By dusk, we reached the mountains of the imperial castle in Chaos. After a twenty-seven-day journey, I was exhausted and craving nothing more than a real bed to sleep in.
The trip had been uneventful. The pace was steady, almost comfortable, and though the sleipnir raced swiftly along the mountain roads, it felt as if the world had finally slowed down enough to let breathe.
For most of the way, we kept quiet. Reflecting. Brooding.
I still didn’t quite know what to make of the Oracle’s ssage. In truth, I hadn’t understood much at all. The so-called "key." The "gold," or "swords and war." But, given my strange transmigration into this world, maybe—just maybe—it would make sense in the end.
Nothing added up completely, and perhaps that was the point.
But it wasn’t like I could deal with it now. Not yet. My current strength barely allowed to grasp half of what I’d heard, let alone act on it.
’Get stronger. That’s the next step.’
That simple thought beca my mantra for the miles ahead.
The twenty-five days in the Vale had been exhausting. Brutal, even. Almost every day I hunted. Or was hunted. Or both at the sa ti. Stealing the forest’s treasures didn’t go unnoticed, and the local beasts had made that very clear.
But there was a stark difference between what I’d faced in the Vale and the monsters found in dungeons.
Monsters were irrational. They were the embodint of madness, hunger, and death. They fought like living machines, their sole purpose being to tear us apart piece by piece.
Beasts, on the other hand...
Beasts were guardians.
They were strategic. So hunted in coordinated packs. Others set natural traps. And a few, like Rezon and Shaeleg, were intelligent enough to speak with us. They wielded common language, discernnt, even morality.
Fighting against such creatures had been a turning point.
More than ever, I was forced to think. To anticipate. To adapt.
And as hard as it was to admit, I knew I was maturing as a fighter.
Even my fighting style—once centered solely on combinations between my three affinities—had been refined. During my training with Silas, where I was forced to use only one affinity at a ti, sothing inside had shifted.
Refinent. Control. Precision.
And maybe the greatest gain of all...
My mana core.
In just twenty-five days, it had saturated by over twenty percent. Sothing practically unthinkable in my earlier cultivation sessions.
But I’d managed it between makeshift camps, chases through the fog, and explosions launched among treacherous branches and roots.
Not ideal. But real.
And it worked.
The gates of Chaos creaked open, revealing the first outlines of a city winding around a vast mountain, laid out like a swarm of houses and buildings spiraling up toward a castle at its peak. It was breathtaking.
The trial was over.
But Selene’s warning still lingered in the cold weight inside my stomach.
"Phew... problems for later."
Silas dismounted the sleipnir with that sly grin of soone who knew more than you’d figure out anyti soon.
"You’re a hell of a resource collector, kid," he said, clapping my shoulder twice with his calloused hand. "If you’re ever out of work, stop by my residence. Guaranteed employnt. And hey... I pay well."
I sighed, rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the tired laugh that slipped out.
"Go to hell, old man."
He laughed as if I’d just paid him the highest complint. With a casual gesture, he pulled sothing from his tunic and tossed it my way. I caught it on reflex—a golden sugarcane. It glead under the crimson glow of the city, radiating a faint warmth that pulsed through my fingers.
"Take good care of that," he said, already starting to walk away. "That treasure will be more useful than you think."
I frowned, holding up the golden cane.
"What does it even do?"
Silas only chuckled. He didn’t answer. He just raised a hand in farewell and disappeared little by little into the capital’s movent, until the towering walls of the Ferrox Umbra residence swallowed him from sight.
I stood there for a mont longer. The golden cane still firm in my hand. ’Useful, he said...’ I sighed and carefully stowed the object away.
"Miserable old man."
Then I made my way toward the imperial castle. Chaos might have been vast, but I knew the way well. Twenty-five days gone... and it felt like an entire era had passed.
It didn’t take long to reach the royal gates. The guards recognized , stepped aside without a word, and I moved easily toward the royal consort’s pavilion.
The sleipnir snorted softly as I dismounted. My muscles ached. Every step was heavy. I handed the reins to one of the animal keepers, muttering so half-ford thanks—or maybe no sound at all.
My body was on autopilot.
Crossing one of the suspension bridges that connected the central palace to the pavilion, I felt the night’s silence settle around . The wind there was different—colder, cleaner. The waters below ran dark and deep, reflecting the jagged towers and the scattered light of stars behind clouds.
That’s when I noticed: a few lights were still on in the dining hall.
Faint, distant, but there.
And in that instant, everything—the fatigue, the dried sweat on my skin, the lingering smoke of campfires that never fully left —all of it hit at once.
As if the adrenaline of the past days had chosen that exact mont to abandon .
I stopped. Took a deep breath.
And walked toward the light.
When I pushed the dining hall doors open, I was t with the kind of warmth only a lived-in space could give. Lights hung from lanterns on the dark wooden ceiling, casting a gentle glow over the long central table where the few present shared a rare mont of peace.
But what truly surprised ... was who was there.
First, my eyes landed on a woman with an unmistakable presence. Crimson hair spilling down to her waist, two elegant horns framing a face that bordered on sinful: green eyes shining like eralds in the light, lips a shade of red that felt almost forbidden, and a neckline that made keeping composure an ordeal. Her clothes were provocative, a living temptation. And those thighs... well, thighs like that weren’t easily forgotten.
A crooked smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.
"Rose?"
She lifted her gaze with her usual mischief. My head maid—or at least that’s what one might call the commander of an elite task force like hers, if one wanted to undersell it.
Seated beside her, slouched carelessly in her chair like she’d just co from battle, was my master.
Dusky-skinned, marked by sun and blood, her flawless blue hair cascading over her shoulders like moonlit silk. Her brown eyes fixed on with a mix of surprise and relief. Her horns, a deep earthy brown, stood tall, as did the black armor she wore—fitted, silent, lethal. Every inch of her radiated a savage, murderous presence.
And serving drinks with the utmost care and grace was Aster.
She noticed the mont I stepped in.
"Young master! Welco back!" she said, her eyes shining with genuine warmth—sothing rare in this castle of masks and gas.
The two won at the table turned toward with the calm of those who had been expecting all along.
And they smiled.
"Well, if it isn’t our favorite little anomaly," Rose said, raising her glass and giving that look that always hovered between flirtation and challenge.
"Good to see you too, Rose," I replied in the tone she liked—half teasing, half respectful, half... strange.
Lesley straightened a bit, resting her arm on the table.
"Glenn. Been a while since you’ve seen your master, huh?" she said with that half-smile that could an a complint, a reprimand, or the promise of a beating.
I smiled back.
"Well, I was still recovering, and I didn’t want any bones broken before that happened." I let out a guilty little chuckle.
"Drama queen," she replied with a playful scoff.
I stepped closer to the table, my pace slow. After so many days fighting beasts, hearing the Oracle’s riddles, and being manipulated by old alchemists, finding those three here... felt almost surreal.
But strangely comforting too.
Like, for a mont, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Lesley was the first to speak, lifting her glass to her lips:
"So, how was cultivation training with the old man?"
Before I could answer, Rose leaned forward, resting her chin on her intertwined fingers, wearing a treacherous smile:
"Actually, I’m more curious about the alchemist’s behavior. Did he behave, or did he try to turn your blood into wine?"
I let out a long, well-earned sigh.
"You have no idea... He put through the worst twenty-five days of my life. Fighting absurd beasts while he napped on rocks. And snored."
Both burst into hearty laughter.
Lesley leaned back, arms crossed, clearly amused.
"So, who were the victims this ti?"
"Well... to start with, wild monkeys, then bees the size of oxen. With stingers that looked more like swords. An entire swarm of them chased for nearly three kiloters because Silas wanted... glowing honey."
Rose’s eyes widened, hand over her mouth to contain her laughter.
"And that wasn’t even the worst part. There was this tribe of banana-obsessed monkeys. But not ordinary bananas. Bananas that... exploded. They attacked in groups, screaming like I’d kidnapped their mother, throwing those fruits with such force one almost blew in half."
This ti, it was impossible for Rose and Lesley to hold back. Rose slapped the table, while Lesley wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, laughing truly for the first ti in months, maybe.
"You... you fought bomber monkeys?" Rose gasped between laughs.
"I fought. I ran. Whatever was reasonably questionable, I did. With strategy. And terror."
Aster appeared at my side with hot tea and a tray of snacks, smiling with her usual sweetness. She placed everything in front of with an elegant gesture.
"You were amazing, young master," she said with a playful wink. I thanked her with a tired smile, accepting the tea like it was a war trophy.
I went on to tell them in detail everything that had happened—how Silas had used as a full-ti collector, without a single break. And all the other ways I’d been tortured.
But the lightheartedness only lasted until I casually ntioned the encounter with ’Ar’.
Both won stopped laughing.
It was almost imperceptible, but I noticed: Lesley’s brows drew together, and Rose’s gaze sharpened like a drawn blade.
The cheerful air of the dining hall seed to falter, as if the warmth had been gently drained away.
Neither of them asked anything right away, which in itself already said a lot.
Lesley was the one to break the silence, her voice lower, more focused:
"How did she present herself to you?"
I set the cup down on the table.
"As a blue macaw. Huge. As big as a mountain... with gray eyes. She spoke directly into my mind, with a voice that... felt like a volcano erupting. Only older. Heavier. Like... each word carried the weight of centuries. I even passed out the first ti I heard her."
Rose slowly crossed her legs without breaking eye contact. Lesley didn’t move.
For a mont, no one laughed. No one comnted.
Only the faint clink of Aster’s tray, collecting empty cups, filled the uncomfortable silence.
And suddenly, I realized that na carried more than mystery. It carried mories. Fear, maybe. Or reverence.
I still didn’t know what Ar truly was.
But they knew.
And clearly... they weren’t ready to tell .
The tension lingered in the air for a few more seconds... until Lesley arched an eyebrow and spoke with sarcasm:
"You really do know how to live dangerously, don’t you?"
Rose let out a soft laugh and shook her head.
"Giant bees, explosive bananas, and an ancient oracular macaw. All in twenty-five days. Glenn... more accomplishnts to add to your list."
"Well," I replied with a sheepish smile, "at least no one can say my life is boring."
Both laughed again, now with that familiar tone of being used to my ridiculous stories. We finished the tea with so snacks and a few more scattered comnts, until both of them stood almost at the sa ti.
"We’ll be back tomorrow," Rose said, adjusting her dress provocatively. "You still owe us details."
"Glenn," Lesley ca closer next, more discreet. "Rest well. Tomorrow we’ll talk more calmly."
Before leaving, Rose hugged in her own way—burying my head between her absurdly voluminous breasts as if it were so sort of tradition. And, well... in a way, it was.
"Good night, my favorite little anomaly."
"Good night, Rose... try not to smother anyone on your way to the door, please."
She winked at before leaving, swaying her hips as if she knew exactly the effect she had.
Lesley was gentler. She hugged warmly, one hand on my back, the other at my nape. Warm. Familiar.
"You’ve grown a little more."
"Or maybe you’ve shrunk, master."
She smiled, rolling her eyes, and said goodbye with a small nod. And then I found myself alone in the dining hall... or almost.
Aster approached with her elegant stride, hands folded in front of her dark apron.
"Your bath is ready, young master. Your room has been cleaned, and everything is in place for your return."
"Thank you, Aster... always saving my life." I smiled at her, though sothing nagged at .
I looked around.
"Hera... where is she?"
Aster hesitated. Almost imperceptibly.
Her delicate expression beca more restrained, as if she had swallowed part of what she really wanted to say.
"She is with Dalia, young master. Three days ago she was summoned to stay at her side as an attendant in the recovery ward."
My breath caught for a second.
Dalia...
How long had it been since I last saw her, since that deadly dungeon?
The days had been so chaotic I had completely forgotten about my maid’s situation.
"Is she... alright?"
"Stable," Aster replied sweetly. "There has been progress in her condition, and Hera is now accompanying her so she may soon be discharged from the recovery ward."
I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on my shoulders once more. And, for so reason, the exhaustion I’d been holding back through sheer willpower finally caught up with .
"Thank you, Aster... I think I’ll head to my room now."
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