City of Miracles

City of Sin | Book 2

The Misty Rain of Jiang-Nan

Translated by Darren Koh

Wuxiaworld Limited

Copyright © 2020 by Wuxiaworld Limited

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from Wuxiaworld Limited, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Prologue: An Old Acquaintance

1. Faust

2. New Home

3. Inheritance of the Moons

4. Meeting Family

5. A Young Conspiracy

6. Failure and Punishment

7. Heroism

8. An Unexpected Offering

9. The Eternal Dragon

10. Forced to Leave

11. Guardian

12. Gathering Comrades

Epilogue: Departure

Acknowledgments

Prologue: An Old Acquaintance

Richard left the Deepblue as soon as the calendar flipped to the first day of April, taking all his luggage with him as he headed east towards the Divine Alliance. The spring winds were just warm enough that they felt soft and pleasant against his body, reinvigorating him as he followed the road twisting southwards and away from the Everwinter Mountains. The primary land route from the Deepblue towards the interior of the Divine Alliance, this four-carriage road was well-maintained and required little attention on his part to keep his horse steady.

Far into the distance, the spectacular constructions of the Deepblue faded out into a hazy mist, leaving only its elegant tip flickering in and out of sight above the clouds. That tip was joined only by the snowy peaks of the Everwinter Mountains; even the vast and magnificent Floe Bay was buried under the thick mists.

He felt rather wistful at this moment; he wasn’t just leaving behind five years of his life, but a staggering debt of over 20 million gold coins. He had kept track of Sharon’s Delight for every month of his stay, considering it all a debt that he would undoubtedly return in the future. Two years of runes sold through Blackgold had already repaid six million gold, and while the duergar didn’t understand his persistence in this matter, he more than welcomed a runemaster who never questioned the vast difference between buying and selling prices. However, even if this monetary debt was paid, Sharon’s Delight would forever remain a precious memory, one amongst many that were vastly more important than any amount of gold.

“It’s time to go,” Mordred’s voice snapped him out of his reverie, interrupting the countless thoughts running through his mind. Suppressing a sigh, he urged his warhorse to catch up with the warrior’s, keeping pace with ease.

“Not a bad mount,” Mordred nodded with approval at Richard’s beast, a specialty armored warhorse of Floe Bay that had been nurtured over generations. The breed’s violent streak had dulled compared to its wild cousins, but it remained as valiant as any other. Richard’s horse, in particular, was even taller and larger than the average mount, only a tad smaller than Mordred’s own. Mordred could see that it was clearly feeling uneasy, but any horse that could get close to Lava without collapsing was brave beyond reproach. Lava was a carnivore who had survived numerous battles on the verge of death, and several enemy mounts had fallen to its hooves and teeth. The bevy of magical creatures it had killed gave it a bloody aura that scared most animals away.

Richard was comfortable on his horse, seemingly unperturbed by the similarly bloody aura radiating from Lava’s master. He was now a grown youth, and while there was an image of Gaton in him, he was far more handsome in the vein of the silvermoon elves. Only the constant half-smile on his face revealed that his thoughts didn’t just stem from either of his parents. He had spent years training under Naya, and that came with the experience of watching numerous harrowing torture scenes that were far bloodier than his first. He hadn’t needed the wooden bucket after the third instance, and by the fifth, he had even started helping out. The eighth time, he’d even worked up the strength to clean up the back of the kitchen on Naya’s behalf. Compared to the constant stench of blood that had leaked from that tavern, Mordred’s bloodlust was barely noticeable. It was deeper, certainly—it felt as though there was no end to it—but that didn’t affect him.

Watching Richard’s sharp features from the side, Mordred smiled with satisfaction. Just like the youth’s horse had proved its mettle against Lava’s bloodlust, the boy’s calmness showed that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in the battles that he would soon have to fight.

When he’d gone to Roseglen to retrieve Richard and Elena, Mordred had been accompanied by one squadron of heavy cavalry and two of light infantry. Five years later, he had arrived at the Deepblue with only two knights accompanying him. Two rune knights, that is. These grade 2 knights were only slightly weaker than the entire troop Mordred had brought to Roseglen before, and even two platoons of warriors would have to spend a lot of time and effort to take them out. The smaller group of four riders and one luggage horse traveled leisurely into the boundless land between the mountains and seas.

There were many methods of long-distance travel in Norland, and the Archerons were now wealthy enough to have access to some. Trained wyverns and griffins were excellent at carrying people through the sky, and some rare creatures like the large moatian two-headed eagle had the endurance to fly 3,000 kilometers in one day and night. The gnomes even had their famed floating ships, miracles of alchemy that contained comfortable interiors that made for a leisurely ride. While this method was rather slow and dangerous—the alchemical processes were still unstable and expensive—it was still used by a small number of people. Even with his own money, Richard could hire enough griffins to ferry the group of four a few times over. While even hundreds of thousands seemed worthless within the walls of the magical tower, one could feel the true worth of that much money when they were away.

If one was unwilling to bear the air pressure and feeling of weightlessness that came with flight, following the water was a great option as well. Large, mana-powered ships could travel over 1,000 kilometers every day, and tamed baleen whales could accomplish a similar feat, albeit with the cost of a bumpier ride. However, Mordred had intentionally come out here on horseback, deliberately slowing down the journey that usually took a few days down to the duration of a month. Richard believed this was a waste of money—he could create two elementary agility runes and earn a few hundred thousand gold off them in this time—but the warrior simply stated that Gaton had wanted a more dangerous journey and quashed the dissent.

Aerially, Faust was over 7,000 kilometers away from the Deepblue. Considering the long detours that had to be taken on horseback, that distance more than doubled to 15,000 across the ground. They had to travel through mountains, forests, rivers, and vast swathes of unoccupied land that were filled with danger. There were nearly a dozen nobles who opposed the Archerons along the way, which basically guaranteed battles to be fought. Gaton wished for Richard to be trained through constant struggle, gaining experience in coordinating his magical abilities with even a few knights on the battlefield. In other words, by the time Richard entered Faust, Gaton hoped that he would already have some amount of skill in actual combat.

1 Faust

Indeed, Richard’s destination was the City of Miracles.

Time had a certain kind of magic unto itself; when Richard left Blackrose Castle five years ago, entering Faust had been but a thought in the mind of a fearless lunatic. Now, the Archerons were an official ruler in the city. Bards always sang about the many families that tried to enter Faust, requiring a century of preparation and famous heroes tearing down barriers on a journey of blood and steel that put their very lives on the line. Gaton had changed all of that; a hundred years of preparation had been condensed to a mere three, and a magnificent epic had been sped up to a zealous aria.

Currently fifteen years old, Richard could now be considered a true runemaster. Although Gaton seemed indifferent to this on the surface, the fact that he had sent his right-hand man to bring the youth back to Faust spoke volumes about his true intentions. He had plans for his son’s future, and Mordred’s arrival in the Deepblue showed that he was well-informed on Richard’s progress.

On the other hand, Richard had come to know more about his father over the past few years, and he’d grown significantly himself. He knew that the meeting at Faust wasn’t as simple as it seemed; entering the City of Miracles was only the beginning; every family that got there through bloodshed basically had a ticket to participate in the real game of power and authority within the city. A long path awaited them if they wished for their voice to be heard at the highest echelons of Norland.

Any new clan that successfully entered Faust would be discriminated against and ambushed for the next ten years or so. Even though the same skirmishes occurred between established families as well, it was at least in secret ways that wouldn’t affect their reputation. This was why many successful families had a handful of influential allies within the City of Miracles; to help them through the challenging phase that came after they were severely wounded during their entry. 53 prominent families had embarked on a journey to Faust over the past four centuries, with only 21 of them succeeding. However, the number of families ruling Faust was a constant 14; most newcomers got thrown out of the city by the politics and bloodshed. Richard wasn’t sure if his father had any allies, but there were undoubtedly more enemies than one could count. The situation the Archerons faced when they first entered Faust could be described as mass abhorrence; everyone they met or passed was an enemy. Two years had passed since then, and in theory, the Archerons should have been in their most difficult phase, but Gaton had still managed to send his best warrior with two rune knights just to escort Richard back to Faust. This proved that he had already stabilized his position, and to Richard himself, this news was both good and bad.

The group set out from the Deepblue even before the sun rose, continuing until it set. The only meal along the way was a few bites of dried rations and some water they carried on the spare horse. A ten-hour journey took them over 300 kilometers away, towards a small, unknown town that Mordred had already marked out. While not particularly developed, with less than a hundred households, this town was located at a crossroads between neighboring empires and had six well-furnished inns. Travelers were clearly the primary source of income.

Riding a horse for a long time was fairly tiring, and Richard showed signs of soreness as the group arrived at the firm and even ground of the town. However, he remained alert and seemed to have some energy left over. The armored warhorse was a beast meant for short bursts of power, but the day-long trek didn’t seem to faze it, either; the beast’s hoofsteps were still steady, and it looked quite spirited.

“That’s a pretty good horse, Richard. And you, as well.” Mordred and the two rune knights looked the same as they did in the morning, just with some dust and dirt settled on their bodies. They were physically trained to run an entire day at top speed if the situation called for it, so this journey was a piece of cake. However, the three had a newfound admiration for the frailest of them all. Richard was only a level 8 mage; while mana growth did improve one’s physique somewhat, it couldn’t match up to a warrior’s training. At this level, it was unlikely for him to have the mana to sustain himself with something like Bull’s Strength or Breezy Step, either. Half their day’s journey had been away from the main road, going through a shortcut filled with hills and streams, so Richard was supposed to be completely worn out at this point. For him to be showing any energy at all meant he was much stronger than his peers.

One of Mordred’s intentions in this trip was to strengthen Richard’s physique and willpower on top of his combat ability, but it seemed like the original plan of 300 kilometers a day had underestimated the boy. It wasn’t too strange for Richard to be robust—Sharon was known for ensuring that all of the Deepblue’s mages were strong as bears—but how did his horse keep up?

Taking another look at the creature, Mordred finally caught onto something, “You added a rune to your mount?”

“Yes, an elementary rune to reduce energy consumption and increase recovery rate. It’s called Vitality.”

“Vitality? I don’t think I’ve heard of it...” Mordred asked in confusion. As a high-leveled rune knight himself, he had some knowledge on the breadth of runes even if he couldn’t compare to an actual runemaster.

“It’s a custom design. I came up with it by following a mix of both elemental magic and the divine,” Richard pulled up his right sleeve, revealing an intricate motif on his biceps, “I have one for myself, too. It allows me to keep up for longer.”

“Why not a combat rune, something that would enhance your magic?” Mordred frowned slightly.

“That’s for the future. Vitality gives me the time and energy to learn and practice my spells, which is better for long-term growth. I’ll switch to combat runes when it makes more sense in the future.”

“Heh,” the warrior stroked his needly beard, “You really don’t behave like a fifteen-year-old, do you?”

Richard raised his head and gazed at the night sky before replying, “But there are a lot of fifteen-year-old Archerons who behave like me, aren’t there?”

This time Mordred didn’t hold back his laughter, carrying Richard off the horse and patting him on the back so firmly that the boy was almost swatted into the mud, “You’re overthinking things! A lot of Archerons were smart at fifteen, but that’s all there was to them. Master was rather silly himself at that age, but look where he is now. The clever kids are nowhere to be seen.”

“You’re talking about Gaton?” Richard’s eyes lit up.

“Yes, your father!” Mordred corrected.

“Gaton Archeron, you mean?”

“Alright, alright, yes. That’s him,” Mordred shrugged, “You Archerons are really weird.”

“Eh, so you were implying?”

“It’s simple. You’re already quite outstanding in the family, but the tables might turn in so much as a year. The one who laughs last laughs the loudest, so make sure to stay alive until you’re sixteen, kid! That’s why Master wanted me to lead you into a few battles along the way. Faust isn’t just known for the money and women.”

“I—”

“Alright, take this time to eat and sleep. Since you have that strange Vitality rune, there are going to be some changes to the plan. Tomorrow’s journey will be 700 kilometers.”

* * *

Cloudy skies, rainy skies, and clear skies. The weather continued to cycle around as time elapsed. A month had passed within the blink of an eye, and Richard’s party was close to reaching Faust.

The world is complicated, and accidents happen to the smartest of people. Neither Gaton nor Mordred expected the old enemies of the family to be so… restrained. None of them had picked a fight or provoked Mordred, smiling and gritting their way through it when he took his fully equipped rune knights through their territories or even stepped foot in their castles. They didn’t respond to any of his provocations for a fight, and that left him speechless.

Although Mordred was bloodthirsty and adored killing, he wasn’t without his own morals. How could he initiate any form of attack when all people did was smile at him? Some even offered their personal blacksmiths to check Lava’s horseshoes when the horse “accidentally” knocked over their monuments. In the end, he could only give them a bag of gold as compensation and leave.

Thus, Richard didn’t engage in any actual combat on the journey to Faust. The only things he killed were a few passing beasts, the endless journey all blending together until his horse stepped foot on the Eternal Plains. It seemed like the reputation—no, the infamy—of the Archerons had already spread throughout the Divine Alliance. Nobody wanted to face these madmen without sufficient reason and a steady ally. Now that they were in the territory controlled by Faust, there were no more chances to face danger—immediate danger, at least.

Richard stopped his horse and raised his head. The strong winds blowing strongly in his direction made him feel a little suffocated, but another thing that took his breath away was the exceptional scenery before him. The plains were gentle and smooth, the horizon stretching farther into the sky than Richard had ever seen before. The plateau was decorated with mahogany rocks, and shy grasses peeked through the cracks with innumerable colorful flowers adorning them. The explosion of color was a feast to the eyes. Looking at it all, he felt as if he could see almost the entirety of the plains at once.

The total area occupied by the Eternal Plains wasn’t all that vast, its circumference a mere hundred kilometers, but it was more like a giant platform that rose up from Norland. As small as it was, however, it wasn’t something that could be viewed entirely in one shot. Anyone who did get a full view of it would immediately feel suffocated.

There is a power within space. Even Richard, who was used to seeing indoor spaces thousands of square meters in area, was awestruck by the current view in front of him. He felt a sudden compulsion to stop himself from getting lost, holding his breath and furthering his line of sight bit by bit before he saw a mountain peak resembling a fiery red pillar at the very end of his vision. This disrupted his sense of space and distance, and the numbers describing the scarlet peak in his mind didn’t correspond to what he was seeing. It was an error that was driving him insane!

It was said that those first visiting the Eternal Plains were granted a blessing that allowed them to see every corner of the plateau. Richard had now experienced that blessing for himself; it wasn’t as miraculous as advertised, but it was certainly exciting. The fiery red mountain was Miracle Peak, the mountain that Faust rested on top of. The road crawling up its side was almost indistinguishable at this distance, and it disappeared into the clouds before one could see the actual summit. The pure white screen covering the peak moved slowly and gracefully, as though filled with a life of its own. The raging winds all around didn’t seem to affect the clouds at all.

However, Richard’s eyes quickly caught something looming within those divine clouds. He paused for a moment in shock, rubbing his eyes and trying to look as far as he could before finally confirming that he was correct. There was a landmass floating in the skies, with grassy mountains and streams upon it. There were even unique buildings!

“Is—Is that…” he pointed at the island within the clouds.

“One of the floating islands, where Faust’s Fourteen reside. I couldn’t believe it myself when I first saw it, but at the time, I was fighting alongside your father. Ah, I remember we hadn’t slept properly in six months, countless battles, countless people I killed. When we finally got to the Eternal Plains, all I wanted was a place to sleep. How could I possibly have the strength to appreciate things like this? It was only a matter of time before I got onto one, anyway.” Mordred watered down their epic advance to Faust to a few dull and ordinary sentences, but his natural arrogance and dominance still seeped through his words. He then urged Lava to move forward, waving to the rest of the group, “Alright, it’s time to go. You’ll have plenty of time to look at all this later.”

Richard managed to suppress his awe and follow suit, but it took an entire hour to reach the foot of the peak. It was only at this close proximity that the five-kilometer-wide and three-kilometer-tall mountain truly showed its awe-inspiring magnificence. No humans could take in the beauty of the vast landscape all at once, and one had to continuously turn and adjust their viewpoint to look at the different areas, be it the peak or the pathway to the top.

The thin line they’d just seen leading to the mountain peak now revealed itself to be a wide street that could accommodate four large carriages side by side. The slabs of uneven rock paving the way strangely fit together with no cracks at all, and looking closely, one could see a dense granular lining on the surface to prevent carriage wheels from slipping. Steel railings on each side ensured that one kept to the path, and the barriers were topped with metallic beast heads that seemed alive. There was a strip of raised stone in the middle of the path, painted yellow to ensure traffic flowed on the right side.

Richard tilted his head upwards, his vision following the cobblestone as he craned his neck to see the thick clouds that surrounded the peak. It was hard to even imagine the existence of the floating island from here, but as he automatically calculated the length of the path, another question popped up in his mind. Just how much would it have cost to create such a pathway where every brick and railing was so meticulously crafted? The sum was incomprehensible; he only ever felt this way before when he tried to calculate the construction costs of the Deepblue. However, that was the entirety of the tower, not just a single path.

“Richard, look there!” Mordred’s voice sounded out, and Richard’s eyes flitted to the direction the man was pointing at a kilometer up the path. He saw a mass of peculiar buildings, all with flat roofs which griffins used to land and build up momentum before taking off. The griffins then flew about for a while before going higher towards the clouds that enveloped the peak. Most of the time, they only carried a person or two and flew alone, but some groups went up in the dozens, painting an awe-inspiring image as the whole pride spread their marvelous wings at once and hooted majestically. One could hear their calls from miles away.

“This is the griffin stop. You can get on one to go up or down the mountain for convenience, but do take note that it won’t allow you to bring your own ride along. There are two wyvern stops and a moatian eagle stop on the other side, but the people of Faust have a strong distaste for riding any draconian creatures, so the wyverns are only used to transport goods. For now, we’ll be going up the road ourselves; follow me closely, and maybe buff your horse a little for the journey.” Mordred patted Lava’s neck, and the beast growled before starting to make its way up the mountain.

Although the road was wide, it was still relatively crowded due to the high traffic of other knights and carriages transporting goods. Many of the others were rune knights as well, some groups even making Mordred and party seem weak in comparison. When their horses finally stepped into the clouds, Richard felt a faint aura of magic in the very air around. The mana flow was minute, but still detectable to someone with the intent. Invisible threads of condensed energy ran all through the peak, and he soon deciphered their shocking purpose—they were conduits for an enormous spell formation that filled the clouds!

“Pay attention, the gates of Faust are right before you.” Mordred’s voice traveled down from beyond the clouds, reminding Richard that he had stopped in awe the moment he saw the spell formation. He gathered his thoughts and moved his horse forward again, crossing the last bit of the cloud cover to arrive at the summit. Without the visual obstruction, his horizon instantly widened to reveal a vast field that was about a kilometer in perimeter, made out of a pale gold rock that he couldn’t tell the origin of. Judging from the fact that their horses failed to leave even the tiniest of scratches on the surface, however, it was clear that this material was quite tough. The golden motif was only split up by veins of dark green and blue, the lines resembling the same energy pathways he drew when crafting runes. Unlike the previous spell formation, however, he couldn’t feel even a trace of mana flowing in this one.

Richard still had the feeling that he was walking across a spell formation, but this was something he had never come across before. He couldn’t recognize a single individual component, nor even start to conjecture about its uses with his current knowledge of magic theory. His attention was soon drawn to two enormous sculptures at the center of the field, masked swordsmen each a hundred meters tall. Their swords themselves were plain and simple save for a navy blue sigil in the middle of the blade, but these lifeless statues still radiated a vague aura of power and bloodlust. The solemnity of their existence was only amplified by their slightly bowed postures, as though saluting a supreme being somewhere nearby.

Behind the sculptures was an enormous arch, its pillars each the same hundred-meter height. Both the arch and the statues were made of the same rock used on the arena, with the same magical veins of blue and green that he couldn’t understand. However, no matter how closely he observed, he couldn’t find any cracks indicating a join between the rocks. Were these sculptures and pillars all carved from a perfect large piece of rock? Just who could sculpt something so majestic?

Richard found it hard to breathe once more. He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind, waiting until it was all a white space before gradually opening his eyes to gaze at the arch’s roof. The name of Faust engraved into the center was finally something he recognized the magic behind, but outside of that, there was almost no link between this enormous gate and the City of Miracles.

Thick chains were coiled around the domed roof, suspending a deep black dragon head covered in eerie spikes. This dragon had a dozen eyes of varying sizes and a twisted mouth with hundreds of fangs, making it clear that this was no ordinary beast. Even Richard recognized the Abyssal Dragon Daramore, an ancient and powerful creature that had been slain by the Founding Emperor of the Divine Alliance. This was the greatest achievement of Emperor Charles’s life, the capstone to an unprecedented military success against the Abyss. Over 30 million soldiers from across dozens of planes had marched under his banner during that invasion, laying down their lives to give the Emperor and his seven best generals a chance to kill Daramore at the layer’s core. The dragon’s head was then brought back to Norland and hung at Faust’s gates as a memento of the Alliance’s unrivaled power. Emperor Charles died a mere year after his conquest, but Daramore’s head was passed down from generation to generation. It served as a spiritual pillar for humanity; so long as they reigned over the City of Miracles, the dauntless children of each era would go forth and explore the depths of the myriad planes to forge their own legacies.

Behind the enormous arch was a road leading up towards the famed capital, a beautiful city lying atop the mountain. Behind the verdant green of the uneven mountainscape was a city of light gold. The gentle sunlight highlighted the gorgeous decorations of every visible part of the city; the roofs, walls, and even streets seemed like an untainted wonderland.

Now, Richard laid eyes on the rest of the floating islands, revolving around the sapphire sky in clear orbits. The seven colors of the rainbow arched across the sky, one representing each of Norland’s seven moons. Were it not for the daylight, he’d almost have believed that the true seven moons of Norland resided in that arc. This feeling was only amplified by the moonforce he felt amongst those moons, something he had learned to recognize ever since the ceremony where he was granted his blessings. It was vague, almost unnoticeable, but most definitely real.

As Richard was reveling in his new discovery, Mordred pulled him out of his reverie with a loud question, “How is it? Spectacular, right? I was awestruck too when I first arrived here with your father. I wouldn’t have believed such a place existed in the world if I hadn’t seen it for myself. Since you’re a mage, it’s best not to look at the Rainbow of the Moons too much. Every year a few people stare too long, and their bodies burst into flames.”

Richard was shocked upon hearing this. He had felt the power within the moons stirring his mana as well, but it hadn’t felt like he would be set ablaze by that motion.

Mordred smiled again, “Follow me, Little Richard. I’ll show you some interesting things that should get your blood running after all that sitting around!”

There was a lot of traffic here; after all, this was the main road connecting to the City of Miracles. Mordred’s unruly behavior and loud voice attracted a lot of unwanted attention rather quickly, but while many people stared daggers at the warrior, no one actually stopped him. It was only after he moved away that disdain and derision started being flung around behind his back.

Faust truly was a glorious city, and a fierce warrior like Mordred seemed relatively out of place. Both he and Richard heard the comments made about him as they left, but he laughed it off with ease and took Richard to a pretty field east of the entrance. Richard shuddered the moment he passed through the arch, raising his head instinctively to look at the draconic head above him. He’d felt like one of the dragon’s eyes had moved, but when he focused, he couldn’t identify any change at all.

Mordred took him all the way to the edge of the field before jumping off Lava and passing it to a youth standing nearby. The horse was brilliant despite its poor temper and obediently followed its owner’s arrangements as it tailed the boy to a stable at the side of the field. However, a huge commotion broke out the moment it entered, and all the other mounts retreated to the corners as though their lives depended on it. Even a huge armored polar bear jumped to the side with agility antithetic to its impressive size, leaving a vacancy in the center for the majestic horse to occupy. There it settled down quietly, its occasional snorts enough to prompt shudders from the already-frightened beasts all around. Richard looked at Lava with overflowing envy. As a runemaster, he naturally knew that the mount was critical to a rune knight’s prowess. Lava clearly contributed a significant amount to Mordred’s power.

“Come quick!” Mordred urged, and Richard got off his own horse and followed the warrior. There he was pointed to a magical model of Faust, intricate to the most delicate details. The floating islands and the Rainbow of the Moons were floating alongside the city, moving along the same trajectories as their real counterparts. This time, Richard clearly noticed the hierarchy of the floating islands. There were seven vertical layers, with the topmost having a single island that was the largest of the bunch. The second had two smaller ones, the third had three, and so on to the seventh, which was even lower than Faust’s foundations. Even within the layers, islands closer to Faust were bigger and had more beautiful construction.

Richard pored over every detail, seeing many family and clan names as well as magic seals of their emblems on the floating islands. On the third island of the seventh layer was the crest of Gaton Archeron. While the other branches of the Archeron Family all used a flaming demon motif, he used a demon lord set to a volcanic backdrop.

“Island 7-3, your father’s territory. You’re smart enough to figure out what that means; this is our ranking in Faust. There are currently four families who are beneath us.”

“Rankings? What’s the point?” Richard asked.

“Everything. It decides the number of visits a family can make to the Church of Eternity, for one, and a higher ranking also protects one from newcomers. Every new family entering Faust replaces the one currently occupying Island 7-7; it becomes a fight to the death that involves all their allies.

“Wait, but doesn’t that mean anyone who gets into Faust will need to get ready for other families trying to enter as well? Won’t they be hurt by the process of getting in already? How can they last through even more battles?”

Mordred nodded in agreement, “Yes, that’s why the first ten years after entering Faust is the toughest period for a family.”

“But we’re not last,” Richard pointed out with a frown.

“That’s because we took down not one, but two families when we entered Faust. Your father was quite impatient, so he cleared out the clan who originally occupied 7-3 and made the island his own. But enough talk of battle; the ones that cleared out were just those who put their strongest elites in our path.”

Richard did not know what to feel about Mordred’s words. However, he knew that he still had many things to understand and familiarize himself with. While he was still digesting this information, Mordred suddenly let out a playful laugh, “So, Little Richard, make a guess. Where does our venerable Emperor live?”

Richard scanned through the model, his eyes landing on the massive palace at the peak of the mountain, “There?”

“That’s the Church of Eternity.” Mordred shook his head, pointing to the fourth island of the fifth layer, “This is where Bloodthirsty Phillip reigns from.”

“Oh?” Richard was shocked, “But that’s just the fifth layer! Are there families in Faust that are even stronger than the imperial family?”

“Of course not, or they would take over instead. The true reason is that all the islands above the fifth layer are sealed, as are the first three of the fifth itself.”

“But won’t somebody claim them?”

“No. The seal isn’t by humans, but by the Eternal Dragon. Only a blessing from the Dragon can lift the seal, and that requires an inordinate number of sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices? What kind, and what blessing? What’s the point of spending a lot just for some land to live on?” Richard realized that there was still so much for him to learn.

“Alright, you’ll know about the use of the Church soon. It’s about time for you to see your father; I’ll bring you over. It wouldn’t be nice to make Master wait!”

Even without looking up at the miraculous sky, the ground of Faust was a sight that was equally vast to behold. Buildings of different styles dotted the landscape as far as the eyes could see, some with round roofs and others pointed; some with curtain walls adorned with colorful tinted glass and huge french windows… Winding hallways were aplenty and impossible to count. Passing through an intersection, Richard even saw a triforium covering the entire block. Fountains and plazas of all varieties were scattered all over the place, each decorated uniquely. Essential ornaments like columns, banisters, carved statues, porcelain, and murals and mosaics were everywhere, never once repeated. Bathed in pale gold light, the entire city seemed to be frozen into the most beautiful dusk. Even the pedestrians passing through the streets were dressed immaculately, behaving with a grace that befitted the city’s style.

However, Richard saw an entirely different sort of perfection, one that ignored the awnings, gimmicks, the badges and emblems, and all other man-made tricks. No, the city itself was perfect. Be it material, color, shape, or style, all the roads and even small city creations like fountains and plazas displayed a peculiar type of precise harmony, one that made them seem complete and inseparable. As though they were all an integral whole. The entire city seemed to have been designed and built in one go without a single modification; for a city of such large scale, this was inconceivable.

The city’s main road was a simple example, a long boulevard that he was following Mordred through. Other than the fact that every stone on the path had a unique pattern, everything was the same. It was like everything had been extracted from the same massive piece of rock. The boulevard itself was a gentle upward slope, and the further up one went, the more secluded and quiet it got. The massive trees lining it were so huge that their treetops nearly covered the entire sky, branches drooping down with strings of unripe fruit that shone a bright shade of red as they swayed in the breeze.

Richard observed the trees along the path attentively—even though he could not name them, he could tell from their features that such trees should be in the south where the climate was more tropical, not here in the northern highlands where it was dry and cold. The weather of the Eternal Plains seemed unable to penetrate Faust’s front gate. All year round, regardless of what season it was in the outside world, the City of Miracles remained warm and damp with little changes. This was the main reason for the abundance of shady trees, clear streams, and pretty fountains.

A magnificent shrine entered Richard’s view as they approached the end of the road. Standing at seven stories tall, it was accessible from 67 paths that surrounded it from all directions, each slightly narrower than the long boulevard. The square in front of the temple was filled with vehicles of all types, as well as stops for griffins, wyverns, and moatian hawks. Dressed in coats embroidered with the crests of various houses, groups of servants moved bulky goods in and out of the stations without rest. There were occasional griffin packs descending together, dropping off well-dressed nobles before departing.

Twelve meters tall and ten meters wide, the temple’s main gate was big enough for three large carriages to pass through simultaneously. Right atop the entrance sat a crest in the shape of an hourglass, the sacred symbol of the Eternal Dragon. Richard was greeted by a large central hall upon entering, with seven exits and a winding hallway that led upwards. He followed Mordred through the third exit from the left into a slightly smaller hall. Smaller was relative here—this hall was still several hundred square meters in size and able to hold the largest of carriages.

At the end of the hall was a magic formation guarded by two clean, unique-looking homunculi. Beams of light occasionally shot out from their chests, melting a small piece of metal that they were beating into shape.

Mordred pointed at the two, “Puppets of the Eternal Dragon. No one knows where they came from; they were already here when humans first discovered Faust, and you can find them in every magical area. They automatically restore damaged spell formations, roads, and shrines, just like worker bees.”

Staring at the puppets for a while, Richard eventually asked, “They seem rather strange, there’s no mana at all. What powers them?”

Mordred shrugged. “I don’t know. We do know it’s finite, though. They occasionally run out of power and have to run to the Church to recuperate. One night there gives them a few months of activity. Isn’t it fascinating? Honestly, we’re not even sure that they’re servants of the Eternal Dragon. We just assumed that over time, starting to show some respect and reverence. Without them, the city would have crumbled a long time ago. Even now, human smiths can’t fix any parts of this city.

“But, Little Richard,” he added, “Nobody has been able to find out what these puppets are made of yet. A family secretly captured these puppets in the past to analyze them, but that angered the Eternal Dragon. That very night their island was rocked by a volcanic eruption, a hurricane, a tsunami, and a thunderstorm. It was as if the very end of the world had arrived, and only a few people managed to escape and survive. Since then, no one has dared to disturb the magic puppets.”

“So Faust’s older than us, we’re only occupying it after we found it...”

“Of course. Building a city of this scale with our current strength would only be a miracle,” Mordred sighed ruefully. Evidently, such miracles could subdue even a bloodthirsty and murderous knight like him. Patting Richard’s shoulder, he commented, “The reason so many great families, including your father, are so eager to establish a presence in Faust at any cost is for the Church of Eternity. Offering sacrifices to the esteemed Eternal Dragon in the Church gives them a chance to have the dragon’s grace bestowed upon them. Blessings of all types are included, though the most valuable blessing among all would be one related to the flow of time. Whatever happens, though, eventually depends on luck. The offering of sacrifices is the biggest privilege of the royal family and Faust’s Fourteen.”

The warrior then stepped into a portal at the end of the hall, a teleportation formation starting to radiate a thin curtain of brilliant turquoise light around them. Richard felt a faint sense of dizziness for a moment before everything devolved into the colors of the rainbow.

2 New Home

Richard and Mordred reappeared in a small plaza that was a few square kilometers in area, separated from its surroundings by a low railing. A short distance away he could see the edge of the floating island they were now on, scattered rocks tumbling around in mid-air as they orbited the border. A pier extended tens of meters west of the island, forming a runway for griffins and wyverns to take off and land. Nests for the beasts lined either side, and once the runway touched land it quickly gave way to a row of storehouses.

Towards the east of the plaza was a tower that stood 120 meters tall. A giant ballista sat on top of a platform here, with two sentries right next to it observing the surroundings. Both the teleportation gate and the runway were within its firing range, protecting against unwanted visitors. The foundation and stairwell of the rather open tower seemed relatively new, as if only completed recently, but the body itself had many scars of battle. Cast in metal, the ballista platform had several areas that needed mending. Evidently, this tower had been through the test of battle not long ago.

The island itself wasn’t particularly large, a rough circle that was about half a kilometer across. More than half of it was uneven terrain, however, with the highest point in the north being a good fifty meters taller than the plaza at which they had arrived.

It wasn’t’ until Richard had actually stepped foot on an island that he realized the interior didn’t match expectations at all. Be it the to-scale model or the view from the Eternal Plains, the floating islands seemed like a scenic, beautiful landscape with shady foliage everywhere. All of Faust seemed to share that particular climate to some scale, but this land was entirely different. At the peak was actually an active volcano, its ash-covered mouth constantly spewing out wisps of thick smoke. This was a huge contrast from the verdant forest just below, the shades of gray and green making for a strange combination.

At the foot of the volcano was a majestic castle, built right into the undulating terrain. The dark walls and the spire that matched heights with the peak seemed rather similar to Blackrose Castle, but the air of invincibility had been replaced by menacing ferocity instead. Right outside the castle were a bunch of densely packed buildings, most with thick walls and narrow windows to ensure safety if a battle ever reached the streets. Arrow towers surrounded the entire place, encompassing the entirety of the island in their firing range.

Richard’s heart started beating faster and faster as he stared at the volcano, the smell of sulfur lingering in the air giving him a sense of familiarity. He almost didn’t notice the two fully armored knights walking over from within, heading out to pick up their mounts while Mordred led him towards the castle.

The path to the castle was fairly wide, but it meandered a lot along the way. There were sturdy towers at every turn, with many long, flat nozzles aimed at the road. Richard caught a glimpse of one of the crossbows within, determining that their bolts could pierce through even plate armor within a ten-meter range.

The crowd here was significantly smaller than in Faust proper, with fewer women, children, and the elderly. In fact, most of the island seemed to be occupied by soldiers and warriors. In the few hundred meters they had crossed so far, Richard had already seen at least six fighters with two runes on their bodies. Although they couldn’t be considered proper rune knights, these were elite footsoldiers who could perhaps improve in the future. So long as their bodies could bear at least one more rune, they would eventually meet the minimum standard to be called apprentice rune knights. A standard rune knight had five runes in total and a year of training in their usage, but that five included the runes on their mount. While the ideal combination was four on the knight and one on their steed, there were a few rare breeds of expensive mounts that could accommodate two on their own. While this wasn’t as powerful, it did make it easier to build a rune knight. Lava was something of an amplified example of this; the stallion had a whopping four rune slots on its body, being of the same class as Gaton’s Moondark Ember and Moondark Flame.

From what he’d seen so far, Richard felt like this island was a strong, floating fortress, equipped to the teeth. But then again, the Archerons were a military family, and Gaton had only just made headway into Faust. It would be strange for him to have built a bunch of palaces and gardens instead. The sight made him curious as to just how Island 7-7 would look.

Even without Mordred’s instructions, the gates of the castle opened slowly on their own. Behind them was a small open-air plaza surrounded by ten-meter walls, arrow towers all around capable of targeting the interior. This was an additional defense against a breach of the gates; anyone who managed to get in would meet their doom here instead. The interior of the castle that followed was rather dark and gloomy as well, needing lamps of some kind to light the way, and the passages were narrow, winding, and complicated. Dark enclaves were filled with weapons of many kinds, with thick tower shields resting against the walls. They were all so polished one could see their own reflection within, making it clear these weren’t just for decoration. In times of need, one could stick these shields into the ground to make for effective shield walls.

The entire castle was clearly built for a battle to the death. The basement contained an arms depot, granary, and secret paths. The guest rooms and living rooms were up above, and it wasn’t until the command center on the fourth floor that Gaton himself could be found. It was here that Richard spotted the man and four others, gathered around a giant stone platform in the middle that was shining with magical light. The platform glimmered a pale yellow, projecting a three-dimensional map of some region that he didn’t know. What he did recognize instantly was that this couldn’t be anywhere on Norland; geography was a mandatory essential course, and the sheer breadth of the land displayed meant it couldn’t be on the continent.

The most peculiar of Gaton’s associates was what looked to be a priest in his forties. His robes were overwashed, and tattered embroidery lined his sleeves. A thick tome hung from a copper zip on his robes, but the black cover and copper rose engraving didn’t ring any bells. To his right was a strong man who looked to be at least 2.5 meters tall. His muscular body told of his fearsome strength, and the leather armor he was dressed in left the densely packed tattoos under his thick chest hair completely exposed. For most people these tattoos added to his ferocious image, but to Richard they had an even worse effect. He could tell with one look that these were grade 3 runes! Given the strong physique of the man, he looked capable of sustaining five or more such runes at that!

On Gaton’s left was an eye-catching tall woman. She had a head of fiery-red hair that looked like flames leaping over her shoulders, and when she turned she showed thick, pursed lips with an unconcealable sex appeal. Dense elemental energy flowed out from her dark red robes, indicating that they were magically enchanted to boost fire magic. However, unlike normal robes the neck was cut exceedingly low, revealing fair flesh and half of two swollen globes. Few mages wore something so revealing, but the elemental aura she continuously emanated made it obvious that she was a grand mage. The exposed cleavage was covered in a lifelike dragon tattoo, its head and curled tail occupying the two spheres. In almost all regards this seemed purpose-designed to attract gazes, and Richard’s was drawn there as well. The shock this tattoo gave him was even greater than from the warrior—it was a rune as well, but he couldn’t tell its purpose!

As if sensing Richard’s gaze, the woman suddenly laughed and looked towards him, twitching her mouth in his direction and silently sending him a flying kiss.

“Lina! That’s my son. Lay your hands on him, and you don’t get to blame me for what I do to you.” While Gaton’s head had been lowered as he stared at the magic map, he seemed to have noticed everything she was doing and eyed the female mage from the side. Lina chuckled, the melodious laughter somehow extremely pleasing to Richard’s ear. Her voice had a strange sort of charm to it, making him feel rather close to her for some reason. He wouldn’t mind sharing secrets with the laughter that filled his ears, his boiling blood beginning to stir as his lower body slowly stiffened.

“But your son seems pretty amazing, Master. It looks like he already knows everything, what if he looks for me himself?” Lina winked.

Gaton chuckled, “Seduce him without your magic, and you can take him to bed. I won’t care at all.”

The mage smiled again, sending Richard a flying kiss with larger gestures. The youth couldn’t help the flush crawling up his skin; this was his first time being teased like this in public. As he was growing more flustered, he shifted his gaze away to find a handsome young man by Lina’s side. The man’s sunny disposition and blue eyes were quite endearing, and unlike his tall and sturdy companions, he was under six feet tall and slightly shorter than Richard himself. He was dressed like a younger noble, but the clothing looked just as frail as his body. The design wasn’t plain, but it wasn’t specifically gorgeous either.

There seemed to be no special equipment on the man, nor could Richard sense any power from him. In all honesty, his presence was so tiny it was shocking. It had been easy to disregard his existence entirely when contrasted with Lina nearby, which was all the more shocking given Richard’s abilities. Even using the woman’s beauty, it took special methods or a huge gap in skill to escape Richard’s perception.

The man saw through Richard’s shock and smiled slightly. “Hello, Little Richard. I’m Cyrden, someone who walks the underworld. Not an assassin, however, instead a more widespread profession you’ll find in every city; I’m a thief.”

“Thief?” Richard was now truly astonished, almost shouting the word out. Just the fact that Cyrden could completely mask his aura and escape his senses was terrifying enough; how could he be a mere thief? With such ability, he could steal everything from those who hadn’t yet reached the ascended realm. On top of that, the fact that he could stand here in this hall and analyze the map with Gaton was more than enough to indicate his strength.

Richard would soon learn that these were amazing people, four of the thirteen knights that had marched to Faust alongside Gaton. Asiris the Dark Priest, Lina the Dragon Mage, Ward the Berserker, and Cyrden the Odd Thief. He’d already met Mordred long ago as well. And in the middle of all these people, Gaton was the first person one would notice if they entered this command hall. While he didn’t exude an aura of power, he still managed to be a natural center of attention.

Gaton furrowed his brows and swept his gaze over the four knights, pointing at a symbol of a town on the magic map and said, “Lina will lead the army this time. I want you at the castle within fifteen days, and a report of success in a month after that.”

“Yes!” Lina cheered, but that quickly turned into a cry of alarm, “Wait, fifteen days? Then I need to go right now, and even then... Master, you’re doing this on purpose! Are you afraid I’ll take your Little Richard to my bed?”

“So you don’t want to go?” Ward interrupted before Gaton could answer, “That’s great! It’s been so long since I did anything. The defenses of this castle are great; I’m the one who specializes in siege here. Having you go is just a waste of time.”

“Rubbish! Since when haven’t I been capable of siege? Do you think this castle can keep Kaloh out? Or are you just picking a fight?”

Ward licked his lips and sneered, “Sure! Do you think I’m scared of you or something?”

Clang! Clang! Gaton rapped on the stone counter lightly, and Lina and Ward immediately went quiet. He then asked calmly, “Lina, are you going?”

“Of course!” the mage was practically shouting at this point, her chest heaving so hard that it almost looked like her robes would fall off.

“Then you’d better make it quick. There’s only half a day left for you to make preparations.”

Shocked, Lina glared at Ward before turning to leave. She gave Richard a long look, walking past him while emanating a pleasant fragrance before she left the command center. A portal opened up right in the corridor to ferry her to her destination; Richard recognized the grade 8 spell instantly and knew that it must have shaved off a quarter of her mana pool.

Gaton then pointed at another canyon, “Ward, I’m giving you fifteen rune knights. Occupy both sides of this canyon in ten days; once Lina starts her siege, no man nor mount can be allowed through.”

“No problem!” The burly man quirked his mouth, thumping his chest hard to show his determination.

Cyrden and Asiris were then given their own missions, leaving the hall to carry them out. This left father and son in silence; Mordred had already retreated and closed the doors on his way out.

Gaton just stared at Richard for an entire minute, not speaking a word. For his part, the boy stood and met his father’s gaze with no intention of backing down. Sweat beaded all over his forehead very quickly, rolling down his cheeks until his clothes were drenched, but he held strong.

The stress of meeting Gaton’s gaze could not be described in words. Richard’s body was trembling within the blink of an eye, and he felt like he would fall apart at any moment after very little time. Still, he gritted his teeth and pressed on, looking to continue standing there second after second. It was only when his vision started to blur that the mountainous pressure suddenly disappeared without a trace. The moment left him so feeble that he almost collapsed, but despite a sigh, he kept himself upright through sheer force of will.

Gaton suddenly burst into laughter, “Great! Looks like Sharon wasn’t stingy with your training after all! That’s quite rare for that... Nevermind, I shouldn’t be badmouthing her right now. Come here, kid; your dad’s going to show you something good.”

Richard furrowed his brows, obviously feeling uncomfortable with the term Gaton had used. However, he didn’t speak up and just walked over to the map that had been set up.

“See this? This is a partial map of the Resting Orchid Plane. It’s a name I came up with myself, it’s registration number with the Church is 17658. I’ve been campaigning in this plane for nearly ten years, and have a fifth of the land here. At least, I have a fifth of the land I know about. I haven’t fully explored the continent just yet.”

Richard quickly judged that this plane’s topology was quite similar to Norland’s. This place had mountains, rivers, oceans, and plains as well, and from the markings, it seemed to cover over a million square kilometers. The huge patches of green on the map showed that this was a continent full of life with all sorts of natural resources; the best part was that the similar climates meant there would be little need to process resources either. Even if Gaton possessed a mere fifth of the area shown on the map, that was still 200,000 square kilometers. That was enough territory to create a large duchy on Norland!

A charming smile appeared on Gaton’s face as he spoke to Richard, “Kid, do you know why I want you to see this map?”

Richard obviously had no idea, and Gaton did not expect him to answer. He continued without pause, “The entirety of my earnings from this plane, as well as a small amount from another one, went into your studies in the Deepblue. You might be back already, but Sharon still gets my income for five more years. I’ve already made inroads into these planes, and the profits from the territory I own every year already exceed a million gold coins. On top of that, they’re going to increase by over 30% year on year for the next five years.”

Richard immediately went quiet. He didn’t even need to think it over to realize that the income from these planes over the next five years would exceed ten million coins. This amount was something that even he, someone who’d gotten used to the costs of the Deepblue, felt stifled by. Considering a standard rune knight cost 500,000 coins to create, ten million would give someone two entire squadrons!

Gaton looked at Richard and continued, “The reason I’m telling you this is because I want you to know the price that had to be paid to make you a runemaster. We Archerons are always fair. There are 37 members of your generation of age or thereabouts. Nine are my children, your half-siblings. There are also a total of 71 who aren’t yet of age as well. Amongst all of these contenders, you’re the one we’ve invested the most into. In fact, the total investment we’ve put into you is more than the total sum of your brothers and sisters combined. And that’s just the beginning, I will only pour more and more into you in the future. Your teacher, Sharon, will be doing the same.”

Richard instinctively wanted to reject Gaton’s financial aid, but he found he didn’t have the means to do so. He’d already used up far too much of Gaton’s resources, and with the man mentioning Sharon as well he couldn’t say anything to object. Only after leaving the Deepblue had he come to understand just how much Sharon had given him. A world of magic had been opened up to him inside the Deepblue, a special treatment only he had been entitled to receive. With her imperceptible influence on Professor Fayr and the other grand mages, and the custom class schedule she’d built for him, Sharon had actually taught him a school of thought and pushed him onto his path as a runemaster. That was actually the most precious thing a teacher could give a student.

Far too many people studied a lifetime of magic from mediocre teachers, forever moving in circles within the same box of set rules. All they grasped of spells was accurate chanting and precise mana allocation. Even if they spent their entire lifetime throwing out fireballs, they would never be able to even understand the principles behind the spell, let alone make improvements upon it. They thus spent their lives replicating the works of others. And just like such people made up a majority of mages, runemasters without their own creations were a majority in the field of runecrafting as well.

Gaton nodded in satisfaction at Richard’s silence, “Not bad, you’ve grown up. I’d still have thrown a tantrum when I was your age, but then it won’t be easy for you to achieve as much as I did, either. You never make a noise, don’t drink, don’t flirt, don’t make friends... why? People need brothers-in-arms; when you have enough comrades, no one will dare provoke you. There’s strength in numbers!”

“But Master relies on herself!” Richard objected, an instinctive reaction that would arise regardless of what exactly Gaton said. However, he had nothing to back these words of his. After all, there were as many as seventeen grand mages in the Deepblue, and numerous other great mages as well. All information about her battles was altered twice by the time it reached him, sometimes even thrice, so one could only imagine how trustworthy it was. She did only ever fight alone after reaching the legendary realm, but that was more because those under level 20 were of no use in battles of that realm.

The moment Richard’s words left his mouth, Gaton’s expression immediately turned strange. He stroked his mustache, but could not completely cover his mouth that had opened wide. Richard only saw a man desperately trying to hold back a laugh.

Only after a long while did Gaton finally regain control, “Kid, do you know what your teacher’s favorite legendary spell is?”

The higher the level of a legendary mage, the greater the number of legendary spells they could cast. However, a few legendary spells were spread around extensively, and Richard had seen them all in magic tomes before. He knew that Gaton had to have a reason for asking this, and he tried his best to recall and make conjectures, “Dragon Summon? Sunstrike? Vampiric Mist?”

These three spells were publicly acknowledged to be the legendary mage’s favorite spells. They were extremely powerful, simple to cast, and were very effective at offense.

“It’s Dragon Summon. When Sharon uses it, it becomes Greater Dragon Summon. Back in the day, when your master first entered the legendary realm, there were some... let’s say conflicts, little conflicts between her and the Archerons. I was young, hot-blooded, and competitive, so I brought six friends with just as much energy as me to go battle her. None of us were legendary, but we had strength in numbers and a good combination to shut down a mage. Altogether, we had just about enough battle might to fight a legendary being. Sharon had just advanced, and she only had one legendary spell; once that was cast, she would be no different from a grand mage. While some of us would definitely die in the process, when has a true Archeron ever feared death?”

Gaton raised his head and looked outside the window as he recounted the past, a subconscious hint of arrogance in his expression. The fact that seven young Archerons had the guts to challenge a legendary mage was a definite proof of their courage in any era. Of course, courage and recklessness were inseparable twins, with a close sibling called stupidity.

And just as expected, Gaton grew bitter after that hint of pride, speaking slowly, “The very first spell your teacher learned was Dragon Summon… The beginning of the battle that day was classic; our grand mages used Time Stop to counteract her’s, and she used her absolute cast speed advantage to slow us down and teleport a hundred meters away. That’s when she started chanting the spell, and as we recognized it we were actually filled with hope! After all, a red dragon didn’t have legendary strength itself, and we could hold it down with two people. The rest of us could focus their efforts on attacking her. But...”

The man shuddered with visible trauma, “But no. It wasn’t one dragon, but three. And only one of them was even red, the other two were black. Black! And then... Well, everything was straightforward. The three dragons made short work of us, while your adorable little master just started eating fruits in the back.”

“Three?” Richard gasped.

“I only found out later, but Sharon’s bloodline ability is extremely rare, boosting the power of her summoning spells. It turned the ordinary Dragon Summon into Greater Dragon Summon, a spell that could summon both stronger and more dragons. Of course, there’s no real difference between two dragons and three, we were doomed all the same.” Gaton sighed in admiration before he shook his head and smiled at Richard, “If Sharon were to cast a Greater Dragon Summon now, there will definitely be more than three. You understand, don’t you? If anyone wants a one-on-one battle with her, they won’t end up in good shape.”

A mature red dragon wasn’t much different from a peak paladin in terms of battle prowess, being somewhere between level 18 and 20. Although a red dragon was a powerful supporting force in a battle between legendary beings, it wouldn’t be a deciding factor. However, three dragons made for a whole other story. Even three red dragons could be a deciding factor in battle, and two of Sharon’s summons were black dragons instead. A mature black dragon was about level 20, an existence on the verge of stepping into the legendary realm that was far more powerful than a red dragon. Even a single black dragon had the might to turn the tables in a battle, much less two or three of them.

What Gaton was trying to get at was that his teacher was actually rather poor at solo battles, relying on her powerful talent in combat. However, Richard would obviously stand on Sharon’s side. He immediately expelled such thoughts, asking about the outcome of the battle instead, “So? How many of you died?”

Gaton laughed, “Zero. Our conflict wasn’t very major, and besides, your teacher doesn’t really like killing people. Rather, she actually enjoys doing business. She let us all off and even gave each some money as the starting funds for campaigns to acquire our own planes. In exchange, we would give her half the income from the first plane each of us conquered. Of everyone, I got the most money. However, these campaigns weren’t without risks. Of the seven Archerons then, only three of us are still alive.”

Even from Gaton’s light-hearted manner of bringing this up, Richard could still tell how tragic it was. Of the seven young fellows gutsy enough to challenge a legendary mage while not having stepped into that realm themselves, four had fallen in planar battles in a relatively short time.

Gaton gazed out of the window at this point, now looking stern, “Alright, it’s getting late. Let’s not dwell on the past any longer. Richard, you’re already of age and considered an official member of the Archeron Family. As the head of the family, not as your father, I will continue to give you resources. However, in return, you are to abide by the three ancient traditions of the Archerons. In addition, before you completely repay the family, you need to pledge loyalty to it.”

“Before I completely repay the family?” Richard asked.

“Someday in the future, when your contributions to the family surpass the amount it has invested into you, you will no longer be restricted by the family and can do as you wish. Many Archerons have walked this path in the past as well. However, before you are relieved of your duties, you must abide by the ancient traditions of the family. This is the responsibility of every Archeron,” Gaton said sternly.

“What ancient traditions?”

Gaton’s expression became even more solemn as he straightened his back and said in a low voice, “One, all Archerons shall maintain the purity and continuity of the family bloodline. Two, there shall be no internal battles between members of the family. Three, the strongest Archeron shall be tasked with guarding the family tombs.”

The last two were easy to comprehend, but the first one had Richard stumped. Gaton knew that Richard knew very little about the Archerons’ traditions and secrets, and thus explained further. The Archeron bloodline was very ancient and mysterious, powerful yet unstable. An entire twenty-two different types of abilities had appeared so far in the family, and the purer the bloodline the more powerful the abilities became. It gave rise to beings of unparalleled power.

Thus, the Archerons had a centuries-old precept, which was that the most sacred duty of every member of the family was to maintain the purity of the family bloodline and pass it on. One needed descendants to pass on the bloodline, and to keep it concentrated and pure one would need to marry other Archerons. Thus, all members of the Archeron Family that were supported by its resources had to marry an Archeron and have a child unless they contributed greatly enough. In many cases, their significant other was chosen by the family head or other powerful members, and they had no right to choose anything. The weaker one was, the less they could say. There were many cases of intermarriage in Archeron history, including that between even blood siblings. Only after hearing this did Richard understand why the atmosphere had been so strange in Blackrose Castle when he’d met his sisters all those years ago.

“Things aren’t as bad as you think they are, kid!” Gaton chuckled. “As the only runemaster amongst your generation, you have a lot of privileges! Besides getting the most investment, you can choose a few of the girls who don’t have partners yet for your own. Of course, this will only continue until you have your own child. In no time at all, you’ll know what you can get from the family.”

Richard released a long breath and said, “I… I think I’ll rely on myself.”

Gaton looked at Richard, his gaze seeming to have a penetrative force that let him stare right into the depths of Richard’s heart. It made him let out an involuntary tremble.

“Kid, don’t reach a conclusion so quickly. You’ll definitely regret this decision in the future. I think your mother should be the most valuable person in your life.” Gaton’s voice was like magic, leaving Richard stunned once more. At that moment, Richard even felt that Gaton knew of his mother’s dying wish. However, this was a secret hidden deep in his heart. No matter what, he would not share it with this man.

Even as Richard remained bewildered, Gaton’s voice sounded by his ear once more, “Alright, kid! I’ll bring you to the family tombs. That is a ceremony that every Archeron has to go through once they come of age.”

Family tombs? This time Richard was stunned. His mother’s voice seemed to ring in his ears once more, “When the day comes that you’ve grown to become a real man, bury me in the highest layer of your father’s family tombs!”

3 Inheritance of the Moons

Gaton led Richard out the back door of the castle towards the family tombs, which were surprisingly located at the volcano up the castle. He felt the space around warp at one distinct point, the lush green forest around them being replaced by red and black. The fresh air was replaced by a strong stench of sulfur and the blue sky was covered by dense gray clouds, the parts that did remain visible being tinted a fiery red. The signature pleasant warmth of Faust had been replaced with such blazing heat that even Richard felt it hard to bear, feeling almost as though the air itself would spark in a moment and set his hair and skin ablaze.

The entire volcano was composed of charcoal-black rock, with a single meandering path towards the mouth. Within this new space, it was no longer simply spewing smog; the entire mountain shook from time to time, launching fire and ash that merged into the dense clouds.

The main body of the volcano was no longer a mere fifty meters tall, instead nearing a whopping kilometer of height. Hot lava spurted out of the crater on occasion, seeping past its edges and flowing down like a river of fire. Trickling down slowly, some of the lava solidified en route, morphing into a part of the mountain altogether.

Most unusually, even though the volcano was trembling non-stop and lava came spilling ever so often, all other parts of the mountain except the fire, smoke, and lava river remained completely unchanged, without a single loose or ruptured rock. Richard combed through his memory, recalling what he’d been taught about such things in preparatory magic classes; this was a place with spatial enchantments on it. However, this was a stunning realization to make—the biggest example he’d read of was the Lost Paradise, but the entirety of that was as big as one of the larger laboratories in the Deepblue. It was impossible to imagine just how this towering volcano was built from scratch. Looking at the scale and frequency of its spurts, he was certain that the interior of the mountain was connected to at least one plane with the fire element, and that was with the assumption that it didn’t just contain a demiplane within. Was this some sort of divine blessing?

Lining the uneven path were tombstones of different sizes, erected upon the dark black rock. The graves looked rather strange, with only the tombstones and no protrusions underneath. As well, there were at most a few hundred of them on the entire volcano, located sparsely apart. He also noticed that there were fewer the closer one got to the mouth. Although the Archerons didn’t have a very long history, even the several hundred years they did have would easily give them tens of thousands of dead members. Given the size of this volcano, it would surely be able to accommodate ten times that number.

He silently trailed behind Gaton, continuing to climb uphill. It soon became obvious that the volcano was actually roughly divided into five levels, the number of tombs on each level fewer than the last. The inscriptions upon the tombs ranged from simple names to more elaborate descriptions and well-wishes for the deceased.

It wasn’t long before they were standing at the edge of the crater, boiling lava less than ten meters ahead with hot air blasting into their faces. His eyes stung so hard it was difficult to keep them open; this was the highest layer of the Archeron family tombs, the place his mother wanted to be her final resting place. It only contained six tombstones so far, spread out in a large arc around the mouth. The tombstones themselves were made of some sort of black igneous rock, but there were no special carvings at all. This level didn’t list the lifetime achievements of the deceased like in the last few levels, no; there were only names here. Unusually long names, written in a script he had never seen before.

Richard started reciting the names softly as soon as he saw them, able to recognize the writing at first glance through some strange power deep within. He could feel every drop of blood in his body trembling as he read the words aloud, jumping along with every syllable he uttered. Every name seemed to contain an immeasurable strength, leading him to feel as though something buried deep within him was being awakened from its slumber. As though possessed, he read the names on all six of the tombstones once through before jolting back into reality, feeling like he had just woken up from a dream.

“Not bad!” Gaton nodded at the sight, “Your bloodline is quite pure. Maybe you’ll be able to rest here yourself in the future, returning to our ancestors.”

Richard was still reeling from the shock, desolate roars echoing in his ears. It was as though an ancient existence was within his reach, shouting across endless time and space without rest. He scanned the six tombstones again with trepidation, although this time he didn’t dare say their names aloud again.

“These are the graves of the six strongest and most formidable Archerons. They fully unlocked the secrets lying within their blood, awakening their ancient bloodline and thus acquiring a truename that belonged to them and them alone. Amongst them were prodigal warriors who knew their truenames since fragile youth, but most did not possess the gift from birth. They were forged through battles of blood and flame...” Gaton paused for a moment, “Truenames are the biggest secret of every Archeron who possesses them; they are the source of our strength. As you experienced just now, every single one holds immense power, and each is different from the other. Our truenames allow us to touch upon the laws of the plane itself, albeit so softly that this touch in undetectable. This allows us to decipher and comprehend these base laws that govern planes, giving us a modicum of control.

“Thus, our truenames are our biggest secrets. If someone else learns of them, they gain control over our life and death. All they have to do is say it out loud, and we will know their message. Using them with malicious curses, even an ordinary man will be able to erase our traces from this plane.”

Richard’s heart trembled, “Then why would we want anyone to know our truenames at all?”

“You brat!” Gaton laughed, stroking his mustache, “You’ll probably meet someone to reveal your truename to one day. You’ll know immediately whenever she thinks of you.”

Richard fell silent again, recalling the very long name his mother had told him about long ago. Although there were only six tombstones in this wide area, he could feel an invisible power radiating from every corner of it. Gathering his thoughts with some difficulty, he asked, “Is this a burial spot solely for Archerons with truenames?”

Gaton stared quietly at him, quickly making him worried that his secrets were exposed. The answer came just as the first beads of nervous sweat lined his forehead, “Yes. Upon my death, I will be the seventh grave.”

“What about people who are not Archerons?”

“That would need the approval of all Archerons, including myself. You have our blood in your veins, Richard; this will be your final repose as well. You should know what the approval of all Archerons entails.”

Of course he knew. To get the approval of an Archeron, the easiest and most direct way was to defeat them; there was no other way around it. To fulfill his mother’s last wishes, Richard would have to defeat all the Archerons, including his father.

Including Gaton Isaiah Satanistoria Archeron...

“Is there something on your mind?” Gaton’s voice startled Richard out of deep thought.

“Nothing,” he shook his head in denial, regaining composure immediately. Thankfully, the man didn’t continue to question him, instead walking a few steps over to just plop down on one of the tombstones without a hint of respect.

Richard was astonished by this action. Nobles in Norland were very respectful of their ancestors, and some families even passed down secret magic to preserve parts of their ancestors’ souls, using their inherited knowledge to unleash powerful secret arts. Outside of the various deities and the Church of Eternity, ancestor worship was an important part of the continent’s faith. In fact, the barbarians of Klandor and the various marine tribes paid more importance to their ancestors than the deities themselves. Ancestors were the main target of their faith.

“You think this is unbelievable?” Gaton smiled and looked at Richard.

Despite always feeling like he was being stabbed in his heart, Richard had to admit that Gaton’s actions seemed to match his intentions, and Gaton’s smile was indeed filled with charisma.

“Us Archerons only care about practicality. If we want to express our respect to the ancestors, we’ll awaken the power of our bloodlines and sire offspring with great power. That’s more effective than anything else, and it’s the sort of respect that runs deep in our blood and soul! Alright kid, now let’s see what you’ve learned in the past few years. Forget magic and runes, I’m not knowledgeable about that myself. Your body and footwork make it look like you’ve learned some combat techniques. Show me!”

Gaton crossed his arms and sat down, his gaze continuously sweeping across Richard’s body. Every glance he took made Richard feel like the man was seeing his true self. Calmed himself down, the boy took out a dull black dagger before he started displaying the combat techniques he’d learned from Naya. The Blade of Apocalypse itself was a bloodline ability that he couldn’t learn, nor would it do him much good to take away from magic and runecrafting. The techniques he did display weren’t all that complicated to learn, only requiring unerring accuracy. Naya himself could cut a strand of hair into three. He had been limited by the frailty of his body, but pure skill had allowed him to jump a few levels before he put away his blade. Before he disappeared. Before disappearing, a mere level 16 Naya had killed multiple ascended using his curses and techniques.

Richard’s own numeric vision allowed him to extend this concept to its logical limit. He could even identify the millimeter-level changes to the position of his blade after every strike—if he was five millimeters too high, or two millimeters too low, he would amend his next strike to fix that difference. Of course, he wasn’t a martial artist himself, so there was a limit to the control he had over his own body. He could choose the right tool and place when crafting his runes, so he could control his precision to under two-tenths of a millimeter—one-tenth was considered the limit of a runemaster and any further improvement would have to come from one’s understanding of magic and usage of materials—but in battle, it would be great if he could adjust even to a single millimeter in precision. And when he used Eruption, his accuracy would plunge.

Richard was not a warrior. Although he had a good foundation to become one from his life in the mountains, he had sacrificed some of his physique for the sake of becoming a mage. Even with Sharon’s meticulous care he didn’t have the makeup to be a gifted warrior anymore, so moves focused on accuracy were more suited to him. It took less than three minutes for him to execute a full practice routine, made from a couple different moves that were very peculiar. Amongst it were life-saving techniques like the lizard crawl that had served him well a long time ago. Everything was executed near-perfectly, such that even the Blade of Apocalypse would be impressed if he saw it. Strangely, Richard automatically performed at his best whenever Gaton was around.

The man showed no sign of joy or admiration when he saw it, however, instead shaking his head, “What is that piece of broken metal in your hands?”

Richard handed the dagger over obediently. Made of refined steel, it was six times heavier than normal weapons and enchanted for dullness and sharpness. Reflecting almost no light, the thing could be concealed in the dark and had great potential in the hands of even a decent assassin. All this quality made it expensive. It was easily worth over 8,000 coins, which was nothing in the Deepblue, but it had been a gift from Naya for self-defense.

Gaton snorted, just crushing the dagger into a ball and throwing it into the mouth of the volcano. “That’s a weapon for pansies! You’re my son, Elena’s son! You’re a runemaster and mage, not a rat sneaking around in the underworld! Some of those rats might become legends by poking people in the ass, but that’s not who you are at all! Luckily that person only taught you stuff that can barely be called basic techniques; he should be happy I’m not making a trip to the Deepblue to chop him to pieces!”

Richard wasn’t any normal fifteen-year-old youth. His wisdom had greatly been strengthened over five years of intense training, to the point that he absorbed four times the knowledge the average person could. Thus, his capacity to understand the world around him was equivalent to someone who’d reached his thirties, and his knowledge matched up to someone who was thirty-two or thirty-three. He did not seem very affected by Gaton’s bold words, instead replying faintly, “I don’t think you need to make a trip down to the Deepblue to deal with the person who taught me this. Forget Mordred, even any one of those four we saw just now would be enough. Why do you want to make a trip down yourself? Are you worried about Master?”

“Why would I be worried about her? What a joke!” Gaton pranced up from the tombstone and raged with an ashen face, the greatest loss of control Richard had ever seen out of him. The man himself realized it as well, immediately forcing a laugh before he slowly sat down on the tombstone as if nothing had happened.

The moment he spoke again, Gaton’s unruly and frivolous behavior disappeared into a solemn dignity. He looked like an exemplar of an aristocrat, but Richard could sense it was something he was doing to brush off the awkwardness. “Hmph, why would I be scared of Sharon? But um, honestly, although your father is skillful, I cannot defeat three to five black dragons by myself, at least not yet. So it isn’t very practical for me to fight that money-obsessed woman solo. But if I go to the Deepblue to kill some small fry, she won’t go to the extent to retaliate and kill me. Moreover… For certain reasons, I can’t grievously harm her.” Gaton’s tone was solemn, but his imposing manner was not even half of what it was initially.

Richard thought of something all of a sudden, asking directly, “Master didn’t leave any trauma with you, did she?”

“Of course not!” Gaton replied furiously. But then he realized that he’d stood up, sitting back down so forcefully the tombstone under him let out a creak. This was a tombstone with the truename of one of the Archeron ancestors!

Under the pressure of Richard’s look of suspicion, Gaton gradually turned quite green. He finally snorted, and said, “There’s some trauma, but that doesn’t even matter! Isn’t it just money?! Your old man is actually a great leader, I’m sure I’ll be able to pay back the debt if I conquer several more planes over the next 180 years!”

These "wise" words didn’t seem very right in Richard’s ears. He wanted to ask about that 180-year timeframe, whether it was plane time or Norland time, but he hesitated with the thought that it would be too much of an attack.

However, Sharon and Mountainsea being in his life had largely influenced Richard’s disposition. One aspect of that was that he was predisposed towards being on the offense. It was just that Gaton seemed to feel a familiar ill omen before he could speak, the man’s sharp intuition warning him to stop what was about to happen. Thus, he interrupted instantly, “Alright, kid, let’s stop beating around the bush! Forget all this rubbish you learned in the Deepblue, I’ll show you some real techniques that will allow you to use the power of your bloodline.”

Gaton rose up and looked at Richard’s unsettled expression. He then let out a sigh, “Don’t be in such a hurry to say no, I’m not teaching you any Archeron arts. Your mother should’ve taught you this stuff, but since you don’t seem to know, I’ll have to do it myself.”

“Mother?” Richard was startled. Although he’d realized during his study in the Deepblue that Elena was not just an acolyte, he didn’t expect her to be at the level of a great mage.

Gaton nodded, “Your mother was once a royal of the Silvermoon Palace. In fact, she was the Shaman of Alucia, the Goddess of the Moon. So a part of your bloodline actually stems from the silvermoon elves. What I’m going to teach you now is a secret technique passed down from their shrine.”

Gaton swiped his wrist, and a peculiar weapon appeared in his hand. It was around a meter and a half long, with a four-centimeter-wide blade that had a perfectly straight edge. Sharp on only one side, it seemed more like a long, thin knife than a sword. Its edge started ringing with a flick, starting a seemingly endless vibration.

“Look carefully. This is one of Silvermoon’s secret swords, Annihilation.” Gaton stepped forward suddenly, raising the weapon in his hand abruptly and holding it straight in front of him. A blue crescent slowly emerged above his head, concentrating gleaming azure moonlight on him like a screen of water. The tip of the weapon glistened blue as well, and some mysterious power seemed to push his body as he launched ten meters forward in an instant. The weapon pierced forth without warning.

This move was beautiful yet desolate, and Gaton’s steps left behind a trail of blue as if this was a dream. But the sword contained the strength of the fourth moon, the blue moon, and whizzed ahead on its path. It looked like it would pierce through even a huge dragon in its path.

It was unknown when exactly Gaton appeared in front of Richard again. He’d already stowed the sword away, although it still seemed like the blue moon had leaped across space to stay over his head. The projection was still within ten meters of him, shining cool moonlight onto Richard’s body.

Gaton gently stroked the long sword, saying disappointedly, “This is a move your mother used once, so I could remember it clearly. The other moves I figured out on my own in the free time I’ve had over the past years, but without the silvermoon bloodline, I’m not sure if they’re correct. Take mine as a foundation, and perfect the moves when you have a chance.”

The crescent above Gaton’s head turned red, changing from the fourth moon to the first. His momentum burst forth again, and this time the sword was blanketed by scarlet moonlight as it chopped silently through the air. He took the same forward steps, but unlike the original lone advance, this felt more like a regiment exerting irresistible force. The crescent in the air faded as it followed the sword’s trajectory, and it looked like a light red crystal was infused into Gaton’s graceful moves as he outlined a new moon. This was the secret technique corresponding to the scarlet moon: Beheading Newmoon.

This was soon followed by the second moon, the amber moon, and this attack was one that covered an entire area around him. The amethyst moon, the fifth moon, was a single fast attack able to tackle quick opponents. The silver moon, the sixth, created a spiral of endless attacks at the enemy.

To end it all, when the moon above Gaton’s head turned a jade green, he stopped moving immediately and stood straight. Light green moonlight poured down his shoulders like the flow of mercury, diffusing the moment it touched the ground and spreading a few meters around. A rich aura of vitality spread everywhere the moonlight touched, dyeing even the tough rock a rich green. The stone that hadn’t budged even during volcanic eruptions actually cracked apart, allowing several young seedlings to grow out. This was the third moon’s secret sword: Devout Prayer. It could heal wounds.

Once the green moon slowly disappeared, the smell of life faded back into that familiar boiling sulfur. The young seedlings wilted immediately, turning to dark gray ash that eventually just disappeared. Everything returned to normal, leaving those six illusory moons seeming like nothing but a dream.

“There should be a technique corresponding to the seventh moon as well, but I can’t figure it out.” Gaton threw the long sword over to Richard, “There, it’s now yours! I snatched this sword from an elven kingdom in a strange plane. You can give it a name later.”

Richard felt abnormally at ease when he got the sword, so much so that he couldn’t help but feel surprised. There was still a hint of the six moons on the blade, and it made his body hum slightly. The seventh moon itself, the gold moon, was the darkest of the lot. It only appeared a few days every year and was easily neglected with how dull its color was. Its power was bound to be the hardest to unearth.

Without any sheath for the sword, he stroked its blade gently to examine it. However, unfamiliar with its strange shape, he accidentally cut himself on the blade. A drop of blood landed on the metal surface, but it slid down quickly and dripped onto the ground without leaving any mark behind. He subconsciously grabbed the hilt with both hands, pointing it straight ahead. The blade started vibrating gently, and a faint blue glow appeared on the tip. Richard had felt something unique from the first move Gaton had displayed that allowed him to already vaguely feel the power of the fourth moon.

‘Maybe it was because he saw Mother using the move, so he could understand it better than the rest,’ Richard thought. What he didn’t know was that Gaton had discovered this technique when it pierced through his own heart. He also neglected another problem for that moment: how had Gaton used a secret sword of the elves that was only passed down within Silvermoon Palace?

The man sat down on another tombstone and returned to his original state, “Now tell me, what are you planning to do next? You can stay here and continue runecrafting, or come to my territory and form your own squad. I’ll give you ten soldiers for the time being, and you can also join my own troops in attacks. It’s Archeron tradition to start training as a normal captain, but since you’re a runemaster you can start off as the troop mage at once. You’ll also have your own rune knights to protect you. Of course, you can also just build your own lab and experiment with magic if you want.”

However, Richard had already decided what to do in the future. He took a deep breath and replied, “I want to go battle for a plane.”

Gaton’s eyes went wide with astonishment and doubt, “Alone?”

“Yes. I want to discover the secrets of the myriad planes myself, and I’ll need to conquer a few of them along the way. I don’t want to follow you and a big army around,” Richard was very firm with his words.

Gaton laughed, “Not bad! But this is war you’re talking about, not some ordinary adventure. Even adventurers need parties. Wars aren’t games, you can’t conquer planes alone!”

Richard frowned and replied, “I’m already a qualified runemaster. Within two to three years, I can form two ten-man rune knight squadrons. I’ll give you one, and the other can become the core troop for my own planar battles. That should be enough to make for an elementary force in some lesser planes; the ten rune knights I give you can be considered an initial repayment towards the family. I know that isn’t enough, I’ll repay the rest, but I want to start exploring as quickly as I can.”

Gaton’s eyes glistened as he listened to Richard, “You’re saying you can build twenty rune knights in only three years?”

Richard nodded, “All elementary, but yes.”

Gaton broke into laughter all of a sudden and slapped Richard’s shoulders, almost making him fall, “That’s enough! I didn’t expect you to be that capable. Maybe you can get some results in the myriad planes even before I did!”

Gaton’s happiness was not unwarranted. Even if all twenty of the rune knights were novices equipped only with elementary runes, that was at least a hundred runes that Richard needed to produce. Over three years that was an average of about three a month. Runemasters weren’t always successful in producing their runes. Even grand runemasters failed on occasion, and regular ones only had a success rate of about 30% for a grade 1 rune. Although great runemasters were better, they still had a failure rate of about 30% as well.

Although the time taken to manufacture an elementary rune could range from a few days to an entire month, the process couldn’t randomly be compressed. The bulk of the time used in the manufacture of a rune was in examining and correcting mistakes in basic arrays, and the likelihood of such mistakes depended on one’s precision. This meant dexterity was the core quality of a runemaster, and Precision was Richard’s greatest strength. He took a little under seven days to build an elementary rune on average, with a failure rate ranging between 10 and 20%. These statistics alone put him almost at the level of a grand runemaster, but none of the actual grand runemasters on the continent were bored enough to manufacture elementary runes. This was the main reason his earlier runes fetched such exorbitant amounts: the adaptability of his runes and their boost was far beyond the average.

Given the same set of materials, a lower rate of failure and shorter manufacturing time could accumulate and turn two sets of runes into three. This made Richard’s profit margins inconceivable; after all, this was far more lucrative than producing quality runes every once in a while, since all runes sold at a minimum fixed market rate. That was also how he’d earned over a million coins in the last year, and the reason he dared to join the ranks of Archerons who were waging wars in the countless planes.

Just like Gaton had said, expeditions into planes were dependent on one’s armies. While the military prowess of an individual was important, it was in no way a deciding factor. There were exceptions like Sharon, who could turn a duel into a team battle, but those were just that, exceptions to the rule. With ten elementary rune knights and the income from selling quality slotted runes, Richard could build a small core troop of his own to explore some of the tamest planes. The myriad planes were boundless and inexhaustible, with nobody knowing exactly how many of them existed or what would happen on unknown planes. There were rumors abound of some lucky people discovering invaluable precious materials in lesser planes at times, and of some tragic brave soul paying a heavy price to attack and occupy a greater plane that was barren and penniless.

Gaton fell deep into thought after having a hearty laugh, muttering to himself for a long time before speaking up more loudly, “Since you’re so talented, we’ll need to bring many things forward. Before you enter an actual plane, I’ll prepare all the equipment you need. You’ll also have to visit the Archeron base camp and select a few bodyguards, and then choose a partner of pure Archeron blood. If there is more than one who you fancy, you can choose two or three; it doesn’t matter. That is a special right exclusive to you. Then, if you wish to try making real rune knights, you can go ahead; just one for now, no more, but I’ll provide you with the candidate, the mount, and the materials. After all that is done, I’ll more or less be able to prepare the offerings for you to enter the Church of Eternity. You can see what blessing he graces you with.”

Richard noted everything down diligently, and Gaton thought it over before he continued, “Sharon still owes me a favor; she promised to help once with a ceremony at the Church of Eternity. Since I don’t need any urgent blessings from the Church, let’s use the chance on you! I’ll write her a letter to see how she can help.

“Now I don’t think there’s anything else. Your residence should be ready for you. You can also move around Faust as you wish, there aren’t any areas restricted to you, but do be careful if you go downtown. Enemies are everywhere here, but there shouldn’t be an issue in public areas. Those old men may be very cunning, but few of them would actually be willing to risk their lives to fight. Just don’t be seduced by girls with unknown backgrounds and follow them into secluded alleys.” Gaton laughed, stopping only when he saw no reaction from Richard. Clearing his throat, he concluded, “Lastly, but most importantly, spend more time looking around at your sisters; most of them are still on this island. As long as they do not have actual partners, you are free to appoint them as yours.”

Richard frowned, asking, “Can’t we let this matter lie?”

Gaton let out a laugh again, though his tone was firm and resolute, “No. This is the duty of every single Archeron. In any case, partners don’t actually restrict you in any way. You can just take it as... a form of ritual continuing the bloodline.”

“I am not an Archeron,” Richard replied coldly.

“You cannot abandon your blood. It is one with you, a part of your very soul. That goes for your silvermoon blood, and for your Archeron blood as well. Besides, I don’t think you have the right yet to reject your duties.” Gaton was calm this time around, a total opposite of Richard. It made him realize that he did indeed have no right to reject Gaton’s words, so he fell silent.

* * *

Back at his residence, Richard threw himself onto his bed, staring at the ceiling above. As with every meeting he’d had with Gaton in the past, this was yet another unpleasant encounter. Regardless of the occasion, no matter the circumstances, they had never had a happy meeting. All he saw in Gaton’s presence was the image of his old house burning in the raging flames.

Truth be told, he’d always had questions in his mind. Why did his mother live in Roseglen for an entire decade? Why would she rather set herself on fire than meet his father? Recounting his childhood memories and adding them to all his new experiences, he knew clearly that his mother had loved Gaton very much. This was what left Richard conflicted, and the reason he accepted all of Gaton’s help despite his own inner struggles. It was only today that he’d finally understood the true meaning of his mother’s final wish. Elena actually still wished to be together with Gaton, but her method was just different. It was almost impossible to accomplish, but her pride was no less than that of any Archeron.

The three traditions of the Archerons suddenly swept past his mind, stirring his heart. It was almost as though he could see the flames and blood, the scene of every Archeron in the past centuries fighting valiantly in battle. People fell without end, but the others stood back up yet again. Their ancient and mysterious blood was awakened in the raging inferno of battle, continuing to be passed on with the first cry of every newborn. This was a struggle, an unyielding spirit of battle. The Archeron blood would continue to live and spread, just as how the volcano that was its final resting place spurted lava without end.

The reason there were few tombstones on the volcano was that only Archerons who’d been enlightened with the power of their blood had the right to rest in their family cemetery. As for those who rested at the top, the six Archerons who’d awakened their truenames, they’d irrefutably been heroes in their lifetimes. Even though their lives weren’t documented on the tombstones, the mere presence of the truename explained it all.

Just like Gaton.

It was already dark outside. The pale blue fourth moon hung high in the night sky, its azure light spilling through the tall and narrow windows. The trees and mountains outside seemed a faint shade of indigo bathed within.

The unsheathed sword was sat by the bedside, its blade reflecting the blue moonlight. Sparkling stars seemed to jump in the reflection of the blade, a beautiful illusion with a trace of the blue moon’s power. The faint presence of the moonforce hazily awakened the elven blood within Richard’s body. He didn’t know why, but he was exceptionally sensitive to the blue moon. When Gaton had used the secret sword of the fourth moon, Annihilation exuded a sad yet beautiful determination, one that made him feel like Elena was right in front of him. His father had said this was a sword he’d seen his mother use; under what circumstances had she used a technique that would end in mutual destruction?

The numerous events of the day had finally tired Richard out, and he fell into a deep slumber under the azure moonlight. In his dreams, he saw the Rainbow of the Moons, as well as the erupting volcano. Archerons roared their way into the battlefield as they rushed past him, running across a road of endless skeletons and a river of blood. Fog filled the air, and plane after plane floated into his sight with countless people risking life and limb for their control. Sometimes a plane exploded and collapsed, completely destroyed and sinking into the endless abyss away from the haze. There was no sky, no earth. Outside of the endless massacres was an endless void…

Richard was suddenly awakened from the nightmare. Rubbing his eyes, he was greeted by dazzling sunlight outside the window. His difficult escape from the chaotic dream space left his mind and body equally exhausted, but he suddenly recalled that this was the day he was supposed to meet his siblings again.

4 Meeting Family

The hands of the magic clock indicated nightfall, and Faust was shrouded in the shades of dusk. Nighttime in the City of Miracles wasn’t the normal black and white in the rest of Norland, instead a bright and colorful affair. The fourth and fifth moon hung high on either end of the sky, the soft blue and violet mingling together to illuminate the night. Outside on the Eternal Plains, they would seem much further away.

Belts of light revolved ever so slowly along their wondrous orbits, the Rainbow of the Moons a secret that humans hadn’t yet solved. Tonight was the turn of the blue and violet moons to illuminate the sky, so the two were duller in the rainbow. Yet, no matter when it was, the gold moon was always the dimmest of all. Throughout the year, with only a few days of exception, people could hardly even spot its presence.

Surrounding the cloud layer of Faust was an enormous spell formation that kept the city tropical throughout the seasons, regardless of the harsh cold in the Eternal Plains. Threads of its magic light could occasionally be seen through the mist, and countless such threads colored the clouds like a splendid rainbow that dazzled the city’s night.

The higher islands were floating around in a lonesome silence, but the sixth and seventh layers were bustling with activity. Every building was brightly lit, countless conspiracies and deals hatched every passing minute in private meetings or banquets of all sorts. Every island thus had several private rooms, and some sort of social event was held every night. Even the Archerons were no exception.

The banquet held tonight was neither grand nor trivial, held in a tower outside the castle that was close to the edge of the island. This three-story building was originally designed for larger parties or gatherings, with even a garden built outside according to common aristocratic tradition. The north wings of the first and second floors were essentially big multi-purpose rooms, divided into several smaller areas by the activity they were meant for. On the other hand, the south wing contained rooms of various sizes. Half of the third floor was a mezzanine facing the island, and the roof was designed like a sky deck so the participants could enjoy a view of the other floating islands as well as Faust itself.

Currently, all of the separate areas in the north wing on the lower levels had been combined into one hall. The place was brightly lit, and long tables were lined with plates full of food. Maids and servants were going around and delivering glass after glass of red wine to the participants, all to the fervent melody of a band in the corner. The musicians didn’t seem all that skilled, but the guests were far more concerned with the chance to interact with each other than any exquisite music or drink.

Eight rooms of varying sizes had been opened behind the winding corridor outside the hall, with more on the second level. These private spaces provided a necessary convenience for those who wanted a private word or intimate exchange with someone. That being said, however, many actually preferred the lush outdoor garden for the latter. Even though there was a higher chance of being seen, it was much more exciting. Besides, most people did not care if anyone was watching anyway.

Tonight was a night for the younger generations; Gaton and his thirteen were nowhere to be seen. The youths were gathered together in twos and threes, exchanging pleasantries with one another while enjoying the food and wine. Needless to say, they only discussed casual or partially covert topics here, with actual negotiations and deals taking place only in the rooms provided or other private settings.

While the Fourteen Families were the true rulers of Faust, they weren’t the only families present in the city. Many lesser nobles settled down in the actual city down below, but they didn’t enjoy nearly the same privileges that the highest class did. Although the Archerons were viewed as upstarts, it was still a symbol of high status to be able to receive an invitation to one of their parties. All of the families in Faust clearly recognized the Archerons’ military capability, especially after Gaton conquered both the seventh and third islands of the lowest level single-handedly.

Having spent all their money on their plans to stop the Archerons from joining Faust, the ancient families of the city had grown divided. Many had turned towards Gaton and tried to rope him in, attempting to reel in this beast by trying to have him attack targets outside the Alliance. It was only after Gaton had successfully established a presence in Faust that the Archerons appeared more like a family clan. Many Archerons who were on expeditions had sent youths from their branches to Faust. This would allow them to broaden their horizons, keeping them secure and giving them more opportunities to develop. Ultimately, that meant more opportunities to choose partners as well. However, those willing to send their youths here were not doing very well on the mainland. Those who were basking in their own limelight wouldn’t even pay attention to Gaton. Instead, some of these successful Archerons even accelerated their pace of expansion, rather keen on replacing his position.

There were about a few dozen or so young Archerons in the hall, but Richard was not amongst them. He was on the top floor, in a smaller hall where the true party was being held. This banquet hall made up for its small size with the unique style of its furnishing. The floors and walls here were decorated like a volcano, while the light in the room came from torches burning on the walls. Every decoration was made of metal or stone, with the wall hangings and curtains typical of aristocrats completely missing from the scene. The room that smelled of sulfur was sweltering, similar to the family tombs yet not as harsh.

There were four young men and nine young ladies standing in the banquet hall other than Richard, all between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. They’d naturally formed into three separate groups, all appearing very familiar with one another. Two of Richard’s half-brothers and three of his half-sisters were here, with the rest being youths from branch families. The commonality amongst them all was that none of them had a partner yet.

The youths conversed with ease, the topics being nothing more than war and sex. This banquet was meant to gather them together so they could choose their partners. While Gaton’s four other adult children—sons Warren and Wennington and daughters Venica and Demi—had the right to choose their own partners as well, this right was somewhat limited. Their decisions still had to be approved by the heads of the family; only Richard had the option to choose someone at will.

This also meant Richard was the main character in this banquet, and everyone knew. He was one of only two people that didn’t fit into the crowd, the other being a rather delicate-looking girl seated quietly on a corner sofa and keeping to herself. Formal attire was a must during occasions like these, and the combination of red and black seemed to be a unanimous preference amongst all Archerons. These two colors represented flames and ash, the very symbols of the Archeron bloodline. Almost every Archeron was fond of blazing temperatures and sulfuric odors, if only because they represented the purity and richness of one’s bloodline and the onset of their bloodline abilities.

The two oddities also happened to be the only two people here who weren’t all that keen about the event. On Richard’s end, he felt uncomfortable with all the gazes that were constantly leveled against him, whether obvious or not. Besides, his elven bloodline was still the more powerful part of him, making him antsy in such an intensely hot place.

But were these other people really that fond of volcanoes? It seemed to him that only Wennington, Venica, and Demi were in the process of awakening their bloodlines here, many others showing signs of discomfort. Sweat was rolling down their necks and there was a tense expression on their faces, something no true Archeron should have.

A true-blood Archeron would feel nothing in a ballroom at 40 degrees. Richard, who’d already awoken his bloodline with Eruption, was a good example. Even standing near the mouth of the volcano in the family tombs with Gaton he was rather unaffected by the heat. However, he personally wasn’t too fond of heat. It was near 70 degrees where he was standing! The other people in the room were just putting on a pretense of purity themselves, a common behavior in families with long-standing traditions. Many people strived their hardest to act as specimens of purity to gain the favor of the family heads.

Gaton had risen like a comet and was now like the brightest star in the night sky. If his choice of emblem was a volcano, then these people would act like they could die for anything related. And what better to represent volcanoes than high temperatures and the smell of sulfur?

There was an answer to that question—lava. But of course, none of these rats would actually throw themselves into lava. Richard was filled with derision as he scanned through the ballroom.

His eyes landed on the girl again, holding there for a while before he looked away. The fault wasn’t his—she was wearing a long white gown in a sea of black and red. Even if she didn’t accessorize much, she was really eye-catching. Information about her floated up in his mind, recalled from a sheet he had read in advance: Coco Millie Archeron. Age 16, 1.67 meters tall, and a level 2 illusionist. She was the daughter of Pierre Archeron, titled cavalier and level 10 warrior with an elementary rune combination of strength and defense. He was the current vice-captain of Blackrose Castle’s guard.

Richard furrowed his brows at this information. Coco was of the lowest status of anyone present here, only present because of her father being a titled cavalier. Even that was rather forced, given that he was only level 10. The only reason he had a title was likely his long service to the Blackrose, and the nobility wasn’t hereditary either. The man’s measly indications indicated that he wasn’t a man of valor; if not for that, he could have been a baronet with the potential to reach at least level 13.

Pierre’s real intention in sending Coco to Faust was apparent. He wanted her to marry a man with status and power, and if luck permitted, give birth to an Archeron of purer blood. However, Richard saw at first sight that a mere level 2 illusionist at 16 years of age had no talent at magic. Her physique revealed that she wasn’t suited to melee combat either. Thus, the only thing she had left was her bloodline, but Richard didn’t find that to be quite rich either. Her father was incapable of awakening any bloodline abilities in her, and she seemed to have inherited her mother’s weak physique.

It had been a year since Coco had come to Faust, and given her status, she could only be delegated to a marriage that she had no right to resist. If she refused to follow through with the first of the ancient traditions, she would be banished immediately from the family.

That being said, however, not every Archeron would be designated a marriage. Once a partner had been decided, the family had to provide a certain amount of support to ensure both parties raised their strength and produced better offspring. Coco was a pretty girl, her soft features and tender aura plucking at the heartstrings of many, but her weak build left her without a partner despite a year spent in Faust.

The Archeron bloodline was known to be fierce and violent. Hundreds of years of arranged marriages had made it clear that one needed two powerful parents to have a child with a greater chance of awakening their bloodline. It was also found out that it was easiest to give birth to offspring with pure bloodlines if the direct family tied the knot—especially those with truenames. Coco wasn’t either, and that explained why she wasn’t chosen by any of the ambitious Archerons. The leaders would have taken this into consideration as well, so they hadn’t appointed her to someone themselves.

Richard looked at the people in the ballroom once again, focusing on his half-siblings. Warren, 14, level 5 archer; Wennington, 14, level 8 blaze guardian; Venica, 14, level 7 blaze warrior. Demi, 15, level 10 cursemaster.

Apart from Warren, who was slightly weaker than the rest, it could be said that none of them paled in comparison to Richard. Wennington and Venica were already showing signs of their bloodlines awakening, choosing paths of flame, and Demi’s talent in magic was quite astonishing. Richard would have been able to match her level if he’d focused purely on magic instead of runecrafting, but a mage’s role and power weren’t the same as that of a cursemaster.

But of course, Richard was the star in this ballroom. A personal apprentice of the master of the Deepblue, level 8 mage who was also an apprentice runemaster, and he possessed the eye-catching appearance that came from his elven bloodline that set him apart from the rest. Furthermore, Gaton had personally evaluated Richard’s bloodline to be on par with his own. That was insane in itself; it was no longer a secret that Gaton had a truename, which meant that Richard would ultimately have his own truename on top of being a runemaster.

This explained Venica and Demi boring into him with hawkish gazes. Their appearance leaning more towards the paternal blood, both were tall and attractive. They were wearing near-identical evening dresses with plunging necklines, tailored to the simplest cut with nothing unnecessary to cover up their beautiful curves. Not only did the dresses bring out their stunning breasts, but the high slits in the dress also showed off their alluring legs. This was especially true of Venica; although she was a year younger than Demi, being a fighter had apparently contributed to a voluptuous bosom that looked like it would fall out of her dress.

Wennington was very calm as he watched Richard, also observing the other young ladies. It was Warren who looked at him strangely, his gaze containing undeniable envy and some hatred as well. There was another boy from a branch family here who was on par with Warren in capability and age, but he seemed far more reserved with it. All three of them were obviously interested in Demi and Venica, as well as another beautiful and provocative young lady that attracted a lot of attention.

Not one of them paid any attention to Coco. Taking her to be one’s partner was almost resigning oneself to tragedy—in a world of power, beauty alone was the most worthless thing of all. Conversely, both Venica and Demi had the right to choose their partners, and Demi was a key interest in the family as well. She’d demonstrated outstanding talent at a young age, and with a decisive calmness to her, she seemed to many to be the next Alice Archeron.

This went even further with Richard. In the mere two days since his arrival, people were already discussing the possibility of him becoming the next Gaton. Needless to say, it was openly acknowledged that he might never be able to reach his father’s level of power, but the fact that he would become a runemaster would certainly get anyone’s blood pumping. The two were entirely different prospects altogether. Richard didn’t need to prove himself in combat—his identity as a runemaster alone was enough to suppress all the youths present in this hall for a relatively long time. Ordinary runemasters could gear up two to three elementary rune knights a year. If one were to make a simple comparison of power—the sale of one of these rune knights would make up the cost of manufacturing, and even one of the remaining would be able to wipe out the entire batch of youths here with ease. This was an exceptional battle ability of its own kind.

Every young lady in the hall was rather beautiful in general, while the young lads shone in their valiance as well. Venica and Demi the most charismatic of everyone, something owed to their parentage and prowess. Demi, particularly, could evoke carnal desires with just a look. Her shapely legs and curvaceous figure made it clear that her performance in the battle of the bed would be just as great as that outside.

Richard stood alone in a corner, holding onto a glass of wine as he fiddled with his collar to get some fresh air. The temperature was annoying in its own right, but the sulfuric smell was downright disgusting to someone who already hated formal occasions in the first place. The evening suit he was dressed in cost approximately a thousand gold coins, being sown personally by a top-notch tailor recruited by the family butler. His distinctive charm was brought out to the fullest in this attire, a product of his elvish and Archeron blood mixing together, but it only made him miss his robes even more.

He really liked his robes for the enchantments they had on them. During battles they could enhance one’s concentration despite the chaos, increasing their chances of finishing a spell successfully. As this was a permanent enhancement, it was extremely expensive. Though it did not have much practical use outside of actual combat, its price was ten times more than the enchantments for stored battle magic. Few thus chose to get it, but the improvement to his runecrafting was something he couldn’t pass up. He was already used to living and working under the effect of that specific enchantment, and with the suit lacking it. The change felt particularly uncomfortable. An article of clothing made by a top-notch tailor was only worth about a thousand gold, but that robe of his was worth at least ten times as much. This was the difference in costs between the world of magic and the ordinary world, one that could never be bridged.

He dispiritedly swirled the wine in his glass, letting the scarlet liquid swish around the insides of the cup. At the same time, he silently began to calculate the time. It had been slightly more than half an hour since the banquet had begun, which was maybe a sixth of the way through. The full three hours was enough for a regular meditation session, which would give him at least a tenth of a unit in mana growth.

There weren’t many shortcuts to increase one’s mana or energy. One had to rely on perseverance and determination, improving gradually over an endless stretch of time. This also meant that if Richard were to do nothing but meditate for thirty years continuously, he would become a great mage purely in terms of his mana. Of course, there was barely anyone who could continuously meditate for thirty years, but the meditation technique that Richard was using currently was already close to Norland’s best. Nothing would come close to anything passed down from the Deepblue. When he passed level 10 he would be able to begin learning the beginning portions of Sharon’s personal meditation technique, the Deepblue Fantasy. When he reached the level of his professors he would be able to practice the Deepblue Dream. Finally, once he stepped into the legendary realm himself, he would be able to practice the fabled Deepblue Aria. Only after stepping out of the Deepblue had Richard realized exactly what it meant to be Sharon’s personal apprentice.

With far too much to be done to fulfill his goals, and things constantly pressing for his attention, Richard was obsessed with time. Despite the strong purpose and atmosphere of his banquet, he couldn’t bring himself to be enthusiastic at all. In fact, it was not too much of a commitment to choose a partner. More often than not, they just ended up being people who shared a bed, going their separate ways after a descendant was born. Richard had long since become a man, so he naturally wasn’t repulsed by women or resistant to them either. Moreover, Demi and Venica each had their own strengths, and the rest of the girls weren’t too bad either. As a partner in bed, they were definitely above the standard. However, there was a reason for him to reject the idea of choosing a partner. This entire process was situated with the Archerons, a family Gaton represented.

Richard did not make any move, but that did not mean that the rest did not as well. The youth from a branch family had long since gotten intimate with two girls who also came from branches. Intentionally or otherwise, they started grinding against each other ever so subtly, remaining wise enough not to attempt to partner with someone of higher status than them. The youth was only able to have one partner, but both girls were vying for him. With decent strength and capability, he was naturally their best option.

The Archeron Family had been on countless conquests in the past hundreds of years, and many grown men had died on the battlefield. Thus, there were fewer men in the family than women. Additionally, their ancient bloodline made it a lot harder for them to procreate than normal humans. In Norland, an average human’s lifespan was around 70 years, while the pregnancy period was 6 months. An average woman could give birth to three children in two years. However, it took an average of three years before most Archerons could possibly conceive a child. Together with the pregnancy period, it would take nearly four years for a child to be born. The six-fold increase of birth time may not seem significant in the short term, but if one were to look broadly at the period of sixteen years from when a child was born until it reached adulthood, all of this would translate into the fact that every Archeron couple would only be able to give birth to four descendants, while others give birth to twenty-four! As the second generation grew up to become adults and began procreation, this gap would only continue to widen. A century later, the gap would be impossible to bridge.

When it came to war, either on the continent or in the various other planes of existence, the population of a community was always an important factor. Even if the peak of a civilization’s power was able to transcend the boundaries of time, the efficacy would be limited. No matter how formidable any inheritance was, it would need to be passed down and sustained for generations through the bloodline. Thus, the rise of the Archerons’ ancient yet divine first rule.

As a means to remedy this, every Archeron had many non-Archeron partners as well. This increased their chance of having children, but it diluted their ancient bloodline as well. The ancestors hoped that, with the sheer number of children born in that way, there was some chance of a child with a particularly strong bloodline. Richard himself was an example of its success.

Not only would procreating take up a lot of time, it would also cause the mother’s power to decline significantly. The more gifted a child was, the greater the extent to which the mother’s power would decline. A strong mother would weaken less, but that only applied to those like Demi and Alice who demonstrated outstanding ability at a young age. For ordinary Archeron women, their social status would be determined by the child they gave birth to. If they gave birth to a child who could meet the basic requirements of unleashing a bloodline ability, the family would reward them with a good life and the right to their own choice of a second partner. Many Archerons climbed up the rungs of society this way, or simply found men they liked and lived with forever.

The two young girls soon started to fight over the youth openly. Although only the more talented youths had the right to choose their partners, if a willing couple applied to be given to each other the request would be granted unless someone with such a right interfered. The number of such youths in the family was limited. This was even more true of those with the right to choose multiple partners. Even if Wennington, Demi, and Venica had two choices because of their talent and parentage, their choices still needed to go through higher authority in the family. On top of that, Richard’s decision would overrule everyone else here; if he chose Venica, her hand would be forced.

Just as Richard was immersed in his train of thought, he saw Demi leave the group of people surrounding her and suddenly walk towards him, “Hey, I’m Demi. I guess I can be considered your younger sister.”

“Richard.”

Demi was almost as tall as Richard himself. Her crimson hair was coiled up, and there was a blazing flame in the depths of her eyes that indicated her bloodline. It was quite rare for any Archeron to awaken their bloodline at a mere fifteen years of age.

The girl was also gorgeous, her arrogance only adding to the charm of her figure. That arrogance was not unfounded—she did possess great power. She wasn’t just any level 10 mage, but a cursemaster which was very rare. Necromancy was just like any other branch of magic, but cursemasters started off incredibly weak at the lowest levels and then grew into formidable monsters on the battlefield. Past level 10 they could easily keep up with mages of the same level in single combat, but they were best suited to weakening and distracting opponents. Their group curses at this level were their greatest strength, capable of unleashing havoc amongst powerful enemies that mages couldn’t crush with offensive spells.

Demi looked straight into Richard’s eyes as she walked up, standing so close to him that her breasts softly brushed against him as she breathed. She spoke in a slightly husky, prideful voice, “Richard, I’ve been following Father into planar warfare for a year now, and am a qualified combat mage. You should already have learned everything in the profile you were given.”

Richard was astonished by her words. Real battlefields were unpredictable and ever changing, and even a powerful army could be distracted from its duties on the battlefield. Mages were a priority target in any battle, second only to the clergy; it was easy to die if one wasn’t careful. It was only then that Richard fully understood Demi’s arrogance. The girl was full of potential, and she had a wild heart as well. This was a true Archeron.

He carefully examined her as per habit, but due to their proximity couldn’t take in her entire body. When he looked down his vision was occupied by her breasts, the data on them growing prominent to him. As per habit as a runemaster, he classified them on a scale of one to seven. Demi’s breasts were an undoubted 4, while Venica was closer to 5. As for 6 and 7, even if they weren’t only present in legends like equivalent runes, he hadn’t seen any yet.

However, he’d known trouble was coming when Demi approached. He stopped all these weird thoughts, replying politely, “Yes, I was quite surprised when I saw your profile. Cursemasters are quite rare—if one doesn’t have the gift. it will be hard to bring out the true power of their spells. Pardon me, but if I’m not wrong you’ve already awakened a bloodline ability, no?”

“Yes. My bloodline ability increases the effectiveness of my spells,” Demi said with a smile.

This surprised him once more. There were different classes of bloodline in this world, and different levels of ability as well. The common classification was into four levels of bloodlines—lesser, intermediate, greater, and legendary. The classification was based on the level and number of powers one’s bloodline could grant. Lower bloodlines only granted three or less, but each descendant had a greater chance of unlocking their powers. A middle bloodline could get between three and ten, while greater bloodlines could awaken even more types. As for legendary bloodlines, they only came from ancient, horrifying creatures. The chance of awakening such a bloodline was as low as advancing to the legendary realm. At least in the Divine Alliance, there was not a single family with one.

Normally, one could only unlock a single bloodline ability. A few lucky souls could have two or three, but they were usually born into lower bloodlines anyway. The higher the grade of one’s bloodline, the lower the chance of awakening. This also corresponded with the plane’s rules, creating a pyramid of survival.

Bloodline abilities in Norland were divided into seven categories themselves, just like runes were. They were ranked in order of power and number of uses, with grades 6 and 7 basically existing only in legends. From their usage, they could be divided into skills, talents, and special powers. Skills were the most common, referring to things that increased one’s ability when called upon. This included those like Richard’s own Eruption, which could increase one’s strength and speed by half a fold to a fold. Eruption was normally just a grade 1 power, but in Richard’s case, it was strong enough to be grade 2.

Talents were far rarer, and correspondingly much stronger as well. This was similar to Demi’s spell amplification, which would be grade 3. There were quite a few similar abilities, like spell penetration, accelerated casting, and the like. Spell penetration was the strongest ability one could have at this level, but amplification was good as well. As for other talents like silent casting and instant casting, those were grade 4 or 5 due to rarity.

Special powers were extremely rare and powerful, most at grade 4 or above. One example was Sharon’s greater summoning, which empowered her summoning spells greatly enough to boost her power by a level or two. It was extremely close to being a grade 6 ability.

However, less than a tenth of the billions of people of Norland had a bloodline of some sort, and having a bloodline didn’t mean awakening it either. The Archerons themselves were a great example; in their centuries of existence, less than a thousand graves had made it to the family tombs. This showed how rare it was to awaken one’s bloodline, and why families with special bloodlines were so much superior to the rest. Even the Archerons, with the difficulty of awakening their bloodlines, had become so accomplished in a mere few centuries of existence.

But then again, one’s bloodline wasn’t everything. Even if one had the best bloodline abilities like greater summoning, a level 15 warrior could easily kill a level 10 mage with one strike. Even if one could summon a level 7 direbear instead of a level 5 boar, or even if they could summon multiple, the warrior would slaughter them in the blink of an eye.

Demi had both looks and talent, was gifted yet diligent, and possessed the courage to take risks as well. If nothing went wrong in the future, she would grow up to be comparable to one of Gaton’s knights. A young lady like her was worthy of respect and admiration.

“My ability is Eruption,” Richard stated in response.

All of the youths had actually focused their attention on Richard and Demi. Many of them looked envious on hearing that he’d unleashed his ability as well, but Wennington and Venica didn’t have much of a reaction. Even though the two of them didn’t have their own abilities unlocked yet, they were quite close. Besides, as fire-related warriors, their abilities were quite likely to fall under the category of fire-based damage. Any such ability would exceed Richard’s Eruption in level.

On the other hand, Warren’s face was full of jealousy and disdain. “Bah, just Eruption!” he even grunted under his breath, something that perhaps only Richard heard. He didn’t respond, however; while Eruption was a common and average ability, Warren himself hadn’t unlocked his own. As for the hatred and jealousy Warren had towards him, Richard didn’t take that to heart either. Not every Archeron was a hard-working genius that could work together with the rest. That schism was, in fact, something that governed the family.

“Eruption?” Demi was stumped for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly, “Not that useful for a mage, unlucky. But it’s not too much of a concern, you’re still a runemaster so the ability isn’t all that important. Good luck with the next one!”

“Thank you!” Richard raised his glass in toast, taking a small sip.

In most cases, one unlocked their ability after they chose their path. If the two matched well they would be strengthened, with Sharon and Demi being great examples. A lot of families took care of this—if the family’s inherited abilities were all melee or related to warriors, the younger generation would mostly choose a similar direction. However, that wasn’t viable with more powerful bloodlines, with abilities encompassing both melee and magic or even divinity. Although they may be inclined towards a certain domain, the children of the family needed some luck when choosing their class at a young age. In the case of the Archerons, it was widely known that half their abilities were magical and the other half melee, with nothing related to divinity at all. Thus, when a child of the Archerons was choosing their class, it was like they were flipping a coin for their ability.

There were many cases in history of people changing classes after unlocking an exceptionally powerful ability. Generally speaking, one would contemplate their future direction if they unlocked something past grade 3, and it became absolutely worth it at grade 4. Richard was an example of failed luck, at least for now. Demi’s wish of good luck hinted at the possibility of him unleashing a second ability, a wish with good intentions behind it. As charming as she already was, this only served to leave Richard with an even better impression of her.

Wennington walked over as well, glass in hand. He smiled, “Tch, I would love to have Eruption. I already took a leap of faith in choosing my path, but without my ability unlocked, I don’t know whether it’ll be as compatible as I hope. If I get something like a grade 2 magic ability, it’ll be a real headache. And Demi, Eruption isn’t as useless as you think, even for a mage. On the battlefield, it’s actually pretty handy.”

“Hmm... You have a point,” Demi nodded in agreement after a moment’s consideration. One of the most difficult things for a mage was to preserve their life on the battlefield. Unquestionably, Eruption would be able to allow one to escape death much faster in times of danger. As for runemasters, their importance far outstripped that of mages. Runemasters of a higher level had the right to retreat from the battlefield at any time at their own discretion.

“Anyway! Richard, since you’re already a runemaster, can you make any magic-related runes?” Demi asked. She knew that most elementary runemasters were only able to craft a few of the standard runes.

Richard went silent for a moment, before speaking again, “I actually can make one that boosts mana, but it’s a little weaker than a grade 2 rune. Are you interested?”

Demi’s eyes lit up, “A mana boost? Is it a custom rune? How much is the effect?”

“Yes, it’s custom, and the boost is between 13 and 15%. I’ll only know when I complete it.”

“That small a range?” Now her eyes were almost glowing. She had a good enough understanding of standard mana boost runes, and a standard grade 2 one was somewhere between 15 and 22% of a bonus. This custom elementary rune was comparable to a poorly made grade 2 rune, but it would certainly be much less of a drain on her rune capacity. A mana boost was identical to an increase in casting efficiency. An enhancement of 15% would allow Demi, who had about 400 units of mana right now, to cast an extra grade 4 curse. This boost also scaled with her own power, so it would also scale into the future.

Richard nodded in acknowledgment.

The girl took a deep breath, sticking out her impressive breasts, “I want it! But no rune slot or anything, tattoo it directly on my body. I can already withstand any elementary rune.”

Her words sounded like she was hinting at something in particular, which made Richard feel somewhat strange. He cast a casual detection spell on her body, a basic diagnostic test that runemasters used to learn where to attach their runes. He actually didn’t need the spell to gauge the location, but used it to confirm his suspicions, because the location was simply inconceivable. The detection spell flashed past Demi, and in Richard’s perception the entire area from her chest to her lower abdomen lit up in response. That was the only region where she could have runes tattooed.

Richard suddenly felt Demi’s fervent gaze on him, which made him rather reluctant to look her in the eye. This was now another sort of invitation altogether.

“Venica, don’t you need a rune too?” Demi turned around and beckoned the other girl over. Venica strode forward and looked at Richard before saying, “I want a direct tattoo as well. As for the rune, elementary agility will be enough. I’ll change it in the future.”

Yet another detection spell was cast, and in response, the reaction went all the way from Venica’s lower back to her thighs. Richard could sense a headache coming his way.

Wennington chuckled, “Even I’m getting a little jealous of you now, Richard! How about this, help me with a rune as well and I won’t resent you. I’ll give you the materials, so I hope your labor charge will be that for a brother. However, I want a slot. Don’t get me wrong on this, but I’m different from the girls.”

Wennington’s words, particularly his emphasis on the invitation from the two girls, only added fuel to the fire. This caused Richard’s headache to worsen. Thankfully, the youths began to discuss planar wars shortly after, the discussion growing so heated that Richard could barely get a word into the conversation. Although Demi was the only one who had truly participated in battles, Wennington and Venica had a lot of related knowledge too. Their zeal for combat was simply startling as well. In some sense, Richard felt like these people in front of him were battle-crazed lunatics.

Warren did not join in on the conversation. It was evident that he hated Richard even more now, perhaps even abhorred him. Demi who’d been beside him had gone over to Richard on her own, and then even took Venica away as well. The two of them were seducing him ever so blatantly, while that damned Richard actually barely even responded! To make things worse, Venica and Demi had no intention of giving up! Any straight man would surrender in the end to their persistent ways of seduction.

Warren downed the wine, glass after glass, but the scarlet liquid tasted more acrid than ever. A young lady beside him was trying to talk to him, but he wasn’t paying attention to any of it. The fiery rage burning in his heart had already blinded him to anything other than Richard, Demi, and Venica.

5 A Young Conspiracy

Luckily, Gaton didn’t choose a partner for Richard himself after the banquet. In fact, the father-son pair seldom met if not for special occasions and events. Richard was assigned to a rather small room near the family library, a place where he spent most of his days undisturbed. He flipped through dozens of books that illustrated the history of the continents and studied up on the doctrines of different faiths.

Of course, this was no deterrence to Venica and Demi. The two had visited the very next day, but thankfully their stay had been cut short by an important course on discipline. Thankfully, they didn’t bother him for the better part of a week. Their second visit was focused on a discussion about runes. The two girls were beyond excited to witness the crafting of such an amazing thing first hand, and before Richard could drive them away with an excuse of not having enough ingredients, the girls suggested that he first “familiarize” himself with the locations where he would have to tattoo the runes. There was an important tacit understanding between them.

That was a rather dangerous thing to accept. Were Richard to familiarize himself with them, he would need to be joined to both by marriage. It was law for all Archeron girls to remain virgins before their first partners, to maintain the purity of their children’s lineage. Of course, this wouldn’t be in effect if they were marrying out of the family.

Dismissing the overly enthusiastic girls, Richard finally got some well-deserved rest for a few days. Other than one time where Wennington brought him the ingredients for the rune, he didn’t meet anyone else. He couldn’t care for the rest of the girls present at the banquet anyway; it didn’t matter whether they were qualified for him, or had let go of any ill thoughts regardless of their status to make moves on him.

It was like he was back in his days at the Deepblue. He drew up another schedule, and himself was precise as a magic clock, going about filling his mind with relevant information. Planar wars, the history of Faust, the Church of Eternity... Once he was done with a day’s reading, he didn’t have much time for leisure—he still had to go about making Wennington’s rune, planning future equipment, and meditation.

Nonetheless, the peace was only on the surface. Elsewhere in Faust, the river of politics was starting to rumble with undercurrents. Island 6-6 was the territory of Duke Joseph, one of the top ten families of the Divine Alliance. They had maintained a steady position for a long time, like an ancient oak tree whose foundations were nigh impossible to shake. Unlike the Archeron island that was armed to the teeth for war and conflict, this island conformed more to the aesthetics of human royalty. Centuries of effort had given rise to iconic architecture and greenery, spread across a land that was triple the diameter of Island 7-3. Viewed from a vantage point, the whole island was shrouded in a faint purple dome of energy. It was rather hard to distinguish under Faust’s brilliant sky, but foreign objects that strayed too close would bounce off its rippling surface.

The ground was mostly covered in lush vegetation, the leaves and grass crisp and green. Flowers bloomed and trees flourished under the tropical climate, making this place feel like the legendary Garden of the Gods, Clearwater. The buildings were evenly spread out and exuded an ancient elegance, surrounded by pergolas, pavilions, and carefully trimmed thickets.

A stream flowed from the southwestern side of the island’s mountain, emptying into a small lake at its foot. There was an ancient castle beside this body of water, and at the center lay a field faintly lit by magic light to show off an exquisite fountain statue. This was the focus of attention for all visitors.

Within the castle’s studies, a row of seven sly-looking men was radiating an aura of power. Before them stood a lean noble who looked rather young, hugging a book close to his chest as he looked for something within. The boy was dressed casually, holding a crystal monocular that added to his handsome charm. He looked like the perfect archetype of a scholar, which had the only unfortunate downside of being a little skinny.

“Can we confirm this?” the youth asked as he flipped through the pages of the book

A middle-aged man on the far left spoke with practiced ease, “We’ve already verified through multiple avenues that Richard Archeron is an elementary runemaster, but we have been unable to gather any more information from the Deepblue. His current standard is unknown, which is rather bizarre; there is exceptionally little information about the boy, and even the information brokers behaved strangely when discussing him. They either said they didn’t know anything when asked or only gave us trivial information. None of us could get our hands on the details.”

“What more do you need? A runemaster at the mere age of 15, do we still need further verification?” another man quipped before waving his hand aggressively, “Even if Richard remains at his current level his whole life, how many more rune knights will the Archerons have as he grows older? We should have killed him while we could! Even if he was only a mage, he deserved to be killed for studying at the Deepblue for 5 years! That means he’ll become a grand mage in the future!”

Someone who looked like a mage laughed, “You say that as if everything is so easy, Cybil. Do you think it’s easy to just kill him? Gaton sent that devil Mordred to pick Richard up! Even if you could locate them through the complex terrain, what price would you have to pay to kill Richard under his watch? What’s the point if this boy was just going to be a grand mage in the future? There are all sorts of capable people in every family, do you want to kill them all too? Or are you telling me you can kill Mordred? Nobody can do that if the man is set on running away. Don’t you think it’s too late for you to say all this, now that we know Richard is a runemaster?”

He laughed cynically before adding on, “Naseby, why don’t you take a team to kill Mordred? Getting rid of that devil would be much more useful than getting rid of a future runemaster!”

The man named Naseby flushed immediately and bellowed, “Kevin, what are you trying to say?”

The said mage only sneered, “I’m trying to say what you were trying to say just now! Since you have doubts about my planning, why not be of some help and lead your troops to do something? But perhaps Mordred is too tough for you to handle, just kill any of the other twelve knights of Gaton. Cyrden? Caryn? Lina, maybe?”

This was when the old man on the right end decided to speak out. “Kevin, Naseby! It’s pointless to fight now. There is no doubt that the Archerons birthed another talented lad. But currently, he only possesses talent. The issue is, how much should we prioritize him?”

The youth stopped pacing around the room, raising his head, “Right, I almost forgot. Our friend informed me that Richard is planning to craft a rune that boosts mana, a custom design. What are the chances that he can craft a standard grade 2 rune already?”

“A custom rune?” Kevin exclaimed. Having substantial knowledge of runecrafting, he continued on, “That means he has the potential to become a great runemaster in the future.”

This instantly quintupled Richard’s future value. He became the top threat amongst the younger generation of the Archerons, and one of the top ten within the entire family.

“I also found some interesting information about an auction a year ago.” The youth adjusted his glasses as he flipped through his book with grace and pointed to a line, “The most attractive item was an elementary agility rune. It could be compounded onto even a grade 3 rune slot, but the increment was a stunning 41%, reaching the standard of a grade 2 rune. It was sold at a sky-high price of 5 million, which should be enough to prove its rarity. What’s interesting is that the Deepblue was the entity that put it up for auction.”

The noble raised his head and smiled elegantly, “Now, we all know that Deepblue never produced runes before. It was almost impossible for ordinary runemasters to survive there given Sharon’s extreme expectations of rune quality and the hatred she has towards runemasters. So we can make a bold guess that this rune was likely produced by Richard. If that is true, then he does deserve our full efforts in getting rid of him. But even if it isn’t, it is a worthy price to pay as well for a future runemaster.”

He paused for a while before smiling, “Everything that we’re able to give right now will only be seen as another huge price in the eyes of the Joseph clan.”

Everyone got it instantly: they had to get rid of Richard at all costs!

“Should we prepare for war?” Naseby asked. He looked bloodthirsty at the very mention of it, and although he still maintained his etiquette before the youth, his body was already bursting with excitement.

The boy closed the book and placed it gently on the table, speaking with confidence not befitting of his age, “No, not for now. Our fight with them now is beyond the battlefield. As long as we make this flawless, Gaton wouldn’t want to engage in a war either. He is a smart man, he knows that a war at this point in time won’t be beneficial for either of us. The only one who’ll gain from a war between us and the Archerons will be that old maggot Aurelius. Gaton will wait, he will wait till the Archerons recover from this blow and till he gains an advantage against us. But…”

He smiled knowingly, “Time, might not be on Gaton Archeron’s side.”

The youth took out a leather scroll from a bookshelf after finishing his words, laying it on the table and unfurling it to reveal a map of Faust. It magically expanded upon his touch, becoming a three-dimensional model of the city of legends.

He lightly tapped on the third island of the seventh layer, “First we have to get our little Richard off this reeking island. And… Hmm, he definitely will want to check the Church of Eternity, so this will be a good location. What do you think, Master Valen?”

The old man named Valen looked at where the youth had pointed, a place between the Church of Eternity and the Teleportation Temple that was relatively quiet and peaceful. Of course, that relatively was important—because of how close it was to the city gates and the flight stops it still had quite a bit of traffic. Valen’s pupils constricted the moment he saw the place, and he nodded, “This is a great place, but you have to be fast. Who are you sending?”

“Faulk. He’s our best pick,” the young man answered without hesitation.

There was a subtle change in the mood within the room, and Kevin even commented, “Faulk? Is that necessary?”

The young man took out a white handkerchief and started to wipe his hands, replying indifferently, “Of course. Do you think Gaton will just give up if we send someone else? Those old foxes will see through our little plan, but we need to force him to tolerate it for now. That needs a great enough sacrifice on our part. He’ll be aware of what we’re doing, but we need to force him to deal with us at a later date. What we need now is time. Alright, Master Valen, I’ll leave persuading Faulk to you.”

“We will do as you ask,” the old man said with respect. He then stood up, leaving with the rest of the men in tow.

The young man was Raymond Joseph, the fourth son of Duke Joseph himself. One of the three most powerful members of the family, he had an affinity for both warfare and governance that was nearly unrivaled. He had recently defended his barony from the attacks of two Archeron viscounts, alone, and had confidence in his decisions. They could not be questioned.

* * *

After a few boring days of continuous reading and meditation, Richard decided to take a stroll and match the streets of Faust to the information he’d read in his books. Downtown Faust was truly flourishing, with hundreds of alliances and many powerful groups and individuals trying to make a fortune or find something useful there. Truth be told, as long as one had enough gold in Faust, they could get almost anything they desired.

Demi and Venica had become a big downside to staying on the family island. It was growing increasingly difficult for him to ward off their aggressive advances, and they’d already started to end their classes early to visit him at least once a day. It wouldn’t be long until they ended up becoming mates if this continued—the girls’ ultimate goal.

Demi and Venica were different from normal Archeron women. Producing powerful offspring was only one facet of their consideration; they were more interested in participating in planar wars alongside him. That was why, when Warren invited Richard to visit the Church of Eternity together, he’d agreed at once. Although it was rather bizarre for this hostile sibling to want to do anything with him, who wouldn’t want to build a good rapport with a fifteen-year-old runemaster? Any well-trained child of nobility had learned to set aside their personal feelings for the sake of growth. Those who didn’t were eliminated in internal conflict early into their careers.

Richard, on the other hand, was excited to see the church, so he called his personal butler to report his plans. Gaton had asked him to inform the family whenever he wanted to leave, and await their arrangements until that was so.

The butler made his way to a small room at the side of the castle upon Richard’s request, informing a female knight of his plans. The woman was dressed in light, elegant armor of unusual style. Unlike conventional designs that focused on protecting the chest, throat, and groin, her armor seemed to be focused on bringing out her outstanding figure. It was tight to all her curves, almost looking more like a custom-made nightgown instead of combat dress. There was no visible defense to any of her vitals, while the entirety of its surface was decorated with pretty floral lines and had many gems and crystals embedded within. These veiny patterns were spread all across the breastplate, the jewels shining like stars that seemed almost translucent in certain areas. Apart from the traditionally designed shoulder pads, it seemed as if the entire armor was just for show and wouldn’t be effective in combat at all. However, the distinct magic aura radiating from it said otherwise—this surely wasn’t any ordinary set.

The woman herself was relatively pretty, possessing a bit of mature charm that was a nice contrast to the playful bob cut of her brown hair. Looking to be in her twenties, her whole body seemed to fit comfortably into her chair, legs resting on the table. Of course, her thighs just had to be exposed. The fair and delicate-looking skin seemed extra-desirable under the golden light of the sun.

She appeared pretty laid back under the purposefully-strengthened daylight of Faust, like she could fall asleep at any time. The sword that she left leaning against the armrest of the chair was slowly slanting away, seeming like it could fall and collapse on the worn floor any time. However, the butler knew all this was just a front, and the men who’d died to the deadly weapon would have agreed if they had the chance. To the enemies of the Archerons, Blood Paladin Senma was nowhere near adorable.

It took five minutes of the butler’s reports for Senma to finally yawn, taking her legs off the table before stretching lazily. This was a rather frustrating process; the lower half of her armor was styled like a long skirt, exposing the area beneath it here and there. Of course, a woman with both strength and beauty was a man-killer. Many had died under her sword, being impaled within a split second of thinking to peek under her armor.

But the butler who has been working for the Archerons for 30 years was more than familiar with Gaton’s thirteen, so he kept his eyes at a constant ten centimeters from his feet from the moment he entered the room. Each of Gaton’s knights had their own quirks; Senma loved dressing provocatively, but if someone eyed her indecently she would grow furious.

“Little Richard wants to take a stroll? With Warren?” the paladin squinted.

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Okay, got it. Let the boy see the world, it isn’t good to trap him on this island all day long. The sulfur is so bad for your skin! And don’t worry, I’ll keep him safe. Well, Richard, that is; the half-elf whore’s son could die for all I care.”

The butler bowed and left, pretending like he hadn’t heard Senma’s last words. The Blood Paladin cursed on occasion, another of her habits. However, her promise left him at ease.

* * *

Richard and Warren walked out together from the Teleportation Temple, heading along the shady boulevard to the church at the peak of the mountain. The journey was several kilometers long, but there was enough scenery along the way to make it feel shorter.

Richard had come alone, but Warren brought along four guards each with a striking Archeron emblem on their chest. There was a lot of traffic here, with lavishly armored rune knights, extravagant carriages, and a horde of pedestrians littering the streets. The Church of Eternity, being sacred in Faust as it was, had a large mass of followers. That the Church could not be rebuilt only strengthened its status in the hearts of its believers. Once they got within a kilometer of the building, even the Alliance’s Emperor, Bloodthirsty Philip, would get off his carriage and head the rest of the way on foot to show his sincerity.

Richard conversed with Warren as they made their way to the church. Having spent a few years in the city, the boy knew much more about it than Richard did, and talk of the secrets of the Fourteen and the imperial household would be enough to keep them occupied the entire journey. Just as they turned a corner, about to take the road leading to the church, a fairly large group appeared in their path. It was a handful of giggling noble youths, alongside five to six guards. The one that stood out amongst them seemed to be protected and escorted by the rest, dressed in a refined and luxurious outfit that projected his status and deep background. Most importantly, the emblem of the three longswords on his chest indicated that he was a blood descendant of the Joseph Family.

Richard was about as clueless as one could get with regard to the grudges between the Archerons and the Josephs. However, Warren didn’t look so well as he scoffed and took a few big steps, blocking the path of those in front of him. The teens were initially shocked by the sudden action, before showing signs of annoyance. This was very provocative, causing the guards from the opposing side to roll their sleeves as they stepped forward, ready to fight.

Although Warren’s own guards were inferior in terms of numbers and strength, they showed no signs of fear. Nonetheless, not being afraid didn’t equate to not having a brain, as one of them had already run off to report back to the castle. It seemed like this conflict could barrel out of control.

“Seems like your days have been well, Faulk,” Warren spat through gritted teeth.

The youth whose name had been called laughed out loud, “Hey! If it isn’t Little Master Warren of the Archerons. Thank Thor, I truly am living well. I earned a good sum at the casino recently and even won something that’s supposed to be the family heirloom of some ancient elves or something. I also heard something quite shocking today; are you guys interested?”

The teens surrounding Faulk talked over each other at once, acting like they were eagerly awaiting an oracle from the gods. Warren’s expression didn’t look good at all, because he was the one who’d lost that heirloom. As for Faulk’s shocking news, he had no idea what the boy was babbling about but he was certain that it would be nothing good.

Richard was standing behind Warren, looking at Faulk and his gang with squinted eyes. Countless numbers bounced about before stabilizing to clarify many critical statistics. He could speculate the approximate power of the opposing party from the changes in their movements, the method similar to how he would calculate the mana pool of a mage from their aura.

Faulk seemed to be a warrior of some sort between level 10 and 12, while his guards were all between level 8 and level 10. As for the remaining teens who were flocking around Faulk, they either had little power or were weak; the strongest amongst them was only around Warren’s standard. If they were to make a move in this situation, it would only end up with the two of them beat up. Richard wouldn’t be able to go up against six strong guards and Faulk even with his underworld techniques; he wasn’t even a warrior to begin with. He likely needed a blessing from the Eternal Dragon before he would be able to fight such a large group of melee fighters, what with there being no space to cast magic at such close range even if he had tools to do so instantly—which he didn’t.

Additionally, Warren was the one who started this. According to aristocratic custom this would be a pointless fight, likely even making them the joke of the city. Richard didn’t want to get beaten up for no reason, especially for someone who was barely an acquaintance if not for their shared parentage. He quickly patted Warren’s shoulder, “Let’s go, we’re wasting time here.”

“What do you know about this?” Warren turned and shouted, “This fellow is from the Joseph Family! He’s the third son of Duke Joseph, and the most annoying one!”

Richard immediately withdrew his hand and stepped back, his expression warping to one of annoyance. He’d never been interested in the fights and grudges of the family, and it was obvious that Warren was trying to create a scene here. Faulk’s tone implied that the incident between him and Warren had little relation to the hostility between their families, being more of a childish fight between youngsters. It all made him feel like he was being used, something he didn’t like one bit.

Just then, Faulk spoke up, “I heard someone went to fool around at the Enchanting Garden after he lost to me. Guess what that slut Nancy told me afterward? She said that certain someone couldn’t last more than 5 minutes! And his appendage was smaller than the gnomes, ha!”

The teens surrounding Faulk burst out in laughter. To them, the bedroom was a battlefield that was sometimes more important than planar wars. Warren’s face started burning with embarrassment, and he shouted in a twisted voice, “Faulk! Who are you talking about?”

Faulk’s eyes turned icy cold, and he said, “I’m talking about the bastard of a slut. Why, any comments?”

Warren screamed furiously in response, before charging towards Faulk and landing a punch on his face. The archer was so quick that Richard didn’t even have time to react, a low thud resounding from Faulk’s cheekbones where the strike landed. The youth’s upper body leaned back from the attack, but Richard quickly noticed that he intentionally hadn’t dodged. A level 10 warrior wouldn’t be significantly injured by such an attack, even if Warren’s punch caused some swelling and bruising near the eye.

Wincing for a moment, Faulk then smiled sinisterly, “I’ve been waiting for this, you bastard!”

Richard’s heart throbbed in fear as he sensed the bloodlust in Faulk’s eyes. However, it was already too late for him to prepare any spells, and as he reached into his pocket he found nothing to use. His defensive dagger had been thrown into a volcano!

“Kill these motherfuckers!” Faulk pointed at Warren, the situation Richard dreaded finally playing out. The six guards of the Joseph Family charged forward and enveloped them, and the several teens that were following Faulk also followed; although their individual strengths were mediocre, they still had an advantage in numbers that was quite effective in gang fights like this one.

Faulk remained where he was for a while, eventually stretching his hands and walking forward. The three Archeron guards had already been sent flying by this point—each at level 5 or 6, they were only adventurers in the outside world and couldn’t even stall for time. In the meanwhile, Warren acted crazy as he charged everywhere wildly, smashing everything. By the looks of it, those young nobles and the Joseph Family’s guards did not dare get too rough. This actually meant Warren could hold on for a while, though he did have to endure quite a few kicks and punches.

The sense of danger grew increasingly evident to Richard. However, everything had happened far too suddenly. Even as he tried to retreat a guard darted out and sent a flying kick towards his ribs. This attack was powerful, obviously infused with a lot of energy, and was definitely capable of breaking a normal mage’s ribs!

A hint of fury flashed in Richard’s gaze, which quickly turned icy-cold. He silently took a step backward, dodging the kick before he grabbed the guard’s boot and applied force. The guard’s ankle creaked and deformed, but at the same time, a whistling wind sounded from behind!

* * *

In a small forest not too far away, Senma was lazing on a tree, her upper body leaning on the trunk as she dozed off. However, her dazed eyes suddenly shot open, her charming face immediately filling with dense bloodlust as she raised her blade and jumped off the trunk with a cold hum. However, the Blood Paladin came to a stop after but a single step, as if spacetime itself had been frozen in this place. A wizened old man appeared out of nowhere at the tree trunk behind her, decked entirely in a dark gray. Even behind his hood, his hair was the color of dry grass, with a few strands sticking out messily from the sides. While his features could not be seen clearly from the shadows, those sinister eyes were exceptionally bright. There was a large bulge at the front of the cloak, with some sort of weapon pointing at the middle of her back.

“Viper!” Senma hissed as she slowly twisted her head, the rest of her body remaining completely immobile.

The man let out a hoarse and unsettling chuckle, “Senma, my dearest, this is the third time we’ve met. We’re familiar with each other by this point, so I’ll cut the crap. You better give up on rushing over to save them. If you try to hurry this, you’ll immediately face a serious injury. You might even lose your own life here, without saving anyone! That’s why the most intelligent thing for you to do now is to slowly, I repeat slowly, turn around. Don’t do anything funny, or this lousy crossbow worth a few thousand gold coins is going to open a hole in your adorable tiny waist. Do you want to use that pretty and impractical armor you have and test out its strength? I’m actually very keen on shooting it at your buttocks, but that will have to wait until I’m done with the first arrow.”

Senma didn’t take another step forward. As expected she began to turn, slowly but surely. However, she remained icy in the face of the man’s provocation, “Viper, I know fully well how capable you are. Once I turn around, it won’t be so easy for you to escape. Don’t assume that I don’t have the guts to kill anyone in Faust!”

Viper licked his lips and let out a giggle, “There’s actually no need for us to make such a ruckus, no? Young master Faulk finally grabbed this chance to discipline your family’s Warren, who doesn’t know any better. Warren doesn’t have any status in the Archeron Family, so why get so serious? Besides, the most you can do is seriously injure me, but you can’t kill me. I’m confident that I can run to the Church, and I’m sure you won’t have the guts to kill someone in front of the paladins. If you really want to attack me then, the famed Blood Paladin will be accompanying me in death, so that’s still a profit.”

Senma’s expression grew increasingly cold as she answered, “No matter how useless Warren is, he is still one of the Archerons. It’s not up to you to dishonor him. I’m giving you one last chance. If you don’t disappear in three seconds, the so-called Viper will disappear from this world.”

“Is this a real threat, or are you just talking big? Let me help you count down!” Viper obviously thought nothing of Senma’s threats, leaving the situation at a standstill.

* * *

Meanwhile, the results of the fight at the street corner had become clear. As expected, the Joseph Family’s superior numbers and strength had won out. The three Archeron guards were all on the floor, unable to get up. Even the one who’d run away to send word had been intercepted. The young nobles had surrounded them, kicking them mercilessly every once in a while as they called them names. On the other side, Warren had also been kicked to the ground and was being pressed down by a guard. However, nobody dared to kick him.

In the world of the aristocracy, punches and kicks were just part of a fight. However, if one of the parties had lost the ability to fight back but the other still continued to attack, that was instead humiliation. These young nobles came from Faust itself, not any of the islands, and were mere vassals of the Joseph Family at best. Warren and Faulk were of similar status; if they dared cross the line, although the former might not be able to take down the latter, he would still be able to take care of them. Their families definitely wouldn’t come in his way. Although it was an old adage to look at a dog’s owner before beating it, smart dogs had to learn not to attack everything in sight.

Richard was laid down on the ground as well, but the difference was that there were two guards holding him down. Two more were on the ground next to him, one cradling his twisted right foot while the other hugged a kneecap and tried not to scream from the pain.

Of the two, Richard had broken the ankle of the first when he’d thrown a flying kick his way. The second had tried to knee him, in reply to which he’d smashed the man’s kneecap with a piece of ore he carried on him at all times. Richard had actually gained the upper hand after using Eruption, and his assassination skills allowed him to precisely target key weaknesses in his opponents’ defense. But in the end, he was a mage and not a high-level warrior, which was why he had not been able to dodge the surprise attack from behind. A third guard had mercilessly pounded the back of his head, and he had fallen down and was pressed to the ground.

That attack immediately left him in searing pain, his vision darkening at the center. If not for the impressive physique he’d acquired at the Deepblue, that one punch alone would have been enough to knock him unconscious. The damage to his critical faculties could eternally affect his future as a mage.

On top of the strike to the head, Richard’s arms and body were filled with acute pain, his shoulder hurting so bad that it felt like it would just fall off his body if he stood up. His face was pressed to the ice-cold stone ground, and the only view he had of what was going on came from his right eye. Immediately, he was flooded by shock and humiliation. Blood that was on the verge of boiling rose to his head—how dare mere guards hold him down in such a humiliating pose? They even had the guts to not lighten their attacks? Every second he was held down felt like a slap in public.

Everything had happened very quickly, with less than two minutes passing between the beginning of the conflict and the current situation. Richard quickly lost his calm, releasing a bestial howl as his body actually started moving up. Caught unprepared, one of the guards holding him down was sent flying. The other, however, reacted quickly and used another arm to wrap around his waist. Even so, his arms started straining from the effort, about to give way to the sheer force. The guard who’d been holding Warren down immediately charged over, throwing a precise kick at Richard’s back that sent him careening to the ground once more. His head slammed into the cobblestone feet, blood immediately flowing from the crown.

A fair number of people were watching by the road at this point, but after seeing the family emblem of the Josephs and Archerons, nobody dared come closer. Seeing the blood flowing from Richard, many exclaimed in shock. Richard was obviously wearing the colors of nobility; he was no guard!

It was only then that Faulk seemed to notice Richard and walk over, “Who’s this kid? Why haven’t I seen him before?”

Richard somehow lifted his head, but before he could speak his face was shoved back into the ground by a strong foot. Faust smiled, turning to the nobles accompanying him, “Such a bad temper, he dares to be obstinate even at this stage!”

However, this time he did not get a warm response. All of the young nobles turned pale and looked at him, at a loss. They were more aware of what was going on than regular bystanders. Not only did they recognize the color of Richard’s clothing that showed he was a noble, but also the quality and style that indicated he was of even greater status than Warren! They just could not understand how a trivial little fight that would at most result in just some bruises and slight cuts could develop to this extent. Seeing the huge pool of blood from the nameless young noble’s head under Faulk’s foot, as well as the area on his shoulder and back where he’d been seriously injured with the clothing ripped open, they knew the situation was impossible to save. Their families couldn’t possibly weather Archeron fury; the mere thoughts of Gaton’s bloody entrance to Faust froze the hearts of these children who had never entered a real battlefield.

Meanwhile in the small forest, Senma produced an astounding vigor. She stopped in the middle of her turn, halting at a position that was almost exactly 30 degrees from meeting Viper’s gaze head-on. Her body crouched low like a cheetah, gathering explosive strength.

Viper immediately grew nervous. The Blood Paladin had sensed something, which was why she started moving despite the risk. Feeling her aura, he was certain that he couldn’t stop her with just the crossbow. If she made it to the street corner, even on the verge of death she could kill all the Josephs there in seconds! Just as he was about to throw caution to the wind and pull the trigger, however, Senma suddenly stopped moving and slowly stood up again, gazing at him with a look reserved for the dead. Her voice dripped with ridicule, “You did quite well this time, even I’m impressed! Pity, though; you don’t have the luck. Next time, maybe pray at the Church before trying anything. For now, you better consider how you’re going to escape.”

A moment later, Viper sensed two powerful auras flaring in the distance. His expression warped in an instant.

At this very moment, Faulk had a twisted smile on his face, and all the energy in his body blazed with explosive might as he viciously stepped down on Richard’s head. This amount of energy could easily shatter Richard’s skull under his foot!

This was his true motive. All of the pretense so far had been to make it difficult for any experts hidden in the crowd to react in time. By the time they charged over, Richard would have suffered a fatal blow!

There was no doubt that Richard had experts around to protect him. However, because of the rules of nobility, fights and duels between the younger generation were not to be interfered with by the family’s experts. Conflicts between those of similar strength had to be resolved amongst themselves. This was a hypocritical principle of fairness, but also served as training for the younger generation. It respected individual strength, while also preventing large families from being called in for such trivial matters.

However, there were always bottom lines in all matters, and that was life. As one of those in line for the Joseph Family’s inheritance in the future, nobody would have thought Faulk could be so crazy as to kill a peer. Only the youth himself knew that being a true son of Joseph and a decently talented warrior, he was fated to be the family’s sacrifice. If it didn’t happen this time, it would in the future. His fate was determined by his mother’s low status, and his own abilities weren’t great enough to turn the tides. Instead, the talent that he seemed to have only served to fix his fate all the more.

Before one entered the core ranks of their families, the value of a noble’s child was determined by their blood relations. Thus, Warren and Faulk were essentially equivalent in status, while Richard was the same as well. After killing Richard, Faulk would not be spared. At worst, Faulk would be killed at the spot by the Archerons here, but the best-case scenario was that he successfully returned to his family and died with honor. This would make it up to the Archerons, satisfying the imperial family of the Divine Alliance and the nobles of Faust.

Marquis Gaton would lose a son, but so would Duke Joseph. This was quite a fair result, at least on the outside. However, from another perspective, the Joseph Family had merely lost a warrior who might not even enter the ranks of ascendancy, while the Archerons had lost a future runemaster. The loss could not be equated at all. To be blunt, even a hundred Faulks could not match up to a single finger of Richard’s. These considerations were why the Josephs had decided to act this way. Richard had yet to establish himself in the family, and no matter how great his potential and talent were, for now he was just another one of Gaton’s sons. If he was given more time, becoming the official family runemaster or given a title, the life of even a duke’s son would not be enough. Then, the Josephs would have to give up the heir to their family as well.

However, this limited loss to the Joseph Family was Faulk’s very life! Thus, as he stomped down with all his strength, he was chuckling like a maniac. Unfortunately, he suddenly found his vision suddenly going dark, to the point that he couldn’t even see right in front of him. A large, dark sword was the last thing in his sight, and an invisible pressure quickly covered his body and left him suffocating.

‘Am I dying?’ The thought flashed through his mind like lightning, and he closed his eyes in despair while stomping with his right foot down more forcefully. If he could bring along a future runemaster with him in death, then it would be worth it.

Just as the large sword was about to pierce into his chest, another ordinary longsword came flying over and knocked it aside! Just as Faulk heaved a sigh of relief, he suddenly found his body stiffening, and he was rendered immobile with his right foot unable to move at all. He shouted from the depths of his heart, burning all the energy he could in an attempt to struggle free, but this force was far too powerful, to the point that he could not fight back at all. Just a little more, and he would be able to destroy Richard’s head. However, this little distance was as far as a large moat.

Faulk despaired at the knowledge that his body was rising constantly, but he still did his best to kick with his right leg, attempting to deal Richard the fatal blow. Just a little more, and he would gain a sufficient price for his life.

That was a hope that would never be fulfilled. A burly middle-aged man appeared in front of Faulk before the onlookers even knew it, his short hair and spiny beard making him look exceptionally sinister and formidable. His boorish and uncouth aura gave the surrounding young nobles the misconception that the being in front of them was not a person, but an ancient beast.

The burly man had one hand gripping Faulk’s neck, and the other holding an ordinary longsword. The corners of his mouth were drawn back, and he let loose a laugh that seemed to come from hell itself. A young, beautiful woman appeared behind him, with short crimson hair and an obvious scar on the right side of her face. It matched with the chilling, somber aura she gave off, as well as the large, dark sword with hints of bloody light on it that automatically stopped any impractical fantasies that men could come up with.

6 Failure and Punishment

The burly man’s laughter alone shook the earth so intensely that the young nobles and the Joseph guards lost balance, collapsing one after the other. A sinister look flashed on the man’s face as he brandished the longsword in his right hand, a perfect slash cutting at Faulk’s knee. The youth’s right leg was cut off in an instant.

The only thing Faulk noticed at first was a peculiar hollow feeling in his knee, but that was soon followed by an overwhelming pain that drowned out his consciousness. He screamed in agony, blood spurting from his knee like a waterfall to drench Richard down below.

The burly man turned his head to look at the powerful woman, “Alice, it’s been so long! You don’t need to dirty your hands for a small matter like this, I’ll handle things from here. You just conquered a large territory, and must still be fatigued.”

Indeed, this beautiful red-haired young lady in her early twenties was Alice Archeron, the family’s war goddess. She was the youngest member of the family in history to become a countess through merit and not inheritance.

Alice shrugged, “If I knew you were coming, I wouldn’t have made a move.”

The burly man laughed, “I simply happened to be passing by. How should I put this… Is it that these Josephs are too unlucky, or that our boy is extremely fortunate?”

At that moment, the few Joseph guards who could still move saw Faulk’s chopped leg and their eyes turned red in agitation. Frantically shooting up from the ground, they rushed towards the Archerons; with their master as injured as he was, they would be sentenced to a life of labor or even directly executed for failing their duties!

The longsword held in the middle-aged man’s hand flashed a few times, and two charging guards immediately lost control of their bodies and fell to the floor. Just as their bodies touched the ground, their arms came off at the elbow and their legs at the knee. The cuts were flawless each time, and both guards hissed out in pain as they rolled about on the ground, blood flowing everywhere.

The third one took a step forward, but upon being freed, Richard suddenly shot up and punched the side of his rib. He then stepped on the man’s ankle, crashing down with all the force he could muster. This guard was a level 8 warrior with a powerful body, but bones cracked immediately. The blow to his rib was powerful as well, almost causing a blackout. However, he was an experienced fighter and didn’t dodge the attack, instead elbowing back almost through pure reflex. Richard took a deep breath, choosing not to dodge the counter. Allowing it to strike his own abdomen, he gritted his body; now, the guard couldn’t budge an inch.

It was then that Richard started a barrage of punches with both fists, striking the man’s ribs with all the power Eruption could grant him. Dull, heavy thuds echoed through the street with a steady rhythm, each attack packing just as much power as the last. The guard was trapped in desperate straits, held in place at his injured leg and forced to take the onslaught of punches. He couldn’t even change his posture; the slightest of shifts would expose a larger weakness to the boy, which would subject his vitals to Richard’s attack. Thus, he could only direct his elbow with all his might towards Richard, in an attempt to pit his strength against Richard’s to free himself.

Richard did not dodge at all. There was a trace of insanity on his calm and composed face as fists of steel smashed into the guard’s ribs again and again and again with a steady pace and strength. It was as if he wasn’t being attacked at all, even if the blood frothing at his mouth proved that he definitely wasn’t having an easy time dealing with the death throes of this warrior. The man’s bones eventually caved in, however, and he yelled out a final scream of despair before spitting out blood filled with bits of flesh and bone.

Richard only raised his foot from the guard’s ankle after the man completely collapsed. Once that was done, he couldn’t help spraying out a mouthful of misty blood himself, watching the injured man for a while with hesitation before choosing not to make a move. He raised his head towards a different target, fixing a wolf’s gaze onto Faulk.

Silence reigned for half a second before Richard’s body started to glow with a faint blue radiance. One step forward seemed to be propelled by an invisible force, launching his body towards the youth who had nearly killed him. His outstretched hand looked like a bolt of blue lightning as it shot forward; if one looked closely, they would notice that the blue light had formed a blade around his fingers.

The fourth secret sword of Silvermoon, Annihilation. It was the only one Richard could execute right now, but although Faulk’s body possessed the tenacity of a level 10 warrior, he would still suffer serious injuries from this dagger formed of moonforce. Were he in possession of a real sword right now, even a powerful cleric would have to spend a great deal of effort to heal the damage he would leave behind.

The burly man stuck his long sword into the ground, holding out a big hand in Richard’s way. The attack crashed into his palm, but for a moment it was Richard that felt like he’d knocked into a mountain at full speed. The violent collision caused his insides to churn, with indescribably uncomfortable stuffiness in his chest. The moonforce of the pale blue moon that Richard had taken tremendous effort to gather dissipated all at once, and he stumbled back several steps before managing to steady himself.

“Oi, Gaton’s son, the same goes for you too! Don’t dirty your own hands for this, it’s such a trivial matter,” the burly man shook his head, “Gaton is making me jealous, though. He actually got himself a son like you without saying anything about it! Kid, I’m your uncle. Just wait until I’m done dealing with this, then we’ll test how much you can drink.”

“Count Goliath!” someone in the crowd suddenly exclaimed, causing a small commotion.

* * *

At the same moment, in the biggest room at the top floor of a club building thousands of meters away, Raymond was sitting in front of the window with his brows knitted in deep thought. He was holding a silver monocular in his hand, observing the incident taking place at the faraway street corner. The monocular seemed splendidly made, its design ancient.

Raymond suddenly exclaimed, “It’s Alice! Why is she here too, and at this timing!”

Upon hearing Alice’s name, a few faces in the room paled slightly. Naseby stood up and spoke in a low voice, “I’ll go deal with her!”

Just as Naseby took large strides towards the window, about to jump out, Raymond abruptly extended his left hand to block his way. That long, fair, and delicate hand that resembled a woman’s barely responded to the collision at all, with only the fingertips trembling slightly.

While Naseby was feeling baffled by Raymond’s act, Raymond had already placed his monocular down. He let out a sigh, “You don’t have to head over anymore. Goliath is there as well, and we certainly don’t have anyone right now who can stand in that fellow’s way. Faulk is finished.”

While both of the Archerons mentioned were counts, Alice was known for her wit and cunning on the battlefield. Although she was a level 17 warrior with decent power herself, Naseby had already ascended to level 18 and could suppress her. However, Goliath Archeron was of an entirely different standard. He’d reached level 20 in terms of individual combat power and could wipe out everyone in this room with ease. This half-brother of Gaton’s had been physically gifted from birth, which was why he was named after the ancient giant. His level wasn’t even representative of his true power; while he couldn’t yet take on legendary opponents, he could easily decimate two other ascended warriors with ease. His one shortcoming was his mediocre leadership and governance, which left him unable to advance from the countship he was born with.

In wars across the Divine Alliance and the myriad planes, Alice undoubtedly posed a greater threat than Goliath. However, in the current situation, Goliath alone was enough to foil all of Raymond’s plans.

At this moment, Kevin suddenly remembered something. His face paled, “Viper!”

However, the old man Valen shook his head, “Viper is most likely eliminated as well. However, that is only a small loss of money. Faulk, on the other hand...”

The people in the room all fell silent. Other than Raymond and a few others, the rest who were present only realized Faulk’s purpose in the plan after witnessing the event taking place in front of their eyes. As it turned out, Faulk, who was gifted, diligent, and well-liked by Duke Joseph had been prepared to be sacrificed from the start. After all, Faulk was the Duke’s biological son.

The street corner was filled with a river of blood. The guards’ limbs had all been chopped off, while the young nobles who’d participated had all given up an arm for their transgressions. Faulk was still held in Goliath’s left hand, looking very pale due to the blood loss. He was too weak to even cry out now, only moaning and groaning on occasion.

Count Goliath looked at Faulk with the interest of a brown bear that had seen fish in winter, lifting the boy up further and turning him around, “So, child of the Josephs, you’re just a discarded item. How unexpected, I didn’t think that old fellow would use his own son like this! Don’t worry, I won’t kill you; that’d be too troublesome for me. But… you won’t be useful as a pawn anymore…”

His hand shook vigorously as he spoke, jolting Faulk around like a cloth puppet. The sound of bones cracking sounded unceasingly from within his body, and his pale face was suddenly suffused with color before his eyes rolled back and he fainted. The bystanders all turned pale, but none made a sound. Goliath had inflicted serious damage to Faulk’s internal organs, eliminating all of his energy reserves. From hereon, the youth would no longer be able to train as a warrior. He would live the rest of his life out as a sickly, weak fellow.

In the nearby forest, Senma hummed coldly and swung her slender swords, pearls of blood drawing an elegant pattern on the ground. Ten meters away, Viper lay collapsed against the huge tree, one hand on his chest while the other pointed at the Blood Paladin, his face full of shock. Blood flowed from between his fingers despite his hand pressing down on the wound, dyeing most of his front robes red. He wanted to speak, but the moment he opened his mouth all that surged out was a bloody froth.

Senma took two steps forward, picking up the intricate navy blue crossbow from the ground. She took a look at it, “So it’s a refined gold crossbow. Let’s see what’s carved on it… Tsk, tsk! It’s actually the renowned Poison Needle! You really did spend a lot on this, no wonder it felt so threatening! I’ll be taking this, you won’t need it where you’re going anyway. Thanks!”

Viper reached out as he watched Senma’s figure disappear into the distance, as if trying to grab her, but he was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of weakness and slowly slid to the ground. Senma walked to the fringe of the forest, frowning as she looked at a navy blue arrow embedded in her abdomen with only a bit of the tail feather showing. Instead of fiddling with it, she gritted her teeth and walked out to the street; only upon seeing Richard stand up using his own strength did she heave a sigh of relief. The color on her face suddenly disappeared, and the imposing aura she’d just been exuding dissipated in an instant. One could even see a trace of frailty in her expression.

By this point, Warren had gotten up and stood beside Richard, looking deathly pale as he stared at the blood, dismembered limbs, and people moaning miserably on the ground. Goliath had already tossed Faulk towards the Joseph Family servants, turning to Senma with a smile, “You’re still as pretty as ever! Your tastes seem to have changed, though. Why do you like sticking something in that pretty little waist of yours? If you don’t hurry back and get it treated, you’ll have to lie in the Church of Eternity for a few days! Of course, making Gaton pay for stuff would be fun to see; it wouldn’t be bad for him to suffer a little for once.”

Senma took a deep breath, expression frozen as she strode towards Richard and lifted him up in one go. She then bowed slightly to Goliath and Alice, “Then I’ll be on my way.”

“Go. I’ll deal with those old guys from the Assembly,” Goliath waved his large hands casually.

Senma did not linger, leaving for the Teleportation Temple with Richard in tow. Once she turned the corner, she would enter the sights of the temple guards. If anyone dared attack them then, they would be killed.

“Hey, bring me along too!” Warren cried out. However, Senma did not bother with him as she disappeared into the temple with Richard. After a few screams that were to no avail, he could only stop as a malicious expression emerged on his face. While he was Gaton’s son, he did not hold a high position in the family. It was impossible to compare him with the thirteen knights that had followed Gaton through life and death. While the man had many children, nobody had had any special treatment before Richard’s appearance. His own privileges were clearly even lower than normal.

“Damn it, isn’t she just a whore? Does everyone look down on me just because my mother is a commoner? I’ll fuck you to death one day!” he muttered hatefully under his breath, glaring at Senma’s back. However, he shuddered at the memory of the two powerful beings who were still behind him. Only after a terrified glance that found the two counts talking amongst themselves did he heave a sigh of relief.

Goliath’s eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed at a nearby hill, “There are a few mice over there. Even with the distance, I can smell their stench! Raymond Joseph should be there as well. While I can’t sense his aura, the others should be his underlings. I’ve heard that kid’s status in the family has been rising quickly lately, I think this issue probably has some relation to him.”

Alice snickered, “Not probably. This was clearly orchestrated by him; I’ll head over for a chat.”

“Alright. I’d probably just kill a few people if I went, I’m counting on you.”

“Sure, but you have to help me with that thing I was talking about!”

“Deal! I’ve got a good impression of Richard, but I’m not sure if he’ll be able to convince Gaton. He can only try his best,” Goliath’s smile widened as he laughed.

The sound of hooves rang out like thunder at the end of the boulevard. A team of knights dressed in golden armor and red caps—the splendid attire of the imperial guards—turned around the corner and quickly charged to the end of the street. The leading knight saw the pool of limbs and blood, paying attention to the emblems of the Josephs and Archerons, and the corner of his eye involuntarily twitched. He immediately jumped off his warhorse, walking up to Goliath and speaking with a bow, “I am Dean, leader of the imperial patrol. May I know how to address you, and what exactly happened here?”

Goliath hugged his arms, “I am Count Goliath Archeron, lord of the Westway Province. As for what happened, there are a fair number of people here who saw the entire thing from start to end. I can accompany you to the Assembly and explain everything.”

Dean’s pupils shrank the moment he heard Goliath’s name, and he began to act even more respectfully. He turned around and had the knights under him invite some clerics and priests over. Nobody except a few servants had really died, but if they continued to dither a life would be lost, and that might be considered his fault. While he was doing all this, Goliath stood calm and motionless like a mountain.

* * *

Raymond had already stowed away his precious monocular, but he didn’t leave. He instead seemed to be waiting for something.

Three knocks sounded from the door to the room, following which the door was opened without approval. Alice Archeron walked in, stabbing her large sword into the ground before she pulled a chair up and sat before Raymond.

Raymond stood up and bowed towards Alice, speaking with a smile, “It is my honor to meet the Archerons’ beautiful goddess of war!”

“Sorry, don’t have any courtesy for enemies. I do have to admit that we didn’t expect this scheme of yours, you almost succeeded.”

Raymond took a seat and calmly smiled, “Almost isn’t a success. However, my only loss this time was in the field of luck.”

Alice nodded in approval, “Luck is a very important part of one’s power. Offer some more sacrifices to the Eternal Dragon. Also, don’t think that sending Amilon and Sheff packing means you’ll be able to deal with the other Archerons. Those two pieces of trash are a disgrace. Honestly, I’m quite regretful that our territories are three thousand kilometers apart.”

Raymond laughed, “I find it regretful too! If our territories were to be joined together, that might have been enough to form a marquisate. However, the true wars are fought on the endless planes. I anticipate the day when I come to know the coordinates of yours.”

Alice smiled, “I’m waiting for the same thing. However, I’m afraid what happened today can’t be resolved so easily. You’ve already infuriated Gaton, and even I’m a little afraid of that guy. Take care of that little barony of yours!”

Having said this, Alice stood up and headed outside the room. She suddenly turned around at the doorway, scanning everyone and saying indifferently, “If I were you, I’d definitely return home more often in the future, just to check if anything happens.”

At that moment, the expressions of practically everyone but Raymond and Valen changed. They all understood the threat behind Alice’s words: the incident with Faulk was a terrible opening. The fight between their families would no longer abide by the age-old traditions of nobility, and the Archerons would begin to use underhanded means as well…

A long while after Alice left, Raymond sobered up from his thoughts. The atmosphere in the room was stifling, and everyone looked terrible. The Joseph Family had a long history, and as experts who depended on the Josephs, each and every one of the people here was a small noble with their own land. Valen and Naseby themselves were barons, the titles inheritable, which was why Alice’s threat was straightforward and effective.

The results of Faulk’s failure were obvious. The big shots of the major families were no fools, and they would see through the conspiracy behind this matter. Later this very day the news would spread, and it would include some details outside the actual scene as well. Time had been tight, and they would not be able to erase all traces.

Now, they would have to expect the Archerons’ revenge. Faulk being injured and crippled was a part of the price, but that was not enough. The only reason he wasn’t killed was that Goliath wanted to avoid any issues that would bring, and also to leave some room for a more thorough vengeance. Or perhaps they would use this as a pretext, making a big fuss about it. They would follow the culture of revenge amongst nobility: an eye for an eye, blood for blood, and plunder until the price had been paid.

However, things were different if the Archerons targeted these minor nobles. Although they were part of the Joseph Family’s core strength, they were not a part of it by blood. Outside of Valen and Naseby, the rest of their families hadn’t accompanied them for generations, so Duke Joseph would likely be willing to let them go. For example, Viper was just a mercenary hired for the sake of this mission. Even in his death throes, he likely thought that the fight was just a battle between two hedonistic children of large families, with no idea of what was truly going on. Even if he died, the Joseph Family could just hand over some compensation in the form of gold. In the eyes of families with great backgrounds like them, gold was one of the least valuable things.

Their values to the Josephs followed a similar logic. Although they could be considered experts individually, experts were the thing the Archerons lacked the least. If the Archerons went all out on them, nobody in their midst would be able to escape. The Josephs did have people able to contend against Goliath, and even Gaton or Mordred, but the issue was that they would not send out these people just for a few trivial characters like them.

Even if this situation was on a bigger scale and applied to the family, things would still be the same. Now, just Gaton alone could contend against the entire Joseph Family. If all the Archerons were seen as a single entity, then in terms of individual strength they had an absolutely crushing advantage. Thankfully, this bunch of lunatics had never truly worked together, and some even betrayed and sold each other out like in this incident. However, the temporary alliance between Gaton, Goliath, and Alice was already enough to cause Duke Joseph a headache. It would be a simple task to deal with those people who were attached to the family.

Thus, all eyes landed on Raymond. If the Joseph Family was willing to protect them, then the Archerons would target the direct descendants of Joseph. However, this matter...

Raymond gazed at these subordinates that had followed him for many years, speaking with a gentle voice, “With Alice’s personality, that was definitely not an empty threat. Hence, if the family is to protect you, then there is a large possibility of war with the Archerons.”

Everyone’s expressions turned even worse. But then Raymond smiled with confidence, “However, I have no habit of abandoning my comrades. I anticipate exchanging blows with Alice, and even Gaton, on the battlefield.”

This time, even Valen heaved a sigh of relief. Joy and gratitude surged in everyone’s hearts.

* * *

Meanwhile, Senma had returned Richard to the Archeron island and disappeared to treat herself. The crossbow bolt from Viper was actually quite dangerous, possessing astounding power that allowed it to penetrate both her magical armor and skin, reaching deep towards the internals. The poison and curse magic attached to it were already eating away at her strength, and only by relying on unknown tenacity had she managed to bring the boy home.

The butler was shocked upon seeing Richard’s state. The boy’s forehead, the back of his skull, and many other vulnerable areas were all bruised black and blue, with blood still seeping out of some parts. His clothes were completely ripped apart at the chest, abdomen, and back, obviously not from tearing but from powerful attacks to his body. It was easy to imagine the harm that must have been done to him. When a powerful cleric from the family was rushed over, he wrinkled his forehead upon seeing the state of Richard’s injuries. He proposed that the areas with lighter injuries were handled externally, lessening the strain on the divine spell and allowing him to expend some effort after casting it to check if there were any other repercussions.

Thankfully, the process went well and Richard was soon returned to his room. The butler believed that he needed good rest; having gone through quite the shock, it would take some time for him to recover. Richard did appear tired as well, though that was because he had used Eruption twice in quick succession. His injuries had mostly healed, and the areas where the skin had broken had ointment applied to them. His internal organs had obviously been shaken up, but after a few days, he would completely recover. The cleric had spent the most time on his head. He hadn’t actually felt uncomfortable at the start, but after being fiddled with for a long while, he had begun to feel slightly dizzy.

Richard now sat alone by his bedside, his hands cradling his forehead. The events which had just transpired replayed in his mind scene by scene, every instant incomparably clear. Things had just happened far too suddenly, and at the beginning, he had only felt an indistinct sense of danger. That was why he had grown furious when the guards attacked him, choosing to retaliate with full strength to cripple two. Falling to the third was an expected result—he wasn’t arrogant enough to think that he could deal with three warriors of his level at the same time—but he was already quite proud of what he had accomplished at that point. While this was only his first time experiencing a situation like this, Richard knew that it concerned the reputation of the Archerons. Tiny issues like it weren’t common in Faust, but they weren’t exactly rare either. Every family that successfully entered and established itself in Faust normally had some form of animosity with the older and more powerful families already present there. Thus, he was prepared for humiliation. Faulk stepping on his head was one form of such, although it was an extreme kind that would create a blood feud.

However, in the next moment, everything had changed. When he thought back to it, the force coming from Faulk’s foot had been great enough to crush his head, smashing his skull into pieces like porcelain! A true shadow of death had shrouded all of his senses as he realized it distinctly; Faulk had wanted to kill him! This wasn’t a heated decision, but premeditated murder!

Richard had never felt such a close shave with death before. That one attack from Blood Parrot had been fast and silent, not giving him even a chance to feel afraid. This time, things had been different. The terrifying pressure from that shoe, and the creaking of his skull under the force… It replayed itself clearly in his mind, time and time again.

His ice-cold hands were trembling without end, and he felt so weak he could lose his consciousness in the next moment, sinking into boundless darkness. He felt bursts of pain from his fingers, a result of clobbering a level 8 warrior with his fists using no technique at all. His joints were still swollen up, and he was sweating from the pain. However, Richard was thankful for the pain. It was what allowed him to remain sober. The great amount of sweat soaking his clothing made it stick tight to his skin, but the discomfort only kept him clear.

If not for Alice and Goliath appearing suddenly, if that foot had stomped all the way down… Richard couldn’t stop himself from thinking of that over and over again. He wanted to control himself, but could not suppress the terror in his heart. Once the fury and humiliation had vanished, all that was left was a fear of death. It was a huge terror that Richard had never even imagined before!

He looked up, forcing himself to see everything in the room, observing it attentively to expel the fear. Precision had grown erratic, however, with countless numbers appearing in his vision. Try as he might, he couldn’t make any sense of them, as if his mind had been sealed in ice.

It was only when the strange sword appeared in his vision that Richard’s heart jumped slightly. His residence wasn’t large, only containing a hall and two rooms. The bedroom was about ten or so meters long, so the blade that was a meter and a half took up quite some space. Without a scabbard, it was wrapped up crudely in beast skin and placed horizontally on the writing desk by his window. A corner of the skin had opened up, revealing a bit of the sharp blade within.

Richard’s heart thumped. As if enchanted, he jumped out of bed and slowly headed to the writing desk, grabbing the shaft and removing the beast skin that was wrapped around the blade. He then closed his eyes, breathing slow and deep.

This was an ancient longsword, shaped to support stabs over any other type of attack. The threads at the shaft were showing wear and tear, but it felt extremely comfortable to hold. In just a breath’s time, Richard’s mind spread through the handle to the blade, his silvermoon blood beginning to flow as it absorbed the moonforce from the sky and poured it into the weapon. It gave the blade some color that fluctuated with the moonforce, changing irregularly with the colors of the moons.

It was only then that Richard’s mind began to steady itself, the blade in his hand making him feel like he had some power to depend on. He still couldn’t help recalling the scene near the church, but things were different now. He was now simulating the course of events had he had this longsword on hand during the fight.

The sword would have allowed him to draw enough power from the moons at the first inkling of danger, and with the added strength from Eruption, his combat strength would have grown threefold! He would be able to kill most of the guards and young nobles on the scene by the time it took a feather to drop, and the destructive power of the blue moon would leave Faulk seriously injured.

Only when he was truly near death, coming into contact with the reaper’s scythe, did Richard truly understand terror and the importance of power. If nobody had been able to stop Faulk, who cared whether the Archeron Family would pursue the matter until the Josephs executed the murderer? He would already be dead, and the dead couldn’t fulfill any wishes or dreams.

His thoughts finally calmed down, and everything before his eyes returned to normal. Richard let loose a long sigh and slowly placed the sword down, taking a seat by his window as he thought over the day’s experience. Numerous suspicious events began to link together one by one, and he had the jarring feeling that something was wrong. It was only then that he realized he knew far too little about his own family and the world outside, with no way for him to link everything together logically. Fatigue finally got to his weakened body and mind, and he couldn’t help but lean against the desk and fall asleep…

Sometime later, a little bronze bell magically began to ring within the room, awakening Richard from his dreams. He rubbed his eyes in a daze, finding that it was already night. The room was already pitch black, with only a small area lit up by the moonlight coming through the window. The bronze bell continued to sound and was followed by a gentle knock on his door. Richard opened it to find his butler, but instead of dinner. he was brought to the basement of the castle’s keep to participate in an internal trial of the family.

A short while later, a bewildered Richard followed the butler to a floor underneath the castle’s main tower. The corridors here were different from the damp and dark of the castle, being dry and stuffy instead. Passing through a large gate guarded by two well-armed footsoldiers, he was brought to an underground hall of considerable scale. Hundreds of square meters in area and two stories tall, its walls were made of rock and decorated only by sparse red flags.

At the end of the hall was a platform with five chairs. Gaton was seated in the middle, with Goliath and Alice in order on his right. On his left was an aged mage, followed by an icy middle-aged man dressed in black leather armor. Lined on both sides of the hall were many other Archerons, and Richard recognized a few youths that he’d seen on the day of the banquet. He was led to a spot amongst this crowd, watching as the large, iron-reinforced doors closed. A desolate bell rang from a distant corner, and another small gate opened up instead. A hulking bare-chested warrior carried a blindfolded Warren to the middle of the hall.

“What are you doing?! You bastard, get your hands off me! I am Gaton’s son, what right do you have to treat me like this? Are you trying to revolt?” Warren exclaimed at the top of his voice along the way, resisting with all his might, but the warrior managed to carry him just as easily as he would a little chick. With nobody making a sound, the boy was oblivious to the many people present around him.

It was only when he reached the center of the hall that Warren seemed to sense something, suddenly stopping his shouts as he started to shudder without control. After a nod from Gaton, the warrior took off his blindfold. The sudden, piercing brightness forced Warren to close his eyes, and it took him a long time to be able to see what was going on. He immediately realized that this was a trial and began trembling even more violently, unable to even stand straight any longer. Only with the warrior supporting his weight did he not collapse to the ground. Seeing the state of the boy, both the two men on Gaton’s left shook their heads with cold expressions.

“Father, what’s going on?” Warren suddenly shouted, “Why did they capture me? Save me!” Near the end, his shouts turned into wails, and he did all he could to run towards Gaton. However, the large hands of the warrior behind him were steady as steel, and he had no way to struggle free.

Gaton originally had a deadpan expression on his face, but now he started to stroke his short mustache with a smile. Only those familiar with the man were aware that this was when he was at his scariest. He made a small hand gesture and the warrior cupped Warren’s mouth, disallowing him from making any more sounds. When things got slightly quieter in the hall, he looked to the left and right, “Warren is here now. What are your opinions?”

Goliath sneered, “That sub-legendary ring is ironclad proof! Do you still need to ask me about this?”

Alice nodded as well, saying coldly, “There’s too much evidence.”

“Guilty,” the old mage said.

“Guilty,” said the middle-aged man as well.

Warren suddenly began to struggle with all his might, wanting to say something, but could not release himself from the warrior’s hold no matter what he did. He even bit at the warrior’s palm in a moment of desperation, but it was as if he was biting at elephant skin. Not only did he leave no traces behind, he almost lost his own teeth.

Gaton nodded, speaking imposingly, “Agreed. There is enough evidence to prove that Warren colluded with Raymond Joseph in an attempt to murder Richard Archeron, causing Knight Senma who was in charge of his protection to end up gravely injured. Since Richard was determined to be a core member of the family by the elders, the punishment will be immediate execution.”

Warren’s struggling suddenly ceased, and he slumped back with all of his strength sapped from him. If not for the warrior still holding onto him, he would have completely crumbled to the ground.

“NO!” A piercing scream sounded from amidst the crowd, and a stunning young woman darted to the center of the hall, embracing Warren tightly. She did her best to shove at the warrior and save Warren, but no matter how she kicked, hit, or bit at him, he remained unmoving like a rock. The woman was only level 3 or 4 at best, and that was far too little for her to cause any damage to him.

The woman finally realized the futility of her actions, turning to yell at Gaton instead, “Richard is your son, but Warren isn’t? My Warren grew up by your side, but what about that bastard that just suddenly showed up from the mountains? Besides, isn’t he still alive and standing there well? Why are you executing Warren?”

Gaton frowned and answered calmly, “This is a meeting of the Archeron Family. You may be one of my women, Jade, but you have no right to speak here. And while I am not in our family lands very often, don’t assume I don’t know how you’ve raised him! If not for you, he wouldn’t have such guts!”

Jade suddenly jumped up, roaring at Gaton like a lioness, “So what if it’s me? I want him to crawl towards the top and get the most power in the family, and beat down all the people in his way! Don’t think I don’t know that the reason you wanted me was that I’m a half-elf, and look slightly similar to that bitch who’s always in your thoughts! I know Richard is her child, which is why you’re killing my Warren for this bastard!”

Gaton just chuckled, “Jade, don’t forget yourself. You don’t have the right to speak here.”

The old mage at Gaton’s left waved a hand, and a silencing spell took away the woman’s voice. Two warriors dragged her away to a corner, but she continued to struggle as though she had gone insane. While the spell made it such that she could not make a sound, heartbreaking cries seemed to resound in the hall.

Goliath stared at Gaton, letting loose a booming chuckle that made him seem like a man-eating beast, “Gaton, this woman of yours really is very gutsy. What’s the punishment for interrupting a family trial? My brain hasn’t been serving me too well lately!”

Gaton paled, but after a grunt, he spoke coldly, “Ten lashes... Alice, if you’d please.”

Alice had no intentions whatsoever of rejecting. She stood up and took a leather whip from a warrior, drawing it back slightly with her wrists before cracking it a few times in quick succession. The whip was like a toxic dragon as it struck Jade’s body, tearing her clothing up and leaving bloody welts on her skin!

Jade suddenly gasped, and her body went stiff before she began to tremble vigorously. The whip continued to crack, hitting her body with consistent strength. The half-elf had fainted long before the tenth, and once it was done Gaton waved for the two warriors to drag her out of the trial hall.

Gaton then glanced at Warren before looking around the hall, speaking in a low voice, “We Archerons have never been united, that is not even an ideal the family promotes. However, true Archerons do not harm each other; this is a precept passed down from our ancestors, and not even my son can defy it. In Faust, in Norland, in the numerous planes, we have never had a lack of enemies, which is why there is no need for enemies within our midst. If anyone else wishes to go against this principle, then let this be an example!”

Gaton raised his right hand, lay it flat, and pushed down. The warrior in the center of the hall raised Warren, the muscles all over his body twisting as he then lightly knocked the middle of Warren’s back with a fist. His body went completely stiff, eyes as wide as they could ever get, and despite a gulp he couldn’t make a sound. His body shook a few times and he then crumpled to the ground, the luster in his eyes rapidly dissipating.

As he watched the life seep out of Warren’s body, Richard could not describe his emotions. It definitely wasn’t sympathy or pity, no; all his suspicions and the abnormalities he’d noticed linked together at that moment. It was no wonder that Warren still wanted to provoke Faulk despite his lack of battle might. No wonder that Senma was seriously injured, no wonder that the duel had actually been premeditated murder. Richard had no pity or sympathy for this boy who wanted to kill him. If Warren hadn’t died today, then someday in the future he would have made sure to force him into a dead end.

However, what he paid attention to were Jade’s words. Her description of Gaton confused him greatly. Was she speaking the truth? Had Gaton lived all these years with a certain elf in his heart?

7 Heroism

News of the trial within the Archeron Family quickly spread like wildfire amongst Faust’s nobility. While some were shocked by the revelation, others were left deep in thought. Raymond Joseph was amongst that latter group, listening to a report in a private library within the family castle on Island 6-6. After a long time, he turned to Valen. “Gaton isn’t just disciplining his family; this means the matter isn’t done yet. One of his own sons is dead for the conspiracy, but Faulk is still alive.”

Valen fell silent, a grave expression on his face. Initially, the Archerons didn’t seem to have suffered from the assassination attempt at all. In fact, they had managed to cripple Faulk and several youths from families subordinates to the Josephs. Although those other youths weren’t from the Fourteen, they were still children of nobles who’d settled down permanently in Faust proper. Even Count Goliath would have to bear an entire week of inquiry for that—while Gaton was a member of the Assembly as well, the families in the seventh layer did not have veto powers.

Alas, the matter was fated to reach no conclusion. The Divine Alliance Assembly was just that—a place where the members of the Alliance met to discuss affairs. Whether the results of the votes were executed depended on the checks and balances of the various powers behind the scenes. A Count as tyrannical as Goliath couldn’t possibly be sentenced to anything severe just for harming a few noble children. Besides, even though the public was allowed to sit in at the assemblies, only the Fourteen actually possessed official seats. The representatives of these families would certainly know everything, including inside information about the issue with Faust. The week of annoyance for Goliath would just be a farce to help the weaker families think their reputations were preserved. It was simply the best way to prevent unnecessary infighting.

Still... Not only was Gaton able to find evidence against Warren immediately, but he’d also called for an internal trial on the same night and executed Warren in front of the entire family. A trial of such scale couldn’t possibly remain secret, but it wasn’t like he wanted it hushed anyway. Now, Gaton had lost a son to the Josephs’ schemes; he would be justified in wanting Duke Joseph to suffer a similar loss. Faulk would not do; Warren was one of the conspirators, and so another equal person had to die. At the same time, the Marquis had also transmitted a clear message to all the nobles of Faust—Richard Archeron was the one person that was completely off-limits. Anyone who wanted to touch a hair on his head had to be prepared for war with all Archerons.

Valen stood up, responding solemnly, “My Lord, Richard’s status in the Archeron family is much greater than we had anticipated. Marquis Gaton even declared him one of the core members of the family, even though he hasn’t yet made a true rune knight. There must be some inside news we have missed; I think we might need to prepare for another war.”

Raymond sighed helplessly, “The first war never stopped. But, this does mean we cannot attack Richard in Faust any longer. A second attempt would no longer just offend the Archerons; it would be a mark against the imperial family and Bloodthirsty Philip himself. You need to make preparations, Master Valen. We need to move to the Mason Plane as quickly as possible. End the war there quickly, and we free up our elites. The armies back home also need to increase espionage efforts. I need information on Gaton’s personal planes so we can attack as soon as circumstances permit.”

Valen nodded in assurance, “You needn’t worry too much, my Lord. The Archerons have Richard, but that can only bring everything back to square one. Aren’t you a runemaster yourself?”

Raymond shook his head, “I can’t produce compound runes of that quality yet. My runecrafting is definitely inferior to his.”

“But Richard definitely can’t compare to you in knowledge, leadership, and governance. You are the hero who will bring the Josephs to the fifth layer!”

“Hero?” Raymond laughed mockingly, “What sort of hero has a body as frail as mine? I’d never cross level 5 as a warrior in my lifetime.”

A faint look of sorrow flit across Valen’s face, “But you still have the gift of magic. It is a great feat to be a level 12 mage at your age, and you’re a Scholar of Soremburg on top!”

“You’re not wrong!” Raymond burst out laughing as if his world had suddenly filled with sunshine. The old man smiled alongside his master, but he knew in his heart that what Raymond lacked the most was time. Without any breakthroughs as a warrior, he had less than twenty years left to live. This was but the blink of an eye in a planar war.

Across the chaos and turbulence of the myriad planes, the one cornerstone of a hero’s rise was survival. And yet, Raymond’s abysmal physique made that alone near-impossible. Be it in actual location or status; the fifth layer was always up high in Faust. The islands were far above the level of the city proper; the highest points of their orbits almost reaching the Church of Eternity. It would take more than a century to push the Josephs to the fifth layer. Compared to all of history, twenty years was as insignificant as a small flower in a long river.

* * *

There wasn’t much land even on Island 5-4, where the valiant Divine Emperor lived. It was the biggest of the occupied islands, but that only meant a kilometer and a half of diameter; something as magnificent and vast as the Imperial Palace was difficult to fit into such a small space. Despite the prevalence of spatial magic, a lot of the space needed for gardens had to be given up. The palace was built into the mountainside, with its main hall sitting atop the flattened peak. Every window, balcony, and pillar of the seventeen-story-tall building was adorned with numerous exquisite carvings, each individual section rich in historic and artistic value, but the whole seemed to lack harmony.

When the pale golden light of dawn gradually filled the dining hall of the palace at breakfast, the long table was already filled with light refreshments and wine to whet the appetite. Ten maids were waiting by the side with silver trays of food, while the Prime Minister was dressed in his lavish robes and wig to report on the happenings of the day prior. All eleven grew alert as crisp chimes played a melody through the hall, a bird that was larger than a falcon starting to chirp from its copper stand on the ceiling, “All hail His Majesty! All hail His Majesty!”

A door on the other side of the hall opened, and a tall, strong-looking man walked in. Over seven feet tall and with a head of curly blonde hair, his skin glowed the same pale gold as Faust’s sunlight. A shiny flush radiated from his cheeks that trembled with every step, his mustache curled into a smile. A weaved satin top concealed a shockingly large belly, outlined in gold and secured with a wide golden belt. The belt was embedded with all sorts of gems; the buckle of the belt was even embellished with an Azshara star diamond! This jewel was precious enough to be included as a core component in a grade 5 rune or legendary item, yet it was being used purely as a powerless ornament on this belt. This man, who was dressed so extravagantly it was almost amusing, was the infamous Emperor of the Divine Alliance, Bloodthirsty Phillip.

Moving his enormous body to the dining table, the Emperor barely managed to squeeze into a chair three times the average size with great effort. Panting roughly, he exclaimed, “The chair became smaller again!”

The delicate, lanky Prime Minister immediately bowed in solemn apology, “The audacity to shrink! I’ll have it replaced right away, and it shall be dealt with accordingly!”

Philip waved his enormous hand, “That is not necessary right now. Eating is what matters most, it can wait until I finish my meal.” He held up a custom-made goblet, drinking about a bottle and a half’s worth of aperitif in a single gulp. Then, with another brief wave, all eight plates piled with appetizers were emptied into his bottomless pit of a mouth.

The maids immediately rushed in, skillfully clearing the empty plates before serving dish after dish of the main course. Their nimble movements implied they were all warriors or assassins around level 5; such were the requirements for someone to serve His Majesty adequately. They then removed the silver lids off the next set of plates, revealing enormous steaks so raw they were still flush with blood. The origin of this meat was unknown, and even those who’d served here for more than three years couldn’t identify every type of meat. Although the edges of the plates were garnished with fresh flowers and a sauce, the steaks themselves were almost fully raw. Rare steak was the Emperor’s favorite dish.

While a dining table which could hold ten dishes at once may seem large, it merely appeared average in the Emperor’s presence. Philip’s eyes lit up, but before digging in he threw a piece of ribeye steak up into the air. The peculiar bird swooped down to catch the meal before taking it back to its own perch, pecking at it intently. The Emperor himself began to polish off kilograms of raw meat at an astonishing speed, piece after piece disappearing down his gullet with an astonishing lack of sound. The lack of audible chewing was the closest the Emperor came to fulfilling any ideals of nobility, but it was quite impressive considering the bones in the steaks were disappearing down his throat as well.

The Prime Minister eventually cleared his throat, beginning to recount the previous day in a melodious voice, “The duergar and their orc allies launched an attack on the Thundergod’s Fort last night; they were fought off with ease. Your direct territory of Munro just finished its first round of taxes this year, with the total coming to...

“The Archerons also held an internal trial last night—”

“Wait!” Philip swallowed a mouthful of meat with some difficulty, “What were you saying just now? Gaton killed his own son?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Phillip put down his fork and knife for once, thinking for a while, “Seems like this Richard is an interesting character, Gaton should be planning to make him his heir. What do you know about the boy?”

“Richard is a personal apprentice of Sharon—”

“What?!” the Emperor spat out a mouthful of unchewed meat.

The Prime Minister was astonished as well, but he waved a hand and the maids immediately flocked over to clear the mess on the table. At the same time, one of them left to have the kitchen prepare ten more portions of steak. This instantaneous reaction was a testament to his training.

Phillip coughed a little, spitting out another half-chewed bone before he breathed in. “Which Sharon are you talking about…”

“The Alliance Guardian, Your Majesty. You personally conferred the title upon her…” the Prime Minister said carefully.

“So it is her... What has she been up to recently?” The Emperor looked unsettled.

Information about the legendary mage was obviously a priority for the court, so the Prime Minister was ready with the information. “I heard Her Excellency has been investing herself into exploring planes recently. Quite some time has passed since her last return.”

It was only then that the Emperor looked slightly more at ease. He stopped eating for once and looked at the entire table of steak before he said ruefully, “Oh dear, that woman… When she came looking for me back then, she actually wanted to compete with me in terms of appetite!”

“Your Majesty, you certainly claimed an overwhelming victory!” The Prime Minister said immediately, not entirely in flattery.

The Emperor snorted, taking a long time to respond, “It was merely a small victory… no, in fact, it was just a narrow one.”

“Your Majesty, you are truly a noble ruler to be able to hold the legendary mage down!” The man pretended not to notice the Emperor’s tone.

“It was merely good luck back then. If she were to come again now, the outcome of the competition may not be the same anymore. Never underestimate the legendary mage, even if it is in terms of appetite!” the Emperor chided.

“Certainly, Your Majesty!”

Philip waved his enormous hand. “How about this, go get a ton of dragon rib prepared, and give it to Richard in my name. Just say those are extra meals for him.”

“A ton of dragon rib?” the Prime Minister gasped exaggeratedly, politely expressing an objection, “Is that not too much for him to finish? There are fewer than a hundred tons in the royal kitchen.”

Philip waved a hand in annoyance. “Just do what I say! Appetite determines power; don’t tell me a kid who caught Sharon’s eye can’t finish a tiny bit of food? As for the stock in the kitchen... Why don’t you think of ways to buy some more, and have General Garmel lead his men on a hunt for a few more dragons. I don’t want greens, their meat is sour. He knows my tastes.”

The Emperor then thought for a while before turning to the wizened Treasurer on the other side. “Go to my treasury and check for tools for self-defense. Take two and give them to Richard with the steak; they don’t have to be the best, just sufficient to show my position. Gaton is still a member of Faust’s nobility; I can’t let his successor meet with any mishaps in the city. Those who make trouble should pay the price.”

“How should we deal with Faulk, then?” the Prime Minister inquired.

“Leave it to those old folks from the Assembly, we shall not meddle. Let the Josephs and Archerons battle first!”

* * *

Richard discovered after the trial that people were looking at him differently. The hostility and disdain had faded, and whenever he was out the increase in the number of people taking the initiative to greet him was obvious. And they were all more respectful than before as well. Additionally, he’d now been allocated a laboratory for his own use. He could craft elementary and grade 2 runes here, performing experiments of a similar level as well. The lab came with two assistants and three people to help run errands, and Gaton had delegated four young yet powerful warriors as a reference for Richard in his creation of rune knights.

It was now barely past lunchtime, less than two hours since he’d been notified of the laboratory, and Richard was already rushing towards the place. Magic was far more attractive to him than the Archeron name.

The laboratory was a three-story building that took up little space. Its first floor was an administrative and leisure area for the assistants and servants, the second a storehouse for materials, while the third was the actual workspace. It was only a short walk from his residence given the size of the island, one of only three that were all built on the fringes of the island. These buildings were protected by two ballista towers so external enemies couldn’t harm them, but any explosions from failed experiments would not impact the rest of the island too greatly.

As he set foot on the third level of the laboratory, Richard’s eyebrows creased together at once. Even with all three floors together this place still wasn’t as large as his lab back in the Deepblue, and the sign engraved on the workbench suggested that it was built by dwarven alchemists about thirty years ago. This was above the average for all laboratories across Norland, but the one he had used in the Deepblue had been designed exclusively 300 years ago by a now-destroyed kingdom. There were few of its kind in the world.

The other equipment in the laboratory was similar to what he had at his own, but even they were still at least three grades lower in quality. Just the workbench alone from the Deepblue was worth more than all the three laboratories of this island combined. The two assistants were a man and woman who were both in their twenties, the former at level 8 and the latter a more respectable level 10. Having been given such short notice of his arrival, he walked in to find them cleaning the apparatus alongside a teenage girl.

Looking at her from behind, Richard found the girl vaguely familiar. He frowned in surprise as she turned around, confirming his guess. “Coco?”

The last time Richard had seen Coco was when he’d attended the banquet to select a partner. The lights were dim that night, and her demure and elegant demeanor against that romantic volcanic backdrop had left an impression in his mind. However, he’d completely forgotten about her after the banquet. In terms of leaving an impression, she could not compare to Demi or Venica.

Seeing the girl here suggested that her father wasn’t able to support her well. The Archerons did provide some resources to the youths sent to the island, but those resources came largely in the form of free training and didn’t give much for one’s day-to-day life. Even though Faust was cheaper than the Deepblue, it was still more expensive than the rest of the Alliance. The Deepblue’s wares were extravagantly priced because they were high-end products; everything was top class. On the other hand, even basic necessities like food or clothing were priced unreasonably in Faust. This was partly due to the prosperity of the city, but also that the Eternal Plains weren’t fertile enough for agriculture. Almost everything within the capital was transported in from far away, and the trek up the mountain made these costs exorbitant.

Coco seemed to grow rather anxious upon seeing Richard. She took a step back as if to hide behind one of the assistants, but because of how small the laboratory was, she immediately bumped into a rack of potions. The ten or so test tubes at the front of the rack swayed dangerously, and a few almost fell down.

“COCO!” The female mage frowned. “Why are you always so clumsy? You wouldn’t be able to pay for those test tubes even if you wanted to! What if this happened when Master Richard was in the middle of an experiment? The family gave you a great chance to work here, so stop your vain attempts to amount to something greater. You’ll never be able to rise through the ranks to become Master Richard’s partner!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Coco’s face was pale, as she bowed incessantly. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forcefully held them back. Having been denounced by the female mage, she stuttered as she tried to explain, “I... I wasn’t trying to do anything really!”

“Are you sure? Ha!” the female mage mocked, and while the male furrowed his brows, he remained quiet as well. Richard was undoubtedly the most eligible bachelor in the Archeron Family, the target of even the family princesses of Demi and Venica. While his bloodline was the most important factor, his talent, future prospects, and stellar appearance were other important reasons. The news of him becoming a core member of the family had already been spread around, signifying his entrance into the hierarchy of the family’s power. Perhaps it was a bit too premature to talk about the powers he possessed just yet, but nor had he come into his own. He was still 15, his journey had just begun.

As for Coco, she could neither choose nor reject a partner for herself. Hence, the two assistants thought that her statement about not having any such thoughts was fake. Any Archeron who chose to come to the floating island had very obvious intentions.

In Norland, one’s strength came from their physical body, while their demeanor originated from factors ranging from one’s bloodline, family background, education, cultivation, and one’s personal abilities. Those like Coco, who had personal attributes such as an exquisite appearance and an elegant demeanor, were a dime a dozen. In the large-scale slave markets, one would be able to easily find half-elven teenagers that would rival Coco’s appearance and elegance. Furthermore, Coco’s weak physique and her current status as a level 2 illusionist suggested she had no talent to speak of. As such, it was practically impossible for her to become a woman of standing. If she couldn’t even cast a grade 2 illusion, how would she possess any semblance of rich magic and refined knowledge? Even if she were to memorize everything, she would be at a disadvantage compared to powerful mages who had intellectual capabilities commoners could only dream of.

As for artistic abilities… who cares?

The assistants were prepared for ineptitude, but Coco’s defensive nature had irked them. The girl herself seemed to realize this immediately, so she stopped trying to explain and just lowered her head to let the woman berate her. Only this time, the tears that she was fighting hard to control eventually slid down her face, drop after pearly drop. This job was very important to Coco, which explained why she did not rebut the female mage nor leave without a word even though the woman wasn’t mincing her words. In a place like Norland, where differences in status and power were pronounced, walking away from such a situation wouldn’t just lead to one losing their job.

Richard eventually frowned, trying to defuse the situation. “Alright, it ends here. We didn’t lose anything anyway. I’ll be starting an experiment, so would you please just set up the workbench.”

The man began to inject mana into the table, while Richard passed a list he’d prepared for the woman to get from the storehouse. Stopping Coco from leaving, he had her bring over the thin leaflet describing their inventory and then gave her a list of apparatus to prepare for later use. The girl looked at him with confusion at first, but she soon nodded vigorously and got to work. She understood that this was a form of protection as well; if she accomplished her tasks properly, she would be allocated more work in the future. More work meant she made more of a contribution; it dissolved any fears of being asked to leave for no good reason.

As the woman prepared the materials, Richard read through the storehouse inventory and heaved a deep sigh. The quality of the materials in the Archeron warehouses was a far cry from that in the Deepblue, and even the quantities couldn’t match up. Materials in Norland were classified in the same buckets as runes, and he barely saw any grade 2 resources on the list, forget grade 3 or 4. That meant he could, at best, craft a few grade 2 runes and nothing more.

Looking at what he had on hand, Richard realized that there weren’t enough resources to craft even many standard runes here, forget the incomplete custom designs he had. Resource-wise, the Archerons had to be the poorest of the Fourteen, not comparable even to the minor nobles who didn’t even have their own islands.

At this moment, he thought back to the first words Steelrock had said about them, “They’re poor!”

The second thought that flashed across Richard’s mind was the rune materials Wennington had passed to him a few days ago. It appeared as if those materials couldn’t be from the Archeron warehouse, but he didn’t put too much thought into it and quickly focused on the task at hand. Flipping through the few pages at the back of the list that described the grade 2 materials in the family, he shook his head helplessly. For the first time in his life, he found himself needing to carefully plan his ingredients just so he could craft anything at all.

He already had a rune knight model in mind, but without the proper materials, he would have to stop that halfway through. He wanted to match a custom-designed Eruption rune with two Elementary Strength runes and a Vitality rune, giving the mount a Dash rune that was again a custom design. This sort of rune knight would possess terrifying instantaneous offense, a 150% boost to pure strength, that would make for a terrifying charge. Vitality would boost their endurance in compensation, shortening the time they needed to rest after battles. The core of this plan would be the three runes he’d designed himself.

After rethinking the quantity and scope of the materials he could use, Richard had no choice but to give up on anything non-standard. However, he made a new list, writing out ten or so materials that would raise the effects of the standard runes and handed it to the woman to purchase. There was some money left over from the fund allocated to the laboratory’s construction, so as long as he spent within that limit he didn’t need to apply for any money from the family.

With all arrangements in order, Richard used the materials he already had at hand and began crafting a rune. Once immersed in the world of magic, he forgot all his worries and returned to the tasks he was most experienced with. As had been his habit in the past, he did everything from scratch. He’d already decided to create his first batch of rune knights all by himself, including preparing the materials.

One by one, the materials were refined. It was as if the complicated procedures were carved into Richard’s mind, and there was no need to check any notes or books whatsoever. A thick, large, and heavy piece of magic beast hide was carved into three pieces, his hands extremely steady as he used the knife. One could see practically no difference in the dimensions of the three pieces with the naked eye.

As he drew the magic formation, Richard was like the most precise of dwarven furnaces, working for hours on end without the slightest of mistakes. Lines flowed from the tip of the magic pen, each curve not one whit different from the standard design.

Every time Richard began drawing the magic formation, the two assistants could not help but halt their breathing, afraid to make any sound and unwilling to let any detail escape their eyes. Never had they dreamed that the magic arrays they only ever saw in pictures could be replicated without a single difference. Was this the world of runemasters? They tried to remember every move of his, every detail; all the steps while preparing the materials, and every hand gesture. This was their greatest benefit as assistants—they could observe the experiments of a runemaster at close proximity. Now, they could learn all about Richard’s methods and his secrets. Even if they didn’t have the talent for runecrafting themselves, an improved ability to draw magic arrays would still be very beneficial. If they mastered some of the easier procedures, the scope of their careers would grow massively.

Richard took between one and three hours for every section he finished, with periods for rest in between. However, every time he found his two assistants looking even more tired than himself. Studying was draining in its own right, and his Vitality rune helped him recover so much faster that they were still pale and unsteady by the time he was back to work.

In the end, it was Coco who actually provided the most assistance, passing materials and tools over from the side. Under Richard’s guidance, she even cleaned some of the more difficult equipment and did all of the assistants’ work. With the mages spending all their energy just watching him, the woman simply couldn’t scold her at all.

An Elementary Strength rune was completed four days later, the pace leaving the two assistants dumbstruck. Storing the new creation in a special case, Coco passed a piece of paper over to Richard right after. Written neatly, it listed the market prices of all the materials used in the creation of this rune and their quantity, giving him a sum cost of the rune. Richard had asked her to record this on top of her other work, and the amount of detail indicated just how diligent she’d been.

At the bottom of the paper was the total sum of all the materials; in other words, the costs of the materials of the rune. That came down to 17,200 gold coins, a surprise to Richard who smiled at Coco in response. The girl secretly stuck a tongue out as well, knowing just how much the average elementary rune sold for.

Of course, this was merely the cost of the materials. If one wanted to go into details, then the pay for three people, rent for the laboratory, and wear and tear of equipment would add up. The greatest cost of them all was something invaluable—Richard’s time. Not counting that, the rune cost about 20,000 to make. Due to the rate of failure, the average novice runemaster spent triple the amount.

However, Richard was not satisfied with this rune. Lacking some key ingredients that could have changed the effects, he was forced to make something exactly in line with the standard design. The amplification was an exact 30%, so put on the market the price would be somewhere in the range of 70,000 to maybe 100,000 if he was lucky. Still, he could only continue working with what he had; he had no way to purchase more powerful materials soon. Price was certainly a factor, but many items like flamestripe stones were often out of stock due to multiple uses and short supply. One needed connections with mining families to acquire them.

The new model Richard had decided to use was a traditional jack-of-all-trades; one strength rune, two defense runes, an agility rune, and another strength rune on the mount. Such knights were useful on any battlefield, but in exchange, they couldn’t exactly turn the tides of as many. Using them well would require wisdom from their commander. The total cost of a knight’s runes would be about 100,000 gold coins, and that of the armor, weapons, and mount nearly 20,000 on top. However, this did not include the energy and value of Richard’s time.

Richard was extremely proficient in these standard runes, which was why when he began the second strength rune, he was soon immersed in the world of magic again.

8 An Unexpected Offering

Gathered in Sharon’s public meeting hall to discuss the operations for the following month, the grand mages of the Deepblue were admiring the summer glow of Floe Bay through the open window. Unlike in most meetings, even Blackgold looked relaxed today. While they hadn’t had the extra income from Richard’s runes for a while, the drop in Sharon’s Delight they had to give out stabilized the Deepblue’s situation. Now, at least, he could predict their future finances quite accurately.

It didn’t take long for the discussion to conclude; all of the mages completed their arrangements for the next two months before slipping into idle chatter. Sharon wasn’t participating this time, but there was no need for her regular presence anyway. The grand mages could take care of most of the work, and the legendary mage’s whereabouts were often unpredictable. After the blow from Mountainsea, she’d be gone for months at a time earning money in the myriad planes. While it had been two years since the gold-plating girl had left, the effects of her presence had rippled out to this day. Now, for instance, the grand mages had not seen Sharon for nearly three months, and nobody knew how long she would wander the various planes before her return.

In the past, there was often more joy than worry when Sharon returned. Recently, however, the grand mages learned from her words that the places she went to were quickly diminishing in profits. With the strength of her dragon-repelling aura increasing with each expedition, the difficulty in capturing greater dragons increased as well. With the dragons now able to sense her arrival from a hundred kilometers away, even the legendary mage found it hard to make up for the distance if they fled immediately. Even worse, some of the older and more powerful dragons even had the time to gather their most precious treasures before taking off!

That period of relaxation under the afternoon sun was suddenly interrupted by a violent ripple of mana. The energy in the air went haywire in an instant, scattering in all directions as the hall was enveloped in a small storm. The grand mages found their mana pools stirring, and any barriers erected in shock were shattered with ease as their owners were moved around. Their attempts to control the chaos were quickly squashed as a terrifying berserk aura froze them in place, leaving them without the ability to move nor think. This pressure came from a disparity of strength, similar to how a dragon’s aura affected regular humans. However, even with the energy storm, the suppression of 17 grand mages far surpassed what even Sharon herself could accomplish.

A portal suddenly opened at the center of the shocked crowd, a satin thigh peeking out from the brilliant glow of magic. But then, as if pulled by an invisible hand, it was forced back into the gate. The minds of the onlookers short-circuited for a moment as the portal closed, but just as it was about to disappear entirely it pulsed with renewed energy and spat out rainbow light. A familiar figure whistled out of the portal, turning around in mid-air and launching a dazzling energy beam that slammed into the teleportation gate. The portal flickered violently, the space around it showing signs of twisting, but strangely enough, it did not shrink like the legendary mage had anticipated. Instead, it actually bloated up to many times its original size, nearly filling up all the space in the hall.

The chaotic magic dimmed until it was almost invisible, corrosive hot air spewing out of the portal and covering everyone’s senses. An enormous demonic head peeked out of the portal, his single sharp horn rubbing against the edges as though this wasn’t spatial magic but a solid passage. Sparks rippled out as the sound of metal crashing against metal filled the hall, the demon gritting to reveal a terrifying mouth that could eat all the grand mages a short distance away. Coiled together like snakes, a dozen forked tongues hissed in unison as they shot forward, almost licking at Sharon’s fingers!

This boundless aura that could inspire fear in the depths of anyone’s heart made it clear to the grand mages that this demon possessed power beyond their comprehension. The pressure of half its head peeking out had left all of them paralyzed on the ground, the meager amounts of mana they had gathered dissipating instantly. Thankfully, the raging elemental energy in the hall had gone quiet as well, now all coiled timidly at the legendary mage’s side.

The demon did its best to peek further in, but Sharon finally started forcing the portal to shrink. Seeing its impending failure, the demon shrieked in fury, “I better not see you in the Abyss again, Sharon!”

“This is the third time you’ve said that to me,” the legendary mage snorted in response, valiantly flipping off the demon. The pull from the other side of the portal immediately strengthened, and its activity started to cease. The enraged demon was forced back to the Abyss, but the aura of flames still filled the air with solid proof of the connection that had just been made with the Abyss.

Due to the shock of the pressure from the demon, the minds of the grand mages were still half-frozen. It took them a short while to recover, during which the only thing running in their minds was the middle finger of the legendary mage. They eventually struggled to their feet, finally noticing just how terrible she really looked. While they had felt a shadow of death with the demon’s arrival, she seemed to be even worse off than they were. A part of her long hair had been singed, and her legendary-grade blue robes were damaged everywhere. Even her underskirt was practically torn to rags, revealing the greater part of her once snow-white thighs. Now, there were burn marks all over her skin, making for the worst look they had ever seen since she had established the Deepblue.

Two grand mages that had joined Sharon sixty years ago turned rueful at the sight, recalling the last time they had seen her so injured. It had been the third expansion of the Deepblue, a point at which they were young level 12 mages while Sharon herself was only level 16. Most of their memories from then were of war and smoke; duergar, orcs, werebeasts, and draconians had all allied together to attack the newly formed Deepblue in waves but had been beaten back again and again and again.

The duergar did not know magic, but the orcs had quite a few shamans amongst their kind. Meanwhile, draconians were few in number but had great combat strength and powerful spells. Sharon had often fought endless hordes of enemies in the vast Everwinter Mountains, and this was often the state she returned to the Deepblue in. However, regardless of the kind of dangers she had faced, her eyes had always glowed with a beautiful light. A light they saw again now.

At level 16, Sharon had once forced draconian grand mages to flee in shame. The two eventual professors had fought by her side at the time, pursuing one for nearly a thousand kilometers. They had obtained countless valuable experiences in battle, aiding in their comprehension of many secrets of magic. After Sharon officially became a grand mage, it was rare to see her fighting this hard. Once she became a legendary being, the Deepblue had become a forbidden area for many races in the Far North. Having to bear witness to her fighting that hard again naturally left them shocked.

“Your Excellency, was that…” Fayr had already guessed who the demon was from its characteristics and power, but he couldn’t manage to say it out loud.

Sharon groaned and blurted indifferently, “Bermond Gauguin, an archlord from the abyss. That fellow is too narrow-minded. All I did was kill a lesser lord from his level and he chased me for more than a month! Hmph, he didn’t even manage to catch me in the end and I sent him back! Hahaha!”

The legendary mage grew more excited as she continued, and she ended up bragging about herself with her classical laughter as a finale. Yet, all the grand mages could not hide their astonishment, and they did not feel that Sharon was being sarcastic at all. Rather, one could say that she was being modest! Even Fayr had thought that was at most a lesser demon lord, not expecting it to be an archlord who ruled an entire level of the abyss! Sharon had even killed a lesser lord!

After laughing hard, Sharon who had finally cheered up was reminded of something that she was holding onto in her right hand. She threw the lump of meat that was still wriggling towards Fayr, “Seal this up immediately and send it to Gaton right away. Use the transmission circle for it, no need to worry about costs; he’ll take care of it. Quickly, this thing will spoil soon!”

Fayr was taken aback as he caught the lump of meat, having to take two steps backward before he could stabilize. Although the lump wasn’t too large, it weighed nearly as much as a crystal of the same volume. It was also pulsing with a peculiar rhythm, and its strange odor left the mage a little frightened. He almost lost his grip, needing the support of the others to carry it towards the transmission circle.

Meanwhile, the legendary mage went off to change, shower, heal her skin, and then grab some fruit. She seemed to be busier than the other grand mages. Within thirty minutes, when she was still lazing in the bathtub, a magical bell chimed melodiously beside her and Fayr’s voice rang out, “Your Excellency, the object has been sent. Marquis Gaton wishes to have a word with you, should I connect him?”

Sharon laughed gently, “He’s the one spending the money, why would I care? Yes, answer the call.”

“Yes, Your Excellency!” Fayr’s voice disappeared from the magical bell, and shortly after it lit aglow to cast a hologram in the space before Sharon. She could see Gaton holding onto a black chest, staring into it with an ashen face.

Sharon caressed her skin, not caring that half of her chest was exposed above the water as she said, “When did you become this indifferent with spending money? Even I wince at the thought of long-range communication. If you’re so rich, why don’t you pay back all the money you owe me?”

The other end of the magical projection was at the Archeron Island, in an enclosed room in the basement of the family castle that could only be reached with magic. This basement was themed red and black, with a ceramic table that looked like an altar in the middle. On the altar was a burning flame, with a similar magical image above it from where one could hear Sharon’s voice and the sound of splashing. However, the magical image on Gaton’s side did not show the calm scene of Sharon taking a bath, but a projection of Blackgold instead. The gray dwarf was rotating continuously, tossing out a gold coin for every full turn that incremented a number on the top right corner of the image.

Gaton, however, wasn’t interested in the contents of the image. His gaze was fixed on the sealed box, his expression steadily worsening until an angry shout rang through the basement hall, “Your Excellency. You already know that we Archerons are descendants of the Abyss, but you still send us a demon’s heart. This is the second time! My dearest Sharon, can’t you just take a detour and walk through the Hells instead? The devils there definitely aren’t any less wealthy!”

A loud chuckle radiated from the gray dwarf’s body, “This is the heart of a lesser demon lord! It isn’t so easy to find an archlord in the Abyss that can’t catch up to me, that’s why I walk around in the higher levels. I’ll go check out the Hells eventually, but that depends on my mood. Maybe I’ll feel like it if a certain someone repays his loans.”

Gaton deflated the moment the loans were mentioned, groaning as he closed the chest, “I underestimated Richard too much, but this item can’t maintain its mana for too long. I’ll have to go hold the ceremony tonight, and I have many things to do. Do you have anything to talk about?”

“You aren’t going to tell him about Elena?”

“Elena…” Gaton smiled bitterly, “How could I? Should I tell him that I was the one who executed his mother’s family? That the reason she didn’t want to come back to me was that she couldn’t bear to love the man who killed her entire nation? Richard is right, Elena’s death is my fault.”

“Then you’re just going to put off clarifying things?”

“What else can I do? Maybe... Sigh, maybe one day it’ll resolve itself.”

Sharon did not continue any longer, instead changing the topic, “Richard’s mana is growing stronger now. My seal will start to weaken once he crosses level 10, and the shades will be able to see him again. It might be dim at the start, but he’ll grow clearer and clearer as the days pass. In twenty years he’ll glow like a lighthouse again, drawing the Legion of Nightmares to him. Norland is a primary plane, the effects will be obvious to many people here; you need to send him away somewhere to weaken the tracking. A lesser plane might distort space enough to buy some more time.”

Gaton’s face scrunched up and he started pondering. However, it wasn’t long before Sharon sighed and continued, “Maybe we don’t have to be so worried. If the specific shade was annihilated, his lighthouse will disappear as well. Alright, go prepare your ceremony soon; this circle is expensive. Blackgold will send you the bill for both things soon.”

Gaton nodded, but his expression remained the same. Shades were a strange and mysterious race that wandered the planes. They could be big or small, weak or terrifyingly powerful. No one truly understood them, nor was their population known.

The flame on the altar was still burning, but the magical power within them had disappeared. The rotating gray dwarf had vanished as well, leaving only the flickering fire that reflected Gaton’s various expressions.

* * *

Dusk was approaching, and Norland’s second sun began to set in the west. The last of its brilliance dyed the rivers, the horizon, and the entirety of Norland red, and by the time the arched gates were closed Faust was enveloped by a gentle golden glow. It was as if the world stood still, and time passed by in tranquility.

Richard released his mana, the beast skin in front of him shining with layers of spell formations like a gentle breeze on a river. Another rune was now completed, and while the effects of it were barely better than the standard, he was extremely satisfied considering the materials used. He sat quietly and waited for the power of the magic arrays to finish taking effect, but was suddenly overcome by a wave of fatigue that left him drowsy.

With one hand rubbing his temple, Richard’s other hand reached for the side of the table. However, what greeted his hand was not the familiar, icy surface of a potion vial, but a springy handful of flesh. A startled gasp was quickly suppressed as the flesh left his hand, and a confused Richard looked to the side to find Coco standing a meter away. Her cheeks were flushed with shock and restrained anger as she stared at his hand, a hand that had just grabbed her buttocks.

Not bad to the touch was the first thought that came to Richard’s mind, before he quickly started wondering whether to apologize to her. He didn’t know how to explain himself; back in the Deepblue, he’d always have a vitality potion on hand to relieve him of fatigue. However, the Archerons could not provide such a good environment, with the few potions they did have being saved for times of war. While months had passed since he was last in the Deepblue, five years of conditioning was hard to overcome.

Unfortunately, the situation here was complicated. He couldn’t talk about the poverty of the Archerons with the two assistants listening, nor would that really make any difference. He had only grown more aware of the vast difference between the Deepblue and the outside world as time passed; for example, these two assistants would be lucky to see more than a few greater mana potions in their lives. They wouldn’t even be able to imagine a daily life where mana potions sustained growth, so they wouldn’t really believe him. The female assistant only harrumphed and turned away, not saying a single word. As for the male assistant, his gaze flitted and landed on Coco’s buttocks briefly before he shrugged. As for Coco, her cheeks were still red. She bit on her lower lips, and her eyes seemed to glisten with tears. However, she too did not speak as she continued with her tasks of tidying and preparing the table, except that she now maintained a certain distance from Richard.

In truth, the disparity of status between Richard and Coco meant a brief touch of her buttocks was no big deal. Even the assistant would at most be reprimanded lightly if he did the same, and some would even jump forth to argue that she could have bewitched him with an illusion. Richard knew that people would only be more livid if they heard of him apologizing to her, but her own anger was obvious as well. Her expression made it clear that she would now stay far away from him, a distrust that left him feeling rather uncomfortable.

The hourglass was already halfway down, indicating that it was almost time for dinner. Seeing the many materials and apparatus set up on the table, Richard felt rather impatient. Soon, he tossed the equipment he held in his hand on the experiment table, standing up and walking away. However, just as he took two steps forward, he felt something split apart deep in his consciousness, an incomparably crisp clap ringing as an icy clarity permeated his mind. It was as though a shadow had dissipated from his soul.

Taken aback for a moment, he immediately halted and started to look inwards. Unfortunately, he could find no traces of the shadow, as though what he’d just felt was merely an illusion. He scanned his body with his senses but was unable to discover anything amiss. Traces of alarm still remained, but he simply couldn’t figure out what it was.

He was soon distracted by heavy footsteps thudding down the corridor, Blood Paladin Senma peeking through the door, “Master wants to see you, follow me.”

Richard nodded, instructing his assistants to seal the rune he had just crafted before following Senma outside. He noticed that her face was still a little pale, her aura weaker than he had felt at her peak. She took out an exquisite vial and tossed it to Richard, “Drink this along the way, you don’t have much time.”

Richard was rather stupefied as he looked at the invigorating potion in his hands. This potion was designed to restore both energy and mana at the same time, something much more valuable than a regular vitality potion. Something big had to have happened for him to be given this, but instead of asking he drank it all in one gulp before following her to the main castle. He saw Gaton in the command room once again, but the map in the center was now different. This was an unknown plane that seemed to be covered with magma, likely one of the Hells or a layer of the Abyss.

Gaton’s hands were pressed on the edges of the map as he stared at the projection, the aura radiating from his body so thick that one could almost see it with the naked eye. Across the table were a pair of knights in heavy armor, their bodies covered entirely except for the T-shaped openings on their helmets. Richard could tell at a glance that the plate mail was frighteningly heavy and over six inches thick; he didn’t know how much power one would need to pierce through that much. Both knights were using stinger-style armor that was popular with heavy cavalry, but the one difference was that the Archeron crest was embedded on different sides of their chests to differentiate them. These were Kaylen and Kayde, brother-sister twins that served as the front lines of Gaton’s Thirteen. Although their equipment was ordinary and seemed to have no additional effects, their auras were no weaker than Senma’s.

Mordred stood quietly behind Gaton, his lips cracking open into a silent smile to welcome Richard’s entrance. Gaton stood up straight and looked over with a hawk-like gaze, “Richard, you’re here. Let me see how much magic you have recovered. Hmm… Yup, good enough. You’ll be ready by the time the ceremony starts. Senma! Take another invigoration potion for use on the journey later.”

Senma responded with a grunt from her throat, as Richard looked in bewilderment, “What ceremony?”

“An offering to the Eternal Dragon! Your luck ain’t bad, kid; we got enough tributes to put you up quickly. But then again, one can say your luck is actually trash; there isn’t much time for you to prepare. Take this!” Gaton tossed a small black chest over to Richard.

Both of Richard’s hands sunk down the moment he caught the box, nearly dropping him to the ground. It was nearly a hundred kilograms in weight, forcing him to activate Eruption to regain balance.

“Open it and look inside!”

Richard opened the box, and a burning stench wafted out from within. That stench was accompanied by an overwhelming surge of power, so much so that it took a moment for him to recognize the mass of charred flesh in the box that was pulsing with energy. When he did, however, his voice almost caught in his throat, “Demon heart!”

“Mm, from a lesser demon lord! And this too, catch!” Gaton tossed a larger chest over this time, this one looking extremely heavy as well. Thankfully, it stopped on its own just before reaching him, gently floating down to sit on the ground like a pair of invisible hands had carried it. The lid lifted open for Richard to see, and once more he was stung by an equally powerful odor. However, this one wasn’t of heat but darkness, emanating from the head of a devil with its amber eyes wide open. It seemed to have been preserved for a long time; there were no signs of vitality at all, but the corrosive darkness was still well-preserved by magic.

“Devil head!” Richard gasped.

“A greater devil, actually. But it’s been dead for a long time now, and it isn’t that easy to sever the head of another. This is the private property of your old man, I saved it just for you!” Gaton put on the helmet waiting on the table, as though preparing for an imminent battle.

Richard looked blankly at the two boxes, his gaze sweeping past the people present. Kaylen and Kayde were masked so he naturally couldn’t see their expressions, but both Mordred and Senma were just as shocked as him. His abilities had already brought up information on these remains; be it the Abyss or the Hells, both were powerful planes and killing their inhabitants was extremely difficult. These were both prime planes just like Norland, but infinitely larger and more powerful. The environment there was extremely special, giving an abnormal boost to its residents’ powers. Each layer of these places was a demiplane unto itself, with one being controlling the area. Nobody knew how many layers they had exactly, only that the number was near-uncountable.

It was said that the deepest trenches of the Abyss and Hells were linked together, with countless demons and devils engaged in an eternal battle. This was second-hand information to the human race, however, only heard from others they had met traveling the myriad planes. Even that was but the tip of the iceberg, gathered from traces in myth and legend.

The quintessential part of a demon was its heart, while the power of a devil came from its skull. Even a fragment of a devil’s skull was extremely expensive in Norland, forget the complete one of a greater devil. Gaton spoke of it casually, but this devil’s skull must have been one of the Archerons’ greatest treasures. Only before that fresh lesser demon lord heart did the devil’s skull lose some of its luster.

At this moment, a handsome young man appeared in the common room, invisible to Richard until he showed his presence. The Odd Thief smiled enchantingly, but his tone was solemn, “High Priestess Ferlyn has already made preparations, the ceremony can begin at any time. The other nobles have already discovered our plans, and they have amassed experts along the road to the Church. I sense at least seventeen enemies, should I dispose of some of them first?”

Gaton was already in full armor by now. He tidied himself up, “No need for that. I know we’re outnumbered right now, but we can’t wait for the rest to return. Let’s set off, where’s my sword?”

Mordred placed an ancient sword in front of Gaton. It didn’t look particularly remarkable, its copper scabbard already rusted. Apart from a few undecipherable runes on the blade, it looked just like any other. However, Gaton hung the blade at his waist with confidence, “Let’s go. We’ll see if those old coots of the sixth level dare to strike! Richard, take the two chests with you. Remember to cast a few floating spells or you won’t be able to move them.”

Moments later, a party of knights appeared at the Teleportation Temple, the road before them leading to the church. They trudged upwards on the winding path, the tall and magnificent trees littering the path gleaming with the brilliance of the Rainbow of the Moons as they cast large shadows on the ground. The church was only a few kilometers from the temple, with only two bends and a kilometer-long stretch to the gates. That night, it seemed like an impossible distance to bridge. Their party was formed of six of the thirteen knights, with Gaton leading at the front. The horse he rode was clad in black armor, its footsteps occasionally sending out a burst of flames. This was Darkmoon Ember, a trademark of Gaton’s that was the nightmare of many nobles of the Alliance. Richard himself was guarded by the twins Kaylen and Kayde, with Senma right behind him. Mordred brought up the rear, guarding their backs. Lava was different from Gaton’s horse, its hooves stomping the floor restlessly as if impatient at the unhurried pace of the party.

Richard’s own armored warhorse had the two chests hung at its saddlebags without any concealment or disguise. His heart was beating irregularly in the presence of multiple icy conscients scanning his body, as well as the power radiating from the sealed organs of power. Many pairs of hawk eyes were looking over at their party from deep in the woods, with quite a few bearing news to the outside world.

Up above in the distance, the Church of Eternity was shrouded in a glow of golden light, as if a palace of the gods. It stood tall in the sky, vanquishing the rainbow light of the moons to leave behind only a faint silhouette of an hourglass, with many layers of mysterious and obscure runes encircling it. This miraculous sight was a sign of the Church of Eternity preparing to host the highest form of a sacrificial ceremony.

There were multiple grades of ceremonious sacrifice to the Eternal Dragon, and each offered a different class of blessing to the offeror. Rumor had it that one could get a chance to talk to the Eternal Dragon itself with the highest grade of offering, but not even the imperial family had managed that so far. At least, no one had made such a conversation public.

The grade of the sacrificial ceremony was dependent on the sacrificer and the offerings. However, a higher grade of ceremony did not necessarily mean better rewards. If one tried a greater ceremony without the offerings to match, they would not receive any blessings at all. This had already happened before in Faust, so the mere sight of this party and the odd phenomenon on the mountain would allow even idiots to realize how valuable their goods were. Roughly a third of Faust’s Fourteen would do almost anything for offerings of such value, and even the imperial family and top five noble houses couldn’t guarantee such ceremonies every year. The Archerons had already demonstrated their prowess by taking over Island 7-3, but they were still barely a few years into that position and the general opinion of them was still low. This upstart family had yet to stand firm on its two feet, but already wanted to perform the highest grade of ceremony! Even if there weren’t any direct conflicts of interest, most nobles in Faust were outraged at their arrogance. Of course, the real reason was that a ceremony of such a grade could affect the balance of power in the Divine Alliance.

Thus, this one kilometer felt like an endless stretch, and the current situation was as tense as a taut bowstring. It was continuing to tighten, about to break into chaos at any moment. Richard’s palms quickly grew sweaty under the weight of the suffocating bloodlust all around him. It was only now that he could truly feel the pressure of power, a natural suppression due to a difference in strength. It made him feel as powerless as the first humans to discover the endless expanse of the myriad planes; courage was useless in the face of such things.

‘Calmer, calmer, calmer…’ he chanted in his mind, barely maintaining his posture while riding the horse. He didn’t dare to cast any magic; with such a precarious balance, any unprovoked actions could light the fuse.

Richard shuddered as he heard twigs snapping amongst the nearby trees, a black-garbed figure slowly walking out and advancing towards their party. His body tensed immediately; each time his senses alerted him of the approaching figure, the pressure that was threatening him grew. How could someone so skilled fail to avoid some twigs in a dark night? This was a probe, and provocation. If not handled properly, their party could very well face an attack from all fronts.

Gaton himself seemed to notice nothing, his expression completely relaxed. He even began humming a rhyme from some unknown plane, the notes light and merry. Ember trotted along happily as well, its hooves matching the upbeat rhythm of the song. Richard soon focused solely on that, feeling the tension unravel ever so slightly.

The dark figure gradually got closer, and it seemed to be stuck close to the ground. It was like a crouching leopard, able to launch a fatal attack at any moment. He had already left the camouflage of the forestry, and now had a large shadow projected on the ground. Under the eyes of everyone present, this figure pressed on closer. Six meters, five, four… When Gaton was about to pass him by, they were just one meter apart. At such a distance, the black figure didn’t even need to advance. An outstretched hand could attack Gaton at any moment, and several of the man’s vitals were exposed. Ember’s flank, limbs, Gaton’s thighs and ankle, even his waist was completely unguarded. Several meters behind, Richard could clearly see the black figure shuddering ever so slightly. He swelled with power, ready to launch a killing blow.

However, Gaton passed him by, and his attacks were never unleashed.

The next ones to meet the dark figure was Richard himself, flanked by Kaylen on his right and Kayde on the left. The former’s path was blocked by the dark figure, but just the same as Gaton she seemed entirely unaware of its existence and continued her unhurried pace. As they got close, her mount raised one of its hooves towards the obstacle in its path. Richard noticed that the beast’s soles sparked whenever they were raised, recognizing the strength rune that would make such an attack deadly. A stomp from this horse was just as dangerous as a full-power attack of her own.

The opponent might not dare to act recklessly in this situation, but this knight was someone who feared nothing in her path. The figure hesitated for a moment but then chose to duck away like lightning and disappear into the darkness. Without the courage to strike, there was no way for him to hold his ground.

After the dark figure left, Richard suddenly felt like the woods flanking the road had grown ever so quieter. It was a hundred more meters before he heard any new sounds, and this was the rapid thuds of hooves as a squadron of imperial knights approached them. Seeing Gaton from afar, the captain raised his voice, “Marquis Gaton! By decree of His Imperial Majesty, we are to escort you to the Church of Eternity!”

Richard knew that he was now safe. However, he also knew that he could not have avoided walking through the stretch of road earlier. If they hadn’t relied on their own strength to make it this far, these knights would never have come to their aid. Both groups exchanged greetings before getting off horseback, choosing to walk the remaining distance in a show of their reverence for the Dragon of Eternity and Light.

9 The Eternal Dragon

Two rows of beautiful young girls were waiting at the Church gates, their image of purity enhanced by elegant gold-tinted robes with high collars. These were initiates in the faith of the Eternal Dragon; as they gained more favor they would become clerics and priestesses, a lucky few eventually becoming high priestesses in charge of their own church. It was no secret that the Eternal Dragon favored women.

The imperial guard stopped at the gate, while the Archeron party continued to move forward. The group of armored warriors blended into a regimented whole, the one exception being the youth in mage robes who was carrying two chests of differing sizes.

As he crossed the towering 20-meter-tall gates of the Church, Richard’s vision blurred and he suddenly found himself in an endless desert. Just like the Eternal Plains, this desert seemed like an infinite stretch of flat land with no horizon in the distance. The skies seemed to connect to the earth, an unknown power keeping the sands suspended in mid-air.

From the outside, the Church of Eternity was only a square kilometer in area, but even Richard couldn’t measure the expansive desert despite his blessings. The Church building itself was now only a bunch of ruins in the center, flanked by broken stone pillars buried in the sand. The tall granite walls and a handful of intact pillars were the only vestiges of its glory. In the middle of it all was a broken stone platform, likely the altar where the ceremony was to take place.

Several threads of light flowed in from the corners of the desert, forming an enormous hourglass in front of Richard’s group. The hourglass then shattered to reveal a woman that exuded a divine aura, dressed in sacred white robes with a triple crown resting on her head. In conjunction with her pale gold scepter, they radiated mysterious golden symbols that evoked a feeling of eternity.

The image of the desert in Richard’s eyes dissolved at the same moment, shrinking into a single hall surrounded by a magnificent church building. Gaton stepped forward and bowed in greeting, “Exalted High Priestess, this is my son Richard. He will be performing the sacrifice.”

The woman smiled and nodded, her expression gentle yet distant. To Richard it seemed like she had surpassed the mortal coil, looking kindly upon all life from above as she turned to him, “Fortunate child, I hope the sincerity in your offerings will satisfy the Dragon of Eternity and Light. The ceremony has been prepared, I will await you at the altar. Once you have made your preparations, you may approach.”

Once done, the High Priestess walked on a pale gold road of light towards a back hall that contained the altar. Richard was left somewhat confused, having no idea what preparations were expected outside of the offerings themselves, so Gaton chuckled and patted his shoulders, “There’s nothing much to prepare. Even if they offer the same things, different people will receive different blessings. So it all depends on your luck, kid. Right, because we Archerons have our own island, the Eternal Dragon will ask how you want the blessings allocated between your family and yourself. Just keep it all, and good luck!”

And thus, Richard was left to drag the two boxes towards the desert and altar. He used a featherweight spell on them, but the organs were still extremely heavy. It took a few minutes for him to get to the spot, at which point he couldn’t help but look around at his surroundings. Only standing right before the altar could one truly feel the grandeur of the power of time. No matter how extravagant something once was, the weathering of time would eventually turn it into a lament of the future. However, this left him with one question; why didn’t the Church want to rebuild this place?

High Priestess Ferlyn seemed to read his mind, “Any true shrine to the Eternal Dragon is the same, child. This rubble cannot be repaired; even if we built a magnificent altar with the greatest of spell formations, the river of time would reduce it to ruin in the first ceremony. Not even the gods can withstand the sands of time; this image before you is one that has lasted eons.”

Richard’s heart skipped a beat. There was a lesson in those words, even if he couldn’t fully understand it just yet. He bowed the same way he would towards his professors, “Thank you for your teachings. What do I do now?”

“Prepare your offerings,” Ferlyn ordered, her indifferent expression quivering ever so slightly as she saw what had been brought, “The head of a greater devil, quite a rare offering. And this... the heart of a lesser demon lord! So fortunate, let us begin the ceremony immediately. This heart cannot be allowed to degrade much longer.”

The High Priestess clasped her hands before her chest, lowering her head towards the altar as she began an obscure incantation. Every varied syllable filled the skies with traces of gold scriptures, giving rise to a rain of gold that gave birth to a primordial aura. The skies quickly turned dark, sapped of all color as they transcended the sands of time. The world seemed to warp with new light and life, countless brilliant stars traveling new paths that enchanted Richard’s soul. He tried at first to decipher those mysterious scriptures, but he soon felt his blood starting to race. This wasn’t the same fervor and rage he felt when he activated Eruption, but a thirst for the source of life itself.

Ferlyn’s voice had turned to a high-pitched roar by the climax of the incantation, as though she was a dragon singing into the sky. A touch from her scepter brought the broken stone platform to life, radiating a pillar of golden light that pierced the skies. The pillar began to expand until it covered the entirety of the ruins, more indecipherable symbols glowing and fading seamlessly on the surface. A draconic roar filled the vast void, whistling across the desert wind as a mighty will descended upon the isolated space. It was at this point that she stepped back from the veil of light, leaving Richard alone at the altar. No one could disturb or even observe the actual ceremony, not even those officiating it.

The High Priestess’s scepter finally stopped moving, and she disappeared from her position to arrive beside Gaton with a smile, “I would never have guessed you’d bring such great offerings this time, Lord Gaton; the grace I receive from this will be significant as well. That child will undoubtedly become a powerful runemaster in the future, but... this seems like a waste of offerings. I hear the enemies of the Archerons are as plentiful as they are strong.”

Gaton inhaled deeply, “He deserves this. It won’t be long before he’s sent off to another plane; he needs the best blessing he can get. As for our enemies, ha! They can come looking for me if they want to; I’ll teach them regret!”

“Then we shall see what this child receives. I pray the gifts shall relate to the sands of time.”

By this time, Richard found himself enveloped by an immense will within that veil of light. His mind was pulled back from the void, only to realize that he had lost all of his powers and was no different from a commoner. His mana was sealed, as was his bloodline; the ceremony had begun.

It took painstaking effort to raise the devil skull from the larger chest, placing it on the altar. Brilliant light quickly engulfed it, turning into another pillar of energy that pulsed into the air. The skull gradually disintegrated into numerous scriptures, the altar set ablaze as golden butterflies fluttered towards the distant stars. A ray of light appeared from the void, shining directly onto his body. It soon turned into a cocoon of light, manifesting those countless runes within.

Richard heaved a sigh of relief. The appearance of this light cocoon indicated that the Eternal Dragon was satisfied with the offering. At the very least, he would not receive any divine punishment. However, there was no need for such worries in the first place. In most circumstances, a greater devil’s skull was enough for a top-tier ceremony.

The light cocoon was everchanging and difficult to comprehend, but Richard still tried to analyze it with utmost effort. All his knowledge thus far came from books and lectures, so the chance to witness something like this upfront gave him a greater understanding that would benefit his later growth. Every scene, every symbol represented a certain type of divine blessing. For example, a symbol shaped like armor would indicate a chance to get more powerful equipment. Crystals and gems would yield rare resources. What these symbols manifested into would be determined by the degree of the blessing received.

Of course, the most precious of all was the emblem of the Church itself, the hourglass. Any blessing which touched upon the sands of time would be incomparably powerful. The time the blessing took to manifest determined its power, and from what the numbers in Richard’s vision told him, the blessings were random with no set rules.

The cocoon of light abruptly split open and converged to form an hourglass, and a rather large one at that. Richard felt his breath catch in his chest for a moment before he was overcome by joy. Golden beads of sand floated within, the sands of time itself.

The gargantuan will enveloped him once again—the first stage of the ceremony had ended. Richard suppressed his glee before using copious amounts of effort to place the demon’s heart on the altar. Without any of his powers, it was no easy feat to lift this thing that weighed over a hundred kilograms. If not for him being force-fed his way into a strong, healthy, body, he wouldn’t even have been able to move this thing.

Very soon, Richard looked at the altar with anticipation. Offerings made to the Dragon of Eternity and Light all possessed mighty power. They could be fragments of divine weapons or even whole gems. Items that came from foreign planes would receive even more blessings than those from Norland. The more powerful the offering, the greater the blessing. Thus, just based on the ranks of power, the demon lord’s heart was much more precious than the devil skull.

The altar trembled as the heart was placed upon it, before coming to a stop once more. Richard held his breath again, but this time a low sigh rang out in a raspy voice. Blinding golden light seeped out from every corner of the altar, forming several dozen torrents of gold that pierced into the demon heart. It writhed violently as an ear-piercing wail rang out, but soon the light lifted it into the air. More light appeared from the void beyond the altar, boring into the heart from all directions and disintegrating it just like the skull. However, it took far more effort this time; the heart started beating ten times as fast as before, pushing the energy back into the void, but every strand repulsed was followed by two more. Eventually the heart lost the battle, turning into those same golden butterflies that soared into the void.

The process of digesting the demon’s heart was evidently much slower than that for the devil’s head. More than half remained even after ten minutes, and by then the light of blessing appeared once again in the void. This time, the light cocoon did not transform much before adopting the form of an hourglass, this one much brighter and more powerful than the last. However, the rest of the light from the heart continued to glow brighter and brighter, forcing Richard to divert his gaze. By the time the heart was completely gone, there were two hourglasses and an orb of pure gold light floating atop the altar.

Richard was somewhat surprised. That ball of light was not very rare in such a ceremony. It was an egg, one that could be opened to reveal powerful divine weapons or rare resources. While that was valuable, it couldn’t match up to a blessing of time.

At this moment, a bizarre, almighty, and emotionless voice rang in Richard’s ears. “Mortal, how do you wish to allocate the blessings between your family and yourself?”

Richard immediately recalled Gaton’s words, but the happenings that occurred on his way here surfaced once again in his mind. Gaton and his rune knights had relied on their extraordinary might to repel their enemies in the darkness. Perhaps their enemies could have annihilated them, but the price to pay would be excruciatingly high. At the very least, the enemies at the forefront would accompany them in the afterlife. The Divine Alliance was but a pile of scattered sand. They could not work together, fingers forming a palm to crush the enemies before them. Although the parties spying on the Archerons could not wait for their death, they did not want to sacrifice themselves to elevate the status of others. Back then, if the knights of the Archerons had not displayed such an impressive show of might, the wolves in the darkness would have lunged forward and devoured them.

Richard had found traces of the history of Silvermoon from the family library, seeing glimpses of the truth. He now knew that Gaton had his own separate considerations during the conquest of the Evernight Forest; regardless of what the actual truth was, Gaton didn’t know he was annihilating his wife’s family. He suddenly felt the impulse to return some of his debt to the Archerons.

The almighty voice rang out in his mind once more, “Mortal, how do you wish to allocate the blessings between your family and yourself?”

Richard’s expression grew resolute, “Split them evenly.”

As soon as he made his reply, the two hourglasses shrank immediately to half their size, with no further changes to the ball of light. The voice rang out again, “You may now receive your blessings.”

Richard stood up and stretched his hands out to reach the three divine marks floating in the air. When his fingers came into contact with them, the mysterious power of the Eternal Dragon would take form as an appropriate blessing. The one from the devil’s skull cracked open into fine golden sand, forming a complicated scripture that buried itself into his body. He felt mysterious energy filling his muscles with life, the details of the blessing automatically surfacing in his mind: Divine Blessing, Torrent of Life. For the next fifteen years, his body would not age.

This blessing was akin to prolonging one’s life by fifteen years. Humans in Norland only naturally experienced this at two stages in their lives—when they entered the ascended realm, and once they entered the legendary realm. A long life was the desire of all intelligent creatures, so the blessings of the sands of time were the most valuable of all. It was needless to emphasize the importance of life. Even during struggles for power, in eras of dazzling stars and brilliant heroes, many a time the easiest victory was outliving your opponents. Richard had never expected to receive such a blessing in his first ceremony. He suppressed his elation and reached for the second divine mark.

The second hourglass broke as well, the beads of golden sand becoming a ray of light that entered his body in the form of a scripture. Once again, he was given knowledge of the blessing: Divine Blessing, Unhurriedness. When he entered a lesser plane in the future that did not possess a Church of Eternity, the time flow there would jump to ten times Norland’s time. This effect would last for thirty years, but would not affect Norland or a higher plane.

Thinking about it, this was truly a divine gift. With it, he could enter another plane and go through a battle for ten years, but only a single year would pass in Norland. Although the flow of time varied amongst the myriad planes, the differences were normally quite small. Unhurriedness actually gave him tenfold the time! Of course, one would still spend their life force in that lesser plane. Staying there for thirty years would age their body correspondingly. Only in tandem with Torrent of Life could one proceed ceaselessly with planar wars.

Although the first two blessings did not provide him with any battle prowess, life and time were the greatest blessings a human could receive. Richard could barely control his excitement as he reached for that final orb of light, curious as to what it was. Knowledge of probability told him that good luck so far didn’t mean this next blessing would be the same, but it was difficult not to harbor hope for something that had absorbed the majority of the demon heart.

Before Richard’s left hand could touch the ball of light, another ray of light suddenly flitted past the string of beast ivory on his hand. The largest piece in the center suddenly flashed, absorbing that ray of light. It seemed to be set ablaze immediately, radiating golden flames of time that burned Richard’s hand in the process.

“ARGH!” Richard screamed, stumbling backward as he waved his left hand continuously. While the flames thankfully died out in moments and took the pain with them, he took off his ivory bracelet to find a deep scar where the beast tooth had once sat. Strangely, he couldn’t feel anything amiss as he moved his hand, and the bracelet itself seemed good as new with no traces of damage. The latter was cause for a relieved sigh; perhaps it was because of Mountainsea’s farewell hug, or perhaps it was because of her words, but he valued it far more than he cared to admit.

He put on the bracelet once again, wanting to continue with the ceremony, but was interrupted. The almighty aura descended upon the altar once more, this time even more dominating than before. When the ancient and distant aura flashed past Richard, he felt the birth and destruction of the endless planes through the eons of time. This overpowered existence filled Richard’s soul immediately, and his body no longer heeded his own will as he slowly knelt before the altar.

“Mortal…” Once again, the mighty voice rang in Richard’s consciousness. However, this time it wasn’t a robotic cold voice, but an ancient one that commanded utmost reverence.

Richard suddenly trembled and understood that this was no longer a thread of divine power that responded automatically, but the direct conscient of the Dragon of Eternity and Light. For a moment, he was stunned silent; there was simply no way to describe how it felt to have a direct audience with the Eternal Dragon, a sovereign being that was even greater than the myriad planes.

* * *

At this moment outside of the veil of light, Gaton was staring at a golden hourglass in his hands with disbelief. This small hourglass was made of translucent crystal, the fine golden sand within it trickling down continuously regardless of the angle in which it was held. There was a total of ten such hourglasses, and when put together they weren’t larger than Gaton’s palms. However, these weren’t simple decorative ornaments, but blessings of time formed from the divine energy of the Eternal Dragon. Just a minute ago, ten streaks of light were shot out from within the pillar, forming these miniature hourglasses that fell freely to the ground. This incident had happened too suddenly, and even with Gaton’s physical prowess he was caught unprepared, almost allowing two of the hourglasses to fall to the ground. Fortunately, High Priestess Ferlyn had waved her hands and two rays of light caught them before sending them to his hands.

“This is…” Gaton stared at the hourglasses in his hand, stupefied.

Ferlyn looked at the hourglasses and understood the situation immediately, “The blessings that the Eternal Dragon has given to the Archerons, with each hourglass blessed with life. Every Archeron who opens one of these will gain three to five years of life.

“You have a good son, Gaton,” she said with a smile. Nothing was secret to her within the Church’s bounds, and she knew of Gaton’s instructions before the ceremony. She had officiated countless ceremonies in her life, and it was extremely rare for a family to allocate them to one individual. On the other hand, it was unheard of for an individual to allocate the blessings to their family.

Gaton raised his head and looked at the pillar of light, unable to see anything within. Eventually, he gritted out a wry smile. The High Priestess seemed to fall into thought for a moment, but then her eyelashes suddenly fluttered in a way that gave this divine being a sense of humanity, “The blessings granted to the Archeron Family far exceed these ten hourglasses, Lord Gaton. You might wish to look at the situation upon your island.”

Gaton was immediately shocked once more, and Senma rushed out of the church grounds with a wave of his hand. She returned in a minute, trying and failing to suppress the trembling in her voice, “Master, the island is absorbing the energy of the void. The circumference has grown over fifty meters and is still expanding. The trajectories are shifting as well; we’ll soon swap places with 7-2!”

This was great news, but Gaton wasn’t happy at all upon hearing it. Instead, he squinted towards the light and muttered to himself, “This smelly little brat!”

There were two ways for the families in Faust to improve their position. The first was direct conflict, while the other was what was currently happening to the Archerons—to have luck so supreme that they would receive blessings from the Eternal Dragon. The expansion of the island here was secondary; what was more important was that it proved the family had the grace of the Eternal Dragon for a while. For at least the next year to at most the next three, a frontal assault on them would likely result in dire consequences with the Eternal Dragon, like a drop in the divine grace received by the attacking family. However, there were very few families who have actually done this throughout the history of Faust, one of the contributing factors being the randomness and unpredictability of such grace from the gods. Besides, without the strength to make such rankings a part of their foundation, it would all be false glory. Barely achieving such a ranking would not ensure that the family could maintain it for a long time to come. Unless the family had already made sufficient preparations to climb through the hierarchy, it would be futile to try their luck. For example, the islands on the seventh layer did not have any magic defenses, while there was divine magic protecting the islands in the sixth.

This was not the first time Gaton had offered a sacrifice. For the island to change orbits required luck, yes, but it had to come from the blessings of the sacrifice. Unfortunately, it seemed like Richard had left half of the blessings given to him to the Archerons.

Suddenly, before he could utter a word, Gaton turned pale. High Priestess Ferlyn also revealed shock from the side, the hands holding onto her scepter beginning to tremble uncontrollably.

“This is…” Gaton was dumbstruck. He immediately looked towards the High Priestess, expecting her to be her usual calm and elegant self, but what greeted him was utter shock, reverence, and ecstasy. Mordred, though late by a moment, had the same change of expression. He looked up into the endless sky above the church, where an indescribably enormous will was slowly descending upon them all.

Outside of that, everything was peaceful and serene. Be it the rest of Gaton’s knights or the other members of the clergy further out, none of them were aware of the events at all. The only thing they realized was the peculiar behavior of their masters, which earned various stares.

High Priestess Ferlyn tried her best to maintain a calm expression, but her voice did not stop trembling. She mumbled softly, “The true consciousness of the Eternal Dragon! This is a miracle, how? The heart of a lesser demon lord can’t pique his interest!”

Suddenly, she turned to stare at Gaton, eyes shining like stars. “Marquis Gaton! What other offerings did you prepare?”

Though shocked upon hearing that this was the main conscient of the Eternal Dragon, Gaton was able to relax, loosening his taut nerves. Smiling bitterly, he shrugged, “Those two are all I offered. This is the Church of Eternity; how can I keep any secrets from you?”

The dazzling shine from the eyes of the High Priestess. Without saying anything more, she gazed at the pillar of light with incredible zeal, conviction, and sincerity. It was a pity that even she could not see through the screen formed from the strength of the Eternal Dragon. Even her superior status did not grant her the right to disrupt a ceremony that did not belong to her. She suddenly leaned towards Gaton, speaking in a deliberately hushed voice, “I recall you mentioning that Richard will be going on an expedition into the myriad planes soon?”

“That’s right, I’ve already prepared a suitable secondary plane for him, with a foothold to start from.”

“I have an apprentice myself, a level 8 cleric named Flowsand. I hope you could grant her a position in his core party.”

“When you say Flowsand, do you mean the Daybreaker?” Gaton asked with a stern expression.

Ferlyn nodded, “That’s her.”

Titles were not self-conferred in the Church, instead granted by the Eternal Dragon after one received enough blessings. Only two officials of the Church in Faust had been conferred such a title: Ferlyn the Morning Star, and Flowsand the Daybreaker.

After muttering to himself, Gaton nodded repeatedly in agreement. “Sure!”

High Priestess Ferlyn laughed, the divine beauty immediately lighting up the world before everyone’s eyes. She reached out an arm and placed it on Gaton’s chest, “Gaton. If you fulfill this promise, I shall be a steadfast friend for the next decade.”

Gaton grinned in response. The effects of Ferlyn’s friendship on the Archerons, even if only personal, was a valuable asset in Faust that would have clear effects. The time limit was just something any priest of the Eternal Dragon would impose on anything; it was their way of expressing their faith.

Ferlyn added, “Richard hasn’t chosen his followers yet, has he? What about his soulguard? Any candidates?”

“There were a few suitable candidates from our death camp recently. He will choose for himself when the time comes. But yes, there aren’t enough followers in his core team,” Gaton explained.

The High Priestess smiled meaningfully. “I hear the batch arriving at Mokoff next week is pretty good. Morfan, the portmaster there, still owes me some favors.”

“I understand,” Gaton responded with a nod.

* * *

Within the light, Richard found himself completely unable to recover the autonomy of his body. The will he’d once thought was firm now tottered in the ripples of time, his soul threatening to dissipate at any moment. This was no intentional attack, just an aftereffect of the descent of the Eternal Dragon. However, the dragon’s will was far too powerful; even if it had slowed its descent, it still gave rise to tsunami-like waves of time.

“Mortal…” The voice of the Eternal Dragon rang once again in Richard’s soul. This time, the formidable existence only let a strand of consciousness into the range of the altar, and the strength of the soul’s echo was halved. The first time it called out, Richard’s soul was nearly destroyed.

“What can I do for you?” Richard responded through clenched teeth, barely clinging on to his unstable consciousness.

“Mortal, I see an offering upon you that pleases me. Place it upon the altar, and you shall receive a title and great blessings.”

An offering? Richard was stumped for words. He’d given all the offerings he had already. Unless... He suddenly had an idea, glancing at the bracelet on his left wrist. It was radiating a pale gold light, the power of time itself. This gift from Mountainsea was what had attracted the central will of the Eternal Dragon! His thoughts immediately shifted to the barbarian girl. Someone with hugs as heavy as mountains, with the greatest of backgrounds and most incredible wealth, but who’d never taken it all to heart.

He did not hesitate for long, “Almighty Dragon, forgive my impudence. This bracelet is a gift from a friend; I’m afraid I cannot offer it to you.”

“Mortal, all that you treasure now will eventually turn into void.”

“But I treasure it for now, that is enough.”

The conscient of the Eternal Dragon seemed to be shaken, taking a moment before it rang in Richard’s mind once more, “Mortal, if you ever change your mind, you may offer it as sacrifice in any of my churches.”

Soon after, the indescribable conscient gently faded, leaving Richard gasping desperately for air. He laid paralyzed on the ground, so weak he barely had the strength to move his finger. As the gigantic conscient slowly rose above, he could almost feel his soul being lifted and drawn out of his body. However, he did see that as the main conscient of the Eternal Dragon left, there seemed to be a few specks of light dropping from overhead, blending into the time sphere that was still floating in the sky above the altar. Violent ripples of life burst out from within.

While it took a while to catch his breath, Richard managed to stand and walk towards the sphere of time, albeit with much difficulty. He had no idea what was inside, and after rejecting the Eternal Dragon he had no expectations for it at all. He reached out to touch the orb, causing a burst of glaring light as an azure egg appeared in his hands, radiating such powerful life force that he could feel it even from the outside. The message in his mind for this was short; so short, in fact, that it was only a single word: Seed.

Seed? What seed? While Richard was left confused, the brilliance of the altar had already faded. Once again it became an abandoned stone tower that was corroded by the sand and winds. The screen of time also scattered into nothing, revealing the rest of the church. As he stood dazedly in front of the altar, carrying the egg in his hands, High Priestess Ferlyn cried out in alarm, “HOW IS IT A SEED?!”

“Seed? What is that?” Gaton’s eyes glimmered. Though he had no idea what the seed was, he could tell from Ferlyn’s terrible complexion that it was definitely something unusual.

A complicated expression crawled up the face of the High Priestess, “It is formally called the Seed, though in private we call it the Seed of War and Fate. This blessing’s working is classified information that can never be divulged. For Richard to be conferred it is both a blessing and a curse; it will be a deadly surprise to his enemies in the myriad planes, but it forces his journey forward. We cannot let the Seed take root in Norland; it has to enter another plane within a month. Send Richard away quickly... you can consider that a divine command from the Eternal Dragon himself.”

Gaton flinched, grabbing Richard’s shoulder and pulling him over with a frown, “Only a month?”

“At most a month. The earlier he goes, the less damage there is to his sacred blessings.” Ferlyn was firm in her decision.

“What about Flowsand?” he tried to sound Ferlyn out from another direction.

“Of course she will follow along,” she responded, easing the worry in his heart.

What was this seed? Richard could not obtain any more information no matter how hard he looked at the azure egg. The only hint he’d received from the Eternal Dragon was that it was a seed, and none of his detection spells gave him any further information. Before they left the Church, High Priestess Ferlyn stopped him for a brief conversation. She mentioned her travels to other churches on the continent when she was young. During these practice years, she’d once read an extract from an epic written before recorded history. It praised a king who held a very hideous weapon. He treasured the supreme weapon at all costs, keeping it with him everywhere he went as he protected and improved its abilities at all costs.

Richard thanked high priestess Ferlyn sincerely despite the vagueness of the information she’d given him. It was evidently a hint on how to use the Seed, telling him of its importance and the resources he’d have to give it in the future. The sharp boy also noticed little wrinkles appearing at the ends of her eyes after she spoke to him, making her look a few years older. She’d looked exceptionally bright right after the ceremony had ended!

This was immediate evidence that Ferlyn had lost some divine grace. The priestess hosting the ceremony normally gained the grace of the Eternal Dragon, but just this bit of cryptic information had actually lost her far more than she’d earned even from a ceremony of this magnitude. Just that explained the importance of the Seed.

That was why Richard bowed to Ferlyn sincerely before leaving the Church of Eternity, saying earnestly, “Thank you for your guidance!”

Ferlyn smiled and gently tapped Richard’s shoulders with the scepter in her hands, “Richard, don’t show any mercy. Destroying every enemy before you will be the best way to show your gratitude.”

He nodded seriously, standing up straight with a stern look on his young face. He’d experienced countless unforeseen events over the past few days, and the trials of life and death in his past had instilled an aura in him that did not match his age.

Gaton patted Richard’s shoulder, “Let’s go kid, you don’t have much time. You need to pack up tonight, make a move tomorrow morning. We’ll talk about everything along the way… Ah, right, take care of that thing in your hands. Don’t let it get too far from you.”

10 Forced to Leave

Gaton’s group left the Church the same way they’d arrived, with Gaton in the lead and Kaylen and Kayde guarding Richard. Senma and Mordred were guarding the rear. As they followed the route down towards the Teleportation Temple, they could see the still-expanding Archeron Island switching positions with its neighbor. Screams filled island 7-2, countless lights shooting up around it as those at the edges teleported away from the crumbling buildings. The rocks on the outer rim just split off from the main landmass, drifting into the clouds and taking the foundations of entire buildings with them. Those buildings then crumbled down below.

The flying islands of Faust were all at least three kilometers up in the sky. Without great power or some sort of ability to fly, the only fate awaiting someone caught up in the collapse was death. All the vegetation and rocks immediately disappeared into the clouds, but the buildings and living things fell. Countless eyes were fixated on that stunning scene, from the other islands, from Faust, even from elsewhere across Norland.

Gaton pointed at the islands that were switching places, “Do you see that, kid? That’s the result of your arrangement, false glory that does nothing for us. If I wanted to move up further when I joined Faust, I would have just continued my conquest. If you really want to return your debt to the family, then go survive the myriad planes. Only once you’ve accomplished something and gotten to my age should you think about giving back to the family!”

Richard hugged the Seed and nodded silently. There was a lot on his mind now, and he was clueless about how to handle his relationship with Gaton and the other Archerons. He decided to face the situation calmly and rationally, making a decision once he had more information on hand.

When they got to the island, the family butler immediately moved to pack Richard’s luggage. His siblings got wind of his departure within minutes, and they came over to bid goodbye. Demi, Venica, and Wennington were amongst them as expected, but all of them were there to demand their runes. However, their motives weren’t exactly the same. Demi especially looked like she wouldn’t let Richard off easy. She’d arrived just as Wennington was about to leave, forcing Richard to promise to complete her rune before she left in a huff.

Once his siblings had left, Richard was visited by the butler who had finished preparations. He was sent to meet with Gaton, who was waiting in a small study lined with bookshelves. Some of the shelves stored maps that were painted on magical paper, with a handful of history and philosophy books, but a vast majority of the content here was about martial arts and the art of war. The ten or so books about various races seemed to be concentrated around silvermoon elves, and right behind the man was a map of Norland flanked by maps of three other planes. Still, there wasn’t a hint of culture or scholarship when Richard walked into the room; all he felt was a thick scent of blood and fire.

Gaton was sitting on his table, cleaning a magical sword. Gesturing for Richard to close the door behind him, he started muttering, “Kid, you have to start exploring other planes right away because of the Seed. Remember this saying: Even the orcs of Norland are prettier than the elves of another plane. Starting from the very gods, every living being in the plane you’re about to step into will be an enemy. Every. Single. Person. Kill them all before you consider anything else. Be merciless and apathetic; in nearly every scenario, your best choice is a massacre. Kindness is only a shovel to dig your grave.”

“I won’t show any mercy,” Richard replied.

Gaton chuckled, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that just yet. There’s a huge difference between local wars in Norland and planar warfare; even I wasn’t used to it at first. The plane you’ll be visiting is a lesser plane that restricts the power of its inhabitants to somewhere about level 15 by our standards. I’ve already set up a base there, so you’ll have some guides when you enter, but don’t be surprised if something goes wrong. The most astonishing thing in an expedition would be if there wasn’t something unforeseen. You’re never prepared enough.”

“What kind of preparations should I make?” Richard asked, “I’ll also need a batch of magic ingredients to craft some elementary runes.”

“We can send that with you, but no more. Planar teleportation requires a large number of mana crystals, and passages to unestablished planes aren’t stable enough to transport powerful items and people. The plane you’re going to explore is only a lesser one, so your party will be more important than the gear. Most of our mana crystals will be allocated to the teleportation.”

Richard nodded in understanding.

Gaton harrumphed before speaking solemnly, “Kid, you’ve already grown up enough; there’s something you need to know. When you were younger, your mother performed an awakening ceremony for you, right?”

Richard’s heart skipped several beats. Pure instinct told him that the secrets of this ceremony could not be revealed to anyone. Having obtained the blessings of wisdom and truesight from the Codex of Alucia, he felt a need to keep mum about it.

However, Gaton did not wait for his reply, “I was informed that there was a small hiccup during the ceremony, one that will change your life from those of regular humans. Shades are likely to disturb your life in the following years, appearing randomly with unknown numbers and strength. Dealing with them will be fairly simple: just blast them to shreds with your spells! Just remember that fire and ice aren’t very effective against them.”

There seemed to be a twinge of regret in Gaton’s gaze, but he quickly moved past it, “Remain vigilant and constantly try to grow your power. Tomorrow will be the first step in your journey, the family’s death training camp. The commoners and slaves of the family are trained there, groomed into experts through the law of the jungle. You can choose a soulguard from there, but make sure to be careful. I only have one soulguard contract with me, and these almost exclusively come from the Dragon; you won’t get another anytime soon. Head to Port Mokoff after that to find portmaster Morfan, and tell him you’re there to pick some slaves. He’ll arrange everything for you, and you can choose the best warriors. Remember to pay attention to quality, not quantity.”

Gaton seemed to realize he was growing long-winded, “Alright kid, do you have anything to tell me?”

Richard thought in earnest but eventually shook his head. “Let’s talk about it again when I return alive.”

Just as he was about to leave, Gaton called out to him again, “Right, I’d forgotten something! The first rule of the Archerons! Before you go to a different plane, you must choose a companion; at least one. Do it for your old man, today! The butler’s almost done packing anyway. So tell me, who do you want as your companion? Don’t be shy, I just want one name.

“Oh right. As a spectator, I do have a pretty good suggestion. Want to hear it?”

“Who? Demi?” Richard asked. Amongst the teens that he had seen, Demi had the most potential.

“Of course not. It’s your cousin, Countess Alice.” Gaton grinned.

“What?” Richard almost cried out. Alice had become a rising star amongst the Archerons in recent times, second only to Gaton himself. Having become a Countess only recently, she was outranked only by Gaton and the much older Marquis Sauron.

Unlike Gaton, Alice didn’t have a group of powerful subordinates to rely on. Her advantages came from overwhelming tactical ability, and great command over the battlefield. There was a silent consensus amongst the family that she would win a battle if both sides had equal armies.

Richard had met Alice once before when he’d almost been killed by the conspiracy with Faulk. She was a beautiful woman with fiery red hair, but her scars and the bloodlust in her giant sword was what had left the deepest impression. If one had to describe her, she was fire and lightning wrapped within an icy gaze. Nobody would even think of becoming the partner of such a goddess of war.

Richard smiled bitterly, “Err… The Countess wouldn’t agree to that, would she?”

“Of course she will. Who’s a better partner than you? Besides, if she doesn’t, I’ll take care of it. I have the final say in the Council; I’ll just start a meeting and pair you up. Alright, it’s settled. She’ll be the one!”

Gaton was brimming with confidence, but Richard felt like his father’s smile held a trace of conspiracy. The man continued, “Hurry and choose someone for now, though. You can have more than one partner anyway, and Alice is back in her territory of now; I hear her most recent lands are in a bit of turmoil. Tch, if only she’d waited a couple more days.”

Richard felt like being paired with the Countess would end in tragedy, but he still had his own apprehensions deep in his heart. He still didn’t truly feel like an Archeron, even if the relationship between him and the family could never be severed. After pondering for a bit, a figure flashed in his mind, and he spoke immediately. “I choose Coco, and I’ll pick the next one when I return.”

“Coco?” Gaton was taken aback. This was a completely foreign name.

“Coco, Millie, Archeron.” Richard spat each word out, retaining a cool demeanor that brooked no discussion.

Gaton did not dwell on the matter any further. Instead, he looked Richard deep in the eye, “Be sure to remember this, kid. Once you’re at your new plane, every decision of yours will affect your followers’ life and death. There is no place for impulse in your choices. Butler! Take this kid to… umm… Coco. She will be his first partner!”

The door opened slightly, and the old steward walked in. He was startled by the name, but quickly regained his normal calm and took Richard away. It was only once the footsteps faded that a fist smashed into the table, causing a loud creak.

Gaton found it difficult to hold back the rage. He still couldn’t recall who Coco was, and that only meant one thing. This girl had no talent whatsoever! She was no different from any other member of the family! It was a long while before the green faded away from his face, allowing him to sigh and shake it off.

* * *

The housekeeper brought Richard to a part of the island he’d never been to, leading him through a murky corridor until they came upon a set of stairs. This was a six-story building situated behind the castle, built up for the sole purpose of cramming as many people into the limited space as possible. There were a total of five such buildings on the island, reserved for mediocre members of branch families, the best of slaves, as well as high-ranking officials and young knights.

Because of the relatively small area of the floating island, two to four people would share a single room. The one exception was the youths of the family who still didn’t have partners, of which Coco was one. She occupied a tiny single room on the top floor, making it easy for people to enter and leave.

The butler seemed to be extremely familiar with everyone on the floating island. Although there were slaves who bowed towards him along the way, he did not stop and ask for directions. Instead, he brought Richard to a room at the end of the corridor and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” Coco’s gentle voice appeared from behind the door, followed by a soft gasp as the butler reported his name, “Oh, please wait one moment.”

A short while later, Coco opened the door. She had a shawl draped over her shoulders covering the upper half of her body, and a white gown that extended to her ankles. Her dainty white feet were rather striking in contrast with the carpet; from the looks of it, she had just been awoken from her sleep.

To the youths of the Archeron branch families, the butler was a secondary figure of authority behind only Gaton himself. This fact rang even more true for the weaker families. Thus, hearing his voice, Coco immediately got up and wrapped a shawl around herself without a change of clothes.

Glancing at the butler and Richard behind, she seemed to understand everything in an instant and bowed, “Are we conducting an experiment now, my Lord? Please wait a few moments, I’ll get ready immediately!”

To Coco, this job was far more important than her sleep.

The butler stopped her, speaking in an unhurried tone, “No, this has nothing to do with magic experiments. Coco Millie Archeron, you have the honor of being chosen as Lord Richard’s first partner. He has to set off at first light tomorrow, so he shall be spending the night with you.”

“What?!” Coco squealed in surprise, her face paling as she subconsciously backed up a few steps.

However, the butler wouldn’t repeat his words. Instead, he moved to the side and spoke to Richard, “Please enter, my Lord. I will be waking you up at five in the morning for breakfast; you shall set off at half-past six. The journey will be long, so please restrain yourself a little tonight.”

Richard nodded indifferently, but as the butler turned to leave Coco dashed out from her room and pulled on his hand, “Sir, this must have been a mistake? How could it be me, you’ve certainly come here in error!”

The butler did not pull away, but nor did he explain himself. He seemed entirely unbothered by Coco’s words and actions, an elegant bow asserting that nothing had gone wrong. In fact, this old man who was over sixty hadn’t committed such a mistake in the past twenty years.

Still at the door, it was Richard who spoke indifferently, “He wasn’t wrong, I chose you.”

Coco’s little mouth fell open for a moment in shock, after which she hurried to Richard’s side and bowed deeply, “My Lord, Please reconsider! I have no bloodline ability and am only a level 2 illusionist without any other talents. A commoner like me cannot match your peerless talent, I certainly won’t give birth to a prodigy!”

Richard’s brows furrowed. He could tell that Coco’s reaction simply didn’t fit the situation at all. No matter what her reasons were, a seed of anger took root in his mind. He was a youth as well, and he didn’t take kindly to the rejection.

Coco’s voice was rather loud, and several doors along the corridor opened up to see what the commotion was about. Young boys and girls popped their heads out of their rooms, faux spitting in jest or smiling politely at the butler before returning. Several young women seemed to be filled with envy and confusion; they simply couldn’t understand how someone with looks and nothing else would be chosen by Richard Archeron. Was she truly just lucky or did she have some sort of charisma that we didn’t notice before?

Richard heard the curses of the young ladies but acted as if he didn’t. Looking at Coco’s ashen face and the tears welling up within her eyes, he raised his head towards the butler, “Can I still change partners?”

The butler’s eyes betrayed no emotions, his voice a monotone that was neither disrespectful nor obeisant, “Your choice has already been approved by the Master, my Lord. It is now official, which makes it difficult to revoke. If you thought of a better candidate, I suggest you simply choose them as well. You do have multiple choices if you so wish, an authority limited to you alone. That said, we certainly can change your companion if you insist. It will require Master Gaton’s approval as well as some complicated procedures, and you will have to prove that you haven’t yet bedded Miss Coco.”

This long explanation seemed to add a glimmer of hope to Coco’s face. She clearly wanted to speak but wasn’t so foolish as to interrupt the butler or try and persuade Richard again. Instead, the trio’s attention was drawn to hasty footsteps that sounded by the stairs, a handsome young man walking up from below. Richard’s icy gaze landed on the youth, while the butler quietly observed it all. In an instant the temperature of the sixth floor seemed to drop to sub-zero levels, causing some people to shiver.

The young man suddenly went rigid, his gaze flitting from Richard to the butler and then to Coco whom he looked deep in the eyes. Sweat started beading on his forehead under the penetrating gaze of the butler, leaving him mute until he worked up the courage to bow stiffly. “I came to the wrong floor,” he said and turned around, heavy footsteps seeming to reflect his emotions.

“Nevermind, I’m going through with this,” Richard’s ruthless voice rang out behind his back. It wasn’t very loud, but it traveled quite far in the silent corridor. Several disappointed gasps slipped through the throats of the young ladies peering out from their rooms, and a huge thud resounded from the staircase as though something heavy had fallen to the ground. Coco’s face remained pale, her mouth flapping open and closed with no words coming out. She stood rooted to the ground for a while, but neither Richard nor the housekeeper hurried her; it was as if they hadn’t noticed her abnormal behavior at all. Eventually, she lowered her head and retreated into her room, waiting for Richard to enter. Before the door closed, the housekeeper reminded Richard to rest and not exert himself too much.

Coco’s room was quite small, a mere ten square meters in size. The small bed, closet, and table were all it took to make it look packed. However, the room was quite neat, with a diary lying on the desk beside a quill pen and a bottle of ink. A vase of orchids sat on the windowsill, occasionally emitting a whiff of fragrance.

There were no extra decorations in the tranquil room, making it seem like it belonged to the daughter of a villager. Themed after its owner’s temperament, this room was like a patch of plain white flowers amidst the floating islands and the volcano, possibly destroyed at any time.

Said owner was still by the door, hands clutching the hem of her skirt. Her head was bowed low to hide her expression, but that only revealed her nervousness. Richard looked over the room once more before walking in front of her, reaching out to touch her light brown hair before stroking her face. A finger lifted her head up from the chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.

Coco trembled violently the moment Richard’s hand made contact with skin. She tried to lower her head again, but his firm hand made it clear that this was an order, not a request. She eventually lifted her head, eyes filled with despair and fear; tears already welled up within. The girl suddenly sneezed, wrapping her arms around herself and trembling as though an extreme chill had descended upon the room. She had indeed felt chilly—Richard’s hands were extremely cold, and his gaze all the more so.

“So, apart from those like you, there’s high-ranked slaves, guards, and…” Richard paused, speaking the following words with intent, “… novice knights here.”

Coco shivered once more, but Richard didn’t continue that line of conversation. His hand moved off her chin, allowing her head to bow down once again as it instead pried the hands wrapped in front of her chest apart. There was no hurry to his actions, but it didn’t take long for the shawl to fall away and expose the young lady’s heaving bosom.

Coco’s skin was snow-white, and a trace of cleavage could be seen through the nightgown. Her breasts weren’t proud mountains like Demi’s, but for her body size they were perfect. She trembled again as he touched her neck with his right hand, but he paid no heed to her silent refusal as he traced down towards her breasts. The finger didn’t stop as it hit the nightgown, instead pulling down until just the slightest hint of pink was revealed.

Coco’s heart was beating rapidly, but she mustered all her might to control her breathing. Any big movements and her breasts would spill out of the gown. It was at that moment that a devilish voice rang in her ears, “Archeron women must maintain their chastity before a partner is selected for them. Have you followed the laws?”

Coco’s body froze like a statue, and after some time she nodded with great difficulty. Richard smiled, tracing his fingers along the exposed flesh before speaking, “Really? But I don’t trust you. How about you prove it to me right now.”

After several minutes in this position, Coco relaxed her tensed body, and her hands dropped to her side as she abandoned all forms of resistance. She realized that there was no point to her struggles; her destiny had been set in stone the moment she set foot on this island. If not Richard, someone else would have chosen her eventually. This was the duty she had to perform in exchange for the privileges she received. If she didn’t want such a thing, she would have to leave. She knew that leaving was impossible. Once a child of nobility grew somewhat aware of their surroundings, they would realize the duties they had to fulfill and the privileges they could enjoy. They simply had to accept their fates.

Richard harrumphed at the sight of Coco dropping her resistance, finally drawing away before he cast a detection spell on her body. As expected, there was very little magical response. She was almost like a regular human, and no runes could be attached to her body. He removed his outer robes and tossed his shoes by the door, climbing into her little bed and patting the space beside him, “Come.”

Coco bit her lips, accepting her fate as she laid beside Richard. The bed was extremely narrow, and he was over six feet tall. With her added on, it was extremely cramped.

Richard embraced the girl the moment she laid on the bed, their bodies sticking so close that each could feel the heartbeat of the other. Coco’s heart throbbed frantically, but Richard’s actually slowed down. Each thump was resolute and strong.

Contrary to her expectations, Richard did not make any other moves towards her. He instead closed his eyes, and after some time a light snore rang out. He had actually fallen asleep! Coco couldn’t believe her eyes, yet it had happened before her. Afraid of waking him up, she didn’t dare to make any movements at all. However, a short while in the awkward position was all she could stand. Ten minutes had felt like a century, and her body softly collapsed into Richard’s own from exhaustion. As she slipped into the world of dreams, she felt a strange sense of security leaning into the warm embrace.

The magic lamp in the room soon consumed its resources, dimming down before fizzling away. The Seed in the corner of the room was the only source of light left, but that too was only a haze azure drizzle that added a touch of serenity to the place.

Coco wasn’t aware of how long she had slept, but when she woke up the sky was still dark. Richard got off the bed and put on his clothes, and only moments later the door was knocked several times with a unique rhythm and volume. This was the old butler’s signature knock.

Coco sat up from her bed, still unable to believe that Richard had let her off. However, there was some worry mixed in with that glee. That worry was confirmed as Richard picked up the Seed and headed for the door, turning around moments before he left, “I don’t plan to change partners.”

“Oh,” the girl replied softly, the slight trace of hope she’d held out sinking into a valley of despair.

Richard was quite aware of Coco’s attitude and desires, as well as the reasoning behind. However, this girl was his best bet if he wanted to maintain his distance from the Archerons, at least until he returned from his first expedition. He had no love nor care for her, so he wasn’t going to put her desires over the importance of his own decisions. This was just a little white flower at the foot of a volcano. There was an elegance to its frailty, but it was easy to overlook. People often plucked such things on a whim.

The old butler shot a glance at Coco as Richard left the room before closing the door and following him out. He asked along the way, “Should I have Coco move to your residence, my Lord?”

Just as he was about to nod, Richard saw a handsome youth standing in the corner not far away, the same one who’d run up the stairs yesterday. He looked slightly older than himself, about twenty years or so of age, but had good proportions and seemed rather fit. There weren’t any bulging muscles, but his body still radiated vitality. On top of everything, he was handsome and had distinct features with a pair of clear eyes.

Richard had noticed that he was a novice knight—backup for true rune knights—the moment he’d seen him last night. If he grew strong enough to bear four runes over the next few years, he would become a rune knight in the army. If not, he would be sent to manage some unimportant territory. The novice knights were mostly comprised of children from distant branches and external elites who’d been trained from their youth. Richard hadn’t seen this young man on the night of the banquet, signifying that he was either not an Archeron or only the offspring of a distant branch with no status to speak of. In other words, he didn’t possess the right to have a partner.

Richard halted in his steps as he strained his eyes, trying to look at the youth who was pacing back and forth. The young man took his leave as soon as he made eye contact with his cold and indifferent gaze. Watching that departing back, his own expression dimming slightly. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he answered coldly, “Forget it, let her stay here”.

The butler nodded in response, not uttering a word. It was as if he hadn’t seen the youth at all.

11 Guardian

A small team was already waiting for Richard at the plaza the next morning, luggage in tow. He wasn’t given much, only a case of clothes and daily essentials in one case with his runecrafting materials in another. This time it wasn’t Mordred executing him, but the Dragon Mage Lina with four rune knights and ten light cavalrymen.

It was at the Teleportation Temple that he met his first comrade who would accompany him into planar warfare—Daybreaker Flowsand of the Church of Eternity. He got off his horse and entered her carriage under High Priestess Ferlyn’s instruction. This was much to Lina’s derision at first, but as the mage drew closer her opinion changed. This carriage was more than just for comfort; while looking like any other on the outside, it was lined with a spell formation that concealed anything going on within. The upcoming journey was long yet urgent; this would be the only opportunity for the two to speak alone. It was clear that the cleric had something to tell him.

With the carriage were two coachmen, but both would return to Faust as soon as they arrived at Port Mokoff. The interiors were plain yet beautiful, based around the pale gold motif of the Church that exuded a sense of majesty. As he took his seat opposite Flowsand, Richard felt like he had entered the actual Church itself.

The Daybreaker looked to be about the same age as himself, with long, light-gold hair. Her brows were the same color, barely visible unless one was attentive, but that gave the already-beautiful girl an air of mystery that was vaguely reminiscent of the ruins at the core of the Church. Intricate veins ran through the center of her forehead; it was unclear whether this was a divine effect or she was just born that way.

“I am Flowsand, a level 8 cleric of the Church of Eternity,” she introduced herself the moment he got on. “Ignore the unusual name, it was given to me by Master. I have no knowledge of my birth name; I was abandoned at the entrance of the Church as an infant.

“While I’m proficient with common divine spells, I specialize in the divinity of the Eternal Dragon. This is my weapon, the Book of Time.” She took out a thick tome bound in golden leather, showing it to Richard before switching to a smaller hand-drawn map of Port Mokoff and its surrounding seas. This map detailed the hundreds of scattered islands nearby, one of which she pointed out, “I know Marquis Gaton has a military base set up in the plane we are headed for, but he’s yet to pick a base on this end. This island has a good mix of plains, forests, and natural harbors, and it is especially close to both Mokoff and the Blackrose Port. We can set up the portal here.”

Richard nodded, making a mental note of the position of the island. Flowsand then stowed the map away, passing him an emerald gem, “This life crystal will be able to stabilize the seed for some time, so you won’t have to carry it everywhere. You can just leave it in this carriage during our journey.”

The girl didn’t speak further after Richard stowed the crystal away, closing her eyes. All signs of life seemed to dissipate the moment her eyelids closed completely, leaving Richard unable to feel her aura at all. It was like she’d disappeared into thin air, a realization that shocked him beyond words. He closed his own eyes before opening them again, examining her dead-still posture. It wasn’t that she had no aura, no—she’d already become one with the archaic aura within the carriage. This was a meditation technique he had never seen before.

Not wanting to disturb her, Richard grabbed a book of his own to pass the time. The upcoming journey was a long one, but the inside and outside of the carriage were worlds apart. He felt almost no jolting here at all and could hear nothing from the outside world. It gave him the time to go through the book carefully, even repeating a few pages.

“Studying history?” a sudden question jolted him back to reality. He had no idea when, but the girl had woken up and was observing him inquisitively.

“Mm,” Richard raised his head as he answered, closing the book and passing it over. While he considered most interactions surplus to requirements, Flowsand would be an important companion in his dangerous life ahead. Trust and chemistry between comrades could determine life and death on the battlefield.

She grabbed the book without hesitation, “Silvermoon, huh? They were the last big tribe of descendants from the high elven empire left on the continent. With your father’s assault on Evernight Forest, there aren’t any major elven powers on Norland anymore. Now one needs to go to Lithgalen, the Verdant Ash. The continent is to the west of Norland across the ocean and is still ruled by the descendants of the elven monarchy. Alternatively, Master has collected some art from the time of the elven empire herself; you can ask to look at them in the Church once we return from our conquests.”

Richard gave her a simple smile, “My main interest is in the Marquis’s attack on Silvermoon Palace. It’s a classical example of a major victory for the weaker forces, but there aren’t very many records about it. I’m using these accounts to see what I can learn about that indirectly.”

Flowsand nodded, somehow not finding it strange that he wouldn’t just ask his father about the events of that day. She responded as though she was talking about common knowledge, “Yeah, there aren’t many records of that battle. Marquis Gaton suffered a severe injury in the final moments, but his right hand already had the remaining elves surrounded. The royals would never surrender, so there weren’t any political prisoners of war. The only elves that were brought back were peasants, who became slaves to the imperial family. The Marquis himself never publicized the results of his campaign, so not much was recorded. And... If I can be honest, few people like the Archerons. There naturally isn’t anyone who wants to chronicle their feats.”

“So that’s what happened… Thank you, Flowsand,” Richard said in earnest.

However, Flowsand continued to speak, “If you have the time to browse through history books, I suggest you take the time to read the notebooks Master Ferlyn gave you. They contain information about the myriad planes, as well as the teachings of the Eternal Dragon. That knowledge will greatly benefit our expedition. If you don’t have any interest in that, I’ve heard you’re a prodigy at runecrafting. Decide on a rune for me that will help with our future battles. When we arrive safely in the new plane, you can start on my rune set.”

“Runes?” Richard was rather surprised, his eyes flitting to the spot between Flowsand’s brows, “Isn’t that a custom rune on your forehead? If I’m right, it’s a grade 4 rune that contains some sort of ability.”

“But it’s the only one on my body right now,” the cleric countered.

“A grade 4 rune isn’t enough?” Richard laughed hoarsely, only growing serious as he saw the girl’s serious face. Thinking about it for a while, he finally couldn’t help but ask, “You can stand more runes?”

Flowsand’s nod surprised him. A grade 4 rune required ten times the carrying capacity of an elementary rune. Richard was already surprised that Flowsand could bear one; after all, anyone that could even withstand a grade 3 rune below level 10 deserved to be proud of themselves. He’d never have thought that she could actually bear even more.

“If that’s the case, I’ll have to offend you for a moment.”

“It isn’t an offense. Don’t tarry; if you can craft a rune for me, I’ll allow you to inscribe it on my body.”

Richard was rather stupefied by this. The chest was the most common available rune slot on one’s body, and it wasn’t even like tattooed runes were without other drawbacks. The direct inscription allowed for greater energy efficiency, reducing the capacity requirements, but in most cases, the modification tolerance was only about 5% and it would be extremely difficult to change runes in the future. The process of removing a tattooed rune was excruciatingly painful, and with the failure rate of the normal runemaster, most knights wouldn’t even consider direct inscription if it wasn’t a high-grade rune.

However, if the subject herself didn’t mind, Richard wouldn’t dwell on it for too long. He quickly cast his runic detection spell, only to receive another great shock. Flowsand’s arms, legs, chest, and stomach all had a powerful response; all in all, she could withstand another grade 4 rune! While this new rune couldn’t be as strong as the first, it toppled all of his knowledge about the world of runecrafting.

A rune knight’s power was influenced by two major factors: their overall capacity, and the number of rune slots available on their body. Someone with more slots could support a more versatile mix of runes; one grade 4 rune might have ten times the cost as an elementary rune, but a rune knight with ten elementary runes could completely destroy someone with a single one at grade 4. Many rune knights and even other powerful figures across Norland were often troubled by a lack of rune slots at higher levels. For example, the illustrious Heaven’s Armour sets of Saint Peter required at least five slots on top of the capacity requirements. Richard himself only had two at his current level, but Flowsand had a whopping six options to choose from!

“How is it?” she asked curiously.

He rubbed his temples and flashed a wry smile, “This… exceeds my expectations. I’ll need some time to think.”

“That’s no problem. We have enough time, so have at it!” Done with what she wanted to say, Flowsand closed her eyes once more.

* * *

After a non-stop journey that lasted more than ten hours, the party finally reached Giantwood Village. This was an unassuming town under Count Goliath’s governance, located in a remote area amidst an endless mountain forest. The only specialty here was the wood, but the difficulty of transporting it meant there wasn’t much trade to speak of. There were few visitors as well, consigning this village’s fate to the same as countless others like it; an idyllic, poor place with no future to speak of. There were only a hundred or so families here, and their lives had not changed much in centuries.

In the depths of the forest behind this village laid the death training camp of the Archerons. This camp was over a hundred years old, having groomed countless assassins, cursemasters, and warriors in its time. This was a place free of race and class—every individual that entered was trained, and the only task they were given was to survive until their training came to an end. Most of the participants in this camp were orphans, death-row criminals, and slaves. There were also psychopaths and fanatics here who found joy in the act of killing, and even a significant number of weaker Archerons who had volunteered to enter the place in pursuit of power. However, all participants were treated equally. In the face of death, an Archeron and an orphan had no difference in status. If they wanted to live, they could only rely on their brains and brawn.

Of course, Richard was not here to receive training, but to choose a soulguard; a resource provided to the most prodigal of talents. Whoever he chose would be bound by a contract that tied their very soul to his; the mere thought of betrayal could wipe their soul from existence. On top of that, their souls would be forced to support him if he ever suffered a spiritual attack, while the reverse was not true.

Under the power of the contract, the soulguard and their master would have their destinies intertwined. They were the most loyal of guardians, but soul contracts were extremely rare. Most came from the blessings of the Eternal Dragon, which had an innate factor of luck and chance involved. While legendary priests could create them as well, it required an inordinate amount of divinity and a small portion of one’s own soul. A fresh legendary priest would drop out of the legendary realm after making just two, so few were willing to do such a thing. Even Flowsand blinked several times in surprise when she saw the contract in his hand.

Most of the party remained in Giantwood Village’s only inn. Richard was only accompanied by Lina and the village chief as he headed towards the closest of the training camp’s seven gathering points. Even this point was more than a hundred kilometers away from the village and had no trail leading to it; even with the chief’s guidance, it took them over three hours to get there. Passing a broken fence, Richard entered the camp to find several shabby huts. He found it difficult to believe that this was the famed death training camp of the Archerons; only with the arrival of the instructor could he confirm that this was the right place.

Instructor Schiller was a man of average build, with a messy head of short, greasy hair. His only equipment came in the form of a single sword hung at his waist, and even that weapon’s scabbard was plain and dirty. The only thing that broke from this standard of filth was his clothing, which was somehow clean despite the rest of him.

For some reason, Richard felt like he was being pricked by a needle as he looked at the man standing before him, even having to squint his eyes a little. His eyes soured very quickly, growing damp in moments, but just before the tears flowed a gentle spell enveloped him and soothed that prickling sensation. An icy voice rang out by his side, “What are you trying, Schiller? Tired of life?”

Schiller smiled casually as though nothing had happened, “Nothing much, I just wanted to see what the young lord who’s about to take away my best warrior looks like. I must admit, Lord Richard has a great appearance.”

Lina snorted, “And what does that have to do with you? Do you really think this camp is yours? Or have you been managing it for so long that your brain just rotted away?”

A black aura coiled around Schiller’s face. Although he maintained his smile, it seemed like the calm before the storm, “This is Count Goliath’s land, Lina, and I don’t recall you being my match.”

The atmosphere quickly reached a sparking point. Richard watched the two bicker on with an indifferent expression, but an almost undetectable light started to glow under his robes. He’d prepared a curse already, but he wasn’t sure how useful it would be in a battle between the two.

Lina suddenly chuckled coyly, “Oh I’m just a mage, how could I be a match for a shadow guard like yourself? Let me swap with someone else, who would you like? You definitely wouldn’t dare fight Mordred, so how about Byfang or Asiris? Maybe Kaylen or Kayde? Or do you want us all to come at you together?”

Schiller snorted and his expression turned even darker. He had wanted to say more but eventually decided to shut up. Gaton’s Thirteen were not the strongest individually, but they synergized greatly in battle. Even if half of them weren’t a match for him in battle, any two would crush him. At the same time, Lina’s pride would not be stunted just because she couldn’t beat him in a direct battle. Like most of Gaton’s closest subordinates, she was an accomplished general worth far more than a single ascended warrior.

Still, she put that arrogance aside and spoke solemnly, “Schiller, let me tell you this for the Count’s sake; stop all your tricks. Every important Archeron outside of Marquis Sauron is in agreement about Lord Richard. If you delay his plans, Count Goliath is likely to be the first one at your throat.”

Schiller’s eyes flashed as he stared intently at Lina. However, the Dragon Mage was calm and collected as she matched his gaze. He eventually had to turn to Richard before speaking in a deep voice, “Alright then, Lord Richard, please follow me. I hope you will be able to find a suitable candidate. First, let me give you a tour of our small camp so you can better understand the environment these brave warriors live in.”

Richard walked into the largest hut under Schiller’s guidance, frowning immediately at the sharp odor that assaulted his nostrils. The hut was big, but with thirty people crammed in, there was very little free space. It had no beds, only mattresses spread across the floor with gaps in the middle to walk through. Large, stark naked brutes were sprawled all around with no sense of organization, their barbaric auras on full display.

At the back of the hut, several of these brutes were gathered around raping a woman. She was just as muscular as the rest, but clearly not strong enough to avoid the fate of becoming a toy of these savages. Another woman was wrestling a large man in a contained space, the results of a loss being obvious.

Seeing Richard and the voluptuous Lina walk in, the brutes lying on the ground shot up immediately with fervent passion. Strangely enough, the Dragon Mage didn’t seem to mind at all. Instead, she pouted her lips and sent them a flying kiss, adding fuel to the fire. The clamor grew much louder as half the people inside were on their feet in a moment, but even as their eyes spewed flames, their bodies remained clenched and on standby. The presence of a mage and a youth here was extremely bizarre, and once Schiller entered as well, all of them grew solemn. Anyone with unruly thoughts retreated in an instant.

Richard stood unmoving by the door for a moment, his gaze sweeping past the room. “No need to look anymore,” he said suddenly, turning around and walking out before Lina or Schiller could even reply. He headed straight to the center of the camp and looked up at the night sky, not saying a thing. There was indeed no need to look any longer; these brutes in the hut were level 7 or 8 warriors. Not one of them had any talent to speak of, to the point that even taking them to another plane was a waste of resources, forget using a soul contract.

Lina followed Richard out of the wooden hut, standing beside him with a trace of a mysterious smile on her face. She crossed her arms, looking at Schiller as she waited for the scene to play out. The man walked out as well, although his face had grown somewhat unsightly.

Richard stopped the Dragon Mage from speaking with a wave of his hand, his gaze still locked on the fifth moon that hung in the sky, “This is the night of the amethyst moon, Mister Schiller. Do you know what it represents?”

“I am just a brute,” Schiller growled.

“It represents Alucia’s wrath,” Richard explained pleasantly.

It took a moment for the man’s expression to recover, “I’m only a warrior, Lord Richard, I do not understand what you’re trying to say. Is this Alucia you’re speaking of a beauty?”

Richard responded with a question of his own, “What is this place?”

“The Archerons’ death training camp,” Schiller replied.

“And I don’t think your surname was made known to me.”

“Toller,” Schiller answered, but his expression changed.

“And what is the relationship between the Archerons and Tollers?” Richard pressed on.

“… There is none.” Schiller seemed to understand Richard’s intentions, and his face turned extremely dark. One could see a trace of warmth in his eyes.

“So, what level are you at right now?”

“… Level 19, Shadow Guard.”

Only then did Richard turn around to look Schiller in the eye, his voice turning icy, “Neither an Archeron nor a legendary being. I don’t understand what it is that makes you think the people in this camp are your private property.”

Schiller’s eyes narrowed, a murderous aura flaring up from his body. This direct reproach left him unable to repress his killing intent; he was the one who’d brought this camp to its current level of power, and it was his greatest achievement in the family. It was only in the past few years that the family had shown any interest in him.

It was understandable why his actions were completely different from his pleasant words. The relationships amongst the Archerons weren’t all that good, and those with equal levels of bloodline had great rivalry between them. Count Goliath and Marquis Gaton were basically enemies, and this camp was in the former’s territory. Schiller was one of the Count’s staunchest supporters.

Schiller wanted to retort, but his expression suddenly changed as a tiny golden scroll flashed in Richard’s hands. He recognized this item instantly—it was a soul contract. Just the presence of this scroll was several times more effective in confirming Richard’s authority than Lina herself. The blessings of the Eternal Dragon were based on a factor of luck, but to get the soul contract meant one definitely had to offer a sacrifice that satisfied the Eternal Dragon. This scroll was equivalent to a thirty-year boost to one’s life!

Richard casually tossed this priceless item to Schiller’s hands, “I’m sure you know what this is. I’m not here to play around, someone like you can’t slow me down. You have two choices: show me someone worthy of this scroll, or we leave. Now.”

The scroll flashed a golden light, revealing a faint aura of time that allowed Schiller to confirm its authenticity. However, that put Schiller in a bad spot; this piece of paper now seemed as heavy as a mountain. Just like Richard had said, nobody would bring out a soul contract if they were playing around. Not even the Divine Emperor could be that wasteful.

One of the resources the Archerons gave their core members was a personal bodyguard trained at the death camp. However, the strength of that bodyguard was determined by the camp’s manager, and normally nobody would press the issue even if someone was assigned a weakling. Since this camp was in Count Goliath’s territory, it was only natural that Gaton’s son would be given a weaker guard.

However, there was a huge difference between a regular bodyguard and a soulguard. The moment Richard took out the soul contract, Schiller was left with no room whatsoever to maneuver in. If he sent the boy back empty-handed, he was sure that Gaton’s knights would come looking to kill him. Mordred or Asiris would definitely be overseeing the attack, so there would be no chance of escape. The best end would be a quick death. Caught off-guard by the hard stance, he went silent.

Ever since Gaton had successfully entered Faust, the relationship between him and his brother had mellowed. They had even started to explore some avenues of cooperation and giving Richard a soulguard Was an important one. But despite this change in circumstances, Schiller had still treated Richard and Lina in such an unbecoming manner. Whether it was that he was being obstinate or that he wasn’t up to date on the information, only he knew. His original missive had been to do his best to make things difficult for Richard, but to still show the best candidates without reservation. This was a contradictory command, but it was a microcosm of the relationship between the two half-brothers.

Schiller’s expression wavered, but Richard did not press on. He instead looked up at the purple moon, something that only caused the invisible pressure to grow. The instructor finally made up his mind and returned the scroll to Richard, easing his tone significantly, “I understand, my Lord. Please follow me; it’s already getting late, and we still have some distance to cover.”

Schiller got on a horse, taking Richard and Lina through the forest. It took another hundred kilometers for them to reach a stream at the foothills of a mountain, with two more rows of disorderly wooden huts and several caves leading deep into the rock. He pointed ahead, “This is the true death camp. The most talented warriors of the family walk out from here, and there are three good candidates currently at level 10. I’ll call them over immediately.”

Richard nodded and Schiller took out a metal whistle, blowing hard. An ear-piercing screech rang through the area, setting a flock of birds aflight. Several of the wooden huts opened up, young men and women of various appearances walking out from within. Their only commonality was their wolf-like eyes.

As Richard’s gaze swept past all of these trainees, the door of the hut at the top of the stream shot open with so much force that it seemed like the hut would collapse. A large brute ducked through the door, almost completely naked except for some hide wrapped around his waist. The enormous man’s chiseled muscles looked as hard as steel, the tiny wooden hut barely large enough to fit his body within. “Hey, Boss! Is this new prey?”

“No, this is a choosing. One lucky person will become Lord Richard’s soulguard tonight; you get to show off your skills in planar warfare!”

The brute’s eyes flashed like lightning, narrowing as his gaze swept past Lina. He then looked over Richard, grabbing a worn two-handed axe and waving it several times in the air, “Hey, Lord! Pick me! Look, my axe can’t handle the hunger anymore!”

Richard could only smile wryly in the face of such a fervent request. Schiller pointed at the man, “This is Gangdor, 21 years old. He’s a warrior with the blood of giants, having awakened the Gaean Force ability which greatly increases his strength and defense when activated. He’s the best candidate.”

As several people emerged from the caves of the mountain, Schiller pointed to a skinny youth, “This is Kerfe, 19 years of age. He has a mixed bloodline of humans and drow, which enhances his stealth abilities. He’s a good choice as well.”

Finally, Schiller pointed towards a woman with a cold and detached expression, “Dify of the Kamires, descendant of the highland wizards with a powerful innate talent for magic. She is a natural-born warlock, possessing great firepower at any moment. Her bloodline ability is a magic boost as well. She’s the last candidate I want to introduce.”

The Archeron death camp only trained its participants up to level 10. Their talents and abilities would have awakened by then, so their future growth would depend on battle results in actual warfare. All three of the candidates Schiller had picked were obviously much stronger than the others around. They were extremely suitable for Richard’s requirements; the plane he was traveling to didn’t have a permanent portal yet, so level 10 was the limit of the portal. Anyone above that boundary would likely affect the spacetime tunnel with their power, being tossed into the currents of the void. Even a legendary being would not want to be caught in such a chaotic current.

Richard raised his hands and began a chant, but Lina was one step faster. She cast a group detection spell, avoiding having to cast one on every individual. He vividly detected the magic response from each of them, confirming their rune capacity. With the standard requirement of an elementary rune at 10 points, Kerfe had a total 43 points of capacity, Dify 41, and Gangdor a tremendous 72! This fellow with his thirsty axe could actually withstand a total of four runes, and one of them could even be grade 3 as long as it was on the weaker end. If they were willing to spend several million on him, he would be a rune knight tomorrow!

Gangdor sensed Richard’s gaze on him changing and bellowed even louder than before. Only this time, it was towards the other candidates, “Hey, you useless maggots. Did you see that? The Lord wants me! Me, Gangdor! Whoever isn’t happy can come forward, and we can fight! Let’s see how you use your brains in a fight! Come, anyone? My axe can’t handle the hunger anymore!”

Nobody moved, not even Kerfe or Dify. Gangdor’s roar seemed to intimidate everyone else, and their behavior indicated that he’d regularly beaten them in fights before.

Richard was rather satisfied with this brute: He was already level 10 at 21 years of age, so it wouldn’t be a problem for him to reach level 14 or 15 in the future. Even if he didn’t improve from there, his high carry capacity would allow him to become a high-ranking rune knight. He would hold an important position on the team in the future. However, he continued to think deeply, unable to make up his mind. Gangdor was an exemplary candidate, but it seemed wasteful to use a soul contract on him. A good warrior was different from a good bodyguard, and Gangdor’s talent didn’t awe Richard all that much. Having lived in the Deepblue for a long time, his appetite had already grown.

Noticing that several huts were still empty, Richard asked Schiller about it and learned that some of the participants were still out hunting in the forest. They hadn’t been able to make it back in time because of the distance, but the man said it wasn’t a problem since the most promising candidates were already before Richard. There was no need to wait for any other people.

As they were conversing, an ear-piercing scream split the skies above the forest, followed by the sounds of twigs and branches snapping. A bloodied man dashed out into the open in a flash, jumping into the stream and flailing in the water as he tried to swim away as fast as possible. The stream was rather deep, with fast-flowing currents and jagged reefs at the bottom. In his panic to run away, the man seemed to be severely injured. Fresh blood dyed the water pink in only moments.

“Level 11 warrior, no special abilities. This fellow is just prey for the death camp’s participants,” Lina whispered quietly into Richard’s ears.

There were magic beasts amongst the prey for the death camp, but there were many humans as well. Many warriors of different races and classes were placed in the forest, and the participants were tasked with hunting down and killing them before they escaped. This "prey" was normally higher-leveled than the participants, with those awarding the most marks being level 14 or 15. The hunt was thus a perilous one, with plenty of cases where the two sides switched.

Richard gazed at the edges of the forest, strangely feeling like the hunter would give him a surprise. A rather scrawny white figure emerged silently from the forest, a young girl in a white dress so tattered it could barely be called a rag. She had no defenses to speak of, and the clothes didn’t even cover her entire body. If not for extra fabric wrapped around her chest and waist, she would be essentially naked.

The girl was standing atop a nearby tree, her long fair legs a stark contrast from the gloomy backdrop. Richard’s gaze was particularly drawn to her bare feet—he could see every single digit clearly as they wrapped around the branches in a strong grip. The silhouette of her face looked rather pretty despite her shaggy short hair, but her deep green eyes flashed with a predatory glint as she stared at her target.

The branches she was resting on were very delicate, making it hard to believe that they could even hold her weight. They were swaying even in the soft breeze, but they abruptly sunk downwards under her force. Just before they crossed the breaking point they were relieved of her weight, and by the time they even returned to position she’d catapulted away like lightning.

Even just the jump left Richard gasping in awe. He’d learned assassination techniques himself, so he could recognize the profound control of strength behind that leap. Breaking a branch might seem like a small matter, but it would leave behind traces that were impossible to erase. A brilliant hunter could use such traces to track their prey. Even with her target right in front of her, the girl didn’t slack off in the slightest, leaving no tracks behind. If her actions were not because of prior training to take care of such detail, she had to have a natural disposition as an assassin.

The girl hugged the ground stealthily, reducing the distance between her and her prey at an unfathomable speed. She shot forth like a rocket every time her feet touched the rock, moving a few meters in a near-instant. From a distance, she just looked like a white apparition moving across the river-bank.

The injured prey had made his way across the stream with great difficulty. His steps were unsteady, and he eventually landed flat onto the ground. Injured and having to travel across the ice-cold water in the stream, he was obviously only seconds from falling apart. He struggled to crawl back up but fell down again pretty quickly before eventually getting himself up and fleeing with haste.

“This fellow is pretending, biding time for a final attack. It seems like he wants to take her down with him,” Lina commented. Even though she’d only recently become a grand mage herself, her intuition and combat experience were not something Richard could match. Lina could sense that Richard had grown interested in that hunter, so she added more information to help his judgment.

The youth sped up, leaning forward so much now that her hands almost touched the ground. She instantly charged through the riverbank before going on all fours and leaping up like a ferocious beast. She turned into a white blur that shot through the air, using all four limbs to cross the stream using the rocks that jutted out from below. To Richard, it was like a cunning winter wolf was chasing after her prey with all her might. She crossed the ten meters of the stream effortlessly, catching up with her target despite not making a single sound.

On the other hand, the injured man had accurately predicted her exact position. He decided to give up the facade in an instant, turning around quickly as he pounced at her with a roar. Given the builds of the two, one could easily tell that his strength far exceeded hers, giving him the advantage in close-quarters combat.

However, the teenage girl did not have any idea of escaping, and she pounced towards the man as well. Just as the two were about to collide, she jumped faster and higher than he could be prepared for, changing her position mid-air to avoid the collision by stepping on his body. Using him as a pivot she somersaulted forward, placing herself behind him. It seemed like an invisible hand was supporting her as she changed directions to land on the man’s back with a thud, and time seemed to come to a stop.

Restricting her prey with a chokehold using her right hand, the girl retrieved a blacksteel rod with her left. Richard felt a shiver run down his spine as the rod moved towards the man’s hips, his own clenching as it went in. Thankfully, many others had reacted in the same way, Lina included.

The man abruptly let out a pathetic squeal, his body tensing up as he was fiercely catapulted to the ground. The girl flicked her wrist, burying the rod in the man’s behind before she harshly removed it, leaving behind a spray of fresh blood.

She followed that up by rolling away from the prey, giving no chance for the man’s futile effort to survive. Steadying herself on all fours like a wolf, she glanced at the other trainees around her with a threat evident in her eyes. Kerfe, the one with the drow bloodline, moved towards her, but seeing her with no heavy injuries nor any signs of fatigue, he waved it away and retreated to his original position. As for the other students, many largely avoided the girl’s vicious glance.

No one came forth to fight for the prey, and the man eventually lost all signs of struggle as he began to twitch on the ground. Having observed the scenario, the teenager then walked towards her prey and grabbed a small steel dagger, slitting his throat to end his suffering. She then probed around his chest pocket and grabbed an engraved silver placard, breaking the chain connecting it to him and taking it towards Schiller. Even here she stopped meters away, body tensing up defensively with what seemed like more anxiety than when she faced the others in the training camp.

A dull thud rang out as she threw the placard in Schiller’s direction, announcing in a rigid voice, “Placard… this month.”

Schiller nodded, “This is your third placard in this month, that’s great! I’ll get someone to send you the potion tomorrow.”

Lina explained the situation with a whisper. The death camp added prey to the training every once in a while, chaining placards to their bodies. The trainees had to kill such prey every month, being rewarded with medals and reimbursement for their effort. The reimbursements included things such as equipment and resources, but the most valuable were potions that enhanced one’s physique. The placards also served as identifiers. All trainees had one on them as well and could use these to prove themselves if they were mistaken for prey. Students who did not manage to fulfill their monthly quotas were punished for the first three months, beaten with various intensities regardless of gender. The fourth time, their placards would be switched to the same status as the rest of the prey.

After the teenage girl threw the placard to Schiller, she shot a glance at Lina before slowly retreating. She was still quite guarded and refused to leave her back facing any of them. Her body suddenly tensed as a ray of light shone upon it, the rocks at her feet sent flying as she jumped away. She instantly went prone when she landed, seamlessly grabbing her weapon that was still stained with blood as she leveled a death gaze at Richard.

Lina took a step forward and shielded Richard, waving her own magical staff. The mage looked to be irked by the girl’s vicious aura, and the killing intent she felt from what she could tell was someone without outstanding strength was surprising.

As for the ray of light shining on the teenage girl, it was a testing spell, just like what Lina had previously released. A typical mage only obtained conventional feedback about the target’s strength, magic, and bloodline, but with Precision Richard was amongst the esteemed ones who could tell a target’s capacity from the response alone. It was not something even many true runemasters could manage.

Fearful of Lina and Schiller’s formidable strength, and not feeling like she had been hurt, the teenage girl’s killing aura slowly dissipated as she retreated once more.

“Hold up!” Richard suddenly called to the teenage girl. He then pointed to her as he declared to Schiller, “I want her!”

12 Gathering Comrades

Schiller’s brows furrowed as Richard pointed to the female hunter, “This is Waterflower, somewhere between 16 and 18 years old. She’s currently a level 9 assassin, and her greatest strength is her sense for danger. She also has outstanding talent at combat, but unfortunately, that is all. The other three are all level 10 already, and they’ve actually awakened their bloodline abilities. She’s also very hard to control.”

“I have a soul contract to rein her in,” Richard scanned over the girl, “And what’s with the name? Is she from a rare tribe or something? You don’t seem sure of her age, either.”

Schiller hesitated before explaining, “I picked her up during one of my trips in the forest. She was living with a pack of moon wolves at that point, probably raised like a wolf cub. She looked about five years of age by normal standards, but even having learned to speak she hasn’t been able to explain exactly how long she lived with the wolf pack. That’s why we don’t know her definite age. As for her name, it was given to her by the other students in the training camp. They say that she’s like the aquaflora, tasty yet formidable with the protection of lethal poison. She’s completely unattainable by the common person.”

“Alright, she’s the one I want!” Richard had already made his decision.

Lina could not help but raise concerns, “Richard, are you sure you don’t want to reconsider your decision? Even though she is gifted in combat, she hasn’t been able to unlock a bloodline ability; that’s a flaw that you will not be able to make up for. Schiller said that she was raised by a pack of wolves, so we will never be able to properly confirm her heritage; we can’t be sure whether she even has any bloodline potential at all. We should err on the side of caution, and choose a more suitable option like Gangdor.”

Her worries were not unfounded. Theoretically, both one’s bloodline and their rune capacity were instrumental components of their battle might. In a battle between two rune knights of equal level, the one with the higher-ranked ability would be able to completely suppress the other. Gaton had deliberately assigned Lina to escort Richard on this journey; her rich knowledge in the field of magic would help him select a proper soulguard.

Having said that, Lina eyed Waterflower’s attractive figure once more. She started to think that Richard wanted to choose the girl for her appearance. After all, Waterflower’s looks were extraordinary. The earlier scene also suggested that she had a formidable sixth sense on the battlefield, allowing her to compete with those with more innate abilities than her. However, to use a soul contract on her seemed a bit of a waste. Coming from the upper class herself, the Dragon Mage had high expectations for class and elegance. To her, Waterflower’s methods when she had her prey in hand were quite distasteful. Of course, this didn’t mean she was surprised. A girl raised by wolves would naturally fight like one, and the death camp itself focused on the opponent going down, not how that was accomplished.

Having thought of this point, Lina immediately turned to look at Schiller, “How many people have bedded her?”

What the Dragon Mage was hinting at was obvious. For a girl to hail from such a chaotic place, she was likely to have had intimate relationships with many men. The sight they’d seen in the initial location was proof of that.

However, Schiller’s next words defied that norm, “None. She’s still a virgin.”

“Impossible!” Lina immediately retorted.

“I picked her up myself. I didn’t let anyone touch her until she reached the age of ten, and her peers haven’t gotten the upper hand over her ever since.”

Lina frowned, not saying a word. This was not the time to jest; Schiller would not lie.

Schiller looked at Richard and sighed, “Lord Richard, I’m the one who found Waterflower. She’s like a daughter to me; of course I want her to be chosen to leave this place. However, while the value of her purity is for you to decide, she isn’t really worthy of a soul contract.”

However, Richard had already taken out the contract, “Her bloodline doesn’t matter. She can fit any grade 4 rune in existence, and maybe even some at grade 5.”

“Grade 5?” Lina and Schiller were both shocked. Even grade 4 runes would let her become a third-grade rune knight, the same level of power as one of Gaton’s Thirteen! That kind of rune capacity totally made up for a lack of bloodline abilities; considering this, Waterflower was most certainly worthy of a soul contract above Gangdor.

However, Richard didn’t mention all of his observations. Waterflower’s capacity was an enormous 153 points, far greater than the 80-120 range needed for a grade 4 rune. Even Flowsand’s capacity of 180 points wasn’t much greater, and the response was from all over Waterflower’s body. She had a whopping eight rune slots in total, one greater than Flowsand’s seven! The Daybreaker was a cleric of the Church of Eternity who could possibly take on the position of High Priestess in the future. The fact that Waterflower had more rune slots than her was monstrous.

“Waterflower, come here,” Schiller waved the girl over. At this point, neither he nor Lina had any objections anymore.

The young girl looked at the three people before her with caution, but from their conversation, she was more or less aware of what was going to happen. She moved over hesitantly, her guard still high. This was something that she’d learned from her life with beasts; to be extremely careful and alert when facing anyone or anything with great strength, regardless of their relationship.

Schiller glanced over at Waterflower with an inexplicable wistfulness in his eyes, “You will be Lord Richard’s soulguard from today, and won’t have to stay here anymore. You will be his second life, someone who shares his destiny. Always act as you did here, continuing to improve your power.

“And take this blade! It’s been with me for years, I think it’ll suit you.” Schiller unlatched the meter-long sword from his waist and tossed it to Waterflower. She caught it in an instant, moving back at the speed of lightning as she looked at the other members of the camp. She only drew out a portion of the blade once she was sure that nobody would ambush her.

The weapon was barely more than an inch wide, with almost no reflections coming off the jet-black blade. It seemed inexplicably obscure, giving off an unnerving vibe as it left its sheath. A master appraiser herself, Lina gasped as she saw the steel, “Mythical Goldsand! This is the Shepherd of Eternal Rest!”

Richard’s eyes went wide as he heard that. Goldsand was superior to even alchemic blacksteel and was one of the best metals used to forge weapons. Swords formed from it were twice as tough as ordinary high-carbon steel and could withstand a pair of extra enchantments on top. This sword in particular was clearly made by a skilled smith, with enchantments for bleeding, tearing, sharpness, and armor-breaking. Its power was clear at first sight.

Waterflower finally walked towards Richard under Schiller’s insistence, kneeling down as per Lina’s orders. It was obvious from her expression and the cautious fiddling of her fingers that this proximity caused her great discomfort, and it was possible she could hurt someone at any moment. With the Shepherd of Eternal Rest in her hands, and within such a small distance at that, even the Dragon Mage felt uneasy enough to cast two calming spells on her to settle her down.

Richard slowly unfurled the soul contract in his hands, chanting the spell written upon it. “In the name of Eternity, I unite my soul with the person before my eyes…”

As the chant was read out, the contract started to emit a beam of golden light that grew brighter and brighter over time. It disintegrated piece by piece, scattering into a cloud of golden sand. Waterflower raised her head slightly, gazing curiously at the coagulated magical sand that seemed to have taken a part of her life. She felt no more fear; that was replaced by a faint anticipation as she felt her destiny being warped.

The spell was complex and tedious, but eventually, all the golden grains of sand suddenly gathered into a stream of light. The light instantly shone onto Waterflower’s forehead, condensing between her brows into an hourglass of light gold. It quickly turned upside down, its traces slowly disappearing into her body. Waterflower grew sluggish, fainting with a grunt. Richard started as well, feeling like a portion of his soul had been torn away in a split second to vanish into the depths of space. A strong sense of weakness struck his heart, and he couldn’t help but stagger two steps backward into a ram embrace. Lina had already known the consequences and caught him just before he fell, taking out two energy potions for recovery. While Richard still had the strength to drink the potion himself, Waterflower had to be fed the liquid personally.

The potions soon took effect, and Richard felt his strength starting to return. It was then that he felt Waterflower’s exact location in the back of his mind, realizing that he could read the state of her mind as she slowly returned to consciousness. When she bolted out of Lina’s arms and unsheathed her sword, he could tell that she was confused and wary of an unknown enemy.

The youthful girl looked at Richard in surprise, as if she felt the effects of the soul contract as well. He sent a soothing message through their connection, calming her down enough to sheathe the sword again and inch towards him. With the power of the contract acting on her, Richard’s breath felt like the safest and most peaceful place in the world.

Schiller let out a long sigh, “Lord Richard, it’s time to leave. We have already spent too much time.”

Richard nodded, turning his back to leave only to feel the earth suddenly shaking. A thunderous roar echoed from behind him, “Hey, Lord! Lord! The chick Waterflower is pretty awesome, but I’m not all that bad either! At least right now, she’s no match for me. Look, my axe can’t handle the hunger anymore! See how rough it’s gotten, it sure won’t let you down!”

Richard stopped in his tracks, staring at the brute who’d darted all the way here. Waterflower took a careful step forward, gripping tightly onto the Shepherd of Eternal Rest. With this sword in hand, she wasn’t afraid of him at all. After a short period of hesitation, he turned to Schiller, “I want to take him with me as well.”

Schiller muttered to himself for a bit and replied, “Although the orders were for one protector, it isn’t forbidden to take a second with you as long as Marquis Gaton provides some additional compensation. However, I need to remind you that there is no loyalty in the people who come from the death camps. Only great power can force them into submission. My suggestion is to use an enslavement contract, you’ll come to see that the investment is worth it.”

Richard nodded, turning towards the giant brute who had cleverly kept just outside of the fifteen-meter range within which most mages would feel threatened, “How about it? Are you willing to sign a slave contract?”

Gangdor laughed, “If you need me to prove my loyalty, gladly! As long as I can leave this damned place, as long as I can slaughter my way through a real battlefield, I can do anything! Look at this rough axe, it can’t handle the—”

“Alright, I get it!” Richard cut him off, turning to the Dragon Mage, “Lina?”

“Sure,” Lina took out a crimson scroll, throwing it over to Gangdor. The brute opened it without hesitation, activating its power and allowing a dim beam of light to bore through his chest. Even with the immense pain he only slightly bit his lip, watching as a similar beam entered Richard’s body.

Magic enslavement contracts were rare and precious. Through it, Richard could cause intense pain and even serious damage whenever his heart desired. If he died, anyone contracted to him would experience a significant permanent drop in power. In Norland, where power meant everything, this sort of severe punishment was unbearable. This was far weaker than a soul contract, but still an effective restriction. Everybody significant accompanying Richard on his journey this time would be bound to him in the same way, with the one obvious exception of Flowsand.

Lina was still on her guard. When the contract was completed, she used soul magic again to carefully investigate Gangdor and confirm that the contract was in effect. When she nodded in acknowledgment, Gangdor finally waved his giant axe with excitement as he turned to the other trainees, “Hear that, maggots? Consider yourself lucky, I’m finally getting the hell out of this damned place! Now you don’t need to cower under my axe, thank your stars! Hahaha!”

Looking at the growling Gangdor, Richard suddenly felt his head starting to ache. He said to Schiller, “This was your original best recommendation?”

“If we’re looking at battle power, then yes. Waterflower was only slightly better,” Schiller replied expressionlessly.

Richard studied Gangdor again, as well as that eye-catching axe of his that was "unable to handle the hunger." He finally sighed, “Alright, let’s get going. We still need to continue on the journey tomorrow.”

* * *

Early morning the next day, the bolstered party headed back to Giantwood Village, embarking for Port Mokoff in the east. When Flowsand saw Waterflower and Gangdor, she was a little shocked.

However, obstacles surfaced even before the team took off. The party didn’t have any horses that could withstand Gangdor’s weight, and none of the beasts would even let Waterflower get close. Richard eventually had to give the brute his own armored warhorse, while Lina found the gentlest mount she could and fed it some calming pills before Waterflower finally got on. It was only then that the journey began smoothly. Of course, this was all Richard’s arrangement. Gangdor and Waterflower would rather just run to Mokoff on foot. To them, that was faster.

After a three-day-long journey, the small party finally made it to Mokoff, a northeastern port-city of the Divine Alliance that boasted of natural protection from the winds. The only port used more often was the Constellation Harbor, but that was because of its proximity to Faust. Outside of an insignificant mountain range to the north, that port had no specialties nearby.

The fief of Mokoff was basically independent, with its leader only seeming to vow loyalty to the Divine Emperor on the surface. Morfan only paid taxes for formality’s sake, an annual proof of his so-called allegiance. In this city of only ten thousand people, he was the supreme ruler.

A supreme ruler known for his audacious slaving business.

Because of the port’s location, Mokoff had slaves of almost every race from the duergar to the nagas, and because of its nearly sovereign nature, even third-generation human nobles without positions and certain types of elves and avians. If the buyer paid a high enough price, they could even get their hands on people with royal blood in them! However, the sale of such “merchandise” was an underground business. The buyers needed wealth and status for the deal to take place, and these were all people who acquired bizarre things and creatures as trophies or for experiments. Every inch of Mokoff’s land exuded the scent of blood money.

Richard was stopped by a patrol the moment he drew within range of the city. A troop with rune knights, light cavalry, and mages was basically as good as an army, which was enough to attract everyone’s attention. Each of the six guards had superior-grade weapons and armor, while they were each level 5 at minimum. For a mere patrol to be at least 20% more powerful than the norm across the Alliance gave one a sense of the city’s power.

The coachmen who’d come with Flowsand were the ones to negotiate with the guards, the token of the Eternal Dragon turning their attitudes around completely. The captain sent two of his men off early to report the group’s arrival, personally escorting them to the city walls where they met the city’s lord. Morfan was a middle-aged man who seemed more like a merchant than a portmaster, and negotiations with him went rather smoothly. He welcomed Richard and Flowsand with appropriate enthusiasm, asking his men to bring the two to select slaves immediately.

Their destination for this trip was a small slaving camp on the outskirts of the city. There were thrice as many guards here as in ordinary camps, making it clear how valuable the prisoners here were. There was another odd thing about this camp—Richard and Flowsand did not hear the usual shouts and sounds of agony. The guards were the only ones moving around the large area, making the entire campsite look quite deserted. It was quite evident that the common slaves had been moved away.

Richard followed Morfan’s assistant to a shack in the north of the campsite. A pungent odor assaulted their noses the moment they stepped in, but ever since the death camp, Richard seemed immune to such things. He showed no discomfort as he trailed the assistant, something that surprised the other party and caused him to reevaluate this young mage. Even more surprising was that Flowsand actually followed them this time around. Her expression was emotionless as usual, making her seem oblivious to the bad environment.

Thick metal fences separated the shack into different cells. This place was the living quarters of the slaves, but only seven occupied the entire shack. Or rather, seven groups of slaves; the biggest cell actually had two ogres within.

Of course, the ogres attracted Richard’s attention first. They were an intelligent race that wasn’t too rare in Norland, related by blood to both humans and werebeasts. Of course, this didn’t stop them from enjoying these cousins in their diets. An ogre’s strength was directly proportional to their size, and mature adults could easily surpass a level 10 warrior in strength. They also were fairly intelligent, to the point that many believed they weren’t worse than humans and elves. There were a number of mages and shamans amongst their ranks.

When ogres reached a certain level of power, there was a chance for them to undergo a mutation. The most common of these was growing another head, with two-headed ogres far surpassing their kin be it in magic or physical strength. One often needed a team of adventurers of different classes with good chemistry to deal with such power.

Richard saw these two ogres had yet to mature, their physiques being noticeably smaller than ordinary members of their race. However, an unnerving feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. They were clean, almost too clean to be ogres. And unlike ordinary ogres who were easily incensed, they were quite relaxed as well. Just as Richard was observing them, they too were looking at this boy before them. It was clear that they were smarter than normal.

“Why are there two ogres here?” Richard asked.

Morfan’s assistant replied, “They were discovered by a team of adventurers in the northern mountains. They used to live with an old druid who we believe raised them. He taught them language, writing, even magic. His influence left them with various human habits.”

“And then?” Even if he asked, Richard could predict the latter part of the story.

“Then...” The assistant shrugged, “The team realized their worth, so they killed the druid and sold the ogres to us. Ah, this was the first time Master Morfan spent ten thousand gold on a single ogre! But of course. These ogres are smart, far smarter than average. It also makes them far more dangerous.”

The assistant pointed to the taller and stronger one as he explained, “That one is a warrior, called Medium Rare. The one beside him is a mage, named Tiramisu.”

“Sorry, what?” If Richard’s mouth had been filled with water, the assistant would have been sprayed down right about now. Ogres commonly named themselves after epic skills or weapons, like Flamefist or Gianthammer. This was the first time he’d heard of such unique names.

The assistant laughed, “Special names, aren’t they? These two are self-proclaimed gourmets. But be warned, as intelligent as they are, ogres are ogres. Intelligence doesn’t relate to appetite, only danger; they see us as food. Don’t count on them following any laws, and don’t have any hopes for their loyalty either. They only pledge loyalty to those who have the power to kill them in the moment.

Tiramisu grew displeased upon hearing these ill words about him, “Ignorant human! Don’t treat us like we’re ordinary ogres. We’re gourmets!”

Richard laughed this time. These two ogres were interesting indeed, but he still decided to look through all seven cells before making a choice. He’d already known Morfan would prepare a batch of unique slaves for him, but from the quality of these seven, it seemed like the man really viewed High Priestess Ferlyn with great respect. There were mages, warriors, assassins, even a priest amongst the slaves, a real priest! It was beyond remarkable that one could abduct someone of faith, turning him into a slave. It caused Richard to grow curious about Morfan’s background. Sadly, he couldn’t take all of the slaves. The interplanar portal only allowed for a small number of people with significant power.

An unusual member of the group was an elven bard. The man was quarter human and three-quarters of the rare variant of sun elves, his heritage making him so beautiful that he could pass as a girl in appropriate clothing.

Another thing that caught Richard’s attention was the last cell he visited. Inside was a drow warrior, a classical example of her race: arrogant, sultry, and murderous with dark skin and long silver hair. When Richard first saw her, she was cowering in a dark corner of the cell, avoiding sunlight at all costs. Her dark skin made her almost indistinguishable from the shadows, and one would have missed her if they were not attentive.

Drow were quite restricted in the day, but at night they turned into the most dangerous of opponents. This one was a warrior, not one of the dreaded shamans, but Morfan still priced her at 60,000 gold, more expensive than the two ogres combined. That was just the cold hard truth, however. The ogres were good-for-nothings apart from their use in battle, but the young and beautiful elf was different. Her main use wasn’t on the field, it was instead on a soft and fluffy bed. She was worth the price for most royalty.

Once they’d gone through everyone once, the assistant turned around and asked, “So? Have you made up your mind, my Lord?”

“The ogres and the bard,” Flowsand whispered before Richard could even consider things, explaining indifferently as she sensed his inquisitive gaze, “They have the potential to reach ascension, the rest do not.”

“You can tell their potential?” Richard asked in shock. He’d gone through a test when he first entered the Deepblue as well, but he remembered it being an unbearably long and painful procedure.

Flowsand nodded, “Yes, but it has a great price. Such things drain my divine grace, if I probe any further I will fall in level.”

Richard understood her immediately, walking over to the assistant and pointing Flowsand’s choices out, “I want these three.”

The assistant was rather dumbfounded at his choice, taking a glance at the drow. He didn’t understand why she was not one of Richard’s choices, given how many uses she had. The dark elf came from Morfan’s personal collection, one that he’d curated for royalty. He’d only added this rare treasure here as a gesture of goodwill once he saw that Flowsand had come along as well. But then, he had second thoughts as he looked at the elven bard. Royals had all sorts of bizarre fetishes, and this bard had more than one use as well. In fact, he might even have more uses than that elf.

The assistant sorted his thoughts out, no longer doubting Richard’s decision. He proceeded to finish his duty, explaining the precautions they had to take, “Alright. I need to remind you that slaves are slaves, regardless of quality. None of them took on this role willingly, so you should not count on their loyalty. Be alert at all times, and prepared to deliver harsh punishments if the time calls for it.”

“No need to worry, I have contracts,” Richard said, taking out a scroll for each slave.

“Oh! Alright, I understand. I still urge you to remember my words, my Lord.” The assistant’s tone still held respect, but his thoughts were otherwise. Although these contracts were the best assurance of a slave’s loyalty, it depended on the situation. The scrolls in Richard’s hands were almost the same price as the slaves. He would rather use that extra money to buy more slaves instead of being wasteful like this. There were plenty of ways to train them, and the occasional sacrifice of one or two was nothing.

The ogres and the elf stood still as the contracts took effect, before following Richard out. The elven bard introduced himself, his background, and his skills using poetry.

He was Olar Floatwind, the child of a strong sun elf warrior and a half-elf. His impure heritage left him facing discrimination since birth, causing his mother to take him away and wander alone. He was eventually captured by a team of adventurers, becoming a slave. However, Olar’s bloodline abilities and talent started to show as he grew. He was currently a level 8 bard and rather skilled at archery as well, all without any formal training. He would be thirty this year, but that only barely made him an adult amongst the elves who lived to two hundred years of age.

Bards were similar to clerics, mages, and assassins all at once. Those of this class mainly supported their party in battle. This wasn’t a class Olar had chosen himself; it was something he had been forced into by slave traffickers to please the aristocrats and royalty. His beautiful soothing voice, striking looks, and aura made any banquet calm and satisfying. Some ladies even fell head over heels for him.

Richard paid the assistant upon their arrival at Mokoff and bought some equipment for his newly acquired slaves in the market. They quickly made their way to a docked ship without rest, starting the final stretch of their journey.

The ship was enormous, able to hold up to 500 people at once on a long-haul journey. Everyone occupying it was from either the Archerons or the Church of Eternity, carefully selected after multiple stringent tests. Apart from sailors and soldiers, they’d also brought along dozens of craftsmen of different specializations as well about ten low-level mages. Their destination this time was an island not on the Alliance’s records, leaving Richard able to claim it for his own the moment he arrived. And Richard already had a name in mind for it: Yessë-va-ilu. It was a term from an ancient elven language, meaning the beginning of everything.

The passengers of this ship were to become the first settlers of Yessë-va-ilu, the first of Richard’s citizens. And for this, Richard had added another 15,000 coins to the debt he owed the Archerons.

Having sailed the vast ocean for three whole days, the ship had long since departed from common routes. It was on the fourth morning that Yessë-va-ilu appeared on the horizon, an island over tens of kilometers wide with springs on the eastern mountains for water and forest that covered half of its land providing timber. After Richard stepped foot on the island, he had a small village and port set up.

The ship dropped anchor, sending the group of people and their belongings through a smaller boat. Richard, Flowsand, and Lina entered the forest, searching for a suitable area to set up the portal. As Richard’s soulguard, Waterflower lurked in the vicinity as well. He could occasionally feel some faint joy from the girl through their connection, likely related to having returned to the forest. Lina eventually decided on the foot of a small hill, taking mana crystals out of her spatial pouch to set up the spell formation. The formation was extremely complicated, requiring even the Dragon Mage one full day at minimum to set up.

That night, Richard had a few bonfires set up around the area. He sat down with Flowsand at his side, grilling the prey that Waterflower had captured. Lina continued to work, placing crystals into their position from time to time as the formation flashed with a wondrous brilliance.

They could see the bonfires at the shore from their location, with the tens of tents set up there. If his expedition into the plane was successful, future generations could stay here, using the port and village they were setting up.

The bonfire flickered continuously, illuminating the two’s faces from time to time. Neither spoke. Even if they were heading for a low-level plane, with nothing expected to happen, nobody could be sure of what they would face. On the eve of their expedition, the pressure had magnified itself in front of them.

Epilogue: Departure

It was not a tranquil evening in Faust. Several griffins glided across the night sky, bathed in the brilliance of the seven moons as their riders skillfully brought them down on Island 7-1. Several important figures gathered in a lavish and spacious living room, all representing their families.

Between the two sides sat a stern-looking old man. This was Duke Bickar Mensa, the head of the Mensas that occupied this island. Like the Josephs, the Mensas were well-known aristocrats with a legacy spanning hundreds of generations. They were even older than the Divine Alliance, something evident from their high position amongst the Fourteen.

On the Duke’s left was Baron Raymond Joseph, while on his right was a handsome yet sinister-looking youth. That was Viscount Dasher of the Wellington Family, true big-shots that occupied Island 6-3. As for the last representative, the one from the Schumpeters that occupied Island 7-7, he could only sit further away at the side of Viscount Dasher.

These four families combined made for an extremely powerful force. As for the issue that had gathered them all together? The threat of the Archerons, of Richard Archeron.

Greeting the Duke with respect, Raymond surveyed everyone in the room before he spoke solemnly, “The Archerons have not been amongst our number for even two years, with only three offerings to their name, but they have already managed to shift their island. I’m sure everyone present understands what this means clearly. We cannot allow those lunatics to expand any further, and need to adopt a powerful strategy to suppress them!

“The first target is Richard Archeron. I’ve gathered that he isn’t just a student of the legendary mage, but also someone who has the potential to become an ascended runemaster in the future. Indeed, an ascended runemaster! That isn’t something I’m exaggerating in order to incite action; my latest reports say that a compoundable rune he crafted was sold on auction for over five million gold.”

The Schumpeter family representative slapped the sides of his seat, saying passionately, “If we’d known that earlier, we would have killed him the night he went to the ceremony with Gaton!”

Dasher harrumphed cynically,” Kill him? I heard there were several families waiting in the dark to ambush them, but nobody dared step up in the end. Such fear of a single marquis! I’m sure the Schumpeters were amongst those in ambush?”

The representative of the Schumpeters turned red with anger, but he didn’t dare rebuke the Viscount. As the family occupying the seventh island, they were in an extremely awkward position. They needed the Wellingtons’ support in crucial moments if they hoped to ward off any new entrants to Faust.

However, given their sensitive position, how would they dare arouse the wrath of the Archerons? Survival wasn’t even guaranteed in a war with those lunatics, but even if they came out ahead, they would lose a massive amount of resources. At that point, any of the others eyeing the floating islands could seize the opportunity to attack. Even the Schumpeters themselves had no confidence in a war against Gaton; the man had decimated the family that occupied Island 7-3. Even the arch-nemeses of the Archerons, the Josephs, would never engage in direct warfare.

Raymond spoke up to dispel the awkward atmosphere, “According to what I know, it wasn’t Gaton that performed the ceremony that night, it was Richard.”

“Richard?” Duke Mensa snorted and furrowed his brows, “The fellow seems to have left Faust the moment the ceremony ended. He likely obtained a powerful blessing of time. If he’s lucky enough, it could even have been a Torrent of Life or Unhurriedness. The next time we see him, he could very well pose a huge threat to us.”

“If he was blessed with innate talent, or a specific rune, we might be facing a legendary runemaster in the future! Don’t forget Saint Peter and the Angels!” Raymond added.

The atmosphere in the discussion room turned gloomy in an instant. All those present acknowledged the threat Richard posed from the information they had been provided. It greatly increased the level of his threat even beyond Alice, putting him second in the Archerons only to Gaton himself. And the most terrible thing? He received even more blessings than Gaton. Even if everyone present knew the Josephs had some selfish desire in their proposition, the rest were just the same. Gaton’s shadow was like a sword looming over their heads, it was just that the Josephs were likely going to be the first to be targeted.

Duke Mensa eventually made up his mind, breaking the long silence, “We have to take action. We cannot let Richard grow in power.”

“Take action?” Dasher looked at the Duke with contempt, snorting, “What kind of action? Richard left Faust a week ago, his destination unknown. He’s definitely embarked on an expedition to a plane, and don’t dream of getting the coordinates anytime soon. High Priestess Ferlyn even had the Daybreaker accompany him! Do you think we’ll be able to get the location out of the Church of Eternity?”

“Richard and Flowsand… Have you not realized yet?” Raymond asked with a smile. He didn’t seem dismayed, instead very confident...

Dasher’s face darkened; he obviously wasn’t happy with Raymond’s behavior. Although they both occupied the same layer, the Wellingtons were undeniably far stronger than the Josephs. In fact, the Josephs had grown even weaker through repeated battles with the Archerons.

However, Raymond didn’t continue to keep them guessing, “Richard and Flowsand being together will mean that they’re going to a low-level plane. A party formed for such an expedition will be limited to level 10 or so. We don’t have to get the coordinates from Gaton or the Church; in fact, we don’t have to get the coordinates at all. As long as we’re able to shift where they end up, our plans can be achieved.”

“You mean to…?” Dasher’s eyes flashed. This fellow didn’t seem as unlikeable anymore.

Raymond immediately replied, “Simple. We can perform a ceremony of our own, using the entirety of the blessing to change the coordinates Richard will be teleporting to. Turn it into an intermediate plane that needs a party at least at level 18 to conquer! Then we can get the coordinates for this new plane, and send our own parties to vie for the resources there. While we’re at it, we can have Richard killed as well. The laws allow us to send expeditions capped at level 15, so it won’t be a huge strain on our resources and won’t draw the attention of the Archerons. And based on levels alone, we’ll have an absolute advantage over his party.

Duke Mensa pondered for a while before speaking, “This is a good idea, but it has already been a week…” Sacrifices could only change the future, not the past.

Raymond added in a hurry, “He should still be off somewhere making preparations. We’ve always had our eyes on important Archerons, and Richard definitely didn’t have the resources for an expedition prepared before the ceremony. We must still strike quickly, however; our time is running out.” Raymond’s confidence caused the representatives of the other families to exchange looks. With the two families being arch-enemies, the Josephs spying on the Archerons was nothing new.

Duke Mensa chimed in, “Richard’s blessings weren’t weak. We’ll need a ceremony with thrice the offerings.”

“We’ll be able to accomplish that if we divide it amongst ourselves,” Dasher interjected. He then turned to the Schumpeter representative, frowning, “As for you guys…”

The Schumpeters had just performed a ceremony a few months ago, and their strength had dropped greatly in recent years. They wouldn’t be able to find anything decent in vaults. However, they would definitely be thrown out of this circle if they didn’t make any contributions at a time like this.

When Dasher’s gaze swept past him, the Schumpeter representative gritted his teeth, “Leave the boy to us. We’ll divide the resources from the new plane equally amongst our families.”

“It won’t be that easy to deal with those two,” Dasher didn’t release his hold on the man, “Who’ll be in charge of the mission?”

The man gritted his teeth again, “Sinclair!”

“Very well then, it’s all settled!” Dasher seemed to be satisfied, a rare sight. He moved the discussion forward, discussing the sacrifices with the other two.

Not long after at midnight, Duke Mensa personally led a party of knights to the Church of Eternity, beginning a ceremony in a bid to obtain blessings. This was supposed to be a low-grade ceremony arranged at the last minute, so Ferlyn herself did not show up. A random priestess would be enough to officiate.

Once the ceremony began, however, the light in the church grew more and more radiant. Divine energy surged from the void, and just the sheer amount of it indicated that this was ta top-tier offering. This was an extremely rare occurrence, causing the officiating priestess to nearly faint with happiness. Such a grand ceremony wouldn’t normally be open for her to conduct, so this was a blessing. She was even more solicitous than usual afterward, personally escorting the Duke out of the church.

The ceremony performed in the middle of the night was a hot topic in aristocratic circles for a few weeks. Duke Mensa’s close friends visited him on occasion, congratulating him. They all believed that such a great blessing would cement his position in the Divine Alliance further, perhaps to the point that he wouldn’t have to worry about the Archeron threat anymore.

Every time, Duke Mensa only expressed his gratitude. He didn’t reveal any details of the ceremony, leaving these “close friends” with no information about the events leading up to it.

* * *

Richard had no idea of the events that had unfolded in Faust. They were on the eve of departure, the final night of preparations finally here. And that passed quickly as well—between the headcount, preparing equipment, readying themselves for emergencies, and many other little matters like that, the sun had crept its way back onto the horizon.

The spell formation only needed to be activated now, but Lina remained cautious and checked the coordinates repeatedly. Richard made a final confirmation as well, just before he would teleport away.

The party this time consisted of him, Flowsand, Waterflower, Gangdor, the ogres, Olar, and a small group of footsoldiers provided by the Archerons. Nobody except Richard, Flowsand, and Waterflower carried high-grade equipment so they wouldn’t have to use much energy for teleportation, and all of his runecrafting supplies were stuffed into two large boxes.

Once she ascertained that everything was in place, Lina activated the portal. Immense mana surged from the crystals placed all over the formation, tearing the void above it until an ancient law stabilized the rift. It eventually formed a portal that they would be able to pass through one at a time.

The footsoldiers were the first through the portal, followed by Gangdor, the ogres, and then the rest. Once Flowsand stepped through as well, Richard was the only one remaining.

“One minute!” Lina called out, walking up to Richard, “Good luck, Little Richard!”

“Thank you!” Richard smiled, wanting to shake her hand. However, the Dragonmage instead gave him a warm hug, one so tight that Richard could distinctly feel her figure pressing into his body.

Richard walked back to the portal. In the final moment before he left, he turned around and waved, “I’ll definitely come back!”

There was a common saying amongst those of Norland embarking on an expedition: the portal was like a mirror. But one step and one would end up in an entirely different world. Nobody knew what they would encounter in the other plane, forget whether they could grow a base and stabilize their position there, obtain resources, and return home. Once Richard stepped foot through the portal, nobody knew when it would be that he stepped back onto Norland’s soil once more.

Seeing the boy’s figure disappear through the portal, Lina felt a sudden urge to cry. It wasn’t because Richard was special, but because this scene brought back many memories from the past. This wasn’t the first time the Dragon Mage had set up a portal to a different plane, personally sending off many people on their journeys. There were strangers, comrades, family, friends, and lovers. They were all bold, decisive, and intelligent, outstanding people of their times. She hadn’t come across most of them since.

And then the portal winked out of existence, those who had entered it arriving at an unknown land far away.

Acknowledgments

We would like to thank our amazing editor, Sreenivas M K, and our wonderful cover artist Elin for your hard work and dedication.

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