by endless stretches of green and the occasional pocket of woodland. ''Couldn''t the old man just teleport us there...?'' The journey to Silvermere¡ªa prominent trade city and the place where they''d meet House Valciel¡ªwas a long one, but the road was well-traveled. On the road merchants, adventurers, and travelers passed by in either direction, some giving friendly nods, others gripping their weapons a little tighter at the sight of three armed strangers. Cassian let out a theatrical groan. "Are we there yet?" Lindarion didn''t bother looking at him. "We''ve barely been walking half a day." "Exactly," Cassian grumbled. "Half a day too long." Luneth, walking slightly ahead, adjusted the strap of her pack. "You could try shutting up. That might help." Cassian scoffed. "You wound me." Lindarion exhaled. "Both of you. Focus." Cassian muttered something under his breath but didn''t push further. The road stretched on. To their left, a small creek wound its way through the hills, glittering under the sunlight. To their right, the trees grew thicker, their dark canopies casting long shadows over the path. Lindarion noticed Luneth glancing at the woods more often than usual. "You sense something?" he asked. She hesitated before answering. "Not yet." Cassian groaned. "Can we just have one normal, uneventful trip?" "No," Luneth and Lindarion said at the same time. Cassian sighed. "Figures." They continued without incident, though the occasional rustle in the underbrush made Luneth''s fingers twitch toward her daggers. By midday, they stopped near the creek to rest. Cassian immediately collapsed onto the grass. "Tell me when we start moving again," he mumbled. Luneth perched on a rock, scanning the treeline, while Lindarion knelt by the water, letting the cool stream run over his fingers. Silvermere wasn''t far now. And whatever House Valciel wanted¡ªit wouldn''t be simple. The sound of the creek was the only thing filling the silence. The water moved lazily over smooth stones, carrying with it a cool breeze that barely touched the growing heat of the day. ''It''s good.'' Lindarion kept his hand submerged, watching as the ripples distorted his reflection. It was almost peaceful. Almost. "You ever wonder why people live in the middle of nowhere?" Cassian''s voice broke the silence, muffled by the grass he was currently using as a pillow. ''What kind of question is that out of nowhere?'' Lindarion didn''t answer immediately. He wasn''t sure if the question was rhetorical or if Cassian was just speaking to pass the time. Luneth, however, had an answer. "Safety. Resources. Isolation." Cassian groaned. "You make it sound miserable." ''It kind of is miserable.'' Luneth tilted her head, watching a pair of birds flit between the trees. "Maybe it is." Lindarion finally withdrew his hand from the water, letting the droplets slide off his fingertips. He shook off the excess before standing. "We should move." Cassian made a dramatic show of getting up, stretching his arms over his head. "You''re ruthless, you know that?" "I do." Luneth was already adjusting the straps of her pack. "We can reach Silvermere before sundown if we keep moving." Cassian sighed but didn''t argue. They set off again, the road stretching endlessly before them. The afternoon heat pressed down on their backs, making even the wind feel sluggish. The travelers they''d seen earlier had thinned out, leaving the road emptier, quieter. Too quiet. ''Something is definitely wrong.'' Lindarion caught the way Luneth''s shoulders tensed. She didn''t speak, but she didn''t have to¡ªhe could sense it too. Something was wrong. Cassian, oblivious as always, was humming under his breath when Lindarion suddenly raised a hand. "Stop." Cassian nearly tripped. "What?" Luneth had already drawn one of her daggers. Her gaze was sharp, fixed on the road ahead. Or rather, the lack of a road. The once well-traveled path had abruptly ended. Where there should have been packed dirt and wagon tracks, there was nothing. Just empty space. Lindarion''s fingers twitched toward his sword. "Illusion magic. But it isn''t attacking our minds." Luneth nodded. "Someone wants us to turn around." Cassian exhaled slowly. "Great. I love getting cursed before dinner." Lindarion ignored him, stepping forward cautiously. The moment the tip of his boot touched the ''nothingness,'' a ripple spread outward like a stone dropped in a pond. For a brief moment, the road flickered back into existence¡ªonly to vanish again. Cassian whistled. "That''s unsettling." Lindarion turned to Luneth. "Dispel it?" She frowned. "If I try, whoever used it will know." Lindarion considered that. A warning, then. Or a test. Cassian glanced between them. "So? What''s the plan?" Lindarion exhaled. They could turn back. Find another route. Pretend they hadn''t seen it. But that wasn''t an option, was it? Lindarion exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off an invisible weight. "Just stay close," he said, stepping forward. Cassian hesitated. "That''s it? No dramatic incantation? No¡ª" ''Can he ever shut up for a second?'' Lindarion ignored him and kept walking. The moment his foot touched the illusion, the air rippled again, distorting like heat rising off stone. But unlike before, the flickering didn''t stop. The magic wavered, its edges curling and peeling away like old paint. Luneth followed immediately. She didn''t question it, didn''t hesitate. Cassian, on the other hand, watched them step into what still looked like empty space and made a face. "I hate this already." Still, he followed. The shift was immediate. One moment, they were standing before a chasm of nothingness. The next, the road was beneath their feet again¡ªintact, real, as if it had never disappeared in the first place. Cassian let out a low whistle. "Okay, that was creepy." Luneth glanced at Lindarion. "You recognized the skill?" "I didn''t." Lindarion kept his pace steady. "I just have a good resistance against things that try tricking my mind. Whoever placed it wasn''t trying to keep people out though¡ªthey were testing who could get through." Cassian frowned. "And you just walked through it like it was nothing." Lindarion didn''t respond immediately. He had felt the magic press against him, almost searching, before unraveling entirely. Whoever had set the illusion hadn''t been expecting someone like him to break it so easily. Luneth, as always, was already piecing it together. "You''ve seen this magic before?" Lindarion shook his head. Cassian blinked. "Seriously?" ''Seriously dumbass..'' Lindarion didn''t answer. Instead, he turned his attention to the road ahead. The spell was broken, but the presence that had cast it was still out there. Watching. ''Testing us huh?'' He could feel it. And he had no intention of failing. Luneth''s fingers hovered near her belt, where a throwing knife rested. Cassian, sensing the tension, muttered under his breath, "I''m guessing we''re not alone?" Lindarion gave the barest nod. "Keep walking." Cassian sighed. "Hate that answer." The road ahead sloped downward, curving into the mist-drenched hills. The closer they got to House Valciel''s territory, the thicker the fog became, rolling in slow and deliberate waves. The world felt muted, sound swallowed by the shifting gray. ''Too quiet again.'' Lindarion''s ears twitched at the faintest disturbance. Not footsteps. Not rustling leaves. Just... something. A presence lingering at the edges of perception. Luneth shifted closer. "They''re not attacking." "They''re waiting," Lindarion murmured. Cassian let out a short laugh, though it was more nervous than amused. "Waiting for what?" Lindarion didn''t answer. Because he wasn''t sure yet. Chapter 86 86: Lady Valciel (1) They kept walking ignoring the eyes. Soon, the mist thinned. Silvermere emerged from the haze like a city of silver and stone, its towers rising above the valley, its streets alive with motion. Merchants called out from stalls lining the streets, their voices weaving through the clatter of hooves and the murmur of passing travelers. The scent of fresh bread, roasted meat, and burning incense hung in the air. People moved in a constant rhythm¡ªtraders unloading carts, couriers weaving through the crowd, children darting between the legs of armored guards. Cassian let out a low whistle. "Now this is more like it." ''It''s actually better than I thought it would be.'' Lindarion barely spared him a glance. His eyes swept the city, noting its structure, its defenses. Silvermere was built with intent. Its outer districts spilled beyond the original walls, expanding into trade hubs and housing quarters, but at its core, it remained a fortress. Stone bridges arched over winding canals, leading toward the noble estates perched on the higher tiers of the city. And among them, standing against the backdrop of the western mountains, was House Valciel''s estate. It wasn''t the largest, nor the most lavish, but it commanded attention. Luneth followed his gaze. "That''s our destination." Cassian exhaled. "You two ever just... enjoy a city before thinking about all the ways it could kill you?" Luneth gave him a flat look. "No." ''We aren''t here for holiday.'' Lindarion ignored them both. "Stay alert. We don''t know who''s watching." They stepped onto the main street, falling into step with the ebb and flow of the crowd. The moment they did, Lindarion felt it. Not an attack. Not a threat. Just eyes. Watching. Measuring. Not one pair. Not two. Dozens. He didn''t react outwardly, but Luneth noticed the way his posture shifted. Her fingers brushed against her belt. "Trouble?" Lindarion didn''t slow his pace. "Not yet." Cassian, blissfully unaware, was already eyeing a food stall selling skewered venison. "Do we have time for¡ª" Luneth grabbed his collar and pulled him forward before he could wander off. "No." Cassian groaned but didn''t resist. "You''re both unbearable." The streets grew narrower as they climbed higher, the air carrying the faintest chill. The further they went, the more the atmosphere shifted. The lively bustle of the lower districts gave way to a quieter, more controlled presence. Silvermere''s nobility didn''t shout for attention. They didn''t need to. Their influence was carved into the city''s foundation. House Valciel''s estate came into view, its wrought iron gates flanked by guards in deep blue tabards. Lindarion slowed as they approached. He could already feel the weight of expectation pressing down on them. This was no simple request for aid. This was something deeper. Something they weren''t being told. And he intended to find out why. ¡ª Lindarion barely had to step forward before the guards at the gate moved, their hands shifting subtly toward their weapons. Not drawn, not yet¡ªbut a quiet warning. The emblem of House Valciel was stitched into their tabards, a silver serpent coiled around an alchemical flask. ''The serpent looks familiar.'' Lindarion shook his head as he noticed the scent in the air. It wasn''t just the damp stone of the city or the lingering incense from the lower districts. Here, something sharper, something chemical clung to the wind. Burnt herbs, metal, and a trace of something acidic. ''Alchemy.'' Luneth glanced at Lindarion, who had already caught on. Cassian, however, was still stretching from the walk. "So, do we knock, or¡ª?" The gates creaked open before he could finish. ''A little creepy.'' The guards didn''t speak. They simply stepped aside, their gazes impassive. Lindarion took the lead. Beyond the gates, the grounds of House Valciel stretched wide¡ªstone pathways lined with glass lanterns, alchemical symbols engraved into the courtyard tiles. Flowering vines curled around trellises, but even they weren''t untouched by the family''s craft. Some glowed faintly, their petals shifting colors under the light. The estate itself was built like a fortress, but not in the way of soldiers and war. No, this was a different kind of stronghold¡ªone of knowledge, of control. Every window was fitted with dark glass. Faint wisps of smoke curled from the chimneys, carrying scents that didn''t belong in nature. The whole place pulsed with the quiet hum of alchemical work. Cassian muttered under his breath, "This place already smells like a bad idea." Lindarion ignored him. At the entrance, a man waited. Tall, sharp-eyed, dressed in deep blue robes embroidered with silver. "His sleeves have the mark of a master alchemist¡ªthree rings of intertwined gold thread." Cassian muttered to Lindarion who just nodded. The man inclined his head as they approached. "You''ve arrived sooner than expected." Lindarion met his gaze without hesitation. "We didn''t stop for delays." The man studied him for a moment, then turned smoothly on his heel. "Follow me." Luneth glanced at Lindarion, but he had already started walking. Inside, the estate was a maze of marble and glass, but beneath the wealth, there was something precise, something methodical. Alchemical symbols were etched into the floors, the walls, even the chandeliers¡ªwards, protections, possibly more. Every corridor carried a different scent. Some were faint¡ªlavender, crushed herbs¡ªwhile others were acrid, metallic, the unmistakable tang of something volatile. ''Something is wrong here.'' Lindarion memorized every turn. Every potential exit. Cassian, on the other hand, was trying not to breathe too deeply. "I feel like I''m inhaling something poisonous just by existing here." Their guide ignored the comment entirely, leading them toward a grand chamber lined with bookshelves and glass cases. At the center stood a desk¡ªno, a workstation. Vials of liquid shimmered under candlelight, a thin wisp of smoke rising from a cooling cauldron. And behind it, seated with an air of quiet command, was the one they had come to meet. ''She must be Lady Valciel.'' Her silver hair was pinned with alchemical needles, her eyes the same piercing gray as the storm-touched sea. Though she wore the robes of her house, they were practical¡ªsleeves fitted, gloves half-worn as if she had just left her work unfinished. She looked at Lindarion first. "You''re the Academy''s representative?" Lindarion inclined his head. "Lindarion Sunblade, My Lady." Her gaze flickered to Luneth and Cassian. "And these?" Cassian crossed his arms. "We are accompanying him, My Lady." Luneth sighed. Lady Valciel exhaled through her nose. Not quite amusement, but close. "I see." She leaned back in her chair. "You understand why you''re here?" Lindarion met her gaze evenly. "We were told House Valciel requested aid. We weren''t told why." Something shifted in her expression. Not surprise. Just... calculation. She tapped a gloved finger against the desk. "Then let me make it simple." She gestured toward one of the glass cases. Inside, suspended in a liquid that shimmered between gold and violet, was a severed hand. Cassian took an immediate step back. "Alright. That''s worse than I expected...." Luneth''s eyes narrowed. "Whose?" Lady Valciel stood, approaching the case. "One of my own alchemists. She wasn''t meant to return alive." Lindarion''s fingers twitched at his side. "Wasn''t meant to?" Lady Valciel turned back to them, and for the first time, her voice was colder. "There is something in Silvermere''s depths that should not exist." She met Lindarion''s gaze. "And I need you to help me destroy it." Cassian hesitated for a fraction of a second before regaining his composure. "My lady, if I may ask¡ªwhat exactly do you mean by ''should not exist''?" His voice, though still touched with unease, carried the proper deference expected when speaking to nobility. Lady Valciel did not immediately answer. Instead, she turned her attention fully to Lindarion, as if gauging his reaction. But Lindarion did not react. His expression remained composed, unreadable. Luneth, however, took a measured step forward, her sharp gaze fixed on the severed hand floating within its glass prison. Even through the thick barrier, she could discern the unnatural pallor of the skin, the darkened veins beneath its surface¡ªveins that, disturbingly, still seemed to pulse faintly despite the hand''s clear separation from its owner. "...That is alchemical contamination," Luneth observed, her voice quieter than usual. Lady Valciel inclined her head slightly. "Indeed." Cassian exhaled, his discomfort thinly veiled. "My lady, forgive my ignorance, but I must admit... keeping such a thing preserved seems rather unusual." Lady Valciel turned her gaze to him, her expression unchanging. "This specimen is not here for mere curiosity." Cassian straightened slightly, properly reminded of the decorum expected of him. "Of course, my lady. I meant no disrespect." Lindarion, ever direct, spoke next. "What caused this?" The faintest hesitation flickered across Lady Valciel''s expression. Not uncertainty¡ªcalculation. As if she were carefully considering how much to reveal. Then, after a measured pause, she answered, "A mistake." Cassian''s breath hitched, but this time, he refrained from speaking out of turn. ''She isn''t telling us everything.'' Lindarion remained still. "A mistake in what, my lady? What was the intended result?" Lady Valciel''s fingers rested lightly upon the polished wood of the desk before her. "...Something that would never decay." Luneth inhaled sharply. Even Cassian, who had been subtly inching away from the floating hand, froze at the implication. ''Could it be?'' Lindarion, ever composed, held her gaze. "An attempt at immortality..perhaps?" "A crude word for it," Lady Valciel admitted, "but yes. Not the immortality of myths and legends. Alchemy cannot grant eternal life." Her gaze returned to the preserved hand. "But it can make death... difficult." Lindarion''s fingers twitched, though his face betrayed nothing. "And the one this belonged to?" Lady Valciel exhaled softly, as if recalling something distant. "Still walks." A silence settled over the room, heavy and unmoving. Cassian''s throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Forgive me, my lady, but¡ªwhat exactly are we dealing with?" Lady Valciel''s eyes darkened. "A creation that should not have been made." ''This is worse than I thought it would be..'' Chapter 87 87: Lady Valciel (2) Lindarion held Lady Valciel''s gaze, his mind sifting through possibilities, through every forbidden aspect of alchemy he had studied¡ªevery warning whispered within the Academy''s halls. But none of it quite explained this. A severed hand, still pulsing. Its owner still walking. Something that should not have been made. Luneth was the first to break the silence. "This alchemist¡ªwho was he?" Lady Valciel did not immediately answer. Instead, she turned, walking back toward the glass case. The candlelight cast shifting shadows across her features, emphasizing the sharp edges of her cheekbones, the measured precision of her movements. "She," Lady Valciel corrected, "was one of our most skilled. A mind unlike any other. Ambitious, brilliant... and reckless." Her fingers traced the edge of the case, the glass clouding slightly beneath her touch. "She was meant to push the boundaries of alchemical transmutation. Instead, she overstepped them." Cassian exhaled slowly. "And I''m assuming asking her politely to stop isn''t an option." Lady Valciel''s gaze flicked to him, unreadable. "She is no longer the woman we once knew." Luneth''s frown deepened. "Meaning?" The Lady of House Valciel studied them all for a long, assessing moment before speaking. "She was pronounced dead three months ago." Cassian blinked. "I¡ªpardon, my lady, but what?" Lady Valciel continued as though she had not heard him. "Her remains were recovered. Examined. Laid to rest." Her voice, though steady, carried the weight of something carefully restrained. "And yet, only days ago, one of our patrols encountered her¡ªwalking the lower city." ''Almost like a zombie then..?'' Lindarion''s mind sharpened. "She spoke to them?" Lady Valciel inclined her head slightly. "If it could be called speaking. Her words were fragmented. Her thoughts¡ªscattered. But there was enough to know she remembered." Luneth''s arms crossed tightly over her chest. "So whatever happened to her didn''t take her mind entirely." "Not entirely," Lady Valciel confirmed. "But what remains is twisted¡ªaltered beyond recognition." Cassian rubbed a hand down his face. "I''m going to take a wild guess and assume she wasn''t just taking a casual evening stroll." Lady Valciel''s expression was like tempered steel. "She was seeking something." Lindarion, already anticipating the answer, asked, "What?" Lady Valciel finally turned fully back to them. "The rest of her body." The silence that followed was different this time. Colder. Cassian inhaled sharply. "Alright. I change my previous statement. This is much, much worse than I thought it would be." Luneth ignored him, her focus locked on Lady Valciel. "You have more than just her hand, don''t you?" Lady Valciel did not look away. "Yes." Lindarion didn''t hesitate. "How much?" Lady Valciel lifted a hand¡ªand gestured. A pair of servants, previously standing unnoticed at the edges of the chamber, moved in silence. From a concealed panel in the wall, they retrieved something heavy, covered in deep blue silk. The cloth was drawn back. Beneath it lay a metal case, its surface engraved with countless alchemical sigils. Silver chains crisscrossed its edges, reinforcing every seal. And within, visible through the reinforced glass¡ª Cassian swore under his breath. An arm. A leg. Part of a torso. Still moving. The pieces twitched, as if stirred by unseen forces, the flesh shifting as though seeking something¡ªseeking itself. ''This is seriously creeping me out..why did I come here.'' Lindarion had seen many things in his life. But this? Even he felt the ice settle in his blood. Lady Valciel''s voice was quiet. "She is not merely undead." Luneth''s jaw tightened. "She''s unfinished." Lady Valciel nodded once. "And she will not stop until she is whole again." Cassian let out a long, controlled breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Okay. So. Hypothetically speaking¡ªif she does succeed in putting herself back together..." Lady Valciel turned her gaze to him, and for the first time, there was something deeper in her eyes. "...Then the true experiment begins." Lindarion''s fingers curled at his sides. The weight of Lady Valciel''s words pressed against his thoughts, heavy with unspoken implications. "The true experiment?" His voice was calm, measured. "Explain." Lady Valciel turned slightly, her gaze sweeping across the preserved remains before settling on Lindarion once more. "You understand as well as I do, Master Sunblade, that alchemy¡ªtrue alchemy¡ªis the refinement of natural laws. We do not defy them. We... reshape them." Luneth exhaled sharply. "And she wanted to reshape death itself." Lady Valciel inclined her head. "She believed decay was merely an error of the body¡ªa failure of structure. That with the right corrections, the flesh could persist beyond its limits, evolve beyond mortality." Cassian made a low noise of discontent. "Right. Because nothing bad ever happens when people try to outsmart death." Lady Valciel ignored the comment. "When we recovered her remains, we believed the experiment had failed. That she had paid the price for her ambition." A shadow flickered across her expression. "We were wrong." Lindarion''s mind worked quickly, piecing together fragments of theory, of warnings buried in the Academy''s restricted texts. "Her body isn''t merely preserved." His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "It''s adapting then?" Lady Valciel''s gaze sharpened. "Precisely." Luneth''s posture grew more rigid. "Then it''s not just about putting herself back together. If she succeeds... she''ll be something new." Lady Valciel stepped closer to the sealed container, her gloved fingers tracing the reinforced glass. "That is what I suspect. Even in this incomplete state, the pieces of her remain aware of each other. Drawn to each other." Cassian''s expression twisted with revulsion. "Like they''re alive." Lady Valciel''s eyes darkened. "Perhaps." ''Why involve me specifically for this?'' Lindarion let out a slow breath. "You should have burned the remains." Silence. Then¡ª "I tried." That caught all of their attention. Luneth''s brows furrowed. "What?" Lady Valciel''s jaw tightened. "Fire. Acid. Alchemical dissolution. We tried everything." Her fingers curled against the glass. "Nothing worked." Cassian let out a soft curse. "You''re telling me she''s unkillable?" "No." Lady Valciel''s gaze was cold, calculating. "I''m telling you that she''s not finished. Yet." ''Something is not right though.'' Lindarion''s mind snapped through possibilities. "If she were truly immortal, she wouldn''t need to retrieve her missing pieces. The fact that she seeks them means she isn''t complete." Luneth nodded. "And if she isn''t complete... then maybe we still have a chance to stop her." Cassian gestured toward the sealed case. "You say that like we have a plan." Lady Valciel turned back to face them fully. "That is why you are here." Lindarion met her gaze evenly. "You want us to finish what your House started." Lady Valciel didn''t deny it. "I want you to ensure that this never happens again." Luneth exhaled. "And if we fail?" Lady Valciel''s expression did not waver. "Then we will have created something that can never die." The silence that followed was heavy. Final. Lindarion took a slow breath, then straightened. "Where was she last seen?" Lady Valciel turned away, walking toward a nearby desk cluttered with scrolls and vials. She retrieved a sealed parchment and laid it before them. "The lower depths of Silvermere," she said. "Beyond the old trade tunnels, in the ruins beneath the city." ''What?'' Lindarion frowned slightly. "Ruins?" Lady Valciel tapped a gloved finger against the parchment. "Silvermere is old¡ªolder than its nobility likes to admit. Beneath its foundations lie remnants of a time before the city. Before us." Cassian exhaled through his nose. "So, let me guess¡ªyour alchemists were down there, poking at things that should''ve been left alone?" Lady Valciel didn''t dignify that with an answer. Instead, she unsealed the parchment, revealing a carefully drawn map. "These tunnels have long been abandoned, but they were once vital. Old storage, emergency escape routes, forgotten laboratories... and burial sites." Luneth''s fingers twitched. "Burial sites?" Lady Valciel nodded. "Many of Silvermere''s oldest families interred their dead in the underground crypts, believing the city itself would guard them. It is among those ruins that she was last seen." Lindarion''s eyes scanned the map. The tunnels twisted beneath the city like veins, some passages marked as collapsed, others leading deeper into uncharted space. "This means she''s still close," he said. "If she had truly mastered her transformation, she wouldn''t be hiding in the dark." Lady Valciel''s gaze sharpened. "Exactly." Luneth crossed her arms. "So the plan is to go down there, find her before she fully... evolves, and stop her?" Cassian muttered, "Would''ve been nice if you asked us to deal with something simple. Like a rampaging chimera." Lindarion ignored him. "You wouldn''t have called for the Academy''s aid unless you knew there was more to this." Lady Valciel exhaled softly. "Her... condition is unstable. But she is not mindless. Not yet." Cassian raised a brow. "Not yet?" "She was once one of my most skilled alchemists. If even a fraction of her intellect remains intact..." Lady Valciel''s lips pressed into a thin line. "Then she will not wait for us to come to her." ''So...we have to deal with a mutant zombie that can outsmart us. Great.'' Lindarion considered this. "You believe she''s planning something." "I know she is." The words carried a weight beyond simple concern. Luneth''s expression was unreadable. "Then we should move quickly." Lady Valciel nodded. "I will have my alchemists prepare what information we have. In the meantime..." Her gaze settled on Lindarion. "I would advise that you do not face her unprepared. This is not an ordinary foe." Lindarion met her stare without hesitation. "We understand." Lady Valciel''s eyes flickered toward the case containing the severed hand. The preserved flesh, the still-darkened veins. "You do not," she said quietly. "Not yet." The room seemed colder. Cassian exhaled slowly. "Wonderful. That''s very reassuring." Luneth ignored him. "Then we should learn quickly." Lady Valciel studied them for a long moment before nodding. "You will have access to my archives. What knowledge I have, you now share." Lindarion inclined his head. "Then we begin immediately." Lady Valciel gestured to an attendant, who stepped forward and bowed. "Follow him. He will take you to what you need." As they turned to leave, Lady Valciel spoke once more. "And, Master Sunblade." Lindarion glanced back. She held his gaze. "Do not underestimate her." Lindarion didn''t blink. "I won''t, My Lady." With that, they followed the attendant into the depths of House Valciel''s archives, knowing that whatever answers they found... It would only be the beginning. Chapter 88 88: Information hunting The halls of House Valciel stretched long and silent. Cold, polished stone. The faint scent of alchemical reagents clinging to the air, impossible to place¡ªsomething bitter, something metallic. The kind of smell that stayed in the lungs. Lindarion walked without hesitation, but his mind was already dissecting every piece of information given. A former alchemist. An experiment gone wrong. A mind that was no longer human, but not yet lost. And a problem House Valciel could not solve alone. Cassian exhaled loudly beside him, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, just to be clear, we''re dealing with some kind of half-immortal, half-mad alchemist who''s hiding in ancient ruins beneath the city?" Luneth didn''t look at him. "That is what was said." Cassian let out a small laugh, the kind people made when they realized they were in deeper than they wanted to be. "Right. Good. Just making sure I didn''t imagine it." The attendant leading them didn''t so much as glance back. He moved with the same quiet efficiency as the rest of the house, his dark robes swaying slightly with each step. Then, just as Cassian opened his mouth again¡ª "We''re here." The doors ahead of them were different from the rest of the estate. Not wood, but reinforced iron. Etched with protective sigils. Lindarion''s gaze flickered over the symbols, cataloging them in an instant. Wards. Strong ones. The attendant pressed a hand against the center of the door, and with a low, grinding sound, the mechanisms unlocked. A laboratory. No¡ªan archive. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with tomes bound in leather and metal. Papers were stacked in careful disorder, alongside vials of preserved samples, floating in thick, shimmering liquid. The air carried the weight of knowledge. And, beneath it, the faintest tension of something restrained. ''It''s mysterious.'' Lindarion stepped inside first. Luneth followed, her eyes scanning the contents of the shelves. Cassian hesitated only slightly before stepping in after them. "So. What exactly are we looking for?" Lindarion glanced at the attendant. The man stepped forward, gesturing toward a section of the room where several books and documents had already been placed on a long, sturdy table. "These contain the records of the experiments conducted in the lower depths. Everything Lady Valciel deemed relevant." Cassian''s brows rose. "You''re telling me she just handed over classified alchemy secrets? Just like that?" The attendant gave a small, measured smile. "She handed over what was necessary." Which meant that somewhere, in this room, in all these pages and vials, were the pieces of a story that House Valciel did not want outsiders to know. Lindarion took a seat. Luneth picked up the first document, scanning its contents. Cassian muttered under his breath but sat down as well. "Well. Let''s get to it, then." The search began. ¡ª The candlelight flickered against the parchment, casting restless shadows across the alchemical texts spread before them. The ink, faded in places, traced careful diagrams of transmutation circles, complex formulae, and the unmistakable sigils of preservation rites. Some of the pages were scorched at the edges, marred with the stains of past failures¡ªburnt herbs, metal filings, something darker. Lindarion turned another page in silence. His gaze traced the dense, cramped script, reading past the surface words, past the technical explanations, searching for something deeper. Luneth worked beside him, methodical and precise. She had already separated a small stack of documents¡ªthose with inconsistencies, those with redacted passages. She said nothing, but the tension in her shoulders spoke volumes. Cassian, however, was far less composed. "Alright." He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as he stared at a particularly dense passage. "I don''t know what half of this means, but I do know that this¡ª" he tapped the page with unnecessary force, "¡ªtalks about ''unbinding the flesh from decay.'' Which sounds like exactly the kind of thing you don''t mess with." Lindarion did not look up. "Keep reading." Cassian groaned. "Why? So I can find out more ways this was an incredibly bad idea?" Luneth turned another page. "That was already obvious." Cassian made a vague, exasperated gesture. "Yes, but there are levels of obvious!" ''Does he ever shut up?'' Lindarion ignored them, his focus narrowing on a section near the bottom of a worn manuscript. The ink was smudged in places, as though someone''s hand had hesitated over the words. Subject: Experiment 67¡ªPreservation and Reconstitution Primary Theory: The physical vessel can be maintained indefinitely through alchemical reinforcement. However, the question remains¡ªcan the essence persist alongside it? Method: Structural binding through metallurgical synthesis. Incorporation of Philosophic Mercury to stabilize... ''What the hell His eyes stopped on the next line. Result: Initial stability successful. Subject retained consciousness post-separation. Complication: Continued exposure resulted in cognitive drift. Further tests required. Final Entry: Subject exhibited signs of irreversible alteration. Entity no longer responded as expected. Designation changed to Anathema. Lindarion felt Luneth shift beside him. She had seen it too. Cassian, meanwhile, was still catching up. "Wait. Wait. Hold on. Are they saying¡ª" he pointed at the page, "¡ªthat this alchemist they experimented on was still alive even after whatever they did to her?" Lindarion closed the manuscript. "More than that." He looked toward the vials along the shelves. The shimmering, shifting liquids. The suspended remnants of failed trials. "They didn''t just try to stop decay." His voice was quiet, but certain. "They tried to sever death itself." Silence settled over them. Heavy. Unspoken. Cassian leaned back, running a hand down his face. "Well. That''s cursed." Luneth''s gaze lingered on the sealed glass cases. "And now she roams free beneath the city." Lindarion exhaled slowly, then stood. "We''re done here." Cassian blinked. "What? That''s it? We''re just¡ª" He gestured to the papers. "¡ªgonna accept that some half-immortal, alchemically warped thing is wandering around down there?" Lindarion met his gaze. "We were never here to question whether she exists." He turned toward the door. "We''re here to destroy her." The quiet hum of alchemical energies lingered in the air as they stepped away from the desk, the weight of their discovery settling into something cold and heavy in Lindarion''s chest. ''They severed death. And they think we can undo it.'' Lady Valciel had given them no further instructions, no reassurances, only the expectation that they would act. That they would find and erase the mistake her House had buried beneath Silvermere. Lindarion exhaled, measured and slow, pushing the weight aside. There was no room for hesitation now. As they stepped into the dimly lit corridor, Cassian finally broke the silence. "I have several questions." Luneth gave him a sharp look. "If the first one is ''Can we run?'' the answer is no." Cassian groaned. "That was the second question. The first was, how do we even kill something that doesn''t die?" ''I have an idea.'' Lindarion''s steps didn''t slow. "We can find a way." Cassian threw up his hands. "Oh, excellent. That''s comforting. Maybe we can just ask her nicely to stop existing?" ''This dumbass.'' Lindarion didn''t answer. He kept walking, his thoughts threading through what little information they had. ''...A preservation experiment. An alchemist who wasn''t supposed to survive. Cognitive drift. A designation changed to Anathema.'' The last entry had been deliberate. The phrasing too precise. ''Not a person anymore. That''s what they decided.'' The scent of burnt herbs clung to the hallway, thick enough to sting. Another warded door came into view, its surface etched with containment sigils, warning scripts half-faded with age. Luneth slowed. "You noticed it too." Lindarion nodded. Cassian frowned. "Noticed what? That we''re willingly walking toward something that by all accounts should not exist?" Lindarion''s gaze lingered on the symbols. Some of them had been reinforced. Recently. ''...Whatever they locked away, they weren''t sure it would hold.'' He reached for the handle. Cassian grabbed his wrist. "Wait. Just¡ªwait. Are we seriously just opening random doors now?" Lindarion didn''t pull away. He met Cassian''s gaze, steady and unreadable. "If this thing was contained before, there might be something left behind." His voice was quiet, but firm. "Something that tells us how to stop it." Cassian stared at him, then at the door. Then he exhaled in complete and utter resignation. "I hate that you make sense..." ''I hope this is the right decision.'' Lindarion turned the handle. The door creaked open. Beyond it, the air was stale. Stagnant. The faint scent of metal and something faintly acidic lingered. And in the center of the chamber, held in a fractured containment circle, was a single alchemical flask. Inside, something pulsed. A faint, dying glow. Luneth stepped forward, slow and cautious. "...A core." Lindarion''s fingers curled at his side. ''...Not just any core. It seems like a remnant one.'' Cassian squinted at it. "Alright. I''m no expert, but that definitely looks like something we should not touch." Lindarion ignored him. He stepped closer, the faint shimmer of the containment sigils shifting as he moved. The glow within the flask flickered, pulsed¡ªalmost like a heartbeat. ''Is this what''s left of her?'' The alchemist who had been erased. The mistake that could not die. His hand hovered over the glass. And then¡ª The light surged. A whisper, too faint to be real, brushed against the edge of his thoughts. A voice. Faint. Hollow. "I remember..." The containment circle shattered. Chapter 89 89: Remnant Remains The containment sigils flared for an instant¡ªthen collapsed. A wave of alchemical energy rushed outward, cold and sharp, like fingers pressing against his skull. Lindarion didn''t move. Didn''t breathe. ''That wasn''t an echo. That was awareness.'' Glass cracked. The light within the flask pulsed again, stronger this time, twisting into something unnatural. Cassian swore. "Oh, that''s bad. That''s very bad." Luneth was already moving, her blade half-drawn, but Lindarion raised a hand. "Wait." Cassian snapped toward him. "Wait? For what? For it to finish deciding whether or not it wants to kill us?" Lindarion didn''t answer. His eyes remained fixed on the flask. The glow was shifting¡ªunstable, flickering between gold and violet. Like something caught between states. ''Alchemy preserves, but this¡ªthis is something else.'' Luneth''s grip on her blade tightened. "It responded to you." He knew. That was the problem. The air thrummed with something deeper than magic, something raw and unfinished. Another whisper threaded through the silence. "...Where am I?" Lindarion exhaled slowly. ''It isn''t just reacting. It''s remembering.'' Cassian took a step back. "You do hear that, right? That''s not just in my head?" Luneth didn''t look at him. "It''s real." Cassian muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like "I would very much like to leave now." Lindarion ignored him. His mind was moving too fast, too sharp. ''Anathema. The designation changed..'' The alchemist who was never meant to return. A creation that should not have been made. A mistake. Lindarion took another step closer. "Who are you?" The light flickered. Then¡ª "...I don''t know." A pulse. This time, stronger. The walls groaned under the weight of it, the air crackling with something thick and oppressive. Lindarion felt it coil around his ribs, settle behind his sternum. A presence. Not malicious. Not yet. Just there. Luneth shifted closer, voice low. "We need to act. Now." Cassian nodded rapidly. "I vote for the option where we run." Lindarion didn''t move. ''If I step back now, we lose our chance.'' The remnants of a broken alchemist, caught between existence and oblivion. A mind unraveling. A consciousness holding on by threadbare will. Lindarion made his choice. He reached for the flask. The world fractured. Light split like shattered glass. The chamber blurred, warped¡ªcolors bleeding, walls bending inward as if the space itself had been overturned. Lindarion''s hand never touched the flask. But something touched him. A pressure, cold and insidious, sank into his skull. A weight, vast and foreign, slithered into the hollow spaces of his mind. And for an instant¡ª ¡ªhe wasn''t himself. A city swallowed by mist. The scent of burning silver. A figure standing at the edge of an alchemical circle, ink bleeding from their fingertips. Their mouth moved. A name. A command. A plea. Then¡ª Darkness. ¡ª Lindarion inhaled sharply. Air flooded his lungs, sharp and stinging, like he''d been drowning without realizing it. He was still standing. Still in the chamber. But his hand¡ª His fingers were curled, inches from the flask, as if something had seized them mid-motion. The glow of the flask pulsed once¡ªdim, but steady. Lindarion''s breath felt sharp in his chest. ''That wasn''t just a vision.'' A presence had moved through him. Not just an imprint, not a passive memory. Something aware. Something that¡ª He clenched his fingers. His hand was still hovering over the flask, the pull of it lingering in his muscles, as if the foreign will that had stirred in his mind had almost been enough. ''Almost.'' Cassian''s voice broke the silence, hesitant. "...Lindarion?" Luneth had already moved. She gripped his wrist¡ªnot harshly, but firm enough to ground him. "What did you see?" Lindarion exhaled, steadying himself. His mind still felt raw, like something had touched the edges and left them open. "...A city. A ritual. Someone calling a name." He didn''t say who. He didn''t say that for a moment, he wasn''t sure whether it had been his own mouth shaping the words. Luneth''s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn''t push. Cassian, however, gave the flask a wary glance. "Right. Well. That''s incredibly cursed, so maybe we don''t touch it again?" Lindarion forced his hand to his side. "...Agreed." The room around them was still heavy with the presence of alchemy. The walls were lined with more cases, some filled with preserved specimens, others with carefully sealed vials, each containing substances of unnatural colors and shifting consistencies. Cassian looked around warily. "Okay, not to be that guy, but are we supposed to be in here?" Luneth exhaled. "We were brought here." "Yeah, sure, but no one''s watching us," Cassian pointed out. "Either they trust us way too much, or they don''t think we''ll understand anything useful." Lindarion didn''t respond. He was still watching the flask. The faint glow of the liquid, the slow pulse within. Then, as if sensing his gaze¡ª The light faded. Not all at once. It dimmed, then flickered, then faded entirely, leaving the fluid dull and motionless. The pulse was gone. Lindarion didn''t move, but something in his chest tightened. ''That wasn''t natural.'' The three of them stood in silence. Then Luneth turned sharply on her heel. "We''re wasting time. If we want answers, we should get them from the person in charge." Lindarion exhaled slowly, then nodded. "...Let''s go." They left the chamber behind, the heavy doors sealing shut behind them. The corridors of House Valciel were unnervingly quiet. No passing servants, no lingering alchemists¡ªonly the occasional flicker of candlelight and the scent of burning herbs. By the time they reached Lady Valciel''s office, the silence had settled deep into their bones. Lindarion knocked once. A pause. Then¡ª "Enter." The door swung open on its own. Inside, Lady Valciel sat behind her desk, a book open in front of her, though her gaze was already on them. The candles around the room flickered at their arrival, casting long shadows against the walls lined with alchemical symbols. She didn''t ask why they had come. She was expecting them. Lindarion stepped forward first. "We need to speak." Lady Valciel''s expression remained unreadable. "Then speak." Lindarion didn''t hesitate. "So, we are going after the creature. But we need a way to enter the city. We also found the remnant remains." A faint pause. Then, Lady Valciel closed her book. And smiled. "Good." Lady Valciel''s smile did not reach her eyes. It was not amusement. Nor was it relief. It was something colder. Sharper. Lindarion kept his stance firm. He had spoken the words himself, but it was clear now¡ªshe had been waiting for them to say it. Luneth crossed her arms. "You were expecting us to agree from the beginning right? As soon as you sent the assignment to the academy." Lady Valciel tilted her head slightly, silver hair catching the candlelight. "Wasn''t it inevitable?" Cassian exhaled, rubbing his temples. "See, that is exactly the kind of thing people say before sending someone to their death." Lady Valciel did not deny it. Lindarion kept his voice level. "You never intended to give us a choice." "You always had a choice," Lady Valciel corrected, tapping a gloved finger against the desk. "But choice means little when you already know the answer, and it means little when you have a favor." She let the words settle before she continued. "You are not fools. You have seen what lingers in the depths of this city. What haunts Silvermere now¡ªit does not belong. It is an error in alchemy''s design. A thing that should not be." She leaned forward slightly. "And you intend to correct it." Lindarion''s fingers twitched at his side. ''She speaks as if this is duty. As if it is already written.'' Luneth exhaled sharply through her nose. "Even though we accepted, you should be sending trained alchemists, not us." Lady Valciel leaned back, resting her hands against the desk. "My alchemists that are capable of fighting are already dead." A silence settled between them. Luneth''s eyes darkened. "...All of them?" Lady Valciel did not look away. "There were no survivors." Cassian''s expression flickered¡ªsomething passing between skepticism and unease. "Then why us? You could have sent a higher ranked mage, or any other option." Lindarion already knew the answer. Because they were not alchemists. Because whatever had destroyed those before them had been made to undo alchemists. And they were something else entirely. Lady Valciel studied them carefully, then exhaled. "If I had another option, I would take it." ''Liar.'' Lindarion kept his expression still. Lady Valciel turned her gaze fully on him. "But I do not." There was no more pretense in her tone. No more veiled persuasion. Only certainty. "You will go," she said. "Because you must." Cassian muttered something under his breath but did not argue. Luneth remained unreadable. Lindarion exhaled slowly. "...Where exactly should we go and how do we get there?" Lady Valciel''s lips curled slightly. Not quite satisfaction. Just expectation. "The ruins beneath Silvermere." She reached into her desk, pulling out a sealed parchment. "This will grant you access past the lower wards." Lindarion took it without hesitation. Lady Valciel''s gaze flickered, as if reading something unspoken in his movements. Then, she said, "Don''t die." Lindarion met her eyes one last time. Then he turned, and without another word, they left. The corridors of House Valciel stretched long and silent before them, their footsteps swallowed by the dense, alchemic air. Lindarion walked ahead, the parchment sealed within his grip. The wax bore the insignia of House Valciel¡ªa silver serpent coiled around an alchemical flask. It felt heavier than it should. ''The ruins beneath Silvermere...'' Cassian let out a low breath beside him. "I''ll say it now, just so I don''t regret not saying it later¡ªthis feels like a terrible idea." Luneth didn''t glance at him. "You said that before we even walked through the gates." "And was I wrong?" Cassian gestured vaguely around them. "We just agreed to venture into a place where an entire group of alchemists were wiped out." "No, we didn''t," Luneth corrected. "Lindarion agreed. We just followed." Cassian exhaled through his nose. "That''s worse." Lindarion said nothing. Their steps carried them down the main hall, past the great chamber of alchemical studies. Through darkened windows, the silhouettes of researchers bent over their work, gloved hands moving with precise, mechanical purpose. The estate was still alive. Still working. As if the disaster had never happened. As if Lady Valciel had not just confirmed that her own people were dead. ''She speaks of loss, but there is no grief in her tone. Only calculation.'' ''She knew this was coming.'' They reached the entrance hall. The main doors loomed ahead, the guards stationed at either side barely sparing them a glance. Lindarion did not slow. He pushed through, and the cold evening air met them instantly. Silvermere stretched beyond the estate walls, a labyrinth of flickering lanterns and winding streets. From here, the lower districts could be seen¡ªlayers of stonework and wooden terraces, bridges arcing over the darkened canals. And beneath it all, past the streets, the markets, the homes¡ª The ruins. Cassian rubbed the back of his neck. "So. We''re actually doing this." Luneth adjusted the daggers at her belt. "Obviously." Cassian sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Remind me again, what''s the over-under on all of us surviving?" Lindarion lifted the parchment slightly. "House Valciel believes this is necessary." Cassian let out a dry chuckle. "Right, because that always means survival." Luneth turned toward Lindarion. "Do you have a plan?" Lindarion''s fingers curled slightly over the seal. He glanced toward the city below. ''A place where the dead still walk.'' ''Where alchemy has failed.'' "...We find an entrance." Luneth nodded. "And then?" Lindarion''s grip did not loosen. "...We see how deep this mistake runs." Chapter 90 90: Remained Ruins (1) The evening air pressed against them as they moved down the winding streets, the warmth of the estate fading behind them. Silvermere''s lower districts were alive, even at this hour¡ªvendors packing away their stalls, lamplighters moving along the cobbled paths, their flames flickering against damp stone. But beneath the movement, there was something else. A stillness. An unspoken weight pressing down on the air, thick as the mist curling through the alleyways. Cassian exhaled, rubbing his hands together. "You ever notice how places where people disappear always feel like places where people disappear?" Luneth scanned the streets ahead. "It''s the silence." ''It is a little creepy.'' Lindarion barely spared them a glance. His eyes were fixed forward, tracking their path through the descending streets. The parchment in his grip remained sealed, but the words within were already etched into his mind. ¡ª"The entrance lies beyond the last bridge. Beneath the water, where the first foundations of Silvermere were laid. You will find no guide. No passage marked on any map. Only the remnants of what should never have been."¡ª ''No records. No documentation. Only what was left behind, almost like a damned treasure map.'' A mistake buried beneath the city itself. Cassian peered ahead as they walked, his expression shifting. "I''m guessing the ''last bridge'' isn''t the nice, well-lit one up ahead, but rather the creepy one covered in fog?" Luneth adjusted the strap of her satchel. "Obviously." Cassian sighed. "Obviously." The bridge stood before them, arching over a canal where the water ran deep and unmoving. Its stone was old, older than the rest of the district, worn smooth by years of rain and footsteps long since faded. The lamps that lined the streets behind them did not reach here. Lindarion stepped forward first, boots meeting the cold stone of the bridge. Beneath them, the water stretched black and silent. ''Somewhere below... that is where we begin.'' Luneth ran a gloved hand along the stone railing, brushing away a layer of damp moss. "There''s no direct passage. We''ll have to go in manually." Cassian grimaced. "You mean we''re actually jumping in." ''Obviously.'' Lindarion turned his gaze toward him. "Unless you prefer waiting here." Cassian huffed, glancing at the water again. "I don''t suppose there''s a way to do this without getting whatever''s in that water permanently embedded in my skin?" Luneth ignored him. "How deep do you think it is?" Lindarion studied the current, the way the water shifted, how it swallowed the lantern light without reflection. "...Deep enough." Cassian groaned. "That''s not an answer." Lindarion exhaled. "We go now. The less time we waste, the better." Luneth nodded once. Without hesitation, she stepped onto the railing, balancing easily against the slick stone. With a swift motion, she pushed off¡ªvanishing into the water below. A quiet splash. Then, nothing. Cassian swore under his breath. "Yeah, sure. Let''s just jump into the abyss, why not." Lindarion climbed the railing. The mist curled around him as he turned to Cassian. "If you hesitate, I won''t wait for you." Cassian scowled. "Did I say I was hesitating?" ''You didn''t need to say it.'' Lindarion didn''t reply. He dropped into the dark. Cassian ran a hand down his face, muttering to himself. "This is how people die in stories." Then he followed. And the city swallowed them whole. The darkness swallowed them whole. Lindarion pushed forward, limbs cutting through the water with controlled precision. The cold had long settled into his bones, an unshakable weight that pressed against his ribs. The world behind them had vanished¡ªSilvermere, its streets, its lantern-lit canals¡ªleft behind in the shifting currents above. Ahead, the ruins waited. Luneth moved first, her form barely a shadow against the submerged stone. Cassian followed, less graceful in the water, his fingers brushing against the jagged edges of the collapsed foundations as they swam deeper. And then¡ª The passage widened. The three of them emerged into an expanse so vast it swallowed the light whole. The descent had been long, the weight of the stone above pressing down as they moved deeper beneath Silvermere. The tunnels had narrowed, then widened again, twisting paths of forgotten stonework giving way to something older. Something untouched. Then, at last, the air changed. Cold. Dry. Stagnant. Lindarion stepped forward out of the water, his boots pressing into loose gravel as the last remnants of the tunnel faded behind them. And the ruins opened before them. A cavern vast enough to hold a city. Jagged rock formations stretched across the ceiling, twisted and blackened as though frozen mid-collapse. Massive stone pillars loomed in the dark, carved by hands long since turned to dust. Bridges¡ªhalf-broken, slick with age¡ªspanned across unseen depths. And beyond them, nestled in the hollow of the earth, were the remnants of a place forgotten. Buildings, half-buried in the cavern walls. Towering structures with windows like empty sockets, their doorways gaping maws. Some remained intact, their spires rising toward the stalactites above, while others had crumbled inward, their remains swallowed by the abyss. Faintly, through the silence, came the echoes of water. Somewhere beyond sight, a lake stretched unseen. Lindarion exhaled, his breath visible in the frigid air. Luneth crouched near the entrance, fingers grazing the stone. "No moisture. No mold. The air''s been undisturbed for a while." Cassian let out a slow, measured breath. "That''s the problem, isn''t it?" His voice was quieter than usual. "This place should be dead. But it isn''t." Lindarion said nothing. The city was waiting. It had been waiting for a long time. The bridge stretched long and unbroken, leading them toward the city''s outer district. The stone beneath their feet was smooth, untouched by the erosion of time. No cracks. No moss. No sign of life having ever taken root. Cassian walked with measured steps, as if expecting the bridge to collapse beneath them at any moment. His fingers twitched at his side. "I''ve changed my mind. I prefer places that decay naturally." Luneth didn''t look at him. "Then don''t look too closely at the buildings." Cassian glanced toward the nearest structure¡ªand immediately regretted it. The buildings were wrong. They were intact, yes, but not untouched. They bore traces of something¡ªetchings along the edges of the stone, marks too precise to be mere erosion, too intentional to be meaningless. Alchemical patterns. Seals. Something he did not want to understand. Lindarion stopped at the bridge''s end. The city opened before them, its streets lined with more of the same impossibly preserved structures. The air remained thick, stagnant. A silence so complete it pressed against the ears. Luneth stepped forward first, her eyes scanning the narrow alleys that curved into darkness. "No bodies." Cassian exhaled. "You say that like it should be reassuring." "It''s not," Lindarion said quietly. Cassian ran a hand through his hair. "Fantastic." Lindarion took another step. The city did not resist their presence. It only watched. A feeling settled against the edge of his senses. Not hostility. Not welcome. Just awareness. Lindarion''s fingers brushed against the hilt of his weapon. "...We move carefully. Stay together." Cassian didn''t argue. They walked forward. And the city whispered in silence. The silence followed them. The further they moved, the more unnatural it became¡ªless like absence and more like a presence in itself. It clung to their skin, settled in the spaces between their words, stretched across the city like an unseen veil. Cassian''s boots scuffed against the stone, the sound swallowed before it could fully form. He exhaled sharply through his nose. "I take it back. I prefer places that try to kill me outright." Luneth''s eyes flickered to him but said nothing. Lindarion didn''t respond either. He was listening. No wind. No echo. No distant sound of shifting stone. Even their own footsteps felt like they shouldn''t exist here. ''This isn''t a dead city.'' ''It''s more like a waiting one.'' His grip tightened around the parchment given to them by Lady Valciel. He had yet to break the seal. Not yet. Not until he was certain that reading it wouldn''t be a mistake. They passed under an archway, the runes carved into its surface long faded but still carrying a lingering hum of power. Beyond it, the street opened into a wide plaza. A dry fountain stood at its center, its basin empty, its statues untouched by time. Cassian''s gaze swept the buildings lining the square. He let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "There should be something here. Birds. Rats. Anything." Luneth''s fingers brushed the daggers at her belt. "There was." Lindarion turned his head slightly. "Explain." Luneth nodded toward the fountain. "Look at the dust." Cassian frowned but stepped closer. He crouched near the fountain''s base, reaching down to run his fingers through the layer of gray that had settled over the stone. And then he stopped. There was no dust. Not really. Not the kind that gathered from time and decay. It was too fine. Too even. Cassian''s throat bobbed. "...This isn''t dust, is it?" Lindarion studied the edges of the fountain where the substance had settled thickest. ''Not dust.'' ''Not ash.'' It''s definitely something else.'' Luneth rose, her eyes sharp. "We''re being watched." Lindarion didn''t move, but he already knew. He had known from the moment they stepped foot here. He had just been waiting for it to react first. The silence shifted. Not broken¡ªaltered. Like the pause before an unseen movement. The moment before a held breath is finally released. Lindarion''s hand hovered near the hilt of his sword, but he didn''t draw it. Not yet. Not until he understood what they were facing. Cassian straightened slowly from his crouch, brushing his fingers against his coat as if to rid them of the not-dust. His voice was quiet, almost careful. "So, uh. On a scale from ''this is fine'' to ''we should be running,'' where are we at right now?" Luneth''s posture remained loose, deceptively relaxed¡ªbut her fingers had already curled around the hilts of her daggers. "Closer to the latter." Cassian exhaled. "Great." Lindarion didn''t answer either of them. His attention was elsewhere. The empty plaza. The hollow windows of the buildings surrounding them. The streets stretching beyond, disappearing into darkness. No movement. No figures in the distance. No obvious presence. But the feeling remained. A weight behind their backs. A pressure in the air. Not malice. Not yet. But awareness. Lindarion lowered his gaze back to the strange, fine layer of substance at their feet. The remains of something. Or the beginning of something else. "...Do not disturb it," he murmured. Cassian, already an inch away from nudging it with his boot, froze mid-step. "Right. Not touching. Got it." Luneth didn''t glance at him. "Lindarion. Directions." Lindarion turned his gaze toward the path ahead. The ruins stretched onward, disappearing beneath the looming arches of what had once been a great thoroughfare. The remnants of banners still clung to the walls, their fabrics eaten away by time. The symbols on them¡ªunfamiliar. The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. Not in the way of stale air or damp spaces. No¡ªthis was weight. A presence pressing against the edges of their senses. Cassian''s jaw tensed. "I''m going to say it now. If we see something moving that shouldn''t be moving¡ª" The silence broke. A whisper. Not a voice. Not words. Something else. Something that didn''t come from the air, but from inside their own heads. Lindarion''s grip on his sword tightened. Cassian went rigid. Luneth inhaled sharply. And then¡ª The place behind them was no longer empty. Chapter 91 91: Remained Ruins (2) The silence had not been broken.Not truly. It remained¡ªa dense, suffocating thing¡ªbut now it carried something within it. A shift. A presence. Lindarion did not turn immediately. He did not move. The grip on his sword remained steady, but he did not draw. Luneth''s breath was slow, controlled. Her fingers curled around her daggers, yet she did not lift them. Cassian, standing slightly ahead, was the last to react. His body tensed, his weight shifting ever so slightly. He had not yet looked. He did not want to look. A breath. A choice. A moment stretched thin. Lindarion turned first. And he saw it. At the far edge of the place, where the street they had come from stretched into shadow, something stood. Not a person. Not a beast. A shape. A figure draped in layers of something like cloth, something like shadow, something like the dust that was not dust beneath their feet. It did not move. It did not breathe. It was only existing. Cassian inhaled sharply, a breath that did not dare become words. Luneth''s posture remained deceptively loose, but Lindarion saw it¡ªthe precise shift of her balance, the tension gathering at the edges of her limbs. Preparation. ''This is starting to not look good at all.'' Lindarion''s own thoughts remained sharp, cutting through the moment like the edge of a blade. ''It is watching us. Perhaps it has been watching ever since we entered.'' Cassian finally moved. Not a step back. Not a full retreat. But a slow, measured shift¡ªhis foot adjusting, his weight redistributing, his stance subtly aligning with theirs. He understood. Luneth understood. Something had changed. Not just in the place. Not just in the silence. Something in the city itself. The figure had not been there before. And yet, it had never arrived. There had been no footsteps. No movement. No shift in the air. It had always been there. They had simply failed to notice completely. Cassian exhaled through his nose, quiet, deliberate. "So. On a scale of ''unsettling'' to ''we need to leave immediately''¡ª" The figure moved. Not forward. Not closer. It just tilted its head. And the silence changed. A pressure settled against their thoughts, brushing against the edges of consciousness. Not words. Not a voice. Recognition. Cassian stiffened. His mouth opened¡ª The figure took a step. ''No chance.'' Lindarion moved instantly. His hand rose, fingers brushing the seal on the parchment still clutched in his grip. A flicker of something. A memory, perhaps. ¡ª"You will find no guide. No passage marked on any map. Only the remnants of what should never have been." ''Lady Valciel knew already...fuck.'' Luneth reacted a breath later, stepping subtly into formation beside him, shifting just enough to cover Cassian''s left. Cassian''s throat bobbed. He did not look away from the figure. "Right. So we''re fighting it, then?" Lindarion did not answer immediately. Because the figure had stopped. Not mid-step. Not frozen in motion. Simply ceased. And the silence whispered between them once more. Not words. Not intent. ''Is it not alone...?'' Lindarion''s fingers twitched against the parchment. The plaza was still. The figure remained. But now, there were others. Not in the place. Not in sight. But they seemed to be watching the entire thing. Lindarion exhaled slowly. "We do not fight yet." Cassian''s head turned slightly. His voice, quiet. "We don''t?" Luneth did not lower her guard, but she did not move to strike. "Explain." Lindarion''s gaze remained fixed ahead. The weight in the air had not lessened. The pressure had not faded. But neither had it advanced. "...They are waiting.... I think." Cassian''s brow furrowed. "For what?" Lindarion''s grip on the parchment tightened. ''For us to attack.'' He did not speak the words aloud. But he knew¡ªdeep in his bones, in the marrow of something older than reason¡ª This was not the beginning of the hunt. This was the beginning of something else. Something far worse. "...We move forward," Lindarion said at last. "Slowly. Do not run." Cassian did not like that. Luneth did not argue. Together, they took a step. And the entire city seemed to watch. The step they took was small. Barely a shift in distance, barely a movement at all¡ªyet the weight of it pressed against the world. The city did not stir. It did not groan, did not whisper, did not sigh with the shifting of wind or time. But it remembered. Lindarion felt it¡ªsomething deep, something vast. Not a presence, not a voice. It was almost like an awareness. The figure in the plaza did not move again. It did not react. It remained as it was¡ªa shape, a point in space, a thing that should not be but was. Yet, something had changed. Luneth, moving in perfect step beside Lindarion, breathed with the precise control of a blade held steady. Her posture had not slackened, but she did not hesitate. Cassian was the last to move. His breath, quieter now, shallower. His fingers did not touch his weapons, but they curled as though they wished to. And the figures unseen, those lingering beyond the edge of sight, did not fade. The silence stretched long and unbroken. Lindarion took another step. And the street ahead changed. Not a shift. Not a flicker. No blur of motion, no trick of light. Only a slight difference. Where before there had been a path winding deeper into the hollow city, stretching toward the remnants of what once was¡ªnow there was something else. A doorway. Cassian inhaled sharply. The door was open. Not ajar. Not broken. Open. It had not been there before. And yet, it had never arrived. Luneth spoke first. "Not a good sign." Cassian exhaled. "You think?" ''What the fuck is even happening..'' Lindarion did not answer immediately. He was confused as well. His fingers brushed the parchment in his grasp¡ªthe seal still unbroken. The figures at the edge of awareness had not moved. They had not advanced. But they had not left. They were still waiting. Lindarion turned his gaze toward the doorway ahead. The space beyond was not lit, not dark. It was simply open. A threshold. Cassian shifted. His voice was quieter now, something edged into his words. "We are not going in there." Luneth did not look away from the door. "No?" Cassian''s eyes flicked back toward the plaza behind them. His throat bobbed. The figure had not vanished. It had not attacked. It was still there. But the weight of the unseen pressed even sharper now. Cassian exhaled, a sound between frustration and resolve. "...Damn it." ''We need to move forward.'' Lindarion, standing between them, made his choice. He stepped forward. And behind them, the place was empty once more. ¡ª They stepped through.And the world remained. Not shattered. Not broken. Not the same. Lindarion felt it first. The ground was still beneath his feet, yet it was not. The walls still stood around them, yet they were wrong. Not ruins. Not age-worn structures. Just¡ªincorrect. A street that did not curve yet was not straight. Buildings that framed the path too perfectly, yet still felt imprecise. The city did not breathe. But something beneath it did. Luneth moved first, her presence sharp at Lindarion''s side. Her hand hovered near her daggers, but she did not draw. Not yet. Cassian followed, slower. He did not speak. Not out of hesitation. Out of listening. Something else had entered the silence. A sound. Distant. Subtle. Not a footstep. Not a breath. It was almost like a dragging. Lindarion''s pulse did not quicken. His grip did not tighten. But he understood. They were no longer being watched. They were being followed. Cassian''s voice, lower than before: "There." Luneth''s head turned sharply. At the far end of the street, just beyond the place where the walls curved in ways they should not¡ª Something moved. Not a figure. Not like the ones before. This was different. It did not stand. It did not walk. It stretched. It''s playing tricks on us. A form, a thing between one shape and another, dragging the weight of itself across stone that was not truly stone. A body, elongated. Not by nature. By wrongness. A limb. Then another. A head. Not human. Not beast. A skull without a face. A mouth without lips. A body that did not belong to what it had once been. Lindarion exhaled slowly. Luneth''s fingers curled tighter. Cassian''s hand, finally, went to his sword. The hunt had begun. ¡ª The thing stepped forward. Not toward them. Not yet. But across the space between. A body that should not have been a body. Limbs stretched too far, dragging themselves along a path that did not exist, shifting not with motion¡ª But with correction. As if reality itself struggled to decide what it was. Lindarion''s breath did not change. Luneth''s weight remained balanced, precise. Cassian swallowed once, then set his stance. "Alright. That''s¡ª" It lurched. Cassian did not finish his sentence. It did not leap. It did not charge. It simply was¡ªcloser than before. The skull¡ªif it was a skull¡ªtilted to the side. Not in acknowledgment. Not in thought. But in recognition, he was recognizing them as an opponent. ''What the hell is this damn cursed thing.'' Lindarion''s fingers brushed the edge of the parchment once more. A whisper. A warning. ¡ªYou will not find it. ¡ªIt will find you. A mouth opened where no mouth had been. A sound¡ª Not a sound¡ª Pressed against their skulls. Luneth reacted first. Not with steel. Not with flight. With movement. She stepped left, sharp, a single breath''s difference before the thing snapped forward¡ª A limb¡ªan absence of a limb¡ª Tearing through where she had stood. Cassian moved a breath later, instinct more than strategy. Lindarion did not move. Not yet. The creature dragged itself back, spine bending at an angle, body folding in ways that should not have been possible. It did not reset. It did not recover. Because it had not missed at all. Lindarion understood that now. "...It''s testing us, I think." he said, voice even. Luneth''s expression did not change. But he saw it in her posture. In the shift of her weight. She agreed. Cassian''s grip on his sword tightened. "Testing what?" Lindarion did not answer. He did not need to. Because the silence did. A pressure, heavier than before. It moved. Suddenly¡ª And then¡ª It was already there. ''The hell¡ª'' Lindarion''s breath slowed. His muscles coiled. However Luneth moved first. Her dagger left its sheath, a flicker of steel and ice. A thin mist curled from the blade''s edge as she slashed¡ªfast, precise¡ªaiming for the point where the creature''s mass almost coalesced into something real. The blade passed through. Not like a weapon missing its mark. Not like an illusion untouched. It was worse. The air warped. Reality distorted¡ª Just enough that the dagger''s path never existed in the first place. Luneth''s eyes widened. A limb¡ªif it could be called that¡ªfolded toward her. She twisted, daggers raised¡ª Too slow. The impact crashed into her side. Not a strike. Not a cut. Something tore. Not her body. Not her flesh. Something else. She convulsed. Not from pain. From absence. For a moment¡ª She had not been at all. As if she had never existed. She hit the ground hard, breath ragged. Cassian roared. His crystalline sword lashed, raw mana pulsing from its core as he swung¡ª Not hesitation. Not doubt. A full-force, armor-shattering blow¡ª And the creature did not move. Crystal met flesh. And the crystal shattered first without even a blink of hesitation. Cassian barely had time to react. A tendril of darkness unfolded¡ª Not fast. Not sudden. Inevitable. It did not strike. It simply was. And suddenly¡ª Cassian''s knees buckled. His strength vanished. His body held firm. But something within him¡ª His will. His presence. It was being undone. His hands trembled. His heart pounded¡ªtoo slow, too wrong. His breath came shallow. He was slipping. Not dying. Not even breaking. It was something far worse than that. Something beyond their current understanding. Luneth snarled. She pushed herself up, blood running from her lips. Mana surged into her blades. Ice exploded¡ª Jagged, razor-edged spikes, colder than winter''s heart, meant to impale. And the ice¡ª Stopped completely. Not melted. Not shattered. Just¡ª Stopped existing, like it didn''t even exist in the first place. It was completely erased. Luneth''s stomach twisted. Cassian swayed. And finally¡ª Lindarion moved. ''Enough of this bullshit.'' His mana roared. His fingers curled. Power flooded the space around him¡ª [Sovereign''s Dominion] And the world bent. Chapter 92 92: Remained Ruins (3) The world did not crack. It did not break. It simply shifted. Lindarion did not wield his power as an attack, nor did he unleash it in a reckless wave. That would have been an insult to what he was. "Die." He commanded. Darkness bled into the space where the creature stood, threading through the air like ink dissolving in water, slow at first¡ªtoo slow, as if testing the shape of reality itself. The thing that should not exist trembled, its grotesque form reacting not in fear, not in pain, but in something far worse¡ªrecognition. It completely understood its fate. But knowing the inevitable did not mean it could resist it. ''It''s time to end this.'' Lindarion tightened his grip on the parchment in his hand, the unbroken seal pressing into his palm as his magic expanded¡ªnot in tendrils, not in forceful grasping, but in an inevitability. It did not matter what this thing was. It did not matter how it had come to be. Because it had never belonged here in the first place. And so, like an error in a carefully written text, like a contradiction in the laws of existence itself¡ª He erased it. "Begone, filth." Lindarion''s voice echoed as the creature creature convulsed violently, its stretched limbs attempting to reassert themselves in a space that no longer recognized them. The air around it wavered, not from heat, not from force, but from the sheer impossibility of what was happening. It did not fade. It did not die. It simply ceased to be. A void opened where it had stood, not in the ground, not in space, but in the fragile, twisting logic of this place. And then, in the next breath¡ª It was gone. The silence that followed was not the same as before. It was not the oppressive quiet of something waiting, lurking at the edges of perception. It was something deeper. ''It''s over.'' Lindarion lowered his hand. His magic withdrew, curling back into him like an exhaled breath. The pressure eased. [New Darkness Summon Unlocked!] [Host Can Now Summon - Entity] [Mana Pool Increased.] [Rewards] +2 Strength +2 Intelligence +5 Endurance ''Guess he wasn''t that big of a threat according to the system. And another summon huh...I haven''t even used the necromancer yet either.'' He shook his head as he noticed that something remained. Where the creature had been, something sat on the ground, untouched by the erasure. Small, unassuming¡ªalmost insultingly mundane compared to what had just happened. A fragment. No, a core. Lindarion stepped forward and crouched, fingers hovering over it for a moment before picking it up. It was cool to the touch, smooth like polished stone, yet something beneath the surface shifted, like a liquid trapped in a solid form. Luneth, still catching her breath, wiped the blood from her lips and frowned. "What is that...? And how did you even kill it?" Her question lingered in the air as Lindarion did not answer at all. Cassian''s hands were still clenched into fists, his crystalline sword trembling slightly from the force he had poured into it moments ago. He exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and lingering adrenaline, however seeing that he didn''t reply to Luneth, Cassian didn''t bother asking Lindarion how he killed the thing. "Is it some kind of alchemical remnant?" Lindarion didn''t answer immediately. He turned the core in his palm, watching the way it reflected the dim, warped light of the city around them. It was unlike any magic he had seen before¡ªnot entirely an object, not entirely a concept. A piece of something that should not have been. "We''ll figure that out later," he said at last, tucking it carefully into the inner pocket of his coat. "For now, we''re leaving." Luneth glanced back at the path behind them¡ªthe distorted streets, the buildings that were too perfect in their imperfection. "The way we came?" "The way we came," Lindarion confirmed. Cassian muttered something under his breath, but he didn''t argue. He just tightened his grip on his sword and turned, retracing their steps with the kind of sharp, controlled movements that spoke of a person who really wanted to be anywhere else right now. Luneth fell into step beside them, still watchful, still poised for a fight that no longer existed. And as they walked, as the strange, unnatural city stretched around them, the weight of unseen eyes did not follow. The figures beyond the edge of perception had not moved. Because there was no need to. Their presence had already served its purpose. This place had no interest in those who could leave. Only those who could not. ¡ª The journey back was not long. But it was not short either. The city did not resist them. It did not shift, did not twist itself into contradictions like before. It simply remained¡ªwatchful, indifferent, allowing them to leave. The figures that had lurked at the edges of their awareness did not follow. Because there was no need to. Lindarion walked ahead, the core pressing against his coat with every step, its presence an almost imperceptible weight. Luneth moved beside him, silent but alert, every movement measured, her posture balanced between exhaustion and readiness. Cassian, trailing slightly behind, exhaled through his nose, a sharp, controlled sound. None of them spoke. It was not caution that kept them quiet. Not entirely. It was thought. The silence between them was filled with unspoken calculations, memories of moments that shouldn''t have existed, a lingering awareness of the thing Lindarion had erased. No, not erased. Corrected. And that alone was troubling. ¡ª When the warped city finally gave way and they arrived above the water, the unnatural streets faded and the air around them shifted¡ªnot physically, not visibly, but in a way that could be felt¡ªthey did not stop moving. They stepped through, finally arriving on the surface again. And suddenly, the world was as it should be. The weight in the air was gone. The silence was merely silence. The streets were normal¡ªaged stone, cracked pavement, the soft flicker of lantern light in the distance. The sky overhead was dark, but not oppressive. Lindarion exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his coat. It was done. Cassian let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. "I am never doing that again." Luneth raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "You say that now." Cassian shot her a flat look, then turned toward Lindarion. "So? What now?" Lindarion didn''t answer immediately. He reached into his coat, fingers brushing against the core¡ªsmooth, solid, yet shifting. A piece of something wrong, something unnatural. Something valuable. "...We go to Lady Valciel." Neither Luneth nor Cassian argued. They were already moving. ¡ª The manor stood as it always had. A quiet, unmoving presence against the backdrop of the city. The air around it was different, not in the way of the warped streets they had left behind, but in a way that was more deliberate. Layered protections. Wards woven so tightly they were felt before they were seen. Lady Valciel had been waiting for them. The doors opened before they could knock. The entrance hall was dimly lit, the heavy scent of parchment and old ink lingering in the air. The soft crackle of magic drifted through the space¡ªnot oppressive, not overwhelming, but a reminder. A warning. And at the far end of the hall, beyond the elegant staircases and the towering shelves of books, a figure waited. Seated in a high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other, her long, gloved fingers resting lightly against the armrest¡ªLady Valciel watched them approach. Her gaze was unreadable. Piercing. As if she already knew. Lindarion stopped a few steps away, reaching into his coat, fingers curling around the object they had taken from the ruins of that place. He did not speak immediately. Because he knew that she would. And she did. "You brought something back." It was not a question. Her eyes, a sharp and calculating silver, flicked to the core in his hand. Lindarion held it up slightly, letting the dim candlelight flicker across its strange, shifting surface. "Tell me what it is." Lady Valciel''s lips curved¡ªnot a smile. Something sharper. Something knowing. "Oh," she said, her voice as smooth as glass, as precise as a blade. Lady Valciel did not reach for the core. She did not even move. She simply studied it¡ªthe slow shift of its surface, the way it pulsed, faint and uneven, as if still clinging to something long gone. "...It has not fully faded." Lindarion didn''t ask what she meant. He could feel it. Even now, in his hand, it felt aware. Not alive, not in the way a person or a creature might be, but aware¡ªlike a remnant of something that should not have been torn away. Cassian shifted uncomfortably. "If you have answers, now would be a great time to share them." Lady Valciel tilted her head slightly, gaze flicking to him. "Impatient, are we?" Cassian exhaled through his nose. "We just risked our lives dealing with whatever the hell that was. If you already knew what we were walking into, then I think we deserve to know why." Luneth didn''t say anything, but her sharp eyes never left Valciel. ''He''s right.'' Lindarion remained silent. Because Cassian wasn''t wrong. Lady Valciel watched them for a moment longer, then finally, finally, she stood. The candlelight flickered against the deep violet of her robes as she stepped forward, her gloved hand extending toward the core¡ªbut not touching it. "Do you know why that place exists?" Lindarion''s grip on the core tightened slightly. She already knew the answer. She was waiting for them to say it. "...It wasn''t a ruin." His voice was quiet, but firm. "It wasn''t something left behind." Lady Valciel''s lips curved slightly. "No. It wasn''t." Cassian inhaled sharply. Luneth''s fingers twitched, just barely. Lindarion continued. "That city never fell." His gaze met hers, sharp and unwavering. "It was erased." A beat of silence. Lady Valciel smiled. "Very good." The weight of her words settled over them, heavy with meaning. Lindarion''s thoughts moved quickly, piecing together fragments of what they had seen, what they had fought, what had waited for them in that place. Not ruins. Not remnants. A prison. Cassian exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "So you sent us into a place that shouldn''t exist, knowing that it was¡ªwhat? Some kind of... failed experiment? A mistake?" Lady Valciel finally touched the core. Not with her hands. With her magic. A thin aura of silver mana drifted from her fingertips, surrounding he object in Lindarion''s grasp. The moment it made contact, the core shuddered. A ripple, faint but wrong, pulsed through the air. Cassian tensed. Luneth''s fingers curled toward her daggers. But Lady Valciel only watched. And then, quietly, she said, "It was neither of those things." The ripple in the air faded. The core''s shifting surface stilled. Her silver eyes gleamed. "It was a blueprint." ''I get it.'' Lindarion''s pulse did not quicken. His breath did not change. But he understood. Cassian swore. Luneth''s jaw tightened. "A blueprint... for what?" Lady Valciel withdrew her magic, letting the silence stretch before she answered. "...For something that was never meant to be made." She turned away, stepping back toward her desk. The air around her was heavy, but not with magic. With knowledge. With intent. Lindarion exhaled slowly. "Then why did you send us?" Lady Valciel reached for a stack of parchment, sifting through them with measured precision. And then, without looking up¡ª "Because you are the only ones who returned." The words settled, cold and sharp, between them. Lindarion''s fingers curled around the core. Cassian''s expression darkened. Luneth closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again. Then, quietly, with a calmness that felt like a blade pressed against the skin Lady Valciel continued. "You did well." She gestured toward the core. "And now, I will take that." Lindarion hesitated. Not because he wanted to keep it. But because he wanted to know. This thing¡ªthis piece of something that should not exist¡ªhe had taken it from the wreckage of something that had been undone. And yet, it had survived. Why? What was it really? Cassian exhaled through his nose. "Give it to her, Lindarion." Luneth did not speak, but her gaze flicked to his hand, then to Valciel. ''Right, this doesn''t belong to me.'' Lindarion finally moved. He stepped forward, extending the core. Lady Valciel took it. For a moment, nothing happened. Then¡ª A pulse. Faint, but undeniable. The core trembled in her grasp. Lady Valciel only smiled. And in a voice that sent a whisper of something cold down Lindarion''s spine¡ª She said, "It''s awake." None of them moved. The pulse had been brief¡ªbarely more than a flicker in the air¡ªbut it had been felt. Cassian inhaled slowly. "That''s... normal, right?" Lady Valciel turned the core in her hands, studying it like an artisan admiring a rare gemstone. Her lips curved slightly. "It is expected." Cassian did not look reassured. Luneth''s fingers twitched toward her belt. "Expected how?" Lady Valciel finally looked up. "The remnants of a collapsed construct do not simply vanish. Even the most thoroughly erased things leave traces." Her fingers curled slightly, and the core dimmed, its pulse fading into something more subdued. "This is one such trace." Lindarion watched her, silent. He did not need to ask if she had known this would happen. The answer was obvious. "...Then what now?" he asked instead. Lady Valciel tilted her head, as if considering. Then, smoothly, she set the core atop a carved pedestal on her desk, its surface inscribed with faintly glowing runes. "The three of you have done what I asked." She folded her hands behind her back, her expression unreadable. "You have seen what was meant to be forgotten. You have retrieved what should not have remained. And, most importantly¡ª" Her gaze swept over them, sharp as a dagger''s edge. "¡ªyou have returned." Lindarion did not react. Luneth''s grip on her belt remained tense. Cassian shifted slightly, exhaling through his nose. "My lady, you''re making it sound like that wasn''t supposed to happen." Lady Valciel smiled faintly. "On the contrary." She turned away, gesturing toward the core. "The task I gave you was dangerous, yes. But not completely impossible." Her eyes gleamed. "And you have proven that." Cassian did not look convinced. Luneth''s fingers tapped once against her belt. "If that''s the case, then what do you need this for?" Lady Valciel''s smile did not fade. Instead, she simply said¡ª"To prepare." None of them spoke. Because they all understood what she didn''t say. Prepare for what? Prepare for who? ''There are way too many questions..she''s far too mysterious.'' The weight of her words lingered in the air, pressing down like an unseen force. Then, finally, Lady Valciel turned back to them. "The three of you have spent enough time outside the academy. You have done your part." A single flick of her fingers. The runes beneath them ignited. Cassian barely had time to swear. Luneth''s hand shot toward her dagger. Lindarion did not move. Because he already knew¡ª The magic wrapped around them, a twisting pulse of light and shadow, folding the world inward. And then¡ª The chamber was gone. Chapter 93 93: Return The academy loomed ahead, all sharp spires and arrogant symmetry, its silhouette indifferent to their return. The gates didn''t creak. The wind didn''t shift. Cassian cleared his throat loudly. "Do we knock? Ring a bell? Chant the headmaster''s true name into the void and hope it doesn''t answer back?" ''Is he actually dumb..?'' Lindarion shook his head as Luneth stared, dust still clinging to her armor, as she rolled her eyes. "It''s a school, not a cursed relic." "Disagree. The bathrooms alone scream necromancy." Lindarion stepped past them both, the seal from Lady Valciel still tucked into his coat. He raised a hand¡ªnot in invitation, just to silence the bickering¡ªand pressed two fingers to the doors. A subtle surge of mana, old and marked with authority, responded. The doors opened without ceremony. The halls of the main tower were too clean. No footsteps echoed. No students passed by. This was the Headmaster''s office¡ªquiet in a way that wasn''t peaceful. Cassian muttered, "Feels like we''re walking into an intervention." "No one cares enough about you for that," Luneth said dryly. They entered the office without being summoned. And there he was. Headmaster Thalorin. Lounging in his high-backed chair like it was a sun-soaked recliner. Feet propped on his desk, silver-threaded robes half unbuttoned, a cup of something steaming in one hand, and a faint musical hum slipping from his lips. He looked less like the head of the most feared magical academy in the kingdom, and more like a well-fed fox halfway through his afternoon nap. "Well, well," Thalorin said, grinning as he glanced over the rim of his cup. "I expected at least one of you to come back in more pieces. Congratulations on subverting my betting pool." Cassian blinked. Luneth blinked harder. ''Who would''ve thought.'' Lindarion didn''t blink at all. "...Headmaster," Luneth said cautiously, bowing with the stiffness of someone unsure if protocol still applied. "Luneth. You''re so formal." Thalorin gave a casual wave of his fingers. "Come now. You survived a horror outside time and space. Relax a little." Cassian muttered, "Pretty sure my intestines are still haunted, Headmaster" "And yet you''re still charmingly loud. A miracle." ''Wish he was quiet instead.'' Lindarion stepped forward and placed the sealed parchment on the desk with quiet precision. Thalorin didn''t look at it. Not at first. His eyes were on Lindarion. Not calculating. Not cold. Amused. "Well?" the Headmaster asked, smile twitching. "Did the city swallow you or something? You finished the assignment, I''m assuming." Lindarion''s jaw shifted slightly. "Yes, it''s done." A flicker. The tiniest spark of something unspoken passed between them. It wasn''t magic. It was history. "Oh, it''s done?" Thalorin leaned forward now, his tone dancing somewhere between mockery and fondness. "You sound like you did chores, not survived contact with an alchemical aberration that should not exist." "It tried," Cassian said, hopping onto one of the guest chairs and swinging a leg over the armrest. "It really tried. Good effort, honestly. Headmaster, it could delete ice. Like¡ªconceptually. I don''t even know if I''m still cold." Thalorin gave him a blank look. "You''ve always lacked temperature regulation. "That explains the sweating," Cassian muttered. Luneth, watching Thalorin closely now, frowned. "...You''re being unusually relaxed...Headmaster." "Unusually?" Thalorin tilted his head. "Lindarion brings back horrors. He always amazes me whenever he does something. He''s just a damn miracle kid." Her frown deepened. "You speak to him like¡ª" "Like an old friend?" Thalorin interrupted, smiling. "A terrible habit. I''ve been trying to break it recently." ''Might as well just tell them that I''m your disciple whilst you are at it..'' Lindarion''s eyes didn''t move. His posture remained formal. "The report." "Yes, yes." Thalorin finally lifted the parchment, broke the seal with a flick of his nail, and scanned the contents. For a brief moment, the room darkened. The magic in the ink pulsed¡ªa curse warning, encoded by Valciel herself. Thalorin read it without flinching. "...Ah. So she confirmed it." Lindarion didn''t respond. Thalorin sighed and dropped the page on his desk like it was a napkin. "Well then." He clapped his hands once. "You''re all officially alive, impressively traumatized I''m assuming, and inconveniently competent. Time to return to your regularly scheduled classes." Cassian squinted. "Return to what?" "Classes," Thalorin said, tone light. "And, for some of you, remedial training. Specifically¡ªmana circulation. Nyx is expecting all of you." Cassian paled. "Already?" "She asked to evaluate every first year. She wants to see who''s fallen behind." Thalorin grinned. "And who''s been hiding actual talent." Luneth folded her arms. "A test?" "She called it a demonstration," Thalorin said, standing up. "But Professor Nyx doesn''t observe unless she''s planning to humiliate someone." Cassian groaned. "I knew we should''ve died in the city." ''This dumbass never shuts up does he.'' "Cheer up. If you faint mid-demonstration, it''ll at least be memorable." Lindarion turned to leave. Just before he reached the door, Thalorin spoke again¡ªvoice softer now, laced with something older. "You felt it, didn''t you? With Lady Valciel." Lindarion paused. "...I did." Thalorin smiled faintly, almost like a secret. "Good." No more was said. They exited into the empty hall in silence. ¡ª The hallway leading to the training annex buzzed faintly with mana residue, like it remembered the spells flung through it. It wasn''t welcoming. Not anymore. Luneth adjusted the strap on her vambrace as they turned the final corner. "She''s going to single someone out. Probably Cassian." "I accept my fate," Cassian said, resigned. "Bury me under the mana field. Tell my story. Embellish liberally." ''What story... you coward...'' Lindarion didn''t speak. He didn''t need to. He could already feel Nyx''s presence leaking through the indoor training room¡ªrazor-sharp, barely leashed, the way some animals wait just behind iron bars. The doors were open. No creaking. No ceremony. Just exposure. Inside, students were already gathered. Advanced Combat Theory¡ªthough today, clearly, there would be no theory. Nyx stood at the front, her back turned, drawing a diagram of a human body in precise white chalk. Veins of mana were etched across the limbs, core, spine. As they entered, she paused, eyes sliding over them. "Late," she said, without turning. "We were with the Headmaster," Luneth offered. Nyx gave no sign she heard. Instead, she placed the chalk down gently, then turned, brushing one gloved hand free of dust. "Good. You''ll need that excuse for the burns you''re about to suffer." A ripple of unease passed through the room. Cassian whispered, "Gods, she''s in a bad mood..." "She seems to be, yes.." Luneth replied. Nyx took a step forward. Her heels echoed. "A couple days ago, I taught you the basics of mana circulation. Passive. Controlled. Combat." Her gaze swept the room like a guillotine''s edge. "You were told to practice. To strengthen your control. To refine it." She clasped her hands behind her back. "Today, we see what stuck, and how much you actually practiced." No one moved. Nyx smiled. It was a lovely, terrifying thing. "A volunteer," she said. Silence. Then the famous boy...Jack Valerian, raised a hand with the self-confidence of someone who hadn''t yet suffered public disgrace...or just didn''t care and thought he was the best there is. "Excellent." Nyx beckoned him forward. Jack jogged into the open, cracked his neck, and drew mana into his palms. His core flared visibly. "Controlled circulation," Nyx said. "Enhance your speed. Your reflexes. Dodge this." She snapped her fingers. A bolt of shimmering energy shot toward him. Jack barely dodged. He staggered to one knee, panting. "Hm." She turned. "Next." Two more tried. Both failed to maintain focus while redirecting their mana. One flinched before the strike even came. "Are you panicking?" Nyx asked sweetly. "That''s good. Terror helps carve lessons into the body." Cassian groaned under his breath. "This is going great." Nyx''s gaze locked onto him. "Cassian." He flinched. "...Come up." He made a noise like a dying animal, then shuffled to the center. Nyx tilted her head. "Combat circulation. Arms and legs. Full flow." Cassian took a breath and flared his core¡ªloud, showy, inefficient. He forced mana into his limbs, trembling slightly from the strain. Nyx flicked her fingers. The bolt caught him mid-dodge, sending him sprawling backward. "Better," she said mildly. "Still sloppy." Cassian groaned from the floor. "Technically that was a hit." Nyx turned, ignoring him completely. "Anyone else?" ''I''ll do it.'' Lindarion stepped forward. It wasn''t dramatic. No flair. Just a single step into the ring. Nyx''s eyes narrowed. "...You think you''re ready?" ''I am ready.'' He didn''t answer. He just moved. His body began glowing in lines¡ªbarely visible to anyone without the sight for it¡ªmana flowing like clockwork gears across muscle, bone, and nerve. Nyx didn''t wait. She launched three bolts in quick succession. He sidestepped all of them. Not ducked. Not dodged. Sidestepped. Perfectly timed. Another flurry followed. He parried one with the edge of his hand, reinforcing it mid-motion. The crackle of impact fizzled harmlessly across his skin. The room went silent. Nyx exhaled slowly. "...Again," she said, voice lower now. Ten strikes. Lindarion didn''t just block them. He moved like he''d seen them before. Every shift of muscle was reinforced. Every movement waste-free. He stopped. Mana stilled. Nyx stared at him for a long, unreadable moment. "...You maintained Combat Circulation during movement, impact, and redirection," she said quietly. "All without bleed." Cassian, still on the floor, muttered, "Okay...he''s still the number one first year for a reason..." Nyx ignored him. Instead, she turned back to the class. "This," she said, pointing toward Lindarion without ceremony, "is what you are all meant to be." A pause. "Dismissed." The students began filing out, some wide-eyed, others silent. But Nyx called out, "Lindarion. Stay." ''Stay?'' He didn''t react with words. Didn''t nod. He simply remained still as the others left. Chapter 94 94: Worried Professor The last echoes of footfalls faded against the high vaulted walls. Mana, still faintly charged in the air, hung like the afterimage of lightning. Cassian gave Lindarion a sympathetic grimace as he slunk out, whispering something about "survivor''s guilt." Then it was just him and Nyx. She hadn''t moved. Her arms were folded behind her back, spine rigid, posture so perfectly composed it seemed sculpted from tension. She didn''t look at him when she spoke. "Where did you learn it to that degree?" ''Oh so I was too good..'' Lindarion said nothing at first. His expression remained neutral, but not blank. Watching. Measuring Nyx. Nyx turned her head slightly, one strand of hair falling across her cheek. "I asked you a question." "I practiced, Professor." he said. A twitch at the corner of her mouth. It wasn''t amusement. "Practice," she repeated. "You think I haven''t trained obsessives before? Students who lived in the combat halls, burning their cores dry just to get one more step quicker?" Her voice didn''t rise. If anything, it grew softer. "You didn''t do it like someone who learned through repetition. You did it like someone who''s done it for years. Decades." Lindarion didn''t blink. "Then I''m a prodigy, I guess." "No," she said. "You''re something else." She stepped closer. One footfall. Two. The edge of her boot scuffed the chalk lines on the floor. "Do you know what Combat Circulation actually does to the body?" Lindarion''s voice was steady. "Overuse leads to nerve damage, internal tearing, cognitive degradation if sustained past limit thresholds." She smiled faintly. "Good. You know some information at least." She closed the distance, slow and deliberate, until they were nearly eye to eye. Up close, her mana didn''t feel like heat or pressure. It felt like a blade held sideways¡ªsilent, but always ready to turn. "But you didn''t read about it. It''s more like you embodied it. No stutter in your flow at all. No overcompensation. No micro-shakes in muscle response. That only happens when mana bonds with the body before the body even knows what it is." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You were born with it." Lindarion''s jaw flexed. "I''m just lucky to have talent," he said. "No. Your flow isn''t normal at all." The words hung in the air like a challenge. A truth spoken not as accusation¡ªbut recognition. He looked at her, silent, and the silence felt heavier than any argument. Nyx leaned in just slightly. Not threatening. Not warm. "Do you think I wouldn''t notice?" she murmured. "Of all people?" She reached out¡ªlightly, without force¡ªand tapped two fingers to the side of his neck. Right where his pulse beat faintly beneath the skin. "The way it moves here. That''s not human." Her voice dropped further. "Or even elven." Lindarion didn''t pull away. Didn''t flinch. "...Then what is it?" She stared at him for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm. Barely more than breath. "That''s what I intend to find out." She stepped back then, all sharpness again, as if the moment hadn''t happened. "You''re interesting, Lindarion Sunblade," she said. He didn''t move. So she added, quieter now, "Good job returning from the assignment." Then she turned and walked toward the far door, bootsteps echoing in a hall that suddenly felt colder than before. Lindarion remained standing, eyes fixed on the spot she''d touched, as the sound of her departure faded into silence. Nyx''s heels clicked a sharp rhythm as she moved toward the back exit of the training hall¡ªthe one reserved for instructors, the one students were never meant to use. Her coat flared behind her like a drawn blade. She didn''t turn. Didn''t speak. Until Lindarion called out. "...Why were you angry, professor? Are those questions the only things you wanted to ask me?" She stopped. It wasn''t hesitation. It was calculation. One breath. Two. Then she turned slowly, the frost still in her expression¡ªbut it wasn''t aimed at him. "I''m not angry at you specifically, Lindarion." Her voice was flat, but not cold. Just tired. "You think I''m mad you showed them up?" she said, tilting her head, one brow arching just slightly. "Or that you mastered something they couldn''t? That you embarrassed them?" ''It does seem like that.'' Lindarion said nothing. Nyx''s jaw flexed. "You came back alive." And for the first time since the lesson ended, there was something else in her eyes. Relief. "I''m glad you came back alive," she said. "All of you." She walked closer, not enough to threaten, but enough to be sure no one overheard. Then her tone changed. "But I''m furious that you were sent at all." ''Huh?'' Lindarion met her eyes. "You didn''t know?" "I knew it was dangerous." Her lip curled slightly. "But what he wrote in the assignment profile? Temporal disturbance. Mana distortion. The usual language. Like it was just another anomaly. Minor instability. No mention of trans-dimensional collapse. No mention of a beast that doesn''t recognize the rules of existence. No mention of what it could do to you. I don''t even know how you managed to beat that thing." She folded her arms, tightly enough her knuckles whitened. "Thalorin signed it. He approved of it. He knew what he was sending you into." "He always knows about everything." Lindarion said quietly. "Exactly." Her voice dropped to a bitter whisper. "That assignment was goddamn elimination run." She looked past him now, toward the chalkboards still scrawled with circulation diagrams. "You don''t send an unstable talent to scout time-ruined ruins unless you want to see which ones don''t make it back." "You think it was a test." "I think it was worse," she snapped. "A test at least implies he wants you to succeed. I think he wanted a cull." ''He wouldn''t be conspiring against me, no way.'' She took a breath¡ªsteady, measured. Her control was always perfect. But even then, Lindarion saw it. The tremble at the edge of her restraint. "I''ve taught multiple classes for years," Nyx said. "I''ve lost more than twenty students to missions. Some because of mana collapse. Most to combat. The rest? Assignments just like yours. Ones they were promised were within scope." "You''re not responsible for what he decides." She met his gaze sharply. "If I''m not responsible, then why am I always the one standing at the gates when they bring the bodies back?" A silence stretched between them. Finally, she exhaled. Her arms dropped back to her sides. "You''re different," she said. "And he knows it. But that doesn''t mean you''re disposable." Lindarion''s voice was low. "You''re the first person to say that." Nyx smiled bitterly. "Then the rest of them are cowards." She turned back toward the private corridor but paused just before the door. "I don''t care what he says," she murmured. "Next time he signs a death sentence, I''ll know about it first." "And if he sends us anyway?" She glanced over her shoulder. "I can''t do much about it, but I''ll teach you how to survive it." And she was gone. ¡ª Lindarion walked alone, the faint thrum of residual mana still buzzing under his skin. He had pushed harder than he meant to. Harder than he should have. ''Things are starting to turn troublesome already.'' The marble underfoot didn''t echo with his steps¡ªonly with the last fragments of Nyx''s voice, still lingering in memory like frost on glass. He heard the sound before he saw her. A sharp, deliberate click of boots. Vivienne stepped out from behind a column, posture relaxed, but her eyes said otherwise. "I was starting to wonder if you were going to vanish again." ''Great, another troublesome thing.'' He stopped. Looked at her. Waited. "You weren''t in the dorms, in recent classes," she continued, walking slowly toward him. "You weren''t anywhere." She stopped just short of him and raised a brow. "So. Where were you?" ''In a ruined city killing a monster that technically was alive and wasn''t at the same time? Would that he a great explanation?'' He didn''t answer instead. Vivienne exhaled through her nose and gave a short laugh, like that was exactly what she expected. "Right. Secrets. You''re very good at hiding stuff." She started pacing, a few steps back and forth. Then she stopped. Her expression sharpened. "Anyways, I don''t care where you went," she said. "But you need to hear this." ''You clearly care if you asked..'' Lindarion''s gaze didn''t waver. She looked past him, down the empty corridor, before continuing in a lower voice. "The upper years. Fourth and fifth years. Some of them have been watching you, after hearing some interesting rumors about you embarrassing multiple upper years." ''Again..?'' Nothing in his posture changed¡ªbut his silence turned heavier. "And they don''t like it. If you don''t earn your place publicly, they''ll assume you stole it." "I didn''t, and I don''t want any kind of place, or anything to do with them at all." Lindarion said quietly. "They don''t care." Vivienne''s jaw tightened. "They''re already calling you nicknames.. Whispering that you''re getting favored treatment. Special access. Secret knowledge. That you''re dangerous." Her eyes locked on his. "They''re not going to come at you in the open. That''s not how the upper years work. They''ll push. Probe. Isolate. They will use their connections." Another pause. "You''re not untouchable." Lindarion studied her. Then said, evenly, "Why are you telling me this?" Vivienne blinked once. Then smiled without humor. "Because I don''t like watching people walk into blades they don''t see coming." And with that, she turned and left him standing alone in the corridor, the distant hum of conversations overhead murmuring like voices behind a door. Chapter 95 95: Threading (1) The dining hall had always been loud. Hundreds of mages-in-training packed into one room with too much mana and too little restraint. Food floated. Half the seating was territorial. The other half was political. And somewhere in the chaos, an actual meal might happen. But today, it wasn''t loud. Today, it quieted. Not dramatically. Just enough. Just when he walked in. ''Are they watching me or something?'' Lindarion paused. Not long. Long enough to register the shift. Then he moved to the food line¡ªslow, measured steps¡ªand grabbed a tray. No eye contact. No greetings. He''d never been popular. Never tried to be. Silence suited him better than conversation. But silence had changed its flavor. Now, they seemed to be watching him. The people around. He reached the end of the line with a plate half-filled with things he didn''t particularly care to identify. And that was when a voice called out. "Lindarion. Over here." It wasn''t someone he recognized. Three students sat near the center of the hall, dressed in neat outfits, their year marked on the outfit. Their uniforms were crisp. Their posture relaxed. Too relaxed. The one who''d spoken was tall, pale, with shoulder-length blond hair tied loosely at the back of his neck. There was no arrogance in his tone. Just familiarity. Familiarity that shouldn''t exist. ''Who the hell are they?'' Lindarion turned his head slowly. The three of them were watching him. Smiling. Like old acquaintances meeting again. Like there was some shared understanding between them. There wasn''t. He didn''t move. "You''re the first-year, right?" the blond asked. "We heard about your test with professor Nyx." Lindarion said nothing. "Impressive," the girl beside him added, stirring her tea without looking up. "No hesitation in the transitions. Mana control that clean usually takes years." "Or some kind of a special bloodline," said the third. Male. Lean. Tired-looking, with eyes like dull steel. "But that wouldn''t apply to you, would it?" ''Special bloodline? What does that even mean.'' Lindarion''s tray shifted slightly in his grip. His fingers tightened. "No comment?" the blond asked. "Ah well. No offense meant, of course. We were just...curious." Curious. The word sounded clean. But there was something under it. Interest with an edge. The blond gestured at the empty seat across from him. "Sit. Talk with us. We like to keep an eye on new talents." "I''m not interested," Lindarion said flatly. "Oh, I think you will be," said the girl. It wasn''t a threat. It was a fact. He held her gaze for one breath. Two. Then turned, walked away, and sat at a back table alone. His tray clicked softly against the wood. He didn''t eat. Didn''t need to. He just waited. Ten seconds passed and then they arrived. "Wow," said Cassian, dropping into the seat across from him with a tray overflowing with sugar and regret. "You are just collecting enemies on instinct now, huh?" "I don''t know who they are." Cassian nodded. "Even worse." "What are their names?" Lindarion asked, his voice was low. "Blond one''s Eryndel Vance. Duelist. His family''s got money and swords, and neither have ever made him interesting. The girl''s Miren¡ªalchemy specialist, and her mother''s on some kind of council. The third one''s called Kael something. He''s the dangerous one." "Why?" "Because he doesn''t talk unless he wants something dead." ''Why would he want me dead.'' Lindarion didn''t react. "And they''re interested in me, I guess." "Oh, deeply. The prodigy who aced Nyx''s personal test? Who came back from a classified mission with a sealed letter? You''re their new favorite problem." ''How do they even know about the mission.'' Lindarion looked back toward the trio. They were laughing now. Casually. As if nothing had happened. As if they hadn''t just sized him up like a new opponent. He turned back. "Let them." Cassian whistled. "You know, you say things like that and it''s almost like you want to be targeted." Lindarion finally picked up his fork. "I don''t want it," he said quietly. "I just don''t care enough to stop it." ¡ª Lindarion didn''t go straight back to his dorm. Not after attention like that. He made a loop¡ªdown the east corridor, past some old stairs, up two levels to the unused training hall, where only the sound of old hums followed. Eventually, he ended in the quietest place the academy allowed, the corridor between the archived lecture halls and some kind of restricted library annex. Not even second-years came this way unless they were hiding something. He leaned against the cold stone wall. ''Finally some peace and quiet.'' The flickering light caught faint in the trim of his coat. He closed his eyes. And relaxed against the wall. ''It''s just so perfect¡ª'' Footsteps. Soft. Deliberate. Not hostile. He didn''t open his eyes. Vivienne''s voice came quiet and dry. "You have terrible taste in hiding spots." "I wasn''t hiding at all. Who would I even be hiding from?" "Ah. So standing alone in a dead hallway after publicly refusing the top of the food chain is...what? Meditation?" He looked at her now. Vivienne leaned one shoulder against the opposite wall, arms crossed, a candy stick resting on her lip like it was a pipe. Her sleeves were rolled up. Her hair was twisted into something messy and intentional. And her expression, as always, was unreadable¡ªbut focused. ''Did she follow me?'' She hadn''t come here by accident. "...You heard already?" he said. "Hard not to. Eryndel doesn''t talk unless he''s trying to bury someone politely. You''re this week''s social experiment." "I''m not interested in their politics." "No one is, until they''re inside it." He didn''t respond. Vivienne uncrossed her arms and stepped forward. "I''m serious. You know how it works here. The top three circles don''t bother posturing with words. If they want to make a point, they do it with duels. Favors. Broken limbs." "I don''t care if they want a duel." "Then you''re already losing," she said simply. He studied her. "You''re warning me now?" "I''m warning you because I''ve seen this before," she said. "Talented first-year makes the wrong impression. Refuses the wrong handshake. Suddenly someone leaks their training schedule, gets harassed, and they''re stuck sparring against a ranked fifth-year with a grudge." "I can handle it. It''s not a problem at all." "I know," Vivienne said. "But they don''t care if you can. They care if you bleed." ''Everyone bleeds eventually.'' The candy stick cracked softly between her teeth. She didn''t look away. "You shouldn''t have been sent on that mission." ''So she also knows?'' He paused. "You heard about that too." Vivienne''s voice lowered slightly. "Everyone who matters knows about it now." Silence. Then she stepped back. "You''re strong. Scary strong. But you''re not invincible. And you''re not untouchable yet. So don''t act like you are." He watched her. "Why do you care so much?" Vivienne shrugged. "I don''t. But it''d be boring if you got buried before midterms." And with that, she turned and walked off¡ªboots light against the stone, coat swaying just slightly. Lindarion stayed where he was. He didn''t smile. But his hand twitched once at his side. Then stilled. ¡ª The classroom was unusually quiet the next day in Mana Studies. Not just from fear¡ªthough that lingered like smoke after battle¡ªbut from focus. Not a single chair creaked. Not even Cassian had managed a quip in five minutes, which Lindarion suspected might qualify as a world-ending omen. Professor Nyx stood before the class with one arm folded, the other drawing rapid, spiraling marks into the board. They didn''t resemble diagrams. Not at first. Just crude spirals. Sharp turns. Abrupt nodes. Then¡ª "Threading," she said without looking at them. ''Sounds similar to my skill.'' Lindarion''s eyes were glued on Nyx. "That''s what we call it when the flow of mana aligns so precisely with your nervous system that the perception of time... warps." Cassian leaned slightly toward Luneth and whispered, "Did she just say ''warp time'' like it''s a warm-up stretch?" Luneth didn''t even blink. "Shut up." Nyx flicked her chalk into the tray. "Don''t misunderstand. You''re not actually altering time. You''re not gods. If you were, you wouldn''t be in my class." Her eyes lifted. "Threading is the art of minimizing waste between thought and action. It''s what lets you cast the instant your opponent thinks. Dodge before the blade finishes swinging. Fire before they finish breathing in." A pause. She turned to the board again and underlined the center of the spiral. "It''s used by duelists. Assassins. Mages who don''t trust anyone. And almost none of you will succeed at it." Cassian, sounding faintly hopeful, raised a hand. "If we don''t succeed, do we... die?" ''What the fuck is he saying?'' Lindarion shook his head as Nyx gave Cassian a look, silencing him completely. He lowered the hand. "Mana Threading," she continued, "requires perfect harmony between your core and your brain. Which is unfortunate, because most of your brains have the reaction time of dying frogs." A few nervous students laughed. She didn''t. "Threading only works in two conditions. First: stillness. Second: imminent death. The more chaotic the moment, the more it stabilizes." She reached to the side, and with a pulse of mana, summoned six training dummies¡ªthin constructs of enchanted steel and bound leather, far faster than normal. Each bore different weaponry: sabers, spears, unarmed claws. "The rest of today''s lesson," she said calmly, "will be spent watching you all fail at this." Her smile returned¡ªsharp as a scalpel. "I''ve randomized the dummy behavior. They will attack once. Fast. If you fail to thread your mana to react in time, you will be bruised. Possibly concussed. If you succeed¡ªwell. I might start considering you as actual mages." Chapter 96 96: Threading (2) The students did not line up. They drifted, like slow prey nearing a trap they couldn''t see. ''It''s not going to be that bad...right?'' Lindarion didn''t move from his seat. His eyes were on the dummies¡ªeach standing as still as statues, yet humming faintly with barely restrained force. Their joints clicked, once. A subtle warning. "First pair," Nyx called, not even looking up from her notes. "Holt. Hargrave." Cassian let out a long, thin groan, dragging himself up like he was headed to the gallows. Elara stomped up beside him, arms already crossed. "Why do I have to go with crystal-boy?" she snapped. "Because I don''t trust you not to explode," Nyx said. "Together, you might balance out into one functional mage." "That''s not¡ª" The dummies moved. Cassian''s reaction was a full second too slow. The spear caught his shoulder with a flat clang, sending him staggering sideways with a yelp. Elara, meanwhile, reflexively iced the ground¡ªwhich might''ve helped if the dummy hadn''t simply leapt over it and lightly cuffed her on the forehead with the hilt of a saber. Cassian wheezed. "Okay, we''re learning. We''re learning the exact speed of humiliation." Nyx''s voice was perfectly even. "Next." Two more students. Valen Nighthollow and Victor Blackwood. Victor took his stance seriously¡ªhands wide, core flexed, already pushing mana into his limbs. Valen didn''t look ready at all. His hands hung at his sides, lazy and loose. They lasted longer. Victor''s water burst in a coiled arc to parry the attack. Sloppy but fast. Valen? His wind thread snapped to life in a spiral around him, slicing the dummy''s wrist mid-strike. It missed him by inches. "Huh," Victor muttered after. "Not bad." Valen didn''t respond. But the flicker in his eyes said he wasn''t surprised either. More pairs went up. Failures. A few scrapes. A bruised ego here and there. Nikolai Veltoran trembled so hard his thread never even formed. Adam Pierce flared too hot and melted part of the dummy''s hand but still took a strike to the gut. And then¡ª "Lindarion." Silence. He stood before his name was finished. Nyx didn''t pair him. She didn''t need to. The dummy activated before he even reached the center of the circle. And Lindarion moved. No posture. No visible aura. Just a flicker. The thread coiled from his palm in one clean arc¡ªthinner than hair, tighter than steel. It didn''t lash at the dummy. It folded into it, like the dummy was already expecting to fall. There was no impact. No strike. Only a second of stillness¡ªand then the dummy''s right arm collapsed at the elbow, unmoored. Nyx raised a brow. Cassian clapped once. "Okay. Show off." Elara scoffed. "Whatever." Murmurs began to rise. Some from the back rows. Jack Valerian didn''t even hide his glare. Rowan leaned close, whispering something sharp behind a cupped hand. Luneth, however, said nothing. She just watched Lindarion as he returned to his seat. Her eyes were unreadable. Not admiration. Not envy. Curiosity. Precise. Cold. Measuring. Lindarion sat down. His hand didn''t shake. His breathing hadn''t changed. But he could feel it¡ªagain¡ªthe atmosphere shifting around him. Just like the dining hall. ''Let them watch.'' Nyx clicked her tongue. "Well. That was barely acceptable. The rest of you¡ªkeep failing. It''s character-building." Jack finally rose. He was paired with Rowan. Their dummies moved. Fire and shadow erupted. And Lindarion didn''t look away. Because for the first time since arriving, he found Jack interesting. He wasn''t envious, there was no reason to be. He was almost recognizing Jack. Jack''s fire didn''t just burn¡ªit was like a cut. The flame had been threaded, layered with something dense and shaped. Not just raw fire affinity, but it was like trained application. ''At least he can try and back that arrogant attitude.'' A breath late, Rowan''s darkness followed¡ªbladed shadows that moved like wolves around the edge of Jack''s flare. They finished in two strikes. Clean. Calculated. Almost elegant. Lindarion didn''t take his eyes off the two of them. ''That was good.'' Nyx said nothing. But she watched them too. ¡ª Later, when class ended, the buzz followed them out. Some students peeled away fast¡ªchattering. Others lingered. Watching Lindarion walk down the corridor like he was something they couldn''t name. Cassian caught up fast. "I know that look," he said. "You''re thinking dangerous thoughts again." "Do you think Jack trained threading before the class?" Cassian blinked. "I... mean, probably? His family''s got resources. Tutors. Ego. Everything but shame, really." ''Shame?'' "And what about that Rowan?" "That creep? No idea. He gives off... feral but well-read vibes." Luneth stepped beside them without invitation. "He used to study under a shadow duelist," she said flatly. Cassian stared. "What." "You asked," she muttered. They kept walking. Lindarion didn''t stop thinking. Too many variables. Too many eyes. And somewhere between the dining hall and Nyx''s threading lesson, a quiet certainty bloomed inside him. ¡ª Cassian kept pace with Lindarion. Luneth, trailing half a step behind, didn''t seem to notice them slowing near the east tower stairwell¡ªuntil she realized they''d stopped completely. "Something wrong?" she asked. Lindarion didn''t answer immediately. He glanced back down the empty corridor, then looked up. There, on the fourth-floor mezzanine, just past the arch window, stood Eryndel Vance. Not watching them. Drinking tea. With perfect posture. ''Is he watching us? Seriously?'' But he hadn''t blinked since Lindarion noticed him. Not once. "Just wondering," Cassian said lightly, "how much we can charge them for being this obsessed. Is there a stalker tax? Some kind of noble-level fine for unsolicited gazes?" Luneth barely tilted her head. "They''re tracking your patterns." "That''s comforting." "Are you surprised?" she asked flatly. "Nyx gave you open praise in front of Valerian and his idiot dog. You humiliated a reactive dummy in one motion. They''re not interested in your potential. They''re interested in your reach." "My reach? And how do they already know about it?" Lindarion asked. "How much you can get away with, and news travel way too fast here." Luneth said. She stepped past them, coat brushing against his sleeve. Cassian exhaled like he''d been holding something in. "I keep forgetting she''s scarier than you." "She''s not." "She''s... differently terrifying." ''Idiot.'' They turned the corner, past a set of low crystal lamps that flickered with blue-tinged mana. A cluster of students was gathered near the dorm atrium¡ªfirst-years mostly, no upperclassmen in sight. The kind of group that didn''t form without gossip worth freezing for. Cassian muttered, "I smell a rumor." Lindarion was already listening. He didn''t have to try hard. "...just said he collapsed," someone was whispering. "Mana rebound. His circuits burned too fast." "I thought they said it was from an attack?" "No, no¡ªthey said his own spell hit him back. Threaded it wrong. Internal rupture." "That''s what Nyx was talking about, right? Fail threading, and it crushes you from the inside?" "I thought she meant metaphorically..." ''What are they talking about?'' Lindarion stepped closer. They didn''t notice. Not until one voice hissed, "Shut up, he''s right there¡ª" The group scattered fast. Too fast. Like something guilty had touched them. ''Am I a virus or something?'' Only one girl lingered¡ªElara Hargrave. Her arms were crossed. Her foot tapped lightly against the stone, fast and unfocused. She didn''t run. Which made her the only one with a spine. Lindarion met her gaze. "Who collapsed?" Her jaw flexed. She didn''t want to tell him. But Cassian spoke before she could deflect. "It was Luka, right? From class 2z The guy who got that wind-thread to half activate during their class yesterday." Elara''s eyes flicked to him. "That''s what they''re saying. But the teachers aren''t confirming anything." ''How come I never hear about anything..'' Lindarion just blinked. "So he failed threading," Luneth said. No emotion. "More like he almost succeeded," Elara muttered. "It turned in on itself. The feedback fried his core alignment. He was still twitching when they carried him out." Cassian let out a low whistle. "Okay. Not terrifying at all." "Why are you all so calm about this?" she snapped suddenly. "That could''ve been any of us." ''But it wasn''t.'' Lindarion studied her more carefully now. Elara wasn''t just annoyed. She was rattled. Beneath the loudness and her temper, something cold crept in. She was scared. Not of Nyx. Not of failure. Of herself. "I threaded fine," she said, before anyone could ask. "Not perfect. But I didn''t collapse." No one responded. She pushed past them. "Whatever. Don''t act like I care." Cassian watched her go. "She''s going to ice punch a mirror tonight." ''She definitely cares.'' "She''s scared," Lindarion said. "Yeah. We all are." Luneth''s eyes narrowed. Not at him. At the stairwell. Where Vivienne was standing. Arms folded. Backlit by the crystalline dusk light. Like she''d been there longer than she should''ve. "Eavesdropping?" Luneth asked dryly. Vivienne stepped down, slowly. Her boots were immaculate. Her hair half-coiled in a high twist, the kind that said she doesn''t care about anyone else. "No need," she said. "Rumors travel faster than magic in this place." She stopped in front of Lindarion. Just for a moment. Then, with barely a glance¡ª "You''re late." "...For what." She turned. "Follow me." ''It''s whatever.'' Cassian blinked. "Oh, that''s not ominous at all." Lindarion didn''t hesitate. He followed. Luneth did too. After a second of groaning, Cassian trudged after them. "I swear, if this is another secret test¡ª" ¡ª They stopped in an unused supply hall. One of the old ones, lined with rusted rods and discarded equipment. Vivienne pushed open a side door. Inside¡ª A half-lit room. Stone floor. Wooden bench. And one other figure already waiting there. Kael. He didn''t look up. Didn''t greet them. Didn''t move at all. Vivienne closed the door behind them. Cassian muttered, "We''re definitely going to die.." ''Shut up you idiot.'' Lindarion didn''t say anything. Because Kael hadn''t even blinked yet. And for the first time all day, something in the air didn''t feel like tension. It felt like a blade pressed to a nerve. Chapter 97 97: Meeting Kael finally raised his eyes. And the temperature in the room seemed to lower by a breath. Cassian stopped breathing. Luneth shifted her stance, subtly¡ªbut not subtly enough for someone like Kael to miss. Still, he said nothing. His eyes landed on Lindarion like weights dropped into a well. Not burning. Not furious. Just fixed. "Do you think," Kael said softly, "that you''re untouchable?" ''Why is he acting like a third rate villain...'' Lindarion didn''t answer. Kael rose. Not fast. Not in a flash. He stood like someone standing from a throne he didn''t remember sitting on. He was taller. Older. And behind his presence lurked something feral, not like Rowan''s shadow-predator weight, but colder. Sharper. Less wounded, more refined to a weapon. "I don''t care who you impressed today," Kael continued. "Or how many eyes are watching you. I''ve seen power before. Real power. And I''ve seen it break people younger than you." Still no answer. Kael stepped forward. Two paces. "I could crush your lungs in two syllables." ''Pfff, in your dreams man...'' Lindarion had to hold back his laughter, however he calmed himself quickly. Cassian tensed. Luneth didn''t move. "And what would that prove?" Lindarion asked calmly. "That no one''s above fear." Kael''s gaze didn''t waver. "You need to understand your place." ''He can''t be serious.'' "I do." Lindarion''s voice didn''t rise. "And it''s not beneath you." The pause hit like silence between claps of thunder. Kael''s hand lifted. Just one. Open-palmed. Not a spell formation¡ªnot yet¡ªbut the first stage of a promise. Cassian hissed, "Hey¡ªokay, everyone breathe¡ª" Too late. Kael''s hand shifted. A flicker of gold-lightning mana traced the edge of his fingers. A direct threat. A declaration. And then¡ª Lindarion however didn''t like that. Not a flinch, he literally just stood still But the air changed around him. Not with heat. Not with pressure. It was his command. Like the floor had become something sacred. Like the world itself paused to check whether it had his permission to spin. Kael blinked. But didn''t step back. And then¡ªLindarion struck. It wasn''t a grand gesture. Not an arc of power. Just a single step forward, one hand raised, faster than thought¡ª CRACK. His palm met Kael''s face in a flat, uncompromising slap. The kind that didn''t leave blood or break bone. The kind that reset hierarchies. Kael reeled half a step¡ªhalf. But in this room, a half-step might as well have been a collapse. ''Dumbass.'' Lindarion''s eyes didn''t flicker. He didn''t reach for a skill or anything of the sort. He didn''t speak. He just looked at Kael like nothing had happened. And that was worse. Kael''s jaw flexed. His aura trembled¡ªnot in fear, not quite¡ªbut in the way an unstable blade might shake before it snapped. "What¡ª" Kael''s voice started low, almost inaudible. But Lindarion stepped closer. And with it came the passive pull. [Thronebearer] It wasn''t for a show. Just a deadly presence. A weight dropped into the spine of the person in front of him. Kael''s knee twitched. Not in reflex¡ªin resistance. His will shuddered against the invisible tide. And lost. The silence stretched. Then Kael straightened. His lip curled¡ªwhether from rage or restraint wasn''t clear. He looked at Lindarion. This time...with recognition. Not deference. Not fear. But for the first time since their encounter¡ª He was respecting Lindarion. Cassian exhaled behind them, shaky. "Okay. What the hell happened..." Kael turned without a word and left the room. Vivienne was gone already by this point, he left without any of them noticing. Luneth said nothing. Cassian blinked wildly. "I''m sorry. Was that... did you just slap Kael Faerlyn? You literally just bitched him...that was so cool man." Lindarion didn''t answer. He didn''t need to. Because no one else in that room dared to speak for a long, long time. Lindarion walked out. ''Technically what he said is true.'' He didn''t turn around. Didn''t respond. Just listened to their footsteps echo on old stone and tried to ignore the fact that his palm still kind of stung. "You slapped him," Cassian repeated, louder this time, like it had to be said twice to make sense. "I thought you''d thread him or mind-break him or¡ªwhatever weird mage stuff you do. But no. You just. Slapped. A Faerlyn." ''That probably wasn''t the best idea, but the people here are just getting on my nerves.'' "I panicked and made a sudden decision" Lindarion muttered, mostly to himself. Luneth gave a quiet snort. "No, you didn''t." He frowned. "You don''t know that." "You didn''t hesitate." ''That''s not the same thing.'' Cassian whistled low. "Honestly? Power move. Bold. Unhinged. A little hot, not gonna lie." ''The fuck did he just say to me?'' "What?" Cassian just shrugged innocently. ''Ignore him Lindarion...If you feed it, it grows.'' "I''m saying," he went on, "we need to commemorate this moment. A slap like that deserves a holiday. Maybe a statue. Ooh¡ªcan we get Kael to sponsor it?" ''The hell is he saying at this point.'' "I don''t want a statue," Lindarion muttered. "I want a statue," Cassian said brightly. "One of you mid-slap. With, like, a quote on the base. Something dramatic. Like ''Actions have consequences'' or ''Don''t test me, heir.''" Lindarion covered his face with one hand. ''I''ve definitely made a mistake.'' They turned the corner near the upper dorm stairs. And of course¡ª Vivienne was already waiting for them. Not leaning. Not pacing. Just... standing. Like she had all the time in the world and none of it was yours. ''Of course she''s waiting.'' "Done?" she asked calmly. Lindarion let his hand drop. "I think so?" Vivienne''s gaze flicked over him. "Did he deserve it?" "...Kind of." Her expression didn''t change, but something in the air lightened. Just slightly. "Good," she said. Cassian blinked. "Wait, that''s it? We''re just okay with this now?" Vivienne looked at him like someone observing a bug with potential. "He escalated. He was warned. He was corrected." "He was slapped." Vivienne''s head tilted. "Sometimes the simplest feedback is the clearest." ''She''s not wrong.'' She stepped closer. Not threatening. Just deliberate. "Be careful, Lindarion," she said. "Next time he won''t bait you in private." "I know." "He''ll try to make it public." "I know." Vivienne nodded, then turned without ceremony and strode off. Cassian stared after her. "Okay. So. That was Vivienne being supportive. Right? That wasn''t a threat?" Luneth didn''t blink. "She was warning him." "She scares me," Cassian muttered. "She should." Lindarion exhaled. He didn''t regret it. But the slap had been instinct, not calculation. And instincts made waves. People like Kael didn''t get humiliated without sharpening their knives for the next round. ''I should''ve done something else instead. Something with no bruises. No drama. No blood feuds in the making.'' Cassian slowed a little, rubbing his arms. "So... how screwed are you?" "Moderately," Lindarion muttered. Luneth snorted again. "That''s optimistic." They were almost outside when the air shifted again. Lindarion didn''t have to look up to know who it was. He looked anyway. ''Of course. Jack.'' Leaning against a low pillar like he was born to haunt entrances. Arms crossed. That faint curve of the mouth that wasn''t a smile, just a promise that he was amused and you probably wouldn''t be. "You slapped Kael," Jack said. ''How does he even know..'' Lindarion sighed. "Yes, any problems with it?" "You slapped Kael Faerlyn." Cassian raised a hand. "See? It''s catching on." Lindarion folded his arms. "You here to tell me it was a mistake?" Jack shrugged. "Oh, no. I thought it was brilliant." ''What?'' "...Really?" "You''re still going to suffer for it," Jack said pleasantly. "But I respect your audacity." ''Great. Praise from someone who thinks manipulation is child''s play.'' Jack stepped forward, eyes still sharp. Measuring. "You''re more interesting than I gave you credit for." "I get that a lot lately." "Don''t let it get to your head." "I won''t." "Good," Jack said. "That''s when people are the most dangerous." He moved aside, a subtle gesture. Lindarion hesitated. Then walked past. Jack didn''t stop him. But just as Lindarion passed the column, Jack spoke again¡ªvoice low. "Watch who flocks to you now. Power leaves a scent." Lindarion didn''t turn, he kept walking towards his dorm room. ''Let them. I''m not here to be anyone''s prize.'' ¡ª The door closed behind him with a soft click. Lindarion didn''t move for a moment. The stillness of the dorm room wrapped around him like a second skin¡ªneat, silent, untouched since morning. Just the way he left it. ''Finally.'' No stares. No lectures. No Kael trying to prove something. Just¡ªquiet. He stepped inside, sliding his jacket off in a smooth motion. The fabric landed across the back of the desk chair, perfectly balanced. His fingertips brushed the desk once as he passed it, eyes flicking briefly toward the darkening sky outside his window. Orange twilight. Just late enough to be finished. Just early enough to be restless. ''Tried to bait me into whatever stupidity he wanted to do. Idiot.'' Kael had been exactly what Lindarion expected. Insecure. Desperate to reclaim something that no one had taken from him. ''And he calls me arrogant.'' The pathetic thing was¡ªKael had probably planned that confrontation all day. Rehearsed his lines. Imagined the smirk he''d wear when he won. ''Should''ve rehearsed his act instead.'' Lindarion exhaled softly, crossing the room to stand near the bed. He lifted a hand, fingers curling loosely, and the mana shifted instantly. No heat. No flare. Just cold. Cold and deep and quiet¡ªlike something rising from beneath a frozen lake. The shadows on the floor stirred, bending unnaturally toward him. And then¡ª A girl stepped out of them. Selene. Pale veil trailing behind her, gown dark as ink, silver eyes almost glowing in the dim light. She moved like a ghost, but looked at him like she''d always been there. She blinked once. Slowly. "...You''re back." Lindarion dropped his hand. "Wasn''t planning on dying." Selene frowned faintly. "You didn''t summon me for around four days." He arched his brows. "Were you counting?" "I always count," she said simply. He turned away, pulling his gloves off with a quiet tug. "I didn''t need backup." Selene watched him for a long moment. Then stepped forward. "Still. You should call for me," she said. "Even if just to say you''re alive." ''She says it like she doesn''t care. But she sounds mad every time I don''t summon her.'' Lindarion flicked his gloves onto the desk and leaned back slightly against the edge. "It wasn''t serious." Selene folded her hands in front of her. "Another third-year?" "Kael." "Is this Kael still breathing?" Lindarion gave her a flat look. Selene''s expression didn''t change, but her silver eyes gleamed. "I''m only asking," she said. "No judgment." "I didn''t kill him." Selene raised an eyebrow. "Did you embarrass him?" A faint pause. "...Yes." She smiled. "Good." Lindarion shook his head. "It was a waste of time. He thought he was making a statement." "To who?" "Probably to himself," he muttered. "No one else cared." Selene drifted closer, standing beside him now, her voice lower. "He wanted to remind you where your place was." ''My place huh?'' Lindarion scoffed. "And instead he found slaps." A beat of silence. Then Selene spoke uo. "You''re annoyed." ''Always.'' He didn''t say that. Instead, "I came to train, not babysit people''s insecurities." Selene tilted her head. "He''s not the last one." "I know." "Are you going to keep holding back?" Lindarion''s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn''t answer right away. Then¡ª "...If they keep wasting my time, I might stop." Selene smiled. But she didn''t say good this time. Instead, she floated past him and perched herself lightly on the desk, veil trailing off the side like spilled ink. She smoothed her skirt once. Then looked at him. "Did anyone else bother you, Young Master?" Lindarion leaned back against the bedpost, arms crossed loosely. "...No." Selene blinked. "That''s a first." He shrugged. "They''re starting to realize." "That you''re dangerous?" "That I don''t care." Selene went still for a moment. Then quietly. "...That''s not true." Lindarion didn''t respond. His gaze drifted to the window, watching the last light fade from the skyline. Selene''s voice came again, softer this time. "You do care." ''...That''s the problem.'' But he didn''t say that either. Because silence was easier. Because silence never asked for more. Chapter 98 98: New Class Selene hadn''t moved since she reappeared. One leg crossed over the other, sleeves draped neatly, she perched atop his desk like a statue from a forgotten temple¡ªserene, unreadable, and vaguely disappointed in the mortal world. Lindarion leaned back in his chair, one hand resting against his chin. "You''re glaring at me again," he said. "I''m not glaring," Selene replied softly. "I''m observing." "Feels the same." Selene''s silver eyes narrowed. "You summoned me and then immediately started brooding. What did you expect me to do?" "...Sit quietly and look aesthetic maybe?" A pause. Then her lips twitched. Barely. "I do that by default, Young Master." she murmured. Lindarion let his head fall back against the chair. The ceiling didn''t have answers, but it also didn''t ask questions. "You did well today," Selene added, her voice quieter. "This Kael boy was overconfident. It was definitely satisfying to do it." Lindarion let out a low breath. "He wasn''t the worst part. Just the most predictable." "They''re starting to see you," she said. "That was the idea." "No. I mean truly see you. Not the numbers. You." Lindarion didn''t answer. He didn''t need to. Because the knock came next. Sharp. Controlled. Two beats. Then another. Selene was gone before he moved¡ªslipping into the folds of the room''s shadow like ink sinking into silk. The air grew still again, all traces of her presence erased. Lindarion stood, straightened his sleeves, and opened the door. Vivienne. ''What does she want now?'' One hand braced on the doorframe, expression unusually serious. No eye roll. No smug remark. Just eyes that looked like they''d been searching. "You''re hard to find," she said. "I''m not hiding," Lindarion replied. "Funny. Because Jack''s lapdogs are out there asking very loudly where you are." Lindarion blinked. "So you came to warn me?" "I came because I knew you wouldn''t care enough to run if it were real trouble," Vivienne said dryly. "And because Nyx told me to find you." That made him pause. "She did?" Vivienne nodded. "Someone''s asking questions. Even a few third-years. Not about your tests or anything. About you." "Specifics?" "Family. Background. Magical discipline. A few idiots think you''re being tutored in secret. Others think you''re a plant." Lindarion''s brow furrowed slightly. "A plant?" "Like someone put you here to monitor something. Or someone." He scoffed. "That''s stupid." Vivienne stepped inside, uninvited but entirely at ease. She glanced around his room, brows lifting slightly at the neatness. "No friends visiting?" she asked absently. "I don''t invite people." "Clearly." Lindarion shut the door behind her. "What does Nyx want?" he asked. "To see you. Now." Lindarion crossed his arms. "Why didn''t she just send someone else?" "She did." Vivienne gave him a look. "Me." ''Right.'' Lindarion ran a hand through his hair. Selene, hidden in the walls, hadn''t stirred. But he felt her presence settle like a watchful breeze¡ªwaiting. "Alright," he said, grabbing his coat. "Let''s go." Vivienne opened the door. "She said one more thing." Lindarion paused. "What?" Vivienne glanced back at him. "She said: ''Tell Sunblade if he doesn''t hurry, I''m letting the dummies punch him in the throat next class.''" A beat. Lindarion sighed. "...Fair." ¡ª The corridors were half-lit and mostly empty. The academy had a strange way of quieting after nightfall. Not soft¡ªjust... watchful. As if the walls were listening. Judging. Occasionally mocking. Lindarion walked beside Vivienne in silence, the soles of their boots barely audible over the polished stone. Vivienne glanced sideways. "You look like you''re about to be sentenced." "I''m not exactly sure what to expect, maybe praise?" "You should be expecting praise." She paused. "But you won''t get it." They turned down the narrow east stairwell¡ªNyx''s hall¡ªand stopped at the door with the chalk sigils sketched faintly along the frame. Vivienne didn''t knock. She pushed the door open and walked in like it belonged to her. Lindarion followed. Inside, the air was still. Not heavy. Not magical. It was just still. Nyx sat at her desk¡ªnot behind it, but sideways, one leg crossed over the other, gaze fixed on a half-burned diagram that hovered in the air before her. Violet ink dripped off the edge like oil suspended mid-air. She didn''t look up. "I told you to bring him, took so long." Vivienne didn''t flinch. "I brought him." Nyx tilted her head slightly. "Took long enough." "I had a hard time due to some circumstances." Nyx raised a brow. "Then I''ll compliment your persistence later." Vivienne smirked, leaned against the doorframe, and crossed her arms. "Can''t wait." Lindarion remained standing. "...You wanted to see me." Nyx finally turned. Her expression wasn''t angry. Or impressed. Or anything he could immediately name. Just... sharp. "You performed well, as I said earlier." she said simply. ''We''ve been through this already.'' Lindarion didn''t answer. Nyx stood, brushing a streak of chalk off her dark robes as she circled around the desk. "Threading is not meant to be mastered in days. It''s a technique most only taste when their lives are at stake." ''Because it''s similar to my mana thread manipulation.'' "I''ve had practice...I guess." "I noticed." She stopped in front of him. Not looming. Not intimidating. Just... present. "You know why I''m annoyed?" she asked. ''Why would she be annoyed?'' "...Because the other students failed?" "Because I was planning to use this class to weed out the inflated egos. Let them fail. Let them panic. That kind of lesson sticks." She paused. "But then you showed up and handled it like again you''d already fought a dozen battles." ''I have. Just not on record...technically.'' Nyx studied him for a long, silent beat. "I don''t like wasting time, Sunblade. And I especially don''t like wasting talent. So I''ll ask once." She leaned in slightly. "What exactly are you?" Lindarion blinked. "Excuse me?" "You''re not just a first-year with a good core and expensive tutoring. You move like someone who''s already lost things. You use mana like it''s instinct. That isn''t just training." A silence stretched. "I''m a student," Lindarion said. "That''s all." Nyx smiled. It was not kind. It wasn''t cruel either. Just very, very tired. "You''ll break something eventually," she said. "Either yourself, or something much bigger. Try not to do both at once." Vivienne let out a low whistle. Nyx turned away, retrieving a scroll from her desk. "Next week, you''ll be assigned to the practical rotation for threading enhancement. Real pressure. Real injuries. You''ll be paired with combat instructors and given higher-grade dummies. If you survive it, you might actually learn something." Lindarion nodded once. "Understood." Nyx handed the scroll to Vivienne. "Give this to the registry. I''m expediting his placement." Vivienne accepted it without comment. Nyx turned back to Lindarion. "Go get stronger. You''re already interesting. Make yourself dangerous." ''Dangerous, huh?'' Lindarion dipped his head slightly. "Anything else?" Nyx smirked. "Don''t die or get hurt too badly." ¡ª They left the room in silence again. Once they were halfway down the stairwell, Vivienne exhaled. "She likes you." "...That was her being kind?" "No," Vivienne said, glancing at him. "That was her way of saying you are good." Lindarion didn''t answer. He was already thinking ahead. Threading enhancement. Higher-tier tests. Close-quarters combat. He could handle it. But more than that¡ªhe needed it. ¡ª The next day Lindarion stood before the arched doorway of the Threading Enhancement Rotation hall, its ancient oak adorned with intricate carvings of mana flows and protective sigils. The weight of being the sole first-year among seasoned third-year students pressed upon him, but he masked any trepidation behind a composed facade. ''Let''s see what we''re working with here.'' Pushing the heavy door open, he stepped into a spacious chamber illuminated by floating orbs casting a cool, bluish light. The walls were lined with shelves holding various arcane instruments, and the floor bore scorch marks and deep grooves¡ªa testament to rigorous training sessions. Conversations hushed as the third-year students took notice of the newcomer. A few exchanged glances, some with curiosity, others with thinly veiled skepticism. At the center of the room stood the professor, a tall figure with sharp features and an aura of authority. His piercing eyes locked onto Lindarion. "Ah, the prodigious first-year, just call me Professor Kaelen." Kaelen''s voice resonated, carrying a hint of challenge. "Lindarion Sunblade, isn''t it?" Lindarion inclined his head respectfully. "Yes, professor." Kaelen''s gaze swept over the assembled students. "It''s rare for someone so green to join this advanced rotation. I trust you won''t be a liability." A ripple of muted chuckles emanated from a cluster of third-years. Among them, a tall, broad-shouldered student with cropped dark hair and a confident smirk stepped forward. "Name''s Darius," he introduced, arms crossed over his chest. "We''ve heard about your... exploits. Let''s see if you can keep up." ''My exploits? Huh?'' Lindarion met Darius''s gaze evenly. "I''m here to learn and contribute." Kaelen clapped his hands, drawing attention back to himself. "Enough introductions. Pair up for sparring exercises. Lindarion, you''ll partner with Darius." The students moved swiftly, forming pairs and taking positions on the marked sparring circles. Lindarion and Darius faced each other, the air between them charged with unspoken tension for some reason. Chapter 99 99: Respect Kaelen''s voice rang out. "Begin!" Darius wasted no time, channeling his mana to envelop his fists in crackling energy. He lunged forward with impressive speed, aiming a punch at Lindarion''s midsection. Drawing upon his own reserves, Lindarion sidestepped gracefully, feeling the familiar surge of mana coursing through him. He retaliated with a swift palm strike, augmented by a controlled burst of energy that sent Darius skidding back a few feet. A flicker of surprise crossed Darius''s face, quickly replaced by a grin. "Not bad." They circled each other, exchanging blows and counters, their movements growing more fluid as the bout progressed. The surrounding students paused their own sparring to watch, murmuring among themselves. After several intense minutes, Kaelen raised a hand. "Enough." Both combatants halted, breathing heavily but standing tall. Kaelen nodded approvingly. "Lindarion, you''ve demonstrated skill beyond your years. Darius, I expect you to challenge him further in future sessions." Darius extended a hand toward Lindarion. "Looking forward to it." ''He''s actually good.'' Lindarion clasped Darius''s forearm firmly. "Likewise." As the session concluded, the initial skepticism in the room had diminished, replaced by a grudging respect for the first-year who had held his own. Lindarion knew this was just the beginning. The path ahead would be arduous, but he was prepared to navigate it, one challenge at a time. ¡ª The training ended without a problem. No praise. No feedback. Just Instructor Kaelen''s sharp gaze following Lindarion as the third-years began to file out of the chamber. A few of them threw sidelong glances in Lindarion''s direction¡ªno longer just curious, but... recalibrating. Reassessing. He was a variable now. Not just the first-year prodigy. Not just a footnote. A moving piece. ''Better than being a rumor I guess.'' Lindarion remained where he was, letting the room empty around him. Darius gave him a half-wave before leaving with a couple others, chatting like nothing unusual had happened. ''This is going to be fun.'' Lindarion adjusted his collar, the mana still thrumming faintly beneath his skin. The threading techniques had felt... too easy. As if his body had already begun anticipating the flow before it was needed. ''Either I''m getting faster... or I''ve been slow this entire time.'' He wasn''t sure which answer was worse. "You''re not like the others." The voice came from behind him. ''Not again.'' Lindarion turned. A girl¡ªolder, third-year¡ªstood at the edge of the chamber, her robes marked with the crest of a dueling elective. Her hair was dark, tied back into a simple braid, and her eyes were sharp enough to cut through hesitation. "You moved like you''d already seen the attack. Not a second ahead¡ªmore like... a frame." She tilted her head. "How?" ''What lie do I tell her now?'' "...Practice," Lindarion said, brushing dust from his sleeve. "Right," she said, not believing him. "Well. If you''re staying in this training, you''re going to draw attention." "I already have," he replied. She smirked faintly. "Then don''t blink. They''ll test you again." She left after that. No name. No threat. Just another person measuring him silently. ¡ª By the time Lindarion returned to the dorm halls, the corridor was mostly empty¡ªexcept for the one presence leaning against his door. Vivienne. ''Of course she''s here, where else would she be.'' She looked up as he approached, arms folded, gaze unreadable. Her braid had come slightly undone, and there was a small rip in her sleeve that hadn''t been there earlier. "Was it worth it?" she asked. "The training?" "The isolation," she corrected. "Being the only first-year on that list." ''Yeah, it was way better than our classes to be honest.'' Lindarion stepped past her and unlocked his door. "I wasn''t planning to fail quietly." Vivienne followed him in without asking. She perched herself on the edge of his desk, arms still folded, voice quieter. "I got word during practice. Jack''s started asking questions." ''That dumbass again.'' Lindarion exhaled. "About what?" "Threading. Training. You. Take your pick." "He can ask." "He will," she said, flicking a speck of dust off her glove. "He doesn''t like being second. Especially not to someone who isn''t in his class." Lindarion didn''t respond. Vivienne finally stood, brushing past him toward the door. "Oh," she added before leaving, her voice light. "And Nyx filed a transfer. If you don''t die next time, you''ll be in advanced mana combat theory." She left before he could reply. The silence that followed was almost too comfortable. ''Advanced mana combat theory..'' Then¡ª Lindarion stirred the shadows in the room and Selene emerged slowly, a swirl of darkness folding into her shape. She didn''t speak at first. Just looked at him. Then she finally spoke up. "...You looked tired, Young Master." Lindarion sat on the edge of his bed and leaned back. "Not tired. Just... getting used to the noise." Selene blinked slowly. "They''ll keep testing you. The strong ones. The ones with names and eyes and pride." "I know." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you want me to make them disappear?" ''She says it so easily.'' Lindarion didn''t answer. Not right away. "...Not yet," he said eventually. "But keep the offer open." Selene smiled faintly. "Always." ¡ª The hallway lights flickered as she turned the corner into the east wing of the first-year dormitory. Same bland walls. Same floors. No gilded emblems. No legacy wings. Just students pretending they weren''t all under the same roof. ''He''s way better than I thought.'' Vivienne walked past the common lounge where someone was arguing loudly about potion ratios and two others were betting on training match stats. No one paid her any mind. She didn''t slow down. Room 23. She didn''t knock. She pushed the door open. Jack Valerian sat on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, polishing his gloves with deliberate care. His jacket was draped over the back of the chair, and a small ember burned at his fingertip¡ªflickering lazily, like a cat stretching in sunlight. He didn''t look surprised to see her. "Evening," he said without looking up. Vivienne stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind her. "You''re already bored of pretending, aren''t you?" Jack''s eyes flicked up. "No. I just assumed you''d show up eventually. You always do." Vivienne crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, gaze sharp. "You sent Kael." Jack tilted his head. "Did I?" "Don''t insult me." A beat of silence. Then Jack let out a soft sigh and flicked the ember out. "Fine. Yes. I nudged him. Lightly." He shrugged. "The way you might steer a curious hound toward an unfamiliar scent." Vivienne''s voice was cold. "He''s not a dog." "No," Jack said. "But he does bite." "You were hoping he''d rattle Lindarion." Jack''s smile didn''t reach his eyes. "I was hoping he''d test him. Big difference." "You''re going to get someone killed at this rate." Jack stood. Slowly. Not threateningly¡ªbut deliberately. His tone dropped just slightly. "And you''re getting awfully protective." Vivienne didn''t flinch. "I''m not protecting him. I''m watching him." Jack chuckled, brushing his hair back. "Sure. Like a hawk. Or a sister." Vivienne took a step forward. "Jack. He''s not like the others. You think this is politics. I think it''s something else." Jack''s brow arched. "He''s strong," Vivienne continued. "And stable. And no one trained to be that composed under pressure without expecting to be targeted." Jack rolled his shoulders once. "And?" "And you''re not good at losing." That hit. Just a fraction. His jaw tensed for half a heartbeat before he recovered. "Then I suppose I''d better not lose," he said quietly. Vivienne stared at him. Not angry. Not warning. Just tired. "You always make this into a game," she said. Jack''s voice was light again, but the weight behind it didn''t leave. "Everything is a game." Vivienne turned away. "Just don''t start one you can''t finish." At the door, she paused. "And don''t send anyone else after him." Jack smiled faintly behind her. "Why not?" "Because next time," she said without looking back, "he won''t walk away. They won''t." The door shut quietly behind her. And Jack? Jack just stood there. Staring at his gloves, firelight dancing at the edges of his fingers. ''Interesting,'' he thought. ''Let''s see how long you last, Lindarion.'' ¡ª The next day Lindarion''s classes resumed normally. He was just making his way towards the basic hand to hand combat training grounds when he was stopped by a giant...elf. His outfit had a number three on it, indicating that he was a third year in the academy. ''God damn he''s huge.'' He had short blonde hair and mesmerizing blue eyes like the largest sea on Eryndor. His facial features were extremely sharp like a chiseled blade. ''Is he not going to say anything?'' "Is there anything I can help¡ª" Before Lindarion could even finish the elf placed his hands on his own chest as he straightened himself. "I respectfully greet the Prince of Eldorath! Lindarion Sunblade!" His voice was booming across the whole area making multiple heads turn towards them. ''That was...the last thing I expected.'' Chapter 100 100: Training Day The third-year elf¡ªstill standing perfectly upright with one fist pressed to his chest¡ªdid not blink. Lindarion stared at him. ''Am I supposed to knight him or something?'' A few students down the path had paused to gawk. One girl near the stairwell was whispering into her friend''s ear. A small group of second-years exchanged sharp glances. Lindarion cleared his throat. "You can stop that." The elf blinked once. "Your Highness?" "Don''t call me that," Lindarion muttered. "And stop saluting. It''s weird." The elf looked confused. Then bowed lower. "Understood, Prince." ''Oh, we''re going to need a full reset on this one.'' Lindarion sighed. "Do you want something, or did you just come here to scare half the hallway?" The elf straightened again, very slowly. "I was instructed to offer my assistance should you ever require a sparring partner, a guide, or a second in a formal duel." "...By who?" "House Ardran of the Eastern Line," the elf said proudly. "We owe your house a blood-debt, and it is my family''s honor to¡ª" "Okay," Lindarion interrupted. "I get it." The elf blinked. "Do you wish to duel me now?" "What? No." "I accept." Lindarion stared at him. "...Please go do something else." "Yes, Your¡ªyes." The elf gave a stiff bow, pivoted on his heel, and marched off like he was returning from war. Lindarion stood still for another few seconds. Then finally muttered, "What the hell was that?" He adjusted his collar, shook off the stares, and kept walking. ¡ª The stone yard to the hand to hand combat class was wide, flat, and unforgiving¡ªlike the rest of Sera''s personality. Most of the others were already there, scattered in uneven groups. Cassian was stretching with exaggerated groans. Elara had her sleeves rolled up like she''d come looking for a fight. Valen was sitting cross-legged in the corner, letting the wind ruffle his hair like it owed him something. Luneth stood alone, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. Then there was Jack. Of course he was there. Lindarion didn''t acknowledge him. He didn''t need to. Jack had that kind of presence¡ªloud without speaking, smug without smiling. ''Maybe if I ignore him hard enough, he''ll combust or something.'' Sera arrived in the middle of a shouted laugh. "Alright, you soft-fingered spell flingers!" she boomed. "This is basic combat. That means no spells, no threads, no mana flexing¡ªnothing. Just bones, breath, and bruises. If you''ve got a pretty face, say goodbye to it again!" Cassian raised a hand. "Do we get insurance?" "Do I look like a healer to you?" Cassian put the hand down. Sera clapped her hands once. The sound cracked like a whip. "Pair off!" ''Again..'' Lindarion didn''t move. He didn''t need to. Because Jack was already walking toward him. ''Oh, for the love of¡ª'' Jack stopped a few feet away. Arms loose. Not a smile, not a word. Just that insufferable, permanent I-know-something-you-don''t look on his face. "I''m not interested," Lindarion said flatly. "You''re not my type," Jack replied coolly. "But you''re the strongest in the room. Unfortunately." Sera glanced over. "You two? Fine. Try not to kill each other." "Can''t make promises," Jack murmured. They stepped into the circle. No bow. No greeting. Just tension. Lindarion exhaled. ''Let''s get this over with.'' ¡ª Jack moved first. No jab. No test. Just a straight punch to the throat¡ªsharp and fast. Lindarion ducked, swept left, and jabbed a knuckle into Jack''s side. The hit landed, but Jack didn''t flinch. He just twisted into a rising elbow that nearly clipped Lindarion''s chin. They broke apart. Reset. Around them, the others had mostly stopped fighting. Watching now. Jack stepped forward again. Clean footwork. Crisp strikes. ''He still isn''t bad.'' But Lindarion saw the pattern immediately. Every step Jack made had intention¡ªbut no unpredictability. He was skilled, precise, talented. But he wanted to win. Lindarion didn''t care about this. He wanted Jack to miss. And he did. Lindarion sidestepped another punch, pivoted smoothly, and slammed a palm into Jack''s shoulder, sending him stumbling. Jack recovered fast¡ªbut his smirk was gone now. "Still playing defensive," he said under his breath. "You ever going to hit like you mean it?" "I don''t need to," Lindarion replied. "You''re doing a fine job embarrassing yourself." Jack lunged. A low feint, followed by a high knee meant to disorient. Lindarion turned with it, caught Jack''s leg mid-air, and shoved upward. Jack flipped¡ªclean, almost graceful¡ªand landed hard on his back. The dust kicked up. Lindarion didn''t offer a hand. Sera''s voice cracked across the field. "Point. Sunblade." Jack lay there, teeth clenched, staring up at the sky like it had insulted him personally. Lindarion turned away without a word. But just before he stepped out of the circle¡ª "You''re lucky I like the rules of this place," Jack muttered. Lindarion paused. Glanced back over his shoulder. "No," he said. "You''re lucky I''m letting you walk." ¡ª As the others resumed sparring, Lindarion stood near the edge of the yard, arms crossed, ignoring the occasional glance. Elara was arguing with Vivienne about form. Cassian was dragging Nikolai through an overly dramatic retelling of his last fight. Valen and Rowan were both bleeding from the lip and not talking about it. And Jack? Jack was standing off to the side, jaw tense, wiping dust from his sleeves like it mattered. Sera barked from the center of the yard. "Tomorrow¡ªgroup duels. Three on three. And yes, you''ll be able to use mana, but if you channel like an idiot, I''ll break your fingers myself." Lindarion sighed. ''Just another day in paradise.'' ¡ª Lindarion stepped through the double-arched threshold into the third-year threading chamber and felt the shift immediately¡ªlike slipping into a pool with no ripples. There were already a bunch of students scattered throughout the room, but no one spoke. Not to him. Barely to each other. They didn''t need to. The silence was the test. Sleek polished stone underfoot. A wide, empty training platform at the center. No instruction posted. No warm-up drills. Just dummies¡ªmore advanced than the ones first-years trained with. These weren''t practice models. These were calibrated for pain. ''Guess this is the part where they pretend not to stare.'' They didn''t. Not really. But he felt it all the same. Third-years leaned on walls, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. Some pretended he wasn''t even there. Others glanced, blinked once, and returned to their thoughts like he''d already been evaluated and shelved. Only one person gave him a second look. Darius. The boy from last time. Tall, way sharper now. Nodded once. Lindarion returned it. That was enough. "Third-year threading enhancement," a voice barked from the far entrance. Instructor Kaelen strode in, expression flat as a blade. His coat was half-unbuttoned, and the left glove of his glowed faintly¡ªalready activating. He didn''t stop walking as he spoke. "Pairs today. No formations. No mana shields. Thread only. If your construct ruptures, you pay the cost." That got a few twitches. Kaelen''s gaze swept the room. Passed over everyone. Landed on Lindarion¡ªand didn''t move. "Sunblade. With me." ''Why me?'' Murmurs. Soft, sharp, and immediate. Kaelen didn''t give them time to linger. He strode to the center platform and flicked his fingers once. A high-grade dummy shimmered into shape beside him¡ªsleek black plating, dense runic inlays carved into its chest and limbs. "A single-thread command," Kaelen said, voice even. "No affinities. Just show me your control." Lindarion stepped forward, palms loose at his sides. His mana pulsed once. Threading was different here. The ambient pressure, the watching eyes, the tension of being too young in a room of those who hated reminders. ''Good.'' He liked it better this way. His thread spun from his fingers¡ªfine, bright, shimmering like a hairline fracture in space¡ªand lashed out. Not to attack. To rewrite. He looped the thread once through the dummy''s center, and twisted. It paused. Locked. Then shuddered violently. Kaelen''s eyes narrowed. The dummy began to twitch¡ªsubtle shifts in its joints as if its own balance system had been confused. Then its right arm dropped. Useless. Deadweight. Lindarion''s thread retracted cleanly. Kaelen didn''t speak for a moment. Then, simply he said. "...Again." ¡ª The rest of the session blurred into strain and repetition. Kaelen gave no praise. Just sharp commands and impossible corrections. The third-years rotated partners. Some of them were good. Most weren''t. Lindarion wasn''t tested much. But he noticed the way their attempts at threading always pulled a fraction wide. How their control slipped the moment Kaelen increased ambient pressure in the chamber. How they all overused elemental syncs to stabilize their constructs. He never said anything. He just watched. And when Kaelen summoned the final test dummy¡ªa tier-three reactive model designed to counter threading attempts in real time¡ª Lindarion didn''t hesitate. He stepped into the circle. His thread moved once. Only once. And the dummy collapsed inward¡ªlike its joints had forgotten they were meant to be solid. Kaelen stared at the result for a full three seconds. Then turned away without a word. But the tension in the room shifted. This time, they looked at Lindarion. Not just the third-years. Not just Darius. Everyone. He was no longer the first-year who had been placed here. ''Finally.'' He was the first-year who belonged here. ¡ª He slipped his gloves back on, adjusted the hem of his collar, and walked out of the threading chamber before anyone had a chance to try speaking. The moment he was past the threshold, the weight in the air lessened. Only slightly. ''Kaelen didn''t say a word. Which means I did something right. Or very wrong.'' He didn''t particularly care which. The corridor outside was cooler, quieter. He could feel his mana beginning to settle again. His thread was still tingling faintly beneath his skin, like it hadn''t quite let go of the construct it''d dismantled. ''Should probably check for strain later. But...'' He flexed his fingers once. ''Doesn''t feel like strain.'' It felt like precision. And something else. A shift. Not in power. Not in control. In perception. They had seen him. Not just as a skilled first-year. Not as a noble. Not as a Sunblade. As a problem. And the academy didn''t forget problems. ''Great. That''ll be fun.'' He rounded the corner toward the outer hall¡ªand stopped. The blonde elf was there again. Leaning against a pillar like a statue, arms crossed. Not in armor this time, but something close¡ªa sleeveless training tunic, silver trim, the mark of the Eastern Line stitched into the shoulder. His expression lit up like a sunrise. "Your Highness," he greeted, straightening immediately. Lindarion stared. "...I told you to stop that." "I only bowed slightly this time." "You didn''t bow. You beamed." The elf grinned unapologetically. "Was it too much?" "It''s always too much." The elf stepped forward. "I saw what you did in the chamber." "I figured. I felt you watching." The elf didn''t deny it. He offered a sharp nod instead, like a soldier affirming a mission''s success. "I''ve studied that tier-three dummy myself. Took me four separate attempts to disable the arm. You did it in one motion." "Lucky thread." "That was not luck," he said firmly. "That was royalty." Lindarion pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please don''t say things like that in public." The elf cleared his throat. "Forgive me. I am Cael''arion of House Ardran. I forgot to introduce myself earlier." "I noticed." "I''ve been tasked with observing you discreetly." "That''s not what discreet means." Cael''arion looked genuinely baffled. "Am I not being discreet now?" Lindarion blinked slowly. "...You greeted me by shouting my full name and title in the middle of the hall." Cael''arion''s ears drooped slightly. "Ah." A pause. "...Would now be a good time to offer myself as your training partner again?" "No." "...What about your second in duels?" "Also no." Cael''arion''s expression fell just a fraction. "Then perhaps I could at least escort you back to your dormitory." "You''re trying to turn this into a knighthood quest, aren''t you." "No," Cael''arion said, straight-faced. "I''ve already accepted that quest." Lindarion sighed. But for some reason... he didn''t walk away. Instead, he started walking toward the archway. After three steps, he glanced sideways. Cael''arion was walking beside him, perfectly in step. Not hovering. Not talking. Just there. Lindarion didn''t stop him. But he did mutter, "If you ever start calling me ''my liege,'' I''m threading your mouth shut." Cael''arion smiled faintly. "Understood, Prince." Lindarion didn''t correct him. He just kept walking. Chapter 101 101: Invasion (1) The academy halls were quieter in the late afternoon. Not quiet¡ªjust quieter. That particular kind of hush where footsteps echoed a little more than they should and conversations seemed to flatten out midair. Not many students wandered these back corridors unless they were lost or trying to avoid someone. Lindarion walked in silence. Cael''arion walked beside him, somehow managing to look both regal and apologetic at the same time. ''It''s like traveling with a decorative wall. If the wall kept offering to duel people on your behalf.'' They passed the edge of the eastern corridor, where a few lower-year students were still huddled over their alchemy notes, whispering. One of them looked up as they passed¡ªeyes widening at the sight of Cael''arion''s crest. The elf didn''t react. Lindarion, on the other hand, made a mental note to start using side exits. ''At this rate I''m going to start appearing in rumors I didn''t even participate in.'' They crossed the outer plaza, sunlight slanting across the stones in long amber lines. "Do you prefer a specific sparring schedule?" Cael''arion asked, voice polite. Lindarion didn''t look at him. "Do you prefer rejection delivered in song or stabbing?" "I can arrange both," Cael''arion said sincerely. ''He wasn''t kidding. He really has no filter.'' Lindarion slowed near the dormitory steps. A familiar shape stood near the railing¡ªVivienne, flipping through a leather-bound training log, arms crossed, eyes sharp. ''Ah. Of course. The watchdog returns.'' Vivienne looked up. Her gaze flicked to Cael''arion. Then back to Lindarion. She raised an eyebrow. "You make a habit of collecting knights now?" "He just keeps following me," Lindarion said. "Like an extremely honorable fungus." Cael''arion placed a hand on his chest. "It is my sworn duty to¡ª" "No," Lindarion said immediately. "Stop that." Vivienne sighed. "Should I be concerned?" "Not unless he starts quoting ancestral poems." "I have several prepared," Cael''arion offered helpfully. Lindarion turned toward him. "Cael. Go run laps or something." "...Yes, Prince." And just like that, the elf turned and walked briskly toward the southern field, his expression proud. Like he''d been given a command by the divine. Vivienne watched him leave, slowly blinking. Then turned back. "What was that?" "A fan," Lindarion muttered, pushing open the dorm door. "A fan with a battle record?" "A fan with a blood-debt." Vivienne followed him inside. "You''re collecting more problems than assignments." "Maybe if people stopped trying to measure me, I wouldn''t need to keep breaking their rulers." Vivienne cracked a small smile at that. "Nyx would''ve liked that one." "I''ll make it my epitaph." They reached Lindarion''s room. The air inside was cool and still¡ªundisturbed. Lindarion stepped into his room first. The door swung open with a faint creak¡ªwood too old to be elegant, too stubborn to be replaced. Vivienne followed him in without waiting for permission. As usual. She tossed her notebook onto his desk like it lived there, then leaned against the bookshelf with the kind of casual confidence only someone with diplomatic immunity¡ªor royal blood¡ªcould get away with. ''At this point, I don''t even know if this is still my room.'' Lindarion slipped out of his uniform jacket, folded it once, and placed it over the back of the chair. His movements were efficient. Quiet. Almost mechanical. Vivienne watched him the whole time. "You''re being watched," she said, finally. "I''m always being watched," Lindarion replied. "That''s what eyes are for." "Not like that." She didn''t look amused. "Threading. Hand-to-hand. Now Kaelen''s giving you personal instructions." ''And yet I can''t even be alone in my own room. Fascinating.'' "I''m in advanced placement now," he said. "I should get a crown and a private bath at this point." Vivienne gave him a look. "You should get used to them trying to break you." "I already am." He said it too quickly. Too easily. And they both knew it. Vivienne''s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn''t press. Instead, she looked toward the window¡ªwhere a shaft of light slanted in through the dust-smeared glass and stretched across the desk. "This school doesn''t like outliers," she said. "It''s built to grind them down until they''re either consistent or gone." ''Then it''s going to have a bad year.'' Lindarion turned away from her and lowered himself onto the edge of his bed, fingers steepled lightly beneath his chin. Then¡ª The floor shuddered. Just once. A low, grinding tremor that passed through the soles of his boots and into his spine like a whisper from something buried. Vivienne straightened. "What the¡ª" Another pulse. This one stronger. The desk rattled. The bookshelf creaked. The glass on the window began to hum. Lindarion stood in one smooth motion, gaze narrowing. "Earthquake?" he muttered. Vivienne had already moved to the door, cracking it open to peer into the hallway. Several other students had emerged¡ªwide-eyed, murmuring, bracing against the walls. Somewhere down the corridor, a light fixture had come loose and shattered on the floor. Then¡ª The third tremor hit. Not subtle. Not mild. This one roared. A violent ripple tore through the floorboards, splitting a hairline fracture up one of the dormitory walls. Lindarion''s mana core immediately surged¡ªreflexive, instinctual. Vivienne gritted her teeth. "That''s not normal." "No," Lindarion said quietly. "It''s not." Something deep underground was moving. Alive. And whatever it was¡ª It wasn''t done yet. ¡ª The silence that followed the tremors didn''t feel like silence at all. It felt like a held breath. A pause in a sentence the world forgot how to finish. Lindarion stood near the cracked frame of the dorm window, watching as a flock of birds¡ªusually settled near the northern spire¡ªshot off in every direction like something had screamed at them. ''Birds don''t flee for fun.'' Across the hall, doors slammed open. Students spilled out in varying states of confusion¡ªhalf-dressed, barefoot, still holding textbooks. Someone muttered that a classroom had collapsed. Someone else said it was an enchantment mishap. No one knew anything. Vivienne''s voice cut through the haze. "Lindarion." He turned. Her arms were crossed, jaw tense. "Something''s wrong." ''Understatement of the year.'' He nodded once. "Where?" "Don''t know. But the wards are going up." She gestured out the window¡ªsure enough, thin threads of mana were beginning to rise across the academy''s perimeter. A shimmering dome of security, the kind that only deployed during high-level emergencies. Not drills. Not accidents. Real threats. ''So much for a quiet week.'' The distant bells began to ring¡ªfour tones. That wasn''t the class change. That was the lockdown. And not the polite kind. "Come on," Vivienne said, already stepping into the hallway. "If they''re sealing the towers, we need to be in the main courtyard before¡ª" Another tremor hit. Harder. Not a quake this time. A sound. A low, guttural boom from somewhere deep below, like the earth had hiccuped. Dust rained down from the ceiling beams. Someone screamed. ''That wasn''t natural.'' He turned sharply. And that''s when he saw it¡ªout beyond the far edge of the dormitory lawn, near the edge of the training field. A rupture in the ground. Wide. Uneven. And glowing faintly. Faint red light spilled out from the split earth, like blood from an invisible wound. Something was pushing through it. Something slow. Vivienne stopped cold beside him. "That''s..." But she didn''t finish. Because just then¡ª A figure emerged from the light. Tall. Armored. And definitely not a student. The mana around it cracked like old glass¡ªfractured and pulsing with wild, unstable resonance. The kind that screamed invasion. Lindarion didn''t breathe. Didn''t blink. He didn''t need to. Because the truth was obvious. This wasn''t a test. This wasn''t a drill. This was the part of the story where things stopped pretending to be normal. This was going to be a horror show. ¡ª The sky hadn''t changed. That was the worst part. It still looked normal. Still wore the same indifferent blue, cloudless and wide¡ªlike it hadn''t just watched the world split open at the seams. Lindarion kept his eyes on the armored figure. The light around it didn''t pulse with arcane discipline¡ªit flickered, unrhythmic, like a dying star refusing to go quietly. ''Who the hell attacks an academy full of nobles?'' It made no tactical sense. Unless you weren''t here for a victory. Just a message. He turned as more boots pounded the hallway behind them. Cassian burst in first¡ªout of breath, crystal mana humming faintly across his skin like it had flared too early and too clumsily. "I felt that quake from the east towers," he gasped. "Is this part of the curriculum or did I miss a memo?" Elara skidded in right behind him, sleeve torn, eyes wide. "Please tell me that was a training illusion." "It''s not," Vivienne said, short and sharp. Rowan rounded the bend next, flanked by Valen, who was strangely calm in that unsettling way people are right before they break. Nikolai stumbled in last¡ªpale, confused, and clinging to the wall like the floor might vanish beneath him. Lindarion scanned them all. No armor. No prep. No weapons beyond ceremonial blades and mana cores barely woken up from nap mode. They weren''t ready for this. None of them were. Jack arrived last, of course¡ªbecause the universe had a sense of humor and he liked to be dramatic. His coat was half-buttoned, his hair messier than usual, but his eyes were sharp. "You all seeing what I''m seeing?" he asked. Lindarion didn''t answer. Didn''t need to. Because a second armored figure was now rising from the rupture. Then a third. Chapter 102 102: Invasion (2) A fourth figure pulled itself from the glowing wound in the ground. Then a fifth. Then two more. And none of them looked like they were in a hurry. That was what made it worse. They weren''t charging. Weren''t sprinting. They just walked. Slow. Heavy. Deliberate. Like they already owned the place. Like there was no one left worth rushing for. Lindarion counted eight of them. Eight shapes, plated in armor not forged from any metal he recognized. Not elegant or enchanted. Crude. Dark. Burnt around the edges like they''d clawed their way out of some forge that didn''t believe in rest. "Still not a training exercise," he said flatly. Jack took a step forward, hand hovering near his belt. "Where are the professors?" "Probably figuring out what just tore through the foundations," Vivienne said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of her voice. Valen exhaled slowly. "We should evacuate. Courtyard''s the safest open zone." Cassian nodded quickly. "Yeah. Yeah. That sounds smart. Open spaces. No ceilings to fall on us. Love that. Big fan of not dying." "No one said anything about dying," Elara snapped. Cassian pointed at the rupture. "They did." The courtyard was already filling with other students now¡ªhundreds of them, crowding into the open lawn with wide eyes and shaking hands. No formation. No order. Just a mass of confusion and youth dressed in uniforms that definitely weren''t made for dying. Mana flickered everywhere¡ªclumsy barriers, half-formed shields, glowing runes of sorts and sparking attacks failing midair. It was like watching a play fall apart mid-scene. ''This is ridiculous...'' Lindarion''s steps were steady as he moved into the open. His classmates followed. Not because he said anything¡ªbut because everyone else had stopped thinking and started watching. And in the absence of certainty, people watched the ones who didn''t flinch. "You''re calm," Vivienne muttered beside him. "I''m angry," he said. "I just don''t show it like Jack." "I heard that," Jack said from behind him. "Good." A sharp boom echoed from the western gate. A blast of mana. Green-white and unfocused. One of the older students had tried to strike the advancing invaders. Tried. The blast connected¡ªbarely¡ªbut the nearest armored figure didn''t stop. It just turned its head. Then raised its arm. And the student vanished, leaving a bloody splatter behind. No explosion. No scream. Just gone with a red pool. The space where they stood folded in on itself, like reality hiccuped. The courtyard erupted. Screams, panicked mana discharges, students fleeing in all directions. It was chaos now. A full stampede. "Move!" Lindarion said. "Where?" Rowan barked. "There''s nowhere left to¡ª" "There!" Lindarion pointed to the eastern side of the yard¡ªtoward the shielded staircases leading into the northern tower. "Reinforced structure. Tight bottleneck. They can''t outmaneuver us in there." Jack didn''t argue. That alone meant something was wrong. Valen led the charge, slicing wind through the crowd to clear a path. Nikolai pulled two second-years out of the way as Elara shouted orders that nobody listened to, but at least sounded confident. Cassian turned and lobbed a crystal burst behind them¡ªjust enough to knock over a statue and block the main path. Not a defense. A delay. They reached the base of the tower stairs. Mana cracked overhead. Lindarion turned. One of the armored figures had broken off from the others. It wasn''t chasing the crowd. It was walking toward him. Jack swore under his breath. "What did you do?" "I can''t catch a fucking break," Lindarion said, his mouth twitching. The figure raised its hand. For a moment, the air distorted. Pressure built¡ªtoo fast, too sharp. Vivienne moved instinctively¡ªmana flaring, fire searing into shape at her palm¡ª And then¡ª BOOM. The air tore open between them and the attacker. A streak of golden light slammed into the figure''s chest and knocked it backward twenty feet¡ªright into one of the stone walls, which cracked on impact. Dust exploded outward. And there, landing with absurd composure, came Cael''arion. Still upright. Still calm. His blade drawn¡ªnot glowing, not flashy. Just ready. "I was halfway through lap twelve!" he said. "Do you require assistance, Prince?" Lindarion blinked once. Then sighed. "What a heroic entrance," he muttered. "Yes I do." Cael''arion smiled faintly. "Then I shall help the prince!" ¡ª A low screech tore through the air¡ªlike steel dragged across a fault line as more and more figures kept emerging. The downed figure, the one Cael''arion had struck, rose slowly. Its armor smoked at the edges, but its head tilted with mechanical calm, gaze zeroed in on one target. Lindarion. ''They''re definitely not here for the school.'' Another of the armored invaders turned to face him. Then another figure rose. All breaking formation. All heading straight for him. Cael''arion moved to intercept, but Lindarion raised a hand. "Cover the others." "But¡ª" "I said cover them!" There was no time to argue. [Phantom Step] The world blurred. Lindarion vanished from the spot, reappearing ten meters forward, dust curling where his boots landed. The nearest invader lunged. He raised a hand. [Mana Thread Manipulation] Thin golden lines erupted from his palm, threading through the air like spider-silk. They wrapped around the attacker''s arm. Twisted. Pulled. The limb ripped backward with a crack of sundered metal¡ªbut the creature didn''t scream. It didn''t even stop. Another advanced. ''The hell?'' Lindarion''s core thrummed. Mana coiled at his fingertips. [Mana Shot] The bolt struck the creature square in the helm, snapping its head sideways. But again¡ªno blood. No falter. "They''re not alive," he muttered. Vivienne was shouting behind him, dragging second-years back toward the stairs. Cael''arion held the flank, blade singing with every parry. Lindarion''s mind moved faster than his feet. ''These things don''t bleed. They don''t tire. They only seem to follow orders.'' Orders that targeted him. He narrowed his eyes. ''Then who gave the order?'' A third figure lunged. Lindarion surged forward, a blur of movement and strikes. Each blow left an afterimage. Each afterimage left dents in armor. He ducked a counter-swing¡ªrolled beneath another¡ªand struck a palm flat against the creature''s chest. [Pure Mana Shield] The blast was point-blank. The invader was launched across the field, slamming into the stairwell''s pillar hard enough to splinter stone. The fourth creature didn''t hesitate. It raised a hand. The air warped. And Lindarion''s knees buckled as gravity itself turned inside out. Reality pulsed around him like a wounded thing. [King''s Command] His voice rang out like a bell¡ªclear and absolute. "Fall." The invader staggered. Then dropped. Kneeling. Not dead. But paused. Bound. The others twitched¡ªlike something resisting the order had clawed at their cores. Blood began to drip from Lindarion''s nose. He didn''t wipe it away. Didn''t blink. ''Where the hell is old man Thalorin?'' The thought stabbed him harder than any enemy blade. The man who could save all of them with ease. The only one who would never let this happen. ''So where the hell is he?'' Another tremor shook the earth. No¡ªsomething else. The central tower flared with mana. But it was unstable. Raw. Like something that had been ripped open from the inside. Vivienne''s voice, distant and strained. "Lindarion!" One of the kneeling invaders twitched. Then lunged again. Faster. Too fast. The creature''s strike curved midair¡ªmissing him by an inch and slamming into the ground instead. He pivoted. Drove an elbow into the back of its helm. It crumpled¡ªbut didn''t stay down. There was no more time. [Realmwalker] The air bent around him. And the shadows of an unseen invisible empire stretched out across the courtyard. The temperature seemed dropped. The noise faded. A domain unfolded¡ªcold, ancient, and patient. Here, in this place, he was not a student. He was the heir of a forgotten throne. And his enemies were trespassing. ¡ª They stopped marching. The moment Lindarion''s domain settled over the field¡ªevery armored figure froze. Not by choice. By instinct. As if some ancient part of them remembered what it meant to stand before a king. And they didn''t like it. [Thronebearer] The lesser-willed students nearby collapsed to one knee, not in worship¡ªbut fear. The domain was too heavy for those untrained in resisting presence. Jack''s jaw clenched. Vivienne threw up a barrier of fire to protect the students around her still breathing. Only the invaders moved forward. Slowly. Like they were testing it. "I said fall!" Lindarion repeated. His voice echoed across the domain. Three of them dropped. Four more twitched. But the eighth¡ªlarger than the others¡ªstepped forward. Unaffected. It raised one hand. Reality rippled. Then cracked. Lindarion turned just as something tore through the air behind him¡ªspace unraveling like paper. A rift, spiraling inwards, latched around his legs like it was alive. [Phantom Step] He moved half a step¡ª ¡ªand the pull wrenched him backward. He didn''t teleport. He was dragged. ''I''m fucked.'' "A trap," he breathed. The domain shuddered. Vivienne''s scream cut through the noise. "LINDARION!" He reached for his blade however it was futile. Too slow. A blade, glowing with a sickly green hue, shot forward¡ª Cassian threw himself into its path. The impact was sickening. The force sent him crashing into the courtyard wall. Crystal fragments burst from his ribs. He didn''t move. "Cassian!" Lindarion turned, rage flaring¡ª And the rift behind him snapped shut. Gone. He wasn''t in the courtyard anymore. The last thing they saw was his eyes, still glowing with light¡ªbefore the world swallowed him whole. And the courtyard fell silent. The invaders disappeared without a trace, as space rippled where they were supposed to stand. The students were left behind. Breathless. Wounded. Bleeding. And most of all¡ªafraid. Because no one¡ªnot even the highest-born among them¡ªhad any idea where Lindarion Sunblade had just been taken. Or who would dare to take him. Chapter 103 103: Prisoner (1) The battlefield didn''t scream anymore. It whispered. Boots crunched on broken stone. Mana still clung to the air like fog too proud to leave. The courtyard was hollowed¡ªless a place of safety and more a mausoleum made too early. Luneth stood in the center of it all. Ice affinity had its uses. She didn''t sweat. Didn''t panic. But even now, even with her mana cooling the space around her into a still mist, her fingers twitched once. Just once. That was enough to be a problem. Across the courtyard, Cassian lay curled beside the scorched edge of a statue. His leg was bent wrong. Too much blood. Not enough sound. But he was breathing. ''He''s fine. Or close enough. I think.'' Vivienne was kneeling beside him, coat shredded, fire-imbued sparks still humming faintly at her fingertips. She wasn''t speaking. Just holding pressure against the wound. Valen stood motionless a few feet away, face unreadable. The wind didn''t even move around him. ''He''s too still,'' Luneth thought. ''Like he''s waiting for something else to go wrong.'' And in the center of it all¡ªempty air. Where Lindarion had been. Luneth''s jaw clenched. She had seen the moment. The flicker. The tear in space that snapped shut around him like the mouth of a beast that knew it wouldn''t have to chew. He''d fought back. Of course he had. But it hadn''t mattered. There were too many of them. And Lindarion was still just a kid. Luneth didn''t like losing variables she couldn''t predict. Especially not the ones who stared at monsters like they were mildly inconvenient essays. Footsteps behind her. Precise. Measured. Sharp enough to be deliberate, but not loud enough to be disrespectful. Luneth turned before the voice came. Professor Nyx. At last. ''What took her so long?'' Her robes were wind-swept, black-gold with a crystalline trim that shimmered faintly. Her staff was already glowing, lines of layered sigils burning down its length. And her expression¡ª Not surprised. But far, far from calm. "Report," Nyx said flatly. Luneth didn''t bow. She didn''t salute. She just answered. "They took him." Nyx''s gaze sharpened. "Who?" "We don''t know. Eight figures. Armor. Unknown material. Their mana... was wrong." "Wrong how?" "Like they didn''t care about anything at all," Luneth said. Nyx''s eyes flicked toward the rupture. The glowing edge was already gone¡ªbut the scar in the stone remained. A fracture where the world had been bent in the wrong direction. "And the others?" Nyx asked. "Elara''s upstairs. Nikolai''s still helping with evacuations. Jack''s bleeding but pretending he''s not. Cael''arion went after the gate breach with a few third-years. Vivienne''s... busy." "And you?" Luneth paused. Then answered, "Waiting for something else to go wrong at this point." Nyx didn''t smile. She never did. But something in her expression changed. "Good," she said quietly. Then she turned her staff toward the fracture¡ªand the ground beneath it rumbled again. A containment ward bloomed into place, ancient script burning into the courtyard stone. Not a healing measure. Not a repair. A seal. Nyx didn''t look up as she spoke again. "Find the others. Tell them to regroup. The Headmaster has not responded to any of our calls." Luneth''s breath caught. ''Thalorin is missing too?'' She didn''t ask the question. Nyx had already moved on. "And Luneth," Nyx added without turning. "If you have anything else to say, now would be the time." Luneth''s gaze flicked once more toward the empty air where Lindarion had vanished. "...He wasn''t the one who provoked them," she said. "I know," Nyx replied. And then, as if that ended the entire conversation, she pressed her palm against the sigil¡ªactivating a new ward so old it hadn''t been used in centuries. Luneth didn''t wait for further orders. She turned. And walked toward the others. ¡ª The first thing he noticed was the silence. Not quiet. Silence. The kind that wasn''t an absence of sound¡ªbut the presence of something else. Something that swallowed noise before it reached your ears. Lindarion opened his eyes slowly. No blinding light. No dramatic chains. Just a dimly lit room with a ceiling made of black stone that didn''t reflect anything, not even thought. ''Well. That''s new.'' He sat up. His muscles responded sluggishly, like they''d been asked to attend a meeting they hadn''t prepared for. Whatever sedative they used, it didn''t last long. He moved to stand¡ªand stopped. Not because he was restrained. But because the room moved first. A low hum rippled beneath the floor. A shifting, grinding sensation¡ªlike the space had rotated without warning, and gravity was pretending not to notice. "Some kind of a spatial prison...?" he muttered. He was in a cell. Not a prison cell. Something older. More careful. There were no windows. Just a single door. And even that looked... theoretical. The kind of door that only opened if it liked you. Lindarion flexed his fingers. His mana wasn''t sealed. That was interesting. Too interesting. ''Either they''re very confident, or very stupid.'' He stood carefully. [Mana Perception] The air around him shimmered faintly. He reached out¡ªnot physically, but magically¡ªprobing the shape of the room. A dome, half a sphere sunk beneath something impossibly dense. The walls were reinforced¡ªnot just magically, but conceptually. The room didn''t just keep people in. It made them forget how to leave. His threads flicked out. [Mana Thread Manipulation] They curled against the edges of the room like feelers. Nothing responded. No pressure triggers. No hidden sigils. No echoes. ''Not a prison then. A message.'' The door clicked. Not opened. Clicked. Like a tongue being readied behind a toothy smile. Then it opened. Slow. And a figure stood in the threshold. Not armored like the ones before. Not visibly armed. Just tall. Cloaked. Their face was veiled by a fabric that shimmered in place¡ªlike it didn''t like being looked at for too long. "Lindarion Sunblade," the voice said. Soft. Not human. Not elven. Something in between. He didn''t answer. Didn''t blink. Didn''t move. The figure stepped inside. "You''re not what we expected." He tilted his head. "I get that a lot." Silence. The figure moved closer. Their presence didn''t hum with mana. It buzzed. Like static in a room full of broken gods. "Your core resisted full tethering," they said. Lindarion didn''t respond. Because that hadn''t been a question. "You are being studied," the figure added. Finally, he exhaled. "What the hell do you actually want from me?" No answer. The figure stopped three paces away. "You are not bound. Not because we can''t. But because we want to see what you''ll do." ''Honest. Arrogant. This guy is definitely dangerous...'' That was three things too many. Lindarion took a breath. Focused. He didn''t activate a skill. Not yet. But his core pulsed once. A quiet, defiant heartbeat as his aura was released. The figure didn''t even flinch at all. Not even the tiniest bit. Even though it was as if the temperature had changed. As if something ancient had opened its eyes behind Lindarion''s own. "You don''t know what I''ll do," he said quietly. "That''s why I''m still breathing." The figure didn''t move. Didn''t blink. Just turned. And walked out. The door stayed open. And this time? It was an invitation. A test. And Lindarion hated tests. ¡ª The hallway didn''t look like a hallway. It looked like a thought someone tried to build but forgot how doors worked halfway through. The walls stretched too high and too narrow. The stone was black, but not obsidian¡ªnot anything he could name. And the air wasn''t air. It was¡ª ¡ªthick. Like he was moving through the space between dreams. Lindarion didn''t speak. Didn''t ask where the man had gone. Because it didn''t matter. He was still being watched. ''Every time people give you freedom, it''s not a gift. It''s a mirror.'' He walked anyway. Because staying meant submission. And he was allergic to that. The corridor bent. Not curved¡ªbent. Angled at degrees no architect should have allowed. Every few steps, the floor shifted slightly beneath him, like it had to remember which direction "down" was. No guards. No wards. Nothing. That was worse than traps. At least traps meant someone was afraid of you. Eventually, he reached a platform. Circular. Elevated. Floating¡ªnot above ground, but above something that churned far below in silence. The void beneath wasn''t black. It was deeper. More final. A pedestal rose in the center. Upon it¡ª ¡ªa blade. Thin. Sleek. No hilt. Just a single edge forged from a color that didn''t belong in this world. Iridescent black. Like light trying to flee and failing. [Insight] The skill seemed to activate automatically. Pain stabbed behind his eyes. Too much. Too fast. He staggered back a step, exhaling sharply. ''It''s not a weapon.'' It looked like one. But it wasn''t made for battle. It was made for some kind of proof. And someone¡ªsome thing¡ªwanted him to touch it. "Take it," said the voice from earlier. Not in front of him. Behind. Lindarion didn''t turn. "I''m assuming you have a good reason for leaving some kind of an ancient artifact unsealed in the middle of your aesthetic nightmare of a prison." No answer. He stepped forward. Paused. Looked down at his hand. Then reached. Chapter 104 104: Prisoner (2) Lindarion didn''t touch the blade. Didn''t move. Didn''t blink. He stared at it for a long moment, then let his hand fall back to his side. "I''m not taking it." His voice didn''t echo. Because this place didn''t allow echoes. It absorbed them. Like it ate sound the same way it swallowed light. Behind him, the veiled figure didn''t speak. Didn''t scold him. Didn''t try to change his mind. It just waited for a while then turned and left without ever saying a word again. The moment they vanished, the platform beneath Lindarion pulsed once. That was all the warning he got. The world snapped sideways. Like being yanked backward through a tunnel he hadn''t seen. One blink. Then¡ª SLAM. He was back in the same cell as before. The walls were the same. The unnatural black stone. The humming silence. The fake door that wasn''t a door. He was back where he started. Only this time, his legs buckled. He caught himself before he hit the floor¡ªbut just barely. ''So that''s how they''re going to play it.'' He exhaled slowly through his nose. No injuries. No mana taken. Just fatigue. Artificial. Designed to remind him that saying no wasn''t free. That sword had been real. That offer, even more so. And whoever was running this show wasn''t interested in convincing him. They were collecting data. Testing thresholds. "What happens when you say no?" he muttered under his breath. "Apparently, you get a round trip..." The cell didn''t respond. Of course it didn''t. Lindarion sank down against the wall, spine to stone, arms resting loosely on his knees. He wasn''t panicking. He didn''t have the time. Instead, he reviewed. Eight armored figures. Spatial extraction. A blade that reacted to him specifically. An entity that wanted something replaced. And the most important question still unanswered. ''Where is Headmaster Thalorin?'' Because if even he hadn''t shown up during a direct assault, then something worse was happening behind the curtain. Something far bigger than a kidnapped prince. Lindarion tilted his head back and stared at the black ceiling. "I''m going to kill whoever put me in here," he said calmly. Then he closed his eyes. And waited. Not for rescue. Just for the next piece of the game to show itself. ¡ª Lindarion sat up slowly. His back ached. Ribs worse. No visible damage, but pain bloomed like old ink across his skin. He wasn''t restrained. Again. Still not comforting. They were confident. That was the part he hated most. ''If they were amateurs, they''d overplay their hand. Panic. Show weakness. But this?'' This was deliberate. The walls didn''t hum. They watched. A room made not just to hold him¡ªbut to wait. Then the door opened. No preamble. Just space, unfolding. Beyond it¡ªa new room. Warm lighting. Polished floors. Velvet armchairs. A lounge designed for diplomacy, not torture. And people. Six of them. All strangers. Some masked. Some not. All powerful. He could feel it. In how none of them reached for weapons. In how none of them looked surprised to see him. They had names. Faces. Histories. And then¡ª The man at the end of the room spoke. "Welcome, gentleman." Lindarion paused mid-step. Not because he recognized the voice. But because he didn''t. It wasn''t anyone he knew. Not a professor. Not an agent. Not one of the nobles with too many titles and not enough spine. Just a man behind a long desk. Tall, composed, dressed in a pressed vest and black tie. His hair was slicked back neatly, a porcelain-white mask covering his face. Eyes calm. Smile hidden. Voice warm. Almost friendly. "Who are you?" Lindarion asked. The man tilted his head. "Does it matter?" "It will." One of the others laughed softly. A blade spun between their fingers, idle. The man behind the table chuckled. "So formal. Even now." "You kidnapped me," Lindarion said flatly. "Formality is generous." "True," the man allowed. "But we were gentle, were we not?" No one else in the room reacted. No flinches. No shifts. They''d had this conversation before¡ªwith other people. Which meant this wasn''t personal. It was a job. That made it worse. "Why am I here?" Lindarion asked. The man reached under the table and placed a file on the table in front of him. His gloved hand tapped the name on the front. Typed. Neat. Like a re?sume?. "We''ve been watching you," the man said. "Your progress. Your potential. Your pattern." "And?" "And we''re still deciding." Lindarion stared at the folder. Didn''t reach for it. Didn''t move. "What is this place?" "A test," the woman in white said. "A doorway. A culling." The cloaked figure near the wall didn''t speak, but they tilted their head. Like they were listening for something no one else could hear. "I don''t know any of you," Lindarion said slowly. The man gave a small bow. "That is, perhaps, why you''re still breathing." That wasn''t comforting. It was a warning. A different man¡ªbroad shoulders, too many rings¡ªsighed. "Why are we wasting time? He''s not ready." "We said we''d let him see," the woman countered. Lindarion''s eyes narrowed. "See what?" The man smiled beneath the mask. "Choice." He gestured. A blade appeared on the table. The same one as before. Still humming faintly. Still pulsing like it had a heartbeat that didn''t belong to it. Lindarion didn''t step forward. Didn''t reach for it. Didn''t speak. After a long pause, he said one word. "No." The man tapped his gloved fingers once. Twice. Then turned away. "No is fine," he said. "No is honest." He snapped his fingers. And the world bent. ¡ª Lindarion hit the stone again. However this time his hands and legs were sealed. He was in the same cell. Same silence. Aline again. Except now¡ª He knew this wasn''t about ransom. This wasn''t about power. This was about recruitment. And he''d just failed the first round. But the worst part? He still didn''t know who they were. And they knew everything about him. ''I''m fucked.'' ¡ª The cell wasn''t cold anymore. It was something worse. Warm. Still. Oppressive. The kind of heat that didn''t come from fire but from breath. Breath too close, too long, too familiar. ''What do I do..'' Lindarion''s hands were bound at the wrist¡ªeach tether sealed with layered spell rings that sapped movement without cutting circulation. His legs had been similarly dealt with. The room had no corners, no shadows to retreat into. A dome of polished stone, lit by a single floating crystal above. There was no clock. But time passed anyway. The door opened. No warning. No footsteps. Just an open door and a man in a mask stepping inside with the poise of someone entering a theater. "Good evening, gentleman." His voice was calm. Pleased. That same tone nobles used when congratulating each other for surviving social suicide at a formal dinner. He wore a well-pressed black vest over a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. A long, bone-handled case swung loosely in his grip, bumping against his thigh like a satchel full of casual cruelty. ''Fuck this guy.'' Lindarion didn''t speak. He didn''t even have any idea what to say at this point. This all felt like a fever dream. The man crouched before him, set the case on the floor, and unlatched it with a click. Inside was a toolkit. Not surgical. Not enchanted. Just tools. A hammer. A branding spike. Pliers. A jagged rod etched with looping glyphs. A flask of something that hissed when uncapped. A long iron needle¡ªlonger than his forearm. The man selected the hammer first. "You''ve been very quiet, gentleman. Admirable." No response. The man smiled behind the mask. You could tell by the way his voice curved upward. "But silence doesn''t help me learn, you see. And I do so like to learn." He tapped the hammer gently against Lindarion''s knee. Once. Twice. Then drove it in. Bone cracked. ''FUCK!'' Lindarion''s jaw clenched. His spine arched, breath exploding out of his lungs¡ªbut still no scream. "Hm. You''re going to make this quite difficult." He set the hammer down. Picked up the needle. The runes along it pulsed faintly. Not from mana¡ªbut from use. "Do you know what this does, gentleman?" He didn''t wait for an answer. The needle slid into the flesh below Lindarion''s collarbone. Not deep. Just enough to rest between nerve clusters. Then the runes activated. Lindarion''s body convulsed. Electricity. Cold fire. Agony that didn''t scream so much as crawl across the inside of his skin like rats under glass. "You can''t pass out," the Gentleman said conversationally. "That''s the enchantment. Fascinating craftsmanship, really. You''ll stay quite awake." The pain didn''t stop. He turned the needle. The burning followed. "You see, your core resisted binding. That''s very impressive. Dangerous. Curious." He leaned forward slightly. "So we''ll see if it resists exposure." ''Fucking hell...this is hell.'' Lindarion''s mouth tasted of iron. He''d bitten his tongue. Blood ran down his chin and dripped to the floor. The Gentleman watched it like a man watching wine stain silk. Then he pulled the needle out¡ªslowly. "Now then," he said, withdrawing the flask and pouring a few drops of the hissing liquid onto the still-bleeding spot. Lindarion screamed. "AAAAAAAAH!" Finally. His voice scraped out like a blade across tile. Not from the wound¡ªbut from the way the liquid didn''t burn. It hollowed. It stripped mana from the tissue. Raw, ragged strands of his affinity ripped loose and writhing before disappearing into the air like ash. "Ah. There you are." The man smiled again. It was audible. "This many affinities? My, my. What an inheritance. You are way better than we thought!" He stood. Wiped the needle clean on a white handkerchief that had never seen sin before today. Chapter 105 105: Prisoner (3) The room was too small for how many of them were crammed into it. Stone walls. Dim light. One long table. No professors. No staff. No adults. Just them. The first-years. Luneth stood with her back to the wall, arms crossed, one foot pressed lightly against the baseboard like it could help her think faster. She didn''t speak. Not yet. Cassian sat in the corner, leg outstretched, wrapped in three layers of crystal-treated bandages. His shirt was torn, the color gone from his lips. "...I should''ve done more," he said. "No one could''ve," Nikolai mumbled, hunched on a stool like he was trying to disappear into the wood. "He told us to run." "And we did," Rowan muttered. "Like cowards." Valen said nothing. He hadn''t since they got back. Elara was pacing in slow, sharp circles. Jack leaned against the table, one arm across his chest, jaw tight. Vivienne was seated in the far corner, eyes shadowed. She hadn''t spoken since they entered. Luneth finally exhaled. "He''s gone." The words dropped like iron in water. "He was taken," she continued. "We all saw it. And whatever those things were¡ªthey weren''t trying to kill us. Only him." "Which means this wasn''t an attack," Rowan muttered. "It was a capture." Cassian rubbed a shaky hand through his hair. "He fought. Gods, he fought. I saw him burn one of them straight through the chest." "They didn''t even flinch," Nikolai whispered. Silence. Elara stopped pacing. "Where the hell was Thalorin?" That got a reaction. Jack straightened, finally. "That''s what I want to know." "There''s no way he didn''t sense that level of mana rupture," Valen said quietly. "Even if he were asleep. Even if he were drunk." "He''s not," Vivienne said. They turned. Her voice was hoarse. Rough around the edges. "He doesn''t sleep much. And he doesn''t drink. He''s been preparing for something all year." She paused. Swallowed. "If he''s missing..." "...Then we''re on our own," Luneth finished. The room went still again. First-years. That''s all they were. Kids in tailored uniforms. However Lindarion? Lindarion had been the constant. The weird constant, sure. The arrogant, too-smart, too-poised-for-his-age constant who walked like he had already seen the ending and just hadn''t told anyone yet. Now he was gone. "Do we... wait for the professors?" Cassian asked. Jack scoffed. "For what? A briefing on how to write his obituary?" "Enough," Luneth said. The cold in her voice was worse than her affinity. "No one''s dying yet." She looked at each of them in turn. Valen, unreadable. Elara, furious. Rowan, restless. Cassian, ashamed. Nikolai, terrified. Vivienne, still burning from something no one could touch. Jack... unreadable. And herself. Frozen. She hated not knowing. Hated not understanding the variables. But they were here. And Lindarion wasn''t. So she did what she always did. Focused on what she could control. "First," she said, "we figure out if he''s still alive." That was the only thing they could hope for now. A hypothesis. A maybe. And Luneth would prove it one way or another. ¡ª There was no plan. That was the problem. No professors. No headmaster. No orders. Just the slow rot of silence filling the academy like mold behind walls. Luneth hated rot. "Let''s start from the beginning," she said. "Again." Cassian groaned from his corner. "We''ve already gone over it four times¡ª" "Then five won''t kill you," she snapped. He didn''t argue after that. Across from her, Jack leaned back in his chair. One foot propped up, arms folded. Pretending he was relaxed. He wasn''t. Vivienne just stared at the table. "Elara. Timeline," Luneth said. Elara exhaled through her nose, cracking her knuckles like the facts offended her. "Four minutes after the first tremor, the invaders came through the rupture. Eight of them. No visible mouths, no insignias, no vocal commands. They just moved around like dolls." "Targeting Lindarion," Rowan added. "Like hounds on a leash." "They ignored everyone else unless directly provoked," Elara continued. "One student cast a barrier. It was bypassed. Another attacked. Erased. Not killed. Just¡ªgone." "Which means spatial displacement," Luneth muttered. "Or total annihilation. Neither is good." Jack''s voice cut in, drier than sand. "You''re welcome for the commentary, by the way." Luneth ignored him. "Nikolai," she said. He startled slightly. "Y-yes?" "Energy signature?" He hesitated. "I... I didn''t feel a specific affinity. Not really. It was¡ªloud. Like a hundred sources clashing. And unstable. I tried to isolate the frequency but it slipped. Like it didn''t want to be recorded." Cassian blinked. "The mana didn''t want to be recorded?" "Don''t look at me like that," Nikolai mumbled. "You didn''t see it." Silence stretched again. Luneth tapped the table twice. "So what do we know?" "They came for him," Vivienne said quietly. "Not to kill. To take." "And we let them," Jack added. "You missed that part." "I didn''t miss anything," Luneth said flatly. The fire in her voice wasn''t heat. It was pressure. Controlled. Focused. "None of us were strong enough. That''s not an insult. It''s math." "We saw him activate his domain," Valen said finally, speaking up for the first time in minutes. "It covered the courtyard. It warped the pressure. He wasn''t stalling. He was trying to end it." "And it still wasn''t enough," Elara finished. That landed heavier than anything else. A moment passed. Two. Then Luneth stood. "I''m going to the Arcane Records wing." Jack raised a brow. "You want to browse historical library stacks while our classmate''s probably being¡ª" "Yes," she cut in. "Because someone built that teleportation method. Someone crafted armor that ignores ambient mana interference. Someone tested these things." "And?" "And records leave residue." She pulled her gloves tighter. Mana pulsed faintly beneath her skin¡ªcold, steady. "If I can isolate the spatial fluctuation signature," she said, "I can trace the fragment paths. There may still be residue left in the stone." Nikolai blinked. "You mean you want to track them by mana echo?" "Exactly." "That''s... insane. You''d have to overlay a reverse-thread through a distorted fracture line. If you mess it up¡ª" "I won''t." It wasn''t arrogance. Just fact. She looked at the others. "I''m not saying we can bring him back. Not today. Maybe not ever." Cassian shifted. "But we can find out who took him. And where. And why." Jack tilted his head. "And what if we find out more than we want to know?" Luneth turned to the door. "Then we adjust the equation." And with that, she walked out. No fire trailing behind her. No rousing speech. Just footsteps. And intent. ¡ª Time didn''t pass in this place. It peeled. Like skin. Lindarion didn''t know how long he''d been left hanging¡ªarms suspended by a thread of mana too precise to be physical, too cruel to be magical. It burned without leaving marks. It compressed nerves without rupturing them. Whoever had made it wanted him conscious. His right shoulder was dislocated. Left knee twisted inward at the wrong angle. One rib¡ªmaybe two¡ªwere cracked. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Thinking hurt. The only thing that didn''t hurt was giving up. Which meant he hadn''t done that yet. The door didn''t creak when it opened. It never did. Just a gentle sigh of air, followed by the soft echo of polished shoes. That smell¡ªleather oil and herbs¡ªalways came first. Then the voice. "Good evening, Sir Lindarion." The man never raised his tone. He didn''t shout. Didn''t threaten. He just acted like this was all a conversation over wine. As if tying a child to a floating rack of force-threads was a matter of refined taste. "I''ve brought something new for you today," the man said, setting something on the table. Click. Metal on wood. Not a whip. Not chains. Something finer. "Have you ever seen a mana conduit filament, Lindarion?" ''How much time has passed...'' He didn''t answer. He couldn''t. His throat was raw from the last hour. "Fascinating things," the man continued, lifting a thin silver coil no thicker than a hair. "Normally used in advanced mana relay cores. But when applied correctly..." He moved forward. Lindarion tried to brace for it. That was a mistake. The filament slid under his fingernail. He didn''t scream. ''It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.'' His back just arched with a sharp convulsion, and he nearly blacked out. "Ah, yes. I thought we''d finally hit the pain threshold." The man pulled something else from the tray¡ªa tool like surgical pliers, but shaped to turn the thin wires once inserted. The second filament went into the next nail. And then the next. He reached the fourth before Lindarion''s body started convulsing too much to hold. The entire cell had been wrapped in some kind of a field¡ªno suppression, just perfect stabilization. Enough to keep Lindarion''s core awake, but not functional. It was surgical. Cruel in its efficiency. "You''re a fascinating puzzle, young prince," the man said, wiping his gloves clean. "You endure too much, too early. I wonder who you learned that from." ''Someone save me...'' Lindarion''s head dropped. His lips were trembling. Not from weakness. From restraint. He wasn''t crying. Not yet. He was trying not to say anything. Not to speak. Not to scream. Not to beg the man. That was the last thing they hadn''t taken. "You think this is cruelty, Lindarion," the man said. "But it''s just... adjustment." He turned to the tray again. This time, a small blade. Sleek. Thin. Coated in a viscous blue liquid that shimmered like condensed mana poison. "Let''s see how you hold up under organ targeting." Chapter 106 106: Prisoner (4) The blade lowered toward his abdomen. Lindarion closed his eyes. He didn''t pass out. That was the worst part. His body wouldn''t let him. Every nerve that should have fried itself quiet¡ªreconnected. Every reflex that should have died¡ªreset. The blade slid in just beneath his ribs, smooth and deliberate, until it reached something important. The deepest parts of Lindarion. The man didn''t dig. He twisted the thing. And the mana inside Lindarion''s core screamed. But Lindarion didn''t. His body jerked against the restraints, veins glowing faintly under the strain of interrupted mana flow. Somewhere inside, his Core was thrashing¡ªlike a caged animal trying to rip its way out of him just to breathe. Then¡ª A quiet click. The blade was withdrawn. Blood ran in a clean line down Lindarion''s stomach, pooling in his lap. It wasn''t a mortal wound. Not yet. That wasn''t the point. "Still silent," the man mused. He knelt so they were eye-level. "You know, I''ve broken men five times your age with less than this. Generals. Princes. Mages." Lindarion''s eyes opened slowly. Not defiant. Just awake. Just watching. The Gentleman tilted his head. "And yet here you are. Bleeding. Trembling. And still pretending you''re not scared." ''Not pretending,'' Lindarion thought dimly. ''Just... too tired for fear at this point..'' His fingers twitched. Barely. There wasn''t much he could move. He couldn''t use his skills. His limbs were locked down by binding thread matrices. Every inch of him was burning, drowning, twitching with delayed response signals. But the man just smiled. As if this were a casual evening recital. "You don''t hate me yet," he said. "That''s interesting." ''I do fucking hate you.'' Lindarion''s lips were cracked. He could barely breathe. But his voice¡ªwhen it came¡ªwas dry. Hoarse. Quiet. "You will die.." The man blinked. Then laughed. It wasn''t cruel. That would''ve been easier. It was genuinely delighted. "A perfect answer, gentleman. A perfect answer." He stood again, his gloves slick with blood. "Do you know why I''m doing this?" Lindarion didn''t answer. Didn''t care. The man didn''t seem to mind. "Because your core isn''t stable. Not entirely. You''re... fractured. Like something was wedged inside that doesn''t belong. You think it''s yours. It isn''t." His voice lowered. "That''s why the seal broke when we brought you in. Why the containment fields keep glitching around you. You weren''t made for one world, were you?" Lindarion''s head lolled to the side. He was still listening. Just not acknowledging. "I''m going to find out what you are," the man said. "And when I do, we''ll rebuild you. Better. Honest." He moved to the tray again. Picked up something long and gleaming. An iron rod¡ªno, a channel spike. "Next, we''re going to talk about your affinities." The spike sparked blue. Mana rippled along its edge, shaped for puncture resonance. Lindarion knew what it was. It wasn''t made to kill. It was made to interrupt. Force a mana core to overload. To miscast. To unravel. ''If he stabs me with that while I''m channeling...'' His thoughts didn''t finish. The spike drove in. Just under the collarbone. And for the first time¡ª Lindarion screamed. Not long. Not loud. But enough. His aura flared once¡ªinstinctive, panicked¡ªbefore collapsing into itself. Too much raw disruption in the core. The lights above flickered. The Gentleman looked satisfied. "You''ll get used to the pain," he said gently. "That''s what all gentlemen do." Then he turned. And left. No guards. No words. Just the hum of mana seals reactivating. And Lindarion, bleeding, breath rattling, mana spasming in his limbs, hanging alone in the dark. This wasn''t a test anymore. It was dismantling. Piece by piece. ¡ª The chamber was austere¡ªstone walls devoid of ornamentation, a long table at its center surrounded by high-backed chairs. Generals of the city''s defense forces occupied these seats, their expressions a mix of concern and skepticism. Nyx stood at the head of the table, her posture composed, eyes scanning the room. The recent incursion had left the city on edge, and the absence of Lindarion, a key figure, only exacerbated the tension. "We face an unprecedented threat," Nyx began, her voice steady. "The entities that breached our defenses were not random aggressors, they executed a targeted operation with precision." General Thorne leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "Are you suggesting an internal compromise?" Nyx met his gaze. "I''m suggesting that our current protocols are insufficient. The enemy exploited weaknesses we were unaware of." Murmurs spread among the generals. General Elizia, known for her strategic acumen, tapped her fingers on the table. "What do you propose?" Nyx produced a schematic, projecting it onto the table''s surface. "We need to recalibrate our defense matrix, focusing on adaptive response mechanisms. Additionally, we must initiate a comprehensive audit of our internal systems to identify potential vulnerabilities." General Malik raised an eyebrow. "And what about the prince? Lindarion Sunblade?" A brief pause. "His retrieval is of outmost importance. However, we must ensure the city''s stability to support any recovery efforts." The room fell silent, the weight of the situation settling over its occupants. Nyx''s gaze remained unwavering. "We must act decisively. Our response will determine the city''s resilience against future incursions." The generals exchanged glances, the gravity of the moment evident. General Elizia nodded slowly. "Then let''s proceed." ¡ª The final sigil dimmed on the projection slate. Silence settled across the table¡ªnot hesitation, but the kind that came after decisions were made and before consequences arrived. Nyx exhaled through her nose, slowly. Controlled. Not tired. Never tired. She gathered the rest of the schematic, flicking the pieces into storage with a twist of her mana. "Then you''ll begin reinforcement along the northern districts. General Elizia¡ªyour mages are to triple-seal the astral corridor near the Spire Archives. If there''s a breach point there, it won''t remain open again." Elizia nodded. "Already dispatched a team. Quietly. No public statements." ''Good.'' The last thing they needed now was panic. Or worse¡ªcuriosity. Across the table, General Thorne leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. "And what of the royal family?" he asked. "Surely they''ll take the boy''s disappearance as an act of provocation." "Not ''take,''" Nyx said evenly. "They already have." That silenced the room again. She continued before anyone else could try threading theory from panic. "Their message arrived an hour ago. They''re demanding answers. And blood." "Whose?" Nyx tilted her head slightly. "That''s what I intend to find out." General Malik frowned. "You''re not suggesting someone in the faculty¡ª" "I''m suggesting someone let them in," Nyx said. Not loud. But enough. "Whether it was a weakness in the wards, a blind spot in surveillance, or a lapse in discipline¡ªit doesn''t matter. There''s no version of this attack that succeeds without help." General Elizia''s fingers tapped again. A beat slower now. "And the headmaster?" No one asked it aloud. But they all thought it. Where is he? Why hasn''t he returned? Why did Thalorin vanish the same moment the boy was taken? Nyx stared down at the faintly flickering seal at the center of the table. It had stopped moving twenty minutes ago. She didn''t lie. She didn''t answer either. Instead, she shifted the conversation with purpose. "We have three priorities," she said. "Containment. Control. And contingency." "And the fourth?" Elizia asked softly. Nyx met her gaze. "Hunting." ¡ª Fifteen minutes later, Nyx stepped out into the moonlit corridor alone. Her boots echoed on the polished blackstone. Students and soldiers alike avoided her path. Not out of fear¡ªbut precision. She passed three sets of enchanted doors, four silent sentinels, and one boy who hadn''t stopped shaking since the evacuation. She didn''t stop. She didn''t slow. Because she knew what waited at the end of the hallway. Because some truths couldn''t be said out loud¡ªnot even to generals. Not even to herself. Nyx stepped into her office and sealed the door behind her with three layered locks and a fourth no one else knew how to break. She stood there for a long moment, unmoving. Then whispered, "Activate personal relay." The wall lit up. A pale cube of condensed light unfolded in front of her. It pulsed. Then flickered into shape. A face. Sharp features. Pale eyes. Robes etched in sigils from a language long gone. Thalorin. He wasn''t smiling. He never did. "You know," he said calmly, "you shouldn''t have woken this channel." "You shouldn''t have disappeared during an invasion," Nyx replied. A pause. Thalorin tilted his head. "I didn''t disappear," he said. "I was taken. Briefly." Nyx''s fists clenched behind her back. "And now you''re fine." "No," he said. "I''m just not dead." Another pause. He added, "They weren''t after me." "I know," Nyx said. "The boy¡ª?" "Gone. But alive." Thalorin exhaled. "Then it begins." Nyx''s voice lowered. "Did you see who led them?" A longer silence. Thalorin''s gaze flicked to something off-screen. Then, quietly, like a priest muttering a curse. "The Man did." Nyx''s mouth thinned. She didn''t speak for a long time. Then. "So the pieces are moving again." "They never stopped," Thalorin said. "We just forgot how to look." The cube dimmed. Connection severed. Nyx stood in the dark, surrounded by shelves of old grimoires and a thousand unspoken wars. And in the silence that followed, she whispered the name once more. Not as a title. But as a warning. "The Man huh?" Chapter 107 107: Prisoner (5) Pain stopped being pain after the second hour. It became architecture. The kind of structure your body started organizing itself around when nothing else made sense. Bones were now furniture for agony to drape itself over. Nerves sang like pulled harp strings. Skin? Mostly decorative. Lindarion lay curled against the far wall of the cell. Not because he chose to. Because there was nowhere left to go. His breathing came in uneven pulls. Shallow. Controlled. The kind that rationed oxygen because anything deeper would mean moving something he hadn''t catalogued yet. His thoughts felt distant. Not slow. Just... filed. He''d learned early that pain wanted to be loud. It wanted center stage. But if you made it wait its turn¡ªif you made it share the room with your thoughts¡ªit lost its teeth. Barely. The air still smelled like iron and burnt mana. His own, probably. His fingers twitched reflexively, the phantom memory of restraint still wrapped around them. No chains. No ropes. Just tools. Real ones. Blades with serrated edges that whispered across bone. Instruments that didn''t glow, didn''t hum¡ªjust cut. And the voice. The one behind the mask. The man. The same man as always. Always polite. Always smiling beneath words that tasted like vinegar. "Pain, young prince, is not the enemy," he had said. "It''s the translation." Lindarion hadn''t responded. Not once. He didn''t give him the lines he wanted. No screams. No questions. Just breath. Measured. Efficient. The kind he still had control over. But control didn''t mean intact. He couldn''t move his left arm. Shoulder joint partially dislocated. Ligaments shredded. The needles had gone in deepz His core was sealed. Partially. Not through mana suppression. Through something worse. Understanding. They''d mapped it. Whoever they were. They''d studied the structure of his threadwork, the rise and fall of his affinity waves, and found a way to interrupt¡ªnot block, just interrupt¡ªthe harmonics his spells required to stabilize. He could still feel his mana. He just couldn''t touch it. That was what made it worse. That was what made it torture. Not the blades. Not the fire. Not the hollow needles dipped in something that smelled like melted copper and childhood fear. The waiting. He hadn''t said a word. Not even when the man had asked. "Tell me," the voice had whispered near his ear. "Where do the shadows go when you sleep?" A joke. A threat. Or something in between. Lindarion hadn''t answered. He still wouldn''t. Not even now. Not even as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth in slow, methodical taps onto the blackened floor. It wasn''t symbolic. It wasn''t noble. It just was. Time passed. He wasn''t sure how much. Hours? A day? The lights in the ceiling didn''t shift. There were no changes in temperature. No guards. Just the door. Closed. Not locked. That was part of the test too. He was supposed to break first. Then crawl toward the threshold like a good little project. Lindarion shifted, finally. Sat upright¡ªbarely¡ªusing the wall as his spine. And exhaled. Carefully. Slowly. ''You want me to play your game...'' he thought. ¡ª The surveillance chamber was elegant in a way that never invited comfort. Polished marble floors. Curved ceiling lined with thin veins of glowing aetherstone. One wall entirely covered in silent illusions¡ªeach one a window to a different room, cell, or monitored site. The cell at the center of the array¡ªthe one on screen six¡ªshowed a boy sitting against a wall. Barefoot. Bloodied. Breathing, barely. Lindarion Sunblade. The man stood with his hands folded neatly behind his back, mask in place. Gold-trimmed porcelain. Smiling. Always smiling. "Three hours," he said softly. "Twenty-three tools used. Six mana distortions. No confession. No breakdown. No emotional spikes large enough to suggest mental collapse." He tilted his head slightly. "Impressive." Around the room, the others stood or lounged in silence. Not quite a council. Not quite friends. Just predators with a shared project. To his left, a woman in ink-black armor tapped her gauntlet against the glass¡ªonce, like punctuation. Her voice was low, dry. "You broke a noble heir in half that time." "I did," the man agreed cheerfully. "But this one isn''t just a noble. He''s a variable." A tall man in blood-red robes chuckled from the corner. "You always say that." "I''m usually right." The masked man closest to the man¡ªshort, broad, and unmarked by insignia¡ªcrossed his arms. "The boy''s resisting even passive resonance. You''re losing time." "I''m learning," the man corrected. "If I needed results, I would''ve cut him into syllables by now." He took a few steps forward. Hands still behind his back. Calm. Clean. Clinical. On the screen, Lindarion shifted again¡ªbarely perceptible¡ªbut not unconscious. Not broken. Just quiet. Still thinking. The Gentleman loved thinkers. "His core refused our dampening field," he continued, voice still warm. "That wasn''t a miscalculation. That was intentional instability." "Cursed?" asked the woman in black. "No," the man replied. "Worse. Taught. Or perhaps born with it." He tapped the screen once. "Do you see what I see, gentlemen?" The others glanced at each other. No answers. The man didn''t expect one. He moved to the table in the center of the chamber¡ªset with files, relics, dissected magical tomes, and one elegant bottle of dark wine that no one dared touch. He picked up a thin, rune-stamped folder and opened it. A record. | Lindarion Sunblade, Void, Blood, Astral, Lightning, Fire, Divine, Darkness, Time, Water, Ice | "It shouldn''t even be possible to possess this many affinities, yet alone so many special ones." The woman raised an eyebrow. "You think the boy''s a vessel?" "No," he said. "Worse." A long pause. Then, finally, the man in the red robes asked the real question: "Then what is he?" The Gentleman looked at the screen again. The boy hadn''t moved. But his eyes¡ªthose eyes were open. Watching. Alive. "He''s an answer," the man said simply. "We just haven''t asked the right question yet." Another beat. The masked woman finally asked, "And if he breaks?" The man''s smile never wavered beneath the porcelain. "Then I''ll build something better out of the pieces." He turned to the others. "But for now¡ªno more blades. Let''s try the old ways. Memory pressure. Fabricated illusions. Feed him a shadow of the truth and see what sticks." "You''re going to push him into madness." "No, no," the man replied lightly. "We''re going to push him into remembering." He tapped the screen again. "Now... let''s see what else our little prince forgot to tell us." ¡ª The discussion shifted like air pressure before a storm. They stood around the table as the Gentleman spoke of illusions, memory pressure, and restraint. Restraint. It was not a word this room enjoyed. The man standing across from him¡ªa brute of a thing, half-burnt from some ritual long passed, face half-covered by a jagged steel mask¡ªlet out a grunt that was almost a laugh. "You talk like he matters," the brute said. "Like this little princeling is some missing piece of the puzzle. He''s not. He''s a tool. And tools break." The room didn''t move. It didn''t need to. The tension shifted one degree. The kind of shift only men who dealt in death could feel. "I say we carve the secrets out," the brute continued. "We''ve gotten what we need. His aura signature. His blood. The map of that core. It''s enough. Burn the rest and erase the variable." No one responded. The masked woman blinked, slow and unimpressed. The red-robed man didn''t even look up from the file in his hand. But the man? The leader? He smiled. Still. Of course. He stepped forward once. A single, graceful step. "Gentleman," he said calmly, "what''s your name again? I always forget the small ones." The brute stiffened. "Zareth," he growled. "Sector Four. You put me in charge of¡ª" "Yes. Of cleaning blood off the tiles." The man nodded thoughtfully. "And you''ve done it well, truly. But I must''ve forgotten the part where I gave you permission to speak above your position." Zareth''s hand twitched near his belt. Not for a weapon. For leverage. Mana coiled at his shoulder¡ªsomething primal, burning. He was going to fight. Which meant he was going to die. "I said," Zareth growled again, "we should kill the¡ª" He didn''t finish. There was no flicker. No flash. Just a blur. Then silence. Then Zareth''s body slumped sideways, very gently, and slid down the far wall with a wet sound that didn''t match the quiet elegance of the room. His head hit the floor last. Still attached. Barely. Blood dripped in perfect rhythm. Five drops. Then a pause. The man turned, wiping the edge of a thin, curved blade that hadn''t been in his hand a moment ago. "I detest being interrupted, especially by small ants." he said softly. No one spoke. He placed the blade back onto the table. Clean. Unscratched. He looked back towards the cell. The boy hadn''t moved. Still breathing. Still watching. "You don''t kill variables," the Gentleman said, voice calm again. "You measure them. You pressure them. You find the limits." "And then?" the red-robed man asked. "Then," the Gentleman said cheerfully, "you make them yours." He clapped once. Crisp. Efficient. "Clear the corpse. Reset the chamber. Tell the Hallucinator to begin Phase Three." Chapter 108 108: Speech The courtyard held silence like a breath caught too long in the lungs. The sun was high, but the usual warmth of its light didn''t reach the crowd. Rows upon rows of students filled the marble-lined amphitheater at the heart of Evernight Academy. Every student stood beside each other, each dressed in their respective uniforms, pressed and clean¡ªbut none of them looked untouched. They carried bruises. Cracked boots. Stained coats. And in their eyes¡ª Fear. And worse. The absence of understanding. Professor Nyx stepped onto the elevated dias without fanfare. No enchantment to amplify her presence. She didn''t need it. She had silence, and that was louder than anything magic could offer. She stood tall in her black and silver robe, shoulders square, the tip of her crystal-forged staff gently tapping the stone beside her. "I will speak plainly," she said. No formal greeting. No ceremony. Just five words. Clear. Cutting. And they echoed. Hundreds of heads turned. Hundreds of breaths held. "I will not speak to you today as a professor," she said, her voice carrying easily. "Nor as a member of this faculty, or even as the Deputy Warden of the perimeter." She lifted her chin. "I will speak to you as someone who stood here once. As someone who wore the same crest, bled on these same stones, and believed¡ªfoolishly¡ªthat this school was invincible." That word¡ªinvincible¡ªhung for a beat too long in the air. "I owe you the truth," she said, quieter now. "All of it." She turned slightly, not addressing the crowd, but the school behind her¡ªits towers still standing, its windows intact, its spires untouched. "Thalorin Evernight, Headmaster of Evernight Academy, has vanished. We do not yet know how. We do not yet know why. And that, more than his absence, is the threat we now face." She let that sink in. Watched as shoulders tensed. Hands clenched. One younger student whimpered, quickly silenced by the elbow of an older peer. Nyx looked back to them. No sympathy in her gaze. Only clarity. "He is not dead. That much I believe. His binding to the academy''s central ward has not collapsed. His name still echoes through the Nexus Line. But he is gone. Removed. He was interfered with." The word interfered rolled off her tongue like something she despised the taste of. "And while that wound is fresh," she continued, "we must also acknowledge the one closer to home." Now her voice dropped. "Lindarion Sunblade. First-year. Elven royalty. Advanced placement." A pause. "He was taken." No explanation. No lies. And that was worse. Some students gasped. Others didn''t. Many had already heard rumors. The worst kind of truth¡ªquiet, unspoken, half-swallowed. "He was targeted," she said, louder now. "We don''t know by who. We don''t know for what. But eight figures breached the perimeter. Not just students were attacked. Entire towers were destabilized. Senior mages were injured. Wards¡ªwards woven by the Archons themselves¡ªwere broken." Her voice didn''t waver, but her hand gripped the staff tighter. "They came for him. And they succeeded." There was no applause. No stirring of pride. Only the sound of too many people holding their breath. Nyx took one more breath. Then¡ªfinally¡ª "I failed you." The words fell like a blade through the silence. "I failed all of you," she said. "Every student here. Every teacher who stood on these grounds. Every ward that should''ve held, every alarm that should''ve rung¡ªfailed." "I was not there when I should have been. And while I cannot give you answers yet, I can give you this¡ª" Her voice surged with arcane resonance. Not magic. Just purpose. "You will not be abandoned." She stepped down from the platform. Slowly. One step at a time. "This academy will not close. It will not hide. We will not pretend this didn''t happen. You deserve better than cover-ups and silence." A murmur stirred among the older students. Third-years. Fourth. Even the fifth-years¡ªthose preparing for military deployment post-graduation¡ªlooked uncertain. "I am declaring a state of armed wardship across all academic divisions," Nyx said. "Every student, regardless of year, will be briefed on combat protocol. You will be assigned emergency partners. You will be trained for what''s coming. Because this¡ª" She gestured at the cracked earth where Lindarion had vanished. "This is not over." She let the silence settle again before continuing. "There will be fear. That''s inevitable. But you will learn how to survive it. And if you cannot hold a weapon¡ªthen you''ll learn how to carry one for someone else." Her gaze moved across the crowd¡ªsection by section. No one was spared. She saw Jack Valerian standing tall beside a pale-faced Rowan. She saw Luneth in the back row, arms crossed, jaw tense. She saw Elara, visibly scuffed but alert. She saw too many children made old in one day. "I won''t tell you this school is safe," Nyx said, final now. "It''s not." "But I will tell you this. We are not prey." A ripple ran through the crowd. Not loud. But felt. "You may leave the courtyard. Group assignments will be posted by evening bell. Until then, stay together. Help each other. Speak only truth. And above all¡ª" Her eyes hardened. "Do not waste your fear." And with that¡ª She turned and walked back toward the towers. The courtyard remained quiet. But this time, it wasn''t from fear. It was the quiet of too many people choosing not to cry in public. ¡ª The infirmary smelled like antiseptic and failure. Not the kind of failure people mourned. The quiet kind. The kind that curled up behind curtain folds and lingered beneath blood-damp sheets. The kind that didn''t need a name to be remembered. Luneth stood just inside the door. She hadn''t knocked. Cassian laid on the far cot, half-sat up against a raised cushion, his chest heavily bandaged, the white of the wrappings already tinged pink where the healing had failed to take completely. ''He got lucky,'' Luneth thought. ''Which means the rest of us got unlucky.'' A healer passed her on the way out. The woman didn''t speak¡ªjust gave Luneth a tight nod and vanished behind a velvet curtain. Cassian looked up. His face had none of the usual spark. No crooked grin. No exaggerated wince. Just the slow, steady rise of someone who had spent hours staring at a ceiling and still hadn''t found the meaning in it. "You here to give me last rites?" he asked. "Don''t tempt me," Luneth said, crossing the room. He let out a faint breath that might''ve been a laugh. She didn''t sit. Just stood beside the cot and looked down at the bandage wrapped around his chest, the discoloration climbing his shin like an oil stain that hadn''t made up its mind yet. "How bad?" she asked. "Muscle rupture. Bone fracture. Minor mana contamination." "Minor?" "For now." She nodded. Slowly. "Will you walk again?" He raised his brows. "Luneth. I got hit with some kind of an from another dimension. And I lived. I''d say the leg is negotiable." She didn''t smile. Didn''t even twitch. Just stared at him. Cassian shifted. "...Yes. Eventually." Luneth looked at the table beside him¡ªnotes, half-folded diagrams, a worn-out charm someone had dropped during treatment. She picked it up. Held it between two fingers. Then set it down again. "You shouldn''t have turned back," she said. "Neither should you." "I didn''t." Cassian gave a faint snort. Luneth''s voice didn''t change. "You tried to cover for him. You almost died." "So did Lindarion." Silence. He looked at her. She looked away. Cassian leaned back against the headboard and exhaled. "...Sorry. That was¡ªcheap." "No," Luneth said. "Just accurate." He tilted his head. She didn''t elaborate. Didn''t need to. Because that moment still lived in both of them. Lindarion. Surrounded. Vanishing. Cassian had been the one closest to the breach when it began. He''d been the one who yelled for the others to run while his threads ignited with too much mana and too little precision. He''d flung in front of the strike that was aimed at Lindarion and caught the side of a wall. It could''ve ended there. But it hadn''t. That was the problem. It hadn''t. "You blame yourself?" he asked after a pause. "No," Luneth said. He blinked. "Really?" "I don''t have that luxury." Cassian studied her. She didn''t break. She never did. But there was something different now. Something cracked just beneath the frost. She finally sat¡ªon the edge of the next cot, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. "I don''t know what happens next," she said. He blinked again. "That''s the first time I''ve ever heard you say that." She nodded. "First time it''s been true." Cassian turned toward the ceiling again. "We''ve been talking about battle formations and mana efficiency like we were already ready. Like we just needed the right gloves and the right spell set." "We weren''t." "No," he said quietly. "We weren''t." Another silence passed between them. More fragile this time. Luneth finally spoke again. "They''ll expect you to sit out." "I know." "You should." He didn''t answer. She turned her head. "Cassian." "I said I know." She stared at him. And saw it now. The stubbornness. The fear trying to wear armor. The uncertainty tangled up behind bravado that had finally been stripped too thin. "Don''t be an idiot," she said. "Too late." She sighed. It was quiet. Barely audible. But it was the closest thing she''d come to sounding human in days. "I''m not asking you to quit," she said. "I''m asking you not to turn this into penance." Cassian swallowed. Then looked away again. Luneth rose. Turned toward the door. "You were brave," she said. He flinched. That did more than any blade could. "Just don''t die trying to prove it again." She didn''t wait for an answer. Just left. The door closed softly behind her. And in the room filled with healing wards, Cassian laid very, very still. Because it turned out¡ª Being brave felt a lot worse after. Chapter 109 109: Planning (1) The cell was darker than before. Not because the light had changed. Because something in him had. Lindarion lay motionless on the floor. Not asleep. Not unconscious. Just still. The stone beneath him was cold. Slick with blood that no longer bothered to clot. Some of it was his. Not all of it. The taste of copper coated the back of his throat like something spilled and never scrubbed clean. A single thread of red still ran from his split lip to the floor, curving across his chin like punctuation. A period at the end of a sentence that no one had the nerve to finish. His right shoulder was dislocated. His ribs were cracked¡ªat least three, maybe more. His wrist was broken in two places. ''...Two tools ago,'' he thought, distantly. That part of his mind¡ªthe one that catalogued injuries like class assignments¡ªwas still working. Everything else? Felt like static. His hands twitched. Once. A flicker of motion like his nerves were still checking in. [Mana Perception] The skill activated on instinct. No mana fields. No traps. No pressure changes. But the residue was still here. The Man had left it behind. Not just the scent of blood and the slow, deliberate monologue. But his presence. The kind of presence that filled a room long after the door had closed. ''He doesn''t think of himself as a torturer,'' Lindarion thought. ''He thinks he''s a craftsman. And I''m his canvas.'' His fingers twitched again. And that was enough to make him smile. Cracked. Bloody. Small. But real. Because no matter how precisely the man had peeled, sliced, broken, pierced¡ª He hadn''t gotten inside Lindarion''s head. He hadn''t even come close. Because the thing about mind attacks? They didn''t work on Lindarion. Not since Ouroboros has blessed him. Not since his thoughts became a maze with no doors, only corners¡ªand none of them sharp enough to trap him. The man had tried, of course. Oh, he''d tried. Illusions. Spells. Words laced with subtle psionic threads. None of them stuck. And it had made him smile. The man. The same way Lindarion was smiling now. Because the man wanted to break something he couldn''t reach. And the only thing worse than a prisoner who screamed¡ª Was one who didn''t. The door hadn''t been locked when he was dragged back in. It didn''t need to be. Because the walls weren''t built to hold him physically. They were built to suggest that trying was pointless. He closed his eyes. He didn''t rest. He recalculated. [Mana Thread Manipulation] He didn''t have the mana to launch an attack. His reserves were too battered, his core too strained. But a single strand¡ªthin, precise¡ªslipped out of his fingertip like a whisper. It touched the base of the wall. Tasted it. Listened. The magic in the material wasn''t just suppressive. It was sentient-adaptive. Reactive to aggression. It didn''t just block escape attempts¡ªit remembered them. Every strike, every burn, every scream etched itself deeper into the architecture. ''Lovely,'' he thought dryly. ''The prison gets smarter the longer I''m in it.'' The thread withdrew. There would be no clever escape with a single skill. No triumphant last-minute reversal. Not yet. His body wouldn''t move properly. His mind was still intact. That was enough. The door creaked open. Not the man. One of the others. A lower-ranking handler maybe. No mask. Just a hood drawn too far over the face. A blade at his side. Shackles in his hand. "You''re up," the man said. Lindarion didn''t speak. Didn''t need to. Because the man''s hands were shaking. Just slightly. A tremble in his left wrist. Lindarion''s voice came out hoarse. Low. But even. "You''re scared." The man stiffened. "You shouldn''t be," Lindarion added. "I''m chained. Broken. Helpless. Or so I''m told." Silence. Then: "You''ll speak to the man again," the man muttered. "And what if I don''t?" "You''ll die here." Lindarion smiled with half his mouth. "Better men have tried." The man stepped forward, reached down¡ªand hesitated. Lindarion''s eyes locked on him. [Thronebearer] The room bent around him for a second. Not physically. Not with pressure or power. Just presence. The kind that made your thoughts blur. That made your hands second-guess the next motion. That made your heart beat just a little too fast in your throat. "You''re afraid," Lindarion whispered. And this time? The man felt it. He slapped the shackles on roughly, dragging Lindarion upright. Pain lanced through his shoulder, his ribs. He didn''t flinch. The man shoved him forward. Out of the room. Into the dark corridor. ¡ª The corridor was too quiet. It didn''t echo. It absorbed. Lindarion''s boots scraped against the black stone floor, barely registering above the slow pulse of pain hammering behind his eyes. ''This much pain is starting to be alright..'' His broken wrist had been chained too tight. Deliberately so. The pressure was a message. We can take more. But the moment the metal clicked into place, he''d stopped thinking about pain. There wasn''t room for it anymore. Only calculation. The hooded handler walked two steps behind him. Too close to feel safe. Too far to be useful if something went wrong. Lindarion didn''t mind. It made the angle easier. He memorized each twist in the hall, each strange sconce that flickered not with flame, but with something colder. Duller. Like light that had been drained and re-injected just enough to move shadows. Left turn. Slanted corridor. Six runes hidden beneath the surface of the stone. A trickle of something dark ran from the corner of his mouth. It wasn''t blood this time. It was mana. Slipping out. Leaking. ''My core''s fraying,'' he thought. ''Not broken... but fraying.'' The handler stopped at a door. Not like the one from before. This one pulsed at the seams, like it didn''t want to open. But it did. With a whisper that was too long to be a sound. They shoved Lindarion inside. A different chamber. Wider. Cleaner. Chairs lined the edge of the walls¡ªnine of them. Only four were filled. Figures in masks. Robes of varying design. One wore a uniform made of stitched flesh and glowing thread. Another sat cross-legged, meditating without blinking. A third was disassembling a sword and humming something in a language that hurt to hear. The fourth? The same mysterious man as always. Still masked. Still smiling. He didn''t rise. Didn''t speak. Just looked. As if to say, he was late to some kind of party or meeting. Lindarion didn''t bow. Didn''t kneel. He didn''t even glare. He simply stood there. Bleeding quietly onto the floor. And thought. ''If I summon her now, they''ll all try to kill me. At best, we''ll make it halfway out. At worst...'' He glanced at the way the light curled at the corners of the man''s mask. ''I''ll die before I even get to do anything.'' So he didn''t move. Didn''t call. He waited. One of the masked ones leaned forward. "We could remove the arm," she said cheerfully. "That would make him more cooperative." "No," the mysterious man said, calm and smooth. "We''ve already heard his scream. I''d rather hear his silence." "Then what is the point of this?" another asked, voice mechanical. "He''s not breaking." "He doesn''t need to break," the man replied. "He only needs to understand." "And if he refuses?" The man tilted his head. "Then he dies knowing less." Lindarion''s voice cracked the air. "You talk a lot for someone who''s clearly wasting everyone''s time." Silence. Then¡ª The mysterious man lapped once, amused. "Ah. That was bold, wasn''t it? Acting like a man to the end." He stood. The other masked figures leaned back, as if they knew not to interrupt now. The man stepped forward. Stopped three paces away. His smile didn''t reach his eyes. "You''re bleeding," he said. Lindarion said nothing. The man reached out. Brushed a thumb under Lindarion''s jaw. Wiped away a smear of blood and studied it like a connoisseur inspecting a rare wine. "Your blood hums," he murmured. "Like an old song. I wonder how long it will take before it starts screaming." ''Damned psychopath.'' Lindarion''s wrists twitched inside the shackles. A phantom thread stirred in his mana core. One thread. One signal. One whisper of something ancient. ''Not yet,'' he thought. ''Just a little longer.'' Because the thing about Selene¡ª She would try to obliterate everything here. However Lindarion wasn''t certain about the level of power Selene could display. Not yet. For now was building a plan. Even as the man stepped back and motioned to the guards. "Return him," he said. "Let him think in the dark again. He''s not ready to listen." The handler moved. Gripped Lindarion''s arm. The pain flared. But his expression didn''t. The man paused before the exit. Glanced back once. "Do tell me when you''re done performing for yourself, Lindarion," he said lightly. "The real conversation begins after the audience leaves." Then he left. The door hissed shut behind him. And the silence returned. But Lindarion? He was smiling again. Because somewhere in that broken body, the shadows curled. Waiting. And she was waiting to be summoned. Soon. He would call upon her. And when he did? The cell wouldn''t hold them back anymore. Not even the whole place would be able to hold them. Not this time. Chapter 110 110: Planning (2) The war chamber wasn''t quiet. It was suspended. Like a held breath before the next scream. The table hadn''t moved. Neither had the chairs. The runes etched into the walls still glowed with their muted authority¡ªsteady, ceremonial, unimpressed by panic. But the room''s pulse had changed. Nyx stood at the head of the table. Arms folded. Shoulders squared. Not stiff. Not relaxed. Poised. Strategic stillness in human form. Three generals sat before her. Thorne¡ªold, brash, his voice too loud for the space even when he wasn''t speaking. Malik¡ªlean, analytical, gaze like a ledger that judged you in columns. And Elizia¡ªquiet. Always quiet. Until she wasn''t. None of them said a word at first. That was respect. Or fear. Nyx broke the silence with a single motion¡ªher hand flicked, and a blue-glassed projection sphere hovered over the table. The image above it spun once. Paused. Then sharpened into view. A map. The Academy grounds. The courtyard. The residual arcane signature still etched into the stone. Faint. But deliberate. "Elizia," Nyx said. The general rose. She didn''t pace. Didn''t perform. She just spoke. "Our extraction mages completed their sweep of the battlefield perimeter. There''s no ambient mana leak consistent with common dimensional travel. No portal, no warp gate, no silent transport sigil." Nyx nodded once. "Go on." Elizia''s gaze darkened. "But we did find something else. Residual distortion magic. Unlabeled. Categorically foreign. It shares characteristics with spells outlawed in the northern territories after the Kiros Revolt." The projection flickered again. A new overlay replaced the map¡ªsymbols burned into courtyard stone, visible only under magical scrutiny. Symbols that hadn''t come from any known academy text. Thorne stood abruptly. "Then this is no longer speculation. This was a targeted extraction using forbidden methods." "And that means?" Nyx asked, still not moving. "It means someone authorized a military abduction on academy soil. And I say we answer with force." Malik made a small noise. Not a laugh. Not quite. "You''d like that, wouldn''t you," Malik said. "Rattle sabers at shadows and watch the sparks catch fire." Thorne turned on him. "You want to do nothing?" "I want us to still have a city by the end of the month." "Then act like it!" Thorne slammed his fist against the table. "A prince was taken. From under our noses. Our defenses didn''t hold, and our Headmaster vanished in the same breath." "We don''t know if those two events are connected." "And we don''t know that they''re not!" Nyx finally spoke. "You''ll sit down, General Thorne." It wasn''t loud. It didn''t need to be. He obeyed. Nyx stepped closer to the projection. Her finger traced a faint, circular brand along the edge of the arcane residue. "This pattern is deliberate," she said. "The abductors didn''t just take Lindarion. They made sure we would know how he was taken. That this wasn''t an accident. That it wasn''t subtle. This was a message." Malik nodded once. "Then we ask¡ªwho benefits from delivering that message?" Nyx turned back to the table. "The obvious answer is House Orven. They''ve opposed the Sunblades diplomatically for decades. But they lack the magical infrastructure for this level of strike." "Then who?" Elizia asked. "We don''t know," Nyx admitted. "But whoever it is, they have reach. Deep reach. They accessed Academy grounds during peak lockdown. They neutralized Headmaster Thalorin¡ªor worse." Another beat of silence. Elizia''s voice came next. Calm. Steady. "There are whispers already. In the upper circles. Noble students are threatening to withdraw. Their families are demanding sanctuary relocation. There''s talk of Evernight being compromised beyond recovery." "They''d rather cut the heart than heal the wound," Malik murmured. Thorne clenched his jaw. "Let them leave." "No," Nyx said. "We can''t afford that." She looked each of them in the eye. "If the Academy loses its reputation, the Council will force a reformation. We lose funding. Autonomy. Relevance. And more importantly, we lose the one thing we''ve held longer than any banner¡ªneutral ground." Malik sat back. "Then what''s your plan?" Nyx held out a small crystal shard. It glowed faintly¡ªan encoded transmission rune. Private. High-level. "Three hours ago, a surveillance charm triggered outside the eastern perimeter. One of our old patrol outposts. Long abandoned. It wasn''t a full breach. It was a trace of binding magic. The same kind found in the courtyard." Thorne raised an eyebrow. "So they passed through there after leaving through the portal...? Does that even make sense?" "Maybe. Maybe not. But it''s the closest thing to a trail we''ve had since the moment he vanished." Elizia looked at her sharply. "You''re going after it?" "I''m authorizing a retrieval team," Nyx said. "No insignias. No reports. They''re already mobilizing under Cipher Protocol Nine." "And you?" Malik asked. Nyx''s expression didn''t change. "I''ll investigate the distortion remnants myself." Thorne scoffed. "That''s suicide." "Not for me." "You don''t even know what''s waiting out there." "Exactly," Nyx said. "That''s why I''m going." They stared at her. The commander of Evernight''s strategic division. The woman known for ending wars before they began. And now she was walking into a mystery that had already eaten a prince and the most powerful mage on the continent. She didn''t look afraid. She didn''t look proud. She looked... ready. "This isn''t a simple retrieval," she said softly. "This is war before war. And every second we waste brings the enemy one step closer to deciding how that war begins." The projection dimmed. The silence returned. But this time, it bowed to her. "Dismissed," Nyx said. And they obeyed. ¡ª The sky over Evernight Academy had darkened by the time she crossed the final threshold. The walls behind her were high, reinforced, and watched by too many eyes. But none of them followed. No guards asked where she was going. No students dared to trail her. Nyx walked alone, because that was how things got done when politics failed and panic began to simmer. She passed through the northern watch gate with the air of someone who didn''t believe in explanations. The guards didn''t stop her. They didn''t speak. That was wise. There was blood on her cuffs. Not hers. And not recent. But it meant something. And those who understood didn''t need to ask. ¡ª The ruins were older than the academy. No records. No name. Just a collapsed perimeter wall and a spire worn down by time and gravity. People had called it everything from a First Age outpost to a haunted shrine. Nyx called it a loose end. She crouched beside the foundation stone, brushing aside the overgrowth. Rocks didn''t lie. Not like people. She ran her fingers along the cracks in the stone. Some natural. Some... not. One edge was sheared clean through¡ªmelted, not weathered. And the ground around it had been packed down recently. No footprints. No scent. But someone had been here. Multiple someones. They weren''t hiding it. They just didn''t care. Which was worse. She stood again, slowly. Her eyes swept across the empty trees, the overcast sky, the silence that wasn''t natural. No birds. No insects. No ambient mana fluctuations. Like the land was holding its breath. ''This was the place.'' No spell residue. No arcane signature strong enough to trace. But the earth here remembered being twisted. Not shattered. Not broken. Bent. As if something had pulled reality slightly to the left and expected it not to notice. That wasn''t teleportation. That wasn''t normal portal craft. It was spatial anchoring of the kind most arcanists only whispered about¡ªbecause practicing it too long made your bones forget how to stay in your body. And it had been used here. Recently. She didn''t need to use anything to know that. The arc in the terrain. The subtle change in the air pressure. The residual tension that made her skin itch. Someone had opened a passage here. And someone else had made sure it couldn''t be followed. Which meant they were careful. Experienced. And more importantly¡ªconfident. Too confident. Her fingers twitched once at her side. Not casting. Just considering. There were methods. Dangerous ones. But the moment you opened a gate into somewhere the universe wasn''t ready to accept, something always looked back. Even she had limits. She stepped back from the ruin and surveyed the clearing once more. Something in the pattern of the trees bothered her. Not what was there. What wasn''t. One tree at the far end was scorched at the base. Lightning wouldn''t have done that. Not that low. Not that clean. A student wouldn''t have done it either. Not without a faculty override. Which meant whoever arrived¡ªor left¡ªhad access to sigils that didn''t belong to them. Or they were handed over. Nyx''s jaw tightened. She''d seen enough. There was no trail to follow yet. But there would be. People left cracks. They always did. And she knew how to pry them open. She turned on her heel and walked back toward the city, cloak brushing the grass, eyes already thinking twelve steps ahead. The captains had asked her what the next step was. They didn''t need to ask anymore. Chapter 111 111: Selene The pain wasn''t gone. He''d just run out of ways to measure it. Numb was too gentle a word. Lindarion could still feel the bruises. The missing nail. The stitch across his shoulder where flesh had split from the heat of some tool he didn''t have a name for. Every second throbbed in some corner of his body like a forgotten drumbeat. But he could think again. That was dangerous. For them. Lindarion leaned back against the far wall of the cell, the one that didn''t hum when you breathed too close to it. His breath came ragged, shallow, but steady. ''No guards this time...I think..'' That was new. They''d stopped bothering to watch him. Not out of mercy. Out of confidence. That was a mistake. He shut his eyes. Didn''t focus on the pain. Didn''t focus on the room. He went inward. Down, past the bruises and torn muscle. Past the ache of his overdrawn core. Past even his thoughts. Into the still part. The part they hadn''t reached. The part they couldn''t. Where the shadow waited. He whispered¡ªnot out loud. But through the bond. Not a call. Not a plea. A name. "Selene." The shadows around him twitched. Not moved. Twitched. Like they''d heard something they weren''t supposed to. The air lost its weight. Sound vanished¡ªnot dulled, devoured. And then¡ª A voice. Not soft. Not loud. Not distant. Just there. "Young master...." The shadows exploded. Not expanded. Not drifted. They erupted, splitting the walls with lines of cold, living black that spidered across every surface like the cell had been hiding a secret and it was finally too tired to keep it. Selene stepped from the center of it. No footsteps. No drama. Just arrival. She was tall this time. Impossibly graceful. Cloaked in shade. Her silver eyes glinted like polished blades under a moon that wasn''t there. Her hair coiled and rippled like threads in water, bound only by will. She took one look at him¡ª And the room shook. Her mana didn''t flare. It pierced. A pressure slammed outward from her body, crashing into the walls like a crashing wave made from night itself. The cell cracked. A real crack. Hairline fissures up the enchanted obsidian stone that shouldn''t have cracked. Not from anything. Selene stepped forward once. The shadows coiled behind her like a beast being barely leashed. Her voice was still soft¡ªbut venom hummed underneath. "Who did this?" Lindarion swallowed thickly. His lips were dry. His throat burned. But he still managed the words. "I don''t know," he rasped. A beat. Then a whisper in his mind, not his ears. "Then I will find them." Selene''s form pulsed once¡ªand the shadows slammed into the far wall like a battering ram. The door didn''t open. It folded inward. Steel screamed. Something magical sparked in protest¡ªand then was snuffed out like a candle under a tidal wave. Alarms didn''t sound. They were too slow. The hallway outside the cell went pitch black. No torches. No mana light. No fixtures. Just void. Selene''s aura filled the space like a sovereign reclaiming her land. And somewhere down the corridor¡ª Boots. Metal. Running. Good. She wanted them to run. Her hand flicked. A tendril of shadow shot from her wrist, too fast to track. It wrapped around one of the torches, coiled up the wall¡ªand ripped the masonry from its hinges with the force of a siege weapon. The stone slammed into the corridor, pulverizing it. Screams followed. One. Then silence. She turned slightly, one eye still on Lindarion. "You gave me permission." He nodded once, slowly. "Burn it all." She smiled. Not pretty. Not soft. A smile full of teeth. Selene vanished into the corridor, her shadows trailing behind her like a cloak with too many arms. And then the sounds began. Steel on bone. Mana slicing through air. Walls collapsing. Every few seconds, the hallway shook again¡ªcloser to reverberating than exploding. And each time¡ª Lindarion felt a little more of his weight return. Not strength. Will. They''d tried to break it. But the mistake wasn''t in hurting him. The mistake was not hurting him enough to keep him from calling her. And now they would learn¡ª Selene wasn''t just a normal summon. She was vengeance wrapped in elegance. And she was very, very loyal. ¡ª The corridor outside Lindarion''s cell had already collapsed into carnage. One guard was slumped against the far wall, his neck folded at the wrong angle. Another was pinned through the torso with his own halberd, twitching faintly. A third had simply vanished¡ªonly his hand remained, twitching in a puddle of shadow that didn''t reflect light correctly. And in the center of it all¡ª Selene stood still. Her body was upright, her cloak still dripping ink-like darkness into the floor. Her hair clung to her cheeks, damp with cold sweat and something else. Her gloves were stained red. Not blood-red. Just... red. She stared down the hallway. One door remained closed. And then¡ª The Man stepped out of the hallway''s far bend. He walked like someone expecting respect. Polished boots. Crisp coat. Mask with a mirrored finish that caught no reflection, only silence. He stopped six paces from her. His hands were clean. Unbloodied. He took one look at the corpses. Then at her. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Selene didn''t respond. She blinked once. Slowly. Not out of confusion¡ªjust deciding whether this one was worth speaking to. He lifted a brow, though the mask didn''t show it. "Did one of the cells fail? Were you one of the blood-class runaways?" She took one step forward. He raised a hand, more out of performance than threat. "Let me guess. You''re here for the boy?" Selene moved. It wasn''t teleportation. It wasn''t magic. It was just fast. She covered the distance between them in under a second. No sound. No warning. Just motion. Her fist hit his ribs hard enough to send him flying. The Man grunted as he hit the stone wall shoulder-first and crumpled in a heap. He rolled once. Then stopped. "...Huh," he muttered, pushing himself up. "Alright." He stood slowly, brushing dust off his coat. "You''re strong. That''s rare. But you''ve got no idea who you''re dealing with¡ª" She didn''t let him finish. Her boot drove into his gut and crushed him back into the wall before he could even raise a guard. The stone cracked. His breath left in a single, strained sound. And Selene didn''t stop. She struck again¡ªan elbow to the face. Crunch. Then a knee to the thigh¡ªbreaking bone. Crunch. Then another punch. This one was meant to kill. He caught it. Barely. Blood ran from his mouth. His stance faltered. "You''re not from here," he rasped. Selene leaned in, her hand still wrapped around his collar. "You touched him," she said. That was all. He blinked once. Then tried to laugh. It came out as a wet cough. "What are you? A summon?" His tone shifted¡ªmocking, but laced with realization. "That''s adorable. I didn''t even think the little prince could make a construct that powerful." Selene''s hand twisted. His shoulder dislocated with a wet snap. "I am not a construct," she whispered. Then she slammed his head into the wall. Once. Twice. A third time. On the fourth, the stone caved in. He dropped. Unconscious? No. Still breathing. Still alive. Unfortunately. Selene turned from his body and walked back. The shadows pooled behind her feet like they were holding their breath. "Master," she said softly. And then she arrived at the cell again. The hall was quiet again. Not the quiet of peace¡ªjust the kind that came after everything worth screaming about had already bled out. Selene stood amidst the broken stone, motionless. Her body flickered faintly, cloaked in the last tendrils of shadow-thread she hadn''t burned through. Blood¡ªnot hers¡ªstained her boots. But she didn''t move. Not yet. Lindarion was slumped against the wall, barely upright. His eyes were open, but unfocused. Blood soaked his sleeves¡ªold, some of it. Some fresh. His skin had that pale, wrong look people only got when they pushed their core past its limit and didn''t bother stopping. Mana pooled around his body like a spilled ink well. Burnt out. Overdrawn. He''d stayed conscious during her fight. He hadn''t needed to. He had anyway. Selene knelt beside him, slow and deliberate. Her hands didn''t tremble. "You shouldn''t have forced it," she said quietly. He didn''t answer. His head lolled faintly against her shoulder as she caught him. Selene closed her eyes. "Permission to move you, Young Master," she murmured. Still no answer. That was permission enough. She pressed a hand to the center of his chest¡ªdirectly above the mana core. The brand there flickered beneath her palm. It pulsed once in response. Faint. But loyal. Always loyal. Shadow rippled around them. The darkness didn''t swallow them. It peeled back, one layer at a time¡ªfolding space like turning a book you''ve read too many times to be surprised by the ending. But just before they vanished, Selene''s voice spoke again¡ªlow, firm. "I cannot guide us to a fixed location." Her shadow twisted tighter around Lindarion''s body, insulating him. "We may end up... anywhere." ¡ª Snow. A forest, white and endless. The silence here was different. Natural. Like even sound took its time between breaths. Selene appeared in the middle of it, kneeling in a shallow drift with Lindarion''s body in her arms. She exhaled once¡ªfog coiling from her lips in the cold. He was shivering now. Barely. That was the only movement. She laid him down gently on a dry patch of stone near a cluster of frozen roots. Brushed snow from his face. Checked the wound above his ribs where the mana strain had ruptured. Still alive. But only because his mana refused to stop protecting him, even when he couldn''t protect himself. Selene sat beside him, folding her cloak around both of them, anchoring her presence into the shadows beneath the snowpack. Her eyes never left him. Not once. Not while the wind howled across the branches. Not while the moon rose over the frostbitten treetops. Not while the world tried to forget where they were. Chapter 112 112: Village (1) He woke with his cheek in the snow. Blinked once. Then again. White above. White below. Cold pressing in from every side. A slow burn through his ribs when he moved. Not dead. Close, maybe. But not dead. He rolled onto his back. Breath shallow. Chest tight. No stars. Just grey sky, thin and cracked through a canopy of bare trees. He didn''t recognize them. Didn''t try. ''Focus.'' Fingers first. Then toes. Both worked. Sluggish, but functional. He sat up. Pain lit through his side like a wire pulled too tight. He didn''t make a sound. Just held still. Waited. The forest didn''t move. Wind, soft. Snow, falling steady. No footprints. No heat signatures. No birds. Nothing that breathed. ''Safe enough for now.'' For now. He took inventory by touch. No blade. No cloak. Just the inner layer of his uniform, scorched at the collar and frozen stiff at the sleeves. Mana core dim. Not silent, but close. Like a wick under water. He wouldn''t be casting anything soon. ''Shelter..I need a shelter..'' That was the only word that mattered. Not where. Not how. Just find it. He stood. Swayed. Right knee buckled, caught himself on the trunk of a nearby pine. Sharp bark. Frostbitten fingers. He started walking anyway. North? South? Didn''t matter. Direction came second to terrain. He looked for shade. For broken earth. For outcroppings or ruined stone or anything that suggested the wind might hit something else before it hit him. It was slow. Measured. Each step a question his body answered too late. But he moved. And the forest let him. He didn''t think about the others. Not yet. He didn''t think about the man behind the mask, or the blade under the table, or the voice that had called him by name like it owned the right. That was for later. Now¡ªonly the cold. The way it made his breath ragged. The way it peeled sound out of the air. He found a hollow beneath the roots of a fallen tree. Just big enough to crawl into. He checked it once. No scent. No droppings. No blood. He sat inside. Pulled his knees up. Lowered his head. Didn''t close his eyes. Not yet. Let the cold come. He''d survived worse at this point. The forest stretched on. No roads. No paths. No signs. Just snow. Bark. The occasional stretch of dead brambles clawing at his legs. Still no people. ''It''s way too quiet.'' Which meant he was somewhere bad or somewhere forgotten. Both worked. He crested a ridge near dusk. A low one¡ªnothing more than a slope of packed ice and frost-heavy brush. And that''s when he saw it. Smoke. Thin, rising from behind a bend in the treeline. No flare. No color. Just a steady grey thread curling into the sky. He didn''t stop walking. Didn''t think twice. If it was a trap, he was already too far gone to run. He reached the edge of the forest line. And there it was. A Small village. Honestly, the village wasn''t much. A crooked trail of timber and stone houses clustered against the cold. Nothing carved into the wood. No sigils. No guards. Just a line of smoke and the heavy silence of people who didn''t ask questions unless they had to. ''Finally...'' Lindarion stepped out of the trees. He didn''t try to hide. No point. His cloak was torn. His coat worse. Hair stiff with frost and blood. The kind of image that didn''t look like a storybook elf, but something that had crawled out of a forgotten war. He didn''t look at the houses. Just kept walking toward the center. The sound of chopping stopped. Some old man in a leather apron stood frozen by a firewood pile. Eyes wide. Axe half-lowered. A door creaked open to Lindarion''s left. A young girl stepped out, holding a broom. She took one look at him, turned, and ran back inside without a word. Another door opened. Then another. Whispers now. Low. Uneven. "That''s an elf¡ª" "No, it can''t be¡ªlook at his ears¡ª" "He''s hurt." Lindarion didn''t stop. Didn''t speak. His boots left red on the snow. At the well, he leaned against the stone rim. Let his weight settle there. The villagers didn''t come close. Not yet. They gathered in a loose half-circle near the edge of the square. Eight. Maybe ten. Some with tools still in hand. No weapons, but tension thick in the way they stood. One step back. Two hands gripped on a shovel. A lantern clutched too tight. Then a woman stepped forward. Older than him. Maybe thirty. Thick coat, stitched with rabbit fur. Boots caked in snow. A practical kind of face. Not cruel. Not kind. Just tired. She stopped five paces away. Didn''t reach for anything. "You alright?" He didn''t answer. Not at first. Then, finally he spoke up. "I''m not here to rob you." Her brow twitched. "Didn''t think you were." "I need somewhere to sit," he said. "You''re doing that." He exhaled, slow. The well''s rim was rough under his fingers. "Food?" he asked. "Water?" She didn''t answer immediately. Just looked him over. Then back at the cluster of villagers. One of them whispered something. She ignored it. Finally, she gestured toward a building near the back of the square. Sloped roof. Stone walls. Looked warmer than it had any right to be. "Come on." He didn''t thank her. Didn''t have the energy. Just followed. Inside, the air hit too fast. He blinked once. Twice. The room swayed under his feet. He caught himself on the wall. She noticed. Didn''t comment. "Sit," she said. He did. A bench near the hearth. She grabbed a ladle from a pot by the fire. Filled a wooden bowl with something thick and dark. Handed it to him without ceremony. Lindarion held it. Steam rose into his face. He didn''t eat right away. The woman sat across from him. Arms folded. "So," she said after a beat, "we''re really doing this...I guess." He looked up. She studied him. Eyes steady. "You''re an elf." ''And you''re observant?'' "Yes," he said. "That''s rare." ''I figured..'' "No one''s seen your kind out here in... ever." He nodded once. Took a bite of the stew. It burned the roof of his mouth. Didn''t care. "I''m not here to cause problems," he said. "Bit late for that," she replied, but her tone wasn''t sharp. "You want to tell me how you got here?" "No." She blinked. Took that better than most would''ve. "You got a name?" "Lindarion." That changed something. Barely. A flicker in her eyes. A pause in her breath. "Like the Prince of the Sunblade family?" she asked. He didn''t answer. Didn''t have to. She leaned back. "Right. Alright." No bow. No wide-eyed awe. Just a village woman trying to figure out what kind of storm just landed in her house. "You''re lucky," she said finally. "If the traders had seen you first, they might''ve sold your ears for coin." ''Right.'' He glanced at her. She wasn''t smiling. He took another bite. The warmth settled into his ribs, slow and painful. His hands still shook. The woman watched him finish half the bowl. Then stood. "I''ll get you a blanket," she said. "You can rest here. For now." He didn''t thank her. Didn''t have the words. But when she came back, he took the blanket. And when she closed the door behind her, he let himself lean forward. Elbows on his knees. Breath shallow. ''Safe. For now, I think.'' But perhaps not for long. A girl stood by the doorway. Her shoes left faint, wet marks across the floor. Wind pushed against the shutters, soft and rhythmic, like someone breathing through their teeth. "You''re really an elf?" she asked. Lindarion didn''t look at her right away. The fire crackled unevenly in the hearth, too small for the size of the room. His blanket was coarse, wool, and smelled faintly of smoke and damp wood. His shoulders stayed hunched. He answered without looking up. "Yes." The girl moved closer. Not hesitating. Just curious. "You don''t look like I thought you would," she said. "I mean, not bad. Just... different." He shifted slightly, the blanket pulling tight across his back. His joints ached in that deep, worn-out way that came after magic overuse. Every part of his body felt slightly off-center. Nothing broken. Everything used. "Do you always talk this much to people who show up half-dead at your door?" he asked. The girl grinned. Sat on a stool across from him like they were halfway through a conversation instead of starting one. "I''m Rhea," she said. He blinked once. Slowly. "Lindarion." "That sounds long and boring." "It isn''t." Rhea folded her arms over her knees, watching him like he might flicker out if she looked away. "You came out of the woods," she said. "We thought you were some kind of an undead being." "I''m not." "Yeah, I figured." The fire popped. A single ember drifted up before dying. She didn''t ask what happened to him. Didn''t ask why his face looked like it had been dragged through frozen gravel, or why the bandages on his hands were new but already soaked through in places. After a moment, he spoke again. "Where are we?" Her eyebrows lifted. "You don''t know?" "I wouldn''t ask if I did." Rhea shrugged, scratching the side of her head. Her sleeves slipped down again, too long for her arms. "You''re in Brenstead. Village on the edge of Caldris." Lindarion blinked. A faint throb passed behind his eyes. Caldris..the most isolated nation. The frozen wasteland.. He remembered the map from geography class. He breathed once. Shallow. ''Perfect..How will I ever get back from here.'' "You know it?" she asked. He nodded. "You were trying to get here?" "No." "Then..." "I didn''t really have a choice." Rhea looked like she wanted to ask what that meant. Then decided not to. Silence settled in again. Not awkward. Just quiet. The kind that left space around the words that had already been said. Outside, the wind had picked up. He could hear it running past the eaves, dry leaves scraping along the stone path outside. He shifted again. The blanket pulled tighter. His fingers flexed once beneath the rough wool. Still numb. Rhea stayed there on the stool. Legs crossed, eyes thoughtful. She didn''t try to fill the silence again. Lindarion was grateful for that. Chapter 113 113: Village (2) Later, when the fire had burned down to a dull red hush, Rhea stood. "I should go. My mother''ll ask." Lindarion didn''t respond. He sat very still. Like the weight of the blanket, the warmth, the food¡ªall of it had only reminded his body how tired it was. She hesitated near the door. Then, quieter, "If you want more soup, I can bring some later." He gave the smallest nod. Nothing more. And she left. The door closed behind her. A soft sound. Almost polite. Lindarion didn''t move. The fire cracked once. Then fell quiet. Just the occasional shift of wood settling into ash. The bench under him creaked when he leaned back. Not much. Just enough to remind him he was still made of bone and blood. His hands rested on his knees. Still shaking, faintly. Muscles fluttering under the skin like something was trying to get out. He focused on the stone floor instead. Its texture. The cold seeping through the soles of his boots. Easier than focusing on anything else. ''You''re safe now.'' The thought didn''t hold. Too clean. Too simple. Safe was a word for people who hadn''t been strapped down and asked what made them scream. The blanket around his shoulders had slipped to one side. He didn''t fix it. His mana core flickered low. Barely responsive. No strength left to summon. No threads left to manipulate. Just residue. Dull and clotted. Selene wasn''t able to be summoned for now. As she could only exist through him. And right now, there wasn''t much of him left. He exhaled slowly. It didn''t feel like relief. His ribs still ached. Deep. Sharp. Like something had been broken and then twisted just enough to stay memorable. The bowl sat empty near the hearth. A good meal. A roof. Heat. All of it just made the contrast worse. He''d crawled out of a different world and landed in this one. Nothing in between. He looked at his hands. One still wrapped in a blood-stained strip of cloth. The other bare. Bruised around the knuckles. Dirt under the nails. He''d cleaned them. They still looked like they belonged to someone else. A floorboard creaked overhead. Someone moving. Maybe the woman. Maybe Rhea. Didn''t matter. He wasn''t planning to be here long. Caldris. The name echoed faintly. A northern borderland. Sparse population. Independent villages. No formal allegiance to any court. Which meant no reinforcements. No alliances. No safety net. Just cold. And silence. And the kind of people who didn''t ask what you were running from as long as you kept your head down. He could work with that. The fire shifted again. Threw a long shadow up the wall. It looked like a blade for half a second. He blinked. It wasn''t. He closed his eyes for a moment. Just long enough to reset something behind them. A few hours. That''s all he needed. Enough for the core to start mending. Enough to walk again without a limp. Then he''d move. No destination yet. Just the need to put distance between himself and whatever came next. He knew better than to believe this was over. People like that didn''t let go. They circled. Waited. Tested the edges until they found the softest part. And then they struck again. Lindarion leaned forward. Elbows on his knees. Shoulders hunched. The blanket slid off the bench and pooled on the floor. He didn''t pick it up. His breath came slow. Steady. The only rhythm he could trust. He listened to the fire die. And waited. ¡ª Footsteps. Slower. Heavier. Not Rhea coming back. A second figure entered the room. Older. Broader. Fur-lined coat still dusted with snow. Boots wet across the threshold. He didn''t say anything at first. Just looked. A long look. The kind people gave when trying to decide whether to call for help or get the shovel. "You''re the elf," the man said finally. Lindarion didn''t answer. Just raised his head. The man studied him. Blue eyes, faded and sharp at once. Short beard. Burn marks across the knuckles. The smell of iron clung to him. A smith or something close. "You hurt?" he asked. Lindarion gave the smallest nod. "Where from?" He hesitated. Not from caution. Just calculation. "North," he said. "North of what?" "Does it matter?" The man''s brow lifted slightly. "No. Just polite." Lindarion shifted on the bench. The blanket tugged under his leg. The man stepped closer. Sat across from him. Not hostile. Just practical. "You got a name?" "Lindarion." Something flickered behind the man''s eyes. Not recognition. Not yet. Just a notch of attention being carved deeper. He leaned back slightly. Chair creaked under the weight. "My wife said you walked into town like a ghost. No coat. No weapon. Covered in blood." "She forgot the frostbite." The man snorted once. Dry sound. "You military?" "No." "Runaway?" Lindarion didn''t answer. The silence stretched. Then the man shrugged once. Wiped his hands on his coat. "Not my business," he said. "But if you bring trouble here, it becomes mine." "I don''t plan on staying." "Good. No offense." "None taken." The fire popped once. A single coal fell inward. Glow dimmed slightly. "You heal fast?" the man asked. "Yes. Fast enough." "Then rest. One day. Maybe two. But after that, you move on." Lindarion nodded once. That was fair. Generous, even. The man stood. Didn''t offer a hand. Didn''t offer thanks. Just looked down at him a second longer. "You got the look of someone being hunted," he said. Lindarion didn''t flinch. The man didn''t wait for a reply. He turned and left. The door shut behind him. Fir wood against iron hinges. Lindarion leaned forward again. Elbows on knees. Hands loose. The room smelled of ash and wool and pine smoke. He closed his eyes. Only for a second. ¡ª The warmth didn''t come all at once. It crept in slow, curling around his ribs, dulling the ache in his legs. The kind of warmth that didn''t ask questions. Just settled. Lindarion slept. Not deeply. Not well. But long enough for his body to stop shivering. When his eyes opened, the fire was a low pulse in the hearth. Orange light across stone. The blanket had slipped. His hands were stiff again. Outside, wind pressed against the shutters. Not harsh. Just constant. He sat up. No pain sharp enough to stop him. Just the kind that reminded him everything still worked. Barely. His coat had been moved. Folded on a nearby chair. Still torn, but cleaner than before. Someone had stitched the collar. Badly. There was bread on the table. Hard, but warm. A cup beside it. Water, not tea. He didn''t touch them right away. Just sat, elbows on knees, head low. ''Still here.'' No visions. No voices. No shadow-creatures tearing through walls. Just the hum of tired joints and quiet breath. The door creaked open. Rhea again. Same too-long sleeves. Same quiet curiosity. "You''re awake." He nodded. She pointed at the food. "Mom said you should eat." He reached for the bread. Broke it in half. Steam still rose faintly from the center. "You sleep like the dead," she added. "Thank you for the compliment." She grinned at that, then leaned against the table, watching him eat like it was a performance. "Do you elves always look like you hate being alive?" He didn''t answer. Rhea didn''t seem to need one. "My dad says you''ll be gone soon," she said. "He doesn''t want trouble." Lindarion chewed. Swallowed. "He''s right." "You''re going to leave without saying goodbye?" He looked at her then. Tired. Not unkind. Just honest. "That depends," he said. "On?" "If I''m still alive by then." Rhea didn''t flinch. Just pulled out the same stool and sat. "You''re weird," she said. "I know." They sat there. A quiet room. Two mismatched pieces in the wrong part of the map. Lindarion finished the bread. Drank the water in one go. Every swallow hurt. But it helped. Tomorrow, he''d need to move.. ¡ª The door creaked open. Cold edged in. The woman stepped through first. Coat buttoned. Hair pinned back. Tired but put together. Behind her came the man. He ducked slightly through the frame, hands dusted with woodshavings. He''d been working already. The smell of fresh pine clung to him. Lindarion sat up from the bench. Slowly. Blanket slipping to the floor. The man gave a short nod. Not warm. Not unfriendly either. "You walk yet?" Lindarion moved his legs off the bench. Put one foot down. Then the other. "Good enough." The man glanced at the woman. She shrugged. No signal passed between them. Just habit. "Come on," the man said. "You''ll see the place." Lindarion reached for the edge of the bench. Stood. His balance held. Barely. "No cloak," he said. The woman tossed him a coat from a peg near the door. Heavy wool. A bit long. Lined with rough stitching. It hit his knees and smelled faintly of smoke and rain. "Belonged to my brother," the man said. "Don''t lose it." "I won''t." They stepped outside. The morning was pale and sharp, the kind of cold that crept under the collar and stayed there. Lindarion squinted against the wind. The village was quieter than yesterday. A few doors open. A boy with a sled dragging firewood. A woman feeding hens with bare fingers. No one called out. But eyes followed. "Most don''t know what to make of you," the man said. "I don''t blame them." He kept walking. Snow crunched underfoot. The coat helped. Not enough. "This way," the woman said. They took him past the well. Past the edge of the square. Down a narrow trail between the houses. Fences leaning sideways. Firewood stacked high. Chimneys puffing slow smoke like breath. "This is Brenstead," the man said. Lindarion didn''t answer. "Thirty-two families. We trade twice a month. Maybe less in snow season." The woman pointed. "School''s there. Only open three days a week. No mage instructor." "Not much use for one," the man added. "Too far from the towers. Too many rules." Lindarion looked at the school. One room. One stove. "And this," the woman said, turning toward a crooked path that curved uphill, "is the hill where we bury the old and burn the worse." Lindarion glanced at her. "Better to know." He nodded once. Kept moving. They passed a pen full of goats. An old shrine with the paint long worn off. A frozen stream that wound between the trees and vanished beneath the snow. Children peeked out from a doorway as they walked past. One of them ducked back too quickly. Another didn''t. "They''ll get used to you," the man said. "I won''t be here long." The woman raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?" Lindarion didn''t answer. Chapter 114 114: Village (3) They circled back toward the square. Snow had started falling again. Light, but steady. The sky was pale enough to feel like paper. Lindarion adjusted the coat. The sleeves were too long. The fabric scratched his neck. The man gestured to a shed at the edge of the village. "Tools, grain, spare rope. If you need anything, ask." "I won''t." "You will." They stopped near the well. The bucket creaked slightly on the wind. The woman turned to face him. Her arms were folded, but not tight. Just settled. "You still planning to leave?" Lindarion watched a crow settle on the eave of a roof across the way. It didn''t blink. "Yes." She nodded once. Not surprised. Not pleased either. "Then you''ll need supplies. Food, boots, new bandages. Might take a while to get those ready." "I don''t have coin." "We didn''t ask." He glanced between them. The man looked toward the woods. The woman looked at him. "Rhea will want to say goodbye," she said after a moment. "She doesn''t have to." "She will anyway." Lindarion didn''t answer. Just pulled the coat tighter and turned toward the road that led back to the house. The woman called after him, voice low but firm. "Don''t vanish before your legs are steady, boy. We''ve had enough ghosts in this place." He paused. Then kept walking. The snow behind him softened his steps. He didn''t look back. ¡ª Time passed really quickly but the sky hadn''t changed much. Still grey. Still waiting for snow. Lindarion stood near the door, boots laced, coat borrowed. The blanket folded on the bench behind him. Steam rose from the hearth in low, tired curls. He looked at the man. "I''ll need a weapon." The man didn''t blink. Just finished tying the last knot on the small pack of supplies. A bedroll, some dried meat, two flasks. No armor. No map. Finally, he straightened. "What kind?" "Steel. Balanced. One hand...I''ll be happy with anything you have honestly." The man scratched his beard once, thoughtful. Then turned and disappeared into the next room. The sound of a chest opening. Some rusted hinges. A bit of shifting. He came back holding something wrapped in cloth. "Not much," he said. "But better than a stick." Lindarion took it. Unwrapped it slow. The blade was short. Scarred. Grip worn. But the edge had been maintained. The balance was slightly off, but manageable. It would do. ''It''s not bad...they took my sword sadly.'' He gave a short nod. "Thank you." The man shrugged like it didn''t mean anything. "You''ll need it." He didn''t argue. Just slid the blade into the side loop of the coat. The woman passed him the pack. "You''ll want to keep off the roads near the ridge. Snow''s thicker there. Wolves too." He nodded. Slung the pack over his shoulder. "Thank you. All of you." The man gave a single nod. The woman said nothing. Just watched him go. Then he turned. And walked toward the Gate. ¡ª Snow hadn''t stopped falling. It came soft at first, just a thin veil over the rooftops. By dawn, it had settled thick across the path leading out of Brenstead, blurring the trail into something less than a road. Lindarion stood by the gate. His coat was patched. The scarf knotted at his throat was wool, rough-spun and dyed the color of old ash. Not his. Nothing he wore was. A pack hung over one shoulder, light but full. Inside were dried roots, bread, a skin of water, flint, cloth. Enough to walk, not enough to stop. The blade at his hip was dull iron. The kind used for clearing brush or wolves, not men. The man had given it to him with little ceremony. Just held it out and said it should do. Lindarion hadn''t thanked him. He had only taken it. Now he waited. Rhea came first. Her boots left crooked prints in the snow. She was bundled in too many layers, face half-swallowed by a scarf. She still looked annoyed. "You''re really leaving." He didn''t correct her. "You could stay. For a few days, I mean. At least until the weather¡ª" "I can''t." "You''re not fully healed!" "I''m not dead either." She narrowed her eyes. Her breath fogged the space between them. "You''re really annoying, you know that?" He managed the hint of a smile. Barely. "You''re not the first to say it." Behind her, the woman approached. She carried nothing, but the sleeves of her coat were still dusted with flour. "You''ll head south first," she said. "Follow the creek past the ridge. After that, keep east. Stay away from the valley. Bad footing." He nodded once. Took the words in like measurements. "Someone might see you," the man added. "Or not. Most folk don''t travel out here this time of year." "I''ll manage." The man grunted. "You made it out of wherever you came from. I guess you will." He didn''t offer a handshake. Neither did Lindarion. It felt like enough. Rhea stepped forward. Her hands were shoved deep into her coat pockets, but her shoulders were tight. "I still think it''s stupid," she said. "Probably is." She frowned. Bit her lip. Looked like she wanted to say something else. Instead, she held out something small. A bundle of cloth. He took it, slowly. Inside, a charm. Twine. A scrap of something silver. "For luck," she said. "Not that I think you believe in it." "I don''t." "Good. That makes two of us." He tucked it into his coat. The wind picked up again. The snow had softened under his boots, but it would harden soon. The tracks would vanish. He looked back at the village once. Then he turned. And walked. The trees waited. The forest didn''t welcome. It didn''t refuse. It just was. He moved through it like something already forgotten. Quiet. Focused. Behind him, the village faded. No one called out. No one waved. And that, he thought, was the kindest thing they could''ve done. ¡ª The snow deepened past the treeline. Just a few inches at first. Enough to soak through the seams in his boots. Cold got into the skin that way. Slow, mean. He didn''t stop. Didn''t check behind him. There''d be nothing to see. By midday, the trees had spread thin. Pines mostly, tall and crooked, hunched against the weight of the frost. The wind wasn''t sharp yet, just constant. A low hush that threaded itself through the branches like something too tired to speak. Lindarion kept to the edges of the rise. The trail had long since vanished, but the slope helped. Easier to keep direction when the land tilted underfoot. The blade at his hip knocked lightly against his thigh with every step. Too short. Too dull. But better than nothing. His fingers brushed the charm Rhea had given him once, twice. Still there. Still warm from where he''d tucked it against the skin beneath his coat. ''Stupid thing..what will I even do with this.'' He kept it anyway after all that crying. By evening, he''d found a shallow cave carved into a rockface. Just enough depth to block the wind. No smell. No tracks. He didn''t start a fire. Too much smoke. Too much risk. Instead, he sat. Unrolled the bedroll with slow hands. Ate a strip of dried meat without tasting it. The cold pressed in from the stone. His breath fogged the space in front of him. He wrapped the scarf higher around his face and leaned back against the wall. Eyes half-open. Muscles loose but ready. It wouldn''t be a full night of sleep. But he''d survived on less. The wind outside carried no sound but its own. He didn''t dream at all. ¡ª He woke just before dawn. Not to noise. Not to cold. Just the kind of silence that made your chest tighten before your eyes opened. The snow outside was blue under the half-light. That pre-sun color where everything looks like memory instead of fact. His fingers were stiff. He flexed them once. Then again. The blanket had slipped to his knees. The bedroll underneath was damp near the edges, soaked through from where the cave''s floor angled down. He didn''t shiver. Didn''t speak. The meat had gone dry in his mouth the night before, but it had done its job. His ribs ached, but it wasn''t sharp anymore. Just there. A weight behind each breath. ''Still moving. That''s what matters I guess.'' He folded the blanket. Rolled the bedroll again. Shoved both back into the pack without much care. The straps were fraying. He adjusted them twice before they stopped digging into his collar. He stepped out of the cave. The wind met him like an old argument. Sharp at first, then dull. It filled his ears, dragged at the ends of his scarf. He adjusted the blade on his hip. Still dull. But it was enough for now. He checked the tracks near the trees. Nothing recent. Just his from the day before, half-swallowed by the night''s snowfall. Good. He knelt beside a patch of brush. Ran gloved fingers across the stems. No frostbite. Which meant the snow would soften by midmorning. Travel would be slower. Louder. Easier to track. He stood again. Stretched the stiffness out of one shoulder with a slow roll. Then started walking. South, by feel. The ridge to his right. The wind at his back. The path wasn''t straight. Snowdrifts pushed him off course. Once, he slipped. Caught himself against a bent tree and had to wait for the pain in his side to settle again. But he didn''t stop. Didn''t think about the village. Or the man. Or Rhea. Didn''t think about the voice under the mask or the cell walls or the way his core had felt when it cracked like old glass. Just moved. Breath steady. Hands loose. He passed a half-frozen stream by midday. Knelt. Drank from the edge. The water tasted like metal and bark. He didn''t care. The sun never showed its face. But the light shifted. Enough to tell him he''d lost another few hours to the snow and the slope and the quiet. He didn''t look up. Didn''t pray. He wasn''t the praying kind. By dusk, he''d spotted a new landmark. A cut in the ridge. Natural. Just deep enough to offer cover if things got worse. He headed for it. And the forest let him. Chapter 115 115: Travel (1) The cut wasn''t wide. Just a seam in the hill, half-swallowed by snow. Sloped down at a shallow angle. Sparse brush on the rim. Broken stone. Some moss. No tracks. He stepped in. Boots slipped once. Loose gravel under the crust of frost. He caught the ridge wall with one hand. Glove scraped. Didn''t tear. No wind down here. Quiet. He moved slower now. Left hand brushing the stone. Right on the grip of the blade. Dull iron, but weighty. Comfort more than defense. The cut dipped another few feet, then leveled out. A shelf of flat stone hugged the far side. Low ceiling above. Old tree roots split the wall near the top. Dead vines. He waited there. Still. Listening. Nothing but the shift of snow behind him. He crouched. Pack slipped off with a soft pull. Laid it beside him. Fingers checked the seams. Tight. No holes. He opened it. Bread, wrapped. Dried meat. Roots. Flasks sealed with waxed string. He didn''t eat. Just counted. Then slid the pack shut again. Waited. The cold was different in here. Less sharp. Heavy in the lungs. He unslung the blade. Held it against his knee. Turned it once, slow. No reflection in the steel. No edge on the back. The grip had come loose¡ªjust a little. ''Still cuts if you hold it right.'' He leaned forward. Scanned the slope above. Nothing moved. No birds. No branches creaking. Just the slow sound of his own breath. He stayed like that. A few minutes, maybe more. Then he put the blade back. And kept still. ¡ª The slope ended in a dip of stone. Uneven. Narrow. One side walled by frost-split rock, the other cluttered with dead brush. Snow had drifted in soft layers down the center. Lindarion crouched. Touched the stone with one glove. Cold, dry. No prints. He stepped inside. The ridge curled behind him. Wind muffled. Air heavy. Snow caught on the edge of his hood but didn''t fall farther. The silence felt packed in. Denser than it should be. He moved slow. Each step shallow. Each boot placed on stone, not snow. No crunch. The slope angled slightly to the left. Opened into a short ledge beneath a rock shelf. Just wide enough to crouch under. Just tall enough to stand if he kept his head low. He paused there. Scanned the dark above. No movement. No drip of melt. No wind hiss. Just quiet. He turned sideways, slid in. Let the pack drop beside him without sound. Sat. Back against the wall. Knees pulled close. The stone sucked heat fast. He didn''t light a fire. Didn''t unwrap food. Just opened the coat at the collar. Fingers brushed the charm. Still there. ''Feels warmer than it should.'' He didn''t take it out. Instead, he unlatched the pack. Quiet hands. One by one. Checked contents. Bread, dry but whole. The root wrapped in wax paper. Water skin mostly full. One cloth bundle. Bloodstained. Not fresh. He took it out. Opened it slow. The bandage inside was stiff. Dried through. The rip along his left side had stopped leaking. But the skin under the coat still pulled when he turned. ''Three more days maybe. If nothing opens again.'' He rewound the cloth. Pressed it back in. Tightened the strap. Pulled the coat shut. He let the blade rest across his lap. Not sharp. Not fine. But solid. He checked the grip again. Still loose at the base. No fix for it out here. His breath fogged once, then vanished. The cold wasn''t sharp in this place. Just patient. He leaned his head back. Eyes half-lidded. Muscles loose. But not asleep. Couldn''t afford that yet. The longer he stayed still, the more it felt off. Not dangerous. Not loud. Just... too quiet. Like something waiting to be heard. ¡ª He left the ridge at first light. Didn''t speak. Didn''t check the sky. Snow sat quiet across the path behind him. His prints had sunk overnight. The top layer had crusted. Thin, sharp. He stepped with care. Kept the coat tight. Let the scarf ride high on his face. The trees were denser on this side. Pines mostly. Some bare. Some holding snow like breath that wouldn''t leave. He walked slow. Let the weight of each step press straight down. No drag. No slide. The wind was gone now. Just the hush of old branches. No birds. Good cover. Bad feeling. By midday, the light had changed. Slight. Just enough to throw soft glare off the drifts near the roots. He paused near a long slope. Snow there had shifted. Not much. Just wrong. He crouched. Pressed his hand to a patch near a low bush. Indentation. Too shallow to be full weight. Heel mark at the edge. Someone had stepped there, then moved off. He looked back. Nothing. Just trees. Just the dip where he came from. No sound behind him. He kept moving. Didn''t speed up. Didn''t slow down. Just let the rhythm settle again. Fifteen paces farther. Maybe twenty. Another break. Thin branch lying in the snow. It wasn''t snapped where it fell. It was placed. Clean break. No scatter. Aligned too neatly with the edge of the path. He stared at it a long time. Then stepped around it. Further on, a new kind of sign. A leaf. Mid-sized. Brown. Not local. Not from any tree nearby. Pressed flat on a rock. No snow on it. No dusting. He stopped. ''That''s definitely some kind of bait.'' Not to draw him in. Just to show presence. Whoever was following wasn''t hunting for real. Not yet. Not hiding either. He kept walking. Blade at his hip shifted with each step. Dull, familiar sound. His ribs ached on the left side. He didn''t touch them. Didn''t touch the charm either. The forest ahead was deeper. Darker at the base. The light above had gone thin and colorless. He didn''t stop. Didn''t blink more than needed. The snow near his boots stayed even. But he felt it now. Like pressure between the shoulder blades. Someone was behind him. And they wanted to be noticed. ¡ª He kept walking. Let the slope guide him down. The trees pressed close on both sides now. Some bent. Some hollow at the base. No wind here. No sound but his boots. The snow had gone soft again. Not slush. Just broken. Pliable underfoot. He adjusted his steps. Slightly wider now. Left foot heavy, right foot lighter. It left a pattern. Looked natural. But it wasn''t his real gait. Another twenty paces. Then he stopped near a boulder. Crouched low. Pressed a palm to the ground behind it. Then dragged it slightly forward. A smear. Fresh. Footprint-shaped. He stood again. Looked ahead. Then turned, slow, and stepped sideways into the trees. Off the false path. Real steps now. Silent as he could manage. He moved parallel to the trail for a minute. Maybe more. Then paused. Listened. Nothing. Not even breath. He dropped to one knee. Stayed still. The forest didn''t shift. Didn''t whisper. But it watched. He stayed there longer. Waiting. The cold seeped into his shin where it touched the ground. He didn''t move. Finally, he stood again. Quiet. Careful. He looped back. Farther north this time. Let the land guide him in a shallow arc. When he crossed his own trail again, it was untouched. No one had stepped into the false prints yet. But that didn''t mean they weren''t watching. He walked ten more steps. Eyes on the trees now. Not the ground. And there it was. A single stem. Bent. Just slightly. Right height for a shoulder. The angle was wrong for animal movement. He touched it. Gloved fingers. Still warm. He pulled his hand back. Didn''t draw his blade. Not yet. The urge was there. But whoever this was, they weren''t rushing. Not careless. Not hunting for food. They were waiting. Tracking. And they wanted him to know. He didn''t go far. Two ridges over. Shallow rise, half-covered in old pine needles. The snow didn''t sit right here. Broken patches of earth in the hollow. No footprints. He checked the wind. West. Still. Good enough. He found a tree with three trunks. Close together. One of them leaned forward like it wanted to fall but hadn''t decided how. He set his pack down in the crook between root and trunk. Scanned the treeline again. Nothing. No movement. No breath but his. He crouched low and dug through the bottom flap of the pack. String. A bit of twine. Not proper wire. Just enough tension. He unwrapped the charm next. Rhea''s. Twine looped through silver. A knot at the center. Small weight. He hesitated. ''Stupid.'' Tied it anyway. Tensioned it between two branches just off the trail. Knee-height. Nothing a beast would catch. But a person might. He braced one stick in the snow and looped the charm above it. Balanced. Just enough to fall if the line moved. Not a trap. Not even a snare. Just a message. ''You stepped here.'' He backed away slow. Checked the path from all angles. No fresh signs. No glow. Still didn''t feel right. He moved to a thicket opposite the tree. Flat ground. Good line of sight. He didn''t sit. Just crouched. Blade across his knees. Scarf pulled high. Hood forward. The sky above was flat and dim. No stars. Not night yet. Not full dark. Just that grey weight before both. He stayed still. Eyes open. Breath slow. His ribs ached again. Old pain. Flared sharp when he twisted to check the far side of the tree. He didn''t reach for the core. It felt like broken glass anyway. Couldn''t draw from it. Not safely. He watched the charm instead. Held his breath once. Twice. Nothing moved. He stayed crouched. Waited. ''They''re not some randoms. That''s clear.'' Another breath. ''Not local either. The locals here definitely don''t tail children through frost without fire or noise.'' He blinked. Vision still sharp. The charm shifted once in the breeze. Settled. He adjusted his grip on the blade. ''So. Who are they?'' The wind changed slightly. Not direction. Just tone. A low scrape across bark. Then gone. His heart didn''t spike. Didn''t drop either. He held still. Listened. One breath at a time. Chapter 116 116: Travel (2) The charm didn''t move again. It hung crooked on the line, still catching faint gusts. He shifted his weight by inches. Left knee ground deeper into frozen needles. Right hand stayed loose across the blade hilt. Breath shallow. Controlled. He watched. Waited. The dark thickened. Not true night. Just enough to make the trees bleed into each other. Enough to lose depth. Snow dusted down in light spits. Barely touched the ground before vanishing. He blinked slow. Eyelids heavier than he wanted. ''Stay awake.'' He bit the inside of his cheek. Felt the blood come up. Coppery. Sharp. Better than sleep. He adjusted the scarf higher. Let it cover the raw edge of skin under his jaw. Still no sound. Still no movement. The cold worked past the coat now. Seeped under the collar, along his ribs. Fine tremors touched his fingers. Not enough to matter yet. He breathed against the cloth. Slow. Careful. The blade stayed across his knees. The charm hung steady. Then. A shift. Not a sound exactly. More a pressure. A touch to the air itself. Small. Precise. The twine pulled. Less than an inch. The charm tipped. Fell. Hit the stick with a sound too small for human ears. But he heard it. He was already moving. Weight forward. Blade drawn. Body low. Center of gravity tucked near the ground. Nothing broke the silence. No cry. No curse. No clumsy footfalls in the brush. Whoever it was had felt the trap snap. And they froze. Smart. He kept still too. Breath held. The snow absorbed sound like cloth. Seconds bled out, slow and heavy. He scanned the treeline. Shapes blurred. Branches. Hollow trunks. Long shadows of stone. No figure. No gleam of eye or steel. Still. He waited. Heartbeat slow. Barely a pulse against the side of his throat. ''Close. Way closer than before.'' The way the charm had fallen, it had been a rightward pull. He pivoted slightly. Blade low to the earth. Elbow tight to his ribs. The cold gnawed at his side where the old wound hadn''t closed fully. A dampness there. Not bleeding yet. But waiting. He let the pain settle. Let it anchor him. Another shift in the air. Tiny. A breath drawn too sharp. A boot pivoted slow against snow. Close. Thirty feet maybe. Maybe less. He adjusted his stance. Let the blade tilt, not flash. No light to catch the metal. He closed his eyes a moment. Listened. The figure wasn''t rushing. Wasn''t even retreating. Hovering at the edge. Testing. Same as him. He opened his eyes again. The snow between them looked flat. Harmless. It lied. He thought about calling out. About drawing them into mistake. Decided against it. ''No words. Not yet.'' He shifted his left foot. Quarter-inch. Closer to the center line of the trunk he crouched against. Better cover. Blade balanced lightly across his right thigh. The cold ate into his legs now. Not a tremor yet. But close. He could feel the burn gathering at the base of his spine. The kind of fatigue that did not speak loud. Just waited to take. He breathed against the scarf again. Soft. Measured. The figure in the trees moved a fraction. The way snow dampened the crackle said they were light. Not fully armored. Not a heavy fighter. Scout. Or mage. Or worse. ''Someone trained...?'' Another heartbeat. Two. Three. A crow called from somewhere distant. Not close enough to be warning. He pressed the back of his hand against the ground. Snow had hardened here. No real cover if it came to a charge. But he could force it. Force the angle. Force them into open ground. He shifted the blade in his grip. Grip high. Shorten the swing. Save the core for last. It still felt like broken glass inside him. If he tried to draw on it now, the backlash would tear him apart before he hit the first note. He didn''t move yet. Didn''t even breathe harder. Waited. Again. ''Let them make the first noise.'' The charm had fallen to the side now, half-buried in snow. A silver glint. Still. Rhea''s stupid charm. Somehow, it mattered now. Another footfall. Softer this time. Cautious. Moving left. Circling. ''Smart bastard.'' He let his knees flex. Let his balance shift. The figure kept circling. Trying to find the gap. The weakness. Not knowing he had already found them first. He breathed once more into the scarf. Short. Steady. Eyes narrowed against the cold. ''Closer.'' Another shift of weight. Another break in the pattern of snow. Fifteen feet now. Maybe less. He gripped the blade. And he moved first. Weight low. Blade forward. Silent. The snow gave under his boots. Shallow crunch. Nothing loud. He came at an angle. Forced the line tighter. Closed the open ground between them faster than the figure expected. The figure jerked back. Hesitation. That was the only mistake. Lindarion drove the point forward. Not a thrust. Just a hard step to make space collapse. The figure recovered fast. Duck. Slide back on the off foot. Cloak swinging close to the ground. No sound. Good. Trained. Better. He pivoted, dragging the blade across the lower line of attack. A defensive slice. Not a full cut. Not meant to connect. Meant to test. The figure moved with it. Glided backward toward a patch of broken roots. Light on their feet. Shorter than him by a little. Stocky frame. Covered in dark fabric. Hood low. No clear glint of weapon yet. He followed. Not fast. Measured. Each step timed. He let the blade lower again. Kept it loose. Opened the stance slightly. Invitation. The figure shifted weight onto the forward leg. Testing too. Smart. He gripped the blade tighter. Loose wrap across the hilt. The figure darted forward. Low angle. No cry. No shout. A glint at their side. Blade. Short, curved. Not meant for slashing. Meant for puncture. They struck at the ribs. He turned into it. Let the blade scrape shallow across the coat. Felt the tug at the old wound. Pain flared. Sharp. Bright. He ignored it. Pivoted. Countered with a low elbow across the figure''s shoulder. Connection solid. Bone jar. The figure staggered half a step. Regained footing fast. No opening. He didn''t chase. Let them recover. Measured the distance again. Both breathing light. Controlled. They circled once. Twice. Each looking for the faultline. Each refusing to give it. He shifted the blade back to a high guard. Short grip. No flourish. The cold gnawed at his wrist now. Dull pain across the back of the hand. The figure moved first this time. A feint. Right step. Dip of the shoulder. Flash of blade high. He didn''t take it. Let the motion pass. Stepped to the side. Let them overextend. The figure corrected fast. No stumble. Sharp pivot. He smiled behind the scarf. Small. Bitter. ''Good. Better that way.'' The gap widened again. Fifteen feet. Breath hanging between them. Shallow clouds. Two animals locked without noise. ''So he isn''t a mage..?'' He shifted weight back onto his heels. Lowered the blade half an inch. The figure mirrored him. A test of patience now. He felt the old pain gnaw at his side. Ignored it. The charm around his neck bumped once against his sternum with each breath. Still warm. Still there. The figure crouched lower. Blade reversed now. Held backhanded. ''Trying to rush.'' He didn''t move. Didn''t blink. Waited. The forest around them stayed still. Watching. The moment stretched thin. Another second. Another. Then. Movement. The figure moved. Fast. A sprint over short snow. Blade low. Shoulders tight. He shifted stance. No flourish. Just balance. Tight grip. Left foot forward. The figure closed the gap in four strides. Aiming high now. Throat. He dropped low. Weight into the knees. Blade snapped upward. Short arc. The figure twisted midstep. Blade skimmed Lindarion''s shoulder. Caught coat, not skin. He twisted with them. Drove a shoulder into the figure''s ribs. Solid contact. Not enough to break anything. Enough to stagger. He kept moving. No time for a second hit. The figure spun. Recovered fast. Short blade flashed in a tight hook toward his side. He pulled the coat tighter. Let the blade catch the fold instead of skin. Fabric tore. Pain licked along the old wound. Not deep. Not yet. He ignored it. Pivoted off his back foot. Let the momentum carry him sideways. Cold air burned his lungs. The figure advanced. No hesitation. Good footwork. Kept weight low. Right hand blade. Left hand loose. No visible magic. Or hiding it well. He breathed against the scarf. Shallow. The distance between them snapped closed again. A clash of grips. Steel struck against steel. Not a loud sound. Just a dull hit, muted by frost and fabric. The figure tried to drive him back. Tight steps. Blade pressing. He gave ground carefully. Quarter-inch at a time. No panic. No stumble. Let them think they were winning space. The charm inside his coat bumped against his ribs again. Each heartbeat slower now. Measured. The figure feinted left. He didn''t take it. Shifted weight onto his back leg. Let them overcommit. Blade angle wrong. Overexposed. He moved in. Small step. Barely more than a breath. Blade snapped up. Caught the inside of their forearm. Not deep. But it bled. A dark line against pale skin where the sleeve ripped. The figure hissed low. More instinct than anger. They jumped back. Reset stance. He stayed still. Breath calm. Blade steady. He watched the blood bead and fall. Small drops. Quick. Not a huge wound. Not enough. But a mark. ''I''ll cut you down sooner or later.'' The figure flexed the hand once. Testing grip. Still strong. Good. He didn''t want it easy. He rolled his shoulder once. The cut on his side burned bright. Not fatal. Not yet slowing him. The forest around them stayed silent. Even the birds had given up on sound. The figure circled again. Smaller now. Less confident. Measured. He shifted his feet. Blade tip low. Ready. Blood dripped between them. Spattered dark across the crusted snow. Neither spoke. Words were useless here. Only movement mattered. Chapter 117 117: Travel (3) The man shifted his stance again. Blade reversed in a tight grip. Feet careful in the snow. Lindarion''s eyes narrowed. He watched the weight in the man''s knees. The subtle pull in his shoulders. No aura of magic building. No faint ripple of mana in the air. Nothing but breath and muscle and the steadiness of an old blade. ''He''s not a mage,'' Lindarion thought. ''Just a fighter. A real one.'' The realization settled cold and heavy in his chest. He had prepared for something else. A spell flung from the dark, a poisoned dart hidden behind words. Instead, it was steel. Flesh. Breath. That made it simpler. He shifted his own balance. Let a slight sag pull into his shoulders. A feint. Weakness, if the man was desperate enough to believe it. The bait worked. The man lunged, low and fast, blade darting for the ribs already torn. Smart. Efficient. But not smart enough. Lindarion twisted into the strike. Let the coat catch the blade''s edge. Felt the sharp tug of tearing fabric. The sting of skin splitting open again. He didn''t falter. Instead, he stepped inside the man''s reach. Quick. Sharp. The world shrank to the width of a breath. Lindarion drove the pommel of his blade up under the man''s jaw. He felt the jolt travel up his own arm, the brief resistance of bone, the crack of teeth slamming shut. The man stumbled, half dazed. Lindarion did not hesitate. He reversed his grip and plunged the blade up into the soft space under the man''s ribs. There was a moment of ugly resistance. The push through worn cloth. Then the yielding give of flesh. The man gasped. A short, sharp sound punched from his lungs. ''You''re dead already,'' Lindarion thought, feeling the tremor pass through the man''s body. He twisted the blade once and yanked it free. Blood spilled out in a thick, slow rush, dark against the snow. The man staggered backward. Knees buckled. One hand pressed against the open wound as if that would hold his life in. He fell forward, hands hitting the snow with a dull thud. Stayed there. Lindarion watched. No rush. No final attack. No tricks. The man''s chest rose once, then stopped. ''He''s dead now.'' The cold seemed to deepen around him. The only sound was his own breathing. He crouched slowly. Wiped the blood off his blade against the man''s sleeve. Checked the body, methodical. No crest. No mage tools. No signal rings. Just a plain hunting knife, a worn coat, a few crumpled coins. Not a conjurer. Not a scholar. Not even a court assassin. ''He was just a soldier.'' A skilled one. But still, only mortal. He straightened slowly, feeling the ache rise up from his torn side. A wetness spreading under the coat. The wound needed binding, but it could wait a little longer. He stared down at the body one last time. No anger. No sadness. No pride. ''He followed me all this way just to bleed out here in the snow.'' The thought wasn''t cruel. Just a fact. Heavy and final. The snow beneath the corpse was already turning to a dark slush, the blood melting through the top layer. Lindarion turned away. Adjusted the scarf around his throat, tugged the strap of the pack tighter across his shoulder. The forest ahead loomed darker than before. Every shape heavier. Every shadow colder. He looked once more over his shoulder. The man lay still. ''There will be more,'' he thought. ''There''s always more.'' He stepped back into the trees, every footfall muffled by the deepening snow. No prayers. No promises. Just the cold and the road still unwinding before him. ¡ª The snow swallowed the sound of his steps almost completely. Lindarion kept his head low, the scarf drawn up high across his face. The cold dug in deeper now, knifing through the seams of his coat, settling in the cracks of old wounds. His side ached with every step. The blood had slowed but not stopped. The weight of it dragged at him. Small pulls. Small weaknesses. The kind that didn''t scream but would kill if you let them. He did not look back again. ''Dead is dead,'' he thought. ''Standing over it does nothing.'' The trees thickened ahead, bare arms clawing at a pale sky. The horizon pressed down, heavy and wide. No sun. No moon yet. Just the endless blue-grey stretch of cold light that belonged to places men forgot. He followed no trail now. No path. Just a sense of direction in his bones. South and east. Away from the village. Away from what he had already lost. He adjusted the strap of his pack once. It bit into his shoulder. The bedroll was soaked through from where he had dropped it earlier, the dampness seeping out cold against his back. ''Need to find cover by nightfall,'' he thought. ''No fire this time either.'' The fight had stolen too much time. He could feel it ticking under his ribs. The forest stretched wide ahead, featureless and white, and he had no landmarks left to cling to. Each step packed snow underfoot. Each breath burned against the inside of his throat. He passed an old tree split by lightning long ago, the trunk hollowed black and rotted through the center. A bad place to shelter. Too open. Too obvious. He didn''t stop. Didn''t pause to rest. The cold would get in the moment he sat down. It would sink into his spine. Make the decision for him. Make him still. He wasn''t ready to die in a hole like that. The blade at his side tapped lightly against his hip with each step. Dull edge. Dirty hilt. Blood already drying into the cracks of the worn grip. It was a poor weapon. It was all he had. ''Better poor than nothing.'' The charm Rhea had given him bumped against his sternum again. He could feel it even through the layers of cloth. A small, stubborn weight. He hadn''t thrown it away. Hadn''t really considered it either. ''Maybe I''m stupider than I thought,'' he muttered inside his own skull. ''Carrying luck I don''t believe in.'' He tugged the scarf higher as the wind shifted. Thin and sharp now. The kind that scraped at the eyes, the kind that made noise where none should be. Somewhere to the far west, a crow called once, thin and high. Not close enough to mean anything. Still, he didn''t like it. The land started to tilt downward again, a soft slope he could barely see but could feel in the stretch of his calves. He let it guide him. Let gravity do the work his muscles could no longer handle. The sky above was darkening. Not sudden. Just a slow dimming, the edges of the world folding in piece by piece. He would need shelter soon. Another hollow. A fallen tree. Anything that would keep the wind from cutting straight through him when night fell. And night was falling fast. He clenched his hands into fists inside his gloves. Stiff. Half-frozen. ''Just a little longer,'' he thought. ''Keep moving. No matter how slow.'' The thought had no triumph in it. No hope. Just a quiet, stubborn shape he set his teeth into. One foot dragged slightly now. His ribs hurt when he pulled in air too fast. He tucked the pain away into the place all the other pain went. Folded small and neat, pressed under the weight of necessity. The land flattened again after a few more minutes. He pushed forward, head down, breathing ragged and shallow. Nothing around him moved. Nothing spoke. The world was a white desert, empty and waiting. And he kept walking into it. ¡ª The cold deepened in slow, steady layers. Lindarion could feel it bleeding through the soles of his boots now, each step slower, heavier. His side throbbed in time with his pulse. The wet patch under his coat was spreading again. He didn''t need to look to know it was blood. The air shifted. The smell changed. The wind picked up without warning, cutting low and fast across the slope, dragging the scent of frost and old earth and something sharper. Ice. He stopped at the edge of a shallow drop, squinting into the distance. The horizon was gone. Just a blur of white and grey, rolling in slow but certain. A storm. ''Of course,'' he thought, tightening the scarf higher across his mouth. ''Because it wasn''t hard enough already.'' He looked for shelter. Eyes scanning quickly, methodically. No panic. Just fact. Dead trees. Open snowfields. Rocks crusted with old frost. Nothing wide enough. Nothing deep enough. The first gust hit him hard enough to stagger. He caught himself with a hand against a tree trunk, fingers scraping bark through thin gloves. Snow whipped sideways now, small grains first, then heavier, thick clumps crashing against his coat, sticking to the rough weave. Visibility dropped fast. A few yards. Maybe less. He forced himself forward. One step. Another. The storm wasn''t howling yet, but it would. He had seen storms like this before from the Academy windows, curled safe behind glass and stone walls. Out here, there was no wall coming. No safe distance between him and the sky. He bent lower against the rising wind. Kept his body narrow, small. The snow built against his boots, dragging, slowing him. Every step took more from him now. Not just strength. Heat. Tiny pieces, pulled away with every breath he exhaled into the cold. ''Need cover,'' he thought grimly. ''Anything. A ditch. A hole. A crack in the ground.'' Something in the woods to his left caught his eye. A shadow. No, a hollow. A low shelf of stone half-buried against a rise. Not perfect. Maybe not even good. But it was something. He turned, dragging himself across the slope at a slight angle. The snow battered at his side, filled his footprints before he finished lifting each boot. He made it to the shelf after what felt like an hour but was probably only a minute. The stone jutted out at a slant, creating a shallow wedge of space underneath. Tight. Cramped. Just deep enough to curl up against the worst of the wind. He dropped to his knees under the ledge, breath tearing out of him. Cold stone scraped the back of his gloves as he pushed deeper inside. Not much room. Barely enough to lie curled on one side. Snow had drifted in already. It packed against his legs as he squeezed himself in. Better than nothing. ''At least it''s not open sky.'' The storm hit full a few seconds later. He could hear it even through the stone. The way the world turned violent in an instant. Roaring wind. Sheets of snow driving sideways. A force too big to see. Too big to fight. He pressed his back tighter against the stone. Pulled his knees up to his chest. The blanket was still in the pack, damp but usable. He unrolled it with numb fingers. Wrapped it around himself clumsily. Sealed as much as he could inside coat and scarf and rough cloth. It wasn''t warmth. It was just slightly less death. The storm pounded against the stone above him. Snow curled inside the wedge of shelter. Caught in his hair, his lashes. Melted against the heat still bleeding off his skin. He closed his eyes for a moment. Not sleep. Not surrender. Just closing against the blinding swirl of white. The cold clawed at him. The wetness on his side gnawed deeper. It would freeze if he sat too long. Maybe it already was. He peeled the scarf down for a second. Pressed two fingers against the torn side of his coat. Felt the slick chill of blood against cracked leather. ''No binding tonight,'' he thought. ''No fire. No light.'' Just darkness. Just cold. Just survival. The world outside the stone had turned into noise and emptiness. No shapes left. No paths. If someone had been hunting him now, they would have found nothing but wind and white. ''Maybe that''s the mercy of it,'' he thought. ''Even monsters freeze.'' He shifted once, slow, trying to keep the blood moving in his arms, his legs. Trying to keep from becoming another lost thing buried by the storm. Another minute passed. Another hour. Time blurred under the crush of cold and exhaustion. He didn''t dream. He didn''t even think clearly anymore. Just breathing. Just existing. One heartbeat at a time. Chapter 118 118: Travel (4) The first thing he felt was weight. Heavy. Crushing. Not the weight of his body, but something pressing from all sides. Cold against his arms, his legs, the side of his face. Snow. He opened his eyes. Grey light seeped through a thin layer of white above him, faint and lifeless. His eyelashes stuck together, crusted with frozen tears. He lay still a moment longer, heart sluggish in his chest. Breathing shallow and ragged against the scarf frozen stiff against his mouth. ''Still alive,'' he thought, forcing the words through the slow churn of his mind. ''Barely.'' The storm had buried him during the night. Only the thin shelf of rock overhead had kept him from being crushed completely. He shifted his hand first. Gloved fingers curled weakly. Numb. More like stone than flesh. The motion dislodged some of the snow packed against his shoulder. Small avalanches of powder fell into the crook of his neck, down the collar of his coat. The shock of cold was sharper than any blade. He gritted his teeth, breath catching. ''Move. Now.'' Slowly, he braced his elbows under him. The blanket wrapped around his body clung stiffly, soaked through and half-frozen. It tore with a soft ripping sound when he pushed up against the weight. Snow poured off his back as he broke free. The world outside was white. Nothing else. No trees. No horizon. No road. Only endless snowfields rolling under a low grey sky. He forced himself into a crouch. Muscles shaking violently. The effort felt endless, every breath scraping against the rawness in his lungs. His side throbbed. The wound had stiffened overnight, freezing at the edges. Blood loss had slowed, but only because it had nearly frozen in place. He tightened the scarf higher across his face. ''No stopping. No waiting. Keep moving.'' He unwrapped the blanket from around his shoulders and shoved it into the pack, clumsy with numb hands. It wouldn''t help anymore. It was just a frozen rag now. Extra weight. The blade at his hip was stiff in its sheath, the leather strap iced solid. He worked it loose with slow, careful fingers, flexing the hilt once to make sure it still drew clean. Still serviceable. ''Enough for one more fight, maybe.'' He didn''t let himself think longer than necessary. Thinking meant stopping. And if he stopped now, he would die. He turned away from the hollow that had saved him. Stumbled once. Caught himself on one knee. The snow swallowed his foot up to the ankle in the first step. The storm had left thick, uneven drifts across the land. Each footfall was a fight. Each breath another small wound torn open inside his ribs. He leaned into the walk. Head low. Scarf pulled tight across his mouth and nose. No footprints to follow. No direction but forward. The charm Rhea had given him bumped faintly against his chest again, muffled under layers of cloth and leather. He almost laughed. ''What a stupid thing to carry.'' He touched it once through the coat anyway. Not for luck. Just to feel something that wasn''t cold. The wind had dropped, but the sky warned of more waiting. Clouds pressed low and unbroken above him. A ceiling he would never reach. He kept walking. Step after step. There was no rhythm now. Only motion. No goal except away. Away from the dead man. Away from the village. Away from everything that could find him and finish what had started in the academy courtyard. Minutes bled into hours. Or maybe it was less. Time meant nothing here. Pain gnawed slowly into his side, sharper with every slip and stumble. He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about the warmth draining from his limbs either. ''Body can heal,'' he thought. ''If you give it a chance. If you get out of this cursed place.'' A simple promise. A quiet one. And so he walked. One foot dragging behind the other. Shoulders hunched. The storm''s ghost still biting at the edges of the world. ¡ª The snow blurred everything into sameness. Lindarion dragged his boots through another half-buried ridge, feeling the crust break under him in loud cracks that vanished almost instantly under the hush of the empty woods. His legs hurt. Not just the sharp pain of cuts or bruises. A deeper kind. The kind that settled into the joints and tendons, threatening to seize them if he let himself stop even for a second. He gritted his teeth and pressed forward. ''One day without getting stabbed would be nice,'' he thought bitterly. ''Maybe two if the gods are feeling generous.'' The thought tasted dry in his mouth. His stomach cramped suddenly, sharp and mean. Hunger. He hadn''t eaten properly since he left the village. He slid the pack off one aching shoulder and dug through it, fumbling past the frozen cloth of the bedroll and the cracked leather of his rations. A strip of dried meat surfaced. Hard as stone. Grey around the edges. He stared at it a long moment. ''Appetizing,'' he muttered in his head. ''Five stars. Would recommend.'' He bit into it anyway. Teeth working slow. The meat tasted like salt, old leather, and regret. But it filled a hole that had been widening inside him all morning. Barely. He shoved the rest into his pocket and hoisted the pack back up, wincing as the motion pulled at the torn skin under his ribs. The landscape ahead rolled unevenly. Small rises and dips hidden under snowdrifts that rose taller than a man''s chest in places. Climbing them felt like scaling mountains. His breath steamed thick against the inside of the scarf. At the top of one drift, he paused. Nothing ahead but more endless white. No landmarks. No shelter. No shapes except the gnarled black skeletons of trees half-drowned by snow. He felt the world tilt slightly around him, not from the slope, but from the bone-deep exhaustion pulling at every nerve. ''Keep moving,'' he told himself. ''You stop, you die. That simple.'' Still, the idea of sitting down for just a second was dangerously tempting. One second to close his eyes. One second to let the cold cradle him down into something slower, something easier. He shook his head sharply, blinking against the sting of frozen lashes. ''No,'' he thought. ''That''s not how you get to the next place.'' He started down the far side of the drift. Legs slipping a little, arms out for balance. The blade at his side bumped rhythmically against his hip. The movement soothed him in a strange way. Familiar. Comfortable. It reminded him of other days. Days when his hands had been steady around a sword grip, body loose, mind sharp. Not fighting to survive. Just moving for the sake of moving. For the sake of perfection. That life felt very far away now. And yet. The instincts remained. In the way he leaned into a fall instead of fighting it. In the way he adjusted his center of gravity without thinking. In the way he refused to waste energy when it counted most. Snow spilled down around him as he skidded the last few feet down the slope. His boots struck hard earth hidden under the drift. The shock traveled up his knees, rattling his teeth. He staggered. Caught himself. Kept walking. ''Not pretty,'' he thought. ''But I''m still upright.'' The storm had left behind a sky so low it felt like it might fall on him at any moment. Clouds dragging just above the treetops, bruised grey and sickly. Ahead, the ground flattened out into a shallow valley. Snow lay thick and undisturbed across it, a blank sheet. No signs of life. No trails. He stepped forward, boots sinking deep. Every breath hurt now. Every motion felt like swimming through syrup. His side burned hot where the wound rubbed raw against the coat. It wasn''t bleeding out fast enough to kill him today. Tomorrow might be different. He smiled thinly behind the scarf. ''One day at a time, then. One bad decision after another.'' The thought didn''t even make him angry. It just felt true. He kept walking. Because the alternative wasn''t something he was willing to accept. Not yet. ¡ª Snow drifted against the high windows of Evernight Academy as the storm roared outside. Thin slivers of ice crawled the edges of the glass, spiderwebbing the corners, delicate and cold. The great hall stood silent except for the low scrape of chairs moving, the occasional muffled cough. No laughter. No raised voices. Just the heavy quiet that had taken hold the morning after the attack. And never really left. Luneth sat at the end of the long table reserved for first-years, her hands folded neatly atop a worn book. She had not turned a page in ten minutes. Across from her was Cassian who had been released from the infirmary. He tilted his chair back, balancing on two legs with the easy recklessness that only he could make look half-natural. His eyes flicked toward her briefly. "Still nothing," he said under his breath. Not a question. Just fact. Luneth shifted her gaze to him. Cool. Steady. "No." Cassian let the chair drop back onto all four legs with a soft thump. He slouched forward, elbows resting on the table, hands buried in the sleeves of his academy robes. "They''re not even pretending anymore," he muttered. "No search parties.. No updates. Nyx won''t answer anything. Thalorin''s just...gone as well." Luneth tilted her head slightly, watching the slow curl of frost creep farther down the glass. "They want us to forget maybe." The words came out flat, precise. Cassian gave a dry snort. Shook his head. "Good luck with that." At the far end of the hall, a professor crossed the marble floor, boots echoing faintly. Not one of the combat instructors. Not their homeroom teacher either. Just another robed figure moving through a daily routine that felt more like a funeral march. Most of the first-years had adapted. Or pretended to. Vivienne still threw herself into training sessions with a sharpness that made even senior students wary. Jack picked fights twice as often, laughed twice as loud. Elara smiled too much. Too bright. Too fast. Rowan stuck to Jack''s shadow like glue, eyes twitching toward every shadowed doorway. None of them spoke Lindarion''s name anymore. Not in the halls. Not where anyone could hear. But it lived behind every glance. Every unfinished sentence. Luneth traced one pale finger along the edge of her book. She remembered the last time she had seen him. Still as stone. Sharp-eyed. Carrying more weight than the rest of them combined. She wondered, not for the first time, if he was dead. And if he was¡ª Was he better off than the rest of them, trapped here under walls that no longer felt like protection? Cassian nudged the table lightly with his foot, pulling her attention back. "You think he''s still alive?" She met his eyes. No hesitation. "Yes." Cassian studied her a second longer, then nodded. Once. Slow. Not a boy who wanted to hope. Just a boy who wasn''t ready to grieve yet either. Above them, the storm raged against the windows. And Evernight Academy stood silent. Waiting. Chapter 119 119: Solhaven (1) The land began to slope downward again. Lindarion pulled the scarf higher across his mouth, shielding what little warmth he had left. His boots dragged through the crust of snow, each step stealing more from him than the one before. His side burned with a slow, festering ache. Too cold to bleed properly. Too stubborn to heal. He leaned forward against the wind, body hunched, head low. Moving became mechanical. Habit layered over exhaustion. Somewhere ahead¡ª A change. Not in the snow. Not in the trees. In the air. He slowed, instincts prickling sharp under the numbness. He could smell it. Smoke. Thin, woodsmoke curling faint against the iron of the winter sky. He lifted his head, squinting through the broken veil of frost. There. Far on the horizon. Barely a smudge. Grey smoke rising against the clouds. ''Civilization,'' he thought. ''Or something close enough to pass for it.'' The realization barely sparked anything inside him. No surge of hope. No relief. Just the dull understanding that if he could reach it, he might not die today. Might. He forced his legs to move faster. The snow thinned the closer he came. Packed down by traffic. Harder underfoot. Wagon tracks scarred the drifts, lines etched deep into the frozen mud. Fresh. Or fresh enough. Signs of life. He stumbled once, catching himself on the haft of the blade at his side. The muscles in his back screamed. His knees nearly buckled. ''Get up,'' he told himself. ''You didn''t come this far to collapse twenty steps from a town.'' He shoved himself upright again. One step. Another. The smoke thickened. The smell of burning pine stronger now, tinged with the sharp iron of forges working in the cold. Roofs appeared between the trees. Stone chimneys coughing into the sky. The crooked line of a palisade wall, rough but solid. Solhaven. It wasn''t exactly how people would expect a city to be. Not the way Elarion had been. But it was shelter. Walls. Fire. Food. And it would have to be enough. He approached the gates without ceremony. No guards shouted challenge from the posts. No arrows raised in warning. Just a single man hunched in a heavy coat, sitting on a stool by the gatehouse, head buried in his arms to shield against the wind. He barely glanced up when Lindarion stumbled through the open gate. Good. The fewer questions, the better. The main road beyond was little more than packed earth lined with squat houses and low shops. Thin smoke curled from almost every chimney. The scent of baking bread hit him like a hammer, sharp and dizzying after so long in the wilderness. He clenched his jaw. Forced his feet forward. Every step into Solhaven felt heavier. Every step threatened to knock him off balance. Faces blurred at the edges of his vision. Men and women hauling firewood. Children darting between carts. Traders arguing low over frost-cracked goods. No one paid him much mind. Just another half-dead traveler dragging himself out of the wilds. He passed a group of soldiers in mismatched armor warming themselves around a brazier. Their swords looked rusted. Their faces looked older than their years. None of them spoke to him. ''Good,'' he thought through the haze. ''Better invisible.'' The town center loomed ahead. A wide square, half-frozen, pocked with old footprints and muddy ice. A public well sat at its heart, rim crusted with frost. He made it as far as the first empty bench by the well before his knees finally gave. He caught the fall barely, slumping onto the bench hard enough to jar his spine. Breathing ragged. Vision swimming. ''Just five minutes,'' he thought, closing his eyes against the raw brightness of the overcast sky. ''Just five. Then find food. Then find a place to hide.'' He knew better than to expect kindness. Especially in a place like Solhaven. A town that looked at the woods like a threat and the winter like a debt collector. But he was here. Still breathing. Still moving. And for now, that would have to be enough. ¡ª He stayed on the bench longer than he meant to. The cold hadn''t left. It just sat differently now, pressed under his skin instead of clinging to it. His fingers twitched occasionally, still half-frozen inside the gloves. He didn''t trust them for fine work yet. The ache in his side had settled into something dense and sharp. Not life-threatening. Not yet. But he wouldn''t be sprinting again anytime soon. He cracked his eyes open. The town was moving around him. Wheels clattered over frozen stone. Boots stamped mud. A woman walked past carrying a child on her hip, wrapped in too many layers. The kid stared at him as they passed. Didn''t say anything. Lindarion looked down at himself. The coat was torn in two places. Blood had dried stiff across the right sleeve. The scarf was fraying. His boots were caked in a thick ring of half-melted snow. ''Yeah,'' he thought. ''I look like hell.'' He pulled himself upright with a slow breath. His legs resisted. His knees creaked. But he stood. ''Food. Then shelter.'' He kept his head low and started walking, following the line of narrow buildings that edged the square. Solhaven didn''t have the gleam of capital cities or the carved marble elegance of the Academy. It looked like it had been rebuilt too many times, patched with whatever materials were close to hand. Planks of mismatched wood, sagging roofs, frostbitten signs. It smelled like burning pine, iron, and old meat. A low, battered inn sat at the far end of the square, tucked between a tanner''s stall and a forge. No signboard, just the faint light of a lantern swinging beside the door and the heavy warmth bleeding out from inside. He pushed the door open. Heat hit him like a slap. His face stung from the sudden shift. Inside, it was louder. Voices tangled together over a crackling hearth. A few people glanced up. No one said anything. Wooden tables, poorly spaced. Old iron stove. A bar top slick with age and spills. He stepped up to the counter. A man behind it looked up. Middle-aged, dark beard trimmed blunt, eyes hard from habit. Lindarion reached into his coat. Dug out the pouch the family had given him. Just a few silvers. Enough for basics. He set one coin on the counter. His hand barely trembled. "Something hot," he said. The barkeep looked him over. Said nothing. Took the coin. A minute later, a bowl of thick stew hit the counter, along with a hunk of bread rough enough to scrape the inside of his mouth. He took it without a word and moved to a table near the back, half in shadow. No one followed. No one cared. Good. He sat. Slowly. Carefully. The stew was greasy, full of root vegetables and something that might have once been pork. It burned his tongue. He kept eating anyway. He didn''t stop until the bowl was empty. ''It''s food at least, edible I guess.'' Then the bread. Dry. Cracked. Still better than snow. His stomach protested at first, but it settled quickly. That was a relief. He hadn''t been sure if it would hold. When he finished, he leaned back against the wall and exhaled slowly. ''Still breathing. That''s what matters for now. I need to avoid contact..I don''t know if those people are searching for me.'' He touched the side of his coat again. The wound hadn''t reopened. The blood was thick and dark against the inside of the fabric, but it was dry. He needed to wash. He needed sleep. He needed a thousand things. ''Settle for one,'' he thought. ''A bed. Just tonight. Then figure out what comes next.'' He stood and walked back to the counter. The barkeep looked up again. Less annoyed this time. More neutral. "Room?" Lindarion nodded. "Smallest." Another coin changed hands. "Upstairs," the man said. "Third door on the right. No one''ll bother you." Lindarion didn''t thank him. He just took the key and climbed the stairs. His legs hated it. Every step felt longer than it should. The hallway above was dim, lit by a single candle burning low in a glass jar. He found the door. Let himself in. The room was small. Narrow cot, rough blanket. One chair. A cracked basin in the corner. He didn''t care. He shut the door, locked it, and leaned back against the wood for a moment. Then he slid the blade from his side and set it down. Peeled off the coat, layer by stiff layer. Folded it over the chair. Sat on the edge of the bed. The silence was real here. No wind. No trees. No howling emptiness. Just four walls and heat. Not comfort. Not safety. But enough. He let his hands fall into his lap. Stared at the scarred floorboards for a while. Then he whispered, not to anyone. Not to a god. Just to the room. "At Least I''m safe for now.." Chapter 120 120: Solhaven (2) The inn was too warm. The kind of thick heat that clung to the skin and made the breath sit heavy in the chest. Lindarion sat upright in bed, back to the wall. The blanket was pooled around his waist. The cot creaked with every breath. He hadn''t slept. His eyes stayed half-open, unfocused. But the tension never left his shoulders. Not even when the candle by the door burned low, flickering in the quiet. Then¡ª A pulse. Not sound. Not motion. Mana. Low, wide, trained. Not the wild leak of someone flaring out by accident. No. This was intentional. Controlled. Moving through the room like a wave of pressure. A new presence. His eyes sharpened at once. Then something else clicked into place. A thin line of cold drifted across the back of his neck. Not wind. Not weather. [Core Status ¨C Minor Recovery Detected] The words appeared in his mind, still and silent. Not spoken. Not written. Just known. His posture eased slightly. ''It''s healing... Finally.'' The damage done in the Man''s hold had locked his Core into a semi-burnt state ¡ª fractured, barely functional, held together by instinct and pain. But now, slowly, it was knitting itself back together. No flare of strength. No sudden gift. Just a fraction more resilience. He pulled the coat tighter around his shoulders, blade already resting near his side. The mana outside grew stronger. Two signatures. One denser. Smoother. Like fire banked under steel. The other had the weight of armor. Familiar, but not dangerous yet. He stepped toward the door, careful. Quiet. Opened it just enough to see. Down the hallway, figures emerged from the stairwell. One in a full cloak. The fabric moved with the weight of a trained body. The presence was unmistakable ¡ª someone with years of controlled mana use, likely fire or wind aligned, from the heat pushing faintly outward. The second wore a knight''s uniform. Standard Caldris colors, but accented differently. Not local garrison. An envoy then. Maybe military. Maybe something worse. The cloaked one stopped. Shifted slightly. Their head tilted, just a little. Listening. Lindarion didn''t breathe. The knight beside them muttered something. He couldn''t make out the words. The taller figure nodded once and spoke softly, voice deep, faintly rough. "He''s here. Somewhere." Lindarion''s heart stayed even. ''They''re not talking about me. They''d be closer. They''d know.'' He shut the door again with the same care. Clicked the lock into place. His fingers brushed the grip of the blade. The system still echoed faintly in the back of his mind ¡ª a distant pulse like a second heartbeat. [Greater Core Recovery: 3%] It wasn''t much. But it was more than nothing. He sat back on the bed, facing the door. He didn''t plan to sleep. Not now. ''Something''s happening in this town,'' he thought. ''And I''m not the only one hiding from it.'' He leaned back against the wall. Let his body rest. Eyes stayed open. Listening. Waiting. ¡ª The sun hadn''t broken through the clouds yet. Just a pale strip of light along the rooftops. Grey and thin. The kind that gave no warmth, only shape. Lindarion stepped out into the chill with his coat drawn tight and scarf pulled down low. His side hurt less than yesterday. Still stiff. Still swollen. But manageable. He felt the difference. Mana moved cleaner through his limbs now, a faint trickle he could direct into his legs, his hands. Enough to keep the blood from going stagnant. [Greater Core Recovery: 5%] ''Still slow,'' he thought. ''But steady.'' The street was quiet at this hour. A few merchants opening shutters. A man tossing salt across the ice-packed stone. Somewhere nearby, a hammer rang once against metal. Nothing sharp. Nothing urgent. He moved toward the square. Not quickly. Just moving for the sake of it. Getting a feel for the town while most of it still slept. And then he stopped. Two figures stood ahead, near the frozen well. One turned at the sound of his steps. The knight. Broad-shouldered. Clean armor. Red-trimmed cloak, lined for cold. A longsword hung at his side, not ceremonial. The other, the cloaked figure had turned a second later. Eyes found him. Sharp. Focused. A man maybe in his thirties. Close-cropped black hair, trimmed beard, no jewelry. His stance was relaxed, but the air around him felt different. Heated. Not burning, but charged. Fire affinity. High-level. Probably battle-experienced. Neither of them spoke at first. Lindarion held their gaze evenly. He made no effort to hide what he was. The ears, the pale skin, the eyes too sharp for human blood. The silence dragged. Then the knight finally spoke. "...You''re an elf." Not hostile. But not casual either. Lindarion let his voice stay calm. "Yes." Another pause. The mage narrowed his eyes. His tone was more direct. "From Eldorath? I''m assuming." Lindarion gave a shallow nod. "I came from...Solrendel." The knight exhaled slowly. "That''s a long way to walk in winter." ''And not a single word about what I''m doing here.'' ''They''re being careful.'' He didn''t move. Just watched them. The mage stepped forward slightly, boots crunching over salt and old snow. "You''re far from your kind, boy." Lindarion said nothing. The mage studied him another moment. Then tilted his head. "You alone?" He answered before he could think. "Yes." Cassian would''ve made a joke. Vivienne would''ve barked back. Lindarion just gave them the truth. The knight folded his arms. "Name?" Lindarion met his eyes. A long moment passed. Then he answered. "Lindarion Sunblade." The shift in their stance was immediate. Not fear. Not disbelief. Recognition. The mage''s expression sharpened. A flicker of calculation passed through his gaze. "I see," he said quietly. Lindarion felt his hand twitch near the edge of his coat. ''Do they know what happened at the Academy?'' ''Or just the name?'' The knight''s voice came slower now. "We weren''t told anyone from Eldorath was crossing the northern border. Especially not someone with your name." "I wasn''t told anyone was watching," Lindarion replied. Something cold passed between them. But neither reached for a weapon. The mage took another step forward. His eyes, though cold, weren''t hostile. Not yet. "We''ll speak again," he said. Then both men stepped past him. Just like that. No demand. No escort. No threat. Not yet. Lindarion stood still. ''That didn''t seem like a greeting.'' ''More like a message.'' And he''d heard it clearly. ¡ª His name was Ardan Verrick. He''d served as a battlemage under the king, seen borders fall, and walked through more blood than most knights would ever confess to. He had learned early that the world didn''t end with war, it ended with silence. And there, in the silence of Solhaven''s square, he''d seen something that did not belong. Lindarion Sunblade. He recognized him. Not by power. Not by aura. By bearing. That posture was too precise for a trader''s son. Too still for a boy fleeing from punishment or hunger. He didn''t look like royalty. Not dressed in those clothes. Not with blood dried into his coat. But it clung to him anyway. The kind of weight that couldn''t be scrubbed off with cold water and humble boots. And the name... he hadn''t flinched giving it. The prince of Eldorath, standing alone in a dying town near the Caldris border, without a single banner or guard in sight. Ardan didn''t speak until they were well past the square. He and the knight stopped beneath the roofline of a butcher''s shop, where the frost hadn''t fully melted and the smell of brine masked their words. "That boy," Ardan said quietly, "was the Lindarion Sunblade we heard about." The knight didn''t react right away. Then he finally spoke up. "The Sunblade heir?" Ardan nodded once. "No mistake?" "None." The knight frowned, glancing back toward the square. "He doesn''t look like I expected." Ardan didn''t answer. He''d expected something different too. Taller than the stories made him. Not imposing, but composed. Not proud, but not broken either. There had been nothing clumsy in his movements. No visible fear. Only control. That was what unsettled him. The boy, the prince, hadn''t acted lost. He had acted like someone choosing his steps. "He shouldn''t be here," the knight muttered. "No," Ardan said. "He shouldn''t." The absence of his escort alone was damning. No wardens. No outriders. No trace of diplomatic escort. More than that, no notice came from the Academy. No formal message from Eldorath. No rumors of a fallen heir drifting through the courts. That kind of silence didn''t happen by accident. It happened when someone very powerful wanted it. The knight leaned on the edge of the low wall beside him. "You want to speak to him again?" "Not yet." Ardan watched the corner of the square. The boy had already disappeared from view. "He gave us his name. Freely. That wasn''t carelessness." The knight scratched his beard. "So what was it?" "A signal," Ardan said. "He wants us to know he''s here. But not why." The wind shifted slightly, blowing a line of smoke across the rooftops. "He''s not just passing through," Ardan said, quieter now. "That boy is running from something. But it''s not panic in his eyes. It''s preparation." The knight folded his arms. "Orders?" Ardan didn''t speak for a while. "We send word to Leonhardt. No formal channels." "Why not?" "Because whatever put that boy in this town didn''t want him followed." He turned then, cloak pulling behind him. "And I want to know why." Chapter 121 121: Solhaven (3) The baker''s fire was just starting when Lindarion passed by. The smell of yeast and smoke curled around the frost-packed street. Men were dragging carts out from under canvas tarps. A woman with a bent back swept the stoop of the butcher''s stall. He kept to the edge of the road, coat pulled close. He avoided the center of the square this time. No sign of the knight. No sign of the mage. It was good. His body still hurt. Muscles tight. Side aching where the fabric stuck to healing skin. But his steps were cleaner now. He walked past a kiln shed just off the main lane. The door stood open, smoke drifting from a wide-bricked mouth inside. Rows of low pots lined the outside wall. A man sat on a stool beside the entry. Thick coat. Greying stubble. Arms like stone. He looked up when Lindarion passed. Didn''t speak. But didn''t look away either. Lindarion slowed slightly. The man jerked his chin toward the inside of the kiln room. "Heat''s better in there," he said. Lindarion gave him a glance. "I''m not looking to stay." "Didn''t say you were." Another beat passed. Then Lindarion turned. Stepped into the open kiln space. Smoke hung low near the ceiling. Warmth rolled from the brick mouth. It wasn''t comfortable, but it was real heat. The man followed him inside. Sat back down on the stool. "Not from here," he said. Lindarion didn''t respond. The man leaned back, picked up a worn blade he''d been grinding. Something between a cleaver and a trowel. The edge caught the firelight dully. "I''ve been seeing more like you lately." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "Elves?" The man shook his head. "Strangers." He scraped the blade slowly across the whetstone. Short strokes. "First it was just hunters passing through. Then caravans started moving earlier than usual. Two weeks ago, a trade baron got held up on the north road and decided to stay here ''for safety.''" He looked at Lindarion now. Eyes steady. "Now two cloaked officials and a kid bleeding through his coat show up the same week." Lindarion stayed quiet. Let the silence stretch. The man didn''t fill it. Just kept sharpening. "Not asking questions," the man said finally. "I don''t care what you''re running from. Solhaven doesn''t care either." He paused. "But if you plan to keep walking south, you should know a few things." Lindarion''s gaze didn''t shift. "Like what." "Roads out past the forest bend are half-blocked. Avalanche hit near the split by Black Hollow. No one cleared it." "And east?" The man shook his head. "Worse. Bandits, or deserters. They''re not just picking off caravans anymore. They''re waiting near rivers. Letting towns starve first, then moving in." "West?" "Back to the mountains. You''ll freeze before you make it halfway to Eldenholm." Lindarion thought about that. Then asked, "And what about north?" The man looked up at him. "North leads to the border. Caldris patrols every third day. Unless you want to get arrested or conscripted, you don''t go north." He put the blade down. Then, with no change in tone he said. "Two men arrived last night from the capital. One''s a knight. The other''s a battlemage. They''ve asked nothing yet, but they''re watching." Lindarion didn''t answer. He didn''t need to. The man stood and walked back to the bench near the kiln. "Just thought you should know," he said. "Solhaven doesn''t like surprises." Lindarion turned and stepped back into the street. The light was brighter now. The clouds had thinned, but the air stayed cold. His breath left in short white trails. ''If I go south, I hit blocked roads. East, I walk into an ambush. West is suicide.'' He kept walking. ''So that leaves north.'' He didn''t smile. But he felt something settle in his chest. Not certainty. Just plain direction. ¡ª Lindarion folded the last of his supplies into the pack. The motion was slow, careful. His fingers worked through habit, not energy. The room still smelled like pine smoke and cheap soap. It had served its purpose. He pulled on his coat, adjusted the strap of the bedroll, and sat for a moment at the edge of the bed. Breath steady. Chest tight from the cold in his lungs. But everything felt... cleaner. The pain in his side had dulled overnight. Still there, but blunted. His fingers flexed more easily. And beneath it all, that quiet presence in the back of his mind stirred again. [Greater Core Recovery: 9%] The number wasn''t impressive. But the difference was real. ''Nice.'' Mana flowed more evenly now. Thin streams across his limbs. Enough to tighten reflexes. Enough to keep him sharp. He hadn''t drawn on his affinities since the collapse. Not fully. That would wait. But the core was healing. ''Good,'' he thought. ''I''ll need it soon.'' He rose and checked the room again. No signs left. No waste. No names. He left the key on the table and stepped into the hallway. The inn was quiet. Just the soft clatter of dishes downstairs, someone sweeping ash from the hearth. No voices he recognized. No soldiers. No mage. He moved without rush. He didn''t run. That would draw attention. He walked like someone who had a purpose. By the time he stepped outside, the sky had begun to clear. No sun, but brightness. Snow glittered in patches across the square. The well had frozen over again. He kept to the side streets. Avoided the forge, the market row, the front of the inn. He passed a group of men unloading a cart of timber. None of them looked up. He followed the edge of a half-frozen creek, then cut behind the tanner''s workshop. The path sloped gently north, marked only by shallow bootprints and thin ruts left by sleds. The further he walked, the quieter it got. He didn''t speak. Didn''t think beyond the next few steps. The edge of town came into view. No walls on this side. Just a stone post and a stretch of snow-thick brush where the road vanished between hills. A horse stood tied to a rail near the tree line. Not his. No one near it. He didn''t stop. Didn''t look back. The air shifted slightly behind him. Then a voice. "You leaving already?" He turned his head. The kiln-man stood a few paces back. Arms crossed. No weapons. Lindarion nodded once. "Quietly." The man tilted his head. "Right. Quiet doesn''t last long in Solhaven." Lindarion didn''t answer. The man didn''t follow. "Whatever''s chasing you," he said, "I hope it walks slower than you do." Lindarion almost smiled. Almost. He turned away. Kept walking. The brush gave way to fir trees and hard-packed trail. The snow wasn''t as deep here ¡ª crushed under patrols and sleds. It would widen eventually. Lead north. Toward the Caldris border. Toward something unknown. He adjusted the weight of the pack across his shoulder. The wind was still sharp, but the sky ahead was pale and dry. [Greater Core Recovery: 11%] Every step felt a little more certain now. No plans yet. No destination. But he was on the move again. ¡ª The road north wound tight through a narrow line of trees. Snow had thinned, packed hard from old boots and cold wheels. The frost bit less, but the silence was worse. No birds. No voices. Just the quiet drag of breath and the steady sound of his own steps. Lindarion walked slowly. His ribs pulled with each motion, sharp under the coat. Not as bad as yesterday. Still not right. The pack on his back shifted. Heavy in a familiar way. [Greater Core Recovery: 14%] The system pulsed quietly. He felt it now in the way his limbs moved. Less stiff. Less wasted effort. It wouldn''t save him. But it helped. A noise ahead. One step. Then another. Not clumsy. Not fast. Just deliberate. He stopped. The man from Solhaven stepped out from behind a line of trees. Same cloak. Same face. Not surprised to see him. Lindarion didn''t move. His hand hovered near the edge of his coat. Not reaching, just ready. The man lifted a hand in greeting. "Wasn''t sure you''d head north." Lindarion''s voice stayed even. "Didn''t think I''d see you again." The man smiled slightly. "I told you we would talk again. I waited." They stood across the trail. Wind shifted through the trees, light and dry. Lindarion didn''t blink. "You''re the mage." "Ardan Verrick," he said. "Advisor from the court." Lindarion stayed quiet. "I''m not here to arrest you, or anything of the sort," Ardan added. ''Not like I did anything wrong..'' "Then why follow?" Ardan reached into his coat. Pulled a cloth bundle free. Tossed it underhand. It landed in the snow between them. Bread. Cloth. Dried meat. Nothing else. "I figured you hadn''t eaten right in days, and you''re alone," he said. "And I also figured you wouldn''t ask for help." Lindarion crouched. Picked it up. Turned it over once. Then tucked it into his pack. "You figured right." Ardan didn''t move. "Where are you headed?" "North." "Same." A pause. Then Ardan tilted his head slightly. "We could walk together. Safer in pairs." Lindarion didn''t answer at first. He watched the older man. Looked at the boots. The gloves. The shape of someone who had been doing this for a long time. He wasn''t armed like a soldier. But he didn''t need to be. Lindarion could feel it. Strength. Controlled. Familiar. He looked away. ''He''s not lying. Well, at least not yet.'' Then nodded once. "Alright." Ardan stepped to the edge of the trail. Fell in beside him. No talk. No questions. Just the sound of boots on cold dirt. They walked into the trees without speaking. [Greater Core Recovery: 15%] Chapter 122 122: Traders The trail narrowed into a shallow ridge. Trees crowded tight along the sides. The snow thinned out, broken in patches by old roots and black earth. They walked without speaking for a while. Ardan kept a steady pace. Measured. Efficient. The kind of walk that didn''t burn energy, didn''t wear down joints. Lindarion matched it without trouble. His ribs ached on the uphill. He didn''t show it. [Greater Core Recovery: 17%] He felt it more in the way his boots didn''t drag anymore. His balance came back without thought. Midday light filtered through the trees, flat and silver. He spoke first. "What were you before the court?" Ardan looked over at him. Not surprised by the question. "Military. Not high-ranking. Mostly attached to forward units." "Fighter?" "Support. Mana reinforcement. Supply coordination." Lindarion thought about that. ''Practical. Not a battlefield showpiece.'' "You ever command?" "No," Ardan said. "Didn''t want it." He stepped over a low branch without breaking stride. "I''ve seen what happens to the ones who chase command. They either rot behind a desk or lose their people in the first real fight." Lindarion nodded slightly. "And the ones who don''t?" "They usually live." The answer was simple. Flat. Honest. They walked a little further. Lindarion adjusted the strap of his pack. The bundle Ardan had given him earlier sat snug near the top. He hadn''t touched it yet. "You still serve the court though." "Only when I''m useful. They don''t drag me into parades." "And now?" "I''m returning from a patrol review. Border post near the Ironside pass. Nothing urgent." Lindarion glanced at him. "You came south just to check border logistics?" Ardan gave a quiet grunt. "And now I''m walking back north with a boy who won''t explain why he''s wearing bloodstained clothes and traveling without escort." Lindarion didn''t answer. They let the silence settle again. A crow called in the far trees. One note. Then silence. Ardan spoke again. "You ask a lot of questions for someone who doesn''t answer any." Lindarion looked straight ahead. "I don''t ask unless I need to know." Ardan smiled without turning. "I respect that." They passed an old tree bent half across the trail. The bark split from lightning, long ago. They didn''t stop. ¡ª The stream ahead was shallow and half-frozen where it cut across the trail. Ice rimmed the edges like dull glass, and a few flat stones broke the surface. Lindarion stepped across without slowing. One foot to the next. No splash. No wasted motion. Ardan followed, slower. Not clumsy. Just watching. "You move like someone trained for something," he said. Lindarion didn''t look at him. "Do I?" "Not like the others your age." Lindarion adjusted the pack strap across his shoulder. "Maybe I''m not like the others." "That much is clear." They walked in silence for a while. The wind picked up across the ridge. Dry, cold. The kind that didn''t bite, just numbed. [Greater Core Recovery: 18%] Lindarion felt it in his lungs. The breath came easier now. The tightness in his calves had faded. The pain in his ribs had shifted into something more manageable, not gone completely, but dulled at the edges. They passed an old trail marker. The wood had split and leaned at an angle, its paint long since weathered off. Ardan stepped around it and looked ahead. "Your name''s known, you realize," he said. "I figured." "You said it easily back in Solhaven. Like you wanted someone to hear it." Lindarion kept walking. "Did I?" Ardan gave a faint sound. Not a laugh, not a scoff. Just a sound of agreement. "I suppose you didn''t care if I did." "I still don''t." They moved together past a tight bend where the trees pressed in. Lindarion noticed the slight change in sound, how the wind dropped, how the snow here was untouched. He liked walking with someone who didn''t fill the space with noise. Ardan didn''t ask what happened. He didn''t ask why Lindarion had been bleeding when he walked into Solhaven. He didn''t ask where the escort was. Or the formal seal. Or the quiet weight of command that usually followed someone with that name. He just walked beside him. Lindarion didn''t offer anything. He didn''t owe it. Not yet. They came to the edge of the ridge where the trees thinned again. The light had started to shift ¡ª not darker, just flatter. Afternoon pulling toward the edge of day. Ardan broke the silence again. "I won''t say anything to the wrong ears." Lindarion looked ahead. "I know." "You don''t trust me." "Not yet." Ardan nodded once. "Good." ¡ª The trees opened up before the hill. It wasn''t much of a clearing. Just a break in the slope where the wind flattened snow and left dry patches near the roots. Someone had packed down the center. Not recently, but not long ago either. Tracks moved in and out, shallow and purposeful. Cartwheels. Boots. Lindarion spotted the edge of a canvas tarp before they crested the rise. Ardan slowed beside him. Not wary. Just watchful. A thin column of smoke climbed through the trees. The traders came into view one at a time. Three men, two women. A single wagon hitched to a dull-eyed mule. No guards. No banners. The kind of group that moved slow and steady between forgotten towns, selling whatever didn''t break in winter. One of the men saw them first. Older. Missing two fingers. He raised a hand. "Peace," he said, voice rough with cold. Ardan gave a small nod. Lindarion said nothing. They approached slowly. The camp was simple. Bedrolls. One fire. Bundles wrapped in oilcloth strapped to the wagon''s sides. The canvas tarp sagged under frost. "Didn''t expect company out here," the older man said. "The road''s thin this way." Ardan shrugged. "That''s why we''re on it." The man smiled faintly. "Fair." He looked over Lindarion once. Not too long. Just enough to notice the boots, the coat, the scars at the edge of the scarf. And his appearance. "You military?" "No," Lindarion said. The trader didn''t press. Another man, younger, stirred a pot near the fire. Something thick. Root stew, maybe. It smelled better than it looked. "You came from Solhaven?" he asked. "Yesterday," Ardan answered. "Quiet?" "Mostly." The trader stirred again. "More quiet than it should be," he muttered. Lindarion watched the exchange in silence. The older man squatted near the fire and rubbed his hands together. "You two heading to the pass?" "Eventually," Ardan said. "Bad trail," the man said. "Heard some wreckage up ahead near Hollow Bridge. The wagon snapped an axle and blocked the way." Lindarion asked, "Anyone hurt?" "Not dead, but stuck." ''Stuck?'' The man tossed a twig into the fire and watched it hiss. "We passed them two nights ago. Poor bastards were trying to dig themselves out with the broken planks." Ardan''s jaw tightened slightly. "Roads are getting worse." "No patrols," the younger man said. "Not from Caldris. Not from anywhere. Everyone''s tightening their belts, watching their borders." He looked at Lindarion now. "You don''t talk much." "Not really, I listen better though," Lindarion said. The man chuckled. "Useful skill." The wind pushed through the trees again. The canvas flapped lightly. The woman near the cart stepped over and pulled her coat tighter. "We''ve got boiled water if you want to refill." Ardan nodded once. "We''ll trade." "No need," the older man said. "You''re not bandits. That''s good enough these days." Lindarion moved to refill one of the flasks from his pack. The heat burned his fingers through the gloves. He didn''t flinch. One of the traders watched him move. Not suspicious. Just curious. "You two heading far?" Lindarion straightened. "Far enough." No one asked more. The fire crackled. Somewhere behind the camp, the mule snorted once and went still. The moment held. Just a group of cold strangers sharing heat. Nothing more. ¡ª The stew had thickened. It clung to the sides of the pot, grey and slow, bubbling only when the fire cracked hard enough to shift the iron. They sat close, but not familiar. Each person in their own pocket of warmth. Lindarion stayed near the edge of the firelight. Legs drawn in, coat closed tight. The pack rested by his boots. Across from him, the old trader held his tin cup with both hands. His fingers were red at the joints. Scarred from the cold that hadn''t healed clean. He didn''t look at Lindarion when he spoke. "Don''t see many elves out here." Lindarion said nothing. The fire snapped once. A spark jumped and died in the dirt. The old man went on. "Not judging. Just rare. Especially in winter. Especially alone." Ardan didn''t speak. He sipped slowly from his cup. Watching. The trader finally looked up. "You come from Eldorath?" Lindarion gave a short nod. The man nodded back like it confirmed something. "Long way off. You left recently?" "Not really." A beat passed. Then the question came. "So why head north? Thought your kind stuck to the warmer roads." Lindarion met his eyes. "Things change." The old man chuckled once. Not mocking. Just tired. "That they do." He leaned forward and set the tin cup near the fire to catch more heat. "No one chases calm roads anymore anyway. People used to avoid the high passes. Now they''re running to them." Lindarion tilted his head. "What''s in the passes?" The younger trader looked up from the stew. "Less mouths. Less eyes." "More snow," the woman added. The old man smiled faintly. "True. But snow doesn''t sell your name to the wrong buyer." They all fell quiet again. The mule shuffled near the cart. One of the wheels creaked. Ardan stirred. "We move at first light." The old man nodded. "Smart." He didn''t ask more. Lindarion stood and walked a few steps beyond the firelight. The trees whispered lightly under the wind. He could feel the frost starting to settle again. [Greater Core Recovery: 20%] His breathing felt cleaner. His limbs were steady. It wouldn''t hold if a real fight came. But it was something. He glanced back at the fire. Faces quiet. Hands working in the dark. ''They don''t seem to know who I am. Good.'' He didn''t sit. Didn''t speak. Just stood still at the edge. Watching the cold return. Chapter 123 123: On The Move The fire didn''t move much. Just small flickers licking sideways in the wind, too low to crackle, barely enough to glow. Smoke hung in the branches like an old cloth someone forgot to take down. Lindarion stood a few paces out. Still. Hood down. Shoulders relaxed. Not hiding, but not offering anything either. He watched the treeline, the patterns in the snow, the shift of shadows. Behind him, someone scraped out a bowl. Metal against tin. Soft voices passed around the flame, dull and tired. No one called to him. ''Good.'' The cold settled in slow, almost patient. It started at the boots, climbed the laces, moved up the legs like it knew the way. He let it. A little pain meant the blood still moved. [Greater Core Recovery: 21%] Breathing felt better. Ribs gave a little more. Whatever damage sat under the surface, it wasn''t spreading. The wind shifted. Not sharp, but colder now, dragging the scent of boiled roots and ash. Then came footsteps. Light. Close. He didn''t turn. "Didn''t mean to bother," the younger trader said. "Just figured it''s warmer by the fire." Lindarion kept his eyes forward. "It''s quieter here." The man nodded behind him. "Yeah. Can''t argue that." He didn''t move any closer. Just stood there holding a dented tin cup, watching the same trees. No questions. No false warmth. Just presence. Lindarion stayed quiet. Still listening. Still scanning the dark between branches. The trader sipped from his cup. Let the silence stretch. "You ever notice how quiet makes some people nervous?" Lindarion didn''t answer. "I used to think it was the cold that got to people first," the man went on. "Now I think it''s just the space. The stillness. They don''t know what to fill it with." ''He''s not wrong.'' "I like it," Lindarion said. The man gave a soft exhale. "Thought so." He turned after that. No lingering. No polite excuse. Just walked back and dropped into his place beside the fire like nothing needed explaining. Lindarion didn''t move. He kept watching the trees. Listening to the snow settle. Watching how the dark didn''t press in¡ªit just waited. ''That one''s been cold before. Real cold.'' He stayed a while longer, not thinking. Not feeling. Just breathing where the heat didn''t reach. ¡ª The fire dropped lower. Just embers now, flicking red in the ashes. One of the women rolled over in her bedroll and pulled her coat higher. Lindarion hadn''t moved. He''d stepped back toward the camp when the wind picked up. Sat near his pack, not close to the others, not far enough to draw attention. Ardan lay with one arm folded under his head. Eyes closed. Breathing slow. Not asleep. They''d both been on too many roads to pretend. Lindarion pulled the scarf a little higher, covering the edge of his jaw. The cold had settled harder after dusk. Not sharp anymore. Just constant. ''Won''t be snow tonight. Just freeze..'' He let his gaze drift over the trees again. Nothing moved. The shadows stayed where they should. The mule shifted once under the tarp, then went still again. From the fire''s edge, the old trader''s snoring turned. Wet and irregular. Time dragged slower at night. Ardan didn''t open his eyes when he spoke. "You don''t sleep easy." Lindarion didn''t look at him. "Neither do you." Ardan didn''t answer. Just exhaled once through his nose. The wind picked up again. Dry leaves skittered against the wagon wheel. No one else stirred. Lindarion reached into the outer pocket of his coat. Pulled a thin strip of dried root between two fingers. Bitter, but clean. He chewed slowly, not for flavor. Something to do with the jaw. Something to keep the thoughts from stacking too fast. [Greater Core Recovery: 23%] The taste settled behind his teeth like old copper. He didn''t mind. Somewhere out in the trees, a branch snapped. Not close. Not weightless either. He didn''t reach for the blade. Not yet. Ardan shifted again. Eyes still closed. "You hear that?" "Yeah." "Does it worry you?" Lindarion waited a beat. "No." "Me neither." Neither of them moved. It didn''t come closer. The sound didn''t repeat. Lindarion leaned back against his pack and watched the treeline a little longer. Eyes half-lidded. Muscles relaxed. Still not sleeping. ''If something wanted to get close, it would''ve already.'' He didn''t say it aloud. Ardan already knew. A soft groan came from one of the younger traders. Nothing urgent. Just a sound made by someone whose spine didn''t forgive hard ground anymore. Lindarion shut his eyes, just for a breath. Let his mind go quiet. Not asleep. Just still. Waiting for the next sound to matter. ¡ª The sky lightened slowly. Not a sunrise. Just a long gray stretch across the trees. No color. No warmth. The fire was out. One of the traders stamped out the last black curl of smoke with the heel of his boot. The others moved without much talk. Hands stiff from cold. Rope bundled tight. No one lingered. Lindarion had stood before the others stirred. He didn''t stretch. Didn''t rub his arms. Just watched the quiet routine of people trying to make distance before midday. Ardan stepped beside him with his pack already slung. He nodded toward the tree line. "We move." Lindarion followed. They didn''t say goodbye. The traders didn''t call out after them. No farewells. Just the soft grind of the wagon wheel starting up behind them. They crossed the packed snow where carts had flattened a groove. Then passed the edge of the trail where the prints turned thin again. The cold hadn''t softened. But the wind held back. [Greater Core Recovery: 24%] Ardan walked a few paces ahead, not talking. Lindarion matched the distance on instinct. There was something different in the pace now. Not urgent, but more direct. They followed the trail for half an hour before Ardan shifted. The path bent to the east, where old branches arched low and the roots thickened like veins under the ground. Ardan stepped off it without pause, down a faint offshoot half-covered in frost and dry needles. Lindarion said nothing. Just followed. The new path climbed again, slow and steady. Smaller trees. Older stones. No wheel marks. He moved beside Ardan now, not behind. Breath visible between them. "Shortcut?" "No." Lindarion waited. Ardan didn''t add more. So he looked instead. The trees had thinned slightly. Not cleared, just loosened. The canopy here let in more sky. Still flat, still gray. But higher somehow. Lindarion caught the smell of dry pine under the frost. "Used to be a scouting route," Ardan said. "Used to be?" "No one maps these anymore. Not enough bodies." Lindarion scanned the ground. The trail was hard to spot if you didn''t know it. Just a hint of where others had once stepped, decades apart. "You remember them all?" "No," Ardan said. "Just the ones that saved time. Or lives." They kept walking. Another branch cracked somewhere far off. Lighter this time. Bird or fox. The incline steepened. Ardan didn''t slow. Lindarion''s ribs pulled tighter again but didn''t stab. His lungs stayed steady. He didn''t speak again until the trail bent around a black stone ridge and narrowed beside a long drop. "You take this way often?" "No." "Then why now?" Ardan walked another few steps before answering. "Because I don''t like the road ahead." They didn''t stop. The path narrowed again, tighter this time. A long stone ridge rose to their left. Sheer, jagged. Veined with old frost. On the right, it dropped off into low brush and the black line of a dry riverbed far below. Lindarion moved slower now. Not tired. Just careful. The trail here wasn''t made for carts or patrols. It was carved by steps. Hunters maybe. Scouts. The kind of travelers who didn''t want to be followed. He felt the air shift before he heard it. Not wind exactly. But something quieter. Like the trees were holding their breath. ''It''s way too still.'' Ardan didn''t look back. But his hand slid to the front of his coat. Not drawing. Just checking. The path angled sharply, almost sideways against the slope. They stepped single file. Lindarion paused once at a bend. There was something in the dirt ahead. A crushed length of moss. New. Still green under the frost. And beside it was half a bootprint. Small. Worn sole. A runner''s heel. He didn''t speak. Just crouched and looked closer. Ardan stopped beside him. "You see it too." "Not yours." "No." He straightened. Looked ahead. The ridge climbed higher now. The path followed it. No more cover. "Fresh?" Ardan asked. Lindarion nodded once. "Recent." Ardan didn''t ask how he knew. They kept going. The next sign came sooner. A scuff mark on a flat stone. Dragged heel. Same direction they were heading. Lindarion shifted his weight slightly. The movement eased his coat back just enough to free his left side. Habit. They passed an old marker stone. Its surface blackened with weather. Something scratched near the bottom, barely legible under lichen. Ardan didn''t stop to read it. Neither did Lindarion. At the next bend, Ardan slowed. He lifted a hand. Not a signal. Just stillness. Lindarion listened. A single flake of frost broke loose and skittered down the stone face above them. Then silence again. He stepped close to Ardan''s side. "You hear anything?" "No." "That''s the problem." The trail ahead dipped down into a low pocket of stone. Like a shallow basin. Hidden from view until you were right on top of it. Lindarion looked at it for a long time. ''Trap ground..?'' No birds. No wind. No sound of water. He took one step forward, slow. Then another. Nothing moved. Behind him, Ardan adjusted his stance slightly. He hadn''t drawn a weapon. But his coat fell open just enough to show the edge of the hilt. Lindarion crouched near the top of the basin. Looked for any movement. Any trace of warmth. Nothing. Then he saw it. Half-buried in the frost. A strip of torn cloth. Dark red. He didn''t speak. Just pointed once, and stood. They both looked down into the hollow. Empty. But not clean. Chapter 124 124: Body Empty. But not clean. Lindarion held still. Weight on the balls of his feet. Every part of the basin below him looked untouched at a glance, but the cold didn''t sit right. Too sharp at the edge, too hollow underneath. He let his gaze move left. Down the slope. A shallow groove curled along the frostline. Uneven. Not a footprint. Not dragged by wind. Beside him, Ardan stepped forward. Slow. Measured. The dirt under his boot gave with a muted crunch. A strip of cloth flapped once, then settled. Red. Dark. Frozen along the edge, but soft in the middle. Not old. Ardan crouched. Held it between two fingers. Brought it close, didn''t sniff it, just looked. Then looked again. "Still wet." Lindarion didn''t answer. His eyes were following the line past it. The way the frost broke, thinned out in places. Like a weight had passed low, not walking. Maybe crawling. Maybe dragged. Ardan rose. Didn''t brush off his glove. He looked past Lindarion now. Toward the center. "That rock," he said. Lindarion saw it too. A boot lay half-hidden in the hollow between two stones. Heel torn. No laces. No foot inside. ''Weird.'' He moved first. Down the incline. His coat shifted. No sound but the press of frost under soles. He didn''t touch the boot. Just crouched near it, low enough to see the way the leather had split. Not clean. Not worn down. Cut. The wind skimmed overhead, light enough to barely stir the loose pine at the ridge. Still no birds. Behind him, Ardan stopped at the crest. His shoulders square. Head tilted slightly. "Too clean." Lindarion nodded once. Stood. "The frost would''ve covered this if it happened last night." "Which means someone came through." "More than one." Ardan glanced down the slope. "Dragged?" "Possibly." Lindarion turned his head. "But not far." Ardan let out a slow breath through his nose. Neither of them moved. A branch snapped uphill. Small. Sharp. Then nothing. Ardan looked up without turning his head. "Fox?" "No." Lindarion didn''t blink. "That was steel on bark." They stayed still for another beat. Long enough to hear what didn''t come next. Nothing moved. Lindarion stepped back from the hollow. He scanned the tree line again. Not for figures. For patterns. "There," he said. A break in the frost. Just above a ledge, notched into the stone where someone had slipped. Not recently. Within the hour, maybe less. Ardan shifted his stance. Gloved hand moved to his coat. The fold parted slightly. Hilt exposed. Still undrawn. They didn''t speak. Lindarion took the slope sideways, easing his steps, toe first. The path bent along the natural ridge. Too narrow to flank. He checked again at the next outcrop. Fingers on the stone. Still warm in places where the frost hadn''t reformed. Ardan followed close. No questions now. Something had gone ahead of them. Still close. And not alone. ¡ª The frost came back harder up here. Thicker at the edges. Crunching under each step like thin bones. The ridge narrowed again. Ardan moved closer, not behind¡ªalongside. Same pace. Same breath. Same tension just under the skin. Lindarion paused where the ground dipped. He crouched low. One hand pressed to the earth. Still warm. [Greater Core Recovery: 26%] The reading flashed behind his eyes, quiet. Like a pulse just under the surface. His lungs didn''t ache. Breaths came steady. That sharp twist in his ribs had dulled to something tighter, more familiar. He pressed his fingers deeper into the frostline. It crumbled too easily. Not frost. Ice that had thawed. Someone bled here. A streak ran through the moss, old red going brown. No splash. No spray. A leak. Slow. Slumped. Ardan leaned forward. His coat brushed the stone. "Still fresh," he said. Lindarion nodded once. Ahead, the ridge turned sharp. A hard bend around a natural wall of black rock. Too steep to climb over. Too sheer to see past. They moved slow. Lindarion took the corner first. He didn''t breathe for half a second. Just below the next rise, the trail opened into a narrow shelf. The snow was thinner here. Less cover. And there, under a flat stone ledge, slumped halfway into brush¡ª A body. ''What the hell?'' Ardan stopped two steps behind him. No movement. No sound. Lindarion didn''t call out. He scanned first. Trained for the pattern. No footprints nearby. Just the single trail that led here, with the drag marks breaking against the roots. He approached from the side. Closer now. The figure was curled on its side. Boots wrong size. Left leg bent under at an unnatural angle. One hand showing. No glove. Skin cracked from cold, but not purple. Not dead long. He crouched again. No blood under the nose. No frostbite across the cheeks. But the lips were parted. Jaw slack. Eyes shut. He touched the side of the neck. Still warm. No pulse. Ardan moved behind him. Closer now. "Starved?" he asked. "I don''t think so." Lindarion shifted the collar. A thin scar across the shoulder. Burned at the edge. Old brand. He didn''t say the word. Just looked once at Ardan, then back at the mark. The man''s face was young. Lines just starting to settle near the eyes. Head shaved close. Lips split. And the other arm¡ª Missing. Not torn. Removed. Clean along the shoulder. Cloth burned. Lindarion stood slow. The cold moved up his spine like a breath. [Greater Core Recovery: 27%] He didn''t look back down. Ardan''s face had changed. Not surprise. Not fear. Just something hard set under the eyes now. His jaw shifted once. "Taken?" Lindarion nodded. "Alive?" "Maybe." They both stared past the brush now. The trail dipped again into the trees. The air changed. It wasn''t wind. Not movement. Just a pressure. A weight that didn''t belong. And something far ahead, too faint to echo¡ª A sound like stone over stone. ¡ª Lindarion moved first. Not fast. Just forward. One step into the shallow trail past the brush. It dipped between two broken roots, then curved like something had been pulled there. Not walked. Pulled. The man hadn''t bled much. But the moss remembered. Every bent blade pointed the same way. He didn''t look back. The body stayed where it fell. There was nothing to be done. [Greater Core Recovery: 28%] His chest still held steady. No tightness. No heat. Just the faint press of something rebuilding behind the ribs, like old scaffolding coming up again, piece by piece. Ardan followed without a word. They kept low. Not crouched, just leaned. Like their bodies knew how to carry tension without showing it. The trees closed again after twenty steps. Narrow trunks. Cold bark. Some bent from wind. Others dead before the frost ever came. The trail grew tighter. No tracks now, just signs. A snapped branch here. A fold in the ferns. Scuffed stone. Something passed through without care. Or without strength to hide it. Lindarion''s thoughts drifted once, uninvited. ''Why leave the body there?'' It didn''t make sense. If they took the arm, if they branded him, if they had reason to move him¡ªthey wouldn''t just drop him ten steps from the path. Unless... They were interrupted. Or they wanted it found. That part sat wrong. Ardan''s steps were measured. No crunch. No drag. He stayed close but not breathing down his neck. Trained. Professional. But not cold. Lindarion could feel his presence like a weight at the edge of the coat. Grounding. Like a memory with a sword. Another branch broke underfoot. Dry. Loud in the hush. He stopped. So did Ardan. Just ahead, something hung from a tree. Lindarion tilted his head. Didn''t blink. Just stared. It was cloth. Thin. Dark. Maybe once black. Now stiff with frost. Torn into a strip and tied to the branch at shoulder height. A marker. He stepped closer. Raised one hand. Didn''t touch it. Just looked. Not frayed. Cut. One clean edge. The rest curled and stiff. Ardan''s voice was lower now. "Trail marker?" "Maybe." Lindarion crouched. Looked at the base of the tree. Scrape marks. Someone had stumbled here. Kicked the roots. Sat maybe. Or was dropped. He didn''t speak it. Not yet. Further up the path, a small pile of stones sat stacked just off the trail. Three flat ones. One curved. And a smear of soot on the topmost. He stood slow. Ardan had already seen it. "I don''t really like this," he said. Lindarion didn''t either. [Greater Core Recovery: 29%] The system''s quiet pulse flicked again behind his ribs. He scanned ahead. The trail dipped once more, then turned out of sight behind a low wall of granite, crusted with old lichen. Nothing moved. No wind. No calls. Just that silence again. Not the peaceful king of silence. But the one that screams something is wrong. Lindarion placed a hand on the bark beside him. Cold. Dry. It helped anchor the thoughts. He tried to piece it again. The body, the brand, the missing arm. The clean trail. The marker. The stacked stones. This wasn''t panic. This was some kind of a procedure maybe. Whoever passed through here had done it before. And they were close. Chapter 125 125: Strange Events (1) The turn came sharp. Lindarion stepped around the lichen-crusted rock with his hand near his side. He didn''t draw. Just kept his fingers loose and open, like he was ready to flick them if something moved wrong. Ardan moved up beside him. Not behind. Left side, slightly back, head tilted like he was listening for a language trees might speak if they felt like being rude about it. Then the view opened. A small clearing. Circular. Ground packed down to ice and old mud. The kind that had been trampled by too many feet in too little time. The snow hadn''t covered this part yet. That said enough. In the middle sat a man. ''Again? Seriously?'' Not tied up. Not leaning like he''d fallen. Just sitting there. Legs stretched out, head forward, one arm resting on his lap like it had forgotten what to do. Lindarion didn''t speak. He blinked once. Then again, slower. Ardan sniffed once, subtle. "Still breathing?" he asked. Lindarion tilted his head. "Not sure. But if he is, he''s pretending not to be. Badly." The man didn''t move. His coat fluttered slightly in the wind, but the rest of him stayed stiff. One boot untied. Fingers splayed like someone had dropped him and forgot to pose the body. Ardan''s mouth shifted to one side. His tongue touched his molar, then left it alone. "Place your bets. Fainting? Trap? Very dramatic nap?" Lindarion stepped forward two paces. Not quiet. He made sure the man could hear the frost crack under his boots. No reaction. ''Definitely a trap...'' Then something shifted. Not him. The air. The way it moved behind the fallen log. Ardan noticed too. His stance changed. Not tense, just... cleaner. Lindarion raised his voice a notch. Not shouting. "Hello." Nothing. "Do me a favor," he said without looking. "Circle wide. Stay visible." Ardan gave a dry hum. "That''s the opposite of how I usually survive ambushes, but sure." He moved. The crunch of his steps took the long arc right, slow and deliberate. He didn''t bother hiding the sound. Just made sure each footfall was spaced wrong. Too far apart to be calm. Too close to be rushed. Like a bad actor in a play about ghosts. Still, the man didn''t move. Lindarion approached closer. Four steps. Three. He stopped just outside arm''s reach. The wind shifted again, and with it came a smell. Blood. Old. But not dry. Sticky along the edge of fabric. The man''s face was angled down. Shaved head. Thin line of soot across the scalp like someone had tried to burn something there and gotten bored halfway. His skin was pale. Not frostbitten. Not fresh either. More... drained. Like something had wrung him out. Ardan stopped to Lindarion''s right. He tilted his head and clicked his tongue. "His heartbeat''s too calm." "You can hear that?" "I''ve been bored enough times to learn." Lindarion crouched. The man''s eyes opened. Just barely. A slit. Then another. No fear in them. No panic. Just a kind of dull weight. "Are you the one who took the arm?" Lindarion asked. The man''s lips twitched. Then he smiled. Not wide. Just crooked. "Do I look like I won?" he rasped. Ardan''s hand lowered slightly. Not relaxing. Just readjusting. ''What is happening in these woods man..'' Lindarion watched the man''s throat as he swallowed. That one movement told more than the words did. He was exhausted. Bone deep. His core was either shattered or emptied. Probably both. "You''re the one who left the trail." "Yeah." His head leaned back against the log with a soft thud. "Didn''t expect you to follow it. Thought I was being subtle." "Cloth markers. Blood. Dragged body." "I never said I was good at subtle." Ardan crouched too, just enough to bring his eyes level. "Brand on the corpse. Same as yours?" The man didn''t answer. His smile flattened. Lindarion narrowed his eyes. "You''re not worried." "Not yet." "You should be." "I know." A branch cracked deeper in the woods behind them. A soft pop. Too clean. All three of them looked up. Lindarion didn''t move. Just stood slow, eyes still on the half-dead man. Ardan''s shoulders shifted. He turned slightly. One hand behind his back now. "More coming?" The man let out a short breath. Almost a laugh. "Not more. Just one." "Friendly?" "Worse." Lindarion didn''t blink. ''Worse?'' "You led us here." "I led her here. You''re just fast." Ardan exhaled through his nose. "Well, that''s fantastic. Should we start running or wait for the scream?" The man smiled again. Wider this time. It didn''t reach his eyes. "You''ll want to see this part." [Greater Core Recovery: 30%] Lindarion felt it like a thread behind his ribs pulling tighter. Then came the sound again. Stone over stone. And just at the far edge of the tree line, something pale moved between the trunks. Not fast. Just deliberate. Lindarion didn''t speak. His fingers curled, then straightened. The system didn''t flare. It didn''t need to. Ardan said it first. "Now that''s a bad idea walking." Lindarion''s voice was calm. "Let''s cover him." "I''ll try. He looks heavier than he complains." The man didn''t argue. He just closed his eyes again and muttered something quiet. It sounded like a name. But neither of them caught it. Not yet. ¡ª A footstep crunched through the frost. Another followed. Lighter than expected. Clean rhythm. No stagger, no limp. Not fast either. Just deliberate. Then she stepped out. She wasn''t tall. Maybe a hand shorter than Lindarion. But somehow she looked like she should be towering. Shoulders back, chin tilted like the whole forest was hers and they were standing in it without permission. Straight black hair framed her face, glossy and cut to just above the shoulder. Not a strand out of place. Her skin was pale, not cold pale, porcelain. Clean even in the half light, like the frost had no authority to touch her. Eyes? Sharp gray. A storm-cloud shade that didn''t suit her age, or maybe suited her too well. Her coat was black, trimmed in charcoal thread, the inner lining flickering with something faintly iridescent. Not quite magic. Not quite fashion. Somewhere in between. Boots laced high, polished. Not a speck of mud on them. Ardan blinked. "You''ve got to be kidding me." She stopped five paces away. Hands in her pockets. No frost on her. No breath visible in the cold. Which meant her body was burning hot on the inside, or well shielded. That shimmer on her coat wasn''t decorative. Lindarion didn''t move. Just observed. She turned her head a little. Looked at each of them like she was reading a menu. Settled on Ardan first. Smirked. "Grumpy." Then at Lindarion. "You''re prettier." Chapter 126 126: Strange Events (2) Ardan exhaled through his nose. "This is going to suck." She looked down at the man on the ground. The smile didn''t change, but the spark in her eyes did. Something mean flickered for half a second. Then gone. "Still breathing," she said. The man groaned softly. Ardan crouched again, hand near his blade. "Who is he to you?" She looked bored. "An idiot." "That doesn''t answer the question." "No. But it does give you context." She stepped forward. Lindarion''s weight shifted slightly. Just enough that she noticed. She held both hands up. Palms out. "Relax. I''m not going to hurt him. He already did that to himself." Lindarion kept his voice even. "Then what are you doing out here?" She blinked. "Walking." "Through cursed frost, past a dying man, right into our path." She gave a small nod. "I''m very committed to my exercise routine." Ardan stood again, slower this time. "What''s your name?" he asked. She tilted her head. Not like she was thinking. Like she was deciding how smug to be. "Ren." "No last name?" "Don''t need one." Lindarion studied her posture. No nerves. No tension in her limbs. Not faking calm, she was actually calm. Ren stepped closer to the injured man. He didn''t flinch this time, just squinted up at her like he''d seen something worse in his dreams. She crouched. "You really went and passed out right here?" Her voice softened an inch. Not enough to be kindness. Just familiarity. He tried to speak. Didn''t get far. She poked his shoulder. "You''re lucky it was these two and not... well. You know." Ardan narrowed his eyes. "Not what?" She ignored him. Lindarion spoke instead. "What''s his name?" She shrugged. "Don''t remember. He changes it every other month. Just calls himself ''Kel'' lately." "Kel," Ardan repeated. "And he''s with you?" "No," she said. "He follows me." Kel groaned again. Ren stood up with a sigh. Turned back toward them. "Don''t worry. He''s not dangerous." Ardan scoffed. "He''s bleeding from three different places." "Exactly. He''s bad at being dangerous." Lindarion took a step closer to Kel. Crouched. The man''s eyes flicked toward him. Dull. Resigned. "Why were you following her?" Kel rasped something low. Couldn''t hear it. Ren sighed. "He was supposed to meet someone. Passed out before he got there. Got spooked by a couple things in the trees and ran straight into a rock." Ardan blinked. "That''s it?" Ren nodded. "That''s it." Lindarion didn''t buy it. "And the blood?" She smiled again. "He bruises dramatically." Ardan raised an eyebrow. "You''re lying." "Obviously." A gust of wind stirred through the trees. The frost shifted. Somewhere in the distance, a dry branch creaked. No one moved. Ren lifted one eyebrow. "Well. Are you going to carry him? Or shall I?" Lindarion stood. Still watching her. Kel closed his eyes again. Ardan''s jaw tightened. "And if we just leave him here?" Ren shrugged. "Then I drag him back to town and tell everyone you tripped over him." Lindarion glanced once at Ardan. Then back to her. "You''re not afraid of what''s out here." She met his gaze. No blink. "Should I be?" She didn''t say it like a question. More like a joke waiting for someone smart enough to get the punchline. Lindarion held her gaze. She didn''t flinch. Just stood there with her hands in her coat pockets, like she''d walked out of a painting and never bothered to leave. ''She''s confident. Too confident. And that coat... it''s not for the cold.'' [Greater Core Recovery: 42%] A small pulse bloomed in his chest. Tight. Focused. The kind of warmth that crept under muscle without asking permission. He didn''t show it. Ren glanced toward Kel without turning her head. Her eyes barely shifted. "He''s not dead," she said. Ardan crossed his arms. "Yet." Kel stirred. Winced. Muttered something. Lindarion crouched again, eyes staying on Ren. "You show up after a trail of blood, stand in front of two armed men, and expect us not to be suspicious." Ren raised one eyebrow. "You think I need to expect anything?" [Greater Core Recovery: 48%] He didn''t react. Didn''t blink. But inside, the warmth coiled again. Slow. Controlled. Not like before when the core flared without warning. This was different. Steadier. No light leaked through his veins. No hum in the air. Just the faint sense of alignment. A tool repairing itself without noise. ''The system''s adjusting. Not rushing it this time. That''s good. I''ll need that.'' Kel coughed. "Can someone please argue later? Maybe after we''re not standing in a monster''s front yard." Ardan didn''t move. "We''re not leaving until we know what she wants." "I already told you," Ren said. "I was walking." Lindarion kept his tone even. "You don''t walk through places like this by accident." She smiled at that. Not a friendly smile. More like she was humoring a younger sibling. "I don''t walk anywhere by accident." Kel groaned on the ground. "She''s not lying. She''s insufferable on purpose." Ren stepped forward. Her boots didn''t crunch. They didn''t even sink. The frost parted under her steps without melting. Like the ground itself didn''t dare inconvenience her. Lindarion tensed. Not visibly. Just a small shift in his knees. His center of balance slid back half an inch. She noticed. Of course she did. She stopped two paces away from him. Still calm. Still smiling. "You''ve got good instincts," she said. ''I know.'' "But you''re still not strong enough." His pulse ticked faster. [Greater Core Recovery: 54%] The system stayed silent. It always did when others were watching. It didn''t announce itself. Didn''t glow or scream. It just worked. Quiet. Cold. Focused. Ren turned her head slightly. Looked at Ardan. Then at Kel. Then back to Lindarion. "None of you are," she said. "Yet." Kel coughed again. "Please stop talking like you''re in a prophecy." "I''m not. I''m in a hurry." She crouched beside him and flicked his forehead. Not hard. Just enough to make him wince again. "You''re lucky they got here first," she said. "You''d have frozen like an idiot." "I already feel frozen." "Then crawl." He groaned. "You''re the worst." "I''m aware." [Greater Core Recovery: 61%] The warmth crawled up Lindarion''s spine. His breath came easier now. His limbs didn''t shake. Not that they had before. But now the tension could sit where it belonged. Just beneath the skin. Ready if it had to be. Ren stood and turned back toward the woods. Her eyes flicked toward the tree line. Not nervous. Curious. Lindarion tilted his head. "What''s out there?" She shrugged. "Something that eats idiots." Ardan gave her a sharp look. "Then why are you walking toward it?" "Because I''m not an idiot." Kel hissed from the ground. "Debatable." Ren ignored him. She turned her back to them and began walking. Lindarion didn''t move. She didn''t look back. The frost gave under her boots without a sound. Like it was just as confused as the rest of them. Ardan exhaled. "She''s going to get herself eaten." Kel groaned from the ground. "No. She''s not." Lindarion tilted his head. Ren didn''t get far. Three steps. Maybe four. Then she stopped, turned back slightly, and pointed a thumb toward herself. "Well?" she said. "Aren''t we going?" Ardan blinked. "We?" She smiled. "You''re heading through the forest right?" Kel raised a limp hand. "Still prefer carried." Ren went on, ignoring him. "I''m going that way too." "You just said you were walking for exercise." She tilted her head. "Now I''m walking with a purpose. Progress." Lindarion didn''t answer. He studied her expression. Calm. Focused. Like she already knew he wouldn''t say no. He hated how right she probably was. ''She doesn''t need an invitation. She already decided she belongs here.'' [Greater Core Recovery: 72%] The warmth pulsed again. Less like a thread now. More like a spine. Subtle, but steady. No light. No flicker. The system worked under his ribs like a second heartbeat. Repairing. Reinforcing. Quietly patient. Ren turned her eyes to him. "You''re the leader, right?" Lindarion raised one brow. "Who told you that?" "No one. Just the way you stand. The way he watches you." She nodded toward Ardan without turning her head. "You keep your hands near your sides. Not your weapons. Means you''re fast. Or want to be. But still cautious. That''s a leader''s mistake." Ardan muttered under his breath. "She''s actually annoying." Ren smiled faintly. "He''s the skeptical one. Good balance. You need someone like him. Keeps your optimism in check." "I''m not optimistic," Lindarion said. "You are," she said. "You keep going forward. That''s hope. Even if you call it strategy." [Greater Core Recovery: 76%] He felt it coil around the inside of his chest. Quiet strength returning. He hadn''t noticed how hollow it had felt before. Now it was filling. He didn''t know how long it would take, but the system wasn''t rushing. It was laying foundation. He kept his voice even. "You don''t seem like the type to follow." "I''m not," she said. "That''s why it''ll be interesting." Ardan glanced at Lindarion. "You''re really going to let her tag along?" "She''s already here." Kel let out a groan. "I feel like a prop in someone else''s story." "You are," Ren said sweetly. Lindarion crouched beside him and checked his pulse. Weak, but steady. Whatever had torn through Kel''s stamina wasn''t killing him yet. Just dragging him through the dirt and laughing while it did. Kel looked up at him. "Be honest. Would you carry me?" "No." "Not even a little?" "You don''t weigh a little." Kel sighed and started sitting up on his own. "I hope something eats me." Chapter 127 127: Strange Events (3) The trees felt... off. Not closer. Not thicker. Just heavier. Like someone had whispered something awful to them and they hadn''t gotten over it. Lindarion stepped over a half-buried root. His boots scraped against ice that hadn''t been there five minutes ago. Or maybe it had. Hard to tell in this part of the woods. Everything kept pretending it belonged. Ardan walked ahead of Kel now, slowing just enough that the guy didn''t faceplant into a tree. He was still upright. Barely. Ren kept exactly three paces behind. Every time Lindarion glanced back, she looked the same. Hands in her coat pockets. Not watching them. Not really watching anything. Just moving like someone who had never needed to be careful in their life. ''She''s either crazy or absurdly confident. Probably both.'' [Greater Core Recovery: 91%] The familiar flicker stirred low in his chest. Still there. Still healing. It had settled into something warm now. Like a candle burning from the inside out. Close. But not ready. Ren''s voice came casual. "Where are we going?" Lindarion didn''t turn. "South ridge. Then we follow the river west." She blinked at him. "What''s there?" "Shelter." "Sounds boring." Ardan glanced back once. "Better than bleeding in the snow." Ren smiled. "Is it?" Kel mumbled, "She doesn''t blink right, you know that?" "Shut up, Kel," Ren said without looking. ''These two are exhausting.'' Still. Something about the way Ren moved kept rubbing at the edge of Lindarion''s focus. She didn''t shuffle. Didn''t even make noise when she stepped through dried branches or frost patches. The air just... let her pass. ''Seriously, how is she not cold? Does she have an ice affinity?'' The wind shifted. Silence followed it. Ardan paused. Looked up. Kel noticed second. His fingers twitched near the hilt of the short dagger that wasn''t going to help him at all. Ren stopped walking. Her eyes narrowed just slightly. Not scared. Not nervous. Just... calculating. ''That''s not a good face. That''s the face people make before they kill a bug without flinching.'' [Greater Core Recovery: 93%] Lindarion lifted a hand. Everyone stopped. He could feel it too now. Nothing moved. No birds. No soft scratch of tiny claws under the trees. No wind in the branches. Just cold. Too clean. Too even. Ardan''s shoulders went stiff. "I don''t like this." Ren tilted her head. Her eyes moved through the trees like she was looking at something just out of frame. Then she pointed. "Something''s watching." "Where?" Lindarion asked. "Yes," she said. Kel made a quiet choking noise. "Not this again." Lindarion shifted closer. His hand brushed the edge of his coat. No need to draw yet. But every part of his body was starting to pay attention. The quiet felt like when someone stops talking in a crowded room just before something embarrassing happens. Then Ren stepped forward. "Wait," Lindarion said. She didn''t. Her boots crunched once, then fell silent again. Even the trees seemed to lean out of her way. ''Is she just going to walk into it?'' He followed. Not out of trust. Just curiosity with bad timing. Ardan groaned. "Should we... stop her?" "No," Kel said. "Let her get eaten first." Ren turned her head slightly. "Still talking, huh?" [Greater Core Recovery: 96%] The pressure hit Lindarion''s chest like a hand pressing into him from the inside. Not painful. Not dangerous. Just... there. Watching back. He stopped. Let his fingers rest on the inner seam of his jacket. The system stirred. Faint warmth in his entire body. Like his core had opened one eye and decided not to panic yet. Ren paused. Her eyes focused on something between the trees. Then she whispered. "You''re late." No one answered. Kel tensed. Ardan''s hand hovered near his sword. Lindarion stared at the dark patch between two birches. He couldn''t see anything. Not really. But that didn''t mean it wasn''t there. ''Okay. This feels stupid. Something''s here and she''s talking to it like it owes her money.'' He looked at her again. Ren didn''t look concerned. Just... mildly annoyed. Then she turned around. "That''s fine. It won''t come closer." Kel stared at her. "And you know this how?" She pointed up. "It''s scared of that." Lindarion followed her gaze. Nothing but a black thread of cloud moving fast across the top of the sky. No shape. No sound. Just a thread. Ardan frowned. "You''re messing with us." Ren smiled. "Probably." [Greater Core Recovery: 98%] Lindarion''s breath came slow. His system was almost done. The damage that had happened from the torture was nearly gone. The aching hum in his side faded down to nothing. He straightened up. Eyes still locked on Ren. ''If she''s lying, she''s way too good at it.'' She turned again. "Let''s keep walking," she said. "Unless you want to stand here while it decides whether or not to grow teeth." Kel whimpered. Ardan sighed. "Yeah. Let''s move." They did. But Lindarion stayed quiet. Every few steps, he looked back. The forest still felt wrong. And Ren still walked like she wasn''t worried at all. Which meant he had to worry twice as much. The river was quieter than it should have been. Wide, shallow, half-frozen in long patches that looked like broken glass half-buried in snow. The current moved slow. Just fast enough to hide its depth. Just fast enough to swallow something small and make it seem like nothing was missing. Lindarion crouched near the bank. Not to drink. Just to feel the cold against his knees. The air had shifted again, but not in a way he liked. The trees had stopped pressing in. That should have helped. It didn''t. Ren stood upstream. Hands still in her coat pockets, eyes on the opposite bank like she was expecting it to speak first. Kel sat. Or maybe collapsed. His back hit a tree and he stayed there. His face was pale, his breath fogged when he remembered to breathe. Ardan paced. "We''re still in it," he said. "Whatever it is, it hasn''t let us go." "No," Lindarion murmured. "But it''s watching from farther now." ''Or waiting for something. That''s worse.'' [Greater Core Recovery: 99%] The warmth at the center of his chest pulsed once, then again, slower. Not fire. More like something breathing. The system didn''t speak. It never did. But it pressed against his spine like it was ready to stand again. Close. Chapter 128 128: Strange Events (4) Kel groaned. "Why is it always me bleeding when we do this?" Ren didn''t answer. Kel turned his head, eyes barely open. "I''m just saying. Maybe next time one of you gets haunted." Ardan muttered, "Haunted?" "Yes," Kel said. "By whatever that was back there. It followed us. Don''t lie." Lindarion didn''t look away from the water. ''He''s not wrong. But he''s not really useful either.'' "Your name''s not really Kel," he said without turning. Kel hesitated. Then sighed. "No. Not really." "Then what is it?" A beat. Kel looked at Ren. She didn''t move. "Does it matter?" he said finally. "Yes," Lindarion said. Kel scratched his jaw with a shaking hand. "Fine. Meren. It was Meren. A long time ago." Ardan stopped pacing. "Why change it?" Kel gave a tired shrug. "Don''t like being followed." Ren laughed softly, just once. "Didn''t work," Lindarion said. "No," Kel said. "Didn''t." Lindarion stood. Brushed frost off his knees. He didn''t look at Ren yet. Not directly. Just let his eyes pass over her in pieces. Coat. Boots. Fingers twitching like she''d just thought of something clever and decided not to say it. "Tell me the truth," he said finally. "Why was he out there alone?" Ren tilted her head. The cloud cover made her skin look even paler. Her eyes didn''t change. "I told you." "No," Lindarion said. "You danced around it." She smirked. "Maybe I just like dancing." ''Gods. She''s worse than the professors in the academy.'' [Core Recovery Complete] It hit all at once. His spine straightened. His breath deepened without effort. Every muscle shifted slightly, like they remembered how to move right again. Even the cold didn''t bite the same way. The system didn''t say anything. ''Finally..'' It didn''t have to. He felt steady. Kel didn''t. The guy was breathing shallow now, but his hands were steadier. Still bleeding, but slower. Ren walked closer to the river. Her boots left no print in the snow. Lindarion didn''t miss that. She stared at the water. "It doesn''t remember," she said. "What doesn''t?" "Anything. You can scream into it, cry into it, bleed into it. Doesn''t matter. The current forgets. That''s why people like it." Lindarion watched her. Her voice hadn''t changed. But something under it had. "Did you come out here to forget something?" "No," she said. "I came to make sure someone else couldn''t." Ardan turned his head slowly. "Vague. Ominous. Fantastic." Kel winced. "Can we not do the cryptic thing right now? Just once?" Ren didn''t answer. Lindarion turned his eyes upstream. Something flickered on the far side of the water. A shadow. Gone by the time he blinked. Ren saw it too. She smiled. "Still watching," she said softly. "Good." She didn''t sound worried. And that was the part that worried him most. The wind circled once, slow and low like it had forgotten how to rise. It curled under his collar, brushed the side of his throat. Not cold. Not warm. Just... interested. ''This wind is listening.'' Behind him, Meren groaned. "Can we move? I''m gonna start hearing things in the ice." "No," Ardan muttered. "You already are." "Cool. That''s great. Love that for me," Meren said, quieter now. Ren didn''t move. Still standing at the river''s edge, her coat straight, her hands buried deep like she was trying not to touch the world too much. Lindarion watched her shoulders. They didn''t tense. Didn''t settle. Just stayed exactly where they were, like she was waiting for a conversation to catch up. ''She''s not scared. Not tense. Not frozen. Just... still. Like this part of the forest asked her to stay and she said okay.'' He shifted a few steps to the right. Her coat didn''t so much as twitch in the wind. ''Why doesn''t the cold touch her?'' Her right hand hadn''t moved since the ruins. He was sure of it now. ''No fidgeting. No reaction. She''s saving it. For what? Is she insane?'' The river cracked. No splash. No break. Just a soft crunch like a jaw setting itself. Lindarion looked across. The shadow was there again. This time it wasn''t flickering or pretending. It just stood. Tall. Thin. Wrong. Like someone had drawn a person from memory and lost interest halfway through. He didn''t move. Not yet. But his breath slowed. ''That''s not a scout. That''s not even camouflage. It''s just... showing off. What the hell?'' Ardan''s sword cleared the scabbard like it had done this before. No alarm. Just routine. Meren shrank further into the tree. Ren smiled. Not wide. Just enough to confirm she was still enjoying herself. "Took it long enough," she said. Lindarion stepped forward. Just far enough to be between her and it. Not to protect her. Just in case she didn''t plan to dodge. "You expected that?" "Yes." He waited. Nothing else came. ''And there it is. One-word answers. Nothing seems to be urgent for her unless she''s the one causing something.'' She tilted her head. Just slightly. "But it''s not what I thought. Smells different." Lindarion felt the bottom drop out of his spine. ''Don''t say it. Please don''t say it.'' "Ancient magic," he said before she could. The second the words left his mouth, the weight in the air pressed tighter. Not just around him. Through him. ''Perfect. Brilliant. Now it knows we know.'' "Not local," he added quietly. "Not recent." "Correct," said the shadow. The voice didn''t belong to it. It wasn''t deep. Wasn''t distorted. Wasn''t even loud. Just clear. And far too close. Like it had been waiting for its cue. ''God damn this forest.'' Lindarion''s fingers hovered near the inside of his coat. He didn''t need to look to feel the warmth again, low and steady in his chest. The system didn''t speak. It never did now. Back when he was brought into this world the system was so chatty and chaotic. However it had quieted down way too much, not even giving him any tasks he could complete. ''I''ll figure it out later, It''s not important for now.'' Chapter 129 129: Hiding Place (1) Ardan stilled, blade still low, but the grip shifted. Meren choked down a breath and muttered something that might have been a prayer, or a list of regrets. Hard to tell. Ren didn''t look back. "Too slow," she said softly. The shadow didn''t move. Didn''t answer. Lindarion blinked once. It was gone. No flicker. No blur. No dramatic retreat. Just... gone. His hand stayed near the coat. But the heat inside his chest dimmed a little, like the system had blinked too. ''That wasn''t for us. It came to see her.'' Ren turned from the river. No hurry in her steps. No tension in her shoulders. "Time to go," she said. Ardan snorted. "Now?" Ren walked past him without a glance. "Unless you''d like to stay. I hear the trees start talking if you listen long enough." Meren was already pushing himself upright. "Nope. Nope. Fully done with rivers and haunted trees. Let''s walk." Ardan frowned. "Where exactly?" "My place," Ren said, already moving. "Your place?" Lindarion echoed. She didn''t slow. "You have a house out here?" "No." "Then¡ª" "It''s not a house." Lindarion narrowed his eyes. "That''s not an answer." "It''s not a house," she repeated. "It''s better." Meren dragged his feet over a frozen root. "If it''s a grave, I swear¡ª" "It''s warm," Ren said. "And it doesn''t ask questions." That shut him up. They followed her. Not because they trusted her. Not even because they wanted to. But because turning around felt worse. The forest bent differently now. Not darker. Just... aware. Every branch, every ridge of snow, every quiet breath between the crunch of their boots felt like it had started watching too. Lindarion kept to the rear. Ardan took front again, two paces behind Ren, sword sheathed but loose. Meren muttered to himself now and then. Just enough noise to pretend he was the loudest thing out here. The trail turned uphill. Not steep. Not obvious. Just long. Like the ground had decided it didn''t want to make this easy. Lindarion''s legs moved fine. The system was holding. Strong. Better than before. His breath was steady. His vision sharp. But his mind was busy. ''She didn''t flinch. Not once. She looked that thing in the face and smirked like it owed her a favor. Or a fight.'' Ren''s boots still left no prints. The snow parted around her steps. Not melting. Just... moving. ''It''s not just her being weird. The forest is like helping her.'' He didn''t like that. Didn''t hate it either. But it made something in his chest tighten, and he didn''t think it was the cold. Ren finally stopped beside a rock that wasn''t a rock. Lindarion saw it first. Too smooth. Too round. No snow clinging to the top. Ren crouched. Pressed one gloved palm to the side. The rock shimmered once. Then split. A seam opened in the slope, thin and clean, wide enough for a person to walk through if they turned sideways and didn''t breathe wrong. Ren stepped in. Didn''t look back. Ardan glanced at Lindarion. Lindarion nodded. Meren cursed softly and followed last. The door closed behind them. No sound. No seal. Just... gone. And the forest was quiet again. It smelled like iron and moss. The tunnel curved just enough to make the air feel still. Old stone. Warmer than it had any right to be. Their boots scuffed against smoothed flooring, not carved but worn down by someone who had walked it a thousand times. Ren didn''t speak. Just kept moving like secret passageways were a weekly convenience. ''If she leads us into a wall, I''m going first. Fantastic.'' Meren breathed harder behind him. Not from panic. Just the exhaustion of someone who had spent all their energy pretending he had more. Ardan muttered, "I hate caves." "It''s not a cave," Ren said. "Still hate it. It''s similar enough." The corridor opened. Not wide. Just suddenly. The chamber breathed like it had lungs. Warmth clung to the stones. Not fire-warm. Deeper. Like the heat came from below the earth instead of the flame itself. Roots pulsed above. Green-veined and old. Light flickered sideways across stone benches and shelves packed with dried herbs and strange little knives that had never been sharpened for peace. Lindarion stepped in second. Not first. Ren had claimed that spot and didn''t seem inclined to give it back. Ardan followed. Meren limped behind them all, dragging the cold on his heels. There was someone already inside. She stood near the fire, one hand resting lightly against the curve of the wall, like she had grown from it. Tall. Dark-skinned. Black hair tied in a high knot wrapped with a silver thread. Her clothing wasn''t ornamental but it wasn''t plain either. Practical, with intent. The kind that looked like it had been made from memory instead of pattern. A dark elf..Lindarion could already tell she was from Tirnaeth. Ren said, "Lira." The woman didn''t speak. Her grey eyes passed over Ren, then over Ardan. They stopped for a half-breath on Meren. No reaction. Then they landed on Lindarion. And stayed. He didn''t blink. Her head tilted slightly. "You are not supposed to be here," she said. Her voice was low, not soft. Like velvet cut from steel. Lindarion didn''t answer. Meren muttered, "Why is everyone in your life ominous?" No one laughed. Lira stepped forward. Her eyes sharpened the closer she got, like she was filtering through old stories in her head. "You were a child," she said finally. "No. Not were. You still are, aren''t you." Lindarion frowned. She circled him once, careful, like something might bite. "I remember hearing about the festival in Elarion? Five years ago, maybe less. Who knows exactly." He stayed still. "You beat Sylas Vaerath, right?" Meren made a noise in his throat. "Wait, what?" ''No way she remembers that...'' Lira didn''t stop. "Heard he cried after arriving back at the royal palace." Ardan looked away, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "I heard about it for years," Lira said. "The Vaerath family called it an embarrassment. A disgrace. Said Sylas had been weakened beforehand... Said you cheated. But I remember the report by the guards. The Prince of Eldorath with the brightest eyes that shine brighter than any forest." Her gaze locked. "You are that kid, am I right? I can also tell just by your presence.." Chapter 130 130: Hiding Place (2) Lindarion said nothing. ''Of all the things to be famous for. Beating some egotistical kid in a spar. Fantastic.'' Ren smiled. "Well. That explains your attitude." Meren squinted. "Wait. Wait wait wait. Are you saying he''s... like, actually a prince? Not a metaphor?" Ardan let out a long breath. "Yes, Meren. That''s exactly what she''s saying." Lira stepped back. "You should not be walking with exiles." Ren stretched her legs. "Too late." "They are beneath him." "He walks where he wants." Lira''s eyes narrowed. "So do wolves." Lindarion moved past her and sat. Not on the carved bench. Just on the floor, next to the fire. One knee up. His eyes didn''t leave hers. "I am not a wolf," he said. "I am very tired. And I am not leaving." Lira said nothing for a moment. Then, quietly, "You should have hit Sylas harder." Ren laughed. "Make tea," she said. "He''s earned it." Meren sank down next to Lindarion, eyeing him like he might suddenly sprout a throne. "Prince, huh?" Lindarion didn''t answer. ''And now they know. Perfect.'' ¡ª The tea smelled like bark and burnt honey. Lira didn''t speak while she made it. She moved with the kind of silence that came from doing the same thing too many times. Her hands barely paused between pouring, steeping, straining, pressing. The kettle didn''t whistle. It breathed. Just like everything else in this place. Ren leaned against the wall now, arms folded, watching nothing. Ardan sat near the door. Not relaxed. But not tense either. He was like furniture with teeth. Meren huddled close to the fire and stared at Lindarion like he was trying to match a wanted poster to a drawing of someone who used to be his neighbor. "So," Meren said. "Prince." Lindarion took the tea Lira handed him. It was too hot. He didn''t sip. "Don''t," he said. Meren grinned. "Don''t what?" "Whatever is about to come out of your mouth." "You don''t know that." "Yes, I do." Meren held up his hands. "Okay, fine. No jokes. I''m just saying. It''s weird." Lindarion arched an eyebrow. "I mean, you don''t act royal," Meren said. "I am sitting on the floor," Lindarion said. "Exactly. I''ve met nobles. Most of them wouldn''t sit on a bench if you paid them." Ardan grunted. "He''s not most." Ren finally looked up. "What was it like?" Lindarion didn''t answer. Ren nodded once, slow. "That good, huh." Lira passed a second cup to Ardan. Her movements had lost their suspicion. Not her attention. She still watched Lindarion out of the corner of her eye like a riddle she hadn''t finished solving. Lindarion took a sip. It was bitter. Not in a bad way. Just like it had something to say and didn''t care if he wanted to hear it. "Quiet," he said. Ren blinked. "Sorry?" "You asked what it was like," Lindarion said. "It was quiet." She tilted her head. "There were people around," he said. "Always. But the kind that look at you like a glass they''re not allowed to touch. Everyone polite. Everyone careful. No one was totally honest, or at least that''s what it seemed like. Not to mention the expectations I will have to face." Ardan sipped his tea. Meren frowned. "Didn''t you have, I don''t know, tutors? Guards?" "I had all of those," Lindarion said. "But?" Lindarion stared at the fire. "It''s hard to make actual accomplices when you''re being measured every second." Ren''s voice came softer now. "So you best Sylas just to get attention? I don''t get it.." He smiled faintly. "No. I beat him because I wanted to prove a point." Even Lira''s hands stilled. "I was around six," Lindarion said. "He was twice my size. I thought it would mean something or satisfy me." Meren blinked. "And you dropped him?" "Yeah." Ren gave a low whistle. "Damn." "It was definitely not diplomatic," Ardan said. "No," Lindarion said. "But it was a correct spar." Silence moved back in. This one felt different. Less suspicious. More like space had opened up where something unspoken used to sit. Ren stirred her tea with one finger. "Still," she said. "You don''t talk like a prince." "Because I listen more than I speak," Lindarion said. "Really?" Meren said. "Because you also complain a lot." Lindarion glanced sideways at him. "That," he said, "is survival instinct." They all drank. Lira stayed standing. Eventually, Ren said, "What do you want from him?" Lira didn''t flinch. "Nothing." "You recognized him the moment we walked in." "Because I know stories." "So do I," Ren said. "That doesn''t mean I bow to them." "I didn''t bow." "You''re still standing." Lira didn''t respond. Lindarion finished his tea. He set the cup down with care. "He''s not a story," Lira said finally. "He''s a warning." Meren leaned forward. "Of what?" Lira''s eyes met Lindarion''s. "Of what happens when the wrong prince learns to win." Ren''s smile thinned. "I don''t think he''s the wrong one," she said. Lindarion didn''t speak. Not yet. His thoughts didn''t move like a river. They came in pieces. ''Let her think what she wants.'' ''Let them all guess.'' ''The truth is quieter than any of them can hear.'' ¡ª Lindarion didn''t speak for a while. He let the fire shift. Let the room settle again. The silence wasn''t tense this time. Just brittle. Like something new was balancing on top of something old. Then he looked at Lira. "Your turn," he said. She didn''t blink. Just watched him the same way she had since the beginning. Like she was waiting to be wrong about him. "My turn for what," she said. "You know who I am," he said. "I don''t know you." "You don''t need to." He tilted his head. "But I want to." Ren raised an eyebrow, amused. Lira''s jaw tensed once. "Curiosity can be a slow kind of poison, Prince." "So can silence," Lindarion said. She set the kettle down with a bit too much care. "I was born under the third eclipse," she said finally. Meren groaned. "Please don''t start with some fate and shadows story.. My head''s already cracked open from earlier." Lira ignored him. Her gaze stayed on Lindarion. Chapter 131 131: Hiding Place (3) Lira ignored him. Her gaze stayed on Lindarion. "I was born under the third eclipse," she said again, voice even. "That''s rare for our kind. Most consider it a bad sign." ''Of course they do. That sounds like the start of every villain origin story ever.'' Lindarion didn''t speak, just watched her. Her expression didn''t shift. No dramatic pause, no pride. Just words, given like dry facts. "My mother tried to hide it. My father didn''t care. Said if I was cursed, I''d earn it." Ren muttered, "That''s healthy." Ardan didn''t comment, but he didn''t need to. The look he gave her was flat enough. Lira kept going. Her hands were folded now, resting just below her ribs. Her back straight, like it always had to be. "I trained at a court that no longer exists. Not burned, not broken¡ªjust abandoned. They didn''t want its blood running into the newer cities. Too many names with bad memories. So they erased it." Lindarion''s eyes narrowed slightly. ''Erased? That''s a new kind of exile.'' "I was a page. Then a blade servant. Then I left." Meren blinked. "That''s it?" "That''s enough." "No like... tragic betrayal? Hidden brother? Ancient demon pact?" She didn''t even look at him. "I left because I didn''t like being used." Lindarion sat a little straighter. His leg shifted. The fire reflected in his eyes now, faint but sharp. ''That''s understandable.'' Ren stepped away from the wall. She stretched once, slow and feline, then dropped beside Meren and stole his tea. "Exiles, princes, almost-corpses. What a weird little group we''re building." "Don''t forget mystery smug girls," Meren said. Ren raised her stolen cup in mock toast. "The rarest class of all." Lindarion leaned back slightly, elbows on his knees. "So this place," he said, looking toward the ceiling, "is what then? Your secret base?" "No," Ren said. "Lira''s." She glanced over. "Don''t worry. It''s not a rebel camp." Ardan sipped. "Feels like one." "That''s just the smell," Meren said. "Old wood and trauma." Lira finally sat. Not close. Not far. Just enough to make it clear she didn''t plan to sleep tonight. "You''re not being hunted," she said. "Yet. But they''ll start looking." Lindarion didn''t flinch. "I know." "You should stay, at least until morning." "Not afraid of the dark?" "I respect it." He nodded once. "Same." Ren grinned. "Does that mean we''re having a sleepover?" Meren''s eyes widened. "Do we get blankets?" Ardan looked toward the door. "Do we get a guard?" "We don''t need one," Lira said. Ren shot her a look. "Confident." "I know these woods." "And what''s in them?" "Enough." Lindarion stood. Quiet, smooth. He paced once to the far side of the fire, then back. Not restless. Just thinking with his legs. ''There''s something missing still. Some part of this that hasn''t been spoken. Maybe they''re waiting. Or maybe I''m not meant to know yet.'' He stopped. "I''ll take first watch," he said. Ardan shook his head. "No. You rest." "I''m fine." "You''re a kid, we can watch." "I''m not tired." "You''re still just a kid." Ren raised a hand. "I vote Lindarion gets to stay up. He''s the only one who hasn''t collapsed yet." Lira didn''t vote. She just watched him. Same eyes, same stillness. Lindarion nodded once. Then sat again. ''Just one night,'' he thought. ''Then I want to move again.'' But part of him knew that wasn''t true. Not with how the fire felt. Not with how these people, broken or smug or tired, hadn''t asked him to lead, or follow. Just exist. And for now, that was enough. The fire''s light danced low along the stone walls. It moved like breath, not flame. Slow, quiet, unsure if it wanted to stay lit or not. Everyone else was asleep. Ren had curled into herself against the wall, arms folded, breathing steady. Meren snored once, then shut up again. Ardan hadn''t moved from his post near the door. Still awake. Eyes closed. Hand resting too close to his blade to be called relaxed. Lindarion sat where he had been for the last hour. Near the fire. Legs drawn in. Shoulders slouched, but not from fatigue. Just weight. Lira hadn''t gone to sleep either. She stood near the wall, arms crossed, watching the fire in silence. He could feel her eyes shift toward him every few minutes. She spoke first. "You lied earlier." He didn''t flinch. "About what?" "Why you''re here." He didn''t answer. "You didn''t leave," she said. "You were taken from the Evernight Academy." His fingers closed slightly around the hem of his sleeve. ''So she knows that much.'' "You''re sure?" he asked. "I heard the whispers. It wasn''t a small thing. Someone got bold. Big enough to breach Evernight." Lindarion didn''t move. He just watched the fire crawl across the half-burnt log. "There were too many people. Too many distractions." Lira shifted. "How long?" He didn''t answer. "Days?" she asked. He nodded once. Lira didn''t push. "Why didn''t you tell them?" she asked after a long pause. "Ren. Meren. Or anyone." "I didn''t want to talk about it." "And now?" "I still don''t." She tilted her head slightly. The firelight caught the sharp edge of her cheek. "Then why say anything?" He looked at her now. Not guarded. Not cold. Just tired. "Because you''re the first person to ask like you already knew the answer." Lira stepped closer. Not by much. Just a little. Enough to not have to speak over the fire. "You''re healing," she said. "But not all of it shows." He gave a small breath of laughter. "You trying to be comforting?" "No," she said. "I''m trying to be clear." He sat back slightly. Let the warmth touch his hands. "They didn''t ask questions for a while," he said. "The ones who did... they stopped after I didn''t answer." "They gave up?" "They got upset." She didn''t say anything to that. He kept going. "They kept me locked up waiting for answers." Lira''s face didn''t change. Her voice did. "That''s stupid." He didn''t respond. She sat down across from him, finally. Not close. Just enough that the firelight touched both of them evenly. "Do you remember their faces?" she asked. "I try not to, and they wore masks." "Try harder." Lindarion stared into the flames. ''The man with the mask. The one who smiled while he broke things.'' "I remember the masked man still," he said. Lira nodded. "That''s enough." The silence came back. Not tense. Not empty. Just full of all the things that didn''t need to be said out loud. Lindarion leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I managed to run away," he said again. "They took me. They tried to break me. And now I''m here." Lira nodded once. "Then you deserve to sit wherever the hell you want." He almost smiled. Almost. Chapter 132 132: Hiding Place (4) The fire popped. One soft crack. Then the wood shifted and settled. Lira stayed where she was, legs drawn up, hands wrapped around one wrist. Her eyes weren''t on him now. Just the flames. But she was still listening. Lindarion watched her for a moment longer. The way she didn''t fill the silence with something polite. The way she didn''t fidget or try to make it easier. She let it sit. He appreciated that more than he''d say. He turned his gaze back to the embers. "They had a reason for it," he said quietly. "Or maybe they told themselves they did." Lira didn''t interrupt. "I heard them talking. When they thought I was unconscious. Or dead." His voice didn''t shake. Just slowed a little. "They kept saying it had to be done. That they were testing something. That I was special." Lira''s head tilted slightly. Not surprised. Not confused. Just waiting. "I still don''t know what they wanted," he said. "You will," she said. He looked over at her. Her face was calm. Not gentle. Not soft. Just... steady. "I''ve seen that look before," she said. "The one you keep pulling. Like the floor might vanish if you blink." ''That obvious, huh.'' "I''m not scared of them," Lindarion said. "Not anymore." "I believe you." "But I am tired of not knowing." Lira leaned her head back against the wall. "Then find out." He arched an eyebrow. "That''s your advice?" She nodded. "Figure out what they wanted." Lindarion huffed. Almost a laugh. Not quite. "Very practical." "I''m not a strategist," she said. "I just like knowing where the knives are pointed." He let that sit. Then asked, "Why''d you actually leave your court?" Lira didn''t answer right away. She shifted. Eyes unfocused now, like memory was something hanging from the rafters and she was trying to decide if it was worth pulling down. "They wanted me to kill someone," she said. Lindarion waited. She didn''t elaborate. "And?" he asked. "I didn''t want to." "That''s it?" "That''s it." He nodded slowly. Then, "Did you like them?" "I didn''t know them." Lindarion tilted his head. "That made it worse," Lira said. "Would''ve been easier if they were cruel. Or arrogant. Or loud." "But they weren''t." She shook her head. "Just scared. Same as me." He watched her hands. They hadn''t moved once. Still folded, knuckles pale. "I never went back after that," she said. "Didn''t even pack." ''So she left everything just to not become something she hated.'' "That''s not weakness," Lindarion said. "No," Lira said. "But it''s still a scar." The fire cracked again. This time, it startled neither of them. Lindarion''s voice came softer. "Do you miss it?" Lira looked at him. Not with the sharpness from earlier. Not with that watching-stillness. Just clear eyes, and a breath that seemed heavier than the room. "I miss who I thought I could be there." Silence stretched again. The good kind. The kind that said everything real had already been said. Then Lindarion spoke once more. "You said I deserve to sit wherever I want." Lira nodded once. He glanced at the others, still sleeping. Then back to her. "Do I deserve to go back?" She didn''t flinch. "You already are." Lindarion didn''t look away. The answer had landed heavier than he thought it would. Not sharp. Not cold. Just... true. He pulled his knees a little closer. Let the heat from the fire soak in at the edges. "You mean just by surviving?" he asked. "No," Lira said. Her voice was level. Not soft, not cruel. Just steady. "You''re going back every time you think about it. Every time you remember it and don''t fall apart." He frowned a little. Not in disagreement. ''That sounds like something people say when they don''t have a real answer.'' She must''ve read the look on his face, because she went on. "Going back doesn''t always mean physically. Doesn''t always mean today. But the moment you stopped running from it and started looking toward it... that''s the first step." He looked down at his hands. They weren''t shaking. "I don''t think I should go alone," he said. Lira''s mouth tilted. "You''re right." "I should bring allies magbe," "You''re still right." He glanced over. "You volunteering?" Lira blinked once. "Are you asking?" He let out a slow breath through his nose. "I don''t know yet." "Then I won''t answer yet." They left it there. The fire crackled again. A softer pop this time, like it had finally decided to settle in with them. Lira reached over and shifted one of the logs, nudging it into place with a stick. She didn''t break eye contact. "What''s your plan when you get back?" "Find out who ordered the kidnapping," Lindarion said. "Then decide what happens next." Lira nodded like she''d expected that answer. "And if they''re high up?" "Then they fall further." He didn''t say it like a threat. Just a fact. Lira sat back again, arms folding over her chest. "You''ll need more than just skill to pull that off." "I know." "You''ll need trust." That one hit a little harder. Lindarion looked away. Let his eyes trace the patterns in the stone wall. ''Trust. Right. That old thing.'' "I don''t give it easily," he said. "Good," Lira replied. "Because it''s not cheap." They were quiet again. But it didn''t stretch awkwardly. Just sat with them like a third person at the fire. Lindarion finally turned back to her. "Why are you still awake?" Lira raised an eyebrow. "You think I''d let a prince and three half-dead misfits sleep under my roof without keeping one eye open?" "Technically it''s your floor," he said. She gave the smallest smile. "Exactly." He mirrored it. Barely. "I''ll be leaving soon," he said after a long moment. "Maybe in a day. Maybe two." "You''ll be welcome back," Lira said. He looked at her again. Something behind the quiet gaze. Something that didn''t need explaining. Then he nodded once. "I''ll remember that." Chapter 133 133: Hiding Place (5) Lira hadn''t sat back down. She moved along the edge of the room now, slow, silent. Checking things that didn''t need checking. Her hand brushed one of the shelves. Adjusted a cup. Shifted a small pouch by the doorway. Lindarion watched her. He didn''t speak right away. When he did, it was quiet. Even. "How strong are you?" She didn''t look over. "Stronger than most," she said. "Not an answer." She turned slightly, not facing him, just enough for her voice to carry back. "I''ve survived things that would kill most mages. Walked out of more than one trap bleeding. Fought people with better technique. Won anyway." He tilted his head a little. ''So... vague but confident. Typical dark elf answer.'' "You and Ren," he said. "You travel together?" "Sometimes." "Why?" That finally got her to turn fully. She leaned back against the stone shelf, arms folded again. "She''s useful. Fast. Hard to read. Scarier than she looks." "She already looks like she''s planning a murder half the time." Lira smiled. Barely. "Exactly." He adjusted where he sat. The blanket near his side still untouched. He didn''t feel like sleeping yet. Not with questions still open. "Are you stronger than her?" Lira blinked once. Then walked over and sat again across the fire, her back straight. "Depends," she said. "On?" "What you count as strength." He stared at her. Not annoyed. Just... waiting. She kept her voice low. "If we fought bare-handed, I''d win. If it was a chase, she''d win. If it was who can lie better without blinking... she''d win by a mile." Lindarion didn''t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched once. "And in a real fight?" Lira looked at the fire. "If I was serious? I''d win." ''That didn''t sound arrogant. Just... certain.'' He leaned forward. "She''s strange," he said. "She''s unpredictable." "That doesn''t bother you?" "It used to." "And now?" "She hasn''t betrayed me yet." Lindarion looked at the firelight curling under the stones. "Yet." Lira gave a slow nod. "You''re cautious." "I''m alive." Lindarion folded his arms loosely. "So am I." "You''re still learning." "I''ve survived worse than most people my age." "That doesn''t make you grown." He didn''t answer right away. Then he said, "It makes me tired." Lira didn''t argue. They sat like that a moment. Not speaking. Just letting the room breathe. Then Lindarion looked up again. "You ever fight someone with a Luminous Core?" She nodded once. No pride. No hesitation. "Years ago. Didn''t walk away clean." Lindarion blinked. ''She said that like it was normal. Who the hell did she fight before she ended up in this place?'' He leaned forward slightly, voice quiet. "And you won?" "I didn''t die," she said. "That''s winning." ''...That''s not the same thing, but she isn''t really wrong.'' He studied her again, closer now. Not her eyes, not her stance. Her presence. There was something in the way she sat¡ªlike a blade that had been polished too many times. "Ren?" he asked. "She never said what her core is, and I can''t measure it properly." Lira replied. "But I''ve seen her destroy things that should have stood longer. Maybe Luminous. Maybe not." He didn''t like that answer. It felt like guessing the depth of a lake by how fast it swallows stones. "She''s not careful," he muttered. "She doesn''t need to be." Lindarion went quiet. Lindarion leaned back again. Not far. Just enough that the firelight shifted across his face. His eyes stayed open, but slower now. The kind of open that didn''t fully register the edges of what it was seeing. Lira didn''t move. Her posture hadn''t changed in minutes. She wasn''t watching him like someone on guard duty. More like someone waiting for a decision to be made that had nothing to do with her. His shoulders lowered a little more. "You should sleep," she said. He didn''t answer right away. "Ren''s a light sleeper," she added. "Meren is already snoring through his own nightmares." Lindarion let out a small breath. Not quite a sigh. "I know." Lira''s eyes stayed on him. "Then why stay awake?" He blinked slowly. His voice came softer now. "I don''t like closing my eyes when I''m not alone." "I''m not going to touch you," Lira said. "I know that too." He shifted his weight. One leg bent under the other. His hand dropped away from his knee, fingers loose now. The fire gave off enough heat that the cold wasn''t biting anymore. It was just... there. Quiet. Constant. Familiar. "You''re safe here," she said. "I''ve heard that before." Lira didn''t argue. She just stayed where she was. Still as the wall behind her. Like she could wait all night if she had to. He rubbed at the corner of his eye. The motion was slow. He didn''t even finish it. His wrist just dropped to his lap like it got bored halfway through. ''Still watching me. Good.'' The hum behind his ribs had softened. That quiet warmth had spread a little farther through his chest. Nothing sharp. Nothing strained. Just steady. Alive in a way he hadn''t been since the forest first went cold. He let the feeling stay. Let it anchor him. His head tilted slightly, resting against the wall now. Eyes half-lidded. Lira watched. Her own breath even. Not slow. Not fast. Just steady enough to keep the air from going still. "You don''t sleep like a prince," she said. Lindarion''s lips curved the smallest amount. "I don''t think a prince sleeps differently than others." His eyes closed. And for once, he didn''t force them back open. ¡ª The morning didn''t come in with sunlight. It came in with the dull creak of frost giving way beneath boot leather, the soft rustle of movement, and Meren whispering something that ended in a loud yawn. Lindarion''s eyes opened slowly. The fire had dropped to glowing embers, low and red beneath a blanket of ash. It hadn''t gone out completely. Someone had tended it once in the night. ''Definitely not me. Probably Lira.'' Chapter 134 134: Hiding Place (6) His back ached in the way it always did after sleeping upright. The stone wall behind him hadn''t softened overnight. Across the room, Ardan was already up. He stood near the entrance, cloak over his shoulder, brushing frost from the seams with one hand. Eyes clear. He''d been awake longer than anyone. Meren groaned and flopped back over. The blanket someone had thrown over him was tangled around one foot like it had tried to escape in the night. Ren was already moving. She sat by the fire now, tossing a twig between her fingers. Her coat was still fastened. No visible pillow. No sign she had slept at all. Lira stood beside the window slit, one arm across her chest, gaze on the grey outside. Her posture hadn''t changed. Lindarion blinked once. ''She really doesn''t sleep, huh.'' He didn''t speak right away. Just breathed in. The air was cold, sharper than it had been. The kind of cold that got into the joints first, then moved toward the lungs. Lira turned her head slightly. Not quite facing him. But close enough. "You slept." It wasn''t a question. He nodded. Ren looked over from the fire. "He didn''t snore. That''s already one more point than Meren." "Hey," Meren mumbled. "I was dying." "You were snoring." "Same thing." Lindarion pushed himself upright, careful with the movement. Nothing stabbed. Nothing cracked. Just stiff. He glanced toward the doorway. "Did anyone keep watch?" "I did," Ardan said. Ren smiled. "We all did. In shifts." Lira didn''t speak. But the faintest flicker of her eye said she hadn''t trusted shifts. She''d stayed up longer than she should have. Lindarion stretched his legs out. Boots hit the stone with a dull scrape. The cold clung to the soles like it wanted him to remember it. ''Time to move again.'' But no one rushed. Not yet. Meren sat up properly now. His hair was a mess. His eyes weren''t quite open all the way. But his grin was there. "Morning, royalty." Lindarion didn''t rise to it. Ren tossed a dry root into the ashes. The fire gave a soft pop. "We have dried rations. Enough for a morning meal." Ardan raised an eyebrow. "Dried what?" "Roots. Saltleaf. Maybe an old apricot." Meren made a face. "That''s not breakfast. That''s regret." Lira finally stepped away from the wall. "You want warm food, go back to the cities." Ardan muttered, "We''ll pass." Lindarion took the offered pouch from Ren without a word. Inside were flat slices of something hard and sharp-smelling. He bit into one without looking at it. It wasn''t terrible. No one said much for a while. The sound of chewing filled the gaps. The fire caught again with a few coaxing breaths from Ren and one spark from Lira''s fingertip. Lindarion watched it for a moment. ''Same fire. Same cold. But something''s different now.'' His hands didn''t shake. His chest didn''t tighten. And no one looked at him like they were waiting for him to speak first. That was worth something. They''d move soon. He could feel it. The weight behind Ardan''s steps. The glance Lira gave the horizon. The way Ren kept checking her coat, like it needed to be perfect before walking into trouble. But for now, the fire stayed lit. And no one had asked him to leave. ¡ª The warmth didn''t last. It never did. Not really. The embers dimmed to a steady red. No crackle, no smoke. Just heat stored in stone and ash. Lindarion sat with the half-chewed root in his hand. He didn''t feel like finishing it. Not because it was bad. Just because it was too dry to mean anything. Across from him, Lira opened the storage chest. It wasn''t much. Low and wide, made of old wood, dark with age and carved in a style he didn''t recognize. The hinges didn''t creak when she lifted the lid. She moved slow. Careful. Like she knew exactly what was inside, and exactly how heavy each choice might be. Ardan stepped closer. Not invading. Just watching. Lira reached in and pulled something wrapped in cloth. Long. Thin. Wrapped tight. She didn''t speak. Just turned, walked the few steps toward Lindarion, and held it out. He blinked once. "...what is it?" "A sword," she said, like that should have been obvious. Ren perked up slightly. Meren stopped chewing halfway through another regret-leaf. Lira didn''t smile. Didn''t look proud or dramatic. Just waited. Lindarion set the root down beside him. Then stood. The cloth was worn but clean. It smelled like dust and iron. When he took it in both hands, it felt heavier than it looked. Not clunky. Just dense. Like it had been waiting too long to be held again. He unwrapped it slowly. The steel was dull at first glance. Not polished to a shine. But it caught light in strange ways. Pale blue along the fuller. The crossguard was narrow, shaped like a crescent pressed flat. The grip was wrapped in dark leather, aged but not cracked. Lindarion ran a thumb along the flat of the blade. It hummed faintly. "I forged it myself," Lira said, quiet. "Years ago." He glanced at her. "For who?" "No one." He looked back down at the weapon. It wasn''t flashy. No etchings. No runes. No obvious enchantments. Just clean work, old steel, and a sharpness that lived deep in the edge instead of showing off. ''This isn''t a gift. It''s a responsibility.'' "Why give it to me?" "Because you''ll need it." He tested the balance. It responded like it knew his hands already. Not perfectly. But close enough. "Thank you." Lira nodded once. Nothing else. Ren tilted her head. "I didn''t think you could use an actual sword." "I can," Lindarion said. Meren leaned over. "It''s very stabby." "That''s the point," Ardan muttered. Lindarion held the sword a moment longer. Then sheathed it in the plain leather scabbard tucked beneath the wrappings. It didn''t click. Just slid into place like it belonged. He didn''t ask what it was called. If it had a name, it would speak it when it needed to. Lira walked back to the chest. Closed it. Her hand stayed on the lid a moment longer than necessary. Then she looked at him again. "Don''t lose it." "I won''t." She gave a single nod. Meren whispered to Ren, "I think he should''ve gotten a cape too." Ren whispered back, "He''d trip on it." "I would not," Lindarion said flatly. Ardan almost smiled. The fire popped once behind them. Outside, the wind picked up. Cold, sharp. Morning pushing toward something harder. They would move soon. But for now, the sword rested at his side. And his hands felt steady. Chapter 135 135: New Comrade (1) The sword looked right at his side. Not like a trophy. Like a tool finally back in a hand that might deserve it. Lira watched from the far end of the room. Her posture stayed loose. Arms folded. One boot pressed to the stone with just enough pressure to feel the cold through the sole. She didn''t speak. Not yet. Lindarion glanced at the sword again. Then his fingers tapped the grip once, as if testing if it would speak back. ''Good instincts,'' she thought. ''Careful ones.'' Ardan moved toward the door. Not rushed. Just alert. He made it look casual. Like nothing surprised him. Like nothing would. That alone made Lira watch harder. She stepped away from the wall. The air near the door was sharper now. The wind had turned. She could smell it. Something metallic in the current. Not blood. Not frost. Just edge. Ardan pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulder, stepped outside, and let the flap fall shut behind him. Lira''s eyes narrowed. He hadn''t said anything. Not even a glance. She crossed the room slowly, silent. No one noticed. Ren and Meren had started bickering over whether dried fruit counted as breakfast. Lindarion sat again. Not slouched. Just thoughtful. Lira reached the door. She didn''t open it fully. Just shifted it with two fingers. The outside light was soft, grey, diffuse with the kind of weightless cold that warned of snow still hidden in the clouds. Ardan stood near the treeline, back turned, one hand in his coat. She stepped out. Didn''t say a word. Waited. He didn''t turn. But he knew. His right hand shifted, and from his pocket he drew the mana disc. Old style. Compact. Too elegant for field work. Probably customized. He didn''t use it right away. Lira narrowed her eyes. The wind lifted her hair as she stepped forward. Then he activated it. The lines etched into the surface pulsed, once, then again. Pale blue. Royal court frequency. She stopped behind him. Three paces back. Not close enough to intrude. Just enough to hear. Ardan didn''t flinch. "Report. Lindarion Sunblade is alive. Unharmed. Core stabilized. No pursuit observed. Position withheld." The disc pulsed once. No voice answered, but Lira saw the ripple. Acknowledgement. Not approval. Just received. She tilted her head. "You didn''t mention the others." "I wasn''t asked." "You could have." "I didn''t." The disc dimmed. He slipped it away. She stepped beside him now. The trees breathed slow. The kind of rhythm that only happened when they thought no one was listening. "You''re still reporting to the king," she said. "Yes." "You think he''ll come for the boy?" "I think he''ll wait." She glanced at him. "And if he doesn''t?" Ardan turned his head slightly. Enough that she saw the edge of his profile. Enough that she caught the tightness in his jaw. "Then we handle it." Lira''s brows lifted, just barely. "We?" "He''s not ready to walk alone." "He''s stronger than most his age." Ardan''s voice stayed low. "That''s not the same thing." They stood in silence a while. Lira''s eyes tracked the treeline. Every shadow. Every still patch of snow. The forest wasn''t watching them this morning. It was waiting. She folded her arms. "You''re not supposed to care." "I''m not." "You do." He didn''t answer. The door creaked behind them. Lindarion stood in the doorway now. Half-shadowed. Half-awake. His scarf pulled loose, one boot on, the other in his hand like he hadn''t decided if it deserved to come outside yet. Lira looked at him. His eyes met hers. No confusion. No fear. Just a quiet kind of clarity. She nodded once. He stepped out. And the morning moved forward. ¡ª Ardan stepped through the door first. No urgency. No noise. Just the slow, steady way someone walks when they''ve said what they needed to say. Lira followed. Her coat brushed the frame. Not a sound. Not a glance at anyone. She moved to the far side of the room like she had been there the whole time and nothing had happened outside. Lindarion didn''t ask. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder, shifting the weight of the pack. His eyes followed them for a second longer than necessary. ''They''re not tense. Not exactly. But they''re not relaxed either.'' Ardan set his satchel down near the bench. His gloves still clung to a trace of frost. He didn''t remove them. Just sat. Elbows on knees. Staring toward the floor like it might eventually offer him something useful. Lira didn''t sit. She passed the fire, slowed for a breath beside Ren, then checked the latch on the door with one short flick of her fingers. Still locked. Still cold. Ren didn''t look up. Just tossed another bit of bark into the flame. It cracked, then quieted. Lindarion turned back toward the sword. Still resting. Still quiet. He reached out again, laid his hand flat against the scabbard. The leather wasn''t as cold now. It had taken some of the room''s warmth. ''No frostbite steel. That''s a win in my book.'' Behind him, Meren let out a grunt and rolled onto his side like it was a full-body complaint. "Is the sun even out yet?" "No," Ren said. Meren groaned. "Then we should still be in bed." "You weren''t in a bed," she replied. "Which is probably why my spine hates me." Lira exhaled quietly near the door. Not amusement. Not frustration. Just sound. Just breath. Lindarion stood. Let his hand fall from the sword. He didn''t sheathe it. Just slung the strap across his back, where it rested light against his spine. His eyes lingered once more on Ardan. Still quiet. Still unreadable. ''Whatever they talked about, it''s not for me.'' That was fine. He walked back to the fire and stood beside Ren. Close enough to feel the heat. She didn''t look at him. But she spoke. "Wind''s changed." "I noticed," Lindarion said. "You think it''s moving in our favor?" "No." She smirked faintly. "Didn''t think so." Outside, frost gathered slow on the windows. The sky hadn''t gone bright, but it was trying. A faint grey behind the cracks in the stone. They''d move soon. And when they did, whatever had passed between Ardan and Lira in the cold would come with them. Chapter 136 136: New Comrade (2) But Lindarion wouldn''t ask. Not yet. Maybe not ever. There were other things to worry about. Like what waited beyond the trees. Like how quiet the forest had been all morning. Like the faint thrum that still echoed beneath his ribs. [Affinities recovery in process] The system didn''t say anything else. But his breath came easier. ¡ª The fire had burned down to a soft flicker. Lindarion stayed beside it. His boots warmed slightly on the stone, but the cold was already starting to bleed back into the room. It didn''t wait long. Not here. Ardan hadn''t moved. Still near the bench. Still silent. Ren was quietly humming to herself now. Something off-key and wordless. It barely counted as a tune. Meren had given up arguing with his blanket and sat hunched over a pouch of dried roots like they might turn into breakfast if he stared long enough. Lira stood again. Back near the wall, eyes tracking the window slit like it owed her a reason for everything outside it. Lindarion watched her for a beat. Then another. He crossed the room. Not loud. Not slow. Just steady. She noticed. She didn''t look at him, but her weight shifted slightly. Enough to say she wasn''t surprised. He stopped a few paces from her. Close enough to speak low. Far enough to not crowd her. "Are you coming?" The question dropped between them without ceremony. No buildup. Just the quiet truth of it. Lira didn''t answer right away. Her gaze stayed fixed out the window. "Where?" "Wherever we end up," Lindarion said. That earned him a glance. He held it. "You think I belong in your little band of survivors and smug wanderers?" "I didn''t say that." "Then why ask?" He looked past her, toward the window. Grey trees. Low sky. The kind of cold that looked permanent. "Because we''re heading into something," he said. "And I don''t think you want to stay on the edge of it." She said nothing. He waited. ''This is the part where she says no. Where she says she has her own things to deal with.'' But she didn''t. She just watched him now. Like she was trying to see if the offer was real. Lindarion didn''t flinch. "I don''t need a bodyguard," he said. "But I''m not stupid enough to turn one down." Her mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "I''m not following you, prince." "I''m not leading." That made her pause. Then she stepped away from the wall, slow, deliberate. Her hand passed once over the small satchel near her feet. She didn''t pick it up. Not yet. "You''re not afraid of what I''ve done?" she asked. "I don''t know what you''ve done." "You know enough." He nodded. "And I''m still asking." The room was quiet again. Even Meren had stopped chewing. Ren didn''t hum anymore. Lira''s eyes narrowed. "You sure?" "No," Lindarion said. "But I''m asking anyway." She stared at him. Then finally, quietly, "I''ll think about it." Lindarion didn''t push. "Good." He turned back toward the fire. Behind him, he could feel her still watching. Not judging. Just... wondering. ''She would just fit into the crazy group perfectly..'' ¡ª Lira stood near the storage chest. Her fingers were resting on the lid like they had forgotten what else to do. She could feel the grain of the old wood under her palm. Rough in the way that only age made useful. She didn''t look at Lindarion now. He''d gone back to the fire. Sat in that quiet way he did, like stillness was something he earned, not something that happened to him. ''Are you coming?'' The words echoed louder now than when he''d said them. She hadn''t given an answer. Not a real one. "I''ll think about it" was just a shape people made when they needed time to find their own lies. But she wasn''t lying. Not yet. She looked at him from across the room. He didn''t turn. Didn''t watch her. He was too busy listening to the fire. Or pretending to. ''He''s young. Too young to carry that much silence.'' He didn''t move like a prince. Didn''t posture. Didn''t look like someone who needed to be followed. But people did. She''d seen it already. The way Ardan didn''t argue. The way Ren watched him when she thought no one noticed. Even Meren, for all his jokes, sat a little straighter when Lindarion spoke. That kind of presence didn''t come from a bloodline. Or from training. It came from surviving. Her arms folded slowly. The wood creaked under her hand. She thought about the sword. The one she gave him. She hadn''t planned that. Not really. It had just felt right in the moment. Like something old finally finding a shape again. And now he was asking her to follow. No, not follow. Come with. That was different. He wasn''t trying to command her. He wasn''t even hoping she''d say yes. He was just making space. She exhaled once, slow. The kind of breath that came from someplace deeper than lungs. The others were moving now. Quiet preparations. Ardan checked his pack. Meren was still chewing. Ren had found something sharp to poke at the coals. Lira stepped toward the far wall. Her cloak hung on the peg where she''d left it last week. She pulled it down, careful not to shake the frost loose. It clung to the edges like memory. The clasp still worked. Barely. She fastened it across her shoulders and adjusted the fall of it with practiced hands. No one looked at her yet. Good. She turned, walked back toward the fire, and stopped beside Lindarion. He looked up at her. She didn''t speak right away. Then, simply, "I''m coming." He didn''t nod. Didn''t smile. Just held her eyes for a second. Then looked forward again. She stood beside him a moment longer. Let the warmth of the fire touch the edge of her boots. ''Let''s see what you turn into, prince.'' She didn''t say it aloud. But the thought felt real enough to hear. Chapter 137 137: The Forest (1) Lindarion adjusted the strap of his pack one last time. The leather had grown stiff overnight, cold from where it had rested near the door. It pulled slightly at his shoulder, but not enough to matter. He shifted the weight, felt it settle against his spine. ''Good enough.'' The fire crackled behind him. Low. One of the logs split in the heat with a dry pop. He didn''t look back at it. They were done here. Whatever this place had given them, it had already been taken. Warmth. Space. Names. And now it was time to move again. Lira stood a little to his left. Cloaked now, shadowed in the gray light that leaked through the window slits. She hadn''t said much since agreeing. Just stood there like a stone shaped to look like a person who might, one day, speak again. Ren adjusted her coat with short flicks of her fingers. She wasn''t fidgeting. Not really. Just treating her own clothes like they needed to impress someone. ''Probably herself.'' Ardan moved last. Always last. Quiet and slow like a boulder trying not to admit it had momentum. He checked the doorway, let his eyes linger on the frost outside. No warnings. Not yet. Meren pulled on one boot with both hands, made a small strangled sound, then stood up like it had personally insulted him. "We leaving or just doing an impression of people who might?" Ren answered, "You could leave now. We''ll catch up when you get eaten." "I''m wounded." "Not nearly enough." Lindarion pulled his scarf higher. ''Same voices. Same cold. But something''s different.'' His eyes flicked toward Lira. She still hadn''t looked at him. Not once since accepting. Which made sense. It meant it was real now. Ardan stepped into the frame of the door and held it for a moment. His eyes were on the ridge. The sky had gone pale, but not bright. The kind of light that didn''t know what it wanted yet. "We should move before the wind picks up even more," he said. Lira followed without a word. Meren made a small groaning sound and shuffled into motion. Ren gave him a little shove that almost looked like affection. Lindarion stepped out second to last. Ardan stayed behind him, just long enough for the door to creak closed. The path outside hadn''t changed. Narrow. Frostbitten. Trees that leaned too close, like they''d learned the wrong lesson from watching people. Their boots pressed into the snow without sound. Too cold for that. He walked with Lira near the front. Ardan took the rear. Meren hovered awkwardly between, close enough to Ren that she occasionally gave him a glare just to reestablish boundaries. No one asked questions. Not yet. Lindarion kept his eyes forward. But his mind drifted. ''I''m glad she came with us.'' He didn''t know what that meant yet. But it felt like something had shifted. Not in the air. Not in the path. In the story. And he didn''t know if that was good or bad. Not yet. ¡ª The path bent slightly to the left, where the trees thickened and the frost clung in long, narrow ribbons along the bark. Someone had walked this trail before them, but not recently. No footprints. Just the feeling. Like silence that had been walked through and never repaired. Lindarion adjusted his scarf again. It was mostly habit at this point. The cold didn''t bother him like it used to. But his fingers liked something to do. Lira walked beside him. Not too close. Not far either. Just enough space that their steps didn''t sync, but almost. She hadn''t said a word since they left. He glanced at her. Just a flick of the eyes. Not enough to draw attention. Her coat moved with the wind, but she didn''t. Her expression was unreadable. Not the dramatic kind. Just quiet. Like someone who was thinking about something they hadn''t decided whether to regret yet. Ren walked ahead, boots crunching in a rhythm that was too cheerful for the weather. Meren was talking to himself again. Something about dried meat and betrayal. Ardan brought up the rear. No surprise there. His footfalls were quieter than they should''ve been for someone that solid. Lindarion cleared his throat once. Lira didn''t look at him. He waited another few steps. Then said it anyway. "You could''ve said no." Her eyes didn''t move, but something in her jaw shifted. Barely. Like she''d just bit the inside of her cheek. "I know." "You didn''t exactly ask where we''re going." "I don''t need to." That was it. No dramatic pause. No second sentence. Lindarion looked forward again. The path narrowed up ahead. A fallen tree arched over the trail, split clean through the middle like something had tried to bite it and given up halfway. The air smelled sharp. Like pine and something older underneath it. He didn''t speak again until they were almost under the arch. "Why did you come then?" Lira''s voice came quiet. Even. "You asked." He blinked once. ''That''s it?'' The tree creaked above them as they passed under it. Ren looked back over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised like she''d heard part of the conversation but hadn''t decided if it was worth mocking yet. Meren was trying to brush snow off his hood without actually stopping. Ardan didn''t speak. He rarely did when they were on the move. But Lindarion could feel him listening. He kept his voice low. "I didn''t think you''d say yes." "I didn''t think I would either." More wind moved through the trees now. Less like a breeze. More like the mountain was sighing through its teeth. Lindarion narrowed his eyes against it. His scarf tugged gently at his neck. He could feel the weight of the sword at his side. Still new. Still quiet. But steady. Just like her. He looked at her again. This time a little longer. Lira walked like someone who knew exactly how much danger the world could hold, and had chosen to keep walking anyway. He didn''t say thank you. That didn''t feel right. So instead, he said nothing. And let the silence be enough. Chapter 138 138: The Forest (2) The forest didn''t open up much. It wasn''t trying to be welcoming. The trees pressed in at odd angles, old trunks twisted with time, their roots heaving out of the soil like bones that had decided they were done being buried. The path, if it could still be called that, dipped into a slope now. Snow had melted here, only in patches, leaving behind damp earth and flattened leaves that stuck to boots like guilt. Lindarion stepped around a moss-covered stone. His foot slipped slightly, then caught. Not enough to stumble. Just enough to remind him that the ground didn''t care who he was. ''Definitely not a normal road.'' Behind him, Ardan''s boots made a steady, deliberate crunch. One that never sped up. Never slowed down. Ahead, Ren was crouched on a fallen branch, poking at a cluster of mushrooms with a stick. Not for any reason. Just because they were there and she had a stick. ''She''s acting like a toddler despite how strong she is..'' Meren trailed after her, muttering something about why the mushrooms were purple. Lira hadn''t spoken since they passed the last ridge. Her eyes kept scanning the treeline. Not nervously. Just out of habit. The kind of person who knew silence could hide teeth. Lindarion glanced back once. She didn''t look at him. But her posture shifted, just slightly, like she''d felt the weight of his glance and filed it away somewhere. He kept walking. The cold here wasn''t biting. It was the kind that waited. Damp. Patient. Like it wanted to sneak into your sleeves and stay there for a week. Birds were absent. No wind. Just steps and breath and the occasional insult from Meren directed toward an innocent patch of frost. Lindarion adjusted the strap of his pack. The sword on his side shifted with the motion. Still new. Still unfamiliar. But he liked how it moved with him instead of against. He looked at the back of Ren''s head. "How did we find the weirdest part of the forest?" She didn''t turn. "We didn''t find it," she said. "It''s just meant to happen." Meren groaned. "That''s not funny. That seems more like a curse." Ren poked one of the mushrooms again. It made a soft popping sound. Like a hiccup. She grinned. Lira stepped around them without breaking stride. Lindarion kept pace. His eyes moved through the trees. Branches creaked above, slow and high. Nothing urgent. Just age. He let his thoughts drift slightly. ''Feels too quiet. Not danger quiet. Just... way to still.'' His hand brushed against the grip of his sword again. He didn''t draw it. Just liked knowing it was there. He glanced up. The light filtered in through the branches like someone had spilled cold milk across the sky. Pale. Thin. It touched everything without warming any of it. They kept walking. No one said much. That was fine. The silence wasn''t heavy. It was the kind that didn''t need to be filled. Just carried. Every now and then, Meren would trip slightly and pretend it hadn''t happened. Ren would look like she was about to whistle, then stop herself like even she didn''t want to hear it. Ardan was just behind, always the same three steps away, like he had a measuring string in his head and didn''t trust anyone to get too close or too far. Lira walked like her shadow weighed more than her body. And Lindarion... He walked like someone who knew the world could take everything, and hadn''t decided whether it was worth trying to keep things yet. But he was still walking. So that meant something. The trees parted slightly ahead. He raised a hand. Not as a command. Just habit. The rest slowed. He stepped forward, eyes scanning the path ahead. A clearing. Small. Round. And at the center, a single wooden post. Weathered. Tilted slightly left. A trail marker. He stepped closer. There was a mark on it. An old symbol. Faded, but not forgotten. He didn''t recognize it. Lira stepped up beside him. "I know that crest," she said. Lindarion just looked at her. ''From where?'' He didn''t speak it aloud. He didn''t need to. Some things didn''t belong to the present. But they still left their shadows behind. They went past it and continued their road ahead. ¡ª The frost changed as they kept walking. Lindarion stepped around a crooked root and crouched low, fingers brushing against a dark spot in the snow. It hadn''t fully melted, but the color was wrong. Too gray. Too wet. He pressed two fingers into it. Not warm. Not frozen either. ''Someone passed through here. Not long ago.'' He didn''t call the others over yet. Just listened. The air was still. No wind. Just the sound of damp leaves pressing into each other, and the soft creak of branches above. Behind him, boots approached. Light steps. Ren. She leaned beside him, eyes squinting. "That''s blood." "Not old." "Still sticky?" "Bit," he said. She rocked back on her heels. "That''s promising." Meren spoke up behind them. "Define promising. Like a deer? Or someone with a sword maybe?" "No tracks," Ardan said. His voice came low from behind a tree. "Snow''s wrong. Something wiped it." Lira stood just off the path, arms crossed, gaze distant. Her boots barely disturbed the snow. Like she didn''t weigh enough to press into the world. Lindarion stood. Wiped his fingers clean. The trees leaned in here, not tightly, but with purpose. They grew at angles that didn''t feel accidental. He scanned the line of trunks, the ridge of frost against their bases. Then he saw it. A post. Half-hidden under a collapsed branch. Old, but upright. A bit of carved wood near the top. Nothing dramatic. Just a ring cut into the grain. A mark for patrol routes. The kind no one used anymore. He stepped toward it, brushing frost from the surface. Ren whistled low. "Well that''s ancient." "Watchpost marker," Lira said. "Third ring. Long retired." Ardan knelt nearby. "It shouldn''t still be standing." Meren blinked at it. "Does it mean anything?" "Yeah," Lindarion muttered. "Means someone thought this area was worth watching." He glanced up. A frayed strip of cloth hung near the top. Dark gray. Not fluttering. Just hanging. ''That definitely wasn''t meant to be there. Not originally.'' "Signal," he said. Ren nodded. "Or a test." "No bird crap on it," Meren offered helpfully. "So... recent?" Ardan rose. "This is too clean. I don''t like it." "Neither do I," Lindarion said. The snow thickened off the trail. But even here, near the post, it was thinner. Worn by passage. Someone, or something, had walked here. More than once. He crouched again. Brushed aside a patch of leaves near the base. Underneath, the soil was soft. Pressed down. Not dug. Just stepped on. Repeatedly. He looked up at Lira. She was already watching him. No words exchanged. Just a small nod. Confirmation. ''We''re still not alone in this forest.'' And that wasn''t new. But it was no longer theoretical. Chapter 139 139: Talking Trees (1) Ren squinted at the marker again, arms folded across her chest. "Do we keep going? Or stand here debating the historical significance of a stick?" "I vote moving," Meren said. "Respectfully." "No one asked for a vote," Lira said. Ardan''s hand hovered near his side. He hadn''t drawn his blade, but the tension in his fingers said he might. Not out of panic. Just habit. Lindarion stood again. The air was colder by the post. Not wind. Just colder. Like the trees themselves didn''t want to breathe near it. He adjusted his scarf and stepped ahead, slow. The path narrowed through two split trunks leaning toward each other like they''d argued centuries ago and never stopped. The snow was quieter here. His boots didn''t crunch as much. More like pressed. Each step sank with a soft sigh. Behind him, Ren followed without a sound. Meren trailed her, grumbling under his breath, something about cursed forests and missing breakfast. Ardan brought up the rear, gaze scanning every tree with the quiet patience of someone who''d made peace with paranoia. Lira didn''t follow right away. Lindarion glanced back. She stood in the same spot, near the post, one hand brushing its edge. She was frowning. Not a big one. Just enough to crease the space between her brows. ''What''s she thinking...'' She looked up, met his eyes. No explanation. Just a nod, and then she moved, stepping lightly between the trunks to rejoin them. He turned back to the trail. The snow rose in uneven patches now, like something had shifted beneath it. Roots maybe. Or worse. The trees closed again. Lindarion slowed. Not out of fear. Just instinct. Something about the silence here didn''t feel like waiting. It felt like watching. He let his mana sense stretch. Just a little. A thread of presence brushing outward, searching for pressure. There was something. Not mana. Not hostile. Like a presence that didn''t want to be known yet. He let the thread go. No reason to prod it harder. If it meant harm, it would''ve shown itself already. Behind him, Ren leaned slightly forward. "You feel that too?" He nodded. "Good," she muttered. "I hate being the only one creeped out." Meren whispered, "Can we not call it creepy? Let''s use words like scenic. Serene. Peaceful." Ren rolled her eyes. "Sure. It''s scenic. Like a graveyard is scenic." Ardan didn''t speak. Lindarion kept moving. Each step felt measured now. Like the ground was waiting to be proven trustworthy. The sword at his side rested easy. The scabbard brushed his thigh with every motion. Not heavy. Just present. ''We''re being led somewhere.'' Not by force. But the trail ahead curved too naturally. The branches parted too neatly. The forest wasn''t guiding them. But something in it had decided to stop getting in the way. That wasn''t comfort. It was permission. He didn''t know which was worse. As they kept moving moss muffled their steps. It had been frost just minutes ago. Hard dirt, roots like ribs. Now it felt wrong. Damp and too soft underfoot, like the ground had decided to breathe. Lindarion slowed first. His boot pressed down and didn''t bounce back. Just sank a little. ''That''s not normal.'' The light changed too. It wasn''t darker. Just thicker. Like green glass had been stretched across the sky while no one was looking. He looked up. The branches above were the same. Still. But the glow between them had shifted. The sun filtered through like it belonged to a different season. Behind him, Meren stepped and made a wet sound. Then another one that sounded more offended. "I don''t like this," he muttered. "This is how old people in stories get cursed." No one answered. Ren had already slowed. She didn''t reach for her weapon, just tapped two fingers against her coat like a nervous rhythm. Like the forest might echo it back. Ardan turned a little. "Stop." They did. Even Lira stopped. Her stance didn''t shift much, but her eyes did. She looked at the trees the way people looked at old weapons, like they weren''t dangerous yet, but they remembered how to be. Then something creaked. Low. Deep. Like breath through broken ribs. It didn''t come from above. It came from ahead. Lindarion turned. The tree stood maybe twenty feet out. Thick trunk, bent hard to the side like it had grown around something long gone. Its bark was ridged. Covered in lichen that looked almost silver in the filtered light. And then it moved. Barely. Just the lean of one branch. The slow shift of roots curling deeper into moss. No wind. No leaves falling. Just movement. Ren whispered, "Ah." Lindarion frowned. "Ah what." Lira didn''t take her eyes off the tree. "Don''t draw your weapons." He didn''t move. "Why." "Because that''s a Grathil." Meren blinked. "What''s a Grathil." "They''re not trees," Lira said. "Not exactly." Ren took one slow step to the side. Her boots barely made a sound. "They''re watchers. From older forests. The kind that remember things." "They''re alive?" Lindarion asked. "Obviously," Ren said. Meren raised his hands. "Okay. But like... alive alive? Or possessed by nature spirits and waiting to murder us alive?" The Grathil''s branch dipped. Not toward them. Just downward. Slow. Careful. Like it was sighing. Lindarion didn''t like how his fingers had already started curling near his sword. ''Relax. It''s a tree. A weird, twitchy, possibly sentient tree. But still just a tree.'' The Grathil moved again. Its roots shifted and made a soft crumbling sound in the soil. Then another movement followed. A second one. Slightly taller. Bark split down the middle like armor. Its limbs arched higher. Ren nodded once. "There''s more." "Of course there''s more," Meren whispered. "There''s always more." Lira finally spoke again. "They''re not angry." "Yet," Meren muttered. "They want us to follow," she said. Lindarion squinted. "You got all that from a wiggle?" "They communicate through movement." "Fantastic." The moss ahead had flattened slightly. Not like footsteps. More like something had leaned there and never left. The second Grathil turned, slowly. Its upper branches stretched toward a darker part of the forest. Toward what looked like another path. A hidden one. Ren was already moving. Lindarion didn''t ask if it was a good idea. He just followed. Chapter 140 140: Talking Trees (2) They followed the Grathiln in a slow curve through the trees. The path wasn''t clear. It wasn''t even a path. Just the direction the creature moved in, bending branches aside with long limbs that didn''t seem to feel weight or cold. The ground didn''t crunch under its feet. It didn''t make noise at all, really. Like the forest had decided it was part of the design. Lindarion walked behind it. Third in line. Ren led. Lira followed close behind her. Ardan and Meren flanked a bit wider, keeping distance. Not out of fear. Just practicality. It didn''t feel like the kind of thing you wanted brushing against your coat. ''Still not sure if this is an escort or a trap.'' The Grathiln''s back was bent, not from pain, just age maybe. Its bark-body shimmered faintly in places where sap caught the morning light. No moss. No rot. But every step looked a thousand years old. Ren didn''t talk. She looked comfortable. Too comfortable. ''Of course she''s not surprised by walking trees.'' Lira had that same unreadable expression again. Calm. But watching. Always watching. Her hand stayed near the edge of her coat, but not quite touching anything. The forest grew darker. Not thicker. Not denser. Just... darker. Like the sun had agreed to step back for a moment. Lindarion exhaled slowly. No breath fog. Too much mana in the air now. Thick and old. It clung to his skin like dust. Not unpleasant. But aware. Behind him, Meren whispered something. Probably to Ardan. The response was a soft grunt. Maybe agreement. Maybe just disapproval at the fact they were following an eight-foot leaf-boned grandpa deeper into the unknown. They came into a clearing. It wasn''t big. Just wide enough to hold breath. At the center stood a second Grathiln. Taller. Stiller. This one didn''t move. Its bark was black. Not rotted, but hardened. Like obsidian with grain. Branches arched from its shoulders like a twisted crown. Moss hung from one side, draped like a scarf. Its eyes opened. They weren''t eyes. Just hollows filled with slow green glow, like the last echo of a candle trapped in glass. Ren stopped. Didn''t bow. Didn''t speak. Just tilted her head slightly. The Grathiln spoke. The sound wasn''t speech. It was like wind moving through hollowed wood, and somehow that became words. "You walk with old names." Lindarion''s spine went stiff. The sound hadn''t gone into his ears. It went straight to the center of his chest. Ren turned slightly. Her eyes flicked toward him. Lira didn''t move. The voice came again. "You bear the blood of the Sunbound. Sunblade. Named of Eldorath." Meren made a small noise. Not quite a gasp. More like a confused wheeze. Ardan didn''t react. Of course he didn''t. ''So much for walking quietly.'' Lindarion stepped forward once. Only once. His hands didn''t move. His posture didn''t shift. He looked up. "I didn''t ask to be recognized...sir..? What exactly do you mean?" The Grathiln''s branches rustled. Not wind. Not breeze. Laughter. Maybe. "You shine regardless." ''Doesn''t really answer my question.'' Lira spoke next. "Do you know him?" The Grathiln''s glow pulsed faintly. "We remember." That was all. No title. No bow. Just memory of...something? ''What the hell does it remember?'' Lindarion felt the weight of that word settle across his shoulders like a second cloak. He didn''t speak again. Not yet. He just listened. And waited for whatever came next. ¡ª The clearing didn''t move. No wind. No animal sounds. Not even the shift of leaves underfoot. Just them. The Grathiln. And that green-lit stare that didn''t blink. Lindarion didn''t look away. The silence stretched too long for comfort. But not long enough for fear. Just enough to make the air feel thinner. Ren spoke, finally. "Does remembering mean you''ll help us?" The Grathiln didn''t tilt its head. Didn''t shift weight. But something in the glow of its eyes changed. Brighter, maybe. Or just deeper. "You walk paths not drawn. Roads half-closed. Blood wakes old roots." Meren muttered behind Lindarion, "Cool. That''s totally a yes." Lira''s hand lifted. Just slightly. Enough for him to shut up again. The Grathiln turned its face, if that was even the right word, to Lindarion. "We do not help," it said. Ren''s mouth opened like she had something sharp to say. Then closed it again. Lindarion stayed quiet. "We observe," the voice continued. "We wait. We remember. And when the remembering is strong enough... we choose a side." He stepped forward again. Just one pace. "We didn''t come to ask for help..." The Grathiln''s eyes flickered. "No. You did not." Then it looked to Lira. The change was subtle. Like watching a shadow lean. "You carry forge-sap and iron-memory. Your hands bind flame and oath." Lira blinked. Her face didn''t change, but her hand at her side curled just once. Thumb to palm. Then loose again. "I carry what I made," she said. The Grathiln nodded. Or did something that might have been one. "Then we grant you this." It lifted one long limb. Branches curled inward like a hand beckoning. Another Grathiln stepped from the tree line. Smaller. Younger. If that word applied. Its bark was pale. Its eyes less steady. It carried something wrapped in dull green cloth. No one spoke. The younger Grathiln knelt. Set the bundle down at Lira''s feet. Then backed away without a word. The leader looked at her again. "You forged steel from broken season. We give you back the piece you lost." Lira didn''t move right away. Ren whispered, "Okay that''s actually kind of cool." Meren leaned sideways. "Is it a weapon?" "Is it cursed?" Ardan asked flatly. Lira stepped forward and knelt. She unwrapped the cloth slowly. Inside was a hilt. No blade. Not broken. Just missing. The hilt shimmered faintly with embedded ore, something between silver and green glass. Lindarion leaned forward slightly. ''That''s not normal metal.'' Lira stood again. Holding it in one hand. Her fingers curled around it like it had never left. The Grathiln said nothing else. Just stood. Watching. Waiting. Lindarion didn''t ask what the hilt meant. He knew better than to ask someone about pieces of their past while it was still unfolding in their hands. Instead, he stepped forward. Just enough to stand even with Lira. "Is this the end of the road?" he asked the Grathiln. A long pause. "No," the voice said. Another pause. "The road just now begins." The branches rustled again. Lindarion wasn''t sure if that meant warning or blessing. He didn''t ask. He just nodded once. Then turned toward the path behind him. They wouldn''t stay long. He could feel it. The forest had given what it would. And it had already begun remembering too much. Chapter 141 141: Mountain Climbers (1) The clearing stayed quiet behind them. No one said anything as they walked. Not even Meren. The trees didn''t press in like before. They didn''t part either. Just stood still. Listening, maybe. Or waiting. Lindarion kept his eyes forward. Ren walked ahead now, just slightly. Her shoulders were relaxed. But her hands weren''t in her coat anymore. Lira moved beside him. Not saying much. Still holding the hilt in her hand, unwrapped. The green shimmer had dulled a little, but not faded. Like it was only pretending to sleep. Lindarion didn''t glance at it again. He didn''t have to. ''Whatever that thing is... it''s important to her.'' He adjusted the strap of his pack. The new sword sat against his hip. No rattle. No drag. It moved like a part of him now. Ahead, the trail narrowed again. Not much. Just enough to force them into a thinner line. Ardan took the lead. Eyes forward. Steps quiet. That half-patient, half-ready posture that meant he already expected trouble and wasn''t going to say it out loud. Meren brought up the rear. He''d found a stick somewhere and was using it like a walking staff. Or possibly to poke at things he shouldn''t. Lindarion glanced back once. Meren caught his eye and grinned. "Just making sure the trees stay respectful." "You think that stick''s going to help?" "It''s got a good vibe." Lira muttered, "It''s rotting." "Still counts." The forest got quieter the further they went. Not silent. Just muffled. Like sound didn''t carry the same way here. Or maybe it didn''t want to. Lindarion''s fingers brushed the edge of his coat. Just a habit now. A check for balance. A check for presence. His thoughts didn''t sit still. ''That thing seemed to know who I am. Not just what I am. Not just the name..'' He glanced sideways at Lira. She hadn''t said a word since they left the clearing. Her eyes tracked the ground. Her grip on the hilt hadn''t loosened. Lindarion didn''t ask. Not yet. Not until the air changed. He felt it first in his ears. That low shift of pressure that meant they were leaving something behind. Like stepping out of a temple. Or a memory. The forest felt normal again. If normal meant colder. Rougher. Realer. Ren stopped up ahead. She turned halfway. Looked at them all like she was checking to see who had made it. Then she smiled. "We''re out." Meren raised his stick. "Victory." Ardan glanced at the trees. Then nodded once. Lindarion took one step forward. Then another. The sword didn''t weigh any more than it had before. But his thoughts did. He wasn''t sure why. Not yet. ¡ª The trees didn''t thin so much as they surrendered. Branches shrank back. Roots stopped fighting the earth. Frost layered thick now, pressed flat against stone. No birds. No bugs. Just that dry, breathless cold that came when the world decided to go quiet on purpose. Lindarion stepped over a low ridge of granite where the ground began its slow, rising curve. Then he saw it. The mountain didn''t loom. It didn''t need to. It was just... there. Black stone streaked with pale veins, crusted in snow too high for the sun to melt. It didn''t look angry. Or majestic. It looked old. Tired. Unimpressed. Meren let out a sound behind him. Part whistle, part whimper. "So. Uh. That''s tall." Ardan was already ahead, hand shielding his eyes, cloak shifting slightly in the wind. "We''ll take the western shoulder. There''s an old route carved into the base. Not wide, but it curves before the frost line." Lira stood to his left. Her arms were crossed, but her weight leaned ever so slightly forward. Not quite tense. Not relaxed either. Like she was preparing for something she couldn''t explain. Ren just stared up at the peak and blinked slowly. "We''re going up that?" Ardan nodded. "Eventually." Ren tilted her head. "Like... this week? Or is this more of a long-term, existential thing where we try and fail and die freezing halfway up?" Ardan didn''t answer. Lindarion squinted into the distance. No carved stairs. No ruins. Just sharp stone ridges and the faint trail of something once-made, half-swallowed by the earth. He didn''t need to look back to know the others were feeling it too. That hum at the base of the spine. The air pressure that said, clearly, you don''t belong here. And deeper than that there was something older. Not a presence. Just the absence of warmth. ''Fantastic. A mountain with personality...?'' He shifted his scarf higher along his neck. Not that it helped. Meren edged up beside him. "We''re not climbing all of it, right?" Lira''s voice was dry. "No. Just the part that breaks your spirit." "Oh, good." Ren tapped a finger against her temple. "I don''t suppose one of you has a flying spell." Ardan didn''t turn. "You want to be a glowing target in the open sky over ancient stone?" "I didn''t say it was a good idea." Lindarion watched the slope for another moment. The trail started wide, like it had once been used for carts. But higher up, the path narrowed until it vanished behind jagged outcroppings. He could already see the switchbacks forming in his head. ''Climb. Then climb again. Then maybe climb some more.'' His body didn''t protest. His breath stayed steady. His balance held. No ache in his ribs. No stiffness in the joints. His core burned low and clean. Not loud. Just ready. [Greater Core: Full Functionality Restored] He didn''t need the reminder. He could feel it now in every part of him. The way his steps landed right. The way his thoughts didn''t blur at the edges anymore. Ren glanced back at him. "You good?" He nodded. "I was hoping you''d say no so we could stop and nap again." "Then lie down and pretend." Meren sighed. "Can I pretend to be left behind?" "You can," Ardan said. "We just won''t come back." Meren made a wounded sound and trudged forward. Lira moved next. Her steps were efficient. No crunch. No hesitation. Her hand rested lightly on the hilt at her hip. Just touching. Not drawing. Like she knew they weren''t in danger yet. But they would be. Lindarion took the lead after her. The sword Lira had given him shifted slightly at his side as the slope angled sharper. He didn''t stumble. Didn''t need to look back. The path had begun. Chapter 142 142: Mountain Climbers (2) The path narrowed fast. Whatever old trail had once been carved here had fallen into the same silence as the rest of the mountain. Cracks split through the stone underfoot. In some places, whole slabs had sheared away and dropped off into the frost below. Lindarion stepped carefully. Each footfall checked before weight followed. The leather of his boots creaked faintly, but not enough to echo. Too much wind for that. It swept in sideways now. Thin. Needle-cold. Meren slipped behind him with a soft yelp. Ardan caught the back of his collar without even looking and nudged him back onto the trail. "Thanks," Meren muttered. "Didn''t need all of my dignity anyway." Ren was ahead of them both, squatting by a patch of exposed stone. She scraped her glove across the surface once, frowned, then stood again like the answers were too boring to share. Lira kept to the right, nearest the drop. Her eyes didn''t stop moving. From shadows to cracks. From cracks to sky. Then back again. Lindarion took in the rhythm of their movement. Five bodies. Two with weight spread forward like predators. Two with every step louder than the last. One that watched the wind more than the trail. ''Ardan hears everything. Ren hears only what she finds interesting. Meren hears himself. Lira hears what might kill us.'' His own breath left no cloud. Not from warmth. Just control. Then something inside shifted. Not pain. Not sharp. Just... precise. Like a door quietly unlatching somewhere behind his ribs. [System Update: Core Stabilization Complete] [Affinities Reactivated] [Blood ¨C Active] [Void ¨C Active] [Fire ¨C Active] [Ice ¨C Active] [Darkness ¨C Active] [Astral ¨C Active] [Time ¨C Active] [Water ¨C Active] [Divine ¨C Active] [Lightning ¨C Active] He blinked once. The screen faded faster than usual. No lingering glow. No sound. Just the weight of those words settling into his spine like a long coat thrown over the shoulders. ''Finally.'' He didn''t test anything. Not here. Not while Meren was still whining about the slope and Ren was muttering something about the curvature of tree growth in the distance. But he felt it. A quiet pulse behind his eyes. A new light in the bloodstream. That itch along the edge of his fingers where mana waited to be called. He adjusted his scarf. Nothing dramatic. Just breathing better now. Steadier. Sharper. Ahead, the path curved behind a fallen pillar. Whatever old structure it had belonged to had long since crumbled into a pile of moss-crusted stones. Strange for moss to be growing this high up. Strange for anything to. Lira paused at the bend. She didn''t speak. Just held up one gloved hand, fingers low. They stopped. Ren stepped sideways without being told. Ardan moved a step forward. Lindarion''s hand drifted toward the grip of his sword. He didn''t draw. Just touched it. Like greeting an old friend. Something was different here. Not dangerous. Not yet. But different. The wind had stopped. No howl. No cold bite across the cheeks. Just stillness. Heavy and absolute. He narrowed his eyes at the trail ahead. It continued. But it wasn''t empty. ¡ª The trail curved again. Not wide, not dramatic. Just enough to make the next twenty steps a mystery. Lindarion adjusted the strap of his pack. It pulled against his shoulder a little too tightly, but he didn''t stop to fix it. The weight wasn''t bad. Not anymore. His legs didn''t shake. His breath didn''t hitch. Even the cold felt manageable now. Like a guest overstaying, not an enemy. The wind stayed quiet. Still wrong. But quiet. The rest of them moved with the same tension he felt. Lira hadn''t blinked since they stopped. Ardan''s fingers twitched once, then steadied again against the worn hilt of his sword. Ren looked amused. Not calm. Just entertained, like the mountain was trying its best and failing to be scary. ''She''s never serious when she should be.'' He stepped forward, slow. The moment his boot landed past the curve, something clicked in his chest. Not literal. Not audible. Just a sense. [Skill Sync Fully Complete] [User is at 100% Functional Capacity] A faint pulse moved through him. Not loud. Not bright. Just confirmation. ''Took long enough.'' No glow, no whisper, no magic trick. Just the feeling that everything inside him had finally woken up again. Like a room with all the lights flicked back on. He could feel his affinities now. Not as words or elements. As sensations. Darkness sat low in his spine. Heavy. Steady. A weight that wanted to be moved. Fire lived behind the ribs. Flickering, impatient. Void coiled somewhere in the gut. Cold. Watching. Lightning tapped his fingers. Water cooled his breath. Ice lingered at the base of his neck. Astral pulsed behind his eyes, sharp and weightless. Time hung strangely in his thoughts. Slippery. Just out of reach. He didn''t trust it yet. Divine... he wasn''t sure where Divine was. It didn''t sit. It hovered. Present and distant. Like something watching back. Blood was everywhere. Not in a violent way. Just aware. Alive in the veins. Ready. He swallowed once. Quiet. No one noticed. They walked on. The path narrowed again. Boulders lined the left edge now, dark with frost and streaked in pale lichen. The right side dropped off into a shallow ravine, covered in brittle brush and old snow packed into ridges. Lira spoke without turning. Her voice low. Clear. "There''s a pass ahead. Barely wide enough for two." Ardan nodded. "And after that?" "A climb." Ren grinned. "About time." Meren groaned. "No. No climbing. I was promised a trail." "You were promised survival," Ardan said. "I''m still reconsidering." Lindarion didn''t speak. He just looked up. The ridge above them sloped at an angle that made his knees ache just thinking about it. Not too steep. But enough to require hands, not just feet. A few scraggly trees clung to the rocks. Their trunks bent low. Wind-warped and quiet. The path kept going. And so did they. Every step felt cleaner now. Like the mountain had stopped pressing against him, and now walked beside him instead. Watching. Testing. Waiting to see if he deserved the path it offered. Lindarion didn''t look back. Whatever was behind him wasn''t stronger than what had come awake inside. Chapter 143 143: Mountain Climbers (3) He didn''t say anything. Just breathed deeper, once, through his scarf. The cold hit different now. Not sharp. Not numbing. Just there. Like something real instead of something cruel. Ahead, the slope didn''t just climb. It broke. Stone jutted upward like shattered ribs. Rough. Slanted wrong. No proper trail in sight. Not even enough of a ledge to fake one. Ren crouched and kicked a loose rock over the edge. It skittered down. Bounced once, twice, then vanished into snow. She straightened, eyes scanning upward like she was estimating something. Probably stupid. "We''re climbing," she said. Not a question. Ardan gave a long sigh. "Great." Meren sat down immediately. "You climb. I''m spiritually ascending." Lira didn''t pause. Her fingers brushed the surface of one of the outcroppings. She stepped sideways, checking for footholds. The slope narrowed here. Everything funneled to this one rough pass, lined with frost and bad footing. But it wasn''t impossible. Just annoying. Lindarion stared up the ridge. It didn''t look far. It just looked like it wanted to be difficult. Like the rocks were daring someone to try it and fall. ''Fine. Let''s see.'' He stepped forward, boots grinding over frozen grit. Then the mountain hissed. Not the wind. Not Ren''s bad luck. The rocks ahead shivered. A strange ripple. Then something peeled itself from the slope. Moss cracked. Snow broke loose in little puffs. Then it blinked. Lindarion froze. So did Ren. Even Lira stopped mid-step. The creature uncurled from the stone like it had been sleeping there for years. Long limbs, four of them. No wings. Just a jagged back and a thick tail that swayed like a separate animal. Scales pale grey, shot through with lines of black and green. Like rock that had learned to move. It turned its head. Two more shapes moved behind it. Not lizards. Not snakes. Something in between. They didn''t roar. They just came forward. Quiet. Purposeful. Lira moved first. One boot shifting, weight settling on her back leg. Ren rolled her shoulder. "Guess we''re not climbing yet." Meren whispered, "Oh come on." Ardan didn''t draw. Not yet. Just stood ready. Lindarion didn''t wait for anyone else. His hand lifted, slow. Palm open. His breath was calm. The air answered. The cold around him bent. Then cracked. Heat poured out from the base of his ribs. Not a burst. Not a flare. Just pressure. Intent. Fire crawled to life in his palm. Orange first. Then white. It danced there. Flickering quiet. The creatures paused. Only for a second. That was all he needed. He stepped forward, hand still raised. The first creature opened its jaws, wide and dark. Its throat pulsed. Lindarion whispered, "No." Then pushed. The fire leapt. Not a scream. Not a blast. Just motion. It hit the creature in the center of its chest. Flames wrapped fast. No time to recoil. No time to run. One second it stood. The next, it burned. The others lunged. He didn''t retreat. The second one closed in fast. Jaw snapping. Too fast to pull steel. So he turned his hand. Called again. This time, the fire came thinner. Sharper. A lance of white heat tore across the slope. The second creature dropped. Its scales hissed. Steam rose. Lindarion exhaled. Slow. The third didn''t lunge. It hesitated. Then backed away, claws clicking across stone. Ren whistled once, low. "Okay, fireboy." Lira didn''t move. Ardan raised one brow. "Looks like someone''s finally back." Lindarion lowered his hand. Smoke trailed from his fingers. Not thick. Not hot. Just the last echo of the cast. His body didn''t ache. His lungs didn''t strain. He stood straight. Steady. Meren blinked. "Remind me never to try stealing anything from him." Ren smirked. "You''d try?" "Maybe." Lira stepped forward again. She passed him without comment. Her eyes flicked to the burned patch on the slope. Then ahead. "Still climbing," she said. And they did. ¡ª The smell stuck. Even with the wind coming back around the ridge, the burn lingered. Not just smoke. Not just cooked scales. Something deeper. Something that said a life had ended right there, and the mountain didn''t care enough to clean it up. Lindarion''s fingers twitched once. He shook them out. The flame was gone, but its ghost stayed behind, humming low in his bones. Not painful. Just... full. Like heat that didn''t want to leave. ''That''s new.'' Ren passed him without saying anything, but she bumped his shoulder lightly as she did. Maybe on purpose. Maybe not. He stepped forward too, boots grinding frost, steam still curling behind him. Meren muttered as he climbed up from the rock he''d flattened himself against. "Not gonna lie. I thought you were gonna explode." "I didn''t," Lindarion said. "Yeah. But for a second, I really thought you would." Lindarion didn''t answer. His focus was still up the ridge. Lira had already taken the first few holds. Her foot pressed into a crack between stones, then she reached higher. Not fast. Not reckless. Just precise. Ardan followed without a word. Ren crouched at the base of the slope, adjusted her gloves, and gave a loud sigh. "Ugh. Climbing." "You''re literally made for this," Meren said. "Light frame, endless energy, zero concern for self-preservation." Ren grinned. "Exactly. So why bother climbing when I can complain instead?" Then she started up after the others. Lindarion stared at the ridge a moment longer. The scorched lizards behind him didn''t move. One was still half-curled, neck twisted unnaturally. The smell would get worse before it faded. ''They weren''t smart.'' But something had sent them. Or at least allowed them to be there. This high up, in the cold, where no lizard should be. That meant something. He just didn''t know what yet. He set one foot on the slope. Let his hand brace against the next ledge. Stone scraped under his palm. Cold pressed into the thin part of his glove. He moved. Up. The others climbed like they''d done it before. Which they had, probably. Ardan made it look easy, which wasn''t fair for a man his size. Lira moved with that same half-glide she always had. Efficient. Focused. Ren kicked a rock loose halfway up. It bounced and clipped Meren''s shoulder. "Oops," she said. Meren growled. "I hate you." "You''re just mad because I''m faster." "I''m mad because that rock had teeth." Lindarion found his rhythm a few seconds in. The holds weren''t great, but his limbs didn''t shake. No breathlessness. No flare of pain in the ribs. His mana sat still. Like a cat curled on his spine. Watching. He liked that. The climb stretched longer than it looked. Every step forward became a half-lift. Fingers found the edge of stone. Boots slid. Rebalanced. Pulled again. No one talked now. Too high for jokes. Too winded for commentary. He reached a narrow ledge where the others had stopped. Lira was first. Kneeling. Checking something in the dirt. Ren stood with her arms spread like wings, testing the wind. Ardan had his back to the cliff. One arm braced against it. Eyes scanning the ridge above. Meren arrived last. He collapsed next to Lindarion like a sack of slightly guilty flour. "I lived," he wheezed. "Again." "No thanks to you," Ren muttered. "I provided moral support." "You were muttering a death poem." "It was inspirational." Lindarion crouched low, not resting. Just watching the trail beyond. It sloped gentler here. Wide enough to walk side by side. Frost hung thick on the sides of the path. Some of it cracked under the weight of earlier steps. Maybe animals. Maybe not. He glanced at Lira. She didn''t look back. But she spoke. "Three more hours to the pass." Lindarion nodded once. His shoulder brushed the hilt of the sword Lira had given him. It didn''t hum this time. Just waited. He stood again. Pulled his scarf tighter. The air thinned slightly. But he could breathe. And that was enough. Chapter 144 144: Mountain Climbers (4) They walked again. The ledge curved long across the upper ridge. Not steep now, but tilted just enough that it pulled at the ankles. Stone crumbled under the frost in places. Meren kept slipping. Ren kept laughing. Ardan walked like the mountain owed him safe footing and knew better than to argue. Lindarion stayed near the middle. Not leading. Not trailing. ''Three hours,'' he thought. ''Might as well be three days.'' The sun hadn''t come out yet. Or maybe it had and just couldn''t make it through the clouds. Everything above them was grey. The kind of grey that felt older than color. Lira moved ahead, silent as always. Her boots didn''t crunch like the others. The frost gave way beneath her. Not melted. Just allowed. Ren kept glancing at her. Then at Lindarion. Then back. He narrowed his eyes. ''What now.'' She caught him looking. Smirked. Said nothing. He sighed. "Alright," he muttered. "Out with it." Ren blinked, all innocent. "Out with what?" "That face." "I have a face?" "You know what I mean." She tilted her head. "You really don''t like mystery, do you?" "I don''t like your mystery." Ren grinned wider. "You''ll miss it when I''m gone." "You''re not going anywhere." "You don''t know that." "I do." She didn''t respond to that. Just skipped a bit ahead. Lindarion kept walking. His breath stayed steady. The cold didn''t hurt anymore. His core sat clean and warm, like a sealed furnace waiting for a reason to open. They passed a ridge of black stone. Long, split in the middle, like something had once cleaved it down the center and walked away without looking back. Frost lined the cut. A bird squawked overhead and vanished into cloud. Meren reached for a chunk of dried fruit in his coat pocket and dropped it. "No," he said, staring down the slope. "You''re not worth the climb." Ardan grunted. "You''re going to regret that later." "I''m regretting it now." The wind rose again. Just a little. Cold scraped at their coats and noses. Lindarion adjusted the wrap at his neck and flexed his fingers once. The fire affinity stirred behind his ribs. Quiet. Comfortable. He liked this silence more than most. The kind made by living people moving through a dangerous place with their jokes and weapons and secrets, but not pretending they weren''t still here together. They kept walking. Not toward anything dramatic. Just forward. The world stayed cold. But his hands were warm. ¡ª The incline wasn''t steep anymore, just steady. A long stretch of flat stone opened ahead, broken in parts by shallow dips filled with snow and wind-carved lines. Walking wasn''t hard here, just dull. The kind of dull that made your brain go soft if you weren''t careful. Lindarion found his boots slipping slightly on frost he couldn''t see. Every five or six steps, he''d feel the edge give. Not enough to fall. Just enough to remind him that the mountain was still paying attention. He let his eyes drift sideways. Ren was walking backward again. Talking to Meren, who was trying to act like he wasn''t about to trip over his own shadow. She moved like gravity was optional. Her coat flared with every step, catching more wind than it should have, like the mountain was trying to tug her back for being smug. Meren flailed once and nearly skidded into a snow drift. "Do you ever walk forward like a normal person?" he asked. "Do you ever walk at all without complaining?" Ren answered, still moving backward. "I am deeply injured." "You are deeply dramatic." Ardan said nothing. He was a few paces ahead, scouting the trail with a kind of patience that made Lindarion feel like a lazy noble. Not that he ever enjoyed that comparison. Lira, as usual, was quiet. She walked with her hands clasped behind her back now. Straight posture. Eyes moving constantly. Not sharp like she was waiting to be attacked, just aware. Like someone memorizing the layout of a dream so she could wake up and draw it. Lindarion didn''t say anything. He didn''t feel like it. His breath came easy, his legs didn''t ache, and his system had gone quiet again. Not silent, just settled. Like it had tucked itself back under the skin and was waiting for him to need it. That was a strange feeling. Not being watched by it. Just... accompanied. He let the group''s noise fade in and out. The wind hissed softly through the rocks. A bird called in the distance. Something low and guttural, not like anything from the lowlands. Probably fine. He reached for the canteen at his hip. The metal was cold enough to bite. He unscrewed the cap slowly and drank without pausing. The water had a strange taste, too clean, almost metallic. But it helped. Ren dropped back beside him again. She held something in her hand now. Looked like a smooth rock, but darker, almost purple. "Souvenir?" he asked, nodding toward it. "Lucky stone," she said. "Really?" "No. But I decided it is." He gave a quiet breath that might''ve been a laugh. Ren held it up to the light, eyes squinting. "I think it looks like you," she said. Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "That''s a rock." "Exactly." He looked down at the path again. "You''re not as funny as you think you are." "I''m funnier," she said. He didn''t respond. She didn''t seem to mind. Meren trudged by on the left, scarf wrapped around his entire head like a badly disguised bandit. "I hope we find a hot spring," he muttered. "We won''t," Ardan called back. "I''m saying it for emphasis." "No hot springs," Lira said flatly, not turning. Meren let out a long, exhausted sigh. "You don''t know that." "I do." "You''re cruel." Ren tossed the rock over her shoulder. It landed somewhere in the snow with a soft thud. Lindarion shook his head. Not with irritation. More like a mental shrug. He let his pace slow until he fell into step beside Ardan. "You think this trail keeps going, or are we going to hit another wall?" Ardan didn''t look over. "I think if it stops, we climb." "Of course." "You ready for that?" Lindarion nodded. "Yes." Ardan glanced at him now. Brief, but measured. "You''re steadier," he said. "I am." "You trust your legs again." "And my core." Ardan grunted. "Good." That was all. No congratulations. No smile. Just a grunt and a nod, which from Ardan might as well have been applause. They walked another hundred steps in silence. The wind softened. The slope evened. And for a moment, just a small one, it didn''t feel like survival. It felt like a journey. Chapter 145 145: Erasure 145 Erasure The mountain stretched wider now. The slope tapered into a kind of ridge that was flat enough to walk three across, steep enough on either side to make slipping a regrettable life choice. The snow here had been crushed down by wind and weight. Not fresh. Not soft. Old and bitter, the kind that didn''t melt, just got angrier. Lindarion adjusted his grip on the sword at his hip. He hadn''t drawn it, but it helped to feel the weight there. Like something tethering him to the moment. Ren walked slightly ahead, still looking around like she was sightseeing instead of marching through mountain frost. Meren muttered something about his boots being too tight. Ardan stayed close to the rear. Lira took the middle. Eyes sharp. Shoulders squared. They didn''t speak much now. The quiet had settled too cleanly. Like it didn''t want to be interrupted. That was the first sign. The second came when the wind dropped again, not just softening, but stopping. Abrupt. Like a held breath. Lindarion slowed. So did Ren. Her body language didn''t change much. Still casual, still upright, but her fingers twitched once at her side. He looked up. The trail turned slightly ahead, curving around a stone outcrop tall enough to hide anything or anyone behind it. That was the third sign. Then the voice came. "Hold." Lindarion stopped moving. The voice was male. Not old, not young. Measured. Like someone trying to sound calm before pulling a knife. Ren didn''t turn around. "Took long enough for something to go wrong." Five figures stepped out from the side of the trail. The bandits didn''t look like much. Rough gear, secondhand weapons, layers of mismatched furs that smelled like they hadn''t dried properly in months. 10:38 The one in front had a scar down his cheek and a grin that said he thought he was the smartest man on the mountain. Ren muttered under her breath. "Why is it always the overconfident ones?" Meren stepped slightly behind Ardan. "I vote we negotiate." Ardan didn''t respond. His eyes were fixed forward, unreadable. The man with the scar took a single step closer. "Toll for the trail," he said. "Simple exchange. You give us your packs. We let you keep your legs." Lindarion didn''t move. He just let his fingers brush the edge of the hilt again. ''I really hate stupid ultimatums.'' The scarred man raised his voice. "No heroes. No screaming. Make it easy for yourselves." Lira stepped forward. No dramatic movement. Just a quiet step off the line. The wind didn''t move her cloak. It just stopped. The bandits didn''t notice. Not yet. But Lindarion did. The air had shifted. He glanced at her. Her posture hadn''t changed. Her expression hadn''t moved. But the mountain knew. The shadows under her boots were darker than they should be. The scarred man squinted. "What''s this now? Your leader stepping up?" Lira raised her hand. One of the bandits in the back blinked, took a step, then collapsed. No sound. No struggle. Just a body dropping like the light in him had been snuffed out. Another turned, panicked. He drew half a breath and vanished into the treeline. Not ran. Vanished. Pulled. The scarred man''s grin cracked. "What the¡ª" Lira flicked her wrist. The third one screamed. Lindarion didn''t see the weapon. Just the way the man clutched his chest like something was hollowing him from the inside. The rest turned to run. Too late. The shadows stretched. Thin and long, like fingers across frost. Each one moved with precision. Quiet. Like it had memorized how fear sounded when it was too late to do anything about it. Ren whistled low. "Show-off." Meren opened his mouth, then shut it again. Ardan didn''t blink. Lira stepped through the fog as the last one fell. No blood. Just stillness. She turned back. "You were saying?" she asked the man with the scar. He hadn''t moved. His sword was still in its sheath. His mouth hung open. His legs didn''t seem to remember how to shift. Lindarion didn''t pity him. Lira tilted her head. "Speak." He tried. Failed. Then he dropped the sword and fell to his knees. Lira looked bored. "Not original." "Please," he managed. "Please. I didn''t know¡ª" "I know." She stepped forward. He flinched. She didn''t touch him. Just crouched. Her voice came quieter. Still even. "There are better ways to ask for help than waving a blade at strangers." He nodded quickly. "I won''t kill you." He started to cry. "But I''m not saving you either." She stood. The man stayed on his knees. Ren crossed her arms. "Can we go now, or do you want to start a counseling session?" Lindarion exhaled. ''Well. That was efficient...I haven''t seen anyone use darkness affinity this efficiently ever..'' Ardan finally moved forward. "Let''s keep moving." Meren stared at the man. "He''s gonna freeze." Ren gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Then he''ll learn faster next life." Lindarion followed them without another look back. The trail ahead curved into the rocks again. Snow dusted the path, but the wind had lost its bite. He glanced at Lira as she walked beside him. "Subtle." She didn''t smile. But her shadow did. ¡ª The wind picked up behind them. Not sharp, not cruel. Just that same mountain breath pushing the cold through every open seam. Lindarion didn''t look back. The sound of the last man''s sobbing stayed behind, small and pitiful against the stone. It wasn''t loud enough to echo. Just enough to be remembered. They walked in a slow line again. Meren trailing a little too far behind. Ardan near the front. Ren in the middle, hands behind her head like this was a lazy hike and not the aftermath of a silent massacre. Lira stayed close to the rear. Her steps didn''t leave prints in the snow anymore. Lindarion shifted his scarf up just a little. Not because he was cold. Because his mouth had too much to say and none of it sounded worth hearing. He''d seen magic. Fought with it. Bled from it. But Lira''s didn''t just kill. It erased. Not violently. Not like fire or lightning. Not even the sharp edge of a blade. It just... removed people from the equation. Took them apart like a thought you forgot halfway through. Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation! Chapter 146 146: Boring Road 146 Boring Road He glanced sideways. She didn''t look tired. Just quiet. ''How much control does that take?'' She caught him watching. Met his eyes for a second. Then looked forward again. No expression. No warning. Just a flicker of something unreadable, the kind of thing you only noticed if you were already trying too hard. He looked away first. The trail bent to the left and narrowed again. The rock underfoot shifted from snow to hard-packed gravel. The sound of their steps changed with it. Meren cleared his throat. "Do we... say anything?" Ren didn''t turn. "To who?" "I don''t know. The universe maybe?" "You want to say a prayer for idiots with knives?" "I want to feel less weird about watching people melt." "No one melted," she said. "They just stopped being relevant." Lindarion frowned. "That''s not better." Ren flashed him a crooked grin. "Depends who you ask." They reached a cluster of stone markers, flat slabs, carved smooth by time, sticking up in uneven lines like broken teeth. No writing. No moss. Just standing there like they were watching something they''d already seen too many times. Lira paused there. The rest kept walking. Lindarion stopped. Not far. Just enough to glance back. She stood between two of the stones, one hand resting on the hilt of her knife. Not drawing. Just touching it like a reflex. Her eyes were somewhere else. Not lost. Not dreaming. Just far enough away that he felt like if he called her name, it might echo before she heard it. He waited. She didn''t move. ''Whatever she''s remembering... I don''t think I want to know.'' But he still waited. Eventually, she stepped forward again. No words. No look back. He fell in beside her. Didn''t say anything. Just matched pace. The rest of the group had moved ahead now. Their voices came faint over the wind. Ren teasing. Meren complaining. Ardan not bothering to stop either of them. The trail evened out. The mountain dropped into a long slope of shallow rock and thin brush. Somewhere up ahead, a ridge dipped toward the treeline again. Lindarion could smell pine. That, at least, felt normal. He exhaled, steady. No frost on the air. His core stayed calm. No alerts. No updates. Everything was working. No pain. No pressure. No fatigue dragging behind his eyes. He flexed his fingers once. Mana stirred lightly under the skin. Fire, if he asked for it. Lightning, if he wanted to be loud about it. Darkness too, though his felt colder. Less... personal than Lira''s. She hadn''t spoken since. He looked at her again. Still no exhaustion. Still no regret. Just a person with too many edges and nowhere soft to stand. And she walked like she''d never needed softness anyway. ¡ª The path didn''t rise or fall for a while. Just a long stretch of broken rock where the wind scraped by in low, bitter waves. Enough to sting the cheeks if you didn''t keep your scarf high. Enough to pull a coat tight if you''d forgotten how to layer properly. Lindarion breathed into the cloth anyway. His mouth was dry. Not from thirst. Just from silence. The kind that settled after something big and refused to move again. Up ahead, Ardan pushed forward like nothing had happened. Like bandits had never existed. Like they hadn''t just seen seven people erased off the face of the mountain. ''He''s definitely done this before. Too many times. Doesn''t flinch. Doesn''t even blink.'' Ren was further ahead, hands behind her head, humming a tune that probably didn''t exist. Her coat fluttered with every third step, like it wanted to run ahead of her. Meren trudged behind them both, a little slower now. He wasn''t limping, not quite, but something about the way he walked looked cautious. Like the mountain might decide to bite his ankles. Lira walked next to him again. Not close. Not far. Just within reach if he said something. He didn''t. The sword on his hip was quiet. Heavy in a good way. Like it belonged there. Like it had made up its mind about him. He adjusted the strap of his pack again, pulling it tighter against his shoulder. The old leather creaked faintly. The silence stayed. Not awkward. Just thick. No birds. No insects. No sound. ''This place doesn''t remember how to be alive...'' He glanced sideways again. Lira''s eyes weren''t on the path. They were on the ridge above them. Watching. Always watching. He spoke low. "Do you feel anything?" She didn''t look at him. "Not yet." That was somehow worse than yes. They kept walking. The slope curved ahead, narrow and edged in jagged stone. The group started spacing out again. Ardan in front. Ren somewhere in the middle. Meren and Lira hanging back. Lindarion moved just a little ahead of her now. The wind shifted. Colder. Not stronger. Just carrying something new. He turned his head slightly. "Smoke," he said. Lira didn''t answer. But he heard her footsteps pause. They stopped at the ridge bend. The ground dropped into a shallow basin ahead. Rocks like teeth. Frost in all the wrong places. And, curling just above one of the flat stones¡ª A thread of smoke. Thin. Pale. Not campfire thick. Not cooking. Something older. Something distant. Like the tail end of a ritual someone forgot to put out. Ren''s voice came soft from up ahead. "Well. That''s not ominous." Ardan said nothing. Lindarion stepped forward. Not fast. Not loud. Just enough to see over the ridge. The smoke rose from a small pit surrounded by stone markers. Same kind as before. Carved. Blank. Half-buried in frost. He couldn''t see anyone. But he didn''t trust that. His hand drifted toward his sword again. Not drawing. Just... ready. The pulse of mana stayed low. Stable. Like it was waiting for a command. Lira stopped beside him. "I know that smell." He looked at her. "Good or bad?" "More like something old." Not the answer he wanted. But maybe the only one they''d get. Ren crouched near one of the stones. She didn''t touch it. Just stared at the edges. "Who leaves smoke burning in the middle of a dead path?" Meren spoke up behind them. "Someone with a really bad hobby." Ardan''s fingers brushed his coat. Not threatening. Just habitual. Lindarion exhaled. The air didn''t feel colder now. But something in his chest had. Not fear. Just awareness. They weren''t alone. BeMyMoon Creator''s Thought Chapter 147 147: Road Ahead (1) 147 Road Ahead (1) The incline didn''t let up. Every step dug into his calves. The stone wasn''t sharp, but it wasn''t forgiving either. Just steady. Old. The kind of ground that didn''t care who you were or how important your journey felt. Lindarion shifted his scarf higher over his mouth. Not for warmth. Just to stop his breath from whistling through his teeth. He didn''t want them to hear how tired he actually was. Meren was already panting. Loud. Too loud. His boots scuffed every other step. At some point, he''d stopped lifting his feet properly and just started dragging them. "I feel like my spine''s folding inward," Meren muttered. Ren walked past him like she hadn''t even heard. "You''re dramatic," she said without looking. "I''m dying." "You''ve been dying for the last two hours." "Maybe I''m committed to the bit." "Or maybe your lungs are weak." Lira snorted. Quiet. She didn''t slow down. Lindarion didn''t speak. Just kept climbing. The sun had shifted behind the clouds a while ago, but there was still light. That pale silver-gray kind that made everything look bleached and too still. Wind pushed at them in bursts now. Not constant. Just cold enough to sting when it hit the gap between collar and skin. He adjusted his grip on the strap of his pack. The weight settled better now. His legs didn''t ache like before. The recovery had worked. [System Status: Stable] That part flickered behind his eyes and vanished. Like the system was checking in, but only briefly. Not a message. Just a nod. ''Good.'' Ardan slowed near the bend and glanced back. "How much longer?" Lira tilted her head up. Her eyes scanned the ridge above like she was measuring something only she could see. "Two climbs. One rest." Lira tilted her head up. Her eyes scanned the ridge above like she was measuring something only she could see. "Two climbs. One rest." "Define rest." "Flat space. Windbreak." Meren groaned. "Will there be seating?" Ren stopped walking. Turned around. Stared at him. "What do you think this is? A scenic route?" Meren threw up his hands. "I don''t know. Maybe someone thought to leave a nice bench." Lindarion couldn''t help it. He smiled. Not wide. Just the corner of his mouth lifting. Ren looked at him. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You''re laughing." "No, I''m not." "You are." "Silently." "Still counts." He kept walking. The mountain had started to level, just slightly. Enough to trick his legs into thinking they were done working, even though they clearly weren''t. The trail curved left, cutting along a narrow ledge. One side wall. One side sky. Lindarion''s boots crunched softly. No echo. Just frost breaking underfoot. Every time he blinked, he tasted salt at the back of his throat. ''Still sweating. Even in this cold.'' They passed a cluster of jagged rocks that looked like someone had tried to build a cairn and given up halfway. Ren tapped one with the tip of her boot. "Anyone else getting that weird feeling again?" Ardan frowned. "Define weird." "Like... eyes in your spine." Meren turned a full circle. "I swear if this is another haunted thing, I''m done. I''m rolling down the hill and letting gravity sort it out." "Please do," Ren said. "I want to watch." Lira didn''t stop. "There''s no threat." Ren narrowed her eyes. "You sure?" "Yes." That was the end of that. Lindarion looked up. The ridge above them was higher now. Sharp at the top. Snow clung to the sides like it had been placed, not fallen. He reached forward and grabbed a low ledge. Pulled himself up. No strain. His body remembered this. The climb. The cold. The silence. Not the academy. Not the palace. This. He reached the top of the ledge and stepped aside to let the others follow. The wind caught his coat. Just a flick. Just a reminder. They weren''t done yet. But it was easier now. His core was steady. His limbs moved without complaint. And the cold didn''t feel so sharp anymore. Just present. Like a voice that didn''t need to raise itself to be heard. He glanced back as Lira stepped up beside him. She didn''t say anything. Neither did he. They just kept climbing. The trail thinned again. Not dangerously, but enough to make conversation dip into silence. One misstep here didn''t mean death. Just a very stupid injury, and maybe a long slide into humiliation. Lindarion watched Meren nearly trip on a low rock. He caught himself, barely, then pretended to cough. Nobody said anything. Ren didn''t laugh. But her shoulders moved a little, like she was deciding whether to be kind or not. Lira didn''t even glance back. She moved like a line drawn in charcoal, straight, quiet, and unbothered by the rest of the sketch. Lindarion stayed at the back now. Not because he was slow. Just to watch them all move. Something about it felt... grounding. Ardan kept checking distances. Meren was obviously regretting his life choices. Ren had started humming. Off-key. ''Of course she hums. She''s the kind of person who''d hum through an ambush.'' His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword. Just checking. It was still there. Still balanced against his hip. Still waiting. The trail bent again. This time around a ridge of moss-covered stone. Old markings scratched into the surface. Maybe once letters. Maybe just wind. He paused there. Let his fingers drift across the edge. Cold. Still smooth. He felt it before he saw it. That odd pull. Not magical. Not dangerous. Just that thing the wild places had. Like they were old enough to remember something you''d forgotten. Lira glanced back. "You good?" He nodded once. "Yeah. Just... listening." She tilted her head. "To rocks?" "Maybe." She didn''t laugh. Didn''t judge. Just kept walking. Ren slowed until she was beside him. Her coat rustled softly. She tossed something small into the ravine. Probably a pebble. Possibly part of her patience. "You always do that?" "Do what?" "The staring thing." Lindarion blinked. "What staring thing?" She pointed at his face. "That one. The very thoughtful, very mysterious, ''I''m brooding but also interesting'' thing." He gave her a dry look. "I''m not brooding." "Okay." "I''m observing." "Sure." She stepped ahead again. Humming started back up a few seconds later. Same off-key mess. Still kind of charming. Lindarion sighed. Kept moving. The slope turned steeper just ahead. Ardan was already climbing. He didn''t talk when it got vertical. Too practical for that. Meren grumbled a few feet below, halfway through some complaint about being born without wings. Lira pulled herself up next. Not even winded. She moved like the mountain owed her something. Lindarion crouched, found a groove in the stone, and followed. The rocks were dry now. Less frost. More exposed edges. He liked that better. His boots had grip. His hands remembered the angles. Climbing didn''t hurt. That was new. He reached the top of the ridge a second behind Lira. His breath steady. His core warm. His thoughts quiet, for once. Ren peeked over the edge after him. "That was boring," she said. "I thought there''d be at least one giant eagle or surprise avalanche." "We''re not that unlucky," he said. "Yet." The ledge opened up into a long stretch of uneven ground. Flat, but cracked in old lines. Like the mountain had once flexed its back and hadn''t bothered to fix the scars. A few trees grew along the far edge. Bare, crooked, thin like bones trying to pretend they were bark. Chapter 148 148: Road Ahead (2) 148 Road Ahead (2) Lira stopped near one of them. "This is the place." Ardan dropped his pack with a quiet grunt. "Rest?" She nodded. "Fifteen minutes." Meren collapsed like it had been an order from the heavens. Ren found a rock and claimed it instantly, stretching both legs out like a smug cat. Lindarion didn''t sit. He walked to the edge of the ledge. Looked down at the slope behind them. It wasn''t dramatic. Just long. A mess of brush and stone and cold that didn''t feel quite done chasing them. He felt it again. That quiet weight in his chest. Not fear. Not anticipation. Just awareness. His affinities were back. All of them. Settled now. Calm. No flare. No strain. But they were there, just under the skin. In the breath. In the pause between thoughts. He closed his eyes. Let the air touch his face. Ren whistled behind him. "Careful, prince. You look poetic. The wind might fall in love with you." He opened one eye. "Then it should buy me dinner first." She snorted. "You wish." The breeze picked up. Lindarion didn''t move. The climb wasn''t over. The mountain hadn''t finished. But for the first time since it began, his body didn''t argue with the path. And neither did his mind. ¡ª The cold wasn''t clever. It wasn''t hiding behind trees or sneaking into their cloaks like some cunning curse. It just existed. Pure and quiet and growing. Lindarion shifted his weight forward and stepped over a ridge in the path. His foot slid for half a second before catching. He didn''t stumble. Just reset his footing and kept going. The stone had turned glassy beneath the layer of snow. Each step felt like testing a frozen lake one boot at a time. Behind him, Meren was breathing too loudly. Not panicked. Just uncomfortable. Ren''s voice floated from the back, muffled by her scarf. "We should''ve packed fur-lined boots." Ardan replied without looking. "We weren''t supposed to be halfway up a mountain this week." "Still. My toes are negotiating surrender." Lira moved past them both. Not fast. Just clean. Her steps didn''t slide. Her eyes didn''t flick sideways. She walked like the cold owed her something and hadn''t paid up yet. Lindarion kept pace with her. The path bent slightly again, winding to the left between two slanted outcrops. Snow had piled high in the corners. Someone''s boot would vanish there if they weren''t careful. The sky above was washed in a flat grey. Not a storm. Not clear. Just tired. The kind of weather that didn''t care if they reached the top or froze trying. His fingers flexed once inside his gloves. Warm, for now. ''We''ll need to stop soon again. Fire or shelter. Or both.'' But no one said it. Not yet. Ardan reached the top of the bend first. He stopped. Just stood there, facing forward, breath curling faintly. Lindarion joined him. The slope ahead widened again. Just enough room to move without holding your breath every step. More snow here. Less wind. It had drifted in thick along the rock wall, building a low, uneven hill across their path. Ren kicked it once with her toe. Then hissed and muttered something rude. "Still snow," she said. "Still cold. Still up." Meren trudged after her. "I think I can see my ancestors in the frost." "No one cares," Ren said. Lindarion looked ahead. The path didn''t vanish, but it faded. Each turn climbed just a little steeper. The angle pulled at the knees now. Every step required thought. Not just strength. And the snow kept falling. Not heavy. Just constant. He pulled his scarf tighter. His breath stayed steady. His legs didn''t shake. His core felt quiet. Strong. Balanced. The sword at his side had gone cold again. Metal did that. He didn''t mind. Lira turned toward him, eyes narrowing slightly. "You slowing?" "No." "Good." They walked. One pace. Then another. No one complained now. The mountain had taken their words and buried them somewhere beneath the snow. Only the crunch of boots and the soft hiss of wind remained. Lindarion didn''t mind the quiet. It made room for his thoughts. ''I''m not tired yet.'' ''I''m not slowing.'' ''We''ll make it past this ridge.'' And then? He didn''t know. But he trusted the next step. ¡ª His scarf was damp now. Not wet enough to freeze stiff, not yet. But enough that each breath he took felt like dragging in a fistful of ice. He exhaled slow, steady, keeping the pace measured. Letting his lungs keep rhythm with his steps. The snow had gone from a thin dusting to a slow, smothering fall. Not flurries. Not flakes. Sheets. It drifted sideways in long, heavy strokes, like the sky was trying to erase the mountain one layer at a time. Lindarion blinked snow from his eyelashes. He could barely see Ren anymore. She''d gone ahead by a few steps, coat drawn tight, shoulders hunched like she was ignoring how much the cold bit. Meren stumbled somewhere behind. The thud of his boots said he''d fallen again, but no one stopped. Ardan''s voice came low. "Keep moving." Lira didn''t say a word. She moved just ahead of him now, slower than usual, but not from fatigue. She was watching again. Always watching. The snow didn''t cling to her the same way it clung to everyone else. It slid off her shoulders like it had been told not to bother. Lindarion watched the slope ahead. It climbed more now. The trail curved under a sharp ledge that jutted out like a frozen fang. Snow piled high near the base. The kind of pile that could hide a rock. Or a drop. Or nothing at all. He tightened his grip on his pack strap. Shifted it higher up his shoulder. ''It''s too cold for this.'' The thought came lazy. Not dramatic. Just real. Honest in the way only misery could be. His toes were numb. He couldn''t feel his ears. Still, his steps stayed even. His balance didn''t waver. His core, deep in his chest, kept pulsing low and calm. Mana wrapped close to the skin now. It helped. Not warm, but alive. It kept the cold from settling in too deep. Lira stopped ahead. She turned just enough to glance back. Her eyes narrowed at the others. Then met Lindarion''s. She pointed toward a break in the wall just beyond the ridge. A dip between two leaning stones, half-covered in snow. He nodded once. She stepped through it. He followed. The snow deepened with that single step. Past his calves now. Dragged at his knees. It made every motion loud. Sluggish. Like wading through silence that didn''t want to be disturbed. They all followed. One by one. Chapter 149 149: Road Ahead (3) 149 Road Ahead (3) Even Meren made it through. Though he swore under his breath the entire time. Lindarion reached the far edge of the dip. Looked up. The view stretched farther now. A long slope curling around the side of the mountain, vanishing into white. The snow fell harder here. The wind pushed it straight sideways, stealing heat from every breath. He could feel the sting against the skin beneath his scarf now. Ren muttered something ahead. She stomped her boot down into a patch of snow and shook her hands out. "This is ridiculous." Ardan grunted. "You wanted the climb." "Yeah, well. I changed my mind." Lira looked back at them, voice sharp. "We stop up ahead." "How far?" Meren asked, his voice muffled. "Far enough to still matter." Lindarion didn''t comment. He just kept walking. Every step now was a conversation with his legs. Every breath was measured. The kind of cold they were in didn''t want to kill fast. It wanted to wait. Wear them down. Take the edges first, then the middle. He refused. His core stayed lit. Mana kept circulating. His fingers burned in the gloves, not from frost, but from heat buried too deep to surface. He adjusted his grip on the sword once. Not to draw it. Just to remind himself it was still there. Still real. Still his. ''We keep going. That''s it.'' He didn''t need to say it out loud. They all understood. ¡ª Snow soaked through his boots. It started as a slow creep. Just the edges of the soles. A faint sting at the toes. But now it was worse. Slush pooled inside the lining. Every step felt like pressing into wet cloth and waiting for it to freeze solid. Lindarion flexed his toes. Barely felt them. He didn''t stop walking. The trail was still there, somewhere beneath the snow, curving slowly around the ridge. The drop on the right wasn''t a sharp fall anymore. Just a long slide into white. Visibility was getting worse by the minute. He could barely make out Ren''s shape ahead of him. Meren had stopped talking. That alone said enough. Lira walked just to his left now. Her coat had iced at the hem. Tiny shards clung to the fabric, glinting when the light caught them. Her shoulders were squared. No sign of strain, but her breaths came harder now. Not loud. Not ragged. Just... deliberate. He glanced down at her gloves. The edges were dark. Soaked. ''She''s pushing through it too.'' He felt the wind shift again. Harder. It came down from above this time, sharp and spinning like it had forgotten what direction was supposed to mean. His scarf whipped loose. He grabbed it before it could snap away and yanked it back around his neck. The fabric scratched at his jaw. He didn''t care. Behind him, Ardan muttered something under his breath. His boots crunched slower now. Less rhythm. More drag. Even he felt it. Lindarion adjusted his pack strap again. It dug into the edge of his shoulder like it was trying to become part of him. "Should''ve taken a lower pass," Ren said ahead. Her voice didn''t carry far. Too much snow in the air now. "This is suicide." "No," Lira answered. "This is the only way around the gorge. Unless you want to walk straight into a landslide." "I''d consider it," Ren muttered. Lindarion didn''t laugh. Didn''t smile. His jaw had locked up fifteen minutes ago. He blinked hard. The cold had started seeping into his lashes. Ice forming at the corners of his eyes. Not enough to freeze them shut. But it wasn''t far off. He narrowed his vision, scanned the trail. Still climbing. Still white. Still no end in sight. He reached out once. Touched the rock wall to his left with one gloved hand. Just to make sure it was still there. Just to remind himself the world still had edges. The stone burned cold through the glove. He pulled back. ''How is it getting worse?'' He could feel his core pulsing now. Not a flare. Not a glow. Just heat moving through his chest like a second heartbeat. The system didn''t say anything. It didn''t have to. The mana was still there. Still full. Still ready. But it didn''t solve cold. At least not this kind. Meren stumbled up beside him. His face looked like it had stopped trying to be expressive. His lips were cracked. Nose red. Eyes barely open. "Are we dead yet?" he asked. "No." "Good. I''d hate to think this is the afterlife." Lindarion didn''t answer. Ren crouched up ahead. Scraped some snow off a patch of rock with her sleeve. Looked at it. Swore softly. Kept walking. Lira stopped at the top of the next rise. She turned, her hair flecked white now. Not frost. Snow. Wind had stuck it in place. "We''re not far," she said. Ardan barked a short laugh. Lira looked down at him. "We stop when the wall curves inward. There''s shelter there. Natural." Lindarion said nothing. Just moved past her. Every part of him wanted to stop. But nothing gave in. His fingers were too stiff. He couldn''t feel his knees anymore. His boots had become blocks of leather and ice. His breath sounded like it was coming from someone else''s throat. But his pace stayed steady. Not fast. Just stubborn. One step. Then another. The snow thickened. It didn''t fall fast. Just constant. Like the sky had decided to bury them slowly and didn''t want to rush the job. Lindarion watched his breath fog in short bursts, too thin to warm the air in front of him. He kept moving. Boots dragging now more than stepping. Every muscle ached with that dull, cold pressure that didn''t feel sharp enough to be pain. Just enough to wear him down in slow layers. ''This is ridiculous.'' His thoughts were sluggish. Not from exhaustion. Just slowed by the way his brain kept trying to turn everything into numbers. Steps left. Slope ahead. How many breaths before he''d need to stop. He didn''t stop. Ren had gone quiet. She wasn''t far ahead, but her shape was harder to make out now. Just a dark blur against pale white. Her hood was up. Arms stiff. Not even tossing snow anymore. That was how he knew it was bad. Lira still walked beside him. She didn''t speak. Just walked with the same rhythm. Her breath visible, but slow. Controlled. Her coat looked heavier now, weighed down by frost. One glove had a tear near the thumb. She didn''t fix it. Behind them, Ardan''s footsteps sounded wrong. Too flat. Not stumbling. Just tired. Lindarion glanced back. Meren was barely upright. He walked with his head down, coat pulled tight around his chin. Every few steps he muttered something, probably to himself. Or the mountain. ''We can''t do this much longer.'' He didn''t say it out loud. They were all thinking it. Speaking it wouldn''t help. Chapter 150 150: Road Ahead (4) 150 Road Ahead (4) He shifted the strap of his pack again. It had rubbed his shoulder raw beneath the layers. The cold dulled the sting, but not the awareness. The next ridge came into view. Just a shadow at first. Then clearer. A split in the mountain wall, narrow and sharp like a claw had carved it. Lira turned her head. Her voice didn''t carry far. "There." No one responded. She picked up her pace slightly. Not enough to call it speed. Just purpose. Lindarion followed. He could see it now. A shallow overhang. The cliff face curved in like someone had punched the mountain and left a dent. Not deep. But enough. Enough to stop the wind. That was all that mattered. Lira stepped into the hollow first. Her body disappeared from the snow haze, then reappeared, smaller. Sheltered. Ren reached it next. She dropped her pack, slid down onto the rock floor, and exhaled like she''d been holding her breath for the last two hours. Meren nearly fell in. Ardan caught him under one arm and guided him in without comment. Lindarion stood at the edge. The snow clung to every edge of his coat now. His scarf had frozen at the corner of his jaw. He reached up and tugged it down. It didn''t move. He stepped in. The wind stopped. Not a little. Completely. No push at his back. No howl in his ears. No sting across his face. Just quiet. He blinked. Let the snow melt off his lashes. His fingers trembled as he pulled the scarf free, slowly unwinding it. His breath finally stayed in his lungs longer than a second. Meren had curled into a corner. Ren sat cross-legged, pulling off her gloves and muttering something under her breath about her fingers being traitors. Meren had curled into a corner. Ren sat cross-legged, pulling off her gloves and muttering something under her breath about her fingers being traitors. Lira crouched by the far wall, brushing ice from her boots. Ardan didn''t sit. Just stood at the entrance like he wasn''t sure what to do with stillness. Lindarion found a spot near the back. He didn''t sit yet. Just leaned one hand on the stone. It was dry. Still cold. But dry. He looked at it. Then looked at the others. Then let out one long breath he hadn''t realized he''d been holding since the slope. ''We made it.'' Not far. Not safe. But far enough for now. ¡ª The hollow didn''t offer much. Stone. Frost. A patch of broken shale underfoot that scraped if you shifted wrong. No wind, at least. But the air sat heavy. The kind of cold that knew how to wait. Not cruel. Just patient. Lindarion crouched near the center, elbows on his knees, trying not to look like his fingers were shaking. Meren huffed beside him, fog curling out of his scarf like steam from a cracked kettle. "I can''t feel my face." Ren muttered, "We noticed." "I think it fell off," Meren added. "Let me know if you see it rolling around." Ardan stood just outside the mouth of the shelter, shoulders square, gaze angled uphill. He hadn''t moved since they stopped. The man had the patience of bedrock. Lira was sitting now, one leg folded under her, arms tucked in. Watching the snow fall with the kind of expression that said she wasn''t impressed. Lindarion exhaled. A short breath. Cold. But not painful. His palms hovered over the dirt for a moment. ''This is stupid.'' He didn''t need flint. He didn''t need tinder. The cold hadn''t touched his core. It couldn''t. Not anymore. He lifted one hand slowly. Fingers spread. The warmth flicked to life before he spoke. Just a thread of flame, no bigger than his palm, swaying gently above the stone. Quiet. Steady. It didn''t crackle. It didn''t roar. It just was. Ren blinked. "Well, finally." "I thought we were being rustic," Lindarion said. "You''re literally a walking furnace. Stop being polite." Meren dragged himself closer like a starving cat. "I''m not even going to pretend I''m not impressed." The flame held. No strain. No flare. Just a soft heat blooming outward now, filling the space between them one inch at a time. Ardan looked over. Didn''t speak. But something in his posture shifted, just slightly. Lira''s eyes landed on the fire. Then on Lindarion. She didn''t say anything either. ''Let them wonder.'' He kept his hand steady. The fire grew, a little at a time. Not too fast. Not too flashy. Ren dropped to sit beside him with a soft sigh. "That''s better." "It''s not even that warm yet," Lindarion said. "No, but it''s controlled. Feels cleaner than real fire." "It is real fire." "Yeah, but you''re cheating." He didn''t argue. Meren slumped closer. His boots scraped loudly. "Don''t let it go out." "I won''t." "I''ll cry." "I won''t watch." Lindarion finally settled back again, shifting just enough to keep the flame level. His fingers didn''t ache anymore. The warmth had reached his elbows now. He didn''t even need to focus. The mana moved on its own. Calm. Familiar. Like it had been waiting to be used again. ''Guess I really am back.'' Lira''s gaze stayed on the fire. Her mouth opened like she might say something. Then didn''t. He didn''t press. The others were quiet now. Just the hush of snow outside and the low hum of heat slowly unfreezing the air around them. It wasn''t a hearth. But it was home enough for now. ¡ª The flame steadied in his palm. Small. Quiet. Enough. No one stared. No one flinched. They just leaned closer to the heat like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because it was. For a mage, at least. Ren was the first to speak. "Could''ve done that an hour ago." Lindarion shrugged with one shoulder. "We were moving." "That''s a yes, then." She held her hands a little closer to the flickering heat. Her fingers were red at the joints, skin raw from wind and snow. Still, she looked more annoyed than grateful. Meren scooted an inch closer, wrapped in his scarf like a sad burrito. "So you have a fire affinity right?" "Yeah." "I honestly figured. You''ve got that brooding-warmth vibe." Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "What does that even mean." "You know," Meren said, waving vaguely. "Like you''d roast someone with a stare. Or an actual fireball." Chapter 151 151: Road Ahead (5) Ren grinned without looking up. "He hasn''t roasted anyone yet. But the day is still young." "I''m not throwing a fireball," Lindarion said. Meren leaned back slightly. "Yet." ''Why do I talk to them.'' The warmth from the flame had spread just far enough to keep the worst of the cold from sinking in. Not enough to make anyone sweat, but enough to get fingers moving again. That counted. He adjusted the flame. A flick of his wrist made it stretch taller. The heat pulsed out softer this time, like a breath. No one commented. They just relaxed a little deeper into the stone around them. Outside, snow still fell sideways. The wind clawed at the mouth of the hollow, but it couldn''t quite reach in. Lindarion leaned back until his shoulder pressed against the rock behind him. It felt like leaning into the spine of the mountain itself. Cold and unbending. Lira finally shifted. She reached into her coat, pulled out a flat piece of dried meat, and tore it in half. Passed one to Ren without looking. Ren took it with a hum of approval. "Finally. I thought you were going to ration us into starvation." Lira didn''t answer. Meren watched the exchange with quiet betrayal. "Do I get one?" Lira tossed him a piece. It bounced off his shoulder and landed in the snow. He stared down at it. "Cold meat. Snow-dipped. Truly gourmet." Lindarion reached into his own pack and took out a smaller ration. Dry. Bitter-smelling. It crumbled at the edge when he bit into it. Better than nothing. Ren shifted again, closer to the flame. "You really don''t get cold, do you." "I do," Lindarion said. "You just hide it well." He didn''t answer. He felt the cold. Of course he did. But not like they did. It sank into his skin and sat there, but it didn''t crawl past his core. His mana kept it back, quiet and instinctual, like his body knew it had been through worse and wasn''t interested in losing to a little snow. Still. His toes stung. His shoulders ached. And the tip of his nose felt like it might fall off if someone sneezed too close to it. So yes. He was cold. Just not enough to show it. The others were settling in now. More slumped than seated. Eyes half-shut, hands slowly thawing. The fire helped. Not just with the cold. With the quiet. It gave them something to look at. Something to watch that wasn''t each other. He liked that. Lira finally broke the silence. "Four hours of light left. If we''re moving, it needs to be soon." Ren sighed. "Or we pretend we''re snow-covered rocks and let nature adopt us." Ardan, still by the entrance, turned his head slightly. "The slope ahead looks bad. Steep. Crumbling." "So we wait," Lindarion said. "Or we climb and hope it holds." Meren made a small choking sound. "I vote wait." "No one asked you," Ren said. "I''m asking me." Lindarion stretched one leg out. Let his foot rest near the edge of the flame. His boot steamed faintly. "Wait," he said. Lira looked at him. Not surprised. Just weighing the decision. "Half an hour," she said. "Then we decide." That was enough. No one argued. The fire kept burning. Soft. Steady. And Lindarion didn''t need to pretend he was fine anymore. Not completely. ¡ª Meren had stopped shivering. That was probably a good thing. Or a bad one. Hard to tell. He was curled up near the edge of the flame now, chin tucked against his chest like he was trying to disappear into his scarf. Ren looked like she could sleep anywhere. She had her back against the stone and her legs stretched out, one boot still twitching every few seconds. Not from nerves. Just the kind of energy that didn''t shut off even in the cold. Ardan hadn''t moved. Still at the mouth of the shelter. Still watching the slope like it might blink. Lira sat opposite the fire, one arm resting on her knee, her gaze fixed on Lindarion like she was reading him backwards. He tried not to notice. Didn''t work. He kept his eyes low, on the fire. The flame hadn''t flickered once. That was strange. No breeze, no movement. The air in the hollow felt wrapped in wool. Too quiet. He breathed through his nose and listened. Nothing. No birds. No falling snow. Just silence sitting on everything like frost. ''Even the wind knows not to bother right now.'' His fingers stopped hurting. That was good. But he''d been cold long enough to know that when pain left too fast, it didn''t mean the cold was gone. It meant it had settled in. He let the fire expand a little. Not by much. Just enough to push the warmth out another arm''s length. The edges of his sleeves steamed. He ignored it. Lira leaned slightly closer to the flame. Just a tilt of her head. Not enough to be obvious. She hadn''t looked away from him. He cleared his throat. Quiet. "You keep watching me like I''m going to catch fire." "I''m watching to see if you do anything stupid with it." He glanced up. Her expression didn''t change. Flat. Focused. Not cruel. Just someone used to waiting. "Would you stop me?" he asked. "If I had to." That wasn''t a threat. It was a truth she carried like a tool. He nodded once. Didn''t press. Ren cracked one eye open. "You two flirting or plotting murder?" "Can''t it be both?" Lindarion asked. Ren hummed. "That''s the spirit." Meren groaned. "If someone gets stabbed, make it quick. I''m too cold to react dramatically." Lindarion sat back again, shoulders resting against the wall. The stone was warmer now. A little. Or maybe he''d just gone numb enough not to care. The silence returned. Not heavy. Not light. Just... there. He liked it more than he wanted to admit. The fire moved gently in his palm again. He didn''t need to control it anymore. It stayed where it was. Like it knew what to do. His eyes closed for a moment. Not sleep. Just rest. A beat. A breath. He kept listening. Nothing out there. Just snow. Chapter 152 152: Road Ahead (6) The longer he held the flame, the more it stopped feeling like magic and more like... maintenance. It pulsed gently in his palm now, heat blooming outward, steady and silent. Not demanding. Not wild. Just a presence, like someone breathing beside him who didn''t need to speak to be felt. His fingers had stopped trembling entirely. His shoulders, though, ached like someone had tied rocks to the inside of his coat. Probably just stiffness from the climb. Or maybe this was just what it felt like to be eleven and not allowed to collapse. He glanced sideways. Meren was slumped halfway against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest, muttering half-words into his scarf. Nothing useful. Just the kind of things people say to themselves when they''re trying to feel like they''re part of the conversation. Ren''s eyes were closed now. Not asleep, but close. She breathed slow, like someone who had won an argument no one else knew had been happening. Ardan still hadn''t sat down. Lindarion could see the man''s shadow at the mouth of the shelter. The way his head tilted slightly every few minutes. Like he was checking for changes in the wind. Or maybe listening for something the rest of them didn''t hear. That was always the strange part about Ardan. He never seemed paranoid. Just prepared. Lira hadn''t spoken again. She sat across from him, close enough to feel the fire but far enough that she wouldn''t be drawn into warmth too easily. Her arms were still folded, her posture as straight as it had been since the trail. She didn''t shiver. She didn''t blink too much. Just sat, as if waiting for someone to prove her wrong. He didn''t try. Not yet. The fire shifted in his palm. He let it. No commands. No gestures. Just gave it permission to keep going. It was strange. The first time he''d summoned flame, it had felt like dragging heat from the sun. Too big. Too bright. Too dangerous to hold for long. Now it just felt like breathing. He didn''t know if that was good or not. Maybe this was what it meant to recover fully. To stop fearing what lived inside his chest. The thought stayed with him longer than it should have. He moved his fingers slightly. The flame leaned toward his knuckles, as if curious, then balanced again. No crackle. No scent. Just warmth. He heard Ren shift again. Cloth against stone. She sighed. "This mountain sucks." Meren made a sound like agreement. Or maybe defeat. Lindarion nodded once, mostly to himself. That was the most accurate summary anyone had given so far. The mountain did suck. But the fire didn''t. ¡ª He let the fire drop after a while. Not all the way. Just small enough that it hovered above his palm like a glowing marble, enough to keep the chill from clawing its way back into their bones. His arm was tired. Nothing dramatic. Just the quiet throb of muscles that had done more today than they were used to. The silence wasn''t heavy anymore. Just... there. Like the cold itself had decided to settle with them for a while instead of scraping at their skin. Everyone was breathing easier. Even Meren had stopped narrating his misery. Lindarion shifted back against the wall, careful not to let the rock press too hard into his spine. The firelight flickered across the uneven ceiling, casting a faint amber wash over the stone and their faces. "I think," Ren said slowly, "that I''m starting to forgive the mountain." "You change your mind a lot," Meren mumbled. Ren didn''t open her eyes. "I have layers. Like onions." "You smell better than one," he said. "Don''t push your luck." Ardan finally moved. Just a step back into the shelter, just enough that his boots stopped crunching frost. His coat hung stiff from ice caught in the folds. He looked like he hadn''t felt it at all. "We should rest here until the worst passes," he said. "No need to rush into a storm." Lira nodded. "There''s cover for now. We can move again once the slope settles." Lindarion blinked. "Slope?" She met his eyes. "The ridge to the next path narrows. It catches more snow than it should. Last time I came through, it was shallow. Now it''s not." "So it''s going to fall?" he asked. "It might." "And if we wait?" "It might not." "Fantastic." Ren stretched her arms out in front of her like she was trying to pull sleep out of her joints. "Then we rest." "I can take first watch," Lindarion offered. Ardan gave him a glance. Not doubtful. Just measuring. "You sure?" Lindarion nodded. "I''m fine." His voice came out calm, even. More even than it felt. But that was fine too. Meren slumped sideways until his head rested against the wall. "If anyone hears me snore, kick me." "No promises," Ren said. "You''re all heart." He was already half-asleep. Ren moved closer to the fire and curled into herself. Lira didn''t move at all. Ardan sat, finally. Not quite relaxed. But seated. That alone felt strange. Lindarion held the fire steady until the others'' breathing evened out. He didn''t really think of it as standing guard. He just didn''t want to close his eyes yet. Something about the stillness made it easier to think. Not easier to feel. Just to think. He looked down at his hand. The fire still flickered there. Waiting. Trusting. He wondered, briefly, how many others his age could do this. Not just summon flame. But hold it. Feed it. Let it breathe. He wasn''t sure that mattered. ¡ª The fire had faded to a quiet glow. Still there. Still warm. Just smaller now, soft enough not to burn the air. Lindarion let it sit in his palm, cradled like a secret between him and the stones. Across from him, Ren was the first to drift off. Not suddenly. Not gracefully either. Her head tilted once, bobbed back up like she''d changed her mind, then sank again. This time it stuck. Her arms stayed crossed, jaw resting against her shoulder. Meren followed a few minutes later. He''d tried to say something. A joke maybe. But it got lost halfway through his breath, and the words turned into a slow exhale as his head thunked softly against the wall. Ardan stayed upright the longest. Even when his eyes closed, his posture didn''t change. Like his body refused to admit it had relaxed. His hands stayed near his belt. Not clenched. Just... close. Chapter 153 153: Resting Lindarion shifted slightly. Adjusted the fire. Not bigger. Just a little closer to the center so the others could keep some of the heat. The movement sent a faint crackle through the shelter. Not loud. Just enough to remind the mountain they were still here. Lira was the only one still awake. He didn''t look at her directly, but he didn''t need to. She hadn''t moved since she sat. Still half-facing the entrance. Still listening to something the rest of them couldn''t hear. He rolled his shoulders back once, quietly. The soreness was starting to turn into stiffness. He could stretch it out later. The silence sat between them like another person. Not uncomfortable. Not tense. Just there. He could feel her glance after a while. Quick. Sharp. Like checking the edge of a knife. "I thought you were tired," she said. Her voice was low. Not quite a whisper. But soft enough that it didn''t risk waking anyone. Lindarion didn''t answer at first. He flexed his fingers once. The flame flickered in his hand. Then he let it die. Not out of exhaustion. Just courtesy. The heat had spread enough. "I am," he said finally. "But?" He rested his back against the wall. Let his eyes trace the curve of the cave ceiling. Stone and snow. Nothing else. "Hard to sleep when it''s quiet like this." She didn''t comment right away. Then, "You''re not used to silence?" "I''m used to people pretending it." She gave a quiet exhale. Not quite amusement. Not quite agreement. He looked at her finally. Lira''s face didn''t look tired. But her shoulders did. Like she''d been carrying too much for too long and hadn''t figured out how to set it down. "How long since you slept?" he asked. "Properly?" He nodded. She thought about it. Then shrugged. "A while." "Why?" Lira turned her head slightly, eyes still half on the entrance. "You know how some animals never sleep all the way? One eye open, ears up. Waiting for the wrong sound." He nodded again. "I got used to it," she said. "The waiting." "That sounds like a habit. Not a choice." "It''s both." The fire''s absence made the air sharper. The warmth still lingered, but it had edges now. Lindarion pulled his knees up slightly. Crossed his arms over them. He glanced at the others again. Ren''s head had tilted further. She looked like she might slip off her makeshift seat if she turned too fast. Meren was completely out. His breathing was loud enough to count as proof of life. No one would ever accuse him of being quiet in any part of his existence. Ardan hadn''t moved. It was oddly comforting. Lira still hadn''t blinked in a while. "Why are you still awake?" she asked after a moment. He gave a half-shrug. "I said I''d take first watch." She tilted her head, not mockingly. "And you take that seriously?" "Someone has to." Her expression didn''t change. But something in her posture eased. Only a little. "You remind me of someone," she said. He waited. She didn''t elaborate. He let it go. The quiet stretched again. Not awkward. Just long. "Do you think it''ll snow harder?" he asked, mostly to say something. "Yes," she said. He nodded. Then added, "Great." Lira shifted her leg, crossing it the other way. Her eyes flicked toward the slope beyond the entrance. "We''ll be stuck if it keeps up. The next ridge isn''t flat." "So?" "We wait." He leaned back again. Let his head rest fully against the wall this time. "We''re good at that now, aren''t we." This time, she didn''t answer. But she didn''t look away. ¡ª Lira shifted again. Her boots scuffed softly against the stone. Not restless. Just adjusting. The kind of movement that said she''d sat through too many nights like this, with too many people who eventually stopped talking. Lindarion let the silence stretch a little longer. Not because he liked it. Just because it felt honest. Everyone else was asleep. There was no need to pretend. He rubbed his thumb against the curve of his knuckle. "Do you always keep your distance?" he asked. Lira didn''t move her gaze from the entrance. "From what?" "People." She blinked once. Her jaw tightened. Just for a second. "Most people make noise when they get close," she said. "I prefer quiet." "Even if it means being alone?" "It''s better than being surrounded and still feeling that way." That landed harder than he expected. He didn''t answer right away. His fingers curled around the edge of his coat sleeve. "I didn''t ask to be surrounded," he said. "I didn''t ask for any of this." Lira finally looked at him. There was no pity in her expression. Just understanding. Or something close to it. "No one does," she said. "But we live in it anyway." Lindarion looked back down at his hands. They didn''t shake. Not anymore. "I thought it''d be easier, after I entered the academy." he said quietly. "And is it?" He paused. "I don''t know." She nodded once. Slowly. Like that was the answer she''d expected. They sat like that for a while. Two figures tucked into a hollow, surrounded by snow and silence, not quite strangers and not yet anything else. The fire was gone. But the warmth lingered. "People like to think strength means walking ahead of everyone," Lindarion said. "Being the ones who don''t fall." "And what do you think?" "I think it''s about knowing when to wait. Even if you can keep going." Lira''s eyes didn''t leave him. He felt the weight of them. Not judgment. Not challenge. Just... weight. "You''re young to think that way." "I''ve had time to learn." She nodded again. Then leaned back, resting one shoulder against the rock. The wind outside hadn''t picked up again. But the snow was falling thicker. It curled across the mouth of the hollow in slow, looping patterns, like it didn''t know if it was welcome. Lindarion shifted a little. Tucked his legs beneath him. "Do you miss it?" he asked. "What?" "Where you came from." Lira didn''t answer immediately. Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then finally, after a long pause, "No. But I miss who I was supposed to be as a kid." He watched her carefully now. Not because he was waiting for more. Just to see if she regretted saying it. She didn''t. And somehow, that made the air feel heavier. "You think it''s still possible?" he asked. "To go back?" "To be that person." Lira tilted her head back against the wall. Her eyes were on the ceiling now, following some invisible thought through the cracks. "Maybe," she said. "But it wouldn''t be the same." "It never is." They didn''t say anything else for a while. The sounds of sleeping breath filled the hollow. Meren shifted in his sleep, mumbling something about soup. Ren gave a faint snore, then stilled. Lira''s voice came quieter now. "You''re better at this than you think." "At what?" "Not falling apart." He almost smiled. Just for a second. Then he looked back toward the mouth of the hollow. The snow was still falling. But he didn''t feel cold anymore. Chapter 154: Awkward The silence didn''t feel awkward. Not yet. It felt like something had just... settled. Not finished, but resting. Like two swords laid side by side without clashing. Lindarion sat still, watching the edge of the snow drift beyond the hollow. His thoughts were quiet too. Not empty. Just quieter than usual. Like the wind had taken something sharp with it on its way down the mountain. Lira hadn''t moved since she last spoke. He turned slightly. Not all the way. Just enough to catch her in the corner of his vision. Her eyes were closed now, but her posture wasn''t relaxed. Her arms were folded over her middle, like she was keeping something in. Or keeping something out. He thought about saying something else. Asking another question. But that felt greedy somehow. She had already given enough for one night. So he didn''t speak. He just breathed. And maybe that was what did it. Lira shifted. Barely. Then again. Then she moved closer. Not a sudden thing. Not fast or dramatic. Just a quiet shuffle across the cold floor of the hollow. He blinked. Didn''t turn. Her arm brushed his. Then she wrapped both around him. For a second, he didn''t move. Didn''t breathe. Didn''t think. She was warm. Not blazing like fire. Not the kind of heat that demanded attention. Just steady. Soft. Human. His body tensed without meaning to. It always did. Every time someone got too close. But it didn''t stay that way. Her arms stayed around him. Not tight. Not loose. Just there. Holding him without asking for anything. His throat felt tight now. Not in a bad way. Just full. She didn''t say a word. She didn''t have to. He sat there, leaning into it, heart thudding a little too loud. His chest didn''t ache, but something inside it flickered in a way he didn''t fully understand. ''What is this.'' Not a question he wanted answered. Just something that lived between thoughts and names. His arms moved eventually. Slow. He raised one hand, placed it gently against her shoulder. The other stayed at his side. He didn''t hug her back, not really. But he didn''t move away either. And maybe that was enough. Lira''s head rested lightly against his. Her hair smelled like frost and iron. Something clean. Something cold. His eyes drifted shut. And for the first time in what felt like months, he didn''t feel like someone who had to survive anything. He just felt like a boy sitting next to someone who understood. ¡ª He didn''t move. Still. Breathing. Lightly resting against her shoulder. But his brain? His brain had absolutely left the building. ''Okay. This is fine. Nothing weird happening. Totally normal.'' The fire crackled softly a few feet away. Someone, probably Meren, snored and shifted under their cloak. None of it helped. Lira hadn''t said a word. She hadn''t looked at him either. Just sat beside him, leaned in, and... stayed there. He didn''t know if it was intentional. Didn''t know if she even realized she''d done it. But her arm was against his, and her shoulder had settled lightly against the side of his head like it belonged there. It didn''t help that she was warm. Warmer than anyone had a right to be in this weather. Her cloak had a faint scent, something like ash and dry leaves. Not perfume. Just something grounded. Something real. And her presence? Still, steady, a little too close. ''Do not make this weird.'' He blinked a few times, not looking at her. Just straight ahead at the fire like it held all the answers to life and maybe a portal out of this body. ''You''re not eleven. You''re just in an eleven-year-old elf''s body. This is fine. Probably.'' No one else was awake enough to notice. Ren had curled into herself near the fire, dead to the world. Meren had rolled half onto his face and was now drooling quietly into his scarf. Ardan hadn''t moved from the entrance, still half-asleep but sitting like someone had warned him the floor might attack at any moment. Lindarion''s shoulder started to cramp. But he still didn''t move. ''Say something? No. No. Then she''ll move. That''ll make it worse. Or better? No. Worse.'' The fire popped. He finally shifted, just a little. Enough to relieve the pressure in his back. Lira didn''t pull away. She just adjusted with him. She was calm. Completely calm. Like this meant nothing. Like this was just part of sitting near someone after a long hike up a cold mountain. That made it worse. ''She''s just being kind. That''s it. Don''t be a moron.'' He let out a small breath. Not loud. Just enough to feel like he hadn''t forgotten how lungs worked. Then, finally, she spoke. "You''re always tense." The words were simple. Not accusing. Not amused. Just... noticing. He blinked, still staring at the fire. "Yeah. Sorry." "You don''t need to be." He risked a glance at her. Her face was neutral. Focused on the flames. Not looking at him. Her posture was loose now, not stiff like before. She wasn''t trying to make this weird. She was just... here. That helped. A little. "I''m not great at sitting still," he said quietly. She nodded once. "I noticed." A pause. Then she leaned back slightly, arms folded now, the contact between them finally breaking. He didn''t miss the warmth. But he felt like he could breathe again. Lindarion shifted his weight and drew his knees in. The cold was still outside. The fire was still small. But he didn''t feel like he was freezing anymore. Lira didn''t say anything else. Neither did he. But for once, that silence didn''t feel heavy. ¡ª Lindarion didn''t move. Still tucked in. Arms resting on his knees. Eyes on the fire. Lira hadn''t shifted either. She sat upright again. Not rigid. Just alert in that way she always was, like her back didn''t understand what relaxation was supposed to look like. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Sharp outline. Dark hair falling past her shoulders in loose strands. Cold had flushed her cheeks faintly, but she didn''t shiver. She didn''t seem to register the cold at all now. If anything, the only thing that moved was her gaze, quietly tracking the firelight. Chapter 155: Rest He''d seen her fight. He''d seen her calculate, speak, step forward when no one else would. But not this. Not her just... sitting. ''She probably thinks I''m a mess.'' He rubbed his thumb lightly along the seam of his glove. Just a small motion. Something to do. He didn''t feel like sleeping. Not yet. His mana had settled. His body had too. But his mind was a different beast. Too many thoughts. Not enough space to line them up. He cleared his throat once. "You''re not sleeping either?" Lira didn''t look over. "No." A short answer. Not cold. Not disinterested. Just... simple. He waited a second. Then added, "Are you always like this?" She raised an eyebrow. Finally looked at him. "Like what?" "Awake. Watching everything. I don''t think I''ve seen you sleep." "I do," she said. "When I need to." That wasn''t really an answer. He didn''t press it. "I used to stay up a lot too," he said. "At the Academy. Mostly at night. I guess I just liked the quiet." She nodded, once. Then shifted slightly so her boots lined up with the edge of the firelight. "It''s easier to think when everyone else stops moving." "Yeah." They both stared at the flame again. Then she asked, "What did you think about?" That one caught him. He didn''t expect the question. Not from her. He scratched the back of his neck lightly, fingers brushing where the edge of his scarf had left an imprint. "Everything, I guess." "Be more vague." He gave the faintest smile. "Alright. Um... mostly about what I was supposed to be." "Supposed to be?" "Yeah. Prince. Prodigy. Example. Take your pick." Her eyes didn''t leave his face this time. "Did you want to be any of those?" "I didn''t hate it. I just didn''t get to pick." Silence again. Lira leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees now, matching his posture. He watched her hands for a second. They were still. Unclenched. No twitching. No habit-built movements from old training. "Do you miss it?" she asked. He didn''t answer right away. Then, slowly, "Sometimes. Not all of it. Just the... certainty." She didn''t respond. The fire crackled once. "I think I miss knowing where I was going," he added. Lira''s voice came low, softer than before. "You still know." He turned his head. "Do I?" "You''re moving. That''s enough." That settled something in his chest. Not solved it. But quieted it for a second. He gave a small nod. "I don''t think I''m used to being... still." "No one is," she said. "We just pretend better as we get older." He wanted to ask her more. Where she came from. Why she stayed in this hollowed out corner of the world. Why she hadn''t run from him the second she realized who he was. But instead, he said nothing. Just leaned forward slightly, closer to the fire, and let the warmth sink into his legs. She didn''t speak again either. The quiet didn''t feel empty. It felt shared. ¡ª The warmth crept up his arms. It wasn''t just the fire. His body had stopped bracing. Muscles he didn''t realize had been clenched started to let go. Little things. His shoulders settling. His jaw loosening. His fingers falling open just enough to not look ready for anything anymore. He didn''t speak. Not because there was nothing to say, but because saying anything felt heavier than sitting still. Lira hadn''t moved either. But somehow she seemed more relaxed now. Her eyes half-lidded. Not soft. Just... less sharp. Like whatever inner string kept her upright was letting out a few inches of slack. He wanted to ask her something else. Couldn''t remember what. His thoughts drifted sideways. Not in a panicked way. More like he was finally letting himself breathe slower. Then her voice cut through the quiet. "You should sleep." It wasn''t a command. Not even a suggestion, really. Just a fact laid out in front of him like a coat someone had folded without asking. He didn''t answer right away. Just blinked at the fire again. The edges were starting to blur. Not from magic. Just from tired eyes that hadn''t closed in too long. His voice came slower now. Lower. "I''m fine." "I didn''t say you weren''t," she said. She didn''t push. That helped. He leaned his head back against the wall behind him. The stone was still cold. But not biting. His eyes stayed open. Barely. "You''ll keep watch?" Lira nodded once. "Go." His body agreed before his mind did. His limbs sagged just enough to lose the tension. His legs stretched out. His hand fell onto the edge of his coat. He let it. The fire stayed steady beside him. A soft glow. Warmth like breath. He felt Lira shift nearby. Closer now. Not touching. But present. The weight of her not moving reassured him more than anything she could have said. His thoughts trailed again. Not sharply. Just... wandered. He tried to think of something clever. Something final to say. Some line that would make him seem more in control than he felt. Nothing came. Only sleep. The fire''s warmth stayed close. Lindarion didn''t remember falling asleep. One moment he was listening to the wind scratch faintly against the stone outside, and the next, it was gone. Replaced. By something colder. Something wrong. ¡ª Snow. Everywhere. But not like before. This snow didn''t fall. It spun. Spiraled. Churned in jagged lines through the sky like it was being pulled by something too big to see. He stood in it. Barely. Boots deep in frost, clothes soaked, limbs stiff. The cold wasn''t just biting now. It was chewing. Working its way through the bones. Lira stood ahead. So did Ren. Meren. Ardan. They weren''t talking. They weren''t moving. Their eyes were locked on something in the white haze ahead. Lindarion turned his head toward it. Slow. He didn''t want to see. But the dream didn''t care. It waited for him. A shape. Chapter 156: A Dream Not big at first. Just tall. Too tall. Its arms dragged along the ground. Limbs made of splintered wood and stone twisted together, like the mountain itself had decided to get up and walk. No face. Just a skull. Wide. Hollow. Etched with something that shimmered when it shouldn''t have. The others drew weapons. Except Meren. Meren was shaking. Lindarion reached for his sword. It wasn''t there. He looked down. His hands were empty. No flame. No mana. Not even a spark. He tried to step forward. His legs didn''t listen. Ren shouted something. He couldn''t hear it. Not clearly. Her voice cracked through the snow like it was underwater. Lira moved. Fast. She lunged at the thing. Her blade flashed once. Black like her shadows, like her eyes when they narrowed before a kill. It didn''t help. The creature''s arm came down and swept her sideways like she weighed nothing. Lindarion screamed. But it didn''t leave his throat. It stayed inside. Burning. Then it turned toward him. Not its body. Just the skull. Those hollow eyes locked on him like they''d been waiting. The snow froze midair. Everything slowed. And the cold sank all the way in. ¡ª He woke up choking on breath. Sharp inhale. Hands clenched. Heat pouring through his chest like a kicked furnace. ''What the hell was that?'' The fire was still there. Real fire. Quiet and alive in front of him. Everyone else was asleep. Meren snored softly from the corner. Ren was curled into her coat, arms folded, hair covering half her face. Ardan had barely moved, still half-upright against the stone. Lira sat beside the fire. Not asleep. Just watching the flame. Her eyes met his. She didn''t speak. He didn''t either. But his pulse wouldn''t slow. And somewhere in the back of his skull, the shape of that thing still lingered. Waiting. ¡ª His chest rose once. Then again. Not fast. Not shaky. Just too aware. The fire hadn''t moved. It still flickered in that steady way it always did, like it didn''t know what panic looked like. Maybe it didn''t care. Fire didn''t need to worry about monsters in the snow. It just ate them. Lindarion kept his hands close to his knees. He didn''t wipe the sweat from his forehead. That would mean admitting it was there. Lira didn''t say anything. Her eyes weren''t sharp. Not judging. Just... waiting. Like she''d seen people come out of nightmares before and learned not to ask what they saw. He hated that. He wasn''t supposed to need that kind of look. Not anymore. But his fingers wouldn''t unclench all the way. Lira tilted her head, just a little. Not a question. Not pity. Just: you''re not fine, and I''m not going to pretend you are. He glanced away. The others were still asleep. Meren had his mouth open now. It didn''t make the snoring better. Just louder. Ren had shifted closer to the fire, her legs half-draped over the edge of her coat like it had tried to escape her body in the night. Ardan hadn''t even flinched. Either he was in a full trance or the cold didn''t apply to him anymore. Lindarion swallowed. His throat was dry. ''It was just a dream..'' But it hadn''t felt like one. There hadn''t been a system warning. No stat drops. No magic alarms. And yet... whatever that thing was, it had looked at him like it remembered him. Like it had a reason. He glanced at Lira again. Her eyes were back on the fire. He should say something. He didn''t want to. But the silence was louder now than the dream had been. "...you ever see something you can''t explain?" Lira blinked once. Still didn''t look at him. "Yes." That was it. Just yes. He stared at the fire with her. Let his arms relax by an inch. "What do you do about it?" he asked. Lira didn''t answer right away. She shifted slightly, enough to pull her legs under her coat, her posture still upright. "If I can fight it, I fight it." "And if you can''t?" She didn''t hesitate. "I make sure I''m stronger the next time." The words weren''t loud. But they didn''t need to be. He didn''t nod. Didn''t smile. But something in his shoulders eased. ''Yeah. Alright. Why did I even bother asking.'' He leaned forward a little, feeding a flicker of mana back into the fire. Just enough to brighten the edges. It responded instantly, blooming in warm orange waves that licked the corners of their shadows. Lira pulled her hood back slightly. Her face looked softer in the light. Tired, but calm. Like the mountain''s weight didn''t sit as heavy on her anymore. Lindarion let his eyes close for a breath. Then two. And this time, when he drifted, it wasn''t because the mountain took him. It was because he let it. ¡ª He didn''t wake up fast. It came in pieces. First the cold. That sharp kind of awareness crawling in from his ankles like it had been waiting all night for an opening. Then the sound. Breathing. A few soft movements. Wind, still muted by the overhang, whispering against stone. Then the pressure in his arm. His face was against something solid. Not soft, not awful. Just there. He shifted slightly. It was Lira. He blinked once. Her shoulder moved under his cheek. Not in a flinch. Just enough to let him know she was awake, too. He sat up slowly. Nothing hurt. That was a surprise. His neck should have. His back, probably. Sleeping upright like that was a terrible idea, even if she hadn''t moved away. Lira adjusted her coat. Didn''t say anything. He rubbed at his eyes once. Not because he was tired. Just because it gave him a second to think. Ren snored once and rolled over. Her foot kicked something that sounded suspiciously like Meren''s bag. A muffled groan followed. Ardan stood again. Not where he''d been. Closer to the mouth of the shelter now, brushing frost off his shoulder like it had personally offended him. The fire had gone down to soft embers. No one looked particularly awake. No one looked like they wanted to be. Lindarion''s breath puffed out in front of him. Less fog than yesterday. Still enough to know the cold hadn''t eased. He looked at Lira once. "Did you sleep at all?" She stretched her fingers out once, slow. The bones cracked softly. "Enough." That didn''t sound like a yes. He didn''t press. He looked over at the others. Meren had one boot halfway on, one eye still closed. Ren was muttering something into her scarf. Probably threats against morning itself. Chapter 157: Freezing Trail (1) Ardan turned. Caught his eye. Gave a short nod. No words. Just a good, nod. Lindarion gave a half shrug. ''I''m not frozen, so that counts.'' The sword still leaned against the stone beside his pack. Wrapped, untouched. His hand hovered near it for a second before he picked up the bag instead. Fingers stiff. But not shaking. Not anymore. He slung it over his shoulder and looked at the others again. "Do we keep moving?" Lira stood. Ren groaned. Meren made a sound that might have been a yes or a complaint. Ardan already had his gloves on. Lira pulled her hood up and looked to the path beyond the ridge. "The next stretch is narrower. Steeper." Ren sat up. "So basically worse." "Basically," Lira said. Meren grunted and dragged himself upright. Lindarion turned once to glance out beyond the overhang. The snow had lessened. Still falling, but lighter now. The kind that floated sideways, aimless, not urgent. He breathed in. Still cold. But tolerable. He looked at his hands again. They still remembered what fire felt like. What it meant to keep going even when the mountain tried to press down on you. He flexed his fingers once. Then stepped forward. ¡ª His foot sank a little too far into the snow just past the overhang. It wasn''t deep. Just loose. Dry enough to feel like powder, cold enough to bite through the laces of his boot. Lindarion adjusted his weight and stepped clear. The wind picked up again almost immediately. Not a gust. Just a steady pressure against his shoulder, like the mountain didn''t appreciate him moving so freely. ''You had one job. Stay quiet.'' He pulled his scarf higher. The trail was narrower now, just like Lira had warned. Two steps wide if he was being generous. Less in places. A sharp drop on the right side, the kind that looked survivable until you pictured the landing. The others followed close behind. Ardan was second, quiet and balanced. His boots made no sound. No slip, no drag. Just a steady rhythm like he was walking on memory instead of rock. Meren behind him was louder. Not clumsy. Just less focused. He kept muttering under his breath, too quiet to hear properly, but the tone wasn''t friendly. Ren was behind him, hands stuffed in her coat. She didn''t look cold. She looked bored. Dangerous combo. Lira brought up the rear. Always watching the shadows behind them, like she expected the mountain to grow teeth and change its mind. Lindarion stayed near the front. Not because he wanted to lead. Just because being first meant he didn''t have to watch anyone else struggle. He didn''t like watching that. It made his chest tighten for reasons he hadn''t named yet. ''Keep walking. Don''t think too hard.'' The trail curved around a jagged outcrop. Ice clung to the edge like it had grown teeth. He stepped wide to avoid brushing it. His thoughts moved slower than his feet. Not numb. Just heavy. He kept going. ''What if this is all it is? Walking. Freezing. Watching others look at me like I''m supposed to know what happens next.'' He didn''t. But no one asked. Maybe they thought he was fine. Maybe that was the point. He reached a flatter part of the path and paused for a second, letting the others catch up. Ardan came up beside him. Looked out at the stretch ahead. Didn''t speak. Lindarion appreciated that. Meren arrived next, huffing, dragging a bit. "I hate this mountain," he said. "Officially." "You said that three times yesterday," Ren said behind him. "And it''s still true." Lindarion adjusted his scarf again. The edge had frozen to his chin. He didn''t flinch. Ren sidled up next to him and peeked over the edge. "Still a long way up?" "Still," he said. She sighed. "Of course it is." Lira came around the bend a moment later. She didn''t look winded. But she didn''t look relaxed either. He watched her take in the slope, the ice, the cliff face above. She glanced at him once. He didn''t say anything. Her eyes lingered for half a breath too long. Then she moved on. He let out a breath through his nose. ''Stop reading into things.'' The wind tugged at his sleeve again. They kept climbing. One careful step at a time. Every footfall echoed with the dull crunch of frost and old stone. The slope didn''t steepen, but it got trickier. Patches of snow turned slick. The wind didn''t push anymore, it leaned. Not enough to knock him off balance, just enough to make him think about it every time he moved. Lindarion shifted his weight forward and stepped onto a narrow ledge. His boots held. Barely. The edge of his coat caught in the breeze behind him and flared out like a badly timed cape. He reached back and pulled it close. ''Would be easier if this body was way taller.'' The thought wasn''t bitter. Just factual. He''d gotten used to the height already, mostly. But that didn''t mean he enjoyed the reminder every time he had to reach a little farther, climb a little harder. Ardan moved up beside him again. The man hadn''t said a word all morning. Just that steady, quiet presence. It wasn''t comforting, exactly. But it wasn''t unwelcome. Meren wasn''t doing as well. He stumbled again on a patch of ice. Caught himself on the rock wall. Made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. "I''m fine," he said. To no one. Or maybe to himself. Ren didn''t even turn around. "If you fall, I''m not catching you." "Noted." Lira was behind them. Same pace. Same rhythm. She didn''t slip. She didn''t speak. Just a dark silhouette against the white. Lindarion pressed forward. His legs were starting to ache now. Not badly. Just enough to make him aware of how far they''d come. How much farther they had to go. The cold didn''t touch his core. That was true. But his limbs weren''t made of magic. They still had limits. Chapter 158: Freezing Trail (2) He exhaled slowly through his nose. Let his breath fog out in front of him before it was torn away by the wind. ''Don''t complain. Don''t slow down.'' He focused on the next step. Then the next. Small things. Little choices. Keep the feet under control. Watch for loose stone. Make sure Meren doesn''t eat snow face-first before they find a camp again. The sky overhead stayed gray. Not threatening. Just endless. The kind of cold that didn''t bother arguing. It just waited until you gave up first. He wouldn''t. Not now. He reached a wider part of the trail. Flattened. Safer. A break in the climb, even if it only lasted ten steps. He stopped. Ardan stopped with him. Meren practically collapsed behind them. "Sanctuary. Blessed, sacred flatness." Ren stepped past him like she hadn''t heard a thing. She pulled her coat tighter and crouched near the edge, peering down into the drop like she expected something interesting to crawl up and say hello. Lira moved up last. She paused beside Lindarion. Her breath visible now. Not fast. Not forced. Just steady. She looked at him. "Pace holding?" He nodded once. "For now." Her eyes lingered on his face for a second longer. She didn''t smile. But she didn''t look away either. Then she moved ahead. Meren looked up from the ground. "I think I left my soul back there on the last bend." "You''ll live," Ardan said. "You say that, but you haven''t seen my toes." Lindarion didn''t answer. He was watching the ridge ahead. The trail narrowed again. A cut through the stone that looked too clean to be natural. Like something had carved a path out on purpose. He pulled his scarf tighter again. Just to feel something against his skin. His fingers brushed the edge of the fire-thread still lingering under his sleeve. Not a spell. Just warmth. He focused on it. Let it pulse once in his palm. Then let it go. ''Not yet.'' The others didn''t need to see what else he could do. Not until it mattered. And it didn''t. Not yet. Just a climb. Just cold. Just another stretch of trail where he had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Simple. ¡ª The path narrowed again. Not enough to stop them, but enough to make the wind feel closer. Like it had been waiting for an excuse to slip in and whisper behind their ears. Lindarion pressed his glove flat to the cliffside as he passed. The rock was slick, frozen in patches, and cold enough to bite through leather. The mountain didn''t care who he was. It barely cared that he existed. Just another body trying to cross its ribs. He tried not to think about how long the climb still was. Tried not to think about how far they''d already come. One foot forward. One breath at a time. That was the rule right now. Behind him, Meren coughed into his scarf. It was a pathetic sound. Half sputter, half whine. "I hate altitude," he muttered. "And snow. And rocks. And my knees. Especially my knees." Ren''s voice floated up from the bend below. "Your knees have hated you since we left the river." "Untrue," Meren said. "They betrayed me only recently." Lindarion didn''t smile, but something near the edge of his mouth twitched. The wind caught his hair again, pushed a few strands across his face. He didn''t bother fixing them. His fingers were stiff. Not numb yet. But getting close. He flexed them once. Mana responded, slow and steady. Not enough to cast anything. Just enough to remind him it was there. ''No need to panic. Not yet.'' Lira moved ahead, glancing back only once to check their formation. Her coat had gathered a crust of frost across the shoulders, but she didn''t seem to notice. She was more shadow than person right now, all clean movements and silence. Lindarion watched her for a second longer than he meant to. Then looked away. Ardan passed him next. No words. Just that quiet, unshakable pace. Like gravity owed him a favor. He could hear their breaths now. That was how thin the air had gotten. Every step louder than it should be. Every exhale a reminder they were higher than any of them liked. Ren caught up beside him. She nudged his arm lightly. "You look like you''re about to duel the mountain." He didn''t look over. "It started it." She laughed once, short and sharp. Then kept walking. He followed. His boots slipped once on a patch of cracked ice. He caught himself before it turned into a fall. His heart didn''t race, but it did beat just a little harder for a few seconds. ''Pay attention.'' The wind changed again. He turned his face into it without thinking. Let it sting his cheeks. Let it remind him he was still here. Still moving. Still climbing. The pass curved again. Another bend. Another wall of white waiting ahead. But the worst part wasn''t the cold. It was the quiet. Not silence. Just the kind of stillness that made his thoughts louder. Made the weight behind his ribs lean forward, like it was watching too. He didn''t mind quiet. But this kind? This kind made it hard to breathe. He blinked, once. Hard. Just to clear the frost building at the corners of his lashes. The cliff widened again ahead. A ledge. Small. Enough for all of them to stand, maybe even sit if they crowded. Lira reached it first. She didn''t say anything. Just took a knee, back to the wind. Lindarion followed and dropped beside her. The stone was freezing. He didn''t flinch. Ren leaned her back against the wall next to them. Ardan stood near the edge like he''d grown there. Meren collapsed with a groan, arms out like he was offering himself to the mountain gods as tribute. No one laughed. But no one told him to stop either. Lindarion tilted his head back. Let his eyes trace the cliff above. No sky anymore. Just haze. Snow drifted between the rocks like ash. Chapter 159: Freezing Trail (3) The cold crept in again. Not fast. Not sharp. Just slow enough to pretend it had always been there. Lindarion rubbed his palms together. The leather of his gloves made a dull sound. Not enough friction to help. Just enough to make his fingers ache a little less. The fire he''d conjured earlier felt like a memory now. Too small. Too far behind them. He stood up, legs stiff, and turned his head. Lira wasn''t beside him anymore. Neither was Ren. Ardan had vanished into the white ahead, probably scouting again. Meren''s voice was still echoing faintly from behind the ridge, some curse about his ankle and mountain gods being petty. ''Right. Time to regroup.'' The ledge curved around a cluster of ice-slicked boulders. Not a long walk. But the wind made it feel longer. It hissed through the stones, tugging at his hood, needling down his collar like it had something to prove. He squinted through the snow. A few dark shapes up ahead. Moving. One of them shifted, stepped into clearer view. Lira. She looked back at the same time, eyes narrowing slightly like she''d felt him before she saw him. She didn''t say anything. She didn''t need to. Ren sat cross-legged just beyond her, brushing snow off her sleeves with exaggerated effort. Meren crouched nearby, hugging himself. Ardan stood further ahead, facing the drop again, cloak pulled tighter across his chest. Lindarion let out a breath he hadn''t noticed he''d been holding. ''There they are.'' He joined them without a word. Sat near Ren. Not too close. Just enough to catch the edge of the shelter Lira''s shadow gave from the wind. His teeth had started to click faintly. He clenched his jaw. "Hold still," he muttered. He lifted his hand again. No words. No dramatic pose. Just focus. Mana stirred beneath his skin like warm water lapping against a cold shore. The fire came easier this time. It bloomed just above his palm, small and tight and steady. The color was softer than before, a dull orange with flickers of gold. Not a torch. Not a blaze. Just warmth, shaped and held. He lowered his hand toward the ground and let the fire rest there. It didn''t sink into the snow. Didn''t flicker under the wind. Just stayed. The others looked at it like it was the best thing they''d seen all day. Meren scooted forward instantly. His knees cracked with the motion. "That''s it. I''m naming you Firelord." "No," Lindarion said. "It''s decided." Ren leaned in. Her gloves hovered just above the flame. "Feels better than the last one." "It''s the same," Lindarion said. "No, this one''s got effort behind it. This one says you care." He gave her a look. She smiled like she hadn''t said anything weird. Ardan stepped back from the ledge and gave a slow nod toward the fire. He didn''t say anything, but he settled closer. Even Lira moved half a step in. Not much. But enough. Lindarion rested both hands on his knees and watched the heat ripple faintly against the falling snow. It wasn''t enough to fight the mountain. But it was enough to say they hadn''t lost yet. His fingers stopped shaking. His breath evened out. He blinked snow off his lashes and tried not to think about how much higher they still had to climb. ''One fire at a time,'' he thought. ''That''s how we do this.'' No one talked for a while. Just the sound of snow hitting stone, and the quiet hum of fire doing its job. ¡ª The flame made a soft sound. Not crackling. More like breathing. Shallow. Focused. Almost hesitant. Lindarion sat with his arms around his knees now. His fingers weren''t numb anymore, just dull. Like the feeling had gone off to sulk and hadn''t decided if it was coming back yet. The rest of the group hadn''t spoken in a while. Ren had leaned back on her hands, letting the warmth touch her face. Meren had curled up again, muttering half-sentences into his scarf. Ardan hadn''t blinked in a full minute. And Lira... He looked up. She was standing again. Not far. Just at the edge of their little circle. Her eyes moved across the slope ahead like she was already planning three different ways through it. None of them looked pleasant. He didn''t say anything. But part of him wanted to. Something simple. Just to hear a voice that wasn''t wind or nerves. ''You don''t have to look so sharp all the time,'' he thought. ''We''re not running.'' Not yet, anyway. His stomach growled once. Not loud, but enough for Ren to glance at him sideways. "You''re brave," she said. He blinked. "What." "Making fire with an empty stomach. That''s the real courage." Meren stirred. "Wait. We have more food?" "Saltleaf root," Ardan said without looking. "That''s not food. That''s punishment." Lindarion sighed. "It''s calories." "It''s trauma." Ren pulled a small pouch from her coat and tossed it toward him. Lindarion caught it out of reflex. Inside were thin strips of dried something. Could''ve been fruit. Could''ve been regret. Either way, it chewed. He bit off a piece and winced as it stuck to his molars. ''Better than nothing.'' Ardan glanced uphill. "We''ll move in ten." Lira didn''t argue. Just adjusted the strap across her chest and stepped closer to the fire. Not for warmth. Just to check something. Maybe the group. Maybe him. Her eyes landed on his hands. He didn''t hide the flame. Didn''t explain it either. She gave a nod. Small. But approving. Then turned away. ''That''s the closest thing I''ll get to praise, huh.'' The pouch in his hand was half empty now. He passed it to Meren, who made a sound like he might cry from joy. Ren rolled her eyes. "It''s not that good." "Everything tastes like hope if you haven''t eaten in a while." Lindarion stretched his fingers slowly. His shoulders cracked when he rolled them back. Every joint reminded him they''d been climbing for hours. But the ache didn''t scare him. Not like before. The cold hadn''t gotten into his chest. His mana hadn''t slipped once. The fire was still steady. Chapter 160: Freezing Trail (4) He glanced at the others again. Ren. Still lounging like this was a mild inconvenience and not a death-slope. Meren. Pale but alive. And somehow still dramatic. Ardan. A boulder with a blade. Lira. Distant. Focused. Unshakable. ''My team.'' That word caught him off guard. He didn''t say it out loud. But it stayed with him. Soft. Solid. Strange. Team. He''d fought alone before. Survived alone. Even in the academy, most of his victories had been personal. Observed, maybe. Admired. But never shared. This was different. Ren stood. Stretched like a cat and swung her coat tight around her again. "Alright," she said. "Let''s get moving before I start liking this cave." Ardan didn''t respond. He was already walking. Meren groaned, but got to his feet. Lira just nodded once and turned toward the trail. Lindarion let the flame fade. He stood last. The air outside was colder now. But the warmth from the fire lingered in his bones. He stepped out into the snow. ¡ª The slope greeted them like it hadn''t seen people in a century. Cold. Quiet. Unimpressed. Snow clung to the rock face in jagged stripes, peeled by the wind and frozen in half-melted waves. Their boots sank past the ankle now. Crunching sounds came with every step. Heavy. Dragging. Like the mountain wanted them to feel it. Lindarion squinted through the haze. It wasn''t white. Not exactly. More like gray mixed with stubborn silence. The kind of silence that settled behind your ears and made you question if your friends were still walking with you or had dropped off one by one without saying anything. He flexed his fingers inside his gloves. Still warm. Still working. The fire affinity pulsed quiet beneath the surface of his skin. Steady. Present. He looked ahead. Meren''s back was easy to spot. The guy had tied a bright red cloth to his shoulder strap. For "visibility," he said. More like for attention. But right now, Lindarion didn''t mind. Ren walked next to him, coat pulled tight, eyes tracking the slope like it might start something. She wasn''t even breathing hard. Lira moved like a shadow. Somehow ahead without ever looking like she rushed. Ardan kept to the rear. Probably counting steps. Or exits. Or every possible way this trail could kill them. Lindarion exhaled slow through his nose. The cold bit at his face. His scarf had frozen again, but he didn''t bother fixing it. It would thaw eventually. Or not. Either way, the path wasn''t going to wait. He picked up his pace. The snow thinned near a curve in the ridge. Just for a moment. A brief patch where the stone broke through and gave him something solid to land on. He used it. Pulled forward. Closer. The rest of the group came into better view. He didn''t say anything. Just seeing them was enough. He matched their pace. Not leading. Not dragging behind. Just part of the line now. A quiet rhythm. Crunch. Step. Breath. Ren glanced over. "You alive back there?" "Unfortunately," he muttered. She smirked. "Good. We need someone to blame if the next cave is full of snow rats." "Snow rats?" "Big. Hairy. Rude." "You made that up." She didn''t answer. Lira kept her focus on the trail ahead. Her voice came flat. Calm. "No caves. Not until midday." Meren groaned. "That''s at least a hundred years from now." "It''s two hours," Ardan said. "Same thing." Lindarion adjusted his grip on the strap across his chest. It had started rubbing again, but he didn''t care. Not now. He was with them. Walking. Not thinking too far ahead. Not frozen. Not alone. His legs burned a little now. But it was the kind of burn that meant progress. He welcomed it. Another gust of wind pushed through the trees above. The branches didn''t creak. Just swayed and let it pass. The mountain didn''t care about them. But they kept moving anyway. ¡ª The trail angled again. Not steep, just enough to remind his calves they hadn''t rested in hours. Lindarion shifted the weight of his pack for the fifth time. It didn''t help. The strap still dug into the same spot on his shoulder like it had developed a personal grudge. He muttered something under his breath and ignored it. The cold had stopped feeling sharp. Now it just pressed in. Soft and heavy, like a blanket that hated him. His breath fogged slower than before. Not because he was warm. Just because his body had stopped wasting effort. His fingers tingled. Not in a good way. He pushed his gloves tighter against his palms and flexed once. Still there. Still moving. Meren stumbled ahead of him. Just a little. Like his boot caught on something invisible. He caught himself, but not before letting out a frustrated huff. Ren didn''t turn around. "Don''t die." Meren lifted a hand weakly. "If I do, bury me somewhere dramatic." "You''ll be fertilizer for the next ice flower patch," Ardan said from the rear. "That counts." Lindarion almost smiled. Almost. He looked to the side. Lira walked at the front, coat pulled tight, her scarf wrapped twice around her neck. She moved like the wind wasn''t there. Like the cold had made a deal with her and agreed to stay out of the way. Her boots didn''t slip. Her posture never dropped. Even her breath was steady. He didn''t know how she did that. He wasn''t struggling, not exactly. But every part of him felt like it had been dipped in frost and then wrung out. He kept pace. He could fight if he had to. But this kind of cold... it got into your thoughts. His mind wandered. He hated when it did that. ''This is better, though. Better than the cell. Better than the dark.'' The wind picked up again. It howled low through the trees somewhere above. The sound scraped across the rocks and vanished down the slope like it was late for something. Ren slowed her steps. Not much. Just enough that Lindarion noticed. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You look quiet." "I''m thinking." "About what?" "Firewood." She blinked. "You''re joking." "Maybe." "Because if you''re serious, that''s the most dramatic thing you''ve ever said." He didn''t answer. Mostly because he wasn''t sure if he was joking either. His core pulsed gently. Still steady. Still warm. The fire affinity lingered in his chest like a second heartbeat. If he called it up again, he could clear the snow around them in a blink. Dry their coats. Burn warmth into the ground. But he didn''t. Not yet. It felt wrong to cheat this part. They were climbing a mountain. Struggling. Cold. Tired. Together. If he made it too easy, that would vanish. Lindarion kicked a loose rock down the side of the trail. It bounced once, twice, then disappeared into the snow-drifted slope. Meren watched it go. "Think we''ll fall that far if we trip?" "Probably farther," Ardan said. "Cool. Motivating." The snow thickened again. It came in sideways now, slicing through the air in slow, deliberate sheets. Like the sky wanted to show off. Chapter 161: Freezing Trail (5) Ren pulled her scarf higher. "It''s picking up again." "Yeah," Lira said. "I know a place to stop." Lindarion''s feet kept moving. He didn''t look up. Just followed the footprints ahead. Let the cold numb everything but the sound of steps and breath. He wasn''t weak. But he was tired. And sometimes that was worse. He reached for his mana, just a little. Let the warmth slip into his chest like a whisper. ¡ª The snow didn''t let up. Not for the next few turns. Not for the next five dozen steps. It just kept falling, soft and quiet, like it was trying to cover every trace they''d ever existed. Lindarion walked in silence. His boots crunched through the layer of powder with a rhythm that felt too steady to be his. One foot. Then the next. He didn''t think about walking anymore. Just about the little things. The weight of his pack. The way the cold stuck to the underside of his coat. The way his breath barely curled anymore before the wind pulled it away. He squinted against the flurry and caught a glimpse of Lira, maybe ten paces ahead, pausing near a bend in the path. She didn''t turn. Just lifted one hand and pointed. "There," she said, barely loud enough to hear. They rounded the corner. The path opened slightly, just wide enough to hold all of them if they stood close. A line of stone jutted up on one side, maybe five feet high, enough to block the worst of the wind. There was a shallow indent beneath it, like the mountain had once offered someone a place to sit and decided not to take it back. Ren stepped in first and dropped her pack without ceremony. She exhaled a long, theatrical breath and flopped down against the rock. Meren followed, collapsed, and immediately curled in on himself like a snow-drenched question mark. Ardan scanned the trees, the ridge, the sky. Then he lowered his pack with a soundless sigh and sat without taking his eyes off the trail behind them. Lindarion found a spot off to the side and crouched, elbows on his knees. The stone was wet. Not frozen, but not dry either. His gloves stuck slightly to the surface. He ignored it. His shoulders ached. That dull, steady pull that came from not sleeping properly. Or not sleeping at all. He took a breath. Then another. The air still stung. Not like blades. Just like it didn''t want him there. Lira was the last to sit. She didn''t fold, didn''t collapse, didn''t even sigh. Just lowered herself down against the stone like someone who knew how to make even exhaustion look orderly. Ren''s eyes drifted shut. Her arms folded over her chest like a shield. Meren mumbled something unintelligible and gave up halfway through the sentence. Lindarion rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. His thoughts didn''t feel sharp anymore. They just drifted. Weightless. A part of him wanted to call the fire again. Just enough to warm the edge of the space. Not a blaze. Not anything obvious. But his core felt so steady now. So warm. It whispered constantly now, not in words, but in feeling. He didn''t. He watched snow fall instead. Fat flakes this time, slower. Gentle. They landed on Meren''s scarf and stuck. Melted on Ardan''s shoulder and slid off. Caught in the corner of Ren''s hair and refused to leave. Lindarion stretched his legs. His boots slid forward half an inch on the stone. He let them. He leaned back against the curve of the rock. It was cold. His coat didn''t help much. But he didn''t care. His eyes dropped closed for one second. Then another. Not sleep. Not yet. Just resting. The snow kept falling. ¡ª They moved again after maybe half an hour. The snow didn''t stop, but it softened just enough for visibility. The cold hadn''t eased, but it stopped biting. It just sat there. Heavy and present. Like a coat you couldn''t take off. Lindarion''s legs burned by the time they reached the rise. Not the sharp kind of pain. Just slow, steady weight dragging behind his knees and through his ankles. Each step took a little more focus than the last. He caught himself checking his breath again. It still came easy. No tightness. No cracking in the ribs. That had to count for something. Ardan didn''t slow down. Lira didn''t either. The others grumbled, but no one complained too hard. They had all learned by now that arguing with a mountain didn''t make it any flatter. Ren kicked at a chunk of snow that had started to freeze against her boots. "I swear this slope wasn''t this long when we came down yesterday." "We didn''t come down yesterday," Meren muttered. "That was a tree. You slipped and hallucinated a path." "I was testing gravity," she said. "You failed." Lindarion''s lips twitched, just barely. They rounded a cluster of thick rock formations that broke the wind for a moment. Then the trail dipped once more before narrowing into a jagged rise that bent against the cliffside. Lira paused there. She raised one hand and didn''t speak. Her head turned slightly, eyes narrowed at the shape of the slope ahead. Her breath fogged once, then cleared. She nodded, more to herself than anyone. "This is it." Meren blinked. "This? This is what we''ve been crawling toward?" Lira didn''t answer. She walked forward. The pass was narrow. Too narrow for two people side by side. Each wall of stone pressed in with a jagged stubbornness, like they didn''t want company. Ren followed after Lira without hesitation. Meren waited until Ardan gestured. Then he groaned once and squeezed in, boots scraping along the inside. Lindarion stepped in last. The rock was close on both sides, but not in a way that felt threatening. Just... old. Like it had been here before the road, before the travelers, before the air even decided to cool. Each step echoed faintly now. Not loud. Just enough to feel the distance under their feet. The slope dipped once more, then opened. They stepped into a natural cut in the cliffside. A wide platform of broken stone, flattened out just enough to stand. Snow dusted the corners. Small stones were gathered in little wind shelters built against the walls. A camp. Or a resting point. Someone had been here before. The sky opened above them, pale and streaked with soft clouds. They weren''t low enough to choke the light anymore. Just drifting high like slow thoughts. Lira stepped to the edge. Lindarion followed her gaze. A sharp drop led to a frozen lake far below. Trees circled the basin, bare and quiet, their branches tipped with frost. Beyond that, a sloping ridge wound around a darker valley. And past that... rooftops. Smoke. Small. Faint. But real. A village. Meren stepped up beside him and blinked. "Wait. That''s it?" "That''s it," Lira said. Ren tilted her head. "You sure?" "It''s where I said we''d go." "Still weird to hear you actually follow through on something," Ren said. "I didn''t do it for you." "Rude," Meren muttered. Lindarion stepped forward until his boots touched the edge of the stone. He didn''t say anything. Just stood there, breathing. His breath came easy. The cold was still here. Still deep in his coat, his gloves, the edge of his sleeves. But it didn''t matter. The path was clear. The wind, for once, didn''t scream. Chapter 162: Freezing Trail (6) He didn''t realize how much tension he''d been carrying until it started to let go. Lindarion dropped into a crouch near the edge, one arm resting across his knee. He let the cold rock press through his gloves. It felt real. More real than most of the past few days. Not sharp. Just there. Steady. The lake below shimmered faintly, even under the clouds. Not like water. More like glass someone had tried to polish and then gave up halfway. He watched a line of trees bend slightly in the wind, their shadows too long for the sun''s position. That was the thing about climbing mountains. You could lie to yourself about how close you were to the end, but once the land opened up like this, there was nowhere to hide. It was honest in a way the cities never were. He wasn''t used to it. Behind him, Meren collapsed in a dramatic sprawl against a lumpy patch of snow and groaned. "I think my soul left halfway up the last slope." Ren dropped beside him with a grunt. "Maybe it got tired of your whining." "Maybe it got frostbite and gave up." Ardan remained standing, arms crossed, gaze still sweeping the edge of the pass like a man expecting the rocks to stand up and ask him for a fight. Lira hadn''t moved since she first looked out. Her cloak shifted once in the wind, just enough to show the hilt of one of her knives tucked against her side. Lindarion glanced at her. She wasn''t smiling. She never did. But something in her shoulders had eased. Slightly. Enough that he noticed. He turned back to the view. ''Almost there.'' He could feel the words. Not in his throat. Just in his chest. A dull weight that kept trying to rise up and turn into something more important. He didn''t let it. It wasn''t the end. Just a checkpoint. Still, it was hard not to let the thought settle somewhere deep behind his ribs. They weren''t dead. They weren''t lost. They had a direction again. That meant more than most things. Ren picked up a chunk of snow and tossed it over the edge. It disappeared almost instantly into the drop. "I''m not climbing back up this, by the way," she said. "Noted," Lira replied without turning. "I''ll fake an injury." "You already do." "Then I''ll fake a new one." Meren coughed. "I think my ankle twisted five minutes ago. It''s probably gone now. Just frost holding it in place." Ardan muttered something that might have been a prayer. Or a threat. Or just him remembering what peace and silence used to feel like. Lindarion leaned back, palms braced against the stone. The fire affinity hummed quietly inside his chest. Not hot. Not aggressive. Just alive. He didn''t need it now. But it helped knowing it was still there. He reached into his coat and pulled a small strip of dried fruit from one of the inner pockets. It had gone stiff from the cold, but he bit into it anyway. Sweet. A little sour. It tasted like the kind of thing you only remembered eating after you realized you hadn''t died. He closed his eyes for just a second. Not to sleep. Just to breathe. Lira''s voice came quieter than usual. Not soft, exactly. Just less sharp. "There''s a trail down the eastern side. Narrow, but walkable." Ardan nodded. Ren groaned. "Do we have to go today?" "No," Lira said. "But we should." Meren didn''t even argue this time. Lindarion opened his eyes again and let the sky fill his view. ¡ª The rock under him had stopped feeling like ice. It was still cold, but the kind of cold he could forget about for a minute or two if he didn''t move. If he just sat there, arms draped across his knees, letting the wind pull at the edge of his scarf. Lindarion stared out at the drop again. He couldn''t see the bottom. The trail curved down behind a steep wall of broken stone and thin ice, all of it lined in frost that looked like it could snap if you even breathed wrong. His legs didn''t want to stand again. His shoulders didn''t either. Meren let out a pitiful sigh from the floor. "I vote we build a new home right here." Ren poked him in the side with the toe of her boot. "You wouldn''t last two days without a bath and a bed." "I have both in my imagination. It''s called mental resilience." Ardan stood motionless with his arms still crossed. It wasn''t that he looked comfortable. More like he''d just stopped pretending he needed comfort at all. Lira was the only one who hadn''t spoken since they stopped. She shifted her weight slightly, arms folded now, gaze tracing something down the side of the slope like she could already see the route ahead. She didn''t turn. Just spoke. "We go down now." Ren groaned like someone had punched her in the stomach. Meren lifted his head with visible effort. "No celebratory break? No five-minute nap? I''m willing to cry if that helps." "Save the crying for when we''re at the bottom," Lira said. "It''ll echo more dramatically." Lindarion pushed himself to his feet, slow. His knees popped. He ignored it. He brushed off the back of his coat and adjusted the strap of his pack again. It still bit into the same spot near his collarbone. Nothing he could do about that now. The fire affinity sat quiet inside his chest. Dormant, but steady. Like an ember that didn''t need fuel, just patience. He didn''t want to waste it on himself. Not yet. He stepped toward the edge with the others, letting the crunch of frost beneath his boots say everything his mouth didn''t feel like contributing. The trail down was narrow. Maybe two feet wide in places, carved along a ridgeline that looked like it regretted ever existing. Ice clung to the edge of the rocks like it had nowhere better to be. Some of it cracked quietly under the wind, a soft sound that still made his jaw tighten. Lira turned to face them now. Her eyes met his first. "It''s steep. And winding. But the snow thins once we''re a quarter down." "How far is the bottom?" Ren asked, already dreading the answer. Lira''s lips twitched. Not quite a smile. "A day. Maybe two." Meren made a noise that didn''t resemble any known language. "Wonderful," Ardan said flatly. Lindarion looked down at his gloves. The edges had started to fray from the cold, the leather peeling at the fingertips. He tugged them tighter anyway. He didn''t speak. Didn''t need to. They were moving again. That was what mattered. He took the first step after Lira, boots landing with that quiet scrape of stone meeting determination. The wind didn''t push back this time. Chapter 163: remembering The ledge didn''t offer much. Just a bit of flat ground and less wind. But for Lindarion, it might as well have been a palace floor. His legs weren''t shaking yet. That was the important part. He kept the fire alive in his hand. Steady, quiet. It didn''t flicker much. Just pulsed with low heat that brushed against his fingers and drifted outward in soft waves. Ren didn''t say anything. She just sat next to it like she was owed the warmth. Meren curled around the nearest stone and moaned dramatically. "Tell my parents I froze nobly." "You don''t have parents," Ren muttered. "Then tell my imaginary ones." Ardan adjusted his footing near the ledge and scanned the slope like it had offended him personally. Lira stood nearby with her arms crossed. Still and silent, but not tense. Lindarion stared at the flame. Let it move with his breath. His thoughts weren''t on the snow anymore. They were back in stone halls and torchlight. They were behind Evernight''s high towers and the sharp curve of its walls. That place had felt like a cage sometimes. But it had been his. He wondered how many of them were still there. Cassian probably hadn''t shut up since the attack. The guy had two modes, loud or unconscious. Lindarion could almost hear his voice echoing down the academy halls, demanding answers from anyone who looked remotely important. He would have paced. Argued with instructors. Tried to start a student investigation even if it got him detention. ''He probably blamed himself once, too. Idiot.'' Luneth wouldn''t have said a word. Not at first. She would have watched. Listened. Taken inventory of who was still standing and who wasn''t. Then she would''ve started training harder. Sharper. Like violence could make sense of what happened. She''d pretend it didn''t affect her. But he knew better. ''She would''ve stayed calm on the outside. Cold as ever. But she''d look at the empty space in sparring and stop for a second.'' The others? Hard to say. Some might''ve left after the attack. Parents pulling them out. Nobles whispering about danger and disgrace. The kind of whispers that came from behind too many curtains and too few facts. But the academy still stood. That meant some stayed. And those who stayed... they knew. They all knew he hadn''t run. He''d been taken. Dragged from the academy the day everything broke. Pulled from the one place that was supposed to be untouchable. There could be no cover story. No polite lie. The truth was louder than anything else. A prince, kidnapped. An academy breached. The world was supposed to feel smaller after that. But it hadn''t. It had gotten wider. Colder. And now he was here. With a trail behind him and a longer one ahead. Meren shifted beside him, groaning as he rolled onto his back. "I''m gonna pretend I''m a snow bear. Just hibernate right here." Ren scoffed softly. "You''re not built for survival." "I''m built for naps." Ardan didn''t move. Lira glanced once at Lindarion''s flame, then back at the slope. Lindarion let the warmth flicker a little stronger. Just enough. He didn''t speak. He didn''t need to. Let the others joke. Let them rest. He would carry the memory. And when the time came, he would return to Evernight. Not as someone rescued. Not as someone broken. But as the one who came back. ¡ª The air cracked faintly as another spike of frost climbed from Luneth''s palm and vanished into the wind. The magic didn''t fight her. It rarely did anymore. Ice came when called. She exhaled, a long, slow breath that ghosted white and thin from her lips before the wind took it. She was alone. The training field behind the dormitories had long since emptied. No professors. No classmates. Just her and the familiar rhythm of cold pressing against her bones. She preferred it this way. No noise. No expectation to speak. No need to explain why she hadn''t joined the others in the lounge or walked back inside after dinner like a normal person. Luneth raised her hand again. A ring of frost spun lazily around her wrist, coalescing into needles that shimmered with the last threads of twilight. She let them hang there. Didn''t release them. Didn''t need to. ''He would''ve laughed at how dramatic this looks.'' The thought came uninvited. Like most of them did when the field went quiet. Lindarion. She scowled. Not because she was annoyed. Just out of habit. He had a way of getting into her head even when he wasn''t trying. Especially then. Always too calm. Too observant. Always watching like he already knew what you were about to do and was just politely waiting for you to catch up. Luneth turned her hand, let the frost scatter into the dirt. ''He wasn''t better than me...maybe...'' She wasn''t sure who she was trying to convince. He never said he was the best. Never tried to outshine people. He just... didn''t have to. He was the best. He stood there, quiet and strange, like someone who''d seen the end of the story before anyone else had read the first page. She hated that. No. She didn''t hate him. She hated not understanding him. She hated how she noticed when he wasn''t there. How his absence echoed louder than most people''s presence. Luneth crouched, rested her forearms on her knees, and stared at the frost crawling across the stone. ''He''d probably say something stupid if he saw me out here. Something vague and noble. Then leave before I could come up with a good answer.'' Her lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. She missed that, too. The way he never tried to fill the silence with empty noise. He let it sit. Let it breathe. Most people were afraid of that. She wasn''t. Neither was he. Maybe that''s why it bothered her so much when he was gone. Luneth traced a line in the frost with her fingertip. The cold didn''t bite. It welcomed. She wasn''t sure why she did it. ''He''s not dead.'' She told herself that more often than she told herself to breathe. ''He''s too stubborn.'' And maybe, just maybe, she wasn''t entirely looking forward to the day he came back. Because then she''d have to decide what to say. And she still didn''t know. Chapter 164: Cave The path had stopped pretending to be a trail. Loose rock scattered under his boots, thin patches of snow clinging to the edge like regret. Wind slammed sideways, colder than it had any right to be. Not even dramatic, just mean. Lindarion pulled his scarf higher over his mouth. ''Lovely. Freezing, blind, and upright only by stubbornness. A perfect hike.'' Lira walked ahead, silent as always. Her steps didn''t slip. Didn''t scrape. Just existed. Like the wind hadn''t gotten around to noticing her yet. Ren muttered something behind him about frostbite and poor life choices. Meren had stopped talking completely. Which was probably a bad sign. The clouds were closing fast. Not a gentle curtain. More like a ceiling dropping low, shoving the air down with it. Snow turned sideways. Visibility cut in half. Then halved again. Lindarion blinked hard. He could barely see Lira now. She raised one hand and pointed toward the cliff wall. It didn''t look like anything at first. Just more rock. Then the wind shifted, and part of it moved. Not rock. An opening. Barely a crack in the side of the mountain, narrow and rimmed in ice like it didn''t want to be touched. Ardan pushed Meren forward. Ren didn''t wait. She ducked inside first. Lindarion followed, one hand braced along the stone, the other ready if something jumped out and decided this was its dramatic entrance. Nothing did. Inside, it wasn''t warm. But it was still. Which was better. Lira was the last in. She stayed near the entrance, scanning the wind like she could physically hold it back. Lindarion leaned against the wall and finally let out a breath. ''Congratulations. We''ve upgraded from hypothermia to suspense.'' Ren sat near the far edge, shaking snow out of her hood like a soaked dog. "Ten seconds more and I would''ve started screaming." "You still might," Meren mumbled. "I''m pretty sure I lost three toes." "Don''t worry," Lindarion said, settling onto the stone. "We''ll bury them with honor." Ardan gave him a look. Not amused. Just exhausted. The cavern went deeper than it looked. Just a few steps in, the air shifted again. Not warm, but less sharp. The kind of cold that held its breath. He stepped in a little further, fire affinity humming quiet and obedient under his skin. Just in case. Lira finally spoke. "We wait out the storm here. Then move." Lindarion nodded once. Not because he agreed. Just because he was too tired to argue. He crouched, pulled his coat tighter, and let his back rest against the cavern wall. ''Just a storm. Just a break. Then we keep walking.'' He didn''t trust the quiet. But he''d take it. ¡ª The cavern didn''t creak. It breathed. Not literally. He wasn''t hallucinating yet. But it had that kind of sound. Not wind, not air. Just depth. A soft, slow exhale that seemed to come from nowhere. Lindarion stood again. His knees didn''t agree, but they didn''t argue too hard. The fire affinity pulsed once at his fingertips as he let a thread of flame hover above his palm. Not large. Just enough to light the space around him in a warm, steady glow. "Anyone coming?" he asked. Ren raised a hand from where she sat. "If I freeze to death, you''re all going to owe me emotionally." "That''s not how death works," Meren said without moving. Ardan was already up, eyes scanning the darker end of the cave. Lira didn''t answer. She just started walking. Lindarion followed. The entrance had narrowed behind them, a sharp triangle cut into the mountain like someone had taken a bite out of it. But once inside, the space opened up faster than it had any right to. Wide steps of stone, uneven and slick in places, led downward. No markings. No torch brackets. No signs anyone had ever stood here before. He didn''t like that. Too clean. Too quiet. Still, the fire in his hand held. No flicker. No pull. Which meant the air wasn''t damp. Or corrupted. Or cursed. Small victories. Ardan muttered something under his breath about formations. Probably didn''t mean to say it out loud. Lindarion kept moving. The walls were sharp in places. Like the rock hadn''t fully decided if it wanted to be a cave or a jaw. "Bet you ten coons this used to be a tunnel," Ren said behind him. "You don''t have ten coins," Lindarion said. "I''m good for it emotionally." "That''s not how currency works either." They stepped onto a broader shelf of stone. The air shifted again. Colder near the floor. Lindarion glanced at the wall beside him. Long, pale striations cut through the rock like veins. Not crystal. Not quartz. Something duller. And unfamiliar. He didn''t touch it. Lira moved closer to the wall. Her fingers hovered, never quite making contact. Then she turned slightly. "This wasn''t natural." Ardan nodded. "Collapsed in. Not carved. But someone reinforced it later." Meren squinted. "How do you even know that?" "I pay attention." "To rocks?" "Yes." "Sounds fake." Lindarion tuned them out. The trail sloped again. A narrow descent carved into the cavern wall. No handrails. No safety enchantments. Just faith in your balance and whatever gods you hadn''t annoyed recently. He stepped carefully. Boots scraped against worn stone, the grit underneath grinding like old teeth. The cavern opened again at the base of the slope. Wider now. The ceiling disappeared into darkness. Even the fire didn''t reach it. The walls curved outward. Not evenly. Just enough to make the space feel larger than it looked. Ren stepped beside him and whistled. "This place is creepier than Ardan''s social skills." Ardan didn''t dignify that with a response. Lindarion narrowed his eyes. Something across the floor glinted. He knelt. Ran his fingers just above the stone. Scorch marks. Not fresh. Not old either. Magic. Someone had used it here. He didn''t speak yet. Just stood slowly. Let the light from his fire spill wider. Dust moved in the air like it had been waiting for them to notice. "Someone''s been here," he said finally. Lira turned. "How long ago?" He shook his head. "Can''t tell. But not ancient." "Great," Ren muttered. "Love that for us." Meren crouched near one of the blackened spots. "I''m voting we go back and pretend we never saw this." "You don''t get a vote," Ardan said. "I never get a vote," Meren grumbled. Lindarion''s gaze swept the chamber again. No signs of battle. No bones. No torn cloth. Just that one trace of mana burn. Then another. He stepped left. Narrow groove scorched into the stone like someone had dragged a scorching body sideways. Then one more. Circular. Like the base of a rune had been set down and lifted again. "Something was sealed here," he said softly. Lira''s eyes met his. No one else spoke for a moment. Ren broke the silence with a sigh. "Let me guess. We''re camping here now." "Only until the storm passes," Lira said. "Right. Because obviously, this is a safe cave." Lindarion didn''t answer. He stood in the center of the burn marks. Let the heat in his hand flare slightly. The flame didn''t flicker. No residual magic. Whatever had happened here was finished. But not forgotten. ''If I get dragged into another ancient disaster like last time I was in a cave, I''m blaming the weather.'' He closed his hand. The fire winked out. "Let''s rest," he said. "But we post watches." Ardan nodded once. Meren groaned. Ren didn''t object, which was rare enough to count as a sign. Lira''s eyes never left the far wall. Lindarion sat against the stone again, arms crossed over his knees, listening to the quiet of a cavern that had definitely seen more interesting days than today. It could stay boring. He hoped it would. Chapter 165: Footsteps The cavern wasn''t cold anymore. No, that would have been polite. This was the kind of chill that got inside your teeth and asked if it could redecorate. Lindarion shifted his weight, back still pressed to the curved wall. The stone was smoother here. Not comforting, just less judgmental. Like a disappointed relative who didn''t expect much from you anyway. His breath fogged faintly, curling around his scarf like a lazy ghost. Meren had stretched out across a flat patch of ground and was already attempting to merge with it. His coat made him look like a small, defeated animal trying to disappear into the rock. "I''m not saying I''ll die here," Meren muttered, "but I am saying if I do, I want someone to tell my parents I had cool last words." "No one''s lying for you," Ren said, flicking a pebble at his head. Meren didn''t react. Either asleep or emotionally checked out. Or both. Ardan stood a few paces away, hands folded behind his back like he was preparing to deliver a lecture. Or execute someone. It was hard to tell with Ardan. Lira hadn''t moved since the seal marks. Her eyes were on the wall again, tracking something only she could see. Her posture hadn''t changed. Still coiled. Still ready. Lindarion doubted she even knew what relaxed looked like anymore. He let his head rest back. The ceiling was still a black void. The fire hadn''t touched it. Probably wouldn''t. Not unless he started throwing fireballs upward just to make a point. Which, to be fair, was tempting. ''That would make me feel better. Also probably kill nearly everyone. But you can''t have everything.'' His fingers twitched once. Just enough to let a thread of warmth pulse back into his hand. A small flame flickered back to life. Not big. Not dramatic. Just his version of a comfort blanket. One that could incinerate someone if hugged too hard. Ren sat cross-legged a few feet away, poking the stone with a stick she''d conjured from who-knows-where. "This feels cursed." Lindarion nodded slowly. "You say that like it''s a bad thing." "Curses come with complications. And paperwork." "Since when do you care about paperwork?" "Since I realized you can be cursed and still be legally liable for damages." Lindarion exhaled through his nose. It counted as a laugh. Barely. His gaze drifted back toward the seal mark. Still faintly burned into the ground. Too clean. Too round. The kind of shape that only ever meant trouble. But the air was still. No magic hum. No vibration. Just dust, stone, and disappointment. He leaned his head back again. ''This was supposed to be a simple detour. Climb a mountain, survive frostbite, avoid avalanches. You know. The basics.'' Instead, here they were. In a cave with ancient scorch marks and a general vibe of "bad things happened here." He rubbed his eyes with one hand. The fire flickered slightly, matching his mood. "You gonna sleep?" Ren asked. He didn''t answer at first. Didn''t really know. His thoughts weren''t racing. Just pacing. Quietly. Like they knew if they got too loud, they''d start asking questions again. About Evernight. About the people he''d left. The people he missed. Luneth''s face surfaced for half a second before he shoved it back down. ''Nope. Not doing that right now.'' "I''ll take second watch," he said instead. Ren grunted. "Fine. Don''t get eaten." "You too." Ardan had moved closer, now crouched near the opening they''d come through. His face was unreadable. As usual. Lindarion didn''t envy whoever tried to sneak past that man. Lira finally spoke. "Flame off. Try to rest." He blinked at her. She wasn''t looking at him. Just watching the far wall again. As if daring it to move. Still, he obeyed. The flame shrank, then disappeared into nothing. Darkness pressed in. Not heavy. Just present. Lindarion exhaled again, slower this time. His muscles didn''t unclench. But they stopped protesting. He let his eyes fall half-closed. ''Five minutes of sleep. That''s all I need. Five minutes and the world can wait.'' ¡ª The cave definitely wasn''t supposed to creak. It wasn''t made of wood. There were no beams. No rope. Nothing overhead but ancient stone and the occasional stalactite threatening a slow, dramatic death. And yet it creaked. Lindarion''s eyes snapped open. He stayed still. The kind of still where your body is ready to move but pretending not to exist. His hand was already half-curled toward his coat. Not for warmth. For the sword he didn''t want to need at three in the morning. Another sound. Deeper this time. A thud. Not loud. But low. Thick. Like someone had dropped a massive bag of wet stone somewhere in the dark. He glanced to his left. Ren was still asleep. Her arms folded, mouth slightly open like she''d been mid-complaint even in dreams. Meren was curled up with his cloak over his face, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like saying it was not his turn to watch. Ardan? Awake. Of course. Already sitting upright against the wall, one hand wrapped around the hilt of his blade like it had always been there. His eyes met Lindarion''s with that classic expression of someone saying ''so we''re doing this now''. Another thud. Softer. But closer. Lindarion sat up fully, slow. His joints didn''t protest. The cold wasn''t biting anymore. Which would''ve been nice if it didn''t feel like the cave had gone quiet for a reason. The air was wrong. Not stale. Not damp. Just... waiting. The kind of stillness that made you feel like the walls were listening. He let a tiny thread of fire bloom in his palm. Barely the size of a coin. Just enough to light the floor around him and not wake the others. No movement. No shadow. Just the steady drip of water somewhere deeper in the tunnel. He looked at Ardan again. Got a nod. A very slow, very annoyed nod. They both stood. The crunch of boots on stone felt too loud. Like the floor was ratting them out on purpose. Lira was nowhere to be seen. Of course. Ren stirred as Lindarion passed her. "What...?" He held a finger to his lips. Another thud. This one had rhythm. Like footsteps. Heavy ones. And close. Ren''s expression changed from half-asleep to wide awake in the span of one blink. She didn''t say anything. Just pulled her coat tighter and reached under it for her dagger. Meren groaned into his blanket. "Tell it I''m not home." "Shut up," Ren whispered. Lindarion stepped further into the cave''s inner chamber. The light from his flame barely touched the walls now. Shadows hung like curtains over every edge. The footsteps stopped. Completely. Chapter 166: A Baby (1) No echo. No shuffle. Just gone. He strained his ears. Heard nothing but the distant drip of water. Then another. Like something was breathing, far down the tunnel. Or waiting. He killed the flame. Not out of fear. Just instinct. He let his fingers hover near the hilt of his sword instead, body low, breath quiet. Behind him, Ren moved like a ghost. Ardan stayed where he was, anchoring the others with silence and posture alone. No one said a word. The cave didn''t creak again. But the weight of something unseen hung in the air like a coat he didn''t remember putting on. Lindarion squinted into the dark. Still nothing. But the steps had been real. Something was down there. The tension continued to crack like a dropped plate. Not from an attack. Not from screaming. From the soft, very deliberate click of tiny claws against stone. Lindarion blinked. The darkness ahead wasn''t threatening anymore. It was... waddling. A small shape emerged from the edge of the shadows, no taller than his knee, with wings tucked tight against its sides and stubby horns sticking out like someone had glued them on as an afterthought. The creature blinked up at them. Big eyes. Shiny scales. Tail twitching like it was trying out emotions for the first time. Behind it, Lira stepped into view. Her arms were folded. Her expression was unreadable, which for her meant she was probably thinking why do I live like this. The baby dragon sneezed. A tiny puff of smoke curled out of its nostrils. It looked very pleased with itself. Lindarion stared. So did Ren. Meren, blanket still half over his face, squinted. "Am I hallucinating a lizard with delusions of grandeur?" "Yes," Lindarion muttered. "But it''s real." Ren took two slow steps forward, then crouched. "Oh my gods. Look at it. It''s got toes." The dragon puffed its chest. It was a very small puff. Lira finally spoke. "It followed us in." "Did you invite it?" Ardan asked, voice flatter than the cave walls. "No," she said. "It was alone." Ren extended one hand, palm up. The dragon waddled closer. Then tripped. Fell on its face. Scrambled back up with a squeak like it had just remembered it had dignity. Ren made a noise that might have been a laugh or a barely-contained scream of joy. "We''re keeping it." "No," Lindarion said immediately. "Yes," she shot back. "It could be dangerous." "It fell over trying to blink." Lira crouched beside the dragon now, one hand resting just above its tiny head. "It hasn''t shown aggression." "It''s a dragon," Ardan said. "That''s the definition of future aggression." Lindarion sighed and stepped closer. The dragon turned toward him. Its eyes were too big for its head. Its scales shimmered faintly in the firelight, like someone had spilled glitter across obsidian. It blinked once. Then waddled straight toward him and sat on his foot. Just sat. Like it had claimed him. "Oh great," he muttered. "I''ve been chosen by the world''s smallest death machine." The dragon sneezed again. More smoke. Less menace. Ren grinned. "You''re a father now." "No." "Too late. You''ve imprinted." Meren finally pulled the blanket off his head. His eyes went wide. "Wait. Is that an actual dragon? Are we all about to die or be knighted or something? Because I''m not emotionally prepared for either." "No one is dying," Lira said calmly. "It''s young. Maybe weeks old." Ardan raised an eyebrow. "And we''re just ignoring the fact it''s here. Alone." "Clearly it has good taste," Ren said. "Look at us. Who wouldn''t follow?" Lindarion didn''t move. The dragon leaned against his boot, let out a high-pitched chirp, and closed its eyes. It fell asleep. Immediately. "Fantastic," he said. "I''m a mattress now." He glanced at Lira. "Any reason it picked me?" Her lips twitched. Not a smile. Just the ghost of knowing something she wasn''t going to share. "No." Which meant yes. Ren was already whispering names to herself. "Ember? No, too basic. Spitfire? Hm. Maybe Pudding." "Do not name it," Lindarion said. "I''m naming it." "Ren." "You can''t stop me." He sighed again. The baby dragon snored. It sounded like a kitten hiccuping. Meren whispered, "We''re going to die and it''s going to be cute the whole time." Lindarion didn''t argue. Because honestly? He wasn''t sure if they were blessed or doomed. Maybe both. The dragon was drooling on his boot. Not metaphorically. Not a little. Actual, honest-to-mana drool. Warm. Viscous. Slightly shimmery, like someone had melted down a pearl and decided it belonged on his foot. Lindarion stared at it. The dragon snored louder. Its tail gave a lazy flick like it was dreaming about setting something on fire. Probably him. He sighed. "Lira," he said flatly. "Why is this thing trying to adopt me?" She didn''t look up right away. Her eyes stayed on the dragon like she was cataloging it for a mental bestiary. Only when she finished whatever mental checklist she was running did she speak. "It''s not adoption." "Could''ve fooled me." She tilted her head slightly. "It''s imprinting." "That doesn''t explain anything." "It means," she said slowly, "you were the first one it felt safe near." Lindarion stared down at the glorified lizard snoring on his foot. Safe. ''Sure. Because nothing says security like a slightly annoyed eleven-year-old with abandonment issues and a core that hums louder the more tired he gets.'' He didn''t move. Not because he wanted the dragon to stay. But because he was ninety percent sure any sudden motion would wake it up. And then they''d have a very awake, very confused mini dragon with emotional baggage. "I didn''t do anything," he said. Lira''s eyes flicked up, unreadable. "Exactly." That felt like it meant more than she was letting on. He frowned. "You''re saying me doing nothing made it trust me." "Yes." Ren leaned in from the side, arms folded on her knees like she was watching a soap opera. "It curled up on you like a housecat. That''s powerful energy, Lindarion." "Don''t say that like it''s impressive." "I''m impressed." "You get impressed by shiny rocks." "Some of them are really shiny." He pressed two fingers to his temple. The dragon shifted slightly in its sleep, curling tighter around the side of his boot. Its tail wrapped around his ankle like it was anchoring itself. He glared down at it. It didn''t care. Not even a little. Chapter 167: A Baby (2) Lira crouched beside him now, a few feet away. She didn''t try to touch the dragon again. Just watched. "I think it''s alone," she said quietly. "I noticed," Lindarion replied. "No, I mean... completely." He didn''t answer right away. He looked at the scales. Dark, polished black edged in deep blue. Not faded. Not bruised. Just young. The kind of coloring that meant it hadn''t developed fire sacs yet. Maybe not even proper flight. No scars. No rider bindings. No jewelry or crest. Just... wild. And abandoned. A chill crawled under his coat, even though the flame he''d lit earlier was still hovering a few feet away, casting soft heat. He lowered his voice. "Do dragons usually do this?" "Not unless they''re raised near people. Or trained to respond to mana signatures." "I haven''t been doing anything." Lira tilted her head again, studying him in that unnerving way she always did. Like she was adding him up and didn''t care if the answer made sense or not. "You''re not doing anything now," she said. "But maybe you were. Without knowing." Ren made a low, suspicious hum. "Are we talking accidental soul bonding? Because I''m allergic to emotional metaphors." "I''m not bonded to a dragon," Lindarion muttered. "Keep telling yourself that," she said. "Meanwhile, I''m over here witnessing the start of a tragic friendship. It''s beautiful." Meren, still half-asleep with his back against a wall, cracked one eye open. "Can it breathe fire yet?" "No," Lira said. "Okay, then I vote we keep it." "You don''t get a vote," Lindarion and Ardan said at the same time. The dragon let out a tiny hiccup in its sleep. A puff of smoke drifted toward Lindarion''s knee and immediately disappeared into the cold. He looked at Lira again. She hadn''t moved. "Do I need to do anything?" he asked. "Just let it sleep," she said. "What happens when it wakes up?" Lira''s mouth twitched. Maybe a smile. Or maybe she was just imagining the chaos. "I don''t know, we''ll find out." ¡ª The dragon was drooling again. Now it had upgraded from his boot to his entire shin. Great. One step closer to being declared emotional support furniture. Lindarion stared at the little creature''s curved snout. Its nostrils flared once, then settled again. Its whole body rose and fell like a furry loaf of death and poor boundaries. Ren leaned closer and whispered like it was a baby in a crib. "You''re going to have to name it." "No, I don''t." "You bonded." "I sat still." "Same thing." Lindarion didn''t respond. He just peeled one glove off and lightly tapped the dragon''s scales with his knuckle. Warm. Solid. Breathing a little too peacefully for something hatched in a place full of cave echoes and murder vibes. ''Great. Found the only emotionally needy dragonlet in the wild. What are the odds..'' Ardan stood at the edge of the cavern, arms crossed, still facing the entrance like trouble owed him money and he was ready to collect. The man hadn''t looked back once. Either he didn''t care about the new dragon situation or he''d already assumed Lindarion would deal with it. Probably the second one. Meren was making quiet snoring noises again. His vote had been counted and then ignored.. Lira sat close by, sharpening a knife that didn''t need sharpening. Her eyes weren''t on the blade though. They were on him. Not the dragon. Him. Lindarion felt it like a draft. That sensation of being watched by someone who didn''t blink unless she was bored. He cleared his throat. "Still nothing?" She didn''t pretend to misunderstand. "I don''t think it''s injured," she said. "No mana rot. No nesting signs. It just... followed." "Sat down on me." Lira nodded once. "That''s not helpful," he said. "No. But it''s accurate." He didn''t argue. He was too tired, too cold, and if he was being honest with himself, kind of distracted by the fact that a creature with talons sharp enough to gut a bear had chosen his leg as its favorite pillow. Ren scooted a little closer, then pointed at the tail. "Can I touch it?" "No," he said automatically. She poked the tip of it anyway. The dragon didn''t even flinch. "Soft," she said, half-smiling. "Dangerous," he corrected. "Like you, then." "I''m not soft." "Sure you are. You keep collecting strays." Lindarion blinked at her. "That''s not true." "Ren," Meren said from his half-conscious pile on the floor, "name three." "Ardan." "Fair." "Meren." "Uncomfortably fair." "This one," she said, poking the dragon again. Lindarion glared at her. "You''re the one who dragged me across a haunted forest." "Which you handled perfectly. Congrats. Promotion to team emotional leader." He shut his mouth before something undignified came out. The dragon shifted again. This time, it uncurled just enough to nestle its head directly into the crook of Lindarion''s knee. One eye blinked open. Golden. Clear. Curious. Not hostile. Not scared. Just... observant. Lindarion stared back. "You''re going to be a problem." It blinked again. Yawned. Then promptly went back to sleep. Ren''s grin grew like someone had handed her another winning argument. "You''re doomed." Lira didn''t smile. Not really. But something about her expression had relaxed. "Name it," she said, voice low. "No," he said again. "If I name it, it becomes real." "It''s already real." "That''s not the point." "You definitely name swords," she said. "That''s different. Swords don''t snore on me." "They do if you''re very tired," Ren offered. He ignored that. The fire flickered low beside them. The cavern''s breath had evened out. No distant steps. No strange noises. Just the stillness of stone that had seen too much and decided not to care anymore. He looked back at the dragon. Its tail gave a lazy thump against the floor. And Lindarion, very quietly, muttered, "Fine. But it better not bite." Ren leaned in, already smug. "So what''s its name?" "I don''t know," he said, glaring at the ceiling. "Ask me when it saves my life or ruins my day." "So in about twelve hours," Meren called from the floor. Lindarion didn''t deny it. Chapter 168: A Baby (3) The dragon sneezed. It wasn''t cute. Okay, it was a little cute. But mostly it was wet. And it left a smear on his boot that looked suspiciously like molten spit. Lindarion stared at it in betrayal. The dragon, who remained nameless and deeply unconcerned with manners, blinked once and went back to sleep. Its tail did the slow curl-pulse thing again, thudding lightly against the ground like it was having a dream about winning. ''Fantastic. First it claims my leg. Now my boot. At this rate, I''m going to be the proud owner of a dragon-themed rash.'' Ren had moved closer. Too close. She was lying on her stomach now, chin in her hands, looking at the dragon like it was a puzzle she meant to solve with pure audacity. "What if it thinks you''re its mom?" "I am not its mom." "Would explain a lot." "I''m eleven." "It''s around the same age as you." Lindarion stared at her. Then at the dragon. Then at the ceiling. "This cave was a mistake." "I like it," Ren said. "The vibes are weird. Like something used to live here and died of awkward silence." "Possibly while someone made bad jokes." "Rude." Meren rolled over with a grunt. He''d built himself a nest out of spare cloaks and what looked like one of Ardan''s backup tunics. No one had stopped him. Ardan was too busy pretending not to be part of this group, standing like a disgruntled statue at the far end of the cavern with his arms crossed and his back to everyone. Meren blinked up at the ceiling. "So did we decide if the dragon is staying?" "No," Lindarion said. "Yes," Ren said at the same time. Lira didn''t say anything. Which was worrying. Silence from Lira was either judgment or long-term planning. Or both. The fire crackled once. Just once. Like it had been eavesdropping and wanted to contribute. Lindarion shifted slightly. The dragon whined. The tiniest sound. Like he''d offended it by daring to move his leg. He sighed. "This is my life now." Ren grinned. "You''ll get matching outfits soon." "We''re not naming it." "Too late. I''m naming it." "No." "Frostbite." Lindarion blinked. "That is the worst name I''ve ever heard." "It''s topical." "So is hypothermia." "That was my second choice." He looked over at Lira. She didn''t blink. "Frostbite is a bad name." "Thank you." "But it''s better than naming it Flamey." Lindarion pinched the bridge of his nose. The dragon lifted its head, snorted again, and then bit the edge of his glove. Gently. As a treat. "Fine," he muttered. "You want a name? How about Ashwing." Meren raised his hand without lifting his head. "Seconded." Ren tapped the dragon''s head like she was knighting it. "Welcome to the disaster club, Ashwing." The dragon yawned again. Then fell over sideways. Still asleep. Still warm. Still somehow smug. Lindarion let his head thunk back against the wall. ''Ashwing. That''s not terrible. Sounds vaguely majestic. Definitely better than Frostbite.'' He closed his eyes. Tried not to think about the fact that a baby dragon had adopted him in a cursed cavern during a blizzard. Tried not to think about what it meant. Tried not to think. Period. The dragon curled tighter around his leg and sighed. Of course it sighed. He muttered, "I hate this." Ashwing snored. Lira smirked. Which, frankly, was more terrifying than anything else that had happened all day. ¡ª The next morning started with a claw in his ribs. Not metaphorical. An actual, talon-shaped prod from a baby dragon that apparently didn''t understand personal space. Lindarion opened one eye. Ashwing sat perched on his hip like a smug heater with wings. The dragon blinked slowly. Then sneezed directly into his scarf. Perfect. ''If I die of magical pneumonia, someone better write that on the gravestone.'' He shoved the little beast gently to the side and sat up. His back cracked like someone stepping on old wood. His legs didn''t feel like legs. More like stiff excuses for mobility. Ashwing padded in a circle once. Then flopped back down on Lindarion''s feet with a content little huff. Ren was still asleep. Or possibly pretending. She was curled into a loose ball by the dying fire, one arm flung dramatically over her eyes like a stage actress who had just fainted from heartbreak. Meren snored quietly, half-covered by a blanket and what looked suspiciously like someone''s coat that definitely wasn''t his. Lira was already standing. Because of course she was. She leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, cloak draped in a way that looked accidental but probably wasn''t. Her gaze slid over to Lindarion. "You slept." "That''s what people do at night." "You didn''t look like you would." "Thanks for the vote of confidence." She didn''t smile. But the corner of her mouth might have twitched. Maybe. Hard to tell with her face. It was basically carved from the same rock as the cave. He stretched out his arms. The stiffness didn''t go away, but it relocated. Which was progress. Ashwing yawned on his feet. "Is this a permanent thing now?" he asked. "He likes you," Lira said. "Lots of creatures like things. Doesn''t mean I want them wrapped around my ankles while I''m trying to survive an avalanche." "He''s warm." "I''m warm." "Exactly." He scowled. "You''re enjoying this." "A little." Ardan stood near the entrance again. Completely awake. Probably had been all night. Because sleep was for mortals and emotionally adjusted people. He turned slightly toward them. "Storm''s easing. We should move." Ren made a sound somewhere between a groan and a curse. "Already?" "We wait too long, the ridge will ice over." "Let''s risk it." "No." Lindarion stood, stretching his arms once more. Ashwing jumped off his boots and followed with the same unbothered air of a cat who knew it owned the house. Meren stirred, looked around, blinked twice, then slumped back down again. "Wake him," Ardan said. Lira didn''t wait. She just grabbed a loose corner of Meren''s blanket and yanked it. Meren flailed upright. "I''M AWAKE¡ª" "You weren''t," Lira said. "I was just resting my¡ªwhat''s the word¡ªexistence." Ren patted his shoulder as she walked past. "You''re doing amazing." He looked around blearily. "Why is the dragon still here?" "Because Lindarion''s heart is a furnace of kindness," Ren said. "No," Lindarion said flatly. "Yes," Lira agreed, deadpan. Meren pointed at Ashwing. "What does it eat?" "Unclear," Lindarion said. "Possibly sarcasm." Ashwing chirped like it was agreeing. The group started packing up. It wasn''t graceful. It wasn''t fast. It involved a lot of swearing under breath and a dramatic amount of cloak shaking. Lindarion adjusted his pack again. The strap still bit into the same spot, but now he had a dragon tail wrapped around one ankle. Bonus weight. The air outside was brighter now. Still cold, but less like it wanted to kill them personally. Lira stepped out first. Snow crunched beneath her boots. Ren followed, dragging Meren by the sleeve. Ardan nodded once to Lindarion. He stepped out last. Ashwing followed. No leash. No command. Just... there. ''Great. I have a follower. What''s next, a theme song?'' The trail stretched ahead again. Frost clung to the edges, but the path was clearer now. The kind of clear that meant trouble was just farther away, not gone. Lindarion pulled his scarf higher. No words. No jokes this time. Just the quiet press of cold and the weight of warm scales at his heel. Chapter 169: Strategy (1) They walked. Or hiked. Or trudged, depending on who you asked and how much sleep they''d missed. The storm had finally backed off, though it left behind its signature move: a landscape so white it hurt to look at. The snow wasn''t soft either. It had that thin crust on top that cracked if you stepped wrong, which meant Meren was cracking it every three seconds and apologizing to no one in particular. Ashwing trotted beside Lindarion like a cheerful shoe infestation. Every few minutes, it would sneeze. And every time it did, Lindarion flinched, because the last one had melted a patch of his scarf. He hadn''t even known scarves could melt. But now he did. And the universe was richer for it. Ren had her hands jammed into her coat and was muttering under her breath about training dragons the traditional way. What that meant, no one asked. No one wanted to know. Lira walked at the front again. Standard formation. Unflinching, cloak snapping behind her like a flag that dared the wind to try something. Lindarion adjusted his pack. Again. The weight hadn''t changed, but his tolerance had. The strap was starting to feel like a personal grudge. "Remind me," he said, mostly to the air, "why we''re still climbing and not, say, sleeping in a slightly less cursed cave with fewer magical scorch marks." Ren answered without turning. "Because adventure." "Because regret," Meren corrected. "Because Lira said so," Ardan said from somewhere behind them. Deadpan, like he was quoting a prophecy. Which, to be fair, he might''ve been. The trail narrowed again, pushing them closer to the edge. On the left, the cliffside rose in frozen slabs. On the right, the drop fell away into white nothing. Lindarion''s boots crunched against a loose ridge of ice. Ashwing jumped ahead, then immediately flopped in a pile of snow like it had just discovered joy as a physical concept. "You''re supposed to be a dragon," he muttered. "Act like it." Ashwing responded by sneezing again. Another splash of heat on his boots. The smell of singed leather floated upward like a tiny, offended ghost. ''Fantastic. He''s going to burn through my wardrobe one toe at a time.'' They reached a bend in the trail, and the wind cut across them with the subtlety of a thrown axe. Everyone hunched instinctively. Except Lira. Because of course. She pointed ahead. "There''s a break in the ridge. Flat ground." "That sounds suspicious," Meren said. "Flat ground? In this economy?" Ren shoved him lightly. "Don''t jinx it." "I''m just saying. Last time we saw flat ground, something tried to eat us." "That was a bush," Ardan said. "And you tripped into it." "It was a very aggressive bush." Lindarion didn''t speak. His eyes were on the ground ahead. Not the path. The shapes just past it. Indentations. Not boot prints. Not claw marks either. Circular. Deep. Like something had landed there. Hard. Ashwing stopped walking. Its tiny body tensed. Wings twitching. Not scared, exactly. But alert. Lira saw it too. She crouched. Ran a hand over one of the impressions. Snow crunched under her fingers. "Recent," she said. "Too deep to be old." Ren frowned. "What makes that kind of mark?" Lira stood slowly. Her eyes flicked to Lindarion. "Something big." "That narrows it down to half the mountain," he said. She didn''t argue. Ashwing slunk back toward him. Its tail wrapped around his leg again. Comfort, maybe. Or instinct. Or maybe it just liked being inconvenient. He didn''t push it away. The wind howled again. The kind of howl that wasn''t dramatic, just cold. Straight through the layers. Into the bones. Meren sniffled loudly. "Can we vote to turn around now?" "No," Ardan said. "We''re a very undemocratic party," Meren grumbled. Ren took a few steps ahead, scanning the white for motion. Her face had shifted. Still casual, but with that edge she got when something was off. The kind of look that said: if something jumps out, I''m punching it first and asking questions after. Lindarion looked up at the sky. It hadn''t cleared. Just thinned. Enough to see the shape of the sun behind the clouds. Pale. Uninterested. Ashwing made a soft whine in his throat. He didn''t speak. But his claws dug slightly into Lindarion''s boot. Lindarion lowered his voice. "You felt it too?" The dragon blinked slowly. And for once, didn''t sneeze. That was probably the most ominous part. He glanced at Lira. "Should we stop?" "No," she said. "We''re close." "To what?" "To something." Fantastic. He pulled his scarf tighter and kept walking. The trail widened a little ahead. Just enough for a breath. Ashwing didn''t leave his side. And Lindarion didn''t make him. ¡ª The village looked closer now. Which was good. It also looked like it had a functioning gate, armed guards, and three separate watchtowers bristling with enough ballistae to take down a wyvern. Which was bad. Lindarion stopped just short of the final ridge and peered over the edge, scarf pulled high enough to almost pretend he wasn''t breathing frost every three seconds. Ashwing popped his little lizard head beside him and blinked at the sight like it was checking real estate value. Below, nestled between the slope and a frozen stream, sat a cluster of sharp-roofed homes and layered stone walls. Smoke rose from the chimneys. Orange. Cozy. The kind of smoke that suggested soup and survival. Lindarion tilted his head. ''Soup would be good. Soup and not getting arrested for harboring a dragon.'' Ashwing sneezed again. No fire this time. Just a faint hiss and the smell of ozone. Ren stepped beside him. "You think they have hot springs?" "I think they have problems with security," he said, nodding at the row of archers pacing on the upper wall. Lira crouched a few feet behind them, eyes narrowed. Watching the same walls, the same towers, the same sloped streets that curved inward like a hand protecting something important. Meren caught up late and immediately regretted it. "I swear I was happier not seeing anything. Now I''m cold, tired, and about to be turned into soup." "That''s not how villages work," Ardan said, not looking up from the trail. "You don''t know that." "Actually, I do." Lindarion tuned them out. His fingers itched. Not from cold. Just instinct. Ashwing was still pressed against his shin like a shadow with claws. The dragon let out a tiny puff of air, not exactly anxious, but not thrilled either. Yeah. Same, buddy. "Problem," Ren said. "No," Meren replied instantly. "I''m done with problems." "Too bad," she said, pointing. "They have a ward barrier." Lindarion blinked. Then squinted. She was right. Barely visible, but definitely there, thin lines of etched magic humming faintly along the village border. The kind of thing you didn''t notice until you got too close, and then suddenly you were sizzling like bacon because you brought in something the ward didn''t like. Like, say, a baby dragon. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course they do." "Is it lethal?" Meren asked. "Depends," Lira said calmly. "How much dragon''s in your pocket." Ashwing chirped. "Shh," Lindarion muttered. "You''re not helping." Ren glanced over. "So what''s the plan? Sneak him in under a cloak? Pretend he''s a weird dog?" "Very weird," Meren added. "With a melting problem." Ashwing sneezed again. Chapter 170: Strategy (2) The snow under Lindarion''s boot started to sizzle. He stepped sideways before his foot dissolved. Lira didn''t look away from the ward. "We could camp until nightfall. Let the storm cover our approach." "And then what?" Lindarion asked. "Stroll in and pray the dragon doesn''t sneeze on a gatepost?" Ren shrugged. "You''re the magical prodigy. Make him invisible." "I''m also eleven." "Child labor. Tragic." He looked at Ashwing again. The dragon blinked. Flopped. Curled tighter against his leg like he belonged there. And okay, maybe he did. But belonging didn''t fix magical border defenses keyed to vaporize anything draconic. Lindarion exhaled slowly. "We need a distraction." "I''m not setting anything on fire," Meren said quickly. "No one asked you to." "Yet." Lira stood and brushed snow off her gloves. "I''ll scout the edge. Check for weak points in the barrier." Ardan finally joined them on the ridge. Silent. Tall. Already evaluating threats like it was his full-time job. Ren reached down and poked Ashwing once on the snout. "We could dress him up." "No." "A hat. Tiny glasses." "No." "A backpack with a hole for the tail." Lindarion didn''t answer. He just stared at the wardline again and tried to calculate the risk of smuggling a magical lizard past a dozen enchanted defenses and a few hundred paranoid villagers. Ashwing licked his boot. He sighed. "This is the worst rescue mission I''ve ever been adopted into." Ren grinned. "Come on. He''s cute." "So is a fireball. Until it eats your leg." Ashwing sneezed again. Lindarion gave up and started walking downhill. He didn''t have a plan yet. But he was eleven, cold, and responsible for a creature that could sneeze its way into a war crime. He''d think of something. ¡ª The village looked closer now. Which wasn''t comforting. It meant decisions had to be made. Lindarion stood behind a half-frozen boulder, cloak pulled tighter, watching the quiet rows of stone buildings flicker with wardlight. Too orderly. Too polite. The kind of place that asked for names, not stories. Ashwing sat beside him, tail thudding rhythmically against the snow. Like he was excited. Which probably meant trouble. Meren muttered something that sounded like a prayer to the gods of warmth and functional diplomacy. Ren whistled low. "So. Village. Guards. Borders. Big storm behind us. Dragon in front of us. How do we not get arrested?" Ardan didn''t respond. He was in full statue mode again. If stone could radiate judgment, he''d carved it perfectly. Lira scanned the ridgeline with her usual look of I already hate whatever is about to happen. Lindarion shifted his stance, rubbed a thumb along the edge of one glove, and sighed. "We could enter properly." Ren blinked. "Properly?" "You know. Walk up to the gate. Say hello. Announce the presence of a very important elf." "Your plan," she said slowly, "is to weaponize your actual royal bloodline." "It can cause enough problems," he said. "Might as well get some mileage out of it." Meren flopped into a nearby snowbank like a dying poet. "We''re announcing the dragon too, right? Because otherwise I am not emotionally prepared for what happens when it sneezes on a guard." Ashwing sneezed again. Lindarion didn''t look down. "We tell them it''s a bonded creature. No threat. No wild magic." Ren crossed her arms. "And if they still see it as a walking fire hazard?" "Then we leave." "Just like that?" He gave her the flattest look he could manage. "You''ve seen what we walk through casually. What''s one more gate rejection?" Ardan finally broke his silence. "You think the Sunblade name will work here?" "It should work, maybe." "Charming." "Effective," Lindarion corrected. Ren stretched her arms over her head. "Do I have to act respectful?" "No," he said. Lira turned back toward the trail. "There''s a ward line just beyond the ridge. Static pulse. Not hostile. I can walk us in without triggering anything." "Walk us in?" Meren asked. "As in... casually stroll into a warded village with a baby dragon and a princeling and hope they''re feeling generous?" "Yes," Lira said. "Oh," Meren said. "Okay. Just wanted to make sure I fully understood how dumb we''re being." Ashwing did a little hop and landed on Lindarion''s boot again. "Can we at least try not to scare the first person we meet?" Lindarion asked. "No promises," Ren said. They moved out. Snow crunched. Ashwing pranced. Lindarion pulled his scarf a little higher. This was going to be fine. Probably. Possibly. No. Definitely not. ''We''re going to traumatize someone''s innkeeper today, I can feel it.'' ¡ª The path to the village gate was less of a road and more of a suggestion. Snow swallowed the stones. Wind erased the footprints as fast as they made them. If the mountain had opinions, it was expressing them through passive-aggressive weather. Ashwing bounded ahead like this was his idea. Lindarion kept one eye on the dragon and one on the ward line they were approaching. It shimmered faintly, a thin vertical ripple like light trying to remember how to behave. Ren leaned in as they walked. "So, how do introductions work in noble elf speak? Do we bow? Curtsy? Offer blood?" "Just let me talk." "Because you''re such a people person?" "I should be able to outrank most people." "Ah. So threats." "Diplomacy." "Right. Same thing." Meren trudged along behind them. "If they arrest us, can I claim I was kidnapped?" "No," Lindarion said. "You signed up for this." "With my mouth, not my heart." "Tragic." Ardan said nothing. But he walked like a man who already knew which wall he was going to lean against while the chaos unfolded. Lira raised one hand. A quiet gesture. They stopped. The ward line shimmered brighter now. It was keyed to movement. Mana presence. Possibly mood. Lindarion stepped forward. He let his core steady, just enough to hum, not enough to radiate. A soft push. Not a flex. Just a reminder. The barrier reacted. Not with resistance. Just awareness. Like a dog sniffing an unfamiliar guest. Then it let him through. Ren followed without waiting for instructions. Of course. Ashwing flounced through like he''d been invited. The ripple didn''t flicker. Lira stepped through last. No alarms. No resistance. Just a slight shift in the air pressure that said, very politely, I see you. Beyond the line, the path became real again. Flattened snow. Packed stone. Ward posts set in shallow curves to funnel travelers toward the gate like sheep with questionable paperwork. The village walls weren''t tall. Just tall enough to say they were safe and also slightly paranoid. Two guards waited near the entrance. One human. One elf. Both wearing expressions that said they''d already had a long morning and were in no mood for surprises. So of course, Ashwing sneezed. Smoke. Sparks. No actual fire. Just enough to make both guards straighten like someone had lit a torch under their boots. Lindarion stepped forward, pulling his scarf down. "I am Lindarion Sunblade of Eldorath," he said clearly. "This is my party. That"¡ªhe pointed at Ashwing¡ª"is a tamed draconic hatchling under my protection. We seek passage and temporary shelter." The elf guard blinked. The human one stared at the dragon. Ashwing blinked back. The tension stretched. Not thick. Just awkward. Like someone had told a joke in the wrong tone and no one knew how to respond. Then the elf cleared his throat and bowed slightly. "Prince Sunblade. You''re... expected?" Lindarion''s expression didn''t shift. "Of course." He was not expected. At all. But saying otherwise wouldn''t have helped. The guards exchanged a glance that involved more eyebrow movement than actual communication. Then they stepped aside. "The north lodging is open. You''ll be directed there." Ren whispered, "That''s it? No check? No screaming?" Meren hissed, "Don''t jinx it." Ardan walked through like he didn''t care whether they were expected or exiled. Lira nodded once at the guards. Nothing friendly. Just efficient acknowledgment. Ashwing waddled in behind Lindarion, tail twitching like he owned the cobblestones. Lindarion didn''t look back. But he could feel the guards still staring. He sighed under his breath. ''So far, no disasters. Which means we''re about due for one.'' They walked toward the village square. And the trouble they absolutely did not intend to cause. Chapter 171: Village (1) The village wasn''t exactly welcoming. Not hostile either. Just that awkward brand of small-town curious where everyone stared like they were trying to figure out whether to sell you soup or report you to a local god. Lindarion didn''t blame them. A baby dragon had just pranced into their square like it owned the place. Ashwing trotted a few steps ahead, tail curled up like a banner, wings half open for drama, making proud little snort sounds with every bounce. Which wouldn''t have been a problem, except the last snort lit a cart wheel on fire. Just a little. Meren made a high-pitched noise. Ren slapped the flame out with her scarf like this was a perfectly reasonable start to the morning. "Don''t worry," she said to the cart owner, whose mouth was stuck somewhere between the words help and why me. "He''s teething. We think." Ashwing puffed out his chest and sneezed again. Smoke, not fire. Progress. Lindarion dragged a hand down his face. "I should''ve just left him in the cave." "You tried," Lira said from beside him. "He followed you." "He imprinted." "I''m not his mother." "You are now." They kept walking. The stares never stopped. One butcher had frozen mid-chop. A group of kids stood behind a crate, whispering like Ashwing was some kind of cryptid. Someone near the well dropped a pail and didn''t even bother to pick it up. Ardan said nothing. Which was normal. But now he somehow radiated even more don''t-look-at-me-than-usual energy. Not that it worked. When your group included a prince, a dragon, and two professional sarcasm machines, subtlety died in the snow somewhere back on the mountain. Lindarion caught sight of a sign swinging above what looked like an inn. It had seen better days. And worse owners. Ren read the sign aloud. "The Roosting Pike. That''s not cursed at all." "Name''s accurate," Meren said. "I feel roasted." "You''re just dramatic." "I''m dying of frostbite." "You always are." Ashwing chirped and rubbed against Lindarion''s leg like a cat. A really hot cat with claws and emotional issues. Great. He glanced around again. Eyes on them. Everywhere. Suspicion with a side of folk horror. Probably wondering if they were here to trade, steal, or summon something. He sighed. "Do I need to say something? Do the whole noble introduction thing?" "You''re the prince," Ren offered helpfully. "You do royal stuff." "I don''t have a tiara." "Get one." Meren elbowed him. "Just say something cool. Like, ''We come in peace.''" Lira gave them all a long, deadpan look. "We''re going inside before this turns into a public crisis." She opened the door of the inn without knocking. Ashwing barreled in like he paid rent. Lindarion followed, pulling his scarf down just enough to breathe in something that might''ve been old woodsmoke or someone''s last meal. Unclear. The room inside was small, warm, and filled with the distinct smell of potatoes. Ardan did a sweep of the room with his usual I could kill everyone here in six seconds, expression. Which meant everything was fine. Lira nodded once at the innkeeper. "Rooms." The woman behind the counter opened her mouth, saw Ashwing peeking out from behind Lindarion''s legs, and visibly recalculated her entire life. "Right," she said. "Upstairs. Two rooms. No questions." Smart woman. Ren flopped onto the nearest bench like she had just fought a war. Meren followed with all the grace of someone who had never sat in a chair before. Ashwing curled under the table and immediately fell asleep like this was his favorite tavern in the world. Lindarion leaned against the wall. His shoulders ached. His legs ached. His sense of dignity had curled up next to Ashwing hours ago. The silence stretched for a bit. Peaceful. Warm. Then Ren said, "We''re definitely getting kicked out in the morning." Lindarion closed his eyes. "I''m counting on it." ¡ª It was fifteen full seconds of peace. Then the door creaked open behind them. Not the dramatic kind of creak that implies mystery. Footsteps followed. Slow. Purposeful. Ashwing didn''t move. Which either meant he wasn''t worried, or he had found the warmest patch of floor and declared war on anything that tried to claim it. Lindarion cracked one eye open. The man standing in the doorway looked official. Which, in village terms, meant he had sleeves. And a sash. And a beard trimmed like it had thoughts about taxes. "Prince Lindarion Sunblade?" Lindarion stood up a little straighter. Mostly because the bench was stabbing him in the spine. "Yes." The man bowed. Not deep, but deep enough to acknowledge rank without looking like he was about to ask for a favor. "I am Elder Raleth, caretaker of Kareth Hollow. We had word from the watch that someone... notable had arrived." Lindarion glanced at Ashwing, then back. "Was it the dragon or the sarcasm that tipped them off?" Raleth didn''t blink. "Both." Ren snorted behind him. Meren tried to look serious and failed halfway through a yawn. Lira had already moved to stand near the wall. Cloak shifted back just enough to reveal the edge of her blade. Not threatening. Just polite awareness. Ardan remained seated. Because Ardan did what he wanted and dared people to question it. Raleth looked around the room, carefully avoiding eye contact with Ashwing, who had started snoring softly. "You''re welcome to stay as long as you like. Though the presence of a young wyrm might... complicate matters." "We''ll keep him under control," Lindarion said. Raleth nodded once. "See that you do. There are old stories in these mountains. Some people don''t know the difference between legend and threat." Lindarion didn''t smile. "Neither do dragons." That earned the tiniest twitch of Raleth''s mouth. Almost respect. Or maybe just resignation. He inclined his head again. "If you need provisions or maps, my home is at the center of the village. Third door past the well. You can''t miss it. It''s the one with the green lantern." "Because that''s not ominous at all," Ren muttered. Raleth ignored her like a professional. "Rest well." He turned and walked out. The door creaked again. Then silence. Chapter 172: Village (2) Ren looked over at Lindarion. "Well. That went better than I expected." "You expected pitchforks," he said. "I still do. I just think they''re taking their time." Ashwing rolled over and thumped his tail twice against the floor. Probably dreaming about claiming someone else''s shoes. Lindarion sat back down. The bench still hurt. But the warmth helped. And for now, no one was bleeding thankfully. ¡ª Ashwing refused to walk like a normal creature. There were options. Several of them. Four legs. Two wings. A perfectly fine range of motion across stone and snow. And yet. Ashwing was currently riding Lindarion''s shoulders like a smug, slightly radioactive scarf. The tail kept slipping down the back of his coat. The claws were very careful, but not careful enough to avoid making every step feel like a mildly inconvenient acupuncture session. And the breath? Warm. In theory. In practice? Steam directly down his collar. Lindarion tried not to look like he regretted all his life decisions. Too late for that. "Third door past the well," he muttered to himself as they crossed the village square. A few people looked up from whatever rustic things they were doing, chopping wood, moving crates, pretending not to be eavesdropping and immediately decided today was not the day to get involved with anything involving dragons and royalty. Wise. The well was easy to find. It had a crooked bucket, three broken stones, and the unmistakable aura of something that had seen at least one incident involving either a curse or a goat. Lindarion stopped in front of the third house. Green lantern, just like the man said. Which absolutely did not make it look less like a place where someone brewed morally ambiguous potions and offered unsolicited prophecies. Ashwing sniffed the air, tail flicking. Then let out a small chirp. "Yeah," Lindarion said, "I''m thrilled too." He knocked. The door creaked open slowly. Not dramatically. Just enough to say: someone inside had manners, but not urgency. Raleth stood in the entryway. Still official. Still bearded. He glanced at Ashwing, then stepped aside without comment. "Come in." Lindarion ducked under the low beam and entered. Ashwing hopped off his shoulders and immediately made himself at home by curling up next to the nearest fireplace like he paid taxes here. The inside of the house was warm, quiet, and lined with old wooden shelves. Some had books. Some had plants. One had a very organized collection of polished stones that gave off faint hums like they were remembering arguments they''d never win. Raleth walked to a table and motioned for Lindarion to sit. He did. Carefully. Mostly because the chair looked like it had been built to handle elderly scholars and not emotionally compromised elves with portable dragons. "You said if we needed maps," Lindarion began, "this was the place." Raleth nodded. "I did." He opened a drawer. Pulled out a scroll. Unrolled it slowly, smoothing the edges. The parchment showed the mountain range, sketched in sharp ink lines. Trails, ridges, faded ink marks where someone had updated a path or drawn a little skull. The usual. Raleth tapped a spot east of the village. "This pass will carry you down into the lower valleys. Two days on foot, if you avoid the old mining routes. Bandits sometimes use those." "Of course they do." "And if the weather turns again, you''ll need to stop here." He tapped another spot. "An outpost. Small. Mostly ruins. But enough shelter to not die." "Very reassuring." Raleth looked up. "I assumed sarcasm came with your title." "It was part of the package," Lindarion said. "Along with the brooding and the ancient trauma." Ashwing sneezed in agreement. Raleth did not smile. But he paused for a moment like he was deciding whether to be amused. "You''ll need supplies." "I figured." "Your dragon¡ª" "Still working on boundaries." "¡ªwill need meat." "Of course he will." Raleth walked to another cupboard and opened it. Inside were wrapped parcels. He took two and placed them on the table. "Dried venison. Won''t last more than a few days, but it''s something." Lindarion blinked. "You''re... giving this to us?" "You''re the prince. And he¡ª" he looked at Ashwing "¡ªis the closest thing we''ve had to divine entertainment in years." Ashwing stretched his neck and yawned like he knew exactly how famous he was. Lindarion stood, taking the scroll and the parcel. "Thanks. Seriously." Raleth nodded once. "Don''t die in the pass. It reflects badly on local hospitality." Lindarion smirked. "I''ll do my best." He turned, and Ashwing immediately trotted over, claws clicking neatly on the wood floor like an overly confident lizard with aspirations of nobility. The wind outside had picked up. Snow swept low across the path. Ashwing blinked once at it, then tucked under Lindarion''s coat without asking. Because privacy was for people without scales, apparently. He stepped back into the square. The villagers were still staring. Lindarion adjusted his scarf. Pulled his hood up. "Alright, Ashwing," he muttered. "Let''s go explain to the others how we got food, directions, and unofficial approval in under ten minutes." The dragon purred. Lindarion kept walking. Because somehow, he was becoming the kind of person who got things done. With a dragon. Against his will. ¡ª Ashwing trotted ahead like he had errands to run and absolutely no concept of personal danger. His tail swung with the kind of swagger only a creature that had never experienced consequences could muster. Lindarion followed slowly, scarf pulled low, hood down. The cold had stopped biting and settled for a slow simmer, but the smell of chimney smoke still clung to the edges of the village like someone had tried to mask a funeral with stew. He took his time. Not because he was tired, obviously. Definitely not because his legs were starting to feel like they''d been traded out for those stiff mannequin ones used to sell pants in sad stores. No. This was called strategic pacing. Ashwing sneezed on a snowdrift. It hissed. ''We''ll pretend that was charming.'' They reached the inn again. The sign still swayed, the kind of squeak that implied both weather damage and possible ghosts. He was about to step through the door when a man rounded the corner. Big guy. Not Ardan big, but the kind of big that came from lifting barrels and holding grudges. He stopped. Looked Lindarion over. Didn''t say anything. Didn''t have to. That was the kind of stare you didn''t have to translate. It came with years of practice and the subtle grace of a boot to the ribs. Lindarion adjusted his coat. "Problem?" he asked. The man gave him the slow once-over. Took in the cloak, the sword, the posture. Then his gaze landed on the ears. "Didn''t know the tavern let in animals." Ah. A classic. Ashwing growled softly. Lindarion laid a hand on his head. Not for comfort. Just in case the dragon decided this was the moment he started eating people. Chapter 173: Village (3) "I''ve always been curious," Lindarion said, voice even. "Why do so many of you hate elves?" The man''s eyebrows lifted, like he hadn''t expected an answer. Which, fair. Most elves didn''t ask. Most humans didn''t explain. "You really want to know?" "I wouldn''t have asked if I didn''t." The man crossed his arms. "You''re not like us." "Not the strongest argument. Neither is a bear." "Some of your kind act better. Smarter. Always keeping to your trees and towers. Think that makes you special." Lindarion tilted his head. "So it''s a vibes thing." "It''s a power thing. You live longer. You''ve got magic in your blood. But when war breaks out, who bleeds more?" Lindarion didn''t answer right away. Mostly because Ashwing had decided to chew on a bootlace and he was trying not to trip. The man kept going. "Humans build. Elves hide. We claw our way out of dirt. You get kingdoms handed down through bloodlines like heirlooms." There it was. Not hate. Just the usual cocktail of fear and history with a garnish of insecurity. Lindarion met the man''s eyes. No smile. No threat. "You''re not wrong," he said. That caught him off guard. Slightly. "But let me offer something," Lindarion added. "Just because we didn''t start the fire doesn''t mean we''re not standing in the smoke." The man frowned. "That supposed to mean something?" "Probably not. I''m eleven. Most of what I say is poetic nonsense." He stepped past the man without waiting for a response. Ashwing followed, tail high, chewing on a twig now. Upgrade from bootlace. Lindarion didn''t look back. He didn''t need to. He''d heard this before. He''d hear it again. The difference was, this time, he didn''t feel like apologizing for it. Inside the inn, the warmth hit like a slow punch. Ren looked up from where she was dealing cards to a very unimpressed Lira and a half-asleep Meren. "Make any friends?" "Deep emotional bonding," Lindarion said flatly. "We''re starting a book club." Ashwing hopped up onto a bench, curled into a ball, and sighed like the world was too heavy for his small scaly heart. Lindarion sat beside him. And for once, didn''t correct him. ¡ª Raleth''s hands moved slowly over the scroll. Not because he was unsure. Just because haste made mistakes, and he didn''t enjoy repeating himself. Or paperwork. Or most things. The communication parchment was already primed. Embedded with a low-grade enchantment to the Eldorath court''s relay system. It pulsed once under his thumb. Warm. Expectant. Slightly judgey. He sighed. "Yes, yes. I''m touching you. Calm down." The room was quiet. A small chamber in the village''s central hall, mostly used for weddings, announcements, and the occasional chicken tribunal. The walls smelled like old cedar and disappointment. A painting of some heroic figure hung crooked on the far side. Probably a founder. Definitely not a good one. Raleth shifted in his chair, adjusting his robes. He''d had better mornings. He''d also had worse. This one landed somewhere between an unexpected guest and diplomatic migraine. The dragon had nearly incinerated the welcome mat. The elf prince had asked actual questions. And somehow, Meren hadn''t exploded yet. Progress. He pressed two fingers to the glyph on the scroll and let a thread of mana feed into it. The parchment sparked once. Then glowed a soft blue. A thin veil of illusion shimmered up from the surface, forming the translucent image of a faceless court scribe. Raleth cleared his throat. "Message for Eldorath Internal Affairs, Status Code Three-Seven-One. Personal identifier: Raleth of Dalglen Watch. Position: Acting Warden." The scribe blinked. Didn''t speak. Just waited. As all good scribes did. Raleth kept going. "Prince Lindarion Sunblade has arrived safely at the village of Hearthrun, under escort. No injuries. No known pursuit." He hesitated. Then added, "He also has a dragon." The scribe didn''t react. Probably because they were an illusion. Or emotionally dead inside. Raleth exhaled through his nose. "Small. Young. Not hostile. Yet." He let that sit for a moment, then continued. "The prince is traveling with a group. Identities confirmed: Lira of Tirnaeth. Ardan, from the Kingdom''s court. Two human exiles. No significant disturbances aside from mild property damage." Another pause. "By the dragon. Not the prince." He sat back. Let the mana drip a bit slower now. His fingers tapped the wood of the chair. Not a habit. Just something to do so he didn''t start swearing out loud. The scribe finally spoke. A voice like polished wood and suppressed judgment. "Do you believe the prince is safe to continue traveling?" Raleth considered lying. Then didn''t. "I believe he''s safer than most rulers in their own courts. And significantly less likely to start a war." Another pause. "The dragon may start a fire, though." The scribe gave a mechanical nod. "Report acknowledged. Relay complete. This log will be sealed and filed." The scroll pulsed. Then burned. Clean. Smokeless. Like it had never existed at all. Raleth leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath through his nose. "Well," he muttered, "that''s someone else''s problem now." He stood slowly. His knees made a sound like betrayal. Outside the window, snow still drifted past the rooftops. Calm. Deceptive. He watched it for a few seconds. Then turned and walked out. ¡ª The warmth of the inn felt almost suspicious. Like it knew they didn''t belong here and was trying to lull them into a false sense of comfort before something terrible happened. A spilled drink. A spilled secret. A spontaneous tavern brawl where Ashwing set the curtains on fire. Again. Lindarion leaned against the bench, one arm draped over the backrest, trying to convince his shoulders they weren''t made of stone. Ashwing curled at his side, still pretending to be a normal pet and not a walking furnace with wings. His tail twitched every few seconds. Possibly dreaming about chasing goats. Or eating them. Ren flicked a card at Lira''s forehead. It bounced off. "You blinked," Ren said. "No," Lira said. "You did. Your right eye twitched. That counts." Lira said nothing. The next card vanished mid-air. Ren blinked. Looked down. Her hand was empty. The card was not coming back. "Okay. So she''s cheating now." "I''m done," Lira said, standing up with the kind of finality usually reserved for sentencing. Ren sighed like a defeated storm cloud and slumped against the table. "I liked her better when she didn''t participate." "You say that about everyone," Meren mumbled from his slouched position, half-asleep and probably drooling onto the wooden floor. "Even me." Ren poked his leg with her boot. "Especially you." Lindarion didn''t say anything. Just took it in. The sound of a hearth crackling somewhere behind the bar. The faint clatter of dishes being stacked by a harried innkeeper who probably hated their entire group. A storm still raging outside, muffled to a dull hiss against the windowpanes. Peace. Chapter 174: Village (4) Not trust. Not safety. But peace. Which was rare enough to feel weird. Ashwing made a sleepy noise, rolled over, and used Lindarion''s thigh as a pillow. "Comfortable?" Lindarion muttered. The dragon huffed like he paid rent and deserved more space. He didn''t move him. Instead, he slid his pack out from under the bench, unlatched one of the smaller flaps, and pulled out the map Raleth had given him earlier. Folded tight. Edges worn like it had lived too many lives in someone''s coat pocket. He ran his fingers along the crease. Still dry. Still intact. No hidden curses, no illusions. He flipped it open slowly. The parchment made a soft crinkle, loud in the quiet. Lines. Marks. Elevation curves. Notes in faded ink. Most of it legible. Some of it wishful thinking. He squinted. Three days east. Two south. Then a river. Then a cliff he was pretty sure had been named something dramatic like "Veilbreaker Ridge," which felt like a bad omen even for this group. A small red mark hovered near the edge. Current location. He tapped it once. Lira stepped over from the far side. No words. Just looked down at the map like she''d already memorized it three weeks ago. He pointed. "Trail forks here. Which do we take?" She didn''t answer immediately. Her eyes flicked across the paper. Then to the window. Then back. "That depends," she said finally. "On whether we want to be seen." "We''re bringing a dragon." "He can wear a cloak." Lindarion turned to Ashwing, who was snoring with his feet in the air and one eyelid twitching like he was in a fistfight with a dream. "Sure. A cloak." Lira crouched next to him. Not close. Just within the range of useful distance. "Raleth gave you this?" "Yeah." "Trustworthy?" "He didn''t try to stab me. That''s basically a reference letter these days." She nodded. "Fair." He folded the map again. Slid it back into the pack. Ashwing rolled over and landed halfway in Lindarion''s lap. No dignity. Just pure, scaled entitlement. Lira looked down at the dragon. "You''ve lost all authority." "Did I have much here to begin with?" She almost smiled. Almost. Ren slid over, chin resting on her arms. "Are we plotting again? I love plotting." "No," Lindarion said. "Yes," Lira said. "Don''t tell her that." "She''s already sitting." "Still." Ren beamed. "I knew it." Ashwing blinked up at them. Then yawned fire. Not much. Just enough to scorch a tiny circle into the bench. Lindarion stared at it. Then at Lira. Then at the ceiling. "Three more days," he said. "That''s all we need to survive." "You keep saying that," she said. "It''s a motivational chant." "You''re lying to yourself." "Absolutely." Ashwing sneezed and curled back into his usual lizard-lump shape. Lira stood again. "Get some sleep," she said. "Storm breaks by dawn." Ren yawned like she was proving a point. "If the roof doesn''t blow off first." "If it does," Lira said, "you''ll be the first to know." She walked off without waiting for a response. Ren gave Lindarion a slow, exaggerated thumbs up. "She''s warming up to you." "Fantastic," he said, picking up the fire-singed bench piece. "I''ll invite her to the dragon''s birthday party." Ashwing made a pleased noise. Of course he did. ¡ª The scroll appeared without fanfare. Which was already a problem. Things that arrived in silence were rarely the kind of things you wanted. Eldrin Sunblade looked down at the parchment on his desk like it had personally insulted his bloodline. The seal was official, burnt silver with the sigil of the inner court. Faint mana hum. Stable. Not tampered. Still. He didn''t reach for it right away. The chamber was quiet. Always was. Not out of peace. Out of design. No servants allowed past the outer doors. No aides unless summoned. Only the guards posted beyond the archways, and even they knew better than to breathe too loud. This was his new thinking room. The place where the kingdom was held in place with the weight of a single decision. And today, apparently, that decision was going to be delivered via enchanted scroll like some overconfident scribe had forgotten who they were addressing. Eldrin finally picked it up. Broke the seal with one flick of his fingers. Unfurled it. Read it. Then he didn''t move for a full ten seconds. The only sound was the soft rustle of distant wind against stained glass. "Alive," he said aloud. Just once. Testing the shape of the word in his mouth. The scroll said more than that. Safe. Traveling. Accompanied. One dragon. Minor property damage. ''Of course, you''re my son after all...'' But the only word that mattered had been the first. He leaned back in his chair. Not slouching. Just... shifting. The way mountains did when they thought no one was watching. His eyes skimmed the last few lines again. No pursuit. No injuries. Unstable traveling companions. Expected. And a dragon. ''Seriously? A dragon, son?'' He let out a breath that wasn''t quite a sigh. Of course his son had found a dragon. Of course it had imprinted on him. Of course it was small and a menace and probably setting barns on fire by accident. Melion would have laughed. He didn''t. He folded the scroll. Set it down. Pressed two fingers against his temple. This would complicate things. Which was saying something, considering Lindarion had already been kidnapped, vanished, possibly tortured, then dropped off the map like a rebellious shooting star. And now he was in a backwater human village with a dragon and a group of magical misfits pretending they were on a school field trip. Perfect. He stood. Slowly. Robes rustling like offended paper. Walked toward the window. The light outside was muted. Pale gold through layers of winter cloud. It painted the floor in long, even shadows. Regal. Cold. Familiar. He didn''t say anything else. Just stood there. One hand clasped behind his back. The other resting lightly on the hilt of the ceremonial blade he never drew. Lindarion was alive. Somewhere out there, his son was walking under a grey sky, probably muttering about mud and responsibility, setting accidental fires, being eleven, being more. That was enough for now. Let the court argue. Let the scribes whisper. Let the dragons choose. He would wait. And when the boy came home... Well. Then they would talk. Maybe. If they had time. Chapter 175: Proper Food The inn smelled like old firewood, fried something, and indecision. Lindarion made it to the common room half a step behind Ashwing, who burst through the swinging door like a noble conqueror who had just woken from a nap and remembered food was a thing. The dragon didn''t walk. He pranced. Tail high, wings slightly out, claws tapping like he had a soundtrack only he could hear. Lindarion followed, scarf half-twisted, boots slightly uneven, and dignity bleeding out of his posture one step at a time. Ren was already seated at the nearest table, trying to balance a buttered roll on Meren''s head. Meren looked dead inside. "Is this breakfast," Lindarion said flatly. "It''s performance art," Ren replied. "You should be arrested." Ashwing made a noise that sounded like approval. Lira and Ardan sat at a corner table. Quiet. Not together, but coordinated in that way people get when they''ve seen things explode and no longer expect nice things to happen in public. A server walked over. Early twenties, wide eyes, apron slightly singed at the hem like maybe this place had a casual dragon policy. He stared at Lindarion for a second longer than normal. Then his eyes dropped to Ashwing, who had taken up residence beside the table and was sniffing the leg of every chair like he was choosing a throne. "You''re the prince, right?" the server asked. Lindarion blinked. "What gave it away?" "The posture. And the dragon. And the rumors. And also the part where Raleth told everyone." "Right. Forgot about the village-wide alert." The server smiled nervously. "We''ve got a meal prepped for you. Special request from the kitchen. Complimentary, of course." Lindarion tilted his head. "Why do I feel like you''re about to wheel out a turkey the size of my self-esteem?" The server just nodded, already turning to leave. "Be right back, Your Highness." Ren leaned back in her chair. "Look at you. Getting the royal treatment." "I haven''t earned it." "You survived frostbite, bandits, a magical cave, and a dragon adoption. I think that counts." "I did not adopt him." Ashwing lifted his head and sneezed into Lindarion''s boot. Meren wiped butter off his forehead. "He''s your child now. You can''t fight it." The server returned two minutes later. Not with a plate. With a tray. It had everything. Steamed vegetables, spiced meat, baked roots, something that looked like roasted apples but might''ve been a trick. Three kinds of bread. Two kinds of cheese. A very suspicious pie. And a full bowl of something that might''ve been dragon-friendly stew. Lindarion stared at it. Ashwing sat up straight. The server set it down with reverence. "From the Hearthrun kitchen. An apology for the stares. And the attempted pitchforking." Ren whistled. "Better get used to it, Your Highness." "I''m eating now," Lindarion said. "I can''t hear anything over the sound of royal entitlement." Ashwing hopped onto the bench beside him like he''d done it every day of his life. He stuck his nose into the bowl of stew. No hesitation. Immediate slurp. Meren reached for a piece of bread. Lindarion slapped his hand away with a fork. "Royal food," he said. "You''re terrible." "I''ve earned it." He took a bite of the spiced meat. Chewed. Closed his eyes. Let the heat soak into the cold parts of his chest that hadn''t warmed in days. It wasn''t a feast. Not really. But it tasted like survival. And that was enough. He opened one eye. Ren had already stolen a roll. Lira hadn''t touched her plate yet. Ardan drank something dark from a mug that probably counted as a war crime. Ashwing licked the stew bowl clean. And Lindarion, the official prince, reluctant adventurer, emotional cryptid, took another bite. No storms. No monsters. No maps. Just food. ¡ª The food didn''t stop tasting good. Lindarion kept chewing, mostly to give his brain something to focus on that wasn''t the swirl of politics, prophecy, or dragon adoption forms. The spiced meat was tender. The bread warm enough to still steam when torn. One of the cheeses might have been illegal. He didn''t care. Ashwing had claimed the corner of the table with both front claws and one wing. His bowl of stew was empty, his tongue was working on the leftover broth like it had personally offended him, and his tail had started to tap the bench in contentment. Like a metronome. For chaos. Ren had three rolls on her plate and a fourth in her sleeve. "Don''t judge me," she said, mid-bite. "This is self-care." "I''m not judging," Lindarion said. "I''m admiring your hoarding instincts." "I learned from watching you." "I''m elegant. You''re a food gremlin." "Semantics." Meren was attempting to butter something with the wrong side of a knife. His face had that distant expression that usually meant he was either deeply moved by the flavor or imagining death by pastry. Lira, as usual, was eating like she might have to draw her blade between bites. Methodical. Quiet. Focused. She hadn''t looked up once. Which, coming from her, was the closest thing to joy. Ardan hadn''t touched the food. He nursed his mug like it was a grudge. Lindarion glanced at it. "You know, you''re allowed to eat." "I don''t need to." "That''s a lie." Ardan said nothing. Ashwing sneezed again. Meren flinched. "That''s the third time. I''m developing trauma." "He''s just expressing himself," Ren said, patting Ashwing''s back like a proud aunt. "I can feel my soul leaving my body every time he does it." Ashwing gave a low chirp. Almost smug. Lindarion took another bite of something vaguely pie-shaped. It was warm, spiced, slightly sweet. No idea what was in it. Probably magic. Or whatever counted as seasonal fruit in a village that looked like it snowed twelve months a year. He leaned back slightly, fork in hand. "This," he said, "is the highlight of the last two weeks." "That''s sad," Meren muttered, still chewing. "That''s honest," Lindarion replied. The warmth from the food had finally reached his limbs. The stiffness in his shoulders had started to fade. The fatigue behind his eyes didn''t leave, but it stopped knocking. And no one had died in over twenty-four hours. Which, statistically, was progress. Lira set her utensils down. Wiped her hands. Looked up. "After this, we stock up. Rest for like three days. Then we leave." Ren groaned. "We just got here." "Exactly." Ardan nodded once. Meren let his face drop into his plate with a muffled sigh. Ashwing licked his ear. Meren screamed. Lindarion smirked into his cup. For the first time in a long while, everything felt manageable. Not simple. Never that. But grounded. Like maybe, just maybe, they weren''t completely screwed. He took one more piece of bread. He didn''t have to say it. They all felt it. Warm food. Good boots. A roof overhead. And a dragon under the table. It didn''t get better than that. Chapter 176: Miracle The air had gotten colder again. Not the murderous kind from the mountain, just the kind that reminded you boots had seams and winter didn''t care. The snow in the village had turned to a soft crunch, trampled down by enough footsteps to make it politely navigable. The inn sat at the end of the lane like it had done something heroic. Probably hadn''t. But it was warm, and it had chairs. Lindarion shoved his hands in his pockets and let the others trail behind at varying degrees of exhaustion and carbohydrate overload. Meren was hiccuping softly like he''d fought and lost a battle with a potato dumpling. Ren had stolen something from the counter. Again. She was halfway through eating it. No one stopped her anymore. Ashwing trotted beside Lindarion with a little too much confidence for a creature who had tried to eat soap this morning. "Don''t get used to being fed three meals a day," Lindarion muttered. "You''re still technically a wild animal." Ashwing sneezed a smoke ring that might''ve spelled disrespect in ancient draconic. It was a quiet, tired kind of evening. And then a voice. "Wait!" Small. High. Out of breath. ''What could it be now?'' Lindarion turned just enough to see the source. A kid. Human. Maybe ten. Brown hair stuck in every direction, boots too big, cloak fraying at the edges like it had been someone else''s first. He looked like he''d run across the village twice without breathing. Ren froze mid-bite. "That''s not ominous at all." The boy skidded to a stop in front of Lindarion. Looked up. Eyes wide. No fear. Just desperation. Which was worse. "You''re the prince, right?" Lindarion blinked. "That''s... complicated." "But you are," the kid said. "You''re the elf prince. People were talking." ''People talk way too much.'' Lindarion resisted the urge to crouch. He hated crouching. It made his knees feel ancient. Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "My mother''s sick," the boy said, voice pitched somewhere between shy and desperate. "They said... they said a prince came. Elven." Technically true. Technically dumb. "And you thought I was handing out miracles with breakfast?" The kid flinched. ''Well, that came off rude.'' Great. Now he felt like a villain. Add it to the collection. Ren leaned in, peering at the boy like he was an unfamiliar kind of bug. "How sick are we talking?" "She can''t walk. She hasn''t opened her eyes since yesterday. We don''t have any tonic left. The healer left town two weeks ago." Lindarion exhaled through his nose. Of course she did. "Please," the kid said, hands clenched in his too-short sleeves. "I thought maybe¡ªmaybe you could help. Because you''re... special." Behind him, Ashwing sneezed into the snow. Dramatic timing. Perfect. Lira hadn''t said anything yet. But she looked at him now. Not judging. Just watching. He could ignore it. He should. He didn''t. "Alright," Lindarion said. "Lead the way." The boy looked stunned for half a second. Then turned on his heel and bolted down the path like his legs were powered by sheer panic. Meren muttered, "We''re doing charity now?" Ren elbowed him. "Shut up. This is his development." Lindarion followed the kid through a narrow alley of frozen wood and crumbling stone, Ashwing trotting after him like a smoke-emitting shadow. The house was barely standing. Roof patched with tarp. Windows fogged with grime. Inside, it smelled like damp wool and despair. The boy pointed to the far wall. A bed, too thin to be useful, held the shape of a curled figure under a quilt. That was it. No incense. No prayers. No dramatic cries. Just quiet sickness. The kind that crept in and stayed. Lindarion stepped closer. Not fast. Just enough. The woman looked young. Or she would have, if she didn''t already have death painting shadows under her skin. Her breathing was shallow. Not gone. But fading. The boy hovered behind him like a thread about to snap. Lindarion knelt. He didn''t reach for her. Didn''t need to. Divine affinity wasn''t loud. Not when done right. Not when wielded like a whisper instead of a banner. ''Let''s see if this works.'' He let the power rise, soft and internal. No symbols. No glow. Just heat, like sunlight that hadn''t decided whether to burn or bless. He let it thread into his palm, then lowered it near her chest. Not touching. Just close enough for the air to shift. His eyes half-closed. Breathe in. Breathe out. Push nothing. Invite everything. The warmth spread. Not from him. Through him. Like the world exhaled and forgot to be cruel for a second. She stirred. Faint. Barely a twitch. But her breath deepened. Color returned to her face. Not all. But enough to not look ghost-made. He stood without waiting further. "She''ll wake soon," he said. "Let her drink warm broth. No cold drafts. Keep her sleeping." The boy blinked. "You¡ªhow¡ª" "I''m just good at pretending I know what I''m doing," Lindarion said flatly. ''Not like I can say I have multiple affinities.'' Behind him, Ashwing licked a soot smudge off the floor. Ren leaned in from the doorframe. "You alright?" "Peachy." Meren squinted. "Did you do something?" Lindarion turned. "I frowned very intensely at the sickness. It got scared." Ren grinned. "Sounds legit." ''She knows.'' The boy stared at him like he was made of stars and poor decision-making. Lindarion sighed. "Don''t tell anyone." "About what?" "Exactly." They left the house. Snow had started falling again, soft and silent. Ashwing sneezed at it like it was personally offensive. Lira caught his eye once as they walked back toward the inn. Not a question. Not praise. Just understanding. He hated that a little. Because it meant she knew as well. And that meant the rest of the group probably would soon, too. And he was running out of things to keep secret. But for now, the air felt warmer. His hands steady. And behind him, a boy ran back into his house with hope rattling in his chest like it had just remembered how to beat. Not bad. Not bad at all. Chapter 177: Prince Perks The snow didn''t stop falling. Just got sneakier about it. Thinner flakes. Slower drop. But colder. The kind of cold that snuck into your sleeves without permission and made you reevaluate every life choice that had led to this moment, including the one where you healed a stranger with divine magic and tried to pretend you hadn''t. Lindarion adjusted his scarf. Ashwing walked in front now, tail swaying side to side with way too much confidence for someone who had eaten a pinecone earlier. Ren walked beside him, silent for once. That was suspicious. "Say it," Lindarion muttered. Ren blinked innocently. "Say what?" "You''ve been holding in a comment since we left that house. You''re going to explode if you don''t." She grinned. "I was just thinking. For someone so emotionally constipated, you''re surprisingly good with kids." "I''ll take that as a compliment." "You should take it as a diagnosis." Meren jogged a few steps to catch up. "Did anyone else feel that?" Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "Feel what?" "That weird... warmth. Not emotional. Like actual air temperature shift. Right before the lady moved." "Nope," Ren said, lying immediately. "Maybe the house is haunted," Lindarion said helpfully. "That explains nothing," Meren said. "It explains everything if you stop asking questions." Ashwing gave a tiny huff like he was agreeing. Or just irritated at the snow again. His wings puffed slightly and then folded tighter against his sides as if deciding flight was still a bad idea. They passed a row of shops shuttered for the evening. The wooden signs creaked overhead, swaying in lazy rhythm with the wind. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked once, changed its mind, and stopped. Lira waited at the corner. Leaning against a post like she''d been there the whole time. Ardan stood a few paces back, arms crossed, doing his usual impression of a gargoyle with deep moral disappointment. "You took your time," Lira said. Ren shrugged. "We got emotionally side-tracked." "Small child. Sick mom. You know the deal," Lindarion added. Lira''s eyes slid over to him, not lingering, not questioning. Just... noting. "Was she alright?" she asked. "She is now." That earned the smallest nod. Almost invisible. But he caught it. They turned the final bend toward the inn. Warm light spilled out through its small windows, distorted by frost and slightly warped glass. The kind of light that promised soup, dry clothes, and three hours of listening to Meren snore like a dying engine. Ashwing trotted ahead and scratched once at the door like he owned the place. Then waited. Polite. Until it opened and he barreled in anyway. "Still not trained," Ren observed. "Neither are you," Meren muttered. Lindarion stepped through last. The warmth inside hit like a soft slap. Not aggressive. Just firm. Like the inn wanted to say, Welcome back, now sit down before you fall over. He didn''t argue. Ashwing had already claimed a spot under the bench by the fire. Tail curled, eyes half-lidded. Professional napping mode. Ren tossed her gloves onto the table. "I''m calling dibs on the first bowl of soup." "There''s no soup yet," Ardan pointed out. "There will be. I have faith." "You have delusion." "Close enough." Lindarion shrugged off his coat and dropped into the same corner seat as earlier. Same bench. Same creaky wood. Somehow, it felt more solid this time. Lira sat across from him, silent as always. Watching the fire like it owed her something. Meren slumped beside Ren and immediately started trying to steal one of her gloves as a pillow. She slapped his hand away without looking. Ardan stayed standing. Probably by choice. Probably so he could scan the room twelve more times in case a spoon rebelled and needed stabbing. Lindarion leaned his arms on the table. He wasn''t tired. Not really. But the weight behind his ribs felt... used. Not drained. Not gone. Just spent. Like maybe doing the right thing took energy, even if it didn''t cost anything obvious. He looked over at Ashwing. The dragon blinked up at him, then let out a single soft chirp and rested its head on its claws. ''Yeah. Same.'' The room stayed quiet. Comfortably, this time. Warm light, half-frozen boots steaming near the hearth, fire popping just enough to remind everyone it still existed. Nobody said thank you. Nobody needed to. He didn''t want one anyway. A bowl hit the table in front of him with a satisfying thud. Then another. Then a third. Meat, bread, something suspiciously stew-like. All way more than anyone else''s plate. Ren raised an eyebrow. "Prince perks?" Lindarion looked at the food. Then at her. Then deadpan. "Absolutely." She smirked. He didn''t deny it. And he didn''t share. Ashwing chirped. ''Fine. Maybe a bite.'' ¡ª The last spoon hit the bottom of the bowl like a declaration of war against hunger. Lindarion stared at the empty dish, full in the stomach but empty in the soul. Or maybe that was just the post-meal crash. Hard to tell when half your calories came from mystery meat and spicy regret. Ren leaned back with her arms behind her head. "Well, if I die tomorrow, at least I''ll die fed." "You''ll die dramatic," Meren said, licking gravy off his thumb. "Same thing." Across the table, Lira was still chewing. Slowly. Thoughtfully. Like she had decided each bite deserved a military-grade tactical analysis. Her plate was nearly clean, except for a perfectly untouched chunk of bread she''d been ignoring like it insulted her lineage. Ardan had finished first. Because of course he had. Probably inhaled the food in two silent minutes and was now sitting there like a monument to brooding. Ashwing was under the table, purring softly. Or snoring. Possibly both. Curled into a perfect spiral of smug contentment, belly full and limbs twitching like he was chasing something heroic in his sleep. Maybe a chicken. Maybe existential purpose. The warmth in the room was finally winning. Not the kind that burned. The kind that convinced your bones to stop pretending they were important. Chapter 178: Knock Knock Ardan didn''t say anything. Just got up and nodded once toward the stairs before heading that way, silent boots on creaking wood. Probably to sleep in a corner with his eyes open and a knife under the pillow. Lira remained seated. For a while. She looked like someone who didn''t get tired so much as quietly shut down in phases. Lindarion stood slowly. His legs agreed. Barely. He gave her a look. A soft one. "Coming?" She blinked. Just once. Then nodded and followed. No goodnights. No bedtime routines. No emotionally significant bonding. Just stairs, footsteps, and the creak of old floorboards that definitely had opinions. The rooms upstairs weren''t fancy. One had three beds crammed into it with a chair that was absolutely cursed. Another had two beds and a window that whistled in high wind like it was performing for tips. They split without discussion. Ashwing followed Lindarion like a slightly judgmental shadow, tail tapping against the wood in a slow rhythm. As if he had memorized the acoustics already. Inside the room, the bed was firm. The blankets scratchy. The pillow suspiciously lumpy. But it beat the floor. Or snow. Or existential despair. He sat on the edge of the mattress. Let out a long breath. Ashwing jumped up beside him. Spun once. Settled. Head on Lindarion''s thigh like this was a nightly routine and not a bold improvisation. The fire affinity in his chest hummed low. Steady. He didn''t need it right now. But it was there. Warm like memory. Alive like instinct. He looked out the window once. Just snow. Still falling. He didn''t speak. Didn''t move. Eventually, he lay back, one hand on the dragon''s back, eyes half-lidded. No big thoughts. No dramatic monologues. Just the quiet weight of full stomachs, heavy limbs, and the kind of peace you didn''t question too hard in case it noticed. Sleep came. Quiet. Unforced. ¡ª Knock. Knock. Of course. Because clearly, sleep was a luxury. Not a right. Lindarion peeled one eye open. Ashwing remained dead to the world, draped dramatically across the lower half of the bed like some tragic romantic heroine who had been denied dessert. Another knock. Soft. Even. The polite kind of persistent. He pushed himself up, blanket slouching off his shoulders. The room wasn''t cold, but the way the wooden floors sucked warmth out of your bones definitely counted as betrayal. He opened the door. ''Lira...?'' No cloak. Boots unlaced. Hair fraying just enough to prove she wasn''t made of glass. She looked calm. Which in Lira terms meant she''d already made peace with whatever disaster she was about to walk into. Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Ashwing committed a war crime before we went to sleep?" She didn''t smile. She also didn''t argue. She just stepped past him and into the room like this was a completely normal time to visit. Lindarion shut the door with a sigh. "If this is about watch rotations, I''m rejecting the draft." "It''s not." She hovered near the window, eyes flicking once to Ashwing''s vaguely snoring form before settling back into something unreadable. Silence. Not tense. Not awkward. Just... Lira-shaped. Lindarion crossed his arms. "So?" "I saw what you did." "You''ll have to be more specific. I do a lot of things. Most of them reluctantly." "The healing. With the boy." ''Oh. Right. That.'' He shrugged, casual. "He was scared. It helped." "You didn''t use your fire affinity." "I also didn''t juggle or dance. Should I have?" She gave him a look. Not sharp. Just... focused. "You barely even focused. That wasn''t just a light affinity or a low-tier affinity. It was something divine." Lindarion didn''t flinch. But something inside his stomach did that thing where it tried to casually launch itself into his throat. ''I know she has high awareness but this is wild.'' He looked away. Pretended to study a crack in the wooden beam overhead. "It was just a trick." "No. It wasn''t." Another beat of silence. Ashwing twitched, rolled over, and flopped a leg across Lindarion''s pillow like he''d claimed it in a legally binding sleep treaty. Lira didn''t move. "You''re hiding them." He didn''t answer. "Not just one," she continued. "More." Lindarion let out a slow breath through his nose. ''How does she even know?'' "Do you want me to deny it?" he asked. "No." "Do you want me to explain it?" "Also no." That surprised him. Just a little. She finally turned to face him fully. Her eyes were calm. No accusations. No suspicion. Just understanding. And maybe something else underneath it. Something older. "You don''t need to tell me," she said. "But don''t lie about who you are. Not to us. Not to yourself." He hated that. Mostly because it wasn''t wrong. He dropped onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. Ashwing made a noise that could only be described as lizard indignation. "I didn''t ask for it," he muttered. "I know." "I''m not even sure what to do with all of it. Half the time it just sits there like it''s waiting for me to have a meaningful battle." Lira raised an eyebrow. "So... next century?" He rolled his eyes. "Hilarious." She stepped toward the door. Paused with one hand on the frame. "If you ever need to use it again," she said without turning, "you don''t have to explain it to me." Then she opened the door and left. Just like that. No goodbye. No dramatic exits. Just one more quiet truth dropped into the pile of things Lindarion wasn''t sure how to feel about. He looked down. Ashwing was upside down now. One eye barely open. One wing twitching. "Don''t look at me like that," Lindarion muttered. "You don''t even have affinities." Ashwing burped. Smoke. Faint. Sassy. Lindarion pulled the blanket back over himself and lay down. The bed was warm. Too warm. He didn''t care. Sleep came slow. But it came. ¡ª Morning hit like a wet sock to the face. Not because anything dramatic happened. No explosions. No screaming. Not even a single bandit-related inconvenience. Just light. Streaming in through the window like it owned the place. Lindarion squinted at the sunbeam falling across his face. Rude. Uninvited. And somehow brighter than his will to live. Ashwing was still asleep. Upside down. Legs in the air like some tragic fire-lizard reenacting the death scene of a soap opera character. Lindarion slowly peeled himself upright. Every muscle protested. Not in pain. Just principle. He''d made the mistake of existing and his body wanted him to know about it. He ran a hand through his hair. It was doing that uncooperative thing again where it decided gravity was optional. Fine. Whatever. He didn''t need to look like royalty today. Chapter 179: People Talk He stood. Stretched. Immediately regretted it. Ashwing snorted in his sleep and rolled toward the wall, claws twitching like he was chasing something in his dreams. ''Hopefully not a child this time.'' Lindarion shuffled toward the small wash basin. Splash. Cold water. Regret. That about summed it up. He dressed in silence. His coat was stiffer now, too many nights of wind and cave-walls and not enough laundering spells. He pulled the strap of his pack over one shoulder. It still bit into the same cursed spot. Naturally. He looked at Ashwing again. The dragon cracked one eye. "Get up." Ashwing did not. "Fine. I''m leaving without you." Ashwing yawned and rolled further into the blankets like a burrito made of ego. Lindarion walked to the door, opened it¡ª Ashwing was at his heels before he''d even stepped out. "Of course." The hall was quiet. A little too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant someone was either plotting breakfast or murder. Possibly both. Downstairs, the inn''s common room was lit with a low orange glow. Someone had rekindled the hearth. And someone else had left what could only be described as a plate of effort on the nearest table. Bread. Cheese. A questionable fruit. Ren was sitting cross-legged on the bench, chewing like it owed her money. She looked up. "Morning, Royalty." He sat across from her. "I will throw this fruit at you." "It''s probably not ripe." "Good. Extra damage." Meren stumbled down the stairs a few seconds later. Hair still a mess. Shirt half-tucked. He blinked at the food like it might disappear if he looked too hard. "Bless the elves," he mumbled, grabbing the cheese. "You''re welcome," Lindarion muttered. Ashwing hopped onto the bench beside him. Immediately started chewing on the table leg. Ren poked at a small cup of something steaming. "Tea. Maybe." "Maybe?" "Could be soup." "Could be poison." "I''m drinking it anyway." Ardan emerged a moment later, fully armored like he''d just finished fighting the dawn itself. He nodded once, sat down, and started eating with the solemn focus of a monk. No one asked him where he''d been. Lira arrived last. Because of course she did. Hair tied back. Boots clean. Expression neutral. She looked like someone who had already sparred, bathed, and solved a regional dispute before breakfast. She sat beside Ren. Said nothing. Picked up her bread. Bit into it like it had personally wronged her. Lindarion watched them all for a moment. The chaotic blend of sarcasm, stoicism, murder potential, and fire hazards that somehow passed as his group. Ashwing bumped his leg once. Settled in beside him like this was perfectly normal. He reached down and scratched the dragon behind the horns. Just once. Quiet. He didn''t say anything. Didn''t need to. It was going to be a long day. ¡ª The door creaked open. Not in a dramatic, thunderclap way. Just the kind of slow, deliberate creak that said someone had lived long enough to stop rushing anything, especially conversations. Lindarion didn''t look up at first. Mostly because he was halfway through a piece of bread and making the crucial decision of whether to add jam or continue enjoying the only edible part of the meal. Ashwing, however, perked up. The dragon''s head shot up like someone had whispered free bacon into his soul. His tail thumped twice against the bench. Hard. Ren leaned sideways to look past Lindarion. "We expecting guests?" "Not unless someone invited a tax collector," Meren muttered. Ardan didn''t turn around. He just said, "Someone''s armed." That got Lindarion to glance over. It was Raleth. Warden. Village leader. Bear impersonator. He stood at the edge of the common room, cloak dusted in snow, hands clasped behind his back like a man who''d tried breakfast once and never forgave it. His beard had new frost in it. His expression had the same careful neutrality as yesterday, which was impressive considering Ashwing had burned his welcome mat and probably a chunk of his soul. Lira nodded once. "Warden." "Lady Tirnaeth," Raleth returned calmly. His eyes moved across the group. Paused briefly on Meren, who was now trying to butter his bread with a spoon. Then shifted to Lindarion. "Prince." Lindarion chewed, swallowed, and offered the most noncommittal nod in existence. "Still alive. Still grateful for the roof. Still not doing speeches." "Good," Raleth said. "I don''t like speeches." He stepped further into the room, boots thudding softly on the wood. He didn''t sit. Didn''t lean. Just stood there like an old statue that occasionally filed tax reports. "I''ve been told," he began, "that one of your party cured a sick villager last night." Lindarion lifted his tea. "That''s a strong word. I prefer ''accidentally fixed someone with minimal side effects.''" Raleth didn''t blink. "People talk. Fast. Especially when you bring divine magic into a town where the temple''s been closed since the collapse." Meren looked up. "What collapsed?" "The roof. The clergy. Take your pick." Ashwing chirped. A sympathetic noise. Probably. Or just gas. Raleth''s gaze settled again on Lindarion. Calm. Measuring. "You used divine affinity." Lindarion nodded. "I did." "You hiding it?" "I was. Poorly." Raleth didn''t sigh. But he did make the sort of face someone makes when they realize they might have to mediate a holy dispute with a teenager and a lizard. "There''ll be talk," he said. "There already is." Lindarion shrugged. "I''ve lived through worse than gossip." "Good. Because you''ll get it." Ren leaned forward on her elbows, smiling like she had popcorn. "Are we talking angry pitchfork gossip, or the ''he might be a saint'' kind?" Raleth gave her a slow look. "Yes." Lindarion set down his tea. "I''m not here to lead a revival," he said. "Or start a new religion. Or convert your sheep. I helped a child. That''s it." Raleth looked at him a moment longer. Then nodded. "Keep helping. Or don''t. But don''t pretend it didn''t happen." Then, with no ceremony and less flair than a burnt biscuit, he turned around and walked out. The door shut with the soft finality of a man who didn''t waste energy on goodbyes. Meren blinked. "He''s like if a tree decided to lecture you." Ren looked impressed. "He reminds me of my aunt. The scary one who made stew and war threats in the same sentence." Lira stood. Took the last piece of bread from the plate like it owed her money. Ardan muttered, "Three days. That''s all." Lindarion sat back again. Ashwing flopped onto his lap with a satisfied grunt. The day had officially started. Chapter 180: Road Clearing (1) They didn''t make it five minutes into post-breakfast peace. Lindarion had just relocated to the bench closest to the window. Not because he needed a view, but because Ashwing had decided the windowsill was now his personal sunspot, and staring into middle distance felt appropriately brooding for someone with too many affinities and zero privacy. Ren was making little pyramid stacks out of leftover crusts. Meren had attempted a nap and was failing due to his own dramatic sighing. Ardan stood like a statue carved from disappointment and old injuries. Lira was sharpening her knife. Because of course she was. The door creaked again. Not an ominous creak. Raleth entered, once again with the aura of a man who''d been up since dawn arguing with a rooster. This time, though, he wasn''t alone. Behind him stood a girl. Maybe fifteen. Brown hair pulled into a too-tight braid. Eyes wide like she wasn''t sure if this was a rescue or an interrogation. She held a bundle of parchment against her chest like it might explode if jostled. Lindarion leaned forward slightly. Not suspicious. Just tired and ready for whatever drama the universe had assigned today. Raleth didn''t bother with greetings. Just nodded at Lira, then turned to Lindarion. "Sorry to interrupt again, but we need your help." Meren immediately sat up straighter. "With what?" "Hopefully not plumbing," Ren muttered. "I draw the line at sewage systems." Raleth ignored them both. "The southern pass is closed," he said. "Rockslide two nights ago. No casualties, but a merchant caravan is stuck halfway down. Supplies are blocked. One of their outriders made it through early this morning." He gestured toward the girl, who stepped forward and very clearly wished she hadn''t. "This is Ila. Her father leads the caravan. She says they''ve been getting followed." "Followed?" Ardan asked, already standing a little stiffer. "Something in the woods," Ila said quickly. "Not bandits. Not beasts. No tracks. Just sounds. Scratches on the wagons. Movement we can''t see." "Great," Meren mumbled. "Ghost wolves. That''s what we need." Ren kicked him under the table. "Shut up. Let her finish." "We can''t move the carts without clearing the rock," Ila continued. "We''re running low on food. And we''re scared. Something''s out there." Lira looked at Raleth. "And you want us to do what?" Raleth folded his arms. "Scout the blockage. Make sure nothing worse than cold and bad luck is waiting for them." Lindarion tilted his head. "Why us?" "You''re armed. Capable. And not currently dying of plague or cow-related injuries." He said it with the same tone one might use for ''you''re already awake and standing near the door.'' Ren nodded. "That''s fair. Also, cow injuries are no joke." Ardan didn''t speak. Just gave Lindarion a glance that meant we''re doing this, aren''t we? Lindarion sighed. Ashwing sneezed once, delicately, onto the windowsill. "I suppose," he said slowly, "if I help clear the road, I can at least say I contributed to the economy." Raleth grunted. "That''s one way to put it." He stepped aside, letting Ila pass him on the way out. She gave a quiet, sincere "thank you" that sounded like it was aimed at everyone and no one in particular. Lira sheathed her knife. Ren stood and stretched. "Alright, field trip time." Meren didn''t move. "Can I stay here and be emotionally supportive from afar?" "No," Ardan said. "I wasn''t asking you, Dad." "You still can''t." Lindarion stood last. Not dramatically. Just with the weight of a prince who had accepted, against all odds, that people were going to keep asking for things. He glanced at Raleth as they passed. "Is this going to be dangerous?" "Probably." "Should I bring the dragon?" Raleth raised an eyebrow. "Would it listen?" Ashwing slithered off the sill, padded to Lindarion''s side, and sat like a small, smug guardian of chaos. Lindarion nodded. "Close enough." They walked out into the frost, boots crunching against morning ice, sun just beginning to lie about warmth. Lindarion pulled his coat tighter. One blocked road. One maybe-haunted forest. One dragon with impulse control issues. It was just another day in the office. ¡ª The road south didn''t look like a road. It looked like regret. With pine trees. Narrow, frost-bitten, and flanked on both sides by snowdrifts just deep enough to lose a Meren in. The wind had stopped bothering to blow dramatically. It had downgraded to that awful still cold, the kind that clung to your bones like a bad decision. Lindarion walked anyway. Ashwing trailed beside him, tail swaying like he was auditioning for the Most Dramatic Creature to Ever Step on Snow. Every few feet, he''d stop to sniff something. Or sneeze. Or just look majestic for no reason. Ren had her hands shoved in her coat pockets, stomping through the frost like she meant to offend it. "Why are roads always colder than cliffs?" Meren, already ten steps behind, answered without breath. "Because cliffs don''t hate you personally." Lira walked at the front. Silent. Focused. Possibly internally judging everyone who''d ever paved a road and called it "maintained." Ardan followed with that same air of annoyance. So, it was basically a normal morning. Ila, the merchant girl, kept glancing back at them like she wasn''t entirely convinced they weren''t just five well-dressed lunatics with a dragon and too much free time. Which, fair. Lindarion didn''t blame her. His boots crunched on the path. The snow here hadn''t melted even a little. Packed thick over gravel and older dirt. The kind of trail that had once mattered. Before it got buried. Ashwing leapt onto a fallen log, chirped once, and sneezed again. "Do you think he''s allergic to frost?" Ren asked. "He breathes fire," Lindarion said. "Exactly. Nature''s irony." Ashwing jumped off the log and circled his legs again like an affectionate furnace. They walked for maybe another twenty minutes before Ila stopped suddenly. She pointed ahead. "There. That''s the edge of it." The road narrowed even further, then dropped slightly into a bend that looked like it had been punched by a god. Snow and rock were stacked high across the path, trees splintered like matchsticks. One wagon sat half-buried in the drift. No signs of people. Just silence and old panic. Ren squinted. "Well. That''s very blocked." "No one''s come to clear it?" Ardan asked. "We tried," Ila said quietly. "The snow just... kept coming back." That wasn''t how snow worked. Lindarion narrowed his eyes. Not cursed. Not obviously. But he didn''t trust how still the forest was. He stepped closer, letting the divine affinity rise just enough to taste the air. Not divine-sensing. Not scanning. Just... listening. With his blood. It was still. Too still. Ashwing growled quietly beside him. Meren caught up and promptly sat down on a rock. "Alright. I''m emotionally supporting from here." "Fantastic," Lindarion muttered. He crouched beside the snowbank. Touched the surface. It didn''t melt under his fingers. Which was normal, sort of. But not when his hand was actively warmed by mana. He pressed deeper. Beneath the top layer, the snow was... dry. And beneath that, stone scorched black. He blinked. "This wasn''t a normal slide." Lira stepped up behind him. "Show me." He scraped more away. Just enough to uncover the char line that curved through the ground like something had exploded under it. Not natural. Not accidental. "Magic?" Ardan asked. "Something hot. Maybe old. Maybe not." Ashwing growled again, lower this time. Then everything went quiet. No birds. No wind. Just the sound of the prince of Eldorath slowly standing, brushing snow off his gloves, and casually saying, "Ila, do you have any enemies?" She shook her head quickly. "Family vendettas? Angry spirit curses? Jilted wizards?" "No." "Shame." Ren pulled her sword. Not because she saw anything. Just because she felt something. Chapter 181: Mana Vampires Ila had ran off back to the village without hesitation. Lindarion focused again. Fire warmed his skin. Divine stayed quiet. Ice hummed faintly at the back of his teeth. Somewhere beyond the snowdrift, something moved. No footsteps. Just a shift. Like breath. Meren stood. Ashwing growled louder. Ren tilted her head. "I''ll give it five seconds before it jumps out." Lindarion sighed. "Of course," he muttered. "A blocked road wasn''t dramatic enough." He stepped forward. Ardan beside him. Lira drawing something that absolutely was not just a knife anymore. "Let''s clear the path," Lindarion said, "and see what tries to stop us." Ashwing exhaled smoke. Which, all things considered, was optimistic. ¡ª The snow stopped moving. Which was weird, considering the wind hadn''t. Lindarion frowned. ''That''s never a good sign. First comes the stillness. Then comes the screaming. Then comes the therapy no one gets.'' A ripple shifted across the trail ahead. Not wind. Not shadow. Just... wrongness. Like the mountain exhaled a secret and forgot to take it back. Ashwing tensed beside his leg, scales rising slightly. The dragon didn''t growl. Didn''t hiss. Just stared. Which was worse. Lira held up one hand. Her eyes narrowed. Ren stopped beside her, sword halfway drawn. "I hate that shape," Ren said flatly. "Which part?" Lindarion asked. "All of it." The thing moved again. It wasn''t walking. It didn''t have to. A long, sleek body crawled across the snow without touching it. Six limbs, all too thin and too long, moved like they were dragging silk across glass. Its head was shaped like something insectoid had been put through a blender, stretched too tall, and left in a shadow too long. No eyes. Just a split in the face. Vertical. Wide. Breathing mana like air. Meren made a small, uncertain sound. "So... we turn around and pretend we never came here, right?" "Nope," Ren said, rolling her shoulders. "Now we fight." "Of course we do," Lindarion muttered. ''Because diplomacy is a dead language, and I left my monster handbook in my other life.'' Lira stepped forward. Her voice was quiet. "Hollowcarver." Ren tensed. "Seriously?" Lindarion blinked. "That''s not one of the cute ones, is it?" "No," Lira said. "It drains core magic. Leaves the body." "Oh good," Lindarion said. "Mana vampires. My favorite." The Hollowcarver shifted. Its split-face flared open. Not like a mouth. Like a gate. And something behind it inhaled. Lindarion felt it. A light tug at his chest. Not physical. Not painful. Just personal. Like it knew what lived inside him. And was interested. ''Well that''s rude.'' Ashwing growled low now. The little dragon moved closer, wings flaring slightly. "Stay," Lindarion said. Ashwing didn''t listen. Obviously. The Hollowcarver surged forward. No screech. No roar. Just motion. A blur of limbs and shadow. Ren moved first. Ice bloomed along her blade as she spun to the side, slashing wide and catching the creature''s front limb. Frost exploded from the cut. No blood. Just a hiss of magic. Lira came next. No wasted steps. Just steel and speed. Her dagger slipped up under the creature''s chest and carved a fast line that didn''t cut flesh, but energy. Dark energy. The Hollowcarver jerked. Limbs cracked the ice beneath it. Then it aimed its mouth at them again. The pull doubled. Lindarion winced. The fire affinity flared under his skin. ''Not today.'' He raised one hand. A lance of fire erupted from his palm, straight through the Hollowcarver''s upper shoulder. The smell of burning void hit the air. It didn''t scream. It just turned to him. Great. ''This is what I get for participating.'' Lira moved again. She didn''t yell. She didn''t signal. She just hit the thing''s exposed neck from the side with a spin that ended in blood. Or what counted for blood. The Hollowcarver staggered. Ren finished it. One clean cut to the midsection, frozen mana snapping through like glass under pressure. The Hollowcarver''s body twisted once. Then crumpled. Then dissolved into a fine mist of unhelpful questions and long-term trauma. Ashwing chirped. Meren stared. "We''re... alive." Ren wiped her sword. "For now." Lindarion stared at the patch of blackened snow. ''That wasn''t random.'' He turned to Lira. "Was that normal?" "No," she said. Of course it wasn''t. ¡ª Lira rolled her shoulders once, slow and loose. The kind of stretch you do after stabbing something that shouldn''t have existed. Her coat shifted with the motion, flaring slightly in the wind. No dust. No sweat. Just steel and silence. Ren crouched beside the hollow scorch mark, poking it with the toe of her boot. "Definitely not random." "Obviously," Lindarion said. Lira didn''t answer. She was still stretching. Now both arms overhead, back arching slightly, like the murderous dance she''d just performed had barely counted as exercise. ''...I feel like I pulled something just watching that.'' She shifted her weight to one leg, rolled her neck once, and made a soft sound that could''ve been satisfaction or the final click of a puzzle locking into place. Ren stood again, brushing ice off her gloves. "So. Someone sent that thing, right?" "Probably," Lira said, as if confirming that the sky was still up. Lindarion crossed his arms. Not out of defiance. He was just cold. And tired. And slightly offended by how attractive good posture looked on someone who had just executed a monster like she was filing paperwork. ''...How is she more dangerous after the fight ends?'' Ashwing flopped onto the snow beside him with a small huff. Smoke puffed out of one nostril. Possibly a yawn. Possibly a warning. It was hard to tell with him. Meren had only just stopped whispering to himself. His face was pale. Not in a cowardly way. "You okay?" Lindarion asked him. "I think my ancestors felt that one." ''...He''ll be fine. He''s dramatic, not fragile.'' Ardan didn''t say anything. Just kept his gaze on the forest''s edge like he expected a second course of horror to arrive late and uninvited. Lira finally exhaled. No dramatic breath. Just a slow slide back to neutral. She looked at her blade once, wiped it off on the snow with deliberate care, and sheathed it. Then her eyes found Lindarion. "You''re getting faster," she said. "Faster at what?" he asked. "Not dying." ''...High praise. I''ll embroider that on a pillow.'' Ren grinned. "He even got a shot in. Fire spear, very classic." "I was aiming for dramatic impact," Lindarion said, deadpan. "Ten out of ten," Ren replied. "Very spear-y." Lira didn''t comment further. She just turned toward the path again, her cloak settling around her like it had been trained. "Let''s keep moving," she said. "We don''t want to be here when it gets dark." Meren whimpered softly. "Why? Is it worse at night?" "No," Lira said. "But you paused." "I was deciding whether to say yes." Lindarion sighed and followed her, boots crunching over what used to be a monster. Chapter 182: Good Stew Ashwing waddled after him, still smug. Ren leaned closer to him as they walked. "Still think you''re not the dragon''s mom?" "I''m more like an unwilling mentor." "Uh huh. Sure." Lindarion looked ahead at Lira. Still calm. Still impossible. Still stretching the definition of "strong" into something slightly terrifying. Ren? A close second. And him? Well. ''I lit him on fire or whatever. That counts for something.'' He kept walking. No speeches. No plans. Just a group, a trail, and whatever came next. Preferably something without claws. ¡ª The village looked smaller after killing something monstrous. Not metaphorically. Actually smaller. Like the buildings had all collectively leaned back a few inches, pretending they''d never had problems, never called for help, never sent a kid to ask for royal backup with a monster in their backyard. Lindarion adjusted his coat. Ashwing was doing circles around his legs again, like a sentient belt that occasionally breathed fire. ''At this point I''m ninety percent sure he''s trying to trip me on purpose.'' The group passed the same crooked sign from earlier. The one that still said The Roosting Pike and still looked like it would give anyone tetanus if they leaned on it too hard. The inn hadn''t changed. Neither had the snow. But the people? Yeah. They were watching now. Different kind of watching. Not suspicion. Something closer to... not awe, exactly. But the cousin of it. The kind of look you give someone who just set your worst nightmare on fire and then asked if anyone was still hungry afterward. Lira ignored the stares. Ren waved at a kid. The kid fell over in surprise. Ardan said nothing, obviously. His presence alone felt like a statement about overkill. Meren was muttering under his breath again. Something about needing stronger tea and weaker monsters. Ashwing sneezed. Sparks. Probably to let the village know he was still cute and terrifying. Lindarion just kept walking. ''We did a good thing. We solved a problem. I only almost died once. That''s progress.'' They reached the main hall. Raleth was already standing at the entrance, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "Problem solved," Lira said simply. Raleth blinked. "That was... fast." Ren shrugged. "We''re overqualified." Lindarion stepped forward, hands stuffed into his sleeves because warmth was a priority and smugness didn''t help circulation. "There was a Hollowcarver near the pass," he said. Raleth''s eyebrows did a small, quiet panic. "You''re sure?" "Yes," Lira said. "Very sure," Ren added. "It tried to drain us. We drained it first." Ashwing growled softly at Raleth. Possibly a flex. Possibly indigestion. Raleth exhaled. A very measured, administrative exhale. The kind of breath you take when your day just got longer, but at least someone else did the hard part. "And it''s gone?" he asked. Meren flopped onto a nearby bench without permission. "It''s extremely gone." Raleth looked at Lindarion. Not at his group. Not even at Ashwing. Just him. A long pause stretched between them. "...You''re certain you''re only eleven?" Lindarion blinked once. Then smiled, just a little. "Chronologically." Raleth did not ask follow-ups. Smart man. "Thank you," he said, bowing slightly. "All of you." Lira gave a nod. Ren looked like she wanted to ask for snacks as a reward. Meren was already half-asleep with his arms crossed like a grumpy cat. Ashwing was chewing on the corner of a wooden post. ''We are very professional. A true elite team of murder and manners. The best possible team ever...'' Lindarion stepped back, letting the others do their own kind of relaxing. Which, in Ren''s case, meant threatening to arm-wrestle a guard. Again. Raleth glanced toward the village center. "You''ll be staying a while longer, then?" Lira looked at Lindarion. He looked back. Then shrugged. "The storm hasn''t cleared." It wasn''t a yes. It wasn''t a no. It was just true. Raleth accepted that. He stepped aside, letting them pass back toward the inn. Snow started to fall again. Gentle this time. No storms. No monsters. Just soft, cold flakes and the tired warmth of a group that had done something right for once. Ashwing sneezed again. Lindarion didn''t even flinch. ''I''m definitely his mother now, aren''t I?'' No one said anything. But Ren snorted like she heard the thought. Back inside, the inn was quiet. Warm. Safe. ¡ª Inside, it smelled like roasted roots and something trying very hard to be stew. Lindarion took a breath anyway. Anything that didn''t smell like monster smoke or snow was an upgrade. Ashwing trotted in first, nose high, tail wagging with suspicious confidence. Like he expected applause. Or at least a second lunch. ''If anyone claps for him, I''m leaving.'' Ren stomped snow off her boots like she was mad at the ground for existing. Meren followed, face half-buried in his scarf and muttering something about soup being a god-given right. Ardan just walked in like a sentient wall, which was his default setting. Lira stepped past the threshold last, already unwinding her scarf with the kind of precision that made Lindarion feel like he''d never worn clothes correctly in his life. The innkeeper looked up, spotted the dragon, spotted the prince, spotted the expressions of people who had just murdered a nightmare and weren''t impressed by the wallpaper. She wisely gestured toward the largest table. Lindarion dropped into the nearest seat before his legs changed their mind. ''Chair. Blessed invention. Would rate it five stars.'' Ashwing flopped under the table with a thud and curled up around Lindarion''s boots like a space heater with opinions. A moment later, bowls were brought out. Stew. Real stew this time. Chunks of meat, thick broth, something green that probably wasn''t poison. Then bread. Still warm. Slightly uneven slices, but that made it better. Meren made a reverent noise. Ren snatched two slices before anyone else could blink. Ardan took his without comment and started eating like a machine with excellent manners. Lira sipped her stew like it had to earn her trust. Lindarion picked up a spoon, let the heat warm his fingers for a second. Chapter 183: New Events He took a bite. Paused. Chewed slowly. ''...Okay. I would kill for this stew. I would die for this stew. I would probably write a love letter to this stew.'' Ren looked over. "It good?" "Don''t talk to me," he said. "I''m in mourning for every meal that wasn''t this." She grinned and tossed him a piece of bread. He caught it without looking. Ashwing snored under the table. The fire crackled in the hearth. Outside, wind whispered under the eaves, but not enough to matter. Meren dunked his bread into his stew and looked like he''d seen a vision. "This is actually perfect. Did we... earn this?" "No," Lindarion said. "But I''m taking it anyway." Lira didn''t speak, but her bowl was already empty. Which, for her, was basically a standing ovation. Ren pointed her spoon at Ardan. "You haven''t said anything." He looked up. "I ate." "Yeah, but did you enjoy it?" "I ate." "That''s a no." Lindarion leaned back in his chair. Not slouched, just... lowered. Just enough that he could rest his shoulders and pretend he wasn''t still running through every monster encounter and near-death situation of the past week like a trauma playlist on loop. ''...Quiet. Food. No one''s bleeding. This feels fake. I''m suspicious.'' Still. He didn''t move. Didn''t complain. The bowl in front of him was empty before he even realized he''d finished. Ashwing raised his head, blinked once at the table, then rested his snout on Lindarion''s foot. ''He''s planning something. I can feel it.'' The innkeeper came back with a pitcher of something warm that might have been cider or might have been liquid sunshine. No one asked. No one needed to. They drank. Ate. Sat. No plans. No next move. Just the dangerous, fleeting luxury of peace. Lindarion didn''t say anything. Didn''t need to. They''d earned this. ¡ª The bowl was empty. Again. Lindarion blinked down at it like it had betrayed him. Which, technically, it had... by not refilling itself. Ashwing made a hopeful little snort under the table. "You''re cut off," Lindarion muttered. Ashwing responded by licking his ankle. ''Great. Bribery by saliva.'' Across the table, Ren had stacked her bowl, cup, and two extra plates like a proud hoarder. Meren was reclined with one hand dramatically over his stomach, making the kind of noise people usually made after duels or childbirth. Ardan sat exactly the same way he had at the beginning of the meal, except now he had crumbs on his sleeve. That counted as progress. Lira stood first. Because of course she did. Her cloak flowed behind her like it had its own personality and was mildly disappointed in the rest of them. "I''m going to check the perimeter," she said. Translation: I need to move before I start stabbing chairs for fun. Ren flopped sideways onto the bench. "I''ll patrol the inside of my eyelids." Ardan gave a noncommittal grunt. Probably agreement. Possibly the sound of digestion. Lindarion stood a little slower. His legs disagreed. His spine filed a protest. Ashwing followed, bumping into his shin like a sentient rock with baby eyes. "I''m heading to the warden," Lindarion said. Ren cracked one eye open. "You volunteering for more chores?" "Something like that." "You''re too noble. It''s disgusting." "Thank you," he said. "I work hard at it." She waved him off and resumed pretending to be dead. Lindarion wrapped his scarf loosely around his neck, ignoring the dried stew on one end that definitely hadn''t been his fault. He adjusted his coat. Adjusted Ashwing''s tail. Failed. The dragon just kept curling around his boots like clingy luggage. The inn door creaked open again. The cold hit him in the face like it missed him. ''Perfect. I missed you too, wind. Let''s never do this again.'' The walk to the warden''s hall wasn''t long, but it had that special kind of post-meal guilt energy. Every step was a reminder that he could be horizontal instead. Preferably with snacks. Ashwing bounced beside him in that offbeat, too-proud rhythm that said I am small but important. ''...I''ve created a monster.'' The central hall wasn''t locked. It never was. Which felt like a deeply rural decision but worked in their favor for now. Lindarion pushed the door open and stepped into the same cedar-scented air from before. It still smelled like bureaucracy and regrets. Raleth was at his desk. Again. Or maybe he never left. The man glanced up, quill poised, expression unreadable in that I''ve seen too much but am still paid too little way. "Prince Lindarion," he said. "Warden Raleth," Lindarion replied. Ashwing sneezed on the rug. Neither of them acknowledged it. "I wanted to follow up," Lindarion said, stepping inside. "About the Hollowcarver." Raleth''s eyes narrowed slightly. "You think it''s connected to something larger?" "I think things that try to eat my face usually don''t travel alone." Raleth sat back. He looked tired. Not the kind of tired you fix with sleep. The kind that came from being the only sensible person in a five-mile radius. "I''m inclined to agree." Ashwing curled in a half-circle near the door, eyes alert but lazy. Like a noble guard who''d already filed the report and just wanted his afternoon sunbeam. Lindarion stepped closer to the desk. His hands stayed at his sides. No magic. No flash. Just... him. "I''m not here long," he said. "Three days, maybe. But if you have anything else strange happening ¡ª people vanishing, monsters sighted, ambient curses ¡ª I want to know." Raleth raised one eyebrow. "You''re not obligated." "I know." He meant it. The title, the crown, the stupid bloodline. None of it mattered in moments like this. What mattered was that he could help. And that, despite everything, part of him still wanted to. Raleth studied him for a beat longer. Then nodded once. "There''s something you might want to see," he said. He pulled out a folded piece of parchment from a drawer, yellowed and faintly singed at one corner. He placed it gently on the desk and slid it forward. Lindarion picked it up. Ashwing tilted his head. The paper was soft with age. The ink faded. But the glyph on the front, a half-burned rune in old script, was unmistakable. Not just any rune. A sealing mark. Lindarion didn''t react. Outwardly. Inside? ''...Wonderful. Seals. Nothing says "light lunch conversation" like ancient forbidden magic.'' He looked back up at Raleth. "Where did this come from?" "The mine. Before the Hollowcarver. One of the miners found it. Got sick three days later. He''s stable now. But the healer said his mana lines looked... frayed." Lindarion folded the parchment carefully. Then even more carefully slid it into the inner pocket of his coat. "I''ll take a look tonight." Raleth nodded. Lindarion turned to leave. Ashwing stood. Trotted after him like nothing had happened. Just as they reached the door, Raleth said, "Prince." Lindarion glanced back. "You don''t act much like one." Lindarion gave the smallest shrug. "Bad upbringing." Raleth didn''t smile. But his voice was softer when he said, "We''re glad you''re here." Lindarion didn''t say anything. Just stepped out into the cold again. Ashwing sneezed in solidarity. ''I should start charging for emotional support.'' Chapter 184: Exploring (1) The walk back wasn''t long. But it stretched anyway. Late afternoon meant long shadows and colder wind. Hearthrun wasn''t loud, but it wasn''t dead either. Smoke rose from chimneys like lazy punctuation, and the occasional villager gave him a once-over before going back to whatever deeply suspicious peasant things they were doing. Ashwing kept close. For once, no bounding or tail-chasing. Just silent steps and the occasional huff of warm air against Lindarion''s boots. ''...He knows something''s wrong.'' Or maybe the dragon was just tired. It was hard to tell. Lindarion still hadn''t found the manual for emotionally complicated reptiles. He stopped just before the inn door. Let the cold sit a bit longer. Inside was noise. Warmth. The group. Outside was quiet. Solitude. Suspicion. His hand hovered over the handle a second too long. Ashwing nudged it with his nose. Lindarion sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I''m going." The door creaked open. Same room. Same bench. Slightly different energy. Meren was upside down on the couch. Not accidentally. Just on purpose, like gravity personally offended him. Ren was sharpening a dagger on a fork, which probably wasn''t effective but definitely looked cool. Ardan leaned in the corner like he had paid rent for that exact square of space. And Lira? Lira was at the window. She hadn''t heard the door. Or maybe she had and didn''t move anyway. Her cloak was off, folded too neatly on the nearby chair. She stood with one arm crossed, the other lightly braced on the windowsill, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the street. She didn''t look tense. But she never did. Ren noticed first. "You live." "Briefly," Lindarion said. "Depends on whether I collapse face-first or side-first." "Go for side," Meren offered from upside-down. "Less tragic." Ashwing hopped inside behind him, gave a tiny burp, and immediately beelined for the leftover bread on the table. "No," Lindarion said flatly. The dragon paused. Then kept going. Ren chuckled. "He''s learning." "He''s learning mutiny." Ashwing bit the corner of a roll and looked smug. Lindarion let the scarf drop from his shoulders and moved toward the table. His coat was warm again. Not from fire. Just being indoors long enough to feel like a person. He glanced toward Lira. Still watching the window. Not ignoring him. Just... distant. ''She''s thinking too loud again.'' He didn''t push. He never did. He sat. Folded his arms across the table. Let Ashwing eat his bread out of spite. Ren watched the bread tragedy unfold with open amusement. "So, warden meeting?" "Productive." "You say that like you got assigned homework." He didn''t answer. He didn''t need to. Meren twisted around, somehow still on the couch. "Did he ask you to save the town again?" Lindarion looked at him. "Define again." "He did," Ren said, like it was already obvious. "Let me guess. Weird magical something in the mines? Cursed relic? Possibly a talking beetle?" Lindarion reached into his coat, pulled the folded parchment from his pocket, and slid it across the table without ceremony. Meren stared. Ren didn''t even touch it. Just squinted. "That''s not ominous at all." Lindarion sat back. "Looks like it was part of a seal. Found near the Hollowcarver site. Miners started getting mana sickness after touching it." Ardan stepped closer, finally. Lira turned from the window. He didn''t look up at her. But he felt her attention like a thread tightening. Ashwing gave up on the bread and settled under the table again. Tired now. Or pretending to be. Ren tapped the parchment with one finger. "This the part where you say we''re not going to investigate it until we''re sure it''s safe?" "This the part where I say we wait two days for the snow to melt," Lindarion said. "And then?" "And then we do something extremely stupid." Ren smiled. "Perfect." Meren groaned. "You all have terrible survival instincts." "No," Ren said. "We have excellent teamwork. And very few options." The room fell quiet for a breath. Lira finally moved to the table. Sat across from Lindarion without speaking. He looked at her once. She nodded, just barely. ''...Alright. She''s in.'' That was enough for now. No grand plans. No dramatic speeches. Just a table, a dragon underfoot, and a slowly unraveling mystery nobody had signed up for but everyone kept volunteering to solve anyway. Lindarion leaned back and closed his eyes. ''Two more days.'' He could make that work. ¡ª They left before sunrise. Not because they were noble. But because Meren snored like a collapsing shrine and Ren talked in her sleep. Lindarion adjusted the strap of his pack for the hundredth time as the village faded behind them. Hearthrun''s rooftops were little triangles now, folded under a sky still smudged with sleep. Most of the world was blue and white and too quiet for comfort. Lira didn''t say much. Shocking. She walked half a step ahead, her cloak dragging faint lines in the snow. Her hair, silver in the cold light, stayed pinned back like it didn''t dare misbehave. A small part of Lindarion respected that hair. Another part kind of hated it. Ashwing had been left behind, curled up on Ren''s lap like a smug kettle. Lindarion tried not to feel abandoned. They followed the trail east until it stopped pretending to be a trail. Then climbed over a ridge that did its best impression of a broken staircase. Then found the cave. "Here," Lira said, voice clipped but not unkind. Lindarion squinted at the entrance. It wasn''t a cave so much as a sulking hole in the cliff face. Just wide enough to walk in. Just low enough to insult tall people. It smelled like old air and very mild regret. He stepped inside second. Because letting the person with the darkness affinity go first was just common sense. The air shifted. Cool. Still. And definitely holding its breath. Lira raised one hand. A soft glow sparked around her fingers, not flame. Something colder. A pale outline that lit the tunnel like moonlight under ice. ''...Of course her magic''s dramatic. Can''t just use a torch like the rest of us.'' Chapter 185: Exploring (2) Lindarion summoned a flicker of his own fire just to balance the aesthetic. The tunnel led deeper. It didn''t widen. It didn''t welcome. It just kept going with the grim persistence of a to-do list. They walked in silence. Not uncomfortable silence. Just the kind where both parties were secretly waiting for the other to bring up whatever awkward thing they weren''t discussing. Which in this case was... most things. Lindarion finally broke. Sort of. "So," he said. "Nice cave." Lira didn''t look over. "It''s a cursed fissure, not a cave." "Still nice." She didn''t answer. He kicked a small rock just to hear something bounce. The silence ate it. They moved deeper. The air pressed tighter now. Like something was waiting. Not in an aggressive way. Just that hovering curiosity that caves seemed to specialize in. Lira slowed. He almost bumped into her. Recovered just in time to save dignity and kneecaps. She knelt down, brushing snow from the edge of a rock slab. Beneath the frost, an old rune gleamed faintly. Burned into the stone with care. Jagged along the edges now, like it had been cracked from the inside. Lira traced it without touching. "Same mark." "From the parchment?" She nodded once. He crouched beside her. The rune wasn''t large. But it felt like it was staring back. "Something broke out," he said. "Yes." "And we''re following it." "Apparently." He frowned. "You know, most people would be more cautious about this." She finally looked at him. Expression unreadable. "Are you?" ''...Yes.'' "No," he lied smoothly. She didn''t push. Which somehow made it worse. They stood again. Moved deeper. The passage turned. Then again. The walls here had changed, less stone, more worked surface. Subtle. But unmistakable. Lindarion exhaled. "Not natural." "No." "Burial chamber?" "Prison." He paused. "Of course it''s a prison. Because caves can''t just be caves." Lira gave him a glance. Possibly amused. Maybe not. They stepped into the next chamber. Wider. Round. The floor was covered in dust that hadn''t been touched by boots in years. The walls bore more of the runes. Faded, broken, cracked down the middle like something had flexed wrong and taken half the spellwork with it. In the center¡ª A pedestal. And nothing on it. Lindarion walked forward slowly. The air buzzed faintly. Magic residue. Low-level. Familiar. Lira circled the edge, fingers trailing near the wall without touching. "There was a seal here," she said. "Not anymore." "No." He looked down at the pedestal. Faint burn marks along the base. No sign of a fight. Just a quiet, complete failure of containment. "Do we know what was inside?" "No records." "Fantastic. Mystery escapee. Definitely not ominous." She said nothing. Just stood there. Watching the pedestal like it might apologize. Lindarion folded his arms. ''I am not emotionally prepared for another ancient horror. Not without more sleep. Or pancakes.'' He turned toward the entrance again. The light from their mana flickered once, catching on a small inscription carved low into the stone. Not runes. Just words. Lira crouched beside it. Read slowly. "Beware the voice that forgets its name." They both stared at it. Then at each other. Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "So we''re leaving, right?" "Yes," Lira said. "Good." They walked out in silence. This time, it was comfortable. ¡ª The cave spat them back into daylight with the grace of a reluctant burp. Lindarion squinted at the sky. Too bright. Too blue. Which meant something was probably wrong. Nature didn''t throw this kind of weather at people out of kindness. It was a setup. Probably. He pulled his scarf up again anyway. ''One cursed prison down. A thousand more mysterious field trips to go.'' Lira stood beside him, eyes already scanning the ridgeline like the rocks might try something. Her cloak flared slightly in the wind. No dramatic posing. Just physics giving her an unintentional entrance aura. "Tracks," she said. Of course there were. Lindarion stepped beside her. The snow had a few indentations leading west, half-covered by a morning drift. Long. Thin. Not human. Not Ashwing. Not anything he was going to enjoy. He crouched. Brushed a bit of powder aside. "Clawed," he muttered. "But not deep. Whatever it was, it wasn''t heavy." Lira nodded. "Fast, though," he added. "Stride''s long." "Too long for anything local." "So we''re dealing with an ex-convict monster on a jog." She didn''t respond. ''She never laughs at my jokes. Probably a high level darkness affinity thing. Or trauma. Or both.'' They started walking. The trail curved up around the side of the hill, hugging the slope in that special way that meant one wrong step and you became a cautionary tale told in avalanche form. Lindarion didn''t speak. Not because he had nothing to say. He had plenty. It just all sounded stupid compared to how quiet everything was. Wind cut across the ridge like a blade being polite. Cold, sharp, but distant. The kind of chill that hadn''t made up its mind whether it wanted to kill or just make you mildly annoyed. Below them, the forest stretched wide. Empty. Too empty. Lira crouched again, brushing her fingers across a patch of flattened grass. "Stopped here." Lindarion blinked. "It... stopped?" She nodded. "Whatever it was paused. Then changed direction." "How do you even know that?" "See the curve?" She pointed. "It turned. Abruptly. Lost speed. Then¡ª" She gestured west. "Resumed. Slower." He stared at the snow. Saw... absolutely none of that. ''...Okay. She''s either making this up or I am extremely unqualified to track cursed joggers.'' He kept following anyway. They reached the next ridge an hour later. The trail dipped down into a small clearing. At first, nothing stood out. Then Lindarion smelled it. Metal. Not blood. But close. Like steel left in the sun too long. Old swords and anger. Lira moved first, crouching by a patch of disturbed snow. Half-melted. Black underneath. Lindarion knelt beside her. Not snow. Ash. A lot of it. "Burned something," he said. "Not wood." "No." "Flesh?" "Maybe." He didn''t like that answer. He glanced around the trees. Nothing moved. Nothing chirped. Even the wind had taken a step back. Then he spotted it. Far side of the clearing. A stone. Not shaped. Just placed. Chapter 186: Exploring (3) Too neatly. He walked over. Snow crunched underfoot. The air didn''t warm. If anything, it leaned colder now. He crouched beside the rock and brushed the frost off the top. A mark. Just one. Scratched in. Rough. Sharp lines. Not carved with a tool. A claw, maybe. He traced it with his glove. Not a rune. Not a sigil. Just a circle. A broken one. Lira appeared beside him. She said nothing. Because what was there to say? Lindarion stood again. Dusting snow off his sleeves. Watching the trees like they might answer for this. ''Something got out. Something left. But not before leaving a very dramatic fire pit and an emotionally charged circle on a rock. Excellent.'' He looked at Lira. She didn''t blink. "We should go back." "Yeah," he said. "Let''s do that before it circles back to finish its art project." They turned, the snow crunching behind them in slow rhythm. Neither of them spoke the rest of the way down. Not out of fear. But because whatever had been there? ¡ª The walk back was almost peaceful. Almost. The kind of peace that came with tension. Like a rope stretched just shy of breaking, humming in the cold air with invisible weight. Lindarion kept his hands tucked in his sleeves. The fire affinity stayed low, a slow thrum behind his ribs like it was bored but polite about it. Lira walked ahead, not saying anything. Typical. Every time he glanced over, she was looking somewhere else. Treeline. Ridge. Backward. Never at him. Which was fine. ''Silent walking is just bonding with extra steps.'' They were halfway back to the village when the scream hit the air. High. Sharp. Human. Not echoing through the mountains like most screams. This one was close. Pulled tight and flung right into the trees like someone had thrown it. Lindarion froze. So did Lira. They didn''t look at each other. They didn''t need to. They ran. The forest turned into a blur of limbs and snow. Branches slapped against his arms, ice shattered underfoot, and the incline worked overtime trying to roll his ankle. None of it mattered. The scream hadn''t come again. Which was worse. Lira darted through the underbrush like it owed her money. No wasted steps. No sound. Lindarion, on the other hand, did not have stealth. He had speed, panic, and the deeply ingrained sense that if someone screamed nearby, it was probably his problem. They crested the ridge. The clearing below was small. Snow thinned here, trampled into patches of mud and churned frost. And in the center¡ª Ila. The same girl from the other day. Hair tangled, eyes wide, face pale enough to vanish against the ground. She wasn''t hurt. Yet. But she was pointing. Upward. Lindarion looked. Saw movement. Then blinked. Then regretted it. A shape clung to the side of the cliff. Gray skin stretched tight over a long frame, like someone had taken a human, forgotten the proportions, and handed it a spine made of knives. Its eyes, plural, glowed faint red, flickering like embers dying out. Its mouth opened. Too wide. Too vertical. And teeth. Just. Too many. Lindarion stepped in front of Ila instinctively, fire already humming in his palm. ''...Nope. We are not doing this again today. I just had food.'' Lira moved right beside him. No sound. Just presence. She raised one hand, darkness coiling at her fingertips. The thing on the cliff didn''t drop. It unfolded. Legs that bent wrong. Arms too long. Neck that stretched like it hadn''t read the anatomy manual correctly. It hit the ground hard. Didn''t flinch. Lindarion exhaled, just once. Then spoke to the girl behind him, voice flat. "Run." "I¡ª" "Now." Ila scrambled up and bolted. Good. He didn''t need an audience for whatever flavor of nightmare this was. Lira had already moved into a half-crouch. Blade out. Not raised. Just ready. He rolled his wrist. Let the flame gather into a long, thin line along his forearm. The thing hissed. Not at them. Just in general. Like the air had offended it by existing. Lindarion muttered, "Tell me this isn''t another Hollowcarver cousin." Lira''s voice was low. "Worse." "Oh good." The thing charged. Of course it did. Because apparently, rest days were a myth. He moved sideways. Flame split off his hand, arcing toward the monster''s legs. It jumped. Over. Landed. Too close. Lira met it mid-lunge with a slash that bled shadow. The thing screamed, or made a sound that wanted to be a scream but got lost somewhere in translation. It didn''t bleed. Just cracked. Its side split open like old bark. No organs. Just black mist leaking out, thick and slow. Lindarion''s eyes narrowed. ''This thing isn''t alive. Not properly. Not anymore.'' Which meant fire might work. He pushed more into his palm, built the pressure behind the threads. A burst, not a line. Then released. The fire shot forward like a needle made of spite and too much homework. It hit the creature''s chest and bloomed outward. Mist exploded. Lira was already behind it. Her blade cut up, then down, then vanished into the back of its neck. A pause. A twist. Silence. Then collapse. The creature folded like wet paper. Its limbs sagged. Its eyes flickered once. Then dimmed. Lindarion exhaled. Hands still up. Because of course something else might go wrong. Nothing did. Not yet. Lira stepped back. No blood on her. Just that calm. "Second time," he muttered. "Two in two days." "It''s not random." "No kidding." She turned to look toward the trees where Ila had run. "We''ll need to check if she made it back." Lindarion didn''t respond. Not because he didn''t care. But because his brain was busy writing a very long, profanity-laced letter to whoever was sending eldritch beasts his way like fanmail. He looked down at the monster''s remains. Then up at the sky. ''Next time I say yes to a "simple escort," someone punch me.'' They turned. And started back. Again. Chapter 187: Reporting They didn''t talk on the way back. Not right away. Lira moved like a rumor. Quiet, fast, and probably bad news. Her hand still rested on her blade like she was expecting round two. Or round three, depending on whether you counted yesterday''s nightmare with legs. Lindarion followed at a reasonable distance. Not because he needed to. He just liked having reaction time in case something else crawled out of the snow and tried to ruin their social lives. Ashwing zigzagged ahead of them in unpredictable arcs, occasionally stopping to snort at suspicious rocks. Quality security work. The trees thinned. Snow turned shallow. A faint trail of smoke hinted that the village hadn''t caught fire while they were gone. Comforting. ''Three abominations in three days. If I get a fourth, I''m starting a scrapbook.'' He tugged at the rip in his coat again. Still there. Still annoying. He would definitely forget to mend it. Future him''s problem. Lira finally spoke. "That thing wasn''t natural." Lindarion nodded. "Yeah. Most things don''t scream like a kettle full of curses." "It was built. Made. Bound to something." He frowned. ''...That''s bad, right?'' "Bound to what?" "I don''t know yet." Helpful. As always. They crossed into the village. A few people turned their heads. Not everyone. Just enough to remind Lindarion that word traveled fast in small towns. Especially when that word was "monsters" and it came with bonus property damage. Ashwing trotted beside him now, tail raised like a proud flag. Covered in snow. And what might''ve been monster spit. He looked thrilled. Lira angled toward the center of the square. "The warden''ll want a report." "Lucky him." Sure enough, Raleth was standing by the well, arms folded, expression grim. A small cluster of people stood behind him. Ila among them. Pale. Breathing hard. No obvious injuries. Good. No funeral speeches today. Lindarion stepped up beside Lira. Ashwing stayed a few feet back, curling his tail around a barrel like he owned the place. Raleth gave them a look. It was the same one most adults gave children right before asking where the broken window was. "Well?" he asked. Lira didn''t hesitate. "It was similar to the Hollowcarver. But different. Wrong." "Wrong how?" "Made. Not summoned. Not wild. Built from something dead." Lindarion folded his arms. "If someone''s crafting these things like a weekend project, they need to be stopped. Preferably with fire." Raleth didn''t even blink. "Did it speak?" "No," Lira said. "But it screamed." Ashwing let out a small snort at that. Dramatic timing. Possibly intentional. Ila stepped forward slightly. Her hands trembled. "It was watching. Before I screamed. Like it already knew I was there." Lindarion narrowed his eyes. ''So not random. Not instinct. It was waiting.'' Raleth ran a hand down his face like he wanted to curse but was contractually forbidden from doing so near a well. "This isn''t the first attack," he muttered. "But it''s the first one we''ve seen stopped." "Comforting," Lindarion said flatly. "Do we get a reward or just trauma?" Raleth ignored him. Typical. "We''ll reinforce the perimeter," he said. "But if more come..." "They will," Lira cut in. Silence followed that. Not long. But heavy. Lindarion glanced toward the trees again. Still. But not peaceful. ''...If someone''s testing us, they''re about to regret their curiosity.'' He looked back at Raleth. "We''ll stay alert. Let us know if anything moves." "Of course." Ashwing thumped his tail once. Then twice. Someone behind the warden flinched. Lindarion turned without ceremony. Back toward the inn. Because if the day insisted on throwing eldritch horrors at him, he was at least going to finish the night with tea and something that didn''t bleed. Lira walked beside him. Ashwing bounced ahead. And for now, the path was clear. ¡ª The walk back to the inn was shorter this time. Maybe because Lindarion''s legs had given up complaining. Or maybe because returning from a near-death experience made distance feel like a technicality. Lira stayed ahead. Ashwing trotted between them, tail high, looking like he had personally defeated the monster and deserved a medal made of bacon. ''We really need to work on his humility. Or at least teach him the difference between battle and supervised arson.'' The inn came into view. Still intact. Windows unshattered. Smoke curling politely from the chimney. Which meant either the others were fine... or they''d burned the problem before it had a chance to reach them. Lindarion wouldn''t put it past them. He pushed open the door. Warmth hit him like a mildly aggressive hug. Smelled like pine smoke and soup. Ren looked up from her spot on the floor near the hearth, where she''d been sharpening her sword in a way that suggested she was either bored or actively threatening the furniture. Possibly both. Meren had a teacup. Which was suspicious. Mostly because it meant he''d made it himself and hadn''t exploded. Ardan stood near the window like a very angry plant. Completely still. All angles. Ren raised an eyebrow. "So. Did the woods throw something at you again?" Lindarion didn''t answer right away. Ashwing sneezed once and curled up near the fire like a war hero. Lira dropped her coat on the back of a chair. "New one this time." That got their attention. Meren set down his cup. "Define ''new.''" Lindarion held up a hand, fingers spaced. "Tall. Creepy. Built like someone lost a bet with anatomy. Bit of a screamer." "Not friendly," Lira added. Ardan''s brow twitched slightly. "Injuries?" "No," Lindarion said. "Just emotional ones. Again." Ren leaned forward. "You two alright?" "We''re fine," he said. Then added, "Well, Lira did all the work and I added fire, so. Classic dynamic." "Monster''s gone?" Ardan asked. "Dead-ish," Lira said. "More like... undone." Ren''s smile faded. "Same type as the others?" "Worse," Lira said. "It was made." The room quieted. Meren coughed softly. "Okay. And made by...?" Lindarion sat down, letting the weight in his legs pretend it didn''t exist. "Working theory? Someone with too much time and a hatred for proper biology." Ren frowned. "Corruption?" "No trace left behind," Lira said. "But too deliberate to be wild." Lindarion folded his arms. The rip in his sleeve flared slightly. Ashwing curled tighter at his feet like he could smell the mood shift. ''Three monsters. Three different flavors of nightmare. One idiot prince who keeps walking into them.'' He leaned back in the chair. "This place isn''t cursed. It''s targeted." Ren exhaled. "Guess our three-day break just got shorter." "No," Lira said. "We still move in two." "Seriously?" "Yes." Ardan nodded once. "Better we don''t give it time to escalate." Meren pulled the teacup back toward himself. "Define escalate." Ren smirked. "More teeth. More limbs. Less chance of sleep." "Fantastic." Lindarion reached down and scratched Ashwing behind the horns. The dragon made a noise like a sleepy kettle and curled tighter. "We need to prep," he said. "Mentally. Physically. Probably emotionally, too." Ren tilted her head. "You say that like we''re capable of emotional growth." "Speak for yourself," Meren muttered. Ashwing sneezed again. Lira started re-checking her weapons like the conversation was over. It wasn''t. But the lull meant something. Not peace. Just the moment before a wave hit. Lindarion let his head tip back. ''Just a couple of days. Then we move. Hopefully not toward something worse. But this is me, so. Odds are bad.'' Outside, the wind shifted. Inside, the group stayed where they were. Not resting. Not exactly planning. Just bracing. Chapter 188: Bang Night settled like a lazy thief. Quiet. Cold. Intent on stealing rest. Lindarion sat by the fire, elbows on his knees, chin resting in one hand. Ashwing was curled up at his feet again, tail flicking softly every few minutes like he was dreaming about eating something bigger than him. Maybe Meren. The rest of the group was scattered around the main room of the inn in various states of pre-exhaustion. Ren leaned back against the wall, boots kicked up on a bench, balancing a knife on one finger and pretending not to be good at it. Her expression said she was absolutely waiting for someone to ask. Meren had his arms folded and his hood pulled up, quietly losing a mental argument with gravity. Every ten minutes his head jerked up like he''d won. Then it slumped again. Ardan stood near the back window, because of course he did. Just watching. Not brooding. He didn''t do that. He just stared with so much intent that the shadows probably reported to him. Lira sat near the fire but didn''t look at it. She had her legs crossed, her dagger in her lap, and that expression that said she was thinking about ten things and possibly judging all of them. Lindarion stretched out one leg and let his ankle crack. Loudly. Ren glanced over. "You good?" "Define good." "You''re not bleeding or cursed, right?" "No. But the night is young." She flipped the knife once, caught it, and grinned. "Now you''re learning." Lindarion looked into the fire. Not dramatic. Just bored. ''I have fought monsters, and a bunch of other shit. But this room might be where my patience dies.'' The fire popped once. Ashwing twitched in his sleep, then stretched one claw onto Lindarion''s boot like claiming territory. Again. The floor creaked above. Someone moved in the inn''s upper rooms. Probably another guest. Or a rat the size of a child. This village had that kind of energy. Meren finally gave up pretending to be awake and slumped sideways onto the table. Ren nudged him once with her boot. No reaction. Lira blinked slowly. "If he snores, I''m moving upstairs." "I''ll burn him," Lindarion offered. "Generous." Time slipped forward in awkward little pieces. No one talked much. Not because they were avoiding each other, just because sometimes quiet made more sense. Even chaos needed an intermission. Ashwing snorted in his sleep. Ren stood and stretched. Her joints popped like a chorus of tiny explosions. "Alright. I''m out." She kicked Meren. "You coming or should we let the shadows eat you?" He groaned and waved a hand. "Let them try." "Cool. Sleep tight." She headed up the stairs. Ardan followed after a moment, silently, like the wind told him when bedtime arrived. Lira stood last. Her gaze flicked to Lindarion for just a second. No words. Just that look. He nodded. "I''ll be up later." She disappeared up the stairs. Which left him, Ashwing, and the fire. He shifted slightly. Let the warmth crawl up his arms. Not thinking. Just... pausing. The silence settled again. Then shattered. BANG. The front door slammed once, hard enough to rattle the nearby lantern. Ashwing jerked upright and hissed. Lindarion stood slowly. Eyes narrowed. Hand already moving toward the blade resting beside the bench. ''...And there it is.'' Someone knocked again. Harder. Faster. No words. Just fists. Again. BANG. BANG. BANG. He stepped toward the door. Didn''t open it. Yet. Just rested one hand against the wood. Heat coiled in his palm. Ashwing crouched low behind him, smoke curling from his nose. Lindarion leaned forward, voice low and perfectly calm. "Who is it?" Another bang. Ashwing froze, ears twitching. Then he bolted under the bed like the bravest lizard in history. Lindarion sighed. ''...Of course.'' He crossed the room and cracked the door. Raleth stood on the landing. Soaked. Breathing like he''d sprinted the length of the village twice and then had a conversation with a brick wall. "Get the others," he said. "Now." "Define ''now,''" Lindarion said, already grabbing his coat. "Like... casual urgency or screaming soon?" Raleth''s face didn''t move. "Monsters. Northern edge. Multiple. We don''t have the numbers to hold." ''...Casual screaming, then.'' Lindarion didn''t wait for further poetry. He turned on his heel, to go to the others rooms. "Get up." "No," came Meren''s muffled voice. "Wrong answer." Lindarion shoved the door open. Ren sat up first, bleary-eyed and knife already in hand. "What is it?" "Village is under attack." Ren sighed like someone had just told her breakfast was canceled. "Figures." Meren rolled over. "I just got warm." "You''ll be warmer if you''re eaten," Lindarion said, already moving. He kicked Ardan''s door next. Didn''t wait. Ardan opened it in the next breath, already lacing a bracer onto his forearm. He looked at Lindarion. "Who''s leading?" "Raleth''s downstairs." "Good." That was all he said. Because of course it was. Last door. Lira''s. He didn''t knock. She was already there. Blade in hand. Eyes steady. Hair tied back. "Let''s go," she said, brushing past him like she''d known ten minutes before the knock came. They met Raleth at the stairs. The man gave them all a tight nod. "They''ve breached the outer field. Scouts say they''re fast. Mist-based. Not like the last ones." Lindarion followed as they all moved, Ashwing skittering down the steps behind them with something between curiosity and glee. At the base of the inn, cold slammed into his chest again. The wind had picked up. Somewhere in the dark, something let out a noise that didn''t belong in a world with logic or mercy. "Gear up. Then we move," Raleth said. "Define ''we,''" Meren whispered to Ren. "You, me, sleep deprivation, and poor life decisions," she muttered back. Lindarion ignored them. His hand warmed. The fire affinity pulsed behind his ribs, slow and steady. Waiting. Waiting for whatever came next. ''...Guess we''re clocking in early tonight.'' He pulled his scarf up and stepped outside and the others followed straight after. Chapter 189: Raid (1) The cold hit harder now. Not the polite kind from earlier. This was the kind that crept down your shirt collar and whispered mean things to your spine. Lindarion pulled his scarf higher. Ashwing bounced once behind him, tail smacking against the wood of the doorway like a drumroll nobody asked for. Ahead, the village square was lit with only three lanterns. Two were flickering like they were considering retirement. One was already dead. Great. Ren yawned beside him. Not because she wasn''t alert. Just because she had the emotional range of a bored cat and the sleep schedule of a raccoon. ''Sleep? In this economy?'' Meren was trying to lace his boots while walking, which was a bold strategy. He tripped twice. Pretended both were stretching. Ardan checked his sword. Checked it again. Then did nothing, which was somehow still threatening. Raleth led them toward the northern fields, jaw tight, pace brisk, and voice pitched just loud enough to carry. "Scouts say they''re spread along the treeline. At least four figures. One larger. Two fast. One unknown." "Sounds like a party," Ren muttered. "No party," Raleth replied. "No torches. No words. Just breathing." Meren made a noise that suggested he would rather be anywhere else. Possibly in a hole. With a blanket. Lindarion glanced sideways at Lira. She was quiet, but her steps had changed. Lighter. More forward. Like her body was walking before her brain had caught up. He didn''t ask what she was thinking. He knew. Same as him. Another attack. Too close. Too soon. ''Something is pulling them in. Or pushing them out.'' They reached the edge of the village. Just beyond the fields, the treeline stood like a wall. Silent. Perfectly still. The wind didn''t dare touch it. Ashwing stopped walking. His body stiffened. His eyes locked on the dark. Lindarion followed his gaze. Movement. Shadows that didn''t match the trees. Shifting too slow to be wind. Too deliberate to be natural. Lira stepped forward. So did Ardan. Ren''s hand went to her sword. Meren whimpered and crouched slightly behind a barrel. ''Strategic use of cover,'' Lindarion noted. ''And cowardice. Equal parts.'' A shape broke from the tree line. Too fast. It didn''t leap. It skated. Across the frost like it hated friction. Limbs long. Body narrow. Mouth split in four directions like a flower made of knives. Lindarion raised his hand. Fire met it mid-charge. The blast hit center-mass. It didn''t stop the thing, but it staggered. The mist peeled away from its sides like paint under acid. Ardan moved. One step. Then he was there. His sword carved up through the thing''s chest. A clean line. No hesitation. No elegance. Just done. The monster cracked. Fell. Dissolved. Behind it, more followed. Not in a line. In a wave. ''So that''s how we''re playing this.'' Ren stepped up beside him. "We holding the line?" "Until it breaks." She grinned. "Awesome." Meren looked ready to cry. Or throw up. Or both. Probably both. Lira crouched low, blade already coated in a slick sheen of her own mana. Ashwing growled. Not cute. Not small. Deep. Lindarion exhaled. Rolled his shoulders once. The fire affinity pulsed again. Not loud. But ready. ''Let''s make this quick.'' The next shadow lunged. ¡ª The second shadow didn''t die clean. It came in low, sliding through the frost like an eel made of knuckles and spines. Lira intercepted it with one fluid step and a downward strike that buried her dagger deep into its shoulder. The thing didn''t scream. It just twitched. Backward. Like it wanted to retreat inside its own body and try again with less pain. Lira followed. Blade still in. One sharp twist. Pop. The shoulder snapped backward, bone or whatever passed for bone in these things was grinding under pressure. Mist bled out. Not red. Not blood. Just fog with a purpose. ''Tidy work,'' Lindarion thought. ''Remind me not to borrow her hairbrush.'' More were moving now. Fast. No formations. No noise. Just shapes slinking in across the field. Shadows on ice. Teeth first. The snow carried a wet iron smell now. Not blood. But something close. Something old. Like metal that had been left in the cold too long and learned to breathe. Ren darted forward with a hissed curse. Her blade hummed to life with that frostline glow, slicing a figure in half mid-spin. One down. Three more took its place. Ardan stayed back. Not from fear. From calculation. Watching how they moved. Waiting for something worse to crawl in. Meren had wedged himself between two carts and was muttering a prayer that definitely wasn''t in the approved academy hymnals. Ashwing let out another low growl, tail coiled, teeth bared. He didn''t lunge. Not yet. He was waiting. Smart. Lindarion lifted both hands. The fire came easy now. Too easy. It rolled down his arms like ink through parchment. Hot. Controlled. It didn''t roar, it waited, as if it was the one with expectations. He didn''t say anything. Didn''t need to. He stepped forward. And swept the flame across the field. It didn''t flash. Didn''t explode. It just moved, long and low like a scythe of heat, slicing through the nearest three shadows with barely a flicker. Their edges curled inward. Their middles melted. One tried to keep going. Ashwing corrected it. The dragon lunged, teeth bared, and clamped down on the thing''s neck. The crack echoed like someone splitting wood. Then silence. Ren let out a sharp whistle. "Remind me to never babysit him." "He''s housetrained," Lindarion said flatly. "On what? Demons?" Lira didn''t comment. She was already cutting through another. Her strikes weren''t flashy. But they were precise. She moved like someone who had studied this choreography on blood-soaked floors and then re-written it better. Another shadow surged toward her. She didn''t flinch. She sidestepped. Twisted. Drove a second blade into its base. It dropped like it forgot what vertical meant. Lindarion felt the heat rising off his palms now. Real heat. Not mana-warmth. Burn-warmth. He let it creep higher. Let it flare. The scent of scorched ice hit his nose, sharp, bitter, with a hint of melted leather. A shadow charged him. He didn''t wait. He threw the fire directly into its mouth. It lit from the inside, swallowing light before folding in on itself like a bad memory. Behind him, Ashwing let out a sneeze. More smoke. Maybe a little lightning. ''Great,'' Lindarion thought. ''He''s upgrading. Hope he doesn''t learn how to speak next.'' More shapes appeared at the treeline. Not dozens. Hundreds. Their bodies dragged in uneven pulses¡ªlong arms, too many joints, skulls shaped wrong like masks made for someone else''s face. Some crawled. Some leapt. All of them hungry. Ren backed up a step, breath visible, sword loose in her hand. "So," she muttered, "we''re very outnumbered." Lira exhaled once through her nose. "Only if we stop moving." Ardan finally unsheathed his sword with a quiet ring that sounded far too polite for what was about to happen. Lindarion cracked his neck. ''Well...'' His boots scraped into position. His palms flared. The cold pressed harder. The monsters didn''t stop. And neither did he. ''Let''s see who breaks first.'' Chapter 190: Raid (2) Ashwing snarled. Not a small, decorative growl. A real one. From deep in the chest, coiled with heat and smoke. He stepped in front of Lindarion again, tail slapping the ground hard enough to crack ice. Lindarion didn''t stop him. ''Fine. Be dramatic. One of us has to be.'' The monsters came. The sound changed first, wind replaced by dragging. Nails on frost. Bones on rock. Low, scraping pulses that shouldn''t echo but somehow did. Like the land remembered too much. The air stank of magic now. Old magic. Tainted. Not elemental, not divine, not even cursed. Just... wrong. Sour and warm and clinging to the throat like spoiled incense. Ren cursed again, low. No bite. Just acknowledgment. Meren whimpered. Louder this time. Ardan didn''t look at him. He just shifted one step forward and braced his stance like the ground was going to argue with him. Lira flicked her dagger once. Mist slid off the blade like oil in water. Her expression didn''t change. The monsters poured forward. Closer now, you could see their faces. What passed for faces. Most didn''t match. One had too many eyes, each set at a slightly different height. Another dragged half a ribcage behind it like it couldn''t decide whether it was part of the scenery or part of the body. One crawled sideways. Fast. Ardan''s sword met it mid-pounce. The blow snapped its jaw in three places. "Flank left," he said. Flat. Direct. Like traffic directions, if traffic included meat puzzles. Ren took that as permission. She charged, no grace, no flair, just straight motion and violence. Her frostline sword carved an arc through two monsters. The steam that hit her face turned her hair silver at the edges. "Two more on your right!" Lira called. Ren turned without looking. Her foot connected with a kneecap. Not hers. Something cracked. Lindarion stepped forward again. Heat poured out like breath. His hands didn''t shake. Fire licked at his sleeves but didn''t burn. ''Too many. Too fast. No time to overthink.'' So he didn''t. A wall of fire roared up, low to the ground, bright orange, hot enough to ripple the snow backward in waves. It split the charging front line, forcing three of the beasts to stumble. One dropped completely, screeching as its claws caught flame. Ashwing moved next. He leapt over the wall. Tiny wings out. Smoke trailing. He slammed directly into a monster''s face. Tiny claws. Large teeth. The impact sounded wet and victorious. From the side, Raleth''s voice cut in, half-shouted, half-magic. "They''re circling the north! Reinforce the west! Cut the bottleneck!" Some villager screamed something about backup. Another yelled about missing livestock. Someone fired a crossbow into the sky. It was chaos. Cold wind mixed with ash. Burning meat. The distinct copper of panic sweat. Lira slid past Lindarion, slashing a tendril that had tried to snake around his leg. It split in two and dissolved instantly. "You''re welcome," she said. "Deeply grateful," he deadpanned. He caught sight of another beast pulling itself upright, bones clicking like dice in a bag. Lindarion sent fire down his leg. Kicked. The creature caught the full arc in the stomach and went airborne. Lira raised an eyebrow. "You''ve been practicing." "Mostly in self-defense." Two more creatures broke from the north end of the field. Ashwing turned. His eyes glowed faintly now. Not red. Gold. Lindarion felt it. A pulse from the dragon. Not a spell. Not a roar. Just pressure. Mana woven into heat. Ashwing opened his mouth. Fire didn''t come out. Light did. It hit one of the creatures in the chest, flaring white-hot for half a second, and then swallowed the thing whole. Ren yelled, "WHAT." Meren screamed, "HE HAS A BEAM?" Lindarion blinked. Ashwing wagged his tail. Then fell over.. Mid-battle. ''...Perfect.'' Lira muttered, "That''s one way to handle a growth spurt." Lindarion flexed his fingers. His hands ached now. Skin flushed red from heat and cold colliding. The fire settled. But the monsters didn''t. More came. Still. Hundreds, maybe. Their shapes twisted more the longer they watched. The wrongness crept in slow, like something behind their eyes had never seen light until tonight. Ardan moved through them like a guillotine. No wasted strikes. No noise. Ren was behind him, flanking left, hair soaked, face cut, still grinning like a maniac. Lira had taken the far side of the field now. Her steps didn''t make prints. Her blades didn''t miss. Lindarion? He stood at the center of it all. Light and shadow and steam rising from his feet. And somewhere deep under the fire, he felt it¡ª Another affinity. Knocking. Quiet. But there. Not yet. He stepped forward again. Fire met bone. Mist screamed. The night burned. ''Not tonight,'' he thought. ''You don''t get this village.'' He didn''t say it out loud. He just made it true. ¡ª One of the village guards broke formation. Not on purpose. His foot caught a patch of ice and suddenly he was down, shield skidding, breath punching out of him in a panic that spread fast and loud. The monster didn''t hesitate. It pounced. A blur of twisted joints and too-long limbs, claws curved like sickles made for peeling skin. Lindarion turned, fire already sparking in his palm¡ª Too late. A second figure slammed into the monster first. Ardan. No words. No warning. Just a clean, two-handed strike that cleaved through black mist and left the creature a puddle of failure. The guard scrambled back, wide-eyed, throat working soundlessly. ''He''s going to vomit,'' Lindarion thought. ''Or cry. Maybe both.'' He didn''t get the chance. A second shadow leapt from the side and caught the edge of the man''s shoulder with a claw. Just a slash. Nothing deep. But deep enough. He screamed. Ren was there in two steps. Blade first. Talk later. Her sword came down in an arc of white-blue light that shattered the creature''s midsection. Ice flared and spread through what used to be its chest. "Get up," she barked. The guard fumbled upright, blood on his sleeve, eyes darting in every direction like they''d betrayed him. "Back," Ardan ordered, voice flat. He went. Another went down two heartbeats later. This time it wasn''t clean. A monster barreled into the right flank, knocking three men off their feet like leaves in wind. Lindarion turned in time to see one of them dragged screaming into the dark beyond the torch line. Then nothing. ''That''s two,'' he thought grimly. ''Possibly three. And we''ve barely started.'' Ashwing roared beside him. Not big. But big enough. The little dragon''s teeth sank into the arm of a monster twice his size and did not let go. Smoke poured from his nostrils like a threat no one took seriously until their eyebrows were on fire. Lira cut down another with brutal precision. Her blade was black now, dripping with shadow magic that clung to the wound like rot. "They''re thinning," she said. "They''re swarming," Lindarion countered. "And we''re losing people." She didn''t deny it. Because she didn''t have to. Behind them, more villagers were rushing forward, half-trained, under-armed, fueled by desperation and the kind of courage you only got when running wasn''t an option. It wasn''t enough. Chapter 191: Raid (3) Meren was still at the back, casting minor barriers around civilians trying to flee. His jaw was tight, sweat streaking the dirt on his cheeks. Ren caught Lindarion''s eye between swings. "We can''t hold this line forever." Lindarion glanced back toward the village. Houses burning low now. Not torched. Just catching from sparks. Friction. Chaos. The air smelled like sweat, blood, and old wood trying not to die. He raised both hands. The fire affinity surged. Brighter this time. Hotter. He stepped forward and unleashed it in a wide wave, clearing a path ten meters across. The monsters closest to them scattered or evaporated entirely in a blast of controlled rage. Ashwing let out a delighted shriek and dove into the gap, gnawing on whatever wasn''t ash yet. Lindarion''s chest rose and fell, every breath heavier. ''Still holding.'' Lira stepped up beside him. Her blade dripped, her face unreadable. "Back them up," she said. "Now." They ran. No more waiting. No more witty lines. Just fire, steel, and enough monsters to make the gods reconsider their life choices. And Lindarion? He didn''t hesitate. Because if they fell here, it wouldn''t just be the village. It would be the beginning of something worse. ¡ª Lindarion hit the ground hard. Not from a strike. From dodging one. A monster had flung itself past his shoulder at the last second, clipping his arm and ripping a line through the side of his cloak. Not skin. Yet. ''Great. That''s the second cloak this month. I should start billing the void.'' He rolled, fire already curling in his palm, and sent a blast point-blank into the creature''s gut. It exploded in a cloud of steaming black mist and regret. Ashwing leapt over him mid-spin, smoke trailing from his mouth, tiny wings flared like he thought he was invincible. Honestly, he was starting to believe it too. Ren skidded past, heels kicking up frost, her sword dragging behind her before she whipped it up with a flare of ice that froze three monsters in one brutal line. The edges cracked. One of them twitched. She shattered it with her boot. "Left side''s folding!" she shouted. Ardan responded with steel. No words. No sound. Just movement that didn''t waste anything. A soldier fell behind him, claw through the gut. Another tried to help and caught a strike to the neck. Too late. Too many. Too fast. ''We''re being herded,'' Lindarion realized. ''They''re driving us inward. Pushing us to break formation.'' He backed toward Lira, who stood in the thick of it like a shadow had given up being subtle and picked up a knife. Her face was stone. Cold. Focused. She cut down another, no flourish. Just ruthless efficiency. "They''re not trying to kill us fast," he said. "I know," she replied without turning. "They''re waiting for something." A crack of thunder split the air. Not real thunder. Mana. Dark and sharp. It buzzed in his bones like a scream waiting for a throat. Lindarion turned. So did everyone else. The field fell silent, just for a second. Long enough to feel it. Cold swept over the village square again, but this wasn''t winter. This was something colder. Wronger. From the far end of the field, the tree line parted. Not gently. Like it had been punched open from the inside. And through it stepped a figure. Tall. Towering. Maybe nine feet. Hard to tell through the haze. It wore a dark cloak, not just black. Blacker. Mana-wrought fabric that ate the light around it. Its face was hidden under a wide hood, and beneath that, a glint of silver and bone. A mask. Ornate. Etched in runes Lindarion couldn''t read and didn''t want to. It held a staff taller than a grown man, topped with a crystal that pulsed once. Deep purple. Alive. Rotten. The monsters froze. Every single one. Then stepped back. Made room. Lindarion''s fire dimmed without his permission. He clenched his jaw. ''Nope. Not now. Not a mage.'' Ashwing hissed beside him, body low, wings tight to his sides. The cloaked figure moved forward. Slow. Casual. Like this was a walk. Like this wasn''t war. Meren made a small, wounded noise. "That''s not fair." Lira''s hand tightened on her blade. Her shoulders didn''t tense. They settled. Like she was weighing every possible point of entry for her dagger. Ren stepped up beside Lindarion, voice low. "That''s a mage. Big one." "Understatement," he muttered. "Any plans?" "Survive. Look cool. Don''t cry." "Copy." The figure stopped at the edge of the firelight. Didn''t speak. Didn''t gesture. Just watched. Waiting. Lindarion felt the fire in him churn. Not fear. Not yet. But a warning. Whatever this was¡ª It was worse than teeth. Worse than claws. It was smart. And it was here for something. Or someone. The cold deepened again. And the air held its breath. The silence stretched. Heavy. Suffocating. The kind that didn''t just hang in the air, it settled in your chest and tried to convince your lungs to stop being ambitious. The cloaked figure didn''t move. Didn''t need to. Every monster in the clearing still held position. Even the twitchy ones. Especially the twitchy ones. Ren clicked her tongue. "So. He''s not shy. He''s just dramatic." Lira took a step forward. Only one. But it felt like something important had shifted. She wasn''t staring. She wasn''t posturing. She was studying him. Blade in hand. Shoulders squared. Waiting for a reason. The mage finally lifted a hand. Not fast. Like he wanted them to see every movement. Every inch of the claw-tipped fingers, pale against the dark of his sleeve. He pointed. Not at the soldiers. Not at the villagers. Not at Lindarion. But directly at Lira. She didn''t blink. Ren muttered, "Oh. Good. You''ve made a friend." The figure raised the staff. Then the wind moved. But it didn''t blow. It shoved. A force slammed across the square like a wall of knives and frost. Half the front line staggered. One soldier went down, his helmet clattering off and vanishing into the dark. Lindarion braced, one hand coming up, fire roaring to life just to hold his ground. Ashwing skidded backward on all fours, wings spread to keep balance, growling like someone had insulted his bloodline. And in the middle of it¡ª Lira didn''t move. The cloak rippled. The figure raised the staff higher. Lightning flashed. No thunder. Just raw light. No build-up. No chant. Just mana shaped by something ancient. The bolt lashed out. Lira blurred. She didn''t dodge. She moved through. The lightning bent around where she had been a moment ago, scattering against the frozen dirt in sparks that hissed like angry snakes. Ren shot past Lindarion like a blue-streaked meteor, blade glowing with frost so bright it cast her face in sharp whites and shadowed blues. "I''ve got right," she said, already moving to flank. "I''ll take front," Lira replied, calm as a cut vein. The mage lifted a second hand. Both now raised. The ground split. Not crumbled. Split. Like it had been waiting for an excuse. A ring of jagged stone ripped upward, jagged like teeth. A barrier? No. A stage. Lira reached the edge first. Then vanished. Reappeared mid-step. And brought her dagger across the edge of the mage''s robes in a blur of motion. Chapter 192: Raid (4) Steel met mana. Sparks flew. The cloth didn''t tear. But it hissed. Ren was behind the figure now. Fast. Blade low. Ice crawling up her arms in a spiral pattern like frost was responding to her pulse. She struck. The mage turned. Too late. The sword hit. It didn''t cut deep. But it cut. First blood. Steam rose from the wound like smoke from old incense. The mage didn''t scream. He didn''t even flinch. He just turned his mask fully to Ren. A burst of dark mana exploded from the staff''s head, point blank. Ren went flying. Backward. Through a pile of crates. Wood shattered. Ice mist filled the air. She landed hard, but rolled back up with a wheeze. "Okay," she coughed. "He hits hard." "You alright?" Lindarion called, fire already coiled in his hand. "Absolutely not," she shouted. "But I''m mad now." Lira used the distraction. She stepped close again. Too close for spells. Dagger flicking up once, twice, three times in rapid cuts that tried to break through the mage''s chest defense. No wasted movement. No wide arcs. Just pressure. Every strike forced him back. Until he stopped moving. And the staff''s base slammed into the ground. The shockwave didn''t ripple out. It went up. Dark mist coiled around him like a second cloak. The runes on his mask flared red, then black, then disappeared completely. The monsters in the field shrieked. Real shrieks. Pain. Hunger. Worship. Then they charged. Again. Full force. The entire square exploded in movement. Ashwing roared and leapt forward like a summoned meteorite. Lindarion clenched his fist, felt the fire shudder. ''They''re not just buying time. They''re defending him.'' Meren screamed from somewhere behind. Possibly in terror. Possibly in protest. He still threw a bolt that hit something important. Ren dragged herself upright, blood on her lip, eyes narrowed like knives. Lira crouched low again, one hand extended behind her like she was about to draw another weapon. The mage finally looked up. And this time, Lindarion felt it. Not cold. Not fear. Something older. ''...He''s not just a mage. He''s more like a damned herald.'' Of what? He didn''t want to know. And definitely not tonight. He raised both hands. Fire surged like it had teeth. "Ren," he shouted, "go loud." She bared her teeth. "Gladly." ¡ª Ren didn''t wait for a countdown. She sprinted forward with that same manic precision only possessed by battle freaks and people who''d lost a bet. Her sword dragged behind her for half a second before she flipped it into a reverse grip and launched herself toward the mage like she''d decided gravity was optional. The staff flared again. This time, the light wasn''t clean. It was muddy. Wrong. Like a dream bleeding through the edges of the world. Lindarion felt it in his molars. Ren didn''t flinch. She kicked off a chunk of stone midair, twisted like a gymnast with anger issues, and came down swinging. The sword connected with a sound like ice breaking underwater. The mage staggered back half a step. Just one. But it was enough. Lira was already there. She hadn''t run. She''d flowed. Her momentum was all knee, shoulder, elbow strikes designed to collapse, not push. The dagger flicked again. This time, up and angled toward the soft of the neck. It met the mask. The runes flared again, absorbing the hit with a hiss like burning silk. ''...That''s going to be a problem,'' Lindarion thought. ''Note to self: enchanted armor is cheating.'' He didn''t wait either. The monsters had started pouring in from all sides. Dozens. No, hundreds. Climbing the walls, slamming into doorways, ripping up cobblestones like they had a grudge against architecture. Soldiers were falling fast. One got dragged backward into the dark by four limbs wrapped in mist. Another shouted and vanished into a cluster of jaws. The snow was already black. Lindarion raised both hands. Let the fire rip. It spiraled outward in a crescent arc, burning three shadow-beasts into nothing and lighting the edge of the battlefield in a sharp orange bloom. Ashwing was everywhere. One second, clamped onto a monster''s shoulder with little dragon rage. The next, flinging a smoking arm into the frost like a dog playing fetch backwards. "Hold the line!" Raleth bellowed near the rear. His blade was glowing gold now. Not pretty gold. Functional gold. The kind that hummed with old enchantments and looked like it had opinions. Lindarion ducked under a clawed swipe, planted his feet, and flared the fire around his arms like armor. A shadow-beast lunged. He uppercut it with a burning fist. The thing turned into a plume of black vapor that smelled like wet mold and regret. Then another one slammed into his side, claws scraping against the flame coating. He grunted, twisted, and blasted it away with a pulse of fire that left his ears ringing. Behind him, Ren screamed again, not in pain. In challenge. "I almost admire him," she said, dodging a staff strike that cratered the stone behind her. "Guy''s got flair." Lira didn''t speak. She moved. Low again. A sweep kick that took the mage''s legs out for just long enough to let her dagger bite deeper. The mask cracked. Slightly. A fissure near the side. The mage turned. For the first time, he retaliated with real force. Both hands came down, slamming the staff into the ground. A wave of shadow burst out, pure mana backlash. Ren got caught in the edge and flung into a half-collapsed cart. She swore. Loudly. Lira slid back, heels carving two neat lines through the frost. "Cover!" Lindarion barked, already moving. He shot a pillar of flame between Lira and the mage just as the figure turned toward her again. The fire didn''t do much to him, but it bought her two seconds. She nodded once in his direction. That was enough. Behind him, another soldier fell. Meren was holding the line with Ardan now¡ªbarely. The older warrior''s blade was soaked in black mist, hair clinging to his forehead, breaths short but timed like he was counting. Ashwing was growling constantly now. No rhythm. Just a building storm. Lindarion dropped low. His hands hit the stone. The fire ran into the ground, thin veins of light branching out like cracks in the surface of the world. They lit a path around the mage. Ren saw it. "Now?" she shouted. "Now." She leapt again. Blade first. The fire reached the outer runes of the spell ring and flared. The explosion wasn''t massive. But it was close. It knocked the mage slightly off balance. Lira lunged. Her dagger struck the crack in the mask. It didn''t break fully. But it chipped. Hard. The sound that came out of the mage wasn''t human. It wasn''t anything. It just hurt. A pressure behind the eyes. A frequency that didn''t have the decency to be audible. Lindarion staggered. So did everyone else. Ashwing screeched. And somewhere in the trees, something else screamed back. Lindarion''s stomach dropped. ''...That wasn''t him.'' He looked to the north. The trees were glowing. Faintly. Something old was waking up. The mage raised his staff again, runes flickering, leaking black steam from the wound in his mask. Chapter 193: Raid (5) The noise didn''t die down. It got louder. More layered. Like someone had turned up the volume on a broken world. Screams. Claws on stone. The hiss of something unholy dragging itself across wood. And underneath it all, the hum of mana being ripped out of the ground like roots from a corpse. Lindarion couldn''t hear himself breathe. Didn''t matter. The fire still worked. ''Still here. Still burning. That counts.'' His coat was soaked through. Not blood. Not sweat. Just melt. Ice mixing with heat, soaking through every layer. His gloves were scorched at the tips. His fingers barely felt real. A monster lunged. Too fast. Too close. He didn''t think. He punched it in the face with a fist wrapped in flame. It shrieked, head first, body second. Black mist coughed out of its shattered eye sockets as it tumbled back into the crowd. Ashwing darted through the gap and pounced the next one. Tail whipping. Wings flared. The little bastard actually looked excited. Behind him, another scream, higher pitched. Human. Sharp. Lindarion turned, half-limped toward the source, fire already lighting his palm¡ª Too late. A guard went down hard. Clawed through the gut. His partner tried to drag him back, but another shadow-beast came in low and caught them both in the tangle. Lindarion''s flame lit them up in a burst that turned snow to steam and monster to charcoal, but the bodies didn''t move. ''Six more gone. Just like that.'' He looked back toward the center. The field was shrinking. The perimeter had collapsed entirely on the western edge. Villagers were being rushed out in groups, pushed toward the remaining buildings. But monsters moved faster. Every scream was another subtraction. Ren was limping now. Blood along her thigh. Jaw clenched so tight it looked carved. Lira wasn''t bleeding. But her eyes were tight. Focused. The kind of focus you only pulled when the body started to falter and the brain had to compensate with pure hate. They moved in tandem now. Ren distracted. Lira stabbed. The mage was bleeding from the mask, if you could call it that. Black steam hissed out from the chip like his face was trying to reform itself with malice alone. He didn''t speak. He didn''t need to. The staff flared again. But this time the light didn''t hit them. It hit the monsters. They screamed like someone had poured boiling metal down their spines. Then charged harder. Faster. Meren yelled behind him, "They''re going berserk!" "No kidding!" Ren shouted. Ashwing yelped as a beast clipped his side. He tumbled, rolled, and got back up with a snarl, fire leaking from both nostrils now. He opened his mouth. And this time he breathed it. Not smoke. Not steam. Flame. Real. Wide. Hungry. It torched five creatures in a burst of orange that lit the entire line. Lindarion almost dropped to his knees. "Showoff," he muttered. Ashwing puffed out his chest and sneezed again. Ren stumbled to a crouch, chest heaving. "We can''t keep this up." Lira didn''t reply. Her eyes were on the mage. He was stepping forward again. One slow step. Then another. The staff dragged now. Not because he was weak. Because he wanted them to hear it. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Ardan cut down another monster and moved in beside Lindarion. His mouth was a thin line. Blood on his jaw. Not his. "The line''s folding," he said. "How bad?" "Fifteen left. Maybe." Lindarion looked at the field. Half the town was gone. The snow was black. And the air stank of burning mana and cooked rot. Ren turned her head, spit blood, and shouted, "We need something big. Now." Lindarion''s fire dimmed again. Only slightly. He looked down at his palm. It still flickered. Still there. But not enough. Not anymore. ''Divine affinity''s off-limits. Too much, too soon. It''s not leveled up. But...'' His eyes narrowed. He looked at the mage again. And took one step forward. Lira saw him. She didn''t stop him. Didn''t say a word. But her hand twitched. Like she was ready to back him up, no matter how bad this got. The mage raised the staff one more time. The sky split above them. Literally. A crack. Like a lid coming off something the world had buried on purpose. Lindarion muttered under his breath. "Okay." ''Let''s break the rules a little.'' His hands began to glow. Not red. Not orange. Not flame. But something older. Whiter. Brighter. Ashwing turned toward him and crouched low, growling, not afraid. Just bracing. Ren glanced back. "Lindarion?" He didn''t answer. Not yet. The fire wasn''t fire anymore. And the mage had finally stopped walking. Because even he could feel it. Divine affinity. Not all of it. Just a whisper. Just enough. To try and end this. ¡ª The snow under Lindarion''s boots hissed. Not from fire. From heat without flame. Light without color. The raw beginning of something bigger pressing at the edges of the world. ''Alright. So this is what a bad idea feels like in my bones.'' He stepped forward again. The noise dropped around him, just slightly. Like the wind was ducking for cover. Ashwing growled low in his throat and stayed close. His tail flicked. Once. Twice. Then curled in tighter, like even he wasn''t sure if this was a great plan. Ren stared. Lira didn''t move. But her eyes tracked every muscle in his shoulders like she expected him to implode. He didn''t blame her. The Divine affinity wasn''t subtle. It came up from the core, not down from the sky. A pressurized hum in the spine. A pressure behind the eyes. A promise. And it wanted out. Lindarion raised both hands slowly. The flame in his palms evaporated. In its place¡ª Light. Not golden. Not holy. Just... real. The kind of real that made shadows look like liars. Around him, the frost melted in a perfect circle. Steam rose, twisting through the air like confused spirits. The mage stopped mid-step. The monsters did not. Two lunged from the right. Lindarion didn''t flinch. He moved one hand. No chant. No flourish. Just a snap. A line of radiant pressure cracked out from his fingertips and slammed into the nearest beast. It didn''t scream. It didn''t even die right. It just... disappeared. Reduced to memory and heat. Chapter 194: Raid (6) Another beast leapt. Too slow. Ashwing met it midair, jaws catching the thing''s neck with a snap that echoed like a judge''s gavel. The little dragon rolled with the body, bounced once, then crouched again, smoke trailing from his nostrils like he''d been born to guard this moment. Lindarion stepped forward again. The mage tilted his head. Runes along the staff flared a deep crimson, panicked now. Not rhythmic. Not steady. Like it was trying to reconfigure for a threat it didn''t understand. Lira moved. Only a few steps. Just enough to keep herself in range. Ren, still bleeding, barked a laugh. "You were holding out on us!" "I''m eleven," Lindarion said. "You''re an eleven-year-old problem." "Better than being a corpse." The Divine energy curled tighter around his arms now, lacing up his sleeves in threads of white fire. It didn''t burn. But it hummed. Like it wanted an audience. The mage shifted. Not back. Not forward. Just centered himself. He raised both arms. The sky cracked again. This time, the tear stayed open. Lindarion didn''t wait. He launched himself forward. The light followed. Not like fire. Like purpose. It wrapped around his fists, bent around his shoulders, and pushed. Not hard. Just enough to let the world know he meant it. The mage sent another bolt of mana straight toward his chest. Lindarion batted it aside. With his hand. No spell. Just pressure. The impact split the air. Snow vaporized in a ten-foot radius. He closed the distance. The mage raised his staff. Lindarion didn''t let him finish. He punched forward. Light met darkness. And the mask cracked again. Not a chip. A full line. Top to bottom. The mage reeled. Stumbled. Then shrieked. The monsters felt it first. They screamed and clawed at the snow. Some ran. Some convulsed and tore at each other, directionless. Lindarion stood in the middle of it. Breathing hard. Hands trembling. ''Okay. That... hurt.'' His vision blurred for a second. Lira caught him before he dropped. One hand on his shoulder. "I''m fine," he muttered. "You''re lying." "Emotionally, I''m always lying." She didn''t let go. Ashwing stood in front of them now, wings flared, snarling at what remained of the field. The mage didn''t fall. But he stepped back. Another pace. The staff pulsed once. Then again. Lindarion blinked the blur from his eyes and hissed through his teeth. ''He should be leaving. He knows he can''t win. Not now.'' But the crack in the sky? Still open. Ren limped over, one hand on her ribs. "So... we gonna talk about that light show or just keep pretending you''re normal?" Lindarion didn''t answer. Not because he didn''t want to. But because the sky just shivered again. And something else was watching. Something that wasn''t ready to step in¡ª But now knew his name. He exhaled. Stared at the mage. At the monsters. At the battlefield that used to be a village. ¡ª The mage didn''t retreat. He should''ve. There was a line in the frost. Burned clean by Lindarion''s light. The village, the corpses, the flickering chaos, none of it mattered in that second. Just him. Just the mage. Just the breath between what should''ve been an ending and what was clearly something stupider. The mask cracked top to bottom, it split wider. Not fully. But enough to show a sliver underneath. Not skin. Teeth. Too many. Too white. Ren''s face twisted. "That''s not a mage anymore." Lira didn''t respond. Her blade twitched in her grip like it was ready to finish what Lindarion started. The figure leaned forward slightly. The runes down the staff flared one by one, red to orange to white. Then he laughed. Not a cackle. Not a growl. Just low. Rich. Like something that had forgotten how lungs worked and decided to fake it for the aesthetic. Lindarion took a step back. Ashwing did not. The little dragon spat a thread of flame into the snow and snarled deep, like his whole bloodline had just been insulted. The laughter stopped. Not because it ended. Because it got cut off. The mage''s body lurched. Twitched. Once. Then twice. Like it couldn''t hold shape anymore. Then his back arched. The runes all flared at once¡ª And detonated. Not outward. Inward. The body crumpled like paper soaked in ink. Mask shattered. Cloak twisted into black smoke. Staff fell and sank into the snow with a metallic thunk that sounded... final. And something else stood up. Taller. Narrower. Gray skin like tree bark and shadows. Eyes, plural, burning violet in a skull that didn''t have the decency to pick a species. Its arms hung too long. Its chest was hollow. Literally. A ribcage that opened and breathed. Like it wanted more room. Lindarion whispered, "Ah. So he had a second phase." Ren groaned. "I hate second phases." The creature snapped its head toward Lira. She didn''t blink. Didn''t move. But something in her shifted. Her stance squared. Dagger tilted. The fight hadn''t ended. It had just peeled off the skin. The village, or what was left of it started shaking. Not violently. Not all at once. Just little shifts. Like the world itself was holding its breath and about to regret it. The creature opened its chest cavity. Yes. Chest cavity. It glowed inside. Dimly. Like a lantern made of bone and promises. Ashwing stepped forward, growling low. Ren looked to Lindarion. "I''m out of clever. Got anything left?" Lindarion clenched his fist. The light didn''t come back. Not like before. But the heat was still there. In his chest. Waiting. ''I''m still standing. That means we''re not done.'' He nodded once. Then looked to Lira. She met his gaze. And without a word¡ªran straight toward the thing. ¡ª The battlefield hadn''t gone quiet. Not really. But for the first time since this started, the noise felt distant. Like the air itself was holding its breath. Or watching. Lindarion blinked the last of the light from his vision. His legs weren''t moving yet, and his ribs definitely had a few opinions, but he was upright. Technically. Ashwing paced in front of him in slow, angry circles. Tail twitching. Wings low. Eyes locked on the dark mage like he was ready to try a second round, maybe with more teeth this time.