《Cradle (By Will Wight) fanfiction- Honey and Poison - An Elder Whitehall SI》


 Chapter 1. Policing Actions

    Iteration 00645 Earth


    Police actions¡­ That is what those invaders decided to call it. How dare they? As if their assault on innocent lives was merely an exercise in maintaining order. The words dripped with arrogance, a flimsy shield to deflect the weight of their atrocities. They could not bear the responsibility for their own actions. Yet here he was, facing the consequences. His heart was heavier than the body wrapped in white cotton, and he gently lowered it into the earth. His grandson''s small form disappeared beneath the dark soil, each handful a cruel farewell as he said his final goodbyes.


    He stared at the pale white as dirt began to swallow it. His hands trembled, and his knuckles were raw and bloody from digging.


    "Should''ve been me," he whispered, shedding a tear hot with anger and grief.


    A hand rested gently on his shoulder. "Sinar," the man, his best friend Akhan, whispered behind him, having finished helping to bury the child. "We need to go."


    Sinar did not move. "Go where?" his voice broke. "My family is all dead. Our village was reduced to ashes by their flamethrowers. Men, women, and children gunned down like animals." His eyes fixed on the grave, the weight of his loss pressing on his chest.


    "We rejoin the army. We take the fight to them. Make them answer for this," Akhan waved at the grave. "This wasn''t some police action . This was a calculated massacre. This was military aggression!" Akhan seethed as he spat out his words. He took a moment to calm himself. "Let''s get back out there. Just like old times."


    "Akhan," Sinar said, shaking his head. "We''re old now. Our fighting days are behind us."


    "Then we use what little time we have left and die killing them," Akhan replied, gripping the shovel in his hands tightly. "But we need to go. Two men alone in this jungle will be happily gunned down by their patrols."


    Sinar took a moment to stare at the patch of dirt among the grass, strengthening his resolve. "Then let''s go die. Let''s make them bleed even if it''ll cost our two old lives."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    "Forward without fear!" Akhan yelled as Sinar sprung to action, jumping out of the bushes they were hiding. Their target was a convoy of enemy trucks struggling through a rugged, narrow path. The pothole they had created had done its job.


    Sinar darted towards the first soldier he saw with a blade in his hand. The soldier was a young man, barely more than a boy. Raising his rifle too slowly, Sinar''s blade sliced through his arm. The young soldier screamed in anguish.


    "You should''ve never come back, little boy!" Sinar spat before driving his blade through the soldier''s chest. A fleeting thought passed through his mind: somewhere, the boy''s parents would be devastated for their child would not be returning home. But the memories of Sinar''s children and grandchildren, lifeless and wrapped in white cloths, crushed any mercy.


    Before Sinar could turn to face the other soldier, he heard an explosion and instantly knew Akhan had achieved his task. Sinar was thrown away by the force of the blast. He lay still on the ground, awaiting the bullets that would be coming to quicken his death. He and Akhan had achieved their target, contributing to their small part of a bigger goal.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Iteration 110 Cradle


    Current time


    Wei Shi Lindon had died. He had felt the cold grip of finality when he saw his legs lying next to him. And then, impossibly, a messenger from the heavens descended and made him whole again, stitching his body together. Now he had a goal: find the sword sage''s apprentice and leave Sacred Valley to save it. Thirty years. That was all the time he had before the dreadgods would come and destroy Sacred Valley.


    Lindon stood at the centre of the arena. Everyone was silent, and hundreds of eyes fixed on him. Most were filled with scorn and disdain.


    Lindon bowed to the box with representatives of the four schools. "Honored elder of the of the Heaven''s Glory School! This one begs for one more chance to prove himself!"


    The crowd erupted, with hundreds of protests and outrage at what Lindon had requested. Some even laughed at the audacity.


    In the box above, a boy dressed in white and gold stared Lindon down with cold, calculating eyes. The boy stood; he was short, but he stood tall. The arena went silent almost instantly. The elder''s gaze bore into Lindon. A drop of sweat ran down Lindon''s head at the cold eyes staring at him.


    The elder spoke a single word. His voice was as high as a child his age would be, but it carried both strength and experience. "Why?" he asked.


    Lindon swallowed hard. "Wei Jin Amon is to become a disciple of your school. If this one manages to force him out of the ring or make him admit defeat, surely this one has demonstrated his own value. I request a place in your school under these conditions." Lindon spoke out loud nervously.


    The boy elder did not hesitate. "No."


    Lindon''s hopes died with one simple word. He was about to make another plea, but the elder spoke again.


    "I''ll allow you a place in our school," the elder announced, the crowd murmuring in surprise. "But the one you''ll be facing is me ."


    A collective gasp swept through the arena. Lindon silently baulked at what the elder said. His right hand fidgeted on the glass marble in his pocket. Before he could answer, the Wei elder intervened.


    "Forgiveness, Elder Whitehall," the Wei elder stepped forward, his disapproval clear. "This unsouled needs to learn his place. When we return to the village, I''ll discipline him for his transgressions."


    "I do not remember speaking to you, Elder," Elder Whitehall said coldly, his gaze never leaving Lindon.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "I accept," Lindon replied before he could think twice.


    Behind him, he heard his sister, Kelsa, gasp. "Lindon, what are you doing? He''s a Jade!"


    Kelsa continued to speak but Lindon was no longer listening. He stared nervously back at the small elder.


    "Based on how you''re staring at me," the elder said, a faint smile formed at the corner of his lips. "It seems you think you stand a chance."


    Lindon did not.


    "Of course not, Elder Whitehall. This one is simply honoured to have the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn from a powerful Elder like you." Lindon tried to appease the Elder. He did not even need to lie. The fear in his voice was genuine. But this Elder was not so scary when compared to a dreadgod.


    Elder Whitehall did not reply. Instead, he leapt from his platform, landing in the arena in front of Lindon. He stared at Lindon calculatingly and frowned.


    "Defend yourself," the Elder said. And he attacked. Fast.


    Lindon saw the fist coming towards his face and lifted his arms to block. His forearms broke, followed by his nose. Loud gasps of shock came from the crowd. Some were satisfied that the unsouled was put back in his place, while others scoffed that a Jade Elder was beating down an unsouled.


    Elder Whitehall said nothing to the audience as he stood over Lindon. "Do you admit defeat? There is honour in knowing when you are beaten."


    Lindon tried to get up, but his legs were swept under him immediately. With his face lying on the arena floor, he muttered silently. "No," he first said to the Elder. " Be free."


    The emerald hornet remnants shattered their prison underneath the arena. "Attack." As one, the swarm of remnants attacked Elder Whitehall. The Elder, caught by surprise, took a step back. But he was a Jade and recovered quickly. Scorching streaks of light tore through the remnants one by one until none was left.


    Lindon lay on the arena floor with his arms broken and his legs refusing to move. Lindon watched through one eye as the elder approached him and bent down close. Lindon thought he saw a smirk.


    "What''s your name?"


    "Wei Shi Lindon," Lindon answered, attempting to lower his head in respect. But even that sent a spike of pain.


    "Eat," the Elder spoke softly so only he could hear as the Elder placed a hand over Lindon''s mouth.


    Lindon felt a tiny ball cupped in the Elder''s hand and swallowed it. From the outside, it looked like the Elder was silencing Lindon. Lindon felt a spike of madra entering his core before he lost consciousness.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Lindon woke up slowly, blinking his eyes to clear his vision. He expected sharp pain all over his body and was surprised he found none. He tried to move his arms but found them to be tightly wrapped in scripted bandages and in a sling. The sun shone brightly above him. He shuffled slightly, feeling softness underneath him.


    "Good morning, sunshine," a high-pitched voice called out to him.


    Lindon, recognising the voice, immediately sat up and tried to bow. Not realising he was on a thousand-mile cloud, he fell. With his arms tightly bound in a sling, he fell face first. Lindon recovered quickly, ignoring the brief pain, and bowed. "This one greets Elder Whitehall. Please forgive this one for wasting the resources of the Heaven''s Glory school and the precious time of the Elder."


    Sitting on a carpet by a small table, the Elder chuckled and then began to laugh. Lindon, caught on the wrong foot by the Elder''s laughter, simply remained bowing.


    Elder Whitehall continued to laugh for some time before stopping. "You''re a funny boy, Wei Shi Lindon."


    Lindon, still unsure of what to do, bowed deeper.


    "Oh, stand straight, you fool," the Elder ordered.


    Lindon complied immediately.


    Elder Whitehall watched his face. "Damn," the Elder said. "Your face does make you look like someone looking for a fight."


    Lindon was about to bow again and ask for forgiveness, but the Elder waved it away. Elder Whitehall picked up a paper from his desk and began to read. "Wei Shi Lindon, son of Wei Shi Jaran and Wei Shi Seisha, and younger brother of Wei Shi Kelsa. Born an unsouled and tried to cheat his way to a badge several times, it seems."


    Lindon could feel his sweat slowly dripping, and that was not due to the temperature.


    "And yet here you are, a Heaven''s Glory school student."


    Lindon had to take a moment to let the words sink in. "You took me in as a student?" He asked, forgetting all sense of proper decorum when speaking to his betters.


    "Yes, I did," Elder Whitehall replied, placing the paper he held back on the table. "Do you know why disciple?"


    "This one does not dare to claim to understand Elder''s wisdom," Lindon bowed.


    "The Elder commands the disciple to seize bowing," Elder Whitehall said, annoyed.


    Lindon immediately straightened. Feeling very uncomfortable by the height difference, he lowered his head slightly.


    The Elder looked up to meet Lindon''s eyes. "Because you refused to bow to your betters and admit defeat."


    Lindon really did not know whether this was a compliment or a warning. His sweating redoubled.


    "Because you have the mind to find and do whatever it takes to win." The Elder smiled. "Even if it means cheating."


    Lindon''s sweating tripled.


    "But tell me, Lindon," the Elder continued. "What is driving you to these extremes?" The Elder asked curiously. "And don''t lie to me; I''ll be able to tell." Then, the Elder''s face grew severe. "And I hate liars!"


    Lindon was sweating so profusely that he would not fault anyone for thinking he was a water construct. Lindon thought of Suriel, the heavenly messenger. Whatever she saw, she must have known that he could go through this.


    "A heavenly messenger showed me the destruction of Sacred Valley," Lindon muttered quickly before he could begin to overthink and prolong the awkward silence. He told of the coming of Li Markuth, Suriel, how she reversed time, the dreadgods, the monarchs, and what he''ll need to do next to save Sacred Valley. Everything else he kept secret.


    Lindon thought Elder Whitehall would accuse him of being mad or even a liar. Instead, the Elder remained silent as he listened, stopping Lindon occasionally to clarify certain things.


    "Forgiveness if this one''s story is unbelievable. But this one swears he has been telling the truth," Lindon added.


    "Honey and Poison," Elder Whitehall muttered softly, clenching his fists. "And what did the heavenly messenger say you must do now?"


    "I need to leave the valley," Lindon said.


    "Because there you''ll be able to reach gold," Elder Whitehall finished Lindon''s sentence.


    ''Beyond Gold'' was the right answer, but Lindon did not correct the Elder.


    "Here," Elder Whitehall threw a small piece of wood at Lindon. The wooden piece hit Lindon''s chest gently, and Lindon fumbled to catch it. "Bring it to the lesser treasure hall. You can exchange it for an item there."


    "This one is grateful for Elder Whitehall''s benevolence," Lindon bowed.


    Elder Whitehall ignored Lindon, gesturing him to get going.


    Lindon did not move away. He looked left, right, then behind him.


    "Why are you still here?" Elder Whitehall snapped.


    Lindon stood to attention. "Umm, Elder. I don''t know where we are," Lindon nervously said, not even knowing which mountain he was on.


    Elder Whitehall raised his eyebrows. "Oh."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Whitehall faced the tall white tower standing before him in the dead of night. He entered the tower silently, carefully veiling his spirit to remain undetected.


    He counted the steps one at a time as he climbed the spiral staircase up Elder Whisper''s tower. He lost count after the first four hundred. He reached the top of the staircases and faced the door to Elder Whisper''s chambers.


    Whitehall knocked on the door three times before cycling his madra, releasing it lightly against the door lock. The lock spun open, and Whitehall pushed. Elder Whisper lay on the ground on his belly behind the scripts on the floor, watching Whitehall enter.


    "Isn''t this a surprise," Elder Whisper drawled, his voice a low, melodic murmur. "Returning so soon, only a day after leaving the Wei clan territory. Surely, you aren''t here just to visit this old fox?" His purple eyes twinkled, and his tails flicked lazily.


    Whitehall placed a wooden bucket in front of the Elder Whisper. The scent of fresh fish filled the room. "I have questions I felt only you would know the answer to." He gestured towards the bucket of fish. "I brought snacks."


    Elder Whisper chuckled, "You know how to keep an ancient fox entertained after all." The fox reached out and swallowed one of the fish whole. "Go on, I''m listening."


    "How do you reach Gold?" Whitehall asked, his voice carrying a hidden desperation.


    "I see your ambition never faded after all," Elder Whisper said, his sharp eyes narrowing. Whitehall could swear Elder Whisper was smirking. "And here I thought you learned your lessons already? Your body certainly did."


    Whitehall''s jaw tightened. "Yes," Whitehall answered, not bothering to respond to the rest of what Elder Whisper said. "Mistakes were made, mistakes that I intend to correct."


    Whitehall''s lifeline was in shambles, and he could feel it. The sword sage could have helped him, but that path was closed now. But gold, gold would save him. He had read that advancement would always enhance the body.


    "Please," Whitehall bowed at the waist. "Tell me how to reach gold?"


    A soft rustle came from his right. Another Elder Whisper materialised, identical in every way to the first. "And what makes you think I know the answer?" he asked.


    Whitehall did not falter. "You''re older than even the oldest man''s grandfather in Sacred Valley," he answered, still bowing. "If anyone would know, it would be you."


    A third Elder Whisper emerged to his left. "I can tell you one thing," it said.


    The first Elder Whisper, still devouring the fish, turned his gaze upward. "As you are now, you''ll never reach Gold."


    Whitehall grimaced. "I expected that. Tell me what I need to do."


    "Why should I?" The second Elder Whisper sneered, circling Whitehall. "Aren''t you the brightest young talent in this whole valley? The young striker who rose to become the youngest elder of Heaven''s Glory school. The one rumoured to have bested the School''s Patriarch in a spar."


    "Rumours are just rumours," Whitehall replied. "And to answer your first question. Honey and Poison."


    All three Elder Whisper turned their attention to Whitehall, sensing there was more to Whitehall''s words.


    "Elaborate," the first Whisper said. "If I find it interesting," Whisper left it at that.


    Whitehall stood straight and took a deep breath. "It''s a saying from when I was growing up. They say fate always has two hands behind its back; one holds honey, and the other holds poison. We''ll never know which one shall be handed to us. I believe I have been handed the honey so far," Whitehall clenches his fist, and his voice dropped into a whisper. "But the poison is on its way."


    Elder Whisper''s eyes gleamed. He leaned closer, tails flicking. "Interesting indeed."

 Chapter 2. Bastard

    Whitehall left the base of Elder Whisper''s tower in his thousand-mile cloud. The sky was still dark except for the light from Samara''s ring. He was not sure if only a few hours had passed or if it had already been more than a day. Being around Elder Whisper had distorted his sense of time. He hated illusions, but he had learned to respect its power. Elder Whisper had given answers to Whitehall''s questions, albeit infuriatingly vague. That ancient fox either enjoyed speaking in riddles or had turned senile and knew less than what it wanted everyone else to think.


    As he approached Heaven''s Glory above Mount Samara, he heard the distant echoes of shouting. The school buzzed with chaos. As soon as he landed, he intercepted and grabbed a disciple passing through. The disciple had an iron badge with a shield carved onto it.


    "What happened?" Whitehall asked, his voice was steady, but the girl flinched.


    "I... I don''t know Elder Whitehall," she gulped, nervous from suddenly being yanked by an Elder. "Word is there''s been an attack. Elder Rahm was injured."


    Whitehall released the girl and immediately sped towards the Medicine Hall. He smelled blood and medicine as he got close. Inside, he found Elder Rahm being treated by a healer. Cuts covered all over Elder Rahm''s body and one of his arms was ruined.


    "Who did this?" Whitehall demanded. He could tell the healer wanted to protest, but something told her she should not.


    "The Unsouled," Elder Rahm panted. "And the Sword Sage''s disciple."


    "Bastard," Whitehall cursed. "Did they mention where they''re going?"


    "They flew towards the ancestor''s tomb," Elder Rahm said between ragged breaths. "I''m sure that''s exactly where they went. She probably thinks her master is still alive."


    Without another word, Whitehall turned and left the medicine hall. He released his Thousand-mile cloud and launched into the night towards the Ancestor''s Tomb. As he approached, he first saw a male and female Heaven Glory jade meant to guard the tomb sprawled on the ground like discarded dolls. Then he saw a battle between the Sword Sage''s disciple and a silver humanoid remnant. The remnant was so lifelike that he had to take a second look to ensure it was not the Sword Sage himself.


    As he landed, the remnant of the male guard began to rise, and Whitehall sent a beam of light to destroy it. He approached the body of the female guard first, pressing two fingers on her neck. She was still alive, yet barely.


    "Swallow," he ordered, placing a pill against the woman''s lips. The woman hesitated. "Hurry if you want to live." She finally complied and swallowed. Whitehall, too small to carry her, dragged her body into a hut nearby, placing her inside.


    As he stepped outside, he noticed Lindon with a large pack on his back, hiding behind a boulder, watching the fight between the remnant and the Sword Sage''s disciple.


    Whitehall fired a beam that singed the stone next to Lindon''s head. Panicked by the sudden attack, Lindon yelped and fell backwards against the boulder as he turned to face him.


    "What is the meaning of this, Wei Shi Lindon?" He demanded.


    Lindon raised his hands in surrender. "Elder Whitehall. This one is helping Yerin to absorb her master''s remnant to advance to gold."


    Whitehall took a moment to digest what Lindon had just said. "I see." Anger rose in Whitehall''s belly. "And which part did it require you to maim Elder Rahm?"


    Lindon put his fist together and bowed. "Apologies, Elder Whitehall. There was a... misunderstanding. Elder Rahm attacked before we could explain."


    Whitehall''s jaw clenched. Of course, Rahm would do that. There was a reason he was placed to guard the treasure hall instead of being sent out. He tended to be hostile towards everyone who was not part of Heaven''s Glory.


    Whitehall considered the situation. "I''ll make you a deal. I''ll leave the apprentice to advance unmolested. But once she absorbs the Sage''s remnant, you both leave."


    "Of course, venerable elder." Lindon bowed deeper. "This one can only thank the Elder for his generosity."


    "Ugh," Whitehall expressed his tiredness as he approached the boulder and knelt behind it next to Lindon, watching the fight between the disciple and the remnant.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    He was amazed at what he saw. The fight was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was so fast that he could only see sparks from the clashing swords. He previously felt that he did not stand a chance against the Sword Sage''s disciple, and now he knew it for sure. Then, with his two own eyes, he saw the disciple advance. It was a slow process, but each time the remnants and the disciple''s swords clashed, part of the remnant was absorbed into the disciple''s spirit. Slowly, the remnant''s body grew fainter, more transparent. The disciple''s advancement was complete as the remnant was finally fully absorbed. The disciple stood tall; a silver sword arm gleamed as it grew from her shoulder.


    She turned her attention to Whitehall.


    "I know you," she pointed her sword at him. "You were one of them. The ones who killed my master."


    Lindon slowly turned to face Whitehall, gulping nervously.


    "Your boyfriend and I made a deal," Whitehall said. Lucky for Yerin, the blush of her cheeks was covered in blood. "I leave you to advance unmolested; in return, you two shall leave immediately."


    "Unlucky for you, I did not make that deal," Yerin said defiantly, still pointing her sword at Whitehall.


    "Reinforcements are on the way," Whitehall said. "You don''t have much time left. You may kill us all eventually. But Lindon over here," Whitehall pointed to Lindon with his thumb.


    "Please don''t leave me here to die," Lindon winced, begging Yerin.


    After a moment, Yerin sheated her master''s sword. "Bleed and bury me!" She cursed. "You better hope we never see each other again," she pointed at Whitehall with her finger. "Next time, I''ll cut you."


    Lindon immediately summoned his thousand-mile cloud and flew towards Yerin, hauling her up through sheer strength. "Forgiveness, Elder Whitehall!" he yelled, flying away as fast as possible. "She didn''t mean it!" Yerin said something in protest, but she did not fight Lindon''s hold. And soon, the thousand-mile cloud disappeared in the distance.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Whitehall watched the entrance of the Ancestor''s Tomb. The entrance had collapsed entirely, sealing the Sword Sage''s body inside. Many of the School''s Elders had hoped to find the Sage''s treasures, believing he had brought them to his grave. Whitehall thought otherwise. Credible eyewitnesses mentioned that the Sword Sage carried no pack or chest as he entered the tomb. The Sage must have hidden it somewhere only the apprentice could find. Judging by the size of the pack Lindon was carrying, Whitehall reckoned he was right.


    Whitehall cursed the Sword Sage silently. If only that man treated the people of Sacred Valley with more care and respect, then maybe he would not be dead and buried. All that is left for Whitehall is to do it the hard way.


    Whitehall made his way to the guard hut, finding the jade he had saved awake and leaning against the entrance wall. She pressed her fists together and bowed.


    "This one thanks the Elder for saving her," she thanked Whitehall.


    Whitehall closed the door behind him and sat on the floor, his back resting on the door. "What''s your name, disciple?"


    "This one is called Nasiri Sadi," the disciple bowed.


    Whitehall recognised that name. "You related to Elder Nasiri?"


    "He''s my brother," she answered, and an emotion Whitehall could not discern flashed across her face. "Was my brother," she corrected.


    ''Of course, she''s related to that idiot of an elder.'' "I''m sorry for your loss," Whitehall said.


    Sadi looked nervous as if she had something she wanted to say or ask, but she did not dare. "Thank you, Elder," she said after a moment of silence.


    Whitehall crossed his legs, sat down, and began cycling. He replayed the apprentice''s advancement in his mind.


    "Umm, Elder." Sadi started softly. "Did you kill the apprentice?" she asked, watching Whitehall''s clean robes and comparing them to her tattered ones.


    "No," Whitehall answered a matter of factly. "I let them go."


    Sadi winced.


    Whitehall opened his eyes. "You think it was cowardice?"


    "I wouldn''t dare to," Sadi began speaking but was cut off by Elder Whitehall.


    "She killed every iron our school sent after her and bested two jade guards of the Ancestor''s Tomb, including you. And a few moments ago, she had advanced to gold."


    "Gold!?" Sadi exclaimed. "I wouldn''t dare to question Elder''s judgement, but surely Elder could be mistaken."


    Now that she mentioned it, Whitehall resigned and began to laugh. He had gained so much new information today, so many new things he had witnessed, and so little time to process it. "I know what I saw, Nasiri. If only you could''ve seen it. She absorbed her master''s remnant into her spirit and grew a sword arm."


    Sadi said nothing, processing what the Elder had just said.


    Whitehall, exhausted as he was, did not bother with formality. "I''ll tell you something for free, Sadi. Outside Sacred Valley, gold is nothing. Even a child can be gold. We call those people barbarians, but they see us as insects. It makes sense now why the Sword Sage didn''t care for us."


    Nasiri did not like what she heard. Her whole life had been dedicated to her advancement, and now she was told that a child in the outside world easily achieves more than she ever had.


    "What do we do now, Elder." She asked.


    "We wait for the reinforcement from the School," Whitehall answered.


    "That was not what I meant," she scoffed and regretted it immediately. "Apologies, this disciple had putten her words wrongly. This disciple wants to know ... "She was not sure how to put the right words together.


    "I know what you mean, Nasiri Sadi. I have plans, of course," Whitehall said.


    I , she noticed he used. This meant Elder Whitehall had no interest in involving the school. "May I know what your plan is?"


    Whitehall eyed her. "And why would you want to know that?"


    Sadi clenched her fists. "The apprentice swatted me like a fly. She didn''t need her sword to cut my staff in half."


    "You want revenge?" Whitehall asked.


    "No," Sadi shook her head. "I don''t want to feel helpless. So if your plan involves advancing to gold, I want in."


    Whitehall nodded. "I can respect that." He thought for a long while after, not saying anything. Hearing the movement of thousand-mile clouds coming closer in the distance, he made up his mind . "I would need you to swear on your soul. As a warning, we will be working behind everyone in Sacred Valley. The Elders here are too proud to ever agree with us."


    She knew instantly what her answer would be, but she had to ask. "And if I don''t swear on my soul?"


    "Then either you swear on your soul to never reveal our discussion intentionally or unintentionally, or I''ll kill you now." Whitehall shrugged.


    "I''ll swear anything you need me to," she said.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Whitehall flew towards Heaven''s Glory on his thousand-mile cloud, with Sadi flying beside him. Most of the reinforcements had remained behind at the Ancestor''s Tomb to try and clean up the mess. And find whatever treasures they could find once the entrance was cleared , Whitehall was sure. Just as he was sure that the other Elders at the school were salivating with greed once they knew that the remnant was no longer a problem.


    Two iron disciples greeted them when they landed.


    "You," Whitehall pointed to the one on the left with a hammer on his badge. "Take Sadi to the Medicine Hall, and tell Elder Rahm she gets to pick any treasure she wants from the treasure hall."


    "Yes, Elder Whitehall," the disciple joined her fists and bowed.


    Whitehall was about to ask the other disciple why they had not left immediately but paused when he noticed their expression.


    "What is it?" He asked the iron.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Whitehall stepped into what remained of the Lesser Treasure Hall, noticing broken glass and blood splatters in the now-empty hall.


    Bastard stole everything

 Chapter 3. In the dark forest the hunter must remain silent

    Whitehall sat in his office, hands on his face. He knew this day would be coming. The day when the poison would come, yet it had come so soon. And now he wished it would never come. He was so tempted to continue ''business as normal'', but with everything that had happened, he could not bet on the future of Sacred Valley on a foundation sacred artist and the apprentice of a sage.


    He looked at the two spherical constructs on his desk, his hands trembling. "Time to go back to war," he muttered. He tried reaching for the orbs, but his hand trembled as he got closer. Cycling his madra to calm himself, he reached out for it.


    Someone knocked on his door before he could reach it. "Who is it?" He asked.


    "It''s me," Sadi answered.


    "Come in then."


    Sadi entered Whitehall''s office, shutting the door behind her. Whitehall activated the privacy scripts in his office, making it almost impossible for anyone to spy on their conversation. Sadi raised an eye.


    "The walls talk," Whitehall shrugged.


    "Can you imagine the scandal that could cause?" Sadi smirked.


    "Hah!" Whitehall laughed for the first time in a while. "You with an eight-year-old elder?"


    Sadi took a seat across the desk and pointed at the two constructs. "What''s that?"


    "Took you long enough to get fully healed," Whitehall said. "How long has it been? Two, three months?" He asked.


    "Four," Sadi said, raising four fingers.


    "Well, then. I guess now would be a good time to tell you about what will happen."


    "Go on," Sadi remarked. "I''ve been waiting for long enough."


    Whitehall shrugged. "Remember the disciple that was with the Sword Sage''s apprentice?"


    "The Unsouled?"


    "Yes, him. His name is Wei Shi Lindon. He told me he was visited by a messenger from the heavens, who showed him the future. In thirty years, we will be under attack by a dreadgod."


    "Dreadgod?"


    "Yeah. Remember those dreadbeasts that have shown up ever since the Sword Sage arrived?"


    Sadi nodded.


    "Imagine a bigger one, worse and larger than Mount Samara."


    Sadi grimaced.


    "Imagine one where even a thousand Sword Sage would not be able to defeat it, fighting together."


    Sadi''s expression worsened further. "And did Wei Shi Lindon tell you all this?"


    "I didn''t sense he was lying," Whitehall answered. "But our good old fox helped me fill in the blanks."


    Sadi nodded; indeed, Elder Whisper was more trustworthy than some unsouled.


    "So what now?" She asked.


    "I''ve been thinking," Whitehall said. "And I need your opinion on this. What?" Whitehall asked when he saw Sadi giving him a strange look.


    "Didn''t expect you to want my opinion," Sadi explained.


    "Hey, you''ve known me long enough to know I don''t operate that way." Whitehall pointed a finger at her and narrowed his eyes.


    "Fair enough," she replied, raising her hands in peace. "What do you need my opinion for?"


    Whitehall crossed his arms. "Elder Whisper told me that in our current state, we might be able to reach gold after about two or three decades outside Sacred Valley. And only if we spend every second of our lives dedicating ourselves to advancement."


    "Outside Sacred Valley?"


    Whitehall shrugged, "Fox said we needed to leave to reach gold. He didn''t elaborate on why. But it makes sense, considering Lindon said he needed to leave." Whitehall waved his hand. "Anyway, that''s not the point."


    "And the point is?" Sadi asked.


    "The point is both Whisper and Lindon said that we needed to reach beyond gold if we ever dream of even peeling dead skin off of the dreadgod."


    "So," Sadi said, clamping down her surprise. "There''s a beyond gold, after all."


    "Yes," Whitehall said, shaking his head. "And in our current state, we''ll never reach beyond it even if the heavens dropped us a pill."


    "And why is that? Isn''t every child out there gold?"


    Whitehall took a deep breath and exhaled. "Because our foundation is flawed and is working against us."


    Sadi hung her head on the back of her chair, sighing. "Tell me we can fix it."


    "We can," Whitehall said. "And this is where I''ll need your opinion. We''ll need to empty our spirit and shrink our cores forcefully." Whitehall paused. "Yes, it''s exactly what you think. We''ll need to start over our advancement from copper."


    Sadi sighed. "You''re a disgraced Elder for failing to defeat an apprentice, and I''m a disgraced Jade for failing to defeat an apprentice two to one. So obviously, no one will listen to us if we ask for help."


    "Exactly," Whitehall snapped his fingers.


    "So," Sadi continued. "When do we start?"


    "As soon as possible, of course. But the question is, where should we do it?" Whitehall asked. "We could do it in Sacred Valley, where we will be relatively safe and could slowly advance back to Jade after one and a half decades. And get our names further dragged through the mud for returning to copper, of course," he added.


    "Or?" Sadi asked.


    "Or we leave Scared Valley in our current state, reset our advancement out there, risk ourselves being killed by an insect, and advance to gold in a quarter of that time."


    "We do have thirty years," Sadi said.


    "You do," Whitehall corrected her.


    "What do you mean?"


    Whitehall sighed, stood up, and faced the window. His back faced Sadi, and his hands clasped behind his back. "Whatever I did had cost me. You''ve heard the rumours," he stated. "I have a decade or even less before my body disintegrates. And that''s me being optimistic."


    "I feel like you already made a decision," Sadi said.


    "No," Whitehall shook his head and turned to face Sadi. "You''re my backup plan. If you want to stay in the valley and advance, I''ll guide you to the best of my abilities and tell you everything I know from Elder Whisper. I''ll make plans which I expect you to finish after I''m gone. If we leave in our current state, we will need to be extremely lucky, which is unlikely."


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Sadi remained silent, thinking. "You saw how the Sword Sage treated us," she finally said. "To him, we were a waste of space. No one will come to our rescue. We can only rely on ourselves." Said clenched her fists. "We can''t spend more than half of our time left to reach gold if we must go beyond it. I''m more inclined to leave now. We should gather everyone that can be trusted; I may know a few people."


    Whitehall nodded. "I agree. However, there''s no one else we can trust. Tell me someone who wouldn''t rat us out to the other Elders on a whim."


    Sadi grimaced. Greed. She knew it well; they would be ratted out when someone thought they could receive a reward. "You don''t trust many people."


    "Not when it comes to this," Whitehall said. "I told you because I respect your drive. Even then, I bound you with multiple soul oaths. You''re already in too deep to back out now. I''ve been able to steal treasures now and then to speed up your recovery. But since we''re about to go against the whole school. We might as well steal everything."


    "Fine," Sadi agreed. "Give me a few hours to gather my things, then we can leave."


    Whitehall raised a hand. "Not now," he said. "All four schools are currently still on high alert. If we''re going to do this, we''ll need to prepare carefully. This," he gestured towards the two orbs on his desk, "Will absorb all our madra and empty our core. After we reset to copper, we must immediately refill our madra to fend off whatever dangers lurk out there."


    Sadi eyed the orbs, noticing Whitehall''s grimace when he spoke. She knew the orbs would not be pleasant.


    "We''ll need to set traps and create a route to escape, not to mention getting everyone used to seeing us together without raising suspicions." Whitehall pulled out a map.


    It could have been a better map, but it is detailed enough. It showed mainly Sacred Valley but with a few islands outside of it. She never knew they were this close to water.


    "I got this from the few merchants who occasionally trade with us. Cost me more than a year''s stipend, but it''ll be worth it.


    Sadi eyed the map. "We should go out through here, placing a finger west of Sacred Valley. I know the forest well. I can set the traps and clear our escape route."


    "Good," Whitehall. "Hoping you would say that."


    "You knew where I was going to point? She asked skeptically.


    "Oh no," Whitehall said, smiling. "Believe it or not, I never really explored Sacred Valley."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Whitehall entered the Elder Whisper''s room.


    "It''s been a while," Elder Whisper said. "It has been two months since your last visit. Can''t say I don''t enjoy the company."


    "Forgiveness, Elder Whisper," Whitehall pressed his fists together and bowed. "I''ve been busy."


    "Children these days," Elder Whisper mused. "Only come looking for the old when they need something."


    Whitehall placed the bucket of fish in front of Elder Whisper before retreating to allow the fox to eat.


    "Tell me, child," a second Elder Whisper spoke from his side. "What knowledge do you wish to know?" Elder Whisper smiled. "Not that it seems you need much of my help as of late."


    "We''re leaving soon," Whitehall told the fox. "Just wanted to tell you," He smirked. "Not that I needed to tell you."


    Elder Whisper laughed, which came out as a bark.


    "I came here for your blessings," Whitehall said. "And to ask if you wish to come with us."


    The main Elder Whisper stopped eating and turned to watch the valley below in sadness. "My place is here, Whitehall. My bonded entrusted this place to me; thus, I must remain."


    Whitehall had expected the rejection, yet he still wanted to ask anyway.


    "But you do have my blessings." Elder Whisper said and saw that it meant a lot to Whitehall.


    "Thank you," Whitehall said, bowing low. Very low.


    "I hope we meet again, Sinar," Elder Whisper said.


    Whitehall bowed once again and left.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Sadi crept out of her room in the middle of the night, carrying a bundle of clothes in her arms. She wore her standard outer robes, hiding the armour she and Whitehall had stolen underneath. A few other disciples spotted her, but none batted an eye. She had often been going to Whitehall''s chambers in the night this past year. At first, some people were suspicious, and she was questioned by Elders who saw her sneaking out. But now, no one bothered to ask her.


    After all, she was a Jade, and Whitehall was an Elder. The rumours started to irk her, but their plans had borne fruit. No one questioned where she was going or her plans for the night. She did not knock on Whitehall''s door; instead, she used her madra on the handle, automatically unlocking the door for her.


    "Got everything?" she whispered as she entered.


    Whitehall was arranging the most essential treasures for their journey. Sadi unfolded the cloth she had been holding. Since last year, she had gathered several robes, sowing them to make a makeshift backpack. A very large backpack.


    Whitehall has a slightly smaller bag pack, which he begins filling with the treasures they have stolen so far . She began attaching the clips to the giant backpack and activating the scripts to strengthen it.


    "Didn''t expect you would come up with the idea to steal everything for ourselves. Not with all your charity missions," she remarked.


    "Tried to help when I can," Whitehall shrugged. "Gotta take a page out of the original run-aways though." He had long since admitted that maybe that bastard had a point.


    Having completed his mental checklist, Whitehall placed the smaller backpack on his back. "Ready?" He asked.


    "I''ve been waiting long enough," Sadi answered.


    "Let''s go."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    They walked together, Whitehall leading the way and Sadi following from behind. A few disciples saw them and bowed to Elder Whitehall as they passed. They reached the lesser treasure hall. Whitehall knocked on the door.


    "The treasure hall is closed!" He heard Elder Rahm yell.


    They had not expected anyone to be inside this late, but they had planned for it.


    "It''s me, Elder Whitehall."


    "Heh?" Elder Rahm said beyond the door, scrambling to unlock it. "Elder Whitehall, what brings you here this late at night?" Elder Rahm said as he opened the door.


    "We have something for you, Elder Rahm."


    Elder Rahm eyed the two. "It looks like you''re about to rob me with the bags you''re carrying."


    Whitehall chuckled. "Oh, come on, Rahm."


    Elder Rahm began chuckling, too. "Come inside already," the old Elder said, moving out of the way.


    Whitehall and Sadi entered the treasure hall. "We developed a pill for you, Rahm." Whitehall gestured towards Sadi. "It was my apprentice''s genius." He then gestured at Elder Rahm''s missing arm. "Took a while to work, but we can bring back your arm."


    Sadi pulled a pill from her pocket and tossed it to Elder Rahm, who caught it with his remaining left hand. "It''ll take a while to grow back, maybe a couple of months to a year," Sadi said.


    Elder Rahm looked at the pill, conflicted. "I... You''ve done more than enough for me, Whitehall. If it weren''t for you, I wouldn''t even be here." The older Elder rolled the pill on his palm. "I can''t accept this."


    Whitehall smiled. He had always liked Elder Rahm. The older man was rough around the edges but always did his job to the best of his abilities.


    "Please, Elder Rahm. The School should''ve treated you better for your decades of service."


    Elder Rahm sighed. "Over the past year, I have finally accepted that I''ll never have my arm back. Now," he held the pill up, " you gave me this."


    He tossed the pill back at Sadi. "My pride can''t accept it."


    Sadi frowned. This was not going to plan.


    "How about an exchange then," Whitehall suggested. He could work with this. "How would that sound?"


    Elder Rahm frowned. "As long as you don''t give me a mockery of an exchange."


    "Don''t worry. I am requesting something of you that is slightly dangerous and will probably anger the other Elders. How does that sound?"


    Elder Rahm smiled. "Perfect. What do you need?"


    "Lindon''s family," Whitehall said. "I want you to protect them while I''m gone. Free them if you have to."


    "And why would I want to help the family of the Unsouled that did this to me?" Elder Rahm pointed to his missing arm.


    "Because they had nothing to do with it. You know it. I know it. And you''re getting your arm back," Whitehall said sternly.


    Elder Rahm sighed. "Fine, I''ll keep them safe. And that''s only because you''re the one that asked." He turned to Sadi. "And what about you, apprentice? What do you want?"


    Sadi had not expected it. "Me?" She asked.


    "Your master said it was your genius that made this pill. I won''t accept it without giving you something in return." Elder Rahm crossed his arm and stump.


    Sadi thought about it and had an idea. "My brother''s knives. I would like to have it."


    Elder Rahm nodded, went to the archway separating the lesser treasure hall from another, and placed a hand on the wall. He grabbed a Jade token similar to the wooden ones used for the lesser treasure hall and tossed it to Sadi. "I''ve disabled the scripts for the greater treasure hall. The token will ensure the defence construct recognises you."


    Sadi pressed her fists together and bowed. "This one thanks the Elder."


    Elder Rahm looked uneasy when she thanked him. "The Karambits are towards the back. Just be careful there. It''s the greatest of our treasure halls."


    Sadi left the two Elders and went through the archway, passing by another treasure hall on the way to the second archway where the greater treasure hall was.


    "You should take it now," Whitehall said, bringing Elder Rahm''s attention away from Sadi. "The pill," Whitehall tossed it back to Elder Rahm. "The first time you take it may cause instability in your spirit. It''s better that I''m here while you take it if anything goes sideways."


    "And where will you go?" Elder Rahm asked. "Now that I mentioned it, you said you''d be gone."


    "Secluded training," Whitehall said. "Ever since last year''s festival, I''ve been rethinking my advancement."


    Rahm smiled fondly. "And here I wondered if your drive from advancement had disappeared. Can''t say I missed it."


    "It had for a while," Whitehall answered. "But I realise now that I need it more than ever."


    "I hope you succeed, my friend." Elder Rahm said.


    "You really should take it now," Whitehall suggested. They were running on schedule.


    "Fine, fine," Elder Rahm said, looking at the black pill once before closing his eyes and swallowing it.


    Whitehall approached Elder Rahm, placing a purple pill on top of a glass display case of one of the treasures. "Take this when you wake up. The pill will rejuvenate your madra and vitality."


    Elder Rahm looked at Whitehall, confused. "Whaaaddd?" he tried to ask, but his voice came out slurry. His legs collapsed underneath him, and Whitehall caught him.


    "I''m sorry, Rahm, but I''ll have to beat you up." Whitehall winced. "Just a little. And don''t forget about Lindon''s family, yeah."


    Elder Rahm tried to say something, but his eyes slowly closed, and he fell asleep. Whitehall placed Elder Rahm gently on the wooden floor and went to follow after Sadi.


    Sadi was busy filling the large pack with all kinds of treasures she could find. Whitehall noticed a pair of knives were attached to the back of her hips. "That was smart," Whitehall said. "Did you know the knives would be in the greater treasure hall?"


    "Of course," Sadi replied, continuing to fill her pack. "I asked for it after my brother passed. It was a family heirloom."


    Whitehall bit back his tongue. "Sorry again for your loss. I can only imagine what losing a brother would be like."


    Sadi sighed, not expecting the topic to come up now. They would be living together for the foreseeable future and probably be dead in the next few hours. ''Eh, why not?'' she thought.


    "I know you publicly called him an idiot," Sadi said. "You called all the Elders, who wanted to go after the disciple, an idiot."


    Whitehall cringed. "I mean... She was innocent."


    "I agreed with you, for the record," Sadi said. "But greed got the better of my brother."


    Whitehall sighed. "For what it''s worth. I didn''t want anyone to get hurt."


    "I know," Sadi nodded. "I know what you did for many of the people of Sacred Valley." She paused her work and turned to face Whitehall. "And some of those people you helped were close to me," she smiled. "For what it''s worth, I trust you."


    Whitehall smiled. "Thank you."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    They slowly crept out of the treasure hall. Whitehall had checked on Elder Rahm one final time to ensure that the pill was working and did not cause any long-term problems. Elder Rahm was bruised and battered, but other than that, he was fine. The night was still dark as they moved through the shadows of buildings and trees. Once they reached the mountain cliff, they activated their thousand-mile clouds and flew down under the cover of the trees.


    "That went surprisingly smooth," Whitehall commented.


    "Don''t-," Sadi said but was immediately cut off by a roar behind them. "Say that," she finished.


    They looked back and saw a shadow growing larger and larger. "This way!" Sadi yelled, pushing her thousand-mile cloud forward and leading the way.


    The shadow was gaining on them, and not interested in finding out what beast it was, Sadi threw several scripted papers into the air behind them. The paper touched several trees with scripts she had etched in the last few months. The trees burst in an explosion of madra. The burst of light revealed a twisted-looking bear with a jaw expanding like a snake.


    "Keep throwing it!" Whitehall yelled.


    Sadi kept throwing the scripted papers behind her as she swerved through the preplanned route with Whitehall on her tail. She was running out of madra fast as she pushed her cloud faster. "I need madra!" She called out.


    "Take it," Whitehall threw a pill right in her path.


    Sadi caught the pill with her teeth and swallowed, cycling the injection of madra through her spirit. Suddenly, she heard another roar behind her, followed by complete silence. The roar was not one of intimidation but sounded like fear.


    She was about to ask Whitehall when he flew forward next to her with a finger on his mouth. She understood what he meant. Stay silent . She nodded. They moved through the trees quietly. Finally reaching the end of the mountain range and through the forest, they went out to a beach. Sadi turned back to see the mountain and Samara''s ring glowing above it. It looked beautiful.


    Sadi felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Whitehall pointing. A giant sword was stuck on a mountain in the middle of the beach. Whitehall silently pointed in a direction, and she nodded and followed. They stepped off their thousand-mile cloud under the cover of trees at the threshold of the beach and forest.


    "Who can wield such a thing?" She asked quietly.


    "I don''t know," Whitehall replied, staring at the giant sword. "But I wouldn''t want to find out."


    "I feel like we eventually will if we''re going to make it beyond gold," she muttered.


    "It''ll be a good weapon to fight the dreadgod," Whitehall said as he set up their tent.


    "How''d you kill the bear-snake?" She asked.


    Whitehall shivered. "I didn''t."


    "If it wasn''t you, then who did?" She asked; chills ran down her spine from what predators they had just passed through.


    "In the dark forest, the hunters must be careful," Whitehall said, looking deep into the forest. "For in the dark forest are other hunters like them. If they find another hunter, there is only one thing to do. Eliminate them."


    "Stop doing that," Sadi hissed.


    "Stop what?" Whitehall asked, looking over his shoulder.


    "Monologing and freaking me out," Sadi said.


    "Oh," Whitehall said. "I just mean there''s a lot of predators in the forest. If one is found, no one knows if they''re friendly. Therefore, the best case for them is to eliminate it and find out later."


    Sadi shook her head. "Yeah, I get it."

 Chapter 4. Danger

    Whitehall woke up to a feeling of dread. Every fibre of his body screamed danger. He tried to get up but found an invisible pressure pressing down on him. Whatever it was, they needed to run. He opened his eyes and found Sadi staring back at him, her eyes wide with fear.


    The pressure came and left every other second. One second, they could breathe, and the next, the air was stuck in their lungs. After a while, Whitehall and Sadi gained a read on the rhythm of the pressure, and with great effort, they both managed to shift towards a sitting position.


    It came in flashes, but they saw a red light high up in the middle of the ocean shooting through the air. The next was an earth-shattering roar of a beast. A serpent rose through the water, blasting a blue breath across the sky before promptly stopping. An invisible force then smashed the serpent down back into the ocean.


    Then, the two felt it, too. As if the heavens had sent them an order and their will would be followed. "Down." Then, both of them were pushed back down into their mattress. Whitehall could not breathe, and he soon went unconscious.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Sadi woke up to the sound of music, which confused her. She gripped the knives on her back, and she saw Whitehall, also awake, looking through the entryway of their tent in suspicion.


    They slowly approached the tent''s entrance, the soft melody of ringing metals getting louder.


    The music stopped. "Come out, you two; I mean you no harm," a rough voice called out. Whoever he was, his voice sounded more friendly than cruel. "That knife of yours would do you no good," the man said before continuing to play his music.


    Sadi and Whitehall turned to face each other. Sadi shrugged. "He could''ve easily killed us if he had wanted to," she whispered.


    "I won''t," the man called out to them.


    Sadi shrugged and stepped out, followed by Whitehall. They both pressed their fists and greeted the man. "This one is honoured to meet you," they both said.


    The man was large and muscled, with thick hair covering his bare upper body and a large, unkempt, greasy white beard. He sat on a log with a large handpan on his thighs. He eyed them weirdly. "You two look way too clean," he said.


    "We only made it here last night," Whitehall said, bowing.


    "When they said there were interesting people out here, I didn''t expect the two of you." The man said, more to himself than to Whitehall or Sadi. Whitehall felt a sharp pain run through his body and winced. Judging by Sadi''s expression, he reckoned she felt it, too. "Really didn''t expect the two of you."


    "We were honoured to have watched bits of your battle last night," Sadi said, bowing.


    The man turned his attention to his handpan and started tapping the metal surface. "That wasn''t me," he said.


    Whitehall and Sadi looked at each other, unsure what to say without causing a hint of disrespect.


    "You two are lucky my friend took an interest in you. You both were almost dead when I found you," the man said.


    "Thank you for saving us, honoured one," Whitehall said.


    "Beast King," the man said. "Everyone calls me the Beast King."


    "This one, thank you, Beast King," Sadi said.


    "This one, too," Whitehall said.


    "Enough of that," The Beast King said. "Why are you both out here?"


    "We descended from the mountain last night and were chased by a beast," Whitehall began.


    The Beast King raised his hand. "I know where you came from." He pointed a thumb backwards towards the forest. "My friends already told me. I want to know why you are out here?"


    ''Friends?'' Sadi thought. ''Could he be?'' She looked to Whitehall, who she knew was also thinking the same thing. She signalled him to say something.


    "Umm," Whitehall began. "Honored Beast King, your friend, another Heavenly Messenger, told us that a dreadgod is coming for us. We were told we must leave our valley and advance so that we may return to save it."


    The Beast King stopped playing his instrument and turned to watch them with one long eyebrow raised. He first looked surprised, confused, thoughtful, then confused again. "And what did this heavenly messenger look like?" he finally asked.


    "She was wearing white armour that moved like water," Whitehall answered, remembering what Lindon had told him.


    The Beast King stretched his neck closer so that his face filled Whitehall''s view. "And did this heavenly messenger tell you about this dreadgod?" Considering Whitehall was in an eight-year-old''s body, The Beast King''s brown nose was almost as big as Whitehall''s face.Stolen story; please report.


    "No, honoured Beast King," Whitehall answered. "She told one of our disciples."


    "And you believed him?" The Beast King asked, not moving an inch.


    "I confirmed some of what she told him with one of our eldest members. A sacred beast we call Elder Whisper." Whitehall nervously answered.


    The Beast King leaned back and nodded affirmatively. "Yes, a Sacred Beast can always be trusted. What animal is this Elder Whisper of yours?"


    "A white fox," Whitehall said.


    "Good," The Beast King nodded more eagerly. "Haven''t met one of them in a while, but their intentions are usually true." Then, The Beast King stopped nodding and frowned. His face grimaced, and smoke started coming from his nose and ear. "STUPID ABIDAN! ALWAYS RUINING EVERYTHING!" The man pointed accusingly at the sky. "IF THIS IS YOUR WAY OF RECRUITING, THEN YOU''LL NEED TO TRY HARDER!" Having finished his rant, he turned to his two guests. They were sprawled on the floor, covering their ears in pain.


    The Beast King righted himself and coughed. "You two can get up now."


    Whitehall and Sadi stood up, trying to hide the ringing pain in their ears.


    "Come with me," the Beast King grumbled.


    Whitehall and Sadi looked nervous. "Where are we going, honoured Beast King!?" Sadi asked.


    The woman was yelling, but the Beast King did not blame her. His rant had damaged her ears.


    The Beast King smiled. "Other Heralds and Sages always have apprentices. It''s probably about time I got some." Then he waved his hand. "Eh, I sort of already have one. But he''s a bit boring and depressing," He muttered. He clapped his hands, a bit too hard by the grimace of his two new apprentices. "Enough question, been away long enough already. Stupid dragons need to be reminded I''m still alive."


    Whitehall and Sadi bowed. "We are grateful for your help, master," they both said.


    "First rule," The Beast King barked, raising a finger. "None of this overly-respectful stuff."


    The two stood straight up, arms on their side. "Yes, Master!"


    The Beast King sighed in disappointment. He turned towards the forest and whistled. Two giant flying scared beasts birds descended from the sky, landing nearby.


    "Dagon, Rota," the Beast King greeted the sacred beasts. "Meet," he paused and turned around to his new apprentices. "What, are your names again? I forgot to ask."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The Beast King strolled through his forest. It was not officially his, and he never claimed it. But he ruled here anyway. Having settled his two new apprentices, he made his way towards the patch of forest where he rarely visits.


    "I saved your cripples!" He yelled at the trees above.


    "We thank you for your help, Beast King." A Golden Bird descended and bowed.


    "Yeah, yeah," The Beast King said calmly. "I owed you anyway."


    "Friends don''t owe each other," The Bird said.


    "No, we don''t," The Beast King said, smiling. She had protected him from the dragons, taking him in when he was a crippled boy. This was the least he could do. "They told me interesting things," he continued.


    "Oh?"


    "Yeah. Were you aware the Abidan went down and greeted them personally?"


    "No," the bird said slowly.


    "I thought that was why you asked me to save them."


    "Our divination showed us that they will play an essential role in the future. Some small, some large, but of critical importance."


    "They said the Abidan told them a dreadgod is coming for their valley."


    "Then we''ll need them for the fight to come. I don''t know why. But I am sure of this," The Bird stated.


    "Their Elder seemed to agree. Their Elder Whisper, a white fox, gave them his blessings."


    "Whisper," The Bird said fondly. "I have not heard that name in centuries."


    "A friend of yours?" The Beast King asked. "They said he still resides in the cursed valley."


    "He would be, wouldn''t he," the bird nodded. "Honouring his bonded sacred artist''s wishes even centuries after her death."


    The Beast King took a seat on a log. "I feel this is the start of a story."


    "Not today, child." The ancient golden bird said. "It''s an old, long tale. One that I wish not to divulge."


    "That''s too bad," he replied, lying on the log and placing a grass blade on his mouth. "I took them in, by the way."


    "You''ll make the Dawnwing train them?" The bird asked curiously.


    "Nah, not Zeal?" He snorted. "He''ll make them depressed just by talking."


    She gave him a curious look.


    "I''m feeling of giving them a bit more personal touch," he mused. "That way, at least, they''ll gain something with their depression."


    "Good, good," the golden bird said. "Bring them to me when they''re ready." Then, she flew away.


    "Yes, Master," he muttered respectfully.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    "So," The Beast King said, holding a round construct. "You two made this to empty your cores and reset your spirit to copper?"


    "Yes, master," Sadi said.


    "And who thought this was a good idea?" The Beast King asked.


    Whitehall gulped. "I did."


    The Beast King nodded in amusement. "Not bad. Not bad. But too easy!" He yelled, but not loud enough to hurt his pair of cripples.


    "I''ll reset you both, don''t worry," The Beast King continued. "I''ll set you right." He pointed at Whitehall. "But first, Whitehall. What''s wrong with you?"


    Whitehall gulped. "I tried to find a way to prevent ageing. So that I''ll have more time to advance. To reach gold," He said shamefully.


    The Beast King snorted. "Even that snake over there is low gold," he pointed to a purple snake on a tree. "The only reason it''s not attacking you is because I''m here. You''re a foolish little man." The Beast King shook his head disapprovingly.


    Whitehall squirmed.


    The Beast King sighed. Maybe he was being too hard on them. ''Wasn''t he also just a cripple when the sacred beasts took him in?'' "Lucky for both of you, I am more Sacred Beasts than human. We don''t leave our young to face the wild alone when they''re not ready."


    The two apprentices nodded, relieved.


    "But," The Beast King pointed out. "We abandon those sick or have a high chance of not surviving. Which, the case for both of you, are the ones that show no drive."


    The two apprentices nodded more furiously this time.


    "Good," The Beast King said. "Now, show me what you can do." He took a few steps backwards, his arms wide.


    The two apprentices looked at him, confused.


    "Are we meant to attack you, master?" Sadi asked.


    "Obviously," The Beast King snorted. The apprentices looked at him, still unsure. "HURRY UP, OR I''LL START STRIKING!" He yelled, this time loud enough to hurt them.


    A light beam shot at The Beast King, who took it straight onto his chest. It did nothing to him. An arrow of light came immediately after and struck the same place. Again, it did nothing.


    "Enough," The Beast King said. "You both use a light path, yet you use it as if you''re on a flame path. Light arrows? Really?" He asked his apprentices disappointedly. "A copper dragon''s breath would at least tickle me, but this?" He gestured. "I felt it less than if a fly landed on my hair."


    The two apprentices looked down to the ground. Nervously? Embarrassed? Angry maybe? He really should spend more time with humans. Other than Zeal, of course, that man is more one-dimensional than an ant.


    "Did your previous master never teach you anything?" The Beast King asked.


    "No," Sadi answered. "They would set us on a path and leave us to develop our own way of fighting."


    "They value their techniques a lot," Whitehall added.


    The Beast King looked at his apprentice, baffled. "You''ve got to be kidding me. You''re an Elder, aren''t you? Surely you don''t think the same way." He pointed at the smaller apprentice.


    "No, master. I mean, yes, I was an Elder, but I didn''t share the same mindset as the others. I received some pushback from the other Elders, so I had to do things more subtly. More slowly," Whitehall replied.


    The Beast King sighed, which produced a gust of wind around him. "Might as well start you both on a clean slate. Come on then, let''s empty those cores."


    Whitehall shuffled his feet. "Master?"


    "What is it?"


    "Is it possible to change one''s madra aspect?" Whitehall asked, which surprised both Sadi and The Beast King.


    "You want to change your path?" The Beast King asked curiously.


    "Yes," Whitehall replied. "Recent events have made me think of things differently."


    "There are ways," The Beast King started. "But it''ll cost you your advancement. Few sacred artists would want to restart decades or even centuries of hard work." Then, the Beast King smiled. "But you''re restarting anyway. Oh, this would be interesting." He rubbed his palms together in excitement. "I always wanted to witness this."


    That made Whitehall very nervous.


    "What path were you thinking of?" The Beast King asked, still excited.


    "Poison," Whitehall replied.


    "Oh, that''s perfect," The Beast King muttered. "What better way to take down a foe stronger than you."


    Whitehall nodded in approval.


    "What about you?" The Beast King asked Sadi. "Still sticking to light?"


    Sadi nodded. "I quite like the light," she said.


    The Beast King rubbed his hands even more furiously, getting increasingly excited as the gears turned in his head. He started cackling. "You two will be a menace of a duo when I''m done with you."

 Chapter 5: Bleeding Phoenix

    "Keep firing!" The Beast King ordered his apprentices. The two apprentices were draining whatever madra they had left onto an ancient tree. The tree absorbs light madra, using it as sustenance to grow. So it was a win-win situation.


    The Beast King''s two apprentices were bloody and beaten, and their bones fractured everywhere. He needed their bodies near broken, but not their minds. They will need it soon. So, instead, he had put them to work hunting some minor sacred beasts. Well, minor for a herald. He had a True Gold crow watch over them quietly while he went to hunt some dragons.


    After a week, he returned to see his two projec-, apprentices. His apprentices. He returned to see his two apprentices finally looking like a sacred artist of the wasteland. Bloody, bruised, and with clothes no better than rags. He could not be happier.


    Should''ve got me some actual apprentices sooner, he thought. No wonder other sages and heralds love to do this so much.


    "I know you still have some madra in there!" The Beast King yelled. "Do you two want to stay a cripple!?" He yelled again.


    "No, Master, No!" They yelled in unison.


    "Then keep firing!"


    "Yes, Master!" They yelled again in unison.


    He did not know when they started speaking to him like this during training, but he was okay with it. He enjoyed it a bit, to be told.


    "My mother can do better than that! AND SHE''S DEAD!" He hated that woman.


    "Yes, Master!"


    Their cores were emptying rapidly, and The Beast King was amazed by the rate at which they kept firing. Most sacred artists would have dropped at this point. He should give his apprentices more credit and thank the golden bird for sending him to them.


    Once he sensed that the two had barely a drop left in their cores, he exerted his will to stop them. Their arms remained extended in a shooting motion, but their firing stopped. "Sit," he ordered them. They dropped like a sack of rice.


    He lifted the round construct using wind aura and placed it before his apprentices. "Use it now."


    Too tired and drained to argue or even feel afraid, they activated it, and the orb showed a white light. As soon as they touched the construct, they twisted in pain and screamed.


    "Focus," The Beast King ordered. "You have to be empty any madra remaining, or you''ll be crippled forever and die within the next few months." It was not precisely accurate, but he felt they needed the motivation.


    As he expected, neither of them removed their hand, no matter how loudly they screamed. He had improved the construct they made, making it more stable and to stop once their cores were empty automatically. Whitehall''s condition meant that he needed to advance fast; his decline in advancement would eat his lifeline even quicker.


    That brought his thoughts towards Sadi. She was afraid, always afraid of being incompetent. She thought it was her weakness. He will make her realise it was her strength.


    The construct shut off, the white light dying. The two were sprawled on the ground, but the Beast King''s will forced them to remain conscious. He took two starlotuses that he had taken from their pack, which he had confiscated when he sent them after the dreadbeasts.


    "Swallow," he ordered, placing the fruit against their lips using wind aura. "Cycle like how I taught you two. Your cores are as empty as they could be. Absolutely no madra resides in them. So the starlotus will fill it with pure madra."


    "Good," he said, feeling his apprentices fill with pure madra and cycling it properly. He waited until their cores were full. "Now squeeze your core. Do not stop pressing until I tell you to stop."


    "Keep squeezing!"


    "Do not stop!"


    "Keep going!"


    "Press harder!"


    On and on he went, and his apprentices'' bodies shuddered and snapped. He pressed them harder.


    "Squeeze, damn you! Do you want to reach beyond gold or not?"


    He felt them squeeze even harder until their cores were the size of the tip of a sharp grass. Then, they both immediately passed out.


    The Beast King stood over his unconscious apprentices, a proud master.


    <hr>


    Sadi woke up to a loud trumpet screaming into her ears. She yelled in surprise and scrambled back, reaching for her knives.


    "Oh, hi there. Sorry, I didn''t mean to scare you like that," a Sacred Beast said.


    She was an elephant, a baby elephant.


    "Hi," Sadi greeted, smiling.


    "Sorry for trumpeting in your ear. You weren''t waking up. And I''ve been waiting here for a long time," The Elephant chided.


    "No worries," Sadi replied. "My name is Sadi."


    "I''m Ellie," the elephant replied, holding her head high.


    Sadi just stared at Ellie, who kept her head high¡ªnot saying anything. There was an awkward silence.


    "Nice to meet you, Ellie," Sida finally said.


    "Nice to meet you too," Ellie said smugly. "So, what''d you think?"


    "Think?" Sadi asked.


    "About me," Ellie answered. "Aren''t I majestic?"


    "Oh," Sadi remarked. "Yes, you are very pretty."


    Ellie ran in circles, her tail waggling. "I like you."


    "Thanks," Sadi said awkwardly. "How long was I out?"


    "Five minutes," Ellie replied.


    "Really?"


    "Exactly," Ellie replied. "You''re lucky I was here to wake you up."


    Sadi had not slept in days ever since she was thrown to face the dreadbeasts. "Thank you," She said.


    "My pleasure," Ellie replied pridefully. "Oh, I almost forgot," Ellie jumped, which in turn caused Sadi to jump. "The Beast King wanted me to help you prepare your Iron body."


    "Iron body?" She asked.


    "Yes. You humans are soft; you''ll need your iron body to help you survive."


    "I see." She had questions but was still determining if Ellie might be the right source to answer her answers. "Out of curiosity, what''s your advancement, Ellie?"


    "I''m low gold," Ellie replied. "But we sacred beast don''t tend to advance as fast. Advancing in a hurry is usually for you humans. I''m only twenty."


    Sadi cringed, thanking the heavens for having shown respect to the elephant. And did Ellie say she was twenty? They were almost the same age. And the elephant had called her advancement slow.


    "Speaking of," Ellie continued. "Are you sure you''re not a sacred beast? You seem to advance at the pace of one."


    "I''m sure," Sadi said.


    "Half a sacred beast?"


    "Nope," Sadi crossed her arms in an X.


    Ellie eyed her suspiciously.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    "About this iron body?" Sadi asked.


    "Ah, yes. I almost forgot. The Beast King wanted you to sunbathe on the highest tree."


    "Sunbathe?"


    "Yep."


    <hr>


    Whitehall had no idea how he ended up here, his leg tied to a tree branch on top of a hole full of an unknown boiling liquid with multiple colours and a tiny yellow lizard sitting on his nose.


    "You''re awake," the lizard hissed, sticking a tongue out.


    "Hello?"


    "Mocha," the lizard replied. "My name is Mocha."


    "Hello, Mocha," he pressed his fists together, bowing awkwardly. "This one is called Whitehall."


    The lizard stuck out its tongue.


    "Where am I?" Whitehall asked after realising Mocha was not going to talk.


    "You''re interesting," Mocha said. "Why is your lifeline so short?"


    "I did some experiments on myself that backfired," Whitehall admitted.


    "Unsurprising," Mocha stuck his tongue out. "Humans always rush their advancement."


    "Um, yeah?"


    "No wonder the Beast King told me to get your iron body as quickly as possible. You''ll die in a few weeks if you don''t advance," Mocha snorted.


    "Wait. What?" Whitehall said in surprise.


    "Down there is the venom of every Sacred Beasts of the wasteland. Don''t forget to cycle them, or you''ll die."


    "Wait, hold on."


    "Oh, yeah, almost forgot. You''ll need the poison in your blood, too." Mocha bared her fangs, sending sword aura to create cuts all over Whitehall''s tiny body.


    Whitehall grimaced at the pain from the cuts.


    "And he said something like medicine is just another type of poison and that the dose of poison makes the medicine."


    "Wait, say that again."


    "Good luck," Mocha said before jumping off Whitehall''s nose and baring his fangs mid-air. Sword aura cut through the rope on Whitehall''s leg. "Don''t forget to cycle the venom aura." Mocha extended its limbs, revealing connected skins which he used to glide away.


    <hr>


    Sadi lay on the leaves of an emergent, as naked as the day she was born. When she first saw the tree from below, she dreaded the climb. Ellie simply wrapped Sadi with her trunk and jumped. Ellie had told Sadi that she must show as much skin as possible, considering the torn robes turned rags she was previously wearing. It was not much of a difference.


    "Ellie?" Sadi asked.


    "Yeah?" Ellie replied from a bundle of leaves below Sadi.


    "How long must I stay like this?"


    "As long as possible," Ellie replied. "The longer you stay, the better your body will be."


    "What do I need to do while I''m up here?"


    "Cycle, I guess. Oh, and you must turn your body every day."


    "What about at night?"


    "Continue, of course."


    "And food?"


    Ellie trumpeted proudly. "I scouted the trees previously. There should be plenty of fruits there."


    Sadi looked around, finding many purple fruits she had not seen before growing around her. She took a bite of one. It was horrible¡ªbitter with the texture of a thick liquid. "Thanks," she said to Ellie.


    "You''re Welcome!"


    <hr>


    Whitehall''s body burned. He started screaming the moment he fell into the pool of venom. He stopped yelling once his stomach started burning, too, due to the venom he had swallowed.


    But pain was a familiar feeling to him. It was something he could handle. Medicine was just another type of poison, and medicine was just another dose of poison. ''I get it now,'' he thought.


    <hr>


    Sadi''s skin was peeling and covered in blisters, and the sun''s rays continued to beat down on her. She looked at her fingers. They were red, covered with dead skin and large blisters. She thought the cold of night would soothe her, but she was very wrong. The nights up here were freezing, and she could not move, her muscles frozen.


    She did not know how long she had been up here, but she burned during the day and froze at night. She would remain still, cycling the light aura that shone above her. Weirdly, the light aura soothed her. Cooling the heat and burning the cold.


    As she ate, she got used to the taste of the fruit. It was bland now, no longer bitter. And even a hint of sweetness.


    <hr>


    Whitehall did not know how long he had lost consciousness in that pool, for the next thing he knew, it was the voice of his master.


    "Cycle, Whitehall. Focus!" The Beast King''s voice growled.


    A surge of Madra rushed through him, and he cycled it through his thousands of madra channels. He tried screaming in pain, but his screams came out as a gargle. He continued to push the madra around his body, but his core kept filling with more and more. His core threatened to burst.


    "Once your core bursts, you must fill it to every madra channel you have." His master said, and Whitehall felt a hand on his belly. "Nod, if you understand."


    Whitehall nodded once, focusing on keeping his madra cycling.


    "Here we go," The Beast King said.


    Whitehall felt the fingers on his belly twisted, and his core broke. He felt the madra bursting out like a broken dam. He focused his cycling, pushing all the madra he had to fill every single madra channel he had. But there was too much madra, and the venom madra began carving new channels in his body.


    "Focus the excess towards every single part of your body," His master said. "Direct it. It''s your madra, you need to force it."


    Whitehall focused on the excess madra, starting from his insides, his organs, his bones, and then his muscles, and then his skin. More and more channels were being burned into his body until there was no more space, and then it started leaking out of him. Then Whitehall noticed the madra he had inside his veins began to harden, fusing into a more solid form. His cycling became easier and easier, and when he checked his core, he found it to be slightly larger than previously and much more condensed with poison.


    "Congrats," The Beast King said. "You''re an iron again."


    Whitehall opened his eyes and saw his master standing over him, smiling. The Beast King was covered in dried blood and wet black goo.


    "Can you stand?" The Beast King asked.


    Whitehall tried to stand and instead jumped a few metres off the ground.


    The Beast King laughed. "Must be good to finally have a perfect iron body, heh?"


    Whitehall looked at his hands and clenched and unclenched them.


    "Iron?" He asked.


    "Yeap," The Beast King replied. "Now you see what you were missing?"


    "Yes," Whitehall muttered. His cycling was much smoother, and he felt like a jade instead of an iron.


    "Iron body E6254," The Beast King said.


    "What?" Whitehall asked.


    "Iron body E6254, that''s what the Monarch who created it called your iron body. But since you made it to such an extreme version, I guess it''s not exactly it."


    Whitehall was still so stunned by his current advancement that he found himself speechless.


    "Godkiller," The Beast King said. "Since you''re going after dreadgods with it. Might as well call it Godkiller." The Beast King smiled, seemingly satisfied with the name.


    Whitehall pressed his fists together and bowed. "Disciple thanks his master."


    "None of that," The Beast King said. "I can''t spend too much time here, but I''ll give you the gist of your Godkiller iron body. You have more madra channels than almost everyone alive, which will work against you currently but will do you good in the future. For now, it''ll help you release your madra externally. But if you get cut, you''ll start leaking madra rapidly until the wound is shut." The Beast King placed his hand on Whitehall''s head. "So don''t get cut," he said firmly.


    Whitehall nodded. "Yes, Master."


    "Good," The Beast King nodded and turned, positioning himself to jump.


    "Master," Whitehall called out, and the Beast King paused. "Are you going to help Sadi now?"


    "No," The Beast King said. "There are rumblings nearby that I have to deal with. Her iron body is not ready, but a friend will care for her." The Beast King left with a giant leap.


    <hr>


    "Cycle, child." Sadi heard someone say to her sweetly.


    Sadi felt sharp claws pierce deep into her stomach; the pain was both physical and spiritual. She twisted in pain, but the grip on her stomach was strong. She tried to open her eyes, but the burned skin on her eyelids had fused. She felt the claws pierce deep into her core, and light madra rushed into her.


    "For this to work, child. You must cycle." The voice said again more urgently.


    Sadi complied; the voice sounded as if they wanted to help. She focused on cycling, moving the madra through her channels, but her core was bursting with madra and would not stop anytime soon.


    "Push it to your skin," the voice ordered. "But do not let it out."


    Pushing her already overflowing madra to her skin was easy; the difficult one was preventing it from leaking. She held her madra, blocking as much as possible from escaping her pores.


    "It''s settling," the voice said. "Now you must suck them back into your core. Do it now." The claws twisted the other way, and she felt her cores shrink rapidly.


    The pain redoubled, and Sadi screamed. She focused her cycling, pulling back the madra underneath her skin and in her channels into her core. Her now tiny core, unable to hold the madra, cracked and burst. Light Madra flooded her body. Her cycling came easier, her breathing lighter.


    She opened her eyes, her eyelids no longer shut. She realised she was still on the emergent. The sun was beating down on her, but her body did not burn. She checked for wounds on her stomach and found none. Above her, she saw a giant golden sacred beast bird hovering. Golden rays shot out of its back in an arc, and golden wings wrapped around the bird''s front.


    "How do you feel?" The bird asked her.


    Sadi checked her body and spirit quickly, finding nothing wrong. "I''m fine," she said.


    "Good," the bird exhaled. "It worked."


    "My iron body?" Sadi asked.


    "Yes. Your Solarshroud iron body."


    "I''m iron?" Sadi had to make sure.


    "Yes." The bird answered.


    Sadi clenched and unclenched her hands, and a familiar black liquid covered her.


    "It feels different," Sadi muttered. "I''m stronger than before." Almost like when I was a Jade, she did not say.


    "Your master had to reset your advancement if you and your companion are to advance far. You have advanced from foundation to iron in just over two weeks." The bird said.


    ''So fast,'' Sadi thought. We''re their teachings in Sacred Valley that flawed? "Foundation?" Sadi asked. "Forgiveness," she immediately pressed her fist and bowed. "This one is called Nasiri Sadi."


    The bird nodded knowingly. "My name is Sunda. And we must go." The bird started flying away. "Follow."


    Sadi was not sure how to follow. Screw it, she decided. She jumped, aiming for the nearest emergent patch. She overshot and reached the one after. Sadi looked back at where she came from, noticing the distance she had just covered. She could get used to this.


    Sunda kept flying, and Sadi followed. Sadi was sure the bird was purposely flying slowly so that she could catch up.


    After flying for some time, the bird dove down. Sadi followed, jumping from one branch to a lower one. As she reached the ground, she stood by the side of a hill. Thousands of Sacred Beasts were nearby, some small but most huge. Sadi saw Sunda entering a nearby cave and followed her. Inside, she found a vast underground cave system full of sacred beasts.


    Ellie came up, running out of one of the tunnels, "Sadi, you made it!" The baby elephant yelled, her tale waggling side to side.


    Sadi waved at Ellie. "Where are we?"


    "A sanctuary," Sunda answered. "Come, follow me."


    Sadi followed Sunda, who led her through several passageways until they reached an empty, dark room.


    "You shall cycle here," Sunda said as Sadi entered the room.


    "But there''s no light," Sadi replied. "There''s only darkness."


    "It''s not about light or darkness," Sunda answered. "It''s about finding the light in the darkness."


    Sadi stood in the middle of the room, looking around and seeing only recently carved rocks.


    "This is the Path of the Solar Dusk."


    Sadi turned to face Sunda, only to find the bird closing the cave entrance with a large round stone.


    "Find the light in the darkness and advance to Jade, dear child, for this dark world will not wait for you."


    The room went completely black.

 Chapter 6: Blood

    "Medicine is just another type of poison, and the dose of poison makes the medicine," Whitehall muttered, alone in the part of a cave with plants with multicoloured leaves covering the surface. The room was teeming with life aura.


    Once the Beast King had left, Mocha had fallen from the trees and landed on his head. The lizard had led him into the cave and told him to keep cycling until he reached Jade. When Whitehall protested due to only having life madra present, Mocha just stuck a tongue out and leapt out of the room. The lizard activated the scripts as he left, which formed a barrier that locked Whitehall in.


    Whitehall tried deactivating the scripts, but his madra was too weak and did nothing. He reckoned it was designed only to be deactivated by someone with a Jade or above advancement. Now, he sat alone, trying to cycle the life aura into his venom-madra-filled core. He was failing miserably.


    ''If medicine is just another dose of poison, then maybe a different dose of life aura can make poison,'' Whitehall thought. He tried cycling in the life aura in small amounts, increasing it over time. At first, his spirit rejected the life aura, ejecting it out of his body. As he increased the amount of life aura he took in, however, the aura began to poison him, looking to heal him, and when nothing else could be healed, it started harming him instead.


    Whitehall seized the minuscule levels of venom aura from the overwhelming life aura. Although it was working, it felt¡­ inefficient . His madra channels burned in pain as he channelled life madra through it. Whitehall stopped before he could cause any permanent damage to himself.


    He needed something else: a new perspective. He closed his eyes and sat. He was not cycling but instead thinking. After a while, his eyes snapped open. Could it be?


    Medicine was a cure for a symptom, and poison was just another dose of medicine. Whitehall focused on the life aura and absorbed it into his spirit. This time, however, he imagined a medicine to cure people from the burden of life¡ªa medicine meant to cure someone from being healthy¡ªa medicine to remove the symptoms of living¡ªthe perfect poison.


    He urged the life aura as he absorbed the madra and twisted it with his will. He commanded the life aura, ordering it so that its goal was to heal the burden of life. And it worked. The madra flowed through his channels freely as he understood that healing and poisoning were the same. A pill that can advance a sacred artist straight to jade from copper can also halt their advancement. Every medicine has its side effects.


    An elixir for eternal youth eating on your lifeline .


    Whitehall paused his cycling as he felt something wet and sticky climb onto his shoulder.


    "About time you figured it out."


    Whitehall looked down onto his shoulder to see a sacred beast talking to him. It was a snail, an average-looking snail.


    "This one is honoured-"Whitehall started saying before the snail cut him off.


    "I almost got tired of waiting and was about to explain it to you directly."


    "Why didn''t you just-"


    "Meh," the snail snorted. "You''re not too bad for a human child."


    "I''m not a chil-"


    "Alright then, see you later," the snail leapt off and crawled away¡ªa very slow crawl.


    Whitehall just sat there, unsure what to do as the snail crawled ever so slowly.


    "Excuse me-"


    "Atterist," the snail said, not letting Whitehall finish his question.


    "What?"


    "Your path. The path of the Atterist." The snail continued to crawl, not bothering to look back.


    That''s good to know, Whitehall thought. It did not have the most scary-sounding name, but at least it was not a mouthful.


    "Thank you," Whitehall said.


    "I know what you''re thinking," the snail said. "Fine, name it whatever you want."


    "Wait, that wasn''t-"


    "I come travelling all this way to teach a human the fundamentals of my kind''s path, and all he does is talk trash about our path''s name."


    "But I didn''t-"


    "You know our core teachings already!" The snail yelled. "That was the deal we struck with the Beast King. No way I''m spending any extra second with an ungrateful human."


    Whitehall pressed his fists together and bowed. "This one is grateful for your-"


    The snail suddenly disappeared in a flash, leaving echoes of its final words. "Goodbye!"


    <hr>


    Sadi sat in the darkness. She eyed the whole room, looking for any spec of light. She thought she saw a speck and rushed to absorb the madra. There was nothing.


    She reckoned if she lit a fire, it might work. Does fire even release light, madra? She wondered. Having run out of ideas, she decided to give it a try. Except, she had nothing to light a fire with. All she had was a torn Heaven''s Glory robe that was more rags than clothes.


    She yelled to the darkness in frustration, closing her eyes. Sadi breathed deeply, exhaled, relaxed her muscles, and fell backwards. She lay on the soft earth. Sleep will help, she was sure. "Goodnight," she said to no one in particular.


    As Sadi drifted away slowly, she began to see colours. She could not identify exactly what the colours were, as they seemed to disappear before she could focus on them. She opened her eyes and saw mostly darkness. But now and then, she saw the light of different colours that disappeared as soon as she tried to focus on them. She could not even be sure what colours she was seeing.


    Sadi sat up in a cycling position. Her face was grim in concentration, but she soon relaxed and began to smile slowly.


    <hr>


    Sunda stood outside the sanctuary that she had made. There was a reason why the Beast King had asked for this place to be made for the weaker sacred beasts to hide. Sunda reckoned he would not have done so if it had not been for the presence of his two new apprentices.


    Nonetheless, a great danger was coming. It may not be after them. But it did not need to in order to inflict great harm. Not many things could scare the ancient bird, but this was one of them.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "Get ready!" She yelled.


    Nearly a thousand Highgold and higher sacred beasts came to attention. Large mammals, reptiles, birds, and even the smallest bugs have gathered here. Their species do not matter; if they are advanced enough, they are strong enough. Some began to cycle their madra, while some prepared their techniques.


    A dreadgod was coming.


    The sky turned red, and the Sacred Beasts of the Wastelands braced for battle.


    <hr>


    The Beast King hovered above the Wastelands. He watched Akura Malic engaging the Bleeding Phoenix in the Blackflame Empire. Their battle destroyed mountains, and the Phoenix was driving the Monarch back. However, there was a method in the way that Akura Malice fought. She was not winning, sure, but The Beast King would not call in losing either. She was redirecting the dreadgod.


    "Chicken''s going to come this way, isn''t it?" Hissed the Komodo sacred beasts herald floating on a thousand-mile cloud.


    "Yes," The Beast King replied unhappily. He almost snarled but held himself back.


    "Three Heralds versus the bleeding pheonix," replied another herald sacred beast, this time a tiny horned beetle. "That is not good odds."


    The three stayed silent, watching the ongoing battle of Akura Malice and the Bleeding Phoenix.


    "Will Northstrider come to our aid?" The Komodo asked.


    "No," The Beast King replied.


    The horned beetle sighed. "What''s the plan then?"


    "I say we give the dragons a present," The Beast King answered.


    The Komodo hissed enthusiastically, "Oh, that would be fun."


    "The dragons would retaliate," the horned beetle replied. "Malice wouldn''t be happy. She would be weakened just from this fight."


    "Even better. That''ll teach everyone that we are not some fodder to throw their problems at," The Komodo said.


    "Agreed," The Beast King nodded.


    "Then so be it," the Horned Beetle reluctantly agreed. "But I''m leaving once my life is in danger."


    Malice fired a large arrow of shadow with authority that nearly warped the space between her and the Phoenix. The arrow found its mark, straight on the Phoenix''s chest. Blood madra dispersed from its chest, and the Phoenix screeched. Realising its prey could bite back, the Phoenix turned away and left the Blackflame Empire.


    Straight towards the Wastelands. The three Heralds, who were waiting for it, unveiled their spirits. Malice snapped her head towards the jungles of the Wasteland. ''Interesting,'' she thought before disappearing into her shadows and reappearing at Moongrave to nurse her wounds.


    <hr>


    Sadi did not know what had happened. She was cycling the light madra in the dark when the round stone covering the entrance to the room was suddenly yanked away.


    "We must go now!" A black crow entered and wrapped its claws around Sadi''s shoulders before flying out of the room with great speed.


    "Where are we going?" she asked. In the cave, there were many movements of Sacred Beasts, and to her surprise, injured ones were being transported in to be treated. "What''s happening?" she asked.


    "The Beast King and a few others are holding it back far away," the crow began as it dropped Sadi in the middle of a line of Sacred Beasts. "The stronger ones among us are holding the bloodspawns from entering, but more and more are getting wounded."


    The crow pointed its beak towards where most of the injured were being treated. She saw Whitehall among the ones treating the Sacred Beasts. He looked slightly older now.


    "Who are we fighting against?" Sadi tried to ask.


    "They won''t last forever," the crow continued, ignoring Sadi''s question. "We''ll need to go deeper. All light artists will lead the way deeper into the cave systems." It pointed in another direction where sacred beasts were gathering.


    <hr>


    Whitehall''s madra channels were burning. His iron body should have prevented it, but the strain he placed on them caught up. He was healing the minor wounds, using smaller doses of venom aura to accelerate the natural regeneration of the injured sacred beasts.


    Whitehall had long since run out of madra and was now carrying injured from the entrance to their makeshift emergency hospital. Every time he went close to the entrance, every part of his body shivered and screamed ''fear.'' He was unsure what they were fighting out there, but whatever it was, it had injured hundreds of Truegolds and Highgolds.


    Whitehall saw a glimpse beyond the cave through a small crack in the entrance. The battle was fierce, as Sacred Beasts clashed with other beasts made entirely of what looked to be blood. But what caught his attention was the colour of the sky. He felt his stomach twisted in revulsion, disgust, and fear. The sky was blood red.


    <hr>


    The Beast King smiled a bloody grin. The Phoenix was fleeing from the Wastelands, the blue sky slowly replacing the red as the dreadgod went further and further. His beard had burned off his face, revealing a hairless face for the first time in half a century. It would grow back in a few hours.


    "Worth it," the Komodo hissed. She was missing a tail, and numerous scratches and wounds covered her body.


    "We were lucky," the beetle said, now missing a quarter of its horn. "It was weakened from its fight against Malice."


    The Beast King stayed quiet; his smile grew as he watched the direction the Bleeding Phoenix was fleeing towards.


    <hr>


    Seshethkunaaz, the Monarch of the Dragons, felt a disturbance in fate as he sat on his throne. He was in the throne room of his massive Qasr, decorated by gold ornaments and the skulls of his enemies. He activated his divination technique, Sands of Time, and his eyes widened. Previously, only the structure of the Akura symbol was being shredded by the Bleeding Phoenix. Now, however, a symbol with the image of a dragon joined the Akura''s. The Bleeding Phoenix clawed through them both.


    He felt the Bleeding Phoenix approach his territory mere seconds before screams of alarm and panic of dragons blasted throughout his empire. The Phoenix was on its way, and it was coming fast. Sand swallowed his childlike body; he entered through the Way and appeared far above his empire.


    He unveiled his spirit, unleashing it to its fullest. Hundreds of lower Sacred Artists probably died due to the sudden pressure of an unveiled Monarch spirit, but what he did worked. He felt the Phoenix''s attention snapped to him. Seshethkunaaz summoned the sand from the desert, which spun around him, forming a sand vortex. The vortex grew larger and larger until it rivalled the size of the Phoenix.


    A part of him hoped that the Phoenix would find them not worth the energy and flee. The Phoenix''s spirit was battered and wounded, but the bird screeched in defiance. It was going to be a fight, after all.


    Seshethkunaaz sent a mental message to Xhorus and Yuushi; they were to evacuate the area around him immediately and lead the battle against the dreadbeasts and bloodspawns in the distance, lest they will make the situation worse. He was going into a fight with a dreadgod, a battle where his precision would be crucial. Or risk the Phoenix calling his brothers.


    <hr>


    Among the Monarchs in Cradle, Emriss Silentborn was the oldest, and when it comes to reading and manipulating fate and the future- she was a step above the others.


    She had never been so surprised when her eyes, which had shown her the same branches of the possible futures every time, suddenly showed her different iterations¡ªnew iterations. It is as if that branches of the future had been shrouded, and only now have it taken place were it being exposed to the Way.


    What she saw in the new branches of fate terrified her. They were very similar to what she had seen in the older branches; only when she paid close attention did she see slight differences. Her eyes did not show anything beyond that. However, Emriss knew that the changes may be small for now, but the consequences could be catastrophic.


    <hr>


    Elder Empire


    Iteration requested. Asylum


    Date? Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    Malin leaned against a weathered wooden post, his bare feet sinking into the warm sand as he watched the merchant ships glide into the harbour. The vessels were grand, their sails billowing like clouds against the endless blue sky. He waited, his fingers drumming idly against his thigh, as the merchants and sailors began to disembark, their voices carrying over the salty breeze.


    The newcomers were unlike anyone Malin had ever seen. They wore clothes of such fine fabric that they seemed to shimmer in the sunlight¡ªthin, white tunics that draped loosely over their frames and billowing trousers that swayed with every step. Perfect for the relentless tropical heat, their attire was a stark contrast to Malin''s own. He glanced down at himself: shirtless, his skin bronzed by the sun, and clad only in a pair of oversized shorts, hand-me-downs from the village elders. The fabric was frayed at the edges, and the waistband hung low on his narrow hips.


    "Sweet bread, good sirs!" Malin called out, his voice cutting through the hum of the crowd. He straightened his posture, trying to appear taller and more confident.


    A man nearby turned to face him. He was tall, with hair that seemed to shift from brown to a fiery copper under the glare of the sun. His long leather jacket, the colour of rich mahogany, reached down to his calves, and his boots were caked with the dust of distant lands. His gaze was stern at first, but as his eyes fell on Malin¡ªon his bare chest and ill-fitting shorts¡ªhis expression softened.


    "How much for the bread, kid?" the man asked, his voice deep but not unkind.


    Malin hesitated, then held up three fingers, suddenly self-conscious under the man''s scrutiny.


    "Calder, we need to go!" a woman''s voice called from farther down the dock. Malin''s eyes flicked toward her, catching the glint of emerald earrings that swayed as she moved. They were the colour of the sea at dawn, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.


    "Alright, alright," Calder muttered. He dug into his pocket, pulled out three coins, and tossed them to Malin. "Don''t spend them all at once, kid," he said with a faint smile before turning to join the woman. He didn''t even take the bread.


    Malin stared at the coins in his palm, then at Calder''s retreating figure. "Wait!" he called, but the man was already swallowed by the crowd. Malin''s fingers closed around the coins, their edges cool and unfamiliar against his skin. He held one up to the light, squinting at its strange markings and the odd, metallic sheen. It was unlike any coin he''d ever seen¡ªforeign, just like the man who had given it to him.


    For a moment, Malin stood still, the bustle of the harbour fading around him. He wondered where Calder had come from, what far-off lands had shaped him, and whether he''d ever see him again. The coins felt heavy in his hand, not just with their worth but with the promise of something more¡ªsomething beyond the horizon.


    <hr>


    The day had been surprisingly busy, and Malin had sold every last piece of bread before the sun dipped below the horizon. By the time he reached home, the sky was deep indigo, dotted with the first glimmers of stars. The village was quiet; the only sounds were the distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of palm leaves in the evening breeze.


    "Mom, I''m home," Malin called as he pushed open the creaky door to their small house. The familiar scent of wood smoke and dried herbs greeted him, a comforting reminder of the life they had built together.


    "Oh, you''re early today," his mother said, looking up from her seat by the fire pit in the centre of the room. An empty pot sat atop the flames, waiting to be filled. Her hands, rough from years of work, rested in her lap. "I was just about to start making dinner."


    "There were quite a few new ships at the harbour today," Malin replied, his voice tinged with excitement as he knelt by the corner of the room. He pulled out their worn coin jar, its clay surface chipped and faded, and began carefully depositing the day''s earnings. The clink of copper coins filled the small space, a sound that usually brought a sense of pride. But today, Malin paused, holding up the foreign coin Calder had given him. "One of them gave me this," he said, handing it to his mother.


    His mother took the coin, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned it over in the firelight. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed unable to speak. "Who gave you this?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    "One of the foreign sailors," Malin replied, his brow furrowing with worry. "Is it fake?"


    "No, Malin," his mother murmured, her voice filled with awe. "It''s gold."


    Malin''s breath caught in his throat. Gold. He had only ever heard stories of such wealth¡ªtales told by the village elders of faraway lands where the streets were paved with riches. He had never imagined holding a piece of it in his hands, let alone owning it.


    "Oh gods," his mother gasped, clutching the coin tightly. She began to mutter prayers under her breath, her words a rapid stream of gratitude and reverence. Malin followed suit, his voice joining hers in the familiar rhythms of their faith. But even as he prayed, his mind raced with possibilities.


    One day, he thought, his heart swelling with determination. One day, I''ll become a merchant. I''ll travel to those far-off lands, and I''ll provide for us. No more empty pots, no more worn clothes. Just a life of abundance for me and for her.


    The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls of their humble home. For the first time in a long while, Malin felt a spark of hope¡ªa tiny flame that burned brighter with each passing moment.

 Chapter 7: Goodbyes

    "This way," Sadi led the sacred beasts through the cave. She did not know where she was going; her only instructions were to take the sacred beasts'' deeper.'' Ellie walked next to her; the baby elephant was shaking with fear.


    "Are you okay, Ellie?" She asked, placing a hand on the elephant''s back.


    Ellie yelped in surprise, jolting several lowgold and jade sacred beasts behind them. "Sorry, sorry," Ellie muttered. "You just surprised me," she said.


    "Apologies for startling you," Sadi said, keeping her eyes in front. "We''re turning left," she said loudly, her voice reverberating through the tunnel.


    "How are you able to see?" Ellie whispered. "It''s pitch black."


    Sadi could see that it was dark, but she could see nonetheless. She was not sure how to explain it. "I''m a light artist," she answered.


    "That makes sense," Ellie replied.


    Did it? Sadi wondered. Many elders in Heaven''s Glory needed to manifest light when exploring the dark. Even she was not able to see in the dark until very recently.


    "What attacked us?" Sadi asked and she saw Ellie shivered.


    "The Bleeding Phoenix," Ellie whispered as if speaking a forbidden name. "A dreadgod."


    Sadi shivered slightly as well. "How were we able to hold it off," she replied.


    "No," Ellie replied. "That was only its bloodspawns. The Beast King and other Wasteland Heralds are facing the real thing."


    "Can they kill it?" Sadi asked.


    Ellie snorted. "As if. Have you heard about the dread war?"


    "No," Sadi answered.


    "Several Monarchs died the last time they tried to take down the dreadgods. The best we can hope for is to hold it back until it eventually leaves." Ellie inched closer to Sadi so that her belly touched the human''s leg.


    "Can they hold them off, then?" Sadi asked.


    "Hopefully," Ellie replied, not sounding confident. "Last I heard, the Akura Monarch is helping. Even then, we won''t know."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Whitehall walked lifelessly near the end of the line in the tunnel. His mind was empty, his legs only moving on instinct. Today, he had seen many deaths, but that was not what frightened him. What scared him was how the blood of the dead rose back up, not as remnants but as bloodspawns. And whenever a remnant rose, the bloodspawns devoured them.


    He tried to help whoever he could, but his iron body was not attuned to life aura. He could cycle and use life madra, but his body was designed to poison. His core was empty, and his millions of channels required him to exert more madra than would be necessary.


    He kept walking. He would endure it. He realised today how far they still had to go. One day, he would be stronger. Strong enough to kill dreadgods. Just not today.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The Beast King lay on the bed that had been provided to him. It was filled with soft, dried leaves and cotton. His entire body was covered with scripted bandages. All that was left was to light a fire, and it would be a funeral.


    "How''s my apprentices?" He asked the only other person in the room.


    "Uninjured," Ziel of the Wastelands, formerly of the Dawnwing sect, replied lazily.


    "You know I am also including you," The Beast King snorted.


    Ziel shrugged. "I''m not dead yet."


    The Beast King sighed; that was the most he would probably get out of Ziel. "Are the two ready for advancement?"


    "Yes," Ziel replied.


    The Beast King had asked Ziel to prepare Sadi and Whitehall for advancement after the battle with the Phoenix. It seems they needed to move faster.


    "What do you think of them?" The Beast King asked.


    Ziel sighed. "Not much, to be honest. They follow my orders without questions and complete them to the best of their abilities. I don''t like them. I reckon they''ll dig themselves an early grave."


    The Beast King snorted. "If it helps, they want the same thing as you do."


    Ziel raised an eyebrow.


    "To kill the dreadgods."


    Ziel looked away dissapointedly. "That didn''t help. Why take them in any way? They don''t seem special. Do they have some bloodline abilities I don''t know about?"


    "I have no idea," The Beast King replied. "I was just doing a favour for an old friend, but I have in good conscience that they''ll greatly benefit everyone." His old friend had never been wrong before; he still owed them a great deal even if they had.


    "Everyone?" Ziel asked sceptically.


    "Yes," The Beast King replied. "Everyone."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Sadi walked tiredly into the room she shared with Whitehall, sitting on her mattress. Whitehall was by his desk, carved into the wall of their cave room.


    "More lessons?" Whitehall asked Sadi. He turned to look at her. "You''re drenched."


    "Yeah," she answered. "Ziel wanted me to have lessons with this anglerfish. They live in total darkness in the deepest part of the waters."


    "You left the cave?" Whitehall asked. "How''s the situation outside?"


    They had not been allowed to leave the cave in months and instead studied scrolls and scripts to learn more about their paths.


    "I didn''t leave," Sadi replied, drying her wet hair with a cylindrical heating construct. "Turns out the cave runs deep enough that there''s an entrance to the ocean."


    "And how was it?" Whitehall asked.


    Sadi touched her face, removing some of the slime off of it.


    "Yuck," she grimaced, wiping her hand on a towel. "Needed to put my head in a jellyfish so I could breathe. It was pretty cool, though," she continued. "The anglerfish have this special organ that allows them to produce light."


    "Wouldn''t that attract predators?" Whitehall asked, turning back to read his scroll.


    "That''s what they wanted me to learn," Sadi replied, undressing her wet clothes and drying them with the heating construct. "Apparently, the fish has a technique where they use invisible light to warn them of incoming animals."


    "Then why would they need to produce their light if they can use invisible light?" Whitehall looked over his shoulder at her. Surprised to see her state of undress, he blushed and looked away.


    "Oh, please," Sadi remarked. "Nothing either of us haven''t seen before."


    That was true, Whitehall thought. Sacred beasts were always naked, so he guessed there was not much in the name of privacy to them. Their toilet was a hole in the corner of their room, with a water construct to shower and flush. Their Master had laughed when he brought them to the room Whitehall and Sadi would share.


    ''When you are strong enough, then maybe you can have your own room,'' The Beast King had snorted.


    Whitehall and Sadi should count themselves lucky. Almost all the sacred beasts shared rooms with dozens of others in the cave.


    "I''m just surprised," Whitehall muttered. "That''s all."


    "Whatever," Said sighed. "And to answer your question, the anglerfish can''t see in the dark. And their technique only warns them when a predator is moving fast. Maybe at higher levels of advancement, they can."


    "Interesting," Whitehall uttered. "I can see the benefits."


    "What about you?" Sadi asked. "What are you learning?"


    Whitehall slumped. "Biology," he said tiredly. "Who knew that poison artist needed to study about organs and diseases this much."


    "Sounds like a healer''s study," Sadi uttered.


    "Apparently, it''s more," Whitehall complained. "Most healers will just need to channel life aura to speed the natural healing process." He pointed to the pile of scrolls and recording constructs by the wall. "For me, though, I need to know everything. And considering how different animals have their unique biology. Well¡­"Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Sadi snorted. "I thought I had it bad. I wish they''d allow us to spar or train." She began to put on her dried robes.


    They were told not to train or do anything that would tax their madra channels to prepare their spirit for Jade. Neither knew this when they advanced to Jade in Sacred Valley. For them, it was always fight and advance.


    "Same," Whitehall concurred. "If only the other elders could see our preparations for Jade," he said sarcastically.


    Sadi chuckled. "They would insult us to death."


    Her laugh brought a smile to Whitehall''s face. Months of fear of another attack and frustration had not been easy for them both. Moments of jokes were rare.


    "Thanks," Sadi said, still half laughing. "I needed that."


    The door of their room, a large circular rock, slid open, revealing Ellie. Sadi sighed inwardly at Sacred Beasts'' lack of privacy and knocking, but she would not make a fuss about such a benign thing.


    "Hey guys," the baby elephant trumpeted. "The Beast King asked me to tell you he wants to see you both."


    "Thanks, Ellie," Sadi said to the elephant. "We''ll be there soon." Sadi grabbed a bunch of tied-up seaweed from her pouch and tossed it to Ellie, who caught them with her trunk.


    "Oooooh," Ellie salivated, bringing the seaweed close to her eyes. "That smells good. Thanks, Sadi."


    Sadi pressed her fists together and bowed, she was sure Whitehall was doing the same. "Thank you for delivering the message."


    Ellie sighed. "You guys should stop doing that. It''s bizarre. Look at me; how am I supposed to bow like that? Can you imagine the chaos among the Sacred Beasts if we have to bow like that, too?"


    "Apologies," Sadi said, continuing to bow.


    "I tried," Ellie sighed again. "Anyways," she trumpeted joyfully again. "Thanks for the snack."


    Sadi and Whitehall waited for Ellie to leave before straightening their backs. They looked at each other.


    "Master have not called for us in months," Whitehall said.


    Sadi shrugged. "Guess we''ll find out why. Have you been wondering why he took us in?" she asked.


    Whitehall nodded.


    "Saving us was enough, but giving us an iron body and training us personally is a bit much," She added.


    "It is," Whitehall said. "The benefits have been evident to us. But I don''t know how to ask him without causing any possible offence."


    "That''s true," Said agreed, exhaling audibly. "Let''s just go and see what he wants."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Whitehall and Sadi bowed with their fists pressed together to their Master. The Beast King had long given up on getting them to stop bowing every time they saw him.


    Whitehall''s body shivered as he felt the Beast King sensing his spirit. He felt Sadi also shivering slightly next to him.


    "Good," The Beast King said.


    He was no longer covered in bandages as they had last met. He was back to his full strength. His demeanour had changed, however. Ever since the attack of the Bleeding Phoenix, The Beast King had looked and sounded more serious.


    "You two are ready," The Beast King said. "Show me your cycling technique."


    They both breathed in the pattern that they had been taught.


    Satisfied, their Master told them to stop. "Use this," he held a hand, revealing two identical parasite rings.


    They both wore the ring and immediately felt it harder to breathe, as if a great weight had pressed down on their lungs.


    "I want you both to go in your cycling rooms and cycle with the ring on. And make sure to keep your perception out," The Beast King ordered.


    "Master, is this what I think it is?" Sadi asked the question that Whitehall had also wanted to ask.


    For the first time, The Beast King grinned. "Yes. You both are advancing to Jade."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The Beast King sat at the opening of a vast root, entwined with the ancient life force of the thousand-year-old Menhua tree. Its gnarled, silver-barked tendrils reached skyward, whispering stories of centuries past. Sunlight filtered through its emerald canopy, casting dappled patterns across the ground where sacred beasts and offspring gathered in sombre silence.


    "You should not have fought," he muttered, his voice cracking.


    His words felt small¡ªlike a child throwing a tantrum. He clenched the earth beneath him, knuckles white, feeling the pulse of life deep within the roots. This place had the strongest concentration of life aura in The Wasteland. Yet it was not enough.


    In front of him lay Sunda, the once-majestic golden bird now faded and frail. The ethereal glow of his feathers dimmed like a sunset retreating beneath a storm cloud. Around them, sacred beasts on the path of life stood solemn, their eyes reflecting the weight of an impending loss.


    "Come here, King," Sunda''s voice broke through the air, warm and commanding, yet softer than the Beast King had ever heard. Only Sunda ever called him by that name. It was not the title the world knew but the name of a promise, an identity forged in his despair.


    He approached, each step feeling heavier, each moment stretched out in a painful eternity. His mind wandered to the night they met fondly.


    Broken, battered, and exiled, he was left alone in the wasteland to die. Instead, Sunda had found him, nursed him back to health, and taught him the way of the wastelands.


    "What is your name?" Sunda had asked back then, sitting by the boy''s makeshift bed inside a hollowed cave. Her golden feathers glowed softly in the dim light, filling the darkness with her warm light.


    "Umm," the young boy hesitated, looking at the majestic bird with awe.


    "You may choose any name you want," the golden bird suggested gently. Her voice was soothing, like a lullaby in his unending nightmares.


    "Anything?" he had whispered, eyes wide with wonder.


    "Anything," she assured him.


    The young boy beamed then, hope igniting in his chest. "King!"


    Sunda had laughed. Her laugh rumbled like a distant thunder, yet gentle and comforting. "A bold choice."


    Now, the Beast King knelt beside Sunda. Her golden feathers, once a blazing sun in the wastelands, were now like autumn leaves, fragile and dimming. The bird reached out, a wing gently brushing the Beast King''s cheek.


    "You''ve grown so much," the bird whispered. "I am so proud of the beast you have become."


    The Beast King could not help but shed a tear for his master- his parent in all sense but species. He would allow himself to shed a tear for her.


    "Did you know?" he choked. "Did you see this day coming? Did you know you would die?"


    Sunda''s eyes softened. "We are never meant to stay in this world forever, my dear," the bird replied gently.


    "I can call for Northstrider," The Beast King insisted desperately. "He will help if I do him a favour."


    Sunda''s expression hardened, and she looked up at the sky. "Never trust the current Monarchs. They poison us for their selfishness," the bird hissed with a ferocity that he had only seen once. "I would rather die a thousand times before I reveal myself to them."


    "I can''t let you die," The Beast King clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. "Not like this. Not from some bloodspawn."


    "That''s where you''re wrong, my dear," the bird said, closing her eyes in serenitiy. "I still have my remnant," she tried to joke.


    The Beast King snorted. He closed his eyes, too, feeling the fading warmth of Sunda''s golden feathers. Memories washed over him. He remembered their lessons, the laughter, and the battles they fought.


    "How are your apprentices?" Sunda''s voice brought him back to the present.


    "They''re currently advancing to Jade," King answered. The realisation hit him, and he looked at his master wide-eyed. "You can''t mean-"


    The ancient bird nodded, a knowing smile on her beak. "Let the girl absorb my remnant; we were always meant to be together."


    "You knew? That was why you sent me to save them," the Beast King muttered, the pieces falling into place.


    "Fate has always been fickle," the bird explained. "But this eventuality was set in stone the moment I was born in Cradle."


    "It doesn''t have to be like this. You could bond with her instead."


    "Don''t be sad, my dear," The bird brushed the Herald''s unkempt hair. "I will never die."


    "And the boy?" The Beast King muttered.


    "I would like to see him first once he advanced. I would like to talk to him."


    ----------


    Iteration requested. Asylum


    Date? Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    "No! I won''t allow it!" Malin''s mother''s voice rang out, sharp and unyielding, cutting through the stillness of their small home.


    Malin, now thirteen, stood his ground, his heart pounding. This was the first time he had dared to voice his dream aloud¡ªto become a merchant, to sail the seas, to see the world beyond their village. But his mother''s reaction was fiercer than he had anticipated.


    "But why?" he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and confusion.


    His mother''s face twisted with emotion, her eyes wide with fear¡ªalmost terror. "Because," she began, her voice breaking. She hesitated as if the words were too heavy to speak. Tears spilt down her cheeks, glistening in the dim light of the fire. "Because... your father."


    Malin froze. This was the first time his mother had ever spoken of his father. All he had ever been told was that the man had abandoned them when Malin was just two years old. The rest had been shrouded in silence, a mystery Malin had long stopped asking about.


    His mother''s expression shifted, her sorrow giving way to a simmering rage. "He said the same thing¡ªthat he wanted to travel, to become a merchant. And he never came back!" Her voice rose, raw and trembling. She jabbed a finger at her chest. "I took care of you! I raised you! I skipped sleep every night to make sure you had food to eat! I sacrificed everything for you!" Her voice cracked, and her face fell, the anger draining away to reveal a deep, aching sadness. "And now you want to leave me too."


    Malin''s heart ached at her words. He stepped closer, his voice soft but firm. "I won''t leave you, Mom. I know how much you''ve sacrificed for me. I won''t leave you."


    His mother''s sobs grew louder, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her hands. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a desperate fear¡ªthe fear of being left alone, of losing the one person she had poured her life into. Wordlessly, she opened her arms, and Malin rushed into them, holding her tightly.


    They stood there, mother and son, clinging to each other as the fire crackled softly in the background. Malin could feel her trembling, her tears dampening his shoulder. At that moment, he felt the weight of her sacrifices, her fears, and her love. And though his dream still burned within him, he knew he could never abandon her¡ªnot after everything she had endured.


    <hr>


    "My son," she began, her voice trembling as a single tear traced a path down her weathered cheek. "I only ask one thing of you. Once you''ve made your fortune, once you''ve prospered... please don''t forget about your mom. I''ll always be here, waiting for you."


    Malin had never brought up his dream again after that first time. But she had seen it in his eyes¡ªthe way he gazed longingly at the ships that docked at their village harbour, their sails billowing like promises of adventure. She had noticed the envy in his expression as he watched the sailors and the other village boys board those ships, their laughter carrying over the waves as they set off for distant lands.


    With a heavy heart, she unlocked the small wooden basket where they kept their meagre savings. From it, she pulled a worn envelope, its edges frayed from years of being tucked away. "This is some money I''ve saved for you," she said, pressing it into his hands. Her fingers lingered for a moment as if reluctant to let go.


    Malin looked at her, his eyes wide with surprise. His mother managed a faint smile, though her lips trembled. "I''ve cried many nights, wishing you would want to stay," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But deep down, I always knew this day would come."


    Tears welled up in Malin''s eyes, spilling over as he pulled her into a tight embrace. "Mom," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I..."


    "It''s okay, Malin," she interrupted gently, her hand stroking his back. She hadn''t realized when it had happened, but her son had grown taller than her, his shoulders broader, his frame stronger. "You''re an adult now. It''s time for you to find your own path." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "A merchant ship at the harbour has agreed to take you on. The pay isn''t much, but it''s a start."


    Malin pulled back, his tear-streaked face a mix of confusion and hope. "How?" he asked.


    "One of their crew is an old friend," his mother replied simply, her smile bittersweet.


    Malin took a step back, his face breaking into a wide, radiant grin. It was the smile of someone who could see the future stretching out before him, bright and full of promise.


    "Just don''t forget about me," she said softly, her voice cracking. "Come visit me whenever you can. That''s all I ask."


    Malin placed his hands on his hips, his confidence shining through. "Don''t worry, Mom! I''ll come back as often as I can. Once I succeed, I''ll take us out of this place. We''ll have the biggest home in the village, and we''ll even open a shop to sell our sweet bread!"


    His smile was so full of hope, so full of determination, that it made her heart ache. She had never doubted he would succeed. She had always believed in him.


    But now, fifteen years later, she cried herself to sleep every night, her pillow damp with tears. The house felt emptier than ever, the silence a constant reminder of his absence. She had let him go, believing it was the right thing to do. But as the years stretched on with no word, no visit, no sign of him, regret gnawed at her heart. She had given him her blessing, but she hadn''t prepared herself for the possibility that he might never return.

 Chapter 8: Jade

    Sadi sat with her legs crossed in a cycling position, cycling the light madra in the dark cave. She was sure that was what Sunda meant by finding the light in the darkness. When Sadi focused on expanding her perception, she could feel the light madra that was invisible from her eyes. It was everywhere, so difficult to find yet so plentiful.


    The parasite ring slowed the cycling of her madra, and she had to exert more strength and focus. But she was getting used to it.


    "Keep cycling," A stranger''s voice drawled.


    She was about to open her eyes to greet the man, but he continued.


    "No," he said, as if he knew what Sadi was about to do. "Keep cycling."


    She obeyed. Sweat trickled down her head as she continued to struggle.


    "Perception out," the man guided her.


    She tried to extend her perception further, feeling the madra outside her room.


    "Not like that. Imagine you''re using your eyes," the man yawned. "See without your eyes."


    Sadi thought she was already doing that, but she guessed she was wrong based on what the man said. So she tried to do what he had suggested. Instead of trying to feel the madra through her perception, she decided to see.


    The light aura around her blinded her eyes. The sudden illumination caused her to fall back, breaking her cycling. She covered her eyes with her hands. The light was too bright to the point it hurt.


    "You''re a light artist. Control it," the man suggested lazily.


    Sadi focused her madra and manipulated the light aura around her. The light aura lessened, and soon, she saw only a faint grey instead of blinding white. She opened her eyes and felt that they were moist. She felt her core and was almost blinded again. She had gone through something similar during her previous advancement. But this time was different. It was more intense, more painful.


    "Jade," the man muttered a single word.


    She turned to see the man behind her. He had shaggy black hair shorter than The Beast King''s. But what caught her attention was the two green horns protruding from his forehead.


    She pressed her fists together and bowed. "This one is named Nasiri Sadi. And this one thanks the Elder for his guidance."


    The man, leaning against the round stone door, gave her a lethargic gaze with his green eyes.


    The man was not talking. Unsure what to do or say, she continued bowing. She heard the man shuffle his feet, and she looked up. He was stepping to the side, slowly, as if not to alert her. He sighed when he saw her noticing his movements.


    "Ziel," he muttered. He pointed to his stomach, right above his core. "You want to test your sight?"


    "May I?" Sadi asked in surprise. Using her Jade sight on someone with equal advancement back in Sacred Valley was rude, and she thought it would be the same out here.


    The man shrugged and continued to look at her impassively. "Why not? Almost everyone had done so," he said nonchalantly.


    She nodded and opened her perception. Her vision was clearer than before; she could see his core and madra channels in far more detail than her previous Jade sight. She cringed inwardly at the sight. His madra channels were twisted and maimed. But the power he still had was far beyond her current advancement.


    "Good," the man said, flicking a finger at the stone door. Sadi saw a flash of green light, and the stone door was flung open. "I am going to help your boyfriend now."


    Sadi did not respond. She was too caught up by what she had seen. The man was at least gold, and her perception told her he still had power beyond Ellie''s advancement. He was beyond gold once upon a time. Then he had been mangled and crippled. She knew she would have died if someone had done it to her. She felt shivers crawl down her spine at the thought of going through the same experience.


    Whitehall sat with his legs crossed in a pool of venom. He focused his entire mind on his cycling. The parasite ring made it difficult, and the venom would eat him alive if he faltered. He could feel the venom''s desire to enter his skin; the only thing that prevented it was his control.


    "Perception," the stranger muttered for the fifteenth time.


    Whitehall gritted his teeth and tried to push his perception out. The venom bit into his pores, and he returned his focus to cycling. Whitehall''s body shivered as he felt the man using his perception.


    "I see now," the man sighed. "Trust the venom. That it will never hurt you."


    Whitehall bit his lips and tried to extend his perception again. He felt blood in his mouth as his bite tightened. His skin burned as the venom devoured it.


    "What kind of poison artist is afraid of their own poison?" the man asked sluggishly.


    The venom burned, and Whitehall returned his focus to keeping it out of his channels. He waited for the man''s voice again, but the man had stayed quiet. It seems the man had reached his limit.


    Whitehall''s mind whirled with inner conflict. He was fine with suicide missions, but this felt like just suicide. But was he not on a suicide mission already? Screw it , he thought to himself. I''ve died before .


    He opened his perception fully and removed the defences he had maintained against the venom. They rushed inside him, devouring everything greedily.


    "Keep your perception out," the man finally spoke again.


    Whitehall screamed, extending his perception to the fullest and expecting the pain that would come. But there was no pain as if the venom wanted to help instead. The venom entered him and went through his madra channels, settling in his core. His perception widened, and he could feel the stranger''s madra in front of him. Whitehall could feel the man''s core and opened his eyes in shock.


    The man stood leaning against a wall, his arms crossed on his chest.


    Whitehall held himself back from asking. He pressed his fists and greeted the man instead. "This one thanks the Elder for his guidance. This one is called-"


    The man immediately cut in. "I know your names," he muttered in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I''ve seen to and observed your training," he continued, returning to his initial lazy way of speaking.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Whitehall opened his mouth, but the man answered before he could ask.


    "You two were iron. Your perception was... not there yet."


    Whitehall bowed. "This one thanks you, Elder."


    "Ziel," the man replied. "Just Ziel."


    Ziel was more advanced than Whitehall and deserved the honorific. But at the same time, he seems to be more annoyed by it than The Beast King. "This one thanks you, Ziel."


    Ziel let out a long, audible sigh. "You two are perfect for each other," he shook his head.


    Whitehall observed his Jade core. Where the previous time he was Jade, his core was a faint yellow light like a candle; this time, it was black. His core was reflective, almost like a concentrated sword aura. But his core bubbled and boiled with venom.


    "Come on, then," Ziel''s voice cut through Whitehall''s self-observations. Someone wants to see you two." He flicked his finger to open the stone door. Whitehall''s perception told him he used a technique with scripts.


    "Master?" Whitehall asked, stepping out of the venom pool.


    "He''ll be there," Ziel said as he left the chamber.


    Whitehall followed and saw Sadi sitting against the hallway wall near his cycling room, waiting for them. She was channelling light aura on the tip of her fingers and inspecting it closely. She stopped when she saw them exiting.


    She gave Whitehall a questioning look, and he nodded in response. She returned the nod. They were both Jade again.


    Ziel kept walking, and they jogged to catch up. He led them to the cave entrance and nodded to a bear sacred beast to open the giant stone door. Sadi and Whitehall looked at each other, delighted by the chance to finally leave the cave.


    The sunlight caused Whitehall to look away. After spending months in the dim cave, his eyes had forgotten how bright it was outside. Sadi was not affected and smiled instead. Whitehall watched her eyes gleaming familiarly under the golden sun.


    Ziel had not waited for them, leaving a trail of footprints in the dense forest. Whitehall grinned as he ran, weaving through the twisted trees. There was a lightness in his steps¡ªa breath of freedom that made his heart pound.


    A laugh escaped him, unexpected and raw. The sound echoed off the gnarled trunks, startling a bird into flight. He glanced sideways, catching Sadi''s eye. She was smiling, her eyes sparkling with an energy he hadn''t seen since they''d entered the cave. Her hair streamed behind her, and momentarily, the world''s weight seemed to lift.


    It felt good to be out of the cave. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of grass and damp earth.


    Finally, the footprints stopped at a small clearing. Sunlight poured through the break in the trees, illuminating a patch of soft grass. A tree they had never seen before stood at the centre, its roots at the height of houses. Its bark reached far up to the sky, emerging taller than any other tree in the forest. Whitehall could feel the overwhelming life aura from the distance.


    Ziel stood at the perimeter of the clearing, waiting for someone or something. A few moments later, The Beast King stepped out of the root. He smirked when he saw his two youngest disciples'' dishevelled state.


    "Enjoying Jade?" he asked, still smiling.


    "Yes, master," they replied and bowed.


    Ziel sighed again for the third time today.


    "Good, good," The Beast King placed his hands on Whitehall and Sadi''s shoulders.


    "What do you need us to do, master?" Whitehall asked.


    The Beast King''s smile disappeared. It was fake, anyway. He looked to the side. "My master would like to see you two in her final hours," he muttered, soft and solemn yet clear.


    Whitehall felt the weight of The Beast King''s words. He never knew The Beast King had a master. Whitehall''s smile disappeared, and he noticed Sadi did the same. They would be in their best behaviour to honour The Beast King''s master.


    "Go," The Beast King ordered. "She waits for you."


    They looked up to him as they straightened. "Are you not going to join us, master?" Sadi asked.


    "No," The Beast King answered. "I''ll wait here with Zeal."


    They hesitantly nodded and trudged towards the opening in the tree''s root, dried leaves crunched at every step. They entered the root and saw a faint glow of golden light reflected on the walls. They followed the narrow path with Whitehall in the lead.


    The path led them into a room, and Whitehall saw a giant golden bird lying on a makeshift bed. The bird''s size filled the room. A few similar but much smaller birds sat by its side, glowing brightly, unlike the giant one. Whitehall was unable to shift his gaze from the giant bird- its golden beak, its golden talons, its golden feathers.


    "Sunda!" Sadi yelled, running past Whitehall and kneeling beside the bird.


    "Leave us, my children," Sunda said to her offspring. Her voice was melodic and soft. The smaller birds left the room, leaving Sadi and Whitehall alone.


    "Sadi, dear child," Sunda said, running her wing gently on the girl''s face. "I would like to speak with Whitehall alone. I''ll speak with you last."


    Tears fell from Sadi''s eyes as she cried for the bird she barely knew. She nodded and walked out of the room. Her tears doubled as she left the root. She was unsure why she felt such sadness, crying like never before- shedding tears that she did not shed when her brother died.


    Elder Empire


    Iteration requested. Asylum


    Date? Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    "Tora, we''re almost there!" Captain Malin bellowed over the roar of the wind and waves. "Put all the sails down! Jibe if you have to!"


    "Aye, Captain!" Tora, the first mate, shouted back. He turned to the crew, his voice carrying authority. "You heard the Captain! Full speed ahead! Our treasures are waiting for us!"


    The ship cut through the choppy waters with precision, its crew working in perfect harmony. It didn''t take long for them to reach the mouth of the cave, hidden within the rugged cliffs of a mountain island rising defiantly from the ocean. They lowered a small raft, and Malin, Tora, and five other crew members rowed into the shadowy depths of the cave.


    As they ventured deeper, the dim light from their torches flickered against the jagged walls, casting eerie shadows. When they finally reached the heart of the cave, the sight before them left everyone speechless¡ªexcept Malin. While the others gaped in awe and greed, Malin stood with a triumphant grin plastered across his face.


    "Once more, Captain, I have to ask... how?" Tora said, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and disbelief. "How do you always know where to find these things?"


    Malin shrugged, his grin widening. "Call it a gut feeling. It''s as if I can sense the right way."


    Tora raised an eyebrow, looking at Malin incredulously. "I''ll be honest, Captain. The first time I agreed to follow you, I was desperate." He gestured toward the wreckage ahead¡ªa massive, rotting ship, its hull splintered and overgrown with barnacles. "But now? You''ve brought us to the wreck of a long-lost eastern ship. I knew you had potential when you, a lowly ship cleaner, asked me to follow you. But this? This is beyond anything I could''ve imagined."


    "Nope," Malin replied, his tone light and teasing.


    Tora frowned. "No?"


    "You didn''t follow me because you thought I had potential," Malin said with a chuckle. "You were desperate."


    Tora burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the cavern. "Aye, mostly that."


    The crew quickly got to work, gathering the treasures scattered throughout the cave. More men were brought ashore to help search and load the loot. The haul was staggering¡ªpiles of gold coins, ancient jewels that sparkled even in the dim light, and artefacts that spoke of a bygone era.


    "Captain!" one of the crew members shouted, his voice tinged with excitement. "Found something that might interest you!"


    Malin followed the voice, his boots crunching against the rocky ground. The crew member stood over a small, ornate chest, its surface intricately carved but tarnished with age. The man had tried to open it, but the lock held firm.


    "Put it on the ground," Malin ordered. He pulled a hammer from his belt and knelt beside the chest. With a few sharp strikes, the lock gave way, and the chest creaked open. Most of its contents had rotted to dust, but a bundle of papers tied together with a crumbling rubber band caught his eye. The ink had faded, rendering the words illegible.


    What truly captured Malin''s attention, however, was a signet ring nestled among the debris. He picked it up, brushing off the dust to reveal its intricate design. The ring was made of silver, its face adorned with the carving of a bird¡ªits wings and legs spread wide, a shield emblazoned on its chest. The shield was divided into four sections, each bearing a different emblem. Malin squinted, trying to make out the details. One looked like a tree, another a bull, but the others were too worn to decipher.


    As he held the ring, a strange sensation washed over him¡ªa feeling he couldn''t quite place. It was as if the ring carried a weight far beyond its physical form, a whisper of something ancient and significant. Malin slipped it onto his finger, the metal cool against his skin, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.


    "You have made a great discovery, Captain Malin," the man on the throne declared, his voice resonating through the grand hall. The Sultan''s words were measured, each syllable dripping with authority and grandeur. "For your service, you shall be rewarded handsomely."


    Malin knelt before the throne, his head bowed in a show of respect. The marble floor was cool beneath his knees, and the air was thick with the scent of incense and the faint metallic tang of gold. "I thank you for your generosity, Great Sultan," he replied, his voice steady but laced with humility.


    The Sultan continued his speech, extolling Malin''s achievements and the value of the treasures he had brought to the kingdom. But Malin''s attention had already drifted. His eyes flicked to the side, where one of the Sultan''s daughters stood among her attendants. She was young, her features sharp and regal, but it was her expression that caught his attention¡ªa mischievous smile playing on her lips, her eyes gleaming with curiosity and something else he couldn''t quite place.


    Malin''s lips curved into a smirk, barely noticeable to anyone but her. She tilted her head slightly, her smile widening as if sharing a secret only the two of them understood. The exchange lasted only a moment, but it was enough to send a thrill through him. Here, in the heart of the Sultan''s palace, surrounded by opulence and power, Malin felt a different kind of victory¡ªone that had nothing to do with gold or jewels.


    "How long has it been since you left?" Tseria asked, her voice soft and drowsy as she lay beside Malin, her head resting on his chest. The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the chamber, casting a silvery glow over the room.


    "Left?" Malin murmured, his fingers absently tracing patterns on her arm.


    "Don''t act stupid, Malin," Tseria said with a playful smirk, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. "Left home."


    Malin let out a low chuckle, his chest rumbling beneath her. "Hmm," he mused, staring up at the canopy above. "Three or four years now, I think."


    "Wow," Tseria replied, her tone tinged with admiration. She propped herself up on one elbow, her dark eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Captain Malin, a man who took only four years to build an armada of twenty ships. The navigator guilds must be swooning over you."


    Malin grinned, his confidence shining through. "Guilds just aren''t for me. Too many rules, too many egos." He shifted suddenly, rolling on top of her and pinning her gently to the bed. "Besides," he said, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur, "I have everyone I want swooning over me right here."


    Tseria giggled her laughter like music in the quiet room. She reached up, running her fingers down his chest, her touch light and teasing. "I do want to see where you grew up, Malin," she said, her tone turning thoughtful.


    Malin raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Oh?" he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Does that mean...?"


    "Yes," Tseria replied, her eyes locking with his. "My father has agreed to our match." Her fingers stilled on his chest, and she smiled softly. "All we need to do now is for me to visit your home, and our engagement can officially proceed."


    Malin''s heart swelled with joy, and he let out a laugh¡ªa deep, unrestrained sound that filled the room. This was everything he had wanted, everything he had worked for. "I''d love that," he said, his voice warm with affection. He leaned down, brushing a kiss against her forehead. "I''ll take you there myself. You''ll see where it all began."


    Tseria smiled up at him, her expression a mix of excitement and tenderness. "I can''t wait," she whispered, her fingers curling into his hair as she pulled him closer.


    For a moment, they lay there, wrapped in each other''s warmth, the world outside forgotten. Malin''s mind drifted to the village he had left behind, to the small house by the harbour and the woman who had raised him. He wondered what she would think of Tseria, of the life he had built, of the man he had become. And for the first time in years, he felt a pang of longing¡ªnot for the treasures he had sought, but for the home he had left behind.

 Chapter 9: Secrets

    Whitehall stared at Sunda. His mind whirled with thoughts.


    "Hello, Sinar," Sunda greeted him.


    "How do you know that name?" he demanded, taken aback by the mention of his name from another life.


    Sunda chuckled. "That would be a long story. A story that I will not be able to tell. Neither do we have the time."


    "You''re...," Whitehall pointed at her. "You''re a garuda. You''re a myth."


    "Not in this life," Sunda responded, smiling softly.


    "Are you?" Whitehall muttered, his jaw shaking. "From my world?"


    "Yes," she nodded. The feather across her chest parted, revealing scars.


    Whitehall''s face paled, and his body shook at the shape of the scars. The scar was in the shape of a shield divided into five sections. A bull''s head, a banyan tree, cotton and wheat, a chainring, and a star at the centre. His eyes grew moist as he shifted his gaze to below the shield, where the scars formed three words in a language he thought he would never see again.


    "Bhinneka Tunggal Ika," Whitehall read the words, his voice coming out in a disbelieving whisper.


    "Different but together," Sunda translated his words.


    "It can''t be." His legs gave out, and he fell to a kneel. Whitehall crawled his way to Sunda with wide eyes. "You were meant to be a symbol. How? What are you?"


    "I cannot reveal that, Sinar. But in time, you will learn," the bird wistfully answered.


    "Can you take me home?" Whitehall begged.


    "I can''t," Sunda replied. "But you can do it yourself should you ascend from here. Although I believe you would choose not to."


    "What do you mean?" Whitehall exasperated, clenching his hair with both fists.


    "In time, Sinar," the bird answered, gently removing Whitehall''s hand from his hair with her talons. "Some things you can only know by finding out yourself."


    Whitehall screamed, letting out his frustration and desperation. He inhaled deeply and exhaled long. "My people, then," he began. "Did we win?"


    Sunda smiled, and her feathers brightened slightly. "You''re people won, and the invaders have left. Your sacrifice was not in vain."


    He leaned against the root wall, sighing in relief. He did not know when it started, but a tear dripped down his cheek. "Why am I here?" he finally asked.


    "I''m sorry, Sinar, but you''ll have to find out yourself," she answered.


    "Then why are you telling me all of this!" Whitehall snapped. "Why reveal yourself to me? Why not let me live my second life in ignorance if there is nothing I can do?!"


    Sunda stretched a wing towards him. "Come here, Sinar," she urged, her voice soothing.


    He came close, and she wrapped his head in her feathers. "You have been fighting for so long," she consoled him. "Your whole life had been a fight, and you continued even after it." She rubbed his head gently, her feathers removing his tears. "You are already doing something. You''re fighting for a cause greater than you can imagine. And I want you to know that you''re not alone."


    Whitehall nodded under her feathers. He stayed beneath her soft golden feathers, wiping away his grief for a long while. In the end, he felt relief after finally knowing what had happened to his nation.


    "Someone would like to see you," Sunda''s voice broke the silence.


    He looked up at the bird and asked, "Who?"


    Sunda let out a soft screech, and Whitehall heard wings flapping towards the room. A small garuda entered, flying across the room and perching on his shoulder. Unlike the other garudas, this one was as black as a crow.


    "Introduce yourself, Meatball," Sunda told her daughter.


    "Hi," Meatball greeted Whitehall. She sounded disappointed by her tone. "My name is Meatball, but my mom just told you that, so I guess that was unnecessary."


    "Umm. Nice to meet you, Meatball. My name is Whitehall," Whitehall returned the greeting. Meatball was an interesting name; he''ll ask the small garuda later.


    "I suppose it is also nice to finally meet my partner-to-be," Meatball replied.


    "Partner-to-be?" Whitehall turned to face Sunda, raising an eyebrow.


    Sunda sighed. "Can you be a little kinder to him, Meatball?"


    Meatball shrugged. "I''ll try. But mind you, my first impression of him is that he is a child on his knees with puffy eyes."


    "Never mind," Sunda exhaled, turning her gaze to Whitehall. "She hatched differently than the others. Instead of light madra, she came out with poison. I think she''ll make the perfect contracted partner for you."


    "That is," Whitehall paused as he searched for the right words. "eerily convenient."


    "Yes," Sunda nodded. "A viper bit my eggs when I was not at the nest."


    Whitehall felt Meatball stand straighter on his shoulder.


    "And I am the only survivor," the smaller bird chirped proudly.


    Whitehall''s sceptic gaze did not leave Sunda. He felt as if there was something else that they were not telling him.


    "I know. But it is, as you said. Eerily convenient. But sometimes things happen by chance," Sunda assured him.


    Whitehall thought about it and nodded. He guessed he would receive another one of Sunda''s offspring if he had stuck to a light path.


    "She''ll join and grow with you if you wish to accept her as a contracted partner. Only if you wish so," Sunda stated.


    "He''ll accept," Meatball chirped. "Stupid for him not to."


    Whitehall thought that he ought to feel annoyed by the bird''s brazenness. But he found it cute, instead. And she was right. It would be stupid not to.


    "I accept," Whitehall said. "How do we do this?"


    "Not here," Sunda replied, looking up at the ceiling. "Your master will be able to help you. My time is short, and I must speak to Sadi before I go."


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Whitehall stared at her. His one connection to his home was about to die.


    "Ahem," coughed Meatball. "That was our cue to leave."


    After a moment of hesitation, Whitehall nodded, stood up, and began leaving. He paused as he left the room. "Would you like some time with your mother?" he asked Meatball," to say goodbye."


    The bird on his shoulder looked at him incredulously. "What for? She can never die," she answered, flapping her wings, signalling Whitehall to continue leaving.


    Whitehall gulped and continued walking. He wondered if he should tell Meatball the truth. Ultimately, he felt that it was most likely Sunda''s wish to part this way with her children.


    <hr>


    Sadi''s footsteps were heavy as she walked through the narrow path inside the Menhua tree. She had held back her tears when she waited outside, not allowing anyone to see her in such a state. Alone, her tears flow down relentlessly.


    Why, she asked herself, why was she feeling such intense grief for Sunda? The others were preoccupied with Meatball when Whitehall exited. She was glad they did not notice her body shaking as she entered. Maybe they did, but if so, she was glad they did not say anything.


    "Sadi," Sunda''s familiar voice called from inside the room as she entered. The bird smiled slightly when she saw Sadi''s tears. "Come here, child," the bird extended her wing.


    Sadi knelt beside her, allowing Sunda to wrap her wing over her shoulder. "You''re dying," she muttered.


    Sunda chuckled. "I can never die." Her laughter grew bigger. "You and Sinar are funny."


    "Who?" Sadi asked, unfamiliar with the name.


    "Whitehall, I mean," Sunda corrected. "He reminded me of someone I knew from long ago."


    Sadi smiled sadly. "Anything I can do for you?"


    Sunda''s smile never wavered. "Yes. That is why I called for you." Sunda stood tall, and Sadi was reminded of the bird''s majestic form when they first met on the tree top. "I will need you to absorb my remnant and advance."


    "What?" Sadi took a step back in surprise at the request. "I... I..." she could not piece together her words. "I can''t," she finally said.


    "You can and you will," Sunda replied. "It will be gentle, I promise you."


    "Why me?" Sadi asked. "There are sacred artists and beasts out there that are more powerful than me."


    Sunda cackled. "Thank you for making me laugh in my final hours. It is a good way to go."


    "No!" Sadi protested. "You can''t go. Not yet."


    Sunda gave her a small but genuine smile. "You and I are meant to be together. You know this deep inside you from the moment you saw me."


    Sadi opened her mouth but found herself unable to deny the bird''s statement. "But not like this. Why can''t we form a contract like Whitehall and Meatball will?" she cried.


    "Do not shed tears for me, dear child," Sunda comforted her. "I will always be with you until the end."


    Sadi opened her mouth. She needed to say something- suggest another way. Anything to stop this from happening. "No!" she yelled, rushing to the bird. She hugged Sunda tightly. "You can''t. Not when we just met."


    Sadi felt soft feathers rubbing the back of her head.


    "Close your eyes, dear child," Sunda said gently. "And I shall be with you forever."


    Sadi closed her eyes, sobbing. She saw golden light illuminating brighter and brighter through her eyelids. Her hug tightened. The golden light was now blinding, but Sadi allowed it. She wanted to feel Sunda- feel her final moments.


    Like Sunda had said, it was gentle. Sadi remembered Whitehall''s account of the sword sage''s disciple taking in her master''s remnant. Their fight had destroyed the indestructible wall of the ancestor''s tomb. With Sunda, however, it was like a mother''s gentle caress. Sunda''s light dimmed as Sadi''s core glowed brighter. Her core heated into a comfortable warmth.


    She cycled the excess madra using the cycling technique Sunda had taught her, pushing it into her skin but preventing it from exiting. Her core kept growing as more and more madra entered her. It came in slow and steady, never overwhelming.


    When the excess madra had stopped entering her, she felt Sunda''s remaining remnant nestling in her core.


    " You will break me when you are ready to advance ," Sunda''s voice, as gentle as she had always been, echoed in her mind. " Do not be afraid. I will still be here. Always ."


    Sadi opened her eyes and saw that she was still clinging to Sunda''s lifeless form. Her arms held Sunda''s body upright. With tears in her eyes, she gently laid the bird onto the bed. The bird''s body still glowed a faint yellow. No. Sunda was not glowing.


    She stepped back and looked at her hands. It was her¡ªher nails, more specifically. She cycled madra towards the nails, and they grew into sharp talons. When she willed them to return, the talons complied and transformed back to the original yellow glowing nails.


    This was her goldsign. She was lowgold. She had made it further than anyone in Heaven''s glory. Yet she felt further away than she ever before. And the cost that came with it. The thought brought a bitter excitement. But she remembered Sunda''s words and clamped down her grief.


    <hr>


    Iteration requested. Asylum


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    Report Complete


    Malin stood on the deck of his flagship, the Bhayangkara, its name chosen on a whim but feeling inexplicably right. The ship was anchored in the middle of the vast ocean, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the calm waters. His betrothed, Tseria, slept soundly in the cabin below, unaware of the storm brewing in Malin''s mind. He leaned against the railing, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves, when suddenly, his instincts screamed.


    "Tora!" Malin barked, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night.


    His first mate appeared moments later, his hair dishevelled and his eyes heavy with sleep. "Aye, Malin?" Tora asked, rubbing his face. But the moment he saw the tension in Malin''s expression, he straightened, his drowsiness vanishing. "What is it?"


    "Change course thirty degrees west," Malin ordered, his voice sharp and urgent. When Tora hesitated, Malin''s tone turned fierce. "Now! It could be a monster for all I know!"


    Tora saluted and sprang into action, rousing the crew with shouts and commands. The ship came alive with the sounds of hurried footsteps and the creaking of ropes as the sails were adjusted. The water remained eerily calm, giving no hint of danger, but Malin''s instincts rarely led him astray.


    By mid-morning, the lookout''s voice rang out from the crow''s nest. "Captain!" he yelled, pointing toward the horizon. "Land ahead!"


    Malin squinted, shielding his eyes from the sun. In the distance, a small island came into view, its shoreline dotted with huts and a modest pier. A sense of unease settled in his chest, but he pushed it aside. "Ready a raft!" he commanded.


    As Malin and a handful of his crew rowed to the pier, they were met by a group of villagers, their arms laden with goods to sell.


    "They''re used to visitors," Tora remarked, his tone cautious.


    Malin nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. His heart pounded as he searched for something¡ªor someone¡ªhe couldn''t quite name. Ignoring the villagers'' offers, he broke into a run, his feet carrying him through the narrow streets as if guided by an unseen force.


    He stopped abruptly in front of a small shop, its entrance adorned with pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. The air smelled of metal and smoke, and the faint clinking of tools echoed from within.


    "Hello?" a woman''s voice called out, warm but tinged with curiosity.


    Malin turned to see an older woman behind the counter, her hands busy arranging a display of kitchen wares. She smiled at him, though her expression flickered with confusion for a brief moment before her smile returned.


    "Do you need any assistance?" she asked politely.


    Feeling awkward, Malin grabbed the nearest item¡ªa firestarter¡ªand handed it to her. "How much for this?" he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.


    The woman examined the firestarter, her brow furrowing. "I might need to ask my husband for that," she said, her tone apologetic. "I don''t think I''ve seen it before. Please give me a moment."


    Malin nodded, his throat tight as she disappeared through a door behind the counter. He heard her calling for her husband, the sound of footsteps growing louder with each passing second. His heart thundered in his chest, the anticipation almost unbearable.


    "Let me take a look," a man''s voice said as he entered the shop.


    Malin''s breath caught in his throat. The man who stepped into the room was older, his face lined with age, but there was no mistaking the resemblance. He was a mirror of what Malin might become in another twenty years. The man''s eyes widened as they locked onto Malin''s, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.


    "Fath¡ª" Malin began, his voice trembling.


    "Don''t!" the man snapped, his expression twisting with panic.


    But Malin couldn''t stop himself. The word spilt out, heavy with years of longing and unanswered questions. "Father."


    The man''s face crumpled, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had just settled on them. His wife, standing behind him, paled, her hands clutching the edge of the counter for support.


    "What have you done?" the man muttered, his voice barely audible. His eyes were filled with a mixture of fear, regret, and something else¡ªsomething Malin couldn''t quite place.


    <hr>


    "Why did you abandon us?" Malin asked, his voice low but laced with pain. He sat across from his father at a rickety wooden table, the air between them heavy with unspoken words and years of separation.


    His father grimaced, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. "I didn''t know," he said, his voice trembling.


    "Know what?" Malin demanded, his tone rising. "Explain clearly! Mom deserves to know the truth."


    At the mention of Malin''s mother, the man''s face paled. "Mande," he whispered her name as if it were a prayer or a curse. He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking with shame. "I didn''t know what I was getting into."


    "Why?" Malin pressed, his voice cracking. "Why did you never come back? I could accept it if you no longer loved her. But why did you never come to see me? Your own son?"


    The older man sighed deeply, his gaze drifting to the wooden ceiling of the empty room. "You shouldn''t have come here," he said, his voice heavy with regret.


    "Afraid for me to meet your new family?" Malin asked mockingly, his bitterness spilling over. "Afraid for me to meet my half-siblings and let them find out about the family you abandoned?"


    "No, damn it! No!" his father snapped, his voice rising for the first time. He leaned forward, his eyes burning with intensity. "I loved you and your mother. I still do." He held up a hand to stop Malin from interrupting. "But I was lied to. Misled." With trembling fingers, he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, revealing a silver necklace with a black, obsidian-like stone at its centre.


    Malin shivered as his eyes fell on the pendant. It seemed to pulse with a dark energy, sending a chill down his spine.


    "You can feel it too, can''t you?" his father said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I always knew you had that ability."


    "What is that?" Malin asked, his voice filled with disgust.


    His father smiled sadly, his fingers brushing against the black stone. "I made a deal with the devil."


    Malin''s stomach churned, his mind racing to make sense of the words.


    "I asked for a better life for my family¡ªfor you and your mother and the generations after," his father explained, his gaze softening as he looked at Malin. His son was dressed in the finest clothing, a far cry from the boy he had left behind. And the ships bearing his banner were a testament to the life he had built. "I wanted to give you everything I never had."


    Malin stayed silent, his fists clenched on the table.


    The older man touched the black stone again, his expression pained. "You can feel it too, can''t you? The pull. The darkness."


    "Yes," Malin admitted softly. "How?"


    His father looked at him with a mix of pride and sorrow. "Because you''re my son. I knew you''d inherited some of my abilities the moment you were born."


    "That makes sense," Malin replied, his mind connecting the dots. His uncanny instincts, his ability to navigate the seas with almost supernatural precision¡ªit all fell into place.


    But his father''s smile faltered, replaced by a deep frown. "You shouldn''t have come here, Malin. You should''ve never come searching for me."


    "I didn''t have a choice," Malin said, his voice firm. "Something dragged me here. Something I couldn''t ignore."


    "I see," his father sighed, his gaze dropping to the necklace. "What the devil didn''t tell me was that I would have to leave you forever. If I didn''t, I would kill you and your mother."


    Malin tensed, his heart pounding. "What do you mean?"


    His father opened his palms, showing them empty. "I can feel the urge every moment. The darkness whispers to me, demanding I hunt you down. But I''ve held it off¡ªfor now."


    Malin''s eyes darted around the room. It was barren, save for the flimsy table and chairs. His father was unarmed, while Malin had a dagger strapped to his hip. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.


    "You planned this?" Malin asked, his voice breaking. A tear slipped down his cheek.


    "I knew my time would come the moment you called me ''father,''" his father explained, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. "You see, son," he said, addressing Malin as his child for the first time Malin could remember, "the devil only told me the full terms after the deal was made. It was generational."


    Malin''s eyes widened in horror.


    "You must not marry or have children," his father continued, his voice grave. "For you will kill them."


    Tseria, Malin thought immediately, his heart clenching. "But your new wife?" he asked, his voice barely audible.


    "Never married officially," his father replied. "Nor do I have children with her."


    Malin swallowed hard, his mind reeling. "And mother?"


    His father looked away, his expression pained. "You must never see her as I have."


    "And if I don''t kill you?" Malin asked, his voice trembling.


    His father''s gaze hardened. "You''ll have to. Because now that I know where you are, the whispers are growing louder. I can already feel the pull to hunt your mother down."


    Malin''s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his dagger, his grip tightening.


    "But I can hold it off for a little longer," his father said, his voice softening. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes filled with a quiet resolve. "Until then, I would like to talk to my son. I would like to know everything I''ve missed."

 Chapter 10: Beasts together, strong

    "So? What does gold feel like?" Whitehall asked as he lay on the thin mattress in his and Sadi''s room.


    They had returned to the cave after Sadi absorbed Sunda''s remnant. Their master was emotionless when she stepped out of the Menhua tree as a lowgold. He dismissed the three of them, including Zeal, saying he would take the rest of the day to give Sunda a proper burial.


    Whitehall saw The Beast King carving a hole into the thick trunk of the Menhua Tree. He wanted to watch further, but Zeal told them they should go. Their training would continue the next day.


    "I don''t feel much difference," Sadi yawned. Her eyes were still puffy from her crying earlier. "Cycling is easier but only a little. I''m unsure if that was from my advancement to Jade or lowgold."


    "Meh," chirped Meatball. "Lowgold and Jade are basically the same besides a gold sign."


    Sadi was still down, and Whitehall struggled to think what to say to make her feel better.


    "Do you want to talk about it?" he finally asked. "What happened during Sunda''s last moments." He placed a hand gently on her shoulder and felt her shiver.


    "No," Sadi replied and shook her head. "I don''t even know what truly happened."


    "How many times do I need to tell you two that Mom is not dead," Meatball whined.


    Whitehall ignored the bird and gave Sadi a soft smile. "Whenever you''re ready. I''ll be here to listen."


    "Uhh," groaned Meatball. "Whatever."


    They had asked Meatball what he meant earlier, but his answer was what they expected. Sunda had told her offspring that she could never die, and they believed her. Whitehall disagreed with the lie, but he was not one to tell others how to parent their children.


    "Thanks," Sadi replied softly, giving him a small smile of her own. She yawned, "I think I need some sleep."


    "Me too," Meatball also yawned. She perched on the ceiling, digging her talons into the stone. She hung upside down and began closing her eyes. "What?" She opened one eye and gazed at Whitehall and Sadi below, who were staring at her.


    "Umm," Whitehall muttered. "We didn''t know garudas sleep that way."


    "We can sleep in many different ways," the bird replied. "Now, shhh, I need my beauty sleep." She closed her eyes again.


    Whitehall and Sadi turned to look at each other and shrugged.


    <hr>


    The following day, Zeal came by and told them that the Beast King was waiting for them outside the cave. They found him sitting on a large log, playing with his handpan. His eyes were closed in concentration as he played the tune. The three disciples stood silently. Whitehall closed his eyes, enjoying the soft melody.


    The music stopped, and Whitehall opened his eyes. The Beast King had a broad smile as he stared at them. Gone was the solemn look he carried the entirety of the previous day. "Look at you two, how far you have advanced in eight months."


    Whitehall looked around. Ziel was gone.


    "Don''t worry about him," The Beast King waved. "He likes to wander around, and he''ll be fine."


    "And you, master?" Sadi asked with a hint of worry in her voice.


    The Beast King wiped an imaginary tear from his eyes and smiled. "The disciple caring for the master. I am glad I managed to pass that on to you two." He clapped his hands, causing his disciples to wince. "Anyways, enough about me; I''ve said my goodbyes to my late master already. Let''s talk about you two. Or three, should I say." His eyes glanced up toward a branch where a black garuda was eating an earthworm.


    Meatball swallowed the worm in his claws whole before flying down to perch on Whitehall''s shoulders. "Hello, Beast King," the bird greeted the Herald. "Are you going to teach him how to form a contract, or should I?" the bird tapped Whitehall''s shoulders.


    "In time, little one," The Beast King replied. "But first, I must pay attention to my new lowgold," he exclaimed, turning his attention to Sadi. "Show me what you can do." He stretched out his arms, leaving his bare chest unguarded.


    Without another word, Sadi blasted a ray of light into her master''s eyes. The pillar of light was golden. She held it for as long as she could, but her madra was quickly running out.


    "Cycle and continue absorbing the surrounding light aura. Replenish your madra as you go," The Beast King ordered, eyes wide and unbothered by the intense light.


    Sadi concentrated on absorbing the light aura. It was easier than she thought it would be; her skin helped her absorb it. However, she used more madra than she could replenish, and her light rays dimmed.


    "Your Solarshroud iron body is truly a marvel," The Beast King commented when Sadi''s attack stopped. "It will only continue to get better as you advance. Who needs a large core when you can continuously replenish your madra," The Beast King laughed.


    Sadi breathed heavily from running out of madra, but she could feel her core quickly replenishing the lost madra. She understood now the benefits of her iron body and her path.


    "I see you''re beginning to realize your potential," the Beast King smiled. "Tell me."


    "My Solarshroud iron body will steadily replenish my madra from the surrounding light aura. My path and cycling technique will allow me to continue to do so... in the dark," she said the last few words after a pause. She took a moment to think.


    The Beast King''s smile widened. "Go on," he urged.


    "You mentioned that I would not need a large core. But would I not have enough madra to do a more powerful technique?" she asked.


    "Ahh, that would be correct," The Beast King smirked.


    Based on her master''s expression, Sadi reckoned that she had missed something, and he was waiting for her to continue.


    "But?" she finally asked, unable to figure it out herself.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The Beast King chuckled. "But your iron body does not simply help you absorb light aura. It stores light madra, too."


    Sadi''s eyes widened, and she looked down at the skin of her arms. Her skin now had a yellowish hue when it was previously pale. She grimaced slightly at an uncouth thought.


    "None of that," the Beast King continued. "Heck, you don''t see Sunda featherless, do you?" he said sarcastically.


    She let out a sigh of relief at the explanation. She was not fond of the thought of going out to battle naked. Besides, being fully clothed was not a problem either, she realized. Her skin would absorb the invisible light beneath her clothes.


    Sadi pressed her fists together and bowed. "Thank you, master. This one is grateful for the iron body and guidance."


    "My master," The Beast King stated softly. "She is the one that made your iron body. You''re the first and currently only person that has it."


    Sadi bowed deeper. "Then I will strive to train harder and not bring shame to her legacy."


    The Beast King grinned. "And you will. I will make sure of that." He stood up from the log he had been sitting on and made his way closer to Sadi.


    "Your attempt to blind my eyes was better than your previous light arrows," he praised. "However, you need to think bigger." He gestured an explosion with his hands.


    "What do you mean, master?" Sadi asked, unsure what thinking bigger would be like.


    The Beast King sighed. "That''s partly my fault for not teaching you any offensive techniques. But I could not teach you any useful ones either," he shrugged. "I''m not on a light path."


    He placed a hand on her shoulder. "But Sunda has told me how I may help you develop your own."


    Sadi looked up at The Beast King earnestly.


    "Her words, not mine," he said, attempting to avoid any blame for the vagueness of his following words. "You can control and manipulate both visible and invisible light aura. Find a way to make it a weapon. Observe and change."


    Sadi''s thoughts whirled at her master''s words. "Eh?" Sadi let out a confused sound after a long while.


    "I had the same reaction," The Beast King chuckled. "She said you''ll figure it out." He turned his attention to his other apprentice, who was silently arguing with his future contracted partner. "Now, to my other disciple," the Beast King declared.


    Whitehall and Meatball''s mouths immediately clamped shut.


    "It''s time to form your contract," the Beast King continued.


    "Took you long enough," Meatball jibed. "We were about to do it if you took any longer."


    The Beast King was not offended; he found it amusing and slightly cute.


    "No, we weren''t," Whitehall muttered to the bird. He pressed his fists and bowed. "We await your guidance, master."


    The Beast King shrugged, "Might as well do it now, I guess. Should not take too long."


    "Will I be gold, master?" Whitehall asked, his eyes filled with expectations.


    His master shook his head. "Nope. Meatball here is still a Jade. You both will need to advance together."


    Whitehall scowled at Meatball. "You said you were gold."


    "No, I didn''t," Meatball retorted. "I just allowed you to assume so."


    "Uhh, whatever," Whitehall rolled his eyes.


    The Beast King smiled at the argument between his disciple and the bird. It reminded him of his old memories with the other sacred beasts when he was younger.


    "We are ready, master," Whitehall bowed.


    "Yeap," The Beast King clapped his hands, causing his disciples and the bird to wince. "It''s a simple technique. Swear to share your cores and accept each others'' powers."


    Meatball was visibly shaking with excitement. "Let''s do it!" she chirped loudly, biting Whitehall''s ear.


    "Ow!" Whitehall yelped at the sudden pain. Before he could ask why Meatball bit him or why she was so excited to establish a bond finally, he felt her madra probing his channels. Asking for permission to enter. Whitehall did not hesitate. There was nothing to hesitate to. Sunda was a creature of legends from his previous life. A symbol of his people''s struggles. And Meatball was her offspring. "Let''s do it!" he yelled.


    A stream of venom madra flowed out of his core, sucked away into Meatball. His body''s strength faded, and he fell onto a knee. His core was rapidly emptying. Meatball''s madra replaced the madra he had lost, and his core drank it. Their madra types were similar, so his body should not have had any issues assimilating them. But his channels burned. He tried to control the cycle of the madra, letting it flow slowly through his millions of madra channels.


    "Cycle it like how you advanced to Jade!" The Beast King shouted. "Don''t fight it."


    The Beast King''s words shook him. And Whitehall let the control he was maintaining go. The venom raged into him like a river when a dam was opened. His legs felt weak, and he fell to the ground flat on his belly. Looking to the side, he saw Meatball lying on the ground next to him. There was no pain, however; it was just weakness.


    <hr>


    "At ta tat ta," the Beast King stretched a hand to block Sadi from helping the fallen disciple and the sacred beast. "I wouldn''t get any closer if I were you. Their poison would eat you alive."


    "But shouldn''t we do something?" Sadi protested, pointing at Whitehall''s foaming mouth.


    The Beast King controlled the wind aura, preventing the poison madra they released from approaching Sadi. "They''ll be fine," he reassured her. "Their bond is complete and strong. The foreign venom is just eating through their strength as their bodies acclimate. They''ll be fine after a while."


    Sadi gulped and nodded.


    "Anyways," he pointed his thumb backwards towards a tree. "Your pack is behind there. I''ve left you with things to help you with your next tasks."


    By that, he meant taking all the valuables and leaving them with the bare essentials from the things they have stolen from Heaven''s glory, Sadi was sure.


    "Your knives are in there," he continued. "I think you''ve earned it."


    Sadi''s eyes went wide. She had never seen her brother''s karambits since her master had taken it from her. "Thank you," she said.


    The Beast King shrugged, "I wouldn''t know how you''ll use it without interfering with your gold signs, but I reckon you''ll figure it out." He looked down at Whitehall and Meatball, checking their state.


    "What is our next task, master?" Sadi asked, returning from behind a tree with a small pack that Whitehall had carried when they left Sacred Valley. A thousand-mile cloud drifted behind her.


    "You''ll help him advance," The Beast King pointed to the child on the ground. "He may be a Jade, but his lifeline is still short. Whatever he had done that ate away at his lifeline only worsened when he reset his advancement," he explained.


    Sadi''s nails dug into her palms. "I''ll get him to advance, whatever it takes."


    The Beast King looked surprised by her words. He nodded. "You understand then. That''s good. Too many humans think that walking their path alone is the way to power. But we are beasts." He grabbed a twig from the ground and snapped it between his fingers. " Alone, we are weak. " Using wind aura, he summoned a bundle of twigs into his palms and attempted to snap them as previously. The bundle held. "Together, we are strong ."


    Sadi nodded. She had rejected Whitehall''s plan to save Sacred Valley on her own. The heavenly messenger had told the Unsouled to find the Sword Sage''s disciple. She was not foolish¡ªnot like her brother. She stared longly at Whitehall, her will hardened.


    "What do we need to do?" she asked.


    The Beast King grinned, revealing white pearly canines. "Advance to the peak of gold is simple. You need raw power. Lots and lots of it."


    "Cycling room, then," Sadi summarized.


    "No," the Beast King had not stopped grinning. "That''s too slow. I''ll need both of you to be lowgold within five months. And no further than lowgold."


    "Why not?" Sadi asked, confused.


    "You''ll break open Sunda''s remaining remnant in time. It is your elixir to Highgold and maybe even Truegold. Your iron body is already slowly helping you gain madra every second. But Whitehall here does not have that luxury. Unless you wish to leave him behind, of course."


    His words raised a question in her mind: "What was Sunda''s advancement? To be able to push me to Truegold?"


    The Beast King''s grin softened into a fond smile. "Herald."


    Sadi''s mouth gaped at The Beast King''s answer. "That doesn''t make sense. How could-."


    "Like I said earlier," The Beast King cut in. "Alone, we are weak."


    Sadi gulped. It had been done before. She remembered in Heaven''s Glory how a bunch of Jade Elders managed to kill the Sword Sage. And the rumours of how Whitehall was at the centre of it. "It feels like there is something bigger than is happening. Sunda told me-"


    "No," The Beast King raised a hand to stop Sadi, his expression severe. "Whatever she said to you is only for you. I do not wish to know."


    Sadi stayed quiet and nodded. Her experience with Sunda had not left her mind- it felt out of place.


    "You''ll be entering dragon territory," The Beast King''s grin returned. "Dragons kill each other as much as they kill others. You''ll scavenge the treasures left behind. And I repeat, scavenge. You both are not advanced enough for battles. Whitehall, especially, has a body like a water balloon, and his madra will run dry from a single cut if it is not tended to quickly. You both may be able to handle a fight here and there. But remember, you are currently a crow. You feast on others'' leftovers. Only when you both advance further will you be strong enough to hunt. Understood?"


    Sadi nodded. "I understand, master."


    <hr>


    Elder Empire


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    "Everything alright, love?" Tseria asked softly, her hand gently covering Malin''s. Her touch was warm, a comforting contrast to the cold unease that had settled in his chest.


    "Hm?" Malin looked up from the maps and charts scattered across his desk in the cabin. The dim light of the lantern flickered, casting shadows on his troubled face. "Yes, of course. What made you ask?"


    Tseria tilted her head, her dark eyes studying him with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Well," she began, her voice gentle but probing, "your hands have been trembling, even in this heat. You''ve seemed... distant ever since we left that island. And now, when we''re so close to seeing your mother again, you don''t even look excited."


    Malin hesitated, his gaze dropping to the desk. He could feel the weight of the black pendant hanging beneath his shirt, its presence a constant reminder of the burden he now carried. "I''m just nervous, that''s all," he said, forcing a sheepish smile. He pressed a hand to his chest, the cool metal of the pendant pressing against his skin. "It''s been so long. I want everything to be perfect."


    Tseria''s expression softened, but her eyes still held a hint of doubt. She knew him too well to be entirely convinced. "Nervous about seeing your mother?" she asked, her tone light but probing. "Or is there something else?"


    Malin''s mind raced. He couldn''t tell her the truth¡ªnot yet. Not about the pendant, not about his father, and certainly not about the curse that now loomed over them. Instead, he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. "How about we take a detour?" he suggested, his voice brightening with false enthusiasm. "There are some incredible places I''ve always wanted to show you. And I''d love to bring my mother gifts from all over¡ªsomething special to make up for all the years I''ve been away."


    Tseria raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smile. "A detour, huh? You''re not just trying to delay the inevitable, are you?"


    Malin chuckled, though it felt hollow. "Maybe a little," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But wouldn''t it be nice? Just the two of us, exploring new places, picking out the perfect gifts... It''ll be an adventure."


    Tseria studied him for a moment longer, her gaze searching. Then she sighed, her smile widening. "Alright, Captain," she said, her tone teasing. "A detour it is. But don''t think I''ll let you off the hook forever. You''ll have to face your mother eventually."


    Malin''s smile faltered for a split second before he recovered, squeezing her hand. "I know," he said softly. "But for now, let''s enjoy the journey."


    As Tseria leaned in to kiss him, Malin''s mind wandered to the pendant hidden beneath his shirt, its dark presence a constant reminder of the choice he would eventually have to make. For now, he would cling to this moment¡ªto her warmth, her laughter, her unwavering belief in him. But deep down, he knew the truth: the closer they got to his mother, the harder it would be to keep the darkness at bay.

 Chapter 11: Dragon robbery

    "You are an embarrassment to gold dragons, Rakshanatosh!" A Truegold dragon yelled. He was in his human form, and gold scales covered his cheeks. His hair was made of scales, neatly tied in a ponytail. He pointed a sharp, elongated nail at another Truegold gold dragon.


    "They are just kids, Kranatas!" Raksha stretched a scaly hand, protecting the hut behind him. His twelve adopted children were hiding inside. Little did Raksha know that Whitehall was currently among them. The other kids were too frightened to notice him. Unlike the other gold dragon, Raksha''s hair was short, sitting right above his shoulders.


    "Human, kids," Kranatas snarled, baring sharp canines. "You have defied our way!" he shouted, his scales beginning to glow gold and his tail lashed.


    "You dare challenge me!" Raksha roared, shaking the limestone walls of the hut. His scales began glowing a similar golden colour. "You think you can beat me just because you have advanced to Truegold!"


    "You''re old, Raksha," the younger dragon replied. "If you surrender now, I''ll let you live for a few scales. The reward from the Monarch would suffice." Kranatas smiled as he thought of the reward he would get for turning in those humans. His smile widened with greed, "I take it back. Your remnant would fetch me more."


    Raksha roared and fired a gold dragon''s breath.


    Whitehall sat inside, bored, scratching the inside of his ear. He scooped out the sand that was stuck inside. Sand and more sand, he thought. Never in his life had he imagined that sand would be this annoying. They were in his shoes, robes, and now in his ears. He felt a burst of madra and exchange of techniques outside. The battle has started.


    Whitehall sighed, putting on his most scared face. "Run!" he squeaked in his most scared voice.


    The other children looked at him, stunned. To be fair, Whitehall thought, Raksha had told them to remain inside the hut. He flayed his arms widely above his head. "Aaaaaahhhhhh!" he yelled, running around in circles. Once a few children began screaming, Whitehall ran towards the backdoor and into the desert, arms still moving wildly. "The hut is gonna collapse!" he cried. "Runnnnn!"


    He felt embarrassed for having to do this. Oh well, the reward would be worth it. The other twelve kids ran behind him into the desert. The sound of battle and explosions boomed behind them. He slipped out amidst the chaos once he estimated they were far enough from the battle. The children did not notice him disappearing behind a rock, and they ran past him.


    He sighed again, removing his shoes. He shook them, pouring away the sand that had gotten inside. It did not take long for the battle to end, and he heard footsteps running towards him. Whitehall slapped his face multiple times. He faked as many tears as he could.


    "Please don''t hurt me," he cried, pulling his knees towards his chest and closing his eyes in fear.


    "Don''t worry, little one. The bad dragon is gone," a dragon''s voice spoke gently.


    Whitehall opened one eye and saw it was Raksha. He had a cut on his head, and drops of blood were flowing out. But other than that, the dragon was fine. That was good, much safer, Whitehall thought.


    "Can you tell me where the others are?" the dragon asked.


    Whitehall continued burying his face in his knees, just in case the dragon might have realised he was not one of the adopted children. "They ran that way," he sobbed, pointing behind him. "I tripped and got left behind."


    "Okay. Can you make it back to the hut on your own?" Raksha asked. "I''ll need to find them."


    Whitehall nodded. "I remember the way," he muttered.


    "Okay. Go now," the dragon ordered softly before running towards the other children.


    Once the gold dragon had left, Whitehall sighed. He stood up and wiped the sand in his eyes that he had slapped onto to cry. Once he dusted his clothes, he began running back towards the hut.


    On the way, he thought of how he ended up in this situation, crying like a child on a daily.


    <hr>


    He woke up in a familiar tent, Sadi drinking tea next to him.


    "The young one is awake," Meatball chirped sarcastically, perching on Sadi''s left shoulder.


    "How are you feeling?" Sadi asked, offering him a cup of tea.


    "Fine," he answered, sitting up. He massaged his sore back. "Where are we?" he asked, accepting the tea.


    "At the border of the Gold Dragon territory," Sadi replied.


    "What? Why?" Whitehall asked.


    Meatball answered. "Hunt some dragons and advance. Duh"


    That was when Whitehall noticed something different. He felt excitement coming from Meatball. Their bond, he realised. Their contract worked.


    "We''re not hunting anything," Sadi corrected the bird, rubbing the bird''s head fondly.


    "Hey! Hey! Hey!" Meatball complained, moving her head away. "I''m not some lost puppy!"


    Sadi giggled. "You''re just too cute."


    Meatball huffed but did not move away.


    "We''re only going to be scavenging for treasures so you can advance. I have scouted the area while you were unconscious, and I think I have a plan," Sadi smiled mischievously.


    "Scouted?" Whitehall blurted. "How long was I out?"


    "A Long time," Meatball squawked. "Sadi and I were bored to death waiting for you."


    "A few days," Sadi answered. "A few scared beasts flew us here right after you began forming your bond." She gestured towards the bird on her shoulder. "Meatball woke up thirty minutes-"


    Meatball bit Sadi''s ear.


    "Okay. Okay. Okay," Sadi repeated. "Meatball woke up long before you."


    The bird let go in satisfaction. Whitehall felt playfulness rather than irritation from their bond. The bird had no superiority complex; it was just her sense of humour. Whitehall laughed.


    "Anyway," Sadi continued, "I think my plan is solid. And Meatball here agrees. "Her mischievous smile grew wide.


    Meatball could not really grin, but Whitehall felt her emotions through their bond.


    "It''s not going to be good, will it?" he paled.


    "Depends," Sadi giggled.


    <hr>


    Whitehall sighed as he recalled the memory. He was glad that it was almost over. He did not think he could take it any longer. He reached the yellow hut and saw Sadi kneeling beside the dead Truegold dragon. She was rummaging through his pockets.


    "That was the best yet," Meatball laughed at Whitehall from Sadi''s shoulder. "You''re finally beginning to act your age."


    "Ha ha," Whitehall rolled his eyes as he approached. He knelt next to them. "Please tell me I don''t have to do this again," he begged.


    Sadi did not reply immediately, focusing entirely on stripping the body of everything valuable. Whitehall saw that the dead dragon was battered to a pulp and had a hole in his forehead. He shivered at the thought of a technique capable of taking out a Truegold like that.


    "This feels wrong, you know," Whitehall muttered. "Stealing from nice dragons."


    "Gotta do what we gotta do," Sadi replied.


    "Damn," Whitehall cursed, remembering Raksha''s condition when he last saw the kind dragon.


    "Huh?" Sadi asked, finishing putting all the dead dragon''s things, barring his clothes, inside her pack.


    "I don''t know why. But I still find it difficult to believe there is such a large gap even between Truegolds," he answered, eyeing the battered body.


    They had already been on this mission for two years, a year outside Sacred Valley. They were advancing much faster than expected, but it still felt like they needed to advance faster. He grimaced as he remembered the bloodspawns. Golds were slaughtered like foundations. Even Sunda died because of it. And they have not even faced the dreadgod. Damn this world.


    "Slow and steady," Sadi replied, placing a gentle hand on Whitehall''s.


    Her voice grounded him. He looked down at her hand on his. His hands were shaking, he realised. "Thanks," he said to her.


    "Come on," Sadi pulled him up. "We need to go before the Truegold return."


    His gaze locked onto her, unable to look away. Sadi was gold now. If they returned to Sacred Valley, they could strong-arm everyone to listen to them. Heck, many would willingly follow the idea of gold. No. They would not, he realised. Those bastards are too fixated on their pride of being the strongest.


    "Come on," Sadi began dragging him. "What''s up with you lately?" She started running, her gold body dragging Whitehall like a child. Then again, he was in a child''s body.


    His mask was slipping, he realised. Better put in on again.


    <hr>


    The run was good for him. It made him too tired to brood. They stopped once they reached an empty space near the edge of the desert. Sadi pointed in a direction and walked towards it, disappearing as she passed through a hidden border. Whitehall followed, disappearing after her.


    It was a technique that Sadi had developed, bending the light and preventing anyone from seeing them. She has not decided what to call it yet. More advanced artists can probably detect and see them, but they were rare this far out.


    "Good news," Sadi said, unpacking the stolen goods onto the ground. "I think this would be enough."


    "Are you sure?" Whitehall asked.


    "Nope," she replied. "But we''re out of time anyway."


    "Glad I wouldn''t need to cry like a baby again," Whitehall said, sitting down and removing his shoes.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "You okay?" Sadi asked, arranging all their stolen treasures. "You''ve been off lately."


    Whitehall thought he heard worry. "I''m fine," he said, shaking the sand out of his shoes. He looked over his shoulder and saw Sadi''s sandals. The next time they had to go to the desert, he would get one, too.


    "You''re lying," Sadi mused, raising an eyebrow. "I''ve been living with you for over a year, in case you haven''t noticed."


    "True," Whitehall admitted. "One day, maybe?"


    Sadi shrugged. "Whenever you''re ready," she smiled. "I''m here to talk."


    Whitehall returned her smile with his own. "Thanks." Sadi was like that. She never forced him to talk if he did not want to, but she always reminded him she was there. "You know you can always talk to me, too, right?"


    "I know," she replied confidently and half jokingly. She took a look at the treasures neatly arranged on the floor. She nodded approvingly and began packing them inside their pack in order.


    Whitehall did not ask or comment. Sadi had always been like this since they met. She had her way of arranging things inside her pack.


    Meatball eyed Whitehall from Sadi''s shoulder. "You better not break anytime soon. We just started our journey."


    "I won''t," Whitehall replied, sending a wave of confidence through their bond.


    Meatball straightened in satisfaction. "You better not. Or I''ll bite you."


    Whitehall chuckled.


    "So, what now?" Whitehall asked. "Do I advance here, or shall we return to the forest first?"


    "I don''t know," Sadi answered, lying on her mattress. "Master didn''t say anything."


    Just as Sadi closed her eyes, her eyes slammed open. "Whitehall!" she yelled as her perception screamed.


    He must have felt it, too, because he immediately lept towards the side wall of the tent.


    Sadi lept sidewards and tried to grab hold of their bag, but Meatball bit her hand, stopping her hand in its tracks. A gold dragon''s breath shot through the tent and onto the pack.


    "Run!" Meatball yelled, flapping her wings in an attempt to fly and carry Sadi.


    The dragon''s breath shot through the top part of their bag, where the least valuable treasure was. Sadi did not have a chance to sigh in relief when her perception screamed again. She ducked down flat onto the ground, and two dragons'' breath struck through where her head was.


    "Come on!" Whitehall grabbed her robes on her shoulder and began running.


    Sadi got up quickly, running out of the burning hole that had been formed in the back of their tent. The forest was not far ahead; maybe friendly sacred beasts would be nearby.


    "Yes," a vile voice jeered behind them. "Run, puny humans. Make it fun for us."


    Sadi''s perception told her four sacred artists were chasing them. Three were lowgold. The last one was more advanced, but she was unsure exactly what.


    Meatball answered for her. "Highgold!" she squealed.


    Sadi activated her technique, making them invisible as they ran. The technique did not require much madra. She could maintain it indefinitely, thanks to her iron body and the scorching sun of the desert. The problem was that they were moving, and it wasn''t easy to maintain the technique on a moving object.


    "Hah," a dragon barked behind them. "You think that technique would work? That way!"


    Sadi dodged to the right, avoiding a gold dragon''s breath that came for her from behind. She thanked the heavens for allowing her to advance again. Her previous Jade eyes in Heaven''s Glory were not as effective as they were now. Her lowgold advancement had only improved them further.


    Whitehall screamed in front of her. But he was still a Jade. His perception was not as good as hers. He was on the ground, the left side of his face a smoking gore.


    "Whitehall!" Meatball yelled, flying to land on Whitehall''s shoulder.


    Whitehall was a mess, and his body convulsed uncontrollably as madra leaked out of the wound. He fought against his limbs, trying to cover the wound with his hands.


    Sadi dropped her pack beside him. "Meatball, do something. Call for help. Anything!" she yelled, unable to hide the panic in her voice. She had no time to take care of him. The best thing she could do now was to buy time.


    She turned to face their pursuers. The four dragons had stopped not far from them. They smiled maliciously.


    "It seems this one has a heart," the dragon second from the left provoked. "You humans and your weak resolve." She had long, red, scaly hair, and her tail whipped in excitement behind her. Sadi knew she was the highgold. She was the only one that bore any resemblance to a human.


    "I hate your kind," the highgold snarled. "Do you know why?"


    For once, Sadi was glad Whitehall was right, thinking back on a conversation they had long ago in the cave. Bad guys always monologue.


    "No," Sadi answered, eyeing the four dragons. Her mind whirled. Her offensive spells were weak, and she had no time to develop new techniques.


    "You humans disgust me. Your way of life and your attempts to constrain the strong," she spat. "It''s unnatural and vile."


    "I agree," Sadi replied.


    The four dragons gave her a confused look.


    "That''s why we are out here. We hate that rule. Who are the weak to tell the strong what to do?" Her mind rummaged through memories of conversations with Whitehall. "If we baby the weak, when will they get strong." She shrugged.


    The lowgold red dragon on the far right nodded agreeably and opened his mouth, but the highgold cut in.


    "Shut up, you useless fool!" the highgold snapped. "Can''t you see that she is buying time!"


    The lowgold winced in fear before turning his mouth into an O.


    "Just get ready to fight. Their remnants and bodies will get us quite the bounty," snarled the highgold.


    Crap , Sadi sighed. Her attempts to buy time failed. She unhooked the karambits from her hips and got ready to fight.


    <hr>


    "Get up!" Meatball yelled; her black wings were all tied up, covering Whitehall''s wounds. The sound of battle had begun behind them.


    Whitehall''s body was still convulsing, but his remaining eye remained open. He stared at the battle in front of him. The highgold had not joined the fight, only staring at the three lowgolds battling Sadi. Sadi had no offensive techniques; her focus was solely on dodging and misdirection. She was not going to last very long.


    "Advuaaaaan," he grunted through gritted teeth, but his voice was inaudible. The physical pain was not so bad; he had gotten through worse. But his spirit was in agony. Madra continued to leak out of his wound, and his core felt like it was about to shatter. He could feel Meatball pumping madra into him through their connection, but she had her limits. Advance , he tried to say through their bond. We need to advance, he urged.


    Meatball took a look back towards the battle and nodded furiously. "Hold on. You''ll need to be the one to advance to fix that wound of yours. This is going to suck for both of us. But especially for you."


    She flew towards the bag, leaving Whitehall''s wounds exposed. Madra rushed out like a cracked pipe. Whitehall felt Meatball''s madra entering him doubled, and he knew she was straining herself. Unable to bear the spiritual pain, he screamed. Yelling always helps when in pain, he knew.


    Meatball returned, landing with a thud in front of his face. Her black feather was drenched, not by the heat, Whitehall knew. She held three boxes, one in her beak and the others in each leg. "Eat!" she grunted. "And don''t stop eating."


    Meatball opened the boxes quickly, revealing odd pills and fruits inside. She flew away to fetch some more.


    Whitehall crawled closer to the elixirs and began swallowing them one after the other. He did not know what they were or what they would do. He did not even think about it. If it meant he was going to advance and be able to help Sadi, he would do it in a heartbeat.


    Madra began rapidly entering his core and channels, but he was leaking far too much. He slammed the wounded side of his face and head into the sand to slow the escaping madra. Meatball kept bringing more pills, and Whitehall could tell from their bond that she was hurting, too.


    He swallowed everything, even accidentally ingesting some of the sand. The pills came slower and slower as Meatball''s madra also began running out.


    "That''s all I''ve got," Meatball panted, her feathers matted to her skin as she brought another box of pills.


    Whitehall ate everything. Once he swallowed the last pill, he slammed his head deeper into the sand. The burns stung. His core swelled, and he cycled it to every channel he had. The venom madra burned through him, and he tried to prevent it from reaching his wounds and escaping. They rushed towards it. We will never hurt you , Whitehall felt the venom spoke to him. He was probably losing his mind and hearing voices, but he decided to trust it.


    "Do it!" he yelled, swallowing sand and releasing his control of the venom. The venom madra rushed to the wound.


    <hr>


    Sadi was not having a good day.


    She dodged left. Lept right. Backflipped, avoiding a dragon''s breath that came towards her. She activated her technique, refracting the light around the area and distorting her image. Another dragon''s breath landed to her left.


    That was too close. And for the first time in a while, she was angry. Not at the dragons hunting them but at her weakness. She hated feeling helpless.


    She blinded one of the red dragon''s eyes, fueling it with her wrath. That was a good name, she thought, Blindingwrath. The dragon screamed and covered his eyes. She thought she saw smoke rising.


    "Annoying puny rascal," the dragon snarled, firing a dragon''s breath at her.


    "Names later," Sadi said to herself. She swerved, meticulous at redirecting the fight away from Whitehall. She had been following her instincts so far, and it was working wonders against the three lowgold red dragons. No, not her instincts. Sunda''s, she realised.


    She dodged again, blinding the eyes of another dragon that had launched dragon''s breath at her. Her technique came out weak, and the dragon only needed to blink a few times to regain their vision. She was running out of madra; her iron body could not keep up. She wanted to cycle the light aura, but it would take too much concentration.


    "She''s a human, you fools!" the highgold shouted, still not joining the battle.


    If she had joined, Sadi knew she would not last long.


    The three lowgold red dragons looked at the highgold in confusion.


    "They have this fixation on protecting the weak!" The highgold yelled. "She''s protecting her mate!"


    Not them, too, Sadi moaned internally . Why does everyone keep saying that?


    "Yes, ma''am!" the three dragons shouted in unison upon realisation. They switched their targets towards the child and the sacred beast.


    Sadi turned to gaze at Whitehall and Meatball. Meatball was lying flat on the sand but still breathing, and Whitehall had half his head buried in the sand. Her perception eased her worries slightly. Whitehall was advancing. He just needed a little more time, and her worry grew because she might not be able to give him any more time.


    The dragons opened their jaw, and gold flames began to form between their teeth. Sadi dashed between the dragons and Whitehall. Her heart thumped as she stood, not knowing what to do. She could block one of the breaths with her body, but who would protect Whitehall and Meatball afterwards?


    Sadi gritted her teeth in frustration, watching the dragon''s breath forming in the mouths of her enemies. Observe and change . Those were the instructions that Sunda had passed onto her through her master. She observed using her perception on the dragon''s breath like she did when she learned to cycle in her Path of the Solar Dusk. It finally clicked.


    She twisted all the light in the dragon''s breath- both visible and invisible. Her madra drained to almost nothing, but her technique worked. The dragons'' breath exploded in the mouth of the three dragons.


    She spat blood, and her legs gave out. But before she could fall, she felt an arm catching her. She did not need to look to know who it belonged to.


    "Thank you," Whitehall said from her left, holding her up with two arms around her waist. "You good?"


    His voice had changed. It was raspy and almost airy, like someone with a throat wound.


    "Yeah," she breathed as she was gently lowered to the warm sand. "I think you grew taller. You''re almost at my shoulder now."


    "You''re just a big woman," Whitehall jested, a smile forming.


    "Rude," she replied jokingly. "Is that how you show gratitude to your saviour?"


    Whitehall snorted; he turned his face to her.


    Sadi cringed at the sight of the other half of his face, unable to hide her emotions.


    "Yeah. Meatball had the same reaction," he sighed.


    Sadi could only stare. His left cheek was a grotesque landscape of melted flesh, twisted and warped as if it had been torn apart and sloppily fused back together. The burn extended from the corner of his lips, dragging the skin into a misshapen snarl, and ran jaggedly across his face to the back of his head. His skin was pocked with irregular, gaping holes oozing dark black fumes. The edges of the holes were charred and blackened, peeling away like scorched paper, revealing raw, angry black tissue beneath. Every movement of his jaw caused the burnt flesh to writhe unnaturally, as if alive with its torment.


    "We''ll talk about it later, yeah?" Whitehall suggested. Although his voice was calm, albeit raspy, Sadi could hear the bitterness.


    "Yeah," she smiled and realised she was not faking it. "Caught me by surprise, that''s all."


    There were groans as the red dragons began rising. They had burn wounds around their jaws, and one even had a missing lower jaw. Their tongues thrashed wildly in circles. They stared daggers at the two humans.


    "For what it''s worth," Sadi returned to face Whitehall. "You''re still the best-looking male friend I have. And definitely better than them," she pointed at the wounded dragons.


    "Hah!" Whitehall snorted. He was the only male friend Sadi had. At least, that is human.


    "I agree!" Meatball chirped, landing on Whitehall''s shoulder from above. "And I think you have the coolest gold sign I ever see."


    Whitehall felt warmth coming through his bond with Meatball. He could not help but smile.


    "Stay like that!" Meatball said. And face them!" She pointed with a wing towards the dragons.


    That was when Sadi noticed the change in Meatball''s feathers. They reflected the sunlight like metal.


    Whitehall turned towards the dragons, still smiling. The dragons'' eyes widened, and one even recoiled.


    "Give me a minute to cycle," Sadi said, closing her eyes and sitting in a cycling position.


    "Got it," Meatball replied.


    Whitehall eyed the dragons and snarled. "You should''ve stayed home, little lizards."


    The dragons recoiled but held a fighting stance.


    Whitehall unleashed venom madra into the surroundings, his vast madra channels making it easy. Meatball shot feathers through the air, which turned into venom aura as it drifted towards the dragons.


    The dark madra drifted rapidly through the air, and the dragons dodged. Jumping left and right away from the poisonous madra. They fired dragons'' breaths towards him, but their shots missed by margins.


    "I''m ready," Sadi said from behind Whitehall, her hand stretched out. She was using her technique to distort their images. "Unleash again now; I can hide your poison. But we need to start moving."


    Whitehall complied and unleashed another wave of toxic madra through the air. The dark fumes were invisible. They ran around the desert, dodging the incoming dragon breaths. Meatball fired more poison feathers, distracting the three dragons.


    After a short while, Whitehall felt his poison entering the dragons. It ate through them like wildfire. The dragons collapsed, scales turning black, and some began to shed. Their hands gripped their neck as they struggled to breathe.


    "Finish them!" Meatball yelled.


    Whitehall and Sadi did not need another word. They rushed to the downed dragons, Sadi tossing one of her knives to Whitehall. He caught it and began stabbing and slicing the dragon''s vitals. It was not long before all three dragons were dead.


    Whitehall sagged in relief, sitting on the sand. His last technique had nearly exhausted his reserves.


    "There''s one more. A highgold!" Sadi yelled.


    Whitehall immediately stood back up in alert, his back against Sadi''s as they eyed their surroundings.


    "I wouldn''t worry about her anymore," a familiar lazy voice said from the tree lines.


    "Ah, you''re back," Meatball said, landing on Ziel''s head. She curled against his horns and went to sleep. Ziel did not even seem to care or notice.


    Sadi and Whitehall both sagged in relief, sitting on the sand against each other.


    "Could''ve come earlier," Whitehall remarked. "Would''ve been nice."


    If Ziel was disgusted or surprised by Whitehall''s goldsign, his dead eyes revealed nothing.


    "I did," Ziel replied, throwing a dragon''s head from behind his back.


    It was the highgold''s, Sadi recognised.


    "Nice fight, by the way," Ziel said.


    Sadi and Whitehall stared at him wide-eyed. Zeal stared back with emotionless eyes.


    "You never praised us before," Sadi blurted.


    Ziel shrugged. "A good fight is a good fight. Many improvements needed, but...," he did not continue.


    "Were you watching us the whole time we were fighting?" Whitehall asked, raising an eyebrow.


    Ziel nodded in slow motion.


    "Why did you intervene, then?" Sadi asked, pointing at the highgold''s decapitated head.


    "Rules of engagement," Ziel replied, and not elaborating further.


    The two gave him confused looks.


    Ziel sighed, muttering something under his breath before raising his voice so the two could hear. "If I intervene from the start, the dragons will send scared artists at my level after you to even out the playing field," he explained. "I only intervened because the highgold tried to join the fight."


    The two nodded but still looked bewildered.


    Ziel stood quietly, but the silence became awkward after a long while. "Follow me," he sighed and turned back to the forest.


    <hr>


    The Beast King knelt on one knee before Northstrider, Monarch of the Wastelands. As always, he buried his bitterness and resentment beneath an ironclad mask, hiding it from the Monarch during these meetings how his master had thought him.


    "I will require Underlords for the upcoming Uncrowned Tournament," Northstrider announced, his voice carrying an air of absolution, each word hanging like the weight of a decree.


    The Beast King''s mind flickered with suspicion. This was unexpected. Sacred artists from the Wastelands had never been called upon for tournament participation, and Northstrider had never shown any interest in such affairs. But there was something in the Monarch''s tone that made him pause¡ªthis could benefit the Wastelands if he played it right.


    He nodded slowly. "Yes, Monarch. I may have candidates in mind. If my instincts are correct, they will not bring shame upon you."


    Northstrider''s gaze never wavered. His yellow dragonic eyes remained unblinking as he fixed his attention on the Beast King. He crossed his black arms against his chest. "Name what you want."


    The Beast King held back his smile. This was one of the very few things he liked about Northstrider. The Monarch of the Wastelands knew their ways. He may have held some sway over the sacred artists of the Wastelands, but he understands and accepts that they were not bound to him. And he always offers up a fair exchange. Sometimes, at least.


    "I have two disciples, both with great potential," The Beast King explained. "But they are currently only lowgolds."


    Silence stretched between them, ominous and heavy. Northstrider''s expression remained unreadable, but his eyes narrowed slightly as the silence grew longer.


    "You may send them to Ghostwater," Northstrider finally said, his voice a low rumble. "I will be watching. If they impress me, I may make a deal with Malice to help them reach Underlord."


    "Thank you, Northstrider." The Beast King lowered his head further. He shrugged internally. He was about to send them to Ghostwater anyway without the Monarch''s expressed permission. But having it was better than not.


    Northstrider unveiled a fraction of his spirit. It pressed down upon the Beast King with an invisible force, compelling him to lower his posture. The Beast King was a Herald, so he could have resisted if he wanted to¡ªbut he didn''t. This was mere bravado, a show of dominance, and he had no intention of indulging it.


    "If, however, they do not live up to my expectations," the Monarch cautioned, his voice growing cold and dangerous. "Then I will hold you responsible."


    A flicker of annoyance flashed in his chest, and he pushed it down as soon as it appeared. Now, The Beast King was reminded of one of many reasons he did not like the Monarchs. Their threats. Their very, very uncalled-for threats. "Understood," The Beast King replied, his voice level.


    In an instant, the Monarch and their dark mindscape were gone. Now, he was kneeling to a tree in the forest of the wastelands.


    A small voice broke the silence.


    "Didn''t know you prayed to trees," squeaked a young sacred beast mouse, darting about his feet.


    The Beast King glanced down, amused. "Thought I''d try something new." He bent down and placed a finger next to the mouse.


    The mouse scampered up his fingers and onto his body, making its way to his white beard. It tied thick hair strands around its little body and fashioned itself a tiny swing.


    "Yippee!" the mouse cheered, swinging back and forth, its small form bobbing with delight.


    The Beast King chuckled, "I''ll take you back to your parents." He began walking back towards the cave, the little mouse happily swinging in his beard.

 Chapter 12: Eye of the deep

    Del''rek of the Eight-Man Empire moved with deliberate care, his four sturdy legs pressing against the damp forest floor near the edges of the Wastelands. His large trunk swayed, sniffing the air as he inhaled the blend of wet grass, ancient trees, and the faint grit of encroaching sand. The smells were achingly familiar. A century might have passed since he last walked this place¡ªor longer. He wasn''t sure. Time had a way of dulling the edges of his memory, yet the scents remained sharp, reminding him of a past he could never forget¡ª nor did he wish to.


    "You shouldn''t be here, Restoration Sage ," a voice rumbled from above, venom lacing the words.


    The title was spat like a curse. The voice was older and harsher than Del''rek remembered, but he knew who it was. Very few would be able to detect his spirit through his veil. Turning his trunk upward, he saw the Beast King perched high in the boughs of a towering tree, his form concealed by the interplay of shadow and sun.


    "I am here to pay respects to my Master," Del''rek replied with a steady voice, although his elephant form made his voice husky. He had not used this form in centuries.


    "Repeat that again. I think I heard it wrong," the Beast King snarled, leaping from above. He landed with a soft thud before the Sage in an elephant form. "Or are my memories lying to me? I remembered you betraying our ways and our Master along with it."


    Del''rek sighed at his once-old friend. "And here I thought more than a century would be enough to let bygones be bygones."


    "Bygones?" The Beast King snarled. "She loved you, Del''rek. We all did. She mourned for you."


    "And I will forever regret and hate that day," Del''rek replied.


    "Yet you never asked for forgiveness," the Beast King stated.


    "No." Del''rek raised his eyes to meet the Herald''s. "And I will never ask. You had your path, and I had mine."


    The Beast King eyed the elephant, his fist clenching. Memories of their Master¡ªher grief, her steadfast belief in Del''rek even after his betrayal flashed in his mind like unhealed wounds. He remembered the anguish his Master went through when they learned what Del''rek had done¡ªwhat Sunda had always begged them not to. Sunda had begged them. And Del''rek had done it anyway. After all that, she had forgiven him anyway¡ªwithout Del''rek even needing to ask.


    But Del''rek did not need to know that. The Beast King was not obliged to inform him.


    "What do you want?" The Beast King demanded. "You would not have known she had passed until you stepped in here."


    "I didn''t," Del''rek admitted. "I was here to speak with her. But since you were the one to greet me, and not a shred of her spirit remains here. I have deduced her death."


    "Since you''ve now figured it out, you may leave," the Beast King pointed in the direction where the Sage had come from. "Or would you rather I send you back to Iceflower tuskless?"


    A pang of grief rose in Del''rek''s heart. "I wish to pay my respect," he replied, trying to inject as much sincerity into his voice. "Even a prodigal son doesn''t deserve to be denied that."


    The Beast King frowned. He was conflicted. On one hand, Del''rek was the sacred beast that had betrayed their Master. Yet her forgiveness lingered like an unspoken command.


    At last, he turned. "Just this once. And only for her."


    Del''rek inclined his head. "That would be more than enough."


    The Beast King led the elephant to the resting place of their Master. They strolled quietly through the jungle; the vines and bush parted along their path. Their spirits were veiled so that no one would detect their presence. Del''rek basked in the comforting familiarity of his old home. He missed the forest, although he knew he would not have made different decisions if he had been given the chance.


    "I need to speak with you," Del''rek said after a while.


    "Then speak," the Beast King replied. He was also curious about what message was so urgent that the Sage had travelled so secretly here to deliver first-hand.


    "It''s the Monarchs," Del''rek continued.


    The Beast King halted in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. "We don''t concern ourselves with the activity of the Monarchs," he reminded Del''rek before continuing.


    "Conflict is brewing between the Desert Monarch and the Akura," Del''rek explained. "The Wastelands will be caught in the middle if a war breaks out between them. Our home will be a battleground."


    " My home ," The Beast King reiterated. "Not yours."


    "Fine," Del''rek snapped. "But a war will break out. Don''t get it twisted," he warned the Beast King. "We have received alliance proposals from the dragons and the Akuras. The Eight-Man Empire remains neutral, but the other Monarchs will not. We believe Shen and the dreadgod cults will rally with the dragons."


    "It does not concern The Wastelands. Northstrider relies on us as much as he hates to admit. He won''t allow a battle to take place on top of us," the Beast King replied.


    "Stop acting foolish," Del''rek chided. "We both know Northstrider hates the dragons and will ally himself with the Akuras. He will drag you and the rest of the Wastelands into a war you do not wish."


    "Then it is obvious. We will be forced to follow," The Beast King replied frustratingly. "Or are you and your wandering Empire going to back us?"


    "No. But there is something you can do," Del''rek hinted.


    The Beast King did not reply and continued to lead the way instead.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "I still care about the Wastelands, believe it or not," Del''rek scoffed in frustration. "My oaths bind me elsewhere, but it does not mean I have forgotten this place and its beasts. I still care about the home that she created!"


    The Beast King whirled and took a step towards the elephant. "What do you want me to do!?" he yelled. "You won''t back us while Monarchs fight above us. We both know no one here can go against them!"


    "No," Del''rek replied with wide eyes. "But if The Wastelands have a Monarch of their own."


    "We have a Monarch," The Beast King rolled his eyes. "Haven''t you heard he''s still alive?"


    "A Monarch who cares about them," Del''rek grumbled. He stepped closer to his old friend. "You can advance," he whispered. "We both know you can. With you here, the Monarchs will have to take their battle elsewhere."


    The Beast King''s eyes grew dark despite the bright sun. He looked with intense eyes at the Sage and snarled. "No."


    Del''rek met the fierce eyes with his own. He exhaled and sighed. "I had expected so," he whispered in resignation. "It was worth the try nonetheless."


    The Beast King turned and began walking again. "We have survived so far without a Monarch. We will endure and survive again."


    "Then I wish you the best of luck," Del''rek replied, trailing the Herald. Each step grew heavier.


    It was not long before the trees stopped, and the Beast King stood before a clearing.


    Del''rek looked at the large Menhua tree in the middle. "You did not bury her according to the way of the Wastelands," he said. "You didn''t bring her body to the mountains for the crows."


    "No," the Beast King replied. "I buried her like the stories she used to tell us."


    The Herald led them towards the base of the tree. Over time, the ground had receded, revealing large tangles of roots. He used wind aura to carry him up onto the trunk. Del''rek did the same. At the centre of the trunk, where it was thickest, was a hole that the Beast King had dug with his bare hands.


    Del''rek stared inside the hole; his perception had told him who was inside, but he watched anyway. He burned soulfire, shifting back to his human form, and even discarded the tusk that he would usually wear in this form.


    "I remembered that story," the Sage muttered.


    He stepped into the hole and saw his Master''s body. Gone was the golden light he was familiar with. Most of the feathers on her chest were gone now, revealing wrinkled and dead brown skin below. Her eyes, however, closed in peace, reminded him of the love she had freely given.


    "So much for never dying, am I right," the Beast King commented.


    Del''rek heard a bit of bitterness in the Herald''s voice, but he could not help but smile. "Yeah," he muttered.


    The Sage summoned a water construct and a scrub from his soulspace and began washing Sunda¡¯s body. Her body was not rotting, he noticed. The worms and insects had not dared to touch her. Only time did. The two disciples stayed quiet as he worked. Once the body was scrubbed clean, he made a thin cut on the trunk walls- sap flowed out.


    He used the sticky sap and began attaching the feathers he could find back to her body. Once he finished, he propped her up against the wall. The sight brought memories of his Master looking down on him with grace and love.


    He bowed low on all fours, pressing his head to the ground at her feet. "The disciple has returned to the master," he choked as a tear dripped from his eye.


    There was a thud next to him as The Beast King also bowed. "The disciple has returned to the master."


    For a long time, they knelt together in the quiet embrace of their shared grief.


    "You never completed the burial," Del''rek muttered, straightening his back.


    "No," The Beast King admitted. "I tried to. But I couldn''t."


    "Only one more step," Del''rek pointed out.


    "Yeah," the Beast King smirked. "Let''s take our Master on a walk."


    The Sage and the Herald walked through the forest, careful as they channelled wind aura into carrying their Master above. One last flight for her.


    "I wouldn''t be able to openly mourn for her once I leave," Del''rek whispered. "I kept her presence a secret like how she always wanted."


    The Beast King looked up at his Master floating above their heads. He swallowed the bitterness in his mouth. "She forgave you. But I think she never blamed you in the first place. She loved you until the end," he said, remembering some of his Master''s final words.


    Del''rek closed his eyes and nodded. "Thank you. For letting me know."


    "How did she die?" Del''rek asked. "I did not see any visible wounds."


    "Bloodspawns," The Beast King answered.


    Del''rek''s head snapped, and he gave the Beast King an incredulous expression.


    "I couldn''t believe it either," the Beast King shrugged. "She even bestowed her remnant to one my disciples. She''s now at dragon territory, helping the other one advance."


    Del''rek''s eyes narrowed at the words. The Beast King met it with his own knowing eyes, but there was also something Del''rek did not recognise.


    "If an opportunity arises. Will we be able to rely upon each other?" Del''rek asked.


    The Beast King nodded and offered a hand. "For our Master."


    Del''rek accepted the offered hand and shook it without hesitation. "For her."


    <hr>


    Ziel had a long day. He had slowly walked to the border between The Wastelands and dragon territory. Executed a dragon high gold and then walked back. Just as he was about to finally have a well-deserved rest, the Beast King summoned him.


    He sighed as he approached the Beast King outside the cave. It has become their main base ever since the Bleeding Phoenix attacked.


    The Beast King sat on the log he was always at when he wanted to meet someone, so he was easy to find. He was joyfully playing with his handpan by a campfire, and Ziel saw a few little mice listening to him by his feet. The beat sped up, and the mice''s eyes widened. Zeal wondered if the mice realised that their heads were bopping.


    The tune reached its crescendo and dropped to a satisfying conclusion. The mice clapped and cheered, throwing small blades of grass to the Herald.


    "Thank you. Thank you," The Beast King bowed as if in a theatre. He waited for the cheers to finish before continuing. "That is all for this evening."


    There were a few ''aww'' and ''no'', but most were yawning. "Thank you, Beast King," the mice muttered in unison. "We loved it."


    The Beast King graced them with a smile. The mice formed a line and marched back into the cave.


    Ziel waited for the rodents to enter the cave before speaking. "You wanted to see me?"


    "Ah yes, Lord of the Dawnwing sect," The Beast King addressed him. "How have you been fairing?"


    "Breathing," Ziel answered.


    "I can see that," the Beast King smiled. "How do you really feel?"


    Ziel stared at him.


    "Well, you should start cheering because we just got permission to enter a Monarch''s lab facility," the Beast King said, opening his arms like he had just presented an amazing idea.


    "And?" Ziel asked, suppressing a yawn. He was tired.


    "There''s a water source inside called the spirit well. It is known to promote the growth of one''s soul, increase madra density, and stimulate recovery," the Herald waggled his eyebrows. "It may be able to help your condition. If not, then maybe an elixir can be made from it that will."


    Ziel sighed. "You''re talking about Ghostwater. Did you not raid it already?" he asked.


    "I have," The Beast King nodded, his smile not fading. "But the wells were not a...," he paused, searching for the right word, "a priority."


    Ziel looked at him impassively. "Your trash."


    "You could say that," the Beast King bounced his head from side to side and shrugged. "But for you, however, I think it could do you good."


    Ziel was careful not to lift his hope. He had long resigned to his condition, and the only real solution they had found was long lost. "I guess I can try," he yawned.


    "And yes, you shall. Even if it doesn''t fix your problem, the spirit well will still do your spirit good. We would need it that way."


    "Why? Are you going to send me to fight Lords?" Ziel asked sarcastically.


    "Exactly."


    Ziel shifted to staring again.


    "Remember the Uncrowned tournament?" The Beast King asked, raising an eyebrow. "Care for a second chance?"


    Ziel''s thoughts whirled, and for a moment, he had hope. "The Monarchs can fix me," he muttered.


    The Beast King nodded in agreement.


    Then Ziel remembered that he would likely need to reach the upper rankings to win such a prize. "Or I''ll die," he sighed. "And I''m not an underlord."


    The Herald shrugged. "They''ll allow it. The other factions have agreed to allow you to go into Ghostwater as a Truegold-powered Sacred artist."


    "Hmm," Ziel hummed.


    "And a Lord of a sect needs his servants, of course," the Beast King added.


    "Let me guess," Ziel replied. "The boy and the girl. And you want me to help them advance in Ghostwater."


    The Beast King nodded. "And since we have permission from the Monarch, he had given us some benefits to make your journey... ehh less tiring."


    Ziel sighed again. "I guess I''ll do it."


    "Thank you. Sunda will have wanted this."


    Ziel''s eyes widened slightly at the mention of the Garuda. He nodded slowly. "I guess I can do this for her."


    "So," the Beast King clapped his hands. "How are the two? I sensed Whitehall has advanced."


    Ziel lay flat on the ground. He was tired and felt this conversation would take long, so he decided he might as well sleep here.


    "They work well as a team, but they are weak. Sadi has horrible offensive techniques, while Whitehall has horrible defensive techniques. His iron body is a burden."


    The Beast King nodded in agreement. "Only for now."


    Ziel closed his eyes and continued. "I don''t get it. Why not send someone to teach them their path? Why leave them to make it out on their own?"


    "I thought about it," The Beast King replied. "But Sunda had told me to let them discover it independently."


    "I disagree, but alright then," Ziel shrugged. His eyes were heavy, and he would very much like to never open them again.


    "Oh, I almost forgot," the Herald exclaimed.


    Ziel opened his eyes and gazed accusingly at the Beast King. He was sure the Herald was raising his voice on purpose to make him suffer.


    "Remember how I said the Monarch had given us some benefits," the Herald continued, pulling out three jewels. Blue and green light reflected off of them. "It took a while to track down, but their locations made it quick."


    Ziel did not know what those stones were and how they would help them. He closed his eyes and returned his head to the soft ground.


    "Ahem," the Beast King cleared his throat. "Have you heard about the best trash left in that pocket realm? Why is it now called Ghostwater?


    Slowly, inch by inch, Ziel opened one eye.

 Chapter 13: Ghostwater

    Whitehall stared at his reflection in the mirror. His grotesque face stared back. Venom madra leaked out in poisonous fumes from the left side of his face. He tried to smile, but his mangled tissue turned it into a snarl. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the bitterness that was rising.


    He exhaled, "I am bitter. But I have advanced," he admitted to himself.


    "Whitehall?" Sadi asked from behind him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to talk?"


    Whitehall looked over his shoulder at her, showing her the unmarred part of his face. He watched the worry in her expression. "I''m just tired," he said slowly.


    He turned back to the mirror but found his reflection missing. All he could see was Sadi, her golden nails shining, resting on an invisible shoulder, lighting the dark room.


    "You really should stop looking at yourself. I think your goldsign looks great," she whispered.


    "Say that to the sacred beasts that look away or cover their faces whenever I pass," Whitehall retorted.


    Sadi''s smile grew thin. After thinking about what to say, she decided to be straightforward. "It''s not about that, though, isn''t it?" she whispered.


    "No," Whitehall replied. Then he added, "Maybe."


    Sadi placed a hand on his unmarred cheek, turning his head to face her. Her face, bright despite the darkness, filled his vision. The light among the shadows. She reached up with her other hand to touch his goldsign, but Whitehall''s hand caught her.


    "Don''t," he warned her. "It''s not safe."


    She looked down on him for a moment, her smile tender. "I made something for you," she said, her other hand moving to reach something on her back.


    She revealed a half-wooden mask carved to cover the left side of the wearer''s face. Whitehall accepted it and ran his fingers on the surface. It was rough, like touching the bark of a tree. The mask also stretched back and would cover the left side of his head.


    "I thought you might like it," Sadi explained. "Since you seem to be bothered by your goldsign."


    "I do," Whitehall said, turning the mask around to see it was padded with a soft material. It reminded him of the masks that the other cultures of his people would wear in his previous life.


    "Thank you," he thanked sincerely and smirked. "I think my costume as a masked assassin is finally complete."


    "You''re very welcome," Sadi chuckled.


    Whitehall closed his eyes. Sadi had not removed her hand from his cheek. The golden glow was warm, he realised.


    "But you''re not allowed to wear it when it''s just us," Sadi continued.


    Whitehall''s eyes opened.


    "I got you the mask, but I don''t want you to take it wrong. I don''t mind your goldsign."


    "I know," he replied.


    "Feel better?" she asked, removing her hand from his cheek.


    "Yes," Whitehall first said, looking down at the barky texture. "No," he corrected. He took a deep breath and took his time to exhale. "I think it is time I tell you about myself."


    Sadi took a step back, clearly surprised by what he said.


    "No, not that," Whitehall quickly corrected the misunderstanding. "I mean about my past. Who I really am. Before Elder Whitehall."


    Sadi''s eyes were wide. Unsure how to respond. "What do you mean?"


    "Let''s sit down," Whitehall gestured towards their mattress.


    She sat on the mattress, and Whitehall did the same across her.


    He took a deep breath and exhaled. "My name, my real name, is Sinar Leng Kuang."


    Sadi did not reply. Instead, she listened. Her gaze was stern in attention.


    "I came from a world called Earth. And in that world. I was part of a newly freed nation. Republic of Indonesia," Whitehall continued.


    Sadi''s eyes widened, and her goldsigns brightened. But she kept listening, saving her questions for later.


    "I fought my whole life," Whitehall''s eyes darkened, his goldsign making him look imposing. There was one, followed by a second, and then the first returned. "And I died fighting."


    Whitehall took another breath. "You have any questions?" he asked.


    "Not now," Sadi replied, waiting for him to finish first.


    Whitehall nodded. "Back in Sacred Valley, I was desperate to find a way to reach gold. I wanted more time. So, I made an untested elixir of eternal youth. It backfired, and it used my lifeline and turned my body ten years younger."


    Sadi knew this story. The news had spread like wildfire: a Jade Elder younger than her, turning even younger. She was envious of his accomplishments at the time. It only took a glance at Elder Whitehall''s new body to know what had happened.


    "But the elixir had a side effect, and it brought back memories of my previous life. Or maybe the memory was someone else''s. I don''t know."


    "That makes sense," Sadi replied. "Your sudden change in the way you think. I remember my brother speaking about it to me."


    "Yes," Whitehall replied. "I was a monster. So fixated on advancement that I neglected everyone else. Only measuring people''s value by how much benefit they can bring for me."


    "For what it''s worth. I like you better now," Sadi smiled softly.


    Whitehall returned it: "Our oaths have bound us to this journey together. I felt you should know. Because the truth is, I am tired. I have fought for the freedom of my home for more than a lifetime. Now, I am doing it again. I am tired of fighting and killing." He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. "Every time I fought and trained, the only thought I had was, ''When will it end?''"


    Sadi closed her eyes. She could not imagine herself in his position, but she could understand. "I hear you," she said. "I really do."


    Whitehall''s hands shook. "I feel lost. It is like I am stuck in an unending cycle of fighting and bloodshed." His eyes grew wide, "I am afraid of wasting another life with war."


    Sadi exhaled, her chest aching with empathy. But she could not do this without him. That feeling was as real as the heart pounding in her chest.


    "Do you remember the line I added to our soul oath?" she asked softly.


    "Yes," Whitehall whispered. "To do this together."


    "I added that because...because...," she paused. "Because I was afraid. Afraid of feeling helpless." She remembered how easily the sword sage''s disciple had beaten her. "All my life, all I did was catch up with everyone. First, it was my brother. Then, when I was Jade, the Elders. Then you showed up. You gave me hope of a path forward."


    She looked down, her blush hidden by the shadows. "And it felt right at the time."


    "It was," he concurred.


    "And I will still need you." She grabbed his right hand and held it. Sadi could not tell why, but her following words came naturally: "If you are lost, then I will light the path. All you need to do is follow."


    Her words gripped Whitehall''s heart in a vice. He looked her in the eyes. She saw fierceness in them.


    "Alright," he whispered.


    Meatball lay on the mattress next to the two, her eyes wide open. She was not surprised or confused by Whitehall''s words. Her mother had told her Whitehall was different. She was panicking for a different reason. She closed her eyes tightly. GO TO SLEEP MEATBALL, she yelled inwardly. GO TO SLEEP! GO TO SLEEP. YOU DON''T WANT TO BE AWAKE FOR WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN NEXT.


    ------------


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Whitehall and Sadi stood on a cloud ship, floating in the skies toward an abandoned island. Nature had regained its hold over the place, and stone structures were covered in vines. The cold wind blew against their faces, and the clouds gave them a cold shower. The mask did not help to protect him from the cold.


    "This isn''t a cloud ship," Whitehall complained, pointing at the cloudship ahead of them. The one where Ziel and their master were. "That one at least looks like a ship."


    He gestured to the small one he and Sadi were on. "This is a cloud raft!"


    Sadi did not mind the cold wind and vapour. It reminded her of the time when she was getting her iron body. She cycled the abundant light aura, with Meatball sleeping gingerly on her lap.


    "We need to maintain our appearance as servants," she explained.


    "We can better serve Ziel by being with him," Whitehall growled to the sky. "I know you can hear me, master. This isn''t funny."


    He gestured to his clothes. They were brown rags, sleeveless at the arms and baggy trousers. The servant clothes did not provide much protection from the elements. Sadi left him to yell at the wind.


    "Wow," she heard Whitehall muttered.


    She opened an eye and glanced at him. He was looking down as the Wastelands'' cloudships began descending. She followed his gaze, and her eyes widened at the view. There were hundreds of cloudships below, gathered around a black and purple fortress. There were cloudships of different colours below. Her eyes immediately recognised the gold ones decorated with dragon statues.


    An old sacred artist dressed in black and purple flew up to meet with the descending cloudships.


    His voice reached Sadi and Whitehall. "This one is named Old Man Lo, a member of the Akura Clan!" He pressed his fists and bowed at the Beast King''s ship. "The Sage of Silver Heart sent me to greet the Beast King of the Wastelands."


    "I would greet Charity directly. She should be expecting me," The Beast King replied out of view.


    "Yes, she has," Old Man Lo replied. "This one will lead the way."


    Old Man Lo flew down, and not long later, the Beast King emerged from his cloudship and followed.


    Once their Cloudships had landed, Ziel exited the main cloudship and began walking away.


    Sadi and Whitehall looked at each other. Sadi shrugged. They ran after him, careful to maintain a respectful distance. Sadi was unsure if Meatball was asleep as the bird perched on her shoulder, hiding inside her hair. Meatball have not spoken ever since they left their cave and began their journey on the cloudship. Sadi wondered if something had happened.


    Ziel yawned as they caught up. "Thought you three would get lost. There are many places to explore around here."


    "No, Elder Zeal," Whitehall bowed behind the horned man. "We shall follow you."


    Ziel sighed and continued to walk.


    During their walk, Sadi nudged Whitehall''s arm. He looked at her, and she pointed behind them. The cloudships and the black fortress were gone.


    "Advanced scripts," Ziel muttered.


    Their walk took them a few hours. It led through a forest and ended at a beach near the edge of the island. A group of trees sat in the middle like a sore thumb. It grew from the sand. Ziel walked up to it and placed a hand on the trunk. His hand glowed with a green circle script. The trunk parted, revealing a Jade doorway. He stepped through it, quickly followed by his servants.


    Whitehall watched as an endless blue light swallowed the world. The light felt thick, like water, and his stomach revolted. It felt disgusting, and thankfully, it only lasted an instant.


    He stepped out into an air bubble the size of a fortress. His footwear stepped on dry sand, and he was thankful he was wearing sandals. He looked at the surroundings and realised they were underwater. There was some kind of tree-shaped construction on the ocean floor beyond the air bubble. Its blue tube roots shone with blue light.


    He felt another nudge from Sadi, pointing at Zeal waking further away. They followed him. A young man sat cross-legged on a boulder. He wore a black and purple robe like Old Man Lo. A black and purple halo floated above his head. Whitehall''s fist clenched as he took in the young man''s delicate features.


    "Come on," Zeal called out. His voice was soft as if to avoid disturbing the cycling man.


    He led the two to a small patch of sand. He opened his void key, and small logs and twigs fell out. "Build a hut, would you," he ordered.


    Sadi and Whitehall pressed their fists and bowed. They began building a small hut while Ziel sat nearby watching them.


    "Don''t antagonise anyone, Whitehall," Ziel muttered. "Unless you want to die. If you want to, you have permission, I guess."


    Whitehall lowered his head. "Forgiveness, Elder Ziel," he whispered.


    Ziel did not reply. Instead, he removed the protection of the lowgolds'' spirit. He spared Meatball, though. Something told him she had gone through enough.


    Whitehall felt an immense pressure pressing down on his back. He fell to the ground, and so did Sadi. And in the blink of an eye. The pressure was gone.


    "That Akura is peak Truegold," Ziel explained, protecting the lowgolds'' spirit again. "Just stay inside the hut once you''re done, and don''t make any trouble."


    Whitehall and Sadi bowed once more before returning to building the hut.


    -------------


    Whitehall and Sadi sat inside the finished hut. It was small, but there was enough room if Ziel decided to join them at any time. He chose to sleep outside.


    "What was that?" Sadi asked.


    Whitehall shook his head. "The Akura just reminded me of an old enemy. It won''t happen again."


    "It better not," she replied, careful not to raise her voice. Meatball was still asleep on her lap. "Or we''re not making it out of here. The man is Peak Truegold. He''s probably stronger than Ziel."


    "Apologies," Whitehall frowned.


    Sadi''s expression softened. "No, I''m sorry, too. I didn''t mean to lay it out like that."


    "You''re right, though," he replied.


    "Alalalalala," Meatball snapped awake and began pacing around the hut. "Please stop this, both of you," she begged. Her eyes were wide and moist as she tried to act cute. "Have I not suffered enough? Please spare me from my nightmares."


    Sadi raised an eyebrow at Meatball''s outburst and waved a hand. "Anyways, did you see all that," she gestured outside. "I saw so many creatures and plants I have never seen."


    "No," Whitehall replied. "It was pitch black other than the blue tree.


    "Oh," Sadi expressed in realisation. "Forgot you can''t see in the dark."


    "Tell me anyway. What did you see?" Whitehall could tell Sadi was excited.


    "There was a fish with jaws larger than our body with teeth as sharp as swords. Oh, and there was also a large serpent behind the tree." She gestured with her hands as she explained.


    "A serpent? How big?" Meatball stopped her pacing and perched on Whitehall''s shoulder.


    "I can''t tell how as it was coiled. But the body is at least as wide as two of us stacked on top of one another," Sadi described.


    Whitehall shivered at the description. "I hope we won''t have to-"


    "Stop," Sadi lept over him and covered his mouth with both hands. Meatball flew up at Sadi''s sudden movement. "Don''t say it," she brought her face close to Whitehall and whispered a warning. "The last time you did, we got chased by an unknown snake bear."


    Whitehall nodded nervously with wide eyes. He stared at her unblinking.


    "What?" Sadi asked, straightening her back.


    His eyes shifted up and down across her body. She was sitting on him.


    "Oh," she said, looking down to Whitehall and realising their state. She attempted to laugh it off as she climbed off.


    "Sadi, please blind me right now!" Meatball yelped at Sadi, flying close to her face. Then the bird whirled to eye Whitehall. "Do you have any poison that can erase memories?"


    Before Sadi could reply to attempt to save her dignity, a familiar sensation washed over the three''s spirits: It felt like a bloodspawn. The bloody pressure pressed on them, but it was not as strong as the Akura''s.


    "I want silence," a man spoke, and the light dimmed and replaced by shadows.


    The shadow disappeared the next moment, and the candlelight in their hut returned. With it, the sensation of blood vanished.


    The door to their hut opened, and Ziel stepped in. His left arm dripped with blood, a long cut stretched from his forearm to his palm.


    "Can you heal it?" Ziel asked Whitehall, offering his wounded hand.


    "Certainly, Elder Ziel," Whitehall replied, holding the wounded arm in one hand. He began pulling out bandages and ointments from his small pack.


    "Use your madra," Ziel ordered. "Don''t bother with the bandages."


    "I..., "Whitehall hesitated. "I haven''t practised with life aura ever since I reached gold."


    Ziel looked at him with disinterest.


    "Right away, Elder Ziel," Whitehall said and began cycling life aura.


    "Despite what you think, your path regards life madra and poison madra to be the same," Ziel explained. "Don''t neglect that."


    "Yes, Elder Ziel," Whitehall replied. Ziel was right. Whitehall had forgotten about that aspect of his path.


    Whitehall began channelling his madra to the hand, ordering it to heal the wound. It was slow, and Whitehall had to repeat four times before the wound finally shut.


    Ziel looked at his healed hand, clenching and unclenching it. "The gold dragons are here. They''ll steal your pack out of curiosity. I recommend you stay away from them."


    "Yes, Lord Ziel."


    Ziel''s spirit detected three new sacred artists. One was on a path of storms, the second a raging fire, and the last was on pure madra? The Nine Clouds were not supposed to arrive until the next day. Then, the pure madra washed away, replaced by angry flames.


    He stepped out of the hut to see the newcomers. A man and woman in green armour stood by the doorway. The woman was Truegold and clearly the one in charge. Her gold sign, a small thundercloud, floated behind her. The man was a lowgold, on a flame path Ziel did not recognise. His eyes were rings of red and black, and he bore a challenging expression, daring anyone in the bubble to fight him. A turtle stood tall behind them both. Its eyes were as dark and red as the male''s.


    The woman mumbled something under her breath. Ziel''s Archlord senses could hear her loud and clear: "Bai Rou, do not follow. I repeat, maintain your position and call for reinforcements. There are multiple enemies. We will try to disengage."


    "Who are you?" Ziel asked his voice as even as always.


    The woman carefully removed her hand from her sword and stood straight. The black cloud behind her seemed to shrink. ''She was smart,'' Ziel thought.


    "We are the Skysworn of the Blackflame Empire," the woman raised her voice so everyone could hear. "We are here to respond to reports of a disturbance around this facility after the passage of the Bleeding Pheonix."


    Ziel''s perception warned him when the male Sacred Artist behind the woman withdrew his spirit and replaced it with pure madra. Ziel sharpened his perception on the lowgold, discovering that he had two cores. One was pure, and the other one was like the turtle''s. He dismissed the lowgold, keeping his perception of the two Truegolds instead.


    The boy''s perception landed on Ziel, and he withdrew it almost instantly.


    "Who is backing you?" Ziel asked. Their armour did not look like the Ninecloud''s or match the Eight-Man Empire''s. "The Winter Sage?" he tried.


    The black turtle behind them rose tall, red light igniting from his shell. "We do not need to answer to you," he snarled.


    Fair enough, Ziel thought, staring back at the turtle expressionless. He did not care who they were either, as long as they did not get in their way. He turned to face the other Truegolds.


    The gold dragon girl has been eyeing the lowgold boy hungrily. More specifically, his oversized bag.


    "When you''re done, leave me their trinkets," she cackled.


    She continued to speak, but Ziel did not pay any attention. He sighed when he heard the word ''bulge,'' "Not every fight needs to be to the death, dragon. What could they possibly have on them?"


    The golden dragon-girl licked her lips in gluttony.


    "You shouldn''t be here," whispered the Redmoon Hall woman, pointing a finger at the uninvited guests. She kept her spirits veiled, and Ziel reckoned it was due to her fear of the Akura.


    "They are not bound by the rules. Who can know who sent them? " Her eyes shifted to Ziel.


    Ziel wondered why he got himself into this situation.


    -----------


    Whitehall and Sadi sat silently and unmoving, like statues, inside the hut. They listened to the bickering outside; Ziel was somehow involved.


    "What is happening?" Whitehall asked with his eye movements.


    Sadi scrunched up her face and gave him an incredulous look.


    Whitehall rolled his eyes and bopped his head side to side. "Fair enough."


    "Silence," they heard the Akura man speak before the world darkened.


    The air was silent, and then they heard the clanking of armour falling. Another second later, they felt the ground by their hut shook and cracked. That was where Ziel was, they both realised.


    "He is not your opponent, Yan Shoumei," they heard Ziel somnolently say.


    "But you are," the woman, this Yan Shoumei, snarled, and Sadi and Whitehall felt the bloody sensation returned. She was heading for them.


    "Go, go," Sadi yelled, pushing Whitehall out the entrance.


    "I asked for silence ," the Akura man repeated.


    Shadows drowned the world as dark slashes cut through the air around the man.


    Ziel stepped before the two and stretched his hand towards the incoming slashes. A green circle with scripts emerged from his hand and caught the shadow. The script flickered and broke. Blood flowed out of Ziel''s hand, and he looked down at it.


    "Not again," he sighed. "Whitehall," he called.


    But Whitehall''s attention was taken away by a piercing howl. A black turtle with fire on its shell roared as black fiery madra erupted from its shell. Two boulders covered the portal, and Whitehall recognised the figure heading towards it from the outside. Her hair was short and cut straight, and scars covered her face. But she had two sword arms now. The Sword Sage''s Disciple.


    The Akura man wiped his hand gently in the air before him. A black blade of shadow shot from where his arm drew. It was headed for the incoming Sword Sage disciple.


    A bar of black flame shot through the frame of the Jade portal, causing it to shiver and break into pieces. The blue glow winked out.


    The Truegolds halted, and everyone stared at the broken portal. The Akura man closed his eyes and returned to his cycling.


    Whitehall saw hair peaking out behind the boulder, but a golden dragon girl lept forward, covering Whitehall''s vision. Whitehall thought he was wearing rags, but the golden-dragon wore even less than him.


    The girl demanded everything from the person behind the boulder. But her last sentence caught Whitehall''s attention.


    "You have no idea how expensive it will be to return home without that doorway," she growled at the person.


    That was good to know, Whitehall thought; at least there was another way out. The giant turtle fell behind the boulders with a thud.


    "Please, forgive this one for his rudeness," a familiar voice echoed from the person behind the boulder.


    Whitehall recognised the voice. How could he forget?


    "Bastard?" he called out.


    Wei Shi Lindon recognised his voice, and his head popped behind the boulder. A familiar face stared at Elder Whitehall, his eyes wide. The boy still looked like he was looking for a fight.


    "Elder Whitehall?" Lindon asked, clearly surprised to see Whitehall here. Lindon did not recognise the face, as a wooden half mask covered it. But he did recognise the Elder''s voice.


    All opened eyes turned towards Whitehall.


    The golden-dragon girl''s gaze was sharp. "Friend of yours?" she asked Whitehall.


    "No," Whitehall retorted. "He stole everything from the treasure hall in our school." Whitehall knew he was being a hypocrite. But seeing Lindon''s large pack stirred something inside him. "He owes us."


    Unlucky for Whitehall, the boy in question took that moment of distraction and lept out of the air bubble, dragging the turtle by its shell with him.


    The gold dragon shot a line of gold towards Lindon''s fleeting form, but he was long gone. Her eyes snapped back to Whitehall with anger.


    "You!" she snarled. "How will you compensate me for my lost treasures!?" Gold flame madra began to gather on her hands.


    "Calm yourself, dragon," Ziel stepped forward, his voice low. "Unless," he gestured with his bloody hand towards the cycling Akura.


    The golden-dragon gulped as her eyes drifted to the Akura. The madra in her palms fizzled out. Her eyes moistened at the thought of the treasures she had just lost.


    "Contact the Herald," she ordered.


    Whitehall saw that she was ordering two human attendants dressed in white who stood by the entrance of a large, golden tent shaped like a castle. The two attendants bowed at her command.


    "Get Meatball," Ziel said to Whitehall and Sadi with dead eyes. "We''re leaving."


    Sadi and Whitehall bowed and returned to the hut. It surprisingly remained intact through the chaos. As they entered, they saw Meatball pacing in circles, eyes closed, and grumbling to herself. Whitehall thought he heard the bird mumbling something about courting and ritual. The bird was utterly oblivious to the discord outside.

 Chapter 14: Ekeri

    The Beast King sat on an uncomfortable chair at a long wooden table. The cushioned seat was too soft for his liking; he preferred the solid feel of hard logs. Moreover, the decor of the Sage of Silver Heart''s fortress left much to be desired, adorned in an unappealing mix of black and purple.


    "Charity," he acknowledged the Sage for the first time since his arrival, unsheathing a dagger from his boot to clean under his nails.


    "The Beast King," she replied, her hands busy carving a small wooden log.


    "I see you''re preparing an urn for a dragon," he observed casually, not bothering to meet her gaze.


    "It seems so," she answered, maintaining her even tone.


    A knock interrupted the moment. "Come in," Charity commanded.


    The door swung open, revealing Old Man Lo, who bowed before entering, a trolley of various foods in tow. The appetizing aroma of barbecued tomahawk assailed the Beast King''s senses.


    "Thanks," the Beast King said as the servant set the feast on the table. "And bring me something to drink," he ordered.


    Old Man Lo''s expression turned conflicted, and he frowned as he glanced at the Sage for guidance. She remained silent, clearly content in making the Herald wait.


    The Beast King relished the tension. He could afford to wait; his disciples were off in Ghostwater. But this situation felt different.


    Ah, this is a power play by Old Man Lo , he thought, realizing the subtle dynamics at play. The servant was intent on reminding the Beast King of his subordinate status beneath the Akura Clan. Perhaps he was just more afraid of Charity than he was of the Beast King. Regardless, the Beast King did not feel like playing the Monarchs games today. Instead, he felt it necessary to remind the servant of proper respect.


    With a surge of will, he fixed his gaze on Old Man Lo, who froze under the weight of his spirit. The servant''s eyes betrayed no fear, but the Beast King could smell it.


    "Young man," he whispered to the wrinkled, white-bearded servant, his voice low and menacing, "you will treat me with respect. I have eaten more salt than you have rice." The words sunk into Old Man Lo''s bones, setting off a shiver down his spine.


    "Please, let him go, Beast King," Charity interjected, her voice calm but firm. She did not make an effort to stop the Heral''s working. "I still have use for him."


    The Beast King smirked, keeping his focus on the servant, sensing the man was cycling to stop himself from shaking.


    "Kids these days," he quipped, glancing at Charity. "They forget how to treat their elders." With that, he released Old Man Lo, who collapsed onto the floor.


    "Get our guest some refreshments, Lo," Charity ordered.


    The servant scrambled to his feet and bowed. "Yes, mistress." He added an abrupt bow to the Beast King before retreating.


    Once Old Man Lo had left the room, Charity turned to the Beast King. "Was that necessary?" she asked.


    The Beast King shrugged and dug into the meat with his hands, grease dribbling onto his beard. "It''s important to keep the younger generation''s ego in check," he replied, uninterested in providing further explanation. The food was simply too delightful.


    "Want one?" he offered, extending a tomahawk toward Charity.


    "I''ve had my fill," she declined, shaking her head. "I invited you here on behalf of the Akura Clan."


    He ignored her and took another hearty bite, knowing she would get to the point eventually.


    "It''s about your golds," she continued.


    "What about them?" he mumbled, his voice muffled by meat.


    With a flick of her hand, Charity opened the door, revealing the servant carrying a cup. She utilised wind aura to pluck it from his grasp before handing it to the Beast King. A wave of her arm shut the door in front of the servant. The Beast King caught the cup, activating its scripts, causing water to rise from the bottom.


    "My grandmother has ordered me to include your golds in an upcoming event I''m organizing to raise new Underlords for the tournament," she explained.


    The Beast King nodded as he sipped the water, careful to keep his emotions in check. Northstrider was more eager than he had previously suggested during their last meeting¡ªhe hadn''t even waited for the golds to finish with Ghostwater.


    "My grandmother was impressed when you sent the Bleeding Phoenix after the dragons," Charity continued. "But I wasn''t," she added dryly. "The dragons blame us for it and have ramped up their attacks on our territory because of your actions."


    A toothy grin appeared on the Beast King''s face. "I was just defending the Wastelands," he replied sarcastically.


    Charity''s expression remained inscrutable. "We have allied ourselves with your Monarch of the Wastelands."


    Not my Monarch , the Beast King thought but chose not to correct her.


    "Thus, our interests align. I have agreed to allow your golds to attend my event. But¡ª"


    She paused, and a disturbance rippled through the pocket world.


    "It seems we have unexpected arrivals," the Beast King said with a smile, enjoying the unpredictability. "One of yours, I believe."


    "A vassal," Charity confirmed, her tone shifting as darkness enveloped the space.


    As she activated her mind space, darkness consumed the world, and representatives from the other factions that had arrived on the island appeared within it.


    "What is the meaning of this, Charity?" hissed Xhorus, Herald of the Gold Dragons.


    "They are from a backwater vassal state. We did not permit them to participate," Charity replied. "I will remove them."


    "I say let them stay," The Beast King interjected, getting straight to the point. "What, a low gold and two weak Truegolds?"


    "We have altered the rules for you by allowing the cripple to enter," groaned an old corpse¡ªthe Blood Sage. "But he is bound by the rules. Hers are not," he pointed a wrinkled finger at the Sage of Silver Heart.


    Xhorus smiled as she realized the uninvited guests were weak and merely a vassal of the Akuras. "I agree with The Beast King. If my niece is so weak that a backwater vassal poses a threat, then she will prove herself a failure."


    Moments later, they all felt the Jade doorway to Ghostwater crumble.


    Xhorus cackled. "More for our golds."


    The Blood Sage chewed on his bloody fingers, deep in thought. "Agreed," he finally grumbled.


    The Beast King nodded, and the mindscape dispersed. He found himself back in his cushioned chair, resuming his meal.


    "As I was saying," Charity continued, picking up from her earlier conversation without a second thought about the distraction, "I have agreed to help your golds¡ª"


    "But?" The Beast King interjected between bites.


    "I want a favour in return," Charity concluded.


    The Beast King took another gulp from his cup, clearly not one to give favours easily. "Name it, and I''ll see if I''m willing to help," he said.


    "The heir to the Akura clan is on the island," Charity replied.


    The Beast King raised an eyebrow in response.


    "Our enemies will seek to take the opportunity to eliminate her. In return, I would like you to protect her while she remains on the island. At least from those of higher advancement," Charity explained.


    He ran a finger through his greasy beard. "And why can''t you protect her yourself?" he asked.


    "The Akura clan is barred from providing her with any aid," Charity replied.


    "But I am not," the Beast King nodded. He did not feel the need to inquire about the politics within the Akura clan; this was a straightforward request.


    "She will remain under my protection while on the island," he agreed.


    Charity nodded. "I look forward to seeing your disciples'' capabilities."


    So she was aware, the Beast King thought. Ziel''s servants were not actual servants. He grabbed a plate of meat with one hand. "Are we done then?"


    The Sage nodded. "We are." She snapped her fingers and opened a portal.


    The Beast King stepped through it. He hated portal transport, but he respected its convenience. He emerged in the middle of a forest, with the Wasteland cloudships nearby.


    Ellie came running toward him, her eyes wide and mouth drooling at the sight of the meat. "Can I have some?" she begged.


    The Beast King looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. "You don''t eat meat," he pointed out.


    "No," Ellie shook her head. "But I can make the dogs bring me food with that," she said, salivating.


    The Beast King sighed and tossed two tomahawks to the baby elephant. She caught them, wrapping the meat with her trunk tightly. "Go on, then."


    "Thanks!" she exclaimed and began to run away.


    <hr>


    Ziel heard the ringing vibrations of a familiar handpan in his mind and sighed at the sound of The Beast King''s signal for the start. He was already ahead of the Herald.


    "Yeah," he replied, wondering if the connection was one-sided or if the Herald could hear his thoughts.


    ¡°Umm, Elder Zeal,¡± Whitehall said from behind. ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°Who was the Blackflame?¡± Ziel asked, ignoring Whitehall''s question.


    There was a pause before Whitehall answered. Ziel looked around and noticed that the dragon and the Redmoon had left. The Akura boy remained seated, cycling on his boulder.


    ¡°He was a disciple of the Heaven''s Glory school. He is the one who told me about the incoming dreadgod,¡± Whitehall replied.


    ¡°He is the Unsouled?¡± Sadi asked, her voice trembling.


    The quiver in her voice caused Whitehall to turn toward her. He noticed her hands were shaking, and without thinking, he reached out and grabbed hers. Her trembling stopped.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Whitehall asked.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she muttered. ¡°The Sword Sage disciple just brought back unpleasant memories.¡±


    ¡°Sadi,¡± Ziel''s voice hung heavy in the air. She realized he had stopped walking. He remained silent for a moment and sighed. ¡°There''s a habitat of madra aspects a hundred and fifty meters ahead. Lead the way.¡±


    Whitehall sensed disappointment in Ziel''s voice but felt it was not directed at Sadi; it seemed like Ziel was disappointed in himself.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°Yes, Elder Ziel,¡± Sadi replied and stepped toward the edge of the air bubble.


    ¡°Are we going after the Blackflame?¡± Whitehall asked as he stepped next to Ziel, following behind Sadi.


    ¡°If we have time,¡± Ziel replied. ¡°We have our priorities.¡±


    ¡°Everyone ready?¡± Sadi asked, her eyes fixed on the ocean beyond the bubble. ¡°I think I can see it.¡±


    ¡°Ready,¡± Whitehall said as he took a deep breath and held it.


    Ziel nodded.


    Sadi dove into the ocean, her eyes wide with a spectrum of beautiful colours¡ª hues of sapphire, emerald, and amethyst. Streams of violet shimmered in the depths, mingling with the soft blues and greens, creating an ethereal tapestry of light that pulsed and swirled.


    She spotted the habitat Ziel had mentioned¡ªa soft, aquatic green glowing bubble. She channeled waves of invisible light aura around her, feeling the vibrations as the light echoed back to her. This was a technique she had picked up from the anglerfish back in the sanctuary of The Wastelands.


    She brushed past a plant with translucent purple leaves. Surprisingly, the fish with large teeth avoided their path. She assumed they fled once they sensed Ziel''s spirit. It seemed Ziel was the apex predator.


    She wanted to slap herself as the light waves bounced back to her.


    <hr>


    Whitehall swam peacefully through the dark waters, with Ziel''s glowing horns being the only source of light guiding his way. One moment, everything was dark, but then Sadi threw a ball of golden light ahead of them. Whitehall felt his blood run cold as the light revealed a massive Serpent looming before them.


    The Serpent unleashed a blue blast from its mouth, aimed directly at them. "Sadi!" he yelled, but the water muffled his voice.


    Ziel''s green glow vanished in a flash, and he materialized next to Sadi. He pushed her out of harm''s way just in time. Then, Ziel moved again, appearing in front of Whitehall. He extended his hand, and a green circular script appeared. It caught the blast and the shield held firm.


    Whitehall noticed that Ziel was holding a giant hammer in one hand and wondered where he had gotten it. The Serpent stood tall and roared a challenge at Ziel. Without looking back, Ziel grabbed Whitehall''s tunic and threw him at the Serpent. Whitehall felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as Meatball''s talons dug into him.


    The Serpent opened its mouth wide, preparing to take in its next snack. Whitehall needed to think quickly. He released poison madra directly into the creature''s mouth. Meanwhile, Meatball launched black feathers at the Serpent''s glaring yellow eyes. As Whitehall drew closer, he was struck by the size of the creature''s fangs; they were as large as his entire body. The creature clamped its jaws shut, but fortunately, Whitehall moved fast enough to avoid them. Instead, the Serpent ended up swallowing the poisonous madra.


    Looking back, he saw Ziel battling the creature. Green scripts accompanied each strike of his hammer, and the sound of each blow reverberated through the water.


    Whitehall felt Meatball flapping her wings and turned to face the direction she was swimming. Sadi was there, knives in each hand, gazing directly at him. She pointed two fingers toward her eyes and then gestured back at the serpent engaged in battle.


    Whitehall sensed Meatball signaling him through their connection: Distract .


    <hr>


    Ziel sighed as he fought against the Serpent. In theory, the creature was a Truegold, and despite his weakened spirit, Ziel should have been able to defeat it. However, he had lost his will to fight long ago. The only thing sustaining him was his desire for vengeance over the loss of his sect, but that fire had long since faded to mere embers. Now, he wondered why those embers were beginning to spark back to life.


    Whitehall''s poison had begun to seep into the Serpent''s spirit. The boy did not realize how terrifying his madra truly was. Unlike other poison artists, his madra did not merely poison the body; it infected the entire spirit. He pondered why The Beast King had chosen to grant him such a path, but Ziel would not question those who had assisted him without expecting anything in return.


    Ziel hammered the creature''s jaw, sending it reeling back. The serpent roared back in defiance. Then, the serpent''s eyes turned bright white, and it moved erratically due to the sudden blindness. The creature blasted blue breath in all directions, and Ziel felt Whitehall''s madra enter its mouth. The serpent''s attack continued to weaken as it ran out of madra. Ziel activated his enforcer technique and lept towards it when it became weak puffs of blue bubbles. The serpent must have been using an enforcer technique; now, out of madra, Zeal''s hammer crushed its skull.


    ----------


    Sadi spat out salty water. Beside her, Whitehall and Meatball gasped for air.


    "Let''s not do that again," Meatball said, coughing.


    "Agreed," Whitehall replied, still heaving.


    Sadi was about to respond when she paused to take in their surroundings. They were in a garden filled with exotic, rainbow-coloured plants that grew neatly along a stone path.


    She activated her perception and was overwhelmed by force madra. Ziel stepped through the air bubble, dragging a large black stone behind him.


    Sadi''s eyes widened; it wasn¡¯t a stone¡ªit was a chunk of the serpent''s flesh.


    "Where did your hammer go?" Whitehall asked Ziel, causing Sadi to raise an eyebrow in realization.


    Ziel stared at them disinterestedly, his voice slow as if he was straining with each word. "My Soulspace," he replied.


    "Soulspace?" Sadi asked.


    Zeal sighed, too tired to speak. "You''ll begin to unlock it when you reach peak Truegold."


    He dragged his feet to the centre of the garden and dropped onto the stone like a sack of rice.


    "Pick two seeds from each type of plant," he muttered. "Then you may eat." He closed his eyes and began to cycle.


    "Yes, Elder," the two lowgolds replied, bowing.


    Ziel opened one eye. "Cycle the meat when you eat," he instructed. "Or I''ll have to explain to the Beast King why his disciples died from eating." He closed his eyes again and returned to his cycling.


    Sadi was unsure if Ziel was being sarcastic, but she decided to be cautious just in case he was not.


    She looked at Whitehall and Meatball, saying, "I''ll start from the left." She pointed at Whitehall and continued, "You can take the right." When she pointed at Meatball, the bird interrupted her with a yawn.


    "That battle made me sleepy," the bird chirped as she flew and landed on Ziel''s head. She curled up into a ball and closed her eyes. "Wake me up when we''re leaving."


    "Is she¡ª" Sadi began.


    "No," Whitehall replied with a sigh. "She''s fine. Just lazy."


    <hr>


    Sadi felt a sense of pride as she gathered the seeds from the plants. She believed these seeds would be planted in the Wastelands and that a monarch''s plants would greatly benefit the forest.


    The seeds came in a variety of colours, shapes, and sizes. One short plant, with leaves as broad as its body, produced seeds no larger than tiny ants. In contrast, a small plant with even smaller circular leaves had star-shaped seeds.


    Some plants appeared to be fused from two different species, their upper halves displaying a bark colour distinct from that of the lower half. One such plant bore fruits, and Sadi made sure to collect them. Once her hands were full, she headed over to where she had laid their pack. Whitehall had already gathered a few seeds himself.


    She glanced at him; his mask caused her to feel a mix of pride and sorrow. Their eyes met, and he waved. Although his brown left eye was in shadow, she could still see it clearly. She waved back.


    The garden was small, and it didn¡¯t take long for them to finish collecting the seeds. Once they were done, they sat next to the serpent¡¯s remains. The serpent¡¯s black skin had a stony texture, and the green meat emitted a putrid smell.


    "So," Whitehall began, scrunching his nose at the pungent aroma. "How are we going to approach this?"


    "Raw, I suppose?" Sadi winced as the stench from the meat intensified. She unsheathed her knife and carefully sliced a thin piece, handing it to Whitehall.


    He pinched his nose with one hand as he accepted the slice. "Not poisonous," he gagged, using his perception to assess the meat. "At least, there''s no poison madra."


    Sadi cut a piece for herself, eyeing the green flesh warily. She brought it close, sniffing the acidic odour before recoiling slightly.


    "Well, no time like the present," Whitehall grimaced, steeling himself. He opened his mouth wide and stuffed the entire slice inside, using his hands to force his jaw shut.


    Sadi watched as his body tensed, then fell backwards onto the floor. His breathing was controlled, so she knew he was cycling.


    With a grimace of her own, she ate the meat. It evaporated in her mouth into gas but with the metallic taste of blood. Her tongue revolted, but she was unable to gag. Her eyes went wide as her muscles stiffened. She fell onto the floor like a training dummy.


    Her madra channels ignited with a simmering heat that coursed through her body and into her core. As she closed her eyes and began to cycle the madra, a black blur flashed overhead, but it was too late for her to react; her eye muscles had already closed, and she was unable to react to the sudden movement.


    <hr>


    Meatball sniffed the air with her eyes closed. Alongside the scent of the delicious serpent, she detected something different. She decided to wait until Whitehall and Sadi finished gathering seeds, as seeds made a delightful pairing with meat. Focusing again on the new scent, she realized it smelled like dragons, though there was a distinct human odour as well.


    Her instincts told her that the intruder was a lowgold, likely one of the gold dragon''s servants. Although the intruder was attempting to veil their spirit, they did so poorly. Meatball wondered why Sadi and Whitehall hadn¡¯t noticed the intruder yet. Through their bond, she sensed that Whitehall was unaware of the presence nearby. She recalled her mother telling her that humans had weak perceptions; they couldn''t detect their surroundings as acutely as her species could.


    Ziel remained motionless beneath her, and Meatball sighed inwardly. She realized she would have to handle the situation. However, feeling kind today, she decided to allow the intruder to look around. Once they saw that there were no treasures here, they would surely leave¡ªdefinitely not because she was feeling lazy or too comfortable. After all, Whitehall''s hair was short, leaving little to hide under.


    The intruder stepped out behind a bush as Sadi''s form fell to the floor. Their hand reached for the bag of seeds and the remaining fish. A flare of anger flickered inside Meatball. How dare this servant try and steal her food. Her feathers sharpened into poisonous black needles, and she shot at the intruder''s back.


    They did not feel the needle sink into them. It evaporated into gas, not leaving a single wound. A few seconds later, the intruder fell to the ground, mouth foaming.


    Meatball opened her eyes and sighed. She needed to ensure that her food wouldn¡¯t be stolen. Climbing down Ziel''s grey robes, she waddled toward the bag of seeds. Sadi and Whitehall were still down; she wondered when they would finally wake up. Biting the strap of the bag, she dragged it closer to the meat. Drool gathered in her mouth; the meat and seeds smelled so good.


    <hr>


    Whitehall woke up with a jolt. His core had been buzzing like bees since he ingested the serpent meat. He watched his hands as he clenched and unclenched them, realizing that his forearms felt larger and denser with muscle. That meat was something else. He wondered how much time had passed.


    Across from him on the floor, he saw Sadi. He guessed she was still cycling. He thought about whether his Godkiller iron body made it easier to process the meat. His gaze was drawn to her bare arms, where veins and muscles rippled beneath her skin, pushing and pulling against the tissue.


    He saw that Ziel had now shifted to a cycling position; his eyes were closed and focused. Only after did Whitehall see a body clothed in white behind him near the bubble''s walls. He recognised her as one of the dragon''s attendants. Her skin was dark purple and wrinkled like her body had been consumed from the inside. Their bag was next to the body. And on the top opening, he saw Meatball''s wing.


    Panicked, he rushed to the bag, calling out to the bird, ¡°Meatball!¡±


    There was no reply. He reached through their bond and slowed himself down. Meatball was not hurt; she was satisfied and feeling a little mischievous. He checked inside the bag and saw the bird lying there. Her body was as stiff as a rock, but she was breathing. A smile spread across her face, and her belly bulged. Bits of chewed green meat decorated her cheeks, and not a single seed remained in the bag.


    <hr>


    Sadi woke up to find herself smothered by a fluffy cloud of black feathers.


    "Sadi, help me!" Meatball squawked in a panic. "He has totally lost it!"


    Sadi yanked the bird off her face, and Meatball flopped onto her neck, burrowing into her hair like a frightened ostrich.


    "What in the world is happening? Is he under the effects of a technique?" she asked, glancing nervously at the bird''s progressively panicked expression.


    Whitehall''s slow and heavy footsteps echoed through the bubble. She noticed his arms. They were more muscular and defined. He threw their bag at Sadi, and it landed on her feet. Sadi looked in. It was empty.


    "Someone devoured all our hard work," Whitehall said, his tone somewhere between calm and completely bonkers.


    "Meatball!" Sadi glared, her hands on her hips.


    The bird hid further beneath her black hair and did her best to blend in.


    "Where I come from," Whitehall paused dramatically, towering over Sadi and staring down at Meatball. "Black chicken is a delicacy."


    Sadi''s expression morphed into a mischievous grin that could rival a cat eyeing a frazzled mouse. She tilted her head slowly, giving Meatball the kind of look that made him feel like sweets in front of a hungry toddler.


    "I''ll fetch the knives," Sadi whispered, her eyes gleaming.


    Meatball sweated.


    <hr>


    Whitehall and Sadi stood over the dead body while Meatball waddled through the garden, gathering seeds.


    "Nothing," Whitehall informed, running his hand through the dead sacred artist''s clothes. "I doubt the dragon would be far away. She wouldn''t send her attendants out otherwise."


    Sadi nodded. "The dragon went after the Unsouled and the turtle. I saw them when we swam."


    <hr>


    Lindon felt a rush of warmth spread through his chest as the golden dragon''s tail slammed into him, throwing him back onto the sand. He rolled to his feet almost instinctively, aware that the Path of Blackflame was meant to keep his opponent on the defensive. But now he found himself on the back foot.


    In a heartbeat, he ignited his burning cloak and dashed behind a cluster of boulders, weaving through the tall stalks for cover. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of a long strand of orange madra extending from the dragon''s hand, a whip that sent a chill down his spine.


    Determined to increase the distance between them, he ducked low through the stalks and leapt agilely over the boulders, focused on evading the imminent strike.


    A man in white appeared before him and swiped at Lindon''s feet. Lindon leapt over the kick, and his dream-well-enhanced senses detected two new spirits while airborne. A woman, invisible to Lindon''s eyes, leapt towards the man in white, stabbing two knives into his chest.


    Lindon did not have time to thank the woman because a Silverfang Carp was rushing towards him from behind. He hoped she was friendly. His Remnant arm caught the Silverfang Carp by its jaw, and he was pushed back as the fish swam through the water aura in the air. His arm began to consume the Carp''s madra, and Lindon fired dragon''s breath into the fish''s mouth.


    Lindon turned back to where the man in white was, and he saw Ekeri leaping over the servant. "Watch out," he warned.


    Three black needles of toxic madra flew through the air at the dragon. She twisted her body mid-air, dodging the oncoming attack. Ekeri turned to the unknown attacker when she landed.


    Lindon recognised the Sacred Artists. Although a wooden mask half covered his face, Lindon recognised his small stature and the brown rags he wore. "Elder Whitehall," he called out.


    "Behind you," Elder Whitehall pointed.


    Lindon turned and saw schools of Silverfang Carps swimming towards him with gnashing teeth. An invisible hand was placed on his shoulder, and he heard a sharp whisper.


    "Down, Unsouled," a woman''s voice echoed.


    A pang of sadness flickered through his chest at the mention of an old language. He buried it deep in his mind. He needed to focus on other things.


    He lay flat on the ground and saw the Silverfang Carps changing their target. They went after Ekeri. When he looked at himself, he realised he was invisible.


    "Can you buy me some time?" he asked the unknown woman.


    "Yes, but not too long. She is a Truegold," the woman replied.


    Ekeri yelled in frustration at the oncoming fish and used her ruler technique of golden fire, incinerating the creatures swarming her.


    At the same time, Whitehall released a miasma of toxic madra, poisoning the water aura in the air. It weakened the Silverfang Carps coming for him, but they were beginning to overwhelm him. He began to regret not getting himself a weapon. Sadi appeared by his side, carving the fish into tiny pieces with her knives.


    Damn , Whitehall swore inwardly. Do not harm her, he urged the poison madra. But the madra did not acknowledge his command¡ªnot out of defiance; instead, it felt unnecessary as if it knew Whitehall''s intent since the beginning¡ª As though the poison was already aligned with his will.


    Ekeri screamed as her flames burned the last of the Silverfang Carps. Her eyes blazed at the newcomers. How dare they get in the way between her and her treasures.


    Unbeknownst to Ekeri, Lindon''s eyes focused on her. The Void Dragon''s Dance was as ready as it could be. He sent a tightly wound disc of blackflame aura at Ekeri. She pushed it back with her spirit. The Wasteland woman''s technique must have stopped because Ekeri''s head snapped towards Lindon in surprise.


    Lindon stretched a hand towards her and clenched his fist before she could unravel his technique. He unleashed the Void Dragon''s Dance.


    Whitehall watched as a pillar of blackflame consumed the dragon. His eyes were wide as he stared at swirling black-and-red fire. Lindon''s technique was not any normal flame. He felt the destruction aura empowering the technique. He watched in horror and astonishment as anything the flame touched disintegrated instantly into nothing.


    The technique lasted only a second but consumed everything around Lindon in a circle. Carps, stalks, and plants were completely erased, leaving only Lindon and sand behind.


    A figure rose, covered in black smoke. Ekeri was still alive, Lindon realised. Her clothes were burnt and smoking, and her scales were charred. Her eyes glowed gold as she snapped them open from beneath the smoke. She activated her enforcer technique and lept at Lindon, and her whip stretched outwards for his neck.


    Whitehall was the first to react, throwing a poison madra needle at the dragon. She did not bother to dodge, and the madra needles dissipated as they entered through her skin. Lindon caught the whip with his Remnant arm and struck her core with an empty palm.


    Ekeri''s enforcer technique vanished, and her expression turned to one of confusion and disbelief before being replaced by panic. Lindon was sure he had the same expression as he tumbled back and pulled Blackflame. With what little madra he had left, he fired a thin line of dragon''s breath.


    She fell on top of him, and her jewellery fell apart. Lindon shoved her away, pushing himself backwards through the sand. He tried to activate another dragon''s breath, but a hand covered his view of the dragon. It was a woman wearing the same rags as Whitehall.


    "Finish her!" Lindon blurted.


    "She''s dead," Whitehall''s voice echoed through the now quiet bubble.


    Lindon shifted his head to see Ekeri. She was sprawled on the ground, unmoving, her face buried in the sand. As he looked closer, he noticed a hole in her back, and the scales on her body were black¡ªtoo dark for scorch marks.


    "It took a while for my poison to take hold," Whitehall explained, looking down at the body whose scales had begun to fall off. "Truegold''s bodies are tough."


    Lindon stared at the dragon''s body, then his eyes shifted to the sand beside her. "Mine," he yelped without thinking, leaping at the jewellery pieces.


    <hr>


    Elder Empire


    Iteration requested. Asylum


    Date? Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    Mande was in the middle of storing her sweet bread, preparing for another day at the harbour, when she heard her neighbour''s voice calling from outside her home.


    "Mande! Your son is back!"


    Her hands froze, the loaf of bread slipping from her grasp. "Malin has returned?" she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Are you sure?"


    "Yes, my son just came back from the harbour," her neighbour replied, her face alight with excitement. "Malin''s returned with a fleet of twenty ships! His clothes are finer than anything we''ve ever seen, but they say his face is still the same."


    Mande''s legs nearly gave out beneath her. For years, she had prayed and cried, begging the gods to bring her son back safely. Every night, she had lain awake, wondering if he was alive, if he was well, if he ever thought of her. And now, he was here.


    She dropped her basket, the loaves of bread spilling onto the ground, but she didn''t care. Her heart raced as she turned toward the door.


    "Just go," her neighbour said, already bending to pick up the scattered bread. "I''ll clean this up. Don''t worry about it¡ªgo see your son."


    "Thank you," Mande muttered, her voice barely audible as she hurried out the door. Her steps quickened as she made her way to the harbour, her heart pounding in her chest.


    When she arrived, the sight took her breath away. The harbour was bustling with activity, and the docks were crowded with people unloading crates and barrels from a fleet of magnificent ships. And there, standing tall among the chaos, was Malin. He had grown taller, his shoulders broader, his face more mature, but she would have recognized him anywhere. He was dressed in fine clothes, his presence commanding as he directed the crew and handed out goods to the villagers.


    Mande''s eyes filled with tears as she pushed through the crowd, her gaze fixed on her son. "Malin!" she called, her voice breaking. "My son, it''s been too long. I''ve missed you so much."


    She reached him and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. For a moment, she felt his arms encircle her, holding her tightly. But then, without warning, his grip tightened¡ªtoo tight¡ªand he pushed her away. She stumbled backwards, falling to the ground.


    Confused and hurt, she looked up at him, her heart breaking at the rage and sorrow etched on his face.


    "You shameless woman!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the noise of the harbour. "How dare you pretend to be my mother!"


    Mande stared at him in shock, her mind struggling to process his words. Her son¡ªher Malin¡ªwas looking at her as if she were a stranger.


    "Is this your mother?" a richly dressed woman asked, stepping forward. Her voice was soft, but her eyes were sharp, studying Mande with curiosity.


    "No," Malin said firmly, shaking his head. "She''s just a beggar pretending to be my mother. Probably hoping to profit off me."


    Mande''s heart shattered. She opened her mouth to protest, to remind him of all the years she had spent raising him, of all the sacrifices she had made, but no words came out.


    Malin turned his back on her, his shoulders slumping. "My mother is no longer here," he said quietly, his voice heavy with emotion. "She''s probably moved somewhere else. Or..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.


    The richly dressed woman placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I''m sure she''s well," she said gently. "For what it''s worth, I''m glad I was able to see where you grew up."


    Malin smiled at her, a small, sad smile that made Mande''s chest ache. She watched in silence as her son and the woman walked away, leaving her alone on the dock. Her heart felt heavier than it ever had, even heavier than the day she had accepted that Malin''s father would never return.


    As the ships began to depart, Mande closed her eyes, her hands clenched into fists. "Dear gods," she whispered, her voice trembling with anger and grief. "Show him the wrongness of his actions. Make him realize his mistakes. Punish him for what he''s done."


    In the darkness of her mind, something stirred¡ªa presence she hadn''t expected. It seized her prayer, its grip cold and unyielding. Mande gasped, her eyes flying open as she fell back onto the ground, her body trembling with shock.

 Chapter 15: Vroshir

    <div>


    <h3 class="title">Iteration requested


    <div>


    Date?     Far Before


    Report Complete


    The Eighth Judge of the Court of Seven, Ozriel, drifted through the shimmering threads of the Way, his senses taut and alert. Officially, he was searching for Daruman, the lost Executioner of the Abidan.


    His presence stirred within him, its voice a steady thrum in his mind. [The Mad King''s influence is absent from this sector. I recommend we turn back.]


    Ozriel dismissed the suggestion and stepped from the blue swirlings of the Way into the raw Chaos at its border. The transition felt seamless yet tangible¡ªa shift from order into the seething, formless dark that whispered of dissolution. In this realm, he was the Reaper, the embodiment of Death; only he among the Judges could endure the Chaos unscathed.


    His presence pressed on him, its tone insistent. [Time is wasting. The Mad King''s trail is growing colder by the moment.]


    Yet Ozriel''s gaze remained fixed on the swirling void ahead. There was something out there, a ripple in the fabric of Chaos. It was not Daruman, but it carried an unusual pull that reeked of his workings.


    "Silence," he commanded, his voice cutting through the mental link with authority.


    He cast his awareness outward, letting his perception unfurl across hundreds of thousands of parsecs. The cosmos spilled into his senses: star systems glinting like scattered gems, barren planets spinning in solitary orbits, and the vast emptiness that stretched between them. Intelligent life was absent here¡ªuntil he found it.


    A lone space station drifted in the void, unmoored and unmarked, positioned a hundred parsecs from the nearest planet. More troubling, however, was what lay within. Ozriel''s eyes narrowed as he focused.


    Nine Silverlords.


    Not the diluted, weak-willed kind that swarmed the fringes of the multiverse¡ªthese were elites, their power sharp and blinding.


    He commanded his presence, "Identify their faction." The Vroshir were notorious for being a collection of multiple groups and alliances rather than a united front.


    Silence followed, unnervingly prolonged, stretching long enough for Ozriel''s hands to clench into fists. Finally, his presence spoke, its tone laced with unease.


    [Unable], it relayed in a single word, then hesitated. [Signatures of the Silverlords are also unidentifiable.]


    Ozriel''s lips pressed into a thin line. Reaching into his soul space, he summoned his weapon. The broom appeared first, a simple tool of worn wood. As he ran a hand over its shaft, the wood splintered away, revealing the blackened core beneath: the handle of his Scythe.


    The weapon hummed with latent power, its blade an edge of void, sharp enough to carve reality itself.


    His presence gave a resigned sigh. [A battle, then.]


    "Interrogation," Ozriel corrected, though he knew the distinction might not matter. He adjusted his grip, aware of the Scythe''s familiar and absolute weight.


    The Vroshir here were hiding something; their dedication to secrecy was unlike anything Ozriel had encountered. He had stumbled upon them by chance, but unfortunately for them, luck was on his side.


    <hr>


    Prangkas the Good stood rigid on the bridge of his ship, Kelapa , his gaze fixed on the void beyond. The darkness outside seemed endless, but the red glow bathing the bridge was suffocating. Alarms blared in deafening cycles, the sound drilling into his skull. His nails dug deep into his palms, leaving crescents of pain that barely grounded him.


    "Sir! He''s closing in¡ªestimated arrival in ten minutes!" the Lieutenant shouted, his voice cracking as his fingers mashed erratically across the controls.


    Prangkas barely registered the panic. His thoughts churned, a rising tide of disbelief and fury. Why now? For centuries, they had operated in the shadows, meticulous with every step. No witnesses. No trails.


    "How did the Abidan discover us?" His voice was cold and clipped, each word carrying the weight of suppressed rage.


    The ship''s AI responded with an infuriating calm. "Analysis suggests the Judge was pursuing The Mad King and discovered our presence by chance."


    Chance. Rotten, cosmic luck. He knew of the Abidan Judges¡ªrelentless enforcers of their tyranny, wielding authority that could snuff out entire realities. And now, one was coming for them.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    He cursed The Mad King silently, bitterly.


    "Divert all power to the Rebirth-OX, " Prangkas ordered, his voice cutting through the cacophony. "From this moment forward, it is our highest priority."


    The Lieutenant hesitated, his hands freezing over the console. "Sir...?"


    Prangkas turned to face him, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "You knew what you signed up for," he said, his voice low but heavy. He swept his gaze across the bridge, taking in the faces of his crew. Fear burned in their eyes, raw and undeniable, but beneath it lay something stronger: resolve. They would follow him, even to the edge of annihilation.


    The ship''s AI chimed in again, its dispassionate tone almost mocking the gravity of the moment. "Energy diverted. The Rebirth-OX is now priority one."


    "Good," Prangkas said, exhaling a slow, measured breath. He turned back to the void, his mind already calculating their defence. They could not run, not from a Judge. And surrender? That was never an option.


    "Summon the rest of the Bhayangkaras," he commanded the AI.


    "Already done," it replied.


    The bridge seemed to grow colder as the weight of his decision settled over the crew.


    Prangkas''s hands curled into fists, but his voice was steady, resolute. "We will be the defence."


    Beyond the ship, in the endless void, the embodiment of Death was coming.


    <hr>


    In their barracks, the Bhayangkaras prepared in silence. They discarded their usual armour, knowing it would be useless against a Judge, and instead dressed in simple brown and gold cloth patterned in the style of their leader''s home world. Each fold and knot carried meaning¡ªa quiet defiance in the face of certain death.


    When Prangkas entered, his gaze swept over the men and women. His attire mirrored theirs. He held a wooden box in his hands. The brown wood had remained pristine despite its age. He opened the box and walked to each of his men. They took the gold sumpings and fastened them on their ears.


    "You look ready," he said to the Bhayangkara closest to him.


    A silver-haired veteran stepped forward, her voice steady. "We are."


    Prangkas nodded. "Then let us go out there and die." He slammed his fist into his chest.


    The warriors saluted as one, their resolve unshaken. Brown and gold would meet the storm head-on.


    <hr>


    Nine Bhayangkaras floated in front of Kelapa. Shrouded by golden light, their forms shone in the darkness of space. A shadow darker than the black of space appeared before them a parsec away.


    Prangkas the Good, blessed by a thousand blessings from a thousand worlds, unsheathed his weapons, a pair of short curved and hooked swords, his Kujangs.


    "Bhayangkara one, ready," he stated, his voice booming in the darkness.


    Rana the Protector, empowered by the strength of a thousand lesser gods of a thousand planets, summoned her weapon, a golden boomerang the size of her body.


    "Bhayangkara two, ready."


    Akhan the Just, enforced by the transplantation of a thousand artefacts from a thousand worlds, called forth his weapon, a giant sword of swirling steel: his keris.


    "Bhayangkara three, ready."


    Visor the Caring, healed by the healings of a thousand worlds, held his hands out. They glowed with a soothing green.


    "Bhayangkara four, ready."


    Ishi the Generous, tattooed with scripts of a thousand worlds from head to toe, held her bamboo stick against her mouth.


    "Bhayangkara five, ready."


    Singa the Hopeful, empowered by the blood of greater creatures of a thousand worlds, grew his nails into claws.


    "Bhayangkara six, ready."


    Kranas the Steadfast, his body modified by the greatest technicians of a thousand worlds to be more machine than man, armed his guns.


    "Bhayangkara seven, ready."


    Hanath the Heartful, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, gathered power from a thousand worlds. She held her weapon in a stance, a five-pronged trident, her Besi Lima.


    "Bhayangkara eight, ready."


    Sayuri the Content, opened her meditating eyes. Her palms were empty, but her eyes were filled with the wicked desires she had cleansed from a thousand worlds.


    "Bhayangkara nine, ready."


    They were ready to die.


    <hr>


    Ozriel clapped at the display. He wiped an imaginary tear from his eyes.


    "Wonderful everyone," he mocked. "Brilliant display!"


    The Bhayangkaras before him remained silent, but he could feel their grip tightening around their weapons. Those that had any, at least.


    "Let us discuss this over tea," he offered. He was trying to be less destructive. His ego was still bruised when he learned he had no affinity to the Phoenix division.


    The Silverlord with the bamboo stick blew a poisoned needle at him. The needle cut through space and time, moving a hundred times the speed of light.


    Ozriel caught the needles between his fingers. He felt the corruption of Chaos on the needle, and the Chaos threatened to consume him. Of course, it would not work; his armour was there for a reason.


    "That was rude," he commented jovially.


    [They''re trying to buy time], his presence informed him.


    Ozriel sighed, gripping his Scythe tighter. "I know. ... I know."


    He swung his Reaper Scythe, which cut through space, a black line rushing towards his targets.


    One of the Silverlords stepped forward and held his hands outwards. His hands glowed and took the form of a lion''s paw, the size of a planet. He caught the blow, and he pushed back against the oncoming attack. The blackness was drowned by gold. When the light disappeared, the Silverlord was a smoking mess. His palms were bloody, and a gash ran across his chest.


    Ozriel raised his eyebrows at the sight.


    His presence spoke in his mind, and Ozriel heard a hint of irritation. [Can we stop wasting time?]


    "Alright, alright," Ozriel waved and prepared for another strike. "Let''s try one per cent."


    <hr>


    "This could have gone more peacefully," the Judge said to Prangkas.


    Prungkus floated through space; his weapons and limbs were gone. He wondered why the Judge had not killed him already like the others. His eyes stared at the red light of his ship''s bridge. They dragged the battle as far away and for as long as possible, hoping to buy enough time as the Judge could not travel through the Way. The crew still needed more time.


    "There can never be peace with tyrants," he choked a death rattle.


    The Judge''s face softened in a manner that Prangkas thought was mocking. But the white-haired man did not argue; he smiled instead. "That we can agree. But you see, the Abidan are not tyrants."


    Prangkas laughed and almost choked on his own blood. "You should listen to yourself more often." His eyes met the Judge''s. "I have heard about you. We call you the Reaper. For how many worlds you have destroyed to the ground."


    The Judge''s face flinched. Prangkas realised his words had struck a chord.


    "How many more people will the Abidan kill to keep their control over worlds? Control that you maintain with an iron fist?" Prangkas thoughts whirled in his mind. He could no longer fight to buy time. But he could talk.


    The Judge''s face darkened, and his grip on his Scythe tightened. "We are not perfect," he answered. "But you threaten to plunge the universe into Chaos."


    "We would rather be free," Prangkas hissed.


    The Judge looked like he wanted to retort but held his tongue at the last second. He sighed. "You''re wasting time, aren''t you?"


    Prangkas did not answer.


    "I only want to know where the Mad King is and what the purpose of this facility of his is," the Judge said, pointing in the ship''s direction.


    Prangkas eyes shifted to the ship, focusing on the now-darkened bridge. The Spirit-OX was complete. He fought to suppress his smile. He did not know if his blessings would work on a Judge, but he tried anyway.


    "Daruman seeks to harness the power of other Chaos beings," Prangkas lied.


    The Judge''s eyes went wide. "I guess he took after his name after all." He eyed the limbless man. "Tell me where he is or where he''ll go next, and I''ll make it quick," Ozriel lifted his Scythe onto his shoulder.


    Prangkas nodded, inhaling deeply. Then, he unleashed all the power he could muster and yelled toward his ship. "INITIATE SELF DESTRUCT-"


    His bellow was cut off as Scythe swiped through his neck, separating his head from his body.


    Ozriel rushed towards the ship before the first drop of blood could spill from the dead man. He held his hand out, attempting to stop the self-destruct. However, he was inside Vroshir territory. The Way was not present here. The ship imploded, clamping down the structure of matter of the ship into nothing but atoms. There was not a single trace of the vessel left.


    "That was a waste of time," Ozriel muttered, his Scythe taking the shape of a broom and disappearing into his soul space.


    [I told you so].

 Chapter 16: Emperor

    Iteration requested.      110. Cradle


    Lindon stood up from the ground, his cheeks blushing in embarrassment from what he had just done. Whitehall''s eyes, or at least the ones not covered by a mask, bored into him.


    "Forgiveness, Elder Whitehall," he bowed. "We should share it, of course."


    Before Elder Whitehall could reply, the wall behind them vanished.


    Dross, a cloud of purple drifted out of his gem. "Oooh, that''s a toasted dragon. Do you think she''ll taste good? I''ve never eaten a dragon before."


    Dross'' large eye shifted to the newcomers. "You must be the ones that saved Lindon."


    Whitehall and Sadi stared at the floating purple cloud.


    "Is there something on my face?" Dross asked.


    Lindon coughed. "Elder Whitehall and...," he paused when he realised he did not know the name of Whitehall''s companion.


    "Sadi," the woman answered.


    "Sadi," Lindon continued. "Meet Dross."


    A sharp warning screamed through his bond with Orthos. "Hold on, Orthos," Lindon turned to face the turtle stepping towards them, black dragon''s breath forming in his mouth. "They are friendly."


    "Then tell them to sheath their weapons," the turtle grumbled, black eyes boring into the two unknown sacred artists.


    Only then did Lindon notice Sadi had not sheathed her knives. Her knuckles were white as she held them. Whitehall placed a hand on her shoulder, and only then did she sheathed her knives behind her waist.


    "Is this how you thank those who have saved you," she spat. "Shouldn''t have expected any more from an Unsouled."


    Lindon''s eyes instinctively turned black. He has not been called an Unsouled for a long time now. But the word still irritated him. Little Blue climbed onto his shoulder and slapped his cheek, speaking in bells and whistles. She was weak, and barely any madra was injected into her slap. He could not translate what she said, but he thought he understood.


    "Enough," Whitehall was the first to speak up. "Let''s just split the spoils, and we can go our separate ways," he pointed at the ground at the dead body and the pieces of jewellery.


    "Lindon''s dragon''s breath killed her. He should get the first pick," Orthos growled.


    "No," Sadi replied.


    The turtle cycled his madra, powering up his Truegold spirit. He was in no shape to fight, but Whitehall and Sadi did not know it. And Lindon wanted the first pick.


    "Fine," Sadi replied, clenching her hands into fists.


    Other than gemstones and precious metals, there were three other things on the floor. A torn necklace with a key, a tiny jade rectangle, and the handle of her whip. Lindon wanted the whip.


    Orthos moved forward and grabbed the key in his mouth. "You may scavenge the rest."


    Lindon wanted to protest but sensed confidence and assurance through his bond with Orthos. Whatever the key was, Orthos was sure it was the most precious.


    Two new spirits emerged into the air bubble, and Lindon''s perception screamed a warning. Orthos withdrew his spirit inwards.


    "That was a bit unfair, don''t you think?" A familiar, disinterested voice spoke as a sacred artist with green horns entered. "That void key will have plenty more inside."


    "Yeah, I agree. That''s cheating!" a black bird squawked from the man''s shoulder.


    Lindon bowed to the Truegold. "Forgiveness, this one has no idea what the key was."


    The man did not bother to look at Lindon as he answered. "The turtle did."


    "We can split the contents of the void key," Orthos replied, his tone less threatening than previously.


    The black bird flew down and waddled before Orthos. "You are one weird-looking dragon," the bird commented.


    Meatball yelped as he grabbed the bird off the ground. "Meatball," he scolded. "Let''s not go antagonising Truegolds."


    "And you are a weird-looking bird," the turtle replied.


    Meatball straightened her back as she perched on Whitehall''s shoulder. "That I am."


    Whitehall cut into the conversation, gesturing at the bird and green-horned man. "Everyone, meet Meatball and Ziel." He then pointed at the others. "Meatball and Ziel, meet Wei Shi Lindon, Orthos, Dross..." he paused when his finger landed on a blue spirit girl.


    "Little Blue," Lindon answered. The spirit chimed bells and whistles from his shoulder in acknowledgement.


    "Now that introductions are over," Sadi spoke up. "What is a void key?"


    "It''s a private space that can only be accessed by the key holder," Ziel answered, walking towards the group.


    The void key suddenly became Lindon''s number one priority. He still wanted the contents, but now that another Truegold was here, he would settle for the key.


    "I would like to keep the key," Lindon said before anyone can claim it. "I''ll be willing to split the contents evenly."


    Ziel did not reply; he shrugged at Whitehall and Sadi instead. "You were the one that fought the dragon."


    Lindon saw Whitehall hesitate, and he unconsciously rubbed the blue marble in his pocket.


    "Agreed," Whitehall said and looked to Sadi. She nodded her agreement.


    Ten minutes later, after the void key''s contents were shared, Lindon could not help but be glad of his choice. There was not much in the void key that would help his advancement. There was gold and more gold, but he did not care about those. At least he convinced himself so.


    Whitehall had taken the whip, claiming that he needed a weapon. While Sadi settled for the jade stone, she filled her bag with gold. It rubbed Lindon raw the first time Sadi laid claim to the golds. He did not complain, though. The void key was the real treasure, according to Orthos.


    "Whitehall. Sadi," Ziel''s voice echoed through the chamber behind where the wall was. "You two might want to drink some," he pointed at the Dream Well.


    Sadi was there first, drinking a handful of precious water. "Wow," she said as she swallowed the water.


    "Like a full night''s sleep in a bottle," Dross chimed in.


    Whitehall drank the water, his eyes widening as he swallowed it. He drank it greedily. Lindon was furiously clearing his void key. He wanted to fill his key with as much water as possible before the others finished it.


    "I told you about the Spirit Well, haven''t I? Dross added, speaking to everyone. "I''ll repeat it just in case. Its water promotes growth in madra density and recovery. A glass or two can take a Highgold to the brink of advancement."


    "Come on, you two," Ziel sighed, grabbing the Wasteland Lowgolds, who were busy drinking the Dream Well like they had not drank water for a century. "That''s where we''re heading." He pointed at the cracks in space. "We''re running out of time if you two want to advance."


    Whitehall and Sadi expressed muted complaints but complied anyway, returning to the edges of the water bubble.


    "Are you coming?" Ziel asked, looking over his shoulder.


    Lindon was filling as much of the water from the Dream Well as possible into various empty containers inside his void key. "One moment, please," he bowed, holding a treasure chest filled with water from the Dream Well. "This one will be glad to join you." He had a few more empty vials that he wanted to fill.


    "No," Ziel''s voice was disinterested but firm.


    Lindon looked up at the rejection. He saw the crack in space and the three sacred artists waiting for him. These were treasures he had never had access to before. And most importantly, he wanted to share them with Yerin.


    "Don''t worry," Dross attempted to cheer Lindon up. "Don''t mind me losing essence and essentially dying. But focus on the real treasure. The Spirit Well."


    Lindon sighed. "Lead the way."


    <hr>


    Inside the icy water, three lights illuminated Lindon''s path forward. Dross''s purple, Orthos''s deep red, and Ziel''s green. For some odd reason, Sadi was at the lead. He reckoned it was due to her light path. He checked his pockets, making sure Little Blue was secure. He pulled out Suriel''s marble, adding a faint blue light to the others.


    He strained to keep up, but Orthos had remained close, and Lindon suspected the turtle was waiting for him. They reached the edge of the cliff, and he looked down. The warm orange light of a new habitat shone from below.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Wow, how did they know the Spirit Well''s location?" Dross asked, and Lindon suspected it was towards him.


    He was unable to reply underwater, so he shrugged instead. As he got closer to the habitat, his eyes widened. Around it were the remains of a Sea serpent. He knew it was dead because its head was mush, and smaller fishes were eating its body.


    "The Diamondscale Sea Drake," Dross commented. "Good thing you did not fight the horned man. Ziel of the Wasteland."


    If Ziel had done this, Lindon could only thank the heavens for agreeing to share Ekeri''s treasure peacefully. They emerged into the habitat, and Lindon saw the Wasteland group going deeper into the table library.


    "Who is he?" Lindon asked, in awe of the power required to take down such a large creature.


    "There''s not much about him in our records. But I can tell you that he is under the protection of the Beast King," Dross answered. "You know what that means."


    Lindon shook his head, "I don''t."


    "Really?" Dross asked as though it was something obvious.


    Lindon shook his head again.


    Dross seemed to glow slightly brighter at Lindon''s lack of knowledge. He opened his mouth and began explaining.


    <hr>


    Ziel led Whitehall, Sadi, and Meatball into the dimly lit tablet library, its air thick with dust. Shelves stretched endlessly, lined with countless dream tablets that glowed faintly. Meatball sniffed the air and flew ahead, landing softly near a glowing blue well. The bond between Whitehall and the beast flared with recognition.


    The Spirit Well.


    Whitehall''s curiosity sparked, but Ziel strode past it without a second glance, heading straight for the shelves. He began rummaging through stacks of dream tablets.


    "We''ll have time to advance both of you later," Ziel said, his voice calm but firm. It was as if he had plucked the question straight from Whitehall and Sadi''s minds. "These," he continued, pulling out two tablets, "are the real treasures for your paths."


    He handed a tablet to each of them.


    "What are these?" Sadi asked, brushing her fingers over the dusty surface. The tablet felt old yet vibrant.


    "Archlord dream tablets on the Path of Light and Life," Ziel explained. "They''ll give you insights to develop techniques suited to your paths."


    Whitehall''s grip tightened around his tablet, reverence shining in his eyes. "Thank you. Master never taught us any techniques for our path."


    Ziel shrugged, settling down against a wall in a meditative position. "He believes powerful techniques are forged in battle. That''s how he was taught and how he reached Herald." Ziel closed his eyes, beginning to cycle. "I disagree."


    Whitehall exchanged a glance with Sadi, who gave a slight shrug before activating the scripts. Her body crumbled, and Whitehall caught her before she hit the floor. He laid her down gently, his jaw tightening.


    Then he lay beside her, clutching his own dream tablet. Closing his eyes, he activated the scripts, and his mind flooded with an Archlord''s memories.


    His gaze sharpened at the dying man on his table. The man''s blood was infected with the poison of a Sage. He was pale and blue, the only signs of life being his chest, which expanded and deflated every five seconds. The poison was complex, not a simple toxin. It contained spirits, life forms that grew stronger every moment it feasted on the man''s flesh and spirit.


    "A path of life can also be a path of poison. Poison can also be medicine," the man stated, looking up into the mirror. Tentacles grew like a beard over the Archlord''s face, and his eyes bore into the reflection.


    His tentacles glowed purple as his enforcer technique took over. Multiple toxins moved through his channels, strengthening the muscles in his tentacles.


    "We can fight life with life."


    The tentacles plunged into the dying man, injecting a different kind of poison. A poison meant to eat the toxin in the dying man.


    Whitehall''s eyes snapped open, his mind racing. He knew the main gist of the Archlord''s message. Medicine is just another type of poison. And he could fight life with life. But the enforcer technique caught his attention. The octopus sacred beast''s enforcer technique used multiple poisons to strengthen his tentacles. And he countered the adverse effects with other poisons.


    Whitehall sat up and began cycling. His core was a dark orb with the venom of the sacred beasts of the Wastelands. He had considered them to be one madra, but they were not. They were made of multiple. With agonising slowness, he began to identify the different toxins, understanding their adverse and positive effects.


    His eyes snapped open as he felt Sadi convulse next to him. She moved erratically, her hand still tightly clenched around her dream tablet and her mouth foaming. The dream tablet began to crack with golden light. Ziel was there in an instant. For the first time, Whitehall saw fear in his eyes.


    "What is happening?" Whitehall asked, putting his lap underneath Sadi''s head.


    "Sunda''s remnant inside her had cracked open," Ziel deduced. "She''s advancing, but the dream tablet must have interfered with her spirit."


    "What should we do?" Whitehall questioned.


    Ziel placed a hand above her stomach, and a green script appeared under it. "I''m stabilising her, but her spirit is still in turmoil."


    "Spirit Well!" Whitehall deduced with a yell.


    Sweat dripped down Ziel''s head as he focused on his technique. He was in a battle of wills against a Herald''s remnant inside Sadi. And he did not know how long he could last.


    "Take her," Ziel said through clenched teeth.


    "Meatball!" Whitehall yelled, but the bird must have heard them and was already on her way to his side. She gripped Sadi''s shoulders and began flapping her wings as Whitehall gripped Sadi''s feet.


    Lindon appeared shortly after.


    "Spirit Well. Now!" Whitehall yelled.


    Lindon did not say a word but helped lift Sadi by her shoulders where Meatball was struggling.


    Together, they lifted her towards the Spirit Well as gently as possible¡ªher convulsing made it difficult at times to lift her. Ziel trailed behind, his hand stretched out, and his eyes closed in focus.


    "Into the well," Ziel muttered as he struggled with his technique.


    They gently placed her inside the Spirit Well. Whitehall removed his shirt and dipped it into the water, putting the wet cloth over Sadi''s mouth so she would not choke and let her reflexes swallow instead. It was agonisingly slow, but it worked. Her body began to convulse less, and her skin glowed golden. Ziel deactivated his technique and crumpled to the floor. Lindon and Whitehall helped Ziel to the Spirit Well, and the man began drinking it. He lay next to the pool as he cycled.


    Hours had passed, and Whitehall continued to sit by Sadi''s side, replacing the cloth every few minutes.


    Lindon''s question broke the silence. "What happened, Elder Whitehall?" he asked.


    Whitehall''s eyes did not move from Sadi''s form, and at the Dream tablet, she had continued to hold. The cracks had grown larger. "She began advancing while viewing the Dream Tablet. We think it interfered with her spirit."


    Lindon nodded, and Whitehall saw the boy jotting down notes on a book from the corner of his eyes.


    "Why do you still call me that?" Whitehall asked.


    Lindon looked up in confusion.


    "Elder," Whitehall explained. "We are both on the same level of advancement now."


    Lindon scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He almost sounded embarrassed when he answered. "Because you''re the only one I know in Sacred Valley who had never called me Unsouled."


    Whitehall felt sorry for the boy. He must have been insulted his whole life, and a lack of insult was enough to gain the boy''s respect. However, Lindon''s answer begged a question.


    "My foundation provides those considered disabled a stipend of fruits and elixir. Last time I checked, the Wei Clan was one of the recipients. What did you do with your share?" Whitehall asked.


    Lindon was filling water from the Spirit Well into jugs and jars he had found when Whitehall''s words caused him to stumble. He recovered quickly, not letting a drop spill onto the floor.


    "I did not receive any," Lindon answered, and Whitehall watched his human knuckle turned white. His gaze darkened as he continued. "The Clan did not see an Unsouled fit for any resources."


    Whitehall frowned at the boy''s answer. How dare the Wei Clan use his charity to serve their own greed.


    "I meant what I said back then," Whitehall muttered. I accepted you not due to your condition but because of your drive to succeed."


    Lindon bowed his head, and Whitehall thought the boy was about to cry based on his voice. "This one thanks the Elder."


    "Stop bowing, would you," Whitehall complained. "Let''s just have a conversation."


    Lindon sat straight and nodded. "Was there any news about my family while I was gone?" he asked.


    Whitehall nodded. "The school Elders arrested your family and brought them for interrogation."


    Lindon''s face grimaced. "The clan did not protect them?"


    "No," Whitehall answered. "I pulled strings to provide them a chance to escape. They now reside with a group of stragglers in the Valley." Whitehall waved his hand. "Don''t fret. I have Elder Rahm to protect them while I am away."


    Lindon did not look assured by the name of the Elder.


    "He doesn''t like it either," Whitehall shrugged and glanced at Lindon. "But I gave back his arm."


    "Why?" Lindon asked. "Why go to such lengths for me?"


    "Not for you. But for what is right," Whitehall answered. He brought his head close to Lindon''s ear. "Because I''ve licked the boots of those more powerful. And I swore to myself I will not be like them once I am there," he whispered.


    Lindon''s eyes grew wide as he nodded.


    "Now," Elder Whitehall sat back, returning his gaze to Sadi''s unconscious form. "What happened to your arm?"


    <hr>


    Sadi stared through the eyes of the Sacred Artist within the dream tablet, the vision pulling her into a storm of chaos. In front of her, a lone woman stood atop a jagged boulder, her silhouette stark against the endless, heaving ocean. The waves roared and crashed with relentless fury, the black water illuminated by flashes of lightning that tore through the storm-clouded sky.


    From the depths, a massive figure rose, its grotesque form shrouded in shadow and mist. Tentacles writhed across its colossal body, each one twisting and undulating as though alive. From its sides emerged four human arms, unnaturally large, their movements deliberate and commanding. With each sweep of its limbs, the waves obeyed, crashing and surging toward the shore. The ground trembled beneath the weight of its approach, yet the woman on the boulder stood unmoving.


    Her hand rose, and the golden ring on her finger ignited with a brilliant golden light, cutting through the chaos. She slashed her hand downward, and four towering obsidian pillars appeared in the sky, their surfaces smooth and metallic. In an instant, they plummeted, slamming into the creature''s form. Its deafening scream tore through the air, an anguished sound reverberating through Sadi''s mind. She clutched her ears, yet the woman remained still, her focus unbroken.


    The woman''s hand rose again, summoning ten more pillars from the heavens. With another commanding swipe, they struck like judgment itself, piercing the monstrous figure. The creature howled, its twisted form writhing as the ocean swallowed it whole, dragging it back into the abyss.


    "To the new Emperor!" Someone yelled


    Around Sadi, voices erupted in unison, a chorus of triumph that shook the ground.


    ¡°Emperor!¡±


    Her chest heaved as the vision filled her, and her voice joined the thunderous cry, unbidden but unstoppable.


    "Emperor!"


    The chant swelled, a single word carrying the weight of unshakable faith and victory.


    "Emperor!"


    Sadi''s eyes snapped open, and she coughed. She removed a wet rag covering her mouth and found herself inside the Spirit Well. She felt a familiar hand on her shoulder.


    "Sadi, how do you feel?" Whitehall''s worried voice echoed through the chamber.


    She clenched and unclenched her fists and cycled her madra. It was easier now, smoother, and her core was more dense than ever. "I feel great," she answered. "Did I advance?"


    "You did," Whitehall nodded. "Ziel thinks Sunda''s remnant cracked open when you were under the dream tablet. It interfered with your advancement."


    She looked into the blue water of the Spirit Well. That explained why she was here. Her gaze swept around the room. She found Ziel and Lindon cycling in a corner. A black shadow floated in the Well¡ªMeatball. The bird was floating on its back through the water with her eyes closed, and Little Blue had fallen asleep on her belly. Her gaze shifted to Whitehall, and she paused.


    "Why are you shirtless?" she asked, her gaze drifting over his muscular body. The serpent meat really did him some good, she thought.


    "I couldn''t just feed you the water, or you would''ve choked," Whitehall explained, grabbing the wet rag on the floor. He unfurled it, revealing that it was his shirt.


    "Oh," she muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "That was a bit gross. But sweet," she smiled. She used her perception on the bird floating before her. Meatball was a highgold. How long was she out? She frowned when her perception landed on Whitehall. "Why are you still lowgold? I must have been out for a while now."


    "You''ve only been out for a few hours?" Whitehall rolled his eyes. "Someone needed to keep an eye on you."


    Sadi felt touched by the gesture. "I really appreciate it, and I mean it. But you need to start drinking." Without warning, she grabbed Whitehall''s arm and dragged him into the Spirit Well.


    Whitehall rose from the water, his grin wide. "Oh, you''re asking for it now," he laughed, splashing water onto her face. Sadi laughed as she splashed back.


    "If you two are done playing inside a pool of a monarch''s elixir," Ziel''s impassive voice cut through the air. "You might want to start cycling." He pointed at the corner of the room where dark cracks were forming. "We don''t have forever."


    Whitehall and Sadi looked away in embarrassment.


    Little Blue chimed softly, slapping her hands playfully onto Meatball''s belly.


    "Shh," Meatball quietly shushed the Sylvian Riverseed. "I am not aware of anything that is happening," she continued in a serene voice.


    Little Blue tilted her head in confusion.


    <hr>


    Elder Empire


    Iteration requested.       Asylum


    Date?       Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    "Malin, you need to see this!" Tora''s voice was frantic as he banged on the door of the captain''s cabin. When no response came, he threw the door open, only to find Malin on his knees, his head bowed, and his hands clenched into fists. The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with an unspoken grief.


    "Malin, we need you up there!" Tora shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of thunder and the violent shaking of the ship.


    Malin looked up, his eyes swollen and red, his face pale. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, as if pulled from a deep trance. Then, the sound of the storm registered¡ªthe thunder, the howling wind, the relentless pounding of the waves against the hull. He stood abruptly, his expression hardening. "I''m coming," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.


    Tora stepped aside, his own face etched with worry, but there was no time to ask questions. Malin brushed past him and strode onto the deck, the rain instantly soaking him to the bone. The storm was unlike anything he had ever seen. The sky was a churning mass of black clouds, lightning streaking across the heavens, and the waves rose like mountains, crashing against the ship with terrifying force.


    Malin''s mind was suddenly flooded with warnings, his instincts screaming at him to act. "Turn back!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Turn back to the island!"


    Tora saluted, his face grim, and began barking orders to the crew. Communication was nearly impossible over the deafening thunder, but the urgency in Malin''s voice was enough to spur them into action.


    Malin''s eyes swept the deck, taking in the chaos. One of the crew members was swept overboard by a monstrous wave, his scream swallowed by the storm. Before Malin could react, he felt a hand grip his arm with surprising strength. He turned to find Tseria beside him, her face pale and her body trembling beneath a large, sodden cloak.


    "Malin," she started, her voice barely audible over the storm, but a sudden lurch of the ship sent them both crashing to the deck.


    "Tseria, you need to go insi¡ª" Malin began, but his words were drowned out by a guttural roar that shook the very air. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard¡ªdeep, primal, and filled with an otherworldly rage.


    All heads turned toward the source of the sound. Malin''s heart sank as a massive shape began to rise from the depths. The creature emerged slowly, its form grotesque and terrifying. Its head was a mass of writhing tentacles, its body hulking and humanoid but covered in thick, scaly skin. Its arms ended in clawed hands, and its legs¡ªthick and powerful¡ªpropelled it through the water with ease.


    "Elder," Tora whispered, his voice filled with dread.


    Malin stared at the creature, his instincts screaming at him to flee. He had always trusted his intuition, but this time, it had come too late. The Elder roared again, its voice shaking the air and sending a gust of wind so powerful it capsized several of the smaller ships in the fleet.


    "Tora!" Malin shouted, his voice raw with desperation. "Back to the island! NOW!"


    Tora didn''t respond¡ªhe didn''t need to. He was already in motion, shouting orders to the crew as they fought to regain control of the ship.


    Malin felt Tseria''s hand tighten in his, her grip trembling. He hadn''t even realized he was holding it until now. "Malin, I''m scared," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the storm.


    "We''ll be fine," he replied, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at his chest. He squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her, but his own heart was racing.


    With his free hand, Malin reached out toward the water, the silver ring on his finger glowing with a faint golden light. He focused all his will, commanding the sea to carry them away from the creature. The water responded, swirling around the ship and propelling it forward.


    But the Elder was not so easily outmatched. It roared again, and the wind surged with renewed fury, tearing at the sails and ripping the ship apart piece by piece. Malin''s control over the water was no match for the sheer power of the storm.


    The ship was tossed like a toy, the deck tilting violently as waves crashed over the sides. Malin clung to the railing with one hand, his other still gripping Tseria''s. He could feel the ship breaking apart beneath them, the wood groaning and splintering under the strain.


    Then, with a final, deafening crash, the ship was lifted high into the air by a monstrous wave. For a moment, they were weightless, suspended in the chaos of the storm. And then they fell, the ship slamming into the water upside down.

 Chapter 17: Life Well

    Sadi cycled the Spirit Well water in her core, wearing the parasite ring her master had given her. Now that she was Highgold, her cycling was more effortless than ever. They had been in the Spirit Well for a week now, and by Ziel''s estimation, it would take another week for her to reach Truegold. She focused on what she saw in the dream tablet. The woman manipulated light in a way she had never seen before. She only understood that the woman used invisible light alongside visible ones. The heavenly pillars were not illusions or tricks of the light; they were real and solid. She understood why everyone in the dream called her Emperor.


    Her perception drifted to her left, watching Whitehall cycling diligently. He was also a Highgold but still had a long way to go before reaching Truegold. Well, long by the standards of having a Monarch''s elixir. A week and a half, according to Ziel.


    "Here," she heard Ziel''s voice.


    Sadi opened one eye and saw him handing a dream tablet to Wei Shi Lindon, the Unsouled. But he was Highgold now, at least on one core; she learned two days into the Spirit Well. Lindon''s eyes sparkled at Ziel, and she recognised it from how the boy would also look at Whitehall. Sadi pitied him somewhat. The boy had grown up scorned and deprived of any opportunities but the scraps. Whitehall had previously tried to help, but corruption in Sacred Valley ran deep.


    Ziel''s footsteps approached Sadi and Whitehall, and she looked up to him, standing over them with a lazy look.


    "We''re leaving," Ziel said before turning and heading over to the entrance of the Spirit Well.


    She looked to her left and saw Whitehall raising an eyebrow at Ziel''s back.


    "We''re not Truegolds yet," Whitehall said.


    "Six vials," Ziel replied, not looking back. "That will take you to Truegold. We can stay here and get you both to Truegold. Or we can fix your lifeline."


    Whitehall''s eyes widened at Ziel''s mention of fixing his lifeline.


    "Oh, you must be talking about the Life Well," Dross''s purple form popped out of the gate stone and explained.


    "What does it do?" Whitehall asked.


    "I thought the name is self-explanatory," Dross quipped. "It fixes your lifeline. It can even turn the elderly into youth."


    "Orthos," Lindon gasped from the corner.


    Whitehall''s hands were shaking, and Sadi reflexively reached for them. This was it for Whitehall. It was his chance to fix the damage he had done to himself.


    She nodded at him. "Let''s go."


    They took an empty jar from the corner and began filling it with the water from the Spirit Well, but Ziel stopped them. "We have enough."


    Ziel stood at the border of the habitat, his hammer appearing from thin air. Hundreds of sea drakes surrounded the habitat. "I''ll clear the way. This is not a task for golds."


    Lindon hesitated behind them. "I," he began but paused. "I might stay longer, at least until one of my cores is Truegold. By your estimation, how much longer would the pocket world survive?" he asked Ziel.


    Ziel shrugged. "I have no issues with easy advancements. Suit yourself. If nothing changes, the pocket world will survive for three more weeks."


    Lindon exhaled in relief.


    "But why wait that long," Ziel continued. "There''s no point risking yourself. You don''t want to stay here."


    "I have a friend outside," Lindon answered. "She helped me to reach this far. This might be my chance to repay some of it."


    "The sword sage''s disciple?" Whitehall asked.


    Lindon nodded.


    "Do what you need to," Ziel said, pointing toward cracks in space that looked like cobwebs. "But when you can see space through the cracks, you should have already left."


    Ziel disappeared into the dark water with a flash of green light.


    "You''re staying then?" Whitehall asked, turning to face Lindon.


    "Yes, Elder Whitehall," Lindon answered. "I cannot leave such resources behind like this."


    "The sword sage''s disciple," Whitehall changed the subject. "She a Truegold?"


    "Yerin," Lindon replied. "Highgold, last time I saw her."


    Sadi was surprised. They were at the same level; she thought the Yerin would be far beyond them, being a disciple of a sword sage and having left Sacred Valley almost a year earlier. Hopefully, this time, they were not only equal in advancement but also equal in strength.


    Lindon looked nervous, shifting uncomfortably in his cycling position. "She hates you," he said to Whitehall.


    Whitehall nodded. "I killed her master, which I assume is the same thing as killing her father."


    "How?" Lindon asked. "You were all a Jade. She mentioned poison, but her master was a Sage. It shouldn''t have worked."


    "He deserved it," Sadi cut in, growling, her nails digging into her palms. "He deserved worse," she repeated.


    Before Whitehall could reply, Ziel reappeared in the habitat. His grey cloak was wet and bloody, but he was unharmed. "Let''s go," he ordered.


    "Another time," Whitehall waived at Lindon. "I wish you the best of luck. And maybe together we can save Sacred Valley in the future."


    Lindon pressed his fists and bowed at Whitehall, but only Whitehall. "Thank you, Elder Whitehall."


    Sadi did not reply and waited with Ziel on the border of the habitat for Whitehall. Meatball''s wet form waddled and climbed to her shoulder. The bird felt heavier, and her black feathers were reflective like steel. Little Blue chimed at Meatball, waiving at the bird. Sadi thought she saw tears coming out of the eyes of the Riverseed.


    Together, all four Wastelanders dived into the dark water.


    "You shouldn''t learn from the small boy," Orthos grumbled behind Lindon. "Poison is not a dragon''s way. He is a snake."


    <hr>


    Whitehall emerged last into the Habitat of the Life Well. The habitat was a forest covered with Dreadbeasts and decayed plants. He realised that the plants were poisoned. Ziel led the way, and the Dreadbeasts scurried out of his path. A dreadbeast dog barked, and the insects snapped their claws, but they did not approach.


    There was a stone barn in a clearing with a massive door. On its front, a skeleton with cupped hands stood.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Ziel spoke as he slid a stone between the skeletal hands. "This will be your greatest elixir in the pocket world, Whitehall."


    Whitehall''s hands would be shaking uncontrollably if not for Sadi''s hand wrapped around his. The door opened, and a small pool of shining green water was in the centre. Whitehall felt an intense life aura coming from it. This was the Life Well; he was sure of it.


    "Would this help you too, Ziel?" Whitehall asked.


    Ziel shrugged and scooped a handful of water. He swallowed it and stood still. After a few moments, he shrugged again. "I guess not." He gestured at the water. "We don''t have unlimited time."


    Whitehall ignored the surroundings and ran towards the well. He knelt, watching the green water. He dunked his head into it without a second thought, swallowing as much water as possible.


    His spine stiffened, causing him to raise his head. His muscles froze, and he felt blood rising into his mouth. He was unable to spit, so they flowed through his agape mouth. The pain was intense, much worse than anything he had gone through before. He heard Sadi yelling, but he could not make out her words.


    Inside his spirit, his venom madra fought the life aura. They saw the life madra as an enemy. Whitehall already knew what he needed to do. He cycled as his body writhed on the ground. Life and poison were the same; that was the basis of his path. Now, he needed to implement it. As he cycled, his body began accepting and digesting the life aura. He realised why Ziel said this would be his greatest elixir in Ghostwater. The life aura was growing his core faster than the Spirit Well.


    Furthermore, his understanding of life and poison grew. His spirit separated the makeup of the Life Well water, channelling the life aura to his lifeline, hormones to his muscles to promote growth, and some type of cells to his bones to increase their density. But most importantly, flushing the harmful substances out of his pores. Along with the insight from the dream tablet, he could use this to develop his techniques.


    <hr>


    "He''ll be fine," Ziel reassured Sadi. "His body is processing the Life water."


    Sadi hesitated as she saw Whitehall writhing on the ground. His skin cracked, and red blood and black liquid flowed out of open wounds.


    "You should cycle," Ziel continued, summoning a jar and tossing it to her.


    She caught it and opened the lid, revealing the Spirit Well water inside. "How much did you bring?" she asked.


    "Enough," Ziel replied after a moment. He sat down and began cycling.


    "How much can a soulspace fit?" she asked. Ziel did not reply. "You''re not a Truegold, are you?" she deduced.


    Ziel opened his eyes slowly and sighed. He did not deny her statement. "How''d you figure it out?"


    "Your spirit is... how it is," Sadi replied. "You have a soulspace which could only be accessed once you''re peak Truegold. But you mentioned that the sea drakes were not a ''task for golds.''"


    Zeal sighed more heavily. "I was an Archlord," he answered. "Still am, I guess, but strength more comparable to an Underlord or Overlord if I push myself."


    Sadi''s eyes widened at his answer. Ziel was only one advancement away from The Beast King. She wanted to know what happened to his spirit but decided not to ask.


    "Could''ve been worse," Ziel continued emotionlessly. "Sunda was unable to fix it on her own. But she did what she could."


    "She helped you?" Sadi asked, her hand drifting to her stomach above her core, where Sunda''s remnant once was.


    "She did," Ziel nodded. He was more talkative than usual today. "And that is why I am helping you."


    "She asked you for this in return?"


    "No," Ziel shook his head. "She asked for nothing in exchange. But, she did have a wish," he paused. "But she helped me even when I told her I could not comply with her wishes."


    Thoughts whirled in Sadi''s mind. "What wishes?"


    "For another time," Ziel raised a hand, signalling her to stop asking. "Just know I have your best interest in mind. And keep what we speak about here a secret."


    Sadi frowned as she looked away and towards the barn''s walls. Hideous dread beast corpses were filled inside tanks lined on the walls. A plaque on the side of the tanks even described the beasts. She was about to take a sip of the Spirit Well water when the door to the barn opened with a creak.


    She felt blood through her perception. She opened her eyes and saw a Redmoon Hall artist standing by the entrance, her blood shadow by her side. Sadi instinctively reached for her knives.


    The woman pointed a pale finger at Sadi. "I have no quarrels with the Wasteland."


    "Then let us swear an oath not to harm each other while we are here," Ziel suggested, having not moved an inch from his cycling position.


    Sadi felt a familiar tug in her spirit and accepted the oath. Once the oath was finished, the Redmoon women stepped inside and headed towards the cylinders lined on the walls. Sadi noticed the woman had ignored Life Well.


    Sadi shifted her gaze to Ziel, who was calmly cycling. She kissed her teeth, drank the Spirit Well water, and cycled. She replayed what she saw in her mind. The Emperor stood on a boulder, and with a wave of a hand, four dark pillars appeared in the sky. She could replay the vision clearly, clearer than she thought she ought to be capable of.


    There, she thought, as she replayed the dream just before the pillars appeared. She manipulated the light waves, generating a reaction deeper than Sadi''s comprehension. There was a tiny explosion right before the pillars emerged in thin air.


    She studied the dream as she cycled the Spirit Well water.


    <hr>


    Whitehall''s consciousness returned, and he crumpled to the ground. He blinked rapidly; his eyes were dry from having opened them for so long. He cycled madra into his eyes, causing tears to form and moisten the dry eyes. His perception tasted like blood. He eyed the sensation and saw a Redmoon Hall sacred artist standing towards him by the wall where a cylinder once was, a corpse of a dreadbeast lying next to her.


    "Swear the oath," she croaked.


    Whitehall felt a tug on his spirit, and he understood the oath. He turned to Ziel, who nodded at him. Whitehall accepted it, and the Redmoon''s threatening stance disappeared as she dragged the corpse outside the barn.


    "Who is she?" Whitehall asked.


    "No one we should care about right now," Ziel replied. His gaze shifted to Whitehall. "How do you feel?"


    Whitehall looked down on himself. He stood further up from the ground, he realised. And his trousers were now above his ankles. His sleeveless shirt remained untattered, but he saw that his arms were longer and larger. His mask was on the floor, and he reached for his goldsign. He could feel that that side of his face was still marred. He fastened his mask and saw Meatball floating on the Life Well, her face smiling in content.


    "Took you long enough," Meatball chirped, opening one eye. "I was beginning to get bored."


    "You got bigger," Whitehall said, eyeing Meatball''s form. She was larger now, and he estimated she would reach his waist if they stood side by side.


    "Hah!" Meatball laughed. "Took you long enough to realise, too."


    Whitehall felt satisfaction from their bond, and his eyes widened. "You''re Truegold," he said.


    Meatball smiled smugly, "I thought I was in love with the Spirit Well. But it turns out the Life Well is my true love after all."


    That reminded Whitehall. "Ziel, I want to take the Life Water with us."


    Ziel continued cycling. "Suit yourself."


    Whitehall searched for the empty cylinders on the ground. He found one still intact and began filling it with the water from the Life Well. His mind whirled at the thought of what he could do with this. The Life Water was meant to heal, but when he cycled, he felt he could change it to kill instead. It could be the basis of a new type of poison.


    As he screwed the lid of the cylinder, his gaze shifted to a bright golden light in the corner. Sadi was cycling there, and golden lights slammed against one another before her. He saw a forearm-sized jar lying next to her, empty.


    "How long was I out?" he asked Meatball.


    "A few days," the bird replied, stepping out of the life well. The bird flew towards Whitehall, but instead of landing on his shoulder, she gripped both shoulders instead. "I can do this now!" Meatball began flapping her wings without warning, raising Whitehall off the ground.


    Whitehall''s feet dangled in surprise, but it quickly changed to amazement and what they could do with their paths now. He remembered planes dropping poisoned gas from high up the sky.


    "That would not work with anyone higher than Jade," Meatball chirped. "Unless we plan to kill Jades en mass, I recommend we find another use."


    Whitehall looked up at Meatball, who had a smug expression. So the bird already knew. Of course, she did; she was his contracted partner.


    "But if we''re of higher advancement, though," Meatball mused. "We can poison entire villages right before a herald or sage swiftly kills us."


    "Don''t think too far," Ziel said. "Sacred Artists have their ways of fighting in the skies."


    Whitehall felt disappointed, but Ziel was probably right. In this world, flying may not be as much a game changer as it was on Earth. However, he did not detect any disappointment in Meatball. Like the bird knew something, he did not. Or the bird was overplaying this achievement; Whitehall could not really tell.


    Once Meatball put him down, he ripped a piece of his shirt into two ribbons and tied them around the cylinder. This way, he could secure the cylinder on his back like a bag.


    "Let''s go," Ziel stood up.


    Sadi opened her eyes at his words, and Whitehall saw they were golden, similar to Sunda''s. "I''m so close," she complained to no one in particular. "I just need a," she paused when her gaze landed on Whitehall.


    Whitehall could swear he saw a blush. He looked away, hiding his own from her. He heard her footsteps approach and saw her standing before him from the corner of his eyes. He felt her embrace, his face smothered by her chest. He smelled blood, dirt, and sweat from her.


    "Congratulations," she whispered.


    Whitehall hugged back, unable to hide his relief. His lifeline was back now, stronger and better than ever. He was whole.


    "Thank you."


    <hr>


    Elder Empire


    Iteration requested.        Asylum


    Date?        Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    Malin woke with a choked gasp, his body convulsing as he vomited saltwater and blood onto the sand. His chest heaved, each breath a struggle, as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The sky above was a tempest of fury, lightning streaking across the black clouds, rain lashing down in sheets. He was on a beach, the sand coarse and cold beneath him. In the distance, towering over the wreckage of his fleet, was the Elder. Its massive, grotesque form loomed like a nightmare-made flesh, its tentacles writhing and its claws glinting in the storm''s sporadic flashes of light.


    Malin tried to wipe his mouth, but his left hand was tugged back. He turned, his heart lurching as he saw Tseria lying unconscious beside him. Her wrist was tied to his with her hair tie, a desperate act of survival that had kept them together through the storm. Her skin was pale, her lips blue, and her body unnaturally still.


    "Tseria," he gasped, his voice hoarse and broken. He bent over her, shaking her gently, then more urgently. "Tseria, wake up!" But she didn''t stir. Her chest didn''t rise. Her hand was cold in his.


    Malin knelt there, his body trembling, tears mixing with the rain on his face. He had failed her. He had failed everyone. The weight of his guilt and grief pressed down on him, crushing him beneath its unbearable burden.


    Another roar shattered the air, pulling him from his despair. Malin looked up, his eyes widening as he saw the Elder turn its gaze toward him. The creature''s massive head tilted, its glowing eyes locking onto his. Slowly, deliberately, it raised a clawed hand and pointed directly at him.


    Malin''s instincts screamed at him to run, to flee, to do anything to escape the horror bearing down on him. But he didn''t move. He couldn''t. His body felt heavy, his spirit broken. He had nothing left.


    Instead, he lowered himself to the ground, his forehead pressing into the wet sand. He wasn''t bowing to the Elder¡ªhe would never bow to that monstrosity. The thought filled him with rage, but he pushed it aside. No, he was bowing to the sky, to the heavens, to the only force he had left to plead to.


    "Mother," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the storm. "Forgive me."


    The sky flashed a brilliant blue, the light so intense it seemed to pierce through the storm. Malin didn''t look up. He kept his head bowed, his body trembling as his instincts screamed at him to move, to fight, to do something. But he stayed still, resigned to his fate.


    Then the pain came.


    A searing, white-hot agony ripped through him as lightning struck his body. He screamed, his voice raw and guttural, but he couldn''t move. His limbs were locked in place, his muscles rigid. He looked down, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and saw the horrifying truth: his flesh was turning to stone. The transformation began at his feet, the grey, lifeless texture creeping upward, consuming his legs, his torso, and his arms.


    Panic surged through him, but he was powerless to stop it. He turned his head, his vision blurring as the stone reached his neck. The last thing he saw was Tseria''s hand, still tied to his, lying motionless on the sand.


    "Protect," he grunted, his voice strained and weak.


    "Protect," he tried to yell, but the words were barely a whisper.


    "Protect," he willed, his mind screaming even as his body failed him.


    "Please," he begged, his breath shortening, his vision darkening. "Protect her."


    As the stone reached his face, his final thought was of Tseria. And then, in the last flicker of his consciousness, he saw it¡ªa golden light, warm and radiant, enveloping her still form. It was faint, but it was there. A spark of hope in the darkness.


    And then Malin died, his body fully petrified, his final plea echoing silently in the storm.

 Chapter 18: Elder Empire- Malin

    Iteration requested. Asylum


    Date? Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    Malin leaned against a weathered wooden post, his bare feet sinking into the warm sand as he watched the merchant ships glide into the harbour. The vessels were grand, their sails billowing like clouds against the endless blue sky. He waited, his fingers drumming idly against his thigh, as the merchants and sailors began to disembark, their voices carrying over the salty breeze.


    The newcomers were unlike anyone Malin had ever seen. They wore clothes of such fine fabric that they seemed to shimmer in the sunlight¡ªthin, white tunics that draped loosely over their frames and billowing trousers that swayed with every step. Perfect for the relentless tropical heat, their attire was a stark contrast to Malin''s own. He glanced down at himself: shirtless, his skin bronzed by the sun, and clad only in a pair of oversized shorts, hand-me-downs from the village elders. The fabric was frayed at the edges, and the waistband hung low on his narrow hips.


    "Sweet bread, good sirs!" Malin called out, his voice cutting through the hum of the crowd. He straightened his posture, trying to appear taller and more confident.


    A man nearby turned to face him. He was tall, with hair that seemed to shift from brown to a fiery copper under the glare of the sun . His long leather jacket, the colour of rich mahogany, reached down to his calves, and his boots were caked with the dust of distant lands. His gaze was stern at first, but as his eyes fell on Malin¡ª on his bare chest and ill-fitting shorts¡ªhis expression softened.


    "How much for the bread, kid?" the man asked, his voice deep but not unkind.


    Malin hesitated, then held up three fingers, suddenly self-conscious under the man''s scrutiny.


    "Calder, we need to go!" a woman''s voice called from farther down the dock. Malin''s eyes flicked toward her, catching the glint of emerald earrings that swayed as she moved. They were the colour of the sea at dawn, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.


    "Alright, alright," Calder muttered. He dug into his pocket, pulled out three coins, and tossed them to Malin. "Don''t spend them all at once, kid," he said with a faint smile before turning to join the woman. He didn''t even take the bread.


    Malin stared at the coins in his palm , then at Calder''s retreating figure. "Wait!" he called, but the man was already swallowed by the crowd. Malin''s fingers closed around the coins, their edges cool and unfamiliar against his skin. He held one up to the light, squinting at its strange markings and the odd, metallic sheen. It was unlike any coin he''d ever seen¡ªforeign, just like the man who had given it to him.


    For a moment, Malin stood still, the bustle of the harbour fading around him. He wondered where Calder had come from, what far-off lands had shaped him, and whether he''d ever see him again. The coins felt heavy in his hand, not just with their worth but with the promise of something more¡ª something beyond the horizon.


    <hr>


    The day had been surprisingly busy, and Malin had sold every last piece of bread before the sun dipped below the horizon. By the time he reached home, the sky was deep indigo, dotted with the first glimmers of stars. The village was quiet; the only sounds were the distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of palm leaves in the evening breeze.


    "Mom, I''m home," Malin called as he pushed open the creaky door to their small house. The familiar scent of wood smoke and dried herbs greeted him, a comforting reminder of the life they had built together.


    "Oh, you''re early today," his mother said, looking up from her seat by the fire pit in the centre of the room. An empty pot sat atop the flames, waiting to be filled. Her hands, rough from years of work, rested in her lap. "I was just about to start making dinner."


    "There were quite a few new ships at the harbour today," Malin replied, his voice tinged with excitement as he knelt by the corner of the room. He pulled out their worn coin jar, its clay surface chipped and faded, and began carefully depositing the day''s earnings. The clink of copper coins filled the small space, a sound that usually brought a sense of pride. But today, Malin paused, holding up the foreign coin Calder had given him. "One of them gave me this," he said, handing it to his mother.


    His mother took the coin, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned it over in the firelight. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed unable to speak. "Who gave you this?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    "One of the foreign sailors," Malin replied, his brow furrowing with worry. "Is it fake?"


    "No, Malin," his mother murmured, her voice filled with awe. "It''s gold."


    Malin''s breath caught in his throat. Gold. He had only ever heard stories of such wealth¡ªtales told by the village elders of faraway lands where the streets were paved with riches. He had never imagined holding a piece of it in his hands, let alone owning it.


    "Oh gods," his mother gasped, clutching the coin tightly. She began to mutter prayers under her breath, her words a rapid stream of gratitude and reverence. Malin followed suit, his voice joining hers in the familiar rhythms of their faith. But even as he prayed, his mind raced with possibilities.


    One day, he thought, his heart swelling with determination. One day, I''ll become a merchant. I''ll travel to those far-off lands , and I''ll provide for us. No more empty pots, no more worn clothes. Just a life of abundance for me and for her.


    The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls of their humble home. For the first time in a long while , Malin felt a spark of hope ¡ªa tiny flame that burned brighter with each passing moment.


    <hr>


    "No! I won''t allow it!" Malin''s mother''s voice rang out, sharp and unyielding, cutting through the stillness of their small home.


    Malin, now thirteen, stood his ground, his heart pounding. This was the first time he had dared to voice his dream aloud¡ªto become a merchant, to sail the seas, to see the world beyond their village. But his mother''s reaction was fiercer than he had anticipated.


    "But why? " he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and confusion.


    His mother''s face twisted with emotion, her eyes wide with fear¡ªalmost terror. "Because, " she began, her voice breaking. She hesitated as if the words were too heavy to speak. Tears spilt down her cheeks, glistening in the dim light of the fire . "Because... your father."


    Malin froze. This was the first time his mother had ever spoken of his father. All he had ever been told was that the man had abandoned them when Malin was just two years old. The rest had been shrouded in silence, a mystery Malin had long stopped asking about.


    His mother''s expression shifted, her sorrow giving way to a simmering rage. "He said the same thing¡ªthat he wanted to travel, to become a merchant. And he never came back! " Her voice rose, raw and trembling. She jabbed a finger at her chest. "I took care of you! I raised you! I skipped sleep every night to make sure you had food to eat! I sacrificed everything for you! " Her voice cracked, and her face fell, the anger draining away to reveal a deep, aching sadness. "And now you want to leave me too."


    Malin''s heart ached at her words. He stepped closer, his voice soft but firm. "I won''t leave you, Mom. I know how much you''ve sacrificed for me. I won''t leave you."


    His mother''s sobs grew louder, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her hands. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a desperate fear¡ªthe fear of being left alone, of losing the one person she had poured her life into. Wordlessly, she opened her arms, and Malin rushed into them, holding her tightly.


    They stood there, mother and son , clinging to each other as the fire crackled softly in the background. Malin could feel her trembling, her tears dampening his shoulder. At that moment, he felt the weight of her sacrifices, her fears, and her love. And though his dream still burned within him, he knew he could never abandon her ¡ªnot after everything she had endured.


    <hr>


    "My son, " she began, her voice trembling as a single tear traced a path down her weathered cheek. "I only ask one thing of you. Once you''ve made your fortune , once you''ve prospered ... please don''t forget about your mom. I''ll always be here, waiting for you."


    Malin had never brought up his dream again after that first time. But she had seen it in his eyes¡ªthe way he gazed longingly at the ships that docked at their village harbour, their sails billowing like promises of adventure. She had noticed the envy in his expression as he watched the sailors and the other village boys board those ships, their laughter carrying over the waves as they set off for distant lands.


    With a heavy heart, she unlocked the small wooden basket where they kept their meagre savings. From it, she pulled a worn envelope, its edges frayed from years of being tucked away. "This is some money I''ve saved for you, " she said, pressing it into his hands. Her fingers lingered for a moment as if reluctant to let go.


    Malin looked at her, his eyes wide with surprise. His mother managed a faint smile, though her lips trembled. "I''ve cried many nights, wishing you would want to stay, " she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But deep down, I always knew this day would come."


    Tears welled up in Malin''s eyes, spilling over as he pulled her into a tight embrace . "Mom, " he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I..."


    "It''s okay, Malin, " she interrupted gently, her hand stroking his back. She hadn''t realized when it had happened, but her son had grown taller than her, his shoulders broader, his frame stronger. "You''re an adult now. It''s time for you to find your own path. " She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "A merchant ship at the harbour has agreed to take you on. The pay isn''t much, but it''s a start."


    Malin pulled back, his tear-streaked face a mix of confusion and hope. "How? " he asked.


    " One of their crew is an old friend, " his mother replied simply , her smile bittersweet.


    Malin took a step back, his face breaking into a wide , radiant grin. It was the smile of someone who could see the future stretching out before him, bright and full of promise.


    "Just don''t forget about me, " she said softly, her voice cracking. "Come visit me whenever you can. That''s all I ask."


    Malin placed his hands on his hips, his confidence shining through. "Don''t worry, Mom! I''ll come back as often as I can. Once I succeed, I''ll take us out of this place. We''ll have the biggest home in the village, and we''ll even open a shop to sell our sweet bread!"


    His smile was so full of hope , so full of determination, that it made her heart ache. She had never doubted he would succeed . She had always believed in him.


    But now, fifteen years later, she cried herself to sleep every night, her pillow damp with tears. The house felt emptier than ever, the silence a constant reminder of his absence. She had let him go, believing it was the right thing to do. But as the years stretched on with no word, no visit, no sign of him, regret gnawed at her heart. She had given him her blessing , but she hadn''t prepared herself for the possibility that he might never return.


    <hr>


    "Tora, we''re almost there! " Captain Malin bellowed over the roar of the wind and waves. "Put all the sails down! Jibe if you have to!"


    "Aye, Captain! " Tora, the first mate, shouted back. He turned to the crew, his voice carrying authority. "You heard the Captain! Full speed ahead! Our treasures are waiting for us!"


    The ship cut through the choppy waters with precision, its crew working in perfect harmony. It didn''t take long for them to reach the mouth of the cave, hidden within the rugged cliffs of a mountain island rising defiantly from the ocean. They lowered a small raft, and Malin, Tora, and five other crew members rowed into the shadowy depths of the cave.


    As they ventured deeper , the dim light from their torches flickered against the jagged walls, casting eerie shadows. When they finally reached the heart of the cave, the sight before them left everyone speechless¡ªexcept Malin. While the others gaped in awe and greed, Malin stood with a triumphant grin plastered across his face.


    "Once more, Captain, I have to ask... how? " Tora said, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and disbelief. "How do you always know where to find these things?"


    Malin shrugged, his grin widening. "Call it a gut feeling. It''s as if I can sense the right way."


    Tora raised an eyebrow, looking at Malin incredulously. "I''ll be honest, Captain. The first time I agreed to follow you, I was desperate. " He gestured toward the wreckage ahead¡ªa massive, rotting ship, its hull splintered and overgrown with barnacles. "But now? You''ve brought us to the wreck of a long-lost eastern ship. I knew you had potential when you, a lowly ship cleaner, asked me to follow you. But this? This is beyond anything I could''ve imagined."


    "Nope, " Malin replied, his tone light and teasing.


    Tora frowned. "No?"


    "You didn''t follow me because you thought I had potential, " Malin said with a chuckle. "You were desperate."


    Tora burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the cavern. "Aye, mostly that."


    The crew quickly got to work, gathering the treasures scattered throughout the cave. More men were brought ashore to help search and load the loot. The haul was staggering¡ªpiles of gold coins, ancient jewels that sparkled even in the dim light, and artefacts that spoke of a bygone era.


    "Captain! " one of the crew members shouted, his voice tinged with excitement. "Found something that might interest you!"


    Malin followed the voice, his boots crunching against the rocky ground. The crew member stood over a small, ornate chest, its surface intricately carved but tarnished with age. The man had tried to open it, but the lock held firm.


    "Put it on the ground, " Malin ordered. He pulled a hammer from his belt and knelt beside the chest. With a few sharp strikes , the lock gave way , and the chest creaked open. Most of its contents had rotted to dust, but a bundle of papers tied together with a crumbling rubber band caught his eye. The ink had faded, rendering the words illegible.


    What truly captured Malin''s attention, however, was a signet ring nestled among the debris. He picked it up, brushing off the dust to reveal its intricate design. The ring was made of silver, its face adorned with the carving of a bird¡ªits wings and legs spread wide, a shield emblazoned on its chest. The shield was divided into four sections, each bearing a different emblem. Malin squinted, trying to make out the details. One looked like a tree, another a bull, but the others were too worn to decipher.


    As he held the ring, a strange sensation washed over him¡ªa feeling he couldn''t quite place. It was as if the ring carried a weight far beyond its physical form, a whisper of something ancient and significant. Malin slipped it onto his finger, the metal cool against his skin, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.


    <hr>


    "You have made a great discovery, Captain Malin, " the man on the throne declared, his voice resonating through the grand hall. The Sultan''s words were measured, each syllable dripping with authority and grandeur. "For your service, you shall be rewarded handsomely."


    Malin knelt before the throne, his head bowed in a show of respect. The marble floor was cool beneath his knees, and the air was thick with the scent of incense and the faint metallic tang of gold. "I thank you for your generosity, Great Sultan, " he replied, his voice steady but laced with humility.


    The Sultan continued his speech, extolling Malin''s achievements and the value of the treasures he had brought to the kingdom. But Malin''s attention had already drifted. His eyes flicked to the side, where one of the Sultan''s daughters stood among her attendants. She was young, her features sharp and regal, but it was her expression that caught his attention¡ªa mischievous smile playing on her lips, her eyes gleaming with curiosity and something else he couldn''t quite place.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Malin''s lips curved into a smirk, barely noticeable to anyone but her. She tilted her head slightly, her smile widening as if sharing a secret only the two of them understood. The exchange lasted only a moment, but it was enough to send a thrill through him. Here, in the heart of the Sultan''s palace, surrounded by opulence and power, Malin felt a different kind of victory¡ªone that had nothing to do with gold or jewels.


    <hr>


    "How long has it been since you left? " Tseria asked, her voice soft and drowsy as she lay beside Malin, her head resting on his chest. The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the chamber, casting a silvery glow over the room.


    "Left? " Malin murmured, his fingers absently tracing patterns on her arm.


    "Don''t act stupid, Malin, " Tseria said with a playful smirk, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. "Left home."


    Malin let out a low chuckle, his chest rumbling beneath her. "Hmm, " he mused, staring up at the canopy above. "Three or four years now, I think."


    "Wow, " Tseria replied, her tone tinged with admiration. She propped herself up on one elbow, her dark eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Captain Malin, a man who took only four years to build an armada of twenty ships. The navigator guilds must be swooning over you."


    Malin grinned, his confidence shining through. "Guilds just aren''t for me. Too many rules, too many egos. " He shifted suddenly, rolling on top of her and pinning her gently to the bed. "Besides, " he said, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur, "I have everyone I want swooning over me right here."


    Tseria giggled her laughter like music in the quiet room. She reached up, running her fingers down his chest, her touch light and teasing. "I do want to see where you grew up, Malin, " she said, her tone turning thoughtful.


    Malin raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Oh? " he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Does that mean...?"


    "Yes, " Tseria replied, her eyes locking with his. "My father has agreed to our match. " Her fingers stilled on his chest, and she smiled softly. "All we need to do now is for me to visit your home, and our engagement can officially proceed."


    Malin''s heart swelled with joy, and he let out a laugh ¡ªa deep, unrestrained sound that filled the room. This was everything he had wanted, everything he had worked for. "I''d love that, " he said, his voice warm with affection. He leaned down, brushing a kiss against her forehead. "I''ll take you there myself. You''ll see where it all began."


    Tseria smiled up at him, her expression a mix of excitement and tenderness. "I can''t wait, " she whispered, her fingers curling into his hair as she pulled him closer.


    For a moment, they lay there, wrapped in each other''s warmth, the world outside forgotten. Malin''s mind drifted to the village he had left behind, to the small house by the harbour and the woman who had raised him. He wondered what she would think of Tseria, of the life he had built, of the man he had become. And for the first time in years, he felt a pang of longing¡ªnot for the treasures he had sought, but for the home he had left behind.


    <hr>


    Malin stood on the deck of his flagship, the Bhayangkara, its name chosen on a whim but feeling inexplicably right. The ship was anchored in the middle of the vast ocean, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the calm waters. His betrothed, Tseria, slept soundly in the cabin below, unaware of the storm brewing in Malin''s mind. He leaned against the railing, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves, when suddenly, his instincts screamed.


    "Tora! " Malin barked, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night.


    His first mate appeared moments later, his hair dishevelled and his eyes heavy with sleep. "Aye, Malin? " Tora asked, rubbing his face. But the moment he saw the tension in Malin''s expression, he straightened, his drowsiness vanishing. "What is it?"


    "Change course thirty degrees west, " Malin ordered, his voice sharp and urgent. When Tora hesitated, Malin''s tone turned fierce. "Now! It could be a monster for all I know!"


    Tora saluted and sprang into action, rousing the crew with shouts and commands. The ship came alive with the sounds of hurried footsteps and the creaking of ropes as the sails were adjusted. The water remained eerily calm, giving no hint of danger, but Malin''s instincts rarely led him astray.


    By mid-morning, the lookout''s voice rang out from the crow''s nest. "Captain! " he yelled, pointing toward the horizon. "Land ahead!"


    Malin squinted, shielding his eyes from the sun. In the distance, a small island came into view, its shoreline dotted with huts and a modest pier. A sense of unease settled in his chest, but he pushed it aside. "Ready a raft! " he commanded.


    As Malin and a handful of his crew rowed to the pier, they were met by a group of villagers, their arms laden with goods to sell.


    "They''re used to visitors, " Tora remarked, his tone cautious.


    Malin nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. His heart pounded as he searched for something¡ªor someone¡ªhe couldn''t quite name. Ignoring the villagers'' offers, he broke into a run , his feet carrying him through the narrow streets as if guided by an unseen force.


    He stopped abruptly in front of a small shop, its entrance adorned with pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. The air smelled of metal and smoke, and the faint clinking of tools echoed from within.


    "Hello? " a woman''s voice called out, warm but tinged with curiosity.


    Malin turned to see an older woman behind the counter, her hands busy arranging a display of kitchen wares. She smiled at him, though her expression flickered with confusion for a brief moment before her smile returned.


    "Do you need any assistance? " she asked politely.


    Feeling awkward, Malin grabbed the nearest item¡ªa firestarter¡ªand handed it to her. "How much for this? " he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him .


    The woman examined the firestarter, her brow furrowing . "I might need to ask my husband for that, " she said, her tone apologetic. " I don''t think I''ve seen it before. Please give me a moment."


    Malin nodded, his throat tight as she disappeared through a door behind the counter. He heard her calling for her husband, the sound of footsteps growing louder with each passing second. His heart thundered in his chest, the anticipation almost unbearable.


    "Let me take a look, " a man''s voice said as he entered the shop.


    Malin''s breath caught in his throat. The man who stepped into the room was older, his face lined with age, but there was no mistaking the resemblance. He was a mirror of what Malin might become in another twenty years. The man''s eyes widened as they locked onto Malin''s, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.


    "Fath¡ª " Malin began, his voice trembling.


    "Don''t! " the man snapped, his expression twisting with panic.


    But Malin couldn''t stop himself. The word spilt out, heavy with years of longing and unanswered questions. "Father."


    The man''s face crumpled, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had just settled on them. His wife, standing behind him, paled, her hands clutching the edge of the counter for support.


    "What have you done? " the man muttered, his voice barely audible. His eyes were filled with a mixture of fear, regret, and something else¡ªsomething Malin couldn''t quite place.


    <hr>


    "Why did you abandon us? " Malin asked, his voice low but laced with pain. He sat across from his father at a rickety wooden table, the air between them heavy with unspoken words and years of separation.


    His father grimaced, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. "I didn''t know, " he said, his voice trembling.


    "Know what? " Malin demanded, his tone rising. "Explain clearly! Mom deserves to know the truth."


    At the mention of Malin''s mother, the man''s face paled. "Mande, " he whispered her name as if it were a prayer or a curse. He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking with shame. "I didn''t know what I was getting into."


    "Why? " Malin pressed, his voice cracking. "Why did you never come back? I could accept it if you no longer loved her. But why did you never come to see me? Your own son?"


    The older man sighed deeply, his gaze drifting to the wooden ceiling of the empty room. "You shouldn''t have come here, " he said, his voice heavy with regret.


    "Afraid for me to meet your new family? " Malin asked mockingly, his bitterness spilling over. "Afraid for me to meet my half-siblings and let them find out about the family you abandoned?"


    "No, damn it! No!" his father snapped, his voice rising for the first time. He leaned forward, his eyes burning with intensity. "I loved you and your mother. I still do." He held up a hand to stop Malin from interrupting. "But I was lied to. Misled." With trembling fingers, he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, revealing a silver necklace with a black, obsidian-like stone at its centre.


    Malin shivered as his eyes fell on the pendant. It seemed to pulse with a dark energy, sending a chill down his spine.


    "You can feel it too, can''t you? " his father said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I always knew you had that ability."


    "What is that? " Malin asked, his voice filled with disgust.


    His father smiled sadly, his fingers brushing against the black stone. "I made a deal with the devil."


    Malin''s stomach churned, his mind racing to make sense of the words.


    "I asked for a better life for my family¡ªfor you and your mother and the generations after, " his father explained, his gaze softening as he looked at Malin. His son was dressed in the finest clothing, a far cry from the boy he had left behind. And the ships bearing his banner were a testament to the life he had built. "I wanted to give you everything I never had."


    Malin stayed silent, his fists clenched on the table.


    The older man touched the black stone again, his expression pained. "You can feel it too, can''t you? The pull. The darkness."


    "Yes, " Malin admitted softly. "How?"


    His father looked at him with a mix of pride and sorrow. "Because you''re my son. I knew you''d inherited some of my abilities the moment you were born."


    "That makes sense, " Malin replied, his mind connecting the dots. His uncanny instincts , his ability to navigate the seas with almost supernatural precision ¡ªit all fell into place.


    But his father''s smile faltered, replaced by a deep frown. "You shouldn''t have come here, Malin. You should''ve never come searching for me."


    "I didn''t have a choice, " Malin said, his voice firm. "Something dragged me here. Something I couldn''t ignore."


    "I see, " his father sighed, his gaze dropping to the necklace. " What the devil didn''t tell me was that I would have to leave you forever. If I didn''t, I would kill you and your mother."


    Malin tensed, his heart pounding. "What do you mean?"


    His father opened his palms, showing them empty. "I can feel the urge every moment. The darkness whispers to me, demanding I hunt you down. But I''ve held it off¡ªfor now."


    Malin''s eyes darted around the room. It was barren, save for the flimsy table and chairs. His father was unarmed, while Malin had a dagger strapped to his hip. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.


    "You planned this? " Malin asked, his voice breaking. A tear slipped down his cheek.


    "I knew my time would come the moment you called me ''father, ''" his father explained, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. "You see, son, " he said, addressing Malin as his child for the first time Malin could remember, "the devil only told me the full terms after the deal was made. It was generational."


    Malin''s eyes widened in horror.


    "You must not marry or have children, " his father continued, his voice grave. "For you will kill them."


    Tseria, Malin thought immediately, his heart clenching. "But your new wife? " he asked, his voice barely audible.


    "Never married officially, " his father replied. "Nor do I have children with her."


    Malin swallowed hard, his mind reeling. "And mother?"


    His father looked away, his expression pained. "You must never see her as I have."


    "And if I don''t kill you? " Malin asked, his voice trembling.


    His father''s gaze hardened. "You''ll have to. Because now that I know where you are, the whispers are growing louder. I can already feel the pull to hunt your mother down."


    Malin''s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his dagger, his grip tightening.


    "But I can hold it off for a little longer, " his father said, his voice softening. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes filled with a quiet resolve. "Until then, I would like to talk to my son. I would like to know everything I''ve missed."


    <hr>


    "Everything alright, love? " Tseria asked softly, her hand gently covering Malin''s. Her touch was warm, a comforting contrast to the cold unease that had settled in his chest.


    "Hm? " Malin looked up from the maps and charts scattered across his desk in the cabin. The dim light of the lantern flickered, casting shadows on his troubled face. "Yes, of course. What made you ask?"


    Tseria tilted her head, her dark eyes studying him with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Well, " she began, her voice gentle but probing, "your hands have been trembling, even in this heat. You''ve seemed ... distant ever since we left that island. And now, when we''re so close to seeing your mother again, you don''t even look excited."


    Malin hesitated, his gaze dropping to the desk. He could feel the weight of the black pendant hanging beneath his shirt, its presence a constant reminder of the burden he now carried. "I''m just nervous, that''s all," he said, forcing a sheepish smile. He pressed a hand to his chest, the cool metal of the pendant pressing against his skin. "It''s been so long. I want everything to be perfect."


    Tseria''s expression softened, but her eyes still held a hint of doubt. She knew him too well to be entirely convinced. "Nervous about seeing your mother? " she asked, her tone light but probing. "Or is there something else?"


    Malin''s mind raced. He couldn''t tell her the truth¡ªnot yet . Not about the pendant, not about his father, and certainly not about the curse that now loomed over them. Instead, he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. "How about we take a detour? " he suggested, his voice brightening with false enthusiasm. "There are some incredible places I''ve always wanted to show you. And I''d love to bring my mother gifts from all over¡ªsomething special to make up for all the years I''ve been away. "


    Tseria raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smile. "A detour, huh? You''re not just trying to delay the inevitable, are you?"


    Malin chuckled, though it felt hollow. "Maybe a little, " he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But wouldn''t it be nice? Just the two of us, exploring new places, picking out the perfect gifts ... It''ll be an adventure."


    Tseria studied him for a moment longer, her gaze searching. Then she sighed, her smile widening. "Alright, Captain, " she said, her tone teasing. "A detour it is. But don''t think I''ll let you off the hook forever. You''ll have to face your mother eventually."


    Malin''s smile faltered for a split second before he recovered, squeezing her hand. "I know, " he said softly. "But for now, let''s enjoy the journey."


    As Tseria leaned in to kiss him, Malin''s mind wandered to the pendant hidden beneath his shirt, its dark presence a constant reminder of the choice he would eventually have to make. For now, he would cling to this moment¡ªto her warmth, her laughter, her unwavering belief in him. But deep down, he knew the truth: the closer they got to his mother, the harder it would be to keep the darkness at bay.


    <hr>


    Mande was in the middle of storing her sweet bread, preparing for another day at the harbour, when she heard her neighbour''s voice calling from outside her home.


    "Mande! Your son is back!"


    Her hands froze, the loaf of bread slipping from her grasp. "Malin has returned? " she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Are you sure?"


    " Yes, my son just came back from the harbour," her neighbour replied, her face alight with excitement. "Malin''s returned with a fleet of twenty ships! His clothes are finer than anything we''ve ever seen, but they say his face is still the same."


    Mande''s legs nearly gave out beneath her. For years, she had prayed and cried, begging the gods to bring her son back safely. Every night, she had lain awake, wondering if he was alive, if he was well, if he ever thought of her. And now, he was here.


    She dropped her basket, the loaves of bread spilling onto the ground, but she didn''t care. Her heart raced as she turned toward the door.


    "Just go, " her neighbour said, already bending to pick up the scattered bread. "I''ll clean this up. Don''t worry about it¡ªgo see your son."


    "Thank you, " Mande muttered, her voice barely audible as she hurried out the door. Her steps quickened as she made her way to the harbour, her heart pounding in her chest .


    When she arrived, the sight took her breath away. The harbour was bustling with activity, and the docks were crowded with people unloading crates and barrels from a fleet of magnificent ships. And there, standing tall among the chaos, was Malin. He had grown taller, his shoulders broader, his face more mature, but she would have recognized him anywhere. He was dressed in fine clothes, his presence commanding as he directed the crew and handed out goods to the villagers.


    Mande''s eyes filled with tears as she pushed through the crowd, her gaze fixed on her son. "Malin! " she called, her voice breaking. "My son, it''s been too long. I''ve missed you so much."


    She reached him and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. For a moment, she felt his arms encircle her, holding her tightly. But then, without warning, his grip tightened¡ªtoo tight¡ªand he pushed her away. She stumbled backwards, falling to the ground.


    Confused and hurt, she looked up at him, her heart breaking at the rage and sorrow etched on his face.


    "You shameless woman! " he yelled, his voice cutting through the noise of the harbour. "How dare you pretend to be my mother!"


    Mande stared at him in shock, her mind struggling to process his words. Her son ¡ªher Malin ¡ªwas looking at her as if she were a stranger .


    "Is this your mother? " a richly dressed woman asked, stepping forward. Her voice was soft, but her eyes were sharp, studying Mande with curiosity .


    "No, " Malin said firmly, shaking his head. "She''s just a beggar pretending to be my mother. Probably hoping to profit off me."


    Mande''s heart shattered. She opened her mouth to protest, to remind him of all the years she had spent raising him , of all the sacrifices she had made, but no words came out.


    Malin turned his back on her, his shoulders slumping. "My mother is no longer here, " he said quietly, his voice heavy with emotion. "She''s probably moved somewhere else. Or... " He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.


    The richly dressed woman placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I''m sure she''s well, " she said gently. "For what it''s worth, I''m glad I was able to see where you grew up."


    Malin smiled at her, a small, sad smile that made Mande''s chest ache. She watched in silence as her son and the woman walked away, leaving her alone on the dock. Her heart felt heavier than it ever had, even heavier than the day she had accepted that Malin''s father would never return.


    As the ships began to depart, Mande closed her eyes, her hands clenched into fists. "Dear gods, " she whispered, her voice trembling with anger and grief. "Show him the wrongness of his actions. Make him realize his mistakes. Punish him for what he''s done."


    In the darkness of her mind , something stirred ¡ªa presence she hadn''t expected. It seized her prayer, its grip cold and unyielding. Mande gasped, her eyes flying open as she fell back onto the ground, her body trembling with shock.


    <hr>


    "Malin, you need to see this! " Tora''s voice was frantic as he banged on the door of the captain''s cabin. When no response came, he threw the door open , only to find Malin on his knees, his head bowed, and his hands clenched into fists. The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with an unspoken grief.


    "Malin, we need you up there! " Tora shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of thunder and the violent shaking of the ship.


    Malin looked up, his eyes swollen and red, his face pale. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, as if pulled from a deep trance. Then, the sound of the storm registered¡ªthe thunder, the howling wind, the relentless pounding of the waves against the hull. He stood abruptly, his expression hardening. "I''m coming, " he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.


    Tora stepped aside, his own face etched with worry, but there was no time to ask questions. Malin brushed past him and strode onto the deck, the rain instantly soaking him to the bone. The storm was unlike anything he had ever seen. The sky was a churning mass of black clouds, lightning streaking across the heavens, and the waves rose like mountains, crashing against the ship with terrifying force.


    Malin''s mind was suddenly flooded with warnings, his instincts screaming at him to act. "Turn back! " he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Turn back to the island!"


    Tora saluted, his face grim, and began barking orders to the crew. Communication was nearly impossible over the deafening thunder, but the urgency in Malin''s voice was enough to spur them into action.


    Malin''s eyes swept the deck, taking in the chaos. One of the crew members was swept overboard by a monstrous wave, his scream swallowed by the storm. Before Malin could react, he felt a hand grip his arm with surprising strength. He turned to find Tseria beside him, her face pale and her body trembling beneath a large, sodden cloak.


    "Malin, " she started, her voice barely audible over the storm, but a sudden lurch of the ship sent them both crashing to the deck.


    "Tseria, you need to go insi¡ª " Malin began, but his words were drowned out by a guttural roar that shook the very air. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard¡ªdeep, primal, and filled with an otherworldly rage.


    All heads turned toward the source of the sound. Malin''s heart sank as a massive shape began to rise from the depths. The creature emerged slowly, its form grotesque and terrifying. Its head was a mass of writhing tentacles, its body hulking and humanoid but covered in thick, scaly skin. Its arms ended in clawed hands, and its legs¡ªthick and powerful¡ªpropelled it through the water with ease.


    "Elder, " Tora whispered, his voice filled with dread.


    Malin stared at the creature, his instincts screaming at him to flee. He had always trusted his intuition, but this time, it had come too late. The Elder roared again, its voice shaking the air and sending a gust of wind so powerful it capsized several of the smaller ships in the fleet.


    "Tora! " Malin shouted, his voice raw with desperation. "Back to the island! NOW!"


    Tora didn''t respond¡ªhe didn''t need to. He was already in motion, shouting orders to the crew as they fought to regain control of the ship.


    Malin felt Tseria''s hand tighten in his, her grip trembling. He hadn''t even realized he was holding it until now. "Malin, I''m scared, " she whispered, her voice barely audible over the storm.


    "We''ll be fine, " he replied, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at his chest. He squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her , but his own heart was racing.


    With his free hand, Malin reached out toward the water, the silver ring on his finger glowing with a faint golden light. He focused all his will, commanding the sea to carry them away from the creature. The water responded, swirling around the ship and propelling it forward.


    But the Elder was not so easily outmatched. It roared again, and the wind surged with renewed fury, tearing at the sails and ripping the ship apart piece by piece. Malin''s control over the water was no match for the sheer power of the storm .


    The ship was tossed like a toy, the deck tilting violently as waves crashed over the sides. Malin clung to the railing with one hand, his other still gripping Tseria''s. He could feel the ship breaking apart beneath them, the wood groaning and splintering under the strain.


    Then, with a final, deafening crash, the ship was lifted high into the air by a monstrous wave . For a moment, they were weightless, suspended in the chaos of the storm . And then they fell, the ship slamming into the water upside down.


    <hr>


    Malin woke with a choked gasp, his body convulsing as he vomited saltwater and blood onto the sand. His chest heaved, each breath a struggle, as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The sky above was a tempest of fury, lightning streaking across the black clouds, rain lashing down in sheets. He was on a beach, the sand coarse and cold beneath him. In the distance, towering over the wreckage of his fleet , was the Elder . Its massive, grotesque form loomed like a nightmare-made flesh, its tentacles writhing and its claws glinting in the storm''s sporadic flashes of light .


    Malin tried to wipe his mouth, but his left hand was tugged back. He turned, his heart lurching as he saw Tseria lying unconscious beside him. Her wrist was tied to his with her hair tie, a desperate act of survival that had kept them together through the storm. Her skin was pale, her lips blue, and her body unnaturally still.


    "Tseria, " he gasped, his voice hoarse and broken. He bent over her, shaking her gently, then more urgently. "Tseria, wake up! " But she didn''t stir. Her chest didn''t rise. Her hand was cold in his.


    Malin knelt there, his body trembling, tears mixing with the rain on his face. He had failed her. He had failed everyone. The weight of his guilt and grief pressed down on him, crushing him beneath its unbearable burden.


    Another roar shattered the air, pulling him from his despair. Malin looked up, his eyes widening as he saw the Elder turn its gaze toward him. The creature''s massive head tilted, its glowing eyes locking onto his. Slowly, deliberately, it raised a clawed hand and pointed directly at him.


    Malin''s instincts screamed at him to run, to flee, to do anything to escape the horror bearing down on him. But he didn''t move. He couldn''t. His body felt heavy, his spirit broken. He had nothing left.


    Instead, he lowered himself to the ground, his forehead pressing into the wet sand. He wasn''t bowing to the Elder¡ªhe would never bow to that monstrosity. The thought filled him with rage, but he pushed it aside. No, he was bowing to the sky, to the heavens, to the only force he had left to plead to.


    "Mother, " he whispered, his voice barely audible over the storm. "Forgive me."


    The sky flashed a brilliant blue, the light so intense it seemed to pierce through the storm. Malin didn''t look up. He kept his head bowed, his body trembling as his instincts screamed at him to move, to fight, to do something. But he stayed still, resigned to his fate.


    Then the pain came.


    A searing, white-hot agony ripped through him as lightning struck his body. He screamed, his voice raw and guttural, but he couldn''t move. His limbs were locked in place, his muscles rigid. He looked down, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and saw the horrifying truth: his flesh was turning to stone. The transformation began at his feet, the grey, lifeless texture creeping upward, consuming his legs, his torso, and his arms.


    Panic surged through him, but he was powerless to stop it. He turned his head, his vision blurring as the stone reached his neck. The last thing he saw was Tseria''s hand, still tied to his, lying motionless on the sand.


    "Protect, " he grunted, his voice strained and weak.


    "Protect, " he tried to yell, but the words were barely a whisper.


    "Protect, " he willed, his mind screaming even as his body failed him.


    "Please, " he begged, his breath shortening, his vision darkening. "Protect her ."


    As the stone reached his face, his final thought was of Tseria. And then, in the last flicker of his consciousness, he saw it¡ªa golden light, warm and radiant, enveloping her still form. It was faint, but it was there . A spark of hope in the darkness.


    And then Malin was gone, his body fully petrified, his final plea echoing silently in the storm.

 Chapter 19: The truth of Monarchs

    Whitehall stepped back from the embrace with Sadi, and he wondered if he smelled as bad as she did. She had a shower in the Spirit Well, so he reckoned he smelled worse. A flicker of irritation ran through him when he saw that he stood right above her chin despite now having his lifeline restored. She was as tall as Ziel, so he guessed it might not be a realistic expectation. He was never a tall person, not in his previous life and not in this one.


    "Where are we going?" Whitehall asked.


    "Our next destination," Ziel replied cryptically.


    "Okay(?)" Sadi replied, fastening the bag with seeds and a few jars of different Well water.


    Whitehall fastened the large cylinder onto his back; with his recent growth, it was not as unnaturally large as it would have been previously; now, it was only unproportionally large.


    Ziel stood by a hatch on the ground. He placed a gate stone onto the palms of the skeleton on it, and the hatch disappeared, revealing a hole that went straight down. "We go in together," he said, looking over his shoulder. His eyes were not focused on Whitehall or Sadi but on the broken cylinders and towards the door of the stone building.


    Whitehall and Sadi nodded. Despite their oath, Ziel still did not fully trust the Redmoon Hall.


    Ziel grabbed Whitehall at the back of his shirt. "Whitehall is lighter. Meatball, carry Sadi," he ordered.


    Meatball saluted, raising a wing towards her head. "Yes, Ziel!"


    Ziel raised an eyebrow, wondering where the bird learned such a weird gesture. But he knew what Meatball meant by it and ignored her. "Go," he pointed.


    Sadi opened her mouth, about to ask how Meatball was supposed to bring her down, but the bird latched onto her shoulders and dropped down the hole. Her surprised scream echoed through the tunnel.


    Ziel took one last look behind him at the shut stone door and jumped. The hatch reappeared as he passed through.


    <hr>


    Sadi''s screams lowered to a whelp when her descent was suddenly slowed.


    "That was fun," Meatball chirped.


    Sadi took a few deep breaths. She was not afraid of heights; she was just surprised. At least, that was what she told herself.


    Meatball gently placed her on the ground, and Sadi''s breath caught when she saw their surroundings. The space was plain, with smooth stone walls. Three tunnels were before her, and she eyed them individually.


    Where Sadi and Meatball landed gently like a leaf drifting through the air, Whitehall and Ziel crash-landed onto a green script. A dust cloud rose from where they landed. Ziel came out first, his eyes disinterested.


    "Owe," Whitehall groaned, his form rising like a shadow through the cloud.


    Sadi stepped towards Whitehall and helped him up.


    "Sadi, lead the way," Ziel spoke up. "We can''t see."


    "Oh," Sadi said in realisation. She forgot that the others could not see in the dark. "What are we looking for?" she asked.


    "Oooo! What''s that?" Meatball squawked, flying through the tunnel on the left.


    "Meatball!" Sadi yelled.


    "She''ll be fine. She''s excited about something," Whitehall groaned next to her. "She''s a Truegold."


    Sadi sighed before her eyes widened as she processed Whitehall''s words. "Meatball is a Truegold?" she exclaimed. "How, when?"


    "Life Well, I''m sure."


    "We''re looking for a tree," Ziel said. "At least that was what the Beast King told me," he shrugged.


    Sadi continued eyeing the tunnel, but she did not see any trees. She stopped when she saw the last tunnel on the right. A huge man wearing rags with greasy black hair stood with crossed arms. She realised his arms were covered with black scales, but his eyes were yellow and sharp like a dragon''s. Those yellow eyes bore into her.


    "There''s a man down here," she whispered. "He wears rags like a Wastelander, with draconic eyes and black scaled arms."


    A flash of concern appeared on Ziel''s expression, but a moment later, it returned to his usual impassiveness. "It''s a projection of Northstrider," he explained. "Just a projection."


    Ziel gestured for Sadi to lead the way and trailed behind her alongside Whitehall.


    "There are rooms around us," Sadi''s voice echoed. "Seems like scraps and junk."


    "Heralds probably already cleared them out," Ziel replied.


    When they neared the end, Whitehall saw a hulking figure eyeing them. This was Northstrider, he thought. The Monarch of the Wastelands, and the owner of this pocket world. The man dressed like a Wasteland sacred artist, probably even less well-outfitted. From the way he stood and his gaze. It resonated with strength, power, and absolute authority. Whitehall has seen such gazes, and he almost spat in disgust.


    "For you who travel here after my departure," the projection of Northstrider spoke as they walked down the hall.


    "Feel free to ignore it," Ziel shrugged. "It''s not that important."


    "None of them delivered what I wanted," the projection continued, unbothered by Ziel''s words.


    "Straight there," Sadi yelled. "I see it. A metal tree with cages." She began jogging, and Whitehall and Ziel followed.


    There was an inflexion in the Monarch''s voice when they reached the base of a metal tree at the end of a wall, signalling the importance of the Monarch''s next words. "Return the Eye of the Deep to the tree. And for the rest of your life, know that you are in my debt."


    Whitehall stared at the looming tree made of scripted metal. The cages were like fruits, dangling on the metal branches. Some of the cages held sapphire stones.


    Ziel reached into his robes and pulled out three Eyes of the Deep. He handed one each to Sadi and Whitehall. Without a word, he knelt at the base of the tree.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "Ziel of the Dawnwing sect returns the Eye of the Deep to the place of its birth," he muttered, holding the stone before him.


    The scripts on the tree trunk flared blue, and a metal branch bent down towards Ziel, the cage opening as it neared him. Ziel placed the Eye of the Deep into the cage, and the metal bars shut itself, the branch returning to its initial position.


    A new projection appeared before the tree of Northstrider, but this time, the Monarch was wearing a different set of rags. His beard and hair were longer, and it felt more recent.


    "The Beast King recommended you represent my faction in the upcoming Uncrowned tournament," the projection said. "You have succeeded in my trials; as a reward, I have granted you a drop of Ghostwater." Then the Monarch''s gaze hardened. "Do not disappoint me," he stated, his voice absolute and unflinching.


    The projection blinked out, and before Whitehall or Sadi could ask what the projection was speaking about, a whisper echoed through the chamber.


    "Ask..."


    Ziel hesitated, and for the first time, Sadi and Whitehall saw an uncomfortable expression on his face. Ziel clenched his teeth and fought with himself.


    Ziel''s voice came out low and conflicted. "How do I advance to a Sage?"


    The question took Whitehall and Sadi aback. Ziel was sure they were surprised he did not ask how to fix his body or, better yet, ask the tree to fix it. He would be in the Uncrowned tournament, so the tree would not do such a thing even if it could. But most importantly, he already knew how. The Beast King and Sunda had spent countless hours researching and experimenting with him. Besides the long-lost Aurelius Pure-storm baptism and the help of several monarchs working together, nothing else could be done. If he wanted to fix his crippled spirit, he would need to win the Uncrowned tournament.


    A wave of blue-and-purple light washed over him, and Ziel learned. He knew now how to be a Sage. It was simple, yet so complicated.


    <hr>


    Sadi watched the blue-and-purple light washing Ziel. The light carried information, she realised. She did not understand, nor could she explain how it worked, as it was more of a feeling rather than anything tangible. To her, the light felt inefficient. The blue-and-purple light incorporated only visible light other than dream madra. Maybe she could do the same thing better if she used invisible light alongside visible light.


    That brought another question as she eyed Ziel''s kneeling form. It was not that he did not ask the tree how to fix his spirit. Sadi had quickly deduced that he probably already knew the answer. It was the way he said his questions. It was as if it was a taboo.


    Also, when Ziel introduced his title, it was not Ziel of the Wastelands but Ziel of the Dawnwing sect. Was that the symbol he wore on his grey cloak? She wondered what had happened to his sect, but remembering the state of his spirit, it would not have been anything good. And she would not ask.


    Ziel stood straight, and she saw him approach a basin at the lower part of the tree trunk. A clear tube slid out of the tree above the basin, and a drop of white liquid splashed onto it.


    "This is Ghostwater," Ziel explained, manipulating aura to lift the drop above his face. He faced Sadi and Whitehall. "Even Sages and Heralds will find it difficult to afford a single drop."


    Sadi watched Ziel''s green eyes as he explained. They were sparkling as he though had just learned something he had always wanted to know like a hole inside of him had been filled.


    "Do what I did," Ziel continued. "And I would not waste your question on advancement. The Beast King and I can help you with that." He drank the drop of Ghostwater and sat on the ground in a cycling position. "At least I would," he added before closing his eyes and cycling.


    Sadi''s gaze shifted back to the tree and stepped forward. "I''ll go first," she said.


    "Go on," Whitehall said, his expression scrunched in thought.


    Sadi copied Ziel''s action. She knelt and presented her Eye of the Deep to the tree, repeating Ziel''s words. Northstrider''s projection reappeared, repeating the previous words it said to Ziel. She waited impatiently for it to finish. She already knew what question she wanted to ask.


    "Ask..." The projection disappeared, and the voice finally echoed.


    "How do I create matter from light?" she asked.


    The tree glowed, and Sadi waited for the wave of light to wash over her. It took longer than previously, and Sadi grew nervous. Finally, light washed over her, but she was alarmed when she saw it was red. One word whispered in her mind as the light covered her body.


    Unable.


    Then, a new sentence spoke in her mind.


    Ask again...


    Sadi shifted as she knelt, disappointed that a Monarch''s creation could not give her answers. She had not expected this outcome and was unprepared for a second question.


    "You could ask for all its information regarding light aura and madra," Whitehall suggested. "At least for ones you''ll be able to handle."


    Sadi thought that was a good suggestion. If she knew how light works, she might eventually figure it out herself. But an annoyance prick at the back of her mind. Does she want to learn only what she can handle as a Highgold? Does she only want to learn about light madra and aura? Is she going to bottleneck herself due to fear of what she could not handle? She already knew the answer.


    "I want all your knowledge on Light," she declared.


    "That was not a good idea," she heard Ziel''s voice echoing behind her.


    A few moments later, she understood why. Waves of blue-and-purple light washed over her one after another, and she clutched her head in pain. It was not physical or spiritual. Instead, it felt like her head was about to snap, unable to digest so much knowledge.


    "Ghostwater. Quick!" Ziel snapped at Whitehall.


    Whitehall sprung to action, running towards the basin of the tree. The transparent tube slid out, too slow for Whitehall''s liking. Afraid of accidentally breaking it, he waited with his hands cupped underneath the tube. A drop of Ghostwater dripped gently into his hands, and he made his way to Sadi, who was clutching her head on the ground.


    Ziel stood beside Sadi''s form, lifting the Ghostwater drop with aura. Sadi''s jaw was clenched, so Ziel shoved the water through her nose.


    "Cycle it," Ziel raised his voice.


    "Cycle it!" Whitehall repeated, this time with a yell. "You need to cycle it!"


    It took only a moment for the true prize of the pocket world to take effect. Sadi''s hands relaxed, and she opened her eyes. "I''m fine," she said, shaking her head gently as if she had water stuck in her ear. "That was just a lot."


    Ziel sighed. "On the contrary, I think that might''ve been a good idea after all."


    "How do you feel?" Whitehall asked.


    "Good," she replied, but her eyes were lost in thought. They widened after a moment. "Better, actually. That Ghostwater is amazing."


    "Ghostwater strengthened your mental power. Without it...," he paused and shrugged. "Your head would''ve exploded, I think."


    "Doesn''t matter now," she waived a hand. Then she grabbed one of Whitehall''s hands with both of hers; her smile was wide. "I know the key to my path. The tree filled me with countless findings from Sacred Artists on Light Paths. However, the key was actually in the findings by Scholars. But they were still missing a piece of key information. The knowledge that Sunda had filled me on." Her smile grew wider, and she actively cheered as she explained.


    "What''s the key?" Whitehall asked, also feeling excited for her.


    "Ahem," Ziel coughed. "We are of limited time."


    Sadi let go of Whitehall and placed her hands behind her back, feeling a little embarrassed. "Of course," she muttered, her voice still sounding excited.


    Whitehall stepped forward to the tree, kneeling as he presented his Eye of the Deep. He placed the stone in the cage and watched as the projection of the Monarch gave his speech. His mind replayed at the other projection''s words as he walked through the hall.


    The projection had said that he would be in debt to the Monarch, and Whitehall wanted to outright reject Ghostwater because of that. He would be in debt to the Monarch for his trash. He waited for the new projection to finish. If he is considered in debt to a Monarch, he might as well ask for the answer he sought.


    Ask... the whisper echoed.


    A flicker of hesitation flashed as he thought of asking the tree how to get home. But he remembered Sunda had already told him he would be able to one day when he left this world.


    "How do I kill the Dreadgods?" he asked.


    The world darkened, and Whitehall felt an invisible force clench his heart. He looked around and could only see darkness. Sadi and Ziel were nowhere to be found.


    Swear on your soul that you will never reveal the information to anyone who does not possess such knowledge.


    Whitehall felt his chest tightened. He had not sworn anything, but he knew that he would die if he did not swear.


    "I swear," he groaned. The grip loosened, and Whitehall went to his knees as he caught his breath. He felt the oath tightened, and he was not sure to whom he was making the oath. Northstrider would be his best guess.


    Blue-and-purple light washed over him, and he knew then why he was made to swear such an oath. He knew the Monarch were not good people, but only now had he learnt the extent of their heartlessness. They would let millions die to remain in Cradle.


    "Did the tree answer you," Ziel''s voice came first.


    "Yes," Whitehall replied in between breaths. "But I was forced to swear an oath."


    "That''s too bad," Ziel replied. "Always wanted to know myself too."


    Whitehall looked around, and found who he was searching for. Sadi was cycling behind him, clutching a dream tablet in her hands.


    "She was worried," Ziel said. "But it was either cycle or her head would pop."


    Whitehall nodded and saw the transparent tube retracting into the trunk. He made his way to the basin, eyeing the white drop inside. He slurped it, making sure he swallowed everything. He sat in a cycling position, and a few seconds later, his eyes widened. It felt like he had been blind his whole life, and only now did he finally see. He was able to dissect his poison madra into different parts. Parts where it would cause harm and parts where it would benefit.


    He tried to activate the enforcer technique he had learned from his dream tablet, and it came quickly. He found himself easily identifying and separating the makeups of different toxins, combining the effects he wanted, and cycling them through his body. Could he do it directly on his body instead of his madra? he wondered. He identified a point of light in his skull as the Ghostwater. But before he could continue analysing, the point winked out.


    "It will draw from your spirit to restore itself over time," Ziel said, knowing what Whitehall was thinking.


    A few moments later, Sadi opened her eyes. "I''m done," she said, then turned her gaze to Whitehall. "I''m glad you''re okay. Did you get your answer?"


    Whitehall nodded, frowning. "They made me swear an oath not to reveal it."


    "That''s never good," Sadi replied.


    Whitehall felt his oath tightening after Sadi''s reply. He reasoned with it. How was he to tell how Sadi would find it? Technically, he had not revealed a single thing. The oath loosened.


    "Oath''s tight," he explained, massaging his chest.


    Meatball flew in, carrying a ring of keys, which jingled as she flew. The ring was too big, so she held it with her beak and legs. She dropped them at the centre of the three. She laughed, "Look what I have found."


    Ziel bent down and picked up the keys, holding them before his eyes.


    "What are those?" Whitehall asked.


    "Void keys," Ziel answered.


    Whitehall and Sadi gawked.


    "What? How?" Sadi was first to exclaim. "I thought the Heralds would''ve raided them."


    "The keys were guarded by Overlord-level poison traps," Meatball said smugly. "But I am a Garuda of poison; it strengthened me."


    "Probably because they''re the size of rice bowls," Ziel replied, tossing the keys to Sadi.


    Sadi caught them and activated one at random. Sure enough, the void key was smaller than her fists.


    "Thank you, Meatball," she ruffled the bird''s back. "I really like it."


    "They''re most likely failed ones," Ziel continued.


    Meatball stuck out her tongue. "Don''t be a party pooper."


    Ziel raised an eyebrow at the insult but did not reply. "We should go," he said, pulling out a black key, his gate key. "Hold on to me."


    "Wait!" Meatball yelped. "What about me?" she gestured to the oracle tree, her expression covered in disappointment.


    Ziel eyed her disinterestedly. "You don''t need one."


    Meatball''s expression changed in a blink and shrugged. "Ehh, true," she replied.


    Once everyone had held on to Ziel, he activated the gatekey. One moment, they were standing before the oracle tree. The next, they were standing on grass, a familiar hum of a handpan coming from nearby.

 Chapter 20: Screw you, Redmoon girl

    The Beast King sat on a log, one hand holding a tomahawk meat between his teeth and the other busy playing his instrument. A campfire was before him, casting shadows over several rats, who stood and listened to his tune.


    "I''m glad to see my disciples are finally back!" the Herald exclaimed, waving a tomahawk at them. "And Highgolds, nonetheless," he observed.


    "None of the wells work," Ziel said as he walked to sit against a large Vastwood Mammoth.


    "Hey guys!" a cheerful voice came from a baby mammoth beside Ziel.


    "Ellie?" Sadi asked.


    Ellie shifted through the cluster of other baby elephants and ran towards Sadi and Whitehall. "How was it?" she asked. "It''s been so boring out here," she complained.


    "Ellie, let''s not bother them too much. They must be tired from their journey," the large Vastwood Mammoth grumbled.


    "They''re fine, mom!" Ellie replied to the Vastwood Mammoth. "Right?" Ellie turned back to the two humans, her tail waggling.


    "Mom?" Whitehall eyed the Vastwood Mammoth Ziel was leaning against.


    "Ellie...," her mother grumbled. "It is past your bedtime. Come back, now!"


    Ellie straightened at her mother''s tone and returned to join the other sleeping calves without uttering a single word.


    The Beast King saw the state of Ziel''s spirit. "It was a long shot. We can try to make it into an elixir." He turned to face his disciples, smiling at Whitehall''s large tank on his back and Sadi''s bulging bag. "How much did you bring?"


    "A lot," Whitehall admitted, and he and Sadi placed their bags before their master. "From all three wells."


    The Beast King''s silver eyes sparkled at the sight. Whitehall was sure he already knew what was inside. "I knew you both won''t disappoint me."


    He continued after a moment. "You even got seeds of plants I did not see when I went there."


    "That was me!" Meatball yelped. "I gathered the seeds all on my own."


    "That was because you ate the ones we have gathered," Sadi pinched the bird''s cheek.


    "Owe owe owe owe," Meatball yelled. "I''ve said I''m sorry."


    The Beast King laughed. He placed a hand inside the bag, pulling out the ring of void keys. "You even found some void keys," he said. "Brilliant!"


    He pulled several glass vials from his soul space, filling them with the well water from jars and cylinders. Then, he placed them in order on two vial racks.


    "For you," he handed the first to Whitehall. "And you," he handed the other to Sadi. He clapped his hands together, which caused Ellie''s mother to trumpet in annoyance. He raised a hand in an apology before returning his attention to his disciples. "Those should be enough for you to reach peak Truegold and a little extra."


    Whitehall and Sadi bowed. "Thank you, master," they said in unison.


    The Beast King wiped an imaginary tear with a greasy finger. "My disciples, how true in heart you both are. Not even asking for anything in exchange."


    "You''ve given us more than we can ever repay, master," Whitehall said while bowing.


    "He is right, master," Sadi concurred.


    The Beast King looked up to the stars. "Bless my master''s soul; she was right once again." He returned his gaze. "Back straight."


    The two disciples complied.


    "Let it be known that I am a magnanimous master," The Beast King raised his voice, ignoring the glares from the sacred beast he had woken up. "I shall reward good deeds as they deserve. The seeds from Ghostwater shall bring the Wastelands to new heights. The water from the wells shall make our ponds and rivers a treasure for our people." He held his arms apart, his voice echoing through the woods.


    There was complete silence. The mouse by him clapped, and Whitehall and Sadi joined in after a moment.


    "Here," the Beast King tossed two keys at Whitehall and Sadi. "In exchange for what you have brought."


    Sadi''s eyes widened as she saw it. She activated the void key, and a space opened in the air. It was the size of a wardrobe. Although it was not as big as Lindon¡¯s, it was still big.


    "Thank you, master," Sadi lowered her head.


    Whitehall clutched the void key, eyeing it in his hand. "Master," he began.


    "Yes?" the Beast King raised his eyebrows.


    "I appreciate your help. But...," Whitehall paused. "Why?" he finally asked. "You''ve given us guidance and resources far beyond any master would. I don''t mean to offend. But why?"


    "What got you into this?" the Beast King asked, confused.


    Screw it, Whitehall thought. If Sunda had trusted the Beast King, so shall he. "I learned how to kill the Dreadgods," Whitehall replied. "And certain issues... from the Oracle tree."


    The Beast King''s eyes widened in understanding. When he spoke, his voice came low but with an authority Whitehall had never seen him use. "Everyone except Whitehall. Leave."


    The animals began leaving, Ziel sleeping on the mammoth''s back as it walked away. The rats moved away, and so did Sadi after Whitehall gave her a reassuring nod.


    Once the closest being was a hundred yards away, the Beast King drew a script in a circle around them with wind aura. Whitehall knew what it was for¡ªto keep their conversation private.


    The Beast King sighed once the privacy script was activated. "You learned about Hunger madra and where it came from," he stated more than asked.


    "The Monarchs," Whitehall replied. "They even made me swear an oath of secrecy."


    The Beast King spat to the side. "And how did it make you feel?"


    "I knew that people with such power are rarely good. But I never realised they would let their own people suffer."


    The Beast King clicked his tongue and nodded, closing his eyes. He spoke when he reopened them. "I was also bound to an oath to Northstrider. I was hoping you both would find out yourselves. I just did not expect it to be this soon."


    "Did Northstrider tell you?"


    "No," the Beast King answered. Then his voice turned into a whisper as if he feared someone would be listening to them despite the privacy scripts. "Sunda told me."The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Whitehall''s eyes widened. The bird had known. But why had she not spread the news out then? Surely, the world''s Sacred Artists would have gone against the Monarchs if they had known.


    "I don''t know how she knew," the Beast King whispered. "I know what you''re thinking. If we spread the word, other Sages and Heralds will surely challenge the Monarch."


    Whitehall nodded.


    "You''re wrong. I tried," the Beast King looked up to the stars.


    Whitehall saw the tiredness in his master''s face. He looked much older right now.


    "I was an Archlord when I began spreading the news throughout the Wasteland and Sacred Artist around our borders." The Beast King clenched his jaw and spoke through gritted teeth. "The Monarchs of the Dragons, Akura, and Northstrider, slew everyone that had learned of the secret without mercy. I was only spared because I was an Archlord nearing advancement and could be useful to Northstrider. Even then, he bound me with oaths tighter than yours."


    "We need to do something about this," Whitehall replied. "Millions of people are dying due to the Dreadgods."


    "I''m not," the Beast King replied. "My oaths barred me from planning any such actions."


    The Beast King was trying to tell Whitehall something, and Whitehall analysed his master''s words carefully. "Sunda?" he asked.


    "I wouldn''t know," the Beast King shook his head and smiled. "As I said, my oaths barred me from taking such actions. I am simply following a set of instructions left by my master."


    Whitehall nodded in realisation. "She wants to turn us into Monarchs. One can be easily beaten. But three-" Whitehall stopped as his master''s form disappeared in a blur. The next thing he knew, he was lifted in the air by his collar, his face close to his master''s.


    "No," his master growled, his silver eyes flaring. "Never a Monarch. Never a Sage. Do you understand?" he shook Whitehall.


    "But Ziel," Whitehall blurted.


    "I am not concerned with Ziel," the Beast King shook Whitehall again. "Do you understand?"


    Whitehall nodded furiously. The Beast King relaxed, gently placing Whitehall on the grass.


    "Why not a Sage?" Whitehall asked, fixing the collar of his shirt. He did not even know how to advance to Sage.


    "I don''t know," the Beast King replied. "Sunda refused to tell me. I think she would''ve if not for the oaths I had to swear. But whatever the reason is. She stressed it the most. Never a sage."


    Whitehall nodded and chose his words carefully. "What should I do now?"


    The Beast King smirked. "Get stronger. You must have heard by now that Northstrider has chosen you to represent him in a tournament."


    Whitehall nodded.


    "You''ll need to be Underlords to participate. I''ll let you know of further instructions when we get there."


    The Beast King clapped his hands twice, and the privacy scripts on the grass disappeared. Soon enough, the Sacred Beast returned and continued sleeping as if nothing had happened.


    "It sometimes happens," Whitehall heard Ziel''s voice and turned to see him approaching alongside Sadi.


    Sadi looked at Whitehall with a questioning gaze, to which Whitehall replied with various hand signs. I''ll tell you later.


    She nodded at him.


    "Oh my," the Beast King said, placing a hand on Whitehall''s shoulder. "I see you have your lifeline returned."


    "Yes, master," Whitehall nodded. The Beast King would have already known this. Whitehall had presented him with water from the Life Well just now. When Whitehall glanced up, he saw the Beast King gazing at Ziel.


    Ziel shrugged. "Might as well fix it now rather than waiting for Underlord. It was getting close."


    "What is done is done," The Beast King nodded with a smile. "And since you are so eager to help, I have something to occupy your time. I have a couple of Golds under my protection, and they have gotten themselves stuck. How about you three swing by and un-stuck them."


    Ziel sighed and summoned his hammer while Sadi and Whitehall placed their vial racks into their new void keys. "Where?"


    "Under the gold dragons," The Beast King snapped his fingers. "I''ll send you close. I heard an Underlord is keeping them warm."


    Ziel eyed the two Highgolds and sighed. Guess he was not allowed to die today.


    <hr>


    Yerin was unsure if she was having a good or bad day. A good day when she considered that now she was a Truegold. A bad day when she remembered an Underlady was after her and Mercy.


    "Congratulations! Should we run?" Mercy hobbled towards Yerin, her bow returning to a staff.


    "Not yet," Yerin said, turning behind them, guided by her Truegold perception. "We can''t look like cowards in front of our new guests." She readied her sword arms and her sword.


    Four figures emerged from the forest. The most alarming was a Truegold man with glowing emerald horns dragging a giant hammer behind him. He wore an expression like he had died two days ago. The next was a Highgold woman, tall with lean muscle. Her perception stopped at the last man with a Truegold sacred beast on his shoulder. The man was only a Highgold, so he should have been the least of her worries. But she recognised the uncovered part of his face. How would she ever forget?


    Her sword rang like a bell, sword aura heading straight at Whitehall. The horned man stretched his hand and created a circular green script, blocking the blow.


    "Looking to pick off the winner? Should''ve known you were a coward through and through, Whitehall." Yerin growled.


    The horned man sighed.


    To Yerin''s surprise, Whitehall was not the first to react. Her vision blurred, and only due to her Truegold perception did she know a pair of knives was coming for her. She met them with her master''s sword. The Highgold woman lept back, and it took a moment for Yerin to disperse the woman''s technique. With her vision cleared, Yerin saw the woman''s face clearly.


    "You want to go for a second round?" Yerin taunted. "You think your Highgold butter knives are sharper than my sword?"


    The dead-looking Truegold raised a hand, blocking Whitehall from joining the fight. "No," he drawled.


    The remnants from the dead dragons began to rise, and Yerin whipped a striker technique at the remnants. The remnants hissed as she slashed them.


    "We have to go," Yerin said to Mercy. She did not like it, but they were stuck between an Underlady and two Truegolds. She would give more odds of survival dealing with the Golds. She noticed Mercy''s gaze stuck towards where they were running from, and Yerin''s spirit crawled.


    Yerin looked behind her, and as she had sensed, the Underlady stood there, sword in hand.


    "On my blood and my name, I swear that you will suffer as none have suffered," she whispered, readying herself to strike.


    "What is happening?" Meatball''s voice cut through the tension, but everyone ignored her.


    "Don''t suppose you have another one of those shields," Yerin said to Mercy, who laughed lifelessly.


    The horned stranger stepped out of the trees. "I am the Beast King''s witness," he sighed. "I witness an Underlady attacking two Golds. Fall back, or he has cause to intervene."


    The dragon laughed. "And who are you?"


    "Underlady," the horned man replied. "Believe me when I say I am no one at all."


    The dragon''s golden eyes narrowed, and she bared her fangs. "No," she hissed. "I will not bow to you. Not even your master," She said, gathering madra on her sword to attack.


    "WHAT IS HAPPENING?" A piercing yell cut through the air.


    Yerin saw a black bird flying through the air, landing between the Underlady and her group. The bird faced the dragon, and Yerin saw Whitehall slowly make his way to join the bird, maintaining a considerable distance from Yerin. Good, Yerin thought.


    "Why are you attacking these lowly Golds, Underlady," Meatball asked, mocking the Golds behind her.


    "My sister was killed in Ghostwater," the dragon hissed. "The Skysworns entered without permission. It must have been them."


    Really? Yerin raised her eyebrows in surprise. She thinks Lindon, of all people, was responsible for killing a Truegold. It almost made her heart melt just thinking about it. Furthermore, something about the bird had made an Underlady dragon hesitate. That was when her perception landed on the bird. Poison, she sensed. Were dragons afraid of poison?


    "Ekerinatoth," the bird nodded, and the dragon''s grip on her sword tightened. "I remember her."


    "It was you who were responsible then," the dragon hissed.


    "Nope," the bird shook her head. "It was the Redmoon girl. I swear on my feathers." The bird plucked a single feather and let it drift onto the grass.


    The Underlady seemed to hesitate. "Redmoon?" she growled.


    "Yeap," the bird nodded. "Noble Lady Ekerinatoth was magnanimous enough to let us join her on her hunt." She used the word she recently learned from the Beast King. "In exchange for us paying tribute in terms of our treasures, of course."


    The Underlady sniffed in their direction. "I can smell her scent on both of you. But why then are you still alive, and yet she''s dead?"


    The bird looked down and spoke in the most solemn voice Yerin had ever heard. "The Redmoon was supposed to ally with us. And your sister''s last words were... traitor ."


    The Underlady growled and slammed her sword into the scabbard. "Very well, I do not sense any lies. But remember that I am letting you go only because I do not have time to hunt you and the Redmoon both." She turned her back and faced the sky.


    Yerin followed the Underlady''s gaze and saw a fortress-sized Thousand-Mile Cloud rushing towards them. Two Truegold dragons dropped down and knelt before the Underlady.


    "Sopharanatoth," one said, summoning a smaller Thousand-Mile Cloud.


    The Underlady, Sopharanatoth, did not reply and stepped onto the cloud.


    "I remember the scene," the bird continued. "The Redmoon Hall woman ambushed us from the shadows. Her Blood Shadow swallowing your sister''s body whole," the bird let out a tear. "That Blood monster said she would use your sister''s body as a template for her Blood Shadow. A trophy I remember she mentioned."


    Yerin looked behind her and saw the Highgold woman covering her face with her hands. Meanwhile, Whitehall stood alert, both hands behind his back next to the bird. She saw Whitehall kicked the bird lightly.


    "Owe!" the bird yelped. "The Underlady deserves to know exactly what happened to her sister!"


    The Underlady''s hand rested on the pommel of her blade. Yerin could hear her voice clearly as she spoke to the two Truegold dragons. "Today, we burn Redmoon Hall." Then, the cloud carried her to the sky.


    Yerin took a deep breath of relief as the Underlady left. It was short-lived, as she remembered Whitehall and the other woman still there. She kept her sword ready as she shifted her gaze. Mercy looked to her and then to the newcomers.


    "Hi!" Mercy bubbled. "I''m Mercy."


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested. Amalgam


    Date? Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    Dayang, princess of Damasca, stepped through her portal into the Latari Forest, the air thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves. This secluded grove was her sanctuary, a place she often visited to gather flowers for her ailing mother. She was not part of the royal lineage, as her mother was a concubine, so the King would not care if she went missing for a few hours a day. The forest, with its quiet beauty, offered a respite from the stifling politics of the palace.


    She wandered among the trees, her fingers brushing against the delicate petals of her favourites, lilacs and tulips. The soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds filled the air, a soothing symphony that eased her mind. But as she bent to pluck a particularly vibrant tulip, her nose wrinkled. A foul odour wafted through the air, sharp and acrid, like rotting meat. It was out of place in this serene setting, and her curiosity was piqued.


    Following the stench, she pushed through a thicket of underbrush and stopped short, her breath catching in her throat. Before her was a massive flower, its crimson petals sprawling wider than her arm span. The centre was a gaping void of darkness, and the stench emanating from it was almost overwhelming.


    "A Rafflesia," she murmured, her voice tinged with awe. She had only read about this rare bloom in books, its grotesque beauty and putrid smell described in vivid detail. But seeing it in person was something else entirely. It was both fascinating and repulsive, a paradox of nature.


    As she stared at the flower, a faint movement caught her eye. She crouched down, peering beneath the broad petals, and her heart leapt. There, huddled in the shadow of the Rafflesia, was a large black dog. Its fur was matted with blood, and fresh claw marks marred its side. The poor creature was panting heavily, its dark eyes glazed with pain.


    Without hesitation, Dayang knelt beside the dog, her hands moving instinctively to assess its injuries. She had learned the basics of traditional medicine from her mother, and though her knowledge was limited, she was determined to help. She gathered broad leaves and sturdy vines, fashioning makeshift bandages to staunch the bleeding. The dog yelped softly as she worked, but it didn''t struggle. It seemed to understand that she meant no harm.


    As she tended to the dog, she noticed the scars that crisscrossed its body¡ªold wounds, long healed but telling a story of countless battles. Her fingers traced the ridges of one particularly deep scar, and a shiver ran down her spine. What kind of beasts had this dog faced? How many times had it fought for its life in this very forest? The thought made her uneasy, and she realised how careless she had been, wandering these woods alone. Luck, it seemed, had been her only shield.


    By the time she finished, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold. The forest grew quieter, the shadows lengthening as night approached. Dayang sat back on her heels, wiping her hands on her dress. "There you go, buddy," she said softly, stroking the dog''s head. "You should be all right now."


    The dog looked up at her, its dark eyes filled with something she couldn''t quite place¡ªgratitude, perhaps, or a quiet intelligence. It let out a single, low bark as if to thank her.


    Dayang smiled, though her heart ached at the thought of leaving it behind. "I have to go now," she said, glancing at the darkening sky. "But maybe I''ll see you tomorrow."


    The dog watched her as she stood and stepped back through her portal, its gaze lingering even as the shimmering gateway closed behind her. For a moment, the forest felt emptier, as if the bond they had forged in those brief moments had left an indelible mark on both of them.

 Chapter 21: End of volume 1- End of Ghostwater

    Eithan Aurelius was having a good day. When he took everything into consideration, he changed his mind. He was having a fantastic day. He watched Fisher Gesha bowing before Emperor Naru Huan. He smiled as he watched the rewards she was given for her part in defeating Long Hook. She had outdone herself and deserved it.


    "Go in peace," Naru Huan announced to her before hardening his expression. "We must have an audience with our Underlord alone."


    Fisher Gesha glanced at Eithan as she left, trailed by three servants carrying her rewards in boxes. He winked.


    When the doors were shut, the mood in the room relaxed. Eithan yawned as he stretched his back.


    "Last audience for the day," Naru Huan said as Eithan approached him.


    They exchanged pleasantries and information about the effort against Redmoon Hall. Eithan even tried to pry some information about the Redmoon Hall Overlord stuck in the trackless sea. He knew exactly what was in the trackless sea but wanted to see what the Emperor knew¡ªnot much, it seems.


    The Emperor wanted Eithan to resume his task as Patriarch, but Eithan rejected the offer. It took some convincing, but the Emperor eventually relented. Now, Eithan could finally ask for what he wanted. The Emperor fell into Eithan''s trap when he brought up the subject of the Uncrowned Tournament.


    "The Akura family might compete, but we won''t. We can''t," Naru Huan said as they entered his office.


    Eithan explained how the Dreadgods'' strange activity would make the upcoming tournament a battle between Monarchs, and the Blackflame Empire would be forced to compete.


    Naru Huan sighed as he slouched on his chair. "What can you do, Eithan?"


    Eithan was practically shaking in excitement. "I have two, maybe three prospects of young Underlords. Given the ability to teach them more directly, I might be able to raise two of them in time."


    The Emperor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "All the more reason to reinstate you as Patriarch."


    "All the more reason to let me join the Skysworn," Eithan corrected.


    The Emperor gave him a sceptical look. "You think they would impress the Akura family?"


    "Huan," Eithan replied. "I think they could do a little better than that."


    A knock came on the door of the office. "Come in," Naru Huan said.


    The door opened, and a royal messenger stepped in, carrying a scroll. He handed it to the Emperor before bowing and leaving the room. Eithan raised an eyebrow as he saw the scroll''s wax seal. Akura Family?


    Naru Huan sighed as he saw the seal. "Thought I would finally have a break."


    "You certainly deserved one," Eithan joked.


    The Emperor unsealed the scroll and began reading the contents. He frowned at first, and it worsened as it continued. He raised an eye at Eithan. "What do you think?"


    "I don''t know what you are talking about," Eithan smiled.


    "Don''t act like you haven''t read it," Naru Huan replied.


    Eithan scoffed at the accusation. "I would never use my bloodline abilities to read contents meant for the Emperor without permission, no matter how tempting it is. Take that back."


    "Eithan," the Emperor''s voice came out irritated. "Fine," he placed the scroll face down on the table, a smirk forming on the corner of his lips. "You''re right. I do deserve a break. You want to join the Skysworn. Then you will. You''ll handle them."


    "Wait, what?" Eithan asked, picking up the paper and began reading.


    The confusion on Eithan''s face made Naru Huan''s day. "I''m granting you what you want. Welcome to the Skysworn," he stretched his hand, offering a handshake.


    It took Eithan a moment to respond. "I''m sure the Wasteland representatives would get along well with my adopted disciples," Eithan smiled, eagerly accepting the handshake. How bad could it be?


    <hr>


    "You killed my master," Yerin seethed, pointing her sword at Whitehall. "I can finally repay that debt."


    Whitehall had a long day. And now, tired as he was, he was in no mood to settle this peacefully. They had come here to save her. And that ungrateful brat now wants to kill him.


    "Let''s do it, then!" he yelled, grabbing Ekeri''s whip from his void key. The whip came out black and purple as he activated it with his madra.


    "Poison," Yerin spat. "Finally found your true Path, I see. It suits you perfectly. A coward''s Path."


    Sadi joined Whitehall''s side, her knives in both hands. "I shouldn''t be surprised that the disciple is as vile as her master," she shot back. "Threatening those that saved her."


    "I would not recommend fighting one another," Ziel said slowly, word by word. "I''m here as the Beast King''s witness, remember."


    Mercy looked uncomfortable from behind Yerin, but she readied her bow nonetheless. "I think we should listen to him."


    "No," Whitehall shook his head. He was not sure why, but he wanted this fight. He needed to let out some steam. "If the bitch wants to die. Then I say, let''s do it."


    "Agreed," Sadi added.


    Mercy facepalmed behind Yerin. "Maybe we can settle this over tea," she tried suggesting.


    "And get poisoned like they did to my master," Yerin spat. "I think not."


    "Are you going to keep talking, or will we fight?" Whitehall snapped.


    Yerin snarled and arched her sword, and her Blood Shadow did the same. When she was about to unleash her Rippling Sword technique, black shadow tendrils stopped her and her Blood Shadow''s hands. Circular green scripts also restrained her targets. She looked behind her and gave Mercy a betrayed look.


    "Please," Mercy smiled, and Yerin saw the strain in Mercy''s expression. "Let''s not fight."


    "I would listen to the Akura heir," Ziel added. "You wouldn''t want to create conflict with the Wasteland delegation."


    The tendrils pulled back, and Mercy laid flat on the ground, having run out of Madra. "Please, listen to him," Mercy whispered.


    With a growl, Yerin slammed her sword into her sheath, approaching Whitehall aggressively. She pointed a finger at him. She could kill him now with sword aura from her fingernails if she wanted to. "I know you were the mastermind behind my master''s death."


    Whitehall looked back at her with disdain.


    "I will avenge him, you hear me?" Yerin promised.


    Whitehall leaned closer, daring her to strike. "And who will avenge those he killed?" he whispered.


    Yerin took a step back, surprised by his words.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "Who will avenge the thousands that died due to him?" Whitehall continued, his voice rising with righteous anger. "We begged him to stop whatever madness he unleashed in the ancestor''s tomb. Every day, thousands of Dreadbeasts poured out when he opened the door. Do you know how your master reacted when we pleaded for him to stop? When we begged him for protection?" Whitehall snarled.


    Yerin gripped the pommel of her sword until her knuckles turned white.


    Whitehall''s face turned dark with fury. "He laughed at us," he seethed. "To him, our lives were a joke. We were nothing but ants."


    Yerin felt the echoes of her master''s remnant stir deep within her spirit, a fiery presence urging her to strike back. She gritted her teeth, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.


    "A lion doesn''t flinch when it crushes ants beneath its paw!" she shouted, her words sharp and defiant, brimming with unshaken resolve.


    "Then don''t be surprised when the ants bite back," Whitehall replied, his last two words carrying a pointed edge.


    The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Yerin regretted her outburst the instant it left her lips. Those words were not hers. They were her master''s remnant. His remnant burned hot and furious within her.


    Her master had raised her. He had taken her in when she was nothing but a lost and broken child. He had taught her the Sacred Arts with patience and care. He laughed with her, played with her, sat by her bedside when she was ill. He held her tightly when she wept over the loss of her entire family. He was her strength, her father in all but blood.


    But he was not perfect, and she knew that.


    Yerin loosened her grip on her sword, her hand trembling. The man Whitehall described, the Sage who laughed at the suffering of others, was not how she remembered him. Yet both could exist within the same person, and that gnawed at her soul. Now that she recalled, she remembered her master laughing in the faces of the Heaven''s Glory Elders.


    Unprepared by the outcome and the sudden emotion, she grew sick. The Path of Endless Sword was simple: fight what you cannot defeat and grow stronger. It was straightforward, but this battle inside her was not. She turned and ran, unable to hold back her tears.


    <hr>


    Ziel sighed as he watched Yerin run into the forest, the Akura heir running after her. He turned his gaze to Whitehall. "You two are going to go after them."


    "What?" Sadi asked as Whitehall stared blankly at the ground.


    "My mission was to handle the Underlady. You two''s is to keep the Akura heir safe," Ziel shrugged. "I''m only telling you two what the Beast King told me," he said before Sadi could speak, turning around and leaving.


    "When are we supposed to return?" Sadi called out to Ziel''s diminishing form.


    Ziel answered by shrugging his shoulders.


    Sadi sighed and turned to Whitehall. She was surprised to find him standing still, head still facing the ground. "Are you alright?" she asked.


    Whitehall exhaled. "I went too hard on her, didn''t I?"


    Sadi placed her hand on his shoulder. "She needed to learn eventually. Maybe it was good that she received your unfiltered honesty."


    "Maybe," Whitehall replied. "But why then do I feel like I just bullied a child to tears?"


    "It sucks, doesn''t it?"


    "Yeah. She lost her father."


    "And we lost a lot more," Sadi replied gently. "It''s a cruel world."


    Whitehall''s fist clenched. "It is."


    "Come," Sadi said, holding Whitehall''s hand and pulling him. "Let''s find her. I''ll talk to her."


    <hr>


    Yerin sat on the grass by the edge of a cliff, her legs pulled tightly to her chest. She heard footsteps approaching her. "Bleed and bury me, Mercy. You don''t have to check up on me like a prized cow." She turned to look over her shoulder. "I''m fine." She paused when she saw that it was not Mercy who was approaching her. Yerin looked away, returning her gaze to the forests below.


    "I thought you also had a bone to pick with me," Yerin grumbled. "Don''t sense the horned man around. Are you here to continue where we left off?"


    "No," Sadi sighed, halting a few metres behind Yerin. "Not exactly."


    "Then why are you here?"


    "To check on you," Sadi replied. "And apparently, we have a mission to keep you safe. At least until they come to pick us up."


    Yerin laughed. "That''s the funniest joke I ever heard."


    "Well, keep Akura Mercy safe, to be more precise," Sadi corrected.


    "Makes more sense." Yerin shrugged. "But who is chipped enough in the head to send you three?" Her perception informed her that Whitehall and the bird were nearby.


    "The Beast King," Sadi answered. "He doesn''t know about our history."


    "Thanks for letting me know. Now that you see we are prim and proper, feel free to leave as soon as possible," Yerin said. "Sooner would be prefer


    "Can''t do that, I''m afraid," Sadi shook her head.


    "Then go entertain Mercy and leave me alone," Yerin quipped.


    "I guess I can do that. Let me know if you have any questions," Sadi said, leaving.


    "Wait," Yerin stopped her. "Tell me true. What was my master like from your eyes? And don''t sugarcoat it."


    "Are you sure?" Sadi hesitated.


    "No," Yerin raised her hands in frustration. "But I need to know, don''t I?"


    The woman''s answer surprised Yerin. "No," Sadi answered. "Not if you don''t want to. There''s nothing wrong with remembering your master however you thought of him."


    Yerin sighed, her hands drifting to her stomach above her core. She thought of her master''s remnant. She remembered that his remnant''s instincts had previously suggested ludicrous advice. How was she supposed to listen to him if she did not even know what he was like? What he was truly like to others.


    Yerin turned to face the woman. When she saw Yerin''s expression, the woman dropped to sit across from her.


    "Did my master really laugh?" Yerin asked. "When the Elders begged him for help?"


    "I wasn''t there," the woman answered, devoid of anger. "But he did, according to my brother who was present."


    "How bad was it? The Dreadbeasts." Yerin knew that Dreadbeast activity increased when she and her master arrived in Sacred Valley. However, she never knew the extent.


    Sadi gulped, recalling her memories. "It was," she paused. "Bad."


    "Then Whitehall is right, true?" Yerin looked down. "Thousands died because of my master, and he laughed when you lot begged him for help."


    Sadi did not reply, and Yerin took it as an answer.


    "It doesn''t make me hate Whitehall any less," Yerin continued.


    "If it helps. He doesn''t expect it either." Sadi replied. "He only wants you to understand why he did what he did."


    Frustratingly, Yerin had to admit she understood. She would probably strike whoever was killing her family where they stood. But at the same time, it was her master that they killed.


    "Believe it or not, I understand your position," Sadi continued. "You don''t have to stop yourself from grieving someone you love. No matter how vile they could be. You didn''t lose an evil man. You lost someone who cared for you."


    "You lost family too?" Yerin asked.


    Sadi nodded. "My brother. He was not a good man, I know. He died over two years ago. I grieve for him to this day."


    "Let me guess," Yerin exhaled. "My master killed him."


    "No," Sadi answered. "You did."


    Yerin paused at the woman''s answer but did not sense any hostility in her voice. "Oh," she muttered. "So, you do have a bone to pick with me."


    "Not really," Sadi snorted. "He was an idiot for coming after you. Whitehall called him that in front of the other Elders."


    "Whitehall?" Yerin asked in surprise.


    "You didn''t know?" Sadi replied. "Whitehall was the only Elder who disapproved of the school coming after you."


    "Whitehall," Yerin repeated. "Disapproved the school hunting me? At least he got something correct."


    "Yeap," Sadi concurred. "He always says that the sins of the father are not the sins of the child."


    "That''s cute," Yerin snorted.


    "It is, isn''t it," Said mused. "If it helps, he was the one to prevent an all-out Jade assault on you."


    "And how did he do that?" Yerin asked, processing the information she was receiving.


    "He threatened to poison the Elders that approved of such an assault. He couldn''t outright ban any assault, especially by irons. But he did what he could."


    "I''m surprised the other Elders did not kill him," Yerin leaned back to the soft grass.


    "Most didn''t dare. He held too much goodwill with most of the school''s Jades."


    "I don''t get it," Yerin said, covering her eyes with her sleeves to block the moonlight. "Even if there were thousands of you, you are all Jades in the end. How did you kill my master?"


    "Poison," Sadi replied.


    "I know that," Yerin said in frustration. "He knew what he was drinking, but he assured me that his body would''ve been able to handle it like nothing."


    "I wouldn''t know," Sadi shrugged. "Whitehall made the poison. You would need to ask him."


    "Poison," Yerin spat. "I''d bet my soul against a rat''s tail that the Elders celebrated him with a grand party for killing a Sage."


    "No," Sadi muttered.


    Yerin sat straight to stare at the woman, whose gaze was fixed on the forests below as she spoke.


    "The Elders gave him scorn and disdain for what he did. Like you, they called him a coward for using such methods." Sadi smiled softly under the moonlight. "But that''s just who he is. He''d throw away his pride without hesitation if it meant keeping the people he cared about safe."


    Yerin gritted her teeth. "I get it; he''s not a bad man. You don''t have to butter him up like that."


    Sadi looked away, blushing.


    "What about you then," Yerin continued. "You say you don''t have a bone to pick with me. Yet earlier, you were ready to cross swords without a second thought."


    The woman rolled her eyes at Yerin and sighed. "It''s not about my brother. I remember when we fought at the ancestor''s tomb. There were two of us. Two Jades and you slapped us around like children. I hate feeling helpless. I wanted to test myself against you. At least test my resolve."


    Yerin nodded. She could respect that. "Lindon is too soft when we spar. If you''re going to stay around us for a while, I can use a sparring partner who will not hold anything back," Yerin offered the woman a hand.


    The woman smiled and accepted it. "Nasiri Sadi," she said.


    "Yerin," Yerin replied. "Yerin Aurelius."


    "Yerin!" Mercy''s voice cut through the air.


    Yerin''s Truegold perception swiped through her surroundings, and she immediately rushed in Mercy''s direction. Her legs carried her as fast as she could, and beyond, she saw a familiar tall form.


    "We came to save you!" Mercy beamed.


    Yerin crashed into Lindon, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tightly against her. She felt like she never wanted to let go.


    "You''re solid," she said, her voice muffled by his chest. "You made it."


    Lindon gazed at Whitehall and Sadi''s presence and, without hesitation, placed his real arm around her body protectively. "It''s been hard, hasn''t it?" he whispered to Yerin''s ear.


    Yerin nodded in his chest, and Lindon embraced her tighter. "Forgiveness. It took me too long."


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested. Amalgam


    Date? Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    The next morning, Dayang stepped through the swirling light of her portal and into the forest, inhaling deeply. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, the remnants of last night¡¯s rain still clinging to the leaves. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in golden shafts, painting the forest floor in a mosaic of light and shadow. Birds sang in the distance, their songs blending with the rustling of the wind through the trees.


    She moved with purpose, her sandals pressing softly into the damp ground as she walked toward the place she had found yesterday¡ªthe clearing where the great Rafflesia flower bloomed. Its crimson petals, massive and veined like living parchment, had been an incredible sight, one she had intended to sketch today.


    But as she approached, she stopped abruptly.


    A man sat beside the flower, his bare body catching the dappled morning light.


    Dayang''s breath hitched as she took him in. His skin was pale¡ªtoo pale, like the untouched side of a river stone. His black hair was woven into a long, intricate braid that trailed down his back, and his sharp, black eyes gleamed with something unreadable. He was lean but strong, his body sculpted like someone who had spent a lifetime running, fighting, surviving.


    But what truly held her gaze were the scars.


    Thin, jagged lines stretched across his chest and arms, some old and silvered with time, others fresh and red. She recognized those wounds immediately¡ªmarks from claws or blades, the same kind she had seen on the injured dog she had treated the day before. Her eyes drifted downward. There, scattered in the grass, were the very leaves she had used as makeshift bandages. But the wounds they had covered were gone, leaving only scars in their wake.


    She swallowed.


    The man watched her with a soft, knowing smile. "Hello, traveller," he said, his voice smooth, almost musical.


    Dayang blinked. "...He... hello," she stammered.


    "Thank you for saving me yesterday."


    Her body stiffened. The words took a moment to sink in.


    "You..." Her eyes widened slightly. "You were the dog."


    The man nodded, his black eyes glittering. "I was."


    Dayang''s heart pounded. Her mind raced to process what she had just heard, searching for logic where there was none. Shape-shifting? Was that possible? Had she somehow missed an ancient myth about creatures like this?


    She stared at him, searching for an explanation before finally blurting out the only thing she could think of: "How?"


    The man laughed, a rich, easy sound that curled around the space between them like mist over a river. "That''s a long story," he said.


    "I have time."


    The smile he gave her was impossibly gentle, almost mischievous. For some reason, the warmth of it made her cheeks flush. "Well then," he said, patting the ground beside him, "have a seat."


    Dayang hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, keeping a careful distance as she lowered herself onto the grass.


    "My name is Mang," the man said. He gestured to the towering trees and whispering leaves around them. "And welcome to my forest."


    Dayang hesitated, unsure how to respond. She had never read about anything like this. No books spoke of a shapeshifting man living in the depths of the woods. Still, she found herself answering. "My name is Dayang," she said slowly. Then, awkwardly, she raised both hands and gave him two thumbs up. "And... nice."


    The man¡ªMang¡ªtilted his head, then let out a laugh, a genuine, delighted sound that rang through the clearing.


    Dayang couldn''t help but laugh as well.

 Chapter 22: Abidan- A war in time

    Suriel


    Iteration Requested . Sanctum


    Date? Current Time


    Report Complete


    Suriel, Judge of the Pheonix division, sat as she and her presence ran through the Abidan Archives in her mind. She was searching for her friend, Ozriel.


    He had gone missing for a while now, and the Abidan needed their Reaper more than ever. A flicker of bitterness flashed through her: why did Ozriel not speak to her? Now that he is dead, there is nothing she can do other than find the cause of his death. If he were still alive, she would not know if she would forgive him.


    Sanctum was the heart of her power, the centre of the Phoenix division. And here, she could touch the Way so easily. Sanctum was a hospital of sorts, where everyone can recover through the Way. She felt the first Judge of the Abidan, Makiel, flexed his authority. The symbol on her office''s door, a green Pheonix, shined as it opened.


    "Makiel," she greeted the Hound, her voice calm and measured. "How may I help you?"


    "Suriel," the dark-skinned man replied, stepping into the room and halting on the opposite side of her desk. His sharp and calculating eyes met hers, but his posture was stiff, betraying something unspoken.


    "You are uninjured," she observed. "How may I help you."


    Makiel nodded slightly, acknowledging her observation before asking, "Are you here?"


    Suriel knew what the first Judge meant. "I am currently scattered through 50 iterations and soon will make contact with iteration 986. A Vroshir incursion is taking place, and they have taken control of the iteration''s defences."


    "Vroshirs are attacking everywhere," Makiel replied. He took a seat across her, eyeing Suriel carefully. "And yet you spread yourself so thick. "


    Suriel met his eyes, unflinched by his jibe. She wanted to get straight to the point. "Why are you here, Makiel?"


    "Tschk," Makiel kissed his teeth. "I''ve observed Cradle''s activities during my investigations on the effects of your meddling."


    "You found something related to Ozriel?" Suriel''s question came out less of a curiosity and more of a statement.


    For the first time since she had known him, Makiel hesitated. The rare vulnerability in his posture was almost imperceptible, but it was there. "Maybe," he said, his voice far softer than usual. "Our surveillance found an external incursion into Cradle fifty millennia ago." He tossed a dream tablet onto the desk as though it were a cursed item, something he was eager to rid himself of. His fingers twitched, reluctant to linger on the object any longer.


    Suriel caught the tablet in mid-air and drifted it towards her. Her presence got to work without needing her command. She had lived far longer than many beings, seen more things, and been to more worlds. But her eyes widened when her presence informed her of the tablet''s contents. She activated the tablet once, twice, and then a hundred more.


    A second after she received her tablet, her eyes focused on Makiel. "The cursed pair?" she asked. "I''ve never heard of it. The first generation of Judges never passed down information on this through our mantle," she realised. "Why?"


    Makiel''s gaze darkened; his eyes were like shadows on his dark skin, and his fists clenched at his sides. His voice was heavy when he spoke, and Suriel knew instantly that Makiel was as lost as he had never been.


    "I don''t know," Makiel admitted for the first time since he ascended, his voice raw.


    Suriel''s stomach tightened. It was one thing to hear that a fellow Judge did not know something; it was another entirely to hear it from Makiel, the one who always claimed to know everything. A Judge who had seen the branches of Fate, who never hesitated, never wavered. And now, in this moment, he admitted that even he was lost. "Where did you find it?" she asked, holding the ancient object tightly.


    "Our archives," he answered, his voice tinged with disbelief.


    "I''ve been there countless times, and so did our predecessors. Was it hidden so meticulously that it hasn''t been found for...," Suriel paused. She looked down at the dream tablet in her hand. "Since the dawn of the Abidan?"


    "Doesn''t make sense, does it?" Makiel muttered darkly.


    "When was a dream tablet first created?" Suriel asked her presence.


    Her presence''s answer sent chills down her spine. [Half a millennium after the founding of the Abidan].


    "I''ve verified the authenticity of the dream tablet," Makiel added with a bitter edge to his tone, his lips curling into a distasteful smirk. "It''s older than the first dream tablet ever created in history. It was created before the first generation of Judges retired."


    Suriel''s mind races; even her presence could not deduce anything with a probability of more than 0.2%. "How did you find this?" Suriel finally asked.


    Makiel lowered his eyes, his hands flexing as though gripping an invisible, heavy weight. He looked older than his years, Suriel thought. "Like I said, I was in the archives investigating Cradle''s activity and seeing the possible futures for the iteration." Makiel''s shivering finger pointed at the tablet in Suriel''s hands. "That''s when I felt the Way scream at me, pulling me towards it. The tablet wasn''t even hidden; it was just... there. Lying idly among others."


    "The birth of the first Vroshir," Suriel muttered. "It was the reason our organisation was born." Her green eyes narrowed. "But our founders beat them back," she explained what she saw in the tablet. "They''ve shattered and scattered the power of their leader. How would this have anything to do with Ozriel''s disappearance?"The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    "I don''t know," Makiel snarled through gritted teeth, each word laced with venom. "I was using the Way to find any clue to where Ozriel would be if he had gone missing."


    Suriel nodded. So, despite Makiel''s previous bravado and surety of Ozriel''s death, the Hound had hidden his uncertainty behind a mask all this time.


    Makiel continued. "But the Way guided me to that cursed tablet instead."


    Suriel looked down at the tablet, unsure herself. "This tablet was made at least half a millennium before it was possible." She looked up at the first Judge of Abidan. "What do we do now?"


    It was not often that Judges found themselves unable to control their emotions. But Makiel''s confusion, hesitancy, and fear were visible for Suriel to see. And the truth was, she had begun feeling the same. Makiel closed his eyes in thought, and Suriel was sure he was speaking with his presence on what to say.


    It took a moment for his eyes to reopen and another moment for him to speak. "That brings me to another concern that I... recently discovered ," Makiel''s last two words faltered slightly. "There was an incursion to Cradle over thirty-two millennia ago."


    "Thirty-two?" Suriel blurted, confused. "Our organisation has only existed for thirty. How would you know of an incursion two millennia before?"


    Makiel''s voice came out as a low growl. "Because during my investigation, I read through the records kept by the first-generation Judges. It was written there." He slammed his fist on the desk, his frustration finally breaking through. "It is impossible! I remembered having checked the records in the past! And only this time did I see it there! I would never miss such a key detail."


    Suriel felt Makiel''s presence sending her an image. She accepted it, and the scripts on her green eyes shifted as she viewed the image. There it was, the records of the first-generation Court of Seven, a book of endless pages. On the first line of the first page:


    2000 years before the establishment of the Court of Seven: Unknown incursion into Iteration 110: Cradle.


    "Check the record for any tampering," Suriel ordered her presence, not realising she had spoken it aloud. The original record was placed inside a high-security facility that only Judges could access, but she had to be sure.


    [Tampering not found], her presence replied.


    "When was this written, and by whom?" Suriel asked, her voice barely audible as she processed the implications of what she had just read.


    [Written by the first-generation Makiel thirty millennia ago.]


    "Impossible," Suriel muttered. She had seen the record previously and never remembered seeing such a line of an incursion to Cradle.


    [You''ve had], her presence informed.


    "Don''t trust your presence," Makiel said. "Mine also says it has always been there, but we both know that isn''t true."


    Suriel felt her skin grew pale. Currently, she was fighting a Vroshir incursion in four iterations, and she began to think it was four too much. Vroshir was attacking Abidan territory at all fronts, weakening their connection to the Way. The Mad King is out on the run, attacking iterations whenever a Judge is not nearby. And now Makiel had come to her and dropped another problem they had to deal with.


    "There''s more," Makiel growled.


    More? Suriel thought. "What is it?" she asked Makiel, masking her emotions with impassivity.


    "I went through Ozriel''s presence," Makiel replied.


    Suriel felt another message from Makiel through her presence. Like previously, she accepted it, but this time, it was a video of Ozriel from two millennia ago.


    Ozriel moved through Chaos, the blue of the Way far behind him. He found an unknown and unmarked Vroshir space station guarded by Nine Silverlords. Suriel watched as Ozriel easily dispatched the Silverlords, but her attention was not on the fight. The restoration aspect of the Way brought her attention to the space station and its blinking red lights.


    Just as soon as the red lights stopped permanently and turned dark, just before the space station imploded into nothingness, lives shot out of the space station into deep space. They were not lives such as living beings; the best way Suriel could describe them was consciousness. The restoration aspect of the Way resonated violently with the consciousness.


    I thought your aspect to the Way would allow you to see something I can''t," Makiel said. "Judging from your reaction, I think I''m right."


    "Multiple consciousness," Suriel answered. "They flowed deeper through Chaos before disappearing from Ozrie''s senses."


    Makiel nodded, and Suriel thought he looked more assured.


    "You have a theory?" Suriel asked.


    Makiel nodded. "It was initially unlikely, but you just made it more likely."


    Suriel watched Makiel''s eyes turn glassy as he viewed the future. His gaze returned shortly after. "Branches of the future have recently multiplied by the trillions. At first, I thought it was due to interference from the Mad King. Only he had the power to make such an impact on Fate. But now-"


    "Get to the point, Makiel," Suriel urged him. "We do not have much time."


    Makiel nodded, agreeing with Suriel''s sentiments. "Right now, I trust my memory more than my presence." His eyes met Suriel''s, and she saw his confident arrogance returning. "And I recall that the branches of Fate only began to multiply to this degree," he paused, and his voice came in slow as he spoke his following words. "Starting from two millennia ago."


    Suriel''s gaze turned cold as she believed Makiel''s words. She sensed no lies, and the Way seemed to agree with her. But a part of her was afraid. Because if what Makiel said was true, then the current Court of Seven were out of their depths.


    "Finish it, Makiel," Suriel whispered. "Do not stop now."


    Makiel''s stern gaze met Suriel''s unflinching coldness. "I believe that the consciousness from that ship was the incursion in Cradle thirty-two millennia ago."


    Suriel shivered as the Way echoed with Makiel''s words. She felt an unfamiliar comfort from the Way. Where it had always been a calming sense of order, this time, it was the nervousness and eagerness of war.


    "What do we do now?" Suriel asked.


    "The incursion occurred before the Eledari Pact, so we cannot take a direct intervention in Cradle," Makiel replied, his hands twitching. "Whatever those incursions and unknown Vroshir, they have abilities that we do not. Where the current Court of Seven is unmatched in our ability to manipulate the future, our enemies are manipulating the past."


    Suriel''s hand unconsciously moved to the razor on her hip.


    "We will need to learn the truth about our enemies," Makiel continued, locking his fingers together. His powers ran through the Way to the edges of Abidan territory as he continued, " I am issuing an order for all Judges to take up the front lines. No more running away from a fight. "


    Suriel knew who he was talking about. Some of her peers would run away whenever they saw that there was a sliver of a chance they would die in a battle.


    " If anyone runs away, unless, under special conditions, their mantle will be stripped for more worthy ones ," Makiel finished, his voice daring anyone to challenge his authority.


    Gadrael, the Titan''s authority, replied first through the Way, agreeing with Makiel''s orders. A moment later, Suriel joined in agreement. Then Razel, the Wolf, agreed, quickly followed by Zachariel, the Fox. A few seconds later, reluctantly and begrudgingly, Darandiel the Ghost and Telariel the Spider agreed.


    Makiel released his authority as the Court of Seven unanimously agreed. He met Suriel''s eyes. "The Phoenix is the most important Judge for this court; I will not allow you to search for or confront the Mad King."


    Suriel almost rolled her eyes. "What do you need me to do, Makiel?"


    Makiel closed his eyes. "I need you to temporarily let go of searching Ozriel," his eyes reopened. "I need you to search for a first-generation Judge. I need you to learn from them what exactly we are facing."


    Suriel nodded.


    ------------


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested. Amalgam


    Date? Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    "What''s wrong?" Mang asked, his voice softer than usual.


    Dayang had never looked this sad before, not in all her countless visits over the years. She was always a burst of energy, her presence as natural and bright as the morning sun filtering through the trees. But now, she sat curled in on herself, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears.


    "My mother passed," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Mang felt a pang in his chest. He had never met her mother, but he knew how often Dayang spoke of her¡ªhow she admired her wisdom, her strength, how she carried her words like a shield against the world.


    "I''m sorry," he said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. His touch was light, unsure.


    She leaned into him.


    They sat together under the shade of a towering tree, its gnarled roots twisting around them like ancient arms. The sun was high, but the thick canopy above softened its light, casting the world in hues of gold and green. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant rain.


    They spoke little. There was nothing that needed to be said.


    Dayang eventually shifted, resting against Mang¡¯s chest, and he let his arms wrap around her. He could feel the weight of her grief in the way she breathed, the way her fingers clutched lightly at the fabric of his tunic. She felt small like this¡ªso different from the stubborn, headstrong girl who had once walked into his clearing without fear.


    For a long while, they just stayed like that.


    Then, her voice broke the silence. "My father," she said hesitantly, as if forcing the words past a lump in her throat. "He''s planning to marry me off."


    Mang¡¯s arms stiffened slightly before he forced himself to relax. "...I see," he replied slowly. "And how do you feel about it?"


    "I hate it," Dayang admitted. Her voice shook with quiet anger. "I don''t want it. I''m not a bargaining chip. That¡¯s what my Mama always said."


    Mang hesitated, but then, before he could think better of it, the words left his mouth. "You could stay here."


    Dayang lifted her head, looking up at him.


    Mang cleared his throat, suddenly flustered. "I mean¡ªif you''re willing, of course." He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck.


    Dayang stared at him for a moment, then let out a small, tired laugh. A real laugh, despite everything. "I am," she said, smiling.


    Mang met her gaze, and for the first time since she had arrived that day, she looked like herself again.

 Chapter 23: Balloons

    Whitehall sat still under the tight wooden confines of a storage room in the Skysworn Cloudship. They had found the Cloudship Yerin, Lindon, and Mercy came to the island with. It was not as grandiose as the Beast King''s Cloudfortress, but at least it provided ample protection from the wind. Meatball perched on his shoulder, snapping her head towards the walls occasionally. Their master had sent them away on a mission with the Blackflame delegation for an undefined time. He had decided to keep his distance away from Yerin. Lindon was like a child between two divorced parents. On the one hand, he greatly respected Whitehall, but on the other hand, the Sword Sage''s disciple was still clearly displeased with Whitehall''s presence. At least Yerin''s relationship with Sadi was amicable. The two were looking forward to a spar based on their conversations Whitehall had overheard.


    Sadi had joined him inside the storage room for the past few days to cycle and develop her path based on what she had learned in Ghostwater. Tiny gold sparkles crashed against one another before her.


    Whitehall''s curiosity flared, and he couldn''t hold back his question any longer. "What are you trying to do?" he asked, his voice low.


    Sadi opened her eyes slowly, a deep sigh escaping her lips as she leaned back against the wooden wall. Whitehall noticed the shimmer of golden light in her eyes as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I''m so close," she said, her tone tinged with both frustration and determination. "The Archlord from the Dream Tablet uses a technique to create matter from thin air."


    Before Whitehall could respond, a sudden rush of air and a brief, loud crack startled him. Meatball, the little Garuda perched on his shoulder, shot through the wall of the Cloudship as a dark blur, soaring into the open sky. Fortunately, the hole she left behind was small, and the ship''s structural integrity held, sparing them from being thrown overboard.


    From above, they heard Yerin yell. "What was that?"


    Whitehall''s senses flickered, detecting a faint trace of poison madra outside. A moment later, Meatball''s voice, muffled by distance, replied. "Some owl remnant! Don''t worry, I''ve killed it."


    "Bleed me, are you trying to kill us, too? This Cloudship was ready to crumble two days ago!" Yerin shouted in exasperation.


    Whitehall dismissed the exchange, his attention already back on Sadi, who had continued her work. "Matter from light?" Whitehall asked, confusion marking his tone. "How is that supposed to work?"


    Sadi shook her head, eyes closed, the golden light still flickering around her hands. "I don''t have the full answers," she admitted, her voice quiet as the wind from the hole in the wall howled through the room. "But from what I''ve seen in the Dream Tablet and learned from the Oracle Tree, it has something to do with colliding light against itself."


    Whitehall furrowed his brow. "Is that what you were doing?" he asked, sensing that she was beginning to piece things together.


    "Yes," she replied with a nod, a flicker of frustration in her voice. "But most of the information from the Oracle Tree is focused on the techniques of Sacred Artists who walk the Light Path. There''s barely anything on the research done by scholars." She held her hands apart, and two beams of light shot out from the space between her palms. They collided with a soft hiss, and a thin trail of smoke began to rise from the point of impact. "One of the scholars figured out how to create smoke like this," she explained, her voice barely audible over the wind.


    Whitehall watched the small, weak plume of smoke with a mixture of awe and disappointment. His mind raced, but he couldn''t quite catch up with the implications of what he saw.


    Sadi continued, her voice growing more animated as she spoke of the scholar''s findings. "The theory is that if you can collide light under specific circumstances, it should be possible to create other types of matter." She paused, a note of disappointment in her words. "But the scholar couldn''t get it to work. He speculated that it had to do with his Truegold advancement."


    Whitehall was silent for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the smoke swirling upward in the air. His mind whirred with possibilities, trying to make sense of what Sadi had said.


    "Everything alright, Whitehall?" Sadi asked, breaking him from his thoughts. She tilted her head, a hint of concern in her golden eyes.


    "I might have a clue what you''re doing," Whitehall replied slowly after a moment of reflection. "I didn''t remember it clearly before, but now I''m recalling something similar from Earth."


    Sadi''s eyes sharpened with interest. "What do you mean?"


    Whitehall scratched his head, searching his memory for the details. "There''s this theory, by two scholars, that you can create matter by colliding light particles at the speed of light."


    Sadi raised an eyebrow, her scepticism evident. "I''ve tried that. It didn''t work. Anything else you can recall that might be more specific?"


    Whitehall hesitated, trying to recall the fragments of information he''d overheard during his time with the colonists. "I''m not the best person to answer your question," he said, his voice thoughtful, "but I think you might need a more... fundamental form of light."


    "A more fundamental form?" Sadi echoed, clearly confused. "What do you mean?"


    "Light isn''t just one thing," Whitehall explained, the words coming to him with effort. "It''s made of different types of particles. I overheard some of the educated folk talking about it. If I''m right, you''d need to collide specific particles at specific speeds to create matter. That''s all I remembered."


    Sadi''s eyes widened, a spark of realisation flashing in them. "I never thought about light as being made of multiple types of particles," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "You might be right." She closed her eyes again, her hands raised with renewed focus. The golden beams of light began to take shape in front of her. They were different this time¡ªthin, smaller than a needle, cutting through the air with precision. The lasers collided once again, but nothing happened. No explosion, no creation of new matter. They simply passed through each other, dissipating harmlessly.


    "No," Sadi muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with frustration as she mentally checked something off her list of failed attempts. She shook her head and tried again, pushing the light beams into a new configuration, but the result was the same¡ªnothing.


    Sensing her growing frustration, Whitehall decided to give her some space to work. He closed his eyes and focused on his own training, the thoughts of Sadi''s experiments fading into the background for the moment.


    As he settled into his cycling, Whitehall''s mind wandered back to the Sacred Artist he had seen in the Dream Tablet, the one who used multiple poisons in his enforcer techniques. Whitehall could see how the Sacred Beasts injected different toxins into their bodies, adjusting the effects of their techniques depending on the poison they used. If he could replicate something similar, he realised, it would give him the kind of versatility he had been striving for in his own techniques. But there was still one problem: he didn''t know exactly what poison the Archlord had used.


    He turned his focus inward, feeling the shifting currents of madra in his core. His veins were filled with venomous toxins from the Sacred Beasts of the Wastelands, a dangerous and diverse collection of poisons that would be the key to unlocking his technique. But which one to use? He was not sure yet. He was not given a list and description of the venom madra he had taken into his core.


    "Trial and error, I guess," Whitehall muttered, shaking his head. With a deep exhale, he prepared to inject himself with the venom of a particularly deadly King Cobra.


    <hr>


    Sadi''s eyes opened, and her technique failed when Dross''s voice suddenly echoed in her mind.


    [Attention all crew, this is the captain speaking. We have good news and bad news. The good news is that we are landing immediately. The bad news is that we''re crash landing.]


    Sadi cringed for a moment at Dross''s voice. She never got really used to having Dross speaking in her mind like that. She was about to wake Whitehall from his cycling when the Cloudship suddenly buckled in the sky, raging downwards. It felt as if something had reached inside her and lifted her insides. She leaned against the walls, her arms stretching to reach for the walls.


    "Whitehall," she called out, looking up as Whitehall''s body was thrown upwards. "Meatball!" she immediately yelled as she saw Whitehall''s condition.


    Whitehall''s form was stuck in a cycling position as he floated due to the weightlessness. His eyes were closed, and his limbs were rigid. What confused her the most was the purple hue that covered his entire skin. Dark veins ran through his body like chains.


    "Not that poison, you idiot," Meatball barked as the bird flew in from the same hole she created.


    "What''s wrong with him?" Sadi asked, struggling as she held on to keep her feet on the ground.


    "Bimbo tried experimenting with different chemicals on his body," Meatball replied, shooting three dark feathers that sank into Whitehall''s arms. "And he didn''t even consult me! A poison Sacred Beast."


    A few moments after the poison feathers had disappeared into Whitehall''s body, his eyes opened, and his arms began flailing. It took a few moments for him to regain his balance. "Oh," he muttered. "Thanks."


    "You good?" Sadi asked.


    "Yeah, I think so," Whitehall replied, one hand digging into the wooden wall and holding himself. He looked down at his other hand, clenching and unclenching it. His skin was a mix of purple and green, like a fresh bruise. He returned his gaze to his other hand, which had punched through the wooden wall like butter. "Whoa," he remarked.


    "He''ll be fine," Meatball called out, flying to Sadi and clenching the woman''s shirt on the shoulder with her talons. "We''re about to crash, so you might want to let go," the bird said to Sadi.


    "Huh?" Sadi asked, confused.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Whitehall will be fine," Meatball rolled her eyes.


    Sadi let go of her limbs and found herself floating mid-air. The next thing she knew, she was outside, watching the Cloudship descending into the grass near a small town. The Cloudship did not crash landed, but it still landed hard. The Cloudship dug a line of mud as it skidded to a halt, sending off grass in its surroundings. Surprisingly, the ship remained intact.


    Meatball flew her down over a small crowd that had gathered. Yerin, Mercy, Lindon, and Orthos came out first, and Yerin had a smug look on her face. Sadi and Meatball made their way to the storage room, where, after breaking down the wooden wall with a light thud, revealed Whitehall curled up into a ball.


    Their eyes met, and Whitehall narrowed his eyes. "Not a word," he said, uncurling from his pitiful state.


    Sadi tried to hold it; she indeed did. But Meatball was having none of it and burst out in laughter. "Look at you," the bird laughed. "You look like a puppy scared by the thunder."


    Sadi broke and started laughing, too, raising her hands in apologies. She stretched a hand to help Whitehall stand.


    His purple-green hand accepted her golden-nailed hand, and he pulled himself up. "I will remember this, you two," he whispered.


    Meatball''s laughter grew louder. "Hey everyone!" the bird yelled, flying towards the others, her voice disappearing in the distance. "Look what we found."


    Whitehall chased after Meatball, but as he stepped out of the wreckage, the sky began to darken.


    [Look, everyone! Here are some friends! That''s a relief, isn''t it?]


    Sadi and Whitehall caught up to the others. Little Blue and Meatball were having a chat next to Orthos. Sadi saw Yerin and Lindon looking up at the sky, and from their reaction, she reckoned the Cloudships above were not ''friends.''


    "Those aren''t friends, are they?" Sadi asked.


    [Of course they are], Dross replied first. [They were also quick to show. They must have followed us for days, worried sick].


    "No," Lindon and Yerin said at the same time.


    [What are you talking about? They even have the same green armour Lindon had?] Dross added.


    Sadi ignored Dross''s last sentence and immediately unleashed Lightcloack on the whole group. Yes, she decided to call it that. Turns out she was horrible with names.


    "Am I unable to see things, or did you guys just leave me?" Yerin was the first one to react to Sadi''s technique.


    "I''ve made us near invisible, at least harder to spot from high up there," Sadi answered. "We should be able to hide our presence if we veil ourselves. We should use the chance to run."


    "This is pretty cool," Mercy remarked, looking down at her invisible hands. "But how are we supposed to keep track of each other with a veil without seeing each other?"


    [Guys, please], Dross said with a soothing tone. [Relax. They are friends, and from the same organisation you are. Look, they''re even beginning to protect us from all sides].


    "A dragon does not hide!" Orthos grumbled. "A dragon burns those who dare challenge them!"


    [See, Orthos almost got it].


    "We''re heading for the town, right?" Sadi asked, shifting to the front of the group.


    "Yes," Lindon replied, his voice sounding strained. "I''ve got Orthos."


    "Put me down!" Orthos grumbled. "This is unbecoming of a dragon!"


    "We''re ready to go," Lindon continued.


    "Everyone hold hands," Sadi ordered. There were a few slaps, owes, and complaints, but eventually, everyone managed to hold onto one another.


    Sadi led the way, with Whitehall behind him. She did not need to look to recognise the feel of his hand. His hold was always firm yet gentle. Several green Thousand-Mile Clouds descended from the Cloudships. Thankfully, the Skysworn did not seem to have detected their escape and headed from the wrecked Cloudship instead.


    They carefully made their way through the crowd, and Sadi noticed colourful ribbons tied around tree trunks, creating a path. The crowd was also wearing fine silk clothing. She was not sure if the people here were rich or if they were celebrating something.


    The crowd watched as armoured Skysworn began scouring the area around the whole city, grabbing anyone resembling Lindon, Yerin, or Mercy.


    [Lindon told me to tell you to go up the hill], Dross spoke in Sadi''s mind. [Not that I agree that we should be running from our saviours].


    Sadi led the way up the hill, and the climb was challenging because she had to turn her body sideward to keep hold of Whitehall. Once they began to reach the peak, Sadi saw a small stone house at the centre with a sign detailing a dark crescent moon in white.


    Lindon audibly yelled out in excitement. "There! An Aurelius branch."


    Sadi sighed; thankfully, the Skysworns nearby had not heard them. As they approached the house, Sadi could not help but grow more disappointed. From the way Lindon previously spoke about the Aurelius family, which had adopted him and Yerin, it sounded like a big, powerful family. But the structure before her eyes looked more like an extra large storage room. At least the stones were clean, Sadi thought.


    "Uncloak me and Yerin," Lindon said as they got close to the house.


    Sadi did not argue and did as she was told. They were Aurelius, so it was probably for the best.


    "This is Wei Shi Lindon Aurelius and Yerin Aurelius, adopted disciples of the Aurelius family by the Patriarch of the Blackflame Empire, Eithan Aurelius!" Lindon yelled, knocking hard on the door with his knuckle.


    Sadi heard shuffling footsteps and hesitant whispers beyond the door.


    [Nice yelling. Loud, scary voice indeed] Dross commented. [The Underlord heard our calls for help and is on the way here. Wow, he is moving at top speed.]


    "Eithan?" Lindon asked.


    [No], Dross replied. [Unless he changed his hair to black and got new green wings goldsigns].


    "Gwei," Yerin said through gritted teeth. Her goldsigns arched towards the door, sending out sword aura that decimated the wooden door.


    A man and woman in blue Aurelius robes held a broom and a hairpin as weapons. A brush of her perception told Sadi that they were lowgolds.


    [They are definitely Aurelius], Dross commented. [Just look how clean this place is. Except for the dust and wood chips everywhere, of course].


    "Contact Eithan Aurelius," Lindon ordered the two bewildered Aurelius servants.


    Orthos unveiled his Spirit, sending a wave of Blackflame madra through their perception. "Now," the turtle growled, stepping into the stone house.


    "Blackflame," the male servant muttered.


    If the servants did not recognise Yerin or Lindon, they definitely recognised Orthos. They hurried to another room in the back of the house.


    "Umm, guys," Meatball muttered, looking behind. "I''m pretty sure that''s the Underlord."


    All gazes turned to follow Meatball''s. Up in the sky, standing on a green Thousand-Mile Cloud, wearing green Skysworn armour with gauntleted arms crossed, was a large man. His Spirit was unveiled, revealing his Underlord advancement.


    "Faces against the ground," Naru Gwei ordered; he did not shout, but his voice bellowed. "Spirits veiled, and hands behind your back." His gaze was firm on Yerin, Lindon, and Orthos.


    The Underlord had not seen through her, Whitehall, and Meatball''s veil, Sadi realised, judging by the man''s gaze. She pulled Whitehall and Meatball into the house.


    "We''re in," she whispered to Lindon as they entered.


    The two Aurelius servants, returning from the back room, jolted in surprise by Sadi''s voice, but they did not attack.


    Lindon and Yerin were conversing with the Underlord, and Sadi felt more Truegold spirits surrounding the Aurelius structure. "Is there an exit at the back?" she asked the servants.


    "No," the male servant replied, his eyes staring at Sadi''s general direction. His Lowgold Spirit was unable to pierce Sadi''s invisibility or her veil. The servant''s voice was shaky when he spoke, "We sent a message to the main branch of the Blackflame Empire. We should have received an acknowledgement by now." His Spirit stirred, and his eyes widened in panic. "Oh, great heavens!" He lowered himself to a kowtow, bowing towards Lindon and Yerin''s back. "Please, spare us!"


    No, he was bowing to the Underlord.


    <hr>


    Whitehall''s eyes darted to the field before him, counting the number of Truegolds. He could take them on, he told himself. Even that was sprinkled with self-doubt. He has killed a Truegold before.


    [With Lindon''s help], Dross''s voice echoed in his mind. [And now he is a Truegold. And he has me!]


    Whitehall ignored the purple spirit and began cycling his madra. There were three Truegolds and a dozen Highgolds. He could take them¡ªhe could kill them¡ªbut he didn''t want to.


    [Aww, that''s cute.]


    "Lindon, can your spirit read my mind?" Whitehall asked.


    [No], Dross popped out of Lindon. [But your face says it all].


    Whitehall ignored the idiot spirit inside Lindon''s head, instead trying to figure out a peaceful solution to get them out of this mess. Maybe if he came out as a delegation from the Wastelands, the Skysworns would back down.


    "Stay inside," he heard Sadi speak to the servants.


    Whitehall was about to inform Sadi of his plan to reveal themselves, but Lindon and Yerin''s spirits flared to life.


    [A bit too late for peaceful measures], Dross''s voice echoed.


    Lindon, his body covered by his Burning Cloak, shouted and punched through a wall made of green madra. The forger technique shattered under his blow, dissipating in an instant. The Truegold behind the technique blasted away, rolling and kicking up dust.


    "Tell me true," Yerin''s head snapped to him, her sword unsheathed, and her madra cycled in preparation for a technique. "What did they feed you in there?"


    "Sea monsters," Lindon answered, his eyes black and red.


    "Stay behind us," Yerin said, looking over her shoulder. She could not exactly see Whitehall but looked in their general direction.


    Whitehall clenched his fists and was about to protest, but Dross''s voice stopped him.


    [We''re trying not to kill them. We don''t want to antagonise our saviours too much].


    Whitehall stepped back bitterly. Dross was not exactly correct, but he was not wrong either. Whitehall''s techniques were all meant to disable and kill eventually. He had not tested enough of his poisons to know which one he could use to safely disable someone. His enforcer technique, however, he could use. It would not do him much good, but it was usable.


    Dross must have sensed his frustration and informed Lindon as Lindon spoke next. "This is not your battle, Elder Whitehall. Please, leave this to us."


    "Go," Sadi said to Lindon. "We''ll protect the servants."


    Lindon gave her a nod before exiting the house alongside Yerin and Orthos.


    "We would prefer to talk, but if it is a fight, you want." Lindon''s large, blazing form stood straight as black eyes met the Underlord''s. "Then a fight you shall have."


    The Underlord''s voice bellowed through the distance. "Take them."


    Whitehall watched techniques exchanged outside. A Truegold fired a lance of force straight to Lindon''s chest. And Whitehall''s eyes widened as he saw Lindon barely flinched. Lindon''s body twisted in a blur, dodging spears of golden light raining down on him. The Beast King would disapprove of such a light technique.


    Yerin jumped and slashed her blade mid-air, sending a wave of sword aura towards a Truegold standing on a Thousand-Mile Cloud. The sword aura cut the cloud in half as the Truegold jumped, avoiding the attack. The Truegold stretched a hand, blasting acidic madra towards Yerin.


    One moment, Yerin was floating in mid-air, and the next, her form disappeared, the acidic madra missing her and raining towards the ground below. The grass hissed into smoke as the acid rained on them. The next thing Whitehall saw, Yerin appeared behind the Truegold, gripping the Truegold''s Skysworn armor. They both slammed onto the ground; the Truegold landing face first with Yerin standing on his back. Yerin turned towards two Skysworns coming towards her. She snarled and disappeared again.


    Whitehall snapped his head towards Sadi and saw that her Lightcloak technique was gone. Her arms were stretched out as she watched the battlefield, her nails and eyes shining gold. He realised that she was supporting Yerin.


    Well, then, he would find a way to help Lindon. Not that it seemed he needed it. Lindon, Yerin, and Orthos were creating a pile of the Truegolds they had beaten. At the corner of his eyes, he saw Mercy sighing as she held her bow.


    Mercy shrugged at him. "They don''t need our help." She turned to the terrified servants at the back. "Hi, I''m Mercy!"


    "Akura!" the servants yelled in recognition, and they bowed, pressing their foreheads to the ground. "Please forgive and spare us!"


    Mercy''s smile faltered.


    Whitehall turned his attention back to the battle. Lindon and Yerin did not have any trouble handling the Truegolds; the Highgolds, however, presented a different set of issues. He remembered what Ziel had said previously, that more advanced Sacred Artists tend to avoid engaging those with lower advancement. Judging by how the Underlord had not moved, Whitehall reckoned the unspoken rule was still in service.


    Whitehall hastily gathered a mild toxic madra from a water snail in his palm, creating a wall of gas that prevented the Highgolds from reaching Lindon. The gas was supposed to be colourless, but his came out black and purple. The gas was not toxic and would be useless except for anaesthetic purposes. The Highgolds, however, did not know that and hesitated to step forward. The Skysworns'' eyes turned to Whitehall, their fists curled.


    One of them, carrying twin swords, snarled and braved through the dark miasma, charging straight at the Aurelius building. The rest quickly followed after when they saw that the gas had not immediately killed the first Skysworn. They were close to the building before black tendrils shot out towards them, binding them tightly like a mummy, exposing only their noses.


    Whitehall snapped his head and saw Mercy standing beside him by the doorway. Her bow was nocked, and her spirit flared Truegold. A brief spark of annoyance ran through him. Is everyone Truegold now? He felt left behind.


    "I hope the gas was not deadly," Mercy said next to him. She looked closer at the bound Skysworns, their chest rising and falling rapidly underneath her black tendrils. "Are they..." she paused, "laughing?"


    "Yes," Whitehall replied, trying to hide his irritation at her swift advancement. She was lowgold the last time he checked her spirit. "Laughing gas from water snails of the Wastelands."


    He felt boredom through his connection with Meatball and heard faint snoring at the back corner of the house. "Aren''t you going to help?" he asked the Garuda, who was faking sleep in the corner.


    "What for?" the bird yawned. "They''re handling it." Meatball must have felt Whitehall''s frustration as the bird waved him over. "Come here. Might as well spend the rest of the time cycling."


    Sadi was still busy with the battle, and seeing Mercy by her side, Whitehall decided she would be safe. He grumbled under his breath, walking past the servants and sitting next to Meatball. He opened his void key and pulled out a vial of Spirit Well water from the rack his master had given him. He swallowed and began cycling and figuring out the other toxins.


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested. Amalgam


    Date? Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    "Sangkuriang," Dayang whispered, gazing down at the tiny bundle in her arms. The name rolled off her tongue like a quiet prayer as if speaking it aloud would anchor her son to the world.


    Mang sat beside her, his eyes soft with wonder as he reached out and ran his fingers through the baby''s downy hair. "That''s a lovely name," he murmured.


    The fire in their modest home crackled gently, casting long shadows against the wooden walls. Outside, the night was alive with the distant hum of insects, the rustling leaves whispering in the wind. But within these walls, there was only warmth, only the quiet sanctuary of their love and the life they had created.


    Dayang lifted her gaze to Mang. "Will he inherit your powers?" she asked.


    Mang¡¯s smile faded slightly. His fingers stilled against Sangkuriang¡¯s hair. "I don''t know," he admitted. "But we must be careful. If the Chained finds out he is my son, they will hunt him, too."


    Dayang''s grip tightened around the baby. "We could protect him," she said, her voice firm. "Together."


    Mang shook his head. "No. They must not know you exist." His voice was heavy, laced with an unspoken pain. "If they do, they¡¯ll hunt you to get to me."


    Dayang frowned, searching his face. "Then what do we do?"


    Mang exhaled slowly, his eyes distant, as if already resigning himself to what must be done. "I''ll have to hide in my dog form," he said. "Sangkuriang must not know I exist. But I''ll always be here, watching over him."


    Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken sorrow.


    Dayang finally nodded, but there was defiance in her eyes. "Then at least... you need to change back to your human form occasionally." She tilted her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. "At least when Sangkuriang is asleep."


    For the first time that night, Mang laughed¡ªa real, full-bodied laugh that filled the space between them. Dayang joined in, their laughter mingling with the crackling fire, momentarily pushing back the weight of the future.


    No matter what lay ahead, they had this moment. And for now, that was enough.

 Chapter 24: Matter from Light

    Whitehall watched the sky through the windows of his and Sadi''s room on the Skysworn''s main Cloudship. The room was a standard Highgold Skysworn accommodation, he was told. However, the door was locked from the outside, and two Truegold guards guarded it at all times. It felt more like a luxurious prison than a room. Lindon''s group seemed to have found a peaceful solution to their confrontation with the Skysworns. They found him cycling alongside Meatball once the battle was over.


    Unlike the others, they did not handcuff Whitehall, Sadi, or Meatball with Halfsilver cuffs. At first, Whitehall thought it was because they were only Highgolds, but that would not explain why they did not restrain Meatball. The Skysworns simply asked them to follow and not create trouble. Lindon, Yerin, Orthos, and Mercy were separated from them when they boarded the Cloudship. Whitehall reckoned it was due to their status as Skysworn while he was from the Wasteland.


    Meatball lay down with her eyes closed in one corner of the room while Sadi cycled beside the bird; golden lights danced and collapsed onto each other before her, creating thicker and thicker puffs of smoke. The guards had forcibly entered the room when Sadi''s technique created an accidental explosion that rocked the walls. Whitehall had expected the Truegolds to arrest and accuse them of attempting to escape, but they simply told them to be more careful and mindful.


    He quickly realised that the Skysworns were weary of him, Sadi, and Meatball. They tried to keep their distance from them and spoke neither respectfully nor disrespectfully when they had to. Maybe they feared Meatball; the bird was a Truegold, after all.


    He looked down to the lands beneath through the window and could not help but smile. He had flown before on Sacred Beasts and the Wasteland Thousand-Mile cloud, but both experiences were either freezing, or he had to focus on not falling. Now, however, he could relax and enjoy the view.


    He knew he should be cycling and studying his techniques, but he had always wanted to know what flying on a plane was like. This was the next best thing, or even better, he reckoned. A sight in the distance caught his eyes. The sky was dark, but the towering steel reflected the moonlight.


    "Meatball," he called out to the bird.


    "Hmm?" the bird hummed, slowly opening her eyes.


    "What is that giant white sword?"


    Meatball waddled towards Whitehall and climbed up to perch on his shoulders. Her eyes locked onto the towering sword embedded in the ground Whitehall was pointing at. "Some kind of giant sword, I guess," the bird answered.


    Soon enough, a faint ring of white light could be seen in the distance. Whitehall recognised it instantly¡ªSamara''s ring. Sadi," he excitedly called out to the woman.


    He must have caught her by surprise as a brief flash of gold light filled the room and disappeared just as quickly. Huh?" she asked after shutting her technique.


    Whitehall pointed towards Samara''s ring, and Sadi''s enhanced vision allowed her to see without needing to stand by the window.


    "Wow," she said, her eyes glowing gold. "There are so many more colours." Her gaze softened, and she saw a beauty Whitehall could not see. "And so much more."


    "What do you mean?" Whitehall asked. Samara''s ring looked the same to him, albeit more faint due to the distance.


    "The invisible light," Sadi awed, her voice barely a whisper. There is a curtain that Samara''s ring draped over the whole of Sacred Valley," she explained. Like a jellyfish."


    That prompted Whitehall to ask, "You can see invisible light?"


    "Yes," she replied, then shook her head. "Not really like that. More like sense it, like between using my perception and eyes," she struggled to explain.


    "So that''s your home," Meatball pointed out.


    "Yeah," Whitehall replied. He wondered what the other school elders were doing now¡ªif they had stopped his charities once he was no longer there or if someone else had continued them. He looked to his right and saw Sadi''s eyes glinting at their home. Stars of white reflected off her gold iris.


    An announcement echoed through the construct on the ceiling. Arrival to Stormrock in forty minutes."


    "You should go back cycling," Meatball said to Whitehall. You need to do your fair share of hard work."


    "What do you mean?" Whitehall asked.


    Meatball looked at him incredulously. Identifying the poisons of our madra," she said as if it was apparent. "What do you think I''ve been doing all this time? Sleeping?"


    Whitehall did, and it must have shown either through their bond or his face because Meatball snorted and shook her head. Unbelievable."


    "Alright, alright," Whitehall replied, taking a seat by the wall.


    Whitehall closed his eyes and isolated a strand of toxic madra from his core. It carried the essence of a Wood Komodo Dragon''s venom. According to the dream tablets he''d studied, the Komodo''s saliva poisoned prey over time. But as he delved deeper into the venom''s structure, he noticed a flaw in the tablets'' description. The poison wasn''t designed to kill quickly, like a snake''s venom. Instead, it lowered blood pressure and induced shock, creeping through its victim''s system until death arrived unnoticed.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    A weapon of inevitability.


    He tried to think of a practical way to use the venom but could not think of one other than sending a message, making sure the target died when they reached safety and into their master''s or loved ones'' hands. He reminded himself that this was not Earth. Sacred arts changed the rules. The venom itself may be weak, but it could become deadly with advancement. Maybe he could enhance the poison to kill the target whenever he wanted to once injected.


    "You''re overthinking," Meatball chirped from his shoulder.


    Whitehall opened his eyes, his focus breaking. "What do you mean?"


    "The dream tablet Ziel gave you was poison-path, right?" the bird asked, her head cocked at an angle.


    "Right¡­" Whitehall hesitated.


    "But we''re not on a purely poison-path, are we?"


    "No," he admitted slowly. "Our Path of the Atterist also uses life madra."


    "Exactly," Meatball squawked, fluffing her feathers. "The enforcer technique idea? Good start, sure. But¡ª" She paused as if trying to untangle her own thoughts. "Never mind that," she shook her head. "Let''s just continue identifying the venoms, and then we can take it from there. But don''t forget the life aspect."


    Whitehall frowned, sensing there was more she was not saying. "How do you know so much?"


    Meatball fixed him with a look, her beady eyes narrowing as if he''d insulted her intelligence. "I''ve lived in the Wasteland my whole life. You think I just rotted in my mother''s nest like some egg lump?"


    Whitehall raised an eyebrow. "You learned the Path of the Atterist?"


    "Not exactly," she admitted with a shrug. "My situation''s¡­ unique. I picked and chose techniques from all kinds of Poison Paths¡ªwhatever I fancied. Path of the Atterist was one of my favourites."


    Whitehall waited, sensing there was a punchline coming.


    "And?"


    "Not ''and.'' But, " Meatball corrected, her tone smug.


    "But?"


    Meatball''s gaze gleamed with the mischievous light of someone about to deliver something outrageous. "But ours will be better. Stronger. Deadlier." She flapped her wings for emphasis. "We''ll poison and scheme our way to the top. Our Path of the Godkiller will be unstoppable! Even gods will tremble and beg for mercy before us!"


    Her laughter started low and rose to a maniacal crescendo, echoing through the room. Whitehall rolled his eyes as Sadi stirred nearby, cracking an eye open to see what was happening.


    "Meatball," he said flatly, waiting for her to stop cackling. "You didn''t seriously name our Path after my iron body, did you?"


    "Of course not," she huffed, feigning indignation. "Your iron body was named after it. The Beast King botched the reveal, honestly." She waved a wing dismissively. "Now stop brooding and cycle your madra. Don''t get stuck on what you could do with venom. Study its effects first, and the uses will come later."


    <hr>


    Sadi closed her eyes, focusing intently on her technique. She was starting to understand now. Whitehall had been right: light was not just a singular force but made of infinitesimally small particles far beyond her perception.


    She summoned a single particle of light, isolating it in her mind. Slowly, methodically, she peeled away its layers. Each fragment sparked golden bursts, like miniature arcs of electricity. The process was painstaking, demanding every ounce of her concentration.


    She felt a guiding presence as she worked¡ªa force smoothing her path and illuminating concepts she could not articulate. Sunda''s remnant. She was certain of it. The remnant''s guidance was not instructional so much as instinctual, a deep, almost intuitive understanding coursing through her.


    Layer by layer, particle by particle, Sadi persisted. She imagined another dot of light and began the process anew. It was gruelling work, and the strain on her mind threatened to break her concentration. Yet with each attempt, she improved, her progress accelerating. The remnant''s warmth reassured her, whispering that true mastery would come after her next advancement.


    But Sadi was stubborn. She wanted to master this technique first. She had done the same with her Blindingwrath¡ªit had been difficult at first but became second nature through repetition.


    Her thoughts drifted as she peeled apart another particle. She lacked offensive techniques, an issue she could no longer ignore. She could fashion light into lances and arrows like the Skysworns, but she remembered how the Beast King scorned the idea. She recalled the dream tablet¡ªthe Emperor figure, forging towering pillars of black steel from light itself in the heavens.


    That was her goal.


    She did not need a dozen techniques. She needed one technique, one that would serve every need¡ªstriker, defence, enforcer, ruler. She envisioned herself wielding the Emperor''s power, refining it into something uniquely hers.


    She snapped her focus back, her determination renewed. Sunda''s remnant nudged her forward, but now she worked ahead of its guidance, her instincts sharpening.


    Fifty particles floated in her perception now, each isolated and vibrating with potential. Sadi clenched her fists together like how she would when bowing. The particles obeyed, colliding with explosive force. A shockwave erupted outward with a loud boom, but the wave avoided her, flowing harmlessly around her body.


    When she opened her eyes, the room was filled with smoke, dense as storm clouds. She squinted, her enhanced vision picking out a single speck amid the haze. Her heart leapt. The speck was not there before. She felt it, her madra woven through the dust.


    She had created it.


    "Yes!" she yelled, her voice bursting with joy. "I bloody did it!"


    She spun around, searching for Whitehall and Meatball, but the smoke was too thick. If not for her enhanced vision, her hands would be barely visible.


    The door to their room slammed open, and wind aura rushed in and pulled out the smoke. Once the smoke cleared, she saw two Truegold Skysworns holding a vacuum construct. It was a different set of guards than the last ones that had entered. Neither the man nor the woman looked impressed.


    "You''re disembarking in five minutes," the woman barked, her tone curt. She snapped the door shut behind her.


    The Skysworn''s reaction did not sour Sadi''s mood. She turned toward the far wall, where Whitehall and Meatball stood pressed flat, their expressions a mix of awe and alarm.


    Both were dishevelled¡ªWhitehall''s hair and clothes coated in black dust, his breathing ragged. Meatball''s feathers stuck out at odd angles, her beady eyes wide with disbelief.


    "Warn us next time, would you?" Whitehall gasped after a long moment, clutching his chest in an attempt to calm his beating heart.


    But Sadi was too exhilarated to care. She held up her finger, where a tiny speck of dust glimmered faintly. "Look at this!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement.


    Whitehall blinked, wiping soot from his face. Meatball tilted her head, her gaze incredulous.


    "She''s lost it," the bird muttered.


    <hr>


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    "Remember, Sangkuriang," Dayang said, kneeling to his level and gripping his small shoulders, "you must not go past the border." Her voice was gentle but firm, layered with the same warning she''d given countless times before. "And follow Mang. He''ll guide you."


    Beside them, the large black dog let out a short bark, his dark eyes gleaming with understanding.


    Sangkuriang, however, let out an exaggerated sigh, crossing his arms. "I''m six, Mama! I can handle myself." He puffed out his chest as if his small frame could prove his words.


    Dayang¡¯s lips twitched, torn between exasperation and amusement. "Being six does not make you invincible," she reminded him. "You must still be careful."


    The morning sun filtered through the trees, bathing the forest clearing in golden light. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, the hum of cicadas blending with the rustling leaves. It was a beautiful day, perfect for adventure¡ªbut danger lurked in places unseen.


    Dayang and Mang had spent the last few years combing the forest, ensuring no sign of the Chained remained. The woods had been peaceful, quiet. Still, she could not shake the feeling that danger could return at any time.


    She took a deep breath. "And be back before sunset."


    "Yes, Mama!" Sangkuriang''s excitement bubbled over as he bounced on his feet. He turned and took a step toward the trees, but Dayang pulled him into a quick hug before he could rush off.


    "Alright, just be careful," she whispered against his hair.


    Then, she bent down and placed a hand on Mang¡¯s broad head. The dog¡¯s fur was thick beneath her palm, his presence a comfort. "Keep him safe," she murmured, her voice laced with trust and quiet desperation.


    Mang gave a solemn bark as if promising her that no harm would come to the boy.


    With a final grin, Sangkuriang turned and sprinted into the woods, Mang trotting beside him, a silent shadow.


    Dayang stood at the edge of the clearing, watching until they disappeared into the trees. Only when the last rustle of leaves faded did she let out a breath she hadn''t realized she was holding.


    The forest was safe.


    At least for now.

 Chapter 25: Meeting Eithan

    Sadi gazed out over Stormrock, the Skysworn''s floating city, perched atop a dense, swirling green cloudbank. From her vantage point, the city looked alive with motion and energy. Below, the streets were bustling with activity: traders carried goods, Skysworn sparred in training yards, and ordinary citizens hurried about their lives. Some soared through the air on shimmering Thousand-Mile Clouds, streaks of light trailing behind them. In contrast, others displayed goldsigns¡ªarms of gleaming metal, crystalline limbs, or other fantastical features that marked their advancement.


    Her eyes lingered on a group of children playing in a cobbled square, their laughter visible even from this height. They kicked a ball construct that sparked and pulsed with light whenever it was struck, the glowing trails forming patterns in the air like fireflies in the evening. The simple joy of their game stood in stark contrast to the imposing black walls encircling the city. Those broad and seamless walls bristled with defenders¡ªrows of Skysworn clad in armour, vigilant atop their posts. At regular intervals, towering guard towers loomed, their sharp spires piercing the sky, their tops outfitted with glowing formations that pulsed with restrained madra. Stormrock was not just a city; it was a fortress.


    She had first noticed it when they began their journey away from Ghostwater¡ªthe vital aura was faint, far weaker than she had expected. As they approached Stormrock, that sensation only intensified. It was disorienting; she had assumed that anywhere outside the confines of Sacred Valley would be vibrant with vital aura. But now, she was struck by just how abundant it had been in the Wastelands. Perhaps that abundance explained the density of Heralds there.


    In contrast, the Blackflame Empire felt almost diminished. Their Emperor, as powerful as he was, stood only at the level of an Overlord. Sadi understood that an Overlord was no trivial force, but after meeting Sages and Heralds, the Emperor''s power seemed... underwhelming. It was a humbling reminder of the vast disparity between strength in different regions of the world.


    The Beast King had not sent any additional orders besides the one Ziel had given them. She reckoned her master had known of the lack of vital aura, which was why he had prepared the vials for them to reach Truegold. Even then, she hoped she would not have to stay here for long. Her fondness for the Wastelands grew the longer she was away.


    Ever since she had managed to create dust, her smile had been plastered on her face. She had hoped to create something more initially, but her expectations had lowered massively when she began experimenting with her technique.


    She watched as the Cloudfortress flew past the guards without slowing down while other transport, such as flying chariots, was stopped by flying Skysworns. The Cloudfortress headed towards the tallest tower in the flying city, and she reckoned it was the Skysworn''s headquarters, Starsweep Tower. The door to their room opened, and a Skysworn Truegold with long hair and a sword by her hip gestured them to follow.


    Whitehall was wiping his face with a spare towel while Meatball was licking her feathers. They both stood up, grumbling under their breaths. They weren''t exactly clean, but at least they were cleaner.


    As they headed to the exit, they were escorted by two Skysworns. Curious enough, they saw Lindon, Yerin, Mercy, and Orthos waiting for them by the exit, flanked on all sides by a dozen Skysworns. The Skysworns were tense, and Sadi saw their hands were itching to reach for their weapons.


    Yerin''s voice broke through the tension. "What happened to you two?" she pointed to Whitehall and Meatball, specifically at their dishevelled selves. "Did they put you in an oven?"


    Whitehall and Meatball glared at Sadi, who shrugged with a smile.


    "Quiet!" one of the Truegolds barked.


    Yerin stared daggers at the woman, who seemed to shrink beneath her gaze. It appeared the Skysworns were afraid of them.


    When the Hatch began to open, heavy footsteps echoed behind them. Naru Gwei led the way out of the Cloudfortress, and their escorts followed behind.


    Sadi had to double-check that she was not using her Blindingwrath, as she felt as if she were invisible. The Skysworns'' eyes and perception were fixated on Lindon and Yerin, and they glared at the two.


    They followed Naru Gwei into his office, where their escorts departed, and she saw another Skysworn Truegold waiting for them when they entered. Yerin poised her sword arms while Mercy seemed to tense slightly. Lindon looked like he was itching for a fight, but he always looked that way. Whoever the Truegold was, they had bad blood with him.


    Before it could escalate further, Whitehall asked, "Umm, who are you?" he pointed to his side. Beside him was a tall, lean man with long, flowing blonde hair. He wore the standard green SKysworn armor and his smile was wide and genuine as he held a vacuum construct against Whitehall''s dusty clothes.


    Where did he come from, Sadi thought. She had not even felt him, and by the surprised looks of everyone in the room, she reckoned neither did they.


    "Eithan Aurelius, number one janitor of the Blackflame Empire, at your service," the man bowed like a musician at the end of their concert.


    Meatball fired harmless feathers above Eithan that drifted gently around him like black confetti. "You sure are," the bird chirped, extending her wings so everyone could see. "Look how clean I am."


    "Eithan!" Lindon called out in recognition.


    Naru Gwei looked like he wanted to be anywhere but around that man.


    Lindon continued, oblivious to Naru Gwei''s annoyed expression. "We sent a message to the Aurelius."


    "I am aware," Eithan smiled. "Fortunately, the family''s elders had seen me fit to serve a greater purpose than Patriarch." His smile did not fit what he was saying.


    "And what would be greater than being a Patriarch?" Yerin scoffed.


    Eithan''s smile grew wider than Sadi had thought possible. "To train a new generation of Underlords to represent the Empire in the Uncrowned tournament, of course." His gaze drifted slowly to Sadi and Whitehall. "And the Wastelands," he added.


    "We have no evidence of that," Naru Gwei said, annoyedly closing his eyes.


    "Don''t we, Gwei?" Eithan addressed the Skysworn Leader. He looked to the unknown Truegold, who was having a face-off with Yerin. "Tell me, Bai Rou, did the Akura say anything to you?"


    Bai Rou''s face seemed to pale slightly, and he shook his head. "I swore an oath to reveal nothing until the proper time."


    "Mercy, then," Eithan said, turning his attention to the young Akura. Young Miss Akura, you have heard what I suggested. Could you share with us any signs of your clan putting unusual emphasis on raising up young elites?"


    Yerin replied first, showing surprise on her face. "The Sage of Silver Heart said something about a competition and why all the Truegolds were there."


    "I think so," Mercy replied. "It would make sense if they sent Harmony and Aunt Charity to Ghostwater."


    Sadi''s mind buzzed in thought. The Beast King would know about this Uncrowned tournament if there was one. And if what Yerin said was true, then did the Beast King expect her, Whitehall, and Meatball to represent the Wastelands?


    Eithan moved to rest his elbow on Naru Gwei''s shoulder. The Skysworn Leader tried to avoid it, but it landed anyway. "See Gwei. What did I tell you."


    "Harmony, huh? So that was his name," Whitehall''s voice cut through the air. "The one that killed the other Skysworn."


    "Renfei," Bai Rou gave a name to the dead Skysworn. "The Akura Clan had taken responsibility for her death.


    "And how will they take it?" Whitehall asked. "Will Harmony go to prison for it?"


    From the corner of her eyes, Sadi saw Mercy squirming from Whitehall''s questions.


    Eithan spoke first, walking to Whitehall with a surprising speed and grace, placing two hands on his shoulder and smiling. "My, my, you indeed have the drive of the Wastelands. But to answer your question: who are we to question the actions of a Monarch''s family? Especially when we are their vassal?" Eithan''s blue eyes sparkled, waiting for a challenge from Whitehall.


    "So that''s it, then?" Whitehall''s black eyes met Eithan''s blue. "They are free to kill whoever they want to, without repercussions."


    Based on the uneasy look of everyone in the room, Sadi knew Whitehall''s questioning was heading towards dangerous territory. Naru Gwei''s face was blank, Bai Rou looked away, Yerin raised an eyebrow, Lindon looked uneasy, Orthos pulled his head into his shell, and Mercy''s face was white as linen.


    Eithan, however, did not seem to mind. "Your master would be proud of you, based on what I have heard of the Beast King."


    Sadi felt the room go quiet as Eithan revealed who she and Whitehall''s master were. He winked at Sadi, reminding her that he had not missed her.


    Naru Gwei sighed as he looked at the people gathered in his office: An Akura, a disciple of a Sword Sage, two Blackflames, the most annoying man he had ever met, and the newest addition of disciples of a Herald whose lands shared borders with the Blackflame Empire. He was very tempted to retire on the spot.


    Eithan must have detected Naru Gwei''s thoughts as he whirled to face the Underlord. He drew a cross on his heart as he spoke, "I, Eithan Aurelius, hereby swear on my soul that I will take these young sacred artists and sacred beasts," he made sure not to leave out Orthos and Meatball "into my Skysworn squad. I will do everything in my power to lead them to their own benefit and the benefit of the Blackflame Empire."


    Naru Gwei did not seem amused by Eithan''s soul oath. "That was not a request-"


    Eithan interrupted him before the Skysworn Leader could finish. "In addition, I will follow your orders during my duties and not personally spend more time in your presence than required."


    "DEAL!" Naru Gwei yelled immediately without hesitation, his voice bellowing through the tower.


    Eithan clapped his hands together. "Brilliant." He began walking out of the office, gesturing for everyone to follow him. "Come along, children!" He looked at Orthos. "And ancient Sacred Beasts," leaving a relieved Naru Gwei and a scowling Bai Rou behind.


    <hr>


    Eithan sent his adopted family and Mercy to retire for the day while he got to know the newest members from the Wastelands in his office. Per Huan''s orders, he had a sense of how he could help them, but in the end, he did not know them. He hoped they would not fail his training, and his first impression of the two sacred artists was that they would not.


    Eithan addressed the woman first. She had not spoken a word inside Gwei''s office, choosing to observe instead. "So," he began. "It is nice to finally meet you, miss?"


    "Sadi," the woman answered. "I''ve heard about you from Lindon and Yerin."


    "Good things, I''m sure," Eithan replied. "So let me start by explaining why you are here. You see, your master made a deal with the Akura Clan to bring you up into Underlords to represent the Wastelands in the upcoming tournament. The Akura clan had seen the Blackflame Empire fit to assist you in this endeavour." He straightened his back, placed his hands on his hips, and used wind aura to flutter his hair. "And the Emperor had seen me as the best choice to lead you there."


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    "The Akura told you that?" Sadi asked hesitantly. "About the tournament, I mean," she added.


    "Nope," Eithan replied and smiled at her. "But it was easy to deduce once you know what I know."


    She gave the Underlord a thumbs up and a hesitant smile of her own, "Brilliant," her words coming out more of a question than a compliment.


    "We have no time for a tournament," Whitehall said. "We need to advance as quickly as possible. Our home is under threat."


    "I know of your goals, little one," Eithan addressed Whitehall. "Lindon has told me of the situation of Sacred Valley and the Dreadgods. And I swear on my soul that if you make it far in this tournament, it will be your greatest boon for your advancement."


    "Lindon have told you about his heavenly visions?" Sadi asked.


    "I am glad enough to have earned his trust to reveal such a secret. And to answer your questions. Yes, yes, he had." He looked down at Whitehall, who was visibly unhappy to be in this predicament. "When the time comes," he began, "I would provide assistance to evacuate your home. What kind of master would I be if I let my favourite disciple''s home get trampled by the Dreadgods."


    Eithan observed as Whitehall gritted his teeth. "Because killing the Dreadgods is near impossible, isn''t it?"


    He knew Eithan realised quickly, hiding his surprise behind his smile. This would be interesting. "Now," he began, "the hour is getting late, and I would like to learn about both of your paths and where you would like to take them." He addressed Sadi first. "Sadi, I can sense you are on a light path with a powerful remnant inside you."


    The remnant inside her was at least an Archlord, according to his Underlord perception, and he couldn''t help but smile at the thought of having the chance to educate the Beast King''s prized disciples. "Your core is almost Peak Highgold, and I can''t help but ask why have you not broken your remnant and advance?"


    The young woman hesitated, and Eithan inwardly hoped she had not grown attached to the remnant like Yerin did.


    "I...," Sadi began. "I wanted to. The remnant inside me told me the same, too."


    A flicker of curiosity flashed in Eithan''s mind. That was rare, a remnant that encourages the sacred artist to break them open for power. Whoever the remnant belonged to, they clearly prioritised the sacred artist over themselves.


    Sadi continued. "I wanted to wait until I was able to perform my technique. Now that I have done so," she hesitated again. "I don''t know how to break it open," she admitted, "The remnant cracked open on its own the last time and advanced me to Highgold."


    Curious. Very curious. For a remnant to have enough will to forcefully advance their sacred artist was almost unheard of. Eithan could not help but laugh. Out of all the reasons the young woman had not advanced, it was because she did not know how to crack open her remnant. He waited for his laughter to stop before speaking. "Your remnant is a powerful one; I could tell just by seeing how much power is left after pushing your advancement to Highgold. Do not worry. We shall advance you to Truegold very soon after a bit of preparation."


    Then he turned his gaze to Whitehall, more specifically, the sacred beast bird on his shoulder. "May I ask, magnificent bird, what species do you hail from?"


    The bird straightened her back with a smug expression. "I am the one and only Meatball. A Garuda of the Wastelands."


    "A Garuda," Eithan awed. "I have never seen one in person. I thought your kind were the stuff of legends."


    "You''ve heard of my kind?" the bird cocked her head at him.


    Yes, Eithan thought. Only through ancient texts I had read when I was known in this iteration as Ozriel. And according to the text, only one Herald Garuda had ever been sighted. And it died fighting the Monarchs. But according to the text, they did not possess venom madra.


    "Of course," Eithan said proudly to the bird. "I saw your kind in an ancient text in my family''s archives when I was much younger."


    The bird eyed him sceptically and asked, "And where are your family''s archives?"


    "Burned to ashes," he replied. He clapped his hands together before continuing. "Anyways, may I ask why you have not shared your power and advance Whitehall to Truegold?"


    Whitehall glared sidewards at his contracted partner. "You could''ve advanced me to Truegold all this time?"


    Meatball laughed and chirped, "Of course. You just never asked." She turned to face the Underlord. "But if I advance him now, it will only bottleneck his advancement. My body has been tempered by venom and life since I was a hatchling; Whitehall, however, has not."


    "Path of the Atterist," Eithan exclaimed in instant recognition, excited about seeing a rare path from the snails of the Wastelands.


    "Yes, close enough," the bird chirped.


    Eithan raised a hand to stop the bird. "One moment, Meatball. I am afraid this conversation will take more time than I had expected, and I would like to give Sadi here a more beneficial task." He inserted his hand into his pocket, activated his void key, and pulled out a Skysworn token. He tossed it to her. "Take this token to the armoury on the eighteenth floor and ask for a sunlamp. Your madra channels are strained, and you''ll hardly get any sunlight inside this building. The lamp should provide you with a sufficient source."


    The woman accepted the token and hesitated again. "My iron body," she began.


    "Yes, I am aware of your iron body and how it enhances your ability to absorb light aura," he cut her off. "But the lamp would provide you with more light aura than you''ll be able to find anywhere here. Now shoo, shoo!" he gestured for her to leave. "Your channels aren''t going to mend itself."


    The woman still hesitated, and Eithan wondered why. Were they really that surprised that he knew everything? "Remember, I had sworn on my soul to do everything in my power for your benefit," he reminded the woman.


    The woman finally seemed to have had enough and spoke up. "I don''t need this," she explained. "I can absorb all light aura, including invisible ones."


    That paused Eithan. He silently thanked the Way that no one he knew was here to witness his stunned expression. "That is interesting," he muttered. Most of his memories had been suppressed by the Origin Shroud when returning to Cradle, and this was one of the rare moments when he missed his presence. He could not help but grin at Sadi. "You''re a diamond with VVS1 clarity hidden among other diamonds," he told her.


    The woman did not seem amused by his compliment. And based on her lack of jewellery, he doubted she understood the meaning.


    He slapped his forehead. "All my life, I have ignored the Wastelands, thinking there was nothing but waste. But now I realise and see my mistakes. I shall correct it when I have the chance!" he declared, pointing at the sky.


    Meatball clapped slowly. "I like him," the bird muttered.


    "Anyways," Eithan continued after breaking out of his stupor. "Get the lamp anyway. The light aura from it should be easier and faster to absorb."


    Sadi sighed and nodded, leaving his office and heading for the elevator, which he thought was a marvellous use of a Thousand-Mile cloud.


    He turned his attention back to the two remaining in his study. "Thank you for your patience. Where did we left off?"


    "Path of the Atterist," Meatball chirped.


    Eithan snapped his fingers. "Yes. That path is nothing but impressive. Every practitioner of it that isn''t a Sacred Beast reaches Underlord at the minimum." And then he shrugged, "Well, those that didn''t eventually die out as their madra ate away their lifeline after a few decades."


    Based on how Whitehall''s eyes widened at Eithan''s last statement, he summized that the boy had not known how double-edged his path was.


    "Not to worry," Eithan reassured him. "All you have to do is reach Underlord. And it is my job to get you there."


    Whitehall rolled his eyes. "Great, just great. Another lifeline problem."


    "Anyways," Meatball changed the subject. "His madra is made up of various venoms from the Wastelands. He needs to know the multiple venoms first and what they do before attempting to advance further." Meatball paused. "Advancing to Truegold for humans with such a path is... tricky."


    "I agree," Eithan rubbed his hands together. He had never seen a human advancing to Truegold on such a rare path of life and poison. Most of the ones he had heard that survived had died or ascended by now.


    Whitehall did not know what Meatball was talking about, so Eithan elaborated. "You see, young man, your madra consists of hundreds if not thousands of venom madra. I reckon this was due to your iron body."


    When he looked closer, he could not help but admire how wise the Beast King was in giving such an iron body. It was similar to Lindon''s Bloodforged iron body. It would do him almost no good for now but in the future. Well, Eithan couldn''t help but smile at the thought.


    "May I know the name of your iron body?" Eithan asked excitedly.


    "Godkiller," Whitehall answered. "My master said it was based on another creation of a monarch. He didn''t tell me which." He added after a moment, "Iron Body E6254, the original one was called, I think."


    Eithan smiled. Few Monarchs named their experiments that way, considering the Beast King was from the Wastelands. It was easy to identify it as one of Northstrider''s. He admired the Godkiller Iron Body once more. He had thought he was the only one among sacred artists willing to push existing Monarch Iron Bodies to such a limit. In the end, he was glad to be mistaken again.


    He continued again after finishing running his perception through Whitehall''s spirit. "As I was about to say, usually when advancing to the last stage of gold, a sacred artist pushes their core to the limit, flooding their channels with their madra." He pointed at Whitehall''s core. "Your''s, however, is not made up of one type of venom madra. And you are also not a venomous sacred beast," he gestured to Meatball as an example. "Your body would need more than a lifetime to adapt and temper to the various venoms, which is time you do not have. When you advance to Truegold, it will cause various fluctuations in different types of venoms inside you. You''ll have to counteract those effects with the other venom madras inside you, similar to how you did with your enforcer technique."


    "You''ve been watching?" Whitehall asked in surprise.


    "Of course," Eithan replied, winking. "I was on the Cloudfortress with you all that time." He waved a dismissal. "You''ll get used to it."


    Whitehall did not think he would.


    "Anyways," Eithan continued. "When that madra of yours began to fluctuate, you would have to know precisely what venom they are and which venom to use to counteract it. Then you''ll have to repeat it again to counteract the new venom," he beamed. "One wrong mistake, and you''ll die instantly if you''re lucky."


    "And if I survive?" Whitehall raised an eyebrow.


    Eithan chuckled. "If you survive, you''re body will be permanently in pain as the poison does what it does, and you''ll eventually succumb to its effects. But I think you''ll be begging for death before you reach that point."


    Whitehall sighed, "I guess it makes sense now why Meatball keeps telling me to study the effects of the different venoms before advancing to Truegold."


    "Exactly," Eithan clapped his hands together. "However, your qualms don''t stop there," he grinned at Whitehall''s pale face. "I also detect that your madra is also flooded with life aura generated from multiple sacred beasts or plants."


    "I didn''t know about the life madra," Whitehall muttered.


    "That''s where it gets interesting," Eithan leaned close, his eyes bulging, threatening to pop out of their sockets as his thoughts whirled. "Based on the path of the Atterist, life and poison are the same, yes?"


    Whitehall nodded nervously.


    "Have you heard of living poisons?" Eithan asked, smiling uncontrollably.


    "Like a virus?" Whitehall asked.


    Eithan nodded, his smile plastered onto his face. "This subject is more well-researched in the Everwood Continent, but lucky for you, I am also quite knowledgeable about it." He gestured with his hands as he spoke next. "You see, when the life aspect and poison aspect of your madra fluctuate and harmonise together as you advance, it will create different types of viruses. These living poisons."


    "And I''ll need to find a way to counteract it, or I might as well be committing suicide," Whitehall muttered.


    "You''re catching on quick," Eithan beamed.


    "I guess it makes sense now why I was made to study all those different organs and body parts back in the Wastelands," Whitehall replied.


    "Your master had certainly prepared you for your path with the limited resources he could get in terms of knowledge in the Wastelands," Eithan pointed out.


    "Whoa," Meatball awed at Eithan, her beady eyes wide. "You explained it better than I could ever hope to."


    Eithan nodded a thank you to the bird.


    "Why do I feel like my path will screw me over rather than aid me," Whitehall muttered, closing his eyes.


    Eithan watched Whitehall''s eyes behind his wooden mask. The boy''s gaze was not one of resignation but of tiredness. Eithan recognised it immediately because it felt like he was gazing at his younger self¡ªthe one tired of destroying worlds, the one tired of fighting, the one who wanted to find another solution.


    He decided to do what no one had done for him. Give the boy some hope. His pure madra extended to cover the whole room of his office, disabling any construct or eavesdropper he might not have detected with his bloodline. He needed to be as careful as possible for this. Meatball and Whitehall were stunned by the sudden shock of pure madra through their core, and he raised a hand in an apology.


    "Meatball, take this," he tossed another token to the bird, who caught in between her beaks. "It is connected to my personal funds, and you can use it to buy food and anything you like."


    Meatball did not even say a word before flying out of the room. The door closed automatically after her.


    "You know that might not be a good idea," Whitehall groaned, rubbing his stomach as the effects of the pure madra dissipated.


    "That is perfectly fine," Eithan replied and winked. "It is connected to the royal treasury. My payment for taking your delegation under my wing and other errands I did for the Empire."


    "So what was that for?" Whitehall asked, referring to the sudden wave of pure madra.


    "Privacy," Eithan replied, carving privacy scripts with his madra. Once he was sure it was as secure as possible, he returned his attention to Whitehall. "Have you heard of the Luminous Queen of the Nine-Cloud Court?"


    Whitehall nodded. "Sha Miara. Lindon told me."


    "That''s good," Eithan smiled. "But I am sure Lindon did not tell you how her mother died."


    "What does her mother''s death have anything to do with this?"


    "You see, the Nine-Cloud Court uses a bloodline technique that allows Monarchs to transfer their advancement to their next of kin, skipping the traditional advancement process," he explained.


    "Can we do the same?" Whitehall asked, intrigued.


    "Of course," Eithan replied. "With enough Monarch resources gathered through ten generations and another millennium to develop the bloodline technique, we shall have a one-percent chance of succeeding."


    Whitehall shook his head, but he smiled at Eithan''s words. They had a similar sense of humour. "How did her mother die? Another Monarch?"


    "That''s what is interesting," Eithan pointed out. "Who caused her death was a secret buried by the Nine-Cloud Court."


    "Let me guess," Whitehall cut in. "You know exactly who did it."


    "No," Eithan shook his head. "But I know what caused it." He paused, waiting for Whitehall to connect the dots.


    "Poison," Whitehall muttered.


    "Close, but more precisely, a virus," Eithan whispered.


    "Another Monarch''s virus?" Whitehall asked.


    "No one is sure, but I personally doubt that," Eithan answered. "The Sha family are close allies with the Monarch of the Everwood Continent, and not even the dragons would dare to risk war with such a 2-to-1 disadvantage."


    Eithan watched Whitehall''s eyes sparkle, his fist clenching and unclenching. The boy knew, there was no mistaking it now. The boy had somehow discovered how Dreadgods were still alive.


    "Banish that thought," Eithan sent a weak wave of pure madra enough to shock the boy out of his thoughts. "If any Monarch detects even a hint of that thought, they would squish you like a fly."


    Whitehall looked up to meet Eithan''s gaze with a renewed vigour. "What do I need to do?"


    Eithan smiled. "The answer is as straightforward as it is simple. Advance."


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration Requested. Amalgam


    Date? Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    "This way, Mang!" Sangkuriang called as he ran through the dense foliage, his small feet kicking up fallen leaves. "The flower should be near here. I know Mama will love it!"


    He had seen a cluster of deep purple blossoms on his last venture into the woods with his mother. Their delicate petals had shimmered in the morning light, and he had committed the path to memory. It was to be a surprise¡ªa gift for her.


    Mang loped beside him, his dark fur blending into the shifting shadows cast by the towering trees. The scent of damp earth and moss filled the air, the songs of birds ringing above.


    ¡°There!¡± Sangkuriang pointed, excitement bursting from his voice. Underneath a massive, gnarled tree, a bed of purple flowers swayed gently in the wind. But before he could take another step, a sharp tug yanked at his leg. He stumbled, looking down to see Mang¡¯s powerful jaws clamped around his trousers, pulling him back with unyielding force. ¡°We¡¯re not even over the border,¡± Sangkuriang grumbled, tugging his leg free.


    Mang''s ears flattened, his golden eyes scanning the forest with an intensity that sent a chill down the boy¡¯s spine. The dog sniffed the air, muscles coiled like a spring.


    Seeing his companion distracted, Sangkuriang seized the opportunity. Without another thought, he dashed toward the flowers.


    Mang¡¯s bark was loud and urgent.


    Then, suddenly¡ª


    His breath caught.


    His feet left the ground.


    A cold, iron grip clamped around his throat, lifting him into the air as if he weighed nothing. His fingers clawed at the hand choking him, his wide eyes locking onto the figure before him.


    "Who do we have here?" a raspy, vile voice sneered.


    The man wore black, his face half-hidden beneath a dark hood. A massive sword was strapped to his back, its hilt worn from use. His fingers dug into Sangkuriang¡¯s throat, cutting off any chance to scream.


    Sangkuriang gasped, his vision blurring at the edges¡ª


    A black blur shot through the air.


    The man howled in pain.


    The next thing Sangkuriang knew, he was falling. He hit the ground with a thud, coughing as he sucked in deep, desperate breaths.


    Above him, Mang had latched onto the attacker¡¯s wrist, his fangs buried deep. Blood dripped onto the forest floor.


    "You¡ª" the man snarled, shaking violently. "You''re back, I see."


    Mang growled low and deep, his golden eyes gleaming with fury.


    With a vicious twist, Mang flung the man through the air, sending him crashing through a thick tree trunk. Bark exploded on impact, and the man groaned as he forced himself upright.


    Then¡ªsteel rang.


    The man unsheathed his blade.


    It was enormous, almost as tall as he was, jagged like teeth along its edge. A weapon made for brutal, merciless strikes.


    Sangkuriang trembled, his heart pounding against his ribs.


    Then¡ªshadow.


    Darkness swelled around Mang, rippling like ink spilling into water. It engulfed him, swirling, stretching¡ª


    And when it faded, the dog was gone.


    In its place stood a tall man, his long, black hair flowing past his shoulders. His sharp, angular face bore the same golden eyes. Though dressed simply, his presence carried a quiet, lethal power.


    The man in black grinned, rolling his wounded wrist with a sickening crack. "I hope you remember me," he taunted, levelling his massive sword. "This is for my master." Then¡ªhe struck.


    The blade came down like a falling star.


    "Run!" Mang roared. "Go now!"


    Sangkuriang didn¡¯t hesitate.


    Terror fueled his legs as he bolted, weaving through the trees. The sounds of battle erupted behind him¡ªsteel clashing, trees snapping, the ground trembling with every blow.


    But as he ran, something caught his eye.


    Dangling from the man in black¡¯s hip had been a small, eerie doll.


    Its face was blank, its button eyes staring at him with empty, soulless intent.


    Then¡ªits head turned.


    Sangkuriang''s breath hitched.


    He ran faster.

 Chapter 26: We Light the Path

    A day later, Sadi found herself standing in line in the Skysworn training hall with the rest of the group. She tugged the neckpiece of her new Skysworn armour. It was one of the finest quality she had ever seen, but the leather padding scraped her skin raw. She was definitely going to buy one of those suits the other Skysworns wore underneath their armour to prevent chafing.


    Lindon stood to her side with the grim expression he always wore, reading the armour''s manual like it was a sacred text from the heavens. She knew by now that that was just his resting face. It was not pleasant, but she thought Yerin was smitten by it. Speaking of Yerin, she stood on the other side of Lindon, her arms crossed, and her gold signs mimicked the same action on top of her shoulders.


    On Sadi''s other side stood Whitehall. He wore a determined expression, and his foot tapped unconsciously. She has her own room now at the Skysworn headquarters, and although she does not mind Whitehall''s and Meatball''s company, she would not say no to her newfound privacy.


    Orthos, Little Blue, and Meatball were hanging out in the back. They were firing striker techniques at training constructs, competing on who could destroy the target with the least techniques. Although both were Truegolds, Orthos''s Path of the Blackflame was much more suited than Meatball''s venom for pure destruction. Despite this, Meatball did not seem to want to give up either. Little Blue cheered both of them on, singing bells and whistles reverberating through the almost empty hall.


    A few Skysworns stood by the far walls to watch them. She was pretty sure they were betting on Meatball''s and Orthos''s little competition. Other than Little Blue, the only one that seemed happy was Mercy. The Akura girl smiled brightly as Eithan walked, eyeing them one by one. He had been walking past them for a few minutes now, and Lindon had been oblivious to that fact, engrossed in his reading material. No one had informed the young Blackflame.


    It was only when Lindon closed the manual that Eithan finally spoke up. "Brilliant," Eithan clapped before Lindon, startling the boy. "You''re the only one among us that actually read the manual from start to finish. You are a source of inspiration that all Skysworns should try to follow."


    Lindon did not hesitate to reply immediately. "It is actually very interesting," he said, recalling what he had read. "There are defensive constructs in the armour that protect the head, the neck and the back. A dream construct to deliver messages, a compartment with a Thousand-Mile Cloud, a triggered wind-barrier defence, a passive script that weakens hostile spiritual attacks and madra, and more additional options we can ask the Skysworn Soulsmiths to add."


    Sadi baulked at Lindon''s words. She looked down at her armour with a new light. The armour would definitely be very expensive.


    Eithan smiled at Lindon like a proud father, seeing his child studying diligently. "And what are the drawbacks?" Eithan asked.


    "The armour powers the constructs," Lindon replied instantly. "It will only last for a few days before needing to be refilled or replaced. We can power the constructs ourselves, but then our madra must be compatible."


    "Umm, Eithan?" Sadi asked.


    The older man looked at her, his smile never shifting.


    "I don''t think we''ll be able to afford this," she continued, referring to Whitehall and herself.


    "Do not worry, my young Wasteland friends; your armour is sponsored directly by the Akura clan," he assured her. "They offered to include extra defensive and offensive constructs, but that would not be fair, wouldn''t it?"


    Sadi shrugged, thinking that having extra constructs would be nice, but the armour was more than she had hoped. "I guess that''s true."


    Then, Eithan shifted his attention to Lindon. "I am so very proud of you for keeping yourself informed."


    Lindon looked like he wanted to bow on the spot and had to hold himself back at the last moment.


    "Anyways," Eithan continued, "To finalise our rather large squad, the Skysworn requires us to take on a mission to register our team formally."


    Sadi cheered inwardly, and judging by Whitehall''s reaction, she reckoned he felt the same. Whitehall had previously mentioned to her that he was tired of fighting, but ever since Ghostwater, that tiredness seemed to have disappeared like a puff of smoke. She knew whatever secret he was forced to swear to remain silent had something to do with his renewed drive.


    Eithan beamed. "I have found a terrific opportunity nearby that would suit us perfectly."


    The reactions of the others, however, were the total opposite. Lindon frowned. Yerin looked resigned, and even Mercy''s bright smile faltered as she leaned against her staff.


    "Cheer up, my students," Eithan stood straight. "I shall not let my personal students back down against the Beast King''s students," he gestured to Sadi and Whitehall.


    "They''re Highgold," Yerin snorted, "and we fought a dozen Truegolds yesterday, in case you forgot."


    "I do remember that, my young Aurelius," Eithan replied. "And believe me when I say that rest is important. A weapon pushed too far will eventually break. But I am afraid I shall push you once again. Opportunity does not wait. And let it be known that I do not train my students softer than the Beast King," he declared, pointing accusingly at the sky.


    Sadi was not sure what Eithan meant by his soft treatment of the others; she had thought the Beast King had been very lenient with them. Sure, her master sent her to Gold Dragon territory as a Lowgold, but Sadi couldn''t think of anything else.


    Eithan continued, spreading his hands, "In return, I am an open book. Ask me anything."


    Yerin spoke first, "Underlord."


    That got Sadi intrigued. Ziel had told them he could explain it to her, but he must not have known about the Beast King''s new assignment. Since Eithan was also an Underlord, the man should be able to provide the right guidance. She only had one more advancement left before she could advance to Underlord. She knew it was still far, but it felt reachable.


    "That would not be fair to our Highgold and Lowgold friends, wouldn''t it?" Eithan asked Yerin, gesturing to Sadi, Whitehall, and Mercy.


    Yerin replied by raising her sword arms.


    "Underlord it is!" Eithan raised his voice.


    Orthos''s heavy footsteps approached them from behind, and Sadi felt eagerness in his steps. The footsteps halted before Orthos could reach them, and when she turned around, she saw Meatball whispering quietly straight to Orthos''s ear. The turtle huffed a puff of black smoke and returned to his mini-competition with the bird.


    Eithan smiled as he answered Yerin''s question, "The three steps to Underlord are simple." He raised his fingers one by one as he explained. "Mastering yourself, mastering the world," he paused when he raised a third finger. "And connecting to the world. This step is the most mysterious. It is a personal revelation that you must discover about yourself, which will cause the soulfire inside you to resonate with the aura around you, activating your advancement."


    Sadi saw Mercy shift slightly from the corner of her eyes. The others did not seem to have noticed, but Sadi thought Eithan''s words might have affected the girl.


    Eithan clapped his hands as he looked at the ceiling, "It seems we have less time than I thought. Since we''re all armoured up, I will give you all a choice!" His gaze drifted to Sadi and Whitehall. "Forgiveness, Sadi and Whitehall, but since you are only under my care temporarily as of now, I must prioritise my students and their desires."


    Sadi shrugged in response; she did not care, and Eithan''s advancement description preoccupied her thoughts. A personal revelation about one''s self that will cause the soulfire to resonate with the aura around you. What does that even mean? She had some ideas about Soulfire. Ziel had mentioned how Northstrider injected his Soulfire for Ghostwater. But other than that, she was not really sure.


    Eithan continued, returning his gaze to Yerin, Lindon, and Mercy, "We can go on missions that will bring great benefit to the Empire, or we can embark on the most efficient way I know to train you all to Underlord. It is up to you!"


    "The missions!" Mercy yelled, slamming down her staff, which hissed with purple smoke. Whitehall nodded in agreement.


    "Underlord!" Yerin and Lindon yelled.


    Eithan gasped. "What a remarkable coincidence because the most efficient way to train you would require funds I do not possess. And the most profitable prospect available to us-" He pulled a stack of papers from his pocket. "Is to complete missions for the Skysworn!"


    Sadi knew that what Eithan said was not exactly true. Judging by how much food Meatball had bought the previous night. However, Eithan did say the token he gave Meatball was connected to the royal treasury.


    Whitehall laughed. Yerin gave Eithan a flat stare. Mercy smiled. And Lindon glared.


    "What about from the Aurelius family?" Lindon asked.


    Eithan smiled as he shook his head.


    Lindon''s eyes widened, and his expression hardened like a child''s when someone threatened to steal his sweets. His voice came out hoarse and slow as he spoke next. "I have come across some good fortune in Ghostwater. They are not used for the sacred arts, but we can sell them if we need the funds." His words came out strained, as if he had to force every word to come out. He quickly added, "For me, Yerin, and Mercy, of course," giving Sadi and Whitehall an apologetic look. "You had your share."


    Sadi waved at him dismissively. What he said was fair regarding straight-up monetary value; she probably had the largest bounty from the Gold Dragon girl. She hoped he was not still sour from having to share the loot.


    Eithan wiped a fake tear, which reminded Sadi of her master. "Truly, the disciple''s generosity knows no bounds. The disciple takes care of his master." He clapped Lindon on the back and handed him a sheet of paper. ¡°But now you must get going! I''ll need to get our new team members up to speed," he pointed a thumb at her and Whitehall.


    <hr>


    Eithan stood before his two new temporary disciples, hands clasped behind his back and a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Ordinarily, he would have scoffed at the notion of taking over the training of someone with a still-living master¡ªespecially when that master was a Herald. Such interference bordered on rude, and Eithan did try to avoid being rude. Most of the time.


    But the two standing before him were so fascinating, so unique, that he simply couldn''t resist. When he was finished with them, the Beast King would be impressed¡ªand hopefully generous. Perhaps a priceless artefact? A rare treasure? He wasn''t picky.


    "Now then!" Eithan clapped his hands together, his grin widening as he turned to Whitehall. "You, my dear Whitehall, need the most immediate attention. Let''s begin with you, shall we?" He reached into his pocket with deliberate flair, pulling out a small bag of pills. "I had these prepared especially for you. The refiner who made them might''ve shed a few tears working through the night, but I rewarded him generously, so we''ll call it character-building."


    Whitehall caught the bag as Eithan tossed it to him, his brow furrowing slightly as he peered inside. "What are these?"


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Ah, excellent question!" Eithan gestured dramatically as though unveiling a grand secret. "Those are pills commonly used by Scholars to keep their minds sharp during prolonged study sessions or bouts of research. You''ll find them... invigorating."


    "Any side effects?" Whitehall asked, lifting one of the pills to examine it.


    "Ah, I''m so glad you asked!" Eithan exclaimed with a bright smile. "Let''s see... mild dehydration, occasional headaches, and¡ªoh yes¡ªdeterioration of mental health, raised blood pressure, heart attack, multiple organ failure, difficulty urinating, bowel failures, and nosebleeds. Among other minor inconveniences." He waved his hand dismissively. "But I''m confident someone on your path will figure out how to mitigate those. Consider it part of your training!"


    Sadi raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed. "So, you''re saying you''re giving him poison and calling it a learning experience?"


    Eithan turned to her with mock offence. "Poison is such an unkind word, although maybe it''s perfect in this case. But I prefer to think of it as an investment in his potential." He gestured toward Whitehall with a flourish. "Besides, look at him. He''s practically glowing with enthusiasm. Aren''t you, Whitehall?"


    For a moment, Whitehall looked between Eithan and the pills, his expression inscrutable. Then, to Eithan''s delight, the young man''s lips quirked into a small smile, one that grew as he pocketed the bag. Ah, here was someone who appreciated opportunity over inconvenience. The very picture of a promising pupil.


    "They''ll do," Whitehall muttered as he slipped the bag into his pocket.


    "Good, good!" Eithan said, clapping his hands. "You''ll have time to cycle after our missions. Advance when you feel ready¡ªI trust your judgment. I''d love to witness it myself, but alas, my primary focus must remain on my non-temporary disciples. A tragedy, truly, but such is the life of a genius in demand." He sighed dramatically, the weight of his obligations etched across his face.


    "Now, Sadi." He turned his attention to the other disciple, clapping his hands together. "Your turn! Let''s see what delightful challenges we can cook up for you."


    Sadi folded her arms, eyeing him warily. "If this involves organ failure, I''m out."


    Eithan only grinned wider. "Oh, Sadi, I wouldn''t dream of it! Your challenges will be much more... enlightening."


    She raised an eyebrow at his pun.


    "That''s the spirit!" Eithan said with a clap. "What I was trying to say, my dear Sadi¡ªis that you can advance right now !"


    Sadi blinked, momentarily startled. "Now?" she echoed hesitantly.


    Eithan nodded, his enthusiasm undimmed. "Why wait? Every moment not spent advancing is a moment wasted."


    After a brief pause, Sadi gave a reluctant nod. "Alright... How do I do it?"


    "Ah, that''s the easy part!" Eithan replied, snapping his fingers. "Cycling position, if you please."


    Without hesitation, Sadi sat and began cycling, her breathing steady and measured. Eithan extended his perception, observing her cycling with keen interest. Her iron body absorbed both visible and invisible light aura, channelling and storing the light madra in her core. What truly caught Eithan''s attention, however, was the way her iron body functioned as an extension of her core. Excess madra stored in her skin made her spirit almost unparalleled in capacity, like a secondary reservoir for her madra.


    His respect for the Beast King deepened. Only a master of unparalleled skill could have designed such a path. Who knew the Wasteland had such a renowned Master? His mind whirled as he thought of ways to help Sadi develop her path. Most of his ideas were from information he had gathered in the Abidan, which the Origin Shroud had not suppressed. He wondered momentarily if he was breaking any further rules by giving the woman more information. Well, it was best to do it now and ask for forgiveness later.


    Pausing her cycling, Eithan spoke. "Sadi, have you ever tried channelling invisible light madra?"


    "No," she answered, frowning slightly.


    "Ah, I suspected as much. Let me explain," Eithan nodded knowingly. "But first, what can you tell me of the difference between invisible and visible light?"


    Sadi opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again, shaking her head.


    Eithan grinned. "Don''t worry, I''m here to help." He crouched down, moving his arm in the air in an exaggerated fluid, wave motions like the waves in a painting of a beach. "Picture this," he said, "this is visible light."


    Sadi''s gaze remained fixed on his movements, though her expression showed clear puzzlement.


    "Here to here," Eithan added, using his other hand to trace an imaginary line between the waves of his motion. "This is the wavelength of light. Our eyes can detect it, and that''s why we can see it."


    Sadi raised her hand, halting him mid-motion.


    "Yes, madam Sadi?" Eithan asked, straightening up and adopting an exaggerated teacher''s stance, an invisible pointer appearing in his hand.


    "How do you know this?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.


    Eithan placed a hand dramatically on his chest. "Well, aside from being the best janitor in the Empire, I was once a renowned scholar."


    Sadi frowned but nodded in acknowledgement.


    "As I was saying," Eithan continued, "Visible light has a wavelength we can see. When the wavelength is longer or shorter than that, our eyes can no longer perceive it, and it becomes invisible."


    He paused to see if she was following, and she nodded more eagerly now in understanding.


    "Most light paths involve visible light because it''s easier to work with something you can actually see," he explained. "Now, if we adjust the wavelength¡ª" He compressed his arm into a tighter oscillation, demonstrating shorter wavelengths. After he felt Sadi was beginning to comprehend, he stopped and oscillated his arms with a much greater length. "This is harder to perceive, just like trying to use a knife without limbs."


    Sadi''s face shifted from curiosity to mild scepticism. "Let me guess," she sighed, "You''ve got a way for me to see invisible light."


    Eithan''s eyes gleamed. He had to admit, he was getting excited. Lindon was like fresh clay ready to be moulded, Yerin was a blade sharpened over decades by a master blacksmith, and Mercy was a Monarch''s heir going through a teenage life crisis and venturing abroad to find herself. On the other hand, Whitehall and Sadi were a unique pair. The young man is tired of fighting, yet he continues because he believes he must. Sadi... Eithan wasn''t sure yet. But there was something intriguing about her. Whatever the Beast King saw in her, he took her in for a reason.


    When he watched her closely as she cycled, her focus and discipline were evident. What impressed him, however, was that her connection with the light aura was natural, almost effortless. Iron bodies designed to absorb light auras had existed for centuries, but iron bodies meant to absorb invisible light? That was unheard of. Sadi''s body could absorb not only visible light but also light of all wavelengths, something he had never encountered before.


    "Even better," Eithan exclaimed with enthusiasm. "There are eyes and constructs out there that can extend the range of what you can see, but why settle for those when we can aim for perfection? I have a method to help you channel invisible light. It may not be perfected yet, but I''m making it up as I go along, so it''s technically not a lie!" He chuckled at his own joke. "But first," he continued, "We need to get you to advance."


    Sadi blinked, as though momentarily forgetting her original purpose. "Oh, right," she said, catching herself. "Advancement."


    Eithan gave her a small nod. "Cycle as usual, but remember the madra beneath your skin. When advancing to Truegold, we usually fill our cores with madra, but your skin is an extension of your core. You''ll need to break the spirit of the remnant inside there, too."


    Sadi followed his instructions, cycling through her madra, and Eithan observed with intense focus. The moment she began pushing the remnant to break, he noticed something troubling. Her skin being an extension of her core meant that the control required was far beyond what a typical Highgold would possess. Only someone with Soulfire could assist in this. Her path, Eithan realised, was not meant to be travelled alone. In fact, it was a perfect example of a path designed to require the help of others. So advanced was the degree of thought put into the path''s final form that it required someone more powerful to help her along the journey. It was a lesson he learned only when he became a Judge. The most powerful paths are never travelled alone.


    "Sadi, I''ll be injecting your spirit with my soulfire to help break the remnant," Eithan began. "Don''t worry¡ªI''ve done this before. Probably. "He paused before injecting his soulfire into her spirit. "Our madra types are not the same, so whatever leakage may cause a... minor ''uncomfortable reaction,'' if you will." He flashed a reassuring smile. "But don''t worry¡ªmy control is flawless."


    Sadi nodded, undeterred by the words.


    Eithan gathered pure madra in one hand, forming into a lance. Slowly, he reabsorbed and dispersed the pure madra, leaving only his Soulfire. The technique requires absolute perfection of control, which would have been easier if he was an Overlord. After refining the madra, he released it into her core. He had prepared several apparatuses and pills in his void key because such an advancement rarely goes well, but to his surprise, the remnant within Sadi''s core accepted the Soulfire willingly, blending it with its own. At first, everything seemed to go better than expected. But then, just as quickly, Sadi collapsed, her body convulsing.


    Whitehall, who was observing in silence, was by her side immediately, "Shit," he swore. "It''s happening again."


    "Again?" Eithan asked, perplexed. He quickly extended his perception to check on Sadi, finding nothing wrong.


    "This happened when she advanced to Highgold," Whitehall explained, retrieving water vials from his void key¡ªwater that Eithan reckoned was from Ghostwater.


    Whitehall quickly soaked a cloth with the water, placing it over Sadi''s mouth.


    "May I have a taste?" Eithan asked, pointing at the empty vial. Whitehall handed it over without protest. Eithan sniffed the vial and placed a finger inside, gathering whatever water was left. Then, he put his finger in his mouth. It did not take him long to realise this was water from the Spirit Well.


    "I see," Eithan muttered, his understanding clicking into place. "The remnant left memories far more advanced than she can handle right now. The Spirit Well water must have helped prevent her Spirit from collapsing." He paused, raising the sleeve of his arm. "In that case, pure madra should do the trick." He shoved his hand forward, injecting the woman''s spirit with pure madra.


    ----------


    Sadi''s vision erupted in a kaleidoscope of memories too vast for her to fully grasp. Light burst in blinding flashes, powers clashed in a storm of energy, ancient forces colliding in an endless struggle that felt as though it had spanned aeons. Towering, indistinct figures battled against one another, their forms shifting in and out of focus as they were swallowed by a radiant maelstrom of golden and blue light and shadow. The voices that echoed in her mind were distorted, their language ancient, carried through the fabric of time like a whisper of forgotten legends. She couldn''t understand them, but the weight of their presence crushed down on her, like the collective burden of untold lives, their histories and struggles pressing against her mind.


    In the centre of the chaos, one image stood out, burning through the confusion¡ªa winged figure cloaked in golden light. The brilliance of their aura was overwhelming, yet it did not threaten her. The figure reached out to her with a hand, not in aggression, but in an urgent plea, as though calling her into something greater than herself.


    With a heart pounding in her chest, Sadi took the offered hand in desperation. Her fingers brushed against the golden hand, and the moment their skin touched, everything shifted. The world of light and shadow collapsed inward, twisting her into a vast, empty space where nothing existed but her and the figure before her. Then, as though a dam had broken, a flood of emotions and knowledge not her own surged through her.


    Pain, sharp and jagged, of betrayal long endured. A fire of defiance, burning bright and unyielding. The deep, soul-crushing sorrow of loss¡ªof something precious torn away. The flood of feelings was overwhelming, and Sadi staggered beneath its weight, her mind reeling with the intensity of emotions that didn''t belong to her. The figure''s grip tightened, and through the emotional maelstrom, a voice, steady yet filled with sorrow and strength, broke through the storm.


    "You light the path."


    Before she could respond, the vision shattered like glass, and with a sharp gasp, she found herself on her knees, the overwhelming torrent of memories fading as she returned to the present. The shadows of Lindon and Eithan loomed over her, their figures a stark contrast to the chaos she''d just experienced. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, helping her to her feet.


    "Are you alright?" Whitehall''s voice, familiar and reassuring, cut through her disorientation.


    "I''m fine," she breathed, though her head throbbed with the weight of the memories. She struggled to make sense of what she''d seen, but it all felt so distant now.


    Eithan''s casual voice interjected, "I wouldn''t do that if I were you."


    Sadi paused for a moment, focusing on calming her mind. Once the dizziness subsided, she asked, "What happened?"


    "I suspect the remnant''s memories were far too advanced for you," Eithan explained. "I wouldn''t think too much about it right now. You''ll understand it better once you advance further." He flashed a grin. "How does Truegold feel?"


    Sadi blinked, her mind struggling to catch up with the moment. The headache had completely overshadowed her advancement, and she flexed her hands, trying to sense any difference. Nothing immediately stood out.


    "Remember what I showed you about visible and invisible light?" Eithan prodded.


    "Yeah," she answered, recalling the lesson.


    "Good. Now, how about you try to shoot invisible light through your palms?" Eithan suggested, pointing toward a training target¡ªa reinforced wooden dummy. "Just stretch your palm toward that target and do your best."


    Sadi raised her hand, gathering light madra in her palms, but she struggled to imagine how to translate Eithan''s theory into action.


    "Now, imagine the light as waves," Eithan guided her.


    Sadi hesitated and then complied, picturing the light as waves rather than solid madra. She felt the light vibrate through her palms but found it difficult to grasp the concept fully. Eithan seemed to sense her uncertainty.


    "Imagine the light emitted by your madra as waves," he clarified. "Not the madra itself."


    She focused again, visualising the light as waves radiating from her palms. Slowly, she started to feel something stir¡ªan unfamiliar sensation¡ªbut she struggled to control it. It felt like something was there, but she couldn''t quite shape it. Eithan''s voice broke the silence, gentle but firm.


    "I can tell you''re sensing the invisible light. Now, try bending it. Increase the wavelength."


    Sadi focused, willing the light to bend and stretch to lower its frequency. It was challenging, but she felt a presence guiding her¡ªa subtle yet supportive force that felt like the remnant of Sunda, helping her.


    "There," Eithan said, his voice filled with approval. "Maintain it, hold it there."


    Sadi concentrated, forcing the wavelength to stretch as directed. Her eyes remained focused on her outstretched hand, where, to her surprise, a small ball of golden light had formed the size of a marble. Yet, through her perception, she saw much more. Invisible to her eyes but clear through her senses, a beam of invisible light shot from her palm and struck the centre of the training dummy.


    "Stop for now," Eithan called out as he approached the dummy.


    Sadi halted the technique, her brows furrowing when she saw the dummy was unaffected by her efforts.


    "Brilliant!" "Eithan exclaimed, clapping his hands. "You did it!"


    Sadi was too puzzled to feel the same excitement. "But nothing''s happened to the dummy."


    Eithan grinned. "Let''s try something else." He pulled a glass jar filled with water from his pocket and set it on the floor. "Do it again, but aim at the jar."


    Sadi stretched out her hand, readying herself for another attempt. It was harder this time, but after some time, she finally succeeded in stretching the light''s wavelength. At first, nothing appeared to happen, but as the seconds passed, the water inside the jar began to bubble. Slowly, it started to boil, the jar shaking from the force of the reaction. Before Sadi could stop, the glass cracked and shattered, spilling the boiling water across the floor.


    "Do you see it now?" Eithan asked, his voice triumphant.


    Sadi stared at the broken jar, wide-eyed. "Yes! But why did it work on the jar and not the dummy?"


    Eithan chuckled. "Water, my dear temporary disciple," he said. "That specific wavelength of light causes the water particles to react violently, generating heat in the process."


    "Thus the boiling," Sadi finished.


    "Thus the boiling," Eithan concurred. He allowed her to celebrate momentarily, but no longer than that. "Since time is a luxury we are quickly running out of." He tossed a mission paper similar to the one he gave Lindon to the young woman. "Here''s a copy of the mission. Let''s move out. Those sewer rats aren''t going to take care of themselves."


    He turned to leave but stopped when Whitehall called out.


    "What about me?" Whitehall asked. "Shouldn''t I be locked in a room somewhere studying poisons?"


    Eithan''s first thought was he heard jealousy in the man''s voice, but he quickly realised it was desperation. Eithan pitied the young man; he truly did. A path meant to kill those above their advancement was always a difficult path to walk on.


    "What better way to study your poisons than on those sewer rats!" he replied, continuing his walk.


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration Requested.  Amalgam


    Date?  Request Rejected


    Report Complete


    Dayang stood on the worn wooden steps of her tiny house, wringing her hands together. The early evening wind carried the scent of damp earth and rustling leaves, but she barely noticed. Her stomach churned with unease.


    Where were they?


    She had sent them off with firm instructions¡ªMang would keep Sangkuriang safe. He always had. But as the minutes stretched into an hour past sunset, her nerves burned hotter. She was about to start making dinner, and the grip she held on her wooden spoon tightened.


    Then, through the thinning mist of twilight, she saw movement.


    A small, frantic figure, running.


    ¡°Sangkuriang?¡±


    The moment he came into view, her breath caught. His clothes were torn, his small hands scraped and bloody. His hair, usually tied neatly, had come loose, wild strands whipping in the wind. Tears streaked his dirt-smeared face.


    Without thinking, she ran to meet him, falling to her knees as he crashed into her arms. His little body trembled violently, his hands clinging to her as if he feared she¡¯d vanish.


    ¡°Sangkuriang, are you hurt?¡± she asked, her hands roaming over him, checking for wounds.


    He shook his head against her chest, his cries muffled in her tunic.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°A¡­ man.¡± His voice was small, broken between gasps for air. ¡°He was wearing all black. Mang tried to stop me from going further, but I didn¡¯t listen. Then the man attacked me.¡±


    Dayang¡¯s heart pounded so hard she thought it might shatter. Cold fear seized her limbs, but she forced herself to stay still, to stay strong. Her fingers curled tightly around his shoulders.


    ¡°Sangkuriang,¡± she said, trying to keep her voice steady. ¡°I need you to take me there.¡±


    Her son only sobbed harder.


    Her pulse drummed faster. Something had happened. Something terrible. Mang¡­ where was Mang?


    Her breath hitched.


    "Sangkuriang!" she barked, shaking his shoulders just enough to snap him out of his sobs. His wet eyes met hers, wide and scared.


    ¡°Take me there,¡± she ordered, her voice trembling with barely restrained panic. "Now!"


    Sangkuriang flinched but nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.


    Without another word, Dayang gritted her teeth as she followed her son into the darkening forest.

 Chapter 27

    Whitehall had always regarded policing forces with disdain, shaped by bitter experiences from his previous life. The Skysworn, however, were different. Their missions genuinely impacted the lives of Stormrock''s locals and the residents of whatever city their base happened to hover over. He found a strange satisfaction in seeing grateful smiles from the people they helped.


    Of course, not everything was perfect. Nepotism ran rampant, particularly among those with ties to major families. But the Skysworn still did the work they were meant to do¡ªhelping the people. No task was too small or too large for them. From clearing sewers to dismantling organised crime rings, they handled it all.


    These jobs weren''t destined to change the world, nor would their effects endure forever, but Whitehall found solace in their immediate impact. At least for now, he could do something meaningful.


    His relationship with Yerin, however, remained strained. Their conversations were rare, limited to curt exchanges. Instead, he spent more time speaking with Lindon, while Yerin seemed to grow closer to Sadi, likely bonding through their relentless sparring matches. Meanwhile, Meatball and Orthos had become inseparable, their whispered discussions the source of much curiosity. Meatball kept her silence, and Whitehall suspected Orthos was equally secretive whenever Lindon pressed him for details. The way Lindon occasionally stared at the dragon betrayed his frustration.


    Their first mission as a team had been to clear out an infestation of diseased sewer rats. By the time they arrived, the task was already done. Eithan, unfazed, simply pulled out another mission¡ªthis time, to handle a similar problem in a neighbouring village.


    Whitehall had used a poison derived from the root of a Zigar Ubi plant. The results were...disappointing. The rats died almost instantly, leaving him little time to study the poison''s effects. He needed tougher subjects. Eithan''s next set of missions¡ªdealing with bloodspawn remnants or their enthralled victims¡ªoffered some hope. The chaotic energy of the bloodspawn made them resilient enough to allow for observation.


    In one mission, he discovered venom from a desert snake species that broke down blood with uncanny efficiency. Unfortunately, testing on humans was more challenging. Criminals and gang members who refused to surrender were his usual subjects, but the others always dispatched them quickly, unwilling to prolong their suffering. Whitehall understood, even agreed with their pragmatism, but it stymied his progress.


    Now, he knelt over the corpse of a Sacred artist on the Path of Wind. The woman''s body had already begun to rot, though she had only been dead for minutes. He had poisoned the air she breathed, but it would have been more effective if he''d delivered the toxin directly into her bloodstream. He didn''t yet have the technique for that. The long gash across her torso, courtesy of Yerin, complicated matters further. Her intoxicated blood had already started to eat away at her flesh. Without knowing her iron body, he couldn''t determine how it might have influenced the poison''s effects.


    He shook his head, banishing his thoughts. Memories of his previous life surged¡ªof soldiers conducting horrific experiments on his people. He couldn''t let himself become anything like them.


    "Elder Whitehall," Lindon called from behind him.


    "Hm?" Whitehall replied without looking up. Lindon''s usual glaring expression always made it hard to read his thoughts.


    "I''ve been thinking," Lindon began. "You need live subjects to test your poison. Since my iron body was forged from Sandviper venom and blood¡ª"


    "No," Whitehall interrupted firmly, echoing a tone Ziel often used. He sighed, aware of how frayed he felt. The pills Eithan had given him allowed him to stay awake, but they were no substitute for proper rest. He rubbed his eyes, dismissing the haze of fatigue. Rest could wait. He can sleep when he is dead.


    Eithan burst into the room, his pipe lit and a grin on his face. "I''m afraid I must agree with the Elder," he said, clapping Lindon on the back. "Using Whitehall''s poison on yourself wouldn''t help you build immunity."


    Lindon''s shoulders slumped, visibly disappointed.


    "Don''t fret, young disciple. Once you reach the Lord stage¡­" Eithan trailed off, leaving Lindon to fill in the blanks. The hint of future potential seemed to brighten the boy''s mood.


    "Until then, then," Lindon nodded. "Elder Whitehall," he lowered his back before straightening it and nodding at Eithan. "Eithan, if that is all for today, then I''ll be heading to dinner with Yerin at Fisher Gesha''s."


    Eithan waved him goodbye, and Lindon left without saying another word. "It always surprises me that he puts you in such high regard," Eithan muttered out of Lindon''s earshot.


    "Me too," Whitehall replied with a sigh. He looked down at the dead body with self-disappointment.


    Eithan clapped hard. "Let''s not wallow in self-pity. Look at the bright side. You have identified most of the effects of this poison."


    "I am not wallowing," Whitehall drawled. "I am allowing myself to feel. It is easier to move on once you admit how you feel."


    "Spoken like a true philosopher."


    "How may I help you, Eithan?" Whitehall covered the body with the woman''s cloak and stood up.


    "Actually, I am here to help you," the blonde man replied. "How often have you been using those pills I gave you?"


    "Every night," he shrugged. "Don''t worry about the side effects; I had plenty of time discovering how to counteract the side effects."


    "Really?" Eithan asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Yep," Whitehall nodded. "All one hundred thirty-four of them."


    "That''s brilliant," Eithan said, genuinely impressed. "But I think you''ve overlooked one side effect."


    "Which is?"


    "Addiction," Eithan said bluntly. "You''ve been using it so often that you forgot when not to use it. As I said previously, any weapon pushed too far will eventually break. There is no replacement for proper rest."


    Whitehall allowed a faint smile to tug at his lips. "I appreciate your concern, Eithan. I really do. But now isn''t the time to rest."


    Eithan gave him a conflicted smile, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Then do what you need to. But I want you to remind that you and Sadi upstairs have been sprinting faster than my students. And I push them hard."


    "The Beast King--"


    "The Beast King has pushed you from Copper to Highgold in less than two years," Eithan cut in. "Sadi had explained about your damaged lifeline to me, and I would''ve done the same if I were your master. However, you no longer need to keep moving at this pace."


    Whitehall gazed at the ceiling, his voice quiet. "This world is cruel, Eithan. If I can help, even a little, then I must."


    "It''s a noble goal," Eithan said. "But a single night''s rest won''t stop you from helping others."


    "A single night''s rest could be the difference between life and death for thousands," Whitehall replied, his voice firm. He thought of Renfei, the Skysworn woman who had died in Ghostwater, and how her death had been swept aside with no consequences. "I may not change the world, but I''ll keep trying anyway. Someone has to."


    He began leaving but stopped by the doorway momentarily to look over his shoulder at Eithan, who was smiling at him. Whitehall did not know why, but he felt Eithan needed these words. "You''re a good master, Eithan. And a kind man." Then he was gone.


    Eithan stood alone, smiling faintly. "Kind, am I?" he murmured to himself before turning to clean up the remnants of their work.


    <hr>


    A month later, Whitehall found himself journeying toward Blackflame City, the heart of the Blackflame Empire. The Emperor had issued a summons to all young Truegolds across the Empire for reasons that remained a mystery. As a Highgold, the call technically didn''t extend to him, but Eithan''s squad¡ªaside from Mercy and himself¡ªconsisted entirely of Truegolds, and they had no choice but to answer.


    Now, in the stillness of the night, Whitehall sat in his quarters, bent over a desk cluttered with dream tablets provided by Eithan. He swallowed another of the pills Eithan had given him, their bitter aftertaste lingering on his tongue. Despite the blonde man''s lecture a month ago, the pills kept appearing¡ªlike clockwork. Whitehall never even needed to ask. Somehow, Eithan always knew when he ran out. Every morning, a fresh satchel would appear at his doorstep.


    The current dream tablet shimmered faintly under the lamplight as Whitehall activated it. His vision blurred before the image of a scholarly debate flickered to life. A group of researchers animatedly argued about the Everwood Rattlesnake, a creature capable of consuming the deadly Moonblew flower without harm.


    "I''m telling you, it''s this organ between their liver and large intestine!" a three-eyed scholar proclaimed, jabbing a finger at his diagrams.


    "You''re wrong, as usual!" another scholar, wearing thick goggles, snapped. "That organ exists in other reptiles that die instantly from Moonblew flowers! You clearly don''t know anatomy."


    Madra crackled in the air as their tempers flared, the tension threatening to ignite into violence.


    "They are not the same organ! Your research is flawed!" the three-eyed scholar retorted.


    Before Whitehall could see the fallout, the recording ended abruptly. He exhaled in frustration as the scene dissolved, his vision returning to the dimly lit room. Carefully, he placed the now-useless tablet aside, adding it to a growing stack on the desk. It was the eighth tablet he''d gone through tonight, and like the others, it was ultimately worthless.


    It wasn''t that the dream tablets were entirely without value; the first hundred or so had been a treasure trove of knowledge. But now, they felt like the dregs of a well he had long since drained.


    "You should work on your enforcer technique," came a muffled yawn from behind him.


    Whitehall glanced over his shoulder. Meatball lay sprawled on the bed, and her wings stretched lazily across the mattress. A feeling from their bond caused Whitehall to raise his eyebrows at the bird. Meatball was still asleep; she was just sleep-talking. She had mentioned to him how he should work on his enforcer technique more diligently. He had taken the advice of course, it made sense. The different poisons he learned had helped him find ways to make changes to his body.


    "I''m serious. You don''t need dream tablets," the bird muttered in her sleep, punctuating her words with smacking sounds. "Just test it on yourself."


    Whitehall chuckled under his breath, the bond between them pulsing with exasperation. Meatball had been encouraging him to focus more on his enforcer technique for weeks, and now, even in sleep, she refused to let it go.


    But she wasn''t wrong.


    Despite all the knowledge he''d accumulated, there were limits to what the tablets could teach him. Theories and observations only went so far in a world where life artists could heal nearly any poison or injury with ease. Yet there were cracks in that armour of complacency¡ª a poison killed a monarch. So, despite the lack of need for modern medicine, there were cases where their lack of it was exploited.


    He closed his eyes again and began cycling. He watched the grey boiling venom madra inside his core and isolated one of them at random. Eyeing the light green madra, he could not tell the source of the atter. Path of the Atterist, he was reminded why the path was called that way. Yet the name of the one he was currently on was incomplete. Life aura ran through his madra channels, yet he had not been able to isolate or pinpoint them.


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    "Medicine and poison are the same," he murmured, reciting the words given to him when obtaining his iron body. "The dose of the poison makes the medicine."


    Eureka. He wanted to slap himself for forgetting the basics of his path. The reason he had been so blind to the life madra in his channels was because he always regarded them as poison. And that was because it was the same. Focusing on the isolated green madra, he decided to throw precautions to the wind. With a deep inhale, he injected the venom into his blood. Life and death were going to be his dominion, and if he was not willing to experiment on others. He will test it on himself.


    <hr>


    Two months after reaching Blackflame City, Yerin was flying again on a broad raft of clouds with the rest of her squad. She had not gotten used to wearing the armour, but after requesting some adjustments here and there, she was surprised to find how comfortable it was. Her movements were not restrained, and she appreciated always having a thousand-mile cloud on herself. Mercy also made some adjustments to her armour, removing the pauldrons to free up the movements of her shoulders.


    Still, it gnawed at Yerin that she wouldn''t have been able to afford the adjustments if Sadi hadn''t chipped in.


    Sadi had offered to help fund the alterations after Yerin threatened to rip the armour apart in frustration. At least she''d been more gracious in accepting the gift than Mercy. Yerin smirked at the memory. The Akura heir had stubbornly refused the idea of a gift, not realising she was terrifying the Soulsmith to the point that Yerin had to physically restrain her.


    Now, perched on the Cloudraft, Yerin tried to focus on cycling her madra, ignoring the high-speed wind battering her face. Her Bloodshadow stirred within her, a sensation that could only mean two things. The first was unlikely¡ªLindon was cycling on the cloud behind them. Cracking one eye open, she confirmed the second possibility: Sadi was seated nearby, gazing at the landscape below.


    "Warn me when you''re about to come close, will you?" Yerin muttered, turning toward her.


    Sadi blinked, looking over her shoulder. "What?"


    "My Bloodshadow stirs whenever you''re around."


    "Huh," Sadi said, raising a curious eyebrow.


    "Don''t ask me why. The monster''s got a mind of its own," Yerin grumbled, gesturing toward her core. The Bloodshadow twisted in protest at her words, and she clenched her will to push it back into place. "That''s enough," she spat, annoyed.


    "You should try being nicer to her," Sadi said with a shrug, returning her gaze to the horizon.


    "Her?" Yerin exclaimed, incredulous. "That monster killed my family! I''d bet my soul it''d eat every one of you if I let it off its leash."


    Sadi didn''t flinch. "You''re a Truegold now, aren''t you? The Redmoon artist in Ghostwater didn''t seem to have trouble controlling her Bloodshadow."


    Yerin bristled at the comparison, watching Sadi''s hair flutter in the wind.


    "How would you feel if someone kept a boot on your neck?" Sadi finally asked.


    Yerin huffed, crossing her arms. "Bleed and bury me. Did Eithan put you up to this?"


    Sadi shook her head. "No. It just seemed obvious. Your Bloodshadow didn''t wake up until recently, right? Why blame her for something she didn''t even know she''d done?"


    Yerin''s knuckles whitened, her Bloodshadow stirring again, almost in agreement. "Bleed and bury me!" she snapped. "You''re sounding just like Eithan!"


    Sadi shrugged.


    "You want me to follow his plan, huh? Is that it?" Eithan had appeared outside Yerin''s door one day, saying he needed to tell her something in private. Her sword arm had swung for his head when he suggested she strengthen her Bloodshadow. Eithan had dodged out of the way as he always does. She had refused his request as she should.


    "I don''t know what Eithan''s plan is," Sadi replied calmly. "I''m just saying you should treat her better."


    "What''s got you staring so hard at the ground?" Yerin asked, steering the conversation elsewhere.


    Sadi straightened, caught off guard. "Nothing," she mumbled.


    "Bored of us already?" Yerin teased, settling next to her. Their legs dangled over the edge of the cloud.


    "Never," Sadi retorted. "It''s just¡­ I can''t shake the feeling there''s more to Eithan''s plan than he''s telling us."


    Yerin snorted. "Yeah, we get that a lot. But he doesn''t crack unless he wants to."


    "True," Sadi said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I''ve been trying to figure out my personal revelation for Underlord. Eithan said it''s supposed to connect me to the world. I''m trying to narrow it down."


    Yerin raised an eyebrow. "You chipped in the head or what? You just hit Truegold four months ago, true?"


    "Has it been that long?"


    "Has it been that long," Yerin mocked. "Most sacred artists stay at Truegold for decades. Some never advance past it."


    Sadi blinked, clearly surprised. "I didn''t know that. Whitehall and I advanced pretty steadily under the Beast King. We thought gold is nothing outside of Sacred Valley."


    "Steadily?" Yerin''s eyes narrowed. "When did you two leave the Valley?"


    "Less than two years ago," Sadi replied, thinking. "We regressed to foundation soon after."


    Yerin looked at the woman with wide eyes and renewed respect. "You two are chipped in the head," she remarked. "Now, I get why Eithan said our training was soft compared to yours."


    "What do you mean?" Sadi scrunched her eyebrows. "We were hardly sent into battle until I reached Lowgold; even then, it was to scavenge rather than fight."


    Yerin felt like swinging her sword at the Beast King. It would not end well for her, but it would be worth it. Probably. "That''s because you need to fight and have extra time to let your spirit settle at your new advancement. Even I am surprised to see your spirit intact, knowing you reached Truegold in that short amount of time."


    "Probably thanks to Ghostwater," Sadi mused, rubbing her chin. "Do you think my master knew about it and rushed us for that reason?"


    "Of course he did," Yerin crossed her arms. "Your master is practically Northstrider''s lap dog. I doubt he hadn''t had it planned this whole time." She needed to ask Lindon for more of the well waters he brought from Ghostwater. She wasn''t jealous of their advancement. Why would she be? She just felt like she was missing out. "No offence," she raised a hand at Sadi apologetically when she realised she had just called the woman''s master a lap dog.


    "None was taken," Sadi returned the gesture. She returned her gaze to the valleys below. "It is just that something happened in Ghostwater to Whitehall that caused him to change, and I am trying to figure out what he learned."


    "He wouldn''t tell you?"


    " He can''t. That''s the problem," Sadi sighed. "Whatever he found out, he was forced to swear an oath to keep it a secret. But I am pretty sure my master knew the secret already."


    "What about Eithan? You think he knows?"


    Sadi looked at the blonde man standing at the lead cloud with Orthos and Meatball. The man''s smile had not moved an inch since he called them and announced he was taking them to a special place.


    "I doubt it," she said. "But if he did, it would make sense why he keeps supplying Whitehall with that scholar pills. Whitehall sleeps once every few weeks, but Eithan kept reassuring me that he is fine."


    "Bleed and bury me. Every few weeks?" Yerin scoffed, turning to face Lindon and Whitehall''s cloud. "Is that why his eyes look like a resurrected dog''s these past few months? At least at the eye, I could see." She watched the large dark circle underneath Whitehall''s visible eye. She remembered how red they were whenever he opened them previously.


    "Yeap," Sadi answered. "What about you? Discovered anything about your revelation."


    "Not even close," Yerin admitted. "Revelation is more complicated than I thought it would be."


    Sadi made a cheeky smile, "Have you asked her?" she pointed at Yerin''s core.


    "I''ll stab myself before it gets to that point," Yerin snapped.


    "I know, I know," Sadi smiled. "Care for words of advice?"


    "Why do I feel like you''re only going to repeat what you said earlier?" Yerin replied, annoyed.


    "Because deep down, I think you know I''m right."


    Yerin sighed. She didn''t know why, but Sadi had a way of getting things into her head. If it were Lindon telling her this, she would scoff, and he would leave it alone. Eithan, she would swing a sword at. Sadi, however, was different.


    "Fine, say it," Yerin relented.


    Sadi smiled sympathetically. The woman stayed silent for a while and to Yerin''s surprise, the woman didn''t repeat herself. Instead, she asked. "It''s difficult, isn''t it?"


    For the first time since her master passed, Yerin felt heard. Someone finally saw the unseen weight she had been carrying on her shoulders: her master''s death, her breaking of his remnant, and the death of her family at the hands of the Bloodshadow that resides within her, whom now she was told to reconcile with. Her shoulders sagged, and she felt her eyes grow moist. She looked away, nodding silently.


    <hr>


    Eithan''s voice carried effortlessly over the morning air, crisp and clear against the quiet rustling of wind through the grass. "We''re setting down over there!" He pointed to a cluster of low hills rising from the surrounding grasslands, their slopes dusted with mist from the night before. He continued speaking, likely explaining something about the terrain, but the wind snatched his words away before they could reach the rest of the group.


    The morning sun had barely lifted over the horizon, casting long shadows across the land. A cool bite lingered in the air, the last traces of night retreating before the growing warmth of the day. The grass swayed in waves, rolling like an ocean beneath the drifting Cloudraft. To an untrained eye, the landscape looked unremarkable¡ªjust another stretch of open land. But something about it felt wrong. The stillness was too deep, the hush too unnatural.


    When they landed, boots pressed into the damp earth, leaving faint imprints in the dew-soaked grass. The moment Eithan stepped down, his gaze flicked toward the sky as if recognising something unseen.


    Sadi caught the movement and stepped beside him. "Do you know this place?" she asked.


    "Yes," Eithan replied, his usual cheer muted. Before she could question him further, he raised a hand, cutting her off. "Listen carefully. We don''t have much time."


    At that instant, a black feather shot out of Meatball, slicing through the air in a blur. A distant shriek rang out as the feather struck an owl that had been circling above them, watching. The bird dissolved into a swirl of silver-and-violet smoke, its remains vanishing into the wind.


    Eithan didn''t even glance at it. Instead, he continued. "A massive pillar of darkness will erupt before us in a few moments. Your instincts will tell you to run. Don''t. Fight them and run into it."


    Mercy took a hesitant step forward, her grip tightening around her staff. "A pillar of darkness?" she repeated nervously. "How do you even know about this?"


    Eithan turned to her with his usual bright smile, but this time, it felt sharper. "See for yourself," he said, gesturing toward the empty field ahead.


    As if waiting for his cue, the earth rumbled beneath their feet. Sadi instinctively spread her stance to keep steady, her perception flaring outward just as a ring of stone towers and statues blinked into existence around them. The sudden shift sent a shock through her senses¡ªhowever, she quickly realised there was no collision of light particles involved. She saw the faint lines of complex scripts running over the stonework.


    Teleportation?


    Before she could confirm her suspicions, a deep hum resonated through the ground, and then¡ª


    Darkness erupted.


    A wall of pure shadow surged from the earth, stretching endlessly skyward, blotting out the rising sun in an instant. The air turned thick, suffocating, as if the very essence of the night had been ripped from the heavens and forced into this single, concentrated mass.


    Sadi''s instincts screamed danger. Every part of her urged her to turn, to flee. Yet, at the same time, another part of her¡ªa deeper, older part¡ªfelt something else entirely. A pull. A challenge.


    "I can''t sense anything inside it," Whitehall called from behind her. His voice wavered slightly, but when she turned, she saw the determination in his one visible eye.


    "I''ll take the lead," she responded instantly. "I should be able to see." I hope.


    Without waiting for a reply, she launched into motion, sprinting toward the pillar of darkness.


    To her left, Orthos was attempting to flee in the opposite direction, his claws digging furrows into the earth. But Meatball had a firm grip on his shell, and together with Eithan, they dragged the protesting turtle toward the shadows.


    Behind her, Whitehall''s footsteps were light and quick, keeping pace.


    Whatever lay ahead, there was no turning back now.


    <hr>


    In the Seishen Kingdom, King Dakata stood atop the grand balcony of his palace, his gaze fixed on the dark purple sky above. The air was thick with the scent of impending rain, and the faint rumble of distant thunder echoed through the heavens. High above, amidst the swirling dark clouds, the Sage of Silver Heart floated, her presence commanding the attention of every soul gathered below. Her silver robes shimmered faintly, catching the dim light of the moon, and her voice carried an otherworldly weight as she concluded her speech.


    The Sage''s piercing eyes locked onto Dakata''s youngest son, Seishen Daji, who stood among the gathered elites. Her gaze was cold, unfeeling, and utterly devoid of emotion as she delivered her warning after finishing her speech. "I will make myself clear," she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "If you face Wei Shi Lindon before you reach Underlord, you will surely die ."


    Daji''s face twisted in shock, his mouth opening as if to protest, but no words came out. Dakata clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he fought the urge to stride over and slap some sense into his son. Daji was rash, overconfident, and far too accustomed to victory. The boy had never faced true defeat, having bested every opponent in the Kingdom at his level. It was a source of pride, yes, but also a deep-seated frustration for Dakata. Pride without humility was a dangerous thing, and Daji had never learned that lesson.


    Dakata''s eyes flicked to his eldest son, Kiro, who stood nearby, calm and composed. Kiro was everything Daji was not¡ªrespectful, measured, and wise beyond his years. He would make a fine king one day, but his lack of Daji''s raw talent was a constant thorn in Dakata''s side. If only the two could be combined into one perfect heir. His gaze drifted further to the corner of the garden where Meira, Kiro''s servant, tended to the flowers with quiet diligence. Even then, his heir still had his issues.


    The upcoming Uncrowned tournament the Sage had created this little qualification game for, however, was much more important than what he thinks of his sons. Being chosen to participate would open immediate new opportunities that would benefit his Kingdom greatly.


    So, before Daji could embarrass himself further, Dakata stepped forward, his voice firm and commanding. "Say no more," he said, cutting off his son''s inevitable retort. "Describe this Wei Shi Lindon to my oldest son, and you have only to sit back and watch."


    The Sage''s head snapped toward Dakata, her silver eyes narrowing slightly. The air around her seemed to grow colder, and Dakata felt a shiver run down his spine. "The Blackflame should not be your only concern," she said, her tone as icy as her gaze. "Traveling with the Blackflame Empire will be two disciples from the Wastelands."


    Dakata swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. Had he overstepped? The Sage''s presence was overwhelming, and even a king could feel small in her shadow. He bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect and submission. "Wastelands?" he asked cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper. His thoughts turned to politics. Was she about to order them to spare the Wastelanders? His sons would obey her wishes, but even the Sage must know how battles unfolded. If the disciples fell in combat, surely she wouldn''t hold them responsible for¡ª


    But the Sage''s next words caught him off guard. "Kill them if you must," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion. "And you will be rewarded for your service."


    Dakata''s eyes widened, his mind racing. Rewards from a Sage were not to be taken lightly, but neither were her warnings. The weight of her words settled over him like a storm cloud, heavy and foreboding. He glanced at his sons, then back at the Sage, his thoughts a whirlwind of strategy and caution.


    <hr>


    The darkness swallowed everything.


    Whitehall felt it seep into his bones, a formless, endless abyss that devoured sight, sound, and even the sensation of his own body. His Jade perception flickered uselessly, and his Copper sight¡ªusually sharp enough to catch the faintest shifts in madra¡ªmight as well have been smothered under a mountain.


    He reached for the ground beneath him, for the familiar rhythm of his footfalls, but there was nothing. No texture, no sound, not even the resistance of air. If not for the rapid beat of his own heart, he might have wondered if he had been erased entirely.


    Yet, amidst the abyss, one thing remained.


    Sadi.


    She was a flicker in the void, a tether so faint he might have mistaken it for a phantom thought. But it was real. He could feel her¡ªnot through his senses, but through something deeper, something raw. A connection that existed beyond the physical, beyond madra, beyond logic.


    It was weak, fragile as a thread spun in the wind. But it was enough.


    His feet, unseen and unfelt, still moved. He did not know if he was running on solid ground or through nothingness, but he kept forward, driven only by the certainty that Sadi was ahead. That was all that mattered.


    <hr>


    House of Blades


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    Dayang''s knees buckled as she stumbled upon the scene, her breath catching in her throat. The sight before her was a nightmare made real. Her husband''s body lay broken and brutalised, a grotesque mockery of the man she had loved. His right hand was severed, lying several meters away, fingers curled as if still reaching for something. His head was impaled on a jagged tree branch, the wood jutting grotesquely from his open mouth. His right foot had been placed atop his head, a cruel and deliberate insult to his memory.


    The forest around them was a wasteland. Trees had been uprooted, their massive trunks tossed aside like twigs. Others were sliced cleanly in half, their splintered remains scattered across the blood-soaked ground. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smell of torn earth. It was as if a storm of violence had swept through, leaving only devastation in its wake.


    Sangkuriang, her son, doubled over and retched, his small frame trembling as he emptied his stomach onto the ground. The sight was too much for him, too much for anyone.


    "Why?" Dayang whispered, her voice breaking. She fell to her knees, her hands clutching at the dirt as if it could anchor her to reality. Her tears fell freely, mingling with the blood staining the earth. "Why didn''t you listen to him?" Her voice rose, raw and trembling with grief and anger.


    Sangkuriang looked up at her, his face pale and streaked with tears. "Mama?" he asked, his voice small and fearful. He had never seen her like this¡ªher fists clenched, her eyes blazing with a fury that terrified him.


    "Why didn''t you listen?" Dayang repeated, her voice shaking as her grief morphed into frustration, anger, and helplessness. "He told you to stay back. He told you to be safe, and you... you didn''t listen! You¡ª"


    Her heart was heavy with so many emotions, none of which she could process. In a burst of pure, overwhelming grief and rage, Dayang reached out without thinking. Her hand collided with Sangkuriang''s head with a sharp crack.


    Her palm didn''t meet his skin directly. It was the wooden spoon she had been holding, still gripped in her hand from when she had been preparing food earlier, that struck him. The spoon the back of his head with enough force to knock him backwards, reeling.


    Sangkuriang stumbled back, his hands flying to his head, wide-eyed and terrified. His breath hitched as blood flowed from the wound, and he looked up at his mother in shock, her face a mask of anguish. His expression twisted into one of hurt, disbelief, and confusion.


    "Mama¡­" he whispered, his voice barely audible.


    Dayang''s heart shattered at the sight. Her son, her sweet child, was looking at her as though he didn''t recognise her. As though she were someone else entirely. The impact of what she had just done hit her like a storm.


    Dayang''s chest heaved as she stared at her son, her anger giving way to a crushing wave of guilt. "Sangkuriang¡­" she whispered, her voice trembling. She reached out to him, but he scrambled backwards, his small hands slipping in the bloodied dirt.


    "Mama, I''m sorry!" he cried, his voice breaking. "I didn''t mean to! I didn''t know!"


    But Dayang''s heart was too heavy with grief to hear his pleas. She took a step toward him, her hand still outstretched, but he turned and ran. His small figure disappeared into the shattered remnants of the forest, his sobs fading into the distance.


    "Sangkuriang!" she shouted, her voice raw and desperate. She chased after him, her feet slipping on the torn earth, but the forest seemed to swallow him whole. She called his name again and again, her voice cracking with despair, but there was no answer. Only the eerie silence of the ruined forest remained, a haunting reminder of all she had lost.

 Chapter 28

    Sadi found the darkness repulsive. It pressed in on her from all sides, a suffocating void that made every fibre of her being scream to turn back. But there was no retreat¡ªonly forward. Her eyes strained to catch the faintest glimmer of light. She tried to use the anglerfish technique at the depths of the Wasteland. Yet here, the light didn''t bounce; it simply shot straight forward and swallowed by the oppressive blackness.


    Finally, the overwhelming darkness began to recede , replaced by a softer, less menacing gloom. Above, the sky churned with black clouds that swirled like a colossal wheel, streaks of purple light breaking through in jagged patterns. Below stretched a vast valley, its landscape both haunting and majestic. To the left, a mountain loomed, its slopes blanketed in forests of blackened trees . But it was the mountain on the right that captured Sadi''s attention. Perched atop it was a walled city, its crenellated walls as dark as the clouds above. The fortress was immense, its silhouette imposing against the sky, and the sheer density of vital aura radiating from it made the Wastelands feel like a barren wasteland in comparison.


    "Night Wheel Valley," Mercy murmured, stepping out of the portal behind Sadi. Her voice was soft, almost reverent as if the name itself carried weight.


    Orthos''s head emerged from his shell, his glowing eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene. "It was a gateway?" he rumbled, his tone laced with irritation. He snapped at a nearby blackened tree, tearing off a chunk of bark. "You could''ve mentioned that earlier."


    Meatball, perched atop Orthos''s shell, snorted in agreement, but it was Eithan who responded.


    "Who has time for thorough explanations?" Eithan said breezily, his ever-present smile widening as he turned to Mercy. "Now, Mercy, where exactly are we?"


    Mercy''s gaze remained fixed on the towering fortress. "This is one of my family''s properties," she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I trained here for a while."


    Lindon swallowed audibly, his eyes darting toward the fortress. "Does that mean... in the house..."


    "Maybe," Mercy replied grimly, her expression darkening. "She doesn''t live here, but she visits from time to time . Her presence ... lingers."


    Something in the way Lindon and Mercy spoke made Sadi take a second look at the fortress. "A house?" she blurted, her voice rising in disbelief.


    Mercy nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Yes."


    Whitehall, ever the pragmatist, chimed in with a raised eyebrow. "Like a holiday home?"


    Mercy looked away sheepishly, nodding again.


    Sadi''s mind reeled at its sheer scale. A holiday home larger than entire villages in Sacred Valley? The wealth of a Monarch was beyond comprehension.


    "The valley is more like our family garden," Mercy added, though she looked distinctly uncomfortable admitting it.


    "Blimey," Whitehall muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender. He pointed to one of the tall towers visible over the walls. "And that? Your toilet?"


    Mercy opened her mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. Judging by her expression, Sadi guessed Whitehall had accidentally hit the mark.


    "Nope, nope," Whitehall said, waving his hands. "Don''t tell me. I get it. Rich people exist."


    Mercy laughed, though there was little humour in it. She scratched her cheek awkwardly. "I used to cycle out here when I was a little girl," she said, gesturing with her staff. "The vital aura here is incredibly strong , and we have every aspect you can think of. Shadow, mostly¡ªit''s everywhere."


    And light, Sadi thought, though she doubted invisible light counted.


    Mercy continued, "This place is full of natural treasures. It''s where we grow them, so to speak."


    Just then, Lindon let out a sudden cry, his balance faltering. Yerin''s hand shot out, gripping his arm to steady him before he could fall.


    Sadi blinked, realising for the first time that the two had been holding hands the entire time. She bit back a teasing remark, deciding that a Monarch''s garden was hardly the place for it.


    "The aura density here is far greater than it was in the Transcendent Ruins," Eithan announced, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Cycling here will be much faster than back home, which will make reaching Underlord that much easier! Half the reason Underlords are so rare in the Blackflame Empire is that the aura is so thin. Reaching the peak of Truegold becomes a monumental task. But here? This place is a treasure in itself!"


    Sadi felt her stomach churn at the sheer abundance of vital aura. She had noticed the stark drop in density when they''d entered the Blackflame Empire from the Wastelands. "But Mercy said her family grows treasures here," she pointed out. "Shouldn''t that be our priority? You said we needed funds."


    "Yes!" Yerin agreed, her voice loud with excitement. "What she said."


    Lindon took charge immediately, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of treasure hunting. "Mercy and Eithan can be our guides," he began.


    Before he could continue, Meatball fluttered above Lindon in excited circles. "Me! Me! I know where I can find treasures for me and Orthos."


    "You can sense them?" Lindon asked, surprised.


    "Of course," Meatball replied. "But they''re only useful for Sacred Beasts. Well, unless you want to change species."


    "Can I?" Lindon asked, his curiosity piqued.


    "That''s a discussion for another time," Eithan interjected, clapping Lindon on the back. "Once we''ve stolen as much treasure as we need, we can theorise all the ways to turn you into any animal you like."


    "You could be a dragon!" Orthos rumbled between bites of blackened bark. "Like me. Then you''d finally have a shell of your own."


    "Apologies, Eithan," Lindon said, refocusing. "As I was saying , Mercy and Eithan can be our guides, while Meatball and Orthos can travel together. We''ll split up, clean out the closest treasure sources, and then send a signal through our armour when we''re finished. After that, we''ll assign new hunting spots so we don''t waste time covering the same ground."


    "Brilliant plan!" Eithan clapped his hands. "Lindon, take Mercy and Sadi over there," he pointed to the left side of the fortress. "There are treasures there that would suit you three perfectly. I''ll explore with Whitehall and Yerin on the opposite side."


    "What?" Yerin and Whitehall exclaimed in unison, their voices tinged with dismay.


    "Go on," Eithan said, shooing Lindon and the others away. "Every second we spend here not stealing is a treasure wasted!"


    <hr>


    Yerin''s angry stomps echoed through the valley, each step a thunderous declaration of her irritation. She trailed behind Whitehall and Eithan, her glare flickering between the two like a predator sizing up its prey. Whitehall, ever perceptive, had picked up on the tension and wisely kept his mouth shut. Eithan, however, seemed utterly unfazed. He whistled a jaunty tune as they walked, his carefree demeanour only fuelling Yerin''s frustration.


    Finally, Yerin had enough. She planted her foot down with a stomp that sent a small shockwave through the ground, cracking the earth beneath her. Eithan didn''t so much as flinch, his whistling uninterrupted. "What''s your game, Eithan?" she demanded, her voice sharp enough to cut steel.


    "Game?" Eithan asked, turning to her with a bright, infuriating smile. "Well, stealing treasures, of course."


    Yerin''s eyes narrowed to slits. "Not what I meant, and you bloody know it."


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Eithan gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if she''d struck him. "Yerin, I am wounded! You think I¡ªhumble, innocent me¡ªwould manipulate a situation for my own amusement?"


    Yerin was not amused. "Yes."


    Eithan wagged a finger at her. "Well, yes, but that''s beside the point. This time, I have noble intentions."


    Yerin folded her arms, her grip on her sword tightening. "And those would be?"


    Eithan suddenly stopped walking, forcing both Yerin and Whitehall to halt. He turned to face them, his smile shifting to something more knowing. "You two are miserable."


    Yerin''s hand twitched toward her sword. "What¡ª"


    "Let me finish," Eithan cut in , holding up a hand. "Here we are, in a Monarch''s back garden, about to be surrounded by enemies. We need both of you to fight together, not at each other''s throats."


    Whitehall shrugged. "We fight together plenty on missions."


    "Yes, you do," Eithan conceded, his tone light but pointed. "But you''ve never sparred. You don''t know each other''s strengths and weaknesses. And that''s not the only thing I''m talking about." His gaze locked onto Yerin, his smile turning infuriatingly smug. "I''m talking about you and your Bloodshadow."


    Yerin''s Bloodshadow stirred within her spirit, its presence a roiling storm of anger and hunger. It gnawed at its confines, thrashing against the barriers she''d built to keep it in check. Yet, for the first time, she sensed hesitation from it ¡ªa flicker of uncertainty.


    "I told you I''m not giving that beast any chances," Yerin growled, her voice low and dangerous.


    Eithan''s smile didn''t waver. "You say that, yet I sense you''ve already made up your mind ."


    Yerin''s nails dug into the grip of her sword. She pulled it halfway out of its sheath, then slammed it back in with a sharp clang. "Fine," she huffed, her tone dripping with reluctance.


    "Very good," Eithan chimed, his smile widening.


    Whitehall, who had remained silent throughout most of the conversation, finally spoke up. "Why am I here, then?"


    "For my own amusement, partly," Eithan admitted with a grin. "But also to spar with Yerin and her Bloodshadow."


    Yerin''s Bloodshadow recoiled at the idea, its agitation spiking. Yerin felt it retreat deeper into her spirit, as if trying to hide. She knew why , the Bloodshadow had been afraid of Whitehall ever since he started melting Bloodspawns during their missions.


    "What?" Whitehall looked hesitantly between Yerin and Eithan. "I don''t think my poison path is suitable for sparring. What if I accidentally kill her or her Bloodshadow?"


    "In your dreams," she shot back.


    Eithan beamed at Whitehall. "Then you''ll just have to treat her with the antidote," he said, winking . "I have the utmost faith in you." He turned back to Yerin, his expression softening. "Yerin, look at it this way. You''ll finally learn to work with your Bloodshadow against someone you despise¡ªwell, one of you, at least. And you''ll both learn about each other''s strengths and weaknesses."


    Yerin raised an eyebrow, her scepticism clear. "Are you sure we''ll have enough time for this?"


    Eithan''s smile turned triumphant, sensing that his adopted daughter had finally bought into the technique he had suggested to her over a month ago. "Then it''ll be quick spars."


    <hr>


    True to his words, Eithan made Whitehall and Yerin do quick two-minute spars in between stealing natural treasures. At first, Whitehall thought the spar would only benefit Yerin. He was almost correct; sure, it benefited Yerin''s willpower training as she tried to control her Bloodshadow, but it benefited him too. Countless hours of self-experimenting and studying had finally begun to show its fruit.


    Whitehall had always envisioned his enforcer technique as something flexible and adaptable to any situation. But this was the first time he felt like he was truly mastering it. When Yerin unleashed her rippling sword techniques, his body reacted almost instinctively. He could feel the venoms inside him shifting, flowing to his legs to grant him bursts of speed and agility, allowing him to dodge her strikes with precision. When her Bloodshadow lunged at him, he instinctively knew which combination of venoms to release, sending a faint cloud of poison in her direction. The Bloodshadow was aware, too, that she would back off or stand down when she realised she would be caught by his poison. He never shot his poison towards them; this was a spar, not a fight to the death.


    Yet, for all his newfound control, Yerin was a force to be reckoned with. Her swordplay was relentless, her movements fluid and precise, a stark reminder of her master''s terrifying prowess. Whitehall couldn''t help but recall the day the Sword Sage had carved a path of destruction through the Ancestor''s Tomb, his blade a whirlwind of death. Yerin''s style echoed that same ferocity, though tempered by her own unique flair.


    In their first spar, Yerin and her Bloodshadow had fought like strangers, their attacks uncoordinated and predictable. It had been easy for Whitehall to counter them, using his toxic gases to disrupt their rhythm and force them to retreat. It had taken the full two minutes for them to finally corner him, forcing him to yield .


    But as the sessions continued, the dynamic shifted dramatically. Yerin and her Bloodshadow began to move in sync, their attacks coming from multiple angles at once . Yerin would engage him head-on, her sword a blur of silver, while her Bloodshadow struck from his blind spots, her crimson form flickering in and out of sight. Whitehall found himself constantly on the defensive, his venoms flowing faster and more precisely than ever before. Even so, he knew he was outmatched. If not for Eithan''s timely interventions¡ªcalling the fight the moment Whitehall was caught off guard¡ªhe would have been mortally wounded more than once.


    <hr>


    Hours later, they made their way back to the portal at a leisurely pace . Eithan had assured them there was no need to hurry, and the group took their time.


    "So, Whitehall," Eithan began casually, breaking the silence as they walked. "What do you think of how Yerin fights?"


    Whitehall shot Eithan a questioning look. "Is there a point to me answering that? I doubt she''ll care what I have to say."


    Eithan glanced over his shoulder at Yerin, who was trailing a few steps behind. "Would you?" he asked, his tone light but probing.


    Yerin didn''t reply. Instead, she fixed Eithan with a glare that could have melted steel. She felt like a cornered animal, torn between her pride and the practicality of the situation. On one hand, Whitehall was the last person she wanted critique from. On the other, all the natural treasures they''d stolen were stored in his void key. Her silence was answer enough.


    Eithan took her lack of response as permission. "I think that''s a yes," he said, turning back to Whitehall with a smile .


    Whitehall exhaled, clearly understanding the delicate position he was in. He decided to keep his critique brief and to the point. "Her Bloodshadow needs a sword."


    "I''ll be dead and buried before that thing gets a sword!" Yerin snapped, her voice sharp as she stomped past the two men, her boots kicking up small clouds of dust .


    Whitehall sighed, glancing at Eithan. "She''ll come around," Eithan said, his smile unwavering.


    Whitehall raised an eyebrow. "Does she have a choice?"


    Eithan''s smile widened into a grin. "Just between you and me?" he whispered, leaning in slightly.


    Whitehall nodded, his eyes flicking to Yerin''s retreating form.


    "I used to believe I should respect my disciple''s choices, even if I knew they weren''t the best for them," Eithan said, his tone thoughtful.


    Whitehall furrowed his brow, unsure where Eithan was going with this.


    "But that wouldn''t make me a good master, would it?" Eithan continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.


    "Where are you... going with this?" Whitehall asked hesitantly.


    Eithan winked. "Instead, now I''m opting to give them the illusion of choice by simply persuading them."


    A smirk tugged at the corner of Whitehall''s lips. "Then I can only hope you know as much as you seem to act like you do."


    Eithan winked again, his grin turning mischievous. "I know everything."


    Whitehall snorted, shaking his head. He highly doubted Eithan knew everything, especially after the man had once confessed to ignoring the Wastelands entirely. But he had to admit, Eithan''s confidence was ... impressive if nothing else.


    <hr>


    When they exited the walls and stepped back into the valley, the once-quiet forest was now a hive of activity. The serene landscape had been transformed into a sprawling Skysworn camp, bustling with soldiers and bustling with purpose. Flags bearing the emblem of the Blackflame Empire fluttered in the breeze, their vibrant colours stark against the muted tones of the valley. Medical tents had been erected, their white canopies standing out like beacons amidst the chaos. Trees had been cleared to make way for hastily built huts, and the ground was churned up by the constant movement of boots and equipment. The camp stretched as far as the eye could see, a sea of organised chaos that seemed to swallow the entire forest.


    Above, the sky was blotted out by the sheer number of Skysworn cloudships, their silhouettes dark against the purple light of the valley. Soldiers streamed out of the portal in an endless tide, their armour glinting as they moved with military precision. The air was thick with the sounds of shouted orders, clanging metal, and the occasional trumpets of elephants.


    Whitehall had to take a second look, his eyes widening at the sheer scale of the operation. It was the largest war camp he had ever seen, dwarfing anything he''d encountered in the Wastelands. "Are you lot going to war or something?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.


    "Haven''t you heard?" Eithan replied, his tone light but knowing. He was well aware Whitehall hadn''t been briefed. "The Akura Clan is making us compete with another vassal nation for the treasures here. The Seishen Kingdom."


    Whitehall frowned, his gaze sweeping over the camp again. "Then why does it look like the Blackflame Empire is about to wage a massive war?"


    "Not a war," Eithan corrected, his smile never wavering. "Just a friendly competition between vassals, orchestrated by their liege. Though, admittedly, it''s the kind of competition where accidents are bound to happen."


    Whitehall snorted, his disbelief evident. "How noble of the Aku¡ª"


    Eithan suddenly threw his head back and shouted into the sky, "You are right, my temporary disciple! The Akura Clan is the most noble of nobles and the best liege any vassal could ever wish for!" He then turned back to Whitehall, his smile as bright as ever. "Please do refrain from criticising a Monarch''s family when we are in their territory."


    Before Whitehall could respond, Eithan pointed towards one of the huts nestled in the forest. "There they are!" he exclaimed, breaking into a jog as he made his way towards it.


    Whitehall followed Eithan''s gaze and spotted Yerin standing near the hut. The others had gathered there as well ¡ªLindon, Mercy, and the rest of their group. But his attention was immediately drawn to Meatball. The garuda''s black eyes locked onto his, and he was surprised when he felt a message through their bond: We need to talk.


    <hr>


    Iteration requested. Amalgam.


    Date. Denied


    Report Complete.


    Valiar moved quietly through the dense forest, the soft crunch of leaves under his boots blending with the distant chirping of birds. The air was thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp soil, and shafts of golden sunlight pierced through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. Strapped securely to his side was Cornelia, the doll whose sharp tongue and sage advice had been his constant companions since childhood. Her porcelain face was serene, but her tone was as cutting as ever.


    He paused, his attention caught by a butterfly struggling to emerge from its chrysalis. Its delicate wings fluttered weakly against the confines of the cocoon, and Valiar''s hand instinctively went to the knife at his belt.


    "Don''t," Cornelia said sharply, her voice cutting through the quiet of the forest . "You''ll kill it if you cut it open."


    Valiar hesitated, his hand hovering over the hilt of his blade. "What do you mean? It''s struggling."


    Cornelia let out a long-suffering sigh. "Valin really should''ve paid more attention to your studies."


    "Hey, Master tried his best," Valiar retorted, though there was no real heat in his words .


    "Whatever," Cornelia muttered. "Remind me why we''re here again?"


    Valiar shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the struggling butterfly. "Master thinks it''ll do me some good to go out alone. Said it''ll make me better."


    "And why did you have to bring me along?" Cornelia asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.


    "You''re my favourite," Valiar joked, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "And I heard from Master that you''re the reason he took me in."


    "You have an interesting way of showing it," Cornelia replied dryly.


    Valiar chuckled softly and continued walking, the forest growing denser around him. The air was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant bird calls, but there was something else¡ªa faint, melodic hum that seemed to weave through the trees.


    "Do you hear that?" Cornelia asked, her voice low and cautious.


    "Yes," Valiar replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is that¡­ humming?" He began to tiptoe toward the source of the sound, his movements careful and deliberate.


    "Be careful," Cornelia warned, her tone serious.


    Valiar nodded and crept closer, eventually hiding behind a thick bush. Peering through the foliage, he saw a woman¡ªstunningly beautiful¡ªkneeling among a patch of wildflowers. She was humming softly as she picked the blooms, her movements graceful and unhurried.


    "Blimey," Valiar muttered under his breath, his heart skipping a beat .


    He felt Cornelia sigh, a sound that was becoming all too familiar. Before he could react, the woman''s head snapped up, her sharp eyes locking onto his hiding spot. In an instant, she was on her feet, her secateurs held like a knife, her stance defensive.


    Valiar raised both hands, showing them empty. "I come in peace," he said, his voice steady despite the sudden tension.


    Cornelia sighed again, louder this time. "She''s scared of your chains, you idiot. Might as well announce you''re a traveller."


    "Oh," Valiar said, realisation dawning on him. "Erm, hi?" he offered lamely, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.


    The woman''s grip on her secateurs tightened, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.


    "My name''s Valiar," he introduced himself, hoping to ease her suspicion.


    The woman didn''t respond. Instead, she pointed behind him, her expression unreadable.


    Valiar turned, scanning the area, but saw nothing out of the ordinary . "Idiot," Cornelia muttered under her breath.


    When he turned back, the woman was gone  as if she had vanished into thin air.

 Chapter 29

    Whitehall and Meatball found a secluded spot deep in the forest, far from the prying eyes and ears of the Skysworn. The trees here were dense, their gnarled branches forming a canopy that filtered the purple moonlight into faint, black patches on the ground. Whitehall wanted to ask the garuda how she had managed to send him a mental message through their bond. It hadn''t been words or images, exactly¡ªmore like a flood of ideas and impressions conveyed with startling clarity.


    Meatball''s sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, her expression more serious than Whitehall had ever seen. After a moment, she nodded, satisfied. "Coast is clear. I don''t sense the Sage''s owls nearby, and we''re out of Aurelius''s reach," she said, her voice low and steady.


    "What is it?" Whitehall asked, his tone tinged with worry.


    "Me and Orthos are leaving," Meatball stated, her words final. "I need to return to the Wastelands, while Orthos needs to go on a sabbatical to find his reason to advance to Underlord."


    Whitehall blinked, his mind catching on the word sabbatical . It wasn''t a term he''d heard before, at least not in this world. Perhaps scholars used it, but the origin of that word wouldn''t have existed here. Before he could dwell on it, Meatball continued.


    "It''s time you know a bit more about the truth, Sinar," she said, her voice softening as she used his old name. The name from his previous life.


    Whitehall''s breath caught. "What is happening?" he muttered. He ought to have felt betrayed that she''d kept this knowledge from him, but the bond between them told him she had her reasons¡ªgood ones.


    "I want to tell you, I honestly do," she replied, her black eyes meeting his. "But I can''t tell you much now. You''re still too weak. Mother had plans for us, and I need to go do my part."


    "Did she have plans for me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    "And Sadi," Meatball nodded. "But I can''t tell you what they are."


    Before Whitehall could press further, the garuda raised a wing to silence him. "Because I don''t know. Not the complete plan, at least."


    "Then what can you tell me?" Whitehall asked, frustration creeping into his voice.


    "Beware of the Aurelius," Meatball warned, her tone grave.


    "Eithan?" Whitehall asked, surprised. "The man''s been nothing but helpful so far."


    "That''s good," Meatball assured him. "Use his expertise to your advantage. He''s sworn to keep you and Sadi''s best interests in mind while you''re under his tutelage. But be wary. I can''t shake this feeling that he''s bad news. I''m not sure if it''s my instincts or Mother''s."


    "Sunda''s instincts?" Whitehall replied, perplexed.


    Meatball smiled, and for a moment, her voice took on an eerie resemblance to her mother''s. "I can never die."


    Whitehall took a step back, his mind reeling. There was something much larger at play here¡ªplans within plans, secrets layered upon secrets. And he was still in the dark, a pawn in a game he didn''t fully understand.


    "When will I see you again?" he finally asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him .


    "Not until after the Uncrowned tournament, at the earliest," Meatball replied. "The Beast King will meet you two after you reach Underlord."


    "Will he be able to tell me what''s going on?"


    The garuda shook her head. "Maybe, but I don''t think so. I don''t think he knows Mother''s entire plan, either. All of us involved only have bits and pieces. And we need to keep it that way."


    Whitehall swallowed his frustration. He understood the need for secrecy, but that didn''t make it any easier to accept.


    "At least answer this," he said, his voice firm. "Are we fighting them?" He pointed at the sky, not daring to utter the word Monarch.


    Meatball didn''t answer immediately. Her black eyes locked onto his single eye, and for a long moment, the forest seemed to hold its breath. Finally, she responded with a low hiss. "Yes."


    But there was something in her voice and through their bond¡ªa hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty¡ª that told Whitehall she was still hiding something . Something even she might not fully understand.


    "All right, then," Whitehall nodded, his resolve hardening. "What do you need me and Sadi to do?"


    "Advance," Meatball answered simply. "Keep a low profile, and don''t garner too much attention. Although I fear the Sage has already placed a target on your backs."


    "But I thought the Akura Clan was on the same side as the Wastelands and Northstrider. Why would she jeopardise the Wastelands'' candidates?"


    "Politics," Meatball replied curtly. She flapped her wings and landed on his shoulder. "We''ve been gone too long. The others will be looking for us. Let us start heading back."


    "What should I tell the others?" he asked as he began to walk back.


    "You can tell Sadi everything; no secrets should be kept hidden between you two. I know that for certain." Meatball whispered. "The others, you can tell them I was saying my goodbyes."


    Whitehall felt a pang of loss as it began to sink that Meatball was leaving.


    "Just for now," Meatball smirked. "But you should keep an eye for the Sage''s owls. I think me killing them on mass has garnered her attention. But I doubt it. I''m sure she thinks it''s some basic Sacred Beast predatory instinct."


    "Is it?"


    Meatball snorted, "Not for me, I can tell you that. The Wastelands have been largely ignored, except by the homeless king." She described Northstrider. "Even then, he rarely glanced his perception at us. We use their ignorance to our advantage at times. I''ll teach you how to detect the owls as we walk back."


    <hr>


    True to her word, Meatball taught Whitehall how to detect the Sage''s owls. It turned out to be surprisingly simple. The owls were crafted from a shadow aspect that subtly influenced Sacred Artists to overlook their presence. Once Whitehall became aware of this, the owls were impossible to ignore. The realisation sent a chill down his spine as he sensed the hundreds of owls scattered throughout the Skysworn camp, their shadowy forms blending seamlessly into the surroundings. Meatball must have known about them all along¡ªthat was why she had switched to communicating through their bond as they neared the edges of the camp.


    "Our two missing members have finally returned from their toilet break!" Eithan announced loudly as Whitehall and Meatball approached the group. All eyes turned to them, and Whitehall felt a pang of self-consciousness. "You must have eaten something foul, as it took you two quite a while to return," Eithan continued, his tone teasing. "You''ve even missed my favourite male disciple''s story of his adventure in a Monarch''s pocket world."


    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Whitehall was still reeling from his conversation with Meatball, his mind a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions. He scrambled to think of a reply, but before he could speak, Meatball bit his ear.


    "Ow!" he yelped, jerking away from the garuda.


    "You''re not supposed to say that to a lady!" Meatball scolded, her voice sharp.


    "Why''d you take it out on me?" Whitehall protested, rubbing his ear, but the bird ignored him.


    "Apologies," Eithan said, bowing theatrically to Meatball. "The excitement must have made me forget my manners. But rest assured, I''ve prepared something special for everyone."


    [You mean for me!] Dross popped out of Lindon''s head, cackling with glee.


    "Dross," Whitehall muttered, his eyes widening as he saw the spirit for the first time in months. "You look less... ghostly."


    [And it''s not even my final form!] Dross replied, his voice brimming with pride.


    "Ahem," Eithan coughed, drawing attention back to himself. He held up an open wooden box containing seven identical grey-green pills, each the size of a marble. "As I''ve presented to the others, I shall now present to you," he announced, his voice taking on the cadence of a lottery announcer. "The Heaven''s Drops."


    The pills felt... underwhelming. Their aura was faint, almost imperceptible. Yet Whitehall knew Eithan well enough to understand that appearances could be deceiving. These pills were undoubtedly something extraordinary. Meatball''s earlier warning echoed in his mind, and he glanced at the garuda perched on his shoulder. It''s good , she assured him through their bond.


    "What''s this?" Meatball asked, her head tilting as she examined the pills.


    "Heaven''s Drops," Eithan replied with a smile.


    "Doesn''t feel too... heavenly," Meatball remarked.


    " That''s because I''ve yet to add the final ingredient: Spirit Well water. Once mixed, it must be used immediately for maximum effect," Eithan explained.


    "Forgive me for making everyone wait," Whitehall said, wincing slightly as he apologised to the group.


    "It wasn''t that long," Mercy said, her smile warm and reassuring.


    "No forgiveness necessary, Elder Whitehall," Lindon added, nodding respectfully. "I had just finished retelling what happened in Ghostwater when you arrived."


    Sadi glanced at Whitehall questioningly, and he shrugged. "I''ll tell you later," he said casually.


    "Disciples, temporary disciples, Sacred Beasts," Eithan began, his tone grand and theatrical. "If you could present me with some Spirit Well water, I shall begin mixing the final ingredient for the Heaven''s Drops."


    Whitehall, Sadi, and Lindon opened their void keys. Side by side, Lindon''s void key was at least twice the height of Whitehall''s and at least thrice as deep.


    "How much do you need?" Whitehall asked.


    "A vial for each Heaven''s Drop. Lindon has agreed to supply for Mercy, Yerin, and Orthos, so I''ll just need one each from you and Sadi," Eithan replied.


    "One each?" Whitehall asked, frowning. "There''s three of us."


    Eithan smiled sympathetically. "Unfortunately, Whitehall, you''re already at the peak of Highgold. Taking it now wouldn''t do you any good. I''ll keep one for you. It''s better to wait."


    Whitehall felt a pang of disappointment but hid it as best he could. It wasn''t the Heaven''s Drop itself that bothered him¡ªit was the reminder of his stalled advancement. His progress wasn''t hindered by a lack of elixirs, treasures, or resources but by a gap in knowledge that gnawed at him.


    Sadi patted his arm reassuringly as she handed Eithan her vial. Whitehall nodded in thanks and gave Eithan one of his own. Eithan began mixing the Spirit Well water with the Heaven''s Drops, handing them out one by one. When he reached the fifth, only Mercy and Lindon remained.


    "Mercy," Eithan said, extending the Heaven''s Drop to her.


    The young Akura took a step back, her expression conflicted. "I''m sorry," she muttered. "I can''t."


    Eithan looked down at the glowing pill in his hand. "That is quite unfortunate timing."


    "I know," Mercy apologised again. "I''m sorry."


    Whitehall cut in, his voice firm. "Give it to Lindon first. We''ll give Mercy the next one," he said, his tone colder than he''d intended.


    Lindon hesitated as Eithan handed him the pill. The young man glanced at Whitehall, and something in his expression must have conveyed the depth of Whitehall''s determination because Lindon accepted the pill without a word.


    "Mercy," Whitehall said, turning to the girl. His voice was harsh, his pent-up frustration leaking through. "Take it."


    Mercy seemed to shrink under his gaze. "I can''t. I just need to return to my mother and admit my faults. She''ll shower me with similar resources¡ªor even better. I can''t take these away from you."


    Whitehall''s expression softened slightly. Mercy had a good heart¡ªtoo good, perhaps. Certainly kinder than her mother. "Your mother''s not here," he said gently. "I''m stuck here, unable to advance, and Eithan has just offered you a ticket to Truegold. If advancing means you can save lives, why would you stop yourself?"


    Mercy shook her head. "I can''t. I can just go back to my mother and¡ª"


    "She''s not here!" Whitehall repeated, his voice rising. He gestured to Lindon, Yerin, and Orthos, who were already cycling. "Do you think she''ll come out of her way to save them if you ask her? What if it''s too late by then?"


    Mercy''s eyes widened, but she continued to shake her head.


    "Eithan," Whitehall said, turning to the Underlord.


    "Yes, my favourite poisonous temporary disciple?" Eithan replied, pausing as he prepared the next Heaven''s Drop.


    "Can a Sacred Artist cycle while paralysed from the neck down?" Whitehall asked.


    Eithan''s eyes widened slightly, and a sly smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "That is a dangerous game, but I like it. A Sacred Artist can certainly cycle while paralysed, as long as their madra channels and breathing aren''t affected."


    Whitehall''s single eye gleamed with determination as he turned back to Mercy. She gulped, taking a step back. "Wait," she said, raising a hand. "I really don''t need it."


    Whitehall took slow, deliberate steps toward her. "Make a choice, Mercy. Do you want to do this paralysed or unparalysed?"


    Mercy shuffled backwards, her voice trembling. "Let''s talk about this."


    She stepped onto Tsu, ready to fly away, but her balance faltered, and she stumbled. Whitehall activated his enforcer technique, closing the distance in an instant and catching her before she could fall. The last thing she saw before losing control of her limbs was a green hand covering her nose. As soon as she inhaled the toxic gas Whitehall emitted, she was paralysed from the neck down.


    <hr>


    Mercy lay on the ground, her body stiff and unyielding, her lips pressed tightly together in defiance. Her eyes, however, betrayed a flicker of panic as Whitehall loomed over her, holding a single black feather plucked from Meatball. The garuda, perched nearby, seemed entirely unfazed, her focus entirely on cycling. Eithan, meanwhile, sat cross-legged a few paces away, his expression a mix of amusement and mild curiosity as he watched the scene unfold.


    "Never," Mercy mumbled through clenched teeth, her voice muffled but resolute.


    Whitehall crouched beside her, the feather held delicately between his fingers. He brought it close to her face, letting it hover just above her nose. "You''re making this harder than it needs to be," he said, his tone calm but firm.


    Mercy''s eyes widened as she realised what he was planning. She tried to turn her head away, but her paralysis left her completely at his mercy. "Don''t you dare," she hissed, though her voice lacked its usual confidence.


    Whitehall''s single visible eye glinted with determination. "You leave me no choice," he said, his voice low. With a flick of his wrist, he brushed the feather against her nose.


    Mercy''s breath hitched, and her body twitched involuntarily. She clamped her lips shut even tighter, but a faint, almost imperceptible squeak escaped her. Whitehall moved the feather to her feat, tracing it lightly along the edge. Mercy''s eyes watered as she used whatever willpower she had to resist.


    <hr>


    "She took it," Lindon said, his voice tinged with awe as he watched Mercy cycling on the grass , her body still flat but her spirit and soul already beginning to shift and grow stronger.


    "Bleed and bury me," Yerin muttered, her arms crossed as she stared at the scene. This was one of the rare moments she spoke more than a few words to Whitehall, but her curiosity had clearly gotten the better of her. "I was sure she''d rather die than take the Heaven''s Drop. How''d you do it?"


    Whitehall sat on a nearby tree stump, his right leg crossed over his left. His arms were folded, and his masked face was partially obscured by the shadows cast by the clouds overhead. A single black feather rested behind his ear as he turned to Yerin, his single visible eye glinting with satisfaction.


    "No matter how determined or powerful anyone is," he said, his voice low and icy, "none can stand up to being tickled."


    Yerin blinked, then let out a snort of laughter. "Tickled? You''re joking."


    Whitehall''s expression didn''t change. "Do I look like I''m joking?"


    Yerin shook her head, a grudging smile tugging at her lips. "You''re a madman, you know that? Tickling a Monarch''s daughter."


    Whitehall leaned back against the tree, his posture relaxed but his tone still cool . "Desperate times call for desperate measures."


    Eithan, who had been watching the exchange with obvious delight, clapped his hands together. "Well, I must say, that was one of the most entertaining and creative displays of persuasion I''ve ever witnessed. Well done, Whitehall. Truly, well done."


    <hr>


    Iteration requested. Amalgam.


    Date. Denied


    Report Complete.


    "You know, I don''t think Valin meant this when he sent you out here alone," Cornelia complained, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The enchanted doll''s porcelain face remained expressionless, but her tone was as sharp as ever.


    Valiar shrugged, his boots crunching softly on the forest floor as he walked. "He didn''t give me any explicit orders."


    Cornelia sighed¡ªa sound that had become all too familiar these days. "Besides," Valiar continued, trying to justify himself, "I''m just returning her flowers."


    "Sure you are," Cornelia shot back, her tone dry. "And it has absolutely nothing to do with how beautiful she is."


    Valiar''s cheeks flushed, and he looked away, hoping to hide his embarrassment. "She''s not that beautiful," he muttered, though the heat in his face betrayed him.


    "That''s a lie," Cornelia said flatly. "You talk in your sleep."


    Valiar groaned, trying to ignore the comment. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the dense undergrowth. "The trail ends here," he said, abruptly changing the subject. He was sure Cornelia knew what he was doing, but she let it slide ¡ªfor now .


    As he crouched low to examine the ground, a blade whizzed past his head, embedding itself into the trunk of a nearby tree with a dull thunk. Valiar froze, his heart pounding as he unsheathed his knife, his instincts kicking in.


    "Who are you?" a woman''s voice called out, sharp and commanding.


    Valiar turned slowly, his eyes widening as he saw her. She stood a few paces away, her stance poised and ready, a throwing knife balanced expertly in her hand. Her beauty was striking¡ªher piercing eyes, her flowing hair, the way the dappled sunlight seemed to dance around her. For a moment, Valiar was utterly tongue-tied.


    He looked away sheepishly, his cheeks burning. "I won''t ask again," the woman said, her voice cold. Another knife flew past him, landing dangerously close to his head.


    Panicking, Valiar quickly hid the hand holding his knife behind his back and extended the other, the one clutching the bouquet of flowers. "Hold on, I''m just returning your flowers," he said quickly, his voice tinged with desperation. "I mean no harm."


    "You and your kind always mean harm," the woman growled, her eyes narrowing.


    "My kind?" Valiar asked, genuinely confused.


    "Chained," she said, her gaze flicking to the markings on his forearm.


    Valiar glanced down at the intricate chains etched into his skin. "This?" he asked, pointing to his forearm.


    The woman''s eyes narrowed further, and she stared at him intently. Valiar looked away, his blush deepening. Something in his expression must have given him away because the woman''s stern demeanour faltered for a moment .


    "Are you blushing?" she asked, her voice tinged with bafflement.


    Valiar turned back to meet her gaze, his mouth opening to deny it, but no words came out. He looked away again, his face burning with embarrassment.


    "I can''t believe this is happening," the woman muttered, her tone a mix of disbelief and exasperation. She sighed, shaking her head.


    "Leave," she said, her voice firm.


    Valiar looked up, his heart sinking. "Wait, I just¡ª"


    "Leave," she repeated, more sternly this time.


    "Come on," Cornelia''s voice chimed in, softer now. "Imagine if you were her."


    Valiar sighed, his shoulders slumping. He could understand that. Without another word, and with his head hung low, he turned and walked away, the forest swallowing him as he disappeared into the shadows.

 Chapter 30: (Mix of Abidan and Cradle chapter)

    Suriel


    Iteration requested. Iteration 101, Ignite.


    Date. Present


    Report Complete.


    Suriel drifted through the calm, orderly expanse of the Way, the endless blue hues surrounding her as she approached Iteration 101. There was nothing particularly remarkable about this world. Its inhabitants wielded magic embedded into cards, summoning spirits and beasts through the Way. While fascinating in its own right, their power was negligible on a galactic scale. The planet''s surface was inhospitable¡ªits skies a toxic blue, its atmosphere a lethal mixture of gases and extreme temperatures. The people of Ignite had adapted by building their cities and nations deep underground, carving out a striving existence beneath the planet''s crust.


    Suriel stood a parsec above the planet, out of reach of the little satellites Ignite possessed. "Find him," she ordered her Presence.


    [Searching], her Presence replied. Scripts on Suriel''s eyes began to shift a second later as her Presence highlighted her target. [Target found. Sending coordinates and depth].


    Suriel followed the highlighted part of the planet in her vision, using the Way to create a shortcut and veiling herself. Most of the population in the iteration did not know of the existence of the Abidan, which is why the planet was chosen in the first place.


    [Exception: Those who possess exceptionally powerful cards, referred to as ''God cards'' by the locals.]


    Suriel emerged from the Way into a narrow alleyway near a bustling underground market. She had disguised herself as a young, aspiring card fighter, her green hair tied back with a blue headband. Her white jacket, shirt, and denim trousers were pristine, fitting right into the fashion and chaos of the market. As she stepped out of the alley, the cacophony of the market threatened to overwhelm her veiled senses.


    People gathered, conducting mock battles in which they did not need to summon their monsters. Battles were lost, and cards were taken as winners'' bounties as they journeyed to the top. Or, more fittingly, for this iteration, to the bottom. Sellers and merchants were yelling at people to buy their cards and collections as the losers slowly made their way to spend the meagre money they had to try to replace the lost cards.


    Although Suriel had tried to keep a low profile, several strangers still tried to challenge her to a duel. She ignored them, and none challenged her after they had realised she was not here for a duel. She made her way to District 12B, the slums among the slums. It was free to enter the place, although one would need the right papers to exit it. The roads were bare and smelled of piss and other body fluids. Drug addicts stood bent over on the sides, and some even remained standing as they died.


    [Dreamers], her Presence informed her. [They take the drugs to escape their reality].


    Suriel pitied them. This world''s advancement was a zero-sum game in which one must stomp the bottom to reach the top. And those people were at the lowest of the bottom. Hungry eyes of the desperate stared at her with greed and envy, but one look at her higher-quality outfit told them she was out of their league, and they backed off in fear.


    She navigated the muddy, filth-strewn roads, following the directions her Presence provided . The district was devoid of street lamps; any that had once existed had long been stripped for parts. The darkness was oppressive, broken only by the occasional flicker of a candle.


    Finally, she turned into a narrow alleyway, barely wide enough for one person. Her target was there, sitting on a small plastic stool, a card binder resting on his lap. A single candle flickered at his feet, casting long shadows on the grimy walls.


    He looked different ; gone was the pristine and replaced by rags. Yet his eyes and face were exactly how she had remembered him. He sat on a small plastic stool, a card binder on his lap and a small candle lit by his feet.


    The man started speaking when he heard Suriel''s footsteps come close. "Hello, young duelist," he began, his voice carrying a practised charm. "Are you looking for¡ª" He paused mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as he took in her appearance. His tone turned cold. "Cards to start your journey," he finished, his words dripping with sarcasm.


    "No," Suriel replied, her voice calm but firm. "I require¡ª"


    The man cut her off with a wave of his hand. "No purchase, no hospitality."


    Suriel suppressed a sigh. Outwardly, her expression remained stoic. "I want to see the best you can offer," she said.


    The man smirked as he handed her his binder. "I only sell my best."


    Suriel flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the cards with practised efficiency. She paused when she reached a seemingly ordinary card. The image depicted a man in white armour, his long blue hair flowing as he wielded a massive sword. The inscription on the card caught her attention, and her Presence translated it for her:


    The sword of bravery that advanced without fear became the light that brought hope.


    She placed a finger on the card, "this one."


    The man''s smirk widened. " Blaster Blade ," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "That one''s not meant for you, Suriel ," he whispered, her name slipping from his lips like a secret.


    "Suriel," she acknowledged, her tone respectful. He was the second-generation Suriel, her predecessor.


    "That''s you now," the man replied, his voice softer. He flicked two cards to either side, creating a privacy barrier that shimmered faintly in the dim light. "I go by Shin now. Shin Nitta."


    Suriel waited for the barrier to fully form before speaking. "I need your help."


    "Tch," Shin sucked his teeth, his expression souring. "Of course you do. Here, I thought you''d violated hundreds of laws just to visit your old master." He waved a hand dismissively. "My fault for expecting sentimentality."


    "I''m looking for a first-generation Judge," Suriel continued, ignoring his jab.


    Shin''s eyes widened. "The ones from Cradle?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "And what makes you think I have the answers?"


    "There''s no one else I can go to," Suriel admitted. She bowed at the waist, her voice earnest. "Please. Billions are dying at the hands of the Vroshir. The Way grows weaker every second. Time is of the essence. I need to know."


    Shin stared at her, clearly taken aback by her humility. He steadied himself, his expression growing serious. "Explain."


    So Suriel did; she recounted everything Makiel told her, what she had seen written in the record books, what she saw and detected in the recording of Ozriel''s battle, Makiel''s theories, and the Mad King.


    "You''re fucked," he said bluntly.


    "Did you know any of it?" Suriel pressed. "About the incursion? Or how to stop the Mad King?"


    Shin''s face darkened at the mention of the Mad King. "Everything I know about the first-generation Suriel you''ve already inherited when my mantle was stripped from me and given to you," he said bitterly. "Ask Ozmanthus how to beat Ozkimeth. That know-it-all probably already has a plan."


    "Ozriel is...missing in action and currently presumed dead."


    Shin gave her a questioning look that told her the Abidan was exactly how he had crudely described, ''fucked''.


    He looked to the side and closed his eyes, removing his glasses and pinching his nose bridge. "Most of the first generation Judges are dead. The only one not confirmed dead is the Ghost. But good luck finding Durandiel; they''re called the Ghost for a good reason."


    The Way thrummed when Shin mentioned the first-generation Durandiel.


    Either Shin still had a strong connection to the Way, or Suriel''s expression had unknowingly cracked as the man gave her a wide grin.


    "The Way agrees with me, it seems," he remarked.


    Suriel nodded. "Thank you, master."


    She prepared to reverse time and leave, but Shin stopped her with a raised hand. "Wait. There''s something you should know. Something I never got to tell you before I was forced into retirement."


    Suriel paused, her expression attentive.


    "I''m not afraid of the Way anymore," Shin said, his voice tinged with defiance. "What have they told you about the Reaper Division?"


    " That you played a massive role in their creation," she answered. "And your recklessness led to the rise of the Mad King."


    "Not entirely wrong, but not the full truth either," Shin said, his tone bitter. "The real reason is that I learned too much, and the Way hated me for it." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "q9eq9odhioqwdhiah...."


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The words that followed were a chaotic jumble of sounds, incomprehensible and agonising. Suriel''s head exploded with pain, a thousand blades stabbing into her mind. She dropped to her knees, her scream echoing through the alleyway. The pain was unlike anything she''d ever experienced in a long time, overwhelming and all-consuming. It only subsided when Shin finished speaking.


    He stood over her, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he said nothing, as if debating whether to share more. Finally, he sighed. "You should turn back time now like this never happened. I have no more answers to give you."


    Suriel rose to her feet, her clothes pristine once more as she wiped away the filth with a wave of her hand. The pain in her head vanished as if it had never been there, though the memory of it lingered faintly.


    "Go," Shin said, returning to his seat.


    Suriel nodded, lifting her arms to reverse time and erase their meeting.


    "One last thing," Shin called out as the barrier began to dissolve . "Just know that I wouldn''t have abandoned you like that if I''d had a choice. But I guess you didn''t need me anyway. You''re already a better Suriel than I ever was."


    "Thank you," Suriel replied softly before turning back time and leaving the iteration through the Way.


    As she drifted through the endless blue, her Presence spoke up. [What''s our next destination?]


    Suriel sent her Presence the name of someone who might know the location of the first-generation Durandiel. It was a long shot, but if anyone would know, it would be her.


    [58% probability that she would know], her Presence confirmed.


    "Then contact her," Suriel said, her voice firm. "Request a meeting with the Angler."


    It was time to make a deal with an old enemy.


    <hr>


    Iteration requested. Iteration 110, Cradle


    Date. Present


    Report Complete.


    Seishen Territory of the Nightwheel Valley


    Lukrasta, Truegold of the Seishen Kingdom, stood guard at the Kingdom''s camp in the valley. He had drawn the short straw, leaving him behind while most of the other Truegolds participated in a surprise attack on the Blackflame Empire. The camp was quiet, almost eerily so, with only four Lowgolds, two Highgolds, and himself¡ªthe sole Truegold¡ªleft to defend it.


    The only thing that kept his spirits up was the thought of the treasures they would claim once the Blackflame Empire was driven out. He would finally have the resources he needed to prepare for his advancement to Underlord. For now, he leaned against a tree, the weight of his twin shields resting comfortably on his arms. To pass the time, he summoned his family''s most prized possession: the Doomdryte, a grimoire passed down through generations. Legends said it held the key to Monarch-like power for anyone in his bloodline who completed its ritual. Lukrasta had spent every day since inheriting it deciphering its cryptic contents.


    From this distance, he could feel the clash of Overlord Kings through his perception, their auras colliding like distant thunder. The battle was far enough away to be background noise but close enough to remind him of the stakes. He was engrossed in the grimoire''s text when his perception screamed danger. Instinct took over, and he threw himself to the side just as the tree he''d been leaning against exploded into splinters.


    "Not bad," a woman''s voice said, her accent strange and unfamiliar.


    Lukrasta looked up to see a Skysworn standing where the tree had been. She had black hair cut short, her face marked by multiple scars. In her hand was a sword forged from blue Steel, its edge gleaming faintly in the dim light. She pulled the blade back, ready for another strike. Lukrasta quickly ran his perception through her spirit¡ªTruegold , just like him .


    "Form up," he whispered into the communication construct in his armour, his voice tight with urgency.


    "Let''s try again," the woman said, her tone almost casual as she slashed her sword through the air.


    Lukrasta summoned his twin shields, their surfaces glowing faintly with Earth madra. He braced himself , rooting his feet to the ground as the sword aura crashed into him. The impact was stronger than he''d expected, sending a jolt through his arms. His forearms ached, but he held his ground.


    The communication construct in his armour flickered to life. "Unable, sir!" a Highgold''s voice replied, strained and panicked. "The Skysworn is engaging us."


    A reverse ambush? Lukrasta''s mind raced. That shouldn''t be possible. His Underlord commander had assured him the Blackflame Empire had no knowledge of their plans. This had to be an unfortunate coincidence.


    "I don''t mind toying with you for another hour," the woman said, her sword resting casually on her shoulder. "But answer this: where''s the rest of your golds?"


    So she didn''t know about their ambush . That was something, at least. Lukrasta feigned hesitation , then lunged forward, aiming to catch her off guard. His shield met her sword with a resounding clang, the force of the collision sending shockwaves through the surrounding trees. Splinters rained down as his shields deflected the sword''s aura.


    "How many Skysworns are you engaging?" he whispered into his armour.


    "One Highgold, sir," came the reply a second later.


    One? Were these just scouts, not an attack force?


    "Oi!" the swordswoman yelled, her voice sharp. "Focus on the enemy in front of you."


    Her movements were a blur, and Lukrasta barely raised his shield in time to block her next strike. A second later, a bloodshadow materialised behind him, its crimson form lunging at his back. He twisted, slamming his other shield into the bloodshadow and forcing it to retreat. He jumped back, putting distance between himself and the two attackers.


    He recognised her now based on the Truegold briefing he received before the others made their journey. She was the companion of Wei Shi Lindon, the Blackflame.


    "What''s your goal?" he demanded, his voice steady despite the tension.


    The woman smirked. "I asked first." She darted forward again, her sword flashing as she struck at him. He parried the blow, then spun to bash the bloodshadow with his shield as it tried to flank him.


    "To me, once you''re finished," he barked into the communication construct.


    The construct buzzed, but there was no reply¡ªonly a faint, distant wail.


    "Tom!" Lukrasta shouted, his voice rising in panic. "Answer me, damn it!"


    The woman and her bloodshadow pressed their attack, forcing him into a defensive stance. He was holding his own, but barely. The bloodshadow''s lack of a weapon gave him an opening to strike it, but he was too busy defending to mount a proper counterattack.


    Then, the woman''s armour buzzed. "Done here," a man''s voice said. "On my way to you."


    "You hear that?" the woman called out, her voice taunting. "Your Highgolds are dead."


    Lukrasta''s heart sank. He was outmatched and outnumbered. He needed a way out¡ªfast. "The other golds are attacking the Blackflame Empire as we speak," he said, hoping to buy time.


    The woman''s expression didn''t change, her face unreadable. He braced himself for another attack, but then her armour buzzed again.


    "Yerin, we need to go!" the same man''s voice came through, urgent and tense. "They''re after Lindon and Sadi!"


    That got her attention. She hesitated, then slammed her sword into its sheath. "Bleed and bury me," she muttered into the construct. "I''m on my way."


    Then her eyes sharpened onto Lukastra, and in that moment, he realised he had lowered his guard when the woman sheathed her sword. He had not paid attention to the bloodshadow. Looking down at his chest, where he felt a piercing pain, he realised he was already dead. A red arm pierced through his chest, and blood squirted out of the wound.


    His lips parted, but no sound came.


    The woman met his gaze. Her expression was already turning away, disinterested. "Should''ve kept your guard up."


    Lukrasta''s vision blurred. The Doomdryte tumbled from his fingers.


    Then¡ªnothing.


    <hr>


    "What took you so long?" Whitehall asked as Yerin finally caught up to him. The two of them sprinted through the forest, their footsteps crunching against the underbrush as they raced toward the Blackflame Empire camp. The air was thick with tension, the distant sounds of battle echoing through the trees.


    "Truegold with two shields ain''t that easy to beat with a sword," Yerin replied, her voice sharp but not unkind. She adjusted her grip on her blade as they ran, her bloodshadow flickering faintly at her side. "How''d you know they''re after Lindon?"


    "Made one of them cough up what they know before I finished our task," Whitehall said, his tone matter-of-fact. "According to her, they''re after Lindon and the Wastelanders."


    "You killed them?" Yerin asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at him.


    "Incapacitated," Whitehall corrected. "No point killing when you''re playing a Monarch''s game. You learn anything from the Truegold?"


    "The rest of their army''s conducting a surprise attack on our camp," Yerin grunted, her annoyance palpable. "You think Eithan knew?"


    Whitehall smirked beneath his mask. "Would it surprise you if he had?"


    Yerin huffed. "Reckon not."


    Whitehall guessed Eithan''s plan was working¡ªforcing the two of them to actually talk. Strange , speaking to Yerin with more than one word at a time.


    But not unpleasant.


    <hr>


    Sadi sat on the ground, attempting to count as many purple fruits as she could see for a game she was playing with Mercy. Whitehall had told her of Meatball''s departure, and she was sad when she said her goodbyes. Neither Whitehall nor Meatball told her why Meatball had left; Whitehall had said that he would tell her when they were ''truly'' alone.


    Then, a few days ago, Eithan sent Yerin and Whitehall to sneak into the Seishen camp and poison their supplies. She felt uncomfortable about Yerin leaving with Whitehall. Yerin was a force to be reckoned with, that is true, but Sadi''s light path would be more suited for sneaking in undetected than Yerin''s sword path. Today, Eithan sent her and Mercy to replace the Skysworns who guard the supply lines between their camp and the portal.


    "How many did you count?" Mercy asked her from above, descending from the trees of Tsu. The Heaven''s drops had done wonders for Mercy; her balance was now better than Sadi had ever seen.


    "Sixty-four," she answered.


    "What?" Mercy exclaimed. "How? I only saw forty-two."


    Sadi was about to raise her hand and point towards the fruits hidden in the shadows of thick leaves nearby when her perception warned her. Mercy noticed it , too, and looked to the side, where a Truegold sacred artist unveiled his spirit. Two Highgolds walked behind him side by side.


    The Truegold had a wolf-ish expression, his eyes gazing at them like a predator''s. "I found you, Wastelanders," he snarled. He unsheathed two swords from his back and cycled madra into the blades, which caused the blade to ripple with green force madra. "Your Remnants should remember the name of the man who killed you! I am Seishen Daji."


    Mercy waived, "Hello, Daji, I''m Mercy!"


    Daji''s grip on his swords tightened.


    "Mercy, handle the Highgolds," Sadi said, her voice steady. As a Highgold herself, Mercy would be protected by the rules of engagement, preventing Daji from attacking her directly. "I''ll handle the Truegold," Sadi added, unsheathing her knives.


    Mercy nodded reluctantly and transformed her staff into a bow.


    "Foolish," Daji muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You should surrender now, and I''ll make it quick." When neither of them moved, his grin widened. He signalled his two servants to engage Mercy.


    "Yes, my Prince," they replied in unison.


    Sadi gulped; the Truegold was a prince. Having experienced the power of nepotism, she knew this would not be easy. She readied her technique and met Seishen Daji''s swords.


    A few minutes later, she realised she was utterly wrong. The fight was easier than she thought. He was a good fighter- very good, she would argue. But he would have been better off covering his face. Seishen Daji''s emotions were practically painted on his face, and he got frustrated easily, making his movements predictable.


    His face scrunched up as his sword slashed through nothing. Sadi''s Lightcloak technique hid her form from him as she slashed her knife, aiming for his neck. The defensive construct in his armour activated and pushed her back. For a moment, her technique flickered, and Daji''s gaze fell on her location. He rushed in for another slash, and Sadi activated her Blindingwrath technique at his eyes.


    Daji''s steps faltered as he covered his eyes with his swords. "Face me, you hag!" he yelled, his voice trembling with rage.


    She almost pitied him. In his frustration and desperation, she saw a reflection of her younger self¡ªangry, insecure, and constantly trying to prove her worth.


    She didn''t know why she spoke to an enemy trying to kill her, but the words spilt out anyway. "You''re a younger brother, aren''t you?"


    Daji''s expression darkened, and he lashed out blindly , sending a wave of force madra in her direction. "A barbarian wouldn''t understand me!" he growled.


    "Let me guess," Sadi replied, dodging the blast and sending another Blindingwrath at him. "Your parents look at you with disdain, and deep down, you know you''ll never be enough." She dropped her Lightcloak for a moment, revealing herself to him. "That you''ll never live up to them."


    "Shut up!" Daji screamed, his movements a blur as he jumped towards her, but found that his sword had slashed through nothing but air again. He breathed hard as he pulled his sword from the ground. "Do not pretend that you know me," he seethed.


    "I''m not," Sadi said softly, her tone almost sympathetic. "But you remind me of myself once upon a time. Always in the shadow of an older sibling."


    The next thing Daji saw was a blur of motion, a flash of light so quick it barely registered. Then came the warmth¡ªliquid pouring from the side of his neck, staining his armour and dripping onto the forest floor. He hadn''t felt the cut, hadn''t even seen it coming. His vision swam, the world tilting as his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed to his knees, his swords slipping from his grasp.


    He tried to speak, to curse her, to demand an explanation, but no words came. His mind was a haze, his thoughts fragmented. The last thing he remembered was the sensation of two strong pairs of arms grabbing him under his armpits, hauling him upright. His head lolled to the side, and through the fog of his fading consciousness, he saw her¡ªthe Wastelander. Her lips moved, her voice barely reaching him.


    "You need to let it go," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. "Find another path."


    Daji''s vision darkened at the edges, the world narrowing to a pinprick of light. "My prince!" a distant voice shouted, filled with panic and desperation. Then, everything went black.


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested.  Amalgam.


    Date.  Denied


    Report Complete.


    Dayang stepped out of her house, the morning sun casting a warm, golden glow over the small clearing where her home stood. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the faint scent of dew-kissed grass and wildflowers. She adjusted the woven basket on her arm, ready to head into the forest to forage for herbs. But as she closed the door behind her, she froze, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the boy in black standing awkwardly by the edge of the clearing.


    "Oh, not again," she groaned, her voice tinged with exasperation. "Are you going to come here every day? You''ve been here every morning for the past month."


    The boy¡ªValiar¡ªlaughed sheepishly, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He clutched a bundle of flowers in his hands, their vibrant colours a stark contrast to his dark attire. "Has it really been that long?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck.


    "Are you going to stalk me every day now?" Dayang retorted, her tone sharp but not unkind.


    Valiar''s eyes widened, and he began shaking his head and hands furiously . "What? No! No, I just ¡ªI wanted to bring you some flowers because you liked them. I''ll leave you alone if you ask me to," he stammered, his voice earnest.


    Dayang sighed, her expression softening slightly. She extended a hand toward him, her gaze steady.


    Valiar blinked, looking confused.


    "The flowers," Dayang said, her tone matter-of-fact.


    "Oh!" Valiar exclaimed, his face lighting up with surprise. He handed her the bouquet, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment .


    "Thank you, Valiar," she said coolly, tucking the flowers into a small vase by the entrance of her home . The vibrant blooms added a splash of colour to the otherwise simple decor.


    Valiar smiled, a hint of pride in his expression. "I didn''t know you remembered my name."


    "Dayang," she said, introducing herself properly, though her tone remained distant.


    "You''re welcome, Dayang," Valiar replied, his voice warm.


    Without another word, Dayang turned and began walking toward the forest path, her basket swinging gently at her side. After a few steps, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. "I''m going to forage some herbs. Would you care to join me?" she asked, her invitation casual, almost offhand.


    For a moment, there was silence. Then, Valiar''s voice broke through, filled with surprise and delight. "Yes!" he said, his enthusiasm unmistakable. The sound of him clapping his hands together in quiet celebration followed, making Dayang roll her eyes¡ªthough a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

 Chapter 31

    Whitehall shouted urgently at his communication construct, "Sadi! Sadi, can you hear me? I''m on my way!"


    The construct buzzed, and for the first time, he heard Sadi''s response, though it was faint. "Whitehall... We''re okay... helping others."


    "Where''s Lindon?" Yerin called out, her voice edged with concern.


    The construct buzzed again, relaying Sadi''s words with difficulty. "Near... camp. Distress... On our way. Bogged down by... enemies."


    Suddenly, Dross''s enthusiastic voice cut in, breaking through the static. [Hey guys! What Sadi meant is that she and Mercy are making their way to Lindon, but they''re being delayed by enemies.]


    "Where is she?" Whitehall pressed, anxiety creeping into his tone.


    [Didn''t you catch that?] Dross replied. [They''re fine.]


    Sadi''s voice came through once more, more reassuring this time. "We''re... fine... Supply line."


    "And I''ll make sure you''re fine," Whitehall snapped back, determination flaring within him.


    [That''s sweet,] Dross chimed in. [But just so you know, Lindon is dealing with an Underlord right now. Feel free to swing by and save us whenever you can.]


    Yerin''s pace quickened as she sprinted ahead, and Whitehall had to activate his enforcer technique just to keep up with her. Caught between helping Sadi or Lindon, Whitehall hesitated when he said, "They''re after Sadi too."


    Yerin did not look back when she replied, focusing entirely on getting to Lindon. "Do what you need to."


    With an unsatisfied grunt, Whitehall veered to the right, his boots pounding against the forest floor as he sprinted toward the supply lines.


    <hr>


    Sadi and Mercy moved swiftly through the chaos, helping where they could as they made their way to rendezvous with Lindon. The Seishen sacred artists were everywhere, their numbers overwhelming the Skysworns at every turn. Sadi knew Whitehall was on his way to her¡ªthat was as certain as the sun setting at night.


    She had told Whitehall they were fine, but that wasn''t entirely true. They were fine for now. The two of them had stumbled upon a Skysworn squad locked in a desperate battle against three Seishen Truegolds and four Highgolds. The Skysworn squad, led by a blonde-haired Truegold with a bloodied shoulder, had already lost one of their Lowgolds by the time Sadi and Mercy arrived. Their presence tipped the scales ever so slightly, but not enough to have an advantage. The Skysworn squad had one Truegold and three Lowgolds including the one that was dead .


    "Their Truegold killed my Lowgold," the Skysworn squad leader growled, her voice tight with pain and anger as she clutched her wounded shoulder.


    "Doesn''t that violate the rules of engagement?" Sadi asked, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the Seishen sacred artists.


    Mercy glanced up at the trees, and Sadi followed her gaze. Perched high above was an owl, its unblinking eyes watching the scene below. Mercy''s expression darkened, and she shook her head at Sadi.


    So that was how it was going to be.


    One of the Seishen Truegolds stepped forward, her sword gleaming as she pointed it at Mercy. "Surrender, and we''ll spare you," she said, her voice cold.


    "The others?" Mercy asked, holding her bow at the ready.


    The Truegold shook her head.


    Mercy sighed and unleashed her arrow.


    Sadi didn''t wait for the chaos to unfold. She activated her Lightcloak and darted toward the Seishen Highgolds standing behind their Truegolds. They wouldn''t see her coming until it was too late.


    "Sadi, no!" Mercy called out for her to stop, but she was too late.


    Sadi activated Blindingwrath, which triggered the defensive constructs on the Seishen Highgolds''s armour. Once the defensive construct had activated, sending wind aura to push the fake attack back, it needed a few seconds to recharge. Sadi took the opportunity to strike at their them with her karambits.


    She unzipped their necks, and two bodies fell. Blood poured like fountains from their dying forms.


    When she came for the third Highgold, a spear blurred from her left, and she caught it with her interlocked knives. The spear, however, caught her shoulder.


    She saw a Seishen Truegold holding the spear lodged in her shoulder, their face entirely covered by a steel helmet. Sadi smirked. The Seishen Truegold must have noticed something was wrong because they attempted to pull their spear away.


    Sadi held it firm.


    The other Skysworn Truegold arrived in a blur with a green sword forged of force madra. She aimed her sword towards the remaining Seishen Highgolds. The Highgolds lifted their shield, but the sword pierced through it like paper. Then she slashed towards the fourth and last Highgold, carving the man''s shield and his body in half.


    In quick succession, all the Seishen Highgolds fell.


    "Shouldn''t have broken the rules of engagement," Sadi spat at the Truegold still struggling with the spear.


    The Truegold let out a muffled guttural roar and attempted to push the spear in deeper, but a black web struck his back, sending him and trapping him onto a nearby tree branch.


    Sadi turned back to the battlefield, her triumph short-lived as she saw one of the Skysworn Lowgolds lying lifeless in a pool of blood.


    "The last one!" Mercy yelled, her voice urgent as she fired arrow after arrow at the remaining Seishen Truegold. "Save him!"


    Sadi''s eyes landed on the last surviving Skysworn Lowgold, crawling away from a Seishen Truegold wielding a glowing jade axe. The Lowgold''s legs had been severed cleanly above the knees, and he was dragging himself through the dirt, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Sadi activated her Lightcloak on him, but it wouldn''t be enough. The Truegold raised his axe, ready to deliver the killing blow.


    She decided to use a technique she had not used in battle in a while, but that did not mean she had not been practising. Observe and Change , Sunda''s remnant echoed her thoughts. Sadi twisted the Light aura in the glowing axe, colliding the light particles together recklessly . The light aura imploded on itself, like the jaws of the sun. This was her Solar Maw. The axe burst into pieces, and the force sent the Truegold back. She had tried her best to keep the aftermath explosion small, hoping not to harm the Lowgold further. When she deactivated her Lightcloak, she saw that her control had worked. The lowgold was still alive.


    "Protect your Lowgold!" Sadi yelled to the blonde Skysworn, who nodded and jumped away from the Truegold she was engaging with. She stood protectively in front of her prone Lowgold.


    Sadi rushed to join the Truegold protecting the Lowgold, then soon after, Mercy landed from above to their side.


    The Seishen Truegold freed the trapped Truegold, cutting the black web that held him against a tree. The Truegold that had lost his axe soon got up and unsheathed his sword.


    Two Truegolds and a Highgold versus three Truegolds. The odds were better, but not in their favour. Yet . Sadi smirked when she heard the sound of boots landing next to her. She deactivated her Lightcloak, revealing Whitehall''s form. The hair on the uncovered part of his face was matted with sweat onto his purple skin. Veins popped through the purple skin on his cheeks as he used his enforcer technique.


    The blonde Truegold nearly swung her sword reflexively at Whitehall but stopped when she noticed his Skysworn armour.


    "Wow. That is some veil," Mercy remarked, surprised by Whitehall''s sudden presence. "I wouldn''t even know you were there if I''m not seeing you with my own two eyes."


    "Thanks, Mercy," Whitehall replied, his eyes focused on the three Seishen Truegolds. "But let''s focus on the people trying to kill us, yes?"


    Sadi felt a surge of warmth at his arrival. Whitehall had always known his path wasn''t suited for head-on combat, so he''d perfected his veil instead. His ability to remain undetected was almost unnatural, and even Sadi couldn''t fully comprehend how he did it. The only reason she''d known he was there was thanks to their communication construct.


    "You got them?" Sadi whispered.


    Whitehall nodded. "It''s only a matter of time."


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Sadi flicked her head to the Lowgold behind them. "Can you heal him?"


    Whitehall eyed the enemies before them as he answered. "I''ve already stemmed his bleeding," and that was the extent of his current abilities when it came to life techniques. "He''ll live."


    The blonde Truegold sighed in relief. "Thank you," she murmured. "I thought I would lose them all today."


    One of the Seishen Truegolds buckled to their knees, groaning, "What did you do to me?" She held a hand to her chest, above her heart, clawing on her chest plate with armoured fingers.


    The Truegold, wielding a spear, threw the weapon at them. The attack was weak, barely infused with madra. Sadi batted the weapon aside effortlessly. He unsheathed his sword, attempting to advance towards the Skysworns, but his legs stopped short and faltered. His armour landed with a thunk as he collapsed onto the ground.


    The last Truegold ripped her helmet off, revealing long chestnut hair matted to burnt skin. Her skin was peeling off, and her eyes were red with burns. She started screaming, wailing, and recklessly unleashing madra on her surroundings. Yet the outrage was weak and continued to get weaker until the pain took over, and she collapsed to the ground.


    The first Truegold, the one clutching her heart on her knees, retracted her helmet, revealing the same burned and peeling skin. She looked at Whitehall with red and teary eyes.


    "Please," she begged. "I don''t want to die."


    Whitehall looked to the side towards the dead Skysworn lowgolds, their bodies mangled in gruesome manners. He did not meet the last Truegold''s eyes.


    "What else can I do?" he muttered before turning to lift the injured Lowgold and leaving.


    <hr>


    "Dross, Yerin, Lindon, what''s happening?" Whitehall called out into his communication construct as they ran as fast as they could towards Lindon''s location.


    They had parted ways with the other Truegold Skysworn. She had assured them she could carry the Lowgold on her own despite her injuries .


    [As best as we could, considering we are facing two Underlords]," Dross replied through the construct.


    "How are Underlords fighting Truegolds, shouldn''t the sage step in?" he replied, running as fast as he could.


    Mercy replied with a single word, her voice tinged with dismay, "No."


    "Go on without me," Sadi muttered, one hand covering the wound on her shoulder. Whitehall had stopped the bleeding, but her madra needed more time to recover. "I''m quite spent, and you both can move faster than me."


    Whitehall looked over his shoulder towards Sadi, and her skin was paler, he noticed


    "Go!" Sadi said louder. "I''ll be fine. I''m still a Truegold."


    Mercy added reassuringly, "I''ve seen her fight. She''ll be fine," she nodded to him.


    Whitehall reluctantly nodded. "They are after you and me also! Find Eithan!"


    Sadi nodded, and Whitehall activated his enforcer technique while Mercy cycled more madra into her staff, pushing it faster.


    <hr>


    Whitehall stumbled to a scene of horror; a body in green armour lay still on the ground, blood covering them from head to toe, their face mangled to the point of unrecognisable. To their right was another body covered in blood, nearly split in half. He recognised the apprentice pin on their chest plate; however, they were a Lowgold.


    As his perception glanced to the battle ahead, he felt the spirit of the Seishen Underlords. They had butchered Golds, he thought. Hate and bitterness boiled inside him, and then he remembered they were currently fighting Lindon and Yerin- they weren''t planning to stop their madness anytime soon.


    Mercy spoke up, "We need to go! Lindon and Yerin can''t hold much longer against two Underlords!"


    Whitehall injected more poison madra into his body. His previous gaseous striker technique and the fact that he had kept up his enforcer technique for hours had almost dried up his reserves, but he could fight for a little longer.


    His skin grew a darker shade of greenish purple, and blood began pouring out of his mouth as his small veins popped. The toxic blood hissed as they landed on the grass below.


    Mercy visibly recoiled at seeing him, but she nodded and dashed towards Lindon and Yerin.


    <hr>


    Seishen Kiro and Meira fought side by side against the sword artist and her Bloodshadow. His thoughts whirled more and more as the battle grew longer and longer. What kind of Truegolds had the Sage send them after? The Blackflame had strength that rivalled his, and here, the sword artist was holding her own against him and Meira as a Truegold.


    He could not let them live, if they were as dangerous as the Sage had warned, then they shall carve a blood path in their wake if they were allowed to advance.


    He parried the Bloodshadow away with his shield, sending her towards the trees. He rushed towards the sword artist, ready to strike her with his forged blade. Her gaze had now fallen on him, and he saw Meira ready to strike her from behind.


    Meira and his eyes widened at the same time.


    "Meira!" he yelled.


    Meira shouted at him at the same time. "Kiro!"


    Black web tendrils, shot by a Truegold whose spirit he had only felt when they unveiled their spirit, latched onto Meira and pinned her to the trees.


    Meira''s eyes grew wider as she stared at him. "To your left!" she yelled urgently.


    Kiro hadn''t even sensed it , and he only felt it when he found himself forced into the ground- rot and decay.


    "You killed them!" a gruff, croaky voice yelled at him with rage.


    He felt the man''s fist collide with his jaw, and his head bounced as it impacted the soft ground. Were it not for his body having been forged from Soulfire, he knew he would have lost consciousness. He lifted his shield to block the next blow, and his arms nearly buckled under the blow.


    "You are worse than the lowest of faeces," the man yelled as he climbed on top of Kiro and struck his shield. "At least they can be made into fertiliser."


    This close, Kiro''s perception told him that the man was a Highgold. Another sight of the impossibility struck him. Was this the poison artist from the Wasteland that the Sage had ordered them to execute?


    Kiro felt dread. Daji had been sent after the sacred artists from the Wastelands. If he was here, then it meant that Daji ...


    Kiro slammed his shield into the man''s jaw, and unlike the Blackflame, this time, his target flew into the air, crashing into a nearby tree. The man''s blood splattered onto Kiro''s face, and Kiro felt his skin burned.


    He pulled himself up and searched for Meira. To the side, he saw that she had freed herself and was fighting the sword artist and a second Truegold wielding a bow of shadow.


    The poison artist rose from the ground, and Kiro finally could see him properly for the first time. A wooden mask lay on the ground next to his feet, revealing his gore-marred face. Poison madra oozed out of a large opening from the side of his head and oversized pores like smoke; his skin colour was that of a horrible bruise with pulsing veins popping out underneath it, and blood poured out of his bloodshot eyes, nose, and purple lips. He had summoned a whip, and the length grew a sickly purple as it radiated with forged poison madra. It released purple smoke into the air as he cracked it.


    Kiro readied his sword and shield. "You cannot fathom the burden I carry," he replied the short man.


    The man tried to reply, but Kiro''s blow had dislocated his jaw, and he struggled to make words.


    The archer shouted at the poisoned artist before he could reply, "Whitehall!" Then she pointed at the sword artist. "Yerin!"


    Kiro watched as the poison artist''s gaze fell onto the girl, and Kiro rushed to Meira''s side.


    <hr>


    Whitehall''s gaze followed Mercy''s finger to Yerin. Yerin''s lifeline was fleeting; he felt it as natural as he would feel a poison aura. He rushed before her, placing himself between Yerin and the woman wielding a scythe.


    "Plants," Yerin muttered between heavy breaths. Her eyes were sunken, and the dark bags beneath were swollen. "She can control them. And don''t let her scythes touch you. It cuts life aura."


    "Got it," Whitehall replied, his eyes fixed on the enemies before them.


    The male Underlord rose up and stood by the side of the woman with a scythe.


    "I am Prince Seishen Kiro," the man stated. "What have you done to my brother?"


    Whitehall could not speak so he spat blood to the side.


    Mercy answered. "Seishen Daji is alive and has been taken away by his retainers."


    Prince Kiro nodded and lowered his head slightly. "Thank you for informing me of his wellbeing, honoured Akura."


    So he recognised Mercy.


    Mercy continued, "Underlords are on the way to us; let us end this."


    Kiro shook his head, "I am afraid I cannot. But I swear in my name not to harm you." He readied his sword, and the woman beside him lifted her scythe.


    Whitehall could feel the tension in the air. He was running out of madra, and his enforcer technique continued to drain his core. Underlords were on their way, but the prince and the woman did not seem willing to back down. Two Highgolds versus two Underlords, he thought.


    He had faced worse odds.


    He knew his path was not meant to be the warrior leading the charge, but he did not need to win this battle. He only needed to buy time.


    His body blurred when he saw Yerin''s bloodshadow appear behind Kiro. The prince was caught off guard, but the white-haired woman swung her scythe at the bloodshadow. It created the perfect opening for him.


    Unlike what he had done previously to paralyse Mercy, this time , he fueled his technique with hate alongside madra. Prince Kiro fell for the feint and swung his sword towards his whip arm, but Whitehall dodged and landed his other palm on the man''s face. Whitehall was not unscathed either. The prince''s sword drew a large gash from his shoulder down to the forearms of his whip-arm.


    Kiro must have known what was coming because he activated his helmet, forcing Whitehall to pull back his hand. But the damage was already done. Whitehall''s blood had already dripped onto his face. Beneath his helmet, Kiro screamed.


    "Kiro!" the white-haired woman yelled in a panic.


    She swung her scythe at Whitehall, cutting through the black web that Mercy shot at her. He tried to crack his whip to catch the attack, but his arm did not budge, and the scythe sliced his chest.


    There were no physical wounds, but his copper sight showed him green blobs of life aura floating in the air. She slashed her scythe through the floating life aura, absorbing it into her spirit. Whitehall smirked, and the woman screamed as poison began to devour her hands, dropping the scythe in an instant.


    She channelled life aura to counter the poison, and as an Underlord, it took her a few seconds to do so with Soulfire. "I''m going to kill you," she said manically as she lifted the scythe, her eyes wide. "You''re all going to die!"


    A silver blur passed behind Whitehall, followed by a loud clang of steel. He looked up and saw Yerin clashing her sword against Kiro''s, who was about to strike him down. Yerin''s eyes were heavy, and her hair was covered by sweat.


    Her lifeline was weaker than Whitehall''s ever was. He was caught in awe by how she still managed to fight. Then the prince kicked her, sending her tumbling away. A bar of Blackflame shot out of Lindon towards the Seishen woman, stopping her from finishing Whitehall.


    The prince, however, stabbed his sword through Whitehall''s chest.


    Mercy yelled, "Whitehall!"


    Her spirit was Highgold now as she shot a purple arrow at the prince. The prince stepped back to avoid the arrows, pulling his sword out of Whitehall''s chest. Right onto Yerin''s bloodshadow''s sword arm.


    "Kiro!" the white-haired woman yelled, rushing to his side. She caught the prince with roots growing from the ground.


    "Meira," Kiro muttered as his gaze fell onto the woman.


    A cacoon of roots grew around them, creating a protective barrier. Her eyes never left the Bloodshadow as she activated a gate stone, disappearing in an instant .


    Whitehall''s communication construct buzzed, "We''re on our way," a familiar woman''s voice spoke.


    Whitehall could not reply, his jaw dislocated and blood oozing out of his chest. Weirdly, the wound was not as painful as he thought it ought to be. The poison inside him begged to be released. But not outwards. It begged to be unleashed inside of him. So he allowed it.


    Layers upon layers of poison aura flooded into his body, into his organs, into his blood, and into his empty spirit. Hundreds or thousands, he couldn''t tell, of poison aura rushed into him in quick successions. He acted on instinct, using the right poisons to counter the effects. It was coming too quickly to double-check, and without Meatball around, he could only hope that his studies came through.


    <hr>


    Lindon watched Whitehall in the middle of the battlefield, lying alone on the ground in a fetal position. He double-checked on the unconscious Yerin, worried sick, but he couldn''t leave Whitehall alone here either.


    "Dross, what''s happening?" he asked as Whitehall''s body convulsed and his skin kept changing hues.


    [I think he''s advancing], Dross answered.


    But Whitehall''s core was empty. Lindon was sure of that.


    [He''s converting his lifeline into madra, with extreme efficiency actually], Dross replied with interest.


    "Will he live?"


    [Well, considering the state of his wounds, it certainly is the only way he would live without any immediate healers around].


    <hr>


    Whitehall found himself in the darkness, agony running through his body. He did not need anyone to tell him that this was his advancement to Truegold. He kept injecting different poisons inside of him, countering whatever side effects he was experiencing. His life aura had also begun to intermix with his poison aura, creating viruses, as Eithan had told him.


    In his mind, he kept hearing and muttering the same sentence again and again .


    "...hold it off for a little longer."


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested.  Amalgam.


    Date.  Denied


    Report Complete.


    Years later


    "I want to marry you," Valiar said to Dayang one day, his words breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. They were walking back from foraging herbs and spices for dinner, the forest around them alive with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds. Valiar had left Cornelia behind in Valinhall that day, not wanting to endure her inevitable commentary on his proposal. Over time, Cornelia''s disapproval of his interest towards Dayang had grown, and he''d taken to leaving the doll behind whenever he visited.


    Dayang didn''t seem surprised. "I know," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. But then her expression shifted, a faint frown creasing her brow. "I''m just worried about how the rest of Valinhall would react. They won''t take kindly to a wielder of one of their swords abandoning them."


    Valiar shook his head dismissively. "I doubt anyone would care. I''ve been gone for, what, four years now? Nobody''s seemed to miss me."


    Dayang grimaced. "I know you''re kind. But the others? I''ve seen the lengths they''ll go to for those who disagree with them ."


    It was Valiar''s turn to grimace. "I know," he admitted, his voice heavy. "But truth be told, my Master never bothered to train me properly. Cornelia''s been my real teacher all along."


    "At least talk to the other Travellers first," Dayang suggested, her tone softening.


    "Will that put you at ease?" Valiar teased, a playful glint in his eye.


    "I''ll be more inclined to say yes," Dayang replied, matching his tone with a sly smile. "But first, dinner."


    After dinner, Valiar helped with the dishes, the two of them moving in comfortable synchrony. As he prepared to leave, he turned to Dayang. "Could you help me with my headband?" he asked, sitting on the steps outside her home.


    Dayang extended her hand, and Valiar handed her the black headband. "You should cut your hair; it''s getting too long," she commented as she began to braid it.


    Valiar chuckled. "I thought you liked my long hair. Besides, if I cut it, I''ll look too much like my Master."


    Dayang fell silent, and Valiar noticed her hands had stilled. "Everything alright?" he asked, turning his head slightly to look at her. She looked pale, her eyes fixed on the back of his head. "Dayang?"


    "How did you get this scar?" she asked, her fingers tracing a faint line on the back of his skull.


    "Oh, that," Valiar said, surprised by her reaction. He had far more noticeable scars on his arms and legs , and she''d never seemed bothered by them. "It''s from a training accident a long time ago."


    Dayang''s shoulders relaxed slightly. "I see. It healed well," she said quietly, resuming her braiding. "Valiar?"


    "Yeah?"


    "Could you bring Cornelia with you next time?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.


    It was an odd request, but an easy one to fulfil. "Sure," he replied, though he couldn''t help but wonder what had prompted it.

 Chapter 32

    Sixty medical tents had been erected in rows and columns inside the remaining meagre territory that the Blackflame Empire controlled in Nightwheel Valley, close to the portal back to their empire. Their most severely injured had been rushed back through the portal and into Blackflame City. Even then, the medical attendants inside Nightwheel Valley were overwhelmed by the number of those who needed treatment.


    Through the portal, outside of Blackflame City, there were reports that several hundred medical tents had also been raised to house the severely injured. Injured Lowgolds were housed in tents with a dozen others, while Highgolds and children of important families shared tents with only a few others. The Truegolds and those from important families were the lucky ones and were permitted to be treated in the hospitals.


    The ones with wounds that would allow them to return to the fight when needed were packed tightly inside the medical tents in Nightwheel Valley. Here, neither advancement nor status played a role in how they were treated. Even injured Underlords were packed together with Lowgolds.


    Yerin had been immediately rushed through the portal. Lindon wanted to follow, and when Naru Gwei tried to stop him and ordered him to remain, Lindon had stared the man down with black eyes. Sadi had never seen such fierceness from Lindon , his gaze was a warning , either let him through or there would be blood.


    In the end, Eithan stepped in and subtly reminded the Skysworn leader that he owed a great deal to Lindon for botching the match between him and a man named Jai Long. Naru Gwei eventually reluctantly relented, allowing Lindon to pass through the portal with Yerin.


    The Seishen Kingdom had continued to push on, and if it had not been for a problem with their supplies, they would have reached the very edge of the portal. Sadi knew Whitehall had no desire to kill people en masse, but she wished that he had used a more lethal poison. Instead, the Seishen Kingdom ranks had found themselves infected with dysentery.


    It had weakened the Seishen Kingdom''s fighting force, and once the Skysworn had regrouped, they mounted a counterattack. Even then, they only managed to regain control of a minority of their lost territory before being forced into an uneasy stalemate.


    Sadi immediately suggested they continue sending small forces into Seishen Kingdom territory. It was a tactic Whitehall had told her his people regularly used in his previous life when dealing with more powerful enemies.


    The higher-ups of the Skysworn had scoffed at her idea, preferring to give their sacred artist more time to rest and recuperate. To her surprise, Eithan supported her plan. So, beneath the ignorance of Skysworn, she, Mercy, and Eithan harrassed the Seishen Kingdom forces every night.


    Do not let them sleep peacefully.


    And so she never did. At night, she would release Blindingwrath onto the Seishen camps, raising alarms and keeping the artists on their toes. Out of spite and desire to strike back, more and more Skysworns had also begun to follow what she did, harassing the Seishen camps with loud and bright techniques and then disappearing into the night.


    When not harrasing the Seishen forces, Sadi spent most of her time here, beneath a palisade Eithan had ordered to be erected, near the edges of the territory they controlled.


    The rain fell onto the fabric above her as she sat on a wooden stool, her gaze locked onto Whitehall''s form. A perimeter had been created around him as poison madra burst out of his body at random intervals. Even the Brightcrown medics were not allowed to come close to him.


    He hadn''t woken in four days ever since his advancement had begun.


    Hadn''t moved.


    Hadn''t spoken.


    Only his skin shifted, changing hues in slow, unnatural waves. Advancement or death¡ªno one could say which.


    But there were no remnants. No shattered core.


    He was still fighting.


    Sadi folded her hands in her lap.


    And she waited.


    Next to her, Eithan broke the silence. "Fascinating, isn''t it?"


    "Is his advancement completing?" she asked, rubbing her sleepy eyes.


    Eithan did not answer her question when he replied. "Never had I ever seen a poison path pushed to such lengths this early. Advancement to Truegold that takes more than an hour. Not to say slow advancement is better, it is just...different," he shrugged.


    "I thought you know his path?" she asked. She had been worried during the first day when his advancement had not been completed, but Eithan had repeatedly reassured her that this was completely normal for a Truegold advancement in Whitehall''s path.


    Eithan shrugged with a smile. "I have an understanding of his path, but it doesn''t mean I''ve seen it nor read about it." His gaze left Whitehall and turned to Sadi. "Usually, paths aren''t designed to take too long during advancement. Sacred artists are most vulnerable during advancement, so normally, one would want to avoid that. But Whitehall here has a path that defies that rule, requiring someone more powerful to protect him as he advances to Truegold. Truly fascinating."


    Sadi sighed, looking to the side. So much for her trying to protect Whitehall, she thought bitterly.


    "How goes the Seishen Kingdom?" she asked, changing the subject.


    Eithan raised his arms in an exaggerated celebration. "I almost forgot to tell you! Your plan was ingenious! If it was not for your idea, then the Seishen Kingdom would have surely mounted a second attack on us by now."


    "What?" Sadi exclaimed. "Surely their supply lines would not be able to recover that quickly."


    Eithan''s smile grew sympathetic. "Unfortunately, the Sage had decreed it too far when using lethal poison that could harm the younger generation, forbidding its future uses, and provided the Seishen Kingdom with means to disinfect their supplies."


    "Lethal?" Sadi asked questioningly. "It was dysentery!"


    Eithan raised his hands in surrender. "Alas, who are we to question the wisdom of the Sage."


    Sadi sighed, turning her gaze back to Whitehall''s still form. "Why are you telling me this?"


    Eithan clapped his hands softly. "So you can appreciate the fruit of your efforts. The constant night harassments had caused the Seishen Kingdom to grow wary of us and delay any plans for an assault. Thanks to the time that we bought, our numbers in Truegolds and Underlords have increased to the point any assault the Seishen Kingdom mounts against us will put themselves at great risk."


    "Cheers and celebrations," Sadi mimicked how she thought Yerin would have replied. Speaking of Yerin, "How is Yerin holding up, by the way?"


    "Mercy is on her way to check on her, but as of the most recent information, she is still unconscious."


    "Shouldn''t you be checking on her?"


    Eithan smiled. "She is in good hands. Besides, there is something I must do here."


    "Which is?"


    Eithan raised a finger, "Right about," he paused. "Now," his voice trailed as he disappeared in a blur and went straight to Whitehall.


    Sadi wanted to warn him with a yell, but then she remembered he was Eithan, and he would probably be fine with the poison aura in the air.


    Eithan knelt next to Whitehall, raising a hand above Whitehall''s core. Looking closely, Sadi saw that the poison aura dispersed when it came close to Eithan. Her eyes widened when she saw the blonde man''s body was covered from head to toe in ... pure madra.


    Eithan winked at Sadi. "Do keep it between us. I wanted it to be a surprise for my disciples."


    Sadi rolled her eyes but nodded anyway.


    Then, Eithan smiled at Whitehall''s writhing form. "What a wonderful coincidence that you were put under my team," he said as more pure madra began to gather in his raised hand. "I don''t know if you can hear me. But this is going to sting." Then, he plunged the pure madra straight into Whitehall''s core.


    <hr>


    Whitehall woke up with a jolt, his body feeling more refreshed more than ever. The first thing he saw was Sadi''s face, her expression filled with worry and relief. He was lying in her arms, he realised. The rain patted on him lightly, drenching them both.


    Before he could say anything, movement caught his eye. Standing above them, Eithan grinned from ear to ear, holding a paper umbrella as if this were the most natural scene in the world.


    Conscious of himself, Whitehall reached up, fingers brushing over the marred side of his face. He exhaled in relief when he felt the familiar rough texture of his wooden mask. He had lost in the battle.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "How do you feel?" Eithan asked, his voice light and expectant.


    Whitehall opened his mouth, but his throat was dry. When he finally spoke, his voice came out as a rasp. "Thirsty."


    Eithan gestured grandly toward the rainy sky. "Then have a drink."


    Whitehall blinked at him. He might have stared longer, but Sadi wordlessly handed him a bottle before he could protest. He took it with a nod of thanks, gulping down the cold water.


    As he wiped his mouth, he looked down on himself. He was still wearing his broken Skysworn armour, and looking at his surroundings, he realised he was still in the same place. Yet the blood had disappeared from the grass, and the bodies were no longer there.


    "How long was I out?" he asked, shifting to stand. He offered Sadi a hand, which she accepted, pulling herself to her feet beside him.


    "Your arm!" Sadi exclaimed, spotting the wound on his right arm.


    Whitehall raised it. The prince''s sword had cut deep, but the wound had healed¡ªleaving a unique scar. The skin above was translucent, revealing venom madra beneath as if his flesh had been carved away and replaced. The madra pulsed in shades of purple, green, and silver.


    "Could be worse," Whitehall remarked, shrugging the new Goldsign. "So. how long was I out?"


    "Four days," she answered.


    "Four days?" he repeated, incredulous.


    Eithan sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Indeed, my temporary disciple. A great mystery , is it not? One might wonder how you avoided certain ¡­ bodily inconveniences during such a long slumber."


    That was not what Whitehall had been wondering.


    Eithan continued before he could respond. "Well, let me tell you¡ªno poison is poison to the poison artist."


    Whitehall narrowed his eyes, running his perception through his body. He had grown used to the occasional surprises his path threw at him, but the moment his senses landed on his lifeline, he barely stopped himself from groaning aloud.


    "Not again," he muttered, with far less anger than he ought to have felt. This was getting irritating. He had a solution, though, safely stored in his void key.


    Reaching into his trousers, he let out a breath of relief when he felt the object strapped securely to his left inner thigh. At least that hadn''t been tampered with.


    "So," he began. "Update me on what happened while I''m gone."


    Eithan twirled his umbrella with one hand, tilting his head as if considering. Then he clapped his hands together. "We can discuss all that on our way back. Because, right about ¡­ now¡ª"


    Right on queue, Mercy''s form flew through the trees on her staff and landed near them.


    "Hi, everyone!" Mercy beamed, though her flushed cheeks and the sweat trickling down her forehead suggested she had been moving fast. Her gaze landed on Whitehall, and her smile widened. "Oh, you''re awake! Perfect! Congrats, by the way."


    "Mercy," Sadi cut in. "What is it?"


    Mercy''s smile faltered. "Oh. Right." She hesitated, shifting her weight slightly. "Yerin''s awake."


    Sadi stiffened. "How is she?"


    Mercy bit her lip. "She''s¡­ not good," she admitted with a sigh.


    Silence stretched between them, tense with unspoken worry.


    Then, Eithan turned on his heel and strolled in the opposite direction. "One moment, everyone!" he called cheerfully. "There happens to be a kind Seishen Underlady nearby preparing a feast far too large for one person. I am going to kindly request that she make a donation ."


    Before anyone could ask what that meant, he disappeared into the forest.


    A few bursts of techniques, startled shouts, and the sound of trees crashing to the ground later, Eithan reappeared.


    Behind him, a long line of Lowgold servants trailed in single file, each of them balancing trays of steaming dishes, their faces pale with fear.


    Eithan spread his arms grandly. "Now, we''re ready!" he declared.


    <hr>


    On his way back through the portal to Blackflame City, Whitehall finished a vial of the life well water. He tried to cycle the water, but his body had absorbed it readily. Within a few seconds, his body had fully absorbed the life-well water and strengthened his lifeline and spirit. Surprisingly, his lifeline had not returned to how it was previously; most of the water had gone to his spirit, but it was good enough for him.


    He felt Meatball would have started snorting and telling him he should''ve expected his body to be able to cycle the life-well water without needing much concentration now that he was Truegold, considering life and poison were the same for their path. He missed the garuda.


    They reached Yerin''s tent within an hour, Whitehall, Yerin, and Mercy flying ahead on a thousand-mile cloud while Eithan walked with the servants. Lindon must have sensed they were near as he was already waiting for them outside when they arrived.


    Lindon''s gaze was fixed on Whitehall the whole time.


    [Scary gaze, isn''t it?] Dross''s voice echoed in Whitehall''s mind. [Imagine his surprise to see you here. Imagine mine!]


    "Elder Whitehall," Lindon regarded him immediately.


    [How do you veil like that, by the way?] Dross echoed.


    Lindon''s expression was easy to read this time. Whitehall already knew what Lindon wanted, what Yerin needed .


    "Already hers," Whitehall nodded, tossing two vials of life-well water towards Lindon. "She saved my life."


    Lindon vanished in a blur, Soulcloak flaring as he snatched the vials from the air like they were the most precious things in existence . He cradled them against his chest, holding them carefully.


    Whitehall raised an eyebrow. Was that necessary?


    He shook his head and turned away. "I doubt I''m a face Yerin wants to see right now. You give it to her, yeah." He waved lazily and started walking.


    [Wow, that was easier than we thought] Dross''s voice chimed in Whitehall''s head. [Lindon was ready to trade it with you for his axe or even more].


    Lindon bowed at the waist. "Thank you, Elder Whitehall."


    Whitehall did not look back and replied with another wave.


    "Where are you going?" Sadi jogged up to him and asked. The instant she saw his face, she knew something was wrong.


    He froze at her gaze.


    She placed a gentle hand on his unmasked cheek. "What is it?" she asked gently.


    Whitehall swallowed hard. His vision blurred. He blinked the moisture away, but his voice cracked anyway.


    "Is it okay if I tell you later?" His words came out raw, barely above a whisper. "I think I need to be alone. I need to smoke."


    <hr>


    Lindon entered Yerin''s tent immediately after Whitehall waved at him. His heart thumped rapidly despite his relief that he now had the life-well water to help Yerin. He had asked Sadi if she had any life-well water, but she had told him that the Beast King did not give her any. He almost gave up on the idea until Sadi told him Whitehall should have some left.


    Feeling the smooth surface of the vials in his hands, Lindon felt like he had just gotten away with daylight robbery.


    [Considering how hard you''ve fought to keep your resources to yourself, I think you''re right to feel ashamed,] Dross chimed in.


    Yerin arched an eyebrow at him from where she sat on her bed. "What is Dross talking about? And why do you look like a puppy that just killed a child?"


    Then her cheeks flushed. She averted her gaze. "Is this about what we said earlier?"


    Lindon felt his cheeks heat up as he remembered their conversation when Yerin first awokened. "No!" he blurted. He raised a hand. "I mean, yes. I meant what I said. I don''t want a life without you. And I want you to meet my family," he corrected, his words a jumble of mess.


    Yerin turned back to face him, her cheeks still red, yet her eyes gazed at her hands on her lap. "Good," she replied.


    [Aww] Dross said to Yerin, popping out of Lindon. [That is sweet and all, but you should wipe that look off your face. We brought gifts!] he gestured with tentacle arms to the two small vials Lindon cradled.


    "Bleed and bury me, is that what I think it is?" Yerin asked, stretching a hand at him.


    Lindon handed her both vials and nodded. "Life water from Elder Whitehall."


    She ran her thumb along the glass, staring at it for a long moment, almost ... disappointed.


    "Thank you, Lindon," she murmured. "I really appreciate it. You must''ve traded a fortune for it." Her fingers clenched around the vial. "But it just feels... too easy." She exhaled, shaking her head. "I''ve been pushing myself, thinking I''d have to claw my way to Underlord. And now¡­"


    She trailed off when she saw the look on Lindon''s face.


    She raised a hand fast. "No, that''s not what I meant!" Her mouth twisted like she was trying to force an Eithan-like grin onto her face. "Actually, I appreciate it so much that I''ll take one right now."


    She uncorked a vial and tilted it back in one exaggerated gulp, making sure Lindon saw her swallow every drop.


    Dross''s voice echoed as she swallowed the life-well water. [Yes, drink up and finish Whitehall''s remaining Life-well water. It''s not like he needs it as much as you do].


    Yerin''s eyes widened at what Dross said, but her body began convulsing before she could reply.


    Lindon tensed, but he didn''t panic. He remembered Orthos''s reaction¡ªthis was normal.


    Dross''s words, however, were not.


    "Dross," Lindon said. "What do you mean?"


    Dross''s big, floating eye blinked innocently. [I mean, you were there when Whitehall opened his void key for the Heaven''s Drops, right? Pretty sure you were.] He scratched his head.


    Lindon''s voice dropped into something harder . "Dross."


    Dross waved a tentacle dismissively. [Fine, fine. Remember how I told you Whitehall''s advancement ate his lifeline?]


    Lindon did.


    [Yeah, well, considering he''s alive and kicking, that means he at least drank one vial of life-well water.]


    Lindon nodded , and he did not feel good about what Dross might say next.


    [Considering he had three vials when he opened his void key, and he gave you two of them. And I''m pretty sure three minus one equals two, and that means he has none left!]


    "Dross!" Lindon raised his voice. "What do you mean by he might need it as much as Yerin did?"


    [I said he didn''t need it as much as Yerin did], Dross corrected.


    Lindon glared at the purple spirit.


    Dross took a step back in the air. [Hey, I know you won''t eat me based on your thoughts. But that look is giving me second guesses].


    Before Lindon could respond, Yerin gasped.


    "Wow," she breathed. "That''s something else."


    Lindon turned back to her¡ª


    And nearly staggered.


    Her sword arms stood straighter, their metal glowing with fresh light. Colour had returned to her cheeks. And when Lindon stretched his perception toward her lifeline, his chest clenched¡ªhe nearly wept.


    Before he realised it, he had pulled her into an embrace.


    "I''m glad," he whispered.


    The weight of these past days¡ªof nearly losing her¡ªsettled on him all at once. It had been crushing him, and he hadn''t even realised it.


    Yerin''s arms wrapped around his back. He felt her strength again.


    "Me too," she whispered in his ear.


    They held each other for a long time, neither speaking, letting the moment settle.


    Until¡ª


    [Yerin, you might want to loosen your grip.]


    "Huh?" Yerin pulled back.


    Lindon''s face was turning blue.


    "Oh," she muttered sheepishly, releasing him.


    Lindon sagged to the floor, gulping in air.


    Dross bobbed beside her. [Don''t forget the other vial.]


    Yerin rolled her shoulders, testing her limbs. "What for? I feel as strong as an ox."


    Lindon added, "We only needed a spoonful, right? We can give it to Whitehall if he needs it."


    Dross wobbled. [A spoonful would''ve been enough to restore her lifeline to normal , sure .] He slapped Lindon''s shoulder. [But now her lifeline is as strong as yours.]


    Yerin narrowed her eyes. "Then why do I need the other vial?" Her voice sharpened. " And don''t think I forgot what you said about Whitehall needing it too."


    Dross wiggled in the air. [For your Bloodshadow.]


    Yerin recoiled.


    [The Meira woman struck her down with her scythe. Your Bloodshadow needs it as much as you did.]


    Yerin''s expression darkened. "She''s the reason I was like that in the first place." Her teeth clenched. "She fed on my lifeline, in case you forgot."


    Dross''s tone didn''t change. [She also saved the both of you.]


    "Dross," Lindon cut in. "Please explain to us about Whitehall."


    Dross sighed. [Not much to say. Whitehall''s advancement consumed his lifeline. It''s one thing when someone cuts it off, like Yerin here¡ª] he gestured toward her [¡ªbut it''s another thing entirely when your own spirit devours it.]


    Lindon had suspected it, but it was now another matter when Dross confirmed his thoughts.


    Lindon''s fingers curled into fists. "Will the life-well water help?"


    [It''ll strengthen his spirit, sure. But it won''t fix his lifeline.]


    Lindon felt his chest tighten.


    "There must be a way," Yerin said.


    Dross shrugged. [Of course. He just has to do what you two planned if there was no life-well water¡ªadvance. Soulfire will reinforce his lifeline and body permanently.]


    Lindon exhaled slowly. "How much time does he have?"


    [A few years,] Dross answered. [And that''s on the lower bound.] He drifted close to Lindon. [He''ll be fine. He''d been through this before based on how he was in Ghostwater, remember? Nothing to worry about.]


    Yerin gritted her teeth before finally relenting and summoning her bloodshadow. "Fine! But bleed and bury me if I''m going to allow him to sacrifice himself for me. We''re dragging him to Underlord whether he likes it or not. Do you hear me?"


    Lindon nodded at her words.


    "Take it," she uncorked and handed the vial of life-well water at her bloodshadow.


    The bloodshadow''s form was not as solid as previously. Her face was blank, and her robes were attached to her body, similar to Little Blue''s. She took the vial with a hand with attached fingers and stuffed it into her face where her mouth was supposed to be.


    The vial emptied, and the bloodshadow began convulsing on the floor, a faint blue glow was visible through her translucent form.


    "At least Whitehall probably got some valuable treasures out of it," Yerin muttered, slowly shifting her gaze from the bloodshadow to Lindon.


    Lindon suddenly found the fabric ceiling above very interesting.


    "Lindon?" Yerin demanded.


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested.  Amalgam.


    Date.  Denied


    Report Complete.


    Dayang sat across from the enchanted doll that Valiar had always brought with him during his early visits. The doll, Cornelia, was perched on a chair, her porcelain face as serene as ever, though her silence felt heavy and deliberate. Valiar had been sent on a foraging trip, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet of Dayang''s home. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made the room feel smaller, the walls closer.


    "How did he get that scar?" Dayang asked for the third time, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and frustration. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.


    Cornelia remained silent, her glassy eyes staring blankly ahead.


    "Answer me," Dayang demanded, her voice rising. "I know that scar isn''t from some training accident. It was made by a Traveller."


    Still, the doll said nothing.


    "Cornelia," Dayang pleaded, her voice breaking. "I need to know."


    For the first time, the doll stirred, her voice soft but firm. "Don''t ask questions you don''t want the answers to."


    "I need to know," Dayang insisted, her fists clenching the fabric of her skirt. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the dread that had been building inside her. "Did he kill the Hound of Latari?"


    "The Hound was a monster," Cornelia replied impassively. "Both figuratively and literally."


    So, the doll did know who Mang was. Dayang''s eyes narrowed, her glare piercing. "Did he do it? Did Valiar kill my husband?"


    "No," Cornelia answered simply , and Dayang exhaled sharply, the breath she''d been holding escaping in a rush. But the doll wasn''t finished. "His Master did. Valiar was far too young when we found him."


    Dayang''s face paled, her hands trembling as they gripped her skirt tighter. "Found him?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.


    "Yes," Cornelia confirmed, her tone matter-of-fact. "A boy around eight years old with a fresh head wound. He would have died if we hadn''t found him. He lost all of his memories. Even then, I had to convince his Master that Valiar was innocent¡ªthat the sins of the father should not be passed onto the son."


    Dayang''s breath caught in her throat, the weight of the revelation pressing down on her chest. She felt as though the room was spinning, the walls closing in. Her lips parted, but only one word escaped, a name she had carried in her heart for years, a name she thought she''d never speak again.


    "Sangkuriang."

 Chapter 33

    Whitehall sat on the cold ground, hidden behind a tent he''d chosen at random. His veil remained in place. He didn''t want to be found.


    Unlike conventional veils, which dull a sacred artist''s presence by suppressing their spirit , his worked differently . It was inspired by the Rosegold Marsupials he''d studied in Stormrock''s tablets¡ªcreatures that didn''t just veil themselves but altered their very composition to blend into their surroundings. Their predators''s perception would see only grass, a bush, or a patch of stone.


    Whitehall had adapted the concept through poison. If anyone swept the area with their perception, they''d sense nothing but a rodent scurrying in the dirt. His Umbral Shroud .


    He looked up, scanning the sky, the flickering light of campfires, the distant silhouettes moving beyond the tent walls. No sign of the Sage''s attention.


    Only then did he let himself tremble.


    His hands shook as he brought the pipe to his lips. When he struck the match, the flame barely steadied in his grip. The warmth did nothing to stop the shivering. He inhaled, drawing in the bitter smoke, and let it settle in his lungs. His body absorbed the toxins, cycling them into his spirit. That was new.


    It had been four days since he advanced. Four days outside. But inside¡­ inside, it had felt like a lifetime of suffering. The memory of it clung to him, sharp as a barbed hook. The venom that had crawled through his bones, trying to twist them into something else. The pain that had nearly broken him.


    That, he could endure.


    What unsettled him¡ªwhat truly curdled in his gut¡ªwas the moment when he had wanted to die. He had begged for it. And his body had refused.


    In the depths of that agony, he had questioned himself. Why did he hold on so fiercely to this world? He hadn''t been here long. He owed it nothing. And yet, he had fought for it with everything he had.


    Then he had woken. And he had seen Sadi.


    And he had remembered.


    He wasn''t alone. Sadi. The Beast King. Meatball. Sunda. They were fighting for something; even Lindon and Yerin were fighting to save Sacred Valley. It was the job of the elders to fight for the young. He wouldn''t let them fight alone.


    The pipe steadied in his grip. The tremors didn''t stop, but they slowed. The smoke tasted acrid, but he kept breathing it in.


    For now, that was enough.


    <hr>


    Mercy walked through the wet mud as rain fell upon her, her boots splashing a puddle with every step. The land around the portal was packed for miles, and finding a spot where she would not be noticed was difficult. She did not know how long she had walked and ended up picking a spot between two medical tents, where the strong smell of medicines and lit pipes were accompanied by the faint groans of the wounded.


    She pitied the wounded , and she could tell instantly what the leaf being smoked was. It was Death''s Kiss. It was not a rare plant, but she had only smelled it once when she was young. She had never forgotten it- how could she? Her mother had made it necessary for her to watch the parties of Golds return to the clan after getting caught in a war between Aurelius and House Shen. She remembered the groans of the dying and the acrid smell of the pipe they smoked.


    It makes it easier for them, she had been told.


    She laid down a cloth beneath her to sit, and she cradled Harmony''s axe in both hands.


    "That was a close call, Aunt Charity," she muttered.


    Her eyes drifted to the silver-and-purple owl that landed next to her.


    The owl replied with Akura Charity''s voice. "Yet they made it out for the better."


    Guilt pricked Mercy like a thorn. She could have done more.


    "Did you send them after Lindon because he killed Harmony?" she asked her aunt''s owl.


    "Him or that beast of his that left him to die," the owl replied. "They sealed the exit."


    Mercy somehow felt responsible for what was happening. She hadn''t known Harmony would have been there, yet even if she did. What could she have done?


    "Was it my fault?" she asked slowly. "That he was there?"


    The owl flapped up and landed on something invisible. Then Akura Charity removed her veil and revealed herself to Mercy.


    She looked like a medical assistant of the Brightcrowns of the Blackflame Empire. She wore a plain brown dress with a cloth tied around her waist and a rag to keep her hair back. Her spirit remained veiled, however, and Mercy thought she would have fit in as a young Lowgold.


    "Possibly," the Sage answered. "But it is equally possible that we would''ve sent him there any way to gain experience on his own. Unlike you. "


    That was not true, but Mercy ignored the Sage''s last sentence.


    Mercy followed her aunt''s gaze and found them staring at the axe between Mercy''s arms.


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    Mercy''s eyes softened. She sympathised with her aunt. Harmony had been Aunt Charity''s grand-nephew, and she would have watched Harmony grow.


    Despite having absolute control over her emotions, her aunt was still human.


    "Are you all right?" Mercy asked.


    Charity looked away, revealing a rare troubled expression. "Lindon could not have stopped me from saving Harmony, and I doubt he wanted me to. I was unable to see into Ghostwater before the pocket world collapsed, but I believe it was Harmony who pushed their conflict far."


    "Who could''ve stopped you?"


    Charity''s answer was short and grim. "I believe Ghostwater''s owner is still alive."


    The pieces finally clicked for Mercy.


    "Sadi and Whitehall?" she asked. "Are they to be his representatives for the tournament?"


    Charity nodded. "I am not privy to the actions of Monarchs, but considering what I now know. I believe so. I also believe that grandmother allied with the Monarch of the Wastelands. After all, it was grandmother that ordered me to provide those two the resources to reach Underlord."


    That answer bothered Mercy.


    "Why Sadi and Whitehall, then? Why did you send the Seishen Kingdom after them, too?" Mercy asked. "They weren''t involved with Harmony''s death."


    "No, they weren''t," the Sage concurred but did not elaborate further.


    Mercy sighed; she was not going to get answers from Aunt Charity if the Sage had not given her the first time she asked.


    Mercy stood up and held out Harmony''s axe. "Take it back, and stop sending Underlords after them. That''s just cruel."


    Seeing Charity dressed plainly and her hair wet with rain made her aunt look more real than she usually does. More human.


    Charity''s eyes met Mercy''s when she asked, "Do you think I am cruel?"


    "No," Mercy nudged the axe. "But I think you can be when you want to."


    Charity showed no signs of anger or disappointment from Mercy''s words as she accepted the axe and tucked it into her soulspace. In fact- she showed no emotions at all.


    "Do you remember the last Uncrowned King tournament?"


    Mercy nodded. She was eight, but she still remembered.


    "The upcoming one will put that to shame. Something last year had disturbed the flow of fate. Nothing is certain anymore. One dreadgod had risen, and the other three are stirring."


    Mercy''s eyes widened.


    "Alliances are being made, and lines have begun to be drawn. War is brewing and is certain to come. If not with the Dreadgods, then with each other. This tournament is our last chance to show that our next generation is as strong as the others and rip the power of the other factions in the form of prizes. There are even rumours that this tournament would be conducted differently, but that is for another time."


    The Akura Clan and Northstrider both shared hatred for the other Monarch faction on this continent. Seshethkunaaz, King of Dragons. Mercy knew the alliance between her clan and the Wastelands was stone certain. Northstrider hated the Lion King, but would Reigan Shen ally with-


    Aunt Charity cut her thoughts, "I did not send young Meira and the prince after Lindon specifically as a punishment. I am finding the best competitors for the tournament, and Eithan Aurelius''s apprentices are the perfect opponent for the two Seishen Underlords. This will push them all forward, as you have seen."


    Mercy looked away. "Yerin was severely hurt. If it weren''t for Whitehall, she would have died. Even then, he was at death''s doorstep for days."


    " You could''ve helped ," the Sage''s words cut through Mercy.


    "It doesn''t make it less cruel," Mercy replied, her words firmer than previously.


    "Would your friends have done it differently if the roles were reversed?"


    Charity''s question gnawed on Mercy.


    "...Yerin and Lindon would have crushed them," she admitted at last . Then, quieter, "But Whitehall wouldn''t have." She met her aunt''s eyes. "And you didn''t have to drag his name by saying his poison was lethal."


    Charity looked to the side at the row of tents, brushing the water off her forehead with a cloth she had summoned. The rain had begun to subside.


    "I admit," the Sage said. "I was not privy to the abilities and personalities of the Wasteland Golds. But his action would''ve tipped the scales too far. And I also concede that I might have pushed your friends too hard in part because of your relationship with them."


    Another thorn of guilt jabbed into Mercy''s heart. Her aunt wanted her to return and embrace her former power, she knew that. Her mother would have approved.


    "Therefore," Charity continued. "I acknowledged that I owe you a favour. You may let me know whenever you wish."


    Surprised, Mercy looked at the Sage. A favour from a Sage is not something to scoff at. "Thank you, Aunt Charity."


    "The Blackflame still owes the family for Harmony. Furthermore, now that I have a clearer understanding of the Wasteland pair, I shall provide additional support to the Seishen Kingdom to balance the scales."


    Mercy nodded, "I understand." She remembered how Sadi had easily toyed with the younger prince, Daji, and how Whitehall had taken out three Truegolds with his poison.


    Mercy thought the Sage would''ve left, but the other woman continued to speak. "Your mother regrets letting you go, although she would never say so. She thought we had plenty of time when she let you go, but now we no longer have that luxury."


    The Sage paused.


    "But I believe that she doesn''t only need your strength. She needs her daughter. Her heir," the Sage continued.


    Mercy looked away. Aunt Charity had not been subtle in her attempts to guilt Mercy into returning home. Worst of all, it was working. "How''s my brother?"


    "Pride feels that his sister had abandoned him and had let that pain drive him to reach Underlord-"


    Charity''s words were cut short as the air cracked around her, and a purple fist struck her jaw.


    <hr>


    Whitehall had let his mind drift as he inhaled the pipe. He had been gone for more than an hour in peace in his little corner when he felt a familiar spirit approaching his position. Mercy.


    He had thought she was there to check on him and nearly told her that he was fine when she spoke.


    "That was a close call, Aunt Charity," she whispered.


    Aunt?


    Then he noticed an owl landed nearby where Mercy came from. It was the Sage''s owl. He thought the Sage might have seen him and was surprised when he soon found out she had not detected him.


    He was good at listening when people thought he wasn''t there. And so he listened. He listened as they spoke of Lindon. Of Harmony. Of how the Sage had sent the Seishen Kingdom after them.


    His hands curled into fists as the pieces slotted together. She sent them after us.


    The conversation continued, and he buried his frustration.


    "You didn''t have to drag his name by saying his poison was lethal."


    Whitehall frowned. The Sage said what?


    But he kept listening, knowing from experience that information would be more valuable than satisfaction right now. The Sage spoke of war brewing and how the Dreadgods were stirring, and then he heard how the Sage was planning to give additional support to the Seishen Kingdom to balance the scales.


    He had to physically stop himself from cycling his madra.


    Then,


    "But I believe that she doesn''t only need your strength. She needs her daughter. Her heir," the Sage said.


    He was about to do something he shouldn''t.


    Once the conversation had led towards information Whitehall had deemed unimportant. He acted in quick succession.


    His body moved.


    He cycled his madra.


    He activated his enforcer technique.


    And he punched Akura Charity in the jaw.


    The impact cracked through the air.


    For a single, perfect second, satisfaction burned through him.


    And that was as far as it went.


    His fist stopped dead the moment it made contact with the Sage''s cheek. His bones vibrated from the backlash of his strike. He was pretty sure he might have broken a few of his bones.


    He had just made a big mistake.


    A very big mistake.


    Worth it.


    Whitehall inhaled sharply through his teeth and roared, "SPY!"


    Tents rustled. Injured Skysworns scrambled from their cots, half-dressed but with weapons in hand.


    Charity''s violet eyes met his, calm, unreadable.


    Then shadows rose around her body, and she disappeared.


    Whitehall''s head snapped to the only person still standing there.


    Mercy.


    She gave him a nervous smile.


    "Hehe¡­ Hi," she said, lifting a hand in a small, guilty wave.


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested.  Amalgam.


    Date.  Denied


    Report Complete.


    "If you don''t want to marry me, just say so," Valiar growled, his voice low and strained. His fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with tension. The warmth that usually filled his eyes was gone, replaced by a storm of hurt and frustration.


    "Sangkuriang, I''m telling you the truth," Dayang pleaded, her voice trembling. She took a step toward him, her hands outstretched as if to bridge the gap between them. But Valiar stepped back, his expression hardening.


    "Stop making up these stupid lies," he snapped. "Did Cornelia put you up to this?" He had returned that evening after speaking to the other members of Valinhall. They had been happy for him , supportive even , and Valiar had been ready to relinquish his sword¡ªhis very identity as a Traveller¡ª to marry Dayang. But now, whatever lies Cornelia had fed her seemed to have taken root, and Dayang had bought into them completely.


    "No, she didn''t," Dayang insisted, her voice breaking. "She just confirmed my suspicions about your scar."


    "Whatever," Valiar said, his tone dismissive. He turned on his heel, his cloak swirling behind him as he made for the door. "I won''t bother you again."


    Dayang''s heart clenched, her chest tightening with panic. She couldn''t lose him¡ªnot again. Not after she had just found him. "How about this?" she blurted out, her voice desperate. "Build me a thousand temples before the rooster crows. If you can do it, I''ll marry you. But if you can''t, you''ll accept the truth."


    Valiar stopped in his tracks, his shoulders stiffening. He turned slowly to face her, his expression a mix of conflict and determination. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of her challenge hanging heavy in the air.


    "Done," he said, the single word sharp and final. And then, in a flash, he was gone, leaving Dayang alone in the dimly lit room, her heart pounding in her chest.

 Chapter 34

    The moment Whitehall''s fist connected with Aunt Charity''s jaw, Mercy knew she was in trouble.


    And when he yelled "Spy!" for the second time at the top of his lungs, she nearly panicked.


    For one terrifying second, she thought he meant her.


    But then she caught it¡ªthe slight delay in his reaction, the careful way his gaze swept the surroundings. His stance, tense but measured. He wasn''t looking for the Sage. He knew exactly that she was gone.


    He''s acting.


    Mercy stayed perfectly still, hoping no one would notice the way her stomach twisted.


    "She''s gone!" Whitehall shouted again, turning his head sharply from side to side. "Anyone see her?"


    The Skysworns around them sprang into action. Swords were drawn, madra flared. Half-dressed Sacred Artists stumbled out of tents, some gripping their weapons, others just looking confused.


    The Skysworns looked around, and some shrugged as they saw nothing. It didn''t take them long to realise that the "spy" was no longer there.


    Then the shouting started.


    "What just happened?"


    "Where did they go?"


    "Who sounded the alarm?"


    "I''ll alert the Truegolds!"


    He''s covering for me.


    Mercy swallowed hard. She knew Whitehall well enough to understand what that meant. He wasn''t ignoring what he''d overheard. He wasn''t letting this slide. He wanted answers. But he was just making sure it happened in private.


    Her fingers clenched around the hem of her cloak. She felt the weight of his stare long before she finally forced herself to meet his eyes.


    She almost wished she hadn''t.


    Whitehall wasn''t angry¡ªnot yet. But his expression was colder than she''d ever seen. Detached. Suspicious. Betrayed.


    She tried a nervous smile. "Um¡­"


    "You''re coming with me, young lady," he said flatly. "You have a lot to explain."


    Her stomach dropped.


    She knew that look. It reminded her of her mother''s. During times when her mother had been truly furious, Akura Malice would have confronted whoever had caused it already. This, though? This was worse.


    Because it was the same look her mother would give someone when she was disappointed.


    "¡­Okay," Mercy mumbled.


    She had to work not to sigh in relief. If he was keeping it quiet, she still had a chance to explain before things got out of hand.


    But before they could move, a Brightcrown medic hurried over.


    "Truegold! You''re wounded. Let us clear a tent and tend to you."


    Mercy blinked, confused¡ªuntil she looked down.


    Whitehall''s right sleeve was gone, torn to shreds, revealing what looked like new gold signs of coloured pulsing scars. His elbow was bent wrong, and the angle was unnatural.


    He barely glanced at it before grabbing his own forearm and snapping the joint back into place.


    Mercy flinched at the sharp crack.


    Even the medic recoiled. "Truegold..."


    "I''m fine." Whitehall''s voice was cold. He barely gave the Brightcrown a glance before continuing. "The spy was dressed as one of your attendants. Verify your members. Make sure they are who they claim to be."


    He had said it so coldly that the Brightcrown could only nod nervously and bowed to his back. "Yes, Truegold."


    Whitehall didn''t wait. He turned back to Mercy and gestured for her to move.


    She obeyed without argument.


    As they walked, she felt the weight of eyes on them. A few Skysworns exchanged glances. It wasn''t every day a Truegold looked like he was marching an Akura somewhere against her will. But since they were from the same squad, the other Skysworns ignored them.


    Mercy risked a glance at him. His expression was still unreadable.


    "¡­Whitehall," she tried carefully. "I can explain."


    "Not here," he said. His voice was low and sharp. He gave her a light shove to signal her to keep walking.


    As they continued their walk, Mercy suddenly felt Whitehall grip her arm and drag her to the side between two tents.


    "We''re not being watched here," he whispered, his masked face shrouded by the shadows.


    Mercy did not know what to say. She wanted to protest, but did she really have a leg to stand on in this case?


    "Umm," she hesitantly began. "So..."


    Whitehall said nothing. He only lifted an eyebrow, waiting.


    Her heart pounded.


    He deserves the truth. They all did.


    Mercy shut her eyes and took a deep breath.


    Then she let the words spill out.


    "My mother is the Monarch of the Akura clan, and I was a Truegold before she gave me a chance to leave and suppressed my advancement. I wanted it because my mother can be cruel, and I didn''t like how our clan encourages us to keep power over those beneath us and look for approval from those above us."


    She paused, gulping for air before pushing forward.


    "My mom thought there was plenty of time, but since circumstances had changed, they want me back. Yet she had given me her word, and she''s a monarch, so she can''t take it back. However, my aunt is not so subtly trying to convince me to go back and is trying to get me to do so by getting to my friends. My younger brother feels that I have abandoned him, and I know that I should feel lucky for being the heir of a Monarch''s family..."


    Her chest tightened.


    "But I..." Her voice faltered. She shook her head. "I don''t want to go back."


    The words came out small. Weak.


    She forced herself to say something she already knew but had never admitted it out loud.


    "I didn''t like my Underlord revelation because it meant I was no different from the thing I hate most about our clan. Seeking approval from those above us."


    A breath.


    A whisper.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Nothing.


    "I know I''m being selfish, but I just...can''t."


    The silence stretched.


    Too long.


    Too heavy.


    Too quiet.


    She hesitated, then cracked open one eye to see his reaction.


    Whitehall didn''t look angry. He didn''t look disappointed.


    He looked... sad.


    He sighed, glancing away, his expression unreadable. "Sometimes I forget how young you, Yerin, and Lindon are," he muttered.


    Mercy blinked. She had not expected his reaction.


    He shifted his gaze to meet hers.


    "You''ve been bottling that up for a while now, haven''t you?" he asked softly.


    Her throat closed.


    She nodded rapidly, her lips trembling with a frown.


    He gave her a small smile. There was no pity. No condescension. Just... understanding .


    "It''s been hard, hasn''t it?"


    That was it.


    There was no judgement in his voice. No lectures. No orders. No encouragement. No advice.


    Just acknowledgement.


    And something inside her cracked.


    At that moment, Mercy felt that the emotions she had been holding tightly inside her began to burst through for the first time.


    The guilt.


    The pressure.


    The exhaustion.


    For the first time since she left home , she let it spill over .


    Painful tears welled in her eyes, and she didn''t fight them.


    "Yes," she whispered.


    And the damn broke.


    <hr>


    Yerin stared at her Blood Shadow, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her bed.


    Eithan had brought them a feast¡ªplatters piled high with roasted meats, fragrant rice, and golden elixirs strong enough to fuel a dozen fighters. Despite herself, Sadi, and Lindon stuffing themselves full, they hadn''t even managed to finish half of it.


    Now, the tent smelled of spice and cooked fat, a comforting scent under any other circumstances. But the tension sitting in Yerin''s chest wasn''t so easily drowned out by warm food.


    Lindon had been gone for hours. Eithan had taken him for something about Dross''s gift. Mercy had asked if she was all right, then left just as quickly. And Whitehall¡­


    He hadn''t come at all.


    Fair, Yerin thought. The man had spent the last few days knocking on death''s door and had even managed to help her right after it. And by some unfortunate miracle, he''d come out worse than anyone else.


    "But he is Truegold now," Eithan had said, his ever-present smile giving nothing away.


    She wasn''t sure if that was meant to be reassuring or not.


    Now, Yerin watched her Blood Shadow, its crimson form hunched over the remains of their meal, its long fingers moving more carefully than she had ever seen. Normally , it would tear into food like a beast, shovelling whatever it wanted into its mouth without thought.


    But tonight, it hesitated.


    Because of Sadi.


    "Like this," Sadi corrected the Blood Shadow''s fingers, adjusting its grip on the chopsticks with patient hands.


    Yerin frowned. It wasn''t just the fact that Sadi was touching the Blood Shadow, her touch sure and unbothered, like it was just any other student under her guidance. It was the fact that the Blood Shadow was listening.


    It had never listened to Yerin like that.


    Yerin could feel the hunger vibrating inside of it, clawing for release. It wanted the food, wanted to devour it all, but it held itself back.


    "There," Sadi said, sitting back, satisfied with how the Blood Shadow held the chopsticks between its fingers. "Now, try to pick up the food."


    The Blood Shadow moved slowly, awkwardly angling the chopsticks toward a cube of beef . Its grip faltered, the meat slipping back onto the plate.


    A low growl rumbled from its throat, and it raised its hand, fingers flexing, chopsticks ready to snap.


    "Hold it," Sadi said, her voice sharp.


    The Blood Shadow paused.


    "Try again."


    And it did.


    Yerin narrowed her eyes. Watching this felt¡­wrong. Like watching someone train a wild dog to sit and fetch.


    Except the dog had her face.


    The scars along the Blood Shadow''s body were hers. Its frame, its stance, its movements¡ªall hers. And yet, Sadi was teaching it like it was some stray that needed housebreaking.


    Yerin''s temper flared, and the question that had been gnawing at her for days burst out before she could stop herself.


    "Why didn''t you end me?"


    Sadi''s hand froze mid-air.


    The Blood Shadow''s head snapped toward her, its pupils dark pools of blood. It let out a low growl.


    "You could''ve ended me," Yerin said, her own voice sharpening to match. "So why didn''t you?"


    The Blood Shadow didn''t answer with words. Instead, it stabbed its chopsticks into the beef, lifted a piece, and shoved it into its mouth.


    "Oh, heavens," Sadi muttered in the background, feeling that her efforts had gone to waste.


    It didn''t chew. Just swallowed it whole.


    That made Yerin''s fingers twitch.


    The Blood Shadow had been draining her. It could have bled her dry from the inside, made her into a hollowed-out husk.


    Instead, it had let her go. Fought beside her.


    She wanted to know why.


    The Blooshadow grinned as it took another bite of the meat, letting out a satisfied purr.


    The Blood Shadow''s sound disgusted Yerin, but she could sense it. Annoyance. It wasn''t disgusted with itself. It wasn''t ashamed. It was annoyed at her. As if it thought she was the one being unreasonable.


    Yerin gritted her teeth, "You want us to live, huh? Then you listen to me like the voice of heaven. I say frog, you jum-"


    The Blood Shadow slammed its chopsticks into the plate with a crack. A voice, raw and nightmarish, scraped out of its throat.


    "I got it."


    That surprised Sadi, and the woman''s eyes widened in shock.


    Yerin clenched her jaw tighter. But before she could reply, Sadi spoke first.


    "Let''s hold on for a moment," the older woman said.


    If Yerin had her sword, she would have unsheathed it.


    "You could''ve killed me!" Yerin yelled.


    The Blood Shadow snarled right back. "I protected you! Nearly died myself, didn''t I?"


    Yerin''s hands clenched into fists. This is ridiculous . She was arguing with herself .


    "You slaughtered my whole family!"


    "They wanted to kill me! How many Irons did you kill when they tried to do the same?" the Blood Shadow yelled back .


    "Peace!" Sadi''s voice boomed, and the tent was swallowed by blinding gold light.


    Yerin flinched away. She had experienced weaker versions of the Blindingwrath when Sadi was Highgold during their spars, but now that she was a Truegold, the light lived up to its name.


    Once her vision returned, she noticed her Blood Shadow had also flinched away from the sudden light.


    "Now," Sadi ordered, and Yerin felt like a child being disciplined by their teacher. "Nothing productive is going to come out of this. Let''s just agree that you guys are fighting the same fight, yes?"


    Silence.


    The Blood Shadow moved first, giving a stiff nod.


    Yerin felt a sharp pang of irritation¡ªbut she wasn''t about to let her own bloody imitation be the more reasonable one here. So she nodded too.


    Sadi''s shoulders loosened just a little. "Good." She let out a slow breath. "I just hope you both remember this," she said softly. "You''re one. Whether you like it or not. And alone, you are weak."


    She met Yerin''s gaze, then the Blood Shadow''s.


    "Together, you are strong ."


    The words settled in Yerin''s chest like a weight. She didn''t like it, But she didn''t disagree . Inside her spirit, she felt her Blood Shadow felt the same.


    The next moment, the flaps of the tent burst open. Mercy walked in first, Whitehall a few steps behind her. Whitehall''s face was unreadable. Mercy...


    "Mercy, why do you like you just put down a sick puppy?"


    <hr>


    Whitehall watched as Mercy explained her story to Yerin and Sadi. Mercy had made the decision to tell the others herself and needed no word of encouragement from him. He felt that deep down, buried beneath her uncertainty and smiles, she had always wanted to.


    "And my aunt has been saying that my mother needs me..."


    His fists clenched.


    But the oath he was forced to swear remained tight, and in the form he was currently in , he didn''t dare to take the risk.


    "Mercy," Yerin muttered. She rose from her bed, still dressed in her medical gown, the fabric hanging loose over her shoulders. Then, without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Mercy, pulling her close.


    Whitehall couldn''t hear the words Yerin whispered into Mercy''s ear. But he saw the way Mercy squeezed her eyes shut , the way her shoulders trembled for just a moment before stilling.


    He tore his gaze away, and his eyes landed on Sadi. Even with the dim candlelight flickering against the tent walls, in his sight, she remained bright.


    Her gaze caught him, and she gave him a small smile.


    Without a word, he flicked his head toward the exit. They needed to talk. No. He needed to talk .


    Sadi nodded.


    They left the two women in the tent, stepping into the cool night air.


    The war camp stretched in rows of canvas and quiet suffering. Fires burned low in the distance, casting long shadows across the ground. The sharp scent of blood and medicinal herbs clung to the air, though the battlefield itself was far behind them now .


    Whitehall led the way, his pace slow. He turned a corner when he was sure no Sage''s owls lurked nearby.


    He met her golden eyes and opened his mouth. He wanted to tell her his pain. His hurt . Wanted to spill it all out into the cold air between them.


    But it wasn''t fair.


    Sadi had been there for him since they had left Sacred Valley. Had always stood beside him. Had always been steadfast, always strong .


    And now, when he had nothing left to give, he wanted to lean on her again?


    "I know," Sadi said softly, her voice cracking slightly. Tears shimmered at the edges of her eyes.


    "You don''t need to tell me," she whispered. "I know ."


    And he believed her.


    She rushed and held him tight against her chest, putting her hands around his shoulders.


    For a second, he didn''t move. His breathing was unsteady. His body still ached.


    Then, slowly, shakingly, Whitehall lifted his hands and placed them gently around Sadi''s waist.


    ----------


    Lindon asked the question everyone had been wondering. "So what should we do?"


    The others had found him while he was soul-smithing new weapons for the upcoming battle. What Eithan had gifted Dross had already begun to pay off.


    Now they were back in Yerin''s tent, where Mercy had revealed the truth: Lindon, Yerin, and the Wasteland pair were being explicitly targeted by the Sage.


    No one had an answer. But no one looked ready to run, either.


    "We don''t even know how much time we have left," Mercy said. "Whatever we plan, it needs to be flexible. My aunt will make this fight happen."


    "Dross, any ideas?" Yerin asked.


    Dross popped out of Lindon''s spirit. [Well], he began, [the dream tablet didn''t exactly have much on war tactics.]


    "Whitehall?" Sadi asked.


    All eyes turned to the small man in the corner. He hadn''t spoken a word so far. And only now did they see his eyes staring at nothing while rubbing his chin.


    [Wow. Such deep think he is having.]


    "Might be worth getting all of us to Underlord first," he finally said.


    "Bleed and bury me, isn''t that obvious?" Yerin rolled her eyes, though her voice lacked any real bite.


    "It''ll make it a more even playing field," Sadi agreed with a shrug.


    Then¡ª


    "Follow your fear!" Mercy''s voice rang through the tent, abrupt and loud enough to startle everyone.


    Dross tilted his head. [Follow my fear?] He rubbed his head as if sorting through his memories. [Well, maybe getting stuck alone in the dream well again. But that place doesn''t exist anymore.]


    Mercy waved her hands frantically. "No, no! It''s a trick one of my tutors taught me. It helps you figure out your Underlord revelation." She straightened, imitating her voice into a low, authoritative tone. "To know the world, you must first know yourself. You must deepen your connection to your own soul if you wish to command the world. Underlord is the end of the path you walked for others and the beginning of your own path."


    The others nodded, still unsure but listening.


    "Follow your fear!" Mercy repeated. "It worked wonders in helping people figure out what they care enough to die for."


    Lindon considered the advice. "I''m afraid of a lot of things," he admitted. "Too many things," he added after a second.


    Mercy thumped her staff against the floor. "Let''s try it now! We won''t advance here¡ªit would take weeks with the few natural treasures available. But in Night Wheel Valley, we can advance just like that!" She snapped her fingers. "But we can figure out our revelations now. What do we have to lose? Cycling positions, everyone!"


    Then¡ª


    "Before we get to that," Whitehall cut in.


    He moved without sound, placing a hand on Mercy''s shoulder.


    She turned her head slowly and saw his lips curled into a sly smile. His fingers pressed down, firm.


    "Akura Mercy," he said, her name like a blade sliding free of its sheath. Low and slow. His voice left no room for misunderstanding. "Choose."


    A pause.


    "How would you like to reach Truegold?"


    A heartbeat.


    "Paralysed or unparalysed?"


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested.  Amalgam.


    Date.  Denied


    Report Complete.


    Dayang sat on the porch of her home, the one Mang had built with his own hands. She couldn''t eat. She couldn''t drink. All she could do was watch. The sun had long since set, leaving the world bathed in the pale silver glow of the moon. Its light was enough to illuminate the scene before her, and yet it felt like a cruel spotlight, exposing her trembling hands and chattering teeth. Despite the warm night air, she felt cold¡ªa deep, bone-chilling cold that no fire could dispel.


    One by one, she watched. A shimmering blur of steel sliced through the air, and trees fell like matchsticks. Patches of land were cleared in the forest, each space wide enough to hold a small temple. She had tried to count at first , but she lost track after the four hundredth. By her reckoning, her son still had hours left. Hours to complete the impossible task she had set before him.


    She couldn''t do it. Perhaps she was cursed. Cursed to be born as the daughter of a concubine, traded like cattle by her father. Cursed to lose the man she had loved. Cursed to cling to the fragile hope that she might not be alone forever. And now, cursed to find comfort in the arms of her own son, twisted into something unrecognisable.


    She looked up, her breath catching as she noticed something was amiss. The trees had stopped falling, and now the rocks themselves seemed to scream. The sound of stone breaking echoed in the distance, like thunder rolling across a stormy sky. Her fists clenched the fabric of her skirt tighter, her knuckles white.


    "He''ll succeed," the doll said, her voice calm and measured as she sat beside Dayang. "You know he will."


    Did she? Maybe she did. Or maybe she was clinging to the last shred of hope, desperate to believe that this nightmare could still have a happy ending.


    "He might not," Dayang whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant cracking of stone .


    Cornelia sighed audibly, the sound heavy with unspoken words. More stones were being carved from the earth, the sharp , rhythmic cracks a testament to Valiar''s relentless determination.


    "It wouldn''t be the worst thing for you to do," the doll continued, her tone almost casual. "You''ve married a monster before. At least your son is kind."


    Dayang wanted to ignore the insult, but it stung too deeply . "Mang was not a monster," she retorted, her voice sharp.


    "So that was his name," Cornelia replied. "Mang."


    Dayang didn''t respond , her eyes fixed on the shimmering steel that danced in the moonlight, raising shattered stones from the ground with each precise movement.


    "You know nothing of the Hound," Cornelia said, her voice cold. "Just be grateful your son did not grow to be his father." And with that, she fell silent, leaving Dayang alone with her thoughts and the distant echoes of breaking stone.

 Chapter 35

    Inside the command tent of the Blackflame Empire in the meagre area they had kept control, twenty-one Underlords had gathered. There were more of them, but Emperor Naru Huan had summoned all that could gather on short notice, including the Captain of his Skysworn, Naru Gwei.


    The Emperor seated before them was dressed plainly for an Emperor. His wings were withdrawn into his spirit, and he wore sapphire robes wrapped with dragon decorations. Behind the two rows of Underlords, Truegolds squeezed in next to one another, organised according to their rank.


    His gaze was locked onto the other end of the room, where Akura Mercy stood, craning her neck to look to the back.


    He had summoned Eithan''s squad earlier, wanting to receive their input on what the Blackflame Empire should do. The rouge night attacks had stalled any advance from the Seishen Kingdom, but it also didn''t mean that the Blackflame Empire could muster a proper force.


    Apparently, Eithan''s squad had been making up a plan of their own and had requested a full audience to discuss their plans. Naru Gwei''s first reaction was to reject their request immediately, thinking Eithan was somehow involved. But Eithan was with most of their Underlords on the other side of the portal, patrolling the area they controlled. Gwei had reluctantly agreed then.


    "It seems like we''re all here," the Akura Truegold spoke brightly. "Can we begin?"


    Normally, one would not speak to him in such a manner before an audience. But then again, the Blackflame Empire was nothing but a vassal for the Akuras. So he didn''t speak out and nodded instead. "You may."


    "Our family harvests the Night Wheel Valley," Mercy announced. "We keep the excess natural treasures in a vault, which we use periodically for training or Soulsmithing. However, natural treasures can lose power over long travels, so they are stored in a vault inside the valley."


    Naru Huei had suspected it, and it was good to know that his thoughts were confirmed.


    The room stirred, and he heard some of the Underlords discussing whether the Sage would allow it or not.


    Huei shared their sentiments. He shivered when he remembered the Sage''s words when she warned them against weakening another vassal. Worst of all, he didn''t even know that Eithan had sent the Wastelanders to poison the Seishen''s supplies, and he had to take responsibility and apologise.


    He had wanted to reprimand them immediately, but he feared the repercussions more. The Wastelands had Heralds, several based on recorded sightings and even more based on his hunches. The fact that neither the dragons nor the Akura Clan had ever taken control of that damn forest only supported his thoughts. They were not afraid of no Sages. The border between the Empire and the Wastelands had remained peaceful under his rule, and he would ensure it continued to be so.


    Despite all that, the Wastelanders'' efforts had prevented the Empire from being driven out of the valley. Wei Shi Lindon and Yerin Aurelius were now in the top 100 of Truegolds, and the girl was severely injured, so there was no punishing them.


    The only one he could punish was Eithan. And Eithan was an Underlord. It would be a waste not to put him to use. And the Underlord had taken it with a smile when he ordered Eithan to remain a guard in the valley for the remainder of their time there.


    Naru Huei felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. So much of being an Emperor.


    Luckily, he had his sister.


    "Thank you for bringing this to us," Naru Saeya said. "But why now? The secrets of your family should not be shared lightly, but if you were going to tell us, then why not when we could reach them?"


    Akura Mercy smiled. "Now, Akura Charity owes me a favour. She owns the Night Wheel Valley and the vault itself. She might not have given me the treasures, but she would have looked the other way if I had taken them. It would be a nice consolation prize for the attack."


    The conversation went on. A few of the Underlords were unsure, but Huei could feel the eagerness in their spirits when Akura Mercy told them the location. It was in no man''s land between the two vassals'' border. Exactly where several rogue squads of his Skysworns have plenty of recent experience in.


    It was a good plan.


    "This could be done," he spoke up. "They have only one Overlord, and he cannot come alone. It will take them time to gather their forces. At our maximum speed, we could be in and out in two hours. Long before they can gather enough strength to challenge us."


    And it wouldn''t involve any type of poisons , he didn''t say.


    He continued. "However, we shall not act without the Sage''s permission, especially due to ... recent events. Only with her approval shall we act."


    Akura Mercy shrugged and pointed to the corner of the tent. "Then ask her."


    His eyes rose up as he followed her finger. There, in the ceiling of the tent, was a silver-and-purple owl.


    <hr>


    Seishen Daji stood in a corner like everyone else. He was an Underlord now, on equal footing with his brother and the servant. Yet he had never felt so small. He kept his spirits veiled, ignoring the questioning eyes of the other Underlords.


    He knew what they were thinking. Had he done something wrong? Had he offended the Sage?


    None of them were right. His father had smiled proudly for the first time after he had advanced. He had always wanted that smile. For his father to look upon him the way his father would look at Kiro. Yet he only felt bitterness upon seeing that smile.


    The Wasteland woman''s voice continued to echo in his mind.


    ''Always in the shadow of an older sibling. ... You need to let it go. ... Find another path.''


    Her voice had left his head, but her words never did. He hated it because it had forced him to confront the truth he had always hidden behind a mask of brashness and arrogance.


    She had toyed with him during their battle, and he had told himself her words were mere insults.


    But deep down, he knew otherwise. And his Underlord revelation hadn''t made it easier.


    "I practice the sacred arts because I want to be seen," he remembered whispering, afraid that anyone would overhear. Those words had stirred the soulfire, yet he knew it wasn''t enough. It wasn''t until he added his last few words that his Underlord advancement finally triggered.


    "like my brother..."


    Now, all the Lords, Ladies, and high-ranking Truegolds of the Seishen Kingdom had been gathered on top of a castle inside Night Wheel Valley. The roof had been turned into a celebratory feast as word got out that the Sage was coming.


    He didn''t touch the food, pay attention to the lights, listen to the music, nor spare a look at the soaring bird remnants above. His attention was locked onto the stage, where his brother and father were conversing with the Sage.


    Kiro, his brother, had done his best to shield Daji from their father''s ire for his whole life. Yet, Daji had never repaid it in kind.


    His fists clenched when he remembered seeing his brother with a hole through his stomach in the aftermath of their battle with the Blackflame Empire.


    He heard his father''s voice boom as the man boasted their achievements to the Sage. "We were very careful not to do anything that might weaken fellow servants of the Akura Clan," his father assured the Sage. "But we took bold actions, and despite their ''lethal'' attempts, we have secured victory!"


    Daji didn''t like what he saw: his father was so subservient to the Sage yet never kind to his second son.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Victory?" the Sage''s serene voice echoed.


    King Dakata then muttered some words to play it off.


    The Sage raised one finger in each hand. "There is one young Underlord from the Blackflame Empire who has been my choice all along. And I have had an eye on one young Lord or Lady from your Kingdom." She lowered her hands. "Nothing had changed."


    Good, Daji thought. Kiro deserved the opportunity. Himself, on the other hand? He had chosen to leave the Kingdom after this and carve his own path. A second son never receives anything from their father. If he wanted to make a name for himself, he would need to create one.


    His brother responded to the Sage first. "Honoured Sage, is there nothing we can do to distinguish ourselves in your eyes?"


    "They will return," the Sage answered. "But," the Sage continued. "I shall award you for your achievements so far. Step forward, Seishen Kiro."


    Kiro nervously stepped forward, and the Sage pulled out a shield made of dark metal and handed it to him. Kiro bowed on one knee and accepted it in both hands.


    "Step forward, Riyusai Meira."


    The servant, surprised to hear her name called, took a moment to join Kiro and knelt to the Sage. Behind them, King Dakata furrowed his brows in anger.


    She handed Meira a knew scythe forged of black and silver steel.


    Then, the Sage''s head whipped to the audience, and her gaze landed right on Daji.


    "Step forward, Seishen Daji."


    Daji didn''t meet her gaze as he walked towards the stage, the crowd parting in surprise when they recognised him as he passed. He joined and knelt next to his brother.


    Unlike the others, the Sage hadn''t gifted him a weapon. She gave him a chest plate. The surface was plain, made of a black alloy, but he felt the bindings underneath. It was made for an Overlord.


    Then, the Sage extended a letter to Kiro. "The details are held within. You three shall go to the location indicated and follow the directions I have given you."


    Kiro''s eyes went wide as he read the letter.


    The Sage continued. "This time. Hold nothing back," her voice reverberated through the air.


    Daji kept his expression neutral. He already knew what she wanted. Another fight. Another battle.


    "I have only one reminder," the Sage said. " You should not harm Akura Mercy. "


    King Dakata''s boisterous yell echoed through the roof. "We will not let the Sage down!"


    Daji didn''t look up, but he felt the weight of the Sage''s eyes on him as she spoke. "Truly, I hope you don''t."


    Then she disappeared.


    He ignored his father''s words of encouragement to Kiro. He ignored Kiro''s request for his father to have three sets of armour made instead of two.


    Daji only looked to the ground. Truth be told, he was more excited by the idea of leaving than spending another second in the valley.


    <hr>


    Akura Charity watched through her owl, perched on the top of the foremast of the Blackflame Empire''s Imperial Cloudship. It was a hundred paces long and forty wide, with three levels, resting on top of a jade cloud. The ship was impressive for one belonging to a vassal, yet despite their intricate scripts, her eyes could see through its walls.


    The Imperial Cloudship had left a few minutes ago, and she had alerted the Seishen Kingdom of their actions. By now, the three Seishen Underlords she had chosen should be already waiting inside her vault.


    Her gaze shifted below the deck to the room near the edge. She saw through the scripted walls. The Wasteland woman had used her technique to make them invisible. Yet despite being unable to see them, Charity could feel their spirits.


    Mercy had advanced to Truegold, thus returning to her previous level of advancement before she left Moongrave. Despite her advancement, Mercy''s spirit was shaking, and Charity reckoned it must have stemmed from the worry for her friends and her own nervousness.


    However, Eithan Aurelius''s disciples'' spirits remained stable. They didn''t stir or shift. They were ready for their battle.


    Then her thoughts went to the Wasteland disciples, and her eyes narrowed. She didn''t know much about them or their abilities; she had glimpses of them, but the poison artist had a talent for avoiding her owls and taking them out. She could detect the female Wastelander with the others but not the male. Her thoughts had returned to when the poison artist had struck her. She hadn''t even felt his spirit. Not even his scent. Despite her being veiled to a Lowgold, her perception was still above any of the Lords there.


    Now, she did not bother leaving her owl undetected on the ship. The secrecy had sailed, so there was no point in keeping up the technique to keep her owls hidden. Instead, the owl she had sent to the Imperial Cloudship was made to withstand attacks, especially for the upcoming battle.


    The alarms on the ship lit up like a bell.


    "Seishen Cloudships, up ahead!" the Blackflame navigator yelled.


    All eyes on the deck of the Cloudship turned to the Emperor, who stood in the centre dressed for battle in green sacred artists''s robes. The ship lifted up, and the propulsion constructs gathered more power.


    Charity was impressed by the number of new Truegolds and Underlords that the Blackflame Empire had gathered. It was impressive for such a backwater vassal. Yet the Empire''s new Underlords were not cut out to be considered to represent her family in the Uncrowned Tournament.


    She returned her gaze to Eithan''s squad below deck; Mercy''s spirit had grown uneasy and had begun to leave the room with the Wastelander woman.


    Her gaze was cut off when a voice spoke next to her owl.


    "Enjoying the view?" Whitehall gibed at her, climbing and taking a seat on the Barrel on top of the foremast next to her. "Sage." He regarded her as he met her owl''s eyes.


    Akura Charity stared at the Beast King''s disciple. Again, she hadn''t felt him. Hadn''t heard him through the noise below.


    He wore the standard Skysworn armour, except for the wooden mask that covered half of his face. This close, she could feel the Poison madra oozing out of the masked side of his face.


    "Looking for front-row seats for the battle?" Whitehall asked again with the same mocking tone. He lifted himself to sit on the edge of the barrel and crossed his legs to relax as if the commotion underneath was not happening.


    She stayed silent, not bothering to reply. Instead, she tried to figure out his veil.


    He continued, looking down to the bustling deck below, at the Skysworns preparing for battle. "That''s what we are to you, isn''t it? Entertainment."


    Charity ignored him, adding more madra to her owl. Her owl was limited in its senses other than sight and sound, but having the chance to finally be this close to him, she needed to try.


    "You don''t need to answer," he shrugged, returned his gaze to her owl, and shook his head nonchalantly. "I already know what I want to know."


    Through her owl''s perception, he felt like a termite.


    "Lives are cheap for the Sage!" he announced loudly, although no one below seemed to hear. "Let''s send Underlords after Truegolds for daring to defend themselves!"


    He wasn''t hiding his spirit like how a regular veil would''ve involved. He was blending it with his environment.


    "But that doesn''t explain why you sent them after me and Sadi," he began rubbing his chin mockingly in an exaggerated act of false thinking. "We''ve done nothing to your family."


    Looking at his skin carefully under the purple moonlight, she realised they were brown like mud.


    "So that got me thinking," he tapped the side of the unmasked part of his head. "Why then?"


    He began rubbing her owl on the back with armoured fingers.


    Charity couldn''t feel them, but she knew his fingers would be slow and vile.


    "I think I might know the answer," He chimed slowly. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."


    Charity didn''t react to his touch. Although she was focused on discovering the technique for his veil, that didn''t mean she was not listening.


    "You want me and Sadi dead," he concluded with a jeering smile. "Maybe because you fear that the Wastelands could grow stronger and that we''ll threaten your tyranny. Or maybe you just don''t want us to excel in the tournament."


    He shrugged and lifted his hand off the owl, and waved it dismissively.


    "Don''t bother correcting me. I don''t really care." He paused and continued rubbing the owl''s back. "The point is, Akura Charity," he used her name, ignoring the proper decorum to address a Sage. "You can''t touch us. At least not directly. If you do, the Wastelands could use that reason to declare war and create a rift between your Monarch and our Monarch''s alliance."


    Emperor Naru Huei were exchanging words down below with King Dakata, yet Whitehall seemed unbothered.


    He snapped his fingers. "But you could do it indirectly. Send Underlords after us and call it training." He giggled sarcastically and raised a finger at the owl. "But you underestimated us... Underestimated us to the point where you had to drag my name through the mud and tell everyone that I intended to poison the entirety of the Seishen Kingdom''s army. Brilliant plan, I must say. You increased the hostility between both sides with a single sentence."


    Charity let out a quiet breath. He was a termite. But termites, left unchecked, can rot even the strongest foundation.


    She turned her focus back to the veiling technique. His spirit was strange¡ªnot like a traditional sacred artist''s veil, but like a living thing, adapting as she tried to grasp it. The longer she studied, the less sure she became of its mechanics.


    Whitehall leaned in just slightly, dropping his voice into something softer yet more cutting. "I wonder¡­ would you have done the same to your dear little Mercy if she was not your Monarch''s favourite daughter? Would she have her Lifeline torn apart by Underlords if she were just some nobody from the Wastelands? Or would she be next if she strayed too far from the family leash?"


    Charity gazed deeper into his spirit, her entire focus now on discovering the truth of his veil.


    His fingers drummed lazily on the owl''s back, a slow, deliberate rhythm. "No answer? Well, I don''t blame you. Wouldn''t want to say something you''ll regret. A single wrong word and the Akura name might not shine so brightly anymore."


    He let the silence settle between them and looked down at the battle preparations that continued below. Then he chuckled, low and full of something almost amused.


    "It''s funny, isn''t it? You loved to talk about the importance of family and how sending the Underlords against golds was meant to push us further. But at the end of the day, you''re just a gambler playing with lives instead of chips. And here you are, watching the table, hoping the house still wins."


    He sighed dramatically. "Such a shame, really. Maybe you were hoping we''d just break under the pressure, save you the trouble of making a real move." He tapped his temple. "Or maybe you think we''re too stubborn for that, and this is just another one of your little lessons¡ªyou know, ''survival of the fittest'' and all that drivel."


    He was wrong about her intentions with the Aurelius''s apprentices. Her family needed strong young Underlords now more than ever. But she did not correct him.


    Then, his tone dipped, almost casual. "You know what I think, Sage?" He clasped his hands together, resting them on his knee. He raised his gaze to peer in the direction of the Seishen Cloudships. "I think you underestimated us for a second time."


    Charity''s focus on his veil wavered as she processed his words.


    His voice dropped even lower, just above a whisper. "You see," he began. "Power isn''t gained by stepping on the weak. It is by helping them. At least, unlike you, Mercy has that going for her."


    Mercy? Her owl''s gaze scanned the area for Mercy. And she found the girl flying in front of the ship on her staff. In front of everyone else, even the Emperor. She was preventing the Seishen Kingdom from attacking.


    Whitehall''s fingers continued rubbing the owl again and brought his face close to its ears. "The house doesn''t always win," he whispered. "Especially when you''re up against cheaters."


    In the distance, two new Underlord spirits flared. Not inside her vault but in the castle where the Seishen Kingdom had stayed. Where they had stored all the treasures they had harvested from the valley,


    Her owl''s head turned slowly, and its eyes met the Wasteland Poison artist''s. She sent messages through her other owls to the three Seishen Underlords currently on their way to her vault. Their targets would not meet them there. They never were.


    Down below the deck, the two spirits that she thought were Wei Shi Lindon''s and Yerin''s disappeared.


    He had made them , she realised. He had been buying time for the real Lindon and Yerin to advance.


    He gave her owl one last condescending pat and gave her a sly smile. The same smile her grandmother would make when her arrow met its mark.


    "Enjoy the show, Akura Charity," he drawled. With the same smirk, he flicked two fingers off his brow in a lazy, half-hearted salute. "And try not to choke on it."


    Then, he fell backwards, and when Charity''s owl made it to the other side of the barrel and looked down, both his spirit and his form had disappeared.


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested.   Amalgam.


    Date.   Denied


    Report Complete.


    Valiar slammed his blade into the massive stone he had unearthed, the force of the impact sending a sharp crack echoing through the night. His muscles burned, his breath came in ragged gasps, and sweat dripped from his brow, but he didn''t stop. He couldn''t stop. Every swing of his blade was fuelled by a storm of emotions¡ªanger, spite, and a sliver of love that refused to be extinguished.


    His Master had rejected him, treating him with cruelty more often than kindness. The others in Valinhall had barely tolerated him, their eagerness to see him gone thinly veiled behind polite smiles. Even the dolls, who were supposed to be companions, had always refused to speak to him¡ªall except Cornelia. But even she had grown distant, her silence a heavy weight on his shoulders.


    Valiar''s blade moved with precision, carving the stone into rectangular blocks of varying sizes. Efficiency was key. By his count, he still had enough time, but there was no room for error. He had to be perfect. And perfect he would be. The pace he was working at was gruelling, each movement a test of his endurance. His body screamed for rest, his mind teetered on the edge of collapse, but he pushed on. The chains of Valinhall crept further up his forearm, their cold, unyielding presence a constant reminder of the power he wielded¡ªand the price he paid for it.


    All he could do was hold on. Just a little longer. Just a little more. The thought became a mantra, a lifeline that kept him moving, kept him fighting. The night stretched on, the moon casting its pale light over the clearing as Valiar worked, his blade flashing like a silver streak against the dark stone. Each strike was a testament to his determination, each block a step closer to the impossible task he had been set.

 Chapter 36

    Sadi crouched on the edge of the Blackflame Imperial Cloudship, her senses sharp despite the rolling tension in the air. Below, the sky churned with the presence of the Seishen Kingdom''s Cloudships, their formations vast and precise.


    Mercy hovered before them, unflinching, her staff steady beneath her feet. The wind howled around her, whipping at her cloak, but she didn''t waver. She looked so small against the massive Seishen fleet, yet she carried herself with the weight of a thousand golds.


    The communication construct on Sadi''s armour buzzed. "Task completed," Lindon''s voice broke through. "We also got everything in all three void keys, too."


    Sadi exhaled slowly. The hard part was done. Now came the dangerous part.


    Floating in the air in front of them, Mercy spread her arms protectively, her voice ringing across the air between the two sides. "Let us end this peacefully!" she called to the Seishen Cloudships. "We will withdraw!"


    Her words carried over the wind, but neither Seishen nor Blackflame ships moved. The stillness was almost suffocating. The Seishen Kingdom sacred artists aboard their Cloudships stood rigid, waiting for orders. Some of the Blakflame Empire looked at Mercy in confusion and others in thankfulness.


    Sadi lifted a hand to her communication construct. "Head back through the portal," she murmured to Lindon. "Drop the treasures there before coming back to us."


    A pause. Then, "Understood."


    Her communication construct buzzed again, but this time, it was Whitehall''s voice. " Enjoy the show, Akura Charity ," he drawled. " And try not to choke on it. "


    That was the signal Sadi was waiting for, and she activated her Lightcloak on Whitehall. He must''ve landed without a sound, and she felt him place a gentle hand on the small of her back. Feeling his touch, she wanted to laugh at the absurdity of what he had just said to the Sage.


    A chuckle came from behind them. "I must say," Eithan''s voice carried its usual unshakable amusement as he strolled up, hands clasped behind his back, golden hair barely ruffled by the wind. "That was nicely done. Never have I seen a Sage that distracted."


    Whitehall shrugged. Though invisible, Sadi could feel his smile. "Haven''t done that kind of evil monologue in a while. Damn, didn''t it feel good."


    "I''m sure she''s seething wherever she is," Sadi joked.


    "So," Eithan tilted his head, the purple sky reflected in his sharp eyes. "Do you think your plan will work?"


    "If she isn''t a hypocrite," Whitehall replied. "The Seishen Underlords can''t attack our Truegolds openly anymore without our own Underlords doing the same. If she really cares about not weakening any of her vassals, then she would end this farce."


    "Dangerous game you played," Eithan said, nodding approvingly as if the possibility of failure didn''t concern him in the slightest. "Let''s just hope the Sage will see eye to eye with us. The Blackflame Empire wouldn''t be happy either way."


    "Too late to take it back, anyway," Sadi replied.


    King Dakata''s voice boomed between towards them, unyielding. "I am afraid I cannot, young Miss Akura! The Sage''s orders were clear! Please step aside so that we can do what needs to be done!"


    "Mercy," Sadi spoke to her communication construct. "I''m sorry," she said softly.


    A long silence. Then, Mercy''s voice came through, quiet and resigned. "It''s not your fault... We all agreed to the secrecy. And it was a good plan."


    It had to be. They had kept it hidden even from their closest allies, ensuring that neither Mercy, Lindon, nor Yerin had any knowledge until the final moment. They hadn''t told Eithan either, but the man had a way of always knowing things he shouldn''t, so Sadi couldn''t be sure. But if the Sage had caught even a whisper of what they were planning, it would have unravelled before it even began.


    "Please, your Highness!" Mercy called out again, desperation creeping into her voice. "We do not have to go down this path!"


    King Dakata lowered his head and shook it. "I cannot, young Miss Akura." Then, he raised his eyes to meet hers, his expression resolute. "You are not the Sage."


    Slowly, Mercy turned her head. Her gaze settled on the Sage''s owl perched high above, atop the foremast of the Blackflame Imperial Cloudship. Sadi could see the pleading in her expression, the silent question.


    The owl did not answer. Charity remained silent.


    Mercy''s shoulders lifted in a deep breath, then lowered. A long, slow exhale. "I was afraid you would say that," she murmured.


    She lifted one arm.


    At once, the offensive constructs on the gathered Blackflame Cloudships flared to life, glowing with condensed madra. Multicolour scripts burned like molten brands against their hulls, humming with violent promise.


    King Dakata''s eyes widened, and his warriors reacted instantly. They couldn''t respond in kind due to Akura Mercy being right in their line of fire. So, the Seishen Cloudships flared with defensive formations, golden light blooming across their sides like rising suns.


    And then¡ª The world went dark.


    The whole battlefield was swallowed in shadow as the Sage finally intervened. The purple light of the sky dimmed to nothing, and in its place, a shroud of absolute stillness descended upon the gathered forces.


    Sadi watched in the darkness, her eyes widening every second as she realised what the Sage was doing.


    When the shadows subsided, all offensive and defensive constructs on both sides had been deactivated. The Sage had left the Cloudships as nothing else but glorified transport vessels.


    For a single breath, silence ruled.


    Then, a thousand spirits ignited at once.


    And with a single war cry, the battle began.


    "Attack!"


    <hr>


    Kiro waited with Meira and Daji in a small Cloushship on the way to the vault the Sage had marked on the map she had given him.


    His younger brother had not been himself lately. Gone was the brashness and the arrogance Daji had always carried, replaced by silence and little words. But beneath that change, Kiro saw hope in Daji''s eyes.


    "Get ready for battle," Kiro announced to the group. "According to the Sage''s instructions, they should be there by now. We shall not disgrace ourselves in the Sage''s eyes. And we shall not hurt Akura Mercy, even by accident."


    Meira instantly saluted and replied, brandishing her new scythe. "Yes, Prince Kiro."


    He watched her in her new armour; the colours did not match her weapon, but he felt proud. Her white hair was unnaturally bright under the purple sky. This was one step towards repaying the debt he owed her.


    Then, Kiro shifted his gaze towards Daji. His younger brother hadn''t said a word. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Kiro saw something he had never seen in his brother. Hesitation.


    "Must we?" Daji finally asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Kill them?"


    Kiro felt a pang of sympathy for his brother. Daji had never been involved with ruling affairs; their father had seen to it. But Kiro would change that. He will make sure his younger brother understands the burden of ruling.


    "Yes," Kiro replied with a nod, clenching and unclenching his fists. He held it up so his brother could see it clearly, and his spirit flared as he spoke. "We carry the burden of doing what is best and what is right for our people. The Heavens have chosen us to be princes, and our people rely on us. And this is how we give back, whether we like it or not."


    Based on the questioning look Daji gave him, Kiro knew his brother didn''t understand it yet. But that''s okay; this was a start.


    What Daji said next surprised Kiro.


    "Restraint, brother," Daji began, and Meira immediately gave the younger prince a dirty look, like Daji was an annoying insect. "What we do should be our own decisions."


    Kiro closed his eyes. Despite his brother having shed the arrogant facade, Daji was still naive.


    "What are you currently thinking, Daji?" Kiro asked softly.


    Daji looked away as he answered. "I''ve been thinking about the places I saw on the tablets during our lessons. I think I-" He paused.


    Kiro followed his brother''s gaze down to his feet, where he saw one of the Sage''s owls appearing there.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "Seishen Kiro," the owl addressed him as soon as they made eye contact.


    "Sage," Kiro bowed on one knee.


    "There has been a change," the owl continued. "Return to join your father. Your targets will meet you there."


    Thoughts whirled in Kiro''s mind. Had the Sage failed to track them? That was not possible. The Sage had eyes and ears everywhere. Had his father done something he shouldn''t?


    This time, when the Sage continued, Kiro felt a shiver run down his spine despite her even and serene voice.


    "Kill the Wastelanders."


    <hr>


    Sadi watched as Sacred Artists from both sides surged into the skies on Thousand-Mile Clouds, their forms darting like streaks of light above the Cloudships. The air vibrated with raw power¡ªstriker techniques colliding mid-flight, sending shockwaves that rippled through the tangled mass of Cloudships. The defensive and offensive constructs had been stripped away, but the thrust construct of the vessels remained, turning the battlefield into a sprawling labyrinth of steel, wood, and wreckage.


    A second Seishen Cloudship crashed into the Imperial Cloudship with a thunderous impact. The deck beneath Sadi shuddered violently, wood splintering as the vessels locked together like great beasts in a death grip. Smoke and madra residue filled the air as warriors from both sides poured across the decks, clashing in brutal, close-quarters combat.


    Above her, the battle was chaos. Striker techniques streaked across the sky¡ªsearing beams of light, arcs of lightning, spinning discs of wind. Screams of pain and fury mixed with the thunder of explosions and the acrid scent of blood and flesh thickened the air.


    All around them, striker techniques of all types blasted towards one another. Yells filled with orders, death screams, and agony filled the air.


    A ball of forged madra the size of a boulder tore toward her. Even invisible, she barely had time to twist aside before it slammed into the deck, erupting in a shockwave that sent bodies flying. She landed in a crouch, her Lightcloak flickering. The battlefield was too wild¡ªstray attacks could find her even if no one saw her.


    The smaller Blackflame Cloudships came next. One after another, they slammed into the Seishen''s King Cloudship, their hulls locking together until the entire battlefield became a web of shattered decks and crumbling masts.


    Sadi barely had time to register it before the first wave of Seishen warriors landed on her deck. The first wave of Seishen warriors vaulted over the wreckage, landing in precise formations. They moved quickly, their madra flaring¡ªsome coated themselves in stone armour, others wielded lightning or spears of condensed air.


    They came fast, leaping from the wreckage of their own ship, their eyes burning with purpose. Blades gleamed, madra flared, and in an instant, Sadi was moving. She swept forward, her Lightcloak flaring as she blurred into motion.


    The first enemy barely had time to register her presence before she struck- a knife hand straight to his throat. He choked, staggering back, but she was already spinning, slashing across another''s side with her other knife.


    "There!" A shout from the Seishen Kingdom''s side cut through the chaos.


    A Seishen Truegold rushed toward her, grey madra flowing over their armour like liquid stone. Sadi twisted, trying to reposition¡ªonly to feel a sudden force grip her ankles.


    She glanced down and saw forged stone coiled around her invisible feet, locking her in place. Her heart pounded. She struggled, but the grip was solid, and the Truegold was almost upon her, madra surging around his fists.


    Then, a blur of crimson light.


    A Skysworn on a Thousand-Mile Cloud streaked down from above, flaming blade first. They crashed into the Truegold like a meteor, driving their searing weapon straight through his chest. The Seishen warrior thrashed, blood spraying across the deck, but the Skysworn didn''t stop¡ªthey dragged him skyward, disappearing into the chaos above.


    When Sadi finally broke free of her bindings, she saw a storm of golden needles whistling through the air towards her. She activated her Solar Maw, causing the needles to burst with Madra. The explosion knocked a few golds away, but they quickly returned to action.


    The battle was far from over.


    <hr>


    Whitehall couldn''t help but feel a flicker of annoyance as he drove his fist into a Seishen Truegold. His enforcer technique flared, enhancing his strength, and the warrior shot backwards like a thrown stone, slamming into the wreckage of a Cloudship with a sickening crunch.


    He exhaled sharply and tried again, attempting to release his madra into the air. Like his previous attempts, the owl came.


    The Sage''s owl swooped toward him with unnatural speed, and the moment his poison madra began to disperse, the owl devoured it, swallowing the madra before it could spread.


    Whitehall clicked his tongue. He had been careful. He was certain the Sage couldn''t detect his spirit¡ªnot directly. But Sadi''s technique had long faded, and the owl hadn''t left his side since. Every time he tried to seed the battlefield with poison, it was there, waiting, watching.


    So that''s her game.


    She wasn''t trying to destroy him. She was boxing him in. Cutting off his strongest weapon. Forcing him into close combat¡ªwhere the Seishen warriors could finally track him down.


    Whitehall huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Well played, Charity," he murmured, barely above a whisper. He knew she could hear him.


    The owl didn''t react, but he imagined the Sage was smirking somewhere, pleased with herself.


    "Fine."


    If she wanted him in close combat, he''d play along.


    He flicked his wrist, and his whip uncoiled, the end stretching as tendrils of poison madra wove through it. The madra pulsed, dark and hungry, seeping into the wood beneath like a living thing.


    Let them come.


    <hr>


    Lindon and Yerin shot through the Valley on a pair of Thousand-Mile Clouds, skimming low beneath the trees to stay out of sight.


    Sadi had revealed the plan to them before boarding the Imperial Cloudship. Mercy had rejected the plan, not wanting to mislead the Sage. But Whitehall had his ways of persuading Mercy. Whether through encouragement, thinly veiled threats of paralysis, or, as in this case, sheer guilt manipulation.


    [Mercy sure folded quick, huh?] Dross mused. [You should take notes and try it too sometimes].


    Lindon had hesitated at first, too. The thought of missing out on whatever treasures lay hidden in a Sage''s vault gnawed at him. But there was a satisfying irony in stealing from the very people who had ambushed them. And besides, it was a good plan.


    The moment he and Yerin had advanced to Underlord, the Sage''s owl had found them. It hadn''t left since. Which meant it was only a matter of time before the prince and his scythe-wielding companion came hunting. However, now that he and Yerin are Underlords, too, he felt a lot more confident about their prospects.


    [And you got me!] Dross added.


    Yerin called out, "Dross, we got anyone sniffing after us?"


    [Hmm¡­] Dross hummed. [Now that you mention it¡ªnope. All clear.]


    The portal to Blackflame City loomed ahead. This time, they didn''t hesitate.


    "That doesn''t make sense," Lindon said as darkness enveloped him. "The Sage has been following us this whole way. Why wouldn''t she send them after us now?"


    [I''m using your senses, remember]? Dross retorted. [Maybe they could be waiting for us on the other side]?


    That sent a panic through Lindon. Surely, the Sage wouldn''t send Underlords against injured golds.


    [I don''t think she would. But you never know].


    He had dragon''s breath ready as he stepped out of the portal, only to find nothing but startled Skysworn Lowgolds staring at them. They winced when Yerin flew through with her spirit unveiled.


    Yerin veiled her spirit, and they wasted no time. They flew quickly towards her tent, ignoring the golds that bowed as they passed.


    They dropped off Sadi and Whitehall''s void keys inside, and Lindon carved a protective script around the tent. It wouldn''t be fully secure, but it would stop anyone coming in who isn''t at least an Underlord. It might have been overkill, but these were valuable treasures, so he took his time.


    Yerin watched as he finished the script. "Shouldn''t we keep one in case they need to advance?"


    Lindon tapped the void key hanging from his neck. "I''ve got enough inside mine."


    Yerin smirked.


    [Sharing now, are we]? Dross asked. [Are you sure Underlord hadn''t messed with your mind]?


    Lindon ignored Dross, and he and Yerin quickly returned to the portal.


    "Dross, send a message to the others as soon as we''re through," he said. Everyone hadn''t sent a message to him and Yerin this whole time unless prompted, fearing that the sound could alert the Seishen guards or the Sage.


    Despite lasting a few seconds, the time in the darkness felt like hours.


    [Sent], Dross chimed as soon as they returned to the Valley.


    Their construct buzzed. Whitehall''s voice crackled through, laced with amusement and the distant clash of battle.


    "You two sure took your time," Whitehall said. "Were the golds that tough?"


    Gazing towards the distance, where the battle took place, Lindon saw streaks of striker technique flying through the sky. He angled his cloud towards the fight.


    "Blah blah blah," Yerin replied from her own cloud, flying beside his. "Ran off with their tails tucked between their legs as soon as they saw us. I would even call them bigger cowards than you."


    Whitehall''s laugh emerged through the construct, followed by an unrecognisable woman''s muffled grunt.


    "You three still solid?" Yerin asked.


    "We got separated, but I''m good," Whitehall replied first.


    "I''m fine," Sadi said, followed by a thunderous crashing sound.


    "What was that?" Lindon asked, looking at the distance, but couldn''t tell what happened.


    Sadi''s reply came after another second. "They''re ramming Cloudships against one another like they''re trying to make another flying city!"


    "Hey guys!" Mercy''s voice chimed in as bright as ever. "I''m fine too. I don''t think they''re trying to kill me, more like trapping me."


    "Good to hear," Yerin replied. "Just stay prim and proper. Help is on the way. The prince and the crazy lady there?"


    Whitehall''s voice replied. "Haven''t seen them."


    His speech was quickly cut by a loud boom.


    "Never mind, never mind!" came Whitehall''s voice again, with more urgency. "They''re here!" Then, "Stupid owl," he cursed under his breath.


    "We''re coming. Hold tight," Lindon replied as he and Yerin pushed more madra into their clouds to push them faster.


    Then, as they were halfway towards the battle, Whitehall''s voice crackled through again. It wasn''t directed at them, but it just carried the unmistakable tone of a man barely holding back the urge to bury his face in his hands.


    "Oh, you bloody idiot!"


    <hr>


    Kiro soared alongside Meira towards their target. The Sage had marked the Wastelanders for them. One was invisible, and Daji had separated to confront the woman.


    That left the poison artist. The one the Sage''s owl tracked like a spectre. The one whose blood had burned Kiro''s skin on contact. If he hadn''t been a prince, he wouldn''t have had access to the medicine needed to heal without scarring. Even now, he could feel a phantom sting where the venom had touched him.


    He felt his new shield on his arms. The Sage had gifted him a priceless treasure. His father had told him it had an Overlord binding. Kiro couldn''t activate it easily, probably only once. He would be useless right after and possibly cripple his spirit. But if it meant completing the Sage''s task, so be it.


    A volley of black webs shot toward them. Meira surged forward, slicing them into ribbons with a flick of her scythe.


    "I''ll handle her, my prince," she said as she redirected her cloud towards Akura Mercy.


    He could trust Meira with Akura Mercy. She had never failed him, and he knew she never will. Now, it was his turn to not fail her.


    "Thank you, Meira," he said to her as he continued pushing his cloud on a rapid descent.


    His Thousand-Mile Cloud burned through the air, streaking toward his target like a falling star. He held his shield ready, descending upon the poison artist like a judgment from the heavens.


    At the last moment, the Wastelander scrambled aside, barely dodging the impact. His shield crashed into the wooden deck like a comet, digging deep until he was halted by a reinforced metal frame.


    Kiro tore himself out of the wreckage and scanned for his target. As previously, he couldn''t find the short man''s spirit. The difference this time, however, is that he had the Sage''s help. Not far from him was the Sage''s owl, glowing a bright silver as it followed the Wastelander''s every move.


    The Truegold snarled and struck at the owl, but his blows passed through as if striking mist. Not a single feather was disturbed.


    Kiro activated his enforcer technique, Force madra surging through his limbs. He launched himself forward, cutting down Blackflame warriors unlucky enough to stand in his way.


    The Wastelander''s eyes turned to him, and he tried to dodge.


    But Kiro was an Underlord and was faster than a Truegold could be.


    The Truegold turned, but Kiro''s sword sliced through his side.


    Poisonous blood spattered onto the deck, sizzling on impact. Kiro whipped his sword, scattering the toxic droplets before it could touch him.


    The Wastelander collapsed, clutching his wound with one hand while the other tightened around his whip. He lifted his gaze, and Kiro was met with a look of pure indignation.


    "Oh, you bloody idiot!" the Wastelander roared.


    Then, the sky cracked apart.


    Thunder roared. Lightning lanced across the battlefield, illuminating the carnage in stark flashes. A voice, deep and ragged, boomed from above.


    "I have witnessed an Underlord slaughtering and attacking Golds."


    Kiro felt the owner of the voice''s spirit. He had memorised every Underlord in the Blackflame Empire before coming to the Valley. Only one walked the Cloud Hammer Path.


    The Blackflame Empire''s number one Underlord.


    Chon Ma.


    Chon Ma''s voice thundered with righteous fury.


    "We have cause to RETALIATE! "


    Kiro went rigid and pale as he slowly turned to gaze at the battle around him, where Seishen and Blackflame Golds were fighting one another.


    In his determination to complete the Sage''s task, he had forgotten one important lesson. Restraint.


    One by one, the Blackflame Underlords began to slaughter Seishen golds.


    If the previous battle had been considered as chaotic, now it was cataclysm incarnate.


    What had he done?


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested. Amalgam.


    Date. Denied


    Report Complete.


    Dayang watched in silent panic, her heart pounding as one by one, hundreds of temples rose from the earth. Just a few hours ago, the landscape had been nothing but dense forest. Now, it was a sprawling sea of temples, each one unique in design, with intricate roofs, patterns, and carvings that gleamed faintly in the moonlight. The sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.


    Was he mocking her? she wondered, her stomach churning with dread.


    "Eight hundred and seventy-three," Cornelia said, her voice calm but carrying an edge of urgency. "He will succeed."


    Dayang glanced up at the dark sky, where the stars were beginning to fade. Dawn was still two hours away, and the roosters would not crow until then. Her hands trembled as she clutched the edge of her skirt, her mind racing.


    "How is he doing this?" Dayang asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are Travellers of Valinhall this powerful?"


    "No," Cornelia replied simply.


    "Then how? Is someone helping him?" Dayang''s voice shook, her fear spilling into her words.


    "Maybe," Cornelia answered, her tone cryptic. "No Traveller of Valinhall could achieve this so quickly. An Incarnate, however..."


    Dayang''s breath hitched. "Is he?"


    "No," Cornelia said, and Dayang felt a flicker of relief. "But he will be."


    Dayang turned to face the doll, her eyes wide with alarm. "You need to stop him. He might not even know what''s about to happen."


    "He does," Cornelia said emotionlessly. "Even if I tried to stop him, he wouldn''t listen to me. Not anymore."


    Dayang''s thoughts spiralled, her mind a whirlwind of fear and desperation. Would he listen to her? No, she knew he wouldn''t. She had to do something¡ªanything. Her son was on the brink of becoming an Incarnate, and she was about to lose him all over again.


    "I can feel the chains of Valinhall spreading every second," Cornelia said, her voice low. "They''re on his neck now. He doesn''t have much time left." The doll, who had been staring into the distance, turned to face Dayang. For the first time, Dayang heard genuine worry in Cornelia''s voice. "If you''re going to act, I implore you to do it now."


    Dayang didn''t hesitate. She raced into the forest, her feet pounding against the uneven ground as she sprinted towards the temple currently being built. "Please," she begged, her voice breaking as she prayed to no one in particular. "I''ll do anything. Just don''t take him away again."


    The forest was a blur of shadows and sharp branches that tore at her clothes and skin. Her skirt ripped, her arms and legs stinging with fresh cuts, but she didn''t stop. She couldn''t. As she drew closer to the temple, she noticed the intricate patterns carved into its walls¡ªlilacs and tulips, her favourite flowers. The sight made her chest ache.


    "Sangkuriang!" she screamed, her voice raw and desperate. She was still far away, but she prayed he could hear her. "I''ll marry you! Please, just stop!" She would swallow her pride, bury her disgust, and dive into the deepest depths of immorality if it meant saving him. She would endure it all, but she couldn''t lose her son again. Not like this.

 Chapter 37

    Daji followed the owl that hovered above his target, the Wastelander woman. He landed on the deck of a small Blackflame Cloudship that had rammed into his father''s main ship.


    He remembered how the woman had cut his neck in their previous fight. He wouldn''t rush head-on this time. Despite being an Underlord, he had seen the state his brother had ended up in when facing the Truegolds the Sage had sent them after. He would be careful. In fact, if he could make his own choices, he wouldn''t fight at all.


    He crept slowly through the melee taking place between the golds, careful as he made his way to the invisible figure beneath the Sage''s owl.


    A sudden squeak from his right, quickly followed by the sound of wood breaking, and he swung his sword to his right. A loud clang echoed as his blade of Force madra clashed with a Blackflame Skysworn''s sword. He tried to push, but he felt her push back.


    She was an Underlord. That was when he remembered that this fight would not be an isolated match like it had been previously. This was taking place inside an ongoing battle. If he wasn''t cautious, he would be dead.


    Daji let her sword slide down his own, guiding the strike into his pauldron. The armour the Sage had given him held. His free hand snapped up, a blast of green Force madra slamming into her chest. She hurtled backwards, but before she could fall, jade wings flared from her back, arresting her descent. A moment later, two Seishen Underlords crashed into her, locking her in combat.


    Daji heard a familiar voice shout.


    "Enough!"


    He turned his gaze and found the Wasteland woman standing before him in the distance, no longer invisible, her armour and knives caked in blood.


    "End this farce, Seishen Daji!" she yelled at him.


    Daji felt the grip of his sword shake, and he tightened his fingers.


    "I can''t!" he yelled through gritted teeth.


    "You''re a prince! Surely you could do something!"


    A prince in name but not in power or responsibilities. And as she had previously said, he was only a second son. A younger brother.


    His frustration burned, and an old wound ripped open. And he returned to what he now knew was his uncomfortable comfort place.


    "I can''t!" he yelled again as he charged, unsheathing his other sword.


    A blast of Force madra ripped forward, but she was gone, slipping into invisibility. His technique struck only air. A Highgold stumbled into its path, and he barely dispersed it in time.


    Her voice echoed around him again.


    "Yerin and Lindon are Underlords now. Your brother and the other woman weren''t able to beat them when they were Truegold."


    She let her words hang in the air for a moment , and Daji hesitated.


    "They will die!" she finally said.


    Before he could reply, the sky thundered.


    "I have witnessed an Underlord slaughtering and attacking Golds." A voice boomed from above. "We have cause to  RETALIATE! "


    Daji''s eyes grew wide, and he felt the blood drained from his face. He looked up.


    He felt numerous Underlord lightning striker techniques gathering madra from above, and through his perception, he knew that despite being an Underlord''s technique, it was a powerful one. Very powerful.


    And he knew who they were meant for. It wasn''t for him.


    His eyes met the Wastelander woman''s. She wasn''t his target. She was the Sage''s.


    His body moved before he could think. He dropped his twin swords, the blade of Force madra fizzing out as the hilt clanged on the hardwood floor. Then, he raised his arms high in the air.


    He fought through the pain, through the agony of his madra channels breaking its limits. He channelled all the soulfire he had, all the madra inside his spirit.


    The Overlord binding of his armour ignited.


    A protective force field blinked into the space above the cloudship, and the golds beneath it lived.


    <hr>


    "Aunt Charity!" Akura Mercy yelled at the top of her lungs. "You need to stop this! It has gone too far!"


    She tried to break free of the white-haired Seishen Underlord''s grasp, but the woman had continued to follow Mercy wherever Mercy went.


    The woman wasn''t attacking her, but she kept Mercy boxed in, preventing her from joining the bigger fight.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "Aunt Charity!" Mercy yelled again.


    Mercy knew the Sage could hear her and probably had a dozen owls scattered around the area to observe the fight. Underlords had begun killing golds, and she couldn''t understand why the Sage hadn''t ended it yet. Wouldn''t this weaken their vassals too much?


    <hr>


    "Eithan!" Cassias Aurelius shouted over the heat of battle at the Underlord as he fought side by side with his wife. "What have you done?"


    Eithan was busy fighting off three Seishen Underlords. He would have preferred not to, but someone had to guard one of his favourite family member and their family. He dispersed an Earth striker technique with his scissors, channelling pure madra to dispel the attack.


    "Casias," Eithan replied as he swung his broom at the jaw of an Underlord. "As much as I know how highly you regard me. Do you really think that I have anything to do with this?"


    Cassias didn''t reply immediately, and Eithan''s bloodline web told him that the man was fighting two Highgolds simultaneously.


    Then his breath almost caught as he sensed movement beneath the Cloudship Cassias and Naru Jing were fighting on. A wounded Skysworn was crawling towards the aura crystals inside. They were planning to drain the aura into their spirit.


    "Don''t do it," Eithan muttered in a whisper as he dispersed a Force madra striker technique.


    A second later, Eithan sighed. Then he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Abandon Ship! All ships!"


    Through his Bloodline technique, he saw that Cassias was already being lifted by Naru Jing into the air and away from the cluster of Cloudships. Golds began to jump into the air, and Skysworn activated the Thousand-Mile clouds and flew away.


    Actually . Maybe that Skysworn underneath was onto something. Unlike the Skysworns, not all of the Seishen Kingdom warriors had Thousand-Mile clouds. Under most circumstances, this would be a good idea. But Eithan didn''t feel that this circumstance would qualify.


    Maybe Whitehall''s animosity towards the Sage was not unfounded after all.


    <hr>


    "Dakata!" Emperor Naru Huan roared as he slashed his sword mid-air, sending a long curved line of wind aura. "What is the meaning of this? Have your Underlords gone mad?"


    He heard Chong Ma''s declaration , and he knew that the Cloud Hammer Underlord would never lie about such a declaration.


    King Dakata channelled wind-aura underneath his feet, pushing him to the side and dodging Huan''s striker technique.


    The striker technique crashed into the side of a mountain, leaving scars of uprooted trees and soil.


    "It is as the Sage desires!" King Dakata roared back.


    "Eithan Aurelius''s apprentice has advanced! You felt it as soon as I did!" How did they manage to evade everyone''s senses, including the Sage''s? He didn''t know.


    Wei Shi Lindon Aurelius and Yerin Aurelius have both advanced to Underlord, there was no point in continuing this farce. Underlords are slaying golds, and if this battle continued, they both knew they would soon start doing the same.


    "Seize this madness before it festers any longer!" Huan demanded.


    King Dakata readied his shield and blade. "They are not the only targets, you fool!"


    The Wastelanders? That doesn''t make any sense. Didn''t the Sage send them to his Empire''s care in the first place? Why wouldn''t she just slay them herself and be done with it?


    He thought he knew the answer. He didn''t like it, especially when he thought of the neighbour of his empire with whom he shared borders.


    Dakata launched boulders of Earth at him, and Huan used his wings to evade the blow. They had brought the battle far, and the boulder landed on a patch of woods. However, that was not much comfort. Their fight had dragged on, and every second, they were inching back to battle at the web of Cloudships.


    As his next in line, his sister, Naru Saeya, would have assumed control. Although they were outnumbered, he had every confidence in her effectiveness as commander of his army . Especially when he knew Naru Gwei would also be nearby.


    Then, he felt a sudden burst of myriad auras, and as he looked towards the source, he saw large, colourful, deadly explosions coming from the entangled cloudships.


    The Sage had disabled the offensive and defensive scripts, but she had not disabled the wells of gathered aura. And now, after sustaining more abuse than they could handle without the defensive scripts, they had begun to tear apart.


    "Huan!" Dakata screamed at Naru Huan''s fleeting form as he chased after the Blackflame Emperor. "Your enemy is me!"


    But Naru Huan didn''t care. His wings can carry him faster than Dakata could hope to keep up. At least when it came to travel speed, he had an advantage over the Seishen King.


    <hr>


    Whitehall clashed with the Underlord, trying to kill him. His whip cracked and struck Kiro''s new shield. Whitehall knew the moment it made contact that the shield was not ordinary.


    Kiro looked manic as Whitehall made eye contact with him. Apparently, the prince could not face the consequences of his actions.


    "You could be saving your golds instead of fighting me," Whitehall said as he prepared for another attack.


    Kiro''s face darkened, his eyes brimming with hatred. "You do not understand the burden I carry," he growled.


    Whitehall shook his head. "No," he muttered. "You do not understand your own."


    Kiro raised his blade in defiance and lunged at Whitehall.


    Whitehall activated his enforcer technique and leapt backwards, the Sage''s owl floating above him like a parasite.


    The blade missed again, and Whitehall cracked his whip towards the Underlord. Kiro raised his shield, and the whip slashed harmlessly onto the metal surface.


    Whitehall followed it up by swinging his bloody hand, and again, Kiro caught it with his shield.


    "Are you trying to wait for me to bleed out?" Whitehall taunted, dodging to the side as a stray striker technique blasted in his direction. "Don''t forget my friends are on their way."


    Kiro gritted his teeth.


    A sudden madra exploded behind Kiro, and looking back, he saw one of the Blackflame Cloudships burst into colourful light. The ships burst like dominoes, one after another.


    Whitehall took the distraction and ran towards the edge, jumping off the ship into the night air. He would have made it out undetected if it hadn''t been for the Sage''s owl that began to hoot uncontrollably.


    Whitehall''s fall was cut short when Kiro suddenly skewered him mid-air with his blade, flying on a thousand-mile cloud. Luckily, the blade pierced between his chest and left shoulder. He most likely would survive, but it still bloody hurt.


    Whitehall shook all his limbs, splattering even more blood onto the Underlord.


    "Why won''t you just die?" Kiro growled as the blood hissed wherever it made contact with his skin.


    Whitehall smiled a bloody grin. "Trust me, I wish I knew the answer."


    Then Whitehall slipped free of Kiro''s blade and began freefalling again. Kiro went after him, but Whitehall did not have time for that right now. He needed to focus on stopping the bleeding.


    Lucky for him, an Underlord came to his rescue, placing gentle hands underneath his armpit and lifting him away like a prince saving his damsel in distress.


    "Are you alright?" Naru Saeya asked, her green wings flapping as she flew.


    "For now," Whitehall gave her a thumbs up. Then he pointed to the owl flying alongside them. "That''s the Sage''s owl. She made me a target. Probably want to let me go. I can take it from here."


    Saeya looked over her shoulder at the Underlord pursuing them. No. Underlords now. Two other Seishen Underlords had joined the prince in his pursuit.


    "Seems that he finally called for help. Don''t recognise them." Whitehall said.


    Saeya smirked. "Not to worry, Wastelander. My brother told me to watch after you two. And besides, help is on the way."


    Suddenly, two large bars of Black Dragon''s breath shot towards their pursuers, causing them to shift apart.


    "Finally found you," Lindon''s voice echoed as he descended from above.


    "Took you long enough," Whitehall snorted.


    In the distance, the web of Cloudships had finally begun to freefall to the woods below.


    "Forgiveness, Elder Whitehall," Lindon replied, lowering his head slightly. "You were not the easiest to find with your veil."


    [But the Sage was kind enough to mark you for us] Dross added.


    Whitehall rolled his eyes. "Sure. If you say so."


    They descended to the ground below, Lindon covering their descent with striker techniques.


    "Where''s Yerin?" Whitehall asked as Saeya let him go.


    "She went after Sadi," Lindon answered.


    Whitehall exhaled a breath of relief.


    "Boys," Saeya called out, her gaze fixed on their front. "We have guests."


    Three Underlords emerged from the trees, and Whitehall recognised one of them. Prince Kiro. He stared at them with wide, bloodshot eyes.


    "You have caused the deaths of many tonight," Kiro wrasped. "The Sage was right through all her wisdom."


    Lindon opened his void key and took out his new weapon. Then, he fired his canon.


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested.     Amalgam.


    Date.     Denied


    Report Complete.


    Valiar''s hands moved with meticulous precision as he carved the delicate floral patterns into the stone. Each stroke of his blade was deliberate, each curve and line a testament to his focus and skill. This temple was different from the others. It wasn''t just another structure to fulfil the impossible task Dayang had set before him. This one was special. He had designed it specifically for her, a masterpiece that would stand as his magnum opus. The patterns of lilacs and tulips¡ªher favourite flowers¡ªwere etched into every surface, a silent tribute to the woman who had captured his heart.


    His body moved with a strength he had never before unleashed, every muscle working in perfect harmony. The chains of Valinhall coiled further up his body, their cold weight a constant reminder of the power he wielded¡ªand the price he paid for it. But he didn''t stop. He couldn''t. He had more temples to build, but he had calculated his time carefully, ensuring he had enough to spare for this one. It had to be perfect.


    In the distance, he heard Dayang''s voice, faint but desperate, calling his name. He ignored her, his focus unwavering. There would be time for words later. For now, he needed to concentrate. Least said, soonest mended, he thought, the old adage echoing in his mind. He would finish this temple, and then he would face her. But not yet. Not until it was done

 Chapter 38

    There were six techniques bound inside Lindon''s resonance canon. All of those were striker techniques, all of them lethal. A violent riot of colours shot out of the end of the canon, screaming a deadly promise.


    Kiro lifted his shield.


    The canon''s technique exploded as it met the prince''s shield with a burst of deadly madra. The blast split to either side, and the two unknown Seishen Underlords split.


    Kiro held.


    "Dross," Lindon whispered. "Battle plan."


    INFORMATION REQUESTED: COMBAT SOLUTION AGAINST SEISHEN KIRO


    BEGINNING REPORT...


    [Are you sure you really need a plan for this? Alright! Alright... I''ll focus].


    [First, he''s mad. Like mad, mad . That makes it easier for us].


    Lindon dropped his cannon and pulled out a second.


    He emptied both cannons into Kiro''s shield, and this time, under the endless barrage of his new weapons, Kiro''s footing began to be driven back.


    [That shield is clearly of another quality. His armour, though...]


    Cracks began forming on Kiro''s armour, where a mix of Whitehall''s poison techniques and splatters of Lindon''s artillery had struck. Beneath the outer plates, the cracks revealed a mix of shifting silver and gold madra. A network of bindings began to trigger all over the suit, linked by a method Dross did not understand.


    However, the cracks that had been caused by Whitehall''s poisonous blood refused to heal.


    Kiro''s eyes narrowed in anger, not at Lindon, but at Whitehall.


    [You''re his biggest threat, but he''s currently too emotional to see it].


    Kiro lunged for Whitehall.


    [That is fine. Whitehall can survive on his own for a few more seconds. We should go for the two unknown variables].


    To either of Lindon''s side, Whitehall and Naru Seiya were having their own battles against the other Seishen Underlords. They fought in sync, exchanging opponents multiple times mid-fight.


    Lindon launched black dragon''s breath at the Underlord currently fighting Naru Seiya. His striker technique pierced through the Underlord''s back and struck the earth behind them, tearing a trench through the forest floor and igniting the trees with black fire. And he began to use it as fuel for his Void Dragon''s Dance.


    Pivoting to the other side, where Whitehall was running and hiding from two Underlords, Lindon switched to his pure madra and activated his Soulcloak. He slammed into the unsuspecting Underlord and struck a Soulfire-infused Empty Palm.


    His technique drove the Underlord face-first into the ground, and Lindon quickly switched back to Blackflame and drove a dragon''s breath through the back of their head.


    Kiro hadn''t sensed the death of his two other Underlords. Or if he did, he didn''t seem to care. Saeya sent a striker technique that sliced the remnants in half.


    Kiro did not care.


    He continued hunting Whitehall like an enraged beast. But Whitehall was nimble , and he continued moving side to side, jumping over a bush. His movements would have lost a Truegold running after him.


    But Kiro was an Underlord. The prince simply swept through the forest, crashing through the trees without slowing down.


    [You might want to go after him now], Dross narrated. [I don''t think Whitehall can survive much longer].


    The vision ended, and Lindon jumped to action.


    Lindon''s canon had not even reached Kiro''s shield when Lindon jumped towards his right, where Naru Saeya was battling one of the Underlords. She flew high, sending waves of cutting air towards the Seishen Underlrod below. Her armour had remained relatively clean and pristine, and the Seishen Underlord was covered in bloody cuts.


    [Wow, she''s better than we thought], Dross commented.


    To be fair, Lindon had never seen the princess fight, but he had to admit it. He had underestimated her.


    He unleashed dragon''s breath that pierced the back of the Seishen Underlord. Then, Lindon turned his attention to Whitehall. Except, he did not see him.


    [Follow the owl!] Dross yelled in his mind.


    "Right, apologies, Dross," Lindon muttered. Elder Whitehall was more attuned to the forest than Lindon, and Dross had given him credit for. Whitehall had chosen to move between trees which caster large shadows, enough even to hide the Sage''s owl.


    [At least she''s kind enough to help us through our perception].


    The Sage''s owl was like a lighthouse in the dead of night, but Lindon couldn''t make out Whitehall''s exact position despite knowing where Whitehall was.


    "How is Whitehall moving like that?" Lindon asked as he went after Kiro and the other Underlord. Even the two Seishen''s striker technique kept missing and striking shadows. Through Lindon''s perception, he felt the Sage''s owl move side to side, up and down, in erratic patterns.


    [How would I know?] Dross replied. [Maybe living in the Wastelands has something to do with it].


    Lindon''s Soulcloak slammed to the side of the unknown Underlord, crashing him into a large tree. Lindon followed it up with an empty palm.


    Panicked by the sudden loss of control of his spirit, the Underlord looked up.


    Not at Lindon, but at Kiro. At the prince leaving his subordinate behind to die.


    Lindon switched to Blackflame and made it quick.


    As the remnant began to rise, Lindon prepared to kill him a second time. But apparently, Kiro was not as loved as Lindon had thought. Because as the blue remnant fully rose, it shot after Kiro.


    Lindon pulled out his canon and joined after the remnant.


    <hr>


    Kiro had never felt so enraged in his life. He was not angry when his brother treated the royal servants like trash. He had been disappointed. He had not been angry when his father treated him and Daji like broken tools left in the rain. He had been sad. He had not been angry when everyone treated Meira like a parasite for spending time with him. He was.


    ...tired.


    But this¡ªthis was different. This was rage. A white-hot, all-consuming fire that clawed up from his gut and drowned out everything else. He remembered when he sensed the spirits of hundreds of Seishen golds. The way they puffed out of existence in an instant.


    And the one responsible ¡ª that little worm ¡ª was still alive. Still slithering just out of reach. Still ruining everything.


    He felt the deaths of his two Underlords like two sharp stings against his core, but that was fine. He would honour them by remembering their sacrifice. He felt a striker technique coming after him from behind, and he caught it with his shield. Then he felt the Blackflame''s canon fire again towards him and readied his shield again.


    His arm strained, and his armour cracked from the scattered impact, but his shield gained more power. Unlike what Daji and Meira had thought, the Sage''s gift towards him was not an Overlord''s weapon. It was an Archlords''. His father had told him so.


    He fired a striker technique again at the vicinity of the Sage''s owl in his perception. Like previously, he only struck bark. That coward had already shifted.


    Tired of this cat-and-mouse chase, Kiro gathered the last of his patience and began to funnel his Soulfire into his next technique. Not a trickle. Half of everything he had left. The technique flared to life, force madra lashing the air around it until it screamed like the wind during a storm. Then he swung his sword. The technique cut through the forest like a blade. A moment later, it detonated in a thunderous explosion that ripped apart the trees in a wide perimeter.


    The blast washed over him. He caught the backlash on his shield, and the impact vibrated through him like a drumbeat in his bones. The shield hummed, storing every fragment of madra it could reach. When the dust began to settle, the forest around him was gone. Where there had once been trees, now there were only stumps, shattered trunks, and craters of upturned earth. The blast had scoured the ground clean.


    And at the heart of that destruction, Kiro saw him.


    The worm.


    He was sprawled across the dirt, crawling, his green armour cracked and shattered. Fragments of the plating had lodged themselves into his flesh like thorns, and black blood oozed out around them, bubbling with poison madra. The air shimmered with it ¡ª the stink of it caught in Kiro''s throat.


    The worm tried to rise, one trembling hand digging into the soil. His skin had turned a pale, deathly grey, and when he finally got his knees under him, his arms gave out, and he fell back to the ground.


    Kiro watched him for a moment. Then, a slow, satisfied smile crept across his face. Finally, the insect was broken. The hunt was nearly over.


    <hr>


    Mercy knew what she had to do as the roots curled inward from every side, wrapping around her like a cage of thorns. They weaved tighter and tighter, forming a dome above her head. Trapping her. Smothering her.


    Her heart thumped once¡ªloud and slow¡ªand then it felt like everything stopped. The blood drained from her face . Her legs wobbled. She could feel the cold sweat behind her neck , down her spine.


    So many deaths...


    So many lives lost...


    Underlords slaughtering golds ...


    And she hadn''t saved a single one.


    When the first Cloudship had exploded, Mercy had reacted on instinct. Her shadows surged out in all directions, wrapping around as many Golds as she could find. She did not care if they were Skysworns or Seishens. They were all her people.


    But the Underlord that had come after her did not care. She locked Mercy''s arm behind her back and dragged her to the edge like a piece of luggage. She forced Mercy down onto a thousand-mile cloud. Her body was pinned. Her madra flared, her shadows thrashed, but she couldn''t move. But she could not overpower an Underlord.


    The woman had not done it on purpose. But Mercy had watched with tears dripping through her eyes. Golds were stuck on the falling ships, wailing for help. Begging for mercy. Begging for someone to help.


    She would not forget their screams.


    She could still hear it.


    She would always hear it.


    Mercy''s gaze had met one of them, a lowgold through her perception. She couldn''t remember his face, not his goldsigns, not even which vassals he belonged to. He was young, younger than Pride, she knew for sure. But his gaze was old and haunting as he realised his faith.


    Her eyes never left. Not when he gave her a slight nod through bloodshot black eyes with black veins trailing from his face like spiderwebs. Not when he looked down towards where his faith would be. Not when he knew no one was coming. Not when he decided his chances were better down there. And not as she watched his form leaping off the Cloudship and disappearing below into the forest.


    Now, Mercy stood silently as the Seishen Underlord began caging her with roots. She knew what she needed to do. What her aunt wanted her to do.


    She remained standing as she pulled in the vital aura. She didn''t need natural treasures. Out here, in Nightwheel Valley, the vital aura was strong , and it was brimming with Shadow aura. Her words rang true, yet they tasted bitter.


    "I practice the sacred arts to make my mother proud," Mercy muttered softly.


    Her Truegold spirit was as ready to advance as it ever would with the resources of a backwater vassal. It was not as strong as it was before she left, but Mercy was a genius. And she advanced.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Seishen Meira''s eyes widened as she realised what was happening, but she couldn''t intervene nor strike at Mercy. The Sage''s warning rang in her mind.


    The cacoon burst open as Mercy''s shadows pierced through the wooden cage. She held her bow at the ready and pointed it at the Seishen woman. Her eyes were wide, and her spirit was Underlord.


    Mercy would not kill Meira. But she would hurt her. This battle had gone on for too long. It was time to end it.


    <hr>


    Kiro stood over the writhing form on the ground. The little man was still alive, barely. The wounded Truegold had large gashes all over his body, and poison madra leaked out of his wounds like incense and was absorbed straight into the Sage''s owl.


    Kiro readied his shield to his left. A bar of Blackflame struck it clean. His shield drank the power in.


    He lifted his shield again to block the incoming kick of the Blackflame Underlord. His shield held the attack, but Kiro was pushed back.


    A wind striker technique sliced at him from above, and another bar of Blackflame came from his front. He took the dragon''s breath with his shield and parried the wind technique with his own striker technique.


    His gaze never left the dying form on the ground.


    That bastard was healing, Kiro realised. How dare he? No. Kiro wouldn''t let it continue. He was angry, yes¡ªbut he would not be cruel. He would make the man''s death quick.


    The striker technique from above sliced through Kiro''s own striker technique. It was weakened, but it struck him. His armour caught most of the blow, but the striker technique still slipped through the cracks on his armour.


    Only then did Kiro take a full account of himself. His armour was falling apart, his body ached, and his limbs were trembling so badly that he felt like he was about to collapse any moment now.


    And when he looked inwards, he found poison.


    It only had a minor effect on his spirit that he had not noticed. But the poison was eating through his being. His flesh had begun to rot from the inside, and his blood was circulating sluggishly. But that was fine. His spirit was still healthy enough.


    "Step back, Seishen Kiro!" someone yelled at him from behind.


    He turned.


    Meira dangled midair, tightly bound by black, shadowy tendrils. Akura Mercy stood behind her, bow drawn, a black forged arrow aimed at Meira''s exposed back.


    Princess Naru Saeya landed before the worm, shielding his form with her own. Next to Kiro, the Blackflame, Wei Shi Lindon, levelled his canon at Kiro.


    Kiro was surrounded on all sides, but weirdly, he felt no fear. His eyes never left Meira''s, and in them, he saw that she felt the same.


    "I would listen to her if I were you," a new voice said from the trees.


    Kiro knew that voice, and when he turned to the source, he saw Yerin Aurelius alongside her Bloodshadow and the other Wasteland woman stepping into the clearing.


    His eyes widened when he saw the person Yerin was carrying on her back. Daji''s limp body rested against her back; her blade goldsigns resting against his neck. Daji''s spirit was ruined. His channels shredded. His core barely clung to shape. He must have activated the Overlord binding. It had torn him apart.


    "We do not have to do this!" the Wastelander woman shouted, her voice cracked.


    "Aunt Charity!" Mercy yelled at the Sage''s owl next to the worm. "I''ve advanced. You can end this now."


    Aunt? That makes more sense now. Why the Sage had ordered t


    Kiro turned his gaze to the owl. He did not want his brother or Meira to die. But if the Sage wills it, then he shall do it.


    The owl''s eyes remained locked onto him. It didn''t move, didn''t make a sound, didn''t even blink. It simply watched him. Waiting.


    Kiro clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding, and sighed.


    Then, he activated the binding on his shield.


    "Kiro, no!" he heard someone shout.


    But he didn''t care, and he closed his eyes as he prepared for his spirit to collapse. The Sage would choose him to represent her in the tournament; she would fix him.


    His shield glowed in a chaotic spiral of black and purple as it gathered the stored striker techniques.


    When it fired, the shield made no sound.


    In everyone''s perception, however, it screamed.


    <hr>


    Everyone was silent as they watched Kiro unleash the binding of his shield. It happened so quickly, far too quickly for any Underlords to intervene. Yet, at the same time, it felt so slow.


    "Dross," Lindon said inwardly. But as soon as he felt the aura build up on the prince''s shield, He knew there was nothing he could do.


    Then, a blur of green streaked through the sky.


    Emperor Naru Huan descended like a hammer, his enforcer technqiue a burning green banner in the air . His greatsword shone with emerald light as it plunged through Kiro''s cracked armour and drove clean through the prince''s heart.


    Kiro shuddered. Blood sprayed from his lips.


    But he was too late. And the shield fired.


    Emperor Naru Huan activated every single defensive binding in his armour, tens of lifesaving constructs appearing out of his void key and soulspace and activated at once.


    But he was facing the bindings of an Archlord weapon. One that belonged to a Sage, no less. But he didn''t waver, not when his sister''s life was on the line.


    "Huan!" he heard his sister yell, her voice full of anguish and cracking like glass.


    He didn''t even have a chance to reply before a concoction of lethal auras detonated between him and the prince. And Naru Huan, Emperor of the Blackflame Empire, died.


    <hr>


    It was only after Emperor Naru Huan died that Charity finally accepted that the battle had run its course.


    She appeared in the aftermath of the explosion. Naru Huan''s constructs had kept the attack isolated. He could have survived, but he had chosen to save his sister''s life instead of his own.


    But he had killed an Underlord.


    And Charity knew that she would need to intervene before the Seishen King decided to do the same.


    Charity appeared in the middle of her forest, and everyone around her was silent. She noticed that the Blackflame Empire Underlords had not gone through with their threats. Empty threats would not get them far.


    "My son!" King Dakata yelled as he appeared through the trees, his spirit unveiled. "What have you done to my son!" he yelled again, rage boiling in his eyes. He lifted his sword at the ready.


    "Your son died fighting honourably against Underlords and an Overlord," Charity answered. Two remnants rose from the ground, the explosion left no bodies behind.


    "Enter," Charity ordered, summoning two urns she had made by hand. The remnants'' wills were weak compared to hers, and they made their way into the urns.


    She turned her attention back to King Dakata. "Emperor Naru Huan had slain your son. But in return, he had slain the Overlord."


    King Dakata''s gaze never left Kiro''s remnant, making its way into the urn beside the Sage.


    "I demand retaliation!" Dakata roared, cycling his spirit. "By the Sage''s words, she had witnessed an Overlord slaying an Underlord!"


    Charity kept her voice cool , but she suppressed his spirit with her own. "Your grief is understandable, Your Highness, but your disrespect is unwise. You still have your son and servant. With your help, your son would have a chance to recover."


    Charity turned her gaze towards Mercy. Mercy looked away.


    "You may release them," Charity ordered.


    "Kiro! Kiro!" Meira began yelling as soon as Mercy undo her bindings.


    Charity snapped her fingers, and new tendrils of shadow wrapped the woman, slipping her into sleep. Then she caught Daji''s limp body as it fell and bound him in silence. The remaining prince was unconscious and would stay that way.


    King Dakata''s gaze shifted from the urn to her and then to the Underlords. While his gaze was stern, he didn''t move or say anything.


    Charity''s voice reverberated through the entire valley as she spoke next. "This battle has concluded, and entry to the Night Wheel Valley will soon be closed to you. I have chosen three young Underlords from the Blackflame Empire to represent the western vassals of the Akura family," she announced. "Warriors who are lost, my owls shall guide you to the rendezvous with your kin."


    Without raising her voice again, she spoke directly to the King. "Take your son. Your servant. Return to your Kingdom." She summoned another owl next to the king. "It will guide you to the rest of your army so your Kingdom may leave my valley."


    King Dakata clenched his jaw, but he remained silent. He placed Kiro''s urn inside his soulspace and lifted Daji''s unconscious form in his arms. With a manipulation of wind aura, he lifted Meira behind him. Then, he left without a word.


    Charity turned her attention to the Blackflame Empire''s contingent. Wei Shi Lindon, Yerin Aurelius, Akura Mercy, and the Wasteland apprentice were huddled around the wounded poison artist. Through her perception, Charity felt Mercy wrapping the man''s wounds with shadow. They were all Underlords now, and their body, having been remade with Soulfire, gave them a degree of resistance to the Poison miasma.


    "Naru Saeya," Charity spoke to the only Underlord who had not moved this whole time.


    The princess didn''t respond. Her eyes were empty, locked on the patch of ground where her brother had stood.


    " Naru Saeya ," Charity repeated, lacing her name with a sliver of will.


    Saeya flinched. Then, slowly, her head turned toward the Sage. Her eyes were wide, black with grief.


    Charity began, "I award your Empire three hundred million high-grade scales. In addition, to ease reparations caused by this competition, I will gift the Empress with an Archlord defensive construct and sponsor your advancement to Overlord."


    Naru Saeya''s voice was soft and barely a whisper when she replied. "What?"


    Charity nodded. "Naru Gwei shall be interim Emperor until after the tournament, then the throne is yours."


    Saeya spoke in short words. "Why?"


    "I have chosen you as one of my representatives," Charity replied calmly.


    Naru Saeya knew she should bow, but her knees would not move. So she lowered her head instead.


    "Aunt Charity!" Mercy''s voice snapped through the air. "Can you save him?"


    Charity did not need to look to where Mercy was pointing to know who she meant.


    "Yes, " she replied.


    Mercy''s expression turned to sadness. "But you wouldn''t, " she muttered.


    Charity nodded. "I have fulfilled my end of the agreement in giving the Wastelanders the opportunity and natural treasures to advance to Underlord, " she nodded towards Lindon''s void key. "Nothing more, nothing less."


    "He can''t advance in this state! " Mercy yelled. "Are you going to leave him to die?"


    Charity did not reply.


    <hr>


    Sadi''s thoughts whirled as she knelt next to Whitehall. Mercy was bargaining with the Sage, but Sadi already knew it was useless. The Sage had been after them from the start, and she would not lend them any help now.


    Whitehall''s injuries were worse than she had realised. He''d fallen on his stomach, and when they turned him over, they saw the truth¡ªorgans that belonged inside him were now outside.


    Mercy had done what she could with Whitehall''s wounds, and Whitehall''s madra had already begun healing him. The problem was he was running out of it, and the bleeding inside had not stopped.


    "Shut up, " Sadi hissed when he tried to speak.


    His skin was pale, much paler than he usually would be.


    There must be something inside her void key that could help. Lindon had used several medicinal pills on Whitehall, but even then, it was not enough.


    Then suddenly, a frog croaked from Sadi''s shoulder. Sadi almost jumped but managed to hold herself back at the last moment.


    "You are not welcome here, " Charity said. Her voice, cold and unhurried, sliced through the air like a greatsword through silk.


    The frog croaked again, "Your grandmother said otherwise. " Then, the frog unveiled its spirit, washing the area with the power of an Archlord.


    The frog was an Archlord, so it was not enough to be a real threat to the Sage, but enough to make it difficult if she tried to attack.


    Charity remained silent for a while, and the tension in the air grew suffocating.


    "Then begone with your apprentices, " Charity finally replied.


    The frog shot its tongue out, catching a fly that had been bothering him. "You played a dangerous game, Silver Heart, " the frog said between chews. "But I suppose your kind always do."


    The frog shifted his gaze to Sadi. "Summon your thousand-mile cloud. We''ll gather your things and return to the Wasteland."


    "What about Whitehall? " Sadi asked.


    The frog took a quick glance at Whitehall. "Undo your bindings, would you? " he asked Mercy.


    Mercy hesitated, then nodded and released her technique.


    The moment Mercy undid her technique, Whitehall''s organs began spilling out of the large gash in his stomach. Just as quickly, the frog''s mouth grew in size, scooped up the organs, and began biting them out. Sadi was about to pull her knives on the Archlord when she noticed that wherever he had bitten off, the wound had immediately shut. Neatly. Seamlessly.


    The worst, however, was Whitehall. He did not scream. He did not flinch. And Sadi knew by now that when he was quiet, he was truly in pain.


    She gripped his hand tightly. Slowly, she felt strength returning to his fingers.


    Once the frog was done, he turned his gaze to Lindon. "Got any bandages in that key of yours? " he asked, still chewing.


    "Yes, honoured Archlord, " Lindon said at once, bowing slightly. He began pulling out rolls of cloth and dressing Whitehall''s wounds.


    Sadi mouthed a silent thank you.


    "Honoured Archlord? " Lindon asked as he worked.


    The frog made a questioning hum. "Hmm?"


    "Will he survive? Like this? " Lindon hesitated. "Some of his organs are missing."


    The frog laughed¡ªa low, wet sound. "For now."


    It licked its lips, and the laughter died slowly in its throat.


    <hr>


    Whitehall woke up slowly and found himself in a familiar room inside a cave. His path had reinforced the effectiveness of his sensory organs, and he recognised the comforting smell immediately. It was not the smell of the sacred beasts living in the cave that comforted him, nor was it the familiar scent of the stone.


    And now that he thought about it, it might have been a little disgusting.


    Sadi''s sweat.


    He blinked.


    Yeah. Better keep that one to himself.


    "How do you feel? " Sadi''s familiar voice asked him as she helped him sit up straight.


    "Woozy, " Whitehall replied, doing his best to form a smirk.


    Sadi giggled as the mood lifted slightly. "I guess losing some weight might do that to you."


    Whitehall raised an eyebrow as he watched her laugh. "Oh, that was good, " he mused and joined her laugh.


    Sadi''s face grew serious after they both finished laughing.


    She spoke softly. "I was worried about you, " her golden eyes meeting his black.


    Whitehall nodded and spoke just as softly. "Yeah, I know. Thank you, " he lowered his head.


    She wrapped her arms around him. "You need to stop putting yourself in these kind of situations, damn it! " she cried.


    Whitehall clenched the fabric of Sadi''s shirt as he wrapped his arms around her. "I''m sorry, " he muttered.


    "But you won''t stop, will you? " she retorted.


    "I can''t, " Whitehall answered.


    "Why? " she demanded. "Why do you keep putting yourself in these kind of situations?"


    "Because, " he began but stopped.


    She waited patiently for him to continue. They sat there in a silent embrace for a long moment before Whitehall finally answered.


    "Because, " he continued. "Because I practice the Sacred Arts, so no one has to."


    That answer surprised Sadi, and she pulled back slightly to watch his face.


    His gaze never left hers, as he explained. "In my previous life, I went to war so that the next generation did not have to. And in this life... I realised that had not changed at all."


    His gaze grew stronger as he continued , and he stared intensely at her. "I practice the sacred arts so that the people I care about can find peace."


    The soulfire around the room began to hum.


    Sadi shook him slightly. "Stop that. Master said it can take weeks if we advance without natural treasures."


    "Oh, " Whitehall muttered and stopped his advancement from triggering.


    Then suddenly, slowly, Sadi planted her lips softly onto his cheek. "But that was sweet, " she smiled.


    Whitehall knew for sure that his cheeks were blushing. When he tried to look at Sadi''s cheeks, he found her skin glowing slightly. Then, somehow, his gaze landed on her lips.


    They were so close.


    So painfully close.


    Then, the Beast King''s voice boomed beyond the door of their room. "Is my favourite poison, male, apprentice awake? " he asked as the stone door opened.


    Whitehall and Sadi quickly parted and averted their gaze from each other.


    "Ahh, " the Beast King mused. "Ruined a moment, didn''t I?"


    Whitehall wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.


    The Beast King clapped his hands together. "Well, then, I''m glad that Sadi has gotten over it because you''ll need to advance quickly."


    Whitehall had to do a double-take at what his master had just said. "Gotten over ...it? " he asked.


    Sadi narrowed her eyes at the Beast King, and the Beast King''s grin faltered.


    "...ehhh, " the Beast King began. He took a few paces back from the entrance of their room. "You know what? I felt you two already found your revelation, and since you have your void keys with you, feel free to advance on your own, " he spoke quickly . Then, just as quickly, he shut the door with a wind aura.


    That left Whitehall and Sadi sitting awkwardly next to each other.


    Silence.


    Whitehall cleared his throat. "...So?"


    "Lindon''s joining the Akura main team, " Sadi blurted, eyes on anything but him.


    Whitehall opened his mouth, but she rushed on.


    "The Sage didn''t let him leave through the portal to the Blackflame Empire and took him on the spot. Yerin wasn''t too happy with it and complained the whole way back to the Empire. Eithan is alive too, in case you''re wondering."


    Whitehall smiled teasingly, sensing her nervousness. "And.."


    "Bert."


    He raised an eyebrow, amused at seeing her flustered. "Bert? " he asked, trying his best to contain his laughter.


    "The Archlord that saved you and came to fetch us, " Sadi replied, still avoiding his eyes.


    "And... what about this thing master said you had to get over? " he teased.


    "Oh, my days, " Sadi groaned and flopped onto her mattress beside him. "Everyone has been teasing me about it ever since we returned here. And it''s driving me mad! Worst of all, I''m not even bothered about it at all. But do you know how much it can drive a person insane being teased by the same thing again and again? " she said exasperatedly.


    Whitehall waited for a moment. Seeing that she was not about to continue, he asked slowly. "...And what have they been teasing you about?"


    Sadi covered her eyes with her forearm tiredly as she answered. "You''ve been muttering this name throughout our journey while unconscious, and Bert hasn''t stopped spreading it around through the whole cave."


    Then, she removed the arm covering her eyes and gazed accusingly at him. "I swear, why do you do this to me?"


    Whitehall blinked and tilted his head slightly. "And what name did I mutter?"


    Sadi exhaled an annoyed breath and answered.


    "Tseria."


    <hr>


    House of Blades


    Iteration requested.      Amalgam.


    Date.      Denied


    Report Complete.


    Dayang''s voice echoed through the forest, raw and desperate, as she called out to Sangkuriang. But her pleas went unanswered, lost in the night or ignored. She could see him now , perched on the temple''s roof, his figure a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. He was carving something into the stone, his movements swift and precise. As she drew closer, she realised it was her face¡ªher youthful, unblemished visage, smooth and ageless, framed by intricate patterns of lilacs and tulips. The sight took her breath away, even as her heart ached with fear.


    She reached the clearing surrounding the temple, her chest heaving as she stared up at the shadowy figure of her son. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how he could carve such delicate details with a greatsword. But before she could dwell on it, the night sky was suddenly bathed in a brilliant golden light. It was blinding, overwhelming, and just as quickly as it appeared, a wave of blue light crashed into it, the two forces colliding in a silent, dazzling explosion. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the light vanished, leaving the night sky dark and still once more. It wasn''t dawn¡ªthe light had been too golden, too otherworldly.


    Dayang froze, her legs rooted to the ground. The image of her son under that golden light was seared into her mind. Chains had enveloped him from head to toe, their cold, unyielding grip binding him completely . His eyes had been blacker than the night, empty and endless. She was too late.


    In the distance, the roosters began to crow, their cries piercing the stillness of the night.


    " Dayang, " Sangkuriang''s voice broke through the silence , rough and filled with pain . It was a voice she barely recognised, gravelly and heavy with sorrow.


    She looked up, the moonlight illuminating his face. The chains that had once been creeping up his arm now covered him entirely, their metallic glint stark against his pale skin.


    "I was so close, " he muttered, his voice trembling. "It''s impossible."


    Dayang couldn''t find the words to reply. She could only stare, her heart breaking as she took in the sight of what her son had become.


    The ground beneath them began to tremble, the vibrations growing stronger until Dayang was forced to her knees. The temple, her son''s magnum opus, started to crumble, its intricate carvings splintering as the earth beneath it opened up into a yawning chasm. She looked up in horror as Sangkuriang clung to the stone petals on the roof, his sword rattling as he struggled to hold on. But the stone gave way, and he fell.


    Without thinking, Dayang lunged forward, her arms outstretched. She slid across the broken ground, her torso scraping against the rough surface as she reached for him. Using her powers, she anchored herself to the earth, her arms straining as she caught him. He was heavy¡ªfar heavier than he should have been, as if the chains that bound him were dragging him down.


    "Let go, my love, " he said, his voice soft and resigned. "The chains are heavy."


    But Dayang shook her head vehemently, her grip tightening. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the blood from her cuts, leaving red streaks on her cheeks. Her son stared at her in awe, his blackened eyes filled with a strange, sorrowful wonder.


    "You''re so beautiful, " Valiar whispered, his voice barely audible.


    And then the weight of his body pulled them both into the darkness below , their hands clasped tightly together as they fell.


    <hr>


    Cornelia finally reached the clearing where the temple had once stood. If she could sweat, she would have been drenched by now. Her small, porcelain legs could only carry her so fast, and the journey through the dark forest had been arduous. The sight before her was one of devastation: the temple was gone, swallowed by the earth, leaving only a gaping hole in the ground. She sighed, a sound heavy with resignation, as she realised what had happened.


    She shuffled closer to the edge of the hole, her glassy eyes peering into the abyss below. "How unlucky," she muttered to herself. An earthquake at such a time¡ªit was almost poetic in its cruelty. Nature always has its way, she thought, recalling the words the Master of Valinhall had often said. It was a phrase that carried both wisdom and a quiet acceptance of the inevitable.


    Leaning over the edge, Cornelia stared into the darkness. ''Yep, '' she thought. ''Long gone. '' She sighed again, a sound that seemed to echo in the stillness of the night. She had been sighing far too often lately, but this time, it felt justified. Valiar was lost, and with him, the potential of what he could have become. The weight of that loss settled heavily on her, even if she couldn''t fully express it.


    Turning away from the hole, Cornelia prepared to make her way back through the dark forest. She would need to find somewhere to wait until someone from Valinhall came to retrieve her. The thought was tedious, but it was all she could do now.


    But as she took her first step, her foot caught on a loose pebble. She wobbled, her small arms flailing uselessly, and then she tipped backwards. For a moment, time seemed to slow as she teetered on the edge. And then, with a faint clink of porcelain, she tumbled into the hole, disappearing into the darkness below.


    Brilliant.