Royal Mountain.
The houses, built of white marble, glistened in the sunlight. Wide cobblestone streets stretched out in precise, perfect lines, flanked by wrought-iron lamps. In each one, an embedded mana stone emitted a steady, cool, bluish light that kept the city illuminated even at night.
The people walking around the place were dressed in ostentatious elegance. Noble-looking n wore suits adorned with gold trim, and won were covered in colorful silk and lace dresses, sparkling jewelry, and enchanted fans.
Every step was a display of refinent, every glance a statent of superiority.
The carriages that traveled the avenues were pulled by blue three-horned horses. On their sides shone the emblems of noble houses, precisely engraved on enchanted silver plates.
Everything in Royal Mountain exuded status and power. It was a city built not for living, but for showing off. Every stone, every lamp, and every gesture of its inhabitants proclaid hierarchy.
Not a single commoner could be seen on its streets. The few who entered did so as part of authorized caravans, and even they were not ordinary people: Masters of Aura, Mages of the third circle, or rchants blessed by luck and the patronage of so noble family.
Here, even the air seed lighter, as if the mountain itself rejected diocrity.
In the center of the city stood a magnificent castle, a white stone and gold fortress that dominated the entire mountain. Its silhouette rose above the clouds, as if challenging the sky itself.
From anywhere in the city, that castle was visible, reminding everyone who truly ruled over the mountain.
Inside, the corridors were filled with servants. n and won of different ages, but all with the sa air of discipline and reverential fear. None spoke more than necessary; their steps were asured, their gestures precise.
There were no children among them. In that place, they were considered a nuisance, an unnecessary distraction within the perfect machinery that was the castle. For that reason, only servants aged seventeen and older were accepted.
In the southern part of the castle, in a beautiful garden filled with exotic flowers that can only be seen on this mountain, there was a beautiful woman.
Her jet-black, silky hair fell over her shoulders, enhancing her beauty. Her eyebrows were thin, and her eyes were red like a red eclipse. Her skin was white as snow, and her lips were pink and tender. She wore no makeup. She was dressed in black and had a fresh and simple aura.
In terms of her appearance, she could be described as a unique beauty.
That beautiful woman sitting quietly drinking tea was none other than Audrey Augustus, the third princess of the kingdom of Aragon.
During all this ti, she had grown accustod to the castle. The shadows, the silent corridors, the glances that avoided eting hers... it was all part of her routine.
However, that apparent calm hid sothing darker.
They had already tried to kill her several tis. Poison in her drinks, assassins disguised as servants. The thods changed, but the goal was always the sa: her death.
It was all too obvious that soone wanted her head. This was not a simple internal conflict or a minor rivalry; it was a systematic, patient pursuit, like that of a snake waiting for the right mont to strike.
The real problem was that she didn't know who was behind it. Every attempt was clean, ticulous, leaving no traces. The person pulling the strings was elusive, as difficult to catch as a worm slithering underground.
And that was what irritated her the most. Not the danger, but the uncertainty.
At that mont, Audrey sensed the presence of her maid Martha and approached her with asured steps.
Audrey looked at her with an indifferent expression, her gaze fixed and serene, like a mirror that reflected nothing.
"Did you get the information I asked for?" she asked in a neutral tone, neither cold nor warm, simply devoid of emotion.
Martha bowed deeply, not daring to look up.
"Yes, my Lady." Her voice was low, respectful.
"Good work." Audrey nodded slightly, flashing a small, calculating smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Now tell what you found out about this Jasper fellow."
Martha took a deep breath before answering. "My Lady, for starters... his na isn't Jasper, it's Kael."
Audrey raised an eyebrow, though her expression remained unchanged.
"Oh." Her voice was so soft it was almost indistinguishable from the sigh of a candle. "I figured as much."
She showed no surprise. She had known from the start that he would not give his real na; Kael was too cautious, too precise in every step he took. This only reinforced the idea she already had of him.
"Go on," she said at last, leaning back in her seat. Her smile slowly faded, leaving in its place a face so calm it was unsettling.
"To begin with," Martha said in a controlled voice, "the white-haired young man who traveled with us is the young heir to the Abraham family. He participated in the Great Spring Tournant and was one of only two survivors of the destruction of the dici Clan."
She paused briefly to catch her breath. The woman spoke cautiously, choosing her words carefully.
"And the other young man..." she continued, lowering her voice slightly, "is Kael dici. He was the seventh young master of the dici Clan, known for his overwhelming performance in the tournant. His mastery in combat surprised everyone, both for his technique and his magic. He is known to possess a dantian and a magic circle, sothing extrely rare."
Martha took a slow breath before continuing, her gaze fixed on the floor.
"After the destruction of his clan, he was seen on Dubhu Mountain, where he caused the death of the daughter of the Beck family leader. Following that incident, search orders were issued across multiple mountains. However, he disappeared without a trace..."
The woman looked up briefly.
"And you know the rest, my Lady. We found him on the ship."
Martha fell silent after those words.
The air grew heavier.
"That is all, my Lady," she concluded with a asured bow.
"Je~" Audrey let out a soft laugh. A smile played on her lips, but her eyes... her eyes glowed with a coldness that froze the air around her.
"Martha," she said calmly, each word laden with a weight that brooked no argunt. "It's ti to stain this castle with blood. I'm tired of being passive."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Martha, who had served Audrey for years, opened her eyes in surprise. However, when she saw that look, cold, unyielding, as beautiful as it was deadly, she understood that this was not an order that could be discussed.
"As you commanded, my Lady," he finally replied, bowing his head.
...
The days passed quickly. Autumn ca to an end.
Then winter arrived.
With its arrival, the streets of the great city of San Martín were covered with a white blanket.
The snow fell steadily, silently, as if the sky wanted to erase all traces of the past. The roofs, statues, and temples were enveloped in a cold, pure blanket, reflecting the dim light of dawn.
People walked quickly, wrapped in their priestly robes, now thicker and heavier to withstand the icy wind. The vapor from their breath mingled with the mist, and the sound of footsteps on the snow replaced the hustle and bustle of other seasons.
In every corner, winter imposed its dominance. The city, once lively and noisy, had beco quieter, more solemn.
In Zone 3, Kael was in the mansion, eting with the three cardinals.
This was no ordinary day: today, the legacy left by the previous Pope would be opened, an event that only happened once a generation and which, according to rumors, contained relics and knowledge.
And what had Kael been doing all this ti?
Nothing that might seem extraordinary at first glance: taking care of the children, maintaining his facade of humility, and gradually expanding his influence as the new saint of the city of San Martín... and, by extension, of the entire Holy Empire.
The process had been slow, thodical, and calculated. But now, the result was undeniable.
His na resonated throughout the great city: Saint Rasen.
A title he himself had planned to obtain from the beginning. It was not luck or blessing, but an inevitable consequence of his precise movents.
And finally, after the inheritance had been opened, the current Pope had ordered him to be summoned personally to officially grant him the title.
This recognition would not only seal his position but also grant him free access to the upper echelons of the empire.
One step closer to his true goal.
Because, beyond reverence and faith, Kael was looking for sothing specific: the object that would lead him to Seventh Heaven.
A legendary artifact, coveted even by those who no longer believed in the gods.
While the cardinals waited solemnly for the ceremony, Kael maintained his calm smile.
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