The memory of their leaving felt as if it were burned into his mind as they passed through the cobbled streets of the Middle District. The silence accompanying them mirrored his own thoughts, which were now empty and cold. Not only was he unready for battle, as he was still only Tier 1, but his fragile last moments of peace had been shattered as well. It was taken from him by the relentless force that was this Kingdom. The silence within him turned into a churning rage, deep and visceral; a dark tide rising in his spirit. He looked at the General leading them, the man’s massive frame casting a predatory shadow over the threshold of every house they passed, the silhouette elongated and flickering against the stone like a restless wraith. Did he have a part in this, or was he simply doing what the King commanded, obeying his military orders and duty?
The man turned his head, his gaze meeting Adam’s with the physical weight of cold lead, a pressure that seemed to squeeze the breath from his lungs.
"Mesmerized, boy?"
Adam realized he had been staring for quite a while, a gaze the veteran must have felt; he was a Tier 3 powerhouse, after all. He stopped gaping and focused his gaze upon the houses they were passing, a last flicker of familiarity in the cold, uncertain depth they were venturing into. The atmosphere of the Middle District was stagnant and heavy. People, seeing the military sigils upon the huge man, would instantly retreat into their houses or part like a receding tide in fear, their faces pale masks of dread behind flickering window panes.
His eyes fell upon his Mentor and friend. The cold mask of apathy was stretched tight upon Berto's face, yet Adam could see what lay beneath the facade. He saw the jagged trauma of wars and everything the man had lost. He could see it now as clearly as he had the first day they played Rummy, a game meant to lighten the shadows of the past. Berto did not want to fight anymore. He wanted to spend his time peacefully studying, teaching, and enjoying the warmth of their family. Adam felt the same. He would much prefer spending his time with his family, of which Berto was now an inseparable part, and venturing into the unknown studies of the Arcane. But he also knew it was simply impossible. This world would never accept such a peace. He had to grow as strong as he could and grab that peace for himself by force.
Soon they reached the guard post that stood between the Middle District and the Inner District. It was a familiar sight, one they had passed many times while traveling to the Grand Library, yet the air here felt different today, thick with an oily residue of mana that tasted of ozone and ancient dust. The heavy guards on duty, usually imposing in their steel, now bowed as low as they could as they saw the General leading the way. They did not utter a single word, their silence absolute as they let the group pass into the gilded heart of the city.
As soon as they entered the Inner District, what instantly struck Adam was how jarringly light the atmosphere felt. It was as if the tragedy developing in the rest of the city belonged to another world entirely. The inhabitants did not care in the slightest for the loss of life or the families who fell victim to the system; they concerned themselves only with their own benefit. The decay and discrepancy were now even more visible, making him feel disgusted as they passed the massive manors that seemed to exhale an aura of stagnant privilege. He could feel his rage and hate grow in scale, a dark tide rising to match the sickening opulence surrounding him.
Soon, they ventured onto an unfamiliar path, leading in a direction far removed from their usual route toward the Grand Library. He was not sure where the General was leading them, and he doubted the man would offer any answers. The mansions built on rot and lies gave way to small castles, which felt even more corrupted to him. This spectacle of decay intensified with each step, growing even more oppressive than during their previous visits to the inner circle.
Finally, stretching in the distance, Adam saw the ultimate pedestal of corruption and power: the King’s palace. It dwarfed every building they passed, comparable in scale to the Grand Library, though instead of a tower of enormous height, it was a colossal fortress that spanned vast in its width. The very stone seemed to radiate a cold, indifferent authority that mirrored the heart of the Kingdom itself, the gray granite smelling of damp earth and old, forgotten secrets.
BERTO’S POV:
He looked upon the familiar castle stretching far up in the distance. He had been there on a few occasions, one of them being when he became a Viscount. Yet he didn't expect it to be today's destination, as one did not usually have to stand before the King before being sent to war. He probably wanted to see Adam with his own eyes, or there was some sort of a plot waiting for them. They would have to find out for themselves. His gaze moved to the boy's face, which had grown under his eyes for the last few years. Standing next to him was no longer a child but a young man with resolution and focus burning in his eyes. Berto could feel the weight of mana around Adam which had grown together with him. He was getting close to Tier 2, and it was evident in the way the boy’s presence began to subtly displace the air around him.
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But there was also something else that had gained in power. Whispers. From what they had talked about during the last time, they had indeed grown stronger each time a new muscle was being remade. The closer Adam got to Tier 2, the closer the voices got to him. No point rethinking what cannot be helped now. He had to focus to survive what was coming next with his pupil. He scanned the streets they were passing as they approached the castle. Not only did they send a powerful Tier 3 General, the head of the family called Nore, but they were also going to get an audience with Juan himself. He doubted they would kill them now, so why go so far?
As they got closer, the building became even more imposing and grand, and one could see the countless guards roaming its walls. Their heavy steps resounded through the land, a rhythmic drum of absolute authority. It didn't take long before they were standing in front of a cold, colossal gate. The scent of ancient stone and cold iron was palpable, clinging to the skin like a shroud. The passage was heavily guarded, but it wasn't something that was a problem for their silent prosecutor.
"Lord Nore," said the tall man while bowing slightly.
He was presumably their leader at this spot. Berto looked upon the man's sigils, which he wore as a peacock would. A member of a prominent noble family and a Major. Berto could feel the weight of his mana, a thick, suffocating pressure that was silently matching his own. Peak Tier 2. Just like him.
After a moment, the clearance was done and they marched straight into a hungry beast's stomach. Their steps were muffled by carpets of crimson red that felt like a thick, velvet tongue beneath their feet. The entire interior, even at the very first hall, looked pompous to the extreme. Chandeliers made of pure gold hung everywhere, their brilliance so sharp it felt artificial, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to crawl away from the unforgiving light. Beautiful paintings adorned every wall, each one a masterpiece of cold, calculated perfection made by the best artists. One could feel the cloying sweetness of flowers in the air, a fragrance that tried, and failed, to mask the underlying metallic tang of the palace's defenses. Everything here was to show off power and wealth, but to Berto’s senses, it was a banquet of decay.
ADAM'S POV:
General Nore, as he had learned from the guard earlier, was leading them with extreme familiarity through the palace. But Adam's mind was on a completely different matter. He could hear the whispers, which normally he couldn't perceive without meditation or channeling. Not only that, they were much more potent than during those normal moments, which immediately struck him as odd. He tried to filter them out and focus on something else. His gaze wandered through all the expensive decorations, and he realized that if the King decided to sell just two of his chandeliers, he could probably end hunger in the slums for quite a time. Yet he preferred to buy the next two. Now not only was his head aching from the intensified whispers, but from pure anger as well.
What interrupted his thoughts was that they finally made it to their destination. Nore stopped before colossal, heavily adorned doors that were a mix of obsidian and gold. What shocked Adam was the sight of runes that spanned the whole surface. What was their function here? His curiosity took a hold of him for a moment before he stopped himself.
As the heavy doors opened silently, which was a complete oddity for him, the sound of their movement was immediately devoured by the walls, as if the palace itself refused to let any resonance escape back into the corridor. He suddenly felt as if someone had hit him in the guts. The heavy pressure that poured from behind the doors made him forget how to breathe. Cold sweat formed on his back as he looked inside.
Sitting on a throne made from obsidian was a tiny man that he would take for a random person passing on the street. What made him stand out was his attire and the pressure radiating from him. Adam felt as if he were fighting with waves in the middle of the ocean during a storm; completely reckless and pointless. Next to the King was a man around his height with raven-black hair and no facial hair. He looked young and old at the same time, and there wasn't any speck of pressure or any form of mana which he could feel from him. It was a complete contrast to the striking light hair, flashy outfit, and gigantic aura from the King.
As he gazed at the mysterious man, their eyes met. He could hear as the cacophony of voices grew to extreme heights, comparable to the volume in his dreams. He felt as if his head were being split with an axe. He momentarily dropped his gaze down from the pitch-black eyes and the voices grew quieter. What the fuck is this man? Is he even a human? He felt extremely scared for the first time in a while. As they followed behind Nore and dropped to their knees with him, Adam still kept his eyes low. It wasn't out of respect or even because of the pain that accompanied the monologue of his tormentor. No. It was pure instinctual fear that came from the man in black. He felt as if he were standing before a huge beast and his fate would be decided on its whims.
"You can stand up, Nore," said Juan.
His voice filled the room with an authority like Adam had never heard before.
"So here we have our new recruits. Veteran Viscount Ander and young mage that joined us not so long ago, Adam."
He stopped for a moment, scanning them with his gaze.
"As you know our Kingdom is facing two threats at the moment. Dark Mages and Orcs. You both will defend our homeland. Adam, you will join a small force that's focused on the search for the Dark Mages. While you, Dear Viscount, will go to the frontline as we need your experience there."
Adam could feel how his stomach dropped even lower. Master would have to join forces on the frontline while he stayed there to catch shadows. They would be separated for the very first time.
