《Day-to-Day Life of an Immortal Dragon (A Slice-of-Life LitRPG)》


 Chapter 1 - I was Reincarnated as an Immortal Dragon?

    When I walked out of the office building. The sun was blinding. It made me squint. I had been been stuck inside all day under florescent lights. An endless loop of spreadsheet-to-spreadsheet. I dreamt of them now. It had been years stuck in the same boring office. No windows. Only fluro lights.


    It was always cold in the air-con. No matter the weather.


    I was a punctual guy. There every morning eight o¡¯clock sharp ready to check in. There till five, hunched over my monitor. A good little drone.


    The money was okay. Not too much. Not too little. But I was alone. No friends. No family. No wife. No kids. No parents. I had made efforts to change that but they went nowhere.


    Sometimes I felt tired of it all. I would feel the primal urge to quit and buy a cabin in the woods. I would think: ¡®If only I was more adventurous. If only I was braver, everything would be different.¡¯


    But nothing ever changed. I was simply too comfortable to bother. Not uncomfortable enough to change anything. Just uneventful day after day. My ambitions were limited. I had no dreams. Nothing on the bucket list. I hated travel. I hated changing my routine.


    I started working here when I was eighteen. When I was twenty-five both my parents died in a car accident. The only other interesting incident was that when I turned thirty - I moved. My landlord died. The kids inherited and they were selling. A hot market.


    My daily routine. 6 am. Alarm on phone. Crappy android. Dress. Make bed. Clean room. Breakfast. YouTube.


    Walk to work. Exactly sixteen minutes. On the way stop by the deli and by a bread roll. Eat it on the walk to work.


    My office was still the same. An office with no windows. An upgrade since I was a ¡®manager¡¯. Same drab grey wallpaper from when I started. Doing the same thing. My job had landed a contract for a Big Accounting Firm - and they had continued to renew the very large contract since.


    Another important event. My manager quit. I had become the manager. The only change in the office from when he had arrived.


    Life is supposed to be made up of memorable moments. The unexpected events. Sweet and bitter relationships. Adventures and journeys. But all of that was unknown to me. My memory was a large slab of grey nothing. With nothing to mark the time it was as if I had lived multi-year-unbroken-day.


    Same day, week, month, year and season. Got up at the same time. Went to work at the same time. Ate at the same time. Lunch. Dinner. All the same time. Routine and regular.


    Maybe the only thing that had changed was my hair? Instead of the clean shaven face he saw in the mirror I had grown a moustache. A small change. But still, long years of nothing, and all he had to show for it was a moustache.


    That day - I stood outside stunned by the sunlight. I decided to change my routine. Head out for a walk. The urge to do this - to break his routine happened every so often. Three, maybe four times a year.


    I walked down the main road. Heading towards the park. It was a summer evening, that¡¯s why the light had blinded me. A nice warm and pleasant evening. The street and the parks were filled with people making the most out of life.


    I walked like an old man. Shuffling. Precise - small steps. Hunch backed from a life in front of a computer. I walked old. But inside I felt young. The sun had temporarily put him in a good state.


    When I arrived at the park. The sun began to set. The sky was lit ablaze. A mass of pinks and oranges mixed together.


    At the entrance of the park was huge statue of a horse. I loved to look at that statue. It was where I went to when I broke my routine. The horse was rearing. Somehow the sculptor had precisely captured it in a moment of intense energy and motion.


    I felt like it gave me a push. I felt like that. Defiant. Like sometimes wanted to breakaway - like that wild horse.


    I sat on one end of a greet metal park bench. A couple sat on the other side mid-argument.


    ¡®You¡¯re making a mistake.¡¯


    ¡®No - don¡¯t be foolish Emily. Come on. Listen -¡¯


    ¡®Why are you doing this?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not right. Why are you doing this? You¡¯ve got to stop.¡¯


    Emily stood up: ¡®You think I¡¯m doing this because it¡¯s fun!¡¯


    ¡®Then why?¡¯ asked the man quietly.


    ¡®I¡¯ve got to live! Dumb question.¡¯


    Thomas felt bewildered by the whole argument. I really tried to ignore it but they were pretty loud.


    Up the road - in a yellow cab - a taxi driver leaned over. Fiddling with the radio. When he looked up. A black BMW had swerved into his lane, cutting him off.


    The taxi driver tried to swerve but it was too late.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Crash.


    Right into the back of the BMW.


    Crash.


    BMW rear-ended another car in front.


    Crash. Crash. Crash.


    A pile up. It was peak hour.


    The sequence of cars all crashing until the car at the lights in front of the park. A white Kei truck. An old white construction truck.


    But Thomas didn¡¯t notice. The couple who had been arguing earlier. Were making out with each other. I began to hate them. Thinking about all of the passion. All the annoying loved up couples who passed by.


    I didn¡¯t know anything about it. I only perceived only the monotony of my existence in contrast. Past, present and future misery. Endless days of repetition. First day similar to the last one. Nothing to look forward to before him, behind him, about him or in him.


    The momentum of the accident pushed smashed that white Kei truck hard. Forcing it to speed up and jump the curb. Flying in the air at the park bench.


    What was I waiting on? What was I thinking about? What was I hoping for? I thought about the couple next to him. How nice would it be for them to come home. Greeted at the door by little children. By loved ones. A shared existence. Someone who cared you exited. Who hugged you. Who told you trivial things, foolish things and things which made you happy. Who consoled you.


    I thought about my empty room. It was clean. Furnished okay. But I was the only one who ever entered it. It was quiet. Nobody every spoke there. People say if walls could talk ¡ª they would have many interesting things to say. Not about Thomas. Instead the walls would probably complain about the endless dreary routine - and ask or beg for the guy to go get a girlfriend. Even a pet. A goldfish. Just do something different.


    ¡®I wish things were different.¡¯ Thomas thought to himself. ¡®I wish something would change. Anything.¡¯


    The truck flew through the air and smashed into Thomas. Somehow avoiding the couple on the other end of the bench.


    It smashed into him licence plate first.


    The license plate read:


    TRUCK-KUN.


    ***


    Deep within a cave. Some dust motes floating in the light. The wind pushing them. The dust motes swirled and swirled around.


    Low to the ground at first. Then higher and higher. Hundreds of meters up in the air. It was a large cave.


    In the cave, there were two things. A statue of a giant dragon lying on a pile of treasures.


    In the atmosphere above the planet - a gem was floating in space. It was large - the size of a small pick-up truck. Flashing in and out of visibility and changing colours.


    It also had laid dormant for a long time. But it began to move as if attracted to something.


    It flew - slowly at first - then faster and faster.


    It was hard to tell the speed in space - but it was incredibly fast. It flashed through the atmosphere with an incredible burst of light.


    Mostly visible on a magical wavelength.


    It was noticed by a few people.


    Deep in a desert. A team of merchants sat around a tent. A bearded old man looked up. Seeing a bright flash of light across the stars, he smiled and stroked his beard.


    Up in the floating isles. A group of nomadic sky-dwellers - saw it. Chattering about it back and forth to each other.


    Starweave Academy. A female astronomer in the middle of making notes in a large magical book - saw flash through her window. She what she was doing and ran to the telescope - looking through it quickly. ¡®A [Primordial Gem]?¡¯


    The Tempest Archipelago. An oracle. Blind. White hair. White robes. Pale white skin. She kneels on the highest level of a tower - completing a ritual. She was kneeling about to finish - when the flash of light interrupted the end. She stopped the ceremony and looked up. ¡®Dragons?¡¯


    The gem flew - before crashing down into a mountain range. No - to the illusion of a mountain range.


    The illusion barrier flickered after the gem flew through it. Revealing - the Dragon Sanctuary.


    An entire mountain range that had been hollowed out for dragon living quarters. From a mountain range full of about a hundred grey mountains - all the outer mountains had been left intact - but the tops of the inner mountains had been sliced off at different heights.


    Creating flat circular platforms for different things. Temples. Ceremonial circles. Living quarters. Then giant stone stairs and bridges had been carved in between the platforms. Creating this incredible living complex. There were gems, gold and silver markings, and a lot of beautiful intricate carvings.


    The comet flew through an opening in the ground - deep into the sanctuary. In the cave with the stone dragon statue.


    It smashed into the dragon statue. Forcing the dust motes into a little storm.


    Then it was quiet. The dust returning to its floating pattern.


    The stone dragon began to change. The grey of stone changing to black scales. He was a big dragon. Long body, massive wings, serpent-like shape.


    His scales were a black-gold. But they were shiny. They reflected the dull gold of the treasure - making them even more gold.


    A swirl of wind. The dragon breathed in. Then its eyes opened.


    They were ruby red. Two great fiery orbs of light.


    It was Thomas.


    ¡®I died¡¯.


    My memory came back. The truck smashing into me. I had been transported to a new world. I sighed - somethings clanked. I never got to do anything.


    Then a new set of memories flashed into my head.


    I was a dragon. I hatched.


    I was a dragon in the age of dragons. Dragons were everywhere. They ruled the land.


    I ate. I slept. Hunted. Fought.


    Dragons were a bunch of greedy and vengeful guys.


    Truly vengeful. I had a lot of memories of vendettas. Some incredible, ridiculous, dramatic, ferocious and heroic stories.


    So many causes of revenge. Beefs lasting for hundreds of years. Quiet then bursting into action. Crazy stratagems. Murders becoming massacres. Nothing but blood, blood feuds, blood vengeance.


    The Dragons lived by a policy of ¡®you must pay the price of blood¡¯ if you attacked a Dragon. They had to. Every single inch of a dragon was a treasure. They practised crazy revenge for even the slightest insult. Death to the person, all of their descendants and relatives.


    I had seen so much murder. My head was full of these stories.


    Then the world changed.


    A massive meteor crashed to earth. A gem. Magic got explosively stronger. They fought. Giants. Dragons. Mythic beasts. Elder Spirits.


    Eventually the dragons won. The Gem was owned by the Dragons. The rise of the Gemlord of the Dragons and their endless empire.


    Till the magic died.


    No clue why.


    There were a lot of gaps.


    He only had few images of this time.


    A massive portal ripping the sky in half and a huge number of dragons - filling the sky - as far as the eye could see flying through the portal.


    A book. Big enough for a dragon to read.


    Then of the dragon sleeping.


    This guy had lived.


    No Tavalor. His name was Tavalor.


    Tavalor. Thomas.


    The identities blurred together.


    I was Tavalor much more than Thomas.


    Who else would I be? After all my memories were 99.99999999% Tavalor.


    I laughed in joy. I was a Dragon.


    Something different for once.


    I stood up. Or tried to. The hill collapsed under my feet. The gold had gotten so old that it crumbled to pieces underneath my weight. I felt super clumsy too. I had never been a dragon.

 Chapter 2 - I tried to Learn Modern Magic

    I stood up. Or tried to. The hill collapsed under my feet. The gold had gotten so old that it crumbled to pieces underneath my weight. I felt super clumsy too. I had never been a dragon.


    It was a strange feeling to be a dragon. I felt heavy. Clumsy. I had four limbs instead of the normal two and my weight distribution was off.


    My instincts wanted me to stand upright - on two legs - but the weight I was carrying wouldn¡¯t let me. I would tip over.


    I spent a while clumsily rolling around until I figured out how to walk on four legs.


    Once I was ready to go. I did the one of the two things that everybody should I was excited to do when they transform into a dragon.


    1. Breathe fire


    2. Fly


    I tried to breathe fire. Or I failed to breathe fire.


    It didn¡¯t work at all. No matter what I tried. Using Tavalor¡¯s memories. Nothing worked.


    I followed the steps. I imagined what I wanted to do. I squeezed the emotions into it. A tiny slice of anger. Then I channelled the magic.


    Was I doing something wrong?


    No. My steps were accurate. I looked through all of the old memories of magic.


    I remembered the war over the [Primordial Gem]. When it crashed. Air shimmered with raw magic. The sky was alive with light, a brilliant meteor blazing down from the heavens, casting eerie colours across the world below. All creatures¡ªdragons, giants, spirits, and mythical beasts¡ªfelt its approach, a pulsing energy radiating across the land. I remember perching on a cliff-side, watching it streak across the night sky, feeling its power resonate through my scales. When it struck, the ground shook, mountains cracked, and the impact left a massive crater. In its centre lay the meteor itself, a colossal gem radiating pure, unbridled magic.


    The battlefield over it was insane. Dragons clashed with elder spirits, giants stomped across mountainsides, and mythic beasts unleashed primal fury. The magic in the land intensified, altering landscapes and awakening dormant forces. Again. Magic unleashed through imagination and emotions.


    A hundred years later I remembered battles with elementals. A night when the ocean raged with impossibly huge waves, and the skies crackled with lightning as elemental spirits declared war on dragon-kind, seeking to curb their influence.


    Giant spirits. Made of pure elements fire, water, light, lightning, sand and earth. A of titanic magical power, with the air torn between gusting wind and roaring flame, water crashing against searing heat. Again. Unleashed through imagination + emotions. Rage. Anger. Hatred. Fear.


    I remember battles with mythic beats. The Leviathan was a colossal sea beast whose length could wrap around an island. Its body was covered in scales harder than stone, and its eyes glowed with the deep, ancient magic of the ocean itself. When it surfaced, it created waves that could capsize entire islands. I remember seeing it rise from the depths during a storm, its massive fins creating whirlpools as it swam. It was neither friend nor foe but a relentless force random force of nature.


    Tavalor was a little dragon. He watched the battle between the Leviathan and a larger older fire dragon. Their claws wrapped around each other. Moving so fast through the sea and the sky that they looked like a manic red-blue-yin-yang symbol. Their clashing elemental powers sending plumes of steam and lightning into the skies.


    I remembered a battle with a Roc. A giant mythical bird with wings spanning half a mountainside, capable of summoning storms with each beat of its wings. Feathers like the sparkling of stars at night. This bird hunted lesser dragons and could lift an entire dragon with its talons. I had had to defend my territory from its intrusion, dodging its powerful strikes while trying to match its swiftness in the sky. Its cries were said to call down thunder, and its feathers shone with an iridescent sheen of the storm clouds.


    Again. Apply imagination + emotion + channel magic and it worked.


    But - nothing worked this time. After repeated attempts. I realised. Magic had changed.


    I had slept for thousands of years after all. It felt as if it was shackled. There were rules to follow. I could feel the magic. But nothing happened following the old steps.


    If I was to describe it. The era of the old Tavalor was an era of Wild Magic. Magic was an extension of soul, shaped by imagination, emotions, and intentions. It was like breathing¡ª a completely natural phenomenon.


    This era was an era of Structured Magic.


    If there were rules? Did I have a system?


    A stat sheet popped up.


    ===


    Name: Tavalor


    Mana: 3000 (Max)


    Power Level: ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï (Ancient Dragon)


    Special Abilities: Ancient Dragon


    ===


    Do I have a last name?  I asked the system.


    ===System Notification:


    All dragons possess a single unique name. Names cannot be duplicated or altered.


    ===


    Interesting. I assumed my name was something unusual. I wasn¡¯t even sure what language the name was but it wasn¡¯t English. It felt powerful. Maybe dragon language was a powerful language?


    Can someone attack me with my name?


    ===System Notification:


    This information is out of scope of the system. Please gather more information and ask again.


    ===


    Damn. So I didn¡¯t get an omnipotent system. Just a normal one.


    What did the 6 stars mean?


    ===System Notification:


    You have reached the maximum level: 6 Stars.


    Magical creatures may learn only one spell per level, with each choice being permanent. Magical creatures are thus limited to a total of 6 spells at the highest level.


    ===


    6 spells a day? Like D&D?


    ===System Notification:


    You may access your Mana Pool to cast spells freely.


    Note: You are limited to selecting from 6 available spells.


    ===


    Jesus. What a strict set of rules.


    I had to pick 6 spells. Only 6. And I could cast them as many times as I liked.


    I cursed in my head. I hated strategy games. And this was a huge strategic decision. There was the difficulty. Only 6 spells for the rest of my life.


    How long do dragons live for? I asked


    ===System Notification:


    This information is out of scope of the system. Please gather more information and ask again.


    ===


    Useless.


    My guess was dragons were immortal so long as magic was around.


    What about special abilities?


    === System Notification:


    There are three types of ability categories available to you: [Passive], [Active], and [Special]. Each type offers unique benefits that can enhance your power in different ways.


    Please explore and discover each category on your own.


    ===


    Any Mana costs to these spells?


    === System Notification:


    The Mana costs of your special abilities are unique and fall outside the standard rules of this world.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Please explore and uncover these costs through your journey.


    ===


    Yes. Finally an advantage. More than 6 abilities. I had to figure out what they were though.


    Max level character with cheats. Nice.


    Wait. I was trying to use external magic and push it out. What if I-??


    I changed the steps around.


    I focused on what I wanted to do. This time I felt the Mana pool but rather than channel the magic from outside - in - I went from the inside out.


    I opened my mouth and breathed out.


    Bright gold and red flames spewed out of my mouth. It scorched the ground and filled the air with smoke and heat.


    I had breathed out fire.


    I roared in happiness. It felt amazing.


    However. I felt a constriction. Like some entity was watching me. Waiting to strike me down. The ¡®rule-maker¡¯ was watching.


    No wonder everyone left back then. No wonder they all disappeared.


    Someone had changed the rules. The Dragons didn¡¯t want to be involved.


    === System Notification:


    Special Ability unlocked [Dragon¡¯s Breath]


    Hint: Unleash your breath in ways that few barriers can withstand. The fiery legacy of dragons flows within you.


    ===


    I looked at my stat sheet:


    ===


    Name: Tavalor


    Mana: 3000 (Max)


    Power Level: ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï (Ancient Dragon)


    Special Abilities: Ancient Dragon


    Active: [Dragon¡¯s Breath]


    ===


    No cost. I guess it was like breathing. I didn¡¯t pay Mana to breathe. Very nice.


    I felt an inexplicable emotion of sadness. It wasn¡¯t me. It was Tavalor. It took me a while to understand. The old guy felt sad about the new rules of magic.


    The rigid structures and formulas were too different. Tavalor lost the emotional attachment to magic. Instead of spontaneity and brilliant creation, it was ¡®rules¡¯, calculations and ¡®systems¡¯. A foreign language. Before it was a song. Magic moved with freedom and intensity. It was physical. Tavalor moved magic with his very being.


    I felt like the last fragment of Tavalour soul vanished at this time. Integrating into me. I was Tavalor. Tavalor was ¡®me¡¯.


    I felt lighter all at once. As if instead of sharing a body. I became the body. I think Tavalor didn¡¯t want to live in a world this restricted.


    A cage to him.


    I can imagine how unbearable all of this would feel to him. Every spell. Every guideline a pale imitation of the power he once felt. The transition making you feel like a stranger in your own land. A stranger to your very being.


    Adapting to a world of ants. An ancient creature forced to adapt to a world that no longer tolerated the untamed, primal magic that was once his birthright. The harsh boundaries were too much.


    He had also accomplished his mission. He slept. He woke up. He saw what happened.


    Sad for him. A blessing for me. I was a Dragon.


    ***


    I decided to see what I looked like and to take a look around. It took a while - still adjusting to my new body.


    The place was enormous. Cave after cave. The Dragon Sanctuary was an enormous complex, one of many that the Dragons had carved owned. They had raised a mountain range of several hundred high mountains - then hollowed them out. It was a maze.


    There were so many strange spaces. Whole mountain ranges had been hollowed out for - well, for ''living spaces'' wasn''t quite the right term. Not when a dragon''s idea of home decor involved vast halls where the walls themselves seemed to glare at you.


    They¡¯d carved out enormous sleeping pits, treasure troves that overflowed with carefully hoarded knick-knacks, and, yes, a great many ''perches.'' Dragons seemed to like perches¡ªespecially ones overlooking a sheer drop hundreds of feet down.


    There were also, for reasons unknown, entire wings dedicated to what could only be described as dragon hobbies. Bits of metal in curious shapes lined the shelves in one room, perhaps ''art'' or maybe an early attempt at ''modern furniture.'' Either way, it was more or less uninhabitable for anything that didn¡¯t have scales and a poor sense of interior design.


    It was also beautiful. Lots of tall pillars, carved with intricate, winding scripts, supported ceilings so high that even dragon-fire could not fully light them. Gems everywhere. Sparkling and reflecting through the light.


    Each corner bore the mark of dragon-kind¡ªworn talon marks etched into the stone, and grand murals painted in fiery hues, telling stories of battles won, empires fallen, and treasures amassed.


    It felt lived in. Beautiful.


    I walked stopped eventually at a random cave. One with a sunlight clearly appearing through a hole in the ceiling. There was an enormous waterfall running through the cavern. I had seen a lot of small streams trickling through carved channels in the stone, their waters fed by the snows above, pooling in quiet caverns where Dragons might rest, drink, or simply gaze upon their hoards.


    But this was the first where I could see my appearance. I looked into the water.


    What a big dragon. I was huge. Probably half the size of an jumbo jet. No - maybe three quarters.


    Long body, massive wings, serpent-like shape. Black-gold scales. Black in the centre. Edges of gold. Nice and shiny. They reflected the sunlight - a dull gold like treasure. Giant glowing red eyes.


    I felt like I was in another world now. Officially.


    It was then I decided to change my name. My new chance had arrived. I¡¯d start calling myself ¡®Tavalor¡¯ from now on.


    ***


    I took my time to wander around exploring. Looking at the gold, silver and the treasures.


    They were all broken.


    I felt sad. How could I be a Dragon with no treasure?


    Most of the stuff was made out of gold and magic gems. Gold was a pretty stable metal. If kept in a good environment it would take thousands even millions of years to deteriorate. But they had mixed the gold with magic. The magic had crumbled.


    Every item I touched crumbled on sight. The walls and the complex was held up due to the residual magic. The gem holding up the barrier. Once that failed. This place would probably crumble away.


    In the end all I found after all the scavenging around was a set of human clothes, a [Bag of Holding], a couple hundred normal gold coins, a sword, a knife and a book.


    ***


    I was sleeping in a random cave one day. Still exploring. I heard a noise.


    I didn¡¯t need to eat. Turns out Dragons didn¡¯t. Only magic was sustenance.


    I would explore. Find a comfy cave to sleep in when I was tired. Repeat.


    The soft patter of little footsteps.


    I opened my eyes to check.


    I could hear the noise but I couldn¡¯t see it.


    The noise continued. The little shuffling of feet got closer and closer.


    I still couldn¡¯t see anything. I looked more carefully. I felt a pulse of magic across my eyes.


    === System Notification


    Special Ability unlocked [Dragon Sight]


    Hint: Your eyes perceive more than the physical world. Unlock the ability to see the flow of magic itself¡ªenergies hidden to ordinary sight, pulsing through objects, creatures, and the very air around you.


    ===


    I suddenly saw it.


    Oh. A mouse?


    It small little body hugged the ground. Its tiny claws touched the ground with the barest of taps as it manoeuvred around obstacles. Each movement was slow. Pausing frequently to stop, twitch its sensitive whiskers and tasting the air for danger.


    It was in stealth mode. It was semi-see-through. If I didn¡¯t have [Dragon Sight] I wouldn¡¯t have seen it at all.


    The magic looked like a gentle blue light outlining it. I could also see through its body to the flow of magic within it. The magic was flowing in the form of a magic circle.


    It had two circles. One that was lit up blue - stealth mode and one that wasn¡¯t.


    A mouse is a two star creature? Lucky little guy.


    I wanted to see what the other circle was. The mouse hadn¡¯t noticed me. I was too big to notice after all.


    I breathed out. Gently.


    The mouse panicked.


    It squeaked. The second circle activated. It flew.


    Levitation?


    I smiled a gentle smile. It looked evil to the mouse. It panicked even more.


    It fled as far and as fast as its little legs could take it.


    I went back to thinking: Magic circles? Limited magic? Do I need to go to a magic school? How am I gonna fit? What¡¯s the state of the world?


    I should have left - but I wasn¡¯t in the mood to leave. Exploring the Dragon Sanctuary had taken up all of my attention. As soon as I sorted through everything I would leave.


    ***


    It was sunny again. I was in a cavern that was shaped like a Colosseum. Full sized for a dragon - several hundred meters wide elliptical. Several hundred meters tall. Three levels of seating.


    Lots of gems and magic carvings that still worked. It was one of the places I kept coming back to.


    I practised my magic here. The magic barriers were strong enough to stop me from breaking anything.


    I wanted to do the 2nd thing that made Dragons cool.


    Fly.


    I stood in the centre of the Colosseum. I looked down at the sand. Grabbing a handful of it. Clenching it - then letting it run through my hands. Adjusting my steps in the sand. I looked at the sky. Very blue. Like that old screensaver of XP blue. Clear. No clouds. I unfolded my wings from my back. They were huge. Three times my size.


    I flapped them. Slowly at first. Then faster.


    All they caused was a dust storm.


    Huh?


    I looked through my old memories. I needed magic. The wings were just a focus mechanism. An accessory.


    I closed my eyes again. Focusing again on the sensation of magic.


    === System Notification


    Special Ability unlocked [Dragon''s Flight]


    Hint: The skies bend to your will, enhancing your movements above. Perhaps there is more to gain up high.


    ===


    I ignored the notification.


    I felt the magic pulse out of me. I floated.


    An inch off the ground.


    Damn. I felt frustrated.


    I tried again. Just a bit higher.


    How did they learn to fly?


    I looked a the old memories.


    Tavalor and a group of little Dragons all being flown on the back of a larger dragon to a perch.


    A long ceremony. Lots of incomprehensible chanting. A naming ceremony.


    They were blessed with magic. Then one-by-one they were taken to the edge of the perch - several hundred meters high - and pushed off.


    Lots of screams. Terror. Excitement. Wonder.


    Damn. I sighed.


    Most of them didn¡¯t have any entrances. Or dead ends - collapsing from age. The climb to the perch took a long time. It was almost sunset when I arrived.


    I stood on the edge of the perch looking down at the Dragon Sanctuary. The edge was made of a smooth grey stone. Almost marble or cement like. It was covered in scratches. Many long and short. Through use.


    I saw all of the different mountain peaks. A wall of untouched mountains forms the sanctuary''s perimeter. Then came the inner sanctuary. Different mountains systematically transformed into specialised zones and buildings. Roost peaks. Nesting Mountains. Hunting Towers. Sky bridges. There was mist floating in-between the different mountains.


    It gleamed and glittered with magic. I could see the magic now thanks to [Dragon''s Sight]. The massive pinkish-purple honeycomb-shaped dome - the illusion barrier that kept the place hidden from the world. All the little carved runes, a fusion of dragon magic, engineering, and artistry.


    The sanctuary represents the pinnacle of dragon civilisation. It looked magical.


    I looked over the edge.


    I wouldn¡¯t die. Probably.


    I jumped.


    There was a sensation of tension. Anticipation. Relief.


    For a second I was just in free-fall. I felt my weight dropping down. The world blurred around me.


    My wings opened. I engaged the magic. Pushed it out of me. Nothing happened.


    I got closer and closer to the ground.


    My stomach dropped.


    I kept trying to engage it.


    When I was close to the ground. The magic kicked in.


    A felt something hug me. Surround me. It was as if I had an extra pair of hands that could shape the wind. Suddenly I was flying.


    I felt excited. Amazing.


    I roared.


    This was the best feeling I had ever had in my life. Something instinctual. That didn¡¯t need to be taught.


    At first my pace flapping my wings was uneven. More chaotic. I didn¡¯t know where my legs and arms should go. I took a while to find a rhythm. A good pocket.


    Slowly I picked up speed.


    The mountains of the Sanctuary blurred around me. It felt like dancing in the air.


    I used my whole body. Bending and twisting in mid-air. I flew around the mountains. Around and under sky-bridges.


    I also flew high. Up and up and up. Above the mountains. I was expecting to hit the barrier but it was no obstacle. I was above it all.


    I flew above the clouds. I flew so high that the sanctuary was a tiny dot on the ground.


    There was nothing but me and the open sky. The sun setting in the distance.


    I was so high that I cold pause and let myself drift for a few seconds. An incredible feeling of freedom.


    Time paused. I felt nothing but the sound of the wind, the feeling of the sun blazing on my skin.


    I flew back down there. With more control.


    More playful. I flipped around. Twisted and turned. Barrel-rolled. Double barrel-rolled.


    I did a dab mid air. Laughing. I made my body twist itself into different shapes. Circles. Squares. Triangles.


    I looked outside at the world outside. I could see the shape of the continent. It was strange.


    It was a perfect circle.


    How is that possible? Another mystery added to the list.


    I saw a massive forest through the middle of the continent. A desert after it. The end of one half of the circle was a giant mountain range covered in frost. The end of another was a port city. And ruins.


    I could hear the sound of the animals. The barrier had kept them out. Birds chirping. Roars. I had exceptional hearing.


    I was so tempted to leave the Sanctuary - but I wasn¡¯t ready to go yet. At least not in dragon form.


    I flew back down. Landing with a smooth flip. With a smile on my face.


    ***


    I was sleeping in a cave. Still exploring. I heard another noise.


    The pad of footsteps. A clank.


    Someone had tripped over something. It woke me up. I looked over.


    It was a person. A female human.


    European features. Long blond hair that fell to her waist. Blue eyes. She was dressed like a witch. Weather-beaten robe with flowing skirts. The arms going all the way down to her wrists and up to the top of her neck. A ring and pendant glowing with magic. Daggers and misc. Items on her waist. Practical leather boots. No pointy hat. Just a battered cowboy hat.


    She had four circles.


    She had tripped over something and was picking herself up. She hadn¡¯t noticed me yet.

 Chapter 3 - A Human Scholar Came to Visit

    Several weeks ago - Kedarethorn, Outskirts of the Dragon Sanctuary


    The ragged party of five people stood outside the city of Kedarethorn, as small city at the foot of a valley in front of two large mountains. Four men and a woman. The patron, the woman - the one who gave the mission - Azure T¡¯valor - and four guards. A standard ¡®adventurers team¡¯ - Healer, Wizard, Priest and Paladin.


    The mission - escort Azure (the blond woman from earlier) to explore an ancient set of ruins. The rumoured Dragon Sanctuary. They would get the treasure ¡ª she would get any books.


    It was sunset.


    Kedarethorn was the last city before arriving at The Black Ruins. An ancient battlefield - a remnant of the of the greatest legendary creatures to walk the Gemworld - Blackwing.


    Azure spoke: ¡®So many people¡¯. She played with a necklace absentmindedly.


    It was still busy even at dusk. Scores of pilgrims, belonging to different classes, categories and species were arriving.


    The Healer replied: ¡®It¡¯s amazing that they all managed to make it here alive.¡¯


    It was a long journey. Most of the pilgrims were regular people. Not a fully decked out, 3 star party of adventurers. These regular people had made it here. On foot.


    Although the city wasn¡¯t big. It was tidy. Simple stone walls. A gate. A patrol walking around.


    After walking through the gates ¡ª paying a token fee ¡ª Azure spotted a kindly looking old woman and asked for directions.


    ¡®Pilgrims?¡¯ asked the kindly old woman. ¡®If you¡¯re looking to go to the Ruins you¡¯re gonna have to wait till morning. Go to the Temple - just walk down the main road - tour leaves in the morning. Four silver.¡¯


    ¡®No. We¡¯re looking for the Dragon Sanctuary.¡¯ Replied Azure.


    The old woman rolled her eyes. Her enthusiasm reduced.


    ¡®Oh, in that case. Go to the Adventurers Guild - on the main road next to the Temple. Speak to one of the receptionists there. They normally give adventurers directions.¡¯


    Azure gave a semi-formal bow in response - before she caught herself.


    ¡®Thank you very much.¡¯


    Walking down the main road revealed one thing ¡ª Kedarethorn was a well organised tourist trap. A packed market - selling trinkets. Taverns, Inn¡¯s, even a Theatre - promising a retelling of the great battle. The two biggest buildings on the were the Temple and the Adventurers Guild.


    The Guild hall was quiet. A stark comparison to the touristy parts of town. Although the city seemed busy. It wasn¡¯t dangerous. Not a lot of need for adventurers. There was one receptionist. A young man - name badge read ¡®Nate¡¯.


    After swapping pleasantries back and forth.


    ¡®Please tell us about the Dragon Sanctuary?¡¯ asked Azure.


    Nate gave the party the rundown. Perhaps because people came here all the time. It was a polished spiel.


    The City was a partial-tourist-trap - it had started out as a farming village and still kept its roots. Farmland all around. Cows. Sheep everywhere. Rolling green hills.


    The Lord who owned the land, was a follower of the Mother Goddess and he lived faraway - preferring a hands-off approach. The Steward he appointed was a local and kept the city orderly.


    Nate told them about the Ruins. Although they had heard some of it - there were some new details.


    In the ancient times there was a Dark Lord who attempted to take over the world. An expert in necromancy - he summoned many dragons - including the legendary Dragon. Blackwing. The greatest and most powerful of the dragons.


    Blackwing¡¯s introduction came at the height of the Ancient War, as The Dark Lord¡¯s forces were on the verge of defeat. In this final stand, The Dark Lord unleashed his dragons for the first time in full force, with Blackwing leading the charge.


    The impact of this army was devastating; the Elves and their allies were driven back by the sheer ferocity of the dragons¡¯ attack. The winged dragons, led by Blackwing, took to the skies, causing catastrophic damage to the forces opposing The Dark Lord.


    Blackwing was described as being the greatest and the largest of the dragons. His wingspan was so huge that when he flew into the sky - his wings blotted out the sun. It was said during a battle - he melted a mountain in half.


    After the Dragons first appearance they pushed the battle line all the way to back the capital city of the Humans - a fortress carved out of a mountain peak. It was that mountain that Blackwing blew in half. It was an incredible sight. A dragon so huge it blotted out the sun. Breath so powerful and endless - it felt as if the sky was melting. A terror.


    Blackwing¡¯s reign only ended when the Mother Goddess of the Elves, blessed a party of Heroes with divine light and power to fight the Dragon.


    It was an epic battle. It lasted two full days and nights.


    But the Heroes were successful and defeated him. Blackwing¡¯s massive body fell onto the The Dark Lord¡¯s greatest fortress, crushing the towers in his death. Nobody is sure exactly where Blackwing fell.


    It was also this battle that closed out the Age of Dragons. Blackwing¡¯s death symbolised the beginning of the end for The Dark Lord¡¯s reign of terror, as his greatest weapon had failed.


    The Black Ruins weren¡¯t that mountain where he fell. That mountain vanished. Historians believe that the Black Ruins were a different mountain on the outskirts on the main battlefield.


    The Black Ruins bore a singular, haunting feature that proves the battle was real¡ªa colossal claw mark seared into the earth, believed to have been gouged by Blackwing himself during the final battle. Historians believe the ruins of the castle belonged to a small Lord, the details of who - lost in time.


    The tour followed a standard approach. Nate pointed it out on a map hanging on the wall.


    (1) Enter the valley of shadows. Walk down to see the claw mark.


    (2) Climb up the mountain - past the claw mark - to the top of the mountain to visit the remains of the mysterious Lord¡¯s stronghold.


    (3) At the top - look in the distance - seeing the remains of the Dark Lords Towers - in the mists.


    (4) Walk over to the Memorial Wall of the elves. Look down and see the claw mark in its entirety.


    ¡®Do you think it¡¯s worth a visit?¡¯ asked Azure - turning to the group.


    The adventurers all looked at each other. Before all shaking their heads.


    ¡®See one ruin, seen-em all¡¯ replied the Paladin. They were tired. Azure took in their reluctance before turning to the Nate.


    ¡®Any rumours? Anything else to look out for?¡¯ Azure asked.


    ¡®Feel free to explore everywhere else - the claw mark is off limits. Its fragile due to its age, and researchers are continuously studying it. You have to go on tour if you want to see it.¡¯


    ¡®Also there are local legends about strange sights at night, so visitors are advised to stay in the town overnight. If you want to explore ¡ª please register here and check-in before you go in case we need to send a search party to look for you.¡¯


    ¡®What about the the Dark Lord¡¯s Towers?¡¯ Asked Azure?


    ¡®A mirage.¡¯ Replied Nate. ¡®Especially don¡¯t go chasing after them. Nobody has ever returned after looking for them.¡¯


    ¡®Any clue as to why?¡¯


    Nate shrugged. ¡®Nobody knows for sure why.¡¯


    <div>


    ***


    The party settled down in an inn down the road. They gathered in Azure¡¯s room. It was the biggest. Big enough to have a table, some chairs and a fireplace. The fireplace was lit - so everyone took of their cloaks and top layers.


    Azure laid out two maps on the table.


    The first was the pilgrims map. The map Nate had explained to them earlier.


    The second was a much older map. An heirloom. It was of the grounds. It didn¡¯t just contain the four areas that Nate had pointed out - but a fifth area. A secret passageway leading to a set of tunnels underground.


    Azure overlaid it over the tourist map. It matched.


    ¡®See, it¡¯s real.¡¯ Azure smiling happily.


    The other party members all looked at it each other before staring at the map.


    ¡®When should we go?¡¯ Asked the Paladin.


    ¡®Tonight?¡¯ Asked Azure?


    As they spoke they were unaware of the dark clouds that had begun to obscure the sky. There was a sudden clap of thunder.


    Following the thunder came sheets of rain forcing pilgrims and people to seek shelter.


    At the noise of thunder - the priest spoke for the first time. His bald face showed an expression for the first time in a long time. Confusion.


    ¡®Something¡¯s wrong.¡¯ The priest picked up his cloak from the chair and ran outside.


    <div>


    ***


    It was the comet that had summoned Thomas over to Gemworld. It flashed through the atmosphere with an incredible burst of light.


    The party huddled in the doorway. The clouds and the rain obscured the light of the comet breaking through the atmosphere. But they felt it. A feeling of magic going wild. Chaotic.


    That night there were a lot of magical disasters.


    Deep in the Shimmerwind Desert. A monster sandstorm started. One not seen for a thousand years. Up in the Floating Isles. The wind blew. The wind never blew. It blew so hard it started to move the Floating Isle off its typical century long route. Volcanoes exploded. Monsters stampeded - driven mad with rage by magic.


    But that was far-away. What they did see - was the gem breaking through the layer of clouds in the sky - before crashing into the mountain range. No - to the illusion of a mountain range of the Black Ruins.


    The illusion barrier flickered after the gem flew through it. Revealing - the Dragon Sanctuary.


    It was only a few seconds - but they saw it.


    The jewel hanging on Azures neck reflected the image of the Dragon Sanctuary. Glowing blue. Before it changed back to a normal stone. Then the faces of the five people were lit up by thunder.


    Their eyes glowed. Both in anticipation and in the rain.


    <div>


    ***


    It rained at Kedarethorn. An unnatural and overwhelming amount. It caused a lake nestled in mountains that ringed the The Black Ruins to overflow its banks.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Within hours, it¡¯s icy waters brought down a huge mass of debris and loose rocks down on the city.


    The debris also landed on on the party too. After they had seen the illusion flicker they had dressed and ran out to climb the mountain. Climbing it with all haste. Everything in the path of the torrent - dwarves, men, women, children, horses, houses ¡ª was forcefully carried away into the surging waters. A colossal boulder had hurtled down, coming to a halt just in front of the Temple.


    The party using ropes, magic and brute force eventually arrived at the Black Ruins.


    Under the glow of lightning and the sound of thunder - the runs looked more frightening than they normally did. The charred and cracked slabs of stone, seeming to turn into monsters. Scorched runes of protection, faintly glowing, lit up. There was dark magic in the air. Renewed by the comet.


    As soon as they arrived at the entrance ¡ª the gem on Azure¡¯s neck lit up. Glowing blue. Her entire figure was outlined in blue and she vanished.


    Leaving the rest of her party members there.


    <div>


    ***


    Weeks later.


    I was sleeping in a cave. It was warm and sunny. I had been following the usual routine of wander - sleep - wander sleep.


    I heard another noise.


    The pad of footsteps. A clank.


    Some creature had tripped over something. It woke me up. I looked over.


    It was a person. A female human.


    European features. Long blond hair that fell to her waist. Blue eyes. She was dressed like a witch.


    Ragged black robes with flowing skirts. Long sleeved and turtle-necked. A blue ring and pendant glowing with magic. Daggers and misc. Items on hanging on a belt on her waist. Practical leather boots. No pointy hat. Just a battered cowboy hat.


    She had four circles. I couldn¡¯t tell what specifically. I used [Appraisal] on her to find out more:


    === Azure T¡¯valor


    Mana: 800


    Power Level: ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï


    ¡ï [Arcane Grasp]


    ¡ï¡ï [Comprehend Languages]


    ¡ï¡ï¡ï [Identify]


    ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï[Arcane Eye]


    ===


    A new ability. Not a dragon one - but a system one.


    I understood what the stars and circles meant.


    The magicians of this world could only learn only one spell per level, and each choice is permanent. This limits wizards to six spells in total if they reach the highest level.


    Each star was a spell. 4 star wizard. 4 spells. 4 internal magic circles.


    You could cast each of the spells as much as you wanted. So long as you had a power source, whether Mana or something else. But you were limited to only those 6 spells for the rest of your life.


    Looking at the spell specialties - she was a scholar. Who else would waste a permanent spell-slot on something as useless as [Comprehend Languages], [Identify] and [Arcane Eye].


    She had tripped over something and was picking herself up. She hadn¡¯t noticed me yet.


    The cave was dark enough that I had blended into the darkness. My scales seeming to merge with the cave walls. The only thing that glowed in the light were my eyes. I dimmed them.


    In the air next to her floated a scroll with a pen writing notes on it¡¯s own.


    I appraised it.


    === Quill of Transcription


    A magical quill that records conversations or takes dictated notes. It might be useful for wizards or scholars.


    ===


    She continued to talk to the [Quill of Transcription].


    ¡®In her two volume work The Dragon Temple, a work that is a cornerstone to the study of Dragons, Historian Estelka Khrimara made many great points. But the most significant one being - a temple was not merely designed as a place of worship - but as a sanctuary for divinity - for dragons. The size of the Sanctuary built to force people to contemplate the majesty of Dragons ¡ª but¡¯


    She paused to touch the walls. Specifically the scar marks. I had recently made them.


    ¡®But ¡ª that makes no sense. Based on the current evidence ¡ª Dragon sanctuaries weren¡¯t built for people to contemplate Dragons. I think Dragons actually lived there.¡¯


    She was quiet. She had touched the wall in the same spots that I had. For the same reason.


    The mural.


    A huge red dragon blowing fire on a mountain. It seemed lifelike. As if it was going to leap off the wall. I had touched it and it had crumbled a bit. Leaving a claw mark. The magic was fading.


    A bit of dust got into my nose.


    ¡®Achoo.¡¯


    I sneezed.


    Azure turned from looking at he mural. She looked up and up and up until she saw me.


    She wasn¡¯t surprised. She didn¡¯t faint.


    She seemed - enthusiastic.


    <div>


    ***


    It had been three hours and she hadn¡¯t stopped talking at me. First she had tried to become my servant. I refused.


    She had bowed. Kneeling. Head to ground.


    ¡®I am a Dragon Keeper. Oh Mighty Dragon. We have been awaiting your return.¡¯


    She gave me the backstory. I heard the story of Blackwing. After his death ¡ª several religions had risen up. The Dragon Keepers ¡ª who wanted the dragons to come back and rule over everything. The Dragons of Destruction. Who also wanted the dragons come back to destroy everything. The Mother Goddess. Who had become the mainstream religion.


    Crackdowns over long periods of time had caused the other two dragon-related religions to shrink and become extinct. Her family was dead as a consequence.


    They had been the main bloodline of the Dragon Keepers.


    Azure T¡¯valor.


    Somehow they had found some records of my name and had named themselves after me. All of the families of the Dragon Keepers had all taken the names of different dragons.


    Fate.


    After learning the ¡®family relationship¡¯ ¡ª ¡®Could you take me as¡­y-your apprentice?¡¯


    I refused.


    <div>


    ***


    Eventually we had tea. It was all she had. It was magic tea - sold in bricks. Tasted terrible - but it was enough to keep adventurers going.


    I had found an old dining set. A chair and a table. Some old gold goblets from somewhere. And we drank from them. I kept a wisp of my breath floating in mid-air for light and heat.


    She drank. I merely tasted.


    Terrible. I thought to myself after levitating the goblet into my mouth.


    ¡®Tell me about the necklace?¡¯ I asked her.


    I had appraised it more than once and got stone-walled by the system.


    ===System Notification:


    This information is out of scope of the system. Please gather more information and try again.


    ===


    Something was wrong.


    ¡®The necklace.¡¯ She twirled it in her hand absentmindedly.


    ¡®It was ¡ª is ¡ª was a family heirloom.¡¯


    It was a gemstone. A blue sapphire. Cut into the shape of rectangle. Mounted on a silver fitting. It probably had a silver chain - but that had been replaced by leather.


    Her family first acquired it at an auction. Several hundred years ago. From a famous sorcerer. At first nobody thought anything of it - but every generation, it resonated with someones bloodline. Causing a strange feedback mechanism.


    Power amplification. Small at first. Half a star. Then bigger and bigger. At its peak it bumped up the wearer 2 stars.


    The T¡¯valor¡¯s became a powerful family with the use of the gemstone.


    It was a cursed item. But at the time - they though it was a blessed item. A gem that amplified magic was rare. Especially that level.


    Then came the consequences. A later generation bearer snapped one day and went on a rampage. He murdered every T¡¯valor descendant except for a handful of people.


    The T¡¯valor were almost royalty. All gone overnight. Thousands of people.


    You couldn¡¯t even get rid of it. No matter how or where they threw it away. Whether it was one side of the continent deep in the ocean. Locked it away in some forgotten ruin. It always came back.


    It was as if it was trying to communicate - but the communication led only to madness.


    In the end - they figured out a way to keep it contained. Find the bearer, whoever resonated with it the most and destroy their magic. At least they would maintain partial sanity and the consequence wouldn¡¯t be too severe.


    She had explained that it had been last been held by her grandfather. Then he died. When it was her generation¡¯s turn tragedy struck. It was given to her brother.


    Not by choice. Normally when the gem picked. It tended to pick those weak in magic. And I was far inferior to my brother. He was a soldier of the Empire. A decorated veteran. A powerful magician. After the last campaign he had returned engaged to the Generals daughter. He was the pride of the T¡¯valors¡¯. My father saw the rise of the family again in him.


    There were only three people left of the ancient noble house of T¡¯valor now. Her father, brother and her.


    The gem chose him. It was to powerful. It seemed to bewitch my brother. It broke him.


    ¡®I remember when he first got the thing. I slept badly. I kept waking up. Imagining that there was a shadow wandering around. It broke into my room. I woke up and searched everywhere. I called my father. They all searched but, nothing.¡¯


    The next night there was a loud scream. Then came the servant girl knocking at my door.


    ¡®It¡¯s your brother.¡¯ Said the servant girl sobbing and trembling, ¡®My poor master. He¡¯s dead.¡¯


    I ran to take a look. My father was already there. A crowd had gathered there as well. Four priests were in the room, examining all of the details. Making notes.¡¯


    My brother wasn¡¯t dead. He was only unconscious. He was pale. Stiff. Turning blue. His eyes were wide open in horror. As if he had seen something unspeakable.


    They had covered him with a quilt. But I could see blood seeping through it. Later. When everyone had left. I peeled the quilt off him. I saw claw marks. All up and down his body.


    He never recovered. He was driven insane. They ended up putting him in an asylum.


    It broke my father. He sat in the chair in the room. Drinking. Sometimes late at night I saw him crying.


    It broke our family as well. The last of our finances went to keeping him in that institution. Really a jail. Jail for the most powerful and evil of men.


    ¡®Imagine. A man who lived his life serving the empire ending up imprisoned. He was too powerful to be taken anywhere else.¡¯ A tear slid down her face and she wiped it.


    My father rarely visited him. I visited him weekly. Near the end almost daily. He had one fixed idea - he was being chased by a shadow. Being sucked dry by it.


    One day - he simply snapped. He was normally calm. He cried. Screamed. He begged me to take it away.


    ¡®Take it away. He kept insisting. Help! Help!¡¯


    ¡®Surely there was someone who could have done something?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®The stone was alive¡¯ she said. ¡®If someone other than the family tried to do anything - it would play dead.¡¯


    ¡®After burying my brother, later that winter I buried my father. I ended up with the stone. The stone didn¡¯t seem to affect me that much.¡¯ She gulped down the last of her tea.


    ¡®It helped me. It kept pointing me to certain things. That¡¯s how I found the map. I sold everything and the gem lead the way here.¡¯


    Hmm.  I felt the gem with my Dragon magic. [Appraisal]


    ===Mordrath¡¯s Stone [Primordial Gem]


    A stone that Mordrath is using to come back to life. Binds the soul of its master, capturing it upon death and holding it within until dark rituals restore them to life.


    ===


    Mordrath? Probably the Dark Lord.


    ¡®Give it to me for a second.¡¯


    The gem floated from her neck up into her hand. I closed my eyes. My consciousness floated into the stone.


    I arrived to a massive space. A cavern of infinite size. It was filled with the shape of a white dragon curled up.


    ¡®Who are you?¡¯ The dragon questioned me.


    I had turned into the shape of a black dragon. Equally sized.


    ¡®How can you be here?¡¯ Question Mordrath. ¡®You aren¡¯t from here.¡¯ He answered his own question.


    He looked closer at my head. A purple gem glimmered in between my eyebrows.


    ¡®How do you have a [Primordial Gem]?¡¯ He asked.


    ¡®Not sure.¡¯ I replied.


    At that Mordrath laughed. ¡®You have a [Primordial Gem] and you don¡¯t even know how to use it. I still have a chance. The Heavens are still on my side.¡¯


    He attacked. ¡®I¡¯ll burn you to ash.¡¯


    Mordrath spit a white flame from his mouth.


    Yes. I agreed to the notification floating in front of me.


    ===System Notification:


    System has discovered a new source of energy. Would you like to input it?


    ===


    A purple light - almost like a tractor-beam flashed from my gem towards him.


    ¡®No.¡¯ He flew in the air trying to dodge but it locked onto him. It eventually caught him.


    ¡®I don¡¯t understand¡­¡¯ The purple light started to suck his energy dry. All of the energy he had spent millennia trying to accumulate was taken in by the system.


    I watched the process. Mostly a bystander.


    ¡®You can¡¯t kill me. Why should I, the greatest of all Dragons, bow to the constraints of another¡¯s design? I am not content.¡¯ He was frozen in place by the purple beam of light.


    ¡®I gave the world it¡¯s freedom. The others would have had a world locked in stagnant peace, un-moving, like a pool with no currents. But I brought fire, life, movement. If that is wrong, then let them call me evil.¡¯ He began to fade. Slowly growing more transparent.


    ¡®And tell me, what is ¡®good¡¯ and ¡®evil¡¯ but a convenient lie to keep power out of my hands? Why should power not belong to those strong enough to wield it, those willing to face what lies beyond? I have always been the greatest of my kin, the one who could see further, think deeper, reach beyond this stagnant realm.¡¯ He continued to grow more feeble and more transparent.


    ¡®But know this: my vision is the truest, boldest vision. And I will not be bound by their small and shallow ideas of creation. It¡¯s you. You are the one. You shall accomplish my vision.¡¯


    He laughed maniacally before he turned into nothing. The laugh echoed long after he had disappeared. The purple beam of light retreated back into the gem in my mind.


    Why do villains spend so much time talking? Always the same thing too ¡ª I I have to make everyone do what I say. The world will only be perfect if everyone listens to me.


    How boring. Spending millennia to force people do what you want. A millennia to become a micro-manager. So dumb.


    Just go find something interesting to do. There are a lot more fun things to do other than trying to boss people around.


    As soon as the magic faded a way. Memories flooded in. It made my already conflicted self even more conflicted.


    I took control. I forced the system to lock away the memories away. Putting them in a corner of my mind. Keeping only two things.


    Undead magic.


    Transformation magic.


    Yes. I did a fist bump in my mind.


    Undead magic was useless. But I was super happy with the second.


    I knew Mordrath couldn¡¯t have been a human. He was too powerful. It was suspicious how he sprung up out of nowhere. He was like me. A sleeper who woke up too late.


    But at least I had a solution for something I had been looking for. I could transform into human form.


    The memories were unsettled. Like an oil slick on top of water. It would take time for them to sink into my mind. I would have to sleep to process them. Make them mine.


    I opened my eyes. I felt a lot calmer.


    Azure sat watching me.


    I smiled at her.


    ¡®Was there anything wrong with it?¡¯ she asked.


    ¡®There was a spirit attached to your gem. He was trying to come back to life. Sucking clean the souls of the gem bearers.¡¯


    She looked appalled at the news.


    Tavalor sighed. ¡®It was a cursed item. The power amplification was only a lure. But I¡¯ve got rid of it.¡¯ I floated it back to her. ¡®It¡¯s nothing but an ordinary gem now.¡¯


    She looked sad. She sighed. Everybody was sighing.


    ¡®Can I touch you¡­your scales I mean?¡¯


    I was surprised at the question.


    ¡®OK.¡¯ I didn¡¯t mind.


    She walked over. She was as tall as one of my hands. I was lying down. My head on top of my folded hands. Tails and wings tucked in behind me.


    She walked up to my head. Stroked it. Her hand felt warm.


    === System Notification:


    Special Ability unlocked [Ancient Scales]


    Hint: Your scales do more than shine. They hold secrets against even the harshest attacks.


    ===


    ¡®Are the Dragons really not going to come back?¡¯ she asked again.


    ¡®We left because magic changed.¡¯ I said. ¡®It could no longer sustain us. The Age of Dragons has been over for a long time and it¡¯s never coming back.¡¯


    ¡®But what about the prophecy? The signs? You¡¯re a dragon. You came back¡¯


    I laughed. ¡®I don¡¯t fit the prophecy. I never left - I was only napping.¡¯


    She was startled at the thought. Several millennia of time was just a nap to me.


    ¡®So you¡¯re the only one left too?¡¯ she looked up at me ¡®Don¡¯t you miss the other dragons?¡¯


    I thought about it. ¡®A bit.¡¯ I replied. It would have been cool to be with other dragons. ¡®But not that much.¡¯


    ¡®I miss my family too.¡¯

 Chapter 4 - I Moved to Vallenport and Bought A Crumbling Manor

    3 months later


    I approached the city of Vallenport by boat. Vallenport was built on a series of islands on a lagoon, separated from the mainland by several kilometres of water. People, goods, and supplies arrived mostly by boat. Small vessels, gondolas, and larger merchant ships were used, depending on the purpose of the visit.


    It was a small weather-beaten boat. The paint on the outside was fading in places. Revealing patches of blue, green and brown. It looked like an off coloured ladybug. The boat¡¯s edges were lined with frayed rope and small charms that swayed gently, each charm an offering for safe passage: seashells, polished stones, and tiny glass orbs that glowed faintly in the mist.


    It was well looked after though. The planks smooth and well oiled. There were just two of us on the boat. The owner and myself. The owner was a middle-aged sailor with skin tanned from years under the sun. His dark hair, streaked with silver, was tied back with a faded red scarf. He wore a simple shirt rolled up to his elbows. Tattooed symbols of protection peeked from his forearms¡ªcharms for a seafarer¡¯s luck, and perhaps a mark of the Storm Shores.


    I decided to leave the Dragon Sanctuary after a while. I had gone through all of the rooms. Sorted out all of the treasures. It got repetitive.


    It took a while to sort out all of my options.


    I needed somewhere with good food and a lot of restaurants, a big library, a lot of people and a magic school. Vallenport fit the bill.


    I could have stayed in the the Dragon Sanctuary and repaired it. But it was boring. Having Azure there forced me to think about what I wanted.


    What did I want?


    To be the ultimate tourist. I had infinite time as a Dragon.


    I picked somewhere for a home base and set off.


    After I locked up the Dragon Sanctuary - reinforcing the barrier. I wiped the memories of the adventures and Azure. Dropping them off somewhere in the middle of nowhere.


    The journey was uneventful. Fly at night. Sleep during the day.


    Vallenport, was the capital city of the Elder Lands. The strange circular continent that we were living on.


    It was a city of canals. An island built on the water. The city emerged from the mist, like a dreamscape.


    The skyline was a blend of towering spires, crumbling stone towers, and elegant arches all floating. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting rays on the Grand Canal, the main artery of the city, flanked by smaller more narrow waterways. Bustling with small boats and gondolas. The main form of transport.


    As we got closer, I smelled salt and spices in the air. As well as the stink of the water. Marshes nearby. I saw the harbours. Two of them. One with flat bottom barges and the other with large boats.


    I asked the boatman about it.


    ¡®The big boats are going to the Storm Shores.¡¯


    ¡®Storm Shores?¡¯


    ¡®A wild place. Imagine jagged cliffs and rocks that jut out from the waves like ancient, broken teeth. Storms roll in fast there, almost like they¡¯re alive. The sky goes from clear to black in minutes, and when lightning strikes, it lights up those cliffs like something out of a dream. Thunder that you feel in your bones, you know?¡¯


    ¡®So why go there?¡¯


    ¡®The thrill¡ªtesting themselves against the raw, untamed edge of the world. But it¡¯s not just the danger that draws people. The Storm Shores hold secrets, things you won¡¯t find anywhere else. Storm Crystals. Treasures. The Storm Shores have claimed hundreds of vessels over the centuries, and some of them were loaded with treasures and artefacts from lost ages. People go searching for relics that the sea spits back out after a storm¡ªcoins, jewels, strange artefacts, and, sometimes, things that should probably stay buried.¡¯


    Treasure hunting.  I smiled. I was in the right place.


    Both harbours were busy. Long planks extended over the water. Stacked with crates of goods from distant lands. The smell of spices filled the air. The sounds of traders, dock workers and hawkers all selling stuff filled the air.


    As I looked further into the city I could see the Arcane Bazaar. Stalls overflowing with artefacts, strange potions and wares ¡ª from the Storm Shores. So much colour and movement. I saw glittering fabrics, herbs and gemstones. Gondolas floating along the Grand Canal, filled with locals and travellers alike, adding to the lively and chaotic atmosphere.


    Above the canals and towards the centre of the island was the Noble¡¯s Rise. Its grand mansions and palatial estates were connected by sweeping stone bridges. Atop all of that, at the highest point of the city was the Royal Citadel. Its imposing silhouette stood against the sky, its spires piercing the clouds. Enchanted lights illuminate the city¡¯s streets and bridges, casting a warm glow over the waterways as evening approaches.


    The boat slowed as it got close to the Seafront Promenade. My eyes lit up. Restaurants and inns lined the water¡¯s edge. Patrons sat by the water, eating and watching the boats drift pass. The [Singing Stones] along the promenade emitted soft, melodic hums that carried across the water, creating an otherworldly ambience.


    We docked.


    ''Ain¡¯t no city like Vallenport,'' said the boatman the with a knowing smile. ''It¡¯s got secrets older than the stones themselves. But don¡¯t worry; the city takes a likin¡¯ to those who respect her waters.''


    I stepped off the boat. The stone walkway beneath my feet felt solid yet strangely alive. As if the city itself welcomed me to uncover its secrets.


    With the sun setting. I picked a random inn and settled down for the night.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ***


    The next day and got up early asking around to find a real-estate agent.


    Gold was still gold. No matter what age. It got stuff done, and I had a mountain of it left over from the Sanctuary.


    After explaining what I wanted - I was reassured by the agent that he knew exactly what I was after.


    ¡®Let me tell ya, this is the one if you¡¯re after something¡­ with personality. And if you¡¯re interested, ol¡¯ Gordo here can help make it happen.¡¯


    I ended up on a gondola heading down a secluded waterway with a very short, fat and sweaty agent named Gordo. It was a small group of islands behind town called Whispering Grove.


    It really was far away from everywhere.


    "Ah, don¡¯t mind the walls¡ªit¡¯s a bit rustic, but trust me, once you set eyes on this place, you¡¯ll understand why." He punctuated every sentence by wiping his face.


    I saw stone weathered walls. Softened by age. Draped in ivy, giving the building a classic look. The manor had a grand facade. Tall arched windows, intricate stonework around the doors and windows. The place had character..


    We docked at a jetty far away from the place. The manor was on a small island at the edge of Whispering Grove, accessible only by a narrow rickety old wooden bridge that spanned a quiet, narrow canal.


    We crossed the bridge. Then Gordo pulled out a key, wrestling an old arched metal gate open.


    Towering trees surround the manor on all sides, casting dappled shadows over the structure, while a soft mist drifted across the grounds, giving the house a secluded, ethereal atmosphere, especially in the early morning.


    ''Now, I know what you¡¯re thinking, ¡®Gordo, isn¡¯t that garden a little¡­ wild?¡¯ Well, yes! But that¡¯s the charm! This is the kind of place where nature and magic decide what grows. Some of those plants even glow at night, so you don¡¯t gotta waste a single candle in the garden. It¡¯s practically got its own enchanted ambience!''


    The gardens were in a state of abandonment, with wild herbs, tangled vines, and magical plants, grown unchecked over the years. The paths were hidden beneath the foliage, and rare flowers¡ªsome glowing faintly with magical energy¡ªbloomed amidst the wilderness. The overgrown space was full small, magical creatures, giving it an enchanted, almost otherworldly feel.


    The garden was overgrown. I liked it immediately.


    I simply nodded along.


    We walked to the entrance. A large wooden door with intricate carvings, now worn by time, opened into a small foyer. Though the house had fallen into disrepair, hints of its past grandeur could be seen in the remnants of carved wood, faded tapestries, and antique furniture.


    ¡®Look at that old fireplace, eh? Can¡¯t you just imagine it all polished up, roaring with warmth in the winter?¡¯


    It was big. Three stories. Ground for entertaining. Dining room, drawing room, two back parlours, servants quarters and guest bedroom. Upstairs for bedrooms and study. Top floor was storage.


    An old classic manor. I liked it.


    ¡®And the hidden cellar¡ªnow, don¡¯t tell me that doesn¡¯t catch your interest!¡¯


    I interrupted his spiel.


    ¡®I¡¯ll take it.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ll take it?¡¯ Gordo¡¯s sweaty face seemed surprised. But didn¡¯t ask any questions. He pulled out a gem and spoke quietly into it.


    The notary arrived quickly. Contract signed. The money was exchanged. Everyone left quickly afterwards.


    This crumbly old manor was home now. I had to go and get some new furniture. But first came the most important thing.


    Lunch.


    ***


    The restaurant was called the Giant Bird. They specialised in birds ¡ª obviously. Gordo had recommended it. Saying the omelettes and the chicken were both good.


    I walked through the town enjoying the sights. The Crumbling Manor was located a bit out of the way. So I saw a lot of the town. The Seafront Promenade was the front of town, Nobles Rise and the Royal Citadel was the middle of town and my mansion was the back of town. So I had to walk through town, from back-to-front, around the Noble¡¯s Rise to get to the Promenade.


    Eventually I got bored of walking and flagged down a gondola. Sitting down. Enjoying the sun. It was a nice day.


    I people watched. There were all kinds of magical species wandering round.


    Humans. The most common. Some wearing elaborate robes. Scholars or mages. Others in practical clothes hauling goods or guiding gondolas through the narrow canals.


    Elves. Tall. Slender. Robes with natural motifs ¡ª leaf patterns, vine and shimmering patterns. I saw them mostly in the scholars quarters.


    Dwarves. Noisy bunch. Thick, braided beards and wearing work clothes. Leather aprons covered in pockets for tools or trinkets. Whether hammering away on a ship¡¯s hull or enjoying a hearty drink at one of the canal-side taverns.


    Beastmen ¡ª the most relevant to me. Mostly humanoid. Some with pointed ears, fur, horns. Some with wolf like faces. Feline or fox like forms. They moved differently. Leaping swiftly. Perching. Awkward gaits. The smaller ones were couriers or scouts. The larger ones were huge. Wrapped in protective gear. Merchants, magical consultants and bodyguards.


    People probably thought I was a beastman too. I was normal human, tall, long black hair, red eyes. But I had huge horns. The transformation magic of this age was a joke.


    I had spent a lot of effort. Achieving all kinds of distorted forms. I had become a dragon merman, two headed dragon, dragon centaur, dragonkin - on the top - dragonkin on the bottom. Every kind and variation of transformation.


    But I couldn¡¯t get rid of the horns. It was annoying. I looked like a Satyr. But it was a good disguise. Nobody I had talked to had thought I was a dragon. They thought I came from the South, Shimmerwind Desert.


    Instead I pretended to be a small aristocrat from a forgotten tribe in the Shimmerwind desert. I was ¡®Sir Thomas T¡¯valor¡¯.


    I saw mermaids too with [Dragon¡¯s Sight]. A glimpse of a fin, a few of them playing under boats.


    Eventually I arrived at the Giant Bird.


    The food in this world was incredible. The magic amplified. I remember the first thing I ate. I swallowed a boar whole while hunting.


    I almost cried.


    Cooked food. Well cooked food. Absolutely worth it.


    It wasn¡¯t a big place. It was small enough the owner greeted everyone who entered. Everything smelled good. I was shown to a table.


    The menu was on the wall. Simple stuff.


    Food:


    Skyflame Fowl (Big)


    Windfeather (Medium)


    Whisperwing (Small)


    Drinks:


    Moonlit Elven Mead (Wine)


    Stormbrew Ale (Beer)


    Elderfire Elixir (Spirit)


    Spirits


    I ordered a Windfeather Roast and the Elderfire spirit.


    The waitress - a beastman - cat ears sticking out - came out with the drink quickly ¡®Here you go sir. One stiff drink.¡¯


    I thanked her and took a drink. It felt like flames going down my throat. A magical effect.


    I sighed in happiness.


    The roast was even better. The bird tasted like chicken and wind. I actually felt like I was a lazy breeze with every mouthful.


    I finished my meal. Went shopping. My furniture would be delivered tomorrow.


    ***


    Later that night. I was sitting in front of the fireplace. Juice in hand reading a grimoire.


    Bang. Bang. Crash.


    Someone broke my door.


    They ran into the room I was sitting in. It was a party of four adventurers.


    A young swordsman, another buff swordsman carrying with a great-sword, a woman in a red mages robe and a dark priest.


    ¡®What is this about?¡¯ I asked.


    The four looked at each other. The buff swordsman spoke: ¡®Someone actually bought this place ¡ª lets finish the job.¡¯


    The mage launched a spell. A wind spell which was surprising looking at her red robes.


    I tossed a fireball back at her. She vanished in a cloud of dust.


    ¡®The other three of the arty were stunned.


    ¡®No, this isn¡¯t right¡ª,¡¯ said the young swordsman. He seemed like the leader. ¡®You¡¯re supposed to be small-fry¡¯


    Fireball. He was dust also.


    ¡®No ¡ª¡® said the buff swordsman. ¡®The adventurers guild¡ª¡®


    I fire-balled him mid sentence.


    ¡®Should have thought of that before you popped up at my house this late at night.¡¯


    The dark priest turned into a shadow and tried to escape.


    Impossible with my [Dragon Sight]. I tossed a perfect aimed fireball.


    He was gone too. I waved my had - summoning the wind and moving the ash into the fireplace.


    How annoying. I had been here for two days and people were already bothering me.


    I had to get the door fixed as well. I¡¯d sort it out tomorrow.

 Chapter 5 - I found a Strange Key in the Crumbling Manor

    It was strange to have breakfast in one place. For the years I had been a salary-man, I would grab breakfast on the road. A pastry on the way to work.


    Now I had the leisure to take my time for breakfast. It was nice. I had decided to follow human routines even though they were no longer required. It gave me somewhat of a purpose or grounding. Otherwise the only things that kept me going would be whatever obsessions I had at the time.


    Like the days I had spent exploring the Sanctuary. With nothing to break up the routine - the days had all blurred into one after a while.


    I had picked my spot. The Gilded Hearth was a charming little cafe in a quiet little corner of Vallenport¡¯s market district. The name came from the enchanted golden fireplace at the centre of the cafe. The warm light flickered across the polished wooden floors and walls covered in intricate carvings of mythical creatures. All the wood made the place homely.


    It smelled delightful. The smell of enchanted brews and fresh pastries. I had debated with myself whether to back to the Giant Bird yesterday and get an omelette but decided that pastries were definitely better. I wanted my equivalent of coffee and a pastry.


    There was no coffee in this world. Enchanted brews made up for it. An enchanted brew was a hybrid of a drinkable potion and a spell. A blend of alchemical skill, culinary artistry, and arcane energy, designed to do more than quench thirst¡ªit uplifts the spirit, sharpens the mind, or soothes the soul.


    Every cup was different. They shifted colours reflecting the magic properties. Invigorating Brews were bright amber or fiery orange, flickering as if alive. Calming Brews were cool blues and greens, swirling like ocean waves. Inspirational Brews were silvery hues with faint sparkles, mimicking starlight.


    I picked an Invigorating Brew. And a crescentfruit tart. Everything arrived on a wooden tray. The enchanted brew arrived in a nicely carved wooden mug. It shifted many shades of orange.


    I sipped it. It began with warm spiced note - cinnamon or ginger. Before it changed into something tangy. Like I had smelled an orange.


    Tastes Orange-ish? I though to myself. So what did the Calming or Inspirational Brews taste like? I wondered.


    I did feel awake now.


    I looked around. Delicate wisps of steam rise from cups on every table, their colours shifting depending on the drink''s magical properties¡ªblues, oranges and silvers. The cafe¡¯s tables were mismatched but artfully arranged. Each carved with different runes. They all had different reactions. Some tables hum gently when touched, creating a calming vibration, while others warm slightly in the chill of the morning.


    The light came from small enchanted lanterns that floated overhead, their soft light adjusting to suit the mood.


    At the centre of the cafe was the pastry counter. Glass display counter showing of the pastries on floating shelves. Crescentfruit tarts that glowed faintly in the light, sunrise croissants that shimmer like dew at dawn, and starberry muffins that sparkle like the night sky. And the owner. Brenna. She greeted every customer by name, her magical quill scribbling down orders before they were even spoken aloud.


    I bit into the crescentfruit tart. I couldn¡¯t taste the moonlight. That was what it was described at on the counter.


    Apparently the fruit was harvested by moonlight and baked into tarts before dawn to preserve its magical properties. Some legends claimed crescentfruit orchards were first planted by moon elves, who blessed the trees to bear fruit that would reflect the phases of the moon.


    It just tasted like a buttery, flaky tart. The crescentfruit tasted sweet and tangy. A very light honey-orange flavour. Good. To much orange flavoured stuff with the brew - though. I wanted something plainer. More vanilla. But it was very good. Best desert I had in Gemworld so far.


    Brenna¡¯s familiar, a sleek black cat with golden eyes named Soot, curled up in a sunny spot near the fireplace. A few other people in the cafe as well.


    My thoughts turned back to yesterdays annoying events. I had slept pretty well after the break-in that happened. Although I had slept on the floor. All of the old furniture had crumbled to pieces. It was okay. I was a Dragon. I was comfortable enough. Even in human form.


    I thought of Gordos¡¯ sweaty face. He was too enthusiastic. He probably knew something. I thought of the irritation of having to organise someone to repair the door. It was an old door so probably expensive. Also my furniture was arriving today. A lot to do today.


    After asking the owner Brenna - I left the Gilded Hearth with a communication stone and the details of a Dwarf who was an expert in repairing wooden materials named Brolin.


    The communication stones were cool. I had noticed the stones yesterday. Especially the real-estate agent using it. They had figured out how to program small magic circles - circuits into a magic stone. The equivalent of a magical phone.


    ***


    Back home - the aftermath of the break in looked much worse. The pristine door - which had looked elegant and imposing yesterday lay in ruins. The wood charred and warped, the hinges dangling. Like broken limbs.


    I called Brolin and locked a time later in the afternoon.


    Annoying. I thought to myself. I used a levitation spell to clean up the mess. While I was doing so I noticed something glinting among the rubble. I floated it towards me.


    It was an iron key. Intricately engraved with runes that seem to hum faintly under his touch.


    Is this what they were after?


    The delivery wagon creaked as it rolled up to the front of the Manor. I was interrupted from studying the key and pocketed it.


    My furniture arrived. It arrived on a rickety wooden delivery wagon. The movers were a trio. Two humans and one beastman. A bear. He had a human face and bear fur and ears. He looked like a life size teddy-bear with a human face.


    The bear was the foreman. He hopped down from the wagon, brushing sawdust from his trousers. ''Morning, m¡¯lord! Got everything here¡ªsafe, sound, and enchanted as promised. Where do you want it all?''


    I gestured lazily toward the open entryway, still bearing the marks of the previous night¡¯s attack. ''Inside, obviously,'' he replied drily. ''Please try not to scratch anything. It¡¯s new.''


    The team of movers¡ªtwo broad-shouldered humans and a teddy-bear¡ªset to work, hauling piece after piece from the wagon. They struggled to manoeuvre the enchanted pieces through the splintered entryway. I had emptied out the entire furniture store. This place was big.


    First came the dragon-wood desk, its dark, polished surface gleaming in the morning light. The engravings of coiled dragons along its edges almost seemed to shift as it was carried inside. One of the movers gave a low whistle. ''Now, that¡¯s a beauty,'' he muttered, adjusting his grip.


    ''Careful with that!'' the foreman barked. ''It¡¯s worth more than your month¡¯s wages.''


    Next came the self-cleaning settee, a plush velvet piece that shimmered faintly as the movers struggled to angle it through the splintered doorway. The golden embroidery seemed to shift under the sunlight, depicting scenes of mythical beasts that subtly came to life when no one was looking.


    The human grunted as he tried to steady the settee. ''This thing better clean itself after we¡¯ve hauled it up all those stairs,'' he muttered, earning a chuckle from the others.


    The delivery continued, each piece more extravagant than the last. A massive dining table of moon-oak required all three movers to lift it, its surface glowing faintly with constellations. They staggered into the dining hall, the table humming softly in protest when it grazed the door-frame.


    One piece¡ªa magical mirror¡ªbegan floating on its own, causing the movers to stumble. Tavalor deftly casts a grounding charm to stabilise it, earning nervous chuckles from the crew.


    Then came the living hearth rug, a piece woven with fire-resistant phoenix feathers. It was rolled up tightly, but as the movers unrolled it in the entry hall, a faint warmth spread across the stone floors. The human crouched down, pressing a hand to the fibres. ''Feels like standing by a fire,'' he said, eyes wide.


    Tavalor nodded approvingly. ''It¡¯ll keep the place comfortable in winter,'' he said. ''And it¡¯s fireproof. Convenient, considering recent events.''


    The movers worked tirelessly, bringing in the grand floating crystal chandelier, which hovered obediently behind them as if it knew its place was at the ceiling. It cast prisms of light onto the walls, drawing curious glances from the workers as it adjusted its glow to the changing daylight.


    All was going smoothly until they reached the magical mirror, destined for the master bedroom. The oval-shaped mirror, framed with intricate silver ivy, began to float the moment the movers unloaded it.


    ''Uh¡­ boss?'' one of the humans called nervously, stepping back as the mirror wobbled in the air. ''This one¡¯s got a mind of its own.''


    The foreman cursed under his breath, trying to steady the enchanted piece. ''This isn¡¯t in the delivery instructions!''


    The mirror tilted precariously, casting shimmering, distorted reflections onto the walls as it floated higher. Tavalor sighed, stepping forward with a flick of his hand. A sliver of his aura settled over the mirror, forcing it back to the ground.


    ''There,'' he said calmly, brushing off his sleeves. ''Let¡¯s not make this any harder than it has to be.''


    The movers chuckled nervously, guiding the now-still mirror inside. ''Thanks for that, m¡¯lord,'' the foreman said with a sheepish grin.


    By the time the last piece¡ªa sunstone wardrobe glowing faintly gold¡ªwas carefully carried to its room, the movers were sweating and tired but visibly impressed by the sheer opulence of the manor¡¯s new furnishings.


    The foreman clapped his hands together, surveying the now-bustling manor. ''Well, m¡¯lord, that should do it. Everything¡¯s in place. Though I¡¯d keep an eye on that mirror¡ªit¡¯s got a temper.''


    ¡®Good work.¡¯ I tipped them a couple of gold.


    After they left I stood in the entryway, eyeing all of the pieces in the manor. For the first time, it felt like more than an empty house. It felt like a home.


    ***


    In the afternoon Brolin arrived. I heard him before I saw him. First I head his grumbling. Grumbling about the cost of rare wood and the ''reckless mages'' who keep him in business, how hard it was to find the place, the weather. Next I heard the sound of his tool belt. Clinking on his waist.


    Brolin had a furrowed brow and a demeanour that suggests he¡¯s been fixing other people¡¯s messes since the day he learned to swing a hammer. A pair of magic goggles on his head. His beard was a cascade of silver streaked with hints of ash. He was short - like most dwarves. Solidly built. Broad shoulders. Barrel chest. He wore a sturdy leather apron over a faded grey tunic and reinforced trousers.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Brolin shook my hands. His hands were rough and calloused. Strong handshake. Strong enough that I felt his strength as a Dragon. The handshake softened his demeanour.


    Brolin spotted the door: ''What in the Nine Halls did you do to this poor door? It¡¯s crying for help!''


    I explained last nights incident.


    Brolin snorted. ''What kind of noble doesn¡¯t have wards strong enough to stop petty thieves? You¡¯re lucky they didn¡¯t make off with more.''


    I only smiled in reply.


    A thought struck me. This had nothing to do with robbery. Who the hell would rob a deserted manor?


    I decided that I wasn¡¯t going to have nothing to do with the key anymore. I¡¯d hand it off to the Adventurers Guild or the Mages Guild and let them handle it. I was the ultimate tourist after all.


    I decided to drop it of to the Adventurers Guild later.


    Lost in my thoughts. Brolin worked quickly and methodically, his enchanted tools allowing him to repair damage that would take a team of ordinary craftsmen days to fix.


    It was interesting to watch Brolin work. He was as much a rune-smith as a carpenter, inscribing protective enchantments into his repairs to ensure they last.


    He was done it fifteen minutes. He cost quite a bit through. A hundred gold. A hundred. For. A. Door.


    ''You know, if you¡¯d just warded this thing properly, I wouldn¡¯t have to charge you double.''


    I paid it. I was annoyed. But I remembered that I was rich.


    ***


    I went to the Adventurers Guild by gondola later that day.


    It was a big building. Made of enchanted stone that shifted colours throughout the day, reflecting the sunlight in the morning and glowing faintly at night. Its entrance was flanked by two towering statues¡ªone of a heroic knight and the other of a sly rogue, both carved with incredible detail.


    I found the statues kinda funny. Why the rogue? A rogue of all things.


    I walked through the entrance. Above the massive double doors was the guild¡¯s crest: a crossed sword and staff encircled by a golden dragon eating its tail. There was a motto written underneath in Draconic. Strength, wisdom, and eternal pursuit.


    Interesting.


    It was busy inside. A hustle and bustle of adventurers¡ªmuscular warriors, cloaked rogues, and excitable magic casters. People in the process of doing things. Moving in clusters from the Guild Board, to the main hall, to the bar and kitchen and back out.


    The entrance led to the main hall. A grand hall with vaulted ceilings and enchanted chandeliers that floated lazily above the crowd, their lights adjusting based on the time of day. Long wooden tables fill the room, scarred from countless knife games and spilled drinks. A roaring hearth on one end was enchanted to crackle with blue fire, keeping the hall warm and welcoming.


    On one wall was the Guild Board. A towering quest board dominates one wall, covered with notices ranging from low-risk tasks (finding lost pets or delivering messages) to high-risk adventures (slaying wyverns or exploring ancient ruins). Magical runes highlight particularly urgent or lucrative jobs.


    A reception desk stood next to the Guild Board. I handed the key to the key to the guild receptionist, a gnome with overly large spectacles, who examined it with wide-eyed curiosity.


    ''You should register as an adventurer before we process this,'' the gnome suggests. ''We can¡¯t let non-guild members claim such high-risk items.''


    ¡®I don¡¯t want to claim it.¡¯ I said. ¡®I want to hand it over.¡¯


    ¡®We don¡¯t accept hand-overs of high-risk items like this.¡¯


    ¡®Why? What a strange rule?¡¯


    The gnome quirked an eyebrow, clearly used to such questions. ''Oh, it¡¯s not strange at all, m¡¯lord,'' she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. ''You see, items like this¡ªdungeon keys, cursed relics, artefacts with unknown origins¡ªthey¡¯re trouble. Big trouble.''


    She tapped a glowing rune on her desk for emphasis. ''If we just started taking in every high-risk magical object someone found lying around, this Guild would be overrun with disasters waiting to happen. Imagine: cursed swords whispering nightmares in the vaults, enchanted mirrors summoning spirits in the middle of the night, dungeon keys opening portals to who-knows-where. It¡¯d be chaos!''


    I frowned, gesturing to the key in my hand. ''But I don¡¯t want it. Surely your Guild is better equipped to deal with something like this than I am?''


    The receptionist smiled patiently, as if addressing a particularly slow student. ''That¡¯s what everyone says. But here¡¯s the thing: whoever brings in a high-risk artefact becomes its custodian, at least until its nature is fully understood. That¡¯s the rule. It¡¯s a trust issue. If you¡¯re handing it over, we need to know you¡¯ve done your due diligence, that you¡¯re not just offloading a ticking magical time bomb onto us. And we especially don¡¯t take these kinds of things from new registrants. No offence.''


    I furrowed my brows: ''You make it sound as though I planned to find this thing.''


    ''Intent doesn¡¯t matter, m¡¯lord,'' the gnome said cheerily. ''Responsibility does. By registering it with us, you¡¯ve acknowledged it as your discovery. That makes you the one responsible for ensuring it¡¯s handled properly. Until we know exactly what this key unlocks, you¡¯re its rightful caretaker.''


    I sighed heavily.


    ''Only if you¡¯re not careful,'' the receptionist quipped, her grin as bright as the enchanted quill floating by her side. ''But look on the bright side¡ªif it leads to treasure, you¡¯ll get the credit. And if it leads to disaster¡­ well, at least you¡¯ll have an exciting story to tell.''


    I reluctantly agreed to get tested to log the key. At least having the Adventurers Guild at my back would help with the paperwork involved every time I fire-balled someone.


    ***


    I followed the gnome receptionist through a side door and down a narrow hallway. I could feel the hallway humming with residual magic.


    The walls were lined with busts - statues of famous adventurers from the shoulder up - commemorating past adventures and their feats. The faces stared at me with mix of expressions ¡ª from solemnity to bravado.


    I smiled. Showboating even in retirement.  I thought.


    The receptionist led me to a heavy, rune-etched door, pushing it open to reveal the magic evaluation chamber. It was a vast room, containing a big rock on one side and enchanted dummies dummies lined up in a row on the far end. The dummies glowed with defensive wards. The air smelled of ozone and burnt wood, remnants of the countless spells cast in this space.


    ¡®Two parts to this,¡¯ said the gnome adjusting her oversized glasses. ¡®Touch the rock to evaluate your power level first.¡¯ She said pointing at the big rock.


    ¡®Second¡¯ she pointed at the dummies ¡®knock down as many of those dummies as you can in sixty seconds. Creativity and precision are key¡ªthis isn¡¯t about brute force.¡¯


    I glanced at the enchanted dummies, their plastic smiling faces were irritating. ¡®Is this really necessary?¡¯


    The receptionist¡¯s grin widened. ''Guild rules, m¡¯lord. Besides, don¡¯t you want to prove you¡¯re not just another pampered noble?''


    ¡®Also how are adventurers ranked? I¡¯m from the South.¡¯ I lied. ¡®We do things differently.¡¯


    The gnome agreed with the fake explanation and broke things down. They used the alphabet system.


    [E-Class] - (1-star)


    [D-Class] - (2-star)


    [C-Class] - (3-star)


    [B-Class] - (4-star)


    [A-Class] - (5-star)


    [S-Class] - (6-star)


    Not a simpler system than the stars. But I understood some things now.


    I had been too lazy to appraise people these days. I had realised that I had been growing more powerful as I slept. I could feel it. Sleep it turned out - was Dragons main strengthening method. And I had woken up at the peak of strength already. It was pointless to [Appraise]. I mostly relied on [Dragon Sight] to count the number of circles.


    ¡®Are there a lot of [S-Class]¡¯s I asked?


    ¡®They are legendary adventurers. The Chief Adventurer. The Chief Royal Knight. The General. The Chief of the Mages. Most E- and [D-Class] adventures are common. Rarer are the B and [C-Class].¡¯


    ¡®Do the mages use the same system?¡¯


    The gnome nodded.


    I hadn¡¯t seen a single [S-Class] level to compare how strong I was - but I thought I might be the strongest person on this continent. At least I had a vague measuring stick.


    A small crowd of adventurers began gathering around the observation window, sensing a show. Whispers rippled through the group. ''A noble taking the test? Thistle be good.''


    First I went to the testing stone. The stone had 6 bars carved on the front of it. One for each star.


    I suppressed my strength as much as possible. Only using a tiny sliver of it. I touched the stone. I wanted to hit the 3rd bar. I couldn¡¯t suppress my magic any lower than what I already had.


    Fourth bar. Damn. This is gonna be a problem.


    A ripple of surprise spread through the crowd. He was strong. But he didn¡¯t look it. I had chosen to disguise as a Southern Aristocrat and my clothes fit the persona. I wore all green. A dark green high collared long coat - crafted from enchanted linen that shimmered int he light. Subtle gold threads all long cuffs and hems. The patterns of southern starbursts and flowing rives. Underneath - a silk tunic, fitted trousers, high boots polished to a mirrored shine.


    With my long hair and skinny appearance. I looked the part. Elegant and foppish.


    Even the gnome was surprised by my performance. I think she assumed I was weak because I wanted to hand the key over. She paid more attention to the second part of the test.


    With a resigned sigh, I stepped into the centre of the room, rolling my shoulders to loosen up: ¡®Let¡¯s get this over with.¡¯


    The dummies sprang to life as the countdown started. Their glowing eyes locking onto me. I raised my hand casually. Tossed a fireball. The first dummy went down in a burst of flame, the fire-bolt striking it with pinpoint accuracy.


    The second dummy lunged forward, only to be stopped by another fireball. It collapsed with an almost comical thud.


    The crowd outside let out an impressed murmur.


    I smiled and moved swiftly. Fireball after fireball. A chain of controlled bursts all hitting three dummies in succession. One, two, three ¡ª they collapsed like dominoes. Flames flickering out before they could scorch the floor.


    The last dummy, I tossed a tiny fireball. It flew quickly, slicing a hole through the centre of the final dummy¡¯s head.


    Thirty seconds. The room fell quiet. Only the smell of singed wood hung in the air. Then came the cheers and whistles from gathered adventurers.


    ¡®Did you see that ¡ª chain spell fireballs? Accurate as hell.¡¯


    ¡®Not bad for a noble. Bet he¡¯s hiding some tricks up his sleeve.¡¯


    The receptionist re-entered the room, clapping her hands. ''Impressive! We¡¯ve got adventurers here who can¡¯t even handle one dummy without setting themselves on fire.'' She waved a glowing quill that scribbled something on a floating parchment. ''You¡¯re officially classified as a A-Class adventurer. Congratulations!''


    The aristocrat froze mid-step. ''I beg your pardon? A-Class?''


    ''You¡¯ve got the skill for it, m¡¯lord. Most folks take years to reach A-Class. You¡¯ve just made quite the impression.''


    Around him, the murmurs of the adventurers grew louder. Some looked impressed; others, envious.


    ''Welcome to the guild!'' the receptionist said brightly, clearly enjoying his discomfort.


    ***


    In a room in the back the gnome gave me more details about the guild and finished off my application.


    ''You¡¯re officially registered. Welcome to the guild!'' The gnome handed him a gleaming badge engraved with his name and rank.


    It was a circular badge, roughly the size of a palm, with a raised insignia of the Guild¡¯s crest: a crossed sword and staff encircled by a coiled dragon. Around the edge, glowing runes detailed the adventurer¡¯s rank (from [E-class]to [S-class] and their unique registration number. Mine glowed platinum, indicating my status. I turned it over in my hand admiring its gleam. Its surface seems to ripple like liquid under direct sunlight, giving it an otherworldly sheen.


    I sighed. This is going to bring me more trouble than it¡¯s worth. I had gone a bit overboard.


    The gnome then did the paperwork to register the key. With the key officially registered the gnome revealed its faint magical signature. Causing it to glimmer in the light.


    ''It¡¯s a dungeon key,'' she explained. ''Old magic, likely tied to something underground. Could be treasure, could be trouble. I¡¯d keep an eye on it.''


    I asked for them to put up a mission about the key. 10 gold reward for any information to do with the key. And left.


    ***


    I had dinner at the Giant Bird again. This time, I decided to indulge in their speciality: Skyflame Fowl, a dish renowned for its fiery preparation. The fowl arrived sizzling, its skin crackling with faint magical embers, and the aroma carried a mix of smoky richness and exotic spices. Alongside it, I ordered a glass of Moonlit Elven Mead, a pale, golden wine said to be brewed under the full moon and infused with hints of wildflower honey and starlight essence.


    The wine shimmered faintly in its glass, catching the flickering glow of the enchanted lanterns that lit the restaurant. I leaned back in my chair, savouring the first bite of the Skyflame Fowl. The heat from the spices was balanced perfectly by the smoky sweetness, and each bite seemed to release a wave of warmth that spread through my chest.


    I twirled the badge in my hand as I ate. The soft hum of conversation from the other diners blended with the occasional clang of kitchenware, creating a soothing backdrop to my thoughts.


    ¡®A-level adventurer,'' I murmured, amused. ''This city never ceases to surprise me.''


    The waitress was the same as yesterday. A catgirl. She noticed the badge in my hand.


    ''[A-Class]?'' The catgirl paused mid-step, her tray of enchanted drinks hovering just slightly off balance. Her sharp eyes flicked down to the badge I had been twirling idly in my hand. ''Are you the new [A-Class] adventurer they¡¯re talking about?'' she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and awe.


    I glanced up from my plate of Skyflame Fowl, raising an eyebrow. Her expression was earnest, though tinged with that faint spark of excitement that often accompanied the mention of adventurers in this city. Clearly, word had travelled fast¡ªfaster than I¡¯d expected, considering the guild''s usual chaos.


    ''Not really,¡¯ I said lightly, slipping the badge into my pocket. The faint glow disappeared as I leaned back in my chair. ''What are they saying?''


    Her lips quirked into a smile, and she shifted her weight slightly, resting the tray on her hip. ''They are saying that. Well ¡ª that ¡ª mostly that you¡¯ve been keeping to yourself until now¡ªjust showed up out of nowhere, stirring things up.''


    ''I hardly think registering a key qualifies as stirring anything up,'' I replied, cutting another piece of the Skyflame Fowl. The heat of the spices still lingered on my tongue, warm and fiery. ''Though I suppose the Guild does love to overreact.''


    The waitress tilted her head, studying me with a keen interest that bordered on amusement: ''It¡¯s not every day someone jumps straight to [A-Class], you know. Most folks take years to earn a badge like that.''


    She set the tray down on a nearby table and folded her arms, her curiosity getting the better of her: ''So what¡¯s the story, then? Some grand adventure? A legendary beast you took down?''


    I chuckled softly, shaking my head: ''No beasts, no legends. Just a bit of fire magic and a lot of paperwork. Hardly worth the gossip.''


    Her brow furrowed, clearly unconvinced. ''Fire magic and paperwork don¡¯t make someone [A-Class]. There¡¯s more to it than that, isn¡¯t there?''


    I didn¡¯t answer. Letting the silence linger long enough for her to realise she wasn¡¯t going to get more out of m: ''The food¡¯s excellent, by the way,'' I said, changing the subject as I gestured to my plate. ''Pass my compliments to the chef.''


    The waitress gave me a long look, her curiosity still lingering, but she was sharp enough to know when to let it go. ''I will,'' she said, picking up her tray again. ''But don¡¯t think this is the last you¡¯ll hear about it. People talk, especially when it comes to new adventurers with shiny badges.''


    I smirked faintly, raising my glass of Moonlit Elven Mead in a mock toast. ''Let them talk. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll make the story far more exciting than the truth.''


    She laughed softly, shaking her head as she turned to head back to the kitchen. ''They already have,'' she said over her shoulder, leaving me to finish my meal and my thoughts in peace.

 Chapter 6 - My Crumbling Manor is Haunted?

    Cats are cute. But annoying. Brenna¡¯s familiar, a sleek black cat with golden eyes named Soot, had decided to curl up on the table that I was on. Every so often - waking up from her nap to look up at me in confusion.


    I was at the Gilded Hearth again. I was sipping on an enchanted brew. I sat by the windows today. This time ¡ª I had ordered a Calming Brew.


    The cafe was busy as usual. There was the chatter of patrons and the linking of enchanted teacups. It¡¯s warm, cosy glow was a welcome distraction for my thoughts.


    I looked out the window, watching the canals idly. I took another sip of the Calming Brew. This was the one. The Calming Brew changed colours in the cup ¡ª different shades of blue. It¡¯s taste ¡ªa harmonious blend of spiced caramel and soothing vanilla¡ªcalmed my nerves. A magical mocha-late.


    Gordo kept coming up to my mind. I had forgotten to see him yesterday. The image of Gordo¡¯s nervous fidgeting lingered in my mind, intertwined with the unsettling mystery of the key now safely hidden in his manor.


    The faint hum of its magic still resonated in my memory. A reminder of the unknown danger¡ªor opportunity¡ªit might unlock.


    My fingers brushed the Adventurers Guild badge tucked discreetly in his pocket, the smooth platinum adding to my unease.


    [A-Class]. [A-Class]. I thought.


    It was meant to be a simple visit, registering that key, but I was now saddled with a rank that screamed attention. The opposite of what he¡¯d wanted. At least it kept things interesting.


    I had to find out more details from Gordo. With a sigh, I resolved to confront him. Whatever the key¡¯s origins, the real estate agent clearly knows more than he let on, and I had no more patience for half-truths. I took another sip of the brew, savouring the warmth, before setting down and reaching for the last bite of the muffin.


    I had got a starfruit muffin this time around as well. Also a better choice. It was sweet. Not too overwhelming. Vaguely like blueberries. The muffin was well done. Light. Hints of cinnamon or nutmeg in the batter. Exactly the combo that I wanted. Calming Brew and starfruit would be my breakfast combo from now on.


    The peaceful hum of the cafe was shattered when the door swung open, its bell jangling sharply. My eyes flicked up.


    A group of adventurers entered. They were the kind who thrived on attention ¡ª loud, brash and armed to the teeth. Their leader, a tall swordsman with a diagonal scar across his weathered face, scanned the cafe until his gaze landed on me.


    ''Oi, there he is!'' the swordsman barked, pointing a thickly gloved hand in his direction. The room stilled, and I sighed inwardly. So much for a quiet breakfast.


    The swordsman stomped towards me. His boots clomping heavily on the floorboards, followed by his merry band of mismatched companions. A lean rogue, eyes shifting everywhere and a hulking reptilian beastman who armour clinked with each heavy step. They stopped at my table. Their shadows fell across my breakfast. And the cat. The cat saw them, scrambled off the table and ran to hide behind her owner behind the glass pastry case.


    ''You¡¯re the new [A-Class] adventurer, yeah?'' the swordsman asked, his tone less inquisitive and more accusatory.


    I didn¡¯t look up immediately. I used [Appraisal].


    The swordsman: [B-Class], the rogue [B-Class] and the beastman [C-Class].


    I took a measured sip of my enchanted brew. What did these weaklings want? I placed my cup down before looking up at the swordsman gaze, my expression impassive.


    ¡®I¡¯ve been called a lot of things,¡¯ I said drily, ¡®But I don¡¯t recall ¡®[A-Class] adventurer being my name.¡¯


    The swordsman grinned, a predatory gleam in his eye: ¡®Humility¡¯s cute, nobleman, but it doesn¡¯t suit you. Folks are talking about you already. Rumour is you didn¡¯t earn your ranking. A rank like that just doesn¡¯t get handed out easily. So how about we see if you earned it?¡¯


    I raised my eyebrow. My face calm exterior betraying not a hint of my irritation. ¡®And you¡¯ve decided that interrupting my breakfast is the best way to do this?¡¯


    The swordsman¡¯s grin widened. He pulled a challenge coin from his belt, flipping it once before putting it onto the table. The glowing runes on its surface flared faintly, signalling an officially sanctioned duel.


    Gasps rippled through the cafe. I sighed, glancing at the coin like it was a tedious piece of paperwork. ¡®You know,¡¯ I said, brushing a crumb off my sleeve, ¡®there¡¯s a time and place for theatrics. Not, here.¡¯


    Knew it. I should have just destroyed the thing, instead of trying to do the right thing.


    The swordsman leaned in, his scar catching the light. ¡®A duel¡¯s a duel. Or are you scared?¡¯


    I looked at him for a moment. My expression unreadable. I reached into my pocket, removing the [A-Class] badge and setting it out on the table besides the challenge coin.


    I used [Intimidation] released a tiny flicker of my Draconic aura - pinning them in place ¡®It¡¯ll be a duel to the death.¡¯ I said. ¡®All three of you versus me.¡¯ I said calmly.


    The swordsman¡¯s grin faltered. Replaced by a flicker of fear. The rogue went pale. The reptilian beastman started to bow from the pressure. I picked up the [A-Class] badge, putting it back in my pocket. ¡®Unless you intend to compensate me for the interruption, I suggest you take your posturing elsewhere. I¡¯m quite fond of the cafe and I don¡¯t want it to become your stage.¡¯


    A tense silence followed, broken only by the rogue muttering, ¡®Roderick, let it go.¡¯


    I spoke again - using [Intimidation] and releasing a tiny flicker of my Draconic aura - pinning them in place. ¡®Spread the word, no matter what duel comes it¡¯ll be a duel to the death. I don¡¯t want you guys wasting my time.¡¯ I wanted to warn them off.


    I sealed my aura again. The trio looked at each other, then back at me. The swordsman, their leader, glared at me weighing his options.


    Finally he let out a sharp laugh, scooping up the challenge coin. ¡®You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m in a good mood.¡¯ He said, his tone forced. ¡®But don¡¯t think this over. You¡¯ve got eyes on you, nobleman. Let¡¯s see how long you can keep up the act.¡¯


    He turned on his heels, his companions following hurriedly, and the cafe went back to it usual activity level.


    I exhaled. Lifting the cup again. Not much left. The Calming Brew steadied my nerves. This place is surprising.


    ***


    I made my way to Gordo¡¯s office by Gondola. Before walking in I pinned the [A-Class] badge to my chest. I stepped into Gordo¡¯s office, the faint jingle of a brass bell above the door announcing my arrival. The office was exactly as I remembered it: a chaotic blend of pomp and desperation. The walls were painted an overambitious shade of royal blue, now slightly faded, and adorned with poorly framed certificates proclaiming Gordo¡¯s Realty Services as ''The Premier Choice of Vallenport¡¯s Elite.'' One certificate hung crooked, its frame cracked at the corner.


    The desk at the centre of the room was cluttered with parchment contracts, quills, and ink pots, as well as a suspiciously untouched crystal paperweight shaped like a miniature manor. A small sign perched precariously on the edge of the desk read: Dream Homes for Every Budget!


    Behind the desk sat Gordo, as large and round as the cushioned chair that seemed to groan under his weight. His too-tight jacket strained at the buttons, and his red silk cravat looked as though it had been tied in haste. Despite the office¡¯s ostentatious claims, the entire setup reeked of someone trying far too hard to appear successful.


    As soon as Gordo spotted the aristocrat, his face split into a wide, nervous grin, and he rose with exaggerated enthusiasm, almost knocking over a teetering stack of property ledgers. ''Ah! My favourite client!'' he boomed, his voice overly loud and dripping with insincerity. ''To what do I owe the pleasure today?''


    I skipped the pleasantries. I looked sharply at him, narrowing my eyes. ''Cut the act, Gordo. What do you really know about the Manor?''


    The grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of panic. Gordo fidgeted, his hands darting to adjust his cravat, which now seemed even tighter as beads of sweat began to form on his brow. ¡®Know about it? Why, only that it¡¯s a fine property! A historic gem! The pride of¡ª¡®


    He spotted the badge. The sunlight had just hit and it gleamed. The platinum announcing it to be an [A-Class] badge.


    ¡®Gordo.¡¯My voice dropped, cold and un-amused. I leaned forward slightly, just enough to make him squirm. ¡®I won¡¯t ask again.¡¯


    The weight of the my gaze was too much. Gordo crumbled, slumping back into his chair with a resigned groan. ¡®Alright, alright! Look, it¡¯s not my fault, okay? That place has a history. I didn¡¯t think it¡¯d cause real trouble.¡¯Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡®Go on,¡¯ I said evenly, crossing my arms, waiting.


    Gordo shifted in his seat, his fingers drumming anxiously on the desk. ¡®The manor,¡¯ he began, his voice lowering ¡®used to belong to you distant relative, Lord Edran T¡¯valor. Brilliant mage, but, uh¡­ eccentric doesn¡¯t begin to cover it. The man was obsessed with forbidden magic ¡ª runes, curse, alchemy, you name it. Over the years, he got¡­ paranoid. He started shutting people out. Refusing to leave the manor. Rumour has it he was trying to unlock something ¡ª dangerous. Powerful.¡¯


    Another T¡¯valor? How many of them were there - second case of madness after Azure¡¯s family.


    My eyebrows knit together, I was interested in spire of myself ¡®And?¡¯


    ¡®And,¡¯ Gordo continued, swallowing hard, ¡®one day he just vanished. Poof. Gone. Left the whole place in a mess. Locals started spreading stories ¡ª ghosts, curses, magic traps. A few poor souls tried to move in over the years, but let¡¯s say none of them stayed for long. The manor¡¯s been abandoned for decades until¡­ until you.¡¯


    I looked at him in silence for a long time. No wonder it was so cheap.  I spoke to Gordo with a deliberate calm in my voice, ¡®and you didn¡¯t think to mention this when I bought the place?¡¯


    Gordo fidgeted more, his fingers tugging at his collar. ¡®Well,¡¯ he stammered, ¡®I figured someone of your, uh, calibre could handle it! I mean, you¡¯re ¡ª you¡¯re not exactly an ordinary buyer, are you? A bit of eccentric family history, a few ghosts. Nothing you can¡¯t handle right?¡¯


    Gordo looked at my [A-Class] badge.


    I raised an eyebrow. I was unimpressed. ¡®You sold me a manor with that kind of history,¡¯ I said coolly, ¡®without so much as a warning.¡¯


    ''Think of it as¡­ an opportunity!'' Gordo said hastily, his nervous grin returning. ''A chance to uncover your family¡¯s secrets! Who doesn¡¯t love a bit of intrigue, eh?''


    I leaned forward, gaze narrowing. ''If I find anything else you¡¯ve neglected to mention, Gordo, rest assured, you will be the first to know.''


    Gordo chuckled nervously, dabbing at his brow with a handkerchief. ''O-of course, m¡¯lord! Anything you need, you know where to find me.''


    I stood up, straightened myself, brushing invisible dust from his coat. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the office, leaving Gordo slumped in his chair, muttering, ''Why do the difficult clients always have to be the powerful ones?''


    ***


    Back home. I decided to do something I should have done earlier. I used [Dragon¡¯s Sight] to go look through my house. My irises glinted faintly in the light as my vision shifted to look at magic in its truest form.


    I worked my way room to room. The ground floor was all good. The only things that slightly glowed were the new furnishings. Dining room. Parlour rooms. Kitchen. Spare bedrooms. Upstairs. My bedroom. The guest bedrooms. All good. Except the study.


    Things were different when I got to the study. As I walked in the library. I had only been in there once to look at it. Spending most of my time in the bedroom or the drawing room downstairs.


    It was quiet, the only noise being the sound of my footsteps on the wooden floor as I moved through the shelves. Dust motes hung in the air, caught in the glow of the fading afternoon, streaming through the windows.


    The books were in surprisingly good condition. Despite their age. Is walked thorough the rows of towering shelves, a faint shimmer at the back of one of the larger shelves caught my eye.


    I saw a blue glow. As I walked closer I saw the faint shimmer of hidden runes. The vertical side of the shelf was covered in runes invisible to naked eye. I stepped closer.


    I touched the runes. Pushing a sliver of magic through them. The runes faded after that. A hidden panel slid aside, revealing a hidden compartment. It was near the ground, so I kneeled down and looked into it. There was a keyhole.


    How could I have missed it?


    I fished the mystery key out of my pocket, metal cool against my skin and slid it into the lock.


    A soft click echoed through the room. Followed by the sounds of gears turning. A small drawer slid out.


    Inside it was a dusty book. I checked. Nothing else. The book was leather bound journal. Brown leather. Cracked with age.


    I opened it. The first page. Edran T¡¯valor. The writing was faint blue. Almost totally faded with time.


    I flipped through it. The first few pages were filled with neat and precise writing. It was a journal. Date at the top. His day-to-day life. Experiments.


    Slowly. The topics changed. The gaps in dates got longer and longer. The writing grew more erratic. Words scrawled over diagrams. The writing at the end grew more unreadable except for a handful of phrases.


    The Watchers ¡­ came after


    ¡­. the Primordial Gems. They changed¡­


    the Rules of Magic¡­ new order ¡­ new continent.


    Those were the only readable lines.


    So this is what had become of Edran.  I closed the journal with a soft sigh.


    From the level of magic I could read, Edran was not much stronger than a [3-star] wizard. Or [B-Class]. It was insanity to attempt to deal with [S-Class] magic as a [B-Class] wizard. Especially as a modern wizard.


    It was a strong clue though. I had a hypothesis about this world. It was either a prison, a cage, or a safe-room.


    Probably a safe room. Magic ended. Crazy battles happened. Someone repaired the broken continents ¡ª which is why they were those unnatural circular shapes and locked the place up.


    The watchers were probably some type of spell to stop the entry of too powerful entities.


    I kept the book away in my [System Space] for safekeeping continued searching.


    The attic/third floor was clear. Last place to check was the basement. The basement was divided into two rooms, the main cellar: filled with wine, food and other magical ingredients and the utility room: housing the enchantment mechanisms of the manor. The lights, heating and other basics.


    One of the walls was in the utility room was a fake wall. Transparent to my [Dragon Sight]. It was a wall entirely made of gears. It was still running. Gears ticking. A full fledged mechanical wall. I didn¡¯t want to touch it in case I broke it. I touched it, attempted to push my magic through it. No response.


    Another little puzzle to add to the list.


    ***


    I had used magic to briefly tidy up the Study. I stood up there, looking out the window.


    I watched the sun dip below the horizon. Instead of a mass of light or colour or pretty changes change. It just instantly got dark.


    I felt the air in the study change. At first, it was subtle¡ªan oppressive silence that seemed to stretch longer than natural. Then came the whispers. Faint at first, as if just out of reach, they grew louder as the night deepened, curling around the edges of his mind like a distant song I couldn¡¯t place.


    It was in Draconic. So I could understand it. It was a song of goodbye. A sad song.


    Books slid from shelves without warning, and the creak of footsteps echoed from the upper floors, though I knew he was alone. The air grew cold, my breath visible in the dim light of the library.


    As he turned to face the hearth, the candlelight flickered violently, and a ghostly figure began to take shape.


    The transparent form of Edran T¡¯valor emerged. His once-regal visage now twisted by centuries of madness. His eyes burned with an unnatural light, and his voice, warped and distorted, lashed out in fits of desperate ramblings and bitter accusations.


    ¡®You¡¯ve come to take it all, haven¡¯t you?¡¯ the ghost hissed, spectral magic crackling around him. ¡®You¡¯ll end it just as they tried! Fools! All of you!¡¯


    The magic was weak. Peak [3-star] level. Barely touching [4-star]. But it was ancient magic.


    Rare magic. I hadn¡¯t seen this. It wasn¡¯t contained in the Modrath¡¯s memories or Tavalor¡¯s.


    Easy to defeat it considering it was weak. I simply sucked out all of the emotion powering it. The magic collapsed into nothing.


    All that was left was the transparent form of Edran. The madness in Edran¡¯s eyes was still there, but beneath it lay a flicker of something else¡ªpain, perhaps. Or regret.


    I used the system to absorb him.


    ''I¡¯ll find out what happened to you,'' I said quietly. ''And if I can, I¡¯ll fix it.''


    The ghost snarled, its form wavering. ''You cannot fix what is already undone.'' And with that, Edran vanished, leaving the library cold and silent once more.


    I closed my eyes processing his emotions. It matched my hypothesis.


    This world was a safe room.


    The magic was gross. A modified ancient magic. Curse magic. It was still ran by emotions - but rather than a single persons emotions, the resentment of dead people were gathered together and used to amplify the casters intentions.


    A lot of blood. Spells. Chanting. Standard Dark Lord Stuff.


    ***


    I needed a drink.


    I decided to look for some solace at one of the better bars. The Starlight Spire.


    A rooftop bar perched on top on of Vallenport¡¯s tallest towers. The bar was famous for its panoramic views of the cities glowing canals and enchanted seating that floated above the floors.


    The floors themselves had been enchanted to look like stars, combined with the floating chairs - gave patrons a sensation of sitting among the stars. A string of lights crisscrossed the open-air terrace, their soft gold glow mingling with the starlight from the floors and the faint hum of runes etched into the walls.


    I sat at a corner table. Looking out over the city. I had ordered a glass of Nightshade Ale. A dark velvety drink, that faintly shimmered. I sipped and let the con night air, the faint tang of salt ease the tension on my shoulders as I made plans.


    I¡¯m probably the strongest person in this world. If someone had gone to the trouble to lock this place up and put watchers in place.


    I just had to watch my magic output levels until I figured out how the watchers worked and to avoid them. Limiting my magic to the peak of [5-stars] would be more than enough to solve problems.


    My body was also strong enough. Looking at my stat sheet.


    ===Tavalor


    Mana: (Max)


    Power Level: [6-star][S-Class] (Ancient Dragon)


    Spells: [0/6]


    Special Abilities: Ancient Dragon


    Active: [Dragon¡¯s Breath], [Dragon''s Flight], [Intimidation], [Appraisal]


    Passive: [Dragon''s Sight], [Ancient Scales]


    ===


    I could probably win fights with one punch alone. I smiled at the thought.


    I needed to pick up some physical skills to disguise my special abilities. Also to learn enough spells to fill my 6 spell slots.


    Looking at the way magic was used. They had got a lot more sophisticated with how they applied the skills. If you could only learn 6 spells permanently. Then magic skill was about how cleverly you applied the skills.


    They had probably come a long way in several hundred years instead of the rough fireballs I was using.


    I looked out over the city, observing the layout of town. The city seemed alive with motion¡ªboats gliding through the water below, lanterns swinging gently in the breeze, and the distant hum of evening revelry.


    As I drank, over the rim of my glass I overhead snippets of conversations from nearby tables.


    A pair of merchants sat in bright gleaming coats speaking in hushed tones.


    ''They¡¯re saying another ship vanished near the Storm Shores,'' one said, his voice low.


    ''Third one this month,'' his companion replied, shaking his head. ''Too many. Something¡¯s lurking out there¡­''


    At another table, a group of mages discussed an unusual surge in magical anomalies.


    ''Did you hear about the glowing fissure that opened up near the western ward?'' a young woman asked, her hands gesturing animatedly.


    ''A fissure? That¡¯s the third this season,'' another replied. ''The Mage¡¯s Guild needs to get its act together before the city ends up in the sea.''


    Further off, a bard, deep into his second bottle of enchanted wine, loudly proclaimed a theory about the Watchers:


    ''They¡¯re not just stories, I tell you! The Watchers are real, and they¡¯re watching Vallenport!'' His companions groaned, one muttering something about too much ''dreamwood smoke.''


    I listened. Each snipped adding to the puzzle of the city.


    This city, this world, was a giant puzzle and I was starting to gather the pieces.


    As I gazed across the glimmering canals and rooftops, his thoughts turned back to T¡¯valor Manor¡ªthe journal, the [Primordial Stones], the ghost of Edran. Whatever was happening at the manor was undoubtedly part of something larger.


    Hopefully, nothing that ruined my plans. I just wanted to relax.


    I thought about my next steps. I was an [A-Class] adventurer. So surely I could access the Adventurers Guild archives. Get a tutor to learn some magic. A tutor to learn some basic swordsmanship. The Manor needed some magic barriers to stop people popping up. A lot of things to do.


    The flickering lanterns above seemed to match his thoughts.

 Chapter 7 - I Went to Visit the Mages Guild

    I sat in the Gilded Hearth this morning. My usual haunt. The smell of Enchanted brews and semi-magical pastries filled the air.


    I sat in my usual spot, in a chair near the windows. Usual drink. Blue multi-coloured calming brew and


    Today had grabbed some brochures and was looking them over while I had my breakfast.


    They were brochures advertising the Mage Guilds services on the counter. I grabbed a handful.


    Soot, was curled up in a sunny spot near the fireplace. Avoiding me. I think my confrontation with the dumb adventurers yesterday had scared him off. The usual few people filled the cafe.


    The fireplace was interesting. The Gilded Hearth was named because of the the enchanted golden fireplace at the centre of the cafe.


    It wasn¡¯t powered by wood or coal, but by a perpetual flame enchanted centuries ago by a wandering fire mage. The flame flickered with shifting colours¡ªgold, crimson, and sapphire¡ªresponding to the energy of the cafe¡¯s patrons.


    Most mornings it was quiet. Like today - it was a gentle, blue-tinged flicker, creating a serene atmosphere.


    One flyer caught my eye: ¡®Exclusive Barrier Enchantment Package! First Consultation Free!¡¯ I put that one to the side.


    I skimmed the headlines.


    ''Lost Something Important? Try Guild-Approved Locator Spells!'' No guarantees if it¡¯s been eaten by a magical creature. Discount for lost pets.


    ''Personalised Illusion Displays for Parties, Performances, and Proposals!'' Make your event unforgettable (or make your guests forget¡ªyour choice).


    ''Need a Potion? Specialising in Love, Luck, and Mildly Legal Remedies!'' Side effects include glowing skin, mild dizziness, and questionable life choices.


    ''Adventurer¡¯s Companion Charms: For Good Fortune, Strong Blades, and Fewer Mimics!'' Guaranteed effectiveness, or your money back (if you survive).


    ''Spells for Hire: Fireballs, Frost Walls, or Something More Subtle?''Competitive rates. No refunds for accidental scorched ceilings.


    ''Meticulous Fortune Telling¡ªCheaper Than the Guild!''


    ''Your future is murky, but your coin purse is clear.'' (Best for vague answers.)


    ''Want to Sell Your Soul? Please Don¡¯t¡ªBut If You Already Did, I Offer Buyback Negotiations!''Discreet service. No questions asked.


    ''Magical Pet Training! Tame Your Gryphons, Dragons, or Aggressive Garden Gnomes!''


    Also offering familiar matchmaking services.


    ''Looking for a Tutor? Speciality in Wand Techniques, Rune Theory, and Patience.'' Beginner-friendly! Also offering lessons in avoiding magical explosions. I put this one to the side. For the opposite reason.


    Mages were a funny lot.


    Every single one of those brochures was off in a subtle way ¡ª yet I still wanted to follow-up on all of them.


    Focus. Gotta keep to my agenda.


    On the agenda was ¡ª visiting the Adventurers Guild to take a look at their archive, learning basic magic, installing magical barriers on the manor, learning to be a knight, dealing with the key and maybe a vacation.


    The old house had started to generate tasks. I suddenly understood why I had always seen my co-workers always shopping for furniture. It felt like the house always was generating more things to do to fix it. It also started to feel like I was doing too many things.


    Maybe I needed an assistant or servants? Aren¡¯t I pretending to be an aristocrat?


    I thought about getting some servants. I thought about starting a to-do list. I cancelled both thoughts.


    This isn¡¯t what I want.


    My goal was to be the ultimate tourist.


    I think the key was never having a to-do list at all. Living life without a to-do list of any sort. No calendar. Just wake up do whatever I wanted to do all day.


    I didn¡¯t want to be one of those guys with and endless backlog of things to do. I wanted adventure. Doing things. Not planning things.


    So. I decided. If I couldn¡¯t remember it. I wouldn¡¯t do it.


    Just go with the flow. It was the opposite of the regimented life I had lead. I had lived one-spreadsheet cell at a time.


    I looked at the cat sleeping in the fireplace. I wanted to live like him.


    Maybe do 1 or 2 things a day? Don¡¯t forget I¡¯m immortal. It¡¯s pointless to rush.


    Learning basic magic and getting a magic barrier installed could both be accomplished by visiting the mages guild.


    I pocketed the two brochures, putting the rest back on the counter as I left.


    Soot briefly stretched and glanced at me with its golden eyes as if understanding my thoughts, then lazily blinked in approval before curling back up to sleep.


    ***


    I waved down a gondola and directed it to the Mages guild. The Gondola rocked gently as it glided down the Grand Canal, the lifeblood of Vallenport.


    The water shimmered with faint, indistinguishable traces of magic, it¡¯s surface catching the reflecting of tall, elegant spires and vibrant shopfronts that lined the canals edges.


    The gondolier was a beastman. Not sure the species, he had sleek otter-like features. Working his long pole with ease. The journey was smooth.


    I leaned back against the curved wooden seat, feeling the boat sway underneath me. The air was crisp. Dry day today, so the water didn¡¯t smell. Only a little like brine. I smelled fresh-baked bread and the smell of magic too. Overhead, enchanted lanterns floated helter-skelter, their unnecessary golden light floating in the morning sun.


    The canals were busy with activity. It was just after breakfast, the 9th bell, after all. Larger merchant barges drifted past, stacked with crates glowing with protective enchantments. Smaller gondolas like the one I was riding darted in and out of narrow side channels, ferrying passengers to destinations unknown.


    The Gondola passed underneath an intricately carved stone bridge. I glanced up at the archway. Runes etched in the stone glowed. I recognised a warding spell. A reinforcement rune. A reason why this bridge had survived for so long.


    After the bridge I saw the towering spires of the Mages Guild.


    The style of the buildings changed the closer we got to the guild. The colourful and whimsical facades of market and shops gave way to more stately, refined architecture. Homes of scholars, guild members and affluent members. A few mages towers were in sight. The canals edges were now lined with polished stone and water seemed to flow with a smoother rhythm.


    The gondolier pulled up to a sleek marble dock. The guilds emblem ¡ª a starburst wrapped in flowing runes ¡ª emblazoned on the pier.


    ¡®The Mages Guild,¡¯ the gondolier said. His voice was deep, smooth. I paid him. He gave me a toothy smile as I stepped onto the docks.


    I turned to look at the the guild. Felt the hum of magic. It was almost tangible here. An [S-Class] wizard had build this place. It felt ancient.


    The actual guild itself was small. It appeared as a modest three-story building, blending into Vallenport¡¯s architecture. The only thing that marked it was its symbol. A starburst surrounded by glowing runes. Also in Draconic.


    ¡®Through Knowledge, Power; Through Power, Wisdom.¡¯


    The arched doors, carved with swirling runes, parted as I approached. Responding to my presence.


    The air shifted. Felt cooler, heavier and more alive with magic as I stepped inside.


    An endlessly sized atrium opened up before me. A breathtaking expanse that stretched impossibly upwards, defying the logic and constraints of ordinary architecture.


    Floors spiralled around a central shaft of shimmering light, edges lined with gold railings with glowing wards. Floating staircases shifted between levels. Vanishing and reappearing to suit the needs of the passengers. The ceiling if there even was one ¡ª seemed like a vortex of light an colour, pulsing faintly with energy of the guild¡¯s enchantments.


    My gaze was drawn towards the floating orb in the centre. [The Warden¡¯s Eye]. I couldn¡¯t help but [Appraise] it. I felt it look over at me as well.


    ===The Warden¡¯s Eye


    A clone of a Watcher¡¯s Eye


    Hint: It sees all. It watches all. It never sleeps.


    ===


    A clue. A big clue. So how many of these things are floating around watching this world? How can I get access to this eye?


    I put the matter aside. Go with the flow. I reminded myself.


    [The Warden¡¯s Eye] was a sphere of swirling light suspended in the heart of the atrium. It cast no shadows, its soft glow illuminating every corner. It moved around subtly, as if alive and watching everything. Around it were floating platforms, connecting to the guild¡¯s upper levels.


    The air smelled like magic, a little like ozone, the smell of old parchment and polished stone. All around, the place buzzed with activity. The mages all wore grey robes, their cuffs reflecting their ranks. I could tell the apprentices. Their young faces and eager attitudes betraying them. They scuttled along in robes with silver trim.


    The higher class wizards all had different coloured trim. Gold, Silver, Platinum. I had no idea, too lazy to [Appraise]. That was another rule I set for myself. I wanted to be surprised. If I Appraised everything. There would be no surprises. The higher class wizards leaned on railings on higher levels, engaged in quiet but intense discussions.


    I walked in. My boots clicked softly on the marble floor. The floor was beautiful. Light silver marbled etched with glowing ley-line patterns. A magical fountain gurgled gently to my left.


    A young mage sat a console nearby. Summoning a holographic diagram of a spell circle.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    I felt the energy. A blend of relentless curiosity. A contrast to the lackadaisical attitude of the Dragons towards magic.


    I walked towards the reception desk. I was manned by a gnome who¡¯s spectacles were nearly as large as their face. A clone of the one I had seen the other day at the Adventurers Guild.


    As I walked towards the reception I heard snippets of conversation. ¡®Astral anomalies¡¯ and ¡®ley-line disturbances,¡¯ and failed magic circles¡¯ floated in the air. I heard debates.


    I had already pinned my [A-Class] adventurers badge to my coat.


    I arrived at the desk and asked my question. ¡®Let me ask you something,¡¯ I began. My tone was light but curious. ¡®Do you know the gnome who works at the Adventurers Hall?¡¯


    The gnome blinked. His quill paused. All of the other quills filling in parchment floating in the air also paused before they began moving.


    ¡®My cousin.¡¯ Said the gnome, his voice clipped but efficient. ¡®Of course. With all of the updates whee sends me. Absolute stickler for the rules. Horrible handwriting.¡¯


    His sticking to the rules had already bitten me once.


    ¡®Seems like a lot of gnomes end up working as receptionists. Coincidence?¡¯


    The gnome straightened his spectacles and gave Tavalor a pointed look, as if weighing whether the question was worth his time. Finally, he let out a long-suffering sigh. ¡®Reception work, my dear adventurer, is not a coincidence. It is a necessity. Gnomes live for order. Do you have any idea how chaotic places like this would be without someone capable of maintaining order? Wizards are hopeless with paperwork, adventurers can barely string two coherent sentences together when they''re registering loot, and don''t even get me started on battle mages who think ¡®clerical¡¯ is a type of healing spell¡¯


    ''So it''s... a calling?'' I asked, amused.


    ''More like a curse,'' the gnome muttered, though there was a faint gleam of pride in his eyes. ''Gnomes have a natural knack for managing details others overlook. We excel at cataloguing, organising, and, yes, occasionally enforcing rules when necessary. It¡¯s thankless work, but someone has to do it.''


    Before I could continue my questions, an attendant approaches, a young kid with bright eyes and an enthusiastic demeanour.


    ''Lord Tavalor?'' he asks, eyeing the badge clipped discreetly to Tavalor¡¯s coat. ''The vice-magus has been expecting you. This way, please.''


    I suppressed a sigh. I had hoped for a quiet inquiry, not an audience.


    ***


    We moved from room to room. Taking floating staircase after floating staircase in such a chaotic manner that I was hopelessly lost after three sets of stairs.


    ¡®Would you like a tour?¡¯ Asked the young man as they walked.


    ¡®Sure.¡¯ He had saved me asking.


    First he pointed at one of the consoles that I had seen when walking in.


    ¡®That''s the Infinite spell archive. It¡¯s a dimensional construct, allowing mages to access every recorded spell stored within the guild¡¯s history. When a mage places their hand on the central console, the archive responds by displaying their desired topic in a holographic format.¡¯ The young man said that with pride in his voice.


    ¡®What¡¯s your name?¡¯ I asked him.


    ¡®Fenwick, m¡¯lord. Fenwick Glimmergear.¡¯


    I gave him a bow. ¡®Pleasure to meet you Fenwick.¡¯ I said. I liked the kids enthusiasm. He bowed back.


    Next was the Arcane Hall, a grand chamber where dozens of mages worked in quiet concentration. ''Here, our members conduct research into everything from spell refinement to theoretical magic. That young apprentice over there,'' he gestured toward a hunched figure surrounded by floating sigils, ''is developing a new method to stabilise elemental surges.''


    They passed through the Guild Library, a cavernous room with shelves that reached impossibly high. ''Every recorded spell in Vallenport¡¯s history resides here, along with tomes on magical theory, ancient languages, and even a few¡­ speculative texts.'' His voice dropped slightly, his eyes glittering. ''We do keep the restricted section carefully monitored.''


    I raised a brow, but Fenwick moved on briskly.


    Next, they entered the Training Halls, a series of open spaces where spells crackled and flashed like miniature thunderstorms. Apprentices practised defensive wards and conjurations under the watchful eyes of their instructors. ''This is where practical skill is honed,'' Fenwick explained. ''Of course, our more advanced members have private chambers for experimentation.'' His tone carried the faintest hint of arrogance.


    Finally, they reached the Enchanter¡¯s Wing, a quieter area filled with the scent of herbs and glowing runic circles etched into the floors. Enchanters worked meticulously, imbuing objects with layers of magic.


    I looked on interestedly. Very different to Draconic magic. We simply imbued magic into an item with an emotion attached. They drew circuits and magic circles to enchant it. A modern approach.


    ***


    We arrived at the end of the tour to an office at the top floor. A nondescript door.


    The door opened revealing a grand chamber lined with glowing runic symbols and bookshelves that stretch impossibly high. The floors, ceilings and desk were all white with gold trim.


    The man who stood at the centre of the room was the vice-magus.


    Fenwick bowed to him and left.


    I observed him.


    ¡®I am Elarian Thorne. Lord Tavalor. It¡¯s not often we host adventurers of your calibre. To what do we owe the pleasure?¡¯


    Elarian was tall elf with silver hair. His robes were fancier. Still the same mages grey. They had a high stiff collar and a longer train. The patterns on the edges of his robe were intricate and pulsed faintly with energy.


    '' Two things. First I¡¯m curious. I¡¯m here to learn,'' I replied simply, keeping his tone polite but firm.


    ¡®Are you serious about this?¡¯ Asked Elarian. ¡®You are [A-Class already. Seems pointless.¡¯


    ¡®What do we have in life except curiosity¡¯ I replied. ¡®Also, I¡¯m a Southerner. The way you wield magic is ... structured. Foreign. I want to understand its nuances.¡¯


    Elarian seemed surprised. He thought for a moment.


    Elarian studied him for a moment, then nodded. ''We can accommodate your ambition. I¡¯ll assign you one of our senior instructors¡ªsomeone who can challenge you while respecting your¡­ unique talents.'' His lips curved into a faint smile. ''It will not be an easy journey, Lord Tavalor. But I suspect you already know that.''


    ¡®Oh and what was the second?¡¯ Asked Elarian.


    ¡®I need a magic barrier.¡¯ I replied.


    I levitated the brochure towards him.


    He read the brochure then burnt it to a crisp with a sneer. ¡®Too low class for you.¡¯ He said.


    ¡®The person I¡¯ll send over will also take care of that for you.¡¯ He said.


    He pulled out a communication stone. I pulled out mine and touched his to mine - swapping details.


    ¡®If there¡¯s anything else. Don¡¯t hesitate to reach out.¡¯ Said the Elf with a smile.


    As I walked out I thought to myself, that went much easier than I had expected.


    I looked down at my [A-Class] badge. The badge and being [A-Class] had probably done all of the heavy lifting.


    ***


    Elarian sat down at his desk, tapping it lightly to reveal a globe floating - a much larger communication stone.


    Six transparent faces all popped up. All of them core-members of the Mages Council.


    Elarian sat back in his chair and spoke: ¡®I just met Lord Tavalor. The new [A-Class] Adventurer.¡¯


    ¡®So why call this emergency meeting?¡¯ Asked one of the men. A gruff looking dwarf asked. He was covered in soot, he had just left his forge.


    Elarian leaned forward. ¡®It was the [The Warden¡¯s Eye]. It couldn¡¯t determine his ranking.


    Three sighs. Two gasps. And several non-responses filled the room.


    ¡®Could you tell?¡¯ asked another. The picture was a shadow. A blank spot.


    ¡®I couldn¡¯t feel anything,¡¯ said Elarian. ¡®But I could tell from his physical body. He¡¯s strong. A true Southern Barbarian.¡¯He paused before continuing. ¡®He¡¯s probably Peak [A-Class] just based on his physical body alone.¡¯


    He paused to let the others take it in. All of the others also were lost in their own thoughts.


    ¡®He came because he was curious about magic. Who should we send over?¡¯ Continued Elarian.


    They were all surprised at that.


    ¡®Strange for a Barbarian.¡¯ A woman''s voice. It came from a half orc woman. A towering figure clad in enchanted battle robes reinforced with light armour. Her green skin was scarred from countless battles, and her braided hair was streaked with fiery red.


    Another of the six spoke ¡ª a man in glasses and a white robe: ¡®What about Her?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Absolutely not.¡¯ Replied the half-orc woman.


    ¡®Her?¡¯ replied the shadow. Then the shadow laughed. ¡®She¡¯s perfect.¡¯


    ¡®Her?¡¯ echoed Elarian. He sat back in his chair. A thoughtful look across his face.


    Then the elf smiled as well. ¡®It¡¯ll get her out of our hair at least.¡¯


    ***


    Fenwick had escorted me out. Before I left I asked him for a recommendation. This place was so bureaucratic. The veiled scrutiny and mock-politeness of the Mages Guild had put me off. I wanted something home-ey. BBQ.


    Visiting the mages guild had settled a debate in my mind though.


    I would much rather be an adventurer than a mage.


    The place was full of the things he hated. Corporations. Bureaucracy. The fake-politeness that Elarian had showed him had turned him off.


    Hanging out with ordinary people is way better.


    The Ember¡¯s Edge was exactly what I expected. The tavern stood modestly at the edge of Vallenport¡¯s dock district, its stone and timber exterior weathered by time and sea air. It lacked the ostentatious flourishes of the city¡¯s more upscale establishments, but as Tavalor stepped inside, he immediately felt the pull of something raw and elemental¡ªa primal warmth emanating from the heart of the room.


    The first thing he noticed was the fire-pit. It dominated the space, its magical flames leaping and swirling in hues of orange, red, and violet. The flames weren¡¯t mere tools for cooking¡ªthey seemed alive, twisting in mesmerising patterns as though performing a dance for the patrons.


    The air carried a heady mix of wood-smoke, roasted meat, and the faint crackle of magic, tingling faintly against Tavalor¡¯s skin.


    The tavern itself was both rustic and welcoming. Thick wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, blackened in places from stray sparks.


    The furniture was sturdy and well-used¡ªscarred tables and benches etched with adventurers¡¯ names, runes, and the occasional crude drawing. Shields, axes, and banners hung from the walls, hinting at the tavern¡¯s long-standing reputation as a gathering place for warriors and mages alike.


    As I stepped further inside, conversations ebbed briefly, patrons casting curious glances my way. Adventurers, merchants, and dock-hands made up the crowd, their rough-spun cloaks and travel-worn boots a stark contrast to Tavalor¡¯s tailored attire.


    They looked away after spotting the badge.


    ''First time here, eh?'' A gruff voice cut through the din. A burly man behind the bar¡ªbald, with a beard streaked in grey¡ªgrinned as Tavalor approached. His apron was charred at the edges, and his arms were thick with scars. ''Welcome to the Ember¡¯s Edge. Name¡¯s Brast. What¡¯ll it be?''


    I scanned the room again, intrigued by the mingling of magic and earthiness. The tavern¡¯s fire-pit chefs moved deftly around the flames, turning spits laden with wyvern haunches and skewered sea serpent steaks, their rune-carved tools glowing faintly with enchantments. Bowls of roasted sunroot vegetables and loaves of emberbread were passed from the fire-pit to waiting hands, accompanied by tankards of frothy ale that sparkled faintly in the light.


    ''I¡¯ll take a recommendation,'' I said, my tone casual as I leaned against the bar.


    Brast barked a laugh. ''Smart choice. First-timers get the Wyvern Flame Platter¡ªcharred wyvern steak, sunroot skewers, and a pint of our ember ale. If that doesn¡¯t bring you back, nothing will.''


    A short while later, I found myself seated near the fire-pit, my plate steaming before me. The wyvern steak was seared to perfection, its edges crackling with faint magical embers. Each bite was smoky, tender, and infused with just a hint of spice, as if the flames themselves had seasoned it. The sunroot skewers were sweet and earthy, their glaze leaving a faint warmth on his tongue. The ember ale was darker than he expected, with a deep, rich flavour and a magical warmth that spread through his chest like the glow of a hearth on a cold night.


    As I ate, I let the tavern¡¯s energy wash over me. A bard played a lively tune in the corner, adventurers swapped exaggerated tales of glory, and the firelight flickered across the room, painting everything in shades of gold and crimson.


    For the first time since arriving in Vallenport, I felt like I had stumbled upon something real¡ªnot gilded or over-designed, but raw and alive. I raised his tankard to himself, smirking faintly.


    ''Not bad,'' he murmured, watching the fire dance. ''Not bad at all.''


    As I ate, the tavern¡¯s usual energy began to shift. Conversations dipped, then rose again in a more focused murmur, and I caught snippets of words drifting through the air: ''[A-Class] adventurer,'' ''new to the city,'' and ''Southern barbarian.''


    I sighed inwardly. I took a sip of my ember ale. The growing attention was impossible to ignore. I was a dragon - we have good hearing. Sure enough, a group of adventurers broke off from their table near the bar and sauntered towards him.


    Their leader, a tall woman with a great-sword strapped to her back, gave me a wide grin, more curious that confrontational.


    Here we go.


    ¡®You¡¯re the new [A-Class], aren¡¯t you?¡¯ she asked, stopping just short of my table. Her voice carried the practised confidence of someone used to commanding attention.


    I looked up. Taking my time to finish another sip before I replied. ¡®That depends. Are you here to congratulate me or challenge me?¡¯


    The group all chuckled at that. The woman¡¯s grin widened. ¡®Neither ¡ªfor now. I¡¯m Mara,¡¯ she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down without waiting for permission. Her companions ¡ª a wiry rouge with a patchy beard and a dwarf in chainmail followed suit. Taking the remaining seats at the table.


    ¡®I heard stories,¡¯ said the dwarf, his voice rough and gravelly. He leaned forward, his tankard sloshing a bit of foam of the table. ¡®They say you took down a whole bandit crew single-handedly.¡¯


    What a joke.


    I raised my eyebrow. ¡®Do they?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah,¡¯ the rogue also chimed in. He leaned back in has chair with a smirk. ¡®Some folks are even saying you have some dragon-blood in you.¡¯


    I rolled my eyes at that.


    ¡®You¡¯re one of those magical hybrids from the south right?¡¯ pointing to my horns.


    I nodded. Taking a sip of my drink afterwards.


    ¡®People love their stories.¡¯ I said. Putting my tankard down. ¡®And exaggerations definitely a pastimes here.¡¯ I looked around the room.


    Mara studied me, her grin softening into something more thoughtful. ¡®You¡¯re not denying it. That¡¯s interesting.¡¯


    ¡®Is there a question in all of this?¡¯ I asked, leaning back and crossing my arms.


    Mara chuckled, resting her elbows on the table. ¡®Fair enough. What¡¯s an [A-Class] adventurer doing in a place like Vallenport? Most people your rank are out doing epic deeds, not dining in taverns.¡¯


    ¡®Maybe I¡¯m just resting.¡¯ I replied smoothly.


    The dwarf snorted: ¡®You don¡¯t look like someone who rests. You¡¯ve got that edge to you ¡ª the kind that comes from scrapping your way to the top.¡¯


    True. I agreed internally.


    When I had done the transformation magic. The form that I had transformed to wasn¡¯t my own. It was Tavalor.


    First. He was very handsome. Pale. Delicate features. Long black hair. He looked like a male model.


    He was also an ancient dragon and a battle maniac who wore that experience on his face. That arrogance. Pride.


    I met the dwarf¡¯s gaze, unflinching. ¡®I suppose you could say that. Maybe I just like the food here.¡¯


    The rouge grinned. ¡®Fair enough mate. But if you¡¯re sticking around Vallenport you should know people are gonna talk. An [A-Class] doesn¡¯t just show up in this city without making waves.


    ¡®Let them talk.¡¯ I replied. ¡®At least it keeps things interesting.¡¯


    Mara rose from her seat, giving me another appraising look. ¡®I like you¡¯ she said. ¡®Not like that. I mean ¡ª if you ever want to team up, let us know.¡¯


    She strapped the great-sword back onto her shoulders. ¡®We¡¯re the Iron Tides,¡¯ she tapped their emblem on her chest. A metal badge of a stylised crashing wave. ¡®We¡¯re not [A-Class], but we¡¯re not bad.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡¯ I watched them as they went back to their table.


    As they walked away, the rogue threw a glance over his shoulder. ¡®See ya around, Lord Tavalor.¡¯


    I shook my head, amused. I turned my attention back to my tankard. The fire-pit cracked softly. The chatter of the inn returned to its usual hum.


    Vallenport is starting to get interesting.  I thought to myself.

 Chapter 8 - An Elf Came to Visit about the Strange Key

    The Gilded Hearth stood at the edge of the bustling market district of Vallenport, nestled between a shop selling enchanted trinkets and a storehouse for fine spell components.


    Though modest, two floors, compared to the grand towers and sprawling guilds of the city, it possessed a quiet charm that drew the eye.


    Its sign, a carved wooden panel depicting a golden hearth with flames etched in silver leaf, swung gently from a wrought-iron bracket, illuminated by a soft, floating lantern. It glowed gentle and gold in the morning sunlight.


    There was also a sign over the door. It¡¯s letters were a bit faded but still legible. In Gold script.


    I noticed it as I walked in this morning.


    Before I could step in I was cut off. I only saw the figure from the back. A female mage - an apprentice. I saw flash of brown hair tied in a messy bun. Robes, slightly oversized and patched in places, hanging loosely from her wiry frame, the hem noticeably singed from what was likely an overly ambitious fire spell. The fabric was covered in faint smudges of ink, chalk, and the occasional mysterious stain.


    A satchel was slung carelessly over one shoulder, bulging with crumpled notes, loose scrolls, and a small collection of runestones that jingled softly as she moved. She smelled faintly like burnt paper and fresh parchment.


    The entrance bell chimed as she stepped inside. A comfortable double-chime. A ding-ding. Then chimed again as I followed her.


    The girl who had cut me off was walking up the stairs.


    Brenna¡¯s comment following her up the stairs: ¡®Don¡¯t you dare practice magic in here Ivy. No levitating furniture or food.¡¯


    Brenna was the counter. Her magical quill scribbled on its own as she moved with ease between brewing enchanted drinks and chatting with regulars. Near her feet, Soot, the cafe¡¯s sleek black cat with eyes like molten gold, lounged lazily in a patch of sunlight, watching the room with an air of quiet authority.


    She welcomed me with a polite smile.


    I made my usual order and went to sit at my normal table by the window. This morning I was reading some newspapers.


    This morning on the gondola ride here I had discovered that they sold them. They were sold by boat. Criers advertising loudly: ¡®Get your paper, get your morning paper¡¯ here had caught my attention. I felt like I was in an old 1920s superman comic.


    The titles were interesting. I couldn¡¯t decide so I just bought one of each.


    The Vallenport Chronicle. The Lantern Ledger. The Magister¡¯s Mirror. The Adventurer¡¯s Gazette. The Dockside Echo. The Merchant¡¯s Ledger. The Greenvine Times. The Spectral Sentinel. The Artisanal Anvil. The People¡¯s Voice.


    I started with the one most relevant to me today.


    The Adventurers Gazette. Its tagline was cute.


    For Glory, Gold, and Guts!


    My usual order arrived. It floated over on a silver tray. Blue Enchanted Calming Brew and a starfruit muffin hopping off on the tray on its own.


    There were a couple of stories of quests and interesting feats.


    ''A-Class Adventurer Uncovers Ancient Ruins on the Storm Shores!''


    ''S-Class Beast Sighting Near the Ashen Peaks: Guilds Called to Investigate.''


    I was featured:


    ¡®A-Class Adventurer Sparks Rumours Across Vallenport!¡¯


    I flipped to read it.


    ***


    A-Class Adventurer Sparks Rumours Across Vallenport!


    "Southern Barbarian or Hidden Noble? The Mystery of Lord Tavalor"


    By Klysandra Quill, Special Correspondent


    In a city brimming with adventurers, mages, and more than a few eccentrics, it takes a special kind of newcomer to stir the pot. Enter Lord Tavalor, Vallenport¡¯s newest A-Class adventurer, whose arrival has left tongues wagging and imaginations running wild. But who is this mysterious figure?


    Rumours are swirling faster than enchanted gondolas. According to reliable sources (read: an overly chatty barkeep and one slightly tipsy minstrel), Tavalor hails from the rugged Southern Wilds, a dangerous and lawless region notorious for producing the toughest warriors and the deadliest mercenaries. Some whisper that he¡¯s a former warlord, having abandoned his savage kin to seek redemption¡ªor revenge¡ªon the sophisticated streets of the North.


    But that¡¯s just the beginning. Others claim Tavalor is actually the disgraced son of a Southern noble house, exiled after a scandal too shocking to name (though this reporter has heard whispers of a forbidden romance, an enchanted artefact gone wrong, or perhaps both). Some insist he fled to the North to escape an arranged marriage¡ªor worse, a death sentence.


    ¡°Look at his build,¡± said one particularly nosy regular at The Ember¡¯s Edge. ¡°That¡¯s not just strength¡ªthat¡¯s someone who¡¯s fought tooth and claw to survive.¡±


    The theories only grow wilder. Some allege that Tavalor isn¡¯t entirely human. His striking presence¡ªheightened by his horns and intense gaze¡ªhas sparked speculation of magical lineage. What sort of beastman could he be? Could he be part-giant? Part demon? A forgotten descendant of the Moon Elves? Or perhaps he carries the blood of dragons, his power lying dormant until now?


    Whatever the truth, one thing is certain: Tavalor has already made waves. His registration at the Adventurers Guild reportedly caused a stir, with multiple witnessing his power. He passed the test too simply. ¡°He was too quick,¡± one guild member claimed. ¡°Like he was holding back ¡ª off the charts or something.¡±


    This enigma has made him a subject of fascination¡ªand perhaps, a bit of fear.


    But who is the real Tavalor? A barbarian-turned-adventurer seeking his fortune? A noble outcast with a shadowed past? Or something far more extraordinary, hiding in plain sight?


    One thing¡¯s for sure: all eyes in Vallenport are on him now. Whether he¡¯ll live up to the hype¡ªor burn the city down in the process¡ªremains to be seen. Stay tuned, dear readers, because this Southern enigma has just begun his Northern saga.


    Got a lead on Lord Tavalor¡¯s past? Submit your tips to the Lantern Ledger¡¯s Rumour Roundup!


    ***


    It was the same thing that Mara and the other adventurers had said yesterday. They had invented a backstory from nothing. Either I was a former warlord, abandoning my family to seek redemption, or a disgraced son of a Southern Noble Hose.


    But ¡ª I now had a story. I didn¡¯t have to think of anything.


    Even if I didn¡¯t say anything. People would still make up something.


    How convenient.


    The next sections were


    The Guild Rankings - Updated weekly, this section listed the top-ranked adventurers and guilds by tier, along with brief descriptions of their recent accomplishments. There were 100 people on the list.


    I was number 20.


    20. Lord Thomas Tavalor


    The Southern Flame (A-Class)


    Known for: Newly registered and already shrouded in mystery. Rumoured to be a Southern barbarian with immense strength and mastery of fire magic.


    Current Quest: Newly arrived in Vallenport. Reputation for unpredictability is growing.


    What?  I was astonished at the thought. Were A-Classes so rare?


    I looked over the list. The top 20 were all A-Class. The 20-80 were B-Class. The remainder were [C-Class].


    Only 20 people in Vallenport - no 20 adventurers were A-Class. These were the most interesting:


    ***


    1. Lysandra Skythorn


    The Blade of the Storm (A-Class)


    Known for: Slaying the Thunder Leviathan and leading an S-Class raid on the Obsidian Depths. Specialises in lightning-based magic and dual-wielding enchanted blades.


    Current Quest: Investigating ley-line disruptions near the Storm Shores.


    2. Garron ¡°Ironheart¡± Durn


    The Indestructible Warrior (A-Class)


    Known for: Defeating a Titan of Stone single-handedly. Wields a legendary axe, Heartsplitter.


    Current Quest: Guarding the Emerald Caverns against hostile incursions.


    3. Levira Luneth


    The Silent Whisper (A-Class)


    Known for: Her unparalleled skill in stealth and illusion magic. Took down an entire thieves'' guild without being detected. As an Elven treasure seeker, she is a master of finding and recovering lost artefacts from ancient ruins.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Current Quest: Investigating a mysterious shadow plague in the Northern Wilds.


    4. Kela Emberfist


    The Living Inferno (A-Class)


    Known for: Harnessing volcanic fire magic to destroy the Crimson Wyrm, saving an entire trade convoy. Her fiery temper and raw magical prowess make her a formidable ally¡ªor foe.


    Current Quest: Training a new generation of battlemages at the Ember Spire.


    ¡­


    11. Kevaris Dawnrunner


    The Swift (A-Class)


    Known for: His unmatched speed and agility, outpacing a sandstorm to recover a stolen relic.


    Current Quest: Patrolling the Crystal Desert.


    ¡­


    15. Orwin Starbreaker


    The Astral Hammer (A-Class)


    Known for: Wielding cosmic magic to destroy a fallen star before it struck the city of Dawnspire.


    Current Quest: Researching star-forged weapons.


    ¡­


    18. Althea Sunbloom


    The Radiant Healer (A-Class)


    Known for: Using light magic to cure a deadly magical plague in the Crescent Vale.


    Current Quest: Establishing healing sanctuaries across Vallenport.


    ¡­


    25. Mara Bladebreaker


    Captain of the Iron Tides (B-Class)


    Known for: Leading her mercenary crew, The Iron Tides, to recover the Luminous Crown from the Shifting Labyrinth. Although she lacks the raw magical prowess to reach A-Class, her tactical brilliance and leadership are unmatched.


    Current Quest: Safeguarding caravans through the dangerous Whispering Woods.


    ***


    Mara was also on the list. Number 25. How strong was she?


    The rest of the paper wasn¡¯t as interesting. A quest board (Mini Quest Board like the Guild) , ¡®Tales of Triumph¡¯ (First-hand bragging), Adventurers Toolkit (Gear), Tavern Reviews and Classifieds.


    The Tavern reviews seemed okay. Nothing that I wanted to visit. I had already got a list talking to a few people and none of the places were mentioned.


    ***


    I was back home in my old manor. The manor I lived in followed the typical Georgian style of architecture, popular in the 18th and early 19th centuries back on earth. This layout was called a Noble¡¯s Hall in this world.


    It was three separate boxes each will a hallway connecting each box to the main box. Perfectly symmetrical. The main box was the central wing. The two smaller boxes were the side wings. The central wing had all of the entertainment rooms (dining room, drawing room, reception hall, back parlour, chintz chamber) and the two smaller side wings were for private quarters or service quarters.


    Upstairs the two smaller wings were bedrooms. The main guest bedroom and my own master suite. The central was lounges and the study.


    The study took up the majority of the upper floor of the manor¡¯s central wing, taking up the space equivalent to the dining room, reception hall, and drawing room below.


    It was split into three rooms as well. Just like below.


    The central room was a cavernous space filled with towering bookshelves that stretch from floor to ceiling. I called it the ¡®Grand Library¡¯ even though there were only about ten shelves in the room. The shelves were made of dragonwood, their rich, deep hue gleaming faintly under the enchanted floating lanterns that hover near the high, vaulted ceiling. A ladder on enchanted rails offered access to the higher rows.


    The room was dominated by a large arched doorway to a balcony at the far end, framed by heavy, faded burgundy curtains that once belonged to the manor¡¯s golden days. Sunlight streamed through the cracked glass, casting patterns of dappled light across the floor.


    Scroll racks and display cases lined the walls in between the shelves, showcasing rare manuscripts, maps, and magical artefacts. The floor was covered in a threadbare rug featuring a faded dragon motif, and the air carries a mix of old parchment, candle wax, and faint magical energy.


    The left room was my study. With a desk and chair. I had put in the fancy dragon-wood desk and chair that I had ordered the other day. The desk with its polished surfaces and intricate carvings of coiled dragons, sat near one of the two fireplaces in the study wing.


    The fireplace, built into the far wall, was a tall, imposing structure made of blackened stone. Above the mantle, an ancient map of Vallenport and its surrounding lands hung in a cracked frame, the faded ink still whispering of forgotten territories.


    The rest of the room was lined with smaller shelves filled with frequently-used tomes, quills, and stacks of parchment. All covered in dust. A globe, enchanted to glow faintly with constellations, sat on a pedestal in one corner, and an armchair (also newly bought) with fresh, velvet upholstery stood near the fire.


    The right room was the reading room. On the opposite side of the Grand Study. Symmetrical in size and layout. It also had a fireplace, though this one was framed by a carved stone mantle depicting scenes of dragons in flight.


    It was also full of new furniture. Plush armchairs and a fainting couch, all upholstered in soft, magically stain-resistant fabrics, were arranged in a semicircle around the fireplace. There was low table, scattered with some half-read books, tea cups and a lantern.


    The shelves in this room were filled with lighter reading material¡ªcollections of poetry, histories of Vallenport, and even a few romances. A small cabinet tucked into one corner held the last owners collection of expired enchanted teas and brews, as well as a decanter of for wine. I hadn¡¯t had time to change it over yet.


    I had decided to sort through and clean the shelves in my study today. I had used basic wind magic to clean the dust. Now I was flipping through all of the books on the shelves and categorise them.


    A shadow detached itself from one of the bookcases.


    My back was to the room.


    I was short and hooded. A rogue.


    A pair of short swords in hand. Dusted black with charcoal.


    My back was towards the figure.


    The figure crept closer.


    I flipped through the book I was looking at.


    I felt their presence as soon as the rogue stepped within several steps of me. I turned quickly


    The rogue attacked.


    It was a short, black-haired female elf. Long black cloak, tight snug clothes with reinforced trousers and leather armour.


    Slicing at me with the swords. One after the other. One high. One low.


    I didn¡¯t bother to dodge. I was [S-Class] and she was merely [A-Class] after looking at her stats. I was also immune to all physical damage. A benefit of my [Ancient Scales].


    I threw a basic punch towards her. Matching my strength and speed to hers.


    The elf had a look of astonishment on her face. And fear.


    She rolled underneath the punch and past me. Ending up behind me. Landing in my blind spot.


    I couldn¡¯t see her but I could sense her.


    She sliced again. Aiming at the strike zone. The spot between my rib cage and left shoulder.


    She was aiming to kill. The gap between the ribs and shoulder blade offered the perfect opening. A well-aimed thrust here could slip past bone, driving the blade upward toward the heart. It would sever vital arteries and collapse the defences of the body in seconds.


    I tossed a backwards elbow. A bit faster this time. She didn¡¯t have space to dodge and my elbow smashed into knives. Cracking one and smashing the other out of her hand.


    The impact forced her several steps back.


    She automatically flipped her hood back on her head and slipped into stealth. Attempting to escape.


    I pushed some magic into the the study¡¯s main carpet. It had been an expensive purchase and it was fire-resistant phoenix feathers.


    The carpet lit up in flames. A quiet phoenix cry reverberated. The heat and light caught the rogue mid step. Lit the edges of her robe.


    She tossed the robe off her back. I suppressed the flame. I didn¡¯t want any more fire-damage.


    She wore a long sleeved black tunic. A embers were still lit up on it but she ignored it. She only had a pair of daggers left on her belt and she drew them.


    On the rogues face was a look of determination.


    I sighed. The study was a restraint. I didn¡¯t want to burn anything. A fireball would have solved this issue.


    I just bought this furniture.  I just started cleaning this place.


    I wanted to find out what was going on. I¡¯ll end this quickly.


    I lifted my hands up and stepped into a basic martial arts stance. Lead foot pointing forwards. Rear foot pointing slightly outwards. Knees bent. Body angled sideways to make myself a smaller targets. Hands up hovering in front of my face in a loose but ready guard.


    There were ten-fifteen steps between us but I crossed them instantly. Almost as if I was teleporting. I accelerated my speed to almost my peak. I was too fast.


    She didn¡¯t have a chance. I knocked her out.


    ***


    I waited for her to wake up in the downstairs drawing room.


    There was a massive fireplace. Made of black stone, its carved mantle bearing phoenixes and dragons mid-flight.


    Above the hearth, an antique mirror, framed in tarnished silver, reflecting the flickering light of enchanted flames that burn steadily without wood and the two people in the room. The unconscious woman and myself. The walls, panelled in dark oak, were adorned with faded tapestries and a few crooked portraits of long-forgotten ancestors.


    The furniture was a mish-mash. A central dragonwood coffee table, its surface scarred from years of use, is surrounded by: a dark green sofa with golden embroidery, a fainting couch upholstered in soft, wine-coloured velvet, and two wing-back chairs.


    A circular rug beneath them is slightly off-centre, its intricate phoenix motif shiny and new. A partner to the hallway rug that had helped to catch the rogue. The tall windows, framed by draped burgundy curtains, let in just enough light to accentuate the lingering dust motes floating lazily in the air. A bookcase leaned against the far wall, overstuffed with tomes and scrolls, many piled haphazardly on the floor below.


    When she woke up she was sitting in a one of the wing-back chairs in front of the fireplace. I was sitting in the other one across from her. Her cloak and weapons in a pile at my feet.


    I had used magic to bind her. She tested it. Trying to enter stealth. Wriggling around for a moment before she realised she couldn¡¯t escape.


    She turned her attention to the room.


    Observed it. Then looked at me.


    Her face was bruised. A cut above her eye was bleeding.


    Despite it all. She looked determined. Unwilling to lose.


    She stayed silent.


    ¡®Who are you?¡¯ I asked.


    Her voice was rough and strangely modulated. As if rarely used. ¡®Levira Luneth.¡¯


    Where had I heard that name before?


    I remembered the paper earlier in the day.


    ***


    3. Levira Luneth


    The Silent Whisper (A-Class)


    Known for: Her unparalleled skill in stealth and illusion magic. Took down an entire thieves'' guild without being detected. As an Elven treasure seeker, she is a master of finding and recovering lost artefacts from ancient ruins.


    Current Quest: Investigating a mysterious shadow plague in the Northern Wilds.


    ***


    ¡®The number three ranked adventurer in Vallenport?¡¯ I leaned forward in interest. ¡®What are you doing here? Aren¡¯t you meant to be investigating a shadow plague in the North?¡¯


    She ignored that question. ¡®The key.¡¯ She said. ¡®I want the key. I¡¯ll buy it off you.¡¯


    The key? Hadn¡¯t I already used it? It only opened the box in the library? Did it open something else?


    I pulled the key out of my [System Space]. Waving it in front of her face.


    As soon as the key had appeared in my hand. Her eyes never left it. Following it around.


    ¡®Why should I? You attacked me for it after all.¡¯


    ¡®I wanted to check if you were strong enough to keep it?¡¯


    I laughed.


    ¡®You ¡ª test me.¡¯ I sat back in my seat. Twirling the key around.


    ¡®How much? How much are you offering?¡¯ I asked.


    She stopped - a blush spread across her face.


    ¡®I don¡¯t ¡ª I don¡¯t have any..¡¯


    I cut her off. ¡®You weren¡¯t here to negotiate were you?¡¯ I leaned forward again. Clutching the key. ¡®You thought you could just ambush me and steal the key. Don¡¯t say you¡¯re offering your body or service ¡ª don¡¯t lie.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t you want to know about the key?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t care.¡¯ I replied. ¡®I¡¯d actually like to give it away¡ª it¡¯s a trouble magnet.¡¯


    ¡®But ¡ª can¡¯t you just give it to me?¡® she looked like she was going to tear up. ¡®It¡¯s a family heirloom,¡¯ she continued.


    I rolled my eyes.


    ¡®A thousand gold.¡¯ I said. ¡®And it¡¯s yours.¡¯


    I waved my hand freeing her of the magic spell.


    She stood. ¡®Where am I gonna get that kinda money?¡¯ she said rubbing her wrists to get her circulation back.


    There was a knock on my door then a crash and bang.


    The stomping of loud footsteps and a female voice was heard: ¡®Greetings.¡¯ The steps came around the corner. ¡®Lord Tavalor?¡¯ questioned the voice.


    It was a beautiful female mage in a set of deep crimson and black robes trimmed with molten gold embroidery, designed to resemble flowing lava. Draped over her shoulders was a flowing ash-grey cloak that appears to flicker with embers as she moved. Very curvy figure. Long wavy reddish orange hair. Striking blue eyes. The stomping came from knee high battle boots.


    ¡®I¡¯m here for your tutoring¡ª¡® she paused as soon as she walked in the room. Pointing at the rogue with her enchanted gauntlets.


    ¡®Luneth?!¡¯


    ¡®Emberfist?!¡¯


    They both spoke almost at the same time.


    Emberfist?


    I remembered the list again from earlier.


    ***


    4. Kela Emberfist


    The Living Inferno (A-Class)


    Known for: Harnessing volcanic fire magic to destroy the Crimson Wyrm, saving an entire trade convoy. Her fiery temper and raw magical prowess make her a formidable ally¡ªor foe.


    Current Quest: Training a new generation of battlemages at the Ember Spire.


    ***


    The number three and number four ranked adventurers in Vallenport were both in my living room?


    The amulet around Emberfist¡¯s neck lit up. Her gauntlets started to pulse with fiery runes. Her hair began to crackle at the edges. Standing upright. As if heated up by her magic. Her blue eyes started to blaze.


    The rogue crouched down at the sight of that. Figure turning shadowy. I hadn¡¯t opened the windows all the way so there was enough gloom to hide.


    ¡®You rat!¡¯ Emberfist screamed.


    She crashed forward. Swinging at Luneth.


    Luneth swung a dagger at her.


    Where had she gotten the dagger? I had thought I had collected them all off her.


    I appeared between the pair of them. Catching a gauntleted hand and and a knife in either hand.


    I held them in place. They both attempted to fight out.


    ¡®Enough. This is a manor, not a battleground.¡¯ I interrupted.


    After trying to escape my grip and failing. They stopped fighting.


    ¡®That backstabbing pickpocket ¡ª¡® started Emberfist.


    ¡®That arrogant mage ¡ª¡® started Luneth at the same time.


    ¡®Are you gonna keep fighting?¡¯ I asked them both. Turning first to stare at Luneth then at Emberfist.


    They looked at each other. Then looked away. I let them both go.


    I sighed. What a headache.

 Chapter 9 - My Magic Tutor Came to Visit & We Played Cards Together

    Above the table, a candelabra hung, its enchanted light mimicking the glow of a full moon, casting steady illumination across the polished surface.


    The light reflected off the minimal decor: a ceremonial sword mounted above the hearth, its blade gleaming faintly, and a pair of banners bearing an ancient sigil of house T¡¯valor¡ªtwo scales flanked by dragons¡ªhung with purposeful symmetry on either side of the hearth.


    The table-settings were nice. White table cloth. Expensive gold cutlery. Gold food coverings. They had been setup to be perfect. Then the caterers had left to go back to the kitchen.


    The two women were already there. Emberfist, with her fiery aura subdued for the moment, her molten gold embroidery glowing faintly in the dim room. Luneth, perched on a chair with feline grace, her long black cloak draped over the backrest. Sitting directly across from each other in chairs halfway down the table.


    Their confrontation continued. Non-verbally this time. The tension between them was palpable. Emberfist sitting tall and proud, Luneth leaning back with a casual smirk¡ªhinted that another verbal sparring match was inevitable.


    ''Let¡¯s keep this civilised, shall we?'' I said, taking my seat at the head of the table.


    I floated the gold half-dome food covers off the food with my magic.


    The spread was impressive: roasted pheasant stuffed with herbs, mashed root vegetables infused with a faint glow of magical essence, and a loaf of bread still steaming from the heat preservation spells. A pitcher of chilled berry wine floated around last, pouring into their goblets on its own.


    Everyone served themselves. Emberfist served herself generously, her fiery personality showing even in the way she heaped food onto her plate. Luneth, by contrast, picked at her meal with a rogue¡¯s suspicion, her sharp eyes darting to the pitcher as if expecting it to pour poison instead of wine.


    ''What¡¯s your angle?'' Emberfist said suddenly, breaking the quiet. She gestured with her fork at the elf. ''You don¡¯t just show up in someone¡¯s home for a trinket without a bigger plan.''


    Luneth smirked, twirling her goblet in her hand. ''And what¡¯s your excuse? I doubt you¡¯re here for a tutoring session. Or are you struggling with your fire spells these days?''


    The room¡¯s temperature seemed to rise slightly as Emberfist¡¯s eyes narrowed. ''Say that again, Luneth, and I¡¯ll show you why they call me the Living Inferno.''


    Before I could intervene, Luneth¡¯s eyes glinted mischievously. ''Why don¡¯t you show me, then? I¡¯ll even give you a target.''


    Emberfist slammed her goblet down, flames flickering at the edges of her hair. ''Careful, elf. Your tricks won¡¯t save you if I really cut loose.''


    ''That¡¯s enough.'' My voice cut through the tension like a blade. I didn¡¯t shout, but the weight behind my words was unmistakable. Both women froze, their gazes snapping to him.


    I had only eaten of food.


    ''This is my house, and you are all guests. If you two want to destroy each other, do it elsewhere. But if you¡¯re under my roof, at least pretend to be civil.¡¯


    Emberfist muttered something under her breath, her flames dimming. Luneth simply raised her goblet in mock salute. ''As you wish, my lord.''


    Tavalor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ''I¡¯ve had enough of this. If you must argue, let¡¯s settle it with something other than fireballs or daggers.''


    ''Like what?'' Emberfist asked, folding her arms.


    ''Cards,'' I said, pulling a deck from my [System Space].


    ''A simple game of Dragon¡¯s Draw. Best of three rounds. he winner gets to ask the loser one question they must answer truthfully.''


    Luneth was surprised. Emberfist amused.


    They both nodded at each other.


    The two moved up to a set of chairs next to mine at the head of the table. I floated my food out of the way.


    The enchanted deck shuffled itself mid-air The sound of the cards snapping together filling the quiet dining room. The faint enchantment on the deck made the edges shimmer in the soft glow of the enchanted candelabra, each card embossed with intricate illustrations of dragons, treasure, and flames.


    The deck stopped shuffling. ¡®Are you guys ready?¡¯


    Emberfist scoffed. Resting her chin on her hand. ¡®I¡¯ll beat her fair and square.¡¯


    Luneth smirked, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. ¡®Cards? A rogue¡¯s best friend. Let¡¯s see if your magic matches my skill, Emberfist.¡¯


    Two cards floated and landed in front of each player.


    Dragons Draw was a magical version of Blackjack. With some different special cards. The rules were simple: each player played one card face-down per turn, and the cards would be revealed simultaneously. Each card¡¯s value added to the score, with certain combinations triggering special effects. The goal: end each round with the highest score.


    As the rules dictated, each player drew their first card face up, revealing their starting hand.


    My card was a , worth 10 points. A solid opening.


    Emberfist drew next, flipping over a , its fiery depiction worth 9 points. ''A decent start,'' she muttered, her tone already impatient.


    Luneth drew her card with deliberate grace. A  worth 8 shimmered on the table. Her eyes flicked to mine, her smirk growing. ''Let¡¯s see where this goes.''


    The game wasn''t just about reaching 21 first¡ªit was about strategy. Mixed into the deck were , which added points or granted special abilities, and , which could sabotage your score or mess with an opponent¡¯s hand.


    I drew my next card carefully¡ªa worth 5. My total was now 15. Respectable, but not quite safe.


    Emberfist, ever the risk-taker, slapped down another card. It was a . The shimmering gold pile added 2 points to her score and granted her a one-time ability to draw two cards and pick the best. ''This is going to be easy,'' she said, clearly pleased with herself.


    Luneth¡¯s turn came. She flipped her card to reveal a . Her  8 points were cut in half, reducing her total to 4. Her smirk faltered for only a moment before she drew again. Her second card, a Mist Serpent, restored her confidence, adding 6 points to bring her to 10.


    For my turn, I hesitated. Should I draw or hold? I glanced at Emberfist, who was grinning smugly at her hoard card, and Luneth, who seemed unshaken despite her earlier setback. Taking a chance, I drew another card. A Trap Card appeared: . My score dropped by 3 points, bringing me down to 12. I sighed. ''Figures.''


    Emberfist, riding high on her luck, activated her Treasure Card¡¯s ability, drawing two cards. She revealed a  worth 8 and a , a unique card that allowed her to negate one opponent¡¯s trap. She discarded the  and kept the feather. ''You¡¯re toast,'' she said, her total still sitting comfortably at 20.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Luneth played cautiously. She drew a third card¡ªa  worth 5¡ªbringing her to 15. ''I¡¯ll hold,'' she said, leaning back in her chair, her smirk returning.


    For my final turn, I took the risk and drew again. My card was a . It added 7 points to my total, bringing me to 19. Not enough to win outright, but close. ''I¡¯ll hold.''


    Emberfist laughed. ''Victory is mine.'' She flipped her remaining card, but to her dismay, it was another . It nullified her Treasure Card bonus, dropping her total to 18. Her smug grin turned into a scowl. ''What?!''


    Luneth chuckled. ''Looks like the gods favour the sneaky.'' She revealed her hand¡ªher total of 15 was still lower than mine, but Emberfist¡¯s sudden drop secured me the win for the first round.


    ''Round one to me,'' I said, shuffling the deck again.


    Emberfist, furious from her earlier loss, played recklessly, pushing her luck with every draw. Her aggressive strategy paid off when she uncovered a  and a, which together boosted her total to 19 without any penalties. She slammed her hand on the table and grinned. ''Try and beat that!''


    Luneth, ever the strategist, used her draw to uncover a  card, which allowed her to peek at the next three cards in the deck. She selected a  and a , stacking her hand at 20.


    I was left with a tough decision. My first two cards, a  and a , gave me 18 points, but I knew the risk of drawing another card was high. Still, I decided to gamble. My third card was a . It reduced my score by 5, knocking me out of the round.


    Luneth¡¯s 20 won her the second round, bringing her level with me at one win each.


    The room was heavy with anticipation as I shuffled the cards for the final round. Emberfist¡¯s fiery glare burned across the table, her pride stinging from her loss in the first round. Luneth, ever the picture of calm cunning, lounged in her chair, her smirk daring me to make a mistake.


    I drew my first card: a  worth 15 points. A strong start. I decided to hold for now, watching the others carefully.


    Emberfist, always brash, drew quickly. Her first card was a  worth 8 points. ''Not bad,'' she muttered, then immediately went for a second card, flipping over a . It granted her a bonus 2 points and the ability to negate one trap. Her total was 10, but the feather could prove invaluable. ''Still playing to win,'' she said with a confident grin.


    Luneth drew her card with deliberate precision, revealing a  worth 12 points. She held for a moment, eyeing the deck. ''I¡¯ll draw again,'' she decided, flipping over a . It allowed her to peek at the next three cards in the deck. She selected a  for 8 points, bringing her total to 20. ''I¡¯ll hold,'' she said, leaning back with a smug expression.


    Emberfist, unfazed, played aggressively. Her next card was a , adding 9 points to her total. She grinned. ''19. One more,'' she said, reaching for the deck. She flipped over a Trap Card: Dragonbane. Her grin vanished as the trap nullified her Phoenix Feather, dropping her back to 17. ''What?!'' she snarled, slamming her hand on the table. ''I¡¯ll still beat you!''


    It was my turn. My Golden Drake at 15 was strong, but not unbeatable. I needed to take a risk. I drew my second card: a . It added 3 points, bringing my total to 18. Still not enough to top Luneth¡¯s 20.


    I reached for the deck again, ignoring Luneth¡¯s smirk. ''Playing it close to the edge?'' she asked, her tone teasing.


    The card I flipped over was another . It added 4 points, pushing me to 22. My heart skipped a beat¡ªanything over 21 was an automatic loss, but the Vault card also triggered a special effect, letting me discard my lowest-value card.  disappeared, leaving me with exactly 21.


    Luneth¡¯s smirk faltered. Emberfist¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief.


    ''Victory,'' I said calmly, placing my cards down.


    Luneth frowned but nodded. ''You played it well, Tavalor. Ask your question.''


    I waved to Emberfist to ask her question. I¡¯m sure she wanted to know the same thing.


    Emberfist leaned forward, her voice low and sharp. ''Why are you really here, Luneth?''


    The elf rogue hesitated, her hand resting on the edge of the table. The firelight danced on her black cloak, and for a fleeting moment, she seemed genuinely uncertain. Then she sighed and let her mask slip. ''The key... it¡¯s not just any key. It opens a vault beneath Vallenport. .''


    ¡®The Vallenport Vault?!¡¯ Emberfist stood up. ¡®It¡¯s real? How¡¯s your family involved?¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s the Vallenport vault?¡¯ I interrupted Emberfist¡¯s train of questions.


    Emberfist paused. Before shooting at look of understanding at me. ¡®That¡¯s right, you¡¯re new here.¡¯


    Luneth answered. ¡®The name. Vallenport. It¡¯s actually two words.  Vallen was a legendary [S-Class] Mage from the Age of Dragons. The city used to be his tower.¡¯


    ¡®Used to be?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®It vanished during the end of that age. Nobody¡¯s sure exactly where. This place is built on the ruins.¡¯


    ¡®And what does they key have to do with it?¡¯ I asked.


    Luneth paused, looking at me. ¡®Vallen¡¯s last name - was T¡¯valor.¡¯


    Emberfist also continued. Sitting back down. ¡®There¡¯s also a rumour.¡¯ She sipped from her wine goblet. ¡®The reason why the last Lord of this manor went mad, was that he found something. Rumour was he found the entrance underground to the remnants of Vallen¡¯s tower.¡¯


    I sat back.


    I thought to myself. .


    ¡®And what does that have to do you with you?¡¯ I asked Luneth.


    ¡®Vallenport was an elf. He¡¯s a founder of our clan.¡¯ She said calmly.


    ¡®Vallenport was an elf?¡¯ Emberfist looked astonished.


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ She replied. ¡®No matter how much the guilds all try to hide it. Most great mages in the Age of Dragons were.¡¯


    I looked at Luneth. ¡®How valuable is this¡ª this dungeon for lack of a better word?¡¯ I asked.


    Luneth¡¯s gaze met mine, her smirk returning, though it was tinged with seriousness now. ''Enough to make guilds, thieves, and half the city fight over it. Trust me, it¡¯s better in my hands than theirs.''


    I sat back in my chair, tapping my fingers thoughtfully against the edge of the table. This key was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth.


    But it was interesting. An opportunity to play adventurer. My first dungeon ¡ª exploring the remnants of a mage from the Age of Dragons.


    I turned to look back at the two women.


    ¡®How about we form a party? Evenly split it?¡¯ I asked.


    I watched their reactions. The tension crackled between the two women like a live wire.


    Kela¡¯s glare could have melted steel, while Levira¡¯s smirk dared her to try. They both turned to Tavalor, their expressions a mix of intrigue and suspicion.


    Kela¡¯s fiery eyes narrowed at the suggestion, her molten gold embroidery catching the flickering firelight. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table, her fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm.


    ''Split it evenly?'' she said, her voice laced with scepticism. ''You want me to share a potential treasure trove with her?'' She flicked a disdainful glance toward Luneth, her lips curling slightly. ''You¡¯ve got guts, Tavalor. I¡¯ll give you that. But trusting a rogue¡ªan elf rogue¡ªon a venture like this? That¡¯s not just bold, it¡¯s reckless.''


    Levira chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair with an air of unbothered amusement. She crossed her legs, her cloak shifting to reveal the glint of a dagger strapped to her thigh.


    Emberfist¡¯s tone softened slightly, a fiery edge still lingering. ''Still¡­ it¡¯s not like I want this key falling into the wrong hands either. If we¡¯re doing this, I¡¯m not taking my eyes off her for a second. And I¡¯m not carrying her if she gets stabbed in the back.''


    Luneth laughed. ''A party, hmm?'' she said, tilting her head to one side. Her voice was smooth, but her smirk carried a touch of derision. ''How quaint. What¡¯s next? Singing songs around a campfire? Holding hands in camaraderie?''


    She shrugged, her smirk sharpening into something more predatory. ''But fine. If it gets me to the vault faster¡ªand keeps her,'' she gestured lazily at Emberfist, ''from roasting me alive, I¡¯ll play nice. Just don¡¯t expect me to split anything evenly if your noble friend here decides to be greedy.''


    Her black eyes glinted, and her voice dropped into a near-whisper. ''Besides, I¡¯ll bet my dagger you¡¯ll both need me more than I¡¯ll need you.''


    Emberfist continued: ''If this vault is real, I get first pick of anything valuable¡ªand if she makes one false move¡­'' She cracked her knuckles, a faint ember flickering in her palm.


    Levira laughed softly, her tone mocking. ''Oh, I¡¯m terrified. Don¡¯t worry, Kela dear. I¡¯ll save you a seat on the treasure pile.''


    The two decided to live with me temporarily while we figured out what was happening with the key.


    The dining room was quiet now, save for the low hum of magical energy as Emberfist and I prepared the barriers. Luneth had retired to one of the spare bedrooms, claiming exhaustion, though her parting smirk suggested otherwise.


    ''You think she¡¯s actually sleeping?'' Kela asked, her voice low as she traced a sigil in the air. The glowing runes left a faint trail of molten gold before settling into the air like embers fading in a dying fire.


    ''She¡¯s a rogue,'' I replied, holding my hand out to summon a faintly glowing orb of energy. It hovered in the air, pulsing as I wove it into the lattice of protections encircling the manor. ''She¡¯s probably eavesdropping right now. But as long as she stays in that room and doesn¡¯t stab us in our sleep, I¡¯ll call it a win.''


    Kela snorted, though her smirk betrayed her amusement. ''You¡¯re too trusting. If it were up to me, I¡¯d have tied her to the bedpost with enchanted chains.''


    I raised an eyebrow, glancing at her as I pressed another seal against the corner of the room. ''Should I be worried about how specific that suggestion is?''


    ''Only if you¡¯re planning to betray me too,'' she shot back, flicking a spark of fire magic toward the base of the doorway. The flames curled and settled, forming a protective rune that glowed faintly with heat.


    The first layer of the barrier was almost complete. It shimmered faintly, an invisible dome of energy woven from my magic and Kela¡¯s wards. The combination was surprisingly effective, her volatile flames tempered by my steadying force.


    ''You¡¯ve done this before,'' I noted, watching her work.


    ''I¡¯ve had practice,'' she replied, her tone clipped. ''The Crimson Wyrm didn¡¯t fall because I twiddled my thumbs. You learn to think ahead when your enemies want to barbecue you for breakfast.''


    ''Good to know I¡¯ve got a professional on my side.'' I pressed another sigil into the wall, the barrier flickering briefly before solidifying. ''Though I didn¡¯t expect you to work so well with someone like me.''


    She glanced over, her blue eyes sharp. ''Don¡¯t get used to it. This is a temporary alliance, not a friendship. The moment this key nonsense is done, we go our separate ways.''


    ''Fair enough.'' I straightened, brushing off the faint dust that had gathered on my sleeves. ''But until then, let¡¯s keep this place secure.''


    Emberfist nodded, finishing her last rune with a decisive flourish. ''What about her?'' She jerked her head toward the upstairs where Luneth had gone.


    I paused, considering. ''I¡¯ve set a ward on her room. If she tries to leave or use any stealth magic, we¡¯ll know.''


    ''Good.'' Emberfist stood back, examining her work with a critical eye. ''Because if she even thinks about double-crossing us¡­''


    ''You¡¯ll burn the entire manor down?'' I guessed.


    She smirked, flames flickering faintly at her fingertips. ''You¡¯re catching on.''


    I took a moment to admire the completed barrier. It felt secure, humming faintly with layered power. Still, the quiet between us hung heavy. To fill it, I asked, ''Why fire magic? Seems like a risky element to work with.''


    Emberfist glanced at me, her expression shifting into something thoughtful. ''It wasn¡¯t my first choice. When I started training, I wanted to specialise in earth magic¡ªstability, control, things that made sense. But during my first battle, everything went wrong. My squad was ambushed, and the only thing I spell circle available was a fire one. All we had under pressure was fire.'' She paused, a flicker of something distant in her eyes. ''Turns out, I¡¯m good at burning things. It¡¯s... visceral. Raw. And once you¡¯ve burned a wyvern out of the sky, it sticks with you.''


    ''Practical, if not subtle,'' I mused. ''And it fits your personality.''


    She shot me a look, the corner of her mouth twitching. ''What¡¯s that supposed to mean?''


    ''Only that you don¡¯t strike me as the ¡®subtle¡¯ type.''


    Her laugh was short but genuine. ''Fair enough. And you? Why the sudden interest in tutoring? You don¡¯t exactly seem like the type who¡¯s just starting out.''


    I hesitated, then decided on honesty¡ªat least partly. ''I¡¯m... catching up. My magic is powerful, but it¡¯s instinctive, raw. I can cast without incantations, bend energy to my will, but there¡¯s no finesse. No understanding of the finer points.''


    ''Ah,'' she said, leaning against the door-frame, arms crossed. ''You¡¯re a natural talent with no technique.''


    ''That¡¯s one way of putting it.'' I shrugged. ''I don¡¯t want to be a blunt instrument forever. I¡¯ve got time to refine things.''


    She raised an eyebrow. ''Time? You¡¯re already what¡ªA-Class? Most adventurers at that level don¡¯t bother ¡®refining¡¯ anything. They just swing harder.''


    ''Maybe I¡¯m not like most adventurers.''


    Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, scrutinising. ''No, you¡¯re not.''


    I didn¡¯t push further. Instead, I turned back to the sigils, carefully weaving the final piece of the barrier. ''What about you? Why offer to tutor someone like me? Not exactly your usual battlefield.''


    ''You¡¯re rich,'' she said with a shrug. ''You¡¯re strong, but you don¡¯t act like it. Most [A-Class] adventurers I¡¯ve met are arrogant, boastful. You just seem... odd.''


    ''Thanks, I guess.''


    She laughed again, softer this time. ''Don¡¯t let it go to your head. I just want to see if you¡¯re worth the trouble.''


    With the last rune in place, the barrier settled into a steady glow before fading from view. The hum of magic quieted, leaving the manor feeling enclosed but secure.


    Emberfist brushed her hands off, the faint smell of charred air dissipating. ''That¡¯ll hold, at least for tonight. If Luneth tries anything, we¡¯ll know.''


    ''Good.'' I turned toward the staircase, glancing up toward the rogue¡¯s room. ''Though something tells me she¡¯s not the type to make her move this early.''


    ''Doesn¡¯t mean we shouldn¡¯t be ready.'' Emberfist stretched, the faint glow of her magic dimming as she let it settle. ''Get some rest. You¡¯ll need it for whatever insanity tomorrow brings.''


    I nodded, heading toward my quarters. ''Same to you. And Emberfist¡ªthanks.''


    She paused, her hand on the banister, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. ''Don¡¯t make me regret it.''

 Chapter 10 - I Finally Learned Modern Magic

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

 Chapter 11 - I Went to A Lantern Festival

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    A noblewoman¡¯s voice, perfectly enunciating every word ¡®¡ªabsolutely divine! I¡¯ve never tasted tea like it. The Jade Court imports are all the rage now. Everyone at court is switching to tea. Coffee is so¡­ common these days.¡¯


    I heard steps. ''It¡¯s not the tea,'' I said, glancing at the staircase. ''It¡¯s the status. If the Jade Court started importing enchanted water, the nobles would be bathing in it by week¡¯s end.''


    Emberfist leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes. ''Tea? Don¡¯t they have better things to talk about.''


    Instead of a tray floating up with my order, Brenna the cafe¡¯s owner had brought it up personally. My usual order¡ªa steaming cup of enchanted calming brew and a starfruit muffin.


    Brenna glanced at me with a knowing smile. ''Enjoy it today, Lord Tavalor. We¡¯re closing tomorrow for the Lantern Festival.''


    I blinked. ''Lantern Festival?''


    ''You must be new to town,'' she said. ''It¡¯s a big deal here. Lanterns, light shows, gondola parades. The canals will be packed. You should go.''


    ''Noted.'' I sipped my coffee, glancing at Emberfist. ''What do you think?''


    She shrugged. ''Could be fun. Or it could be a nightmare if we¡¯re still dealing with assassins.''


    As I walked, I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the city¡¯s layered existence. I was searching for an obscure bookstore I¡¯d heard about from one of Emberfist¡¯s contacts. Vallenport was an old city. You could tell because it was a labyrinth. It had grown to what it was. Buildings leaned against one another as though sharing secrets. Balconies met randomly, draped with vines or tattered banners from forgotten festivals. The air carried a peculiar mix of damp stone, sea brine, and the faint tang of magic.


    As I stepped deeper into the alleyways, a soft grunt and the clatter of falling items drew my attention.


    An old woman, hunched and frail, had stumbled over the uneven cobblestones, her basket of shopping spilling across the ground. Brightly coloured fruits¡ªgolden oranges, pale green pears, and an odd spiky yellow one¡ªrolled in every direction.


    ''Here, let me help,'' I said, kneeling to gather her scattered items.


    ''Oh, bless you, young man,'' she wheezed, brushing off her hands on her faded apron. ''These stones have a mind of their own, I swear.''


    I scooped up the peculiar spiky fruit and paused, turning it in my hands. Its surface was like a miniature fortress, with ridges and points that didn¡¯t seem entirely natural. ''What¡¯s this?'' I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.


    The woman chuckled, her toothless smile warm and genuine. ''That¡¯s a starfruit. Imported from the southern isles, where the sun always shines. Sweet as honey, it is. Haven¡¯t you seen one before?''


    ''Can¡¯t say I have.'' I handed it to her, but she pushed it back into my hands.


    ''Keep it,'' she said, winking. ''For your trouble. A little sweetness goes a long way.''


    I kept the fruit. ''Thank you.''


    We swapped pleasantries and the old woman left.


    As I straightened, an old man with a long white beard sitting on a stool outside a nearby shop caught my eye. He was smoking a pipe, the smoke curling lazily into the air like whispers of old tales. His gaze lingered on the starfruit in my hand, and he gave me a knowing nod before turning back to his pipe.


    The sign above him read Aurum Tomes. Its lettering so faded it seemed like it might disappear entirely with the next rain.


    I pushed open the shop¡¯s creaky wooden door. A small bell chimed softly, and the scent of aged paper and something faintly metallic enveloped me.


    The space was dimly lit, with narrow aisles formed by towering bookshelves that threatened to topple under the weight of their contents. Every surface seemed to hold something¡ªscrolls spilling from baskets, tomes stacked precariously, and jars of strange artefacts gleaming faintly in the light of a lone enchanted lantern hanging from the ceiling.


    I rubbed my chin, thinking.''For utility, I¡¯m thinking I need something to help me see better, especially in dangerous or unknown situations.''


    [Watcher¡¯s Eye] for versatility, [Arcane Sight] for magical details. Both sound useful. Do I need both?''

 Chapter 12 - I Fought Some Assassins at the Lantern Festival

    The small temple sat in a quiet corner of the district, overshadowed by the towering facades of Vallenport''s wealthier buildings.


    It was a simple pagoda shape. Just an outer frame, legs and a roof. Its modest construction seemed out of place, as though the tides themselves had deposited it here amidst the city''s grandeur.


    Driftwood beams framed the entrance, weathered smooth by years of sea air, and coral inlays glimmered faintly in the evening light. Above the doorway, a crescent moon cradling a wave¡ªthe symbol of the Tidekeepers¡ªstood as a testament to its purpose.


    I paused at the threshold, drawn by the serenity. Ever since I had inherited Old Tavalor¡¯s memories I felt as if every place contained it¡¯s own particular aura. A mood created by its inhabitant¡¯s spirits. Every person who visited the space, lived and felt something added to it.


    This place wasn¡¯t loud or commanding, but I felt a gentle undercurrent that seemed to sync with the rhythm of the nearby canals. The smell of saltwater mingled with the faint aroma of candle wax and jasmine


    Inside, the air was cooler. The sun filtered through the archways cast soft blue-green dappled patterns on the floor, their soft hues dancing as the sun dipped lower.


    At the centre of the room stood a bench, and an altar. A shallow basin of water, its surface perfectly still except for the occasional ripple of light. Around it were small offerings¡ªfish-shaped charms, strands of netting, and carved driftwood tokens.


    Near the altar, a young man sat on one of the stone benches, his hands clutched tightly around a rolled piece of parchment.


    I noticed the paint stains all over his hands, face and clothes. A painter? An Artist? I thought.


    His posture was tense, and his eyes were fixed on the mosaic of Cythara, the Sea Goddess on the far wall. The goddess seemed to gaze serenely back, her arms outstretched over a stylised ocean, radiating calm and command.


    The priest, in his flowing robes of sea-green and blue, stood a few steps away, his hands clasped behind his back. He was an old man. His hair streaked with silver, was pulled back in a loose braid, and his weathered face bore lines that spoke of years spent under the sun and sea winds. The silver charms on his belt caught the light as he moved closer to the artist, his expression warm but contemplative.


    ''Troubled?'' the priest asked, his voice carrying the softness of lapping waves.


    The artist nodded but didn¡¯t look away from the mosaic. ''I¡¯ve just been given the biggest commission of my career,'' he admitted, his voice low and strained. ''The Duke¡¯s Lantern for the festival.''


    A lantern-maker? How niche.


    ¡®I don¡¯t know.¡¯ Said the lantern-maker. ¡®I thought I would feel more prepared than I do now.¡¯


    The priest settled onto the bench beside him, his movements unhurried. ''Why do you doubt yourself?''


    The lantern-maker looked down at the parchment in his hands, his face thoughtful. ¡®I don¡¯t know? What do you do,'' he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, ''when you can''t see the path forward?''


    The priest''s response came slowly, measured like honey dripping from a spoon: ¡®I see your devotion in coming here. But you¡¯re asking the wrong question. The question is not whether it will glorify Her, but whether you trust Her to guide your hand.''


    The artist looked at him, confused. ''How do you mean?''


    ''Art is an act of faith, just as prayer is,'' the priest explained. ''When you pray, you do not always know what answer you will receive, yet you pray nonetheless. In the same way, when you paint, you may not yet see the fullness of what you will create, but you must trust that She works through you.''


    The lantern-maker frowned, turning the scroll in his hands. ''But what if it¡¯s not good enough? What if I fail to capture the grandeur of Her creation?''


    The priest smiled faintly. ''Do you believe the fisherman who casts his net worries whether every fish he catches will please the Her? Or the mason, as he lays each stone of this basilica? They offer their labour, their skill, and their devotion, and in doing so, they honour Her. So too shall you honour Her, not by capturing Her grandeur perfectly¡ªfor who among mortals could?¡ªbut by pouring your heart into your work.''


    I felt like I should leave. But something held me there, hidden behind a column.


    ''My heart?'' the lantern-maker''s laugh was bitter. ''My heart is telling me to run. To disappear into the maze of the city before I shame myself in front of all Vallenport.''


    ''And yet you came here instead,'' the priest observed. ''Tell me, when you painted your first masterpiece, did you see the finished work before you began?''


    ''No, but¡ª''


    ''But nothing. Art, like faith, requires us to step forward into darkness, trusting that light will follow. The goddess doesn''t demand perfection. She asks only for courage.''


    The silence that followed felt heavy. Finally, the lantern-maker spoke again, his voice stronger: ''I... I think I understand.''


    I slipped out before they could discover my presence.


    I wonder what that lantern is gonna look like?


    ***


    The streets of Vallenport glowed with a warmth that felt almost misplaced. Above, the twin moons, Lunaris and Noctis, hung like watchful sentinels, their pale light mingling with the vivid hues of enchanted lanterns bobbing in the canals.


    Each one cast a unique glow¡ªviolets, ambers, and soft blues¡ªpainting the water in a living kaleidoscope. The city hummed with life. Laughter spilled from crowded gondolas as they wound through the canals, musicians played lilting melodies from balconies, and the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced wine curled through the air.


    Emberfist elbowed me in the ribs as we ducked through a throng of festival-goers. ''You¡¯re sticking out like a sore thumb.''


    I adjusted my cloak, trying to blend. ''What are you talking about. I¡¯m perfectly normal.''


    Her eyes, fiery even without her flames, narrowed. ''You don¡¯t have to dance on a gondola, but try not to stare at every lantern. People will think you¡¯re cursed.''


    Oops. I had been staring at the lanterns.


    Inside many of them were Luminthrae. Delicate, translucent jellyfish that floated gracefully through the air. Mostly invisible. But when they got enough magic, they turned visible.


    They were quite pretty. Each Luminthrae radiated a soft, ever-shifting glow in hues of gold, blue, or silver, like a bioluminescent lantern. Their ''bodies'' were made of pure magical energy, tethered by thin, glowing tendrils that trail behind them, sparking faintly with motes of light.


    We reached a quieter alley, and she pulled me into the shadows. The din of the festival muted slightly, though bursts of laughter and cheers still broke through. She glanced over her shoulder, then at the crowd beyond. ''We¡¯ll meet my contact near the Bridge of Stars. Until then, we play the part.''


    ''And what part is that?'' I asked, crossing my arms.


    ''Just another pair of festival-goers,'' she said, her voice low. ''Look, everyone¡¯s staring at the lights, not us. This is the best cover we¡¯ve got.''


    The logic was sound, though the tension simmering between us suggested otherwise. Still, I nodded. ''Fine. But if this blows up, I¡¯ll blame you.''


    She smirked, her usual bravado slipping into place. ''I¡¯d expect nothing less.''


    We stepped back into the tide of people, the current of the festival pulling us along. Vendors called out, hawking glittering wares and steaming treats. One man balanced a tray of pastries on his head, his enchanted shoes gliding him smoothly through the crowd. Children darted between adults, clutching miniature lanterns that floated just above their hands.


    A woman¡¯s laugh burst nearby, and I turned to see a gondola bedecked in golden ribbons drift by. A conjured dolphin of light swam beside it, drawing applause from the gathered crowd. My gaze lingered on the glowing creature, its graceful movements unnervingly real.


    ''You¡¯re staring again,'' Emberfist muttered, yanking me forward.


    ''It¡¯s a dolphin made of light,'' I said. ''Forgive me for being impressed.''


    Her pace didn¡¯t slow, but I caught the edge of a smile. ''You¡¯re like a kid at his first festival.''


    We passed a row of stalls selling enchanted lanterns, their designs ranging from the elegant to the absurd. One resembled a miniature sea serpent, its body coiling around itself in an endless loop. Another was shaped like the moon, its surface shifting with intricate runes that pulsed faintly in rhythm with the festival music.


    I stopped at a simpler lantern¡ªa soft, amber glow encased in a shell of frosted glass. The vendor, an elderly woman with hands as gnarled as the driftwood of her cart, noticed my interest. ''A good choice,'' she said, her voice raspy but kind. ''Amber light for calm journeys.''


    I fished out a coin and handed it to her. ''I¡¯ll take it.''


    Emberfist arched an eyebrow but said nothing as I tucked the lantern into my satchel. The warmth it gave off seemed to settle the edge of unease that had been gnawing at me since we left the manor.


    Ahead, the Bridge of Stars loomed. Its arches were strung with enchanted lights that shimmered like constellations, and the canal below was a river of reflected stars. Emberfist slowed, her gaze scanning the crowd. ''He¡¯s late,'' she muttered.


    ''Relax,'' I said, leaning casually against the bridge railing. With a mocking smile: ''You¡¯re drawing more attention than I am.''


    She glared but didn¡¯t respond. Instead, her fingers tapped impatiently against her hip, the faintest flicker of flame sparking at her gauntlet. I focused on the crowd, letting my senses expand.


    The festival¡¯s energy made it hard to pick out anything unusual¡ªso many voices, so much magic in the air¡ªbut I caught flickers of movement that didn¡¯t belong. Shadows slipping against the grain of the crowd, purposeful where the rest was aimless.


    ''We¡¯re not alone,'' I said quietly.


    Emberfist¡¯s posture stiffened. ''How many?''


    ''Hard to say,'' I replied, my gaze fixed on a man who seemed to fade too easily into the background. ''Not festival-goers.''


    She nodded, her demeanour shifting. ''Stay casual. If they make a move, we draw them away from the crowd.''


    Before I could respond, a roar of applause erupted as a new light show began. Above the Bridge of Stars, dozens of enchanted lanterns rose, their light weaving into intricate patterns¡ªflowers blooming, waves crashing, a phoenix taking flight. The crowd¡¯s collective awe became a shield, masking us from the shadows moving closer.


    ''They¡¯re here,'' I murmured.


    Emberfist turned, her flames dim but ready. ''Let¡¯s give them a warm welcome.''


    The first attacker came from the left¡ªa wiry man with daggers glinting under the lantern light. Emberfist stepped forward, her gauntlets flaring as she caught his blade mid-swing. The metal hissed against her flames, and she shoved him back into the crowd before he could recover.


    I turned to face another, a tall figure with a hood obscuring their face. They lunged with a short sword, but I sidestepped, grabbing their wrist and twisting. The sword clattered to the ground, and a quick elbow to their gut sent them staggering.


    The crowd didn¡¯t notice, their attention still fixed on the light show above. Even as more attackers emerged, the festival¡¯s magic drowned out the clash of steel and the hiss of Emberfist¡¯s flames.


    Another figure rushed me, this one faster, more precise. Their blade nicked my arm before I could block, but it did nothing. I retaliated with a swift strike to their jaw, sending them reeling into the bridge railing.


    Emberfist dispatched her second opponent with a fiery uppercut, the man¡¯s scream swallowed by the crowd¡¯s cheers. She turned to me, her eyes blazing. ''That all of them?''


    I scanned the area, my senses still stretched. ''No. There¡¯s one, no two more.''


    One of the assassins, a wiry man with a jagged scar running across his temple, leapt onto a gondola and pushed off. Jumping from gondola to gondola. His movements were quick and sure, the blade in his hand gleaming faintly with poison.


    Emberfist shot me a sharp glance. ''Go. I¡¯ve got the rest.''


    I nodded, already moving. The sharp tang of adrenaline hit me as I focused on my quarry. My dragon instincts surged forward, my senses sharpening. The assassin¡¯s scent¡ªa mix of sweat, fear, and something acrid¡ªstood out against the salty air. He thought he could lose me on the water.


    Wrong.


    I vaulted over the bridge railing and landed on the edge of another gondola, my weight making it rock dangerously.


    The gondolier yelped and fell into the canal, leaving me to push off and give chase.


    The assassin was quick, his movements passing over the water like a blade, but I could see the panic in his movements. He glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with me. Eventually he leapt off the boats into an alleyway.


    His agility was unnatural, his feet barely skimming the ground as he wove through the chaos of the festival.


    I followed, relying on my senses and [Dragon¡¯s Sight]. The crowd was a blur of faces and lanterns, laughter and cheers blending into an indistinct hum.


    The assassin started to get tired. Clumsier. He darted between a gondola stall and a food cart, knocking over a table of roasted chestnuts in his wake.


    I leapt over the mess, the heat of the coals warming my boots. He didn¡¯t look back, but I could tell he knew I was gaining on him. His speed was impressive, but his movements got more erratic, like a cornered animal.


    I growled under my breath, vaulting over a low railing and cutting through a narrow alley to close the gap.


    The scent of his magic hung in the air, faint but distinct, he smelled like shadows. A burst of light from a gondola parade spilled into the alley, illuminating the assassin for a split second. He was small and wiry, his black cloak billowing like smoke as he skidded around a corner.


    I followed, my boots pounding against the cobblestones, my breath steady despite the speed.


    Ahead, the assassin flipped up a crate, sending it crashing into my path. I didn¡¯t slow, shouldering through it with a grunt, the splintering wood barely slowing me. He cursed, his voice sharp and desperate.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The alley spilled out into a canal bridge, the assassin vaulting onto a gondola without breaking stride. The gondolier shouted in surprise as the boat rocked, the assassin using its momentum to propel himself toward the opposite bank. His leap was impressive¡ªathletic, fluid.


    But I wasn¡¯t about to let him outdo me.


    Without hesitation, I sprang onto the next gondola, the boat dipping dangerously under my weight. The enchanted lanterns tied to its sides bobbed violently, their glowing light painting the water with shifting patterns. The gondolier shouted something, but I ignored him, using the edge of the gondola to launch myself across the canal.


    My boots landed hard on the opposite bank, the impact jarring but manageable. The assassin was quick, already disappearing into the maze of alleys that twisted away from the canal. He darted around corners with the precision of someone who knew the city¡¯s layout intimately. I wasn¡¯t far behind, but he was faster than I¡¯d anticipated.


    I clenched my jaw, focusing on the rhythmic pounding of my heart and the scent trail he left behind. His magic was faint but traceable¡ªa mix of adrenaline, sweat, shadows and whatever enchantment he used to enhance his speed. I pushed harder, letting my dragon instincts take over, my vision sharpening as I tracked him.


    Ahead, the alley narrowed, crates and barrels stacked precariously along the walls. The assassin grabbed a loose beam and swung upward, his feet finding purchase on a balcony railing. He scaled the wall in seconds, disappearing onto the rooftops.


    I cursed under my breath, leaping onto a barrel and propelling myself upward. My hands turning to claws instinctively, digging into the stone for grip as I followed him.


    The rooftops were uneven, a mix of terracotta tiles and wooden beams, their edges slick with dew. The assassin sprinted ahead, his movements effortless as he vaulted over chimneys and ducked under low-hanging laundry lines.


    I kept pace, my dragon-blooded strength compensating for my lack of grace. The city spread out below us, its canals glowing with the light of a thousand lanterns.


    He glanced back, his face twisted with frustration as he realised I was still on his heels. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a flurry of magical daggers hurtling toward me, their edges gleaming like starlight. I ducked, the blades whizzing past me and embedding themselves in a nearby chimney with a metallic hiss.


    You¡¯ll have to do better than that! I thought, the thrill of the chase sparking a grin despite myself.


    The assassin snarled, pulling a small vial from his belt and hurling it to the ground. The vial shattered, releasing a thick cloud of black smoke that billowed upward, obscuring him from view.


    I skidded to a halt, coughing as the acrid fumes filled the air. But his scent was still there, faint but distinct. I closed my eyes, focusing on it, my instincts guiding me.


    I heard the faint scrape of his boots against the tiles and took off again, bursting through the edge of the smoke. He¡¯d gained a few precious seconds, but it wasn¡¯t enough. I spotted him vaulting over a low wall, disappearing into the courtyard of an old inn. I followed, landing with a heavy thud in the enclosed space.


    The courtyard was small, its edges lined with crates and barrels. The assassin darted toward a narrow doorway, but I was faster this time. With a burst of speed, I lunged, tackling him to the ground. We rolled across the cobblestones, his dagger flashing as he tried to slash at me. I grabbed his wrist, twisting until the weapon clattered to the ground.


    He snarled, thrashing beneath me, his strength surprising for someone his size. ''You¡¯re making a mistake,'' he spat, his voice laced with venom.


    ''Funny,'' I said, pinning him with my weight. ''I was about to say the same thing.''


    Before I could press him further, the air shifted. A cold breeze swept through the courtyard, carrying with it the faint hum of magic. The shadows deepened unnaturally, coiling like living things. I turned, my grip on the assassin tightening as three figures emerged from the darkness.


    ¡®Moonwardens!¡¯ Cursed the assassin.


    Moonwardens? The police? Now? I felt frustrated.


    Their cloaks shimmered faintly under the moonlight, the silver crescents on their shoulders catching the light. Their masks¡ªsmooth, black, and featureless¡ªreflected the scene like a dark mirror.


    The lead figure stepped forward, their voice robotic but commanding. The mask had changed it.


    ''This one is ours,'' they said, their tone leaving no room for argument.


    I hesitated ''He¡¯s connected to an attack on me. I need answers.''


    The Moonwarden tilted their head, the motion almost birdlike. ''You¡¯ll have your answers, m¡¯lord. But this falls under our jurisdiction.''


    I growled low in my throat, the tension crackling like static. The assassin beneath me shifted, his desperation giving way to resignation. He knew what the Moonwardens meant.


    ''Fine,'' I said, stepping back reluctantly. ''But if you¡¯re taking him, I want to know what you find.''


    The lead Moonwarden inclined their head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgement. Then tossed a token at me. A small metallic silver crescent.


    Without another word, they closed in, their movements fluid and silent. The assassin didn¡¯t resist as they bound him with a shimmering chain of silver light, the magic sparking faintly as it touched his skin.


    And just like that, they were gone, disappearing into the shadows as if they¡¯d never been there.


    The courtyard was silent again, save for the distant hum of the festival. I exhaled, frustration simmering beneath the surface.


    The Moonwardens had taken my lead, but the chase wasn¡¯t over yet. Not by a long shot.


    ***


    I made my way back to the Bridge of Stars, my thoughts still racing. The canal glowed with the light of enchanted lanterns, their reflections shimmering like constellations in the water. The festival was in full swing, the crowd¡¯s energy undiminished by the passing hours.


    Emberfist waited near the edge of the bridge, her fiery hair catching the lantern light. Her arms were crossed, her expression sharp and focused. Beside her stood a man dressed in a faded green cloak, his face obscured by a deep hood. Her contact.


    ''Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d make it,'' she said, her voice carrying just enough sarcasm to mask her concern.


    I joined them, glancing at the hooded man. ''Ran into some company.''


    ''Moonwardens?'' she guessed.


    ''Yeah. They took one of the assassins.''


    She grimaced. ''They always show up when things get messy.''


    The hooded man cleared his throat, drawing our attention. ''I don¡¯t have much time,'' he said, his voice low and gravelly. ''The Red Veil doesn¡¯t like loose lips.''


    Emberfist gestured for him to continue. ''Then don¡¯t waste it. What do you know?''


    ''The Veil wasn¡¯t working alone,'' he said. ''They were hired. Someone powerful, someone connected to your elf friend. And they¡¯re still looking for her.''


    So Luneth escaped. I was relieved.


    I frowned. ''Do you know who hired them?''


    He shook his head. ''No names, just whispers. But I know where they¡¯re operating. There¡¯s an abandoned warehouse near the south docks. That¡¯s where they regroup after their missions.''


    Emberfist nodded, her mind already working. ''Good. That¡¯s a start.''


    The man hesitated, then added, ''Be careful. The Veil doesn¡¯t play fair, and whoever¡¯s pulling their strings is dangerous.''


    ''Danger¡¯s our speciality,'' Emberfist said, her grin sharp and fierce.


    The man gave a curt nod and disappeared into the crowd, his green cloak blending seamlessly with the festival¡¯s chaos.


    I turned to Emberfist ''This is getting more complicated by the minute,'' I said.


    She smirked, her flames flickering faintly. ''That¡¯s what makes it fun.''


    Fun wasn¡¯t the word I¡¯d use, but I let it slide.


    ***


    The warehouse at the South Docks loomed ahead, its dark silhouette cutting against the glowing canals and drifting lanterns. The hum of the festival was a distant murmur here, muffled by the heavy scent of saltwater and the creak of ropes straining against moored ships. The wooden walls of the warehouse, warped by years of salt and spray, seemed to bow inward under the weight of shadows.


    Emberfist walked ahead, her molten gaze fixed on the dimly lit entrance. She moved with the quiet confidence of someone who¡¯d been here before.


    I trailed behind, senses sharp, every step crunching against the loose gravel underfoot. The dock workers had cleared out hours ago, leaving behind an eerie stillness broken only by the occasional slap of water against the pilings.


    ''Stay close,'' she muttered, barely glancing over her shoulder. Her voice was low, clipped. Serious.


    ''I wasn¡¯t planning to wander off,'' I replied, my tone dry.


    We reached the door. A faint line of golden light bled through the cracks in the warped wood.


    Emberfist knelt, pressing a hand against the frame. Flames flickered briefly around her fingertips as she murmured something under her breath. The air shimmered faintly, and then she stood.


    ''Wards,'' she said. ''Basic stuff. Someone doesn¡¯t want to be interrupted.''


    ''And yet, here we are,'' I said, pulling my cloak tighter. ''Breaking and entering on a holiday. Charming.''


    She shot me a look. ''Try not to light this place up with your charm.''


    I bit back a smirk as she pushed the door open. It groaned loudly, and I winced at the sound, but no one came rushing out. The warehouse swallowed us whole, the shadows inside thick and heavy. Lantern light flickered along the edges of crates stacked haphazardly, their shapes casting jagged silhouettes against the walls.


    Emberfist¡¯s flames flared softly, casting a warm glow over her features. ''Eyes open. They¡¯re here.''


    I nodded. My ears caught the faint creak of leather boots on wood¡ªfast, light steps, moving in a half-circle. Shadows flickered across the far wall. ''Three on the left,'' I murmured. ''Two more... above us, I think.''


    Emberfist¡¯s eyes narrowed. ''They¡¯re boxing us in.''


    ''Good,'' I said. ''Let them.''


    The first attacker dropped from the rafters like a hawk, twin daggers aimed for my back. He moved fast, but not fast enough.


    I pivoted, my arm coming up to meet his blade. The dagger screeched uselessly against my scales, and the assassin¡¯s eyes widened just before my fist smashed into his chest. He flew back, landing hard against a stack of crates.


    The fight erupted around us.


    Two more figures darted from the shadows, their blades gleaming with faint enchantments. Emberfist met them head-on, her gauntleted fists igniting in a roar of flame. She drove one back with a wild uppercut, the fire trailing from her punch searing his cloak. The second hesitated just long enough for her to kick him square in the gut, sending him sprawling.


    Another assassin lunged at me, a curved sword aimed for my ribs. It shattered against my side like brittle glass. I caught his wrist before he could retreat, twisting it hard. He cried out, dropping the hilt. My other fist connected with his jaw, and he collapsed in a heap.


    ''Watch your left!'' Emberfist shouted.


    I turned, spotting a heavier figure rushing toward me, longsword in both hands. The blade came down with a furious swing, and I raised my arm to block. Metal met scales with a deafening clang, and the weapon snapped at the hilt. Before he could process what had happened, I grabbed his tunic and threw him into a pile of barrels. He didn¡¯t get up.


    Emberfist was a storm of fire and fury. Her gauntlets burned white-hot, each punch leaving scorch marks on the floor or on her enemies.


    She ducked low under a wild swing, rising with a flaming uppercut that sent her opponent crashing into the wall. Another tried to flank her, but she spun, flames arcing from her gauntlets as she slammed a backhand into his side.


    ''Two more,'' I called, my voice steady. Pain flared in my thigh where a blade had grazed me earlier, but the injury was superficial. My scales would handle the rest.


    Another assassin charged, faster than the others. He feinted high, then went low, his blade aiming for my legs. I stepped into him, ignoring the sharp edge dragging uselessly against my shin. My fist drove into his gut like a battering ram, and he folded, gasping for air. Before he could recover, I grabbed his cloak and swung him into the nearest wall.


    The last attacker hesitated. He was smaller, leaner, with sharp eyes that darted between me and Emberfist. He threw something¡ªa glass orb that shattered at my feet, releasing a cloud of thick, acrid smoke. I coughed, waving it away, but the assassin was already running toward the back of the warehouse.


    ''He¡¯s bolting!'' Emberfist yelled, starting after him.


    ''No, I¡¯ve got this,'' I said, taking off at a sprint. My dragon heritage kicked in, every muscle firing with precision as I closed the gap. The assassin was fast, but not fast enough. I grabbed the back of his cloak and yanked hard. He spun, a dagger flashing in his hand, and plunged it into my chest.


    The blade snapped.


    He froze, staring at the useless hilt. I grinned, my fist already rising. ''Nice try.''


    The punch landed square on his face, and he crumpled like wet parchment.


    When I turned, Emberfist was standing over the last of her opponents, her flames dimming. ''That all of them?''


    I scanned the room. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, groaning or unconscious. The acrid smoke from the broken orb hung in the air, mingling with the scent of charred wood and burnt fabric. ''Yeah. That¡¯s all of them.''


    She wiped a smear of blood from her cheek, glancing around. ''Who the hell are these guys?''


    ''Good question,'' I said, crouching beside the nearest attacker. I peeled back his hood, revealing a sharp-featured face, young but battle-worn. On his armour, a crescent moon over crossed blades was etched in silver.


    ''You recognise this?'' I asked.


    Emberfist leaned closer, her frown deepening. ''No. But that¡¯s not local.''


    We searched the warehouse. Didn¡¯t find anything. Just a deserted empty warehouse.


    Then we searched the men''s bodies. In the pockets of one of them I found a small leather pouch. Inside was a folded piece of parchment. I unrolled it, revealing a crude map of Vallenport¡¯s southern docks. Several buildings were marked with red circles, and one was labelled with a strange glyph.


    She squinted at it. ''That glyph¡­ it¡¯s not Common.''


    ''It¡¯s Draconic,'' I said. The word translated roughly to Haven.


    ''Great,'' she muttered, running a hand through her hair. ''Secret hideouts. Just what we need.''


    I stood, tucking the map into my belt. My ears picked up faint voices outside, growing louder. Heavy boots, clinking armour. ''We¡¯ve got company.''


    She tensed, her gauntlets sparking back to life. ''More of them?''


    ''No,'' I muttered, ''Waveguards.'' My head snapped toward the door. The faint glint of steel in the lantern light confirmed it. Their leader would be armed and armoured, no doubt ready to lock this scene down tight. I wasn¡¯t about to let them take away the second solid lead I¡¯d gotten tonight.


    ''They¡¯re gonna find us,'' Emberfist whispered, already standing. Her flames flared briefly in her gauntlets. ''Maybe I can¡ª''


    ''Not happening,'' I cut her off. I folded the map quickly and tucked it into my belt. ''We¡¯re leaving.''


    She turned toward me, her eyes narrowing. ''Leaving? What the hell are you¡ª''


    I didn¡¯t let her finish. I grabbed her by the back of her robe like a sack of grain and hoisted her off the ground. She let out a sharp yelp, half surprised, half pissed.


    ''Tavalor! Put me down!''


    ''No time.''


    The first Waveguards pushed through the doors. Their armour glinted in the lantern light as they fanned out, weapons at the ready. The leader barked orders, her voice commanding. The others moved quickly, their practised formation cutting off exits.


    I took a running leap, propelling us toward the nearest stack of crates. My [Ancient Scales] made it easy¡ªno hesitation, no fear of injury. I landed with a crunch, the wood groaning under my weight.


    ''Are you serious?'' Emberfist hissed, wriggling in my grip. ''You can¡¯t just¡ª''


    ''Quiet.'' I adjusted my hold, keeping her steady as I bounded upward. Another jump took us to the rafters. From here, I could see the Waveguards spreading through the warehouse, their lanterns throwing sharp beams across the floor.


    ''Move fast,'' I whispered to myself.


    I kicked off the beam, twisting in midair to catch the edge of the skylight. Emberfist groaned as I hauled her up with me. My feet hit the roof silently, the city¡¯s cool night air wrapping around us. The festival lights outside shimmered over the canals, a kaleidoscope of colours that almost made me forget the chaos below.


    Almost.


    I crouched low, keeping to the shadows. Emberfist scrambled out of my grip, her flames flaring briefly before she extinguished them with a hiss. ''Tavalor,'' she growled, her voice sharp, ''if you ever do that again¡ª''


    ''Keep your voice down,'' I said, peering over the edge of the roof. The Waveguards were still below, their voices muffled but tense. They hadn¡¯t spotted us yet.


    ''You just threw me over your shoulder like some sack of potatoes,'' she continued, though her tone softened slightly as she crouched beside me. ''What was that even about?''


    I held up the map. ''This. You think they¡¯d let us walk out with something this important?''


    She stared at it, her anger cooling. ''Fine. But next time, warn me before you decide to play hero.''


    ''Deal,'' I said, smirking faintly. ''Now, let¡¯s move.''


    I glanced around, scanning for a safe route. The rooftops in this part of Vallenport were uneven, built haphazardly over time.


    Narrow wooden bridges spanned gaps between buildings, while some roofs tilted precariously toward the canals below. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it would work.


    I led the way, moving quickly but carefully. The wood creaked beneath us as we crossed the first bridge, but the noise was swallowed by the distant hum of the festival. Below, gondolas drifted lazily through the canals, their passengers blissfully unaware of the chaos a few blocks away.


    ''You sure about this?'' Emberfist asked as we reached a particularly steep roof.


    ''Not even a little,'' I replied, gripping the edge and pulling myself up. The view from the top gave us a better look at the city¡ªits glowing lanterns, its winding waterways, and, in the distance, the Bridge of Stars.


    As I reached down to help her up, a shout echoed from the warehouse below. One of the Waveguards had spotted something¡ªor someone.


    ''They¡¯re looking for us,'' I said. ''We need to move faster.''


    ''No kidding,'' Emberfist muttered, grabbing my hand and hoisting herself onto the rooftop. ''Let¡¯s go.''


    We leapt across another gap, the wind rushing past us. My dragon heritage made it easy to absorb the landing, my [Ancient Scales] dulling any impact. Emberfist was just as agile, though she grumbled under her breath the entire time.


    By the time we reached a quieter part of the district, the sounds of the Waveguards had faded. We crouched in the shadow of a tall chimney, catching our breath.


    ''Well,'' she said, brushing soot from her armour, ''that was fun.''


    ''You¡¯re welcome,'' I said, pulling the map from my belt. The faint lamplight reflected off the parchment, illuminating the red circles and the Draconic glyph.


    She leaned in, studying it closely. ''This symbol¡­ you sure it means Haven?''


    I nodded.


    We took our time - heading back towards the Bridge of Stars. The rooftops gave us a perfect vantage point of the festival below. From up here, the world was a canvas of light and sound¡ªgondolas gliding along canals aglow with enchanted lanterns, noise rippling through the streets, and bursts of magical fireworks painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson.


    But all eyes were drawn to the centrepiece of the night: the Duke¡¯s Lantern. Suspended by an intricate contraption of ropes and pulleys at the apex of the Bridge of Stars, it gleamed like a jewel in the moonlight.


    The design was mesmerising. Its structure resembled a great, glowing nautilus shell, spiralling inward in intricate, fluid curves. Glass panels, etched with patterns of waves and constellations, refracted light in soft, shifting hues¡ªamber, violet, and sea-green. Beneath the glass surface, faint runes pulsed with a gentle rhythm, like a heartbeat. The magic imbued in the lantern wasn¡¯t just functional; it was alive, weaving a symphony of light and shadow across the water below.


    The Duke himself was present, flanked by his retinue, his voice carrying over the crowd as he gave a short speech about unity and hope. Speech finished he gestured for the lantern to be released. A hush fell over the crowd as the ropes were loosened, and the lantern began to ascend.


    A hush fell over the crowd as the ropes were loosened, and the lantern began to ascend.


    Its movement was slow. Ceremonial. As though it were reluctant to leave the earth. The first glimmers of light spilled out from its core, dappling the faces of the onlookers and casting wave-like patterns across the canal. As it climbed higher, the light grew stronger, illuminating the bridge and the water below with a warm, otherworldly glow.


    And then, the magic within the lantern fully awakened.


    The runes flared to life, and the shell-shaped structure began to shift and unfold, its spirals twisting outward like the petals of a flower blooming in slow motion. The light changed, too, no longer just a steady glow but a living thing, dancing and flowing like the tides themselves. The waves and constellations etched into the glass came alive, rippling and shifting in endless, hypnotic patterns.


    A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as the lantern reached its zenith. Above the Bridge of Stars, it hovered, a radiant beacon that seemed to tie the city, the canals, and the sky together in a single, perfect moment. The twin moons, Lunaris and Noctis, hung on either side of it, their pale light mingling with the lantern¡¯s vibrant hues.


    He did it. I smiled.


    The canals below mirrored the spectacle above, the water alive with reflections of the lantern¡¯s shifting light. Gondolas glided through the glowing currents, their passengers reaching out as though they could touch the magic. Children held up their own miniature lanterns, their laughter mingling with the hum of the festival.


    As the lantern continued its journey, drifting higher and higher until it seemed to merge with the stars, the crowd erupted into applause. The sound was thunderous, a wave of gratitude and joy that rolled through the city like a tide.

 Chapter 13 - I Located Clues to the Entrance of the Dungeon During the Lantern Festival

    The streets were quieter than expected. Day two of the Lantern Festival, and yet the usual buzz of morning activity felt muted, as if the city itself was catching its breath after the previous night¡¯s celebrations. I headed toward the Gilded Hearth out of habit, only to find its shutters closed, a sign posted on the door:


    Closed for the Festival. Back tomorrow with fresh brews and pastries.


    I had forgotten. A part of me wanted to sulk. The Gilded Hearth was now a solid part of my routine. Without it, the morning felt... untethered. Emberfist would mock me if she knew how much I depended on it.


    I sighed, tucking my hands into my coat pockets, and wandered aimlessly. The festival lanterns from last night still hung above the canals, their delicate paper frames casting dappled patterns of light across the cobbled streets. The scents of spiced pastries and roasting nuts drifted from nearby stalls, but none of it felt quite right for breakfast.


    I turned a corner and spotted a small park by the edge of a shimmering lake. The water mirrored the pale morning light, rippling gently as the occasional breeze swept across its surface. A group of children clustered by the shore, their laughter bright and unrestrained as they skipped stones across the glassy water.


    I watched for a moment, then wandered closer. One of the stones made an impressive arc, skipping four times before plunking into the lake. The kids cheered. Another attempted to match it but managed only two skips before the stone sank.


    ''Not bad,'' I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.


    A boy noticed me watching and held up a flat stone.


    I smiled. Then nodded.


    Selecting a smooth, flat stone from the shore, I tested its weight in my hand. With a flick of my wrist, the stone arced gracefully across the water. One, two, three, four, five skips before disappearing beneath the surface. The kids erupted in cheers, their energy infectious.


    ''Show-off,'' a voice chuckled from behind me. I turned to see an old man, his weathered face split into a grin. He held a stone of his own, already lined up for a throw.


    ''Think you can beat that?'' I asked, stepping aside to give him room.


    ''Oh, I know I can,'' he said with a wink. His stone flew low and fast, skipping seven times before it finally sank. The children gasped, crowding around him as if he¡¯d just performed a miracle.


    ''Alright, you win,'' I admitted, clapping politely. ''Not bad for someone your age.''


    He chuckled, brushing off his hands. ''You¡¯ve got a decent arm, lad. But it¡¯s all in the wrist.'' He nodded toward the path leading away from the park.


    ¡®Been here a while?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Vallenport - I mean.¡¯


    ¡®All of my life,¡¯ replied the old man, a reflective look on his face.


    ¡®Know any place open for breakfast today?¡¯


    The old man rubbed his chin. ''There¡¯s a little breakfast shop just up the hill. Best coffee in the district, if you¡¯re interested.''


    ¡®Perfect. Might take you up on that.''


    ***


    The shop was small, nestled between a pair of crooked townhouses. A simple sign above the door read Morning Tide. Inside the smell of coffee - actual coffee ¡ª and sizzling eggs greeted me like an old friend.


    The space was cosy¡ªhalf a dozen tables, each adorned with small bouquets of wildflowers in mismatched vases. Sunlight streamed through the windows, lending the room a warm, golden glow.


    To my surprise, the old man from the lake stood behind the counter, tying an apron around his waist. He grinned when he saw me. ''Decided to take my advice, huh?''


    ''You didn¡¯t mention you owned the place,'' I said, taking a seat at the counter.


    ''Didn¡¯t seem important at the time.'' He poured a steaming cup of coffee and set it in front of me. ''House special. On the house.''


    I took a sip, the rich, slightly nutty flavour warming me instantly. ''Alright, you¡¯re forgiven for beating me at skipping stones.''


    He laughed, turning to tend to a sizzling pan on the stove. ''So, what brings you out so early? Festival¡¯s not exactly a morning affair.''


    ''Usual spot¡¯s closed,'' I admitted. ''Thought I¡¯d try something new.''


    ''Well, you¡¯re in for a treat. Breakfast here is an experience.'' He flipped a couple of eggs with practised ease, adding a sprinkle of herbs from a small jar. ''You¡¯ve got a name, or should I keep calling you ¡®skipping stone guy¡¯?''


    ''Tavalor,'' I said, offering a nod. ''And you?''


    ''Caius,'' he replied, plating the eggs alongside slices of buttered toast and roasted tomatoes. He slid the plate in front of me. ''Eat up. You look like you¡¯ve got a long day ahead.''


    I took a bite, the flavours simple but perfectly balanced. ''You¡¯re good at this.''


    ''Been at it a while,'' he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. ''Started this place after I retired from the Waveguard. Thought I¡¯d try my hand at something less... violent.''


    I raised an eyebrow. ''Waveguard, huh? You don¡¯t strike me as the law enforcement type.''


    ''Not anymore,'' he said with a shrug. ''But once upon a time, I was chasing smugglers and breaking up brawls in the dockyards. Got too old for it, though. Decided I¡¯d rather be remembered for good coffee than broken noses.''


    ''Can¡¯t argue with that,'' I said, finishing the last of my breakfast. ''So, what¡¯s the festival like? It¡¯s my first. Anything I should know?''


    Caius smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. ''See the races. Walk around. This city has a way of surprising people during the festival.''


    I paid for my meal, leaving a generous tip despite his protests. As I stepped back out into the bustling streets I felt in a better mood.


    The festival¡¯s magic was in full swing now, lanterns bobbing above the canals as musicians tuned their instruments and vendors set up their stalls. I adjusted my cloak and headed toward the map-maker¡¯s shop, the echoes of Caius¡¯s laughter and the taste of perfectly brewed coffee lingering with me.


    ***


    I walked back. Taking in the sights of the festival. It was mostly people setting up for the Gondola Races. Magic barriers were being put up all along. As well as banners, streamers and seating. Merchants had arrived and a lot of different booths were being setup as well.


    Like Caius had said earlier - today¡¯s main event was the Gondola races.


    The manor¡¯s shadowed outline came into view, framed against the faint glow of the lingering festival lanterns. Despite the wear and tear of its age, the enchanted barrier surrounding the grounds hummed softly, a sign that its magic still held strong.


    Or so I thought.


    As I approached the garden, a muffled string of curses drifted through the air. At first, I assumed it was Emberfist venting¡ªagain¡ªbut the tone was too high-pitched, too frantic. The enchanted vines along the trellis rustled, shifting as though alive. Rounding the corner, I stopped, blinking in disbelief.


    Dangling upside down from one of the twisting vines was a thief, arms pinned to their sides, their cloak hanging awkwardly to reveal patched leather armour. They wriggled like a caught fish, muttering curses under their breath.


    Hallelujah. The barriers were finally doing their job. Brolin did a great job.


    The thief¡¯s hood slipped back, and a shock of messy black hair fell free. A familiar face.


    ''Luneth?'' I blurted.


    Her head snapped up¡ªor down, given her current position. ''Tavalor!'' she exclaimed, a mix of relief and exasperation in her voice. ''Get me down from here, you idiot!''


    The barrier must¡¯ve triggered her capture, but the garden... it had a mind of its own. The sentient vines seemed particularly proud of their prize, coiling tighter and swaying slightly, as if showing off. A sharp tug earned a squeak from Luneth, followed by a fresh round of swearing.


    Emberfist appeared at my side, her fiery gauntlets flaring faintly as she took in the scene. ''Well, well,'' she drawled. ''The elusive Luneth. Caught like a rabbit in a snare.''


    ''I¡¯m not a rabbit!'' Luneth hissed, wincing as the vines tightened around her midsection. ''Can you two stop gawking and do something useful?''


    I sighed, rubbing my temples. ''Why are you here? You do realise breaking into my manor is a terrible idea, right?''


    ''I wasn¡¯t breaking in! I was¡ª'' She paused, then groaned. ''Look, just cut me down first, and then I¡¯ll explain.''


    ''Convenient,'' Emberfist said, crossing her arms. ''Why don¡¯t you explain now while you¡¯re... incentivised?''


    ''I swear, if I could move my hands right now¡ª''


    ''That¡¯s enough,'' I said, stepping forward. ''Let her down, gently this time.'' The vines reluctantly obeyed, unwinding slowly and lowering Luneth to the ground. She stumbled as her feet touched the cobblestones, but I caught her before she fell.


    Her dishevelled state was impossible to ignore. A faint cut marred her cheek, dried blood crusted along the edges. Her left arm was wrapped in a haphazard bandage, the material stained with fresh and old blood.


    ''You¡¯re hurt,'' I said, inspecting the wound. ''What happened?''


    ''I¡¯m fine,'' Luneth snapped, yanking her arm away. ''I just need a place to rest.''


    ''Rest?'' Emberfist cut in, her tone sharp. ''You¡¯re lucky you¡¯re not dangling from the garden vines again. What were you really doing skulking around here?''


    Luneth glared, clearly weighing her options. ''I was ambushed a few days ago. Lost most of my supplies. I knew this place had wards, so I figured it¡¯d be safe.''


    ''Safe?'' Emberfist barked a laugh. ''Breaking into someone¡¯s home is your idea of safe?''


    ''I wasn¡¯t breaking in!'' Luneth shot back, her voice rising. ''I was... borrowing.''


    ''Oh, borrowing.'' Emberfist¡¯s flames flared brighter. ''You should¡¯ve borrowed better excuses while you were at it.''


    ''Enough,'' I interrupted, my voice cutting through the tension. ''We¡¯ll sort this out inside.''


    I motioned toward the manor, but Luneth hesitated, clutching her pack. ''Not yet,'' she muttered. ''I... need to explain something.''


    Her pack slipped open slightly, revealing a jumble of scraps¡ªnotes, maps, and symbols drawn in dark ink. Emberfist snatched a page before Luneth could stop her.


    ''What¡¯s this?'' she demanded, holding up the paper. The symbols were jagged and unfamiliar, but they bore an unsettling resemblance to the markings I¡¯d seen on the other map.


    ''It¡¯s nothing!'' Luneth reached for the page, but Emberfist held it out of reach. ''Just research.''


    ''Research,'' Emberfist echoed, scepticism dripping from the word. ''How¡¯d you get this? And why does it match the clues we¡¯ve been chasing?''


    Luneth¡¯s mouth opened, then closed. Her defiance faltered, replaced by something resembling desperation. ''I can¡¯t tell you. Not yet.''


    ''You mean you won¡¯t,'' Emberfist said, stepping closer, her flames dimming to a threatening glow.


    Before the argument could escalate, a loud hum filled the air. The barrier shimmered brightly, rippling like disturbed water. It wasn¡¯t just reacting to Luneth¡ªit was drawing attention.


    A pair of festival-goers approached the gate, their faces alight with curiosity. One of them, a young woman holding a glowing lantern, pointed at the shimmering barrier. ''Look! It¡¯s part of the festival!'' she said excitedly.


    ''Definitely not part of the festival,'' I muttered. Stepping forward, I raised my voice. ''Nothing to see here, folks. Just an overactive ward. Enjoy the festival!''


    The crowd began to grow. I turned back to Luneth and Emberfist. ''Get inside, now. I¡¯ll handle this.''


    With some grumbling, they retreated into the manor. I waved my hand, dispelling the vines and dimming the barrier¡¯s glow. The small gathering groaned in disappointment before dispersing.


    Inside, I found Luneth sitting awkwardly on one of the worn chairs in the main hall, Emberfist looming nearby with her arms crossed.


    ''Alright,'' I said, closing the door behind me. ''You¡¯ve got two options, Luneth. You either tell us what¡¯s going on, or you leave.''


    She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. Slowly, she pulled out a folded map from her pack and placed it on the table. ''This is why I¡¯m here.''


    The map was old, its edges frayed and ink faded in places. But the markings were clear¡ªroutes, symbols, and a single location circled in bold strokes.


    ''This matches our map'' I said, glancing at Emberfist.


    I pulled our map it out of my [System Space] and compared it. It wasn¡¯t an exact match but it came pretty close. Our map was newer. A crude map of Vallenport¡¯s southern docks. Several buildings marked with red circles, and one was labelled with a strange glyph. The same as the other building on Luneth¡¯s map.


    ''Where did you get it?'' I asked Luneth.


    ''I told you, I was ambushed,'' Luneth said. ''They were after this. I don¡¯t know who they were, but they were organised.''


    ''And you thought bringing it here would keep you safe?'' Emberfist asked, her tone laced with disbelief.


    Luneth¡¯s gaze hardened. ''I thought you¡¯d want to find out what¡¯s at that location as much as I do.''


    The tension in the room was thick, but the map¡¯s implications couldn¡¯t be ignored. I met Emberfist¡¯s gaze, then turned back to Luneth.


    ''Alright,'' I said finally. ''You can stay. But no more secrets. If we¡¯re going to follow this map, we need to work together.''


    Luneth nodded, relief flashing briefly across her face. Emberfist grumbled something under her breath but didn¡¯t argue.


    ***


    We needed a map. So we headed out to get one. It was just myself and Emberfist. Luneth had decided to stay back in the house and rest. The morning sunlight danced across the canals as we set out for the map-maker¡¯s shop, the air warm with the promise of summer.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    It was the second day of the Lantern Festival, and the city now thrummed with life. The scent of blooming jasmine and roasted nuts mingled in the air, underscoring the unmistakable energy of Summer. It was mid-year. July on earth - Emberglow here.


    The walk was pleasant, if a little chaotic. Vendors called out from their stalls, offering everything from enchanted trinkets to shimmering fabrics, while gondolas glided through the waterways, their pilots calling jovially to one another. Above, colourful banners swayed in the breeze, adding a festive touch to the already vibrant city.


    ''I¡¯ll never understand how this people handles the seasons,'' Emberfist said, shielding her eyes from the sun as we paused by a canal.


    I was surprised. She was from here.


    ¡®It¡¯s not bad. I like the heat¡¯ I said. I was a dragon. Heat wasn¡¯t an issue.


    ¡®You like it? Ah, you are a southerner after all.¡¯ She shook her head. ''All it¡¯s good for is sweating and complaining.''


    She tilted her head. ''I suppose you¡¯re one of those people who ¡®finds beauty in every season.¡¯''


    ''I find beauty in good ice cream,'' I said, gesturing toward a nearby cart. ''Speaking of which...''


    We each grabbed a cone¡ªmine a swirl of honey and lavender, hers a tart mix of citrus and berry.


    A race began as we licked our treats, the gondolas surging forward with bursts of magical propulsion. The water churned beneath them, reflecting the iridescent trails left in their wake.


    There had been many different types of races. There were powered races. Using magic crystals and maxing out straight line speed. Unpowered ones. Only using the pole. And a mix. This one was a mix. Poles and physical strength and magic to cheat.


    These Gondolas also had sails. Most didn¡¯t unless they left the city.


    ''Any favourites?'' she asked, nodding toward the racers.


    ''Third from the left,'' I said. ''They¡¯re keeping a steady pace.''


    ''Too cautious,'' she said, licking her cone. ''Second on the right. They¡¯re taking risks.''


    We watched as the racers darted through narrow arches, their gondolas skimming dangerously close to one another. The crowd cheered as one pilot conjured a burst of wind to push themselves forward. Another responded by creating a magical wake to disrupt their opponents.


    The race ended with a near tie, the crowd erupting into applause as the victors raised their oars in triumph. We finished our ice cream, letting the excitement of the moment settle before continuing toward our destination.


    ***


    The shop stood in a quiet nook of the district, nestled between a jeweller''s with opalescent windows and a gondola repair stall that smelled of tar and varnish. The Cartographer''s Compass, the hand-painted sign read, its letters curling like waves. Beneath it, smaller text declared: ''Navigating the Unknowable since 784 A.M.''


    The door was carved with a detailed compass rose, its points inlaid with shimmering brass. The air outside carried the mingled scents of brine and parchment, hinting at what lay within.


    ''This is the place?'' I asked, pausing to glance up at the sign. My first visit to a map-maker, and it felt more like stepping into the lair of some eccentric wizard than a shop.


    Emberfist was already pushing the door open. ''Of course it¡¯s the place. The only cartographer worth their ink in Vallenport. Try to act like you¡¯ve seen a map before.''


    ''I¡¯ve seen maps,'' I muttered. ''Just not enchanted ones.''


    The air changed as we entered, cool and heavy with the scent of old parchment, ink, and something faintly metallic. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with scrolls, atlases, and bound tomes. Odd objects sat atop them¡ªsmall globes spinning lazily without touch, brass instruments with intricate runes, and what looked like a glass sphere filled with floating ink that shifted to form continents and seas.


    At the centre of the room was a large, heavy table. Upon it lay a map of Vallenport, its canals glowing faintly with an enchanted light that pulsed in time with the tides. The city shimmered with life, gondolas and ships represented by tiny flickers of moving light.


    Behind the counter stood the cartographer, a tall man with an austere demeanour. His silver monocle glinted as he scrutinised us. His vest was embroidered with constellations, and a pen hung from a chain at his chest like a weapon.


    ''Ah,'' he said, his voice as smooth and sharp as a drawn blade. ''Customers who aren¡¯t tourists. How rare.''


    ''I¡¯ll handle this,'' Emberfist said, striding forward. She leaned casually against the counter, her fiery presence making even this refined space feel slightly chaotic. ''We need maps¡ªsomething detailed. Vallenport, and beyond.''


    The cartographer raised an eyebrow. ''Beyond? You¡¯re not planning a pleasure cruise to the Storm Shores, are you?''


    ''No,'' she replied. ''This is serious business.''


    He studied her, then turned his gaze to me, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of my appearance. ''Your first time in a map shop?''


    I bristled, but Emberfist smirked. ''Go easy on him, Joras. He¡¯s new to this.''


    Joras gestured to a nearby shelf. ''Maps of Vallenport are simple enough. But beyond the city¡­ well, that depends on how far you¡¯re going and how precise you need to be.''


    He pulled out a large map of the the Elder Isles and spread it across the table. The parchment shimmered faintly, its lines shifting as though alive. Landmasses appeared fluid, their edges breathing in and out like waves against the shore.


    There were five major continents surrounding several minor ones at the centre of the map. The major continents were North, South, East and the two Wests - North West and The Elves Continent (South West)


    The minor ones were at the centre of the map - the Elder Isles. Vallenport was a part of the Elder Isles. Along with Vallenport were the Storm Shores, Auran Dominion, Free City of Miragos and Sapphire Corsairs.


    The map he pulled out only focused on the Elder Isles.


    ''This one¡¯s basic,'' Joras said. ''The cities, the major routes, the usual. But if you¡¯re going near the Storm Shores, you¡¯ll want something more adaptable.''


    He reached behind the counter and retrieved a small brass compass. Its needle spun wildly before locking in place, glowing faintly. ''Log Crystals, like the ones on flying ships. They attune to ley lines and major magical currents, giving you real-time updates. Expensive but worth it.''


    I leaned closer, intrigued. ''And how do these¡­ maps work? The enchanted ones.''


    Joras¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile. ''You must be fun at parties. The enchantment responds to the Log Crystals location. It updates as you move, adapting to the terrain. Useful for explorers, treasure hunters, or anyone trying not to get lost.''


    Emberfist cut in. ''We¡¯re after something specific.'' She pulled out Luneth¡¯s map, the faded symbols and cryptic markings now slightly clearer. ''We need to overlay this with anything you¡¯ve got.''


    Joras frowned as he examined the map. ''This is old. And not just ¡®grandfather¡¯s attic¡¯ old. These markings¡ª'' he pointed to a faded circle near the edge of Vallenport''¡ªthey¡¯re pre-meteor.''


    ''Meaning?'' I asked.


    ''Meaning no one¡¯s charted this properly in centuries,'' he said. ''It could be a ruin, an island, or just someone¡¯s overactive imagination.''


    Emberfist leaned forward. ''Can you get us there or not?''


    He straightened, pulling out a slender wand-like instrument. With a wave, a flickering overlay appeared above the parchment, a faint glow tracing the ancient symbols. ''I can refine it. The markings suggest an old ley point¡ªa powerful one. If you¡¯re lucky, it¡¯s intact. If not¡­ well, I hope you can swim.''


    We (meaning me, since Emberfist was poor) bought several maps, one of the entire world with all of the continents, one of the Elder Isles, a Vallenport specific one, one that Joras had enchanted as well as several different Log Crystals and a lot of books. We cleaned the place out.


    We spent so much that Joras originally sour demeanour changed. He was smiling as we left. A smile so big on such a normally stern face was creepy.


    ***


    The tension eased as we stepped out of the shop, all the stuff tucked safely into my [System Space]. The city buzzed with festival energy, the canals alive with color and movement. Ahead, a gondola race was underway, the sleek boats cutting through the water like arrows.


    This was a different race again so I wanted to watch. This time it was a sprint. No sails on the gondolas this time. Just a thin, sleek single-seater boat.


    We found a spot by the edge of the canal, the crowd around us cheering as the racers approached. Their gondolas shimmered with enchantments¡ªsome glowing with ethereal light, others sprouting brief bursts of wind to propel them forward.


    The racers themselves were a mix of seasoned professionals and daring amateurs, their faces set with determination.


    ''You¡¯d think they¡¯d ban magic in these races,'' I said, watching one gondola conjure a small wave to disrupt its opponents.


    ''That¡¯s half the fun,'' Emberfist replied, tossing a coin to a nearby vendor for a bag of roasted nuts. She handed me some as we watched the race intensify.


    One gondola, its hull painted a vivid green, surged ahead, its pilot chanting an incantation that sent a glowing ripple across the water. Another racer retaliated with a burst of wind, nearly toppling the green boat. The crowd roared as the two pilots exchanged heated glares.


    ''Think they¡¯ll make it to the finish?'' Emberfist asked.


    ''I wouldn¡¯t bet on it,'' I said, smirking as one gondola veered off course, narrowly missing the canal wall.


    The race ended in a dramatic finish, the green gondola crossing the line first by mere inches. The pilot raised his arms in triumph, the crowd erupting into applause. As the racers docked, their exhausted smiles and handshakes spoke of camaraderie despite the competition.


    ***


    The manor was quiet when we returned, the faint hum of the barrier wards now a familiar background noise. Inside, the stillness stretched, broken only by the occasional creak of the old floorboards as we climbed the stairs to my study.


    The room was a mess of organised chaos: books stacked haphazardly on every available surface, shelves groaning under the weight of ancient tomes, and my desk cluttered with scrolls, ink-pots, and quills. I still had the books I had bought earlier to pick through my build. Still un-opened.


    A single enchanted lantern hung from the ceiling, its soft golden light casting long shadows against the dark wood-panelled walls.


    Luneth had joined us as well. But she wasn¡¯t in the mood to participate. Sitting in a chair, sipping tea as she watched.


    Emberfist leaned against the desk, her arms crossed as I spread out the maps we¡¯d purchased from Joras alongside Luneth¡¯s. The intricate lines and symbols seemed to pulse faintly, the faint glow of magic lending an air of mystery to the parchment.


    ''All right,'' she said, her voice cutting through the silence. ''We¡¯ve got world maps, continental maps, city maps, and whatever this''¡ªshe gestured to Luneth¡¯s cryptic document¡ª''is supposed to be. Let¡¯s narrow it down.''


    I nodded, unrolling the map of Vallenport first. The enchanted parchment shimmered faintly, the city¡¯s twisting canals and maze-like streets almost alive with detail. I placed Luneth¡¯s map beside it, lining up landmarks and comparing symbols.


    ''We know it¡¯s somewhere in Vallenport,'' I said, tracing a finger along the southern district. ''Near the docks, if these markings are accurate. But this¡ª'' I pointed to the glyphs scrawled in bold ink on Luneth¡¯s map ''¡ªsuggests something underground.''


    ''Underground?'' Emberfist raised an eyebrow. ''You¡¯re telling me there¡¯s a secret layer to this city? Beneath the canals and the mess we already live in?''


    ''Think about it,'' I said, tapping the desk for emphasis. ''This city has been built and rebuilt countless times. New layers over old. What if there¡¯s more beneath the surface than we realise?''


    Emberfist frowned, leaning closer to study the map. ''That¡¯s a lot of what-ifs. Got any solid proof?''


    I picked up a smaller map Joras had included in our purchase¡ªa detailed rendering of Vallenport¡¯s ley lines. The enchanted lines glowed faintly, intersecting in intricate patterns across the city. ''Here,'' I said, pointing to a junction in the southern district. ''This ley point matches the glyph on Luneth¡¯s map. If there¡¯s anything of significance, it¡¯ll be here.''


    ''Or it¡¯s just a drained ley well,'' Emberfist muttered, though her eyes gleamed with curiosity.


    I rolled my eyes. ''Then why would Luneth risk her life for it? Whoever ambushed her thought this was important enough to kill for. I doubt they¡¯re chasing empty ley wells.''


    She conceded with a shrug, pulling a roasted nut from her pocket and popping it into her mouth. ''Fine. So, underground. What¡¯s the best way down?''


    ''That,'' I admitted, ''is the tricky part.''


    We turned back to the maps, scrutinising every detail. The older city layouts showed long-forgotten tunnels, some marked as ''storm drains,'' others labelled cryptically as ''catacombs.'' The glyphs on Luneth¡¯s map seemed to align with one particular set of tunnels beneath the southern docks, branching off into a section marked only as ''The Forgotten Reservoir.''


    Emberfist¡¯s finger hovered over the map. ''Here. This reservoir. Nobody in their right mind would go near it.''


    ''Why not?'' I asked, scanning the name for anything obviously dangerous.


    ''Flooding risk,'' she said, her tone matter-of-fact. ''Any structure under the docks is bound to be unstable. And if it¡¯s connected to old ley lines? That¡¯s a recipe for magical backlash.''


    ''Which explains why it¡¯s the perfect hiding spot,'' I said, feeling a thrill of discovery. ''Nobody would look here because they¡¯d assume it¡¯s abandoned¡ªor too dangerous. Or that someone had already checked it''


    Emberfist smirked. ''You really think you¡¯re onto something, don¡¯t you?''


    I returned the smirk. ''Call it a hunch.''


    As we cross-referenced the maps, a clearer picture began to emerge. The reservoir wasn¡¯t just a forgotten relic¡ªit was connected to a network of tunnels leading to key points across the city. One tunnel, marked faintly on the ley map, led directly to the docks. Another, more faded, hinted at a passage extending toward the Duke¡¯s palace.


    ''That¡¯s bold,'' Emberfist muttered, tracing the line toward the palace. ''If this map is accurate, these tunnels could bypass half the city¡¯s defences.''


    ''And nobody knows about it,'' I said, feeling the weight of the revelation. ''Or at least, nobody who¡¯s alive.''


    Emberfist shook her head. ¡®Don¡¯t forget about the Moonwardens.¡¯ She said. ¡®Don¡¯t underestimate Vallenport. All of these old-timers. They¡¯ve all got a lot of history behind them.¡¯


    Emberfist tilted her head, studying the overlapping maps with a mixture of scepticism and intrigue. ''So, what¡¯s the next step? We waltz down to the docks and hope we don¡¯t drown?''


    ''Not quite,'' I said, rolling up the maps carefully and placing them in a protective case. ''We¡¯ll need supplies¡ªand a way to keep the Waveguards and the Moonwarden¡¯s off our trail.''


    She laughed, a sharp, fiery sound that echoed in the quiet study. ''You¡¯ve really got a taste for danger, don¡¯t you?''


    ''Let¡¯s just say I¡¯d rather face a flooded tunnel than another festival crowd,'' I replied with a grin.


    As I extinguished the lantern, the maps safely tucked away, I felt a strange sense of anticipation.


    The clues were finally leading us somewhere¡ªsomewhere forgotten, hidden, and possibly dangerous. But for the first time in days, it felt like we were finally moving forward.


    Outside, the hum of the city continued, the festival¡¯s energy undimmed by the weight of the secrets buried beneath it.


    ***


    The manor felt unusually quiet as I prepared to leave for dinner. Emberfist and Luneth had practically buried themselves in the maps, their hushed voices punctuated by occasional sharp quips from Emberfist or Luneth¡¯s muttered exclamations. It was clear they weren¡¯t going anywhere tonight.


    ''You sure you two don¡¯t want to eat?'' I asked, leaning against the doorway of the study.


    ''Go on,'' Emberfist said, not even looking up. She was tracing a line on one of the older maps with her gauntleted finger. ''We¡¯ve got this. Besides, you¡¯re better at charming restaurant staff than deciphering ancient symbols.''


    Luneth snorted, flipping through one of the map-maker¡¯s books. ''He¡¯s better at charming in general.''


    I rolled my eyes. ''Suit yourselves.''


    Stepping out into the evening, I was greeted by the soft hum of the city at twilight. Vallenport had settled into the second night of the Lantern Festival, the canals glowing with reflections of floating lanterns. Their light painted rippling golds and soft blues across the water, and the air was thick with the scent of grilling fish, spiced bread, and roasted nuts. The festival felt different at night¡ªmore intimate, like the city was breathing in sync with its visitors.


    I walked without a destination in mind, letting my feet carry me through winding streets and over arched bridges. Small crowds gathered around gondolas lit with soft magical glows, their pilots regaling passengers with songs that echoed across the water. Vendors called out to passersby, their carts overflowing with skewered meats, fried dumplings, and an array of sparkling drinks.


    Eventually, I came across an interesting sight. A floating restaurant. Nestled gently on the shimmering waters of one of Vallenport¡¯s quieter canal. It wasn¡¯t tethered to the shore like most establishments but drifted slowly along the water, its enchanted hull glowing faintly with soft blue light. Gondolas ferried diners to and from the floating platform, their pilots dressed in sleek uniforms adorned with embroidered waves.


    The restaurant itself was a marvel of magical engineering¡ªa circular structure with a glass dome that offered an unobstructed view of the night sky and the festival lanterns. Small enchanted orbs floated inside, casting warm, shifting hues across the polished wood floors. Tables were spaced generously, each set with pristine white linens and flickering candles encased in shells.


    I took a Gondola over to the restaurant. The gondola ride over was serene, the water lapping gently against the sides of the boat. The pilot, an older woman with a steady hand and a soft hum to her voice, guided the gondola expertly to the platform. I stepped off, the faint rocking of the restaurant beneath my feet quickly adjusted to by the subtle magic that kept it stable.


    A hostess greeted me at the entrance, her elegant robes shimmering like liquid silver. ''Welcome to The Floating Tide,'' she said, her voice calm and melodic. ''Do you have a reservation?''


    ''I don¡¯t,'' I admitted, glancing around at the half-filled tables. ''Any chance there¡¯s room for one more?''


    Her smile didn¡¯t falter. ''Of course. We always keep a table open for wandering souls during the festival.''


    She led me to a table near the edge of the platform, where the view was stunning. The canal stretched out in both directions, reflecting the festival lanterns in a kaleidoscope of colours. Gondolas passed occasionally, their occupants waving cheerfully. Above, the twin moons Lunaris and Noctis hung low, casting their pale light across the city.


    A server arrived almost immediately, placing a slender, glowing menu before me. ''Tonight, we¡¯re offering our Emberglow Festival Specials,'' he explained. ''Every dish inspired by the four seasons of Vallenport. Would you like a recommendation?''


    I scanned the menu.


    Spring: Verdant Blossom Soup


    A delicate broth infused with enchanted flowers that bloom in the bowl, releasing subtle herbal aromas.


    Summer: Sunswell Seared Sea Bass


    Freshly caught and grilled with citrus glaze, served alongside glowing salt crystals that crackle faintly.


    Autumn: Harvest Moon Risotto


    Creamy rice infused with roasted pumpkin and enchanted mushrooms that glow faintly in the dim light.


    Winter: Frostember Sorbet


    A dessert of icy precision, flavoured with mint and a hint of stardust, served in a bowl of crystalline ice.


    ''All excellent choices,'' the server said, noticing my hesitation. ''But if you¡¯re undecided, I recommend the Festival Flight¡ªa tasting platter featuring all four.''


    ''Let¡¯s go with that,'' I said, handing the menu back. ''And whatever drink pairs best.''


    The server bowed slightly. ''An excellent choice. I¡¯ll bring the festival pairing¡ªa flight of enchanted wines designed to complement each course.''


    The first dish arrived on a platter that shimmered faintly, the bowl of Verdant Blossom Soup set in the centre. Tiny buds floated on the surface, opening slowly as the warmth of the broth released their fragrance. The taste was light and floral, with a hint of sweetness that lingered pleasantly.


    Next came the Sunswell Seared Sea Bass, its golden crust glistening under the light. The citrus glaze was vibrant, cutting through the richness of the fish, while the salt crystals added a delightful crackle with each bite. The accompanying wine, a bright and effervescent white, enhanced the dish perfectly.


    The Harvest Moon Risotto followed, its warm, earthy flavours a comforting contrast to the crispness of the summer course. The glowing mushrooms added a subtle umami, and the wine pairing¡ªa rich amber ale¡ªrounded out the flavours.


    Finally, the Frostember Sorbet arrived, its frosted bowl shimmering like a piece of winter itself. The mint was sharp but balanced, the stardust leaving a faint, pleasant tingle on my tongue. The accompanying drink¡ªa chilled, sparkling liqueur¡ªbrought the entire experience to a refreshing close.


    As I dined, a small quartet played softly in one corner, their instruments glowing faintly to match the restaurant¡¯s ambience. Conversations hummed around me, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter or the gentle clink of glasses.


    The gentle rocking of the restaurant against the canal was soothing, a subtle reminder of the city¡¯s connection to the tides. Outside, a gondola passed with a group of children releasing floating lanterns. The lights drifted upward, joining the hundreds already dotting the sky.


    As I sipped the last of the liqueur, I couldn¡¯t help but marvel. Vallenport, this world was a city of magic¡ªnot for its grand displays or enchanted artefacts, but for moments like this.


    The server returned with the bill, but before I could pay, he smiled and placed a small glowing token on the table. ''A gift from the house,'' he said. ''For first-time visitors.''


    I picked up the token, its surface warm to the touch. Etched into it was a wave cresting over a crescent moon¡ªthe symbol of the Tidekeepers.


    It reminded me of something.


    It was the same blue as [Mordrath¡¯s Stone].


    Azure, the scholar who had visited me back then had said that her family first acquired it at an auction. Several hundred years ago. From a famous sorcerer.


    Could it have come from here? Was there a connection between that sorcerer? Could the previous owner have been Edran? The ghost of my manor?


    Was that stone the key then ¡ª and not the dungeon key that I had?


    Had I already had the answer the whole time?


    I snapped back to reality. I nodded my thanks, pocketing the token before heading back to the gondola.


    The ride home was quiet, the city¡¯s lights reflecting softly in the canals. For the first time in what felt like days, I felt at peace.

 Chapter 14 – Preparing to Enter the Dungeon

    ===


    Closed for the Festival. Back tomorrow with fresh brews and pastries.


    ===


    Damn. Still closed.


    I was annoyed. The Gilded Hearth was still shut. Same sign hanging up as yesterday.


    Plain brown parchment paper. Neatly written common script. Sign hung on the door of a two-story cafe tucked into a quiet corner of Vallenport¡¯s market district.


    Did she write the sign wrong? Maybe it was meant to say back with fresh brews instead of back tomorrow with fresh brews?


    I walked there early. Early enough for the sun to be rising.


    Was I too early? But Brenna normally did open that early.


    It had been foggy in the morning for the last couple of days. An early morning mist. The fog mixing with the sun to make a pinkish-purplish fog. Blanketing the canals, the leftover signs, flags and decorations for the lantern festival and covering it in a shimmering dew. But it dried quickly disappearing as the hot summer sun rose into the sky.


    I had to go somewhere else again.


    Maybe the spot I went yesterday?


    But I didn¡¯t feel like eggs or talking. I had some books tucked under my arm. I wanted to sit somewhere, read and eat breakfast.


    I turned and started walking.


    As the sun got higher in the sky. The crowds slowly appeared. More and more gondolas appeared in the water.


    I walked along the Grand Canal. Vallenport was a city built on a series of interlocking islands. All connected by stone bridges and waterways, giving it a mystical ambience.


    The Grand Canal connected everything. Follow it and you could walk through every one of the six main districts of Vallenport. It wasn¡¯t the straightest route - snaking around - but you would eventually get from one end to the other.


    I decided to walk along to the entrance of the Grand Canal. The Harbour District. Early in the morning the crowd was interesting. Humans, elves, dwarves, beast-people and a lot of merchants.


    As I walked along the cobblestone path the wind picked up and I heard the singing stones. Towards the Harbour District, buried underneath the cobblestones was an ancient formation that made the songs sing¡ª emitting a soft melody when the wind blew on them.


    A lo-fi melody. A gentle whistling jazz.


    Other than merchants were tourists. You could tell they were tourists, most of them had the blue map books that filled half of Joras¡¯ map shop.


    Eventually I arrived at the Seafront Promenade in the Harbour District. It was built along the city¡¯s main bay in the harbour district. Good views of the water. On a morning that wasn¡¯t misty you could even see all the way to the Storm Shores and the permanent storms that gave it its name.


    Not today. Too misty.


    I didn¡¯t like the Promenade. Too busy. Gilded Hearth was better. It was close-by. Busy-but-not-too-busy.


    The Promenade had one thing for it. A good selection. It was packed with restaurants, inns, and craft shops. The buzz of trade and the shouts of gondola drivers hawking tours for tourists was the majority of the noise this early.


    I smiled at the crowds. Looking around.


    A good change of pace. Oh?


    I saw a familiar orange sign. The Rolling Crust ¨C with no crowds.


    It was famous. It sold a fancy type of meatball pastry. Normally there was a line from one end of the promenade to the other. Several blocks long. So I had never eaten there.


    How lucky. It was deserted.


    I walked up to the counter.


    ¡®I¡¯d like one of the meatball pastries¡¯ I said pointing at the sing.


    The old woman in an orange apron at the counter shook her head ¡®Sorry we don¡¯t serve them until the next bell.¡¯


    Unlucky. The bells had just rung and the next bell was three hours. Bells rang every three hours ¡ª the first being the dawn bell. All the way until midnight.


    The old woman continued: ¡®Would you like to order something else?¡¯


    ¡®Ah ¡ª I¡¯ll think about it.¡¯ I said walking way.


    I rubbed my hand on my chin, thinking. What should I do?Should I go somewhere else?  I walked away. I did want to go to a cafe to read.


    Wait? Why am I so confused?


    Bong.


    Bong.


    Bong.


    Bong.


    Bong.


    Bong.


    The deep, warm sound of a bell rang. It rang six times.


    Oh no. She meant the prime bell!


    I got tricked.


    The first bell was the Dawn Bell - then the Prime Bell - at 6a.m. I had heard a bell and thought it was the Prime Bell.


    I turned back towards the meatball place.


    There was a line stretching out of sight.


    Aaaah. Missed it.


    I wasn¡¯t gonna wait.


    I walked around before I found a quiet spot. A small Bard¡¯s Cafe. Ordered my usual.


    A Bards Cafe was just a normal cafe with a small stage in the middle for performances. This early in the day ¡ª deserted. Musicians were a lazy bunch. It got busy late. Exactly what I wanted.


    Other than me there was only a pair of people talking quietly at a table in the corner.


    I put my books down on the chair. And a paper bag on the table.


    Actually I lied. I had waited in line.


    I wanted the pastries.


    The waiter dropped off my drink.


    I pulled the pastry out of the bag. It was round. The size of a small mandarin. Golden brown crispy breadcrumbs sprinkled with unknown herbs. Threads of thin cheese oozed out of the cracks in the reading.


    I bit into it. It crunched. Satisfying. The meat inside was tender. Wrym? Beef? I wasn¡¯t sure what that was but it was fantastic.


    I briefly forgot about the books. I ate quickly. 6 pastries were too few. I should¡¯ve ordered more.


    Back to the books.


    For fun I had brought some history to flip through. Tales from the Forgotten Isles, Explorers Almanac of the Elder Isles. Lots of books about the past.


    For magic I had brought A Guide to Ruins and Relics which talked about traps and the most common exploration and detection spells to counter them and The Mage¡¯s Repertoire: Spells for Every Adventurer. A catalogue of spells categorized by utility, combat, and support. It also included a lot of lesser-known spells, encouraging experimentation.


    I started with the magic books and considered my options.


    So far I had [Mage¡¯s Hand] and that was it. I had to fill 6 spell-slots. So 1/6. The bookstore owners recommend categories were:


    <ol>


    <li>Movement</li>


    <li>Information</li>


    <li>Defence</li>


    <li>Offence</li>


    <li>Utility</li>


    <li>Support</li>


    </ol>


    I hadn¡¯t realised how much of a hack my Draconic abilities were until this moment.


    Most people only had one-spell in each category and they had to make do. My special abilities could be used for any of those purposes.


    It¡¯s like getting an extra 6 spells for nothing.


    === Tavalor


    Mana: (Max)


    Power Level: ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï (Ancient Dragon)


    Spells: 1/6 [Mage''s Hand]


    Special Abilities: Ancient Dragon


    --Active: [Dragon¡¯s Breath], [Dragon''s Flight], [Intimidation], [Appraisal]


    --Passive: [Dragon''s Sight], [Ancient Scales]


    ===


    [Dragon¡¯s Breath] covered offence.


    [Dragon¡¯s Flight] covered Movement.


    [Mage''s Hand] was good for both defence, and utility.


    [Ancient Scales] made me immune to damage. So no need for other defences.


    <ol>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Information</li>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Support</li>


    </ol>


    Looking closely. Really I only needed two spells. I had four free slots to do whatever I wanted with.


    I think [Watcher¡¯s Eye] was a definite yes.[Dragon¡¯s Sight] I think I would combine with [Watcher¡¯s Eye]. No need for [Arcane Sight]. Dragons Sight had the same effect, I could see magical auras, trace enchantments and spells.


    Hmm. What should I name it? Dragon¡¯s Sight + Watchers Eye. Get rid of the watcher and the sight. [Dragons Eye]


    Perfect. I imagined how I would use it. Floating magic cameras. I would throw out 100 different [Dragon Eye¡¯s] to scout.


    <ol>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Information: [Watcher¡¯s Eye]/[Dragon¡¯s Eye]</li>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Support</li>


    </ol>


    I remembered the conversation with Emberfist during the forest training:


    ''[Vineweave],'' Emberfist said, holding up her hand. ''A spell for the thinker. The problem-solver. You can use it to restrain enemies, climb walls, fix broken structures, or even reinforce your defences in a pinch. It¡¯s not as glamorous as Fireball, but it¡¯ll keep you alive longer.''


    Definitely [Vineweave]. It let me build a house or a shelter. Climb walls etc. Really this was the magical equivalent of a tent.


    <ol>


    <li>[Vineweave]</li>


    <li>Information: [Watcher¡¯s Eye]/[Dragon¡¯s Eye]</li>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Free choice</li>


    <li>Support</li>


    </ol>


    The others were tough.


    Hard to decide. Very hard to decide.


    The history books provided context and ideas for different types of builds. A lot of specialists builds. Shield Mages. Elemental Builds. Blademasters. Necromancers.


    Nothing unusual.


    All the other builds were unnecessary.


    Currently I was the ultimate tank. All of my special abilities made me stronger, faster and impossible to physically damage at all.


    I could crush anything with a fist.


    [Dragon¡¯s Breath] with [Mage¡¯s Hand] covered distance attacks and defence as well.


    Maybe a healing spell and a spell for stealth?


    The options that I had seen so far were trash.


    I had a basic understanding of structural magic after several months of interacting with it. And seeing it in Vallenport with [Dragon¡¯s Sight].


    Structured magic was either draconic or elvish runes in a specific combination.


    Childs play for a dragon.


    Most spells I had seen so far didn¡¯t look right.


    They were crudely written.


    Like a kindergartener¡¯s first handwriting project.


    [Mage¡¯s Hand], [Fireball] and [Vineweave] were the exception. It was as if a college professor had written it.


    Why was a low level spell constructed better than a high level spell?


    Another mystery to add to the list.


    From my research the best healing and stealth spells both came from the same sources.


    Elves or Dragons. I didn¡¯t currently have a good source for draconic spells.


    But I did for elves. I should see what Luneth would think.


    If not her ¡ª could I find elf who I could buy some spells off? Or someone else?


    Since I could easily determine spell quality ¨C it would be easy to find a good forgotten or overlooked spell somewhere for sale.


    Worst case was going all the way to the Elves. They had hidden themselves away in a hidden continent in the West. That would be my last case option.


    For now what I had was good enough. Learn [Vineweave] and [Watcher¡¯s Eye]. Pick up better spells.


    ***


    Storm Shores - Silver Spire ¨C Several Weeks Earlier


    The Storm Shores were not one big island or stretch of coastline but a group of islands. Really it should have been called an Archipelago. On one of those mist-shrouded islands, stood a citadel-- a towering white spire, with its upper chambers open to the to the winds, perpetually surrounded by swirling fog. Beneath the spire lay the Chamber of Whispers. A secret cavern hidden deep beneath the waves. It was said to amplify the visions of oracles.


    In the dim glow of the Chamber of Whispers, the air hummed with arcane energy. A circle of seven Sisters, clad in their flowing white robes, sat cross-legged around a shallow pool of silvery water. The chamber''s walls, veined with glowing crystals, echoed their rhythmic chanting as the Oracle, a tall figure with a luminous presence, stood at the pool¡¯s edge. She extended a pale hand over the water, her fingers twitching as though plucking unseen threads.


    ¡®Reveal the Veil,¡¯ the Oracle murmured, her voice carrying the weight of command. The water shimmered, then rippled outward, reflecting the image of a dungeon beneath Vallenport. Four images flashed in the pool of water. Jagged corridors, crawling with dangerous shadows. Traps etched in shadowy-runes. A hidden vault brimming with treasures.


    The Sisters leaned in. Twisting pathways. Cursed sigils. A lone survivor fleeing with a broken artifact. Every detail burned into memory. One whispered, words unravelling into the air, binding themselves to enchanted crystal tablets.


    The tablets left the island faster than light. Long-established channels carried the whispers. Across continents. Through shadows. The White Robes dealt in information, and nothing travelled faster than something people were willing to pay for.


    ***


    Several Weeks Earlier - Northern Continent - Imperial Solara


    The auroras burned green and purple over a white wasteland. Mountains, jagged and silent. The comet cut through the sky, a streak of gold, its light throwing long shadows across the tundra.


    The beasts howled, then stopped. Then went mad. Soldiers, bloodied and tired, had spent weeks cleaning them out. This was the last push.


    Kethar, the Beastslayer, stood on a frozen ridge, his fur-lined silver armor slick with blood. His blonde hair caught the wind. Beside him, Auris adjusted his enchanted scarf, its runes faintly glowing. Crimson robes, red hair, a look too refined for this kind of cold. Too elegant for the battlefield.


    They had just received fresh orders from the Capital. Word from the Silver Spire had spread.


    Auris unfolded the parchment. His eyes narrowed. ''A dungeon. Tied to ancient magic. If Vallenport takes it, they¡¯ll rival the Imperium.''


    Kethar didn¡¯t look at him. ''We¡¯ll reach it first,'' he said, his voice flat. ''Let their nobles try to stop us.''


    The order was given. Soldiers boarded the warship, its hull bristling with enchanted weapons. Southward. To the dungeon. To the next battle.


    ***


    Several Weeks Earlier - Elder Isles - Free City of Miragos


    The Free City of Miragos was the main rival of Vallenport. A twin to it, in the Elder Isles.


    Sunlight caught gilded domes and mosaics. The harbour bustled¡ªtraders shouting, musicians playing. Cobblestone streets alive with deals and deceit. Beneath the shine, ambition. Ruthless ambition. The kind the Merchant Lords thrived on.


    The Hall of Tides. A cavern of mother-of-pearl and marble. Voices sharp. Robes rustling.


    ''If Vallenport claims the dungeon,'' one roared, his jewelled cane slamming down, ''they¡¯ll dominate the Elder Isles


    ''We must act,'' another hissed. ''Send someone. Someone capable.''


    Silence. Then Dorian stepped forward. Son of one of the Merchant Lords. Gold armor polished to a mirror sheen. A circlet catching the light. His eyes, sharp as knives.


    ''I¡¯ll go,'' he said. Smooth. A bow, theatrical. ''Miragos needs my... talents.''


    The Merchant Lords nodded. Discussion brief but agreement immediate. The Silverwind, sleek and fast, slipped from the harbour under a moonless sky. Bound for Vallenport. Bound for the dungeon.


    ***


    Several Weeks Earlier - The Mages¡¯ Council of Vallenport


    The Council of Mages convened in the Grand Arcane Hall, a towering structure overlooking Vallenport¡¯s canals. Its walls were carved with ancient glyphs that pulsed faintly, filling the air with the hum of stored magic.


    The Grand Magus, an elderly figure wrapped in a robe of starlight, presided over the meeting, his deep-set eyes gleaming with quiet authority. ''The comet heralds a shift in magical balance,'' he intoned. ''And the dungeon¡ªif it exists¡ªrepresents a risk we cannot ignore.''


    Mages whispered. Apprentices stayed silent, wide-eyed. The older ones argued.


    Drystan pushed his glasses up his nose. ''This is an opportunity,'' his voice sharp. ''If we claim the dungeon, we cement our role as the heart of magic in the Elder Isles.''


    Elarian the Elven Vice-Magus shook his head: ''An opportunity or a trap?'' he countered. ''We must tread carefully. The comet¡¯s magic is unfamiliar¡ªand dangerous.''


    Voices clashed. Heated words


    The Grand Magus raised his hand, silencing the debate. ''We shall send our best. Whatever lies beneath Vallenport must remain within the city¡¯s control.''


    No one spoke after that. The hum of magic took over. Decision made.


    ***


    Several Weeks Earlier - Vallenport¡¯s Wealthiest District


    A hidden estate. The room lit by an enchanted chandelier. The light flickered, casting long shadows over the massive round table. Dark wood. Ancient. The surface shimmered faintly, glyphs glowing with each raised voice.


    The table split the room. Nobles on one side. Practical men and women on the other. Silks and gold on one half. Leather and wool on the other. Their faces showed it all¡ªcalculation, anxiety, ambition.


    At the head of the table, Duke Cassian Mariner. Salt-and-pepper hair, sharp features, navy doublet embroidered with golden waves. The crest of House Mariner. He dominated the room. Rumours said he was dying. If so, his voice didn¡¯t show it.


    ''This dungeon is an opportunity,'' Cassian said, loud enough to cut through the tension. ''But it¡¯s also a threat. If foreign powers take it, Vallenport¡¯s independence is at risk.''


    Beside him, Lady Tidewell nodded. Years at sea had weathered her face. Silver-streaked hair pulled into a braid. Her coat¡ªfaded but elegant¡ªspoke of practicality. Her voice was steady. ''We must act decisively. Secure the dungeon. Keep outsiders out. Ensure Vallenport prospers.''


    Across from Cassian, Alden Stormridge. Broad shoulders. Rugged face. Earthy tones in his clothes. He scowled as if he didn¡¯t trust anyone in the room. ''And if the magic is dangerous?'' he asked, his tone sharp.


    Cassian didn¡¯t flinch. His eyes gleamed, hard and unrelenting. ''Then we deal with it ourselves. No outsiders. This is our city.''


    The table fell silent. The glyphs pulsed faintly.


    ***


    Several Weeks Earlier ¨C Elven Continent, Elandrial (Capital City)


    In Elandrial, the shimmering heart of the southwestern forests, crystalline spires stretched toward the heavens, their surfaces aglow with ley line energy that pulsed in harmony with the Worldtree. The comet¡¯s fiery streak burned bright against the perpetual twilight, its light reflected in the glinting canopies of the City of Light, Lunathiel. The spires seemed to hum in recognition of the comet¡¯s ancient power.


    The High Council convened in the Chamber of Eternal Glade, an open-air sanctum surrounded by twisting roots of the Worldtree itself. Runes carved into the pale bark shimmered faintly as Galarion, the Archmage, rose from his seat. Tall and imperious, he carried himself with the gravity of someone who had lived centuries and yet still found the world fascinating. His silver robes, edged in ethereal blue, caught the moonlight as he spoke.


    ¡®This comet¡¯s magic is old,¡¯ he murmured, his voice measured and deliberate, as though each word bore weight. ¡®It does not belong to our weave. If it has fallen near Vallenport, the balance is at stake.¡¯


    The Council murmured in response, their voices resonating like wind through the trees. From the assembled figures, two figures stepped forward in unison¡ªLyra and Mira, the Starlight Twins. Their crystalline armour gleamed in the moonlight, shifting from a calm silver to a determined azure as they moved.


    ¡®Their humans aren¡¯t disciplined,¡¯ Lyra said, her voice crisp and even. ¡®They don¡¯t understand the delicacy of the situation.¡¯


    ¡®And if they tamper with it¡ª¡¯ Mira added, her tone fiery, eyes sparking with passion, ¡®¡ªit could tear everything apart.¡¯


    Lyra continued, ¡®We must act swiftly.¡¯


    ¡®Decisively,¡¯ Mira finished, her hand resting briefly on the hilt of her enchanted blade.


    Their synchronized words rippled through the council.


    The twins were identical except for the hair. Mira¡¯s green hair and copper-bronze skin marked her as Wood Elf. Lyra¡¯s blond crown braid and icy blue eyes screamed High Elf nobility.


    The Archmage¡¯s eyes lingered on the twins, his voice softened. ¡®The Starbreeze will carry you to Vallenport. Ensure that this magic stays out of careless hands.¡¯


    The twins bowed in perfect harmony, their armor shifting to a resolute green. As the Council watched, they departed, the ethereal song of the Worldtree following them. The Starbreeze, a sleek vessel of glowing whitewood, awaited them, ready to brave the Stormy seas.


    ***


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The sun was bright and almost blinding when I left the cafe. The late morning sun bathed Vallenport¡¯s cobbled streets in a warm, golden glow, reflecting off the still-lingering festival lanterns that swayed lazily above the canals.


    It was different. It wasn¡¯t the usual bustle of merchants and early risers. Instead a crowd had gathered by the fountain in the square, their voices blending into an excited murmur.


    What¡¯s going on?


    At the centre of the commotion was a young newspaper boy, standing on the edge of the fountain, waving a rolled-up paper above his head. His voice rang out, clear and enthusiastic:


    ''EXTRA, EXTRA! GIANT CONTINENT DISCOVERED! Read all about it! Lands beyond the Storm Shores found at last! Mysteries, ruins, and riches await! Special Gazette edition!''


    I paused mid-step, my brow arching. Around me, snippets of conversation filled the air:


    ''Did he say a new continent?''


    ''Beyond the Storm Shores? That can¡¯t be real¡­''


    ''I heard the Sapphire Corsairs were involved. Must be true if they¡¯re saying it.''


    Curiosity piqued, I made my way toward the crowd.


    Interesting. Even Old Tavalor doesn¡¯t have any memories of giants. Only rumours that they were here first.


    The boy, no older than twelve, was thriving under the attention. His bundle of enchanted newspapers shimmered faintly with magic, the ink on their covers glinting under the sunlight. ''Don¡¯t miss out! First-hand accounts! Official confirmation from Nova Imperium College! Find out what Captain Drakemoor saw with her own eyes!''


    ''Oi, give me one!''


    ''Two for me!''


    ''Hold on, lad, I¡¯ve got coin!''


    The crowd jostled as hands reached for the papers. I lingered at the edge, arms crossed, observing. I could feel the buzz of magic emanating faintly from the newspapers¡ªa simple enchantment to catch the eye, but effective.


    Eventually, the boy caught sight of me. ''You there, sir! You look like a man who loves adventure! Special edition¡ªone silver!''


    I smirked, fishing a coin from my pocket. ''Let¡¯s see what all the fuss is about.''


    The boy hopped down from the fountain and handed me a paper with dramatic flair. ''Enjoy, sir! You¡¯ll not regret it!''


    As the crowd continued to clamour for more copies, I stepped aside, unrolling the newspaper. The front page magically leapt out at me, its bold, enchanted headline glowing faintly:


    ====


    GIANT CONTINENT DISCOVERED!


    Exclusive Report from The Vallenport Chronicle


    Beneath the headline was a sketch¡ªmagically animated¡ªof a vast, untamed land. Towering mountains faded into rolling forests, with shimmering rivers winding through the terrain. Above it all, strange auroras danced across the sky, casting an otherworldly glow.


    My eyes scanned the text:


    <u>Titanos: The Lost Continent</u>


    Expedition leader Captain Elyssa Drakemoor returns triumphant, confirming the existence of Titanos, a massive landmass beyond the Storm Shores. Early accounts suggest this continent is unlike anything known to scholars or explorers. Vast forests, towering ruins, and powerful ley lines are among the discoveries reported. The Sapphire Corsairs and Nova Imperium College have jointly verified these claims, sparking what may be the greatest age of exploration since the Age of Dragons.


    ====


    The crowd¡¯s excitement had grown louder around me. One man, clutching a paper of his own, exclaimed to his companion, ''Do you think it¡¯s true? A whole new land? Riches? Magic?''


    ''It¡¯s got to be true,'' another replied. ''The Corsairs don¡¯t lie about things like this. I heard Drakemoor even brought back artifacts¡ªstrange relics, they say.''


    ***


    The crowd¡¯s excitement had grown louder around him. One man, clutching a paper of his own, exclaimed to his companion, ''Do you think it¡¯s true? A whole new land? Riches? Magic?''


    ''It¡¯s got to be true,'' another replied. ''The Corsairs don¡¯t lie about things like this. I heard Drakemoor even brought back artifacts¡ªstrange relics, they say.''


    I folded the newspaper neatly. My mind raced.


    Titanos. I smiled in excitement. This world is amazing. An adventure. A real adventure. A new lost continent.Next up after this dungeon?


    This would take a while though. There were a lot of things to arrange if I wanted to go.


    The implications of such a discovery were staggering¡ªnew magic, ancient ruins, uncharted territories.


    And the Nova Imperium College¡¯s involvement meant this wasn¡¯t some baseless rumour, The Nova Imperium was the Imperial college of the Northern Continent after all.


    I moved to leave, but not before the newspaper boy caught his attention again, this time hollering a familiar refrain: ''Secrets of Titanos revealed! Artifacts recovered! A new chapter for Vallenport!''


    As Tavalor turned onto the main street, the voices of the crowd followed him. The city, always alive, now felt like it was humming with anticipation. Beyond the festival and the lanterns, something much larger had begun to stir.


    ***


    The curtains had been drawn and the drawing room was bathed in the soft flow of morning light filtering through the tall, arched windows.


    Emberfist sat in a large wine-coloured wing backed armchair. Her red hair glimmering in the light of the sun as she leaned forward, scanning the newspaper with an intense frown.


    Luneth, perched gracefully on the edge of a velvet chaise lounge, was a stark contrast. Her dark hair was swept back into a loose braid, and her silver spectacles glinted as she read the same newspaper, her expression calm but her eyes sharp with curiosity.


    The TITANOS headline dominated the front page, its bold letters almost leaping off the crisp parchment. Both Emberfist and Luneth turned their attention to me as I entered the room, their expressions betraying varying degrees of concern and interest.


    ''So you guys have heard already?'' I asked, glancing at the newspapers in their hands.


    Emberfist slapped the newspaper onto the armrest of her chair, her fiery red hair catching the light as she leaned forward. ''A new age? Ha. More like a chaotic one. TITANOS isn¡¯t just some ancient ruin¡ªit¡¯s the match that¡¯ll light a powder keg. All the empires¡ªthey¡¯re all gonna start moving, and fast.''


    Luneth, perched on the edge of the chaise lounge, adjusted her silver spectacles, her dark eyes flicking toward Emberfist with a smirk. ''You¡¯re not wrong. The Northern and Western Empires are already stirring. The Northern Imperium of Solara? They¡¯ll send their fleets before long. And the Confederacy? They might seem disjointed, but Shimmerwind alone has enough resources to make this messy. Not to mention the Celestial and Jade Dynasties from the East¡ªonce they catch wind of Titanos, they¡¯ll mobilize, too.''


    Emberfist scoffed, crossing her arms. ''And the elves? They¡¯ve been quiet for too long. This is exactly the kind of thing to get them out of their forests and back into the world stage. Let¡¯s not even start on the Free Cities¡ªthey¡¯d sell their own kin to get an edge.''


    I nodded, stepping closer to the centre of the room, my gaze shifting between them. ''It¡¯s not just about who gets there first. Titanos is too big a pie. It¡¯s enough to make everyone go mad. It¡¯s a new age. An Age of Exploration.¡¯


    I felt excited. Those kind of stories were always my favourites. Discovering a new world. A new continent.


    Luneth¡¯s tone dropped, her voice cold and precise. ''Exactly. And in chaos, those who move quietly and decisively win. Rushing in like fools will just get us killed¡ªor worse, leave us empty-handed while others reap the rewards.''


    Emberfist grinned, a fiery glint in her eyes. ''We need to take action. Stake our claim. Better than skulking in the shadows, waiting for scraps.''


    Luneth arched a brow. ''Do you really think brute force is the answer here, Emberfist?''


    ''Not brute force. Precision force.'' Emberfist leaned back, her grin fading slightly. ''Look, I¡¯m not saying we rush in with swords blazing. But we can¡¯t sit back and let them take everything. This isn¡¯t just about artifacts. Titanos holds the kind of knowledge that could shift the balance of power. We need to stake our claim.''


    I raised a hand, cutting through their growing argument. ''But this is a long term thing. We aren¡¯t going there tomorrow. We don¡¯t even know where it is.''


    ''What have you heard about the dungeon?'' I asked, changing the subject. my voice low, almost conspiratorial. ''Any progress?''


    Emberfist leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. ''Rumours,'' he said with a grunt. ''Most of them useless. They say it¡¯s old, dangerous, and filled with more traps than treasures. Typical scare tactics to keep the faint-hearted away. But one thing keeps coming up¡ªthose who¡¯ve tried to map it haven¡¯t returned.''


    Luneth¡¯s voice was a sharp counterpoint. ''Not entirely true,'' she said, her tone cool and matter-of-fact. ''One explorer made it out, or so the whispers go. Half-mad and missing a leg, but alive enough to claim he saw something¡ªa chamber filled with glowing relics.¡¯


    I nodded, absorbing their words. ''And the factions?''


    ''House Mariner has sent scouts,'' Emberfist replied, his tone sour. ''That lot is always first to sniff out opportunity. But I¡¯ve heard whispers of outsiders arriving¡ªImperium Solara, Miragos, even some from the Elven Continent. They won¡¯t wait. Neither should we.''


    Luneth leaned forward now, her voice dropping to a near whisper. ''I¡¯ve been gathering intel. There¡¯s talk of an archive with clues. If we can find it first, it might give us the edge we need.''


    I tapped my fingers on the armrest, my mind racing. ''Let¡¯s find out more. We¡¯re this close.'' I said showing a small gap between my index finger and thumb.


    They both nodded, the weight of the moment settling over us. The morning light seemed sharper now, the future stretching out before us like the labyrinth we were about to plunge into.


    ''For now,'' I said, breaking the silence, ''we focus on the dungeon. Every lead, every scrap of information. If it¡¯s out there, we need to know about it before anyone else does.''


    Luneth smirked faintly. ''Leave that to me.''


    Emberfist uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. ''And if it comes to clearing a path, you know I¡¯m ready.''


    ***


    The Harbor District was alive with chaos and anticipation. Traders yelled over each other, gondoliers navigated the crowded canals, and street performers played lively tunes to distract from the thick tension in the air. All eyes, however, were drawn to the docks, where three ships arrived within hours of one another.


    First to appear cutting through the morning mist, was the Starbreeze. A crystalline vessel of Elven make, its hull shimmered like starlight caught in glass. Its sails, spun from enchanted silk, glowed faintly with ley line energy, and the water beneath it seemed unnaturally calm, as though in reverence to its passage.


    Onlookers murmured as the ship docked with perfect precision, its crew disembarking in seamless, silent unity. It had been a long time since anybody had seen High Elves.


    Next came the Imperial Warship, its presence announced by the deep toll of its iron bell. Black iron hull, bristling with enchanted cannons, it dwarfed every other ship in the harbour. The banners of Imperium Solara snapped in the wind, a blazing sun against crimson. Soldiers in silver and crimson armour marched off the gangplank with precise steps, their commander¡ªa towering figure with golden epaulettes¡ªcasting an imposing shadow over the bustling docks.


    The final arrival was the Silverwind, barely noticeable at first. Sleek, subtle, it slipped into the harbour like a shadow. Its dark wooden hull bore no sigils or banners, only faint carvings that hinted at its Free City origin. The crew disembarked quickly, blending into the crowd. From the upper deck, a young man in golden armour watched the chaos below, his polished boots gleaming in the midday sun.


    ***


    Three Days Earlier, Day Before Lantern Festival


    The Golden Lantern Inn was the finest in the Harbor District, a sprawling three-story building with ivy-covered walls and windows glowing warmly against the evening mist. It was where dignitaries, merchants, and the occasional adventurer sought comfort after a long journey. Tonight, however, its halls were filled with more than the usual mix of curious travellers.


    The Twins, Lyra and Mira, entered first, their crystalline armour shifting to a neutral grey, reflecting their calm composure. Mira glanced around the crowded room, her green eyes sharp, while Lyra¡¯s icy gaze lingered on the bar where a black haired young man in polished golden armour leaned casually, a drink in hand.


    ¡®That one,¡¯ Mira murmured under her breath. ¡®Something¡¯s off.¡¯


    Lyra didn¡¯t respond, but her gaze narrowed slightly.


    The man¡ªDorian of the Free Cities of Miragos¡ªsmiled faintly as if aware of their scrutiny. He raised his glass in a subtle salute to the sisters, as though he could hear their unspoken suspicions.


    The doors swung open, the room falling momentarily silent as Kethar strode in, his fur-lined silver armour still dusted with frost from the Northern Continent. His loud footsteps echoed through the inn. Behind him, Auris, the mage in crimson robes, followed, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of curiosity and disdain.


    ¡®You¡¯re too loud,¡¯ Auris muttered under his breath, his voice clipped.


    Kethar didn¡¯t slow. ¡®And you¡¯re too cautious. If we want answers, we demand them. Not skulk about like thieves.¡¯


    ¡®Demanding leads to nothing but dead ends,¡¯ Auris replied, his tone cutting. ¡®Or perhaps you¡¯ve forgotten how diplomacy works?¡¯


    Their bickering drew looks from the other patrons, but Kethar seemed unbothered, his presence dominating the room as he made his way to the innkeeper.


    From a shadowed corner, Lord Alden of House Stormridge sat with two other nobles. His gaze flicked between the twins, Dorian, and the Solaran duo. ¡®An interesting gathering,¡¯ he murmured to his companions, his tone dry.


    The room buzzed with quiet tension. The Twins exchanged glances, their thoughts aligned. Dorian took another sip of his drink, his expression unreadable. Auris and Kethar¡¯s argument grew louder until the innkeeper shot them a warning look. From his corner, Alden watched it all unfold, noting every glance, every word, every hesitation.


    ***


    The Lantern Festival filled the streets of Vallenport with a kaleidoscope of light and sound. Lanterns of every shape and colour floated above the canals, their enchanted glows casting rippling patterns on the water. Musicians played lively tunes from gondolas, and vendors called out to the crowds, offering everything from sugared almonds to steaming cups of spiced cider. Beneath the revelry, however, the tension was palpable.


    Lyra and Mira moved through the crowd like a single entity, their crystalline armour shimmering faintly with every step. Their synchronised movements turned heads wherever they went, whispers trailing behind them like smoke.


    ¡®Look at them,¡¯ a female merchant muttered to her companion. ¡®So pretty. Even when they walk. Like they¡¯re dancing without meaning to.¡¯


    Mira¡¯s green eyes flicked to the onlookers, sharp as blades. Lyra, sensing the same unease, kept her icy gaze forward, ignoring the murmurs. They weren¡¯t here to entertain¡ªthey were here to observe.


    ¡®Too many eyes,¡¯ Mira murmured under her breath.


    ¡®Let them look,¡¯ Lyra replied coolly. ¡®The more they watch us, the less they see elsewhere.¡¯


    ***


    In stark contrast to the twins¡¯ grace, Kethar cut through the festival like a storm through calm waters. His fur-lined silver armour gleamed in the lantern light, and his sheer size made people part before him without a word.


    ¡®Isn¡¯t that one of the Imperium¡¯s Beastslayers?¡¯ a man whispered to his companion, his voice tinged with fear.


    Kethar pretended not to hear, though his sharp gaze scanned the crowd for threats¡ªor opportunities. He was aware of the whispers, the sidelong glances.


    Good. Fear had its uses.


    ***


    Auris lingered near a group of scholars debating the magical origins of the lanterns. His crimson robes and faintly glowing scarf made him look like just another learned mage, blending seamlessly into the intellectual crowd.


    ¡®Fascinating, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ he said, his voice smooth, drawing the attention of a particularly animated speaker. ¡®But tell me¡ªwhat have you heard of Titanos? Such a topic would surely interest a scholar like yourself.¡¯


    The scholar hesitated, eyes narrowing. ¡®You ask dangerous questions, my friend.¡¯


    Auris smiled faintly, inclining his head. ¡®And only the brave seek answers.¡¯


    ***


    Dorian was the festival¡¯s golden prince. He moved through the crowd with easy charm, his polished armour catching the light as he laughed with nobles and flirted with merchants¡¯ daughters.


    But behind the mask of a charming noble, he played a different game.


    In a shadowed corner of the marketplace, he leaned close to a hooded figure. Their whispered exchange lasted only seconds, but Dorian slipped away as though nothing had happened, a faint smirk on his lips.


    ¡®Keep them talking,¡¯ he muttered to himself as he rejoined the crowd. ¡®The less they notice me, the better.¡¯


    ***


    The Vallenport Grand Library stood as a towering monument to knowledge, its arched windows glowing faintly from within. Situated in the heart of the Scholar¡¯s Quarter, it was a haven for the learned and the curious alike.


    Lyra and Mira entered with a quiet grace that turned heads. Their crystalline armour caught the light of the enchanted lamps, reflecting soft hues of silver The librarian, a sharp-eyed man in burgundy robes, trailed after them, his expression growing increasingly irritated as the twins moved in perfect synchrony through the aisles.


    ¡®You could at least explain what you¡¯re looking for,¡¯ he muttered under his breath. ¡®Makes it easier to help.¡¯


    Lyra turned, her icy blue gaze sharp. ¡®We¡¯ll manage,¡¯ she said evenly, her tone polite but distant.


    ¡®Thank you for your¡­ attention,¡¯ Mira added, her voice a subtle echo of her sister¡¯s.


    The librarian threw up his hands and retreated, muttering about ¡®maddening precision.¡¯


    In a quieter corner of the library, a young scholar paused mid-scroll as the twins approached. His eyes lingered on their matching crystalline armour, his curiosity plain.


    ¡®You¡¯re¡­ unusual,¡¯ he said, his voice trembling slightly as he adjusted his spectacles. ¡®That armour¡ªare you from Lunathiel? I¡¯ve read about the Elven Continent, but¡­ I¡¯ve never seen anyone like you.¡¯


    Lyra offered a faint smile. ¡®Few have.¡¯


    Not long after, a faint rustling signalled the arrival of another pair¡ªelves from the southern continent. Their green-and-gold cloaks shimmered faintly, their sharp features unmistakably Wood Elven. They paused mid-step when they spotted Luneth, standing near a towering bookshelf, her pale skin and moonlit aura stark against the library¡¯s warm tones.


    One of the Wood Elves, a tall male with deep green eyes, froze, his hand gripping the edge of a shelf. ¡®A Moon Elf,¡¯ he whispered, his voice reverent, almost disbelieving.


    His companion, a shorter elf with braided auburn hair, glanced at Luneth with wide eyes. ¡®I thought they never left the Lunar Isles.¡¯


    Luneth turned, her silver gaze cool and unreadable. ¡®We don¡¯t,¡¯ she said simply, her tone carrying an air of quiet finality.


    The taller elf stepped forward cautiously, as if afraid she might vanish. ¡®What brings one of your kind here? To Vallenport, of all places?¡¯


    Luneth tilted her head slightly, her expression betraying nothing. ¡®The same thing that brings you,¡¯ she said, her voice soft but firm. ¡®Knowledge.¡¯


    The Wood Elves exchanged glances, clearly unsettled. ¡®It¡¯s¡­ an honour,¡¯ the shorter one murmured, bowing slightly.


    Luneth inclined her head in acknowledgement, then turned her attention back to the shelf, her movements deliberate and dismissive.


    The room¡¯s delicate tension shattered as the heavy oak doors swung open. Kethar strode in, his fur-lined silver armour gleaming, his broad frame commanding immediate attention. Behind him, Auris followed, his crimson robes flowing as if he glided rather than walked.


    The Wood Elves stiffened, retreating a step as Kethar¡¯s gaze swept the room, lingering on the twins and then Luneth. His presence was a storm rolling into the quiet sanctuary of the library.


    ¡®How quaint,¡¯ Auris said smoothly, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. ¡®A gathering of minds from every corner of the world. It¡¯s almost poetic.¡¯


    Mira¡¯s green eyes narrowed. ¡®Poetry isn¡¯t why you¡¯re here.¡¯


    Auris¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡®No, but civility might go a long way.¡¯ He bowed slightly toward the twins. ¡®And you must be Lyra and Mira of Lunathiel. Your reputation precedes you.¡¯


    Kethar snorted, stepping past him. ¡®We¡¯re not here for pleasantries. We¡¯re here for answers.¡¯


    Lyra¡¯s gaze remained icy, her voice even. ¡®And barging into a library like an angry bear is how you plan to find them?¡¯


    The tension thickened, every movement weighted. The Wood Elves exchanged uneasy glances, and even the librarian seemed to shrink behind his desk.


    Auris raised a hand, his tone soothing. ¡®We¡¯re all here for the same purpose, aren¡¯t we? Knowledge. Let¡¯s not spoil the opportunity with unnecessary conflict.¡¯


    For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then Lyra turned back to the shelf, Mira following suit.


    ***


    The Moonwarden Records Office was a modest stone building in the heart of the Scholar¡¯s Quarter, its arched windows dimly glowing with the light of enchanted lamps. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of aged parchment, and the quiet scratch of quills was a constant backdrop as clerks and scholars worked.


    I stood at a reading table near the back, surrounded by stacks of documents. My fingers brushed over a faded scroll, the words whispering of long-forgotten history. Then, the door creaked open, breaking my concentration.


    I glanced up just as Dorian walked in, his polished golden armour catching the faint light of the room. He had the kind of presence that turned heads¡ªeffortless charm wrapped in arrogance. Even the clerk at the front desk straightened, her brow arching in mild surprise.


    ¡®Good afternoon,¡¯ he said smoothly, sliding a document across the desk with a winning smile. ¡®I¡¯d like to request access to the historical archives. Particularly anything related to¡­ well, let¡¯s call it sensitive matters.¡¯


    The clerk frowned, her fingers hovering over the document. ¡®You¡¯re not the first to ask about those records today,¡¯ she said, suspicion in her tone.


    Dorian leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, and then slid a heavy bag of coins across the counter. ¡®A fascinating subject, isn¡¯t it? I assure you, my interests are purely academic. The Free Cities have always admired Vallenport¡¯s archival thoroughness.¡¯


    Her frown softened as she pocketed the coins, gesturing toward the stairs. ¡®Second floor. Section E. You¡¯ll find what you¡¯re looking for there.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re an absolute gem,¡¯ Dorian said, flashing another dazzling smile as he ascended the stairs.


    The second floor was quieter, the air thick with dust and the faint rustling of papers. From my place at the reading table, I watched him enter Section E, his gaze scanning the shelves with practised ease. He paused, noticing the gaps where scrolls had recently been borrowed. His hand brushed a nearby logbook, and I caught his faint murmur:


    ¡®Interesting. I¡¯m not the only one digging.¡¯


    His attention shifted toward me then, drawn by the movement of my hand over a tome. His approach was measured, calculated. When he was close enough, he tilted his head, studying me.


    ¡®You seem far from home,¡¯ he said, his voice light but probing.


    I turned to face him fully, my horns casting faint shadows in the dim light. ¡®And you seem far too polished to be searching through dusty records,¡¯ I replied, a faint smile tugging at my lips.


    He chuckled, leaning casually against the table. ¡®Touch¨¦. But Vallenport has a way of drawing unexpected company, doesn¡¯t it?¡¯


    My gaze flicked to the scroll in his hand. ¡®You¡¯re not the first to say that.¡¯


    ¡®Neither are you, it seems,¡¯ he countered, gesturing to the documents I had collected.


    We studied each other for a moment, the silence between us heavy with unspoken questions. Finally, I broke it. ¡®Perhaps we¡¯ll find answers. Or perhaps we¡¯ll only find more questions.¡¯


    He tilted his head, his smile never faltering. ¡®Either way, it¡¯s going to be fascinating.¡¯


    The tension hung in the air as we both turned back to our work, the faint rustle of parchment the only sound. Whatever paths had brought us here, it was clear they were destined to cross again.


    ***


    The shop stood in a quiet nook of the district, nestled between a jeweller¡¯s with opalescent windows and a gondola repair stall reeking of tar and varnish. The Cartographer¡¯s Compass, read the hand-painted sign, its curling letters reminiscent of waves. Beneath it, smaller text declared: Navigating the Unknowable since 784 A.M.


    The door, carved with a detailed compass rose inlaid with shimmering brass, was a work of art in itself. The air outside carried hints of brine and parchment, a promise of the treasures within.


    Inside, the air was cooler, heavier, carrying the distinct scent of old parchment, fresh ink, and something faintly metallic. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with scrolls, atlases, and bound tomes. Odd objects cluttered the tops¡ªspinning globes that turned without touch, brass instruments etched with intricate runes, and a glass sphere filled with floating ink that swirled and shifted, forming continents and seas before dissolving into abstract patterns.


    At the centre of the room stood a large, heavy table. Its surface was dominated by a glowing map of Vallenport. The canals shimmered with enchanted light, pulsing in time with the tides. Tiny flickers of light darted across its surface, representing gondolas and ships moving through the city.


    Behind the counter stood the cartographer, tall and severe, his silver monocle glinting as he scrutinised us. His vest, embroidered with constellations, hinted at precision and grandeur. A pen hung from a chain at his chest like a weapon, poised for swift use.


    As Emberfist stepped toward the counter, the door creaked open again, and the familiar glow of crystalline armour entered her peripheral vision.


    Lyra and Mira, the Starlight Twins, moved as one, their synchronised steps drawing the cartographer¡¯s immediate attention. Their armour refracted the faint light of the room, casting faint prismatic hues across the walls.


    Lyra¡¯s voice was calm, deliberate. ¡®We¡¯re looking for ley line maps.¡¯


    ¡®Old ones,¡¯ Mira added, her gaze already scanning the shelves.


    Before the cartographer could respond, a third voice chimed in.


    ¡®What a coincidence.¡¯


    From behind a spinning globe stepped Auris, his crimson robes flowing like liquid fire, his expression poised and unreadable. He held a rolled map in his hand, examining it as though his presence was purely coincidental.


    ¡®You¡¯re here for ley line maps as well?¡¯ Mira¡¯s tone carried a sharp edge.


    Auris smiled faintly. ¡®Curiosity about the city¡¯s magical infrastructure is hardly exclusive, is it?¡¯


    The tension grew thick enough to cut with a blade. Emberfist crossed her arms, her fiery presence almost palpable as her gaze shifted between the twins and Auris.


    The cartographer, ever professional, cleared his throat. ¡®I only have one complete ley line map of the Elder Isles, and it¡¯s not for sale. However,¡¯ his eyes gleamed, ¡®I may be persuaded to make copies. For a price.¡¯


    ***


    The Temple of Eternal Tides was as much an archive as it was a place of worship. Its soaring vaulted ceilings were painted with celestial scenes, the constellations shifting gently across the surface as if alive. Rows of shelves, carved from pale stone and imbued with faint magical auras, held centuries¡¯ worth of scrolls and tomes. Scholars murmured in hushed tones, their voices blending with the ambient hum of magic that resonated through the air.


    The Starlight Twins were the first to arrive, their crystalline armour muted in the subdued light of the temple. They moved in perfect synchrony down the aisles of scrolls, their sharp eyes scanning for anything referencing ley lines or ancient ruins. Their presence was serene yet commanding, drawing more than a few cautious glances from the temple scribes.


    Lyra paused, holding a delicate scroll in her hands. Mira leaned closer, her voice low. ¡®This predates the disruptions. Exactly what we need.¡¯


    Before Lyra could respond, a soft cough broke the quiet. From the adjoining aisle stepped Auris, his crimson robes flowing as he feigned surprise.


    ¡®What a pleasant coincidence,¡¯ Auris said, his tone smooth, a faint smile curling his lips. ¡®The famed Starlight Twins, gracing these humble archives.¡¯


    Mira¡¯s green eyes narrowed, but Lyra kept her expression neutral. ¡®Coincidence, indeed,¡¯ she replied, her voice calm but laced with suspicion.


    Moments later, the door creaked open, and the ambient hum of the temple seemed to falter. Kethar, imposing as ever, entered the archive with heavy steps, his fur-lined silver armour catching the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. He scanned the room, his gaze locking on the group.


    ¡®Well,¡¯ Kethar said, his voice gruff. ¡®This is quite the gathering. Should I be surprised?¡¯


    Behind him, Emberfist slipped in quietly, her fiery hair and wine-red cloak stark against the temple¡¯s cool tones. She leaned casually against a pillar, her sharp eyes watching the others with amused detachment.


    Auris, always quick to seize control of a room, stepped forward, addressing no one and everyone at once. ¡®It seems we¡¯re all drawn to the same rumours. The past has a way of calling to those who seek power, doesn¡¯t it?¡¯


    ¡®Or understanding,¡¯ Lyra countered, her tone cool.


    Mira added, ¡®Some of us prefer knowledge to exploitation.¡¯


    Kethar¡¯s hand rested on the hilt of his blade, his expression unreadable. ¡®Knowledge or power, it doesn¡¯t matter. Treasure belongs to those strong enough to claim it.¡¯


    Emberfist chuckled softly from her corner. ¡®Strength is nothing without intelligence. Blundering into ancient ruins is a quick way to end up dead¡ªor worse.¡¯


    Lyra tilted her head slightly, her icy gaze fixed on Auris. ¡®I suppose your presence here is purely academic?¡¯


    Auris¡¯s smile widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes. ¡®Of course. Though I wonder, do your interests align with Lunathiel¡¯s teachings? Or is this a more¡­ personal endeavour?¡¯


    Before Mira could respond, Emberfist pushed off the pillar, stepping into the circle of conversation. ¡®Enough posturing. We¡¯re all here for the same reason. Let¡¯s not pretend otherwise.¡¯


    The room fell quiet, the air thick with unspoken challenges.


    Kethar broke the silence, his voice low and measured. ¡®If you think you can fight the Imperium, you¡¯re mistaken. We don¡¯t play games.¡¯


    ¡®Games require subtlety,¡¯ Mira shot back. ¡®Not something the Imperium is known for.¡¯


    Auris raised a hand, his tone placating but edged. ¡®Now, now, let¡¯s not let our passions overshadow our purpose. There¡¯s enough history here for all of us¡ªthough some of it may prove¡­ difficult to interpret without proper guidance.¡¯


    ¡®Careful,¡¯ Lyra said softly, her words cutting through the tension like ice. ¡®Guidance is only as good as the intentions behind it.¡¯


    The exchange ended in uneasy silence, each group retreating slightly but never fully disengaging.


    ***


    The Noble''s Rise district radiated opulence, its streets lined with luxury shops, elite residences, and towering cultural hubs. It was the first time I had been. It was nice. A luxury shopping district.


    I had decided to go somewhere fancy for a change. I had brought Luneth and Emberfist with me. We were going to The Crystal. The most exclusive restaurant in all of Vallenport.


    The Crystal was a marvel of magical engineering. Floating crystal platforms hovered over serene water gardens, their surfaces glowing faintly with enchantments. Water lilies shimmered with soft, bioluminescent light, their reflections casting a dreamlike glow over the diners. Each table was magically isolated with shimmering privacy barriers, offering an intimate cocoon where conversations remained private.


    The restaurant¡¯s reputation was legendary¡ªnot just for its supernatural service, but for its menu, featuring dishes so rare and magical they bordered on myth.


    We arrived at the Crystal Hearth in a gondola more extravagant than I would have chosen. Emberfist leaned back against the wine-coloured cushions, her fiery red hair catching the glow of the lanterns lining the canals. The gondolier¡¯s uniform shimmered faintly, embroidered with gilded waves, a testament to the kind of establishment we were about to step into.


    ¡®I could get used to this,¡¯ Emberfist muttered, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.


    Beside her, Luneth sat poised as ever, her dark braid falling neatly over one shoulder. She didn¡¯t bother looking at the scenery, her silver spectacles glinting as she adjusted the cuff of her tailored coat.


    ¡®Luxury is a mask,¡¯ Luneth said, her voice as cool as the night air. ¡®But masks have their uses.¡¯


    The gondola glided to a stop, and the gondolier tipped his cap as he helped us onto the floating crystal platform that served as the restaurant¡¯s entrance. The Crystal Hearth loomed ahead, its glowing platforms suspended over water gardens that shimmered with bioluminescent light. The air carried a faint floral scent, overlaid with the hum of distant enchantments.


    The ma?tre d¡¯ greeted us with a bow, his expression professionally neutral but his eyes flicking over our group with curiosity. Emberfist¡¯s presence alone drew stares; her commanding aura made her impossible to ignore. Luneth, with her quiet precision, offered a subtle counterpoint.


    We were led to a floating platform near the edge of the water gardens. The privacy barrier shimmered to life as we sat, its faint glow ensuring our conversation wouldn¡¯t be overheard.


    From my seat, I could see the room was filling with familiar faces. The Starlight Twins arrived soon after us, their movements synchronised as they took a table not far away. Their crystalline armour, muted for the evening, still caught the light like a fractured rainbow.


    Not long after, Auris and Kethar entered. Auris¡¯s crimson robes flowed like liquid fire, his glowing scarf catching the eye of every noble in the room. Kethar followed, his heavy silver armour clinking faintly, his sharp gaze scanning the tables as though he were on a battlefield.


    Then there was Dorian, late as ever, his golden armour catching every flicker of light in the room. He moved with calculated ease, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. His table wasn¡¯t far from ours, close enough to keep an eye on everyone else but distant enough to appear uninvolved.


    ***


    Several Kilometres Away ¨C Intersection between Scholars Quarters and South Docks


    The canals had been quiet that night, the city caught in its usual hum of activity. Then, without warning, a flash of light split the air. The barrier rose in the heart of the Scholar¡¯s Quarter, gold and silver, its surface crackling with ancient energy.


    Different groups appeared to scout it. Then messengers were sent out. In person to avoid messages interception by using communication stones.


    ***


    The Crystal prided itself on spectacle as much as taste. Each dish arrived with a performance¡ªsmoking platters, glowing goblets, and enchanted aromas that shifted with the diner¡¯s mood.


    The twins, true to their nature, ordered the exact same vegetarian courses: Sylvan Bloom Salad, its petals wilting and reviving with each bite. They ate in perfect synchrony, their mirrored movements unnerving the staff.


    Auris, ever the showman, ordered the Celestial Platter, a dish that came with a glowing orb that projected star maps onto the table. Kethar, uninterested in the flair, settled for the Exotic Beast Platter. A robust meal that crackled faintly with energy.


    Dorian, as expected, chose a dish that demanded attention: Golden Stag, served with a dramatic flash of light as edible gold flakes rained onto his plate. His wine, enchanted to glimmer with constellations, was more about spectacle than taste.


    We opted for the Ocean¡¯s Whisper, a delicate seafood platter that with a range of bizarre animals that required no theatrics.


    The real drama unfolded between courses. The magical privacy barriers kept conversations private, but the subtle glances and measured gestures spoke volumes.


    Auris leaned in toward Kethar, his tone low but sharp. ¡®They¡¯re playing their hand too openly. We need to stay ahead of them.¡¯


    The twins exchanged knowing looks, their voices soft but cutting. ¡®This isn¡¯t about who looks clever. It¡¯s about who moves decisively,¡¯ Mira said, her fork tapping against her plate in rhythm with Lyra¡¯s.


    Dorian, ever the performer, caught Tavalor¡¯s eye and raised his glass in a mock toast. His smile didn¡¯t reach his eyes.


    The servants, trained to perfection, moved silently between the tables, their eyes flicking toward the unusual dynamics. Other noble diners whispered behind raised goblets, their curiosity piqued by the gathering of such disparate figures in one place.


    Between courses, subtle messages were passed¡ªa folded napkin exchanged with a servant, a glance heavy with meaning, a whispered word under the guise of ordering dessert. Alliances were hinted at, veiled threats disguised as pleasantries.


    One of the twins murmured something to a passing steward, who paused briefly at Auris¡¯s table. The mage glanced up, his expression unreadable as the steward placed a single silver coin beside his goblet before disappearing.


    I sat, observing it all, kept my focus sharp, my ears catching faint snippets of conversation whenever a barrier momentarily flickered.


    The tension in the room snapped when a courier arrived, out of place in the elegant surroundings. He approached the ma?tre d¡¯, who nodded gravely and delivered the message to the central table. The first of several messengers.


    The news spread quickly through the restaurant: new findings. A barrier had been discovered in the canals, its contents unknown but radiating ancient power. An entrance to a dungeon probably.


    The reactions were instant.


    Auris¡¯s smile grew sharper. ¡®Well,¡¯ he murmured, ¡®the game has just changed.¡¯


    Lyra and Mira exchanged a glance, their synchrony betraying a flicker of urgency.


    Dorian¡¯s fingers tapped against his goblet, his expression one of calm interest, though his eyes burned with calculation.


    I leaned back slightly, watching the room absorb the moment while quietly reassessing my next steps.


    The groups began to leave, each with a calculated purpose.


    The twins were first, their departure as seamless as their entrance. Their armour shimmered faintly as they moved, their whispered conversation lost to the hum of the room.


    Auris and Kethar followed, the mage pausing just long enough to give a parting glance to Dorian.


    Dorian lingered, exchanging quiet words with the ma?tre d¡¯, likely arranging something unseen.


    I flagged the ma?tre d¡¯ down. The ma?tre d¡¯ approached with a bow, his composure shaken but intact. ¡®Gentlemen¡ªand ladies,¡¯ he said, nodding toward Emberfist and Luneth. ¡®I trust your evening has been satisfactory?¡¯


    ¡®More than,¡¯ Emberfist replied, her grin sharp.


    We rose together, the privacy barrier dissipating in a faint shimmer. As we stepped onto the crystal walkway leading back to the gondolas, the glow of the barrier outside painted the canals in an eerie, golden light.


    The Crystal faded behind us as we boarded the gondola, the city¡¯s quiet hum returning as we glided through the canals. The barrier loomed in the distance, a silent challenge that promised chaos and opportunity in equal measure.


    ¡®We finally get to go to the dungeon,¡¯ I murmured, the words more to myself than to the others.


    Emberfist smirked. ¡®Good. I was getting bored.¡¯


    Luneth said nothing, but the glint in her eye spoke volumes. Whatever lay ahead, we weren¡¯t leaving the game until we had all the pieces.


    The stage was set. The players had made their first moves.

 Chapter 15 - One Barrier. Three Teams. The Dungeon.

    Early Morning ¨C Last Day of Lantern Festival


    The canals between the Scholars¡¯ Quarter and the South Docks had been unusually quiet that night. A humid stillness hung over Vallenport, broken only by the occasional lapping of water against stone. Then, without warning, the sky fractured with light. Gold and silver surged upward, crackling and alive, as an arcane barrier manifested at the intersection of the two districts. The energy pulsed, spilling faint motes of light that danced across the canal¡¯s surface.


    Messengers darted out almost immediately. Not through enchanted communication stones¡ªthey were too easily intercepted¡ªbut in person, their footsteps echoing against the cobblestones. A flash of Imperial insignia here, the glint of elven armor there, all weaving into the shadows.


    ***


    Gondola racing was a serious business in Vallenport. It was a huge deal for me, Marco, youngest of the Bellini Brothers. I¡¯ll never forget this Lantern Festival. My brothers and I¡ªpoor kids from the Scholar¡¯s Quarter¡ªwere already Vallenport legends, but this year felt different. Bigger. Heavier.


    The crowds packed the Grand Canal, cheers echoing off the marble facades like waves against a pier. Gondola racing was everything in Vallenport¡ªpride, legacy, immortality. And the Bellini brothers? We were the favourites, the ones they whispered about in betting halls and shouted for in the streets.


    I stood there on the docks that first morning, the youngest of the four of us, feeling like I might come apart at the seams. The Grand Canal churned, its surface restless under the rising sun. Lanterns swayed in the breeze, flickering gold against the dawn.


    The other teams¡ªKane Jr. with his Coltere crew, the Temple Priests with Father John at the helm¡ªwere already loading into their gondolas, muscles taut, faces set. The priests were the ones to beat. Always were.


    Before we were legends, before we even had our own gondola, my brothers and I used to sit on the Scholar¡¯s Quarters¡¯ steps, watching the races with wide eyes and empty pockets. Back then, Father John was the man to beat¡ªa giant on the water with a booming laugh you could hear clear across the canal.


    I can still picture him cutting through the water like a force of nature, his oar moving in perfect rhythm, the Temple Priests trailing him like his personal army. We¡¯d cheer with the crowd, dreaming of the day we¡¯d take our place in the line-up. For us, Father John wasn¡¯t just a competitor; he was a legend, the kind of racer you measured yourself against. And now, years later, it felt surreal to stand here as reigning champions while he fought his own battle, one we couldn¡¯t see coming.


    That day Father John was waving to the crowd with that booming laugh of his, red-faced and larger than life. A man of the people, he waved to the crowd with flourished gestures, flashing a grin that seemed to echo his jovial sermons.


    And then it happened.


    I didn¡¯t see it, not at first. We had a bye that day as reigning champs, so we watched from the edge of the canal.


    Halfway through their heat, just as they passed the Temple¡¯s steps, something shifted. The cheers turned to gasps.


    Father John¡¯s oar slipped, splashing into the water. He wobbled, slumped forward. The gondola rocked dangerously as one of his men tried to catch him.


    ¡®Fraud!¡¯ someone shouted, and the crowd surged, the word spreading like fire.


    My brother Matteo nudged me hard in the ribs, his voice low. ¡®Marco - something¡¯s wrong.¡¯ He was right. By the time they got Father John back to shore, his face was pale, his body slack. I could still hear the whispers as they carried him away: poison. Foul play.


    That night, the news came. Father John, dead. Official cause unknown. The city buzzed with rumours, but no one had answers. The Temple Priests were out of the race. Just like that, the Lantern Festival had a shadow hanging over it, and for us, everything changed.


    ***


    The second morning came heavy with rain and unease. The cobblestones gleamed wet underfoot, and a mist clung low over the water, softening the edges of the city. It didn¡¯t stop the crowds, though. Nothing ever did. They lined the canals early, shouting and jostling for space as the gondolas were prepped. We posed stiffly for Notman¡¯s camera¡ªfour brothers in matching blue tunics, trying to look confident for the front page. The headline would probably read something like, ¡°Bellini Brothers Rise Amid Tragedy¡±. Matteo muttered under his breath about bad luck, but Leo shot him a glare, the kind that said, ¡°Don¡¯t start.¡±


    Our odds were better now, but the universe wasn¡¯t done testing us. Sixth lane position. The worst draw. The harbor¡¯s winds were against us, and our course had us rounding two stake boats instead of one. We were behind before we even began.


    The race was brutal. Water sprayed our faces, the sting of salt cutting through the air. Our gondola slammed into a stray timber halfway through¡ªsome cursed remnant from the HSM San Bellaro docked upriver. The jolt nearly knocked me off my bench. My hands burned as I gripped my oar, my muscles screaming with every stroke. But we didn¡¯t stop. Not once. The Bellini brothers didn¡¯t back down.


    When we crossed the finish line, drenched and breathless, we¡¯d clawed our way to third. A tie. The crowd still roared for us, but it felt like a loss. For Matteo, it was. He barely spoke that night, his jaw tight as we packed our gear. But for me? I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the race was far from over.


    ***


    By the final day, the air buzzed with tension. The rain had cleared, but the city felt strange¡ªon edge. Maybe it was the soldiers in full Imperial regalia, stationed at every corner, their armor gleaming as they pushed through the crowds. Or maybe it was the lingering whispers about Father John. Either way, something wasn¡¯t right.


    Lanterns lit up the Grand Canal as we lined up for the two-man finals. Ten thousand gold on the line¡ªthe biggest prize in Vallenport history. Matteo and Leo were up for us, the two strongest rowers in the family. I watched from the docks with Paulo, my gut twisting as the other crews took their places.


    The Petersberg team from Solara shot forward the moment the signal went off, their strokes perfect, precise. For the first half of the race, it looked like they couldn¡¯t be touched. Our gondola struggled at the start, catching briefly in the current. Matteo¡¯s frustration was palpable, even from where I stood, his oar dipping too shallow before he adjusted.


    But then, the Petersberg crew made a mistake. They veered through the wrong arch of a bridge, misjudging their line. I watched it unfold like slow motion, the crowd erupting in a mix of cheers and shouts. Matteo and Leo seized the chance. Their strokes became a rhythm, relentless and fierce, pulling them forward with a force that defied the odds.


    The roar of the crowd was deafening as Matteo, Leo and Paulo raised the trophy high, their faces beaming with triumph. Fireworks exploded overhead, casting the Grand Canal in shimmering reds and golds, but I barely noticed. My feet were already moving.


    ¡®Bellini!¡¯ The chants rang out from every corner of the square, a thousand voices celebrating us. My heart pounded as I darted through the crowd, dodging waving arms and spilled drinks. Matteo caught sight of me first, his grin splitting wide as he motioned me up.


    ¡®Get up here, you little runt!¡¯ he yelled, his voice hoarse from shouting.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    I didn¡¯t need to be told twice. My hands grabbed the edge of the stage, and I hauled myself up, legs scrambling for purchase. Leo reached down, grabbed my arm, and hoisted me the rest of the way. The trophy gleamed under the lantern light, and as Matteo passed it to me, the weight of it was more satisfying than I could¡¯ve imagined.


    Together, we lifted it high, the fourt of us united as the crowd erupted into a fresh wave of cheers. Lanterns floated in the canal, fireworks burst in the sky, and for that moment, the world was ours.


    ¡®Bellini brothers, champions again!¡¯ Leo bellowed, his arm slung around my shoulders. I laughed, breathless and exhilarated, my chest swelling with pride. This was it. This was what we¡¯d worked for, bled for, rowed our hearts out for.


    I locked eyes with Matteo, his grin as wild as mine, and then with Leo, who raised his fist to the sky. This was more than a victory¡ªit was a reminder of who we were. Poor kids from Vallenport, standing at the center of the city¡¯s biggest stage, making history together.


    The crowd kept cheering, and for the first time, I let myself soak it in, every sound, every light, every moment. We¡¯d done it. We were on top of the world.


    ***


    Three groups, disparate in origin and intent, converged on the city for the same purpose: the dungeon beneath the barrier. It was an opportunity that demanded perfect timing and secrecy. The Lantern Festival, with its races and revelry, provided the perfect cover.


    The final day of the Lantern Festival was electric. The air buzzed with tension as thousands packed the banks of the Grand Canal, their cheers echoing between the marble facades. This was the main event¡ªthe two-man race. A staggering 10,000 gold prize, the largest in Vallenport¡¯s history, had drawn crews from across the world.


    Sir Moritz, a gaunt but commanding figure, oversaw the chaos with his trademark precision. International crews added flair and rivalry: the Von Watburg brothers from the Covenant of Iron, sleek and disciplined; the Textor crew, unpredictable and aggressive; and local legends, the Bellini brothers, fresh off their third-place four-man finish but still crowd favorites.


    Betting pools swelled. The press swarmed the docks, flashes from Notman¡¯s studio cameras catching every tense moment. As the gondolas lined up, the stakes had never felt higher.


    By morning, the festival¡¯s gondola finals had already been delayed by unpredictable weather. Rain pooled on rooftops, dripping steadily into the canals, and a mist clung to the cobblestones, softening the sharp angles of the Scholars¡¯ Quarter.


    Emberfist grumbled as she leaned against a lamppost, her thin arms crossed. She watched the crowd with sharp eyes, her hands clenching whenever an Imperial soldier passed by. ''That¡¯s full regalia,'' he muttered to Tavalor, his deep voice low. ''They¡¯re not here for the races.''


    Tavalor nodded, his gaze distant as he scanned the square. ''No, they¡¯re not.''


    On the other side of the crowd, Luneth stood near a fruit vendor, her sharp eyes following the movement of two lithe figures in crystal armor. The elven twins glided through the crowd in synchronized strides, drawing brief glances from onlookers. Luneth¡¯s jaw tightened.


    ''You see them?'' she asked quietly, her voice just loud enough for Tavalor to hear.


    He followed her gaze and smiled faintly. ''I see them.''


    The groups had all made their intentions clear, albeit indirectly. Beneath the thin veneer of celebration, the festival had become a game of subterfuge.


    When the finals began at six, the Petersberg crew from Solara shot forward with an explosive start, their oars slicing cleanly through the water. The Bellini brothers, however, struggled to gain momentum. A poor start left them trailing, their oar briefly catching in the current¡ªa dangerous misstep.


    But the Bellinis had something no one else did: relentless discipline. They held their rhythm, fighting through the setback and slowly gaining ground.


    Ahead, Petersberg miscalculated their approach, steering through the wrong arch of a bridge and costing themselves valuable time. It was all the Bellinis needed. They surged forward, each stroke pulling them steadily ahead. The crowd roared as they crossed the finish line decisively.


    Fireworks lit the sky as the Bellini brothers hoisted their trophy high. The city erupted into celebration, with news of their victory spreading nationwide through the telegraph lines by nightfall. They were champions, their names etched into Vallenport history.


    In the shadow of the cheers, Tavalor¡¯s group lingered near the barrier. Emberfist¡¯s hand clenched, her enchanted gloves glowing as they saw the Imperial group approach, their heavy boots loud on the cobblestones. Across from them, the elven twins arrived, their crystalline armor catching the dim light.


    Tavalor smirked. ''Quite the coincidence, isn¡¯t it?''


    The air hummed with tension as the three groups exchanged guarded looks.


    The barrier was deep¡ªseveral hundred meters below the surface of the canal, submerged in the dark heart of Vallenport¡¯s waterways. Beneath the rippling, moonlit surface, it pulsed with energy, an ancient enchantment that had kept its secrets buried for centuries. The canal waters above it were deceptively calm, but the challenge of reaching the barrier was no small feat. Each group had devised their own method to breach the depths, their unique approaches reflecting the resources and cunning at their disposal.


    The elven twins, standing tall and poised as always. They were lighter on their feet, more attuned to the magic of the world around them. Their approach was quiet, mystical, and fluid, reflecting their elven heritage.


    The twins had woven a spell¡ªa combination of elven water magic and telekinesis¡ªto create an air pocket that allowed them to breathe as they descended. They stepped gracefully onto the canal¡¯s surface, the water parting around their feet as they silently sank beneath the waves. The spell held, and they seemed to glide deeper with almost no effort at all, the waters around them parting in a gentle swirl. A soft glow emitted from their crystal armor, allowing them to see the faint, glowing patterns of runes etched into the ancient barrier far below.


    They moved as one, in perfect synchronization, their movements almost undetectable. Their bodies melded with the magic of the city, as though they were one with the water, their elegant descent a testament to their skill.


    Dorian, never one to miss an opportunity to show off, had opted for a more ostentatious method¡ªone designed to blend his usual flair with practicality. He had arranged for a special gondola, one crafted with the finest materials and embellished with gleaming silver and gold. The gondola¡¯s hull had been reinforced with a mix of enchantments, allowing it to submerge slowly but steadily into the waters.


    As the gondola neared the spot of the barrier, Dorian flashed a confident smile at the others watching from the edge. He waved, calling out cheerfully, ''No need to be shy! We all have our methods, don¡¯t we?'' His voice rang out in mock-joviality. His charm seemed to cut through the tension, if only briefly, as the gondola, filled with barrels of arcane reagents, began its descent.


    Dorian''s plan was simple: by filling the gondola with carefully packed barrels of enchanted material, the gondola would slowly sink, creating an airtight chamber. This would let him safely enter the submerged dungeon while remaining able to maintain some semblance of normalcy. His descent was slow, the gondola moving steadily downward, as the water began to churn around him.


    Despite the flashiness of his entrance, Dorian was aware of the magic surrounding him, his gaze alert as he checked the map, glancing toward the rapidly receding surface.


    The Solarans¡¯ approach was much more practical. Kethar unrolled the enchanted beast skin, its surface shifting like liquid under the moonlight. The hide, a rare material harvested from a creature deep within the frozen wastelands, held an inherent magic that made it unique. When activated by specific incantations, it could interact with both physical and magical barriers. The skin had been carefully treated with spells that allowed it to adapt to various elemental forces¡ªwater, fire, and even ancient magic like that of the barrier blocking their path.


    As Auris whispered a series of ancient words, the hide shimmered, aligning itself with the magical current of the canal. The hides magic didn¡¯t simply repel the water; it attuned to the barrier¡¯s energy, gently parting it like a wave as they moved forward. The skin wrapped around them, forming an airtight seal, while still allowing enough flexibility to move freely.


    The barrier, a powerful force that had stopped others in their tracks, bent to the skin¡¯s magic, leaving the group unhindered. The temperature dropped as they descended, the world above them fading into darkness. Beneath the water, the currents of ancient power tugged at the skin, but it held firm. They were now in the depths, where only the bravest dared to tread.


    Luneth, her sharp instincts as a thief always at the ready, had planned something entirely different. She didn''t want to draw attention to herself; she needed a method that allowed her to slip past both the magical energies and the other groups.


    Luneth had prepared a set of enchanted diving robes. These robes, once submerged in water, activated a series of runes that caused her body to become near invisible. A faint shimmer enveloped her as she entered the water, her form blending with the shadows beneath.


    She didn¡¯t need to descend in a large, bulky vehicle. Instead, Luneth moved like a shadow in the water, her body wrapped in the lightest of cloaks. She pulled a thin strand of silk from her belt and tied it to the edge of a nearby stone pillar, the only tether connecting her to the surface. With a graceful, almost imperceptible movement, Luneth disappeared into the depths, following the faint trace of energy she could feel coming from the barrier below.


    Her underwater descent was calculated and methodical, moving in short bursts of speed, always listening, always watching. She didn¡¯t want to be found.


    Tavalor closed his eyes for a moment, drawing on the ancient power embedded within him. The skill, [Ancient Scales], pulsed to life, a low hum vibrating through his body. It wasn¡¯t something he needed to prepare¡ªmerely activate. The magic settled like a second skin, transforming his connection to the world around him. His body became resistant to the physical pressures of the water, the crushing force of the depths no longer a threat. Even the swirling currents, as fierce as they were, could not harm him.


    He extended a hand to Emberfist, the glow of his magic now visible as a barrier, an ethereal shield enveloping them both. She stepped into his grip, and the sensation was immediate¡ªa subtle weightlessness, as if the water itself was no longer holding her back.


    Tavalor moved forward, each step deliberate and sure. There was no sinking, no fighting the pressure. He just walked into the canal. The water parted around them as if acknowledging his command, the currents no longer a force to be reckoned with. He was immune to the dangers of the depths, and Emberfist, protected by his magic, moved alongside him. They descended together as if walking on solid ground.

 Chapter 16 – I Explored a Dungeon

    The canal water was a mixture of blue and green. Like a Van Gough painting. It was cold, murky, dense and dark. The current creating swirls of oily water that let the light in small bursts.


    The air was full of tension as the different teams descended into the water.


    Tavalor saw the elven twins disappearing in the distance. They were the fastest. They had formed a drill shaped cone out of water and slashed through the water with ease. Their route required the least effort. Straight down. It looked like they could even breathe.


    Opposite to the flashy entrance of the twins I saw a glimmer of a magic circle in the shadows.


    Luneth.


    I think I was the only one who could see her. My [Dragon Sight] coming in handy. She simply slid through the shadows. Like a hardcore game of the floor is lava.


    Dorian was the flashiest of them all. He sat on a gold throne at the front of a lavish gold plated gondola. It¡¯s hull reinforced with layers of arcane reagents. He swirled a golden goblet of wine. His usual self-assured grin on his face.


    He even used magic to call-out to other people. ¡®A bit of extravagance never hurts, yes?¡¯


    It glided smoothly through the water. Like a slow moving kingfish. The arcane glow dimming as it descended deeper into the depths.


    Kethar and Auris stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the water as they unfurled the enchanted beast hide. It glimmered with an iridescent sheen, pulsating softly as Kethar muttered the incantations that would trigger its magic.


    The hide, made from the skin of a creature that had lived deep within the frozen wastelands, was a rare and powerful artifact. As Kethar whispered the final syllable, the hide shimmered, wrapping around them both like a living, breathing second skin.


    They had transformed into a giant white shark. A one hundred feet long monster. Similar to a great white shark but larger and more intimidating. Huge teeth. A small cone like snout. Small deep set eyes that gave it a pig like appearance.


    The shark had a smug and lazy expression in its eyes. It also seemed to find the decent easily. Moving almost lazily through the water.


    Finally at the back were Emberfist and Tavalor.


    Emberfist¡¯s sharp gaze met Tavalor¡¯s for just a moment before he extended his hand to her. Her gauntleted hand grabbed onto his.


    The draconic magic was already thrumming in his veins. The magic awakening automatically. Tavalor had imagined a barrier. And a barrier was formed out of flames.


    A shimmering barrier of ethereal energy surrounded them both, cloaking them from the prying eyes of the world above.


    Emberfist looked around at the barrier and was surprised. Tavalor on the other hand remained focused. They slowly walked forwards and then into the water.


    As they walked into the water a new feature of [Ancient Scales] activated. Physical damage immunity. The water, was no longer an obstacle.


    Emberfist and Tavalor walked down the side of canal, stepping carefully on slippery bits of rubbish and ancient history. It was so dark that Emberfist lit the glove that wasn¡¯t in Tavalor¡¯s hand to light the way.


    It was slow going. They had to work their way around a lot of obstacles. Unlike the other teams who moved through the unobstructed water.


    The deeper they walked, the more oppressive and dark the atmosphere. Higher up the water had been quite clear, but as they went deeper their field of vision dropped. Slowly from several hundred meters. To a hundred meters. To twenty meters. To ten meters. To almost nothing.


    They crossed an invisible line in the water and they could see again. They were walking through ruins.


    Crumbled grey stonework, shattered columns and what might have been intricate carvings flickered into view.


    It was a vast set of ruins.


    A drowned city.


    A city so vast that the magnitude of it sent a chill down their spines. Emberfist shivered slightly. The gauntleted hand in Tavalor¡¯s hand clenching hard.


    The closer they got the more a chill appeared.


    The water started to glimmer with power. Slight enough that nobody saw except for Tavalor. The ancient unyielding presence grew stronger with every passing moment.


    Tavalor smiled. Interesting. He thought to himself.


    The edge of the city had been boulders and ruined buildings. As they made their way further and further in, the stonework gave way to columns, their edges jagged and broken.


    Slowly and strangely the groups grew closer and closer together. Something that shouldn¡¯t have been possible due to the vastly different speeds. The silence of the water was broken only by the faint ripples of their movement.


    Then the first signs of the dungeons defences activated.


    A soft hum, barely audible over the noise of the water, vibrated through the depths. The pressure of the water increased, pushing against them like the hand of some unseen force.


    An ancient barrier long dormant, had felt their approach and awakened.


    A flicker of light appeared. A pale ghostly glow. Then another. And another. The lights moved beneath the water, guiding the way deeper into the ruins.


    They led to a barrier. Flickering in the same ghostly frequency as the lights. Through the barrier they could see a giant door.


    It was about a hundred meters tall. Crafted from a dark metal that seemed to suck up the lights.


    Ancient runes scrolled across its surface in shifting patterns, their pale blue glow reflecting off the water. Intricate carvings depicted scenes of naval battles and mythical sea creatures, with a massive kraken motif dominating the centre.


    The door''s frame was adorned with coral-like formations that pulsed with magical energy, while twin serpentine handles, each as thick as a ship''s mast, curved outward from its surface. At its apex, a carved medallion showed a compass rose whose needle moved independently, pointing to unseen magnetic forces.


    All the teams raced to enter through the barrier.


    As they neared the barrier the magic grew almost unbearable. The water shimmered with energy as they broke through the resistance.


    They arrived at an air pocket. And an impossibly clear and vast space where the pressure of the depths suddenly eased. They were underneath a clear blue sky. Daylight.


    On the door written in draconic. The Vault of Sin.


    Sin? Strange.


    One by one the groups emerged. Standing in a semi-circle in front of the door.


    An echo sounded. Slowly.


    Footsteps.


    They all turned to look at the door.


    Then a thud. A clunk.


    The sound of gears shifting and stone grinding on stone.


    The door began to open.


    The door opened to reveal an enormous hall.


    All the teams walked together through the doorway. The space again expanding to reveal a marvel of elven architecture.


    The walls rising in gentle curving arcs, were adorned with intricate mosaics and delicate carvings. Telling the story of ancient Vallkenport. Full of legacies lost in time.


    The twins had immediately walked towards the walls. Whispering amongst themselves as they took in the mosaics.


    Soft glowing runes pulsed with light along the walls, casting shimmering reflections on the marble floors which seemed to stretch endlessly in the distance.


    The entire hall felt old. It smelled fresh though.


    I wonder where the air is coming from? Thought Tavalor.


    Tavalor looked around hoping to find a clue. It smelled freshest from the top and he looked up at the ceiling.


    The ceiling arched high above above everyone, disappearing into the darkness. Faint threads of golden trickled down into massive chandeliers that hung suspended in the shape of star-bursts.


    In the centre of the room a figure materialised.


    Emberfist was the first to notice. She gasped. Drawing the attention of the others.


    It was a flicker at first, then growing into a distinct form. Shifting and undulating like smoke.


    An energy spread from that form. Like an invisible wave spreading like a surging tide. Small and subtle at first. A slight tremor. Then multiplying. Growing stronger and stronger.


    Filling the space with intense pressure. It wasn¡¯t a physical weight but a magical one. It was suffocating and crushing all at once.


    Whatever was coming was strong. Terrifyingly so.


    [A-Class] at least.


    Emberfist clenched her gauntlets. Her fists trembling slightly.


    The ever-confident Dorians smile faltered for a second.


    The elven twins who had seemed above it all shared a worried glance with each other.


    It mad their heart race, clouded their minds, but it was also too captivating, too powerful to resist. The only one who stood oblivious to it was Tavalor.


    The weight of that aura strengthened. Wanting to crush them all. Like an immense wave crashing down. It moved through the room in violent waves, bending the light around it, distorting reality. The temperature plummeted, then raised as if it became a part of some cosmic furnace.


    The presence grew louder. Whispering. Like a thousand voices speaking in a language not meant for human ears.


    [Intimidation]? Tavalor recognised it at once.


    Someone was using [Intimidation] against them.


    The figure finally fully materialised. Growing into a distinct form.


    One of the elven twins exclaimed in shock ¡®Vallen!¡¯


    As soon as he materialised the aura vanished.


    It was a tall, pale elven man. He seemed ethereal, shimmering with a light that seemed to bleed into the very air around him. His skin was so pale that it was transparent. You could see the blue veins through his skin. He had long whitish hair, that flowed like liquid silver and pooling in waves around his shoulders. His eyes glowed silver as well. Like a pool of water that reflected moonlight. His clothing was as much a part of his form as his body¡ªdraped in fine silks that seemed to change with every movement, patterns constantly shifting in an endless dance of color and light.


    What an entrance. Thought Tavalor.


    The group stood in silence, awestruck by that entrance. Even the elvens twins almost bowed their heads in recognition.


    Tavalor was the only one amused by it.


    Then Vallen spoke. He wasn¡¯t speaking Common but everyone understood. ¡®Welcome, travellers. You have come far.¡¯


    The silence in the room deepened.


    The elven twins glanced at each other.


    Even Luneth had been forced out of the shadows. Her posture stiff with fear. Both hands on her daggers.


    Even Dorian was quiet. No quip at hand.


    Vallen continued: ¡®You stand before me, in the heart of the Vault of Sin. This place, long hidden from the world above, is a repository of knowledge¡ªof the greatest sins, and the greatest triumphs¡ªof our people. It is not a place to be entered lightly.¡¯


    His words hung in the air. The significance of his statement sinking in.


    Treasure. A library. Power. The reason that everyone was here.


    As he finished speaking, small glowing orbs began to materialize around him, floating gracefully in the air. They were tokens¡ªmagical objects, each gleaming with a different hue, as though each represented a different path. They hovered, delicate as dew, before drifting to each member of the groups, one by one.


    ¡®These tokens are your guide,¡¯ Vallen continued, his gaze sweeping over the groups. ¡®Each token holds within it a part of me¡ªa fragment of my power. When you need aid, these will serve as your lifeline. They will guide you, protect you, and in times of great danger, they will allow you to leave. To break the token is to be transported out of this place, to return to the world you came from. But know this¡ª¡¯


    His voice dropped, filled with an eerie sense of finality.


    ¡®To break the token is also to relinquish your claim to whatever knowledge or power this place offers. Choose wisely.¡¯


    The tokens all pulsed warmly in hand. Each person held a token in hand.


    Luneth examined hers with suspicion.


    Dorian twirled his lazily, not one to show his unease.


    Kethar and Auris, the pragmatic duo, nodded to each other, eyes narrowing as they considered the implications.


    Emberfist¡¯s grip tightened on her tokken, the weight on the decision ahead clear to her.


    Vallen added: ¡®This is not a place for reckless ambition,¡¯ his gaze lingering on each group. ¡®There are tests of mind, spirit and body. Some will fail. Others will face greater dangers than they expect. You have been warned.¡¯


    The atmosphere in the hall changed again. The air growing thick with magic. The tokens in their hands pulsed brighter. There was no turning back no.


    In a sudden unnerving shift, the form of Vallen fractured. It split like a beam of light refracted through a prism. A dozen version of him. Each one slightly different.


    The Vallens stood in a semi-circle around the room, their forms shifting in an unsettling synchronicity, each one representing a different aspect of the ancient being.


    The first Vallen, old and hunched over spoke: ¡®I am Vallen, Keeper of Knowledge. I will guide you through the trial of intellect. Should you seek answers, follow my lead.¡¯


    Another Vallen, heroic and bearing the aspect of a warrior, stepped forward, his form rippling with raw energy. ¡®I am Vallen, the Unyielding. I will guide you through the trials of strength. Should you seek to prove your might, I will stand beside you.¡¯


    A third more serene Vallen, exuding an aura of tranquillity, form glowing with a soft calming light. ¡®I am Vallen, the Sage. I will guide you through the trials of spirit. Should you seek inner peace, I will show you the way.¡¯


    Different Vallens continued to manifest. Each representing a different path ¨C the intellectual, the physical, spiritual, emotional. The variety was overwhelming, and each group had to decide which Vallen to follow.


    The room was quiet except for whispers among the different groups as the dozen Vallens floated in the air.


    Tavalor, Emberfist and Luneth stood together. After discussion they were the first to step forward.


    They walked towards the Vallen of Knowledge. Tavalor spoke. His voice was firm: ¡®We choose you.¡¯


    The ancient Vallen¡¯s form flickered for a moment, his aged hands trembling as he extended them towards the group. ¡®So be it. Your journey will be one of discovery, but not without peril. The mind can be a terrible prison. Choose wisely.¡¯


    The group nodded. A magic barrier shimmered into existence around them, marking the boundaries of their path. No turning back.


    The other teams began to make their own decision.


    Dorian¡¯s crew hesitated for only a moment before stepping toward the Vallen of Strength, his booming voice echoing in the vast space. ¡®We¡¯ll prove our worth,¡¯ he declared, voice full of bravado.


    The Vallen, the Unyielding, gave a small smile of approval. ¡®So, you seek to prove your strength. But remember, even the strongest can fall.¡¯


    Kethar and Auris exchanged a look before stepping forward to choose the Vallen of the Sage. They were a measured group, disciplined in mind and spirit, and the calm energy of the Sage was exactly what they sought.


    ¡®We choose peace,¡¯ Kethar said, the words heavy with meaning.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    With a wave of his hand, the pathways began to form. Doors shimmered into existence along the edges of the hall, each one leading into a separate, unknown journey. The team¡¯s chosen Vallens stepped aside, their forms fading as the paths ahead solidified.


    Some doorways seemed nicer. Some seemed dark and strange. Tavalor¡¯s group, still silent, faced the most daunting of the doorways¡ªthe one that led into the dark, oppressive depths of Vallen¡¯s trial of intellect. The doorway, made of a dark, obsidian-like stone, loomed ahead, an unnatural darkness pouring from within. It looked like an open mouth.


    Tavalor and his team walked towards the dark maw.


    ¡®Remember that each choice has consequences,¡¯ the Vallen of Knowledge intoned from behind them. ¡®What you seek will find you, but be wary of what you become in the process.¡¯


    Without a word Tavalor stepped forward, the first to step in the the darkness. Emberfist glowing gauntlet lit the pathway as she followed along.


    The entrance sealed itself shut.


    ***


    The corridor stretched out before Kethar and Auris, its dark stone walls adorned with faint runes that pulsed with a dim light. The air grew colder as they ventured further into the passage, and the echoes of their footsteps were swallowed by the oppressive silence. Kethar kept his hand on his weapon, his senses heightened. Auris, ever the observer, studied the surroundings with a careful eye, watching the way the shadows twisted unnaturally in the flickering light of their torches.


    They were following the Vallen of the Sage, the guide who had promised to lead them on a trial of spirit and peace. But already, the calm was slipping away. There was an undeniable tension in the air, a suffocating heaviness that seemed to be growing with every step.


    ¡®This place feels wrong,¡¯ Kethar muttered under his breath, his voice low and tense.


    Auris nodded but said nothing, his sharp eyes scanning the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. His brow furrowed as they continued down the narrow hallway. The further they walked, the more the sense of dread grew, until it was a tangible presence. Then, suddenly, a faint click echoed through the stone. The floor beneath their feet shifted slightly, and the ground rumbled ominously.


    Before they could react, a massive stone blade shot up from the floor, its edge gleaming with malice. Auris¡¯s instincts kicked in. He lunged forward, pushing Kethar out of the way. The blade missed by a hair¡¯s breadth, slicing through the air where Kethar had stood just moments before.


    Kethar¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, and his breath hitched as he saw the glint of steel sink back into the floor, leaving behind nothing but a shuddering silence.


    ¡®That¡­ was too close,¡¯ Kethar said, his voice shaking with the adrenaline still rushing through his veins.


    Auris, his face expressionless as always, crouched beside the trap mechanism. His hands moved with precision as he examined it closely, running his fingers along the ancient stonework. ¡®It¡¯s a pressure-triggered blade trap. Hidden deep within the floor. Simple.¡¯


    ¡®Too simple,¡¯Kethar replied, his eyes scanning their surroundings warily. ¡®This place is designed to kill.¡¯


    Auris stood up, brushing his hands off. ¡®Indeed. But these traps are likely meant to deter the weak. We need to be more careful.¡¯


    But even as he spoke, the air grew heavier still, and the sense of dread mounted. Kethar felt something shift behind him. He turned just in time to see shadows flickering along the walls.


    Out of the dark stone, they emerged¡ªshadow gargoyles, their wings unfolding with a menacing screech as they dropped from the ceiling. The creatures¡¯ eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow light, their jagged stone bodies shifting and moving in the dim torchlight. Kethar unsheathed his sword, his muscles tensing as the first gargoyle screeched in fury, launching itself at him.


    He swung his blade in a fluid motion, meeting the stone creature¡¯s claws with a resounding clash. The force of the strike knocked the gargoyle back, but it quickly regained its balance, its stone talons scraping against the floor with a terrible screech.


    Auris was already moving, drawing his own weapons¡ªa sleek dagger imbued with magic and a wand¡ªand darting toward the other gargoyle, which was advancing on him from the shadows. With quick precision, Auris fired a spell to stun it, then slashed at the creature¡¯s wings, cutting through the stone-like appendages with ease. But the gargoyle didn¡¯t falter. Instead, it retaliated with a flurry of jagged strikes.


    The battle raged on, the sounds of stone against metal filling the air as Kethar and Auris fought tooth and nail against the relentless creatures. They were quick, too quick for their own comfort, and each strike felt like it would be the one that shattered their defences.


    As Kethar parried another attack from his gargoyle, he heard a sharp gasp from behind him. Auris¡¯s form jerked back, and Kethar turned just in time to see the dagger slip from his friend¡¯s grip. A deep, jagged crack ran through his chest, stone carving into the flesh beneath his armor.


    ¡®NO!¡¯ Kethar shouted, lunging toward him, but the shadow gargoyle took advantage of his distraction. It lunged forward, sinking its stone talons deep into Kethar¡¯s side. He gritted his teeth against the pain, his vision blurring as he tried to reach his fallen comrade.


    Auris, blood streaming down his face, managed to drag himself away from the creatures, but it was too late. His hand reached for Kethar, his eyes wide with shock and pain, but the gargoyle¡¯s claws tore through his body, and in the final moments, he fell silent.


    ¡®No¡­ no!¡¯ Kethar cried, his voice hoarse with grief and fury. He swung his sword with a brutal force, severing the gargoyle¡¯s head from its body in a final, desperate strike. But the damage was done. Auris was gone.


    The last of the shadow gargoyles crumbled to dust, leaving nothing but the sound of Kethar¡¯s ragged breathing in the aftermath. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the remains of his fallen comrade, the weight of failure settling heavily on his shoulders.


    ¡®You failed,¡¯ came the cold voice of the Vallen, reverberating throughout the chamber.


    Kethar¡¯s head snapped up, his rage flaring at the words. ¡®What do you mean, failed? We were¡ª¡¯


    ¡®The trial is not meant to be conquered with strength alone,¡¯ the Vallen interrupted, his voice echoing with the ancient authority of the ages. ¡®You chose the path of intellect, yet you lacked the wisdom to anticipate the consequences of your choices. Your failure is not one of force, but of perception.¡¯


    Kethar stood still, the weight of the words sinking in. He could feel the crack of tension spreading through their team, the silence now stretching longer than it ever had before.


    As they moved into the next chamber, the air grew heavier still. The faint light dimmed further, and the walls seemed to close in around them. The room stretched endlessly in all directions, ancient magic thickening the atmosphere. And as they walked deeper, they could feel the magic rising, oppressive and tangible.


    Something was wrong.


    Their already-fractured team was beginning to feel the strain. Kethar¡¯s gaze kept darting around, paranoid and unsure. Could Auris have been saved? Had there been anything they could have done? Would they, too, be next?


    The trial of intellect had become a trial of survival. But no one seemed to have the answers anymore.


    ***


    Luneth crouched in front of an ornate treasure chest. Her brow furrowed in deep concentration. Her long elf ears twitching. The lid was slightly ajar, the chest¡¯s edges decorated with carvings of twisting vines. The dim light of her torch cast long shadows, making the room feel claustrophobic.


    Luneth paid no attention to that; her fingers were probing the chests lock.


    Emberfist remarked from behind her: ¡®It¡¯s a bit too obvious, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ Her tone dripping with sarcasm. ¡®It¡¯s a treasure chest, and we¡¯re in a dungeon full of traps. What could go wrong?¡¯


    Luneth waved her off, her focus unwavering. ¡®I know it¡¯s in here. I can feel it.¡¯


    Tavalor who had been trailing behind, taking a more exploratory approach, raised his eyebrow. ¡®If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d say you¡¯re searching for something that doesn¡¯t exist.¡¯


    ¡®Trust me,¡¯ Luneth said, as she used a lock-pick. ¡®It¡¯s in here. I can feel the presence of something powerful.¡¯


    With a creak the chest fully opened, revealing only a pile of gold coins, a few faded jewels and an ancient-looking scroll. Luneth¡¯s eyes sparkled with excitement, as she immediately began digging through the treasure.


    ¡®That¡¯s ¡­ it?¡¯ Emberfist snorted. ¡®A scroll and a pile of junk.¡¯


    Before Luneth could respond, the trap triggered. The floor beneath her feet gave a sharp snap, a net shot from the ceiling, entangling her. She let out a frustrated groan as she flailed around, completely caught in the snare.


    ¡®Ugh! Damn it!¡¯ Luneth growled. He face all the way to the tips of her ears glowed red in embarrassment. ¡®It was too easy.¡¯


    Tavalor smiled at them bemused. He stepped over the triggered trap. ¡®Good instincts,¡¯ he said dryly, throwing a glance at Emberfist. ¡®Maybe, stop looking for fake treasures in a fake chest.¡¯


    Luneth cut herself out quickly. ¡®There¡¯s something here!¡¯ she protested. ¡®Got it. She pulled the scroll out and waved it triumphantly before dropping intot eh net in defeat. ¡®This thing has to be important.¡¯


    Emberfist rolled her eyes. ¡®It¡¯s a scroll. In a dungeon. Probably nonsense.¡¯


    Tavalor had a different mission in mind. It was after all his first dungeon. His mission was to explore every nook and cranny.


    His eyes glowing as he used [Dragon Sight], scanning the walls. ¡®Interesting,¡¯ he muttered to himself. There was something there. A very thin almost invisible circle in a corner.


    He walked over, pushing a stone.


    The walls crumbled with a deafening roar, chunks of stone falling away, revealing a hidden chamber bathed in a purple glow.


    The air was thick with dust. The space was vast, stretching farther than the eye could see in the dim light, with a high, arched ceiling that vanished into shadows.


    At first, the glow was faint, barely noticeable, but it gradually brightened, casting a soft light over the moon. The crystals pulsed, responding to his presence.


    The light revealed carvings. Lots of strange carvings. Some defied logic ¨C snaking lines that twisted into impossible shapes. Some patterns overlapping and shifting like they wanted to escape the stones. The word SIN repeated over and over again in draconic.


    There were also faces, but they weren¡¯t human. They didn¡¯t belong to any species that he had seen or read about. They were distorted and elongated faces. Their eyes following his every movement, their expressions shifting between pain, malice and an eerie serenity.


    Some carvings depicted celestial bodies ¨C planets and moons moving in impossible orbits. Other sowed battles. Not fleshly battles. But battles of light and dark forms, spirits batting in a realm beyond the physical.


    As Tavalor moved in to the chamber, the carvings dimmed as he stopped looking at them. Emberfist, Luneth and the ghost followed after him.


    The floor was covered in a layer of dust. As Tavalor¡¯s gaze drifted across the room, he spotted the altar. It stood in the centre of the room.


    A large stone structure. Several rounded pillars, around waist height surrounding a larger main pillar that was shoulder height. There were many symbols in draconic carved into the pedestals. Each of the outer pedestals glowing different colours.


    As he walked closer, he saw that there were different objects on each of the outer stone pedestals. A small, ornate box, a weathered blue tome, a dark metallic sphere. Each surrounded by a mini magic circle.


    On the main pedestal, hidden the shadows, was a massive cracked mirror. Its surface covered in dust and webs, and it was off. It didn¡¯t even reflect he current chamber.


    Instead playing an old scene on loop.


    He walked up the altar, then leapt onto the main pillar. It was round ten feet wide. It was an easy leap.


    He saw the scene.


    A battle of light and shadow raged within its glassy depths. Two forms clashed in an otherworldly landscape, light bending and twisting as dark figures surged forward, battling with such ancient magic that it warped the very world. Their movements were erratic, flickering in and out of focus, like a dream distorted by time and space.


    ¡®That''s... not right,¡¯ Tavalor muttered, his voice low as he approached the mirror, his fingers brushing the dusty surface.


    As his touch connected with the glass, the scene froze for a moment¡ªeach figure suspended mid-motion¡ªbefore the reflection flickered, and the battle resumed, more intensely this time.


    The faces in the mirror became clearer, revealing distorted, anguished expressions. Each form seemed to scream, yet no sound came from the glass.


    Emberfist, Luneth, and the ghost finally caught up, stepping into the chamber behind him. Emberfist¡¯s eyes immediately scanned the surroundings, her hand resting on her sword, ready for anything. Luneth glanced nervously at the dark, metallic sphere, then at the pedestal with the glowing blue tome. The ghost, always silent and unfathomable, floated nearby, its presence fading like a distant memory.


    ¡®I don¡¯t like this," Emberfist said, her voice sharp. ¡®It feels like we¡¯re being watched.¡¯


    ¡®No kidding,¡¯ Luneth added, her voice a mix of curiosity and wariness. ¡®Is anyone else noticing how... alive this place feels?¡¯


    Tavalor nodded.


    The mirror flickered again, showing something new. This time, the figures clashed with greater violence, their energy flaring like storms.


    Tavalor could barely make out what it was, before its formwas obscured by the chaotic scene, but he recognized the shape.


    Snake like. Wings. Breathing fire, ice and all kinds of ancient magic. It brought up a memory from Old Tavalor.


    ¡®That''s... a dragon,¡¯ he murmured, leaning closer, drawn to the figure.


    Emberfist followed his gaze. ¡®A dragon? But that doesn¡¯t look like any dragon I¡¯ve seen.¡¯


    Luneth furrowed her brow. ¡®Why does it look so familiar?¡¯


    Another figure was revealed¡ª a tall, ethereal being with flowing robes, holding an ornate staff crackling with light.


    Tavalor''s gaze followed hers, and just as he was about to speak, another figure appeared within the swirling shards of glass. This one was taller, more defined¡ªa being of ethereal beauty, his robes flowing like liquid light, his face ageless yet full of purpose. He held an ornate staff, the top crackling with raw energy, the same energy that had surged through the mirror¡¯s vision. But what struck Tavalor most was the unmistakable familiarity of the figure.


    ¡®It''s Vallen,¡¯ he whispered, voice tight with recognition. ¡®But younger... much younger. This... this is before his downfall.¡¯


    The image shifted again, revealing the dragon¡ªthe powerful, regal creature Tavalor had glimpsed before. But now it was fully revealed, its massive form curling through the sky in defiance, wings beating with the force of a storm. Its eyes glowed with a fierce, unrelenting energy as it stared down Vallen, the mage¡¯s staff crackling with light as he prepared to meet the dragon¡¯s assault.


    Then the scene changed again. Switching to a first persons point of view.


    Telling the story of a ¡­ servant?


    ***


    I still remember the day I first met Vallen. The Mage, the Unbound, the great architect of the world itself. To the world, he was a genius¡ªa visionary whose very existence seemed to bend the rules of nature.


    He wielded magic like no other, weaving chaos and order into one, effortlessly crafting wonders that defied both imagination and reason. But to those of us who served him¡­ he was a god.


    He was a perfect being to us. Beautiful and remote.


    At first, I admired him. At first, I wanted to be his disciple. He promised us knowledge¡ªpower¡ªbeyond anything we could comprehend.


    His sanctum, a sprawling maze of arcane knowledge, was a reflection of his ambition, every corridor a testament to his genius. His eyes burned with a fire that would never be extinguished, and for a time, I thought it would be enough just to stand in the shadow of that brilliance.


    But what do you do when you serve a god who demands everything?


    Vallen, for all his greatness, had one fatal flaw: he expected loyalty, and loyalty in his eyes was absolute. A failure to meet his expectations, even once, meant you were a failure in his eyes. It was suffocating, maddening. I was just an apprentice¡ªa lowly servant, barely allowed to glimpse his grand designs¡ªbut that was enough. He treated all of us as mere tools to further his relentless drive toward perfection. He saw nothing but his own desires, and those desires¡ªthose maddening, incomprehensible whims¡ªbecame everything.


    He didn¡¯t care about us. Not really.


    And then, one day, as his power grew immeasurable, he began to speak of the Mirror of Dominion¡ªan artifact forged from his very soul. The key, he said, could unlock the deepest vault of his sanctum. But not only that¡ªno. The mirror would allow its bearer to reshape the world itself, to merge the chaotic and the structured into one flawless whole. Imagine that, he said¡ªimagine being able to control all magic, binding it under your will.


    Imagine that, I thought. Imagine having that power.


    The mirror was meant to be his final creation, the ultimate expression of his dominance. But it was more than just an object of power. It was a testament to his arrogance. To his belief that no one¡ªno one¡ªcould ever be worthy to wield it except for him. He had crafted it so, to make sure no one could take it from him. But I¡­ I had different ideas.


    It wasn¡¯t just about the power anymore. It wasn¡¯t just about knowledge, or magic. It was about control. He had built this sanctum, this empire of knowledge, but it was his prison. The walls closed in with every passing day. He thought he was above all of us, above the need for loyalty or companionship, or even a moment of peace.


    Every day, he grew more distant, more consumed by his own vision. And I¡­ I began to see something different in the Key. It wasn¡¯t just an instrument for his vision of the world. It was an instrument of tyranny.


    He had become a dictator in all but name. A tyrant in his ivory tower, demanding absolute devotion, and punishing even the slightest hint of rebellion. His grand designs, his perfect order, were slowly suffocating me. And so, I made my choice.


    I betrayed him.


    There was no ceremony, no fanfare. I had learned the language of the mirror long before Vallen realized my true intentions. He had made the mistake of trusting me¡ªof thinking me loyal¡ªand I had used that trust against him. The mirror responded to me, rejecting Vallen¡¯s magic as it had been bound to his soul. In that moment, as I grasped its power, I knew I had become its master. I would be the one to reshape the world. I would be the one to rule.


    But as I wielded the Key, I felt it betray me in turn.


    Vallen had anticipated my treachery. How could I have been so foolish to think I could steal from him? The moment I tried to claim its power, the mirror rejected me, stripping me of my very essence. The magic that flowed through me turned against me. It was a slow, agonizing death as my magic drained away, as my will and my body were consumed by the very artifact I had sought to wield.


    I had become nothing but a hollow shell. A ghost.


    The sanctum was in ruins, falling beneath the weight of our conflict. The dragons had come, their fiery wrath laying waste to everything. And Vallen, the fool, had not realized that his arrogance had cost him more than just an apprentice. It had cost him everything. The sanctum collapsed into the waters, the lagoons swallowing the remnants of his empire. And the Key, that precious artifact, was destroyed with me.


    ***


    The mirror dimmed.


    Tavalor¡¯s mind raced when the fragmented vision of the mirror faded. The servants story and Vallens last battle with the dragon still fresh. Emberfist, Luneth, and the ghost stood silent behind him, processing the weight of the history they had just uncovered.


    ¡®So, the servant, and the dragons ¡­ were all a part of this? And Vallen was fighting them?¡¯ Luneth asked. Her voice tinged with disbelief.


    Tavalor nodded.


    ¡®He was fighting on two fronts,¡¯ it was obvious why he couldn¡¯t win.


    Luneth¡¯s eyes lit up, staring at the mirror. ¡®So this is the mirror?¡¯ She walked up towards it. Touching it.


    But it didn¡¯t do anything.


    ¡®It was only a fragment.¡¯ Tavalor said. He suspected that some of his magic had leaked out when he had touched the mirror, and that was what had powered it. ¡®And it¡¯s ancient now.¡¯ He finished.


    ***


    Luneth was in front again, her eyes scanning everything¡ªtreasures, traps, or whatever secrets this forsaken place might reveal.


    ¡®Another chest,¡¯ she muttered, her voice a mix of curiosity and a hint of impatience. ¡®Let¡¯s see what you¡¯re hiding this time.¡¯


    The chest was sitting in the middle of a narrow hallway, just waiting for someone to take the bait. Luneth approached it with cautious enthusiasm, her fingers hovering over the clasp, her instincts more attuned to the treasure hunt than any danger.


    Before anyone could stop her, she opened it. There was a slight click, a faint shift in the air, and then¡ªa loud crack.


    The floor beneath Luneth shifted violently, a hidden blade emerging from the wall,


    Luneth leaned backwards and the blade sliced the air in front of her. It just narrowly missed her. The chest slammed shut with a resounding thud as if laughing at her misfortune.


    Luneth yelped, stumbling back. ¡°Oh come on,¡± she said, brushing off her tunic as if she hadn¡¯t nearly had her life taken by a hidden blade.


    Tavalor chuckled quietly, watching her dust herself off. He stepped forward, looking over the scene with a bemused expression. ¡®Careful, Luneth.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not dead yet!¡¯ Luneth shot back, with an infectious grin.


    ¡®C¡¯mon, focus,¡¯ Emberfist said, through there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. She was getting impatient with Luneth¡¯s obsession with treasure chests and Tavalor¡¯s endless side quests. ¡®We¡¯ve got more important things to worry about.¡¯ She said clenching her fists.


    Tavalor, despite his growing amusement at Luneth''s antics, kept his eyes sharp. His [Dragon Sight] let him see everything most people couldn¡¯t: faint shifts in the air, subtle distortions in the light, and the telltale signs of traps¡ªhis sight warned him of impending danger. He had also discovered a side passage to the left, almost completely hidden behind a rock wall. It felt like an invitation.


    ¡®Well, while someone is busy with chest hunting, I found a tunnel.¡¯ Tavalor grinned and gestured toward the narrow opening. ¡®It¡¯s just... strange. I¡¯ve never seen a tunnel like it.¡¯


    With a click, a silent mechanism slid open.


    The group followed him, cautious but intrigued. As they entered the side passage, Tavalor¡¯s sharp eyes spotted a glimmer against the dark stone walls¡ªa faint glint of something metallic.


    He crouched down, brushing some dust away from a nearby stone, revealing a small medallion embedded in the wall. It had intricate markings carved into it, an odd blend of elven runes and celestial patterns.


    That was it. The only thing in the entire passage. A medallion embedded in the wall.


    Tavalor gingerly pried the medallion from its resting place, holding it up for the group to see. ¡®This... doesn¡¯t look like any of the treasures we¡¯ve seen before,¡¯ he said, studying it carefully. ¡®Seems almost too intentional.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s beautiful,¡¯ Luneth said, leaning closer to get a better look. ¡®What do you think it¡¯s for?¡¯


    ¡®Good question.¡¯ Tavalor turned the medallion over in his hands, his eyes narrowing. ¡®It feels magical. Some sort of warding charm, perhaps... or a key to something deeper in the dungeon?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re probably right.¡¯ Emberfist shot him a sceptical look. ¡®Let¡¯s just be careful with that, yeah? We don¡¯t know what it could trigger.¡¯


    As Tavalor slipped the medallion into his bag, Luneth, still itching for treasure, cast her gaze around the tunnel. ¡®Well, this place has its fair share of weird stuff,¡¯ she said with a wry grin. ¡®I¡¯ll bet there¡¯s more hidden junk down here. This entire dungeon feels like a giant hoard.¡¯


    ¡®Focus.¡¯Emberfist shot her a glance, but there was no real heat in her voice. She had long since learned to roll with Luneth¡¯s oddities.


    And just as Luneth began to peer into yet another small crevice in the wall, another trap sprung. This one was a spring-loaded spear that shot up from the floor with terrifying speed.


    Luneth was quicker this time, ducking out of the way with a sharp roll to the side.


    ¡®Really?¡¯ Luneth groaned, brushing dust off her knees as she stood up. ¡®Who builds these things? It''s like they know I''m going to try to loot them!¡¯


    The group could only stare for a moment before all of them burst into a fit of laughter. Even Emberfist couldn¡¯t keep the amused smile off her face.


    ¡®You can¡¯t say you weren¡¯t warned,¡¯ Tavalor said, a grin still tugging at the corner of his mouth.


    ¡®You lot are impossible,¡¯ Luneth muttered with a playful eye-roll, but her grin was wide, and she seemed more at ease now. The humour lightened the mood that had been growing tense in the deeper corridors.


    ¡®You''ve certainly got a talent for finding trouble,¡¯ Emberfist added dryly, shaking her head, though there was warmth in her tone.


    ¡®It¡¯s a gift,¡¯ Luneth quipped back. ¡®And you¡¯re welcome for all the entertainment.¡¯


    Tavalor continued to pick up a mix of random oddities: the strange medallion, the enchanted box, the shimmering stone he had picked up earlier, each one a curiosity for later study.


    ¡®Alright, alright, let¡¯s focus,¡¯ Emberfist said, clapping her hands once, a touch of exasperation creeping back into her voice. ¡®We¡¯re not getting anywhere just playing around. This dungeon won¡¯t be killed with jokes.¡¯


    ¡®Hey, if we don¡¯t laugh,¡¯ Luneth said with a mischievous grin, ¡®we¡¯ll just end up dead.¡¯


    There was another beat of silence, and then, as if on cue, they all chuckled again. Even Emberfist¡¯s tension seemed to melt slightly, though she quickly regained her stoic demeanour.


    Tavalor smiled as he glanced over at Luneth, his eyes flicking to the path ahead.


    Maybe the dungeon looked like a place darkness and danger, but they had each other. And for the first time since they entered, he felt the tension in his chest loosen.


    Exploring dungeons wasn¡¯t bad.


    Together.


    ¡®Alright,¡¯ Emberfist said, her tone growing serious again. ¡®Enough fun. Let¡¯s move forward. ¡¯


    And so, the group moved forward again, their steps now lighter, their spirits a little higher.

 Chapter 17 – I Explored a Dungeon (Part 2)

    Vallenport ¨C Noble District


    The moonlight bathed the noble district in an ethereal glow, casting long, sharp shadows between the stone structures of Vallenport. Both moons, Lunaris and Noctis, hung fully in the sky, their pale beams illuminating the streets with a ghostly radiance.


    In the noble district, outside one of the oldest and most palatial estates a crest glowed in the moonlight ¨C a golden wave crashing on the rocks. House Mariner, one of the oldest noble families of Vallenport.


    Beneath the gleaming surface of the estate was a secret: a hidden entrance. A forgotten tunnel beneath the old manor house. Behind a false wall, in the wine cellar.


    Elite guards, the same golden wave crest pinned to their chests, moved silently through the ancient corridor beneath the estate, their footsteps muffled on the cold floors.


    The air was thick with the smell of wood and dust. Behind the elite guards were: a team of Moonwardens, a secretive organisation of warriors, guards from other noble families ¨C House Tidewell and House Stormridge. Both of those families allied by blood and coin.


    The Moonwardens, clad in flowing white robes with faceless white masks that resembled the moon, were a constant and enigmatic part of the upper echelons of Vallenport society. Their movements were fluid. Even their genders were hard to tell, all of them seeming to practice spells that turned them into these tall, skinny androgynous beings. They were the watchers.


    The team moved through the dim tunnels, lanterns casting flickering lights upon the alls. The Mariners, ever proud, wore tailored doublets, stepping arrogantly through the endless tunnels. But the depths of their descent had created a palpable sense of unease.


    The tunnel just kept going and going. It was at a downward slope, curving left and right randomly.


    Step after step. The air grew heavier with every step. A flickering light of the lanterns failing to reveal what lay ahead.


    A flicker of darkness in the far corner of a corridor shifted. The shadows shifted as though they were alive.


    The guards, being ever vigilant, drew their weapons.


    ¡®Stay sharp,¡¯ murmured the leader of House Mariner, his voice low and controlled. ¡®We¡¯re not alone.¡¯


    The shadows rippled again, and this time, there was no mistaking it. Figures started to coalesce from the darkness, like ink spilling from a broken bottle.


    They formed perfect, mirror silhouettes of the team.


    Clones.


    The mirror images were almost indistinguishable from their real counterparts ¨C right down to the giant glint of gold on the Mariners doublets, the gleam of steel in hands, and the swaying of the movements.


    The difference was that they were all white. Form head to toe. As if carved from marble.


    For a brief moment the team stood frozen, starting at their own reflections, unmoving. The silence was suffocating, thick with disbelief.


    With a sharp, sudden movement, the all-white clones struck.


    The battle erupted instantly.


    The echoes of steel ringing out through the narrow passages reverberating off the stone walls.


    The different teams all attacked using their standards spells. House Mariner was famous for their water and navigation magic and their spells reflected this. Their standard spells were [Tidal Surge], [Ebbing Mist] and [Aqua Tether].


    [Tidal Surge] was a powerful water based attack that could form waves of crushing force.


    [Ebbing Mist] was a defensive mist that absorbed damage.


    [Aqua Tether] was a spell that created a rope of water between two points, acting like a grappling line.


    The first blow came from a battle with the leader of House Mariner. His [Tidal Surge] was met by his clones [Tidal Surge]. His movements mirrored so exactly that he didn¡¯t have any time to react. The clone had parried the strike with a sneer.


    All the people present were shocked. Some gasping as they realised the implications.


    This wasn¡¯t a trick of the light. No simple illusions. These clones were alive. They were fighting them. Matching every move blow-for-blow.


    The clones and the House Mariner operated in unison. Pairs of [Tidal Surge]¡¯s met with [Ebbing Mists]¡¯s and caused chaos. Drowning out the environment.


    House Tidewell speciality was control of storms and lightning. Their offensive spell was [Thunderclap], defence was [Thunder Ward]. The thunder and water mixing also causing a lot of friendly fire.


    Desperation gripped the team as they tried to break the cycle. But the clones were too perfect. Every attack was countered.


    A scream echoed.


    The first member of the team fell. A member of House Mariner. Their own reflection driving a blade through their chest.


    As he fell his life force was absorbed by the shadow and the shadow grew a little more substantial. He shrivelled into dust and blew away in the winds of battle.


    The only ones to escape the chaos were the Moonwardens. Their speciality was illusion and shadow magic.


    Their offensive spell was [Shadow Spike], defence was [Shadow Veil] and their speciality was [Mirage].


    [Mirage] allowed them to control the situation. It let them cast illusions, creating duplicates of whatever they wanted: the caster, the opponent, the environment.


    They took advantage of the confusion. But so did their clones.


    It was clear that the clones were gaining the upper hand.


    Although the clones were identical, there was a difference in their attacks.


    In chess you can rate a move based on how close to mathematically perfect it is. From 1-100.


    If you were to rate the humans moves, they would be in the 60¡¯s whereas the clones moves were in the 90¡¯s. Their moves were much better.


    A first member fell, then a second, then a third.


    Each time the clones grew stronger, slowly gaining more colour. Their forms becoming more substantial, less ethereal as they fed on the life force of the teams.


    With each fallen warrior, the tension grew tighter and their hopes thinner.


    The captain of House Mariner had ceased to speak. His mind reeling with the difficulty of this trap.


    It was strange. It was as if these shadows had been waiting all this time to take advantage and to come alive.


    The final remnants of the battle settled. The dungeon grew silent. The last man alive was the captain of the Mariners.


    He was covered, head to toe in bloody scratches. He had ran out of magic, using his body and broken sword to parry.


    But he was surrounded and quickly fell. Finally being beheaded by his own clone.


    Then his form shrivelled into dust. The victorious clone also went from being insubstantial to becoming a fully coloured, fully realised copy.


    The dungeon grew quiet. The clones, looking at each other, then turning, picking up the torches, lights and weapons before quietly continuing on their way.


    ***


    Noble District, House Tidewell Library, Several Weeks Earlier


    The smell of old parchment and dust clung to the air in a noble library in Vallenport. Its towering shelves were lined with tomes and scrolls, some ancient enough to make the most seasoned scholar tread lightly.


    In a quiet corned of the room, under the dim flicker of a lamp, three elderly men sat at a large wooden table.


    One, Lord Aldric Mariner, a balding old weathered nobleman adjusted his spectacles as he examined a map of the city¡¯s underground passages. The other, Lord Eryx Tidewell, tapped a silver cane on the floor.


    His blue piecing gaze fixed on the third figure across from them ¨C a scholar of considerable renown, Professor Aldrel. He was an even more decrepit looking old man. Small and hunched. Looking but nothing but skin and bone. His scholarly robes were threadbare, the edges worn with time, and his hands trembled slightly as he leafed through a thick manuscript. Despite his apparent frailty, his eyes were as sharp as a blade.


    ¡®The dungeon beneath House Mariner¡¯s estate,¡¯ Lord Aldric said, voice low, ¡®has been a point of concern for generations. Yet none have dared approach it. Why now?¡¯


    Professor Aldrel looked up from the manuscript, his pale eyes reflecting a quiet urgency. ¡®Because, my lord, the shadows are about to emerge. They are a product of something far older, a power long forgotten, known only in whispers among the oldest texts.¡¯


    Lord Eryx leaned forward, his curiosity piqued: ¡®Ancient power? What are you speaking of Aldrel?¡¯


    The scholar closed the manuscript with a sigh, his fingers brushing the spine as though it were something fragile. ¡®The shadows are tied to Vallen¡¯s Key ¨C an ancient relic created by the first Vallen, a mage of such skill that he could manipulate the very fabric of reality. An [S-Class] Mage.¡¯


    The two other men gasped at [S-Class].


    ¡®


    ¡®To power, and to a gateway that has remained sealed for centuries. It was Vallen¡¯s last great act: an attempt to unlock the core of shadow magic itself. He believed that by merging the shadow realm with our own, he could transcend death, could create an immortal empire of shadows. But the power consumed him. It consumed everyone who dared to try and master it.¡¯


    Lord Eryx shook his head, disbelief creeping into his voice. ¡®You mean to say these shadows are a result of some ancient experiment? What magic could possibly create such creatures?¡¯


    The Professor nodded, opening another aged tome in front of him. ¡®Shadow magic, as it is called, is not like any other form of magic. It is a manipulation of memory and identity, a dark mirror that reflects those who touch it. It copies the form and abilities of those it encounters, mimicking their movements, their skills, even their essence. But it is more than mere imitation.¡¯ He paused, his voice dropping to a near whisper. ¡®It feeds on the very life force of its victims. The more they take, the more real they become.¡¯


    ¡®


    ¡®And how do we stop them?¡¯ Lord Eryx asked, his tone grave.


    Professor Ardel hesitated, his fingers lingering over the pages of the book. ¡®There is a weakness¡ªVallen¡¯s Key. It holds the power to unlock the true source of the shadow magic. If you can find it, you can sever the connection between the shadows and their creator. It will render them inert, unable to replicate or grow. But you must act quickly. The longer they are allowed to feed, the more dangerous they become.¡¯


    ¡®


    ***


    The chamber was unlike the previous tunnels. It was a perfect dome carved from perfect dome carved form black obsidian, its walls gleaming with an inner light that seemed to flow rather than flicker.


    Ancient runes spiralled floor to ceiling in a pattern than made the eye dizzy if followed too long. At the centre stood a raised dais of white stone, untouched by the dampness that pervaded the rest of the dungeon.


    Lyra and Mira stepped through the archway, in perfect synch. Their crystalline armour shifting from azure to amber as they sensed the change in magical currents. Through identical in form and movement, subtle differences marked them apart. Lyra¡¯s icy blue eyes scanning methodically while Mira¡¯s forest green gaze darted with intuitive wariness.


    ¡®The ambient magic is¡­ different,¡¯ Lyra whispered. Her voice echoing despite its softness.


    Mira nodded, completing her sisters thought: ¡®Something is feeding on it.¡¯


    They moved as one unit towards the dais, their armour adjusting to match the chamber¡¯s bioluminescence ¨C a defensive adaptation honed through centuries of elven crafting. The air grew thick, not with moisture but with potential, like the moment before lightning strikes.


    The first shadow came without warning.


    It stretched from behind a pillar, impossibly fast, a tendril of absolute darkness that seemed to consume light rather than merely block it. Lyra pivoted left as Mira turned right, their synchronization flawless as twin blades of crystalline energy formed in their hands.


    ¡®Pattern Seven,¡¯ Lyra murmured, already executing the first strike of the ancient elven combat form.


    The shadow split, fragmenting into a dozen smaller tendrils that darted around the chamber like frenzied serpents. Where they passed, the runes dimmed, their power siphoned away.


    Mira slashed through three shadows in rapid succession, her blade leaving trails of silver light that momentarily stunned the darkness. ¡®They''re drawing power from the stones,¡¯ she called, ducking as a tendril lashed overhead.


    Lyra spun, her movements fluid and precise, a dance practised over decades of training. ¡®Focus on the nexus points,¡¯ she responded, striking at the place where several shadows converged.


    Their perfectly mirrored combat style had never failed them before. For centuries, the Starlight Twins had been unmatched on battlefields across the continent, their minds linked by magic as ancient as the forests of Lunathiel. But here, in this corrupted chamber, something interfered with their bond.


    A shadow, darker and more substantial than the others, surged between them. For the first time in battle, their synchronization broke.


    Mira stumbled, a half-step out of rhythm, her eyes widening in surprise. ¡®Lyra¡ª¡¯


    Too late. The shadow enveloped her, dragging her toward the far wall. Their psychic link wavered, static replacing the crystal clarity they''d always shared.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Lyra''s composure broke, her dispassionate battle focus giving way to genuine fear. ¡®MIRA!¡¯ Her voice echoed, amplified by the chamber''s design.


    The shadows seemed to pulse in response, almost laughing.


    Mira fought within the darkness, her armor shifting rapidly through colours¡ªcrimson for danger, silver for defence, gold for power. Flashes of her blade cut through the shadow, but for every tendril severed, two more wrapped around her limbs.


    Lyra charged forward, abandoning the calculated strategy that had served them for so long. Her blade elongated, transforming into a spear of pure light that she hurled into the mass of darkness surrounding her sister.


    The shadow shrieked¡ªa sound felt rather than heard, vibrating through bone and tooth. It loosened its grip just enough for Mira to leverage a desperate burst of energy, tearing herself free and rolling clear.


    But the victory was momentary. The shadows regrouped, circling the twins with predatory patience.


    ¡®My token,¡¯ Mira gasped, her hand flying to her belt where a small crystal shard¡ªtheir key to the next chamber¡ªhad been secured. ¡®It''s gone.¡¯


    Lyra''s eyes narrowed, tracking the movements of the largest shadow. ¡®There,¡¯ she pointed. A faint glimmer betrayed the position of the stolen token, now embedded within the darkness itself.


    The chamber dimmed further as the shadows drew more power from the runes. Soon, visibility would be non-existent¡ªeven elven sight couldn''t penetrate absolute darkness.


    ¡®We need to adapt,¡¯ Lyra said, her mind racing. The traditional patterns wouldn''t work here. ¡®Split formation.¡¯


    Mira nodded, understanding instantly. For the first time in centuries, they would fight not as reflections of each other, but as complementary forces.


    They positioned themselves on opposite sides of the chamber, armor shifting to contrasting colours¡ªLyra''s crystalline plates blazing white while Mira''s darkened to deepest blue. The shadows hesitated, confused by this unexpected change.


    ¡®On my count,¡¯ Lyra called, her voice steady once more. ¡®Three...¡¯


    Mira crouched, blade transforming into a curved hook of energy.


    ¡®Two...¡¯


    Lyra raised her hand, light gathering between her fingers.


    ¡®One...¡¯


    They moved in perfect opposition¡ªLyra leaping high, unleashing a burst of blinding light that forced the shadows to condense, while Mira darted low, her hooked blade snagging the crystal token from the momentarily solid darkness.


    The shadows shrieked again, this time in unified rage. They abandoned caution, rushing toward Mira in a wave of consuming darkness.


    ¡®Now!¡¯ Mira called, tossing the token high into the air.


    Lyra caught it mid-descent, her armor flaring with protective energy. She slammed the crystal into a matching indentation on the dais, where it locked with an audible click.


    Light erupted from the centre of the room, radiating outward in a perfect circle that pushed the shadows back against the walls. They writhed, their substance thinning as the runes reactivated, glowing with renewed power.


    But Mira hadn''t escaped unscathed. Where the shadows had touched her, the crystalline armor had dulled, turning ashen gray. She stumbled, one knee hitting the stone floor hard.


    ¡®Mira!¡¯ Lyra rushed to her sister, supporting her weight. ¡®What did they do to you?¡¯


    Mira managed a weak smile, though pain etched lines around her eyes. ¡®They... feed on energy. Any kind.¡¯ She flexed her hand, revealing a blackened patch spreading beneath her armor. "Even life force."


    The shadows continued to retreat, forced into the cracks between stones as the chamber''s defences reasserted themselves. The token on the dais pulsed rhythmically, its light growing stronger with each beat.


    With a final flash, the shadows vanished completely, leaving only the clean, crisp scent of ozone behind. The obsidian walls lightened to reveal intricate murals¡ªscenes of elven mages constructing the very dungeon they now traversed.


    Lyra helped Mira to her feet, concern evident in her usually stoic expression. ¡®Can you continue?¡¯


    Mira nodded, straightening with effort. ¡®I must. The corruption here... it''s not just dangerous to us.¡¯ She glanced at the dais, where a doorway had appeared, leading deeper into the dungeon. ¡®If these shadows escape...¡¯


    ¡®Then Vallenport will fall,¡¯ Lyra finished grimly. ¡®And the rest of the continent with it.¡¯


    They moved toward the newly revealed passage, armor gradually returning to its synchronous state, though Mira''s remained slightly dimmer than before. Behind them, they heard distant footsteps¡ªthe other groups were catching up.


    ¡®They''ll face the shadows too,¡¯ Mira said, not slowing her pace.


    Lyra''s expression hardened. ¡®Let them. We need to reach Vallen''s key first.¡¯


    Together they stepped through the doorway, leaving the chamber behind.


    In the chamber they''d left, the shadows began to reform, darker and hungrier than before.


    ***


    Emberfist''s voice echoed with frustration as they reached what appeared to be a solid wall of carved stone: ¡®Another dead end?¡¯


    Her gauntlets flickered brighter with her annoyance, casting long shadows across the narrow corridor.


    Tavalor shook his head, studying the wall with narrowed eyes. ¡®No,¡¯ he said quietly. ¡®Not a dead end.¡¯ His [Dragon Sight] revealed what the others couldn''t see¡ªfaint traces of magic pulsing beneath the ancient stone, a current of power that had remained dormant for centuries.


    He pressed his palm against the central carving¡ªa stylized eye surrounded by seven stars. The stone felt warm beneath his touch, almost alive. ¡®There''s something here.¡¯


    Luneth appeared at his side, her sharp elven senses detecting subtle shifts in the air. ¡®A concealment enchantment,¡¯ she whispered. ¡®Old magic.¡¯


    With deliberate intent, Tavalor channelled a sliver of his draconic power into the carving. The stone responded immediately¡ªthe eye flared with brilliant blue light, and the wall began to recede, sliding silently into the floor to reveal an immense chamber beyond.


    ¡®By the Two Moons¡­¡¯ Emberfist breathed, her usual composure faltering as they stepped into the vast space.


    The chamber was colossal, its ceiling so high it disappeared into darkness. But what arrested their attention was the massive fresco spanning the entirety of the curved walls¡ªa panoramic masterpiece that glowed with its own inner light, the colours still vibrant despite the passage of countless years.


    ¡®It''s... a history,¡¯ Tavalor said, his voice hushed with awe. ¡®The history of this world.¡¯


    The fresco began with a depiction of a peaceful land¡ªrolling hills, dense forests, and crystalline lakes populated by slender, ethereal beings that resembled elves but weren''t quite the same. Their forms were taller, more luminous, their features both beautiful and alien.


    ¡®The First Ones,¡¯ Luneth whispered, recognition dawning in her eyes. ¡®The ancestors of modern elves. But I''ve never seen images of them so... detailed.¡¯


    As they walked slowly along the wall, the narrative of the fresco unfolded. The peaceful scene gave way to one of upheaval¡ªthe sky torn open by a blinding light, and from this breach emerged massive figures, their bodies like mountains, their armor gleaming with stars.


    ¡®Giants,¡¯ Emberfist said, her voice tight with disbelief. ¡®Actual giants.¡¯


    The next section depicted these giants teaching the First Ones, sharing knowledge symbolized by scrolls of light. The giants built towers that reached into the heavens, constructed networks of ley lines across the land, and created what appeared to be portals between worlds.


    But as they continued along the wall, the imagery grew darker. The giants began to change¡ªtheir forms corrupted, twisted by some inner darkness. Conflicts erupted between them. Wars that scarred the land. The fresco showed terrible weapons unleashed, mountains splitting, oceans boiling.


    ¡®They destroyed themselves,¡¯ Tavalor murmured, piecing together the visual narrative.


    The centre of the chamber held a raised dais, upon which rested a strange device¡ªa crystal orb nested within a bronze framework of interlocking rings. As Tavalor approached it, the orb pulsed once, then projected a shimmering figure into the air above it.


    Vallen¡ªor rather, a much younger version of the ethereal being they''d met at the entrance to the dungeon. His translucent form regarded them with solemn eyes.


    ¡®You have found the Chamber of Remembrance,¡¯ the projection said, its voice resonating with ancient power. ¡®Few have seen these truths in the centuries since I sealed them away.¡¯


    ¡®What is this place?¡¯ Tavalor asked. ¡®What history is this showing us?¡¯


    The projection of Vallen gestured toward the fresco. ¡®The true history of our world. Not the one recorded in your libraries or taught by your scholars, but the reality that the Watchers have worked to obscure.¡¯


    ¡®The Watchers?¡¯ Emberfist stepped forward, her brow furrowed.


    Vallen''s form replied. ¡®The Watchers came after the Fall of the Giants, when the world was broken. They claimed to bring order to chaos, structure to a realm torn apart by the Giants'' wars.¡¯ His translucent hand waved, and the fresco seemed to animate momentarily, showing tall, hooded figures arriving through portals of blinding light.


    ¡®They brought the current system of magic,¡¯ Vallen continued. ¡®They bound the wild forces that once flowed freely, constraining them within rigid structures of circles and rules. They claimed it was for safety, to prevent another cataclysm.¡¯


    The projection''s eyes narrowed. ¡®But there was a cost to their order.¡¯


    The fresco shifted again, showing the Watchers constructing a massive apparatus at the centre of the world¡ªa machine that pulsed with energy drawn from the land itself.


    ¡®They created prison worlds,¡¯ Vallen said. ¡®Circular continents surrounded by impassable seas¡ªeach one a perfect cell to contain what they feared. And what they feared most was the return of the Giants, for the Giants alone possessed the knowledge to undo their work.¡¯


    Tavalor felt a chill run through him. ¡®The circular shape of our continent...¡¯


    ¡®Is no natural formation,¡¯ Vallen nodded. ¡®The Elder Isles, the Storm Shores, Vallenport itself¡ªall part of a constructed reality. A cage built to look like home.¡¯


    Luneth stepped closer to the orb, her expression intense. ¡®And Titanos? The newly discovered continent?¡¯


    Vallen''s projection seemed to smile¡ªa sad, knowing expression. ¡®Not newly discovered. Newly returned. The Giants were not all destroyed. Some escaped the Watchers'' purge, fleeing to realms beyond the world''s edge. And now, after millennia, they have found a way back.¡¯


    The implications landed heavily on the group. Emberfist was the first to voice what they were all thinking.


    ¡®So the magic system we use¡ªthe six-spell limit, the structured circles¡ªit''s all a prison?¡¯ Her gauntlets flared brightly with her agitation. ¡®A way to keep us weak?¡¯


    ¡®Yes and no,¡¯ Vallen replied. ¡®It is a constraint, but also a protection. The Watchers feared what unbound magic could do¡ªand not without reason. You''ve seen the shadows in this dungeon? They are echoes of what once was¡ªfragments of the chaos that reigned when magic had no limits.¡¯


    Tavalor''s mind raced with connections. The limited magic system. The circular continent. The strange barriers he''d sensed at the edges of the known world that nobody talked about. All of it suddenly made terrible sense.


    ¡®The dungeon,¡¯ he said slowly. ¡®What is its purpose in all this?¡¯


    ¡®This place,¡¯ Vallen gestured around them, ¡®was my attempt to preserve the truth. To keep alive the knowledge of what came before. But it is also a key.¡¯ His ethereal eyes locked with Tavalor''s. ¡®A key to unlocking the prison the Watchers built.¡¯


    ¡®And the real Vallen?¡¯ Luneth asked. ¡®What happened to him?¡¯


    The projection''s form flickered slightly. ¡®I... committed the greatest transgression in the Watchers'' eyes. I sought to merge structured and wild magic¡ªto restore balance without losing control. For that, I was hunted. This sanctuary became my final refuge.¡¯


    The projection moved closer to Tavalor, studying him with disconcerting intensity. ¡®You are different,¡¯ he said softly. ¡®The magic within you... it does not adhere to their rules. Perhaps that is why you found this chamber when so many others passed it by.¡¯


    Emberfist shot Tavalor a questioning look, but he remained silent, unmoving under Vallen''s scrutiny.


    ¡®The Watchers will come,¡¯ Vallen continued. ¡®They always do, when old truths threaten to emerge. The return of Titanos has already drawn their attention. The shadows that hunt in these depths are but a taste of what they will unleash to maintain their order.¡¯


    The projection began to fade, its voice growing fainter. ¡®You stand at the crossroads of history. What you do with this knowledge is your choice. But know this¡ªthe Giants return not as conquerors, but as refugees. Their world''s dying, and they seek only to reclaim what was once theirs.¡¯


    As Vallen''s form dissipated completely, the orb dimmed, leaving them in silence broken only by their own breathing.


    ¡®So,¡¯ Luneth said finally, ¡®do we continue deeper? Knowing what we know now?¡¯


    Emberfist''s gauntlets crackled with barely-contained energy. ¡®If what he said is true, the world we know is built on lies. A magic system designed to keep us leashed. How can we just walk away from that?¡¯


    Tavalor stared at the fresco, at the final panel showing Giants and the First Ones standing together against the hooded Watchers. His draconic heritage stirred within him¡ªancient power recognizing ancient truth.


    ***


    Kethar''s shoulders pressed against the cold stone as he backed into the corner, the cold reality of their situation settling in his bones. The loss of Auris still burned fresh in his mind¡ªthe mage''s final cry echoing in the hollow chamber. Now it was just him and the two remaining Solaran guards, their silver armor dulled with blood and dust.


    ¡®Stand your ground,¡¯ Kethar commanded, his voice hoarse but unwavering. ¡®Formation Theta.¡¯


    The shadows surged across the chamber floor like a black tide¡ªno longer individual entities but a writhing mass of darkness that consumed everything in its path. Their forms had evolved since the first encounter, becoming more substantial, more defined. Some now bore the faces of those they had killed, twisted in permanent agony.


    ¡®There must be hundreds,¡¯ whispered one of the guards, his hands trembling on his spear.


    Kethar unsheathed his blade with grim determination. ¡®Then we''ll send hundreds back to the darkness.¡¯


    The three formed a triangular defence, backs to each other, weapons pointed outward. The shadows circled, testing for weakness, their movements jerky yet coordinated. One lunged forward, claws extended, and Kethar''s blade flashed, severing the tendril of darkness. It dissipated with a hiss, but three more rushed to take its place.


    ¡®The hide!¡¯ Kethar yelled, reaching for the enchanted beast skin strapped to his back. ¡®Now!¡¯


    The guards moved in practised synchrony, helping to unfurl the skin¡ªits surface still glowing with the faint blue runes of northern magic. Kethar began the incantation, his voice rising above the hiss of the approaching shadows. The hide responded, its magic flaring to life, creating a barrier of shimmering energy.


    But the chamber itself seemed to respond to their desperation. A deep groan emanated from the walls as cracks spread across the ancient stonework. Dust and small rocks began to rain from the ceiling.


    ¡®The room is collapsing,¡¯ Kethar realized, a plan forming in his mind. ¡®We use it.¡¯


    Understanding flashed in the guards'' eyes. There would be no standing their ground, no glorious last stand. Only a strategic retreat¡ªif they were lucky.


    Kethar pointed to a narrow archway across the chamber, almost entirely surrounded by shadows. ¡®There. When I give the signal, run. Don''t stop for anything.¡¯


    He channelled more energy into the beast hide, causing it to pulse with blinding light. The shadows recoiled momentarily, creating a small gap in their ranks. Simultaneously, Kethar slammed his blade into a crack in the floor¡ªa precise strike against a structural weakness.


    The chamber shuddered violently. Larger chunks of ceiling began to fall, forcing the shadows to scatter. The rumbling intensified as ancient support pillars began to crack under centuries of pressure finally released.


    ¡®NOW!¡¯ Kethar roared.


    The three warriors sprinted toward the archway, leaping over debris and dodging falling stones. A shadow lunged at one of the guards, wrapping around his leg. He stumbled, crying out as the darkness began to feed. Kethar spun, slicing through the shadow with a desperate swing, then hauled the guard to his feet.


    ¡®Keep moving!¡¯


    The chamber was disintegrating around them now, massive sections of ceiling crashing down, crushing shadows beneath their weight. The ancient stones seemed almost eager to collapse, as if relieved to finally surrender to time.


    They reached the archway just as the central support column gave way with a deafening crack. Kethar shoved the guards through first, then dove after them as the entire chamber imploded behind him. The shock-wave threw him forward, scraping him across the rough stone of the new corridor.


    For several moments, they lay in the darkness, coughing in the thick dust, the sound of settling rubble the only noise. Kethar pushed himself up, wincing at the new gashes across his armor. His hand went instinctively to his belt¡ªthe token Vallen had given them was still there, glowing faintly.


    ¡®Did we... win?¡¯ asked one of the guards, his voice barely audible.


    Kethar stared back at the wall of rubble that had sealed off the chamber. No shadows pursued them, but the price had been steep. Only three remained from their original party of eight. The enchanted beast hide was gone, sacrificed in their desperate escape, along with most of their supplies.


    ¡®We survived,¡¯ Kethar said grimly. ¡®For now.¡¯


    A faint rumbling from deeper in the dungeon drew their attention forward. The corridor ahead descended sharply, leading toward what sounded like a massive chamber. Light¡ªactual light¡ªspilled from around a distant corner.


    ¡®We''re being funnelled,¡¯ Kethar realized. ¡®All paths converging.¡¯


    They had no choice but to push forward, toward whatever awaited them in the heart of Vallen''s sanctum.


    ***


    The corridor opened into a vast circular chamber with a domed ceiling that stretched so high it disappeared into shadow. Seven doorways, evenly spaced around the perimeter, led into the room¡ªa perfect convergence point for the dungeon''s winding paths.


    Tavalor, Emberfist, and Luneth were the first to arrive, stepping cautiously into the chamber. The revelation from the Chamber of Remembrance still weighed heavy on their minds, transforming their understanding of both past and present.


    ¡®Looks like we''re not alone,¡¯ Emberfist murmured, nodding toward one of the opposite doorways.


    The Starlight Twins emerged, their once-pristine crystalline armor now dulled and cracked in places. Mira leaned slightly against Lyra, her movements betraying an injury. Their usually synchronized steps were now awkward, tentative.


    ¡®Five survivors,¡¯ Luneth counted quietly.


    Tension crackled between the groups as they entered the chamber, each keeping a wary distance from the others. None had emerged unscathed¡ªthe trials of Vallen''s dungeon had extracted their toll from every team.


    Another doorway darkened as Kethar stumbled in, supporting one of his guards while the other limped behind. Blood stained the silver armor of the Solarans, and Kethar''s face was etched with grim determination. The absence of Auris was telling.


    ¡®Seven,¡¯ Emberfist updated the count. Her gauntlets glowed brighter, ready for potential conflict.


    Silence stretched as they sized each other up. Former rivals now reduced to battered survivors, all drawn to this central chamber by Vallen''s design.


    ¡®Where''s the golden peacock?¡¯ Kethar growled, scanning the room for Dorian.


    As if summoned by the question, a blinding flash erupted from the final doorway. Golden light poured forth, and Dorian strode in¡ªhis armor gleaming as if freshly polished, seemingly untouched by the trials that had devastated the others. Behind him followed three of his original crew, similarly pristine.


    ¡®Fashionably late,¡¯ Dorian announced with his characteristic smirk. ¡®Though I see some of you barely made it at all.¡¯


    ¡®How?¡¯ Mira demanded, her voice strained with pain and suspicion. ¡®The shadows¡ª¡®


    ¡®Were barely an inconvenience,¡¯ Dorian replied smoothly. ¡®Perhaps you simply chose the wrong path.¡¯


    Kethar took a threatening step forward, but Tavalor raised a hand, halting him. Something wasn''t right. Dorian''s immaculate appearance felt... wrong. Like a mask worn too perfectly.


    The chamber itself commanded their attention now. At its centre stood a pedestal of black stone, upon which rested an ornate box carved with intricate symbols that matched the tokens each group still carried.


    The floor around the pedestal was inlaid with concentric rings of silver, gold, and obsidian, forming a massive magical circle that pulsed with latent energy.


    ¡®The heart of the sanctum,¡¯ Lyra whispered. ¡®Vallen''s vault.¡¯


    Dorian stepped forward, his movements fluid and confident. ¡®Then let''s not waste time. The key¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Wait,¡¯ Tavalor''s voice cut through the chamber. His [Dragon Sight] revealed what the others couldn''t see¡ªa faint shimmer in the air around Dorian and his team, like a mirage distorting reality.


    The shadows began to seep from the walls¡ªnot rushing in as before, but gathering deliberately, coalescing at the edges of the chamber. Watching. Waiting.


    ¡®They''re here for a reason,¡¯ Tavalor continued, his gaze fixed on the shadows. ¡®All the trials, all the losses¡ªthey were sifting us, testing us.¡¯ He glanced at the other groups. ¡®And now comes the final elimination.¡¯


    The air shimmered as Vallen''s form materialized above the pedestal¡ªno longer the multiple aspects they had encountered at the entrance, but a singular presence, more solid than before.


    ¡®You have reached the threshold,¡¯ Vallen intoned, his voice echoing around the chamber. ¡®But only one may claim the key. The power it holds cannot be divided or shared.¡¯


    The shadows surged forward slightly, forming a circle around the gathered survivors. Their movements betrayed eagerness, hunger.


    ¡®What happens to those who fail?¡¯ Kethar demanded, his hand tightening on his sword.


    Vallen''s expression remained impassive. ¡®The shadows must feed. It is the price of the key''s power¡ªlife for life, sacrifice for mastery.¡¯


    ¡®And if we refuse this bargain?¡¯ Lyra asked, supporting her sister''s weight.


    ¡®Then none shall leave,¡¯ Vallen¡¯s face fell into shadows as he replied simply. ¡®The shadows will consume all, and the key will remain unclaimed for another age.¡¯


    The survivors exchanged glances¡ªwary, calculating, desperate. In that moment, alliances began to form silently through shared looks and subtle nods. Former rivals became potential allies against a common threat.


    ¡®He''s lying,¡¯ Luneth muttered to Tavalor. ¡®Something''s not right about this whole setup.¡¯


    Tavalor nodded imperceptibly. The chamber''s design, the converging paths, the shadows'' behaviour¡ªit felt like they were being manipulated into a specific outcome. But to what end?


    ¡®Prepare yourselves,¡¯ Vallen announced, beginning to fade. ¡®The final trial begins now.¡¯


    The shadows surged forward as Vallen vanished, forming grotesque, twisted shapes¡ªmirror images of the adventurers themselves, but wrong. Distorted. Hungry.


    Dorian laughed, the sound echoing unnaturally. His form flickered momentarily, like a mirage in desert heat. ¡®May the best contender win,¡¯ he called, his voice overlapping with another, deeper tone.


    The survivors formed a defensive ring, backs to each other, facing the advancing darkness. Whatever rivalries had divided them before were temporarily set aside in the face of mutual destruction.


    ¡®If we survive this,¡¯ Emberfist muttered, her gauntlets flaring to life, ¡®remind me never to go dungeon diving again.¡¯


    The shadows closed in.

 Chapter 18 – The Final Battle

    The chamber was a perfect circle, vast enough that its far edges faded into shadow, despite the light emanating from its centre.


    The domed ceiling soared impossibly high, supported by seven obsidian pillars arranged in a heptagon around the rooms perimeter. Each pillar etched with scenes that shifted and changed as if alive ¨C battles, rituals and ancient magic.


    At the chambers centre stood a raised dais of white stone, upon which rested could only be Vallen¡¯s vault.


    A cube of solid darkness, its edges defying perception warping the light around it.


    Concentric rings of runes encircled the dais, pulsing with a cold blue light that cast eerie shadows across the faces of the surviving teams.


    Tavalor¡¯s group stood at one point of the heptagon ¨C himself, Emberfist and Luneth forming a tight unit, weapons ready.


    Across from them the Starlight Twins had taken up a position, their once-perfect synchronicity disrupted by Mira¡¯s injuries. Lyra kept her sister close, their crystalline armor dulled and cracked in places but still gleaming with elven magic.


    Kethar and his two remaining Solaran guards formed another point, their silver amour stained with blood and grime. The northern warrior¡¯s face was a mask of grim determination, his massive blade held ready despite the visible exhaustion in his stance.


    Then there was Dorian¡¯s team. Four members, golden armour pristine and unmarred, as if they had strolled through the dungeon¡¯s trials rather than battled through them. They stood with a casual confidence, Dorian himself wearing a smirk that seemed strangely fixed on his face.


    ¡®Eleven survivors¡¯ Emberfist muttered, her eyes scanning the chamber. ¡®Out of how many?¡¯


    ¡®Not for long,¡¯ Luneth replied quietly, her gaze fixed on the shadows gathering at the edges of the room. They seeped from the walls like living ink, forming a writhing barrier between the teams and the seven archways they had entered through.


    Vallen¡¯s spectral form flickered above the vault, his expression unreadable. ¡®The final trial begins,¡¯ he announced, voice reverberating through the chamber. ¡®Only one may claim the key.¡¯


    An elimination trial?


    ¡®Form up!¡¯ Kethar called, his voice cutting through the sudden chaos. ¡®Back to back!¡¯


    Survival instinct overcame rivalry. The teams shifted, forming a rough circle facing outward, their backs to the central dais.


    Kethar''s massive blade sliced through the first shadow to reach them, its form dissolving into mist only to reform seconds later, stronger and more defined.


    The Starlight Twins moved as one unit despite Mira''s injury, their blades leaving trails of silver light through the darkness. Where they struck, the shadows briefly retreated, hissing like water on hot stone.


    ¡®Light,¡¯ Lyra called out, ¡®They''re vulnerable to pure light!¡¯


    Emberfist''s gauntlets flared in response, flames extending into whips that cut wide arcs through the advancing horde. ¡®Then let''s give them light!¡¯


    The shadows pressed inward, endless in their assault. For every one dispersed, three more formed from the darkness at the chamber''s edge. They attacked in waves, testing defences, probing for weakness, growing smarter with each successive assault.


    Luneth darted between attackers, her daggers finding vulnerable points where shadow joined shadow. ¡®They''re trying to separate us,¡¯ she warned, narrowly avoiding a clawed hand that reached for her throat.


    Tavalor noticed it too¡ªthe strategy behind what had seemed like mindless aggression. The shadows were indeed trying to isolate individuals, to break the defensive circle. And they were succeeding.


    The gap between Kethar''s group and the Starlight Twins was widening as they were forced back by relentless pressure.


    ¡®Close ranks!¡¯ he shouted, but his voice was lost in the din of battle.


    A shadow warrior, larger than the others, launched itself at the gap. One of Kethar''s guards moved to intercept it, but too slowly.


    The shadow''s blade¡ªnow solid enough to reflect light¡ªpierced the guard''s armor with a sickening crunch. The man screamed, his body convulsing as darkness spread from the wound, consuming him from within.


    Within seconds, he collapsed¡ªnot into death, but into shadow itself, his form dissolving into the greater darkness. The shadow that had struck him grew, becoming more substantial, its features shifting to incorporate aspects of its victim.


    ¡®Gods above,¡¯ whispered Emberfist, momentarily stunned by the transformation.


    Dorian''s team, meanwhile, fought with uncanny precision. Their movements were too perfect, their coordination flawless despite the chaos. Dorian himself wielded twin swords of strange golden metal that seemed to cut through shadow with unusual effectiveness.


    ¡®Something''s not right with them,¡¯ Luneth muttered, appearing at Tavalor''s side between strikes. ¡®Have you noticed? They don''t breathe hard. They don''t sweat. They don''t bleed.¡¯


    Tavalor had noticed. His [Dragon Sight] revealed what the others couldn''t see¡ªa faint distortion around Dorian''s team, like heat shimmer over desert sand. ¡®They''re not what they appear to be,¡¯ he agreed, deflecting a shadow blade with his arm.


    The battle intensified as the shadows pressed their advantage. The defensive circle contracted further, forcing the survivors closer together. The Starlight Twins found themselves isolated, cut off from the main group by a wall of shadow warriors.


    ¡®Lyra!¡¯ Mira called out as a shadow blade sliced through her already-damaged armor. Light flared from the wound¡ªnot blood, but pure energy leaking from her crystalline form.


    Lyra responded with a desperate burst of power, a wave of white light pulsing outward from her armor. The nearest shadows dissolved, but the effort cost her. She staggered, momentarily vulnerable, and the shadows pounced.


    The twins stood back to back, surrounded by darkness. Their armor shifted through colours rapidly¡ªdefensive patterns activating in chaotic sequence as they fought to maintain their position. But the shadows were adapting, learning to counter each color shift with a corresponding attack pattern.


    ¡®We can''t hold,¡¯ Kethar shouted from the other side of the chamber, his remaining guard falling to one knee as a shadow blade found its mark.


    The battle was turning against them. The shadows weren''t just growing stronger¡ªthey were evolving, becoming more intelligent with each passing minute. Their attacks now coordinated perfectly, exploiting weaknesses, countering strengths.


    Luneth was the first to voice what they were all beginning to suspect: ¡®This isn''t a trial,¡¯ she hissed, ducking under a shadow blade. ¡®It''s a harvest.¡¯


    The realization spread across the survivors'' faces as they fought. They weren''t meant to succeed¡ªthey were meant to be consumed, to feed the shadows, to make them stronger. The dungeon wasn''t testing them; it was using them.


    ¡®Then why bring us all to the same chamber?" Emberfist countered, her flames momentarily pushing back the darkness. ¡®Why not pick us off separately¡¯


    Tavalor''s gaze shifted to Dorian, whose perfect fighting form never faltered, whose smile never slipped. ¡®Because someone is pulling the strings,¡¯ he replied. ¡®And I think it''s time we found out who.¡¯


    A scream cut through the chamber¡ªone of the Starlight Twins had fallen. Mira collapsed to her knees, a shadow blade protruding from her chest. Light poured from the wound, her form beginning to dissolve at the edges.


    Lyra''s anguished cry seemed to shake the very foundations of the chamber. Her armor blazed with blinding light as she threw herself at her sister''s attackers, all discipline abandoned in favour of raw fury.


    ¡®We have to help them!¡¯ Luneth started forward, but Tavalor caught her arm.


    ¡®We can''t reach them in time,¡¯ he said grimly. ¡®And they know it.¡¯


    Indeed, the shadows were already reforming around the fallen twin, absorbing her light, growing stronger. Lyra fought like a demon, her blade cleaving through shadow after shadow, but for each one she dispersed, two more took its place.


    Kethar''s group was faring little better. His guard had succumbed to his wounds, leaving the northern warrior alone, his back against one of the obsidian pillars, fighting with the desperate energy of a cornered animal.


    Through it all, Dorian''s team maintained their perfect formation, their golden armor unmarred, their movements synchronized with impossible precision. And as Tavalor watched, he caught a flicker¡ªthe briefest moment where Dorian''s form seemed to shift, revealing something else beneath the golden facade.


    ¡®Whatever happens next,¡¯ Tavalor said to Emberfist and Luneth, ¡®stay close. This isn''t just about surviving the shadows anymore.¡¯


    The battle raged on, the survivors fighting not just for victory, but for the truth buried beneath the dungeon''s deceptions¡ªand for their very lives.


    ***


    The chamber shuddered as Lyra fell beside her sister, their synchronized light finally extinguished. The shadows surged inward, pressing the remaining survivors closer to the central dais.


    Kethar fought with the desperation of a doomed man, his blade carving futile arcs through the darkness. Tavalor, Emberfist, and Luneth maintained their tight formation, backs to one another as the horde closed in.


    Only Dorian''s team remained untouched, their golden armor gleaming amid the chaos, their movements still inhumanly perfect.


    ¡®Enough of this charade,¡¯ Tavalor called out, his voice cutting through the din of battle. ¡®Show yourself, Dorian. Or whatever you truly are.¡¯


    The fighting seemed to pause¡ªa moment of unnatural stillness descending over the chamber. The shadows receded slightly, forming a ring around the survivors rather than pressing the attack. Dorian''s team lowered their weapons in perfect unison, their heads turning toward him with mechanical precision.


    Dorian''s laugh echoed unnaturally, overlapping with itself like multiple voices speaking at once. His golden armor began to ripple, the metal flowing like liquid, reshaping itself around his form.


    ¡®Very perceptive,¡¯ he said, his voice distorting. ¡®Most don''t notice until it''s far too late.¡¯


    The facade cracked. Dorian''s handsome face split like a porcelain mask, revealing something else beneath¡ªa visage of living gold, features too perfect to be human, eyes that gleamed with ancient intelligence. His companions underwent similar transformations, their forms shifting into golden simulacra of their former selves.


    ¡®What are you?¡¯ Emberfist demanded, her gauntlets flaring brighter.


    ¡®I am a Watcher,¡¯ the being that had been Dorian replied. His voice reverberated with power, each syllable ringing like struck metal. ¡®Or rather, an aspect of one. A fragment given form to accomplish what must be done.¡¯


    Tavalor¡¯s eyes narrowed: ¡®The Watchers that Vallen spoke of. The ones who imprisoned magic.¡¯


    ¡®The ones who preserved magic,¡¯ the golden being corrected, spreading his arms. The armor continued to flow and reshape, becoming more ornate, more alien. ¡®Who saved this realm when the Giants nearly destroyed it. Who constructed order from the ruins of their arrogance.¡¯


    His companions spread out, taking positions at equidistant points around the chamber. The shadows parted for them, subservient rather than hostile.


    ¡®The shadows are yours,¡¯ Luneth realized, her daggers lowering slightly. ¡®They always were.¡¯


    ¡®Tools, nothing more,¡¯ the Watcher confirmed. ¡®Necessary for the culling, for the preservation of the system. Every few centuries, those with the potential to disrupt our order emerge. They must be ¡­ redirected.¡¯


    Kethar spat blood onto the stone floor: ¡®You lured us here. All of us.¡¯


    ¡®The dungeon calls to those who would upset the balance. It always has. My kind simply ensures that the most dangerous elements must be removed.¡¯ The Watchers gaze fixed on Tavalor. ¡®But you, you are something unexpected. Something that shouldn¡¯t exist in this age.¡¯


    With a gesture from the Watcher, the golden figures at the chamber''s perimeter lifted their hands in unison. The floor beneath them illuminated, revealing intricate runic circles that had remained hidden beneath a layer of illusion. The circles flared to life, lines of golden light racing across the stone, connecting to form a complex pattern that encompassed the entire chamber.


    ¡®A binding circle,¡¯ Emberfist breathed, recognizing the arcane geometry. ¡®He''s trapping us.¡¯


    ¡®Not all of you,¡¯ the Watcher replied. ¡®Just the anomaly.¡¯


    The magic surged upward, golden light forming a dome over the chamber. The circles beneath their feet pulsed, and the stone itself began to warp, creating barriers that separated the survivors from each other. Tavalor found himself pushed toward the central dais by an unseen force, while Emberfist and Luneth were forced back, stone walls erupting between them.


    ¡®Tavalor!¡¯ Emberfist shouted, her fists hammering against the magical barrier that now separated them.


    The chamber reconfigured itself around them, the ancient magic responding to the Watcher''s will. Within moments, the vast space had been divided into smaller segments, isolating each survivor. Only Tavalor and the golden Watcher remained in the central area, facing each other across the dais that held Vallen''s vault.


    ¡®I''ve existed since the founding of this prison-realm,¡¯ the Watcher said, approaching Tavalor with measured steps. ¡®I''ve overseen the purging of countless anomalies¡ªwildborn mages, dimensional interlopers, even the occasional descendant of the Giants. But you...¡¯ He tilted his head, studying Tavalor with unnerving intensity. ¡®You''re something older. Something that should have been extinct long before we arrived.¡¯


    Tavalor maintained his calm despite the rising pressure in the chamber. The air crackled with magical energy¡ªnot just from the Watcher''s circles, but from something deeper, something responding to his own presence.


    ¡®You know what I am,¡¯ Tavalor said. It wasn''t a question.


    ¡®I suspect,¡¯ the Watcher replied. ¡®The signs are there for those who know how to read them. The impossible magic. The resistance to our structured system. The ancient presence that clings to you like a second skin.¡¯ His golden face twisted into something like a smile. ¡®Dragon.¡¯


    The word hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Somewhere beyond the barriers, Tavalor could hear the sounds of combat¡ªEmberfist and Luneth still fighting, Kethar roaring defiance at unseen enemies. But here, in this central chamber, time seemed to slow.


    ¡®Tell me,¡¯ the Watcher continued, circling Tavalor like a predator. ¡®How did your kind survive our purge? We were thorough. We had to be. Dragons were the greatest threat to the new order¡ªwild magic incarnate, chaos given form and will.¡¯


    ¡®Perhaps you weren''t as thorough as you thought,¡¯ Tavalor replied, matching the Watcher''s movements, maintaining the distance between them.


    The Watcher''s golden eyes narrowed. ¡®No matter. The oversight will be corrected today.¡¯


    He struck without warning, faster than mortal eyes could track. A blade of pure golden light formed in his hand, slashing toward Tavalor''s throat with lethal precision.


    Tavalor barely managed to dodge, the blade passing close enough to singe his skin. The heat of it was unlike anything he''d felt before¡ªnot mere fire, but the concentrated essence of structured magic itself.


    ¡®Your reflexes are impressive,¡¯ the Watcher noted, readying another strike. ¡®But they won''t save you.¡¯


    The next attack came from multiple angles, golden blades materializing in the air around Tavalor. They converged simultaneously, leaving no path of escape. Tavalor raised his arms in a desperate defensive gesture¡ª


    And the blades shattered against his skin.


    The Watcher paused, golden face registering something like surprise. ¡®Interesting.¡¯


    Tavalor looked down at his arms. Where the blades had struck, his human disguise had cracked, revealing gleaming black scales beneath¡ª[Ancient Scales], his draconic defence, manifesting physically for the first time since his awakening.


    A wave of pain followed the revelation, his entire body suddenly burning as if from within. The human form he''d maintained for so long was breaking down, unable to contain the draconic power surging in response to the threat.


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    ¡®So the dragon emerges,¡¯ the Watcher said, backing away slightly. ¡®Good. I prefer honesty in these exchanges.¡¯


    The chamber trembled as Tavalor fell to his knees, his body convulsing. The pain was excruciating¡ªbones shifting, muscle tearing and reforming, his very essence fighting against the constraints of his human shell. He could hear shouts from beyond the barriers¡ªEmberfist calling his name, Luneth crying out in alarm.


    ¡®Your companions cannot help you,¡¯ the Watcher said, raising his hand. The golden circle beneath them intensified, the light becoming almost blinding. ¡®This binding was designed specifically for your kind, drawn from the oldest templates in our archives. Even at the height of your power, you cannot¡ª¡¯


    His words cut off as Tavalor screamed¡ªa sound that began human but ended as something else entirely. The transformation could no longer be contained. His skin split like a chrysalis, black scales erupting across his body. His frame expanded, growing larger by the second, bones cracking and reforming into a massive, serpentine shape.


    The binding circle flared in response, golden chains of light attempting to restrain the emerging dragon. For a moment, they held, magical energy straining against raw draconic power. The Watcher stepped back, his golden face showing genuine concern for the first time.


    ¡®Impossible,¡¯ he whispered. ¡®The binding should¡ª¡¯


    The circle shattered with a sound like a thousand mirrors breaking at once. Golden light exploded outward, blinding in its intensity. The barriers separating the chamber collapsed, stone walls crumbling like sand. The Watcher was thrown backward, his perfect form denting as it struck one of the obsidian pillars.


    The intensity of the energy smashed the other survivors into the wall. Knocking them all out. It was only Tavalor and the Watcher left conscious.


    When the light faded, Tavalor stood transformed. No longer human, not even remotely. A dragon¡ªmassive, majestic, terrible in its beauty. Black scales gleamed with golden highlights, catching the light like precious metal.


    Wings unfurled, spanning nearly the width of the chamber. Ruby eyes burned with ancient power, fixing on the Watcher with predatory focus.


    The Watcher rose slowly, his golden form rippling as it repaired itself. ¡®So,¡¯ he said, his voice still calm despite the situation. ¡®The last dragon reveals itself at last. How fitting that it should happen here, at the heart of Vallen''s sanctuary.¡¯


    The dragon that had been Tavalor inhaled deeply, the air in the chamber seeming to rush toward him, drawn into lungs large enough to swallow a man whole.


    ¡®You speak of order,¡¯ Tavalor''s voice rumbled, deeper now, resonating through the chamber like distant thunder. ¡®Of preserving magic. But all I see is a prison. A cage built by those who feared what they couldn''t control.¡¯


    The Watcher''s golden form brightened, drawing power from the scattered remains of his binding circle. ¡®Control is necessary. The alternative is chaos¡ªthe same chaos that nearly destroyed this realm when your kind ruled it.¡¯


    ¡®Not chaos,¡¯ Tavalor replied. ¡®Freedom.¡¯


    The dragon lunged forward with impossible speed, jaws open, claws extended. The Watcher met the attack with a barrier of golden light¡ªthe pure essence of structured magic confronting the living embodiment of the wild magic it had sought to contain.


    The collision released a shockwave that shook the foundations of the dungeon. Cracks spread across the chamber''s walls and ceiling, ancient stone groaning under the strain of powers never meant to clash in such close proximity.


    Golden light collided with draconic fury, the impact sending shockwaves through the ancient chamber. The Watcher staggered backward, his perfect form denting where Tavalor''s massive claws had struck. Confusion flickered across his metallic features¡ªthe first genuine emotion he had displayed.


    ¡®Impossible,¡¯ the Watcher hissed, his voice distorting. ¡®The binding should have contained your power.¡¯


    Tavalor advanced, each step shaking the floor beneath them. His massive form filled the chamber, wings partially extended, ruby eyes blazing with ancient power. When he spoke, his voice rumbled like distant thunder.


    ¡®You keep using that word,¡¯ Tavalor said, teeth gleaming. ¡®Perhaps your archives are incomplete.¡¯


    The Watcher''s response was a torrent of golden magic¡ªstructured spells woven with mathematical precision, each designed to incapacitate, to bind, to destroy. They struck Tavalor''s scales and dissipated like water on hot stone. No effect. Not even a mark.


    The Watcher changed tactics, summoning golden constructs¡ªweapons, shields, even simulacra of legendary beasts. They charged at Tavalor from all directions, moving with impossible speed. Tavalor didn''t bother to dodge.


    His tail swept through three constructs, shattering them into motes of light. His claws reduced others to golden dust. Those that managed to strike him simply broke against his scales, leaving him unmarked. With his companions unconscious, he could unleash his full power without restraint or witness.


    ¡®You don¡¯t understand,¡¯ the Watcher said, backing away as his arsenal proved ineffective. ¡®The system we created ¨C it maintains the balance. Without it magic would consume this realm, just as it nearly did before.¡¯


    Tavalor advanced steadily. ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter to me. You shouldn¡¯t have bothered me, I wouldn¡¯t have bothered you.¡¯


    The Watcher''s golden face contorted with something like fear. ¡®What are you? Not just a dragon¡ªwe catalogued every species, every magical lineage. You should not exist.¡¯


    Tavalor didn''t answer. Instead, he inhaled deeply, his massive chest expanding. The air in the chamber seemed to rush toward him, drawn into his lungs.


    When he exhaled, it wasn''t fire that emerged, but something far more devastating¡ªa beam of concentrated magic, raw and unstructured, the antithesis of the Watcher''s ordered power.


    The Watcher raised a golden barrier, pouring all his remaining power into it. The beam struck the shield, and for a moment, they were locked in stalemate¡ªwild magic versus structured defence. Then, with a sound like the world tearing apart, the barrier shattered. The beam caught the Watcher square in the chest, punching through his golden form and into the wall behind him.


    The chamber shuddered violently. Chunks of ceiling began to rain down as ancient supports gave way. The Watcher, his form now riddled with cracks, golden light seeping from the wounds, staggered toward one of the archways.


    ¡®This isn''t over,¡¯ he gasped, his voice failing. ¡®The others will come. The system will be preserved.¡¯


    Tavalor surged forward with impossible speed for a creature his size. One massive claw pinned the Watcher to the stone floor, pressing him into the cracked flagstones.


    ¡®Tell your masters,¡¯ Tavalor rumbled, leaning close, ¡®leave me alone and I¡¯ll leave you alone.¡¯


    The Watcher''s golden eyes flickered, the light within them fading. ¡®You don''t understand what you''re doing,¡¯ he whispered. ¡®Without the system... chaos¡­¡¯


    With the last of his strength, the Watcher''s form dissolved into liquid gold, slipping between Tavalor''s claws and flowing toward the nearest archway. Tavalor gave chase, his massive form somehow navigating the collapsing corridors with fluid grace, but the Watcher was elusive in this new state¡ªflowing through cracks, seeping into the ancient stonework.


    The entire dungeon was coming apart now, the magic that had sustained it for centuries unravelling in the wake of the confrontation. Stone groaned against stone as walls shifted and floors buckled.


    Behind the retreating dragon, the blast zone of his confrontation with the Watcher began to collapse. Before Tavalor pursued the fleeing Watcher further, he paused, looking back at his unconscious companions.


    The Watcher''s golden form disappeared into the depths of the dungeon, flowing like liquid metal through cracks too small for Tavalor to follow. The dragon''s breath had decimated the chamber behind them, molten stone still dripping from the walls where his raw power had struck. Tavalor roared in frustration, the sound reverberating through the collapsing corridors.


    As the echo of his roar faded, a familiar shimmering appeared in the air before him. Vallen materialized¡ªnot the fragmented aspect they had encountered at the entrance, but something more substantial. His ethereal form seemed clearer now, more defined, as if drawing strength from the chaos around them.


    ¡®So the last dragon reveals himself at last,¡¯ Vallen said, his voice neither fearful nor awed, but simply curious. ¡®I suspected there was something unusual about you from the moment you entered my sanctum.¡¯


    Tavalor''s massive form filled the corridor, wings tucked against his sides, ruby eyes glowing in the dim light. ¡®You knew?¡¯ he rumbled, his draconic voice sending small tremors through the stone beneath them.


    ¡®Not precisely,¡¯ Vallen admitted, moving closer with the fluid grace of one who had no physical form to constrain him. ¡®But I sensed an anomaly. Magic that didn''t conform to the Watchers'' system.¡¯


    The spectral elf circled Tavalor slowly, studying his form with the detached interest of a scholar. ¡®The last time I saw a dragon was... well, it must be millennia now. Yet you''re different from those I remember. Stronger, somehow. More... elemental.¡¯


    The dungeon shuddered around them, another section collapsing in the distance. Vallen gestured, and a doorway appeared in the wall beside them, previously hidden beneath layers of illusion.


    ¡®Come,¡¯ he said, ¡®there isn''t much time. Your friends will need you soon, but before that, there are things you should know.¡¯


    Tavalor hesitated, then followed the ethereal figure through the doorway. Beyond lay a small, perfect chamber untouched by the destruction raging through the rest of the dungeon. At its centre stood a pedestal of white stone, upon which rested a simple wooden box.


    ¡®My treasury,¡¯ Vallen said with a hint of irony. ¡®Not gold or jewels, but something far more valuable¡ªknowledge¡¯


    Tavalor approached cautiously, his massive form somehow fitting comfortably in the space despite its size. As he drew nearer to the pedestal, the box opened of its own accord, revealing nothing but a small crystal sphere that glowed with a soft blue light.


    ¡®What is it?¡¯ Tavalor asked.


    Vallen''s form flickered slightly. ¡®A record. My observations of magic''s evolution in this realm.¡¯ His gaze turned to Tavalor, focusing intently on the dragon''s chest. ¡®But more importantly, I can see them now. Within you. Two [Primordial Gem]s, embedded in your very essence.¡¯


    Tavalor''s clawed hand moved instinctively to his chest, where beneath the scales, he could feel the faint pulse of the strange objects Vallen had named.


    ¡®One came with you,¡¯ Vallen continued. ¡®The meteor that summoned you to this realm. But the other... you claimed it somehow. Absorbed it from another.¡¯


    Images flashed through Tavalor''s mind¡ªMordarath''s Stone, the gem that had caused Azure''s family so much suffering. The purple light that had streamed from it, flowing into him, becoming part of him.


    ¡®The Watchers feared these gems above all else,¡¯ Vallen said. ¡®They are fragments of wild magic in its purest form¡ªunbound, untamed, incapable of being controlled by their system. That''s why you were able to break the binding circle so easily. Your very nature defies it.¡¯


    The spectral elf moved to the crystal sphere, touching it lightly. Images appeared in the air between them¡ªintricate diagrams showing the evolution of magic systems through the ages.


    ¡®Human magic has come far,¡¯ Vallen observed. ¡®When the Watchers first established their system, limiting each person to six spells, it seemed like a prison¡ªand it was. But look what humans did with those limitations.¡¯


    The images shifted, showing countless variations of magic circles, each more sophisticated than the last.


    ¡®They adapted,¡¯ Vallen continued. ¡®Where the ancient systems relied on raw power and innate talent, humans democratized magic. They created precise circles, standardized incantations, reliable results. Even a child could learn, given time and proper instruction.''


    Tavalor watched, fascinated despite himself. ¡®But it''s still a cage.¡¯


    ¡®A cage, yes, but one they''ve learned to exploit in clever ways.¡¯ Vallen smiled, a hint of pride in his expression. ¡®My people¡ªthe elves¡ªresisted the new system. We clung to our ancient methods, our connection to wild magic. We thought ourselves superior for it.¡¯


    His form gestured, and the images changed again, showing elven mages performing complex rituals, contrasted with human mages using simple, efficient circles.


    ¡®But the humans... they surprised us all. They took the six-spell limitation and turned it into a strength. Their standardized system allowed for unprecedented collaboration, for innovation within strict parameters. Where elven magic remained the domain of the gifted few, human magic became accessible to many.¡¯


    Tavalor tilted his massive head, considering. ¡®The structured magic I''ve seen... it¡¯s not powerful, but there''s an efficiency to it. A precision.¡¯


    ¡®Precisely,¡¯ Vallen nodded. ¡®The original magic¡ªthe wild magic that dragons and Giants wielded¡ªwas limitless but unpredictable. Beautiful but dangerous. The Watchers'' system constrained it severely, but humans found the hidden strengths within those constraints.¡¯


    The images showed a final evolution¡ªmodern mages combining circles in ways never intended, creating effects that approached the versatility of wild magic while maintaining the stability of structured systems.


    ¡®They learned to combine spells, to layer them, to use them in sequences never imagined by the Watchers. They''re still bound by the six-spell limit, but they''ve stretched those boundaries in ways that even I find impressive.¡¯


    Tavalor absorbed this, feeling a newfound respect for the ingenuity of humans. Their adaptation to such harsh limitations spoke of a resilience he hadn''t fully appreciated.


    ¡®Why tell me this?¡¯ he asked.


    Vallen''s expression grew solemn. ¡®Because you represent something the Watchers fear more than anything¡ªthe return of wild magic. The freedom to break their rules. But that freedom comes with responsibility.¡¯


    The spectral elf gestured to the collapsing dungeon around them. ¡®This is what happens when wild magic collides with structured systems. Chaos. Destruction. The world has adapted to the Watchers'' order, built its foundations upon it. To shatter that order completely would bring suffering to millions.¡¯


    Tavalor sighed. ¡®I don¡¯t want to be a hero. I don¡¯t care about their prison. So long as they leave me alone. I¡¯ll leave them alone.¡¯


    For the first time. Vallen looked surprised. Then he laughed. ¡®You just want to be left alone. But will they leave you alone.¡¯


    A distant rumble shook the chamber, more urgent than before. The dungeon''s collapse was accelerating.


    ¡®Your friends need you,¡¯ Vallen said, his form beginning to fade. ¡®The challenge ahead is greater than you know. The Watcher you faced was merely a fragment, an aspect. The others will come now, drawn by what you''ve revealed yourself to be.¡¯


    Tavalor rose to his full height, wings shifting restlessly. ¡®Let them come.¡¯


    Vallen''s final words hung in the air as his form dissipated completely: ¡®Remember what I''ve shown you. The future may depend on it.¡¯


    The chamber began to crumble as Tavalor turned, racing back through the collapsing corridors toward where his companions lay unconscious. He concentrated as he ran, forcing his massive form to contract, scales retreating beneath skin, wings folding into nothingness. The transformation was excruciating, but necessary.


    By the time he reached them, he was human once more¡ªbattered and exhausted, but determined to get them all to safety before the dungeon claimed them forever.


    With a final roar that shook the chamber, he concentrated, forcing his massive form to contract, scales retreating beneath skin, wings folding into nothingness. The transformation was excruciating in reverse, but necessary.


    By the time Emberfist, Luneth, and Kethar began to stir, Tavalor was back in his human form, though his clothes were tattered and his skin shimmered strangely in places. The violent explosion of magical energy had kept them unconscious throughout his transformation and battle, leaving them with no memory of what had truly occurred.


    ¡®What... happened?¡¯ Luneth murmured, holding her head as she struggled to sit up.


    Tavalor helped her to her feet, his own movements stiff and pained. ¡®The Watcher,¡¯ he said simply. ¡®I managed to defeat him, but not before he nearly brought the place down on us.¡¯


    Emberfist''s eyes were fixed on the massive hole in the chamber wall¡ªa perfect circle melted through solid stone, the edges still glowing with residual heat. ¡®You did... that?¡¯


    Tavalor nodded grimly. ¡®I had no choice. But we can talk later¡ªthis whole place is coming down. We need to move.¡¯


    The three survivors navigated the disintegrating corridors, leaping over chasms that opened beneath their feet, ducking under falling debris. Kethar took the lead, his warrior''s instincts guiding them toward what he hoped was an exit. Behind them, the oppressive darkness that had permeated the dungeon was being replaced by a strange, pulsing light¡ªthe magic of the place breaking down, returning to its wild state.


    ¡®The knowledge,¡¯ Luneth said suddenly, skidding to a halt. ¡®Vallen''s chamber¡ªthe history¡ªwe can''t let it be lost!¡¯


    Emberfist cursed, flames flaring from her gauntlets in frustration. ¡®We don''t have time!¡¯


    ¡®I''ve got it,¡¯ Kethar said, patting a leather satchel at his side. ¡®Grabbed what I could while you were out. Now move!¡¯


    They pressed on, the dungeon collapsing behind them with increasing speed. The corridors twisted and turned, disorienting them further, but Kethar''s sense of direction held true. They emerged into a larger chamber¡ªone they recognized from their entry.


    ¡®The canal entrance,¡¯ Luneth said, relief evident in her voice. ¡®We''re almost out.¡¯


    But the way was blocked. The magical barrier that had allowed them passage through the water now flickered and failed, exposing them to the crushing pressure of the canal above. Water began to seep through cracks in the ceiling, first in droplets, then in steady streams.


    ¡®Now what?¡¯ Emberfist demanded, the flames around her hands sputtering as water dripped onto them.


    Tavalor, who had been leading them through the collapsing corridors, turned to face the blocked exit. His eyes glowed momentarily with an inner fire, and he grimaced with concentration. Without warning, he thrust his hands forward, releasing a blast of raw energy that shattered a section of wall to their right, revealing a hidden passage.


    ¡®This way,¡¯ he said, his voice hoarse but commanding. ¡®I sense an older tunnel network. It should lead us out.¡¯


    Without questioning how he had reappeared or what he had done, the three followed him through the new opening. It led to a narrow tunnel that sloped upward, evidently part of an older structure that predated the dungeon itself. The ceiling continued to crumble around them, water pouring through widening cracks.


    ¡®Almost there,¡¯ Tavalor assured them, navigating the tunnel with uncanny certainty. ¡®The old sewers connect to this section. They''ll lead us out near the docks.¡¯


    The tunnel eventually opened into a larger drainage channel. The air grew less stale, hints of the city above filtering down through grates and pipes. Just as the final sections of the dungeon collapsed behind them, they emerged through a maintenance hatch into a narrow alley in the dockyards district.


    The sudden transition from mortal danger to the mundane sounds of the city was jarring. Gulls cried overhead, merchants shouted their wares along the nearby promenade, and the constant lapping of water against the canals created a soothing backdrop to their ragged breathing.


    ¡®We made it,¡¯ Luneth said, disbelief evident in her voice.


    Emberfist stared at Tavalor, questions burning in her eyes. ¡®What happened down there? With the Watcher? With you?¡¯


    Tavalor met her gaze steadily. ¡®I''ll explain everything. But not here. Not now.¡¯


    Kethar nodded in understanding. ¡®The city will be buzzing soon enough. Whatever happened down there, the ripples are just beginning.¡¯


    ***


    The aftermath spread through Vallenport like whispers in a still night. Within hours, the city was alive with rumours and speculation. Something had happened beneath the canals¡ªa magical explosion, perhaps, or an ancient ward failing. The waters in certain districts had temporarily receded, then surged back with unusual force. Several buildings near the south docks reported structural damage.


    The Adventurers Guild was flooded with would-be heroes seeking information and opportunity. The Mages Guild closed its doors entirely, its senior members locked in emergency conclave. The nobles retreated to their estates, barricading themselves behind magical wards and armed guards.


    Three days after the incident, Emberfist, Luneth, and Tavalor met in a private room at The Ember''s Edge, a tavern far from prying eyes and eager ears. Kethar had departed for the northern territories, carrying copies of the ancient knowledge they had discovered, determined to prepare his people for what might come.


    ¡®The city''s still in an uproar,¡¯ Luneth reported, sliding into her seat. ¡®The Moonwardens are everywhere, questioning anyone who might have witnessed... anything.¡¯


    ¡®Let them question,¡¯ Emberfist replied, her voice low. ¡®They won''t find what they''re looking for.¡¯


    Tavalor remained silent, his eyes distant. After their escape, he had finally shared a portion of the truth with them¡ªhis unusual connection to ancient magic, his ability to counteract the Watcher''s power, the strange energy that had allowed him to defeat a being that should have been beyond his power.


    He hadn¡¯t revealed his true draconic nature, but had told them enough. His companions had taken these partial revelations with surprising calm, though their perception of him had irrevocably changed.


    ¡®How are you feeling?¡¯ Emberfist asked him directly. ¡®After... everything.¡¯


    Tavalor flexed his fingers, studying them as if they belonged to someone else. ¡®Strange. Like I''m holding something back that wants to break free. The power I had to use... it changed something in me.¡¯


    ¡®Whatever happened down there,¡¯ Luneth said firmly, ¡®stays between us. You saved our lives. That''s what matters.¡¯


    Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a stranger¡ªa small, elderly gnome with a weather-beaten face and knowing eyes. He approached their table without invitation, settling into the empty chair as if he belonged there.


    ¡®Dorian Crestfall,¡¯ he introduced himself, ignoring their startled expressions. ¡®Or rather, that''s what most people call me. I believe we have a mutual friend.¡¯


    Emberfist''s hands drifted toward her gauntlets. ¡®I don''t recall us having many friends.¡¯


    The gnome smiled, the expression transforming his wizened face. ¡®I heard about the incident beneath the canals. Quite remarkable, by all accounts. A magical confrontation of extraordinary power, yet surprisingly few witnesses.¡¯


    The three exchanged glances, tension evident in their postures.


    ¡®What do you want?¡¯ Tavalor asked quietly.


    The gnome waved his hand, forming a barrier.


    ¡®To help,¡¯ Crestfall replied simply. ¡®What happened beneath Vallenport was just the beginning. The Watcher you defeated was merely an aspect, a fragment of the whole. The others will come now, drawn by the disruption. And they will not be as unprepared as the first.¡¯


    Luneth leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡®How do you know about the Watcher?¡¯


    Crestfall''s smile widened. ¡®Let''s just say I''ve been monitoring the Watchers'' activities for a very long time. They believe themselves to be the shepherds of this world, the guardians of order. But their order comes at a price¡ªthe suppression of magic''s true nature, the imprisonment of those who might challenge their system.¡¯


    He produced a small, glowing crystal from his pocket, placing it on the table. Within its depths, images swirled¡ªa map of some kind, showing lands far beyond Vallenport''s boundaries.


    ¡®Titanos,¡¯ Crestfall said, tapping the crystal. ¡®Not just a new continent, but a return of the old world. The Giants are coming back.¡¯


    ¡®Why tell us?¡¯ Emberfist asked, suspicion evident in her tone.


    ¡®Because I believe in balance,¡¯ Crestfall replied. ¡®The Watchers brought order, yes, but at the cost of freedom. The Giants bring chaos, but with it, creation. Both are necessary. Both are dangerous in excess.¡¯


    He stood, his small frame somehow commanding attention despite his stature. ¡®You''ve seen the truth beneath the surface now. You know what''s at stake. When the time comes¡ªand it will come soon¡ªthe world will need those who understand both sides of this ancient conflict.¡¯


    With that, Crestfall departed, leaving the crystal on the table between them. The three stared at it, then at each other, the weight of unseen events pressing down upon them.


    ¡®So,¡¯ Luneth said eventually, breaking the silence. ¡®Titanos.¡¯


    Emberfist''s lips curved into a smile that held equal parts excitement and trepidation. ¡®Sounds like an adventure.¡¯


    Tavalor remained quiet, his thoughts turning to what the Watcher had said before escaping. The others will come. The system will be preserved. Whatever he truly was¡ªdragon or something more¡ªhe had revealed himself as a threat to the established order, and that made him a target.


    ¡®We''ll need to be prepared,¡¯ he said finally.


    Outside the tavern, rain began to fall on Vallenport''s canals, washing away the last visible signs of the dungeon''s collapse. But beneath the surface, changes were spreading¡ªwild magic seeping into structured channels, ancient forces stirring after millennia of slumber.


    And somewhere in the shadows between worlds, a golden form was reforming, preparing to deliver a message: A dragon lived.

 Chapter 19 - I Got a New Pet and Fought off an Invasion

    The midnight violet sky overlooked Vallenport. The twin moons of Lunaris and Noctis casting overlapping shadows across the weathered stones of the manor¡¯s courtyard.


    Tavalor sat in his garden. Unable to sleep. He took a deep breath in. The air carried the smell of violets, jasmine, mingling with the salt of the canals. His sense of smell had improved to the point where he could smell more, but he chose to keep the range of this scent limited.


    Tavalor sat cross-legged on a flat meditation stone, his back to a crumbling fountain that had once been the centerpiece of the garden.


    His palm rested on the knowledge gem that he had recovered from Vallen¡¯s dungeon. Its surface capturing and fracturing the moonlight into prismatic patterns that danced across his features.


    He turned the gem slowly, watching how the light shifted inside its crystalline structure. Three weeks had passed since the escape from collapsing ruins beneath Vallenport, but the gem still kept its secrets.


    [Appraisal] was no help:


    ===Knowledge Gem===


    A hint of life


    ====


    The magic pulsed gently against his skin, as if it recognized him. He channeled a bit of his essence into the stone.


    The gem flared briefly, its interior swirling with mist-like patterns before fading back into nothing.


    Tavalor sighed, his patience wearing thin after countless experiments.


    He reached for the leather pouch at his belt, extracting the smaller and darker gems, the random bits and pieces that he had collected throughout the expedition.


    Unlike the solidity of the Knowledge Gem, the smaller gems had started to fade around the edges when he had come out of the dungeon. They now seemed to drink in the moonlight, rather than reflect it.


    Tavalor held both stones together, wondering if one might activate the other.


    The reaction was immediate. And violent.


    A hairline crack appeared on the smaller gem, spreading like an ice fracturing under pressure. Before Tavalor could react, a high pitched keening sound emanated from within. The gem shattered in his palm, the fragments dissolving into particles of air that dispersed into the night air.


    ¡®Interesting,¡¯ Tavalor muttered to himself. Brushing the residual dust from his palm.


    He felt the knowledge gem in his hand vibrating, as if it was hungry.


    He pulled his pouch open, pouring all of the small gems onto the Knowledge Gem. They all developed the same fracture pattern, the magic within destabilizing in a chain reaction.


    His [Dragon Sight] caught movement from the perimeter of his property. Swift and coordinated shadows slipping over his garden wall.


    Six figures, moving with practiced precision.


    An ambush.


    Tavalor remained seated, pretending to be oblivious to the danger. The attackers all arrived quickly, moving from shadow to shadow before encircling him.


    The first assassin attacked without hesitation, a blade aimed for his throat.


    Tavalor calmly caught the blade between to fingers. ¡®Uninvited guests, how inconsiderate.¡¯


    ***


    The Free City of Miragos, Dorian Family Manor, Weeks Earlier


    ¡®What happened?¡¯


    In the side hall, a dozen men, all injured, in golden armor kneeled on the ground. Sweating. Not daring to lift up their heads. They were Dorian¡¯s guards, the ones who had been left at the hotel to keep guard.


    Standing in front of them was a man in a black robe, with golden stars sown through it. The spitting image of Dorian, except older and with a mustache. Also he was in a disheveled state. His eyes sunken, his beard unkempt. He looked rather sinister.


    He was Sir Dorian. Dorian¡¯s father. He was the one behind the plan of sending Dorian out.


    They had sent out several hundred [C-Class] guards, even requested help from the major merchant clans of the Free City of Miragos. Only they returned with only a dozen guards.


    Even his son. His son was gone. The veins were popping out with rage.


    ¡®Sir¡­ Sir Dorian, we weren¡¯t sure what happened. They went out to find some clues and never came back¡­¡¯


    Sir Dorian ground his teeth. He ground his teeth so loudly that you could hear it.


    He pulled out a soul-token. A broken soul token.


    The guards were even more frightened when they saw that. Dorian was dead. His token was broken. They began to sweat even heavier.


    Sir Dorian barely choked out the words: ¡®What happened to my son?¡¯


    ¡®We don¡¯t know. The only thing we heard that it was an [A-Class] mission.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ Sir Dorian¡¯s eyes widened, thinking that he had misheard.


    ¡®It was an [A-Class] mission,¡¯ said another voice quietly.


    ¡®How is that possible? How could that be?¡¯


    According to the information that they had gathered, there weren¡¯t a lot of [B-Class] experts in Vallenport, let alone anywhere. A [B-Class] was enough found a city or clan on. An [A-Class] would be enough to found a dynasty.


    He had sent them out with the golden family armor, a B Class heirloom that could defend against several [A-Class] attacks. That should have been enough to protect him in such a dangerous environment.


    In his rage, Sir Dorian unleashed his pressure.


    The cultivators, already injured from the beating they had endured earlier, spat out blood. Some of them fainted.


    ¡®Who, who killed my son?¡¯ Sir Dorian was furious. He still couldn¡¯t accept the fact.


    ¡®Tavalor?!¡¯ screamed one of the men.


    ¡®Tavalor?¡¯ questioned Sir Dorian.


    ¡®That¡¯s right. Dorian ran into some guy called Tavalor when looking for clues. We saw him still alive, before we came back.¡¯


    Sir Dorian stopped, looking thoughtful. If there was someone who could come back alive from an [A-Class] dungeon, he at least had to be [B-Class].


    ***


    Back at Tavalor¡¯s mansion, if there were any outsiders present they would have recognized the six men in black. They were famous.


    Six Blades. The most famous assassination group in recent years. The six were known for the fast, relentless attacking technique. [Storm of Blades]. It would be a quiet night then suddenly six blades would attack from angles slicing and slicing again and again from the darkness relentlessly and violently until their target was dead.


    They had assassinated countless high level figures. They were widely known and praised in the industry. They could be said to be at the peak of their fame.


    The mission this time had come from Sir Dorian. Assassinate Tavalor and collect any evidence of his sons death. As long as they could collect any worthwhile information, their rewards would be incomparably generous.


    They were all [C-Class] a decently strong team.


    The six had all aggressively slashed at Tavalor following a solid minute with their famous [Storm of Blades].


    But it had failed.


    Tavalor had stopped every blade with a finger.


    The six of them stood awkwardly at a stalemate. Tavalor was too strong. Even at [C-Class] their technique was good enough to have killed several [B-Class] figures, but Tavalor was simply too powerful.


    The six looked at each other in silence.


    ¡®Who are you people? What are you doing here?¡¯ Tavalor asked calmly. Not a hint of fear in his voice.


    They all wore numbered masks, one to six. Number six spoke: ¡®You are unlucky, blame yourself. You should have been asleep, but now you court death.¡¯


    Number Six slipped out a silver needle from somewhere and threw it at Tavalor. It changed into sharp light and accelerated towards Tavalor. The others joined in, throwing a range of weapons.


    Tavalor looked up at the two moons in the night sky. The wind blew. ¡®What a beautiful moon, for these guys to die under.¡¯


    Tavalor had figured it out. It probably had something to do with the dungeon. Maybe some people from the Free City of Miragos.


    Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.


    The weapons all hit Tavalor¡¯s skin and dropped to the ground.


    ¡®Third?¡¯


    They all stopped in shock.


    Tavalor raised his right arm and a fireball appeared. Small, simple. Something that many [E-Class] warriors had mastered, but ominous in his hands.


    The Fireball flew towards Number Six.


    Boom.


    A terrifying amount of energy swept out, causing dazzling flame and dust that appeared gorgeous in the night.


    They all managed to defend themselves with different spells, but they were sent flying back by the shockwave.


    When the flames were dispersed, Number Six was lying on the ground. His entire body had been burned to ashes. There was a hole the size of a fist that gone through his chest. Even after he had used a defensive spell and a defensive formation.


    Number Six was dead.


    ¡®What¡­. What are you?¡¯ Asked Number One. The others looked on in horror as well.


    Tavalor looked down at his right hand. He opened and closed his right hand in thought. Still not enough control, I wasn¡¯t supposed to kill him.


    Tavalor stepped forward, and indifferent look on his face. ¡®Answer my questions¡¯


    Another fireball appeared in his hand.


    ¡®No, no,¡¯ seeing his Number One paled in fright. If Number Six died with one blast it would have been the same for him.


    Number One kneeled, ¡®I¡¯ll speak.¡¯


    Tavalor paused mid-throwing motion.


    ¡®What are you hear for?¡¯


    Number One: ¡®We were sent here to assassinate everyone in the manor and collect clues about the death of Dorian.¡¯


    ¡®Who sent you?¡¯


    Number One: ¡®We can¡¯t tell you that-,¡¯


    Before he had managed to finish the answer a cluster of golden light flew out, landing on Number Two. This time it was more powerful and all that was left was a crater.


    Tavalor had another fireball in hand before he turned back to Number One. ¡®Who sent you?¡¯


    ¡®Sir Dorian. Its Sir Dorian of the Free City of Miragos. He sent us here.¡¯


    Even though there was code that forbade assassins revealing the names of their hiring party, that was without his life on the line. He didn¡¯t want to die here. They had gotten faulty information.


    Tavalor was too strong. Probably [A-Class]. Where did someone so powerful come from and nobody knew who he was?


    Boom. Boom. Boom.


    Three more fireballs. Three more craters.


    Only Number One was left. He knelt in shock. Tears of sadness started to stream down his face under the mask. ¡®But why? I already answered all of your questions.¡¯


    ¡®Did I promise you that I wouldn¡¯t kill you?¡¯ Tavalor said with a mocking smile on his lips.


    Boom.


    With that last fireball, the last of the Six Blades had vanished from the world.


    ¡®Sir Dorian,¡¯ Tavalor¡¯s eyes flicked with killing intent.


    Although everything seemed calm, the guys from Miragos had sent assassins. If they had met with Emberfist or Luneth, things wouldn¡¯t have gone well.


    More trouble. Even though he didn¡¯t like to cause trouble, trouble still arrived at his door regardless.


    This thing is interesting though.


    He pulled the Knowledge Gem out of his secret space.


    He appraised it again.


    ===Egg===


    A living being


    ====


    It had changed before he had been interrupted. It now resembled an egg, covered in runes.


    Tavalor yawned. He had only woken up because he couldn¡¯t sleep. The activity and making progress on the mystery of the gem made him sleepy. He decided to go back to his room and go back to bed.


    As for Dorian¡¯s family, he would pay them a visit and wipe them out. Pull out the roots and the weeds to avoid future troubles, as the saying goes.


    As Tavalor walked back towards the entrance of his manor, high in the atmosphere a bright golden stream of light fell from the starry sky.


    ***


    Several hours later while asleep Tavalor was awoken by a disturbance. It felt like a strange warning, like a golden dagger floating above his forehead.


    A warning? He though to himself. But of what? What could it be.


    He rolled out of bed, and walked out to the balcony of his manor. He nursed a glass of elderfire whisky, when he felt it. A sudden pressure change. Like the moment before a thunderstorm broke.


    There wasn¡¯t a cloud in the sky. The twin moons were even brighter and clearer than earlier in the night, casting a silvery light across Vallenport¡¯s canals.


    From the sky? Tavalor set his glass down, his eyes narrowing as he gazed upwards. [Dragon Sight] activated instantly, his vision piercing the night sky to see what ordinary eyes couldn¡¯t.


    He could see further now. Not just to the edge of the world, or the clouds but beyond it.


    He saw a massive golden cannon. Brightly gleaming and gold. The size of a planet. Pointing down at the surface.


    In the cannon ¨C a gathering of energy began a concentration of structured magic so dense it bent the fabric of reality around it. Golden light identical to the Watcher¡¯s power he¡¯d encountered in the dungeons earlier, coalescing into a massive sphere.


    ¡®So,¡¯ Tavalor murmured, ¡®they didn¡¯t waste any time.¡¯


    With a massive boom, the cannon fired.


    The cannonball of energy descended, gathering speed. Not a random attack, but this was precisely calculated. He felt locked onto, by that dagger of energy earlier. As it fell, it transformed, compressing into a fiery meteor of golden energy that tore through the night sky like a falling star.


    Citizens across Vallenport pointed upwards, gasping at what they believed was an astronomical event. Market-goers paused mid-transaction, gondoliers stopped to stare, even the night guards on patrol halted, transfixed by the spectacle.


    Tavalor stood, draining his whisky in on swallow.


    ¡®Annoying.¡¯ He rolled up his sleeves.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    For the first time, he used a large portion of his strength. At least half. He extended a hand towards the meteor, palm upwards.


    It might have seemed like a futile gesture to people watching. But beneath his skin, scales glimmered momentarily. His eyes flashed with draconic power.


    High in the sky, the meteor struck an invisible barrier. It didn¡¯t explode or dissipate, instead hanging suspended, vibrating with frustrated power, golden energy spilling out like solar flares.


    To Tavalor it felt as if he had grabbed a bee. Puny and weak.


    He closed his fists. Slowly. The meteor compressed. Its energy slowly shrinking.


    Then with a flick of his wrist, he sent it arcing away from Vallenport, its new trajectory carrying it southeast, directly towards Miragos, the rival city controlled by Dorian¡¯s family.


    The redirected meteor streaked across the night sky, leaving a trail of golden fire in it¡¯s wake before disappearing beyond the horizon. Seconds later, a distant flash illuminated the southeastern sky, followed by a rumble that shook the foundation of buildings many miles way, as well as several earthquakes and tsunamis.


    From his vantage point on the Adventurers Guild tower, a gnome watched the entire exchange. Crestfall smiled brightly, spyglass held to one eye, as the meteor changed course.


    ¡®It must be him,¡¯ he whispered, collapsing the spyglass with a snap.


    He chucked. Half in satisfaction half in fear. The implications were staggering. No ordinary adventurer could redirect a Watchers attack. Not even an [A-Class] mage.


    The Watchers had overplayed their hand and revealed the most valuable piece on the board. Tavalor was at least an [S-Class]. Vallenport finally had someone powerful enough to defend it.


    Dynasties were built established by [S-Class]¡¯s after all. The game had changed entirely.


    ¡®Tavalor,¡¯ Crestfall muttered, ¡®who exactly are you?¡¯


    ***


    Dorian Family Headquarters, Free City of Miragos


    The Dorian family of Miragos headquarters occupied the tallest spire in Mirgaos. A gleaming tower of silver and glass that pierced the clouds above the Free City.


    For seven generations, the Dorians had been the defacto rulers of Miragos, though they never claimed the titles of nobility outright. They preferred the illusion of democracy, while keeping their hands firmly on the levers of power.


    Inside a polished marble hall, in one of the upper floors, several figures gathered around an oval table. The light of enchanted orbs cast long shadows across concerned faces.


    ¡®Three weeks!¡¯ Marcus Dorian, or Sir Dorian Senior, the family patriarch slammed his fist on the table. His once handsome face, a clone of the dead Dorian, was a mask of fury, deep lines etched between his brows. ¡®Three weeks since we sent the Six Blades to Vallenport and no communication.¡¯


    The six were some of the most elite and consistent assassins of Miragos. They could easily handle any [B-Class] figures. They hadn¡¯t ever failed an assignment. Until now.


    ¡®Before them the Shadow Hand, Crimson Triad. All vanished.¡¯ Sir Dorian Senior¡¯s voice grew quiet, more dangerous. ¡®Something is going on in Vallenport, someone powerful must be there.¡¯


    Elder Cassandra Ward cleared her throat. She represented the Ward family, longtime allies and frenemies of the Dorians and masters of Miragos extensive spy network. Her weathered face carried an expression of perpetual and knowing amusement. As if life was one big private joke.


    ¡®My sources confirm none of the shadows we sent reached their target, ¡® she said, her thin lips curling into a grin. ¡®They simply disappeared. This Tavalor is no ordinary nobleman.¡¯


    ¡®What of my son?¡¯ asked Sir Dorian Senior, his voice breaking slightly. ¡®Any news of what happened?¡¯


    The absence of the young Dorian heir hung heavily in the room. After the dungeon incident beneath Vallenport, he had vanished. As confirmed by the Soul Token. Dorian Senior still held to slim hopes though.


    ¡®Nothing concrete,¡¯ Cassandra replied softly, ¡®but there are whispers. Rumours of a strange golden light.¡¯


    Horas Silver tongue, the family''s chief diplomat, stood from his chair. ¡®I''ve drafted a formal complaint to the Council of Free Cities. If we present this as an attack on Miragos'' sovereignty¡ªthe disappearance of our citizens, potentially the heir to one of our great houses¡ªwe can demand a formal investigation.¡¯


    ¡®Politics?¡¯ Marcus spat. ¡®While my son is missing? While our assassins vanish into thin air?¡¯


    ¡®It''s leverage," Horas insisted. ¡®The Council has authority to sanction Vallenport. Trade embargoes at minimum. Military action if warranted. Given our influence with three of the seven council members¡ª¡¯


    ¡®We''ve tried subtlety,¡¯ Marcus interrupted. ¡®We''ve tried politics. We''ve tried assassination. None have worked!¡¯ He turned to the hulking figure at the far end of the table. ¡®Commander, what of our more direct options?¡¯


    Commander Fredric, head of Miragos'' elite guard, nodded grimly. ¡®The Sky breaker is prepared, sir. Fully armed and crewed. At your command, we can launch within¡ª¡®


    A sudden flash of golden light burst through the massive windows, blinding everyone in the chamber. The tower shuddered violently, glassware shattering and furniture toppling. A roar like a thousand thunderstorms filled the air as the meteor¡ªredirected by Tavalor¡ªstruck the Dorian spire dead centre.


    The last thing Marcus Dorian saw was the ceiling caving in, a wave of golden fire consuming everything.


    The Dorian spire collapsed in spectacular fashion, its elegant architecture reduced to rubble in seconds. With it it took half of the surrounding city.


    Where Miragos'' tallest structure had stood,and half the major districtonly a smoking crater remained, golden energy still crackling across the ruins.


    ***


    The next morning after the Meteor thing, Tavalor strolled towards the Gilded Hearth as if nothing had happened. He overheard some interesting conversation as he walked towards the cafe.


    ¡®Did you guys hear?¡¯


    ¡®Hear what?¡¯


    ¡®Miragos was hit by a meteor.¡¯


    ¡®Seriously?¡¯


    ¡®Of course. Sir Dorian Senior, and several senior Council Members were all killed. Half of the major district was razed to the ground.¡¯


    ¡®That serious?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s Karma,¡¯ replied an old man with a walking stick. Shaking his stick.


    A lot of people gloated like the old man did.


    ¡®They deserved it! They absolutely deserved it.¡¯


    The Free City of Miragos and Vallenport were rivals. They were the only two city states within several thousand kilometers of each other. They were rivals.


    Vallenport was a city ran by nobles, and they operated on the concept of noblesse oblige. That with wealth, power and prestige, came responsibilities. So Vallenport was ran with a mostly kind hand.


    The Free City of Miragos was ran by a Council of greedy merchants. They stole and plundered wealth from everywhere. They exploited ordinary people everywhere. They annihilated clans, companies and other rivals for no reason.


    Vallenport never attacked ordinary people. Only moving to defend its interests.


    Miragos was powerful. So people didn¡¯t dare to say anything. But now they had suffered a huge loss. How couldn¡¯t people resist in taking advantage.


    All across Vallenport, various versions of that conversation took place.


    The higher ups of Vallenport through. Had a different reaction. It was nothing but laughter and joy. Many a patriarchal figure from different noble clans walked around beaming ear to ear with joy.


    Who would have thought? A random meteor destroyed one the most powerful clans of Miragos.


    Tavalor quickly arrived and walked into the cafe. It was exactly as he remembered it. Warm golden light. The aroma of fresh pastries and the hum of enchanted brews being prepared behind the counter.


    Brennan looked up from arranging a display of starfruit muffins, her eyes widening slightly. ¡®Lord Tavalor! We haven¡¯t seen you in weeks.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve been preoccupied,¡¯ he replied, settling into his usual window seat. The morning sunlight streamed through the glass, catching the steam rising from freshly brewed enchanted drinks.


    ¡®The usual?¡¯ Brenna asked, already reaching for a blue Calming Brew on the shelf.


    Tavalor nodded. Then sat back. Relaxing in the familiar rhythm of his morning routine.


    Outside, gondolas glided along the canals, their pilots cheerfully calling out to one another. In the streets, merchants haggled, children played, city guards patrolled with casual vigilance.


    Life in Vallenport continued, untouched by the cataclysm that had struck Miragos.


    Inside hushed conversation continued to reference it though. Nervous glances to the southeastern horizon, where smoke still rose form rival city. News of the ¡®meteor strike¡¯ raised quickly, though few connected it to Tavalor.


    Brenna returned with his order ¨C a steaming cup of blue Calming Brew and a starfruit muffin, its top glistening with crystallized honey. ¡®There¡¯s been talk,¡¯ she said quietly, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. ¡®About Miragos. They¡¯re saying it was no natural event.¡¯


    Tavalor took a sip of his brew, savoring the familiar blend of spiced caramel and soothing vanilla. ¡®People¡¯ll always talk,¡¯ he replied noncommittally.


    He had barely finished half his muffin, when the cafe door swung open, the bell chiming softly. A diminutive figure entered ¨C D. Crestfall, his blue weathered gnomish features arranged in a pleasant smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his calculating eyes.


    Without an invitation, Crestfall slid into the chair opposite to Tavalor, signaling to Brenna for a drink of his own.


    ¡®Beautiful morning,¡¯ the gnome observed. ¡®Perfect day for cafe-sitting. Almost makes you forget about the meteors falling form the sky, assassins in the night and cities declaring war.¡¯


    Tavalor raised an eyebrow and continued to eat a muffin: ¡®Is there something specific you wanted Vice-Guildmaster?¡¯


    ¡®Three assassination attempts in two weeks. A meteor that changes in two weeks. The complete destruction of the Dorian family ancestral towers. I¡¯d say there¡¯s quite a lot to discuss.¡¯


    ¡®Coincidences,¡¯ Tavalor replied.


    ¡®Coincidences,¡¯ Crestfall repeated, a knowing smile spreading on his face. ¡®What about the rumors that Miragos may declare war on Vallenport? That they are preparing their famed airship fleet for a retaliatory strike?¡¯


    Tavalor finally set down his muffin, meeting the gnome¡¯s gaze directly. ¡®The assassins were dealt with. The meteor was dealt with. If Miragos wants war, they¡¯ll also be dealt with.¡¯


    ¡®You speak like this is a personal matter ¨C but this is an entire city state.¡¯


    ¡®Isn¡¯t it a personal matter though?¡¯ Tavalor remained calm. ¡®They came looking for me. They¡¯re the ones who sent assassins.¡¯


    ¡®And the war? What about the possible casualties?¡¯


    ¡®There won¡¯t be any. I¡¯ll sort it out before then.¡¯


    ¡®Just like that? I¡¯ll sort it out?¡¯


    ¡®Just like that,¡¯ Tavalor confirmed. ¡®I¡¯ve sorted everything out before, Vice Guildmaster.¡¯ He really emphasized the Vice Guildmaster.


    A heavy silence fell between them as Brennan arrived with Crest fall¡¯s drink, a concoction that shifted between amber and emerald. The gnome thanked her with a nod but didn¡¯t touch the brew.


    ¡®You¡¯re not what you appear to be, Lord Tavalor,¡¯ he said finally. ¡®I think we both know that.¡¯


    Tavalor smiled. You faker. I remember your stat sheet. You¡¯re also an [S-Class] as well and you¡¯re just wandering around pretending to be weak little gnome.


    Tavalor responded: ¡®None of us are, Vice Guildmaster. None of us are.¡¯


    ***


    Back at the manor, sunlight filtered through the garden¡¯s ancient trees, dappling the stone courtyard with patterns of light and shadow. Tavalor reclined in a weathered chair, legs stretched before him, watching Emberfist train in measured interest.


    She moved through her forms with controlled precision, each stance flowing through the next like water. Her gauntlets flared with concentrated flame, not the wild infernos that she unleashed in battle, but tightly controlled bursts that scorched the air without igniting the nearby foliage.


    Her control is improving. Tavalor thought to himself, lazily swirling the Knowledge Gem/Egg through his fingers. The dark crystal had changed since the night of the meteor.


    Its surface now rippled with subtle movement, like a heartbeat.


    Emberfist transitioned into a more aggressive form, her kicks and punches leaving trails of crimson fire. Her breath grew heavier and more ragged.


    The gem in his hand suddenly grew warm. He looked down to see hairline fractures spreading across its surface, glowing with faint purple light. ¡®Interesting,¡¯ he murmured.


    The cracks widened, not with the violent shattering of the previous gems, but with deliberate purpose ¨C as if something were pushing from within. Emberfist paused her training, wiping sweat from her brow as she approached.


    ¡®What¡¯s happening?¡¯ She asked, narrowing at the gem.


    Before Tavalor could answer, the gem shook itself out of his hand and landed on the ground. The it split open like an egg. Within the broken shell, a small creature unfurled itself ¨C a being of pure shadow, no larger than a sparrow, with pinpricks of violet light for eyes. It stretched tiny wing like appendages and shook itself, scattering gem fragments.


    ¡®It¡­ it hatched,¡¯ Emberfist said, surprise evident in her voice.


    The shadow creature regarded them both with curious intensity, turning its head from Tavalor to Emberfist and back. It made no sound, but its intent was clear as it hopped towards Tavalor. Leaving tiny footprints of darkness that faded seconds later.


    It stopped in front of Tavalor. Looking at him with its head cocked in curiosity.


    ¡®What is it?¡¯ Emberfist asked, leaning closer.


    Do I want to cheat? Tavalor thought to himself. Tavalor had a rule. He had promised himself not to use [Appraisal] too much. It would ruin the surprise for a lot of things.


    I¡¯ll leave it alone. He finally decided.


    ¡®I¡¯m not entirely sure,¡¯ Tavalor admitted. He reached into his system space and pulled out a starfruit muffin, crumbling it, then offering it to the little creature. The shadow eyed the offering, then darted forward, consuming the crumbs with a motion like water absorbing ink.


    ¡®It¡¯s almost¡­ cute,¡¯ Emberfist said, he voice softening as she reached out slowly. ¡®Maybe we could train it? A familiar might be ¨C¡¯


    The shadow darted away from her outstretched hand, climbing up Tavalor¡¯s arm to perch on his shoulder, its tiny form puffing up in what looked remarkably like indignation.


    ¡®I don¡¯t think it likes you,¡¯ Tavalor observed, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.


    ¡®Nonsense,¡¯ Emberfist insisted, reaching again. ¡®I¡¯m excellent with creatures of all ¨C¡¯ She broke off as the shadow hissed ¨C a sound like wind through dead leaves ¨C and flicked what might have been a tail at her.


    ¡®What an attitude,¡¯ Tavalor noted, offering the shadow another crumb. It accepted delicately from his fingers, then turned to Emberfist and made a movement that looked suspiciously like preening.


    Over the next hour, as Emberfist resumed her training, the shadow creature¡¯s personality emerged. It would dart around Tavalor, performing increasingly complex aerial maneuvers as if showing off. Whenever Emberfist glanced their way, it would cuddle against Tavalor¡¯s neck or sit primly on his knee, radiating smug satisfaction.


    ¡®That thing is doing it on purpose,¡¯ Emberfist growled after a particularly impressive barrel roll that she¡¯d clearly been meant to see.


    Tavalor stroked the creatures insubstantial form, feeling a strange connection forming between them. Its learning quickly. Also its very intelligent.


    The shadow creature fluttered to the arm of Tavalor¡¯s chair, stretching in what could only be described as a self-satisfied manner. Emberfist glowered at it, and in response it nestled closer to Tavalor.


    ¡®I think, I¡¯ll name you, Little Shadow.¡¯ Tavalor said.


    Little shadow nearly fell off the arm of the chair. Little Shadow then flew up in the air, chirping at Tavalor in anger at the horrible name.


    Emberfist laughed at it, her laughter floated through the air like soft bells. Tavalor smiled.


    ***


    Ding, ding, ding, ding. The sound of alarm bells went off. The peace in Vallenport vanished once again.


    Four massive vessels appeared on the horizon, their hulls gleaming with enchanted steel, sails billowing despite the absence of wind.


    The Sky-breakers of Miragos. Legendary airships capable of cleaving clouds and raining destruction upon enemies blow. They approached from the southeast, their shadow gradually darkening the canals and street as citizens looked up in horror.


    Market-goers abandoned their purchases. Parents grabbed their children and fled indoors.


    The city guard rang even more alarm bells, their clanging echoing across the districts as defenders rushed to positions.


    Tavalor was in his garden when he heard the commotion. Little Shadow perched on his shoulder, its tiny form vibrating with excitement.


    Within seconds, Emberfist burst through the manor door, her gauntlets already aflame. ¡®Sky-breakers,¡¯ she said pointing to the southern sky. ¡®Four of them. Miragos is making a move.¡¯


    Tavalor nodded calmly, letting Little Shadow hop from his shoulder to his outstretched palm. ¡®It was only a matter of time.¡¯


    The ships positioned themselves strategically above Vallenport¡¯s central plaza ¨C the heart of the city where the Grand Canal met the main marketplace. On the deck of the lead vessel, a figure in gleaming armor stepped to the railing, voice magically amplified to carry across the entire city.


    ¡®Citizens of Vallenport! This is Commander Dredic of the Miragos Elite Guard. Your city is responsible for the unprovoked destruction of our sovereign territory. Surrender to face Miragos justice, or face the consequences.¡¯


    The plaza had emptied of civilians, but it wasn¡¯t deserted. Standing alone in its center was a familiar gone, his weathered hands planted firmly on its hips as he started up at the floating armada. D. Crestfall didn¡¯t look frightened ¨C he looked annoyed.


    ¡®Typical Miragos,¡¯ his voice carried across the sky without magical aid. ¡®Always bringing cannons into a conversation.¡¯


    From the lead Sky-breaker, a figure leapt down ¨C a blur of motion that landed with precision on the cobblestones thirty feet below. As he straightened, his features became clear: a tall man with burnished copper skin, eyes the color of storm clouds, and armor etched with lightning patterns. Recognition flashed across the face of every witness.


    ¡®Veren Stormheard,¡¯ Emberfist whispered. ¡®Miragos¡¯ foremost battle-mage. [A-Class].¡¯


    Crestfall stepped forwards, unimpressed by the dramatic entrance. ¡®Stormheart. You¡¯re looking well for someone serving a dead family.¡¯


    ¡®The Dorians may have fallen, but Miragos still stands,¡¯ Stormheart voice boomed loudly through Vallenport electricity crackling around his fingertips. ¡®As will justice.¡¯


    ¡®Justice?¡¯ Crestfall laughed, the loud sound incongruously deep from his small frame. ¡®Is that what you call bombardment? An excuse for a natural phenomenon? The Council of the Free Cities will have something to say about this.¡¯


    ¡®The Council has authorized this action,¡¯ Stormheart said, drawing a sealed parchment from his belt. ¡®The unprovoked attack on Miragos will not go unanswered.¡¯


    They had drawn a crowd ¨C not civilians, but Vallenport¡¯s defenders. City guards, formed a perimeter around the plaza, crossbows trained on the ships above. Members of the Mages Guild took positions on surrounding rooftops, their hands glowing with prepared spells.


    Crestfall¡¯s expression darkened: ¡®You have no authority here, Stormheart. Take your ships and leave, or face the consequences.¡¯


    The battle-mage smiled coldly: ¡®I was hoping you¡¯d say that.¡¯


    With blinding speed, Stormheart struck, a bolt of lightning erupting from his outstretched hand. Crestfall didn¡¯t dodge ¨C he simply stood his ground as the electricity enveloped him.


    They don¡¯t have large scale barriers anymore?  Thought Tavalor to himself. Were the Dragons and the Dragon Sanctuary the last of the places to have them? Or were they useless enough not to matter?


    After all, Tavalor had spent a lot of money to install barriers at his manor and they had proven useless.


    When the light faded, the gnome remained unharmed, the lightning dissipated around in a bright blue barrier.


    After the barrier faded stood a completely different man. Old, tall, thin man with a long silver beard.


    It was Kaelen Silverbeard, the Guildmaster of the Adventurers Guild.


    The audience watching murmured in shock. Silverbeard was rumored to be [S-Class] figure, but publicly he was known to be [A-Class].


    Silverbeard stroked his beard and looked at Stormheart in amusement.


    An [A-Class] battle. Tavalor leaned forward in interest. He had climbed to the top of a tree in his garden and with his [Dragon Sight] he had a front row view.


    Silverbeard drew a rune in the air that solidified into a glowing blade.


    The plaza erupted into combat.


    Stormheart unleashed a barrage of lightning strikes that Silverbeard parried with his runic blade. Each clash sending shockwaves across the air.


    They moved with inhuman speed. Their magic warping the space around them.


    Crestfall stood in the back. Summoning shields to stop any damage occurring.


    From the remaining ships, two more figures descended. Warriors in Miragos colors. Their movements also suggesting [A-Class] power.


    ¡®Reinforcements,¡¯ Emberfist was surprised, ¡®this is getting out of hand.¡¯


    Before Tavalor could respond, movements caught his attention. From opposite ends of the plaza, a set of twin figures emerged. Dressed in Vallenport blues. Their armour gleaming, they leapt to intercept the Miragos reinforcements.


    ¡®Three versus three,¡¯ Tavalor observed.


    Silverbeard vs Stormheart.


    Crestfall vs one of the figures who had dropped from the sky. A woman wielding twin scimitars of burning energy.


    The twin figures fighting two versus one.


    Above the battle the Sky-breakers began to reposition themselves, their weapon ports opening to reveal arcane cannons.


    The largest ship, the flagship, glowed charging, preparing a devastating barrage.


    ¡®This might destroy half the city,¡¯ said Emberfist with concern.


    Little Shadow, still perched on its shoulder, suddenly grew agitated. Its tiny form vibrated with excitement as it stared at the Sky-breakers, its violet eyes fixed on something Tavalor couldn¡¯t see.


    The flagship''s main deck shimmered with gathering power. Six summoning circles activated simultaneously, each disgorging a massive beast¡ªchimeras with lion bodies, dragon wings, and scorpion tails. Battle-beasts, bred for war and enhanced with magic to [A-Class] combat potential.


    Little Shadow chirped ¨C the second sound Tavalor had heard it make ¨C and it launched form his shoulder, streaking upwards towards the flagship like a bold of living darkness.


    ¡®What¡¯s it doing?¡¯ Emberfist asked, watching the tiny shadow race towards the massive warship.


    ¡®It¡¯s hungry,¡¯ Tavalor smiled faintly. He could feel the gnawing hunger though the bond they had started to form.


    Upon reaching the deck, Little Shadow paused, hovering above the chimeras. The beasts sensed its presence, their heads swivelling upward, jaws open in threatening roars. To the Miragos soldiers, it must have seemed comical¡ªa tiny shadow facing monsters twenty times its size.


    Then Little Shadow changed.


    Its small form expanded, spreading like spilled ink across the deck. Tendrils of darkness lashed out, wrapping around the nearest chimera. The beast struggled, its magically enhanced muscles straining against bonds that seemed impossibly strong. Then it began to dissolve, its essence absorbed into the shadow.


    Panic erupted on the flagship''s deck. Soldiers fired arrows and spells at Little Shadow, but the shadow simply flowed around them, growing larger with each beast it consumed. The remaining chimeras scattered, instinctual fear overriding their magical compulsions, but Little Shadow hunted them relentlessly.


    Within minutes, all six [A-Class] battle-beasts had been consumed. Where Little Shadow had been a sparrow-sized creature, it now resembled a massive crow, its form rippling with barely contained power. Violet eyes¡ªdozens of them¡ªopened across its surface, glaring at the terrified crew.


    Commander Dredic, his face pale with shock, shouted orders to retreat, but it was too late. Little Shadow surged forward, flowing around soldiers without harming them, but devouring every magical construct and enchanted weapon in its path. The ship''s arcane cannons sputtered and died as Little Shadow consumed their power sources.


    Below, the plaza battle paused as all combatants stared upward at the unfolding scene. The Miragos warriors'' confidence faltered as they witnessed their mighty flagship conquered by a living shadow.


    In that moment of distraction, Tavalor made his move. His form blurred as he leapt upward, crossing the vast distance to the nearest support ship in a single bound. He landed on its deck with casual grace, startling the crew.


    ¡®I suggest,¡¯ he said calmly, ¡®[Intimidation] flaring subtly around him, "that you follow stop.¡¯


    [Intimidation] made him seem like a shadowy figure as well, matching the aesthetic of Little Shadow. Nobody could directly look at him.


    The crew complied instantly, pausing what they were doing as Tavalor approached the helm.


    ¡®Turn the ship back towards Miragos.¡¯ With a few deft movements, the sailors disengaged the ship from its formation and turned it south-east¡ªback toward Miragos.


    On the flagship, Little Shadow had cornered Commander Dredic, its massive shadow form looming over the terrified man. But instead of consuming him, it simply stared, dozens of violet eyes blinking in unison.


    ¡®Tell the other ships to surrender,¡¯ Tavalor''s voice carried across the distance. ¡®Or my pet gets dessert.¡¯


    Within minutes, white flags appeared on all Miragos vessels. The invasion had failed, ended not by Vallenport''s defenders but by a small shadow creature and its mysterious owner.


    As Tavalor guided the captured ship toward Miragos¡ªa personal delivery of their surrender¡ªwhispers spread through Vallenport.


    ¡®Did you guys see it?¡¯ people asked. ¡®The shadow that devoured [A-Class] beasts like it was nothing?¡¯


    ¡®Only an [S-Class] creature could do that,¡¯ came the replies. ¡®But where did it come from? Who controls it?¡¯


    All eyes turned to the southern sky, where Tavalor''s commandeered ship shrank into the distance.

 Chapter 20 – I Went to Visit the Free City of Miragos

    Free City of Miragos, New Council Headquarters


    Elder Cassandra Ward heard the news of the destruction of the Sky-breakers immediately. She sat, astounded at the news as did all of the elders in the new councils office.


    She understood the principle, that beyond mountains, there are mountains; beyond heavens there are heavens. But witnessing was still a shock.


    It was quiet in the room. The messenger who had delivered the message didn¡¯t even dare to breathe.


    Six [A-Class] battle-beasts, the fleet of Sky-breakers and three [A-Class] cultivators. The culprit, a mysterious shadow beast and its owner.


    This could only mean one thing. An [S-Class] cultivator.


    The reason why dynasties could dominate a region wasn¡¯t because of the mass of [A-Class], [B-Class] even [C-Class] cultivators, but because they had at least one [S-Class] cultivator.


    Who would have thought that there was an [S-Class] cultivator in Vallenport of all places?


    Elder Cassandra¡¯s face was still shocked: ¡®There must be a mistake somewhere¡¯


    An all powerful legendary level expert was hidden in Vallenport.


    Even the other Elders were dumbfounded.


    Most of the [S-Class] experts were normally well known, even the ones who wandered around.


    It was people like the founder of the Adventurers Guild, Founders of the two Western Continent Empires, the leader of the Jade Court and the Celestial Dynasty of the Eastern Continent, Chief Priest of the Imperial Solara in the Northern Continent and the Caliph¡¯s of the Southern Continent.


    Elder Cassandra spoke again: ¡®What are we gonna do? That [S-Class] is on his way here?¡¯


    ***


    The Sky-breakers were [A-Class] level offensive flying artifacts. Their flew almost at commercial airliner speed, so instead a several week ocean journey it took at most half a day before they would arrive at Miragos.


    Aside from the time he had flown from the Dragon Sanctuary, Tavalor had never left Vallenport. And the times he had, it had been on foot.


    Little Shadow was even more excited. He flew around. On and off the ship constantly. Exploring it from head to foot. Appearing and disappearing randomly.


    Tavalor relaxed. Perched on the bow of the ship, he finally had a moment to take in the passing vistas, his eyes drinking in the scenery unfolding before him.


    He basked in the sun.


    After a while he got bored. Then lay down to take a nap.


    [Intimidation] was still in effect, so all the crew could see was a black shadow.


    The Captain of the ship, stood at the wheel, sweat beading on his brow despite the high altitude and the cold winds.


    The shadowy figure hadn¡¯t moved for hours, seemingly asleep, but the Captain new better than to trust appearances.


    Whoever or whatever had commandeered his vessel was powerful enough to control the crew with nothing but a word.


    But as they approached Miragos, maybe there was a chance?


    He caught the eye of his first mate and made a sign on his thigh. Three fingers. Two fingers. One finger.


    Their plan was simple and desperate. Six of his best crew members had positioned themselves strategically around the deck, each armed with enchanted weapons, capable of harming even [A-Class] entities.


    When he made a fist. They attacked.


    The all sprung from their hiding places. Two archers loosed enchanted arrows from the cannons. The quartermaster hurled a [Spear of Binding], its tip glowing with runes of imprisonment.


    The Captain himself attacked with his pride and joy. A sword that had been in his family for generations. A legendary [Dragon Slaying Sword].


    The shadow didn¡¯t even open its eyes.


    The arrows struck first, hitting their target dead-center ¨C only to bounce off harmlessly, clattering to the deck. The binding spear similarly deflected, its magic fizzling uselessly against what seemed like an invisible barrier surrounding the shadow.


    Merrill''s sword made contact next, the enchanted edge meeting the figure''s shoulder with a sound like metal striking stone. The blade shattered, sending fragments across the deck. The captain stumbled backward, staring in horror at the broken hilt in his hand.


    Only then did the shadow sit up, stretching lazily as if waking from a pleasant nap.


    ''Really?'' it said, sounding more annoyed than threatened. ''I was having such a nice dream.''


    Merrill found his voice, though it cracked with fear. ''What manner of creature are you?''


    ''The kind that doesn''t appreciate being attacked while napping,'' the shadow replied, standing to its full height.


    The captain backed away, signalling frantically for his remaining crew to retreat. ''We meant no¡ª''


    He never finished the sentence. The shadow raised a hand almost casually, and a fireball burst forth ¨C not the standard spell that any decent mage might cast, but a concentrated inferno that roared across the deck with the fury of a small sun.


    Merrill had just enough time to register the heat before it consumed him completely, leaving nothing but ash drifting in the wind.


    The shadow sighed, looking at the terrified remaining crew members who had thrown themselves flat on the deck.


    ''Now,'' it said calmly, ''does anyone else want to try something clever, or can I get back to my nap?''


    As the towers of Miragos appeared on the horizon, not a soul on board dared to move.


    Tavalor lay back down to sleep. The crew were all [B-Class] at most. Ants to him. As time went on Tavalor grew more and more confident in his [Ancient Scales]. He assumed he was almost immortal and indestructible now thanks to that ability.


    Time passed. The half a day that it would take to arrive at Miragos had gone by.


    Tavalor woke up and stretched. ¡®Are we there yet?¡¯ he asked. Turning to the still frightened crew.


    ¡®It¡¯s right ahead,¡¯ replied the quartermaster. He now stood where the former Captain had stood at the helm.


    Tavalor raised his eyes and looked down.


    Unlike canal-laced Vallenport, Miragos erupted from a rocky peninsula in defiant towers of white stone and gleaming metal.


    Spires reached skyward like crystalline fingers, their surfaces reflecting the afternoon sun in blinding patterns.


    The city was a monument to ambition¡ªterraced gardens spilled down its eastern face while western districts clung to cliff edges, connected by impossible bridges that seemed to float unsupported. Intricate domes topped with gold and silver caught the light, creating the illusion of flames dancing atop the highest towers.


    Tavalor''s lips curled into a slight smile. ¡®Finally.¡¯


    The Sky-breaker descended towards Miragos gracefully. It¡¯s enchanted engines humming quietly and melodically. Little Shadow, standing on his shoulder, hummed along in tune with it.


    Citizens paused in streets and marketplaces, shading their eyes against the afternoon sun to watch the ship''s approach. Some pointed, their expressions shifting from curiosity to concern when they realized this wasn''t a triumphant return¡ªthis was a single vessel from the armada that had departed with such fanfare that morning.


    Tavalor stood at the bow, [Intimidation] still cloaking him in shadow. The city spread below him like an architectural boast¡ªa testament to human ambition and magical engineering.


    The ship drifted toward the central district where a massive domed building dominated the skyline¡ªthe New Council Headquarters, hastily established after the Dorian Spire''s destruction.


    Skyports flanked the headquarters, but Tavalor had no interest in proper docking procedures. He directed the terrified helmsman to hover directly above the building''s central courtyard.


    ¡®Lower,¡¯ Tavalor commanded, his voice resonating with [Intimidation]. It brooked no argument.


    The ship descended until it hovered just thirty feet above the courtyard''s polished marble. Below, guards scrambled into defensive positions, their weapons trained on the unexpected vessel. Civilians evacuated in orderly panic, herded away by uniformed officials.


    Within minutes, a delegation had gathered in the courtyard¡ªstern-faced men and women in formal robes, flanked by warriors whose auras betrayed their [A-Class] status.


    Tavalor leapt from the bow, landing with inhuman lightness despite the thirty-foot drop. His [Intimidation] wavered just enough to reveal a humanoid silhouette rather than a formless shadow.


    A woman stepped forward from the delegation, her weathered face a mask of diplomatic calm despite the fear evident in her eyes.


    ¡®I am Elder Cassandra Ward,¡¯ she announced, her voice carrying across the courtyard. ¡®You stand uninvited on sovereign Miragos territory. Identify yourself.¡¯


    Before Tavalor could respond, the Sky-breaker''s quartermaster leaned over the railing, a desperate smile splitting his face.


    ¡®It''s a trap!¡¯ he shouted, glee evident in his voice. ¡®The suppression barrier is in place! He cannot¡ª¡¯


    Tavalor tilted his head upward, his shadowed form conveying annoyance without needing to show his face. The quartermaster''s words died in his throat as a shimmering dome of energy suddenly became visible, encompassing the entire courtyard and beyond.


    ¡®A barrier,¡¯ Tavalor observed, his tone flat. ¡®How original.¡¯


    Elder Cassandra''s diplomatic mask slipped slightly. ¡®You''ve committed acts of war against Miragos. Did you truly believe you could simply walk into our city without consequences?¡¯


    Around the perimeter of the courtyard, warriors began to emerge¡ªdozens, then scores of them, each radiating the unmistakable aura of [A-Class] power. They lined the balconies and rooftops, weapons at the ready, some already beginning to channel spells.


    Citizens who hadn''t evacuated pressed against windows and clustered at distant vantage points, whispering frantically among themselves. What manner of being was this, to warrant such overwhelming force? Who would dare attack Miragos directly?


    ¡®An army for one visitor,¡¯ Tavalor remarked, seemingly unperturbed by the growing threat. ¡®I''m flattered.¡¯


    ¡®Enough.¡¯ The command cut through the tension like a blade.


    The crowd parted as a figure approached¡ªan elderly man whose simple gray robes belied the power that radiated from him. His silver hair and beard were immaculately trimmed, his posture straight despite his apparent age. The warriors surrounding the courtyard bowed their heads in deference.


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    ¡®Lord Miragos,¡¯ Elder Cassandra was surprised. Her expression was tinged with relief though. ¡®We didn¡¯t expect¨C¡¯


    The other people in the audience were also surprised. Lord Miragos. Founder of the Free City of Miragos.


    An Ancient Legend come to life.


    ¡®Clearly not,¡¯ the old man interrupted, his eyes fixed on Tavalor¡¯s shadowy form. ¡®Or you wouldn¡¯t be threatening our guest with this crude display.¡¯


    The crowd murmured in confusion. Guest? The shadow that had destroyed Miragos elite forces?


    Lord Miragos stopped ten paces from Tavalor. His eyes seemingly able to pierce through the [Intimidation] effect.


    ¡®You truly are [S-Class],¡¯ he said, not a question but a statement of fact. ¡®I felt your arrival from my chambers beneath the city. Few can disturb my meditation these days.¡¯


    That¡¯s a problem.  I need to be more lowkey. This amount of attention is too annoying.


    Tavalor''s [Intimidation] effect faded slightly, allowing his basic form to become more visible¡ªa tall, horned figure with glowing ruby eyes.


    ¡®Lord Miragos,¡¯ Tavalor replied with a polite bow, his voice also respectful. ¡®The Founder himself. The rumors of your eternal sleep seem to have been exaggerated.¡¯


    Elder Cassandra looked stricken: ¡®My lord, we acted in defense of¨C¡¯


    ¡®In defense of pride,¡¯ Lord Miragos cut her off. ¡®The Dorian family arrogance has cost us enough. I will not drag us into an unnecessary war.¡¯


    What a surprise. This old man is quite reasonable. Not like the web novels at all.


    Liars. All of these old guy all lying. This guy is the sixth [S-Class] I¡¯ve seen. They¡¯re supposed to be rare.


    ¡®Perhaps I just enjoy their pastries,¡¯ Tavalor replied casually.


    Lord Miragos laughed, a sound that seemed to catch the councilors off guard. ¡®Perhaps! But what a surprise that an upstart port city should harbor one of your caliber. There are few enough of us in this age¡ªmyself, the Founders of the Western Empires, the leaders of the Eastern Continent''s courts, and a handful of others. Yet you are unknown to us.¡¯


    ¡®I value my privacy,¡¯ Tavalor said simply.


    Their conversation was interrupted by the quartermaster, who had climbed down from the Sky-breaker and now prostrated himself before the council.


    ¡®My Lords, you don''t understand,¡¯ he babbled, fear making his voice crack. ¡®This creature¡ªthis monster¡ªkilled Captain Merrill with a mere gesture! Incinerated him to ash! He destroyed our battle-beasts, our elite warriors¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Silence,¡¯ Lord Miragos commanded, but it was too late.


    The revelation sent waves of shock through the gathered warriors. The quartermaster''s words confirmed their worst fears¡ªthis shadow had indeed decimated their forces, killed their comrades. Faces contorted with rage and grief, and the disciplined restraint began to fracture.


    ¡®This changes nothing,¡¯ Elder Cassandra hissed, trying to maintain order. ¡®The barrier holds. We proceed as planned.¡¯


    Internally Tavalor was pleased. As expected. There are always some arrogant dumb-asses wandering around. They gave Tavalor an excuse to kill them.


    A signal passed through the ranks. The warriors on the balconies and rooftops began to move in practiced unison, their positions forming a precise geometric pattern around the courtyard. Energy crackled between them as they initiated a combined technique.


    ¡®[The Hundred Stars] Formation,¡¯ Lord Miragos observed, stepping back with a frown. ¡®Cassandra, this is unnecessary¡ª¡¯


    ¡®


    The formation activated¡ªa hundred [A-Class] warriors channelling their power simultaneously into a suppression rune of unprecedented scale. The barrier above shimmered, reinforced by their combined effort. From the centre of the courtyard, ancient symbols etched in the marble began to glow with blinding intensity.


    ¡®The Soul Suppression Seal,¡¯ Lord Miragos said, his expression troubled. ¡®You risk much, Elder.¡¯


    ¡®For Miragos'' future,¡¯ she replied, conviction burning in her eyes.


    The entire city began to vibrate with gathered power. Windows shattered in distant districts, water sloshed from fountains, and birds fled in panicked flocks. The crew of the Sky-breaker covered their heads, seeking shelter where none existed. Even Lord Miragos raised a personal barrier to shield himself from the backlash.


    In the centre of it all, Tavalor stood motionless, his shadowy form watching the spectacle with a detached curiosity.


    The Soul Suppression Seal activated with a thunderous crack. A pillar of light erupted from the courtyard''s centre, engulfing Tavalor completely. The assembled warriors strained, channelling every ounce of their power into the ancient artifact. Elder Cassandra''s face shone with sweat and expectation.


    ¡®We have him,¡¯ she whispered.


    From his elevated position the quartermaster let out a bark of laughter, relief making him giddy. ¡®Yes! The monster falls!¡¯


    Lord Miragos alone remained skeptical, his ancient eyes narrowed as he observed the column of light.


    The pillar began to contract, constricting around Tavalor''s form¡ªa legendary item doing what it was designed to do: capture and contain even the most powerful entities.


    Then came the sound¡ªa single, clear note, like metal striking metal.


    Clang.


    The pillar of light shattered against Tavalor''s form, its energy dispersing in a shockwave that rippled outward with catastrophic force.


    The impact reverberated through the entire city. Buildings swayed, foundations cracked, and distant districts collapsed as the shockwave tore through stone and steel alike. The warriors maintaining the formation were thrown backward, their carefully aligned positions destroyed in an instant. Those nearest to the epicentre simply disappeared, consumed by the backfire of their own technique.


    Elder Cassandra was hurled across the courtyard, her body crashing against a marble column with sickening force. The Sky-breaker crew, moments ago celebrating, were swept away like leaves in a hurricane.


    The earthquake-like tremors continued for nearly a minute, each aftershock bringing down more of the city. When the dust began to settle, half of Miragos lay in ruins. Those who survived stared in horror at the devastation, unable to process what had happened.


    In the courtyard''s centre, Tavalor stood unmoved, his [Ancient Scales] having rendered him completely impervious to the legendary artifact''s power. The suppression barrier had disintegrated, the formation destroyed, and most of the [A-Class] warriors lay broken or dead around the perimeter.


    Only Lord Miragos remained standing nearby, his personal barrier having protected him from the worst of the blast. He gazed at Tavalor with new understanding, perhaps even fear.


    Elder Cassandra dragged herself to her knees, blood trickling from her mouth, her eyes wide with incomprehension. The ancient Seal¡ªa relic that had captured and contained beings of immense power throughout Miragos'' history¡ªhad failed. Not just failed, but catastrophically backfired.


    ¡®Impossible,¡¯ she whispered, her voice barely audible over the continuing rumble of collapsing buildings in distant districts.


    Around the courtyard, the surviving members of the Hundred Stars Formation lay scattered like broken dolls. Some stirred, moaning in pain; others remained ominously still.


    The man who had activated the Seal¡ªArchmage Dorvius, once renowned as Miragos'' most promising magical talent¡ªsat slumped against the base of a fractured column, his eyes vacant, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth. The backlash had shattered his mind, leaving nothing but an empty shell.


    The remaining council members huddled together, their earlier confidence evaporated. One of them, a portly man with elaborate gold chains across his chest, fell to his knees.


    ¡®Mercy,¡¯ he whimpered. ¡®We beg for mercy.¡¯


    From his position near the Sky-breaker, the quartermaster''s shock had turned to a panic. He laughed¡ªa high, unhinged sound that cut through the moans of the injured.


    Tavalor turned slowly toward the man, his eyes glowing like embers.


    ¡®Okay,¡¯ he said, his voice eerily calm, ¡®playtime¡¯s over.¡¯


    Without warning, a fireball erupted from his hand¡ªnot the standard magical construct that most mages would cast, but a concentrated inferno that roared across the courtyard with the force of a small sun. It struck the quartermaster directly, consuming him instantly. Nothing remained but a scorch mark on the marble.


    ¡®I only kept him alive to gather you all here,¡¯ Tavalor explained to the horrified onlookers. ¡®His usefulness has ended.¡¯


    Lord Miragos stood apart from the others, his ancient eyes fixed on Tavalor with dawning comprehension. Where there had been curiosity, now there was genuine fear¡ªperhaps for the first time in centuries.


    ¡®


    Tavalor didn''t answer. Instead, he stomped his foot once¡ªa casual gesture that sent cracks racing across the courtyard. The elaborate formation etched into the marble shattered, fragments of stone spraying outward like shrapnel. Several of the fallen warriors cried out as the broken pieces tore through them.


    Before the council could react, Tavalor raised both hands. Multiple fireballs materialized simultaneously¡ªeach perfectly formed, each targeted at a different council member. They struck with precision, transforming the leadership of Miragos into pillars of flame that burned with unnatural intensity before collapsing into ash.


    Only Elder Cassandra was spared, her battered form shielded by a last-minute barrier cast by Lord Miragos himself. The ancient founder stepped forward, placing himself between Tavalor and what remained of his city''s leadership.


    ¡®Enough,¡¯ Lord Miragos commanded, though the word carried less authority than before. ¡®You''ve made your point. Miragos will trouble Vallenport no more.¡¯


    Tavalor tilted his head, studying the old man. ¡®Is that your promise to make? After you''ve spent centuries hiding, abandoning your city to the arrogance of families like the Dorians?¡¯


    Lord Miragos bristled, drawing himself up to his full height. Despite his age, power radiated from him in palpable waves. ¡®Do not presume to judge me, stranger. I have guided this city since its founding. I have fought wars you cannot imagine, faced enemies that would make you tremble.¡¯


    ¡®Show me,¡¯ Tavalor replied bored of the whole thing. Time to end it.


    The challenge hung in the air between them. Lord Miragos hesitated only a moment before striking. His hand traced a complex pattern in the air¡ªa spell formation of such intricacy that it seemed to fold in on itself, defying normal dimensions.


    Light burst from his fingertips, coalescing into a lance of pure energy that struck Tavalor directly in the chest.


    The lance shattered, its power dissipating harmlessly against [Ancient Scales].


    Lord Miragos didn''t hesitate. He followed with a barrage of spells, each more powerful than the last¡ªbinding circles, elemental cascades, temporal distortions. The air itself began to warp with the density of magic being channelled, yet nothing penetrated Tavalor''s defences.


    With each failed attempt, Lord Miragos'' composure cracked further. Sweat beaded on his brow, his breathing grew ragged, and fear¡ªan emotion he had likely not felt in centuries¡ªbegan to show plainly on his face.


    Tavalor began walking toward him, each step measured and unhurried.


    Lord Miragos stumbled backward, his legendary composure abandoned. ¡®Stay back,¡¯ he warned, his voice cracking. ¡®I am Lord Miragos, Founder of the Free City, Conqueror of the Elder Isles, Master of the Seven Winds!¡¯


    His desperation mounted as Tavalor continued his approach.


    When Tavalor stood in front of him. The cowering changed. The cowardice was a front for an ambush. The old [S-Class] channelled his most devastating technique¡ªa golden light gathering around his fist, concentrated power that had felled titans and shattered mountains. The [Golden Fist of Miragos], a technique that had ended the lives of countless enemies.


    ¡®Die!¡¯ he shouted, driving the golden fist directly at Tavalor''s heart.


    The impact should have obliterated any living thing. Instead, it met the immovable object of [Ancient Scales] with a dull thud.


    Lord Miragos stood frozen, his golden fist pressed uselessly against Tavalor''s chest, his eyes wide with disbelief.


    ¡®How?¡¯ he whispered. ¡®How is this possible?¡¯


    Tavalor didn''t answer. He simply watched as cracks began to appear on Lord Miragos'' skin¡ªfine lines that spread rapidly across his face and hands, glowing with golden light from within. The backlash of his own technique, reflected by [Ancient Scales], was consuming him from the inside.


    ¡®No,¡¯ Lord Miragos gasped, his voice already fading. ¡®Not like this. Not after all these years...¡¯


    His form began to crumble, golden light pouring from the widening cracks in his ancient body. Within seconds, there was nothing left but dust and a fading golden glow where the legendary founder had stood.


    Elder Cassandra watched in mute horror, the last witness to the fall of her city''s greatest protector. Her survival now seemed less mercy and more cruel punishment¡ªforced to bear witness to the end of everything she had known.


    Tavalor turned away from the remains of Lord Miragos, his gaze sweeping across the ruined courtyard and beyond, to the half-collapsed city.


    Survivors were trying to dig out loved ones from the rubble. Healers moved among the wounded, their magic flickering feebly against the scale of the disaster.


    A twinge of something¡ªnot quite remorse, but perhaps reluctance¡ªcrossed Tavalor''s features.


    Am I the villain? He had not come to slaughter innocents. His quarrel had been with those who sent assassins, who threatened his peace.


    But he recognized the pattern that would inevitably follow. Survivors would rebuild. They would nurse their hatred. They would plan vengeance. The cycle would continue, and more would come to disturb the tranquillity he had sought in Vallenport.


    Pull out everything by the roots. Yada, yada, yada.


    Better to end it cleanly, he thought to himself. No matter how uneasy I feel about it.


    Tavalor rose into the air, his form shifting subtly as he ascended above the ruined city. He hovered high enough to see Miragos in its entirety¡ªthe collapsed eastern districts, the still-standing western quarter, the thousands of tiny figures moving through streets and over rubble.


    He took a deep breath, drawing on power that had not been unleashed since the Age of Dragons. [Dragon''s Breath] manifested not as the controlled flame he had used before, but as its true form¡ªa cataclysmic force of pure destruction.


    When he exhaled, the sky ignited.


    A column of white-hot flame wider than the broadest avenue poured down upon Miragos, so bright it turned night to day for thousands of kilometers in all directions. The roar was deafening, drowning out the screams that were silenced moments later. Stone melted like wax, steel vaporized instantly, and the very ground beneath the city began to glow with heat.


    The conflagration lasted less than a minute, but when it ended, Miragos existed only as a memory. Where a proud city had stood for centuries, there was now only a massive, perfectly circular,perfectly flat islandof glass, still glowing red at its edges.


    Tavalor ascended to the floating Sky-breaker, where only Little Shadow awaited him. The little shadow creature had grown during his absence, now the size of a small cat, its violet eyes watching him with something like admiration.


    ¡®The ship is yours,¡¯ Tavalor told it, patting its insubstantial form. ¡®Consider it a toy.¡¯


    Little Shadow chirped happily, flowing across the deck toward the helm. Despite its apparent simplicity, the shadow creature head learned the ship''s controls while wandering around, and it manipulated the levers and wheels expertly with extensions of its dark form.


    Tavalor stepped back, watching as Little Shadow guided the massive vessel into a turn, orienting it back toward Vallenport.


    He could have stored the Sky-breakerin his [System Space] and flown back much faster¡ªbut for now, he was content to let Little Shadow have its fun.


    As they left behind the glowing crater that had been Miragos, Tavalor looked eastward, toward the rising stars.

 Chapter 21 – I Came back to Vallenport and Created a New Spell

    High above the world, Tavalor soared through the afternoon sky. Little Shadow piloted the Sky-breaker with surprising skill, it¡¯s violet eyes fixed on the distant horizon where Vallenport awaited.


    The airship was high above the clouds, cutting through the air like a knife through butter, its enchanted engines humming a melodic tune that Little Shadow occasionally mimicked with soft chirps.


    Tavalor stood on the bow, wind rushing through his hair as he gazed across the vast expanse of the world. They had flow high. So high that there was no air.


    From this height the true scale of the realm revealed itself ¨C a landscape at least a hundred times larger than Earth had been. Continents stretched out like massive puzzle pieces, separated by impossibly vast oceans that would take ordinary cultivators months to cross.


    The circular prison-continents designed by the Watchers were more obvious from these heights. All circular. All unnatural.


    ¡®It¡¯s quite a view, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ Tavalor mused to Little Shadow, who chirped in agreement without taking its attention from the ships controls.


    Little Shadow had grown again, instead of being chick sized, it was chicken sized. It resembled a crow made of living darkness. Its form rippling with newfound power absorbed from the battle-beasts it had consumed.


    It would also occasionally shift forms. Morphing appendages into the shapes of the beasts that it had devoured.


    Tavalor smiled at the creatures antics. He had at least found a companion. Little Shadow as linked to him. He felt it. His life and Little Shadows were bound.


    Why? Another mystery.


    As they journeyed towards home, Tavalor¡¯s thoughts drifted back towards the destruction that he had left behind.


    The glassy crater that had once been Miragos. The obliteration of an entire city state. Extinction of a place that had stood for centuries.


    Maybe I went too far? He thought. Then he dismissed the thought. They would have returned. More assassins. More Sky-breakers. Pulling out the weeds by the roots was the only way to ensure peace.


    Still, the memory of all of the randoms that that nothing to do with the Dorians or their vendetta did weigh on him. He wasn¡¯t a monster. He didn¡¯t revel in the slaughter. He just wanted to be left alone.


    ***


    The destruction of Miragos sent shockwaves across the world. Within hours of the cataclysm, the news had spread like wildfire, carried by various magical means, desperate refugees and the simple visibility of the event itself.


    The column of light had been visible from thousands of kilometers away. The second such event after the meteor.


    In the Northern Continent, deep within the frozen fortress-capital of the Iperium Solara, Emperor Tiberius received the news with a furrowed brow. The giant blue bearded ruler sat motionless on his Crystal Throne, frost forming as his advisors detailed the reports.


    ¡®A city of half a million souls¡­ gone within minutes,¡¯ the Imperial Spymaster reported calmly. ¡®The witnesses describe it as fire, Your Radiance. Not a spell, not a ritual¡­ actual fire.¡¯


    The Emperor¡¯s eyes narrowed: ¡®What could it be? A weapon? A revived dragon? The watchers?¡¯ he said, his breath causing fog to from in the frigid air. ¡®What are you suggesting?¡¯


    ''I suggest nothing, Your Radiance. I merely report what our agents have witnessed. Something of [S-Class] power has emerged in Vallenport. Something that can reduce a fortified city to glass with a single breath.''


    Tiberius dismissed his advisors with a wave, remaining alone in the throne room. For the first time in centuries, the Emperor of Imperium Solara felt a chill that had nothing to do with the frost surrounding him.


    ***


    In the Eastern Continent, the news arrived at the palaces of the Jade Court during a celestial alignment ceremony. The Empress Celestial paused in her ritual, her ornate headdress tinkling softly as she tilted her head, listening to the whispers of her attendant.


    Her eyes, milky white with age and power, widened slightly. ''Show me,'' she commanded.


    A scrying pool was brought forth, its surface rippling to reveal the smouldering crater where Miragos had stood. The perfect circle of glass reflected the twin moons, a testament to power beyond mortal comprehension.


    ''The balance shifts,'' the Empress murmured, her voice carrying to her assembled court. ''For the first time in an age, the wheel turns in a direction even I cannot foresee.''


    ***


    On the Elven Continent, the High Council gathered beneath the boughs of the World Tree. Galarion, the Archmage, paced before his seated peers, his silver robes catching the dappled light filtering through the ancient leaves.


    ''The reports are confirmed,'' he announced, his tone grave. ''Miragos is no more. The Free City has been reduced to a sea of glass. Even Lord Miragos himself¡ªan [S-Class] cultivator whose power rivalled our own¡ªfell before this... entity.''


    Whispers broke out among the council members, their faces pale beneath the emerald canopy.


    ''Could it be?'' one of them ventured. ''After all these millennia... could a dragon have returned?''


    Galarion''s expression darkened. ¡®No the description of the creature was of a shadowy formless beast. If it was the Watchers, they would have made a move. The Watchers will not allow such a disruption to their system. They will come in force.''


    ''And Titanos?'' another council member asked. ''The Giants'' return¡ªcould it be connected?''


    ''I fear we stand at the precipice of a new age,'' Galarion replied, his ancient eyes troubled. ''The old powers stir. The walls between worlds grow thin. And in Vallenport, a shadow.''


    ***


    Even the nomadic tribes of the Shimmerwind Desert felt the tremors of Miragos'' fall. Gathered around campfires beneath the star-filled sky, the elders spoke in hushed tones of omens and prophecies.


    ''The glass crater,'' one wizened elder murmured, tracing patterns in the sand. ''Perfect circle. Perfect destruction. The old tales speak of such power¡ªthe breath of the world-shapers, the firstborn of magic.''


    Younger warriors leaned in, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames.


    ''Dragons?'' one of them asked.


    The elder shook his head solemnly. ''Or something worse.''


    ***


    As the Sky-breaker approached Vallenport, the first thing Tavalor noticed was the increased activity in the harbour. Ships from across the Elder Isles had converged on the city, their decks crowded with observers, merchants, and the simply curious.


    Little Shadow chirped excitedly, pointing a shadow-tendril toward the city centre where a large crowd had gathered. Even from this distance, Tavalor could see the festival atmosphere¡ªbanners streaming in the wind, magical lights illuminating the central plaza, music floating up from street performers.


    ''Interesting,'' he murmured. ''It seems you¡¯ve caused quite a stir.'' He smiled at Little Shadow.


    Tavalor put the Sky-breaker away into his system space. Leaving himself and Little Shadow floating high in the sky. Little Shadow chirped in confusion.


    ¡®I¡¯ve put it away for you,¡¯ Tavalor calmed him down. ¡®Let¡¯s not make a scene. I don¡¯t want to be bothered too much.¡¯


    Little Shadow cocked his head in confusion, then chirped and nodded along. He shrank himself down to his former chick size and sat on Tavalor¡¯s shoulder.


    Tavalor floated down to the ground, using [Intimidation] to force people to look away as he landed.


    They had arrived a the Grand Plaza. In the centre of the Grand Plaza, where the Sky-breakers had threatened the city just days before, a new statue had been erected¡ªa massive sculpture of a shadow creature, its many eyes rendered in glowing purple crystals, its form seeming to flow like living darkness.


    ''They built you a statue,'' Tavalor said, amused by Little Shadow''s obvious delight. The shadow creature puffed up, almost doubling in size with pride before returning to its normal dimensions.


    They had arrived mid speech. It was Kaelen Silverbeard, the Guildmaster of the Adventurers Guild droning on: ''Vallenport thanks its protector,'' Silverbeard finished, his voice carrying across the assembled crowd. ''Lord Shadow!''


    Lord Shadow? Tavalor thought, suppressing a laugh. Well, they''re half right.


    Little Shadow practically vibrated with excitement at its new title¡ªLord Shadow¡ªits violet eyes gleaming with delight.


    The crowd erupted in cheers, flowers and enchanted confetti raining down from balconies. Children ran through the streets, their small hands holding crudely made shadow puppets designed to resemble Little Shadow.


    Tavalor walked through the streets. There were banners all over proclaiming ¡®SALVATION OF VALLENPORT¡¯ in bold magical script that changed colours.


    Near the plaza''s entrance, a newsboy was hawking the latest edition of the Vallenport Chronicle, its headline bold and unmistakable:


    SHADOW DEFENDS VALLENPORT, MIRAGOS DESTROYED!Lord Shadow Consumes Sky-breaker Beasts Whole¡ªCity Celebrates New [S-Class] Protector


    Little Shadow spotted the newspaper and chirped demandingly. Tavalor sighed and purchased a copy, holding it up so the proud creature could see its likeness splashed across the front page.


    ''You''re going to be insufferable after this, aren''t you?'' he murmured to Little Shadow, who responded with a chirp that could only be described as smug.


    Tavalor continued walking taking in the spectacle before him. The entire city seemed to have turned out in celebration. Magical lanterns hung from every available surface, floating gondolas decorated with shadow motifs drifted through the canals, and a massive feast had been laid out on long tables spanning the plaza''s perimeter.


    In the midst of all this revelry, Tavalor spotted Emberfist pushing through the crowd, her fiery hair unmistakable even from a distance. Her expression was a mixture of relief and exasperation¡ªclearly, she had questions about his sudden departure and dramatic return.


    He also caught sight of Luneth perched on a nearby rooftop, observing the proceedings with her typical aloof curiosity. Her silver eyes met his briefly, conveying a silent acknowledgment before she melted back into the shadows.


    ''For Vallenport!'' someone shouted from the crowd, raising a goblet high.


    ''For Lord Shadow!'' came the answering roar from hundreds of throats.


    As the celebration engulfed him, Tavalor felt an unexpected warmth spreading through his chest. Despite his preference for solitude, there was something undeniably pleasant about belonging somewhere. About being valued not for the terror he could inflict, but for the protection he provided.


    He kinda got why people wanted to be heroes, sometimes.


    Perhaps, he thought as Little Shadow basked in the adoration of the crowd, this isn¡¯t such a bad arrangement.


    Even as the celebration continued, Tavalor''s thoughts turned to the future. The Watchers wouldn¡¯t ignore what had happened in Miragos. The other powers of the world wouldn¡¯t remain indifferent to the emergence of a new [S-Class].


    And somewhere beyond the horizon, the mysterious continent of Titanos and its returning Giants represented an unknown factor in an increasingly complex equation.


    One problem at a time, Tavalor reminded himself, accepting a goblet of enchanted wine from a beaming citizen. For tonight, at least, there is peace.


    Little Shadow chirped in agreement, its violet eyes gleaming with satisfaction as it surveyed what had effectively become its kingdom. And at the wine in Tavalor¡¯s hand.


    ***


    Morning sunlight filtered through the mist that clung to Vallenport''s canals, casting the cobblestones in a golden haze. Tavalor strolled along his usual route to the Gilded Hearth, Little Shadow perched contentedly on his shoulder. The shadow creature had grown again overnight, now the size of a large raven, its violet eyes gleaming as it took in the city.


    The streets were busier than usual, remnants of yesterdays celebration. The city hummed with life, even at the early hour. The energy was different today, a mix of excitement, fear and awe. A good mood.


    Little Shadow perched on his collar, eyes darted around, watching the passers-by with curiosity. It¡¯s personality grew stronger and stronger, developing quirks and preferences that amused Tavalor.


    As he walked past the marketplace conversation drifted to his ears.


    ''They say he was like darkness itself, wielding fire that melted stone...''


    ''Nonsense. Lord Shadow is clearly an ancient elven mage. My cousin''s friend saw him...''


    ''I heard he commands an army of shadow beasts. That''s how he destroyed the entire city with a single command!''


    Tavalor smiled faintly. ''Lord Shadow'', they called him now¡ªa mysterious saviour who had appeared from nowhere to defend Vallenport against Miragos'' aggression. The gossip spread like wildfire, each retelling more fantastic than the last.


    Yet remarkably, despite the wild speculation, no one connected these events to the unassuming horned man who frequented the Gilded Hearth each morning.


    Little Shadow puffed up at each mention of ''shadow beasts'', clearly enjoying its celebrity status, even if no one knew it was the creature in question.


    The bell chimed pleasantly as Tavalor pushed open the caf¨¦ door. The familiar scent of enchanted brews and freshly baked pastries welcomed him. Brenna looked up from behind the counter, her face brightening.


    ''Lord Tavalor! Your usual spot is waiting.''


    Tavalor nodded gratefully, making his way to the window seat. Little Shadow, however, had other ideas. It leapt from his shoulder, darting across the room towards Soot, Brenna''s familiar. The black cat, lounging in its usual sunny spot near the hearth, bristled immediately, fur standing on end as the shadow creature approached.


    ''Little Shadow,'' Tavalor called, ''leave poor Soot alone.''


    But the shadow creature ignored him, circling the agitated cat with obvious curiosity. Soot hissed, swiping a paw through Little Shadow''s insubstantial form. The shadow merely rippled, reforming instantly and chirping what sounded suspiciously like laughter.


    ''I''m sorry, Brenna,'' Tavalor said with a sigh. ''It''s still learning manners.''


    Brenna chuckled, setting down his usual Calming Brew and starfruit muffin. ''No harm. Soot could use the company, even if he doesn''t think so.'' She glanced at the newspaper tucked under Tavalor''s arm. ''Have you seen the headlines? It''s all anyone''s talking about.''


    ''Haven''t had the chance,'' he replied, unfolding the paper.


    The front page of the Vallenport Chronicle was dominated by bold text:


    MIRAGOS FALLS: MYSTERIOUS ''LORD SHADOW'' SAVES VALLENPORT


    The article beneath was a sensational account of Miragos'' failed invasion, the destruction of their Sky-breaker fleet, and the subsequent catastrophic destruction of the entire city. Eyewitness accounts described a being of pure shadow commanding incredible power, though the descriptions varied wildly¡ªsome claimed he was ten metres tall, others said he wielded dual blades of darkness.


    Tavalor scanned further down:


    ''Sources suggest the involvement of one of the major continental powers, perhaps the Imperial Solara or even the Celestial Dynasty. However, with no official claim of responsibility and no known survivors from Miragos'' leadership, the identity of this ''Lord Shadow'' remains Vallenport''s greatest mystery.''


    ''Whatever the truth, the Free City''s fall has reshaped the balance of power in the Elder Isles. Vallenport''s Council has already dispatched representatives to secure former Miragos assets, including their remaining fleets and considerable treasury. An unprecedented windfall for our city, according to Duke Mariner¡­''


    Tavalor folded the paper with a small smile. How quicklypeoplemoved on. No mention of the thousands who had perished, just the redistribution of wealth and power. He took a sip of his Calming Brew, the soothing flavours washing away the faint discomfort at the thought.


    The caf¨¦ door swung open again, the bell chiming as Emberfist strode in. Her fiery red hair was pulled back in a practical braid, and her gauntlets hung on her waist dimly, their usual glow muted to match her casual attire. She spotted him immediately, making her way to his table.


    ''Predictable,'' she said, sliding into the seat across from him. Without asking, she broke off a piece of his muffin. ''Same time, same place, same order.''


    Tavalor shrugged, pushing the rest of the muffin towards her. ''I¡¯m a creature of habit, as you''ve pointed out before.''


    They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Emberfist studying him with a scrutiny that might have made others uncomfortable. Since their return from Miragos, something had shifted between them¡ªa new understanding born from shared secrets.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ''You''re [S-Class],'' she said finally, her voice low enough that only he could hear. ''I suspected after the dungeon, but Miragos confirmed it. You took down an entire city. Alone.''


    Tavalor maintained his calm expression, though his eyes darted briefly to ensure no one was listening. ''Does it matter?''


    ''It matters because [S-Class] beings don''t just appear out of nowhere,'' she said, leaning closer. ''They don''t hide in rundown manors reading books and drinking enchanted brews. They''re legends, leaders, world-shakers.''


    ''Perhaps I prefer a quiet life,'' he suggested.


    Emberfist snorted. ''A quiet life? You''ve destroyed a major city-state, confronted a Watcher, and acquired a shadow creature that eats [A-Class] battle-beasts for breakfast. That''s hardly keeping a low profile.''


    As if summoned by mention of its name, Little Shadow abandoned its game with Soot and bounded back to their table, leaping onto Emberfist''s lap.


    She froze, clearly uncomfortable with this development.


    ''Get off,'' she growled, attempting to push the creature away. Little Shadow merely reformed around her hands, purring in what sounded like deliberate provocation.


    Tavalor chuckled. ''It seems to have taken a liking to you now.''


    ''Well, it can take its liking elsewhere,'' she grumbled, finally giving up as Little Shadow settled comfortably on her lap. ''It can¡¯t just decide to play with me like that. We still aren¡¯t friends''


    Tavalor laughed at that.


    The caf¨¦ door opened once more, and Luneth slipped in, her elven grace making her movements almost imperceptible among the morning crowd. She spotted them and approached, her silver spectacles glinting in the light.


    ''I see the team''s all here,'' she remarked, pulling up a chair. Her sharp eyes caught sight of Little Shadow on Emberfist''s lap, and a rare smile curled her lips. ''Making friends, are we?''


    ''This is not friendship,'' Emberfist insisted. ''This is an invasion of personal space.''


    Little Shadow, apparently disagreeing, glowed slightly brighter and nestled deeper into her lap. Then, as if making a decision, it suddenly leapt up, flowing across the table to Luneth. The elf didn''t flinch as the shadow creature curled around her shoulders like a scarf, its violet eyes blinking contentedly.


    Emberfist looked genuinely offended. ''Now it likes her better? After I finally stopped trying to remove it?''


    ''Shadow creatures are known for their discerning taste,'' Luneth said dryly, reaching up to pat Little Shadow''s insubstantial form. ''Isn''t that right, little one?''


    The creature chirped happily, seeming to enjoy the attention.


    Tavalor watched this exchange with amusement.


    Despite the incredible events of the past weeks¡ªdungeons, watchers, ancient secrets, and destroyed cities¡ªit was these small moments that felt the best.


    A dragon among humans, finding simple joy in a quiet caf¨¦ with companions who, despite not knowing his true nature, accepted him nonetheless.


    Outside, Vallenport continued its day, citizens going about their business beneath the shadow of recent events, unaware that their mysterious saviour sat among them, enjoying his morning coffee.


    ***


    Tavalor strolled down the Artificers'' Lane, a narrow cobblestone street tucked away in Vallenport''s Scholar''s Quarter. The late morning sun glinted off beautifully crafted shop signs, each competing for attention with elaborate magical flourishes.


    Among them, one modest sign stood out precisely because of its understatement: ''Mortimer''s Magical Miscellany'', written in simple gold lettering that glowed faintly in the shadows.


    Little Shadow darted ahead, eager to explore. After breakfast Tavalor had taken to wandering around to show Little Shadow around. The creature had grown fond of these morning walks, though its curiosity often led it into troublesome situations. Today it hovered at Mortimer''s window, pressing its insubstantial form against the glass to peer at the oddities within.


    ''Relax,'' Tavalor murmured, though he understood the attraction. Mortimer''s shop was a treasure trove of magical curiosities¡ªsome valuable, others merely interesting, all meticulously catalogued and displayed.


    The bell above the door jingled softly as Tavalor entered. The shop''s interior: cramped yet somehow spacious, with tall shelves bearing countless items that defied easy categorisation. Glass cabinets contained shimmering potions and enchanted gemstones, while hanging from the ceiling were preserved magical creatures, suspended in an eternal flight among drying herbs and crystalline mobiles.


    ''Ah, greetings Lord!'' Mortimer appeared from behind a stack of ancient tomes, his round spectacles magnifying already bulging eyes. He was a small man with a prominent belly that preceded him around corners. Despite his unimpressive stature, his knowledge of magical artifacts was unparalleled in Vallenport. ''What a pleasant surprise! And you''ve brought your... pet.''


    Little Shadow bristled at being called a pet, its form darkening momentarily.


    Tavalor just nodded gently.


    ''Of course, of course,'' Mortimer said, rubbing his hands together. ''Though if I may, I''ve recently acquired something that might interest a gentleman of your discerning taste.''


    Mortimer hurried to the back of the shop, disappearing behind a heavy velvet curtain. Tavalor could hear him rummaging through drawers and muttering to himself.


    Little Shadow, meanwhile, had discovered a glass case containing what appeared to be dormant faerie lights. It pressed itself against the glass, violet eyes wide with fascination.


    Mortimer returned, cradling a small wooden box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. ''Behold,'' he said, opening it with a flourish.


    Inside lay a brooch¡ªa perfect silver crescent moon containing a miniature swirling galaxy. Stars glittered and planets moved in slow orbits, all contained within a piece no larger than a palm.


    ''The Celestial Brooch,'' Mortimer announced proudly. ''Said to have belonged to Vallen himself, though I cannot verify that claim. It was recovered from a merchant vessel that sank near the Storm Shores three centuries ago.''


    Tavalor leaned closer, genuinely intrigued. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and he could sense magic emanating from it¡ªancient and subtle. Without thinking, he activated [Appraisal].


    ===The Celestial Brooch===


    A convincing fake. A newly crafted magical item designed to appear ancient. Contains a minor teleportation enchantment¡ªallows the wearer to appear dramatically at social gatherings.


    ===


    ''Fascinating,'' Tavalor said, masking his amusement. ''And how did you come by such a rare piece?''


    Mortimer puffed up with importance. ''A stroke of fortune, my lord! An elderly woman brought it in, having no idea of its value. Her late husband was a collector, you see. I gave her a fair price, of course,'' he added hastily, ''but between us, it''s worth ten times what I paid.''


    ''Indeed,'' Tavalor murmured. ''And what do you intend to do with it?''


    Mortimer''s eyes gleamed with something beyond professional interest. ''Well, I thought perhaps to offer it to a discerning collector such as yourself. However...'' He hesitated, lowering his voice consiprationally. ''The Summer Gala approaches. I''ve never received an invitation, despite my establishment''s reputation. Perhaps, if I were to wear such a distinguished piece...''


    Tavalor understood immediately. Mortimer wasn''t merely a shopkeeper; he was a man with aspirations. The magical brooch represented more than profit¡ªit was his ticket to Vallenport''s exclusive social circles.


    ''A bold strategy,'' Tavalor noted. ''The nobility do appreciate historical artifacts.''


    Mortimer beamed, clearly taking this as encouragement. ''Precisely! With this, I''d be more than just another merchant. I''d be a guardian of history, a man of culture worthy of their company.'' His smile faltered slightly. ''Though I must admit, I haven''t quite deciphered all its properties yet.''


    Little Shadow had abandoned the faerie lights and now hovered near the brooch, its violet eyes narrowed suspiciously.


    ''Perhaps it''s best left as a display piece,'' Tavalor suggested gently.


    But Mortimer''s mind was made up. ''Nonsense! Such beauty deserves to be seen, admired! I shall wear it to Councilman Harlow''s reception next week. He''s a known history enthusiast¡ªsurely he''ll appreciate its significance.''


    Tavalor recognised the gleam in Mortimer''s eye¡ªthe intoxicating combination of ambition and self-deception. He could warn the shopkeeper, but experience had taught him that such warnings often fell on deaf ears.


    People believed what they wished to believe.


    ''I wish you luck, then,'' Tavalor said, inclining his head. ''May it bring you the recognition you seek.''


    As Tavalor browsed the remainder of the shop, selecting a few minor items to purchase, he observed Mortimer from the corner of his eye. The shopkeeper kept returning to the brooch, polishing it, adjusting its position in the display case, clearly already envisioning himself adorned with it among Vallenport''s elite.


    Little Shadow chirped questioningly from Tavalor''s shoulder.


    ''Some lessons,'' Tavalor murmured, ''must be learned first-hand.''


    Tavalor left the shop with nothing. There hadn¡¯t been anything too interesting. He hand only ended up buying some kick-knacks for Little Shadow.


    ***


    Several weeks later ¨C while reading a paper at the Gilded Hearth.


    MAGICAL MAYHEM AT HARLOW''S GALA!


    Local Shopkeeper''s Enchanted Accessory Causes Chaos Among Elite


    By Sylvia Whisperwit, Social Affairs Correspondent


    VALLENPORT ¡ª What began as Councilman Harlow''s most anticipated social event of the season descended into magical pandemonium last night when an ambitious shopkeeper from the Scholar''s Quarter crashed the exclusive gathering wearing what he claimed was "a relic of Vallen himself."


    Mortimer Pendleton, owner of a modest curiosity shop, arrived at the councilman''s lavishly enchanted garden party sporting an ill-fitting suit and¡ªmore notably¡ªa dazzling silver crescent brooch that immediately drew the attention of Vallenport''s elite social circle.


    "It was like watching a carriage wreck in slow motion," confided Lady Elmsworth, who witnessed the entire spectacle while sipping enchanted champagne. "One minute he was boasting about his precious artifact to anyone who would listen, and the next he was bouncing around the party like a court jester with hiccups!"


    Sources close to this publication report that when Councilman Harlow himself expressed interest in the so-called "[Celestial Brooch]," disaster struck. Upon the councilman''s touch, the magical item activated, sending Pendleton on an involuntary teleportation spree throughout the venue.


    "I''ve never seen anything like it," reported Lord Thimbleton, whose cravat was ruined when Pendleton materialized on the refreshment table, sending a cascade of wine across several prominent guests. "The man appeared everywhere¡ªchandelier, rosebushes, right in the middle of the Duchess of Westerly''s entourage!"


    Eyewitnesses described the scene as "absolute chaos," with guests diving for cover as Pendleton ricocheted from one location to another, demolishing priceless decorations and social reputations alike.


    The magical mishap was eventually contained by renowned mage Ellindaria Nightwind, who managed to cast a containment spell long enough for the mortified shopkeeper to remove the troublesome accessory.


    "Councilman Harlow was livid," revealed an anonymous server who was passing canap¨¦s when the incident occurred. "His prized moonlight roses were completely flattened. The look on his face when he asked Pendleton to leave could have frozen the Summer Sea."


    The disgraced shopkeeper was seen departing the grounds in tatters, both literally and figuratively.


    One thing is certain¡ªMortimer Pendleton''s name will not appear on Vallenport''s guest lists anytime soon. As for the enchanted brooch that caused such a stir, magical authorities are considering new regulations regarding the possession of unregistered artifacts by untrained civilians.


    Councilman Harlow''s office has declined to comment on the incident, stating only that "appropriate measures will be taken to ensure the safety and dignity of future gatherings."


    SPOTTED: The normally reclusive enchantress Madame Vex slipping away from the party shortly after the incident with what appeared to be a similar silver crescent tucked into her sleeve. Coincidence? This reporter thinks not!


    ***


    The afternoon light filtered through the tall windows of Tavalor''s study, casting elongated shadows across the ancient tomes scattered on his desk. He sat cross-legged on the floor, a magic circle floating before him, its surface rippling with subtle movement. Little Shadow perched on his shoulder, occasionally chirping as if offering encouragement.


    For weeks now, Tavalor had been experimenting with combining spells, pushing the boundaries of the rigid six-spell system that constrained this world''s magic.


    He had created a unique spell. Combining the ancient magic of [Dragon''s Sight] and modern magic [Watcher''s Eye].


    [Watcher''s Eye] was a surveillance spell that he had seen at the Mages Guild.


    A weakness that he had noticed, was he simply lacked information channels. This spell was a chance to fix that weakness. In a way that nobody else could replicate.


    He called the combined spell [Dragon''s Eye]. It was a basic version, but it had given him a taste of what was possible, but he sensed there was more potential.


    ''The limitation isn''t in the magic itself,'' he murmured, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension from hours of concentration. ''It''s in my approach.''


    Little Shadow chirped in agreement, its violet eyes blinking.


    Tavalor closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of magic flowing through him. Unlike the structured, rigid pathways that human mages used, his draconic essence allowed him to shape magic more fluidly, more intuitively.


    He envisioned a network of eyes¡ªnot just a single point of observation, but multiple viewpoints, all feeding information back to him simultaneously.


    ''If [Dragon''s Eye] allows me to see through a single projected eye, why not create multiple eyes?'' he whispered. ''A network of observation points, all connected to my consciousness.''


    He shaped the magic carefully, drawing on both his draconic nature and the knowledge he''d gained from studying modern magical theory. The spell took form in his mind¡ªa complex weaving of energy that branched outward from his consciousness like the roots of a tree.


    ''[Dragon¡¯s Eyes],'' he named it, the words resonating with power.


    The air in front of him shimmered, and a small, glowing orb appeared¡ªtranslucent and iridescent, like a soap bubble with a pupil at its centre. Then another formed beside it, and another, until a dozen tiny magical eyes floated around him, blinking in unison.


    The Magic Circle pulsed in response, seeming to approve of this creation. Little Shadow chirped excitedly, darting between the floating eyes with childlike curiosity.


    Tavalor extended his hand, and one of the eyes settled onto his palm. It was lightweight, almost insubstantial, yet he could feel the magic sustaining it¡ªa continuous thread connecting it to his consciousness.


    ''Go,'' he whispered, and the eye floated upward, passing through the ceiling as if it were nothing more than air.


    Immediately, his vision split¡ªhe could still see the study around him, but simultaneously, he perceived the upper floor of the manor through the eye he''d sent out. The sensation was disorienting at first, like trying to read two books at once.


    ''Focus,'' he reminded himself, concentrating on separating the visual streams in his mind.


    He sent the remaining eyes outward, each in a different direction. Some moved through walls, others out windows, spreading across his property and beyond. With each eye that departed, another layer of vision opened in his mind¡ªa kaleidoscope of perspectives that threatened to overwhelm him.


    Little Shadow sensed his struggle and nestled against his neck, its cool presence somehow anchoring him. Gradually, Tavalor learned to manage the multiple streams of information, mentally organising them like panes of glass arranged around his consciousness.


    ''This is... amazing,'' he breathed.


    Through his constellation of eyes, he watched Emberfist training in the garden, flames dancing around her gauntleted fists as she practised a new form.


    In another direction, he observed the gardener tending to the overgrown vines that threatened to swallow the eastern wall.


    Further out, he saw gondolas gliding through Vallenport''s canals, merchants setting up their stalls for the day, and nobles being carried in elaborate sedan chairs by bored-looking servants.


    He sent more eyes out, extending his range beyond what should have been possible. Instead of weakening with distance, the spell seemed to grow stronger, feeding on his draconic essence in a way that defied the usual constraints of magic.


    One eye soared above the city, giving him a bird''s-eye view of Vallenport''s intricate network of canals and bridges. Another drifted toward the Mages Guild, where he witnessed apprentices fumbling through their morning exercises under the stern gaze of Elarian Thorne.


    As his confidence grew, Tavalor directed an eye toward the Adventurers Guild. Through its pupil, he saw D. Crestfall in a private chamber, speaking intently with a hooded figure. Their voices came through clearly:


    ''...cannot ignore the implications,'' Crestfall was saying, his usual jovial manner replaced by grave concern. ''First Miragos, now this. The balance is shifting.''


    ''The Watchers will not remain idle,'' the hooded figure replied, voice low and measured. ''They''ve already begun reinforcing the Net.''


    ''And what of Tavalor?'' Crestfall asked. ''Where does he fit in all this?''


    Tavalor''s interest piqued. They were talking about him, and something called the Net.


    What Net?


    Curious, he directed several eyes upward, beyond the clouds, past what mortal eyes could perceive. His [Dragon''s Sight] enhanced the spell, allowing the eyes to pierce layers of reality that should have been impenetrable.


    What he saw left him momentarily stunned.


    Encircling the entire world was an intricate golden lattice¡ªa web of structured magic so vast and complex that it defied comprehension.


    Each intersection in the web housed a crystalline node that pulsed with power, monitoring and regulating the flow of magic throughout the realm.


    Tracing the threads of this immense magical construct, Tavalor directed his eyes toward its centre. There, suspended in a dimension that existed alongside yet separate from the physical world, loomed a colossal golden citadel. A golden cannon on top of it.


    Its architecture was unlike anything he''d seen before¡ªneither elven nor human nor dwarven, but something older, more fundamental, as if it had been built by beings who understood the very fabric of reality.


    ''The Watchers'' stronghold,'' he whispered, understanding dawning. ''It''s not just a metaphor¡ªthey''re actually watching. All of them. Everything.''


    Also that¡¯s where the meteor came from.


    Little Shadow chirped anxiously, sensing the shift in Tavalor''s mood.


    The Net was clearly what held the rigid magic system in place¡ªa cosmic-scale enchantment that enforced the rules the Watchers had established after the Age of Dragons. It was both prison and protection, limiting what magic could be while preventing the chaos that had nearly destroyed the world.


    As he studied the citadel more closely, he noticed movement within¡ªgolden figures like the one he''d encountered in the dungeon, moving with purpose through grand halls and chambers. There were dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, all identical yet distinct, like facets of a single consciousness split into multiple bodies.


    Suddenly, one of the golden figures paused, its featureless face turning upward as if it had sensed something amiss. It looked directly at Tavalor''s magical eye, its gaze penetrating across impossible distances.


    ''Impossible,'' the golden figure''s voice echoed in Tavalor''s mind. ''No mortal sight should reach this place.''


    Alarm surged through Tavalor. He hastily recalled the eye, but it was too late¡ªthe golden figure raised its hand, and a pulse of energy shot forth, following the magical connection back toward its source.


    Tavalor severed the link just as the energy surge reached him, the backlash sending him sprawling across the study floor. Little Shadow squeaked in distress, darting around him in agitated circles.


    ''I''m alright,'' he assured the shadow creature, slowly pushing himself up. ''But that was... unexpected.''


    He recalled his remaining eyes, each returning to him with images and sounds from across Vallenport. Gossip from the marketplace about a noble''s scandalous affair, whispers in the Mages Guild about fluctuations in the ley lines, concerns among dock workers about strange lights seen over the Storm Shores.


    The world had suddenly become much smaller, much more accessible. Yet the discovery of the Watchers'' Net made it clear that he wasn''t the only one watching¡ªin fact, he had been under observation all along.


    Tavalor sat back, stroking Little Shadow thoughtfully. ''They built a cage around the world,'' he mused. ''A beautiful, golden cage that most don''t even realise exists. And now they know I can see it.''


    The spell needed more work. The [Dragons Eye] was powerful¡ªperhaps too powerful to use carelessly. At least in its current from. He needed away to make it invisible.


    But it had also given him crucial insight into the true nature of this world and those who controlled it from the shadows.


    ***


    Former Free City of Miragos, aka the Glass Crater


    The glass island that Tavalor had melted lay dormant. For several weeks it was all quiet. But slowly that began to change.


    At first, it was merely a shimmer beneath the surface¡ªa subtle distortion visible only from certain angles. Then came the cracks, hairline fractures spreading outward from the centre like a spiderweb across ice.


    Nobody noticed.


    Three weeks after Miragos fell, the glass shattered.


    From beneath the molten surface emerged creatures that hadn''t been seen in the Elder Isles since before the Age of Dragons. The Chitari¡ªinsectoid beings with iridescent carapaces and multifaceted eyes that gleamed with alien intelligence. Their spindly limbs moved with unsettling precision as they swarmed forth from their subterranean prison, chattering in a language that sounded like breaking crystal.


    For millennia, they had been imprisoned beneath what became Miragos, sealed away by ancient magic that the city had unwittingly reinforced. Tavalor''s cataclysmic breath had not only destroyed the city but had also shattered the magical bindings that held the Chitari at bay.


    The Elves had sent out a fleet to observe the Glass Island. They¡¯d been dispatched by the elven council to assess the situation in Vallenport following reports of a new power rising. Their crystalline armour glinted in the moonlight as they approached the crater that had once been Miragos¡ªa diplomatic mission turned reconnaissance.


    The Chitari attacked without warning or parley, swarming over the elven scouts with overwhelming numbers. Despite their legendary combat prowess, the elves found themselves outmatched by the sheer multitude of Chitari warriors, their synchronised fighting style disrupted by the chaos of the alien assault.


    ''Fall back!'' The female leader commanded, her crystal blade slicing through three Chitari in a single arc. ''We must warn Vallenport!''


    The second in command nodded, unleashing a blinding flash from her armour that momentarily disoriented their attackers. They retreated in perfect unison, leaping onto enchanted skiffs that skimmed across the water toward Vallenport.


    The Chitari pursued, their segmented bodies reforming into strange vessels that moved with uncanny speed. Arrows of crystalline chitin rained down, several piercing the commanders armour. She stumbled, blood staining her pristine white plates.


    From his manor in Vallenport, Tavalor observed the chase through his newly created [Dragons¡¯ Eye]. The magical eyes transmitted the unfolding drama directly to his consciousness, allowing him to witness the elves desperate flight and the alien horde at their heels.


    His expression changed. A frown crossed his eyebrows. Maybe I can?


    A flutter of ancient magic connected the eye to his throat. He breathed out.


    The Chitari had nearly overtaken the elves when a beam of concentrated flame cut through their front line.


    He could breathe fire through the [Dragons¡¯ Eye].


    The eye descended between the elves and their pursuers glowing with draconic power.


    ''Get to the city,'' he commanded through the eye.


    ''Who-'' The female commander began, but second in command pulled her onward, recognizing the opportunity.


    faced the Chitari swarm alone,  form swelling. The insectoids halted their advance, multifaceted eyes reflecting his growing silhouette. Then, as one, they retreated, disappearing beneath the waves with the same unnerving precision with which they had attacked.


    ***


    Luneth burst into Tavalor''s study without knocking, her face covered in soot, but with excitement. ''I''ve done it!'' she proclaimed, holding aloft a small vial containing what appeared to be a black pill.


    Tavalor looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow. Little Shadow, who had been napping on his desk, perked up with interest.


    ''Done what, exactly?'' Tavalor asked, marking his place before closing the volume.


    ''Perfected my ancestors formula!'' Luneth practically danced across the room. Her glasses flashed in the light. ''The Elixir of Enhanced Perception! It''s what made my family famous before...'' She trailed off, her enthusiasm dimming momentarily. ''Well, before everything.''


    Tavalor knew that Luneth had two consuming passions. The first¡ªher collection of ancient keys and locks¡ªwas harmless if somewhat peculiar. The second¡ªher attempts at alchemy¡ªwas the reason why part of his manor had needed repairs last month.


    ''Is this why you were so intent on exploring that dungeon?'' Tavalor asked, recalling her obsession with the key. ''Looking for alchemical secrets?''


    Luneth nodded vigorously. ''My family were once the greatest alchemists in the Elder Isles! Our formulas were sought by kings and emperors alike. This elixir was our masterpiece¡ªit expands one''s consciousness, enhances magical potential!''


    Tavalor eyed the pill dubiously. It seemed to absorb the light around it, and when Luneth uncorked the vial, a smell like rotten eggs mixed with burnt hair filled the room. Little Shadow recoiled, hiding behind a stack of books.


    ''You want me to try this?'' Tavalor asked incredulously.


    ''Well, I''ve already tested it on myself,'' Luneth admitted, rubbing her arm sheepishly. ''I was unconscious for three days and woke up speaking backwards, but I''m sure I''ve fixed those issues!''


    Tavalor took the vial, examining the pill more closely. His [Dragon Sight] revealed chaotic energy swirling within the tiny object¡ªunstable, unpredictable, and decidedly dangerous.


    ''Perhaps we should start with a smaller test subject,'' he suggested diplomatically.


    Little Shadow, sensing Tavalor''s intentions, chirped in alarm and attempted to flee, but Tavalor was quicker. He scooped up the shadow creature and, before it could escape, dropped the pill into its incorporeal form.


    For a moment, nothing happened. Then Little Shadow began to glow, its dark body suffused with multicoloured light. It expanded, contracted, and began to make a high-pitched keening sound that set Tavalor''s teeth on edge.


    ''Is it supposed to do that?'' Tavalor asked, watching as Little Shadow''s form became increasingly transparent.


    ''Um, not exactly,'' Luneth replied, her face paling.


    Little Shadow''s body was now barely visible, its form dissipating like smoke in a strong wind. Its violet eyes, usually so bright, had dimmed to a faint glimmer.


    ''Do something!'' Luneth cried, panic overtaking her excitement.


    Tavalor acted instinctively, drawing on his draconic power. He enveloped Little Shadow in a cocoon of stabilising energy, channelling his essence into the fading creature. Slowly, painstakingly, Little Shadow''s form began to solidify again, though it remained weak and diminished.


    ''No more alchemy in my manor,'' Tavalor said firmly, cradling the recovering Little Shadow. ''Stick to your keys and locks, Luneth.''


    Luneth nodded shamefacedly, but as she turned to leave, Tavalor caught the gleam of determination in her eyes. Her alchemical ambitions, it seemed, remained undimmed by yet another catastrophic failure.

 Chapter 22 – I Went to a Tournament - The Arcane Revel

    The morning light spilled through the windows of the Gilded Hearth, casting golden patterns across the polished wooden floor. The caf¨¦ hummed with its familiar morning rhythms ¨C the soft clinking of brews being prepped, the gentle murmur of conversation, the occasional bell chime as the door swung open to welcome more patrons.


    Tavalor sat in his usual window seat. A mug of blue Calming Brew steaming gently before him. Its blue hues shifted like ocean currents as he stirred it absently, his attention divided between the warmth of the drink and the newspaper spread out on the table.


    Little Shadow, sat on top of Soot, Brennan¡¯s cat in front of the hearth. Soot, had given up on playing with Little Shadow and chose to ignore his provocations.


    The front page of the Vallenport Chronicle had an unusual headline that caught his eye:


    CHITARI SIGHTED OFF NORTHERN COAST


    Ancient Enemy Returns After Centuries of Absence


    Tavalor frowned. The Chitari, so those were the insect like creatures form yesterday.


    He couldn¡¯t recall the name from any of Old Tavalor¡¯s memories either. Another strange gap.


    If they were ancient enemies, how come they hadn¡¯t appeared in Old Tavalor¡¯s memories?


    Brenna walked over and placed a starfruit muffin next to his brew: ''Your Muffin, Lord Tavalor,'' Brenna said.


    She observed the frown on his face. ''You seem troubled this morning.''


    Tavalor looked up at her: ''Have you heard of the Chitari?'' he asked, gesturing to the headline.


    Brenna''s usually cheerful expression darkened. ''Only in some old stories, I remember my grandmother told me when I was a child. Terrible things, if even half the tales are true.''


    She moved on. Serving other customers. Tavalor sat there contemplating them. Where did they come from?


    With the mystery still on his mind, he decided that a visit to a bookstore was in order. If anybody had any information on this, it would be Jorik.


    ***


    The bell jingled as he entered Aurum Tomes, the scent of old parchment and leather bindings greeting him like an old friend. The shop appeared empty at first glance, shelves of ancient books stretching into shadowy corners.


    ''Back again?'' came a raspy voice from somewhere among the stacks. Jorik emerged, pipe clenched between his teeth, eyes twinkling with that same knowing light. ''Somehow I knew you''d return today.''


    ''I need information,'' Tavalor said, skipping pleasantries. ''About the Chitari.''


    Jorik''s eyebrows rose slightly, the only indication of his surprise. ''Now that''s a name I haven''t heard spoken aloud in decades.'' He gestured for Tavalor to follow him deeper into the shop, weaving through narrow aisles until they reached a section of particularly ancient-looking tomes.


    ''The Chitari,'' Jorik began, pulling down a dusty volume bound in what appeared to be Chitari scales, ''aren''t simply another race or species. They''re something... other.''


    He laid the book on a small reading table and opened it carefully. The pages were brittle with age, covered in illustrations that seemed to shift and writhe if viewed too directly.


    ''During the Age of Dragons, when magic flowed freely and boundaries between worlds were more... permeable, the Chitari found their way to our realm.'' Jorik''s finger traced an illustration depicting insectoid creatures with multiple limbs and segmented bodies. ''Some scholars believe they were fleeing something in their own world. Others think they were scouts for a greater invasion.''


    Tavalor studied the illustrations with growing interest. The Chitari appeared to be a hybrid of insect and crustacean, with chitinous exoskeletons and multiple appendages ending in razor-sharp pincers or barbed hooks. Their heads bore compound eyes that seemed to catch the light even within the illustration.


    ''They established hives along the northern coast,'' Jorik continued, turning pages to reveal maps marked with strange, spiral patterns. ''Underwater mostly, burrowing into cliffs and building structures that defied known architectural principles. They weren''t simply animals ¨C they possessed intelligence and a form of technology based on biological manipulation.''


    ''Why haven''t I heard of them before?'' Tavalor asked.


    Jorik gave him a searching look. ''Because they were believed extinct. In the late Dragon Age, when their numbers and boldness grew, they began raiding coastal settlements, taking people for... purposes unknown.'' He paused, seemingly reluctant to elaborate. ''It took a coalition of all major powers ¨C dragons, elves, even the early human kingdoms ¨C to drive them back.''


    He turned to another page, showing a massive battle scene. Flights of dragons soared above armies of elves and humans, all converging on what appeared to be underwater structures barely visible beneath waves filled with strange shapes.


    ''The war lasted decades. The Chitari fought unlike any known enemy ¨C they seemed to share a hive mind, adapting strategies instantly across all their forces. They could reshape their own bodies for different environments, grow organic weapons, even incorporate aspects of captured species into themselves.''


    Tavalor''s eyes narrowed. ''And yet they were defeated?''


    ''Not defeated,'' Jorik corrected. ''Contained. The coalition managed to drive them into the deepest trenches of the northern oceans, sealing them with arcane barriers. The knowledge of how those barriers were created was lost in the chaos that followed the withdrawal of the dragons and the restructuring of magic.''


    Jorik closed the book, his expression grave. ''If the Chitari have indeed returned, it raises troubling questions. How did they break the ancient seals? Why now, after all this time? And most importantly ¨C what do they want?''


    Could it have been my fault? Did I let them loose when I melted Miragos?


    Tavalor leaned back processing this information.


    A race powerful to require the combined might of the dragons and other forces was a cause on concern, for the rest of the world. but was it a concern for him?


    He shrugged. So long as they didn''t bother him he wouldn''t bother them.


    It had nothing to do with him. He had established his quiet life in Vallenport, and despite occasional interruptions, he had managed to maintain a semblance of normalcy. The Chitari were someone else''s problem.


    Still, they''re so cool. An evil race... curiosity nagged at him. A race that had fought dragons, that had required Old Tavalor''s kind to contain them ¨C they were worth learning more about.


    Maybe it was time to expand his knowledge of this world beyond Vallenport''s canals.


    ''Thanks Jorik,'' said Taylor, buying that book and a few other books about ancient threats.


    As he left the shop, his mind was already formulating a plan. He would send out his [Dragon''s Eyes], those magical viewing portals that allowed him to observe distant locations.


    Anyone else in his position might want to rule this world, to gather power and followers, to build a harem, and army and servants.


    But Tavalor simply wanted to understand ¨C and then return to his comfortable reading chair with a good book and a warm drink.


    He was a tourist after all. That was the ultimate goal. Chill, take in some sights.


    ***


    Back at the manor, Tavalor settled in his study, surrounded by the books he''d purchased from Jorik. Little Shadow lounged nearby, its form rippling with curiosity as it watched him prepare for the ritual.


    ''We''re going to do some spying,'' Tavalor explained, though he wasn''t entirely sure how much the shadow creature understood. ''I want to see more of this world without actually having to travel.''


    Little Shadow chirped in what seemed like agreement, floating closer to observe.


    Tavalor closed his eyes, focusing his magic. [Dragon''s Eyes] was a spell of his own creation ¨C a fusion of [Dragon''s Sight] and [Watcher''s Eye] that allowed him to create remote viewing portals.


    Instead of visualizing it in his mind, he created a floating screen in front of him. With a gesture, he opened the first one ¨C a shimmering disc of energy that hovered in the air before them.


    Within its surface, an image formed: the northern coast, where the Chitari had reportedly been sighted. The view showed rough, rocky shores battered by grey waves, mist clinging to jagged cliffs.


    ''Let''s see what''s happening,'' Tavalor murmured, directing the eye to dive beneath the waves.


    Since the Chitari were underwater creatures, then sending the eyes underwater was obvious.


    The underwater world came into focus ¨C forests of swaying kelp, schools of silvery fish darting through the gloom, and then... something else.


    Structures that seemed both organic and engineered, spiralling formations that resembled enormous shells yet were clearly artificial. They clung to the undersea cliffs, pulsing with a faint bioluminescence.


    Tavalor opened more eyes, sending them to different locations around the world. One showed the vast deserts of the Southern Continent, where nomadic tribes followed ancient migration paths beneath twin suns. Another revealed the crystalline cities of the Western Elven territories, where buildings seemed to grow rather than be constructed.


    A fourth eye explored the frozen wastelands of the north, while a fifth wandered the bustling markets of the Eastern Empire, where magic and technology blended seamlessly.


    To his surprise, Little Shadow became transfixed by the displays, floating from one to another with apparent fascination. The shadow creature began to mimic writing motions, as if taking notes on what it was seeing.


    ''You want to help?'' Tavalor asked, amused.


    Little Shadow bobbed in what seemed like enthusiastic agreement.


    ''Alright then,'' Tavalor said, creating a small tendril of magic that coalesced into a ghostly quill and parchment. ''Have at it.''


    To his astonishment, Little Shadow grasped the quill with an extension of its shadowy form and began to make actual notes ¨C not in any language Tavalor recognized, but clearly organized and deliberate.


    Hours passed as they explored the world through the Dragon''s Eyes. Tavalor found himself particularly drawn to the underwater Chitari structures. There was something both alien and familiar about their design ¨C a mathematical precision that reminded him of the Watchers'' work, yet with an organic fluidity that was entirely different.


    He watched as Chitari moved through these structures ¨C multi-limbed beings with iridescent exoskeletons and compound eyes that seemed to capture and reflect light in hypnotic patterns. They communicated through rapid clicks and vibrations, and worked with a synchronicity that suggested a shared consciousness.


    One eye captured what appeared to be a Chitari birthing chamber ¨C a vast, pulsating space where eggs hung in clusters from the ceiling while attendants tended to them with careful, ritualistic movements. Another showed what might have been a council chamber, where larger Chitari with more elaborate carapaces seemed to deliberate around a pool of glowing liquid.


    ''Fascinating,'' Tavalor murmured. ''They''re rebuilding their civilization.''


    Little Shadow chirped questioningly, pointing to one of the eyes that showed a Chitari working on what appeared to be a weapon ¨C a living construct that grew and reshaped itself under the creature''s manipulations.


    ''Yes, that''s concerning,'' Tavalor agreed. ''But ultimately, not our problem for now.''


    He closed the eyes one by one, leaving only the view of Vallenport''s peaceful canals. ''This is our home, Little Shadow. Let the rest of the world handle its own troubles.''


    Little Shadow seemed to droop slightly, clearly disappointed that the show was over.


    Tavalor chuckled. ''Don''t worry. We''ll check in again soon. For now, let''s take a break.''


    And with that, he settled back in his favourite chair, opened one of Jorik''s books, and let the concerns of ancient returning enemies fade from his mind ¨C at least for now.


    ***


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The following weeks passed in pleasant normalcy. Tavalor maintained his routine ¨C breakfast at the Gilded Hearth, occasional visits to the Ember''s Edge for dinner, and plenty of reading in between.


    Little Shadow had taken to controlling the Dragon''s Eyes on its own, using them as miniature livestreams to observe different parts of the world while taking its incomprehensible notes.


    Emberfist continued her training in the garden, her control over her fiery magic growing more precise with each passing day. Her fists and magic began to resemble Tavalor day after day. More ancient.


    Luneth came and went mysteriously as always, occasionally bringing interesting trinkets or information from her shadowy network of contacts.


    Life had settled into a comfortable rhythm when the unexpected happened.


    Tavalor was in his study reading when a crash from downstairs startled him.


    He rushed down to Luneth¡¯s room.


    Her room had changed. The bed had been removed and her room now was an alchemists lab. Full of tables, glass instruments and a large alchemy furnace in the center of the room.


    He found Luneth collapsed on the floor ofnear the entrance of her room, her slender form convulsing slightly, a small vial rolling away from her outstretched hand.


    ''Luneth!'' he called, kneeling beside her. Her skin was clammy, her breathing shallow, her silver eyes rolled back showing only whites.


    Using [Dragon Sight], he examined her magical pathways. What he saw alarmed him ¨C the internal magic circles that regulated her power had stopped spinning, frozen in place as if caught in ice. The stillness was spreading outward from her core, threatening to shut down her entire magical system.


    ''What have you done?'' he muttered, picking up the vial. It contained residue of a shimmering silver liquid ¨C some kind of refinement pill, he guessed, meant to enhance magical capabilities. But something had gone terribly wrong.


    Tavalor placed a hand on Luneth''s forehead, channelling a careful stream of draconic magic to restart her stalled circles. The foreign energy met resistance at first, her body''s natural defences fighting the intrusion. He persisted, adjusting the flow until it matched the frequency of her own magic.


    Slowly, painfully slowly, the circles began to turn again. First one, then another, until the entire network was spinning once more ¨C too fast at first, then settling into a more natural rhythm.


    Luneth gasped, her eyes flying open as she jerked upright. ''What¡ª'' she began, then doubled over, clutching her stomach. ''Oh gods!''


    Without warning, she began to hiccup ¨C but each hiccup produced a tiny burst of light that floated upward before popping like a bubble. The effect would have been comical if not for her obvious distress.


    ''Side effect,'' Tavalor explained, helping her to a chair. ''Your magic is resetting itself. What exactly did you take?''


    Between luminous hiccups, Luneth explained. The pill was a rare refinement elixir from the Southern Continent, meant to help breakthrough magical plateaus. ''I''ve been... stuck,'' she admitted. ''Thought it would... help.''


    Over the next month, the consequences of Luneth''s magical mishap manifested in increasingly bizarre ways. For three days, she spoke backwards, forcing Tavalor to transcribe and reverse her sentences to understand her. For a week after that, she left footprints of flowers wherever she walked, regardless of the surface.


    On the twelfth day, she woke to find her shadow had become independent, mimicking her actions with a slight delay and occasionally performing different gestures entirely, much to Little Shadow''s apparent amusement.


    The nineteenth day brought perhaps the most embarrassing effect ¨C Luneth''s thoughts became briefly audible to those around her, revealing her unfiltered opinions about everything from Emberfist''s cooking (''tastes like a fire elementalist''s failed experiment'') to Tavalor''s reading habits (''who needs seventeen books about maritime navigation?'').


    By the time the effects finally began to fade, Luneth had sworn off refinement pills entirely. ''Not worth it,'' she declared, as the last lingering consequence ¨C a faint musical tone that accompanied her every movement ¨C finally dissipated. ''I''ll advance the hard way, thank you very much.''


    Throughout all of this, Little Shadow had developed a peculiar relationship with Emberfist ¨C or rather, a deliberate lack of one. Whenever Emberfist entered a room, Little Shadow would pointedly turn away or fade partially into nearby shadows. If she addressed it directly, it would pretend not to notice, floating away to busy itself with something else.


    ''Your pet hates me,'' Emberfist complained one evening, glaring at Little Shadow as it deliberately ignored her greeting.


    ''It doesn''t hate you,'' Tavalor replied, watching the shadow creature float to the opposite side of the room. ''It''s just... selective about its friendships.''


    ''Selective?'' Emberfist scoffed. ''It''s rude is what it is.''


    Little Shadow appeared to preen at this assessment, puffing up slightly before returning to its study of one of Tavalor''s magical tomes.


    Despite these small dramas, life in Vallenport continued pleasantly. The Chitari sightings faded from the headlines, replaced by more local concerns ¨C chief among them, the approaching Arcane Revel. Held every decade during ley line alignments; it included mage tournaments, spellcraft demonstrations, and rituals.


    ***


    The central square of Vallenport had been transformed. Four massive platforms had been erected at compass points, each surrounded by tiered seating that rose like wooden waves around the combat areas.


    Colourful banners fluttered from every available surface, bearing the crests of participating families, guilds, and independent competitors.


    Tavalor found himself swept along by the excited crowd. He hadn''t planned to attend the tournament, but Emberfist had entered as a competitor, and curiosity had gotten the better of him.


    Besides, Little Shadow had been insistent, tugging at his sleeve and chirping excitedly when the tournament was mentioned.


    They secured seats with a good view of the eastern stage, where the preliminaries were already underway. The announcer''s magically amplified voice boomed over the crowd:


    ''Next match! Grimvale the Undying versus Pip the Unremarkable!''


    A ripple of laughter spread through the audience at the second name. Tavalor leaned forward with interest as the competitors took the stage.


    Grimvale was exactly what one would expect ¨C a hulking warrior clad in black plate armour adorned with skull motifs, a massive two-handed sword strapped to his back. He acknowledged the crowd''s cheers with a raised fist, his face hidden behind a fearsome helmet.


    In contrast, Pip the Unremarkable seemed... well, unremarkable. He was of average height and build, wearing simple brown leathers with minimal armour. His weapon of choice appeared to be a plain shortsword, and his brown hair fell in an untidy mop over ordinary features. He smiled nervously at the crowd, which responded with scattered boos and jeers.


    ''Go home, wastrel!''


    ''Who let this nobody in?''


    ''This''ll be over in seconds!''


    Pip winced at the hostility but took his position opposite Grimvale. The contrast between them couldn''t have been more stark ¨C a legendary warrior against what appeared to be a farmhand with delusions of grandeur.


    The announcer raised his hand. ''Fighters ready? Begin!''


    Grimvale drew his massive sword with surprising speed, the blade humming with dark energy as he charged forward with a roar. Pip, looking terrified, barely managed to draw his own weapon in time.


    What happened next stunned the audience into silence.


    Instead of being cleaved in two, Pip sidestepped with unexpected grace, his movement so subtle it almost seemed like Grimvale had simply missed. The dark warrior''s momentum carried him forward, off-balance for just a moment ¨C which Pip exploited with a quick tap of his sword against his opponent''s back, a point-scoring hit in tournament rules.


    ''First point to Pip the Unremarkable!'' the announcer called, disbelief evident in his voice.


    Grimvale whirled, fury radiating from his posture. He attacked again, his blade cutting complex patterns through the air. Again, Pip evaded ¨C not with flashy acrobatics, but with efficient, minimal movements that consistently put him just beyond his opponent''s reach.


    As the match progressed, a pattern emerged. Grimvale, growing increasingly frustrated, expended more energy with each attack, while Pip remained defensive, scoring occasional precise hits when openings presented themselves.


    By the tenth minute, Grimvale was breathing heavily, his attacks becoming wilder. Pip, still looking utterly terrified, nevertheless maintained his composure, methodically accumulating points.


    When the final bell rang, the score was clear: Pip the Unremarkable had won by a significant margin.


    The crowd sat in stunned silence before erupting in a mixture of cheers, boos, and confused murmuring. Grimvale stormed off the stage, flinging his helmet to the ground in rage.


    Pip stood awkwardly in the centre, looking as surprised by his victory as everyone else. He bowed hastily to the audience before scurrying off the stage.


    Tavalor leaned back, intrigued. ''Well, that was unexpected.''


    Little Shadow chirped in agreement, making a gesture that somehow conveyed both surprise and appreciation.


    ''Next match on the western stage!'' came the announcement. ''Ser Valorian the Magnificent versus Emberfist!''


    The crowd shifted its attention to the western platform. Tavalor and Little Shadow made their way through the throng to secure a better vantage point.


    Emberfist stood on one side of the stage, her posture relaxed but alert, her fiery gauntlets inactive for now. Across from her, Ser Valorian preened for the crowd ¨C a tall, handsome man in gleaming armour adorned with magical runes. His golden hair caught the sunlight as he brandished an ornate sword.


    ''The lovely lady shall fall before true skill!'' he proclaimed, eliciting cheers from his supporters.


    Whispers rippled through the audience:


    ''He''s at the peak of [B-Class], you know.''


    ''She doesn''t stand a chance.''


    ''Such a shame ¨C she''s quite attractive.''


    ''Poor girl will be humiliated.''


    Emberfist merely smiled, a predatory smile that should have warned her opponent. But Ser Valorian, caught up in his own grandeur, missed the danger signs.


    When the signal came, Emberfist didn''t wait. She launched forward with a straightforward punch, her gauntlet flaring to life with concentrated flame. The move was simple, direct ¨C and devastatingly fast.


    Ser Valorian barely managed to dodge, his eyes widening as he felt the heat sear past his cheek. The audience gasped at the near miss.


    ''Such aggression!'' Valorian called, attempting to maintain his composure. ''But grace always triumphs over brute force!''


    He counterattacked with an elaborate series of sword manoeuvrers, the blade leaving glowing trails in the air. Emberfist evaded each strike with efficient movements, her attention never wavering from her opponent.


    Another punch forced Valorian to retreat, then another, and another. Step by step, he was driven toward the edge of the stage. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, his confident smile replaced by a look of growing concern.


    When Valorian attempted a desperate counterattack, Emberfist was ready. Their attacks met in mid-air ¨C his magically enhanced sword against her flame-wreathed fist. For a brief moment, they were locked in stalemate.


    Then the sword began to glow red from the heat of her gauntlet. Valorian yelped, releasing his weapon just as the metal began to melt. He stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the platform''s edge.


    What followed was less a fight and more a systematic dismantling. For three minutes, Emberfist pressed her advantage relentlessly, each punch precisely calculated, each movement serving a purpose.


    Valorian, for all his boasting, found himself overwhelmed by an opponent who simply outclassed him in every way.


    Finally, with his armour scorched and his pride in tatters, Ser Valorian the Magnificent raised a hand in surrender. ''I yield!'' he gasped, dropping to one knee.


    The crowd erupted in a mixture of cheers and shocked exclamations. Another upset! An unknown competitor defeating one of the tournament favourites!


    Emberfist acknowledged the audience with a small bow before walking off the stage, her expression neutral. Only Tavalor caught the satisfied gleam in her eye as she passed.


    ***


    Back at the manor that evening, Tavalor found himself curious about the day''s unexpected victors. He sat in his study, a glass of elderfire whisky in hand, contemplating the matches he''d witnessed.


    ''Little Shadow,'' he called, ''could you find some information on our tournament underdogs?''


    The shadow creature, which had been examining a magical amulet on a nearby shelf, perked up at the request. It had recently demonstrated an uncanny ability to gather information from around the city, using sources Tavalor could only guess at.


    Within an hour, Little Shadow returned with several scrolls, apparently borrowed (or stolen) from the Adventurers'' Guild archives. Tavalor unrolled the first, which contained details about Ser Valorian.


    As expected, the man''s record was impressive ¨C dozens of tournament victories, several successful quests, and a reputation as one of Vallenport''s rising stars. His defeat at Emberfist''s hands would certainly damage his standing.


    The second scroll, containing information about Pip the Unremarkable, proved far more interesting.


    Pip, it seemed, had an extraordinary backstory hidden behind his ordinary appearance. Orphaned at a young age, he had been taken in by an ageing master of an obscure martial technique. For three years, he had trained without showing any progress, enduring the ridicule of his fellow students. Then, over the next five years, he had slowly, methodically mastered the foundations of the technique.


    When his master died, Pip had been forced to leave the remote mountain school. He had wandered for years, taking odd jobs and occasionally participating in minor competitions ¨C always performing just well enough to survive, never drawing attention to himself.


    The pattern was so familiar that Tavalor couldn''t help but laugh. ''He''s the protagonist of a cultivation novel,'' he mused, recalling the stories he''d read in his previous life. ''The underestimated hero who gradually reveals his true strength.''


    In such stories, the protagonist would typically face increasing challenges, overcome impossible odds, accumulate rare techniques and treasures, and eventually ascend to become the most powerful being in existence.


    Tavalor considered the implications. If Pip followed the typical narrative arc, he would soon attract the attention of a powerful sect or organization. Then would come the betrayal, persecution, near-death experiences, miraculous recoveries, and eventual triumph. It was all so predictable.


    For a moment, Tavalor entertained a dark thought ¨C should he eliminate Pip now, before the young man''s inevitable rise to power threatened the peace of Vallenport? With his abilities, it would be a simple matter.


    He shook his head, dismissing the idea. ''I''m thinking too much like a villain,'' he muttered, finishing his whisky. Pip''s journey had nothing to do with him. As long as the young man''s adventures didn''t disrupt Tavalor''s quiet life, there was no reason to interfere.


    Besides, he was curious to see how far this ''unremarkable'' fighter would go in the tournament.


    ***


    The second day of the tournament dawned clear and warm, the sky a perfect blue canvas above Vallenport''s spires. The crowds had grown even larger, word of the previous day''s upsets drawing spectators hoping to witness more unexpected victories.


    Tavalor arrived early, securing a prime spot near the central stage where the day''s most anticipated matches would take place. Little Shadow perched on his shoulder, vibrating with excitement.


    The morning passed with a series of predictable fights, the favoured competitors largely prevailing. Then came the match everyone had been waiting for:


    ''Ser Galagorn the Invincible versus Emberfist!''


    Ser Galagorn, the elder brother of the defeated Valorian, strode onto the stage with grim determination. Where his brother had been flashy and boastful, Galagorn was all business ¨C his armour was functional rather than decorative, his sword plain but clearly well-crafted. His reputation as ''the Invincible'' stemmed from an unbroken string of tournament victories spanning thirty years.


    Emberfist entered from the opposite side, her expression focused. She had tied her fiery hair back tightly, her movements economical as she took her position.


    ''You humiliated my brother,'' Galagorn stated, loud enough for the front rows to hear. ''I will restore our family''s honour.''


    Emberfist didn''t respond verbally. She simply activated her gauntlets, flames dancing around her fists.


    When the signal came, Galagorn attacked with brutal efficiency. His style was nothing like his brother''s showy techniques ¨C each strike was direct, powerful, and precisely calculated.


    Emberfist found herself on the defensive immediately, forced to dodge and block rather than press her own attack.


    For the first minute, they seemed evenly matched. Galagorn''s experience showed in his patient, methodical approach, while Emberfist''s raw talent kept her from being overwhelmed.


    Then the pattern began to shift. Emberfist''s dodges became more fluid, her blocks more confident. She started to anticipate Galagorn''s movements, positioning herself to counter rather than merely defend.


    The veteran fighter noticed the change and adjusted his strategy, increasing his tempo. But Emberfist was ready.


    When he committed to a powerful overhead strike, she stepped inside his guard, her flaming fist connecting solidly with his side.


    Galagorn grunted in pain but continued fighting. Yet the damage was done ¨C his movements now favoured his uninjured side, creating openings that Emberfist exploited with ruthless precision.


    Two minutes into the match, the outcome was becoming clear. Ser Galagorn the Invincible was being systematically dismantled by an opponent who seemed to grow stronger with each exchange.


    With a final desperate effort, Galagorn summoned a magical shield, hoping to create space for a counterattack. Emberfist''s response was simple but devastating ¨C she poured more power into her gauntlets, the flames intensifying until they burned white-hot. When she struck the shield, it shattered like glass, the backlash sending Galagorn stumbling backward.


    Before he could recover, Emberfist closed the distance and landed a precise strike to his chest. The impact wasn''t particularly hard, but the location was perfect ¨C directly over a pressure point that temporarily disrupted his magical circulation.


    Galagorn dropped to one knee, his weapon clattering to the stage. He raised a hand in surrender.


    ''Winner: Emberfist!'' the announcer called, his voice betraying his astonishment.


    The crowd erupted in cheers. In just two days, Emberfist had gone from unknown competitor to tournament sensation. Whispers of ''who is she?'' and ''where did she train?'' rippled through the audience.


    Tavalor smiled, raising his cup in a silent toast to his fiery friend. He caught her eye as she left the stage, and she responded with a small, satisfied nod.


    Little Shadow, still perched on his shoulder, made a gesture that somehow conveyed both approval and dismissal ¨C acknowledging Emberfist''s impressive victory while maintaining its aloof attitude toward her.


    ''You really should give her a chance,'' Tavalor told the shadow creature. ''She''s quite remarkable.''


    Little Shadow''s response was to turn away dramatically, its form rippling with what could only be described as stubborn refusal.


    Tavalor chuckled. Some rivalries, it seemed, were simply meant to be.

 Chapter 23 - I Went to a Tournament - The Arcane Revel Finals

    The morning sun cast long shadows across the tournament grounds. Tavalor leaned on a wooden railing, observing the bustling arena with mild interest.


    The thing they didn''t tell you about tournaments is how boring they were. Hours of waiting punctuated by minutes of action.


    Little Shadow perched on his shoulder, occasionally chirping with excitement when a particularly flashy technique appeared. The shadow creature had grown so large that he could no longer shrink to chick size. He now was roughly the size of a large raven, its form shifting and flowing like liquid darkness.


    ''Enjoying the show?'' Emberfist appeared beside him. Excitement glowing in her eyes.


    ''It has its moments,'' Tavalor replied, his eyes following a contestant who had been launched out of the arena. ''You''re up next, aren''t you?''


    Emberfist nodded, stretching her arms above her head. ''Against someone called Jin Longwei. Supposedly from one of those Southern mountain clans.''


    The announcer''s voice boomed across the grounds: ''Our next match! Kela Emberfist versus Jin Longwei!''


    Emberfist cracked her knuckles, a grin spreading across her face. ''This shouldn''t take long.''


    As she walked toward the arena, Tavalor settled in for what promised to be an entertaining, if brief, display.


    Little Shadow chirped in amusement at the thought.


    ***


    Jin Longwei was a mountain of a man, his muscly frame easily twice Emberfist¡¯s size. His face bore the marks of countless battles¡ªa crooked nose, a scar bisecting his left eyebrow, and a permanent sneer that suggested contempt for his opponents.


    ''A woman?'' he scoffed as Emberfist took her position opposite him. ''I expected better from the tournament organisers.''


    The referee, a thin man with nervous eyes, glanced between them. ''The rules are simple. No killing blows, no permanent maiming. Victory by knockout, surrender, or referee decision.'' He stepped back quickly. ''Begin!''


    Jin didn''t waste time with strategy. He charged forward like a bull, meaty fists raised to deliver what he clearly expected to be a decisive blow.


    Emberfist sidestepped with casual grace, her own fist connecting with his ribs as he passed. The impact was like a thunderclap, the sound echoing across the suddenly silent arena. Jin stumbled, his momentum carrying him forward before he regained his balance and turned, eyes wide with surprise.


    ''Lucky hit,'' he growled, circling more cautiously now.


    Emberfist didn''t respond verbally. Her stance shifted, feet planted firmly, hands raised in a traditional boxing guard. When Jin attacked again, she met him head-on, trading blows with methodical precision.


    What followed was less a fight and more a demonstration. Every punch Jin threw was either deflected or absorbed, while Emberfist''s strikes landed with devastating accuracy. His initial contempt gave way to frustration, then to visible fear as he realised the predicament he was in.


    After a particularly vicious combination that left Jin staggering, he raised a hand. ''I surrender!''


    But Emberfist, caught in the rhythm of combat, delivered one final blow that sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious.


    The referee hurried forward, checking Jin''s vitals before raising a hand toward Emberfist. ''Victory by knockout! Kela Emberfist advances!''


    As Jin was carried from the arena by medics, his brother¡ªa taller, leaner version with the same permanent sneer¡ªapproached Emberfist, fury evident in his stride.


    ''He surrendered!'' the man shouted, pointing accusingly. ''You heard him!''


    Emberfist shrugged, already turning to leave. ''I didn''t hear anything over the sound of my fist connecting with his face.''


    ''This isn''t over,'' the brother warned, his hand moving to a hidden dagger before arena guards stepped between them.


    Tavalor watched the exchange with amusement. Emberfist certainly knew how to make an impression.


    ***


    The tournament continued through the afternoon, a parade of fighters displaying varying degrees of skill. Many were clearly [C-Class], their techniques basic but effective. A few showed glimpses of [B-Class] potential, their movements enhanced by disciplined training and natural talent.


    One fighter in particular caught Tavalor''s attention¡ªa follow up from yesterday - a lean plain man with a perpetual half-smile ''Pip the Unremarkable.''


    His fighting style was unlike anything Tavalor had seen in Vallenport, relying on minimal movement and devastating precision.


    Pip''s opponent was a woman named Mei Lin, known for her arrogance and her beauty. Always dismissing ''lesser'' fighters. Their match began with Mei Lin launching into an elaborate series of attacks, her movements fluid and graceful.


    Pip just watched, a strange half-smile never leaving his face. With a simple perfectly timed punch, he ended the match. No need to draw the plain sword at his waist.


    Mei Lin crumbled, unconscious before she hit the ground.


    The crowd erupted in shocked applause, Pip bowed politely and exited the arena without any fanfare.


    ''That''s not normal,'' Emberfist murmured, having returned to Tavalor''s side after her victory. ''One punch shouldn''t be able to take down a [C-Class] fighter that cleanly unless...''


    ''Unless he''s hiding his true strength,'' Tavalor finished for her. Interesting.He''s sandbagging? So he has some type of goldfinger? I wonder what kind of goldfinger it could be?


    ***


    Oh. I never thought about that.


    ''That wasn''t a victory,'' she muttered. ''That was a waste of time.''


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    As the remaining matches played out, the audience''s discussions grew increasingly animated.


    ''It''s clearly between Emberfist and Pip,'' a merchant declared loudly to his companions. ''Raw power versus technical mastery.''


    ''Don''t discount Serac the Swift,'' another countered. ''He''s been [B-Class] for years.''


    ''Or Master Vora,'' added a third. ''Or Harrick the Hammer. They''ve all reached the same tier.''


    The debate continued as the remaining ten fighters drew lots to determine the next round of matchups. Fortune favoured Emberfist once again¡ªshe drew a portly, sweating man whose reputation for endurance was matched only by his apparent fear of her.


    When they took their positions in the arena, he immediately raised his hands. ''I forfeit! I''m not facing that¡ªthat female Draven! She''s too much for any sane man!''


    The audience roared with laughter as Emberfist stormed off the arena floor, her expression thunderous.


    ***


    The following two matches did little to improve Emberfist''s mood. Opponents who had dismissed her earlier victories as flukes or luck found themselves brutally disabused of such notions.


    One left the arena unconscious; the other with a dislocated shoulder.


    Her final match of the preliminary rounds pitted her against Harrick the Hammer, a veteran fighter whose reputation for overwhelming force matched her own.


    ''Finally,'' she muttered, ''someone who won''t surrender before we''ve exchanged a single blow.''


    The match began cautiously, both fighters testing each other''s defences. Harrick wielded his namesake weapon¡ªa massive war hammer that seemed impossibly light in his hands.


    Emberfist, restricted herself only to punches and kicks, not a lot of techniques. Only focusing on her exceptional speed and the raw power of her strikes. Something she had picked up from Tavalor.


    For several minutes, they circled and clashed, neither gaining a decisive advantage. Then Harrick overextended, committing too fully to a sweeping blow that Emberfist easily sidestepped.


    Her counterpunch was devastating. The air itself seemed to distort around her fist, the impact creating a visible shockwave that lifted Harrick off his feet and deposited him unceremoniously on his backside several metres away.


    The arena went silent. Harrick sat where he had landed, his expression a mixture of pain and disbelief. After a moment, he raised a hand.


    ''I surrender,'' he said, his voice barely audible.


    With that, the preliminary rounds ended. Six fighters remained: Emberfist, Pip, a sleek, charming man named Dorian Thorne whom Pip clearly despised, a muscular fighter wielding what appeared to be a wooden bat, and two others whose unremarkable performances had somehow carried them through.


    As lots were drawn for the quarter-finals, Tavalor found himself increasingly intrigued by the bat-wielding fighter. Something about his stance and the peculiar design of his weapon suggested origins far beyond the current world.


    A baseball bat? Is they guy another transmigrator from Earth? Tavalor wondered. It seems I wasn''t the first to arrive in this world.


    The matchups were announced: Pip versus Dorian Thorne, the bat-wielder against Emberfist, and the two remaining fighters against each other.


    ***


    ''Ladies and gentlemen!'' the tournament announcer''s voice boomed across the arena. ''Our first quarter-final match: Pip versus Dorian Thorne!''


    The crowd roared as the two men took their positions. Pip''s expression remained neutral, but there was a tension in his stance that hadn''t been present in his earlier fights. Dorian, by contrast, appeared utterly relaxed, his handsome features arranged in a pleasant smile that didn''t reach his cold eyes.


    ''Been a while, Pip,'' Dorian called, loud enough for the front rows to hear. ''How''s life treating you since Siana chose me?''


    Pip didn''t respond verbally, but his eyes narrowed.


    The referee, sensing the unusual hostility, moved quickly to start the match before tensions escalated further.


    What followed was unlike Pip''s previous fights. Where before he had dispatched opponents with minimal effort, now he seemed unable to land a clean hit.


    Dorian moved with uncanny grace, every attack just missing its mark, every counter slightly miscalculated.


    The crowd grew restless as the match stretched on, nearly twice as long as any of Pip''s previous encounters. Whispers spread through the audience¡ªwas Pip losing his edge? Had his earlier victories been flukes?


    Then, in a moment of apparent frustration, Pip abandoned his precise style. His movements became unpredictable, almost feral. His eyes took on a reddish gleam, and his strikes gained visible speed.


    Dorian''s smile faltered as he found himself suddenly on the defensive. One blow connected with his shoulder, spinning him halfway around. Another caught him in the ribs, driving the air from his lungs.


    ''Enough playing around,'' Pip growled, his voice rougher than before. With blinding speed, he closed the distance between them, delivering a palm strike to Dorian''s chest that sent him flying backward into the arena wall.


    Dorian slid to the ground, momentarily stunned. The crowd held its collective breath as Pip approached his fallen opponent.


    For a tense moment, it seemed Pip might break the tournament rules with an excessive attack. Then, visibly controlling himself, he stepped back.


    ''I surrender,'' Dorian gasped, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. ''The victory is yours.''


    The referee declared Pip the winner, and the arena erupted in cheers. As Pip walked away, his eyes gradually returning to their normal hue, Tavalor made a mental note.


    Are there barbarians? Berserkers?


    That hadn''t been a standard combat technique¡ªit had been something else entirely. A berserker method, perhaps, trading control for explosive power and enhanced senses.


    Another non-circle technique. Where did he come from? Pip was more and more interesting to Tavalor.


    ***


    Little Shadow sat on Tavalor''s shoulder, munching on some snacks. He also had gotten bored of watching as well and had switched his primary activity to eating.


    He had even forced Tavalor to walk around and buy one of everything and carry them all in the system space for him.


    Right now Little Shadow was enthusiastically eating candied dragonberries, their crystallised surfaces crackling with magical energy that disappeared into its dark form with a satisfied sizzle.


    The second quarter-final between the two unremarkable fighters proved to be anything but. For four gruelling hours, they battled across the arena in a showcase of Vallenport''s traditional fighting styles.


    The Flowing Water offensive setup versus the Iron Mountain defensive setup¡ªa classic matchup that had the crowd enthralled despite its length.


    Between enthusiastic chirps, the Little Shadow would occasionally pause its feast to watch the tournament proceedings, only to return to the snacks with renewed vigour whenever the crowd''s roars signalled an exciting development in the arena below.


    Eventually, the Iron Mountain practitioner prevailed, his superior endurance outlasting his opponent''s greater mobility.


    Emberfist''s match against the bat-wielder¡ªintroduced as Master Jong of the ''Baseball Clan''¡ªwas the day''s true spectacle.


    So there are transmigrators. I wonder who they are? How strong are they?


    Tavalor sat up in excitement after that four hour snooze-fest.


    Jong opened by tossing a small white sphere into the air, then striking it with his bat with incredible precision. The ball whistled through the air directly at Emberfist''s face, only to be caught inches from impact.


    Interesting toy,'' she said, crushing the ball in her fist. ''Got any more?''


    Jong grinned, producing another ball from a pouch at his belt. ''I''ve got plenty, little lady. The question is whether you can catch them all.''


    What followed was a bizarre dance of projectiles and counter-attacks. Jong launched ball after ball, each following an impossible trajectory that curved, dipped, or accelerated mid-flight.


    They were hidden weapons. Some were explosive. Some were smoke bombs. Some were water bombs. Muddy. Grassy. Strange poisons as well.


    Emberfist, relying on her exceptional reflexes, evaded most while catching or deflecting others. Occasionally burning the unexpected ones to ash.


    When Jong finally ran out of ammunition, he gripped his bat with both hands, the weapon humming with subtle energy.


    ''Time for the home run,'' he declared, charging forward.


    Emberfist met his charge head-on, her fist connecting with the bat''s sweet spot. The resulting impact created a shockwave that rippled through the arena, sending dust and debris flying.


    When visibility returned, Jong lay unconscious in a small crater, his prized bat snapped cleanly in two beside him.


    ''Victory to Emberfist!'' the referee declared, his voice slightly shaky.


    As medics tended to the fallen Baseball Clan member, Tavalor thought about the implications.


    If Jong was indeed from Earth, it suggested others might have arrived before him. How many, he wondered, and what impact had they had on this world''s development?


    ***


    The semi-final match between Lee and the Iron Mountain practitioner began immediately after the arena was repaired from Emberfist''s devastating victory. The contrast in styles couldn''t have been more pronounced¡ªLee''s economy of movement versus his opponent''s statuesque stability.


    For the first time, the audience witnessed Lee''s true capabilities. His unusual fighting style, which observers had begun to recognise as something entirely unorthodox, allowed him to penetrate the Iron Mountain''s legendary defence with swift, precise strikes.


    ''His technique,'' Tavalor remarked to Emberfist, who had joined him in the spectator stands, ''it increases his perception and attack speed tenfold, but at the cost of energy and longevity.''


    Emberfist nodded, her eyes tracking Lee''s movements. ''A berserker style. Uncommon in these parts. If he''s not careful, it''ll burn him out before the finals.''


    Lee seemed aware of this limitation. After landing several decisive blows, he backed off, allowing his opponent to surrender honourably rather than forcing a knockout. The Iron Mountain fighter, recognising both his defeat and Lee''s restraint, bowed deeply before exiting the arena.


    With this victory, Lee advanced to the finals. Only Emberfist''s match remained to determine his opponent.


    However, with an odd number of semi-finalists due to earlier withdrawals, Emberfist had received a bye directly to the finals. This fact clearly irritated her as she paced the competitors'' area, her expression stormy.


    ''All this way,'' she muttered, ''and I don''t even get to fight a proper semi-final.''


    Tavalor noticed several finely dressed spectators paying particular attention to Emberfist. Their silver-trimmed robes and red hair marked them as members of her estranged family¡ªthe Emberfist Clan, renowned for their fiery temperaments and equally fiery fighting styles.


    ''Her prowess has grown considerably,'' one older man remarked to his companion. ''Perhaps leaving the clan compound was beneficial after all.''


    ''Or perhaps,'' his companion replied, ''she''s found a better backer.''


    Their gazes drifted briefly toward Tavalor before turning back to the arena, where preparations for the final match were underway.


    While waiting, Tavalor overheard more fragments of conversation about Pip and his rivalry with Dorian Thorne. According to local gossip, Pip and a girl named Siana had grown up together as orphans in Vallenport''s poorer districts. They had been inseparable until Dorian, the scion of a minor noble house, had entered the picture.


    Siana had broken her unofficial betrothal to Pip, choosing instead the security and status Dorian offered. The betrayal had left Pip alone and embittered, dedicating himself to martial prowess while Dorian solidified his position in Vallenport society.


    A classic tale, Tavalor thought with amusement. The dumped MC, the privileged rival, the shallow love interest. The world always seems arranged to favour the hero.


    Yet reality rarely followed such neat patterns. Dorian, despite his role as the ''villain'' in this particular story, had displayed impeccable manners throughout the tournament.


    He hadn''t boasted or threatened¡ªmerely competed to the best of his abilities. And in Tavalor''s experience, women rarely chose wealthy suitors solely for their material advantages; there were usually more complex factors at play.


    Such reflections were interrupted as Lee and Emberfist took their positions for the final match. The atmosphere in the arena had changed, charged with anticipation. These were Vallenport''s finest non-guild combatants, about to determine the tournament champion.


    ''May the best fighter win,'' Lee said with a respectful nod.


    Emberfist responded with a fierce grin. ''Don''t worry. I will.''


    The referee raised his hand, then brought it down sharply. ''Begin!''


    Instead of attacking immediately, the two fighters circled each other, each assessing the other''s stance and potential weaknesses.


    Lee''s eyes began to take on that familiar reddish gleam, his berserker technique engaging gradually rather than all at once.


    Emberfist remained patient, her guard high, waiting for the perfect opportunity.


    Lee struck first, a blindingly fast combination that would have felled a lesser opponent.


    Emberfist blocked the initial strikes and countered with a powerful hook that Lee barely avoided.


    The exchange set the pattern for what followed: Lee''s superior speed allowing him to land more hits, while Emberfist''s greater power meant each of her successful strikes did significantly more damage.


    Neither could maintain a clear advantage for long.


    As the match progressed, Lee''s berserker technique began to show its limitations. His breathing grew laboured, his movements fractionally slower.


    Emberfist, recognising the shift, pressed her advantage with increased aggression.


    A particularly vicious uppercut caught Lee under the chin, lifting him momentarily off his feet. He staggered but remained standing, his eyes now blazing like hot coals.


    With a roar that didn''t sound entirely human, Lee charged, abandoning all pretence of technique in favour of raw fury.


    Emberfist met the charge head-on, their collision creating a shockwave that rippled through the arena.


    When the dust settled, both fighters were still standing, though Lee swayed dangerously. Blood trickled from a cut above his eye, partially obscuring his vision.


    Emberfist''s knuckles were raw and bleeding, but her stance remained solid.


    ''Surrender,'' she advised, raising her fists once more. ''You''ve fought well, but this ends now.''


    Lee''s response was a snarled obscenity. He lunged forward, his movements desperate and uncoordinated.


    Emberfist sidestepped easily, delivering a precise strike to the base of his skull as he passed. Lee collapsed face-first onto the arena floor, unconscious.


    The referee rushed forward, checking Lee''s vitals before raising Emberfist''s hand. ''Victory by knockout! The tournament champion: Kela Emberfist!''


    The crowd erupted in cheers, nobles and commoners alike united in their appreciation of the spectacular display. Guild representatives were already making their way toward the arena floor, eager to extend offers to the top finishers.


    Tavalor allowed himself a small smile.


    Emberfist had proven herself decisively, not just to the audience but to the family members watching from the stands.


    Her victory would elevate her standing in Vallenport society, providing additional opportunities and connections.


    More importantly, he reflected, she had clearly enjoyed herself. For someone who valued direct action and clear outcomes, a tournament victory represented perfect satisfaction.


    As Emberfist accepted her prize¡ªa substantial purse of gold and a certificate entitling her to special training at any guild of her choice¡ªTavalor''s attention was drawn to Pip, who was being helped from the arena by medics.


    The man''s eyes had returned to normal, but there was a darkness in them that suggested his defeat might not be accepted gracefully.


    Something to keep an eye on, though hardly a serious concern given Tavalor''s own capabilities.


    For now, it was enough to enjoy Emberfist''s moment.

 Chapter 24 - I Discovered the Real MC

    The tournament arena was buzzing with excitement. Groups of people surrounded Emberfist and all of top ten of the tournament.


    The only person who seemed disappointed was Pip. He slunk off, seeming broken. Even though he had hit second place.


    Little Shadow was excited to see the end of the tournament. Perched on my shoulder, its tiny form vibrating with excitement as it always did when witnessing displays of power. The creature had grown fond of combat spectacles, often mimicking the fighters'' movements when it thought I wasn''t looking.


    ''That was quite the performance,'' I remarked to no one in particular, though Little Shadow chirped in agreement.


    As Pip walked towards the exit.


    I noticed a stir, near that same exit. An elderly man in elaborate robes stepped forward, his bearing aristocratic, his face a mask of barely concealed contempt. The insignia on his robe was unmistakable¡ªHouse Thorne of Miragos.


    This should be interesting. I thought to myself. Little Shadow shifted on my shoulder, its violent eyes fixing on the approaching elder with a predatory focus.


    The old man approached Pip with measured steps, the crowd parting before him like water around a stone. Even from my distance, I could sense the tension crackling between them.


    ''Young man,'' the elder began, his voice carrying across the suddenly hushed arena, ''I believe you owe my family an apology for your conduct during this tournament.''


    Pip''s dejected expression vanished, replaced by a look of defiance. ''An apology? For what, exactly?''


    ''For your disgraceful behaviour toward young Master Dorian,'' the elder replied. ''Such brutality was entirely unnecessary.''


    Pip''s face flushed with anger. ''I didn''t do anything wrong! The rules allow for¡ª''


    ''You deliberately targeted him,'' the elder cut him off. ''We all saw it.''


    Tavalor leaned forward, suddenly more interested.


    The confrontation was escalating quickly, and there was something about the elder''s posture that suggested this was more than mere posturing. Little Shadow sensed my interest, stretching its shadowy form upward for a better view.


    Is this the climax?Tavalor wondered. Is this where the elders bullying forces Pip to run away, then he will break relations with Tavalor and then come back years later as an all powerful [S-Class] to destroy Vallenport?


    If so, how predictable.


    As Tavalor watched, the elder made a subtle gesture with his hand¡ªso subtle that most observers missed it entirely. But my [Dragon Sight] caught the faint shimmer of magic as a binding spell activated, aimed directly at Pip.


    Pip, surprisingly, sensed it coming. With a deft movement, he redirected the spell¡ªnot away from himself, but toward a specific target in the audience.


    Young Dorian, the defeated competitor, jerked in his seat as the spell struck him instead, causing him to spasm briefly before slumping forward.


    ''Interesting choice,'' I murmured. Little Shadow made a sound like tiny bubbling laughter.


    The elder''s face darkened with rage. ''So young, yet so vicious,'' he said, his voice carrying the weight of judgment. ''I will execute you on behalf of the clan. Are you even aware of your crimes?''


    Knew it.


    Pip spread his arms in exasperation. ''What crimes? What are you talking about?''


    ''You intended to cripple the young master''s cultivation,'' the elder stated flatly. ''Your actions in the arena made that clear.''


    ''It''s a contest,'' Pip retorted. ''Knives and fists are blind.''


    The elder''s mouth curled in disdain. ''Ridiculous. I would have pardoned you, but since you persist in this facade of innocence...''


    From the audience, murmurs rippled: ''That elder is tough but fair.''


    ''He''s a strictler for the rules, once he gets started there''s no stopping him.''


    ''Fair,'' I scoffed under my breath. Little Shadow mimicked my dismissive head shake.


    ''You have broken the sacred rules of the tournament,'' the elder declared. ''I sentence you to imprisonment for three months to reflect on your actions.''


    To my mild surprise, Pip simply turned and began walking away.


    ''I was only in Vallenport as a stepping stone,'' he said over his shoulder. ''I''m done here anyway.''


    ''Where do you think you''re going?'' the elder demanded. ''Do you believe you can simply leave?''


    Pip stopped, his back still to the elder. ''If I want to leave, nobody can stop me.''


    Two other mid-level elders from the Thorne family stopped in front of Pip. With the old Elder at the back, they formed a triangle surrounding Pip.


    Then something unexpected happened.


    Pip turned, his face contorting with effort as he unleashed his aura. The pressure built in waves, pushing outward like a physical force. First, it reached [B-Class] level, causing the weaker spectators to gasp and clutch their seats.


    Then, remarkably, it continued growing, surging to [B-Class].


    A golden nimbus surrounded him, his hair standing upright, his eyes shifting from their normal colour to bright blue.


    ''I can''t believe it turned out like this,'' I sighed, resting my chin on my palm. Little Shadow mimicked my posture, settling into a similar position on my shoulder.


    Originally, I had expected something unique, something surprising. But this was all so predictable¡ªthe hidden strength, the dramatic reveal.


    If things followed the usual pattern, Pip would vanish now, only to return in several years as an [S-Class] to exact his revenge.


    My disappointment deepened as Pip continued his power display, cycling through low-tier, mid-tier, all the way to top-tier [B-Class]. Then a notch further to low-tier [A-Class]. The crowd watched in stunned silence, many backing away from the platform.


    ''You finally reveal yourself,'' the elder said, not a trace of surprise in his voice.


    ''Low-tier [A-Class],'' the elder continued, his tone condescending. ''Not bad in this place, but no different from an ant in the wider world.''


    Then Pip spoke, but his voice had changed¡ªdeeper, more resonant, carrying the weight of age and experience. ''What? You don''t want my disciple to leave?''


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    The elder''s expression shifted subtly. ''Since this is your disciple, why did you want him to stay in Vallenport?''


    Despite the revealed power, the elder remained calm, showing no panic.


    ''Why should I tell you?'' Pip''s voice¡ªor rather, the voice speaking through Pip¡ªreplied.


    Oh, so his advantage/golden finger was having a secret grandpa as his mentor I thought with a mental eye roll. I wonder who this entity could be? No such memories in Old Tavalor''s recollections either.


    ''It''s an honour to have my disciple be part of this backwater town,'' the voice continued haughtily.


    ''Aren''t you being too arrogant?'' the elder asked.


    ''Arrogant? You weren''t even born when I was dominating this world,'' came the reply, Pip''s eyes now looking distant, lost in ancient memories that weren''t his own.


    ''Really?'' the elder countered. ''Then how come you''re dead?''


    ''Cut the nonsense,'' the voice snarled. ''I''ll remember you. I''ll seek ten times the revenge.''


    The words hung in the air, a promise of vengeance.Tavalorwondered how the elder could possibly let him go after such a threat.


    Instead of responding verbally, the elder launched an attack¡ªa more mature version of the technique Young Dorian Thorne had used in the tournament.


    A speed based stab with a rapier.


    Evidently, the Thorne family specialised speed.


    Pip¡ªor the entity within him¡ªreached out and crushed the magical attack with a bare fist.


    His appearance had changed; he looked paler, with the blond hair and blue eyes, and more graceful, as if someone else wore his skin.


    Before the situation could escalate further, another figure arrived on the platform¡ªD. Crestfall, the gnome, Vice Guildmaster of the Adventurers Guild, his small frame exuding [A-Class] power.


    ''Why are you trying to bully us with numbers?'' Pip demanded.


    Crestfall''s face remained impassive. ''Cripple your cultivation and go to jail for three months.''


    ''I don''t agree,'' Pip stated flatly.


    ''You don''t have a choice,'' Crestfall replied, raising his hands.


    The air rippled as Crestfall summoned the city''s shield, a suppression field designed to contain even powerful cultivators. Crestfall''s strength was well-known; he had fought off two elite [A-Class] attackers during the Miragos invasion and held his own. Since then, he had accumulated artefacts from the fallen city, further enhancing his capabilities.


    Pip, sensing the danger, shot into the sky. The elder and Crestfall followed.


    Then Pip executed a special technique, vanishing completely, only to reappear seconds later on the central platform.


    He looked astonished. He tried the teleportation technique again, and again returned to the same spot.


    After several attempts, Pip''s confusion was evident. He had exhausted half his Mana and seemed genuinely baffled. ''What is going on?'' he demanded.


    This was a special teleportation technique. Acquired through the use of an ancient artifact. A [Ten Thousand Leagues Away] amulet.


    It had always worked.


    But Tavalor had interfered with it. Causing it to circle back every time it was used.


    It was me. Tavalor thought in reply to Pip''s question. Tavalor smiled, watching with growing interest. Little Shadow vibrated with excitement, picking up on my subtle actions.


    Both the elder and Crestfall seemed equally surprised by Pip''s inability to escape.


    Crestfall glanced back at the audience, his gaze settling on Tavalor, who sat watching the proceedings while sipping wine.


    ''What did you do?'' Pip asked, frustration evident in his voice.


    Crestfall smiled in amusement, stroking his beard. ''Why should I tell you?''


    I could almost see Pip''s thoughts churning. The rumours of an [S-Class] cultivator in Vallenport must have reached him. If the legends were true, an [S-Class] could do almost anything.


    ''This is Vallenport,'' Crestfall stated calmly. ''We don''t let anybody cross the line here.''


    The audience members looked touched by this declaration of protection. I couldn''t help but laugh.


    ''That''s why Crestfall is in charge,'' I thought. ''I would have simply thrown a fireball by now.''


    Crestfall had existed as an [S-Class] cultivator for a long time. He understood how these situations typically unfolded and wasn''t foolish enough to escalate unnecessarily. The punishment was merely a pretext; Pip would disappear, one way or another.


    It seemed as if Crestfall was about to evacuate the audience in preparation for a serious confrontation.


    Alright, enough. This is boring. Tavalor thought.


    A massive [Mage Hand] appeared from thin air, glowing with golden energy.


    It was the size of several tall buildings, it appeared overhead above Pip.


    It was so powerful, that the [Mage Hand] suppressed everybody. Nobody could move.


    They could only watch as the [Mage Hand] descended slowly onto Pip.


    Pip screamed: ''Impossible.''


    The hand landed on him and Pip simply deteriorated, turning into dust and being blown away by the wind.


    ''Is he dead?'' audience members whispered among themselves.


    Crestfall looked stunned. ''Why? I didn''t even get a chance to intervene.''


    The Thorne family elder stepped forward quick on his feet, addressing the crowd. ''Pip infiltrated our city with evil intentions. He nearly killed several of our citizens. His crimes were unforgivable, and he deserved to be punished.''


    I activated my [Dragon Sight], focusing on a spot several kilometres away. Another [Mage Hand] reached out, smaller and more precise, plucking something from the air.


    It was a tiny figure, no larger than a fist¡ªa soul, an old man''s spirit that had been hiding within Pip.


    Turns out I was wrong again,I thought with a mental sigh. ''This wasn''t the main character but a villain attempting to infiltrate the city.


    With a casual gesture, I crushed the soul with the [Mage Hand], extinguishing its existence completely.


    Luneth, who had been hiding in the shadows nearby, appeared. ''Wait, that''s the soul of an [A-Class] expert,'' she protested. ''If refined, you could make potions with half the normal effort.''


    ''Didn''t you say you weren''t going to make potions anymore?'' I countered.


    Luneth pretended not to hear, her gaze still lingering on the spot where the soul had been.


    A thought occurred to me as I watched her. Emberfist had been cultivating a technique based on mine. So she had an OP technique.


    She came from a noble family and left to prove herself. Good start to MC story.


    She had an invincible ''Guardian'' in me. Another OP advantage.


    Didn''t she sound more like a main character than Pip had been?


    The audience members remained stunned. ''Did the [S-Class] interfere?'' they whispered among themselves. ''How strong could he be?''


    ''Lord Shadow is here.''


    Little Shadow chirped proudly on my shoulder, as if taking credit for my intervention.


    ***


    Back at the Gilded Hearth, Tavalor settled into my usual spot by the window, a newspaper spread before me. Little Shadow lounged nearby, occasionally darting to steal crumbs from my muffin.


    Had Tavalor not attended the tournament, Tavalor would never have learned about Pip and the malevolent spirit possessing him.


    It was a fortunate coincidence that He''d decided to spectate.


    Tavalor''s eyes scanned the headlines:


    ''CHITARI ATTACKING SOUTHERN CONTINENT.''


    The article detailed how the insect-like invaders from another world had launched a massive offensive.


    Oh, they''re attacking the South now, I mused, taking a sip of my enchanted brew. I must have scared them off.


    The last time they had been here, they had started off attacking north.


    It would have been a better tactical decision. Excluding the wastelands, the North was bigger and full of lush forests.


    It was more deserted. Only a few cities and mostly just empty forests. A better territory to take over and absorb nutrients from.


    The southern continent in comparison was a desert. Only a few sections of territory fertile enough to provide food and water.


    Fought over by three of the most savage and deadly groups. The Saltash Confederacy, the Obsidian Caliphate and the nomadic clans of the Shimmerwind Desert.


    According to the report, the Chitari had already destroyed many oases and desert cities, declaring war on the Southern Continent.


    The Desert Confederacy of Zaltash, the Obsidian Caliphate, and the nomads of the Shimmerwind Desert had all allied to fight back.


    That was alarming. The three groups never stopped fighting amongst themselves. Yet they had now.


    Twenty cities had fallen, several clans of the Shimmerwind Desert obliterated. The battles were intense; the Confederacy of Zaltash had been completely overrun.


    Now the Chitari were marching toward the capital city of the Obsidian Caliphate. Somehow, they had grown in strength, now fielding four factions instead of the previous two, each led by [A-Class] warriors. They even possessed a special [S-Class] cannon.


    Panic had spread across the continent. Would the Chitari conquer the entire South?


    The other global powers had decided to ally against this threat. After all, they had expelled these creatures several hundred years earlier.


    The elves had dispatched another fleet, arriving swiftly to kill one of the [A-Class] leaders and damage a cannon. Their actions had made them extremely popular in the South.


    Following the elves came the Imperium of Solaris and the Jade Court, both sending armies to the South¡ªan opportunity to expand their influence and make a name for themselves.


    Various cultivators from different sects¡ªthe Baseball Clan, hidden clans, and numerous unaffiliated experts¡ªall joined the fray.


    Looks like I don''t have to do anything. Tavalor thought with relief. He continued to sip his coffee.


    Little Shadow chirped, questioning my relaxed state.


    Just in case though. Tavalor thought to himself. He sent out a [Dragon Eye] to observe the southern situation.


    It never hurt to be informed, especially when it came to potential threats that might eventually reach Vallenport.


    As Tavalor settled back in his chair,hecouldn''t help but smile.


    For once, the world''s problems were someone else''s responsibility. Tavalor had a peaceful caf¨¦, a manor, and a strange little shadow companion. For now, that was enough.


    Little Shadow finished the last crumb of Tavalor''s muffin and curled up contentedly on the table, its violet eyes closing as it basked in the warm sunlight streaming through the window.

 Chapter 25 - I Watched Luneths Alchemy Experiment Go Awry

    The morning sun cast long shadows across my garden, dappling the cobblestones with patterns of light and shadow. Little Shadow perched on my shoulder, it''s tiny form vibrating with excitement, as it always did at the start of a new day. Tavalor was headed out for his morning ritual a the Gilded Hearth when a commotion from the far corner of the garden caught his attention.


    At first, Tavalor thought it might be another assassination attempt¡ªthey had become tediously common since the Miragos incident¡ªbut this was something altogether different.


    One of Tavalor¡¯s prized ornamental shrubs was spinning in place, uprooted from the soil, its branches waving wildly as if possessed. More bizarrely, it seemed to be... talking?


    ''Get it off! Get it off!'' the plant shrieked, voice distinctly feminine and familiar. ''This wasn''t supposed to happen!''


    Tavalor approached cautiously, Little Shadow darting ahead to investigate. The plant hurled a clod of dirt at me, which Tavalor sidestepped easily.


    ''Luneth?'' Tavalor called, recognising the voice despite its botanical prison. ''Is that you?''


    The plant ceased its spinning momentarily. ''Tavalor? Oh, thank the Two Moons. I''m stuck!''


    Tavalor sighed, realising what had happened. Another one of Luneth''s alchemy experiments had gone awry. It seemed the Moon Elf''s quest to refine the perfect pill was producing increasingly unpredictable results.


    ''How exactly did you manage this?'' Tavalor asked, circling the animated shrub.


    Before she could answer, a splashing sound drew his attention to the ornamental pond. To Tavalor¡¯s astonishment, a fish leapt from the water and landed on the stone path. But this was no ordinary fish. It had legs. Human legs. Human hands.


    Everything else was fish.


    How strange? Tavalor thought. A fishman?


    The fish-man stood upright, its scales gleaming in the morning sunlight. It opened its mouth and released a triumphant laugh.


    ''Haha! I''ve done it!'' it declared, flexing quite generous biceps.


    Tavalor started dumbfounded: ''Hey, where''d you come from?''


    The fish-man turned towards me, its bulging eyes blinking: ''Where''d you come from.''


    Where''d you come from?'' the fish repeated, its voice and inflection identical to mine.


    ''Where''d you come from?'' it said again.


    Little Shadow flitted around the creature, poking it curiously.


    It dawned on me¡ªLuneth hadn''t just transmutated herself into a plant; she''d somehow created a magical recorder in the form of a fish with legs and arms.


    Tavalor turned to the spinning shrub. ''Luneth, what exactly were you trying to accomplish?''


    ''A [Comprehension Pill]!'' the plant wailed. ''Something to enhance magical understanding. I must have mixed up the essence of echo lily with reflexive mandrake!''


    The fish-man suddenly darted past us, moving with surprising speed on its stubby legs. ''Haha! I''ve done it!'' it shouted again, racing toward the garden gate.


    ''Stop it!'' Luneth cried. ''That thing will just repeat everything it hears!''


    But it was too late. The fish-man squeezed through the gate and disappeared into the streets of Vallenport.


    Little Shadow and Tavalor exchanged a glance, amusement apparent even in the shadow creature''s featureless visage.


    ''Should we go after it?'' Tavalor asked, already knowing the answer.


    Little Shadow chirped negatively, settling back onto his shoulder.


    ''You''re right,'' Tavalor agreed. ''Could be entertaining.''Heturned back to the animated shrub. ''Now, let''s see about getting you out of there, shall we?''


    ***


    Meanwhile, the fishman darted through the morning market, its stubby legs carrying it with remarkable speed. It paused behind a stall where two merchants were engaged in hushed conversation.


    ''Did you hear about the Duke, Lorenzo?'' the merchant whispered to his companion. ''They say he''s been embezzling from the royal treasury for years. Build that summer home in the mountains with stolen gold!''


    The fish-man''s eyes widened. ''Did you hear about the Duke?'' it repeated loudly, perfectly mimicking the merchant''s conspiratorial tone. ''They say he''s been embezzling from the royal treasury for years. Built that summer home with stolen gold!''


    The merchant whirled around, face pale. ''Who said that?''


    His eyes landed on the fish-man, mouth still moving. ''Catch that fish!'' he shouted, lunging forward.


    The fish-man darted away, racing past another pair of merchants.


    ''And I Kavar, am the one who scammed him,'' the second merchant was saying with a chuckle. ''He''ll never know it was me who switched those gemstones.''


    The fish-man slowed just enough to absorb this information before continuing its sprint. ''And I Kavar, am the one who scammed him! He''ll never know it was me who switched those gemstones!''


    The second merchant''s face drained of colour. ''Who was that?'' he gasped, rushing outside to see the fish-man disappearing around a corner.


    As it ran, the fish-man began to demonstrate a fascinating evolution. Its recording capabilities were expanding. What had started as simple mimicry was developing into a more complex pattern. Now it was storing sentences, repeating them one after another in the exact order and tone it had heard them.


    ''Did you hear about the Duke, Lorenzo? They say he''s been embezzling from the royal treasury for years. Built that summer home with stolen gold! And I Kavar, am the one who scammed him! He''ll never know it was me who switched those gemstones!''


    A crowd began to form, drawn by the bizarre sight of a talking fish and the even more enticing prospect of fresh gossip. The fish-man raced through the Noble District, its repertoire growing with each overheard conversation.


    ''Lady Penworth is having an affair with her gardener!''


    ''The wine merchant is watering down his stock!''


    ''I''ve been falsifying tax records for three years now!''


    By the time it reached the Scholars'' Quarter, a substantial mob was in pursuit. The fish-man darted between the legs of surprised academics, picking up snippets about plagiarised research and falsified experimental results.


    With each new revelation, more people joined the chase, some desperate to silence the creature, others simply curious about what scandalous information it might reveal next.


    Vallenport, usually so orderly and composed, was descending into chaos¡ªall because of a magically enhanced, talking fish with legs.


    ***


    Tavalor returned to Luneth''s room later that day, having successfully extracted her from the ornamental shrub. Her laboratory was its usual disaster¡ªvials bubbling with questionable substances, scrolls scattered across every surface, and a caged bird that seemed to be slowly turning transparent.


    Luneth looked up from her workbench, her glasses sparkling with that manic gleam that always preceded either a breakthrough or an explosion. Usually the latter.


    ''I''ve done it!'' she exclaimed, holding up a small, glowing pill. ''The comprehension enhancement worked! Also,'' she added casually, ''I launched a talking fish.''


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Tavalor raised an eyebrow. ''I noticed.''


    She ignored his dry tone, too excited about her success. ''Watch this!'' She plucked a seed from a nearby jar and swallowed the pill herself. Almost immediately, her eyes widened. ''I understand now! The resonance frequencies of magical matrices are directly proportional to their etheric vibration patterns!''


    She grabbed one of the caged birds and fed it a different pill. The poor creature made a distressed squawk before suddenly... exploding. Not violently, but rather, it burst into a fine white mist that settled over all the other birds in their cages.


    One by one, each bird turned completely white.


    ''Hm,'' Luneth said, adjusting her glasses. ''That wasn''t supposed to happen.''


    Tavalor stared at the newly monochromatic aviary. ''You don''t say.''


    ''But the comprehension pill worked!'' she insisted, holding up another one. ''Want to try?''


    ''I think I''ll pass,'' Tavalor replied, edging toward the door. ''By the way, your fish is causing quite a stir in the city.''


    Luneth waved a dismissive hand. ''It can''t do any real harm. It''ll just keep repeating things until someone catches it.''


    ''That''s precisely the problem,'' Tavalor pointed out. ''It''s repeating everything it hears. Including secrets people would prefer to keep... well, secret.''


    Luneth blinked, the implications slowly dawning on her. ''Oh.''


    ''Oh indeed,'' Tavalor echoed.


    ***


    The Gilded Hearth was unusually crowded. Tavalor had arrived a bit later than usual because of the fishman. He managed to claim his usual window seat, but the caf¨¦ was buzzing with excited chatter, centred around one topic: the talking fish.


    Brenna brought Tavalor''s usual¡ªblue Calming Brew and a starfruit muffin¡ªwith a knowing smile. ''Quite the commotion out there today,'' she remarked.


    Tavalor slipped his brew, feigning ignorance. ''Oh?''


    ''A fish with legs, repeating everyone''s secrets,'' she said, eyes twinkling. ''Half the city''s in an uproar. The other half''s laughing themselves silly.''


    Through the window, Tavalor could see people running in the street, shouting and pointing. Curiosity got the better of me. Tavalor discreetly cast [Dragon''s Eye], projecting his magical vision out to follow the chaos.


    The fishman had gained quite a following. It now moved with the speed and agaility of an [A-Class] creature, effortlessly evading its pursuers. Little Shadow had taken an interest. He had slipped away to follow the commotion up close, darting between shadows to stay hidden while enjoying the spectacle.


    The Adventurers Guild had officially issued a mission to capture the fish, with a substantial reward attached. This transformed the chase into a competitive event, with adventurers of all ranks joining the pursuit.


    Tavalor even recognised a familiar face. Mara from the Iron Tides. She was among them, cursing colourfully as the fish-man slipped through her grasp, leaving her with nothing but a handful of scales and a tirade of embarrassing secrets it had collected from the Noble Quarter.


    ''The Minister''s son is actually the stable boy''s child!''


    ''I''ve been selling fake healing potions for ten years!''


    ''The Duke''s magical sword is just a cheap enchantment from the market district!''


    Each revelation caused gasps and outrage, fuelling the growing chaos. The fish-man seemed to take perverse delight in its role, deliberately pausing near groups of people to deliver its accumulated gossip before darting away again.


    City guards had joined the chase now, their discipline failing as the fish-man repeated their private comments about superiors and confessions of bribe-taking.


    Tavalor chuckled into his brew, extending his [Dragon''s Eye] to follow the unfolding drama. The fish-man was leading its pursuers on a merry chase through the Grand Canal, occasionally diving into the water only to emerge elsewhere, its repertoire of secrets growing with each encounter.


    It was, Tavalor had to admit, the most entertainment Vallenport had seen for a while.


    ***


    A thunderous explosion shook the manor, rattling windows and sending Little Shadow into a defensive posture. Tavalor didn''t flinch. It was the third such blast today.


    Tavalor was in the garden, idly playing catch with a fireball for Little Shadow''s amusement when Luneth emerged from her smoke-filled chamber, coughing and waving her hand in front of her face.


    ''What''s going on with all the noise in the city?'' she asked, apparently oblivious to the irony of her question while standing amidst the aftermath of her latest explosion.


    ''You did that,'' Tavalor replied, catching the fireball and extinguishing it with a closed fist.


    Luneth blinked. ''I did that? No.''


    ''I don''t think you''re meant for pill refinement,'' Tavalor observed mildly.


    ''No, I can''t stop,'' she insisted, her expression hardening with determination. ''It''s for my family honour.''


    ''What about this situation?'' Tavalor gestured vaguely toward the city, where the sounds of the ongoing fish-chase could still be heard.


    Luneth shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. ''Nobody''s gonna know.''


    Tavalor couldn''t help but laugh at her audacity.


    After a moment, Luneth joined in, her earlier frustration forgotten.


    Our laughter was interrupted by a familiar echoing voice approaching the manor gates. The fish-man had apparently decided to return to its place of origin.


    ''The Guildmaster has three mistresses in three different districts!''


    ''The Temple Priestess can''t actually perform healing magic!''


    ''I''m the one who stole the royal sceptre during last year''s ceremony!''


    Tavalor sighed, rising to his feet. This had gone on long enough. Tavalor focused his will, extending [Intimidation] like a barrier around the manor''s perimeter. Not to frighten, but to redirect¡ªto make anyone approaching suddenly remember urgent business elsewhere.


    Tavalor had got a lot better at using [Intimidation]. In fact, Tavalor had gotten a lot better at using his original abilities. He had in fact stopped bothering to master the six skill slots and their limitations.


    Ever since Tavalor had seen the Watchers net, he had realised it was a trap.


    There was a problem with those skills. Nobody would limit the skills in that way without there being a catch.


    His original draconic skills were better. The only limit to how he could use them was his imagination.


    [Intimidation] had come in handy a lot recently. It was a skill that was an application of aura to force someone to submit. But if you could make them submit, then you could make them do anything.


    It was like Haki in one piece, or the force. If someone was weaker than you, you could [Intimidation] them into following orders.


    Or in this case. Using [Intimidation] like a shield to deflect them away from his mansion.


    The fish-man collided with the invisible barrier and bounced back, confused. It tried again, only to be deflected once more. After several attempts, it gave up and raced away, its voice fading as it resumed its circuit of the city.


    Peace returned to the garden, the distant sounds of chaos nothing but a faint murmur beyond his barrier. Little Shadow settled contentedly on a nearby rock, enjoying the tranquillity.


    As Tavalor sat there, eyes closed in relaxation, he sensed movement above. Opening one eye, he observed a figure flying overhead¡ªan uncommon but not unheard-of sight in a city of mages. However, something unusual happened. The flyer suddenly faltered, as if disoriented, and began to descend rapidly.


    With a startled cry, they crashed through the upper branches of a tree and landed with a thud on the soft grass nearby.


    The flyer¡ªa young elf in light armour¡ªstruggled to her feet, looking utterly bewildered. She turned in a circle, blinking rapidly.


    ''Where am I?'' she muttered. ''I could have sworn there was a manor here, but...''


    She walked right past me, seemingly unable to see me or the manor despite standing in its garden. Tavalor''s [Intimidation] was working too well¡ªcompelling her not only to ignore the place but to literally be unable to perceive it.


    The elf wandered in frustrated circles, occasionally bumping into objects she couldn''t see, completely lost. For nearly half an hour, she fumbled about, growing increasingly distressed as his attempts to leave resulted in her walking in circles.


    Finally, taking pity on her, Tavalor eased the [Intimidation] effect.


    The elf froze as the manor and its occupants suddenly materialised before his eyes. Her blinked rapidly, her hand moving to the hilt of his sword.


    ''Peace,'' I said calmly. ''You''re in no danger here.''


    The elf relaxed slightly, though wariness remained in her eyes, I realised. The armour had concealed her features, but her face was delicate and distinctly elven.


    ''My apologies for the intrusion,'' she said formally, giving a slight bow. ''I seem to have become disoriented during my flight.''


    Recognition dawned on him. This was the elven commanderTavalorhad observed through [Dragon''s Eye] several weeks ago, leading her squad against the Chitari invaders in the ocean.


    She introduced herself: ''Captain Lyrawyn of the Silverwing Division,'' straightening.


    After several moments of small talk she told me about herself and her mission: ''I am¡ªwas¡ªat the peak of [C-Class] after several hundred years of cultivation. Young for an elf,'' she added with a hint of pride.


    ''I was left behind while my team returned to continue the campaign against the Chitari,'' she continued. ''I came seeking the one who saved me¡ªthere are rumours of an [S-Class] who intervened in a battle. I wish to offer my thanks.''


    Tavalor was surprised. Did someone figure out who I was? Or did she get lucky?


    She carried herself with quiet dignity, her weathered armour telling the story of countless battles. Despite her relative youth by elven standards, her eyes held the weight of experience.


    Tavalor asked the obvious questions: ''The elves are safe and sound on the Western Continent. The Chitari have no way to get to you. Why involve yourself in this battle at all?''


    ''My master taught me that it is the duty of the strong to defend the weak,'' she said, a passionate certainty in her voice. ''The blood of elves has been shed to protect this realm for all time. As long as we elves live, we shall not let the Chitari occupy the southern continent, or any enemy occupy this realm.''


    Tavalor studied her intrigued by her conviction.


    Was it the duty of the strong to defend the weak? Tavalor didn''t necessarily agree, but Tavalor respected those who lived by such beliefs.


    She reminded Tavalor of the firefighters, police officers, and soldiers from Earth¡ªdedicated to a cause greater than themselves.


    It was strange to encounter such selflessness in a world that often operated by the principle of the strong devouring weak.


    ''Do you know anything about the [S-Class]?'' she asked eagerly.


    Tavalor shook his head. ''No, I wasn''t there.''


    She frowned, confusion crossing her features. ''Strange. I was certain...''


    With a subtle application of [Intimidation], I guided her memories away from any connection to me. Her expression cleared, and she nodded slowly.


    ''I must have been mistaken,'' she murmured.


    She rested briefly, recovering her Mana. Before departing, she presented me with a small scroll.


    ''A token of gratitude for your hospitality,'' she said. ''An elven cultivation technique¡ª[Minor Healing]. It may serve you well.''


    Tavalor eyebrows lifted up in surprise. He didn''t bother to ask why. Somehow she knows. He thought to himself.


    She rose to leave, her eyes bright with anticipation. ''I must hurry. The tide is turning against the Chitari. The combined forces of the elves and the southern continent have pushed them back significantly. I fear the war might end before I return!''


    With a formal bow, she launched herself skyward, her form dwindling against the afternoon sun.


    Tavalor watcher her go.


    The scroll [Minor Healing] sat heavy in his hands.


    The elves were interesting. Protectors willing to risk everything for those who couldn¡¯t defend themselves. An kind hearted philosophy in the world of cultivation and power-seeking.


    He sat back in his chair, enjoying the afternoon sun. He was glad they existed though. Better them than me.

 Chapter 26 - I Went to the Southern Continent Battlefield

    The darkness of the bedroom was absolute, the heavy curtains blocking out even the faintest hint of morning light. Tavalor lay motionless in his bed, eyes closed but consciousness stirring. The sheets were tangled around his legs, evidence of a restless night. His mind, however, had never been clearer.


    He had been woken up by Little Shadow.


    Little Shadow, now the size of a small raven, perched on the ornate headboard above Tavalor. Its violet eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, watchful and patient as its master processed the revelation.


    ''You''re certain?'' Tavalor asked, not bothering to open his eyes.


    Little Shadow chirped once¡ªaffirmative. In the weeks since its hatching, the shadow creature had developed its own form of communication: chirps, hums, and occasionally projecting simple images directly into Tavalor''s mind.


    ''The Watchers are regrouping.'' Tavalor''s voice was flat, a statement rather than a question.


    Another chirp.


    Tavalor sighed and sat up. With a casual gesture, he lit the bedside lamp with a tiny flame that danced from his fingertip. The room illuminated instantly, revealing the elegant furnishings of the master bedroom in his manor. Dark wood panelling, plush carpets, and tasteful artwork gave the space a refined atmosphere belying its owner''s true nature.


    Little Shadow fluttered down to land on Tavalor''s shoulder, its insubstantial form cool against his skin. The creature had grown not just in size but in intelligence and power since consuming the chimeras aboard the Miragos flagship. What had once been a tiny, curious shadow was now a formidable entity in its own right, capable of reconnaissance missions that spanned continents.


    And what it had discovered during its latest excursion was troubling.


    The Watchers¡ªthose otherworldly beings who had restructured magic itself, who had imprisoned the world in circles of rigid spells¡ªhad taken notice of Tavalor. The confrontation in Vallen''s dungeon had been merely the opening move in a game that had been dormant for millennia.


    ''How many?'' Tavalor asked.


    Little Shadow projected an image into his mind: seven golden figures, each distinct in form but unified in purpose, gathered around a construct of pure light. Unlike the aspect Tavalor had faced beneath Vallenport, these were not fragments but full manifestations of Watcher power.


    ''And their target?''


    Another image: Vallenport, viewed from above, with a golden light centred precisely on Tavalor''s manor.


    Tavalor stood, stretching muscles that didn''t actually require it¡ªa lingering habit from his human life.


    He moved to the window and drew back the heavy curtains, revealing the pre-dawn glow over Vallenport''s canals. The city was still mostly asleep, only the occasional lantern-light of early risers or late revellers dotting the mist-covered waterways.


    ''This is to be expected,'' Tavalor mused, more to himself than to Little Shadow. ''They won''t tolerate an anomaly like me for long.''


    Little Shadow chirped questioningly, hopping from Tavalor''s shoulder to the windowsill.


    ''No, we''re not running,'' Tavalor replied, correctly interpreting the creature''s query. ''I''ve only just gotten comfortable here.''


    Indeed, in the months since his emergence from the Dragon Sanctuary, Tavalor had established an almost peaceful routine. Breakfast at the Gilded Hearth each morning. Occasional visits to the Ember''s Edge for dinner. Magical training with Emberfist. Endless comical alchemy mishaps with Luneth. His regular seat by the window at the Gilded Hearth had become so established that other patrons avoided it even when he wasn''t present.


    For someone who was reborn from the grind of a salaryman, these simple comforts were precious.


    ''They''ll have to try harder than that if they want to drive me out,'' Tavalor said, a hint of the dragon''s arrogance creeping into his voice.


    Little Shadow emitted a sound that resembled laughter¡ªa dry, rustling noise like leaves skittering across stone. The creature had absorbed not just power but personality from the beasts it consumed, developing a distinct character that was both loyal to Tavalor and increasingly independent.


    ''What''s so funny?'' Tavalor asked, his expression softening with amusement.


    Little Shadow projected another image: Tavalor, surrounded by shattered golden fragments, standing over the broken form of the Watcher beneath Vallenport. The message was clear¡ªLittle Shadow had confidence in its master''s strength.


    ''It won''t be that simple next time,'' Tavalor cautioned. ''That was just one aspect. The full might of the Watchers is something else entirely.''


    Even as he said it, Tavalor felt a familiar tingle in his veins¡ªnot fear, but anticipation. His draconic nature craved challenge, relished the prospect of testing itself against worthy opponents. The Watchers had rewritten the rules of magic itself; facing them would be a true measure of his capabilities. He still didn''t know how powerful he was.


    But first, breakfast.


    Some habits were too pleasant to disrupt, even with cosmic beings plotting one''s downfall.


    ''Come on,'' Tavalor said to Little Shadow. ''Let''s get ready.''


    Little Shadow chirped eagerly and fluttered after Tavalor as he headed toward the washroom.


    ***


    The Gilded Hearth was nearly empty when Tavalor arrived, the early morning hour ensuring a peaceful atmosphere. Mist still clung to the canals outside, giving the caf¨¦ a dreamlike quality as light filtered through the windows. The enchanted hearth at the centre crackled with a cheerful blue flame, dispelling the morning chill.


    Brenna looked up from arranging a display of pastries, her eyes brightening upon seeing him. ''Lord Tavalor! Right on time as always.''


    Tavalor nodded in greeting as he settled into his usual window seat. Little Shadow, now resembling an ordinary raven to avoid alarming the other patrons, perched on the back of the opposite chair. Little Shadow crowed arrogantly at Soot, Brenna''s cat half asleep at the hearth.


    ''The usual?'' Brenna asked, already reaching for a cup.


    ''Please,'' Tavalor replied.


    Within moments, she returned with his order¡ªa steaming mug of blue Calming Brew and a starfruit muffin, its top glistening with crystallised honey. The routine was comforting, a small anchor in a world that seemed increasingly chaotic.


    As Tavalor took his first sip, savouring the harmonious blend of spiced caramel and soothing vanilla, the caf¨¦ door swung open with a soft chime. Emberfist strode in, her fiery hair catching the morning light, her wine-red cloak billowing behind her with an energy that seemed to electrify the quiet atmosphere.


    ''There you are,'' she said, dropping into the chair across from Tavalor without waiting for an invitation. ''I''ve been looking everywhere.''


    Little Shadow gave an indignant chirp, ruffling its feathers at being displaced. It fluttered to Tavalor''s shoulder, maintaining a wary distance from Emberfist, with whom it had developed a playful rivalry.


    ''Good morning to you too,'' Tavalor said dryly, taking another sip of his brew.


    Emberfist waved impatiently, her gauntlets glinting in the firelight. ''Have you heard? The whole city''s talking about it.''


    Tavalor raised an eyebrow. ''Heard what?''


    ''The talking fish,'' Emberfist said, as if this explained everything.


    ''The... talking fish,'' Tavalor repeated slowly. Tavalor glanced at Little Shadow out of the corner of his eye. Little Shadow, looked at everywhere but Tavalor.


    Tavalor smiled then blinked, momentarily forgetting the looming Watcher threat. ''A fish. That talks.''


    ''And sings, and spreads vulgar gossip apparently,'' Emberfist added. ''Though the harbour master says its musical talents are even more offensive than its vocabulary.''


    Little Shadow chirped with what sounded suspiciously like amusement.


    ''I fail to see how this concerns me,'' Tavalor said, taking a bite of his muffin. It was perfect as always, the sweet starfruit complementing the buttery texture.


    Emberfist leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ''The Mages Guild thinks it might be connected to that surge of wild magic after the dungeon collapsed. They''ve been tracking magical anomalies across the city, and this is the most bizarre one yet. Also there¡¯s a big reward from the Adventurers Guild, there''s a rumour it''s [A-Class]''


    Good. Tavalor thought to himself. The trail leads away from us.


    ''Where was it last seen?''


    ''The Silver Canal, near the Merchant''s Bridge. The City Watch has boats patrolling the area, but they can''t exactly arrest a fish.'' Emberfist''s eyes gleamed with mischief. ''I thought we might take a look ourselves. Could be entertaining, at the very least.''


    ''I''ll pass,'' Tavalor said with a smile.


    ''Boring,'' Emberfist replied. She crossed her hands, a bit cross. ''I''ll go later by myself. I''ll order something while we wait. Unlike some people, I haven''t had the luxury of a leisurely morning.''


    As she signalled to Brenna, Tavalor noticed the slight shadows under Emberfist''s eyes, the tension in her shoulders. She''d been training harder lately, pushing her limits in ways that would have broken lesser mages.


    Ever since the Miragos incident, she seemed determined to close the vast power gap between them¡ªan impossible task, but one she pursued with characteristic stubbornness.


    Brenna brought over a plate of honey-glazed pastries and a steaming mug of Emberfist''s preferred brew¡ªSpiced Ember, a concoction that shifted between shades of red and orange as it caught the light.


    ''So,'' Emberfist said, tearing into a pastry with enthusiastic hunger, ''why do you like to eat so much?''


    The question caught Tavalor off guard. ''What do you mean?''


    ''You don''t need to eat, do you?'' Emberfist''s gaze was shrewd. ''Your cultivation level is far beyond needing physical sustenance. Yet every morning, like clockwork, you''re here having breakfast.''


    Tavalor paused, surprised by her perceptiveness. It was true¡ªhis draconic nature sustained him without the need for food. His meals were purely for pleasure, a luxury rather than a necessity.


    His mind drifted back to his life on Earth, to the monotonous routine that had defined his existence. The same boring day every day. The same breakfast every day, the same lunch, the same dinner. Day after day, year after year. None of it had been about enjoyment¡ªmerely about sustenance, about maintaining the biological machine that carried him through his meaningless existence.


    But here, in this new world, with his new form and his new freedom, everything was different. Each meal was an exploration, a sensory adventure, a small celebration of being alive.


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    ''I enjoy it,'' he said simply.


    Emberfist''s expression fell slightly, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features.


    ''Did I give you the wrong answer?'' Tavalor asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ''What were you expecting?''


    ''No... nothing,'' Emberfist said, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. She took a hasty sip of her brew, averting her gaze.


    Tavalor''s smile widened. He guessed. Emberfist was a chronic romance book reader after all. She had probably been hoping for something more dramatic¡ªa tragic romantic backstory, perhaps, or some profound philosophical observation. The simple truth of enjoyment seemed anticlimactic by comparison.


    ''Sometimes,'' Tavalor said gently, ''enjoyment is reason enough.''


    Emberfist nodded, her embarrassment fading. ''I suppose it is.''


    Emberfist scarfed down the rest of her breakfast and left quickly, chasing down entertainment with the fish. Tavalor sat and enjoyed his breakfast with Little Shadow.


    An interruption: A newspaper boy was darting through the streets, waving copies of the Vallenport Chronicle with unusual urgency.


    ''Extra, extra! Read all about it! Southern Continent at risk! Death of an A-Class Expert! Jade Court family faces extinction!''


    Tavalor''s brow furrowed. He stepped back outside, hailing the boy with a raised hand. The lad skidded to a stop, thrusting a paper forward eagerly.


    ''Fresh off the press, m''lord! Two silver!''


    Tavalor paid without comment, his eyes already scanning the headlines.


    He sat back down at his table. The Vallenport Chronicle''s latest edition read:


    SOUTHERN CONTINENT LOST?


    Beneath it, smaller but no less alarming:


    Death of an A-Class Expert Turns Tide of War


    Tavalor frowned as he read the article, the usual pleasure of his morning routine diminished by the troubling news. According to the report, the Jade Court¡ªone of the most powerful factions of the Eastern Continent¡ªhad lost a high-ranking A-Class expert in a devastating ambush. The nobleman had sacrificed himself to allow his forces to retreat, but the damage was done. The Chitari, insectoid invaders who had been gradually pushed back to the edges of the Southern Continent, had suddenly gained the upper hand.


    More concerning was the mention of an alliance between the Chitari and the beast hordes of the Northern Continent. Such a partnership was unprecedented and suggested a level of coordination that bordered on the suspicious.


    The Northern Continent was vast but sparsely populated, its territories divided between three main powers: the Imperium Solara, their splinter faction (whose name was conspicuously absent from the article), and the Beast Lords. Rumour held that the Beast Lords were led by an [S-Class] beast cultivator who commanded thousands of [A-Class] beast warriors.


    The article noted that the Jade Court Elder, Lord Feng, had been among the oldest human cultivators alive, with only the ancient elves possessing longer lifespan. His death had sent shockwaves through the power structures of multiple continents, with emperors and elven councils alike calling for vengeance.


    Tavalor frowned.


    If the major forces efforts didn''t reverse this situation within a week, he might need to interfere personally. The last thing this world needed was a full-scale war between continents, especially if [S-Class] powers became involved.


    Around him, the caf¨¦ buzzed with worried conversations, patrons discussing the implications with varying degrees of understanding.


    ''We have to have revenge!'' declared a merchant at a nearby table, pounding his fist for emphasis. ''Lord Feng was one of our oldest allies.''


    ''It''s those beasts from the North,'' his companion replied grimly. ''How dare they ally with the Chitari invaders? They''ve always stayed neutral before.''


    Tavalor took a sip of his Calming Brew, the soothing blend doing little to settle his thoughts.


    It was strange for the Beast Lord to ally with anybody. If such a power had truly entered the conflict, the balance had shifted dramatically.


    He activated his [Dragon''s Eye].


    Images flickered through his mind: battlefields strewn with the bodies of humans and chitinous insectoids alike; fortifications crumbling under the combined assault of Chitari swarms and massive beasts; refugee caravans streaming toward the last strongholds on the continent.


    It was worse than the Chronicle had reported. The allied forces¡ªhumans from various factions, elves, and even some dwarven contingents¡ªwere in full retreat, abandoning strongholds they had held for decades.


    A shadow fell across his table, interrupting his distant observation. D. Crestfall stood there, his wrinkled gnomish features arranged in an expression of carefully controlled concern.


    ''I wondered if I''d find you here,'' the gnome said, settling into the chair opposite Tavalor without waiting for an invitation. Little Shadow, perched on Tavalor''s shoulder, ruffled its feathery form in greeting¡ªit had developed an unexpected fondness for the Vice-Guildmaster.


    ''Is this a social call, or does the Adventurers Guild have business with me?'' Tavalor asked, folding the newspaper and setting it aside.


    Crestfall glanced at the headline, then back at Tavalor. ''A bit of both, I''m afraid. Vallenport has received an invitation¡ªor perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a summons.''


    ''Let me guess,'' Tavalor said dryly. ''They want us to participate in this war.''


    Crestfall nodded.


    They are indirectly involving me. Tavalor thought to himself.


    Tavalor''s expression remained neutral, though inwardly he was not surprised. Word of his destruction of Miragos had spread, albeit in distorted form.


    Most believed it had been a meteor strike, but those with enough power and connections would have discerned the truth¡ªor at least enough of it to know that Vallenport now sheltered an [S-Class] entity.


    ''This is serious,'' Tavalor mused aloud, more to himself than to Crestfall. ''What exactly has happened? The newspaper is vague on details.''


    Crestfall leaned forward, casting a spell to ensure silence, and his voice also dropping to ensure privacy despite the busy caf¨¦. ''The Chitari and the beasts joined forces, launching a coordinated attack that caught the Jade Court forces by surprise. The Jade Court nobleman¡ªLord Feng, an [A-Class] expert with centuries of battle experience¡ªsacrificed himself to allow the majority of his forces to escape.''


    ''And the other factions?'' Tavalor prompted.


    ''All suffering heavy losses,'' Crestfall continued grimly. ''The Imperium Solara had to bear the brunt of the counterattack,'' he continued. ''They suffered heavy casualties. Two of their A-classes were besieged, both injured. After that, the elves suffered injury. So did the forces of the Western continent.''


    ''Because of the beasts, everything has been turned around,'' Crestfall explained, his voice tight with frustration. ''All of the forces, from the East, West, North have all suffered. They had no choice but to retreat. They can no longer do it on their own. They can only ask for help from other major forces.''


    ''So they''ve been driven back to...''


    ''The capital of the Obsidian Caliphate,'' Crestfall confirmed.


    Tavalor raised an eyebrow. ''With such a defeat, it''s sure that the southern continent would fall?''


    Crestfall nodded grimly. ''Nobody wants to send out their [S-Class] forces, leaving them exposed to other enemies. Even though nobody knows, the major forces have been around for so long that it''s certain they have [S-class] forces to fight.''


    Nobody knows, you fraud. You obviously know, you are an [S-Class] yourself Crestfall. Thought Tavalor.


    The size of the realm was vast¡ªtwenty to fifty times that of Earth. This place had many names, but it was most commonly known as Gemworld. It earned this name because, every time a primordial gem or gem of any sort surfaced, the world changed. The major forces were able to be major forces because they had a gem, controlled a gem-like tool, or had an [S-class] holding down the fort.


    Little Shadow perched on his shoulder, as he listened to Crestfall''s explanation of the current crisis. The gnome''s face was unusually grave, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by genuine concern.


    ''Vallenport would be next in the line of fire,'' Crestfall added, fixing Tavalor with a meaningful look. ''Which is why they''re indirectly inviting you out.''


    Tavalor''s expression darkened as he confirmed his earlier speculation. ''They''re using me as a shield and wearing me down deliberately. All under the guise of being the hero and protecting the land.''


    Little Shadow chirped indignantly, as if it understood the manipulation at play. Tavalor absently stroked the shadowy creature.


    He came to a decision in his mind.


    ''Leave it to me,'' Tavalor said to Crestfall, his voice calm despite his annoyance.


    Crestfall studied him for a moment. ''When are you going?''


    ''Now,'' Tavalor replied, rising to his feet. ''I''d like to get back quickly.''


    He closed his eyes briefly, activating [Dragon''s Eye]. Confirming the location he was heading out to.


    Little Shadow perked up as Tavalor turned to address it. ''We have to go.''


    The creature chirped excitedly, rising into the air and circling Tavalor''s head like a restless spirit.


    Tavalor walked out of the Gilded Hearth and stepped up into the clouds via [Dragon Flight], using [Intimidation] to hide his true form. He pulled out the Sky-breaker from his system space¡ªthe airship he had confiscated from Miragos, now modified and enhanced with his own power.


    Major groups throughout Vallenport noticed the massive ship materialising in the sky. Citizens pointed upward, the recent memories of Miragos and its destruction still fresh in their minds. But this time, there was no fear¡ªonly awe as the ship took off to the south, its enchanted engines humming with power.


    Crestfall stood on the highest tower of the Adventurers Guild, watching the Sky-breaker until it was merely a speck on the horizon. ''May the old gods go with you,'' he whispered, a blessing from an age long past. Then, more quietly still: ''You''ll need them.''


    ***


    Several thousand kilometres away, the war between the forces of Gemworld, the Chitari and the Beasts was in full swing. The major factions had suffered heavy losses. With help from smaller clans and unaffiliated cultivators, they were still battling, even though they were on the verge of defeat.


    Dressed in purple, a Jade Court cultivator fought desperately, using his ceremonial whisk to keep killing beasts charging him. No matter how many died, more kept attacking. It was a battle of attrition that they were slowly losing.


    ''I never expected them to ally with the beasts,'' said a voice beside him. The female elf captain, Captain Lyrawyn of the Silverwing Division, Tavalor''s visitor, had caught up with her team, her silver armour stained with dark blood and ichor.


    The elf captain had thought that with the strength of the major forces, they would have been able to easily defeat the Chitari. But no matter how they fought, several figures on the Gemworld''s side would die every bell.


    It was a pure battle of attrition, and they were on the losing side.


    A huge beast, a tiger launched a sneak attack on a cultivator. He screamed in fear. But he was rescued. A figure appeared¡ªa beautiful woman from the Jade Court. Despite the chaos, she moved with grace and purpose, rescuing a wounded soldier from near death with a flash of magic.


    ''Be careful, senior sister,'' called out a Jade Court teammate. ''Don''t tire yourself out. This is a battlefield. Conserve your energy.''


    The Jade Court beauty shook her head, her determination unwavering. ''No. What''s the point of being strong if you can''t defend the weak?''


    The female elf captain recognised the woman and called out her name in surprise: ''Lady Feng.'' She was a famous beauty and a powerful cultivator from the Jade Court.


    The Jade Court had suffered the most in this conflict. Even if they could eventually defeat the Chitari, the Jade Court was no longer the number one force among the humans. It had fallen to third place, perhaps worse.


    The death of the Jade nobleman had inflamed the hearts of all of the Jade Court warriors. They attacked relentlessly, seeking revenge at any cost.


    Lady Feng was suddenly beaten back by a powerful beast, a large ferret, its claws raking across her shoulder as she tried to defend another wounded soldier.


    Captain Lyrawyn ran over to help, blocking the beast''s next attack with her blade. ''Are you okay?'' she asked, concern evident in her voice.


    Lady Feng looked up, recognition dawning in her eyes. ''You''re... the Silver Twin,'' she said, naming the elf captain.


    ''Yeah, that''s me, Captain Lyrawyn'' the elf captain confirmed, her blade flashing as she decapitated a charging beast. ''Are you alright?''


    ''I''m fantastic,'' the Jade Court beauty replied, though she was clearly in pain. ''Be careful.''


    Captain Lyrawyn turned and beheaded another beast that had tried to flank them. Up in the clouds, [A-Class] experts battled, their clashes sending shockwaves across the battlefield. The Jade Court beauty was visibly exhausted after the multi-day battle, her robes torn and stained with blood¡ªboth her own and that of her enemies.


    ''You should take a break,'' the elf captain suggested, concern evident in her voice.


    Lady Feng gritted her teeth in pain. ''No. I want revenge for the, Uncle Feng, I mean the Jade Court nobleman. He was my grand-uncle.''


    The battle continued to rage, evenly fought but with a slowly shifting balance. Life and death hung in the balance, with both sides wanting to rip each other to shreds.


    A Jade Court cultivator, trapped by some beasts, chose to self-destruct rather than be captured, taking dozens of enemies with him in a blinding flash of light.


    Seeing this sacrifice, other cultivators were inspired to make similar last stands.


    ''Retreat!'' called a Solaran [A-Class] commander from above, his voice carrying over the din of battle.


    ''Retreat!'' echoed an elven [A-Class] commander.


    ''Retreat!'' The Western Empire''s [A-Class] commander.


    ''Fall back!'' ordered the Jade Court''s [A-Class] commanders.


    A huge beam of light came from the clouds above where the [A-Class] warriors battled. It rocked the battlefield, taking out the front line of the Chitari forces and creating a momentary gap in their lines. The elven captain was picked up by her lieutenant, another elven woman and carried away from the front.


    ''What about Lady Feng?'' Captain Lyrawyn asked, struggling to look back.


    The lieutenant gave a grim laugh. ''She''s the hope of her family. You don''t have to worry. Someone will take care of it.''


    The elven captain looked over and saw that indeed, someone had come to take the Jade Court beauty away from the chaos.


    The cultivators with quick instincts all started running away as the retreat was sounded. What had been a battle became a one-sided slaughter. The humans were losing badly. The beasts and Chitari kept pressing their advantage.


    The explosion had created a brief gap, and most were able to escape. But twenty percent weren''t able to make it out in time.


    ''There are too many high-level experts from the beasts and those bloody insects,'' said a random cultivator, wiping blood and insect guts from his face. ''If it wasn''t for the [A-Class]es creating the opening, we would have died out there.''


    Suddenly, the clouds above the battlefield cleared, and a huge shadow covered the battlefield. It was a giant whale¡ªan [A-Class] beast from the north, a divine bloodline creature known as the Great Whale.


    All the people on the battlefield were shocked.


    They understood why the retreat had been called. This beast was the closest beast to reaching [S-Class] from the Beast Clan. It was also super powerful and super durable. An unkillable tank.


    The giant whale attacked spitting out a giant beam of black water towards the human side. From the sky, flames blocked the whale''s water, creating a massive cloud of steam that briefly obscured the battlefield.


    ''It''s the Great Whale. Run!''


    Running was impossible. The weaker cultivators turned pale with fright. Facing a peak [A-Class] beast, they could only await death.


    Captain Lyrawyn was in despair. ''Are we doomed? Is this the end?'' she whispered, clutching her wounded side. Leaving the battlefield with her lieutenant.


    Then she saw a figure walking on the sky towards the Great Whale.


    ''Hey, wait, don''t go there. Run away!'' she screamed towards the figure.


    The figure was tall, with long black hair and distinctive horns protruding from his head. His crimson eyes gleamed with an unnatural light, and his elegant features seemed almost too perfect to be human. He walked across the sky as casually as one might stroll down a garden path, a small raven-like shadow flying at his shoulder.


    ''Wait, haven''t I seen this person somewhere before?'' the female elf captain murmured, trying to place the familiar face.


    Tavalor noticed, looking in surprise at the elf. Then a shadow covered him up, obscuring his features¡ªan effect of [Intimidation] that made it difficult to focus directly on him. But the Great Whale had noticed him now, and was turning its massive bulk to face this new threat.


    The battlefield fell silent as both sides watched, wondering who would dare to challenge the Great Whale alone.