Nyx stared at Silarias with wide, startled eyes. The pupils of her purple irises had shrunk to tiny pinpricks as Morta de Grey bent over them once more, his gold-green Void-glow illuminating the room. The darkness leaking from his eye sockets like liquid black water dripped with a soft tick-tick-tick onto the wooden floor of the Council Chamber. With every drop that hit the floor, a minuscule network of black, withering veins spread through the wood.
Nicola felt a chilly shiver run down his spine. His jaws clenched until his muscles ached.
Who the hell is this guy?!
his inner voice screamed, while clammy beads of sweat gathered on his forehead.
How can a single figure make the air in this room so thick that it feels like I’m breathing liquid lead? He isn’t even moving fast, but it feels like there’s a mountain resting on my chest!
Before anyone could utter a word, Morta’s beard began to vibrate violently. He took a step forward, bent his spine with a cracking sound, and repeated his question in a raw, cutting scream that made the torches along the walls flare violently, their flames turning almost blue.
“SO, KIDS… WHO ARE YOU?!”
Silarias glanced around in a flash. His breathing quickened, his heart pounding against his ribs. His gaze wandered in panic toward the corner of the room. There, right behind the massive support pillar, stood the wooden cask that Rapha and Doppo had brought in earlier. The giant label on the oak read, in thick black letters:
Iðunn’s Haomamane
.
Silarias puffed out his chest, stuttered for a moment, and called out with a desperate, stern expression: “I… uhh… I am Haoma!”
The hall instantly fell silent. Not a sound penetrated the room, save for the soft crackle of the dying wood fire.
Haoma?!
Solomon thought. His eyelids began to twitch fiercely as he stared at the boy with his mouth hanging open.
Has that excess energy completely fried his brain?! He is naming himself on the spot after the first word of a botanical medicine written on a cask?! What is wrong with this guy?!
Haoma?!
echoed through Nyx’s head. Her jaws clenched so hard that her teeth grated.
Silarias, please… tell me you don’t mean this. You are the bearer of the Cursed Liberator, you just broke through the boundaries of reality, and you’re calling yourself Haoma?!
He really is an idiot,
Beat thought, slowly bringing his hand to his face and pressing his fingers against his forehead.
An absolute, incorrigible idiot. We are standing before a walking nightmare, and he’s improvising with the description of a cough syrup.
Morta de Grey narrowed his gold-green eyes to slits. The black trail beneath his pupils rippled with confusion. “HAOMA?!” Morta roared, his voice short and hoarse. He spun his knobby finger in a hasty, angular motion and pointed straight at Nyx. “Well… short and sweet! AND YOU THEN?!”
Nyx startled, looked at Silarias, then at the cask, and swallowed the dry lump in her throat. She straightened her back, assumed her most royal, imperturbable posture, and said deadpan: “I… uhh… am MANE.”
Solomon, who had just been about to take a deep gulp from his copper wine cup to wash away the shock, choked mercilessly. A devastating mist of red wine sprayed with a loud, resounding
PFUIIITT
from his nose and mouth, splattering across the edge of the oak table. He began coughing violently, turning red and gasping for air.
Morta de Grey turned his head toward the director with a dangerous, cracking jerk. “What is wrong with
him
?!”
Nicola quickly stepped forward, raised a trembling hand, and said with a dead-serious expression: “Well… the director is getting a bit lightly sick, you understand? Old age. Weak stomach. Happens to the best of us.”
Morta de Grey sneered contemptuously, let two thick plumes of dark steam roll from his nostrils, and turned away from Solomon. “Mm… and right before the tournament, haha! SO…”
His gaze fell on Beat. Morta stepped so close that Beat could feel the ice-cold, rotting air of the Void blowing against his face. Morta pointed his long, sharp nail right in front of Beat’s nose. “AND YOU?!”
Beat looked sideways at Nicola in sheer panic. Nicola hurriedly and inconspicuously shook his head while holding his palms upward.
I don’t know either, man! Think of something!
Beat swallowed, looked down at the stones beneath his feet, and forced out in an exaggeratedly deep voice: “My name… is BETO.”
A leaden, painful silence fell over the room. It was so quiet that you could almost hear the dust particles swirling in the torchlight.
Morta de Grey stared at Beat for several seconds, as if trying to understand what kind of person he was dealing with. Then he slowly turned his head toward Nicola. “Oh… and
you
…?! Who might you be, then?!”
Nicola casually shoved his hands into his pockets, looked dryly at the high ceiling, and shrugged. “Ethercorp Vice Captain. Nothing special.”
In the corner of the hall, at that exact moment, came the loud slurping sound of Doppo leisurely drinking the last of his drink through a straw.
SLUUUURP.
Solomon, whose eyes had meanwhile turned red from his coughing fit, turned purple with rage. He stormed toward Doppo, snatched the cup from his hands with a wild swipe, and glared at him furiously.
Around the round table, everyone nearly slapped themselves in the face.
Ethercorp Vice Captain?! Nothing special?! After all those insane names, he comes up with his actual job title?!
Morta de Grey pulled his jaws wide open. The black smoke around his skull began to churn and swirl fiercely. “Mm… nothing special…” he muttered softly.
Suddenly, his demeanor changed. Morta straightened to his full, remarkably towering height, and his eyes began to glow dangerously red through the black haze.
“BUT WAIT! DO YOU MEAN THAT SERIOUSLY?! THEN YOU ARE BETO!!” Morta suddenly shouted. The torches nearly dimmed under the force of his voice. “Then you are… from that tournament! The fast one…!”
A sinister, cruel grin distorted Morta de Grey’s wrinkled, dark face. “Just wait until this tournament starts… Hahaha!”
Morta turned around with a theatrical, fluid movement. He raised his knobby hand and slashed his sharp, pitch-black nails through the thin air.
RIP!
Reality literally burst open. A broad, jagged tear formed in space itself, crackling with purple and black lightning. Miki and Ren squeaked softly in fright and ducked behind Silarias’ broad back, their little fingers clutching frantically at his clothing. From the opening came a horrifying, icy choir of mingled voices: laughing, wailing, and screaming ghosts roaming the emptiness.
Morta de Grey lifted his foot, stepped backward into the dark emptiness, and looked back at them through the cracks in reality one last time.
“SEE YOU SOON… HAHAHA!”
BOOM!
The tear snapped shut as if a rubber band had been released. The cold vanished instantly. The torches flared up again, returning to their normal, warm orange glow. Morta de Grey had vanished without a trace.
It took a full three seconds before Solomon erupted.
“DO YOU GUYS EVEN REALIZE WHO THAT WAS?!” Solomon roared, the veins on his forehead bulging. He pointed furiously at the spot where the tear had just been. “THAT WAS THE VICE DIRECTOR OF THUNG ZU!”
Doppo looked at Solomon with wide, questioning eyes. He swallowed the last bit of his drink. “Ehh… Code X…?”
Solomon turned toward him, his gaze rising. “WHAT?! NO, NOT CODE X RIGHT AWAY!” He reined himself in, smoothed out the folds of his heavy robe, and looked ahead with a stern, analytical expression. “No… I think we’ve got this.”
He nodded to himself a few times, his voice rock-solid. “No, I am sure we’ve got this. We have the GOATs.”
Solomon fixed his gaze on Silarias. “Silarias… what you guys did during the first lesson… Do you understand that normally, everyone kept their distance from one another? They barely tolerated each other! But in a single lesson, you brought their powers together! Everyone passed the test! In fact… things went so amazingly well because of you that everyone present achieved a double pass!”
Silarias narrowed his eyes and looked at him dazedly. “Wait… what?”
“With this test, everyone has attained their secondary class, provided they choose Combat as their secondary path!” Solomon announced proudly.
Silarias raised an eyebrow and wanted to reply, “Can they just—?”
But he was interrupted. Two small hands tugged firmly at the hem of his jacket. Miki and Ren looked up at him with large, glittering eyes.
“Sil…” Miki whispered softly. “Can we… can we stay here for a bit now?”
Silarias looked down at the two little ones. A soft, weary smile appeared on his face. He coughed lightly to clear the last of the hoarseness from his throat. “Yes… but not for too long, though. We have to eat soon.”
Miki and Ren let out a cheerful cry and immediately sprinted across the hall, heading straight for Juro and Vespera’s chairs.
“WOAH! Did you see us go?!” Ren shouted enthusiastically, standing on his tiptoes and flexing his arms in a muscle pose. “Yeah! I’m big now too!”
On the other side of the hall, Nyx and Silarias moved closer together. Silarias beckoned Beat, Aurelius, Nicola, and Vulkan over with a nod.
Solomon looked at the scene with satisfaction and nodded. “Come sit with us, everyone… Then I’ll go fetch something to drink.”
Solomon turned and walked out of the Council Chamber with firm strides. The group remained behind, looking at one another in confusion.
Out in the hallway, Solomon’s resounding voice suddenly echoed through the corridor.
“Boh… Doppo! I think it’s getting too heavy, man! Can you come help for a second?!”
Doppo looked up, shrugged, and muttered, “Ehh… okay?”
As soon as Doppo crossed the threshold, Solomon grabbed him firmly by the shoulder and pulled him close. In a low, urgent whisper, Solomon said, “Those guys haven’t been getting along for months, if not years! Leave them alone for just a second… they need space.”
They walked on, and with a dull thud, the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them.
In the silence that followed, those present found themselves a place around the table. Aurelius, Beat, Vulkan, Nicola, Miki, and Ren took their seats at the gigantic round table. Exactly two chairs remained. Silarias was just about to sit down, but Nyx pushed her chair aside without batting an eye and sat right down on Silarias’ lap, her arms protectively draped around his neck.
It would have been a completely motionless, charged silence had Miki and Ren not broken it. In the most innocent, childlike way, they looked at the battered Juro and the bowed Vespera.
“How are you guys…?” Miki asked softly. “We… we actually missed you a little bit, secretly.”
Nicola and Vulkan, who didn’t really know Juro and Vespera personally yet, looked at each other and gave a polite nod.
“Nicola,” he said briefly.
“Vulkan,” the other added.
Vespera lifted her head. She didn’t know where to begin. Her eyes were red from holding back tears. She fixed Silarias with a trembling gaze. “Silarias… I am so, so sorry… Really, thank you for what you just did for me…”
“You are NEVER allowed to do this again, though, Vespera!” Nyx interrupted fiercely and curtly. She stared at the mentor with a sharp gaze. “You mean a lot to us… but this must never happen again!”
Juro, wrapped in bandages from head to toe, made a laborious attempt to move. He looked at Silarias through the gaps in the bandages. “Sil… baboon… come on, man. I really hope I can make this up to you.”
Silarias didn’t reply immediately. He tapped his fingertips rhythmically against the dark wood of the table a few times.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Then he suddenly looked Juro straight in the eyes.
“Sure…” Silarias said tightly. “Start with the truth. Why didn’t you tell me about Faustus?”
Juro began to stammer, his voice uncertain. “Silarias… boy… be a bit clearer…”
Silarias seized the opportunity immediately, without mercy. “Yeah! That you knew him for way longer! And that he was with my father! You knew everything! My whole background! I’m not sure which is worse… but anyway, we’ll figure something out. I still love you, you know that. But… do you guys actually know Thung Zu?”
At that exact moment, the entire dynamic at the table shifted. Juro and Vespera instantly turned cold and serious.
“Sil…” Vespera spoke in a heavy voice. “Thung Zu is not just anybody. He is a man… but he is also an entire movement of murderous madmen.”
Juro nodded laboriously. “Yeah, Silarias… you really need to understand a few things. An incredible number of things have happened behind the scenes, and a lot of them have worked in Thung Zu’s favor. Think of the fallen alliances… the rogue factions. And on top of that… he apparently created a walking monster specifically for this tournament.”
BAM!
The heavy oak doors flew open with a bang. Everyone at the table startled and stared fixedly at the entrance.
Solomon came walking in, whistling, with two gigantic wooden casks effortlessly balanced on his broad shoulders. Right behind him came Doppo, carrying stacked wooden platters filled with steaming food.
“FOOD IS HERE!” Solomon roared cheerfully.
At that exact moment, Silarias’ stomach let out a loud growl that echoed through the entire hall.
Juro stared hard at Silarias, ignored the arrival of the food, and repeated his question with utmost seriousness. “SILARIAS… WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW?!”
Silarias stood up, grabbed a gigantic wooden platter full of meat and bread, piled it high, and slid the heavily laden platter over to Nyx first. Then he grabbed a massive meat shank for himself and sat back down.
He looked at Juro, took a gigantic bite, and said with his mouth full, “Eat first… then handle it, haha! I am genuinely starving!”
The tension broke instantly. Within a few minutes, everyone was talking, laughing, and eating. Vulkan immediately challenged Silarias to an eating contest, with wooden plates flying across the table. Nyx grabbed a copper cup and began drinking alongside Vespera, the two of them quietly taking the first steps toward recovery.
Suddenly, Miki and Ren’s voices rose above the commotion around the table.
“MAAAH! Come on! Just once!”
Silarias and Nyx stopped chewing at the same time and looked at each other with their cheeks full, both wearing puzzled expressions.
“Come on what?” Silarias asked, sounding muffled as he swallowed his food.
Juro began to laugh softly, holding his pipe in his hand. “They just asked me how the Ward is doing now… But they won’t settle for a little story. They want to see it!” Juro laughed deeply. “Well… now they have to, right?”
Vulkan looked at Nicola inquisitively. “Huh? See? What do you mean, see?!”
Juro brought the wooden pipe to his lips and took a deep, long draw. The tobacco in the bowl began to glow bright orange and gold.
Juro didn’t simply blow out the smoke. With a powerful, masterful exhalation, he sent a dense, milky-white mist rolling over the gigantic round table. The smoke didn’t linger like an ordinary cloud. Instead, it began to rotate and condense, transforming into a swirling vortex of light.
Before their eyes, the mist transformed into a three-dimensional, floating, living image of the entire Ward, formed from smoke.
Everyone watched breathlessly as the smoky shapes came to life. The contours of the city expanded like a blooming flower. They saw how the borders of the Ward had stretched out across mountains and valleys, and how its architecture had undergone multiple magical evolutions. Crystal towers rose from the smoke, interwoven with glittering magical veins.
Within the magical mists, they saw the people of the Hunemerions with their stately posture, the stunning, gold-shining kingdom of Lila, and the robust, warlike tribes of Jane’s Tribe. They no longer lived separately. Instead, they walked shoulder to shoulder through the streets, trading and laughing, fully integrated with the original human inhabitants of the Ward.
The smoke changed shape again and condensed. A mighty figure appeared within the mist: Old Man Hayo, sitting on a throne of dark energy, surrounded by his elite troops of Hellspawn. But instead of sowing destruction, the smoke images showed in stunning detail how the Hellspawn warriors now stood as imposing protectors along the outer walls. They guarded the gates and trained alongside the local soldiers.
Juro’s voice echoed through the illuminated hall, resonant and deep, like that of an ancient storyteller bringing a legend to life. Every word he spoke made the smoke images glow more intensely. They moved fluidly to the rhythm of his breathing, turning the entire Council Chamber into a breathtaking visual spectacle of the grand future lying before them.
Silarias stood stock-still. His eyes stared fixedly at the smoky images of the city that he and Nyx owned as landlords. It had once been a small, struggling settlement, but now he saw an unstoppable, living civilization rising before him. A sudden warmth welled up in his chest and, unable to stop himself, tears sprang to his eyes.
Solomon noticed the change in Silarias and wanted to break the tension with a laugh. “Ehh, Sil, aren’t you now…”
“Sil…” Nyx interrupted him halfway. Her voice trembled, and she struggled to hold back a sob as her own eyes glistened with emotion. “Sil… eh, um… you’re happy too…”
Silarias slammed his open palm onto the wooden table.
BUM!
With tears rolling down his cheeks and his voice breaking with suppressed emotion, he blurted out, “We did the right thing… I’m just doing what I think is right, huh, Solomon… I still have a lot to learn…”
Juro chuckled softly, released a ring of smoke, and shook his head with a grin. “Mm… grown sensible, kid.”
Vespera looked at Silarias with a gaze full of pure, unadulterated pride.
Doppo set down his emptied platter, scratched his chin, and suddenly muttered, seemingly out of nowhere, “Mmm… who does he look like anyway…”
Solomon stiffened in his seat. Doppo’s words struck a chord deep in his memory. For a fraction of a second, the Council Chamber faded before his eyes. He saw the aftermath of a cataclysmic war, the devastating stench of burning fires, and a once-mighty kingdom left in ruins and ashes. He saw himself as a small child, standing among the ruins and asking Doppo that exact same question.
Solomon hastily shook the heavy memory away before anyone noticed. He let nothing show and kept his lips tightly pressed together.
Silarias wiped his cheeks dry with the back of his hand and took over. “Listen… I need to recover physically. My body is still wrecked. But there are plenty of facilities in the Ward that don’t require physical strength. I want to keep training my mind and tactics. And one thing is certain: I am definitely participating in this tournament.”
Silarias looked Solomon straight in the eye. “But… was Morta really here just because he thought I was dead?”
Solomon nodded slowly and seriously. “Yes. He came to check the boundary of death.”
“Then we keep it exactly like that,” Silarias said immediately, his gaze sharp. “We keep me off-grid. Let Thung Zu and the outside world happily believe I’m out of the picture. That gives us the shadow we need.”
Silarias turned to the little ones. “Miki, Ren, it’s time!!”
Miki and Ren nodded obediently. Miki quickly ran over to Vespera and threw her arms tightly around her for a quick, warm hug. Ren rushed over to Juro and leaped against his bandaged leg. “See you soon… and don’t do that anymore, hear? Wasn’t nice!”
The group stood up and moved toward the large wooden doors.
At the table, Doppo looked at the departing figures and then at Juro and Solomon. “Haha, seriously intense, this new group… but still… they are, what do you call it?”
Solomon remained silent, staring at the youths’ backs until they reached the threshold. “They are AWESOME… Doppo, mark my words… I am so proud.”
Solomon looked at Juro. “And Silarias… you trained him really well. He is truly strong.”
Juro blew out a final puff of smoke and let out a deep chuckle. “He always was. STUBBORN, but strong… with a slightly too big heart.”
As they passed through the doorway, Solomon called down the hallway, “Sil… rest up well!”
Silarias glanced back briefly at the sound of his name. “Rest… I already rested for two days…”
BOOM.
The massive oak doors slammed shut behind them. As soon as they stepped out into the chilly stone hallway, the tension drained from Silarias. He staggered heavily.
“Aurelius… Nicola…” Silarias managed to get out, his voice strained. He almost immediately began to collapse from extreme exertion and exhaustion. “Sorry, comrades… that you have to see me like this… but just give me a second and I’ll catch my breath.”
Nicola interrupted him and grabbed his arm to keep him upright. “Silarias, hold on… don’t worry… everyone understands… we’ve got you.”
KTAK.
A dull sound, like falling wood, echoed from the other end of the long hallway. The group instantly looked up and stared straight into the large, bewildered eyes of Fukarou.
Fukarou didn’t understand a single thing. He looked at Silarias, then at the others, and his face brightened into a broad, cheerful smile. “Hey, Silarias… fancy seeing you walking! You guys are—”
Silarias quickly bowed his head toward Nicola and Aurelius and whispered hastily, “Step.”
All three moved simultaneously. With Nicola and Aurelius firmly holding the half-collapsed Silarias, they took a step together, and a bright flash of sunlight burst over them. The light ricocheted off the wall right behind Fukarou in a sharp beam.
SHFFFT!
In the blink of an eye, the three of them were suddenly standing right next to Fukarou.
Silarias, Aurelius, and Nicola looked at him with identical, stern expressions and said in unison, “Fukarouuu, my man… uhh… about those images, have you told anyone else yet??”