Three days later, Leroy Livingstone stood frozen before the main gates of the Stargate estate. He did not knock. He did not call for anyone. He simply stood there, as if the door itself held judgment.

  The guards noticed him, of course. They whispered among themselves. Usually, Lady Starmist would not keep a guest waiting, especially not the council’s leader. But none of them spoke. None of them moved. They pretended nothing was unusual.

  Leroy lifted his hand to knock.

  It hovered in the air.

  It never touched the door.

  A sharp voice came from behind him.

  He spun around.

  “Council Leader Leroy. If you’re looking for my aunt, she’s in the garden.”

  It was Starslayer. He stood with his hands behind his back, his expression flat, as if he had just woken from a nap.

  “Oh… Thank you,” Leroy said, stepping down the stairs. He paused, giving the young man an awkward look. “How have you been, Starslayer?”

  “She’s been waiting for you for an hour.”

  Starslayer climbed the steps without another word and pushed open the door. It closed behind him with quiet finality.

  Leroy stared at the tall white doors for a moment. Then he turned and walked around the estate toward the garden.

  Starmist stood beside a small fountain. Birds of many colors—white, gold, and pale blue—splashed in the shallow water. They chirped noisily, shaking droplets from their feathers.

  “Starmist,” Leroy called.

  He stopped a few steps behind her.

  She straightened, but did not turn at once. When she finally faced him, Leroy blinked in surprise.

  She was smiling. Brightly. Gently.

  This beyond my expectations? he wondered. She hated me the last time we spoke.

  “I’m glad you came,” she said. “I thought after waiting so long, you might not show up at all.”

  Leroy returned the smile, though confusion lingered in his eyes.

  “I had some urgent matter with Burgess. Sorry for being late.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

  She stepped closer to the fountain. Leroy followed. They stood side by side, watching their reflections ripple in the water.

  “Starmist… are you no longer angry with me?” he asked.

  She let out a slow breath.

  “You kept your promise this time. And we’re going on this mission together. That matters more now.”

  “I see,” Leroy said. Relief softened his face. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Above them, the birds fluttered from the fountain’s edge, splashing water as they played. They showed no fear of the two superhumans below.

  After a moment, Leroy spoke again.

  “Starmist, if we’re going on this mission together… what exactly are we going to do?”

  He hesitated.

  “Since you want the program to move forward… should we visit Amaterasu and Lucretius first?”

  Starmist did not answer at once. The silence stretched, thin and heavy, and Leroy felt his chest tighten.

  “Because, if I’m honest,” he said, forcing the words out, “I’m still not ready to face them. Even with you beside me. But I am ready to stop the program if that’s what it takes to bring them back.”

  “Leroy,” Starmist said softly.

  The single word was enough to silence him.

  “After weeks of thinking about this… I believe there may be solution worth to consider. A way to see whether superhumans still carry any humanity within them.”

  Leroy frowned, folding his arms.

  “All right. I’m listening.”

  Starmist spent most of her time among the commonfolk. She heard their concerns, their gratitude, and their fears. The rule of superhumans had brought real progress to the All Realm. Small kingdom rose faster. Wars ended sooner. Famine could be stopped by a single hand.

  But power always cast a shadow.

  Many commonfolk felt safer under superhuman leadership. Others felt something colder—an unease they could not name. A fear that their lives were being shaped by beings too far above them to understand their struggles.

  “If the cloning program is meant to replace some of the duties of superhumans,” Starmist said, “then the commonfolk should have a voice. They are the ones being protected and affected by our decisions.”

  She looked at the birds circling the fountain.

  “If they believe it is unnecessary, then we can abandon the program.”

  She paused.

  “Amaterasu left for honor. Lucretius, at least for now, seems to have done the same. But if they can see something greater worth saving… perhaps this is the path that brings them back.”

  She turned to him.

  “What do you think?”

  Leroy rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to say. But this is your expertise. I’m with you.”

  Starmist studied him for a moment.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “In the Mainland, most of the population is commonfolk. What do you see from them?”

  “I rarely speak to them,” Leroy admitted. “Not because I don’t want to. My mind is always full. But I used to be one of them. Especially during the war. I remember how many decisions made by ignoring the people.”

  He fell quiet, memories stirring.

  “What do they think of superhumans?” she asked.

  Leroy hesitated.

  “They seem… used to us. Like we’re just part of their world now.”

  Starmist stepped closer.

  “In many regions, we are more than that. We are symbols, judges, saviors. Commonfolk in the Mainland are accustomed to our presence. But not everywhere is the same.”

  Her voice grew quieter.

  “I don’t want our power to create something we cannot control later.”

  Leroy nodded slowly.

  “Neither do I. I don’t want to leave that kind of world behind for the All Realm… or for the next generation. For someone like Elysius.”

  “So,” he asked, “where do we begin?”

  Starmist led him toward a small building near the southern prison—the place where Starfall had once been held. Njall and several builders were still working on its construction. They waved as the two passed by, dust clinging to their clothes and tools ringing softly against stone.

  They entered a small chamber where an enormous map stretched across the wall before them. It covered the entire surface from floor to ceiling, a living portrait of the All Realm carved and painted into the stone.

  The western lands were painted dense with cities and kingdoms. Nearly half of the Silver Chair realms lay there. To the southwest stretched the Mainland. To the north lay the frozen territories, and to the south a chain of restless mountains. Both belonged to the vast continent of the Abyss.

  At the center stood the second most crowded region, marked by the Temple of Morsalem. Southeast of it lay Stargate. Far to the north, the Highlands expanded, their fortress growing with the rise of the Cogworks faction. Factories spread like iron roots across the land, nearly reaching the eastern plains of the Elementalists.

  Beyond that lay the untamed green territories, returned to the gods of the elements. At their heart stood Takamagahara.

  “The central and eastern regions,” Starmist said, pointing at the map. “We can start there.”

  Leroy stepped closer, eyes wide.

  “I didn’t know this existed here.”

  He ran his fingers across the surface. The stone was not flat. Ridges marked mountains. Dips showed valleys. The seas curved gently into the land. Even the smallest islands were carved with care. The north was painted in pale white, the east in deep green, and the barren lands in soft brown gradients that looked almost real.

  “I should have something like this in the Pristine House,” he said with a quiet whistle of admiration.

  He pressed his palm against the wall again.

  “Starmist, tell me who carved this. I want to hire them.”

  They both laughed softly, the tension between them easing.

  “I asked Remini for the layout of several regions,” she said. “She knows those lands better than anyone. The rest was done by local artists.”

  “It’s been a long time since I heard about her,” Starmist added. “Do you know where she is?”

  “Last time I talk to her was at the colosseum. She said she was going on another journey.”

  “I have many things to tell her,” Starmist murmured, absently turning a measuring compass on the table.

  “You have Sicilia here,” Leroy teased.

  Starmist fell quiet.

  “Does she still behave like that toward you?” he asked.

  “It’s… complicated,” Starmist said. “I understand how she feels. And we’ve known her for so long. We should be able to accept it, shouldn’t we?”

  “As long as you don’t mention that man around her,” Leroy replied, hands on his hips.

  Starmist covered her mouth and laughed softly.

  “You’re still mad about what she said in the council, aren’t you?”

  Leroy sighed.

  “There’s no point holding on to that anger. It would only get in the way of our mission.”

  “Smart,” she said. “Using my own words against me.”

  He laughed.

  After a few more minutes of discussion, they marked several places they would visit over the next week, adjusting the route to fit their duties. Once the plan was set, they left the room and headed toward their first destination.

  Starmist gave a message to one of the guards, telling him they would travel by flight rather than by ship.

  “Should I visit Starlax before we leave?” Leroy asked. “I heard she was looking for me.”

  “And I should greet Lord and Lady Star as well.”

  “Unfortunately, she left with her parents,” Starmist said. “Only Starslayer remains. They may have gone to the family island to cheer her up.”

  “When will she return?”

  Starmist shook her head.

  Green light wrapped around Leroy’s body. White radiance formed around Starmist. Without another word, they rose from the courtyard and flew northeast, leaving the towers of Stargate behind them.

  Inside Lucretius’ chamber, Cygnus held an ancient scroll between his fingers. The parchment had turned a brittle brown, its edges frayed like old bone. One careless motion would have torn it apart. He handled it with quiet precision, rolling it back into place and sliding it into a cylindrical case forged from black Abyss iron.

  He sealed the container with a faint pulse of runic light.

  Lucretius now stood in full armor. The Adam-sword rested at his waist, its hilt dark and silent. He drank from a glass of black wine while Fer and Hun brushed the dust from his long cloak. It had hung untouched for too long.

  “That should be enough,” Cygnus said. A faint glow flickered in his palm as the scroll vanished into the air. “Your request to erase your emotions entirely was absurdity. But you can suppress them more from now.”

  Lucretius did not look at him. He simply drank.

  Fer and Hun exchanged uneasy glances.

  Cygnus sat on a bench and folded his fingers together.

  “We have no replacement for you in the Abyss. Not one of your caliber.”

  The two Ashkin servants looked at each other again, murmuring under their breath. At last, Fer swallowed hard and turned toward the sorcerer.

  “Master Spellbane, we are grateful for everything you have done… and for your patience with the general.”

  He dropped to one knee. Hun followed at once.

  Cygnus’ expression remained flat. He glanced down at them.

  When the two servants lifted their heads again, the Sorcerer Supreme rose to his feet.

  “Will you watch over the general?”

  They exchanged another look. Hun stepped forward.

  “Forgive me, Master Spellbane. What do you mean by watching over the greatest knight in the All Realm?”

  “Not in the physical,” Cygnus replied, idly turning the ring on his right hand. “Observe his behavior from now on. You may not recognize him after this.”

  Hun’s tongue trembled.

  “Will he become… quieter? Or stronger?”

  Fer looked toward Lucretius. The Fallen Knight stood like a statue, gazing out the window into the dead forest.

  “Depends,” Cygnus said. “Which is why I asked you to watch over him.”

  He stepped closer. Even his shadow seemed heavy enough to press the air down around them.

  “The royal family does not need to know. This is a matter for the council.”

  He lowered himself slightly, meeting their eyes.

  Fer and Hun nodded quickly.

  “Of course, Master Spellbane. The council stands above the crown. We will keep silent.”

  “Good,” Cygnus said.

  Lucretius set his glass down.

  Without a word, he turned and strode out of the chamber. His steps were swift, almost urgent. The door swung open, then closed behind him.

  Fer and Hun hurried after him, rushing through the corridors until they reached the front gates of the mansion. The Fallen Knight was already moving toward the stables.

  “General!” they called, one after the other.

  He did not slow down.

  “Open the gate,” he ordered the guards. “I’m going to Jenghis.”

  It had been a long time since he had ridden his favored warg.

  “General!” Fer and Hun cried again.

  Lucretius mounted the beast and pulled the reins.

  “I’ll be riding across the Abyss for a few days.”

  With that, he spurred the creature forward. The massive warg leapt into motion, its claws striking the stone before vanishing into the gray mist beyond the gates.

  Cygnus walked out behind the two Ashkin and stopped a few steps back. He watched Lucretius disappear into the fog.

  “Let him wander,” the Sorcerer Supreme said. “He has been locked in that room for far too long.”

  “Will this… be cured as well, Master Spellbane?” Fer asked.

  Cygnus gave no answer. He stepped into the courtyard and opened a portal, its pale light cutting through the gloom. On the other side waited the towers of Morsalem.

  “Master Spellbane,” Fer called again, “should we report the general’s condition to you, send to Morsalem?”

  “I will come every week,” Cygnus said, “until I'm sure he ready to return.”

  At those words, Fer and Hun bowed deeply.

  “Thank you, Master Spellbane.”

  There was no reply. When they lifted their heads, Cygnus was already gone. The portal’s glow had faded, leaving only the quiet yard and the lingering scent of magic.

  The two Ashkin hurried back inside the mansion, already preparing the evening meal.