The king’s castle never truly slept.

  Even at night, lanterns burned in high corridors, and servants moved with careful silence. In a private chamber overlooking the inner courtyard, three figures occupied a long table scattered with documents, maps, and crystal slates.

  The heroes had gathered.

  Blaze stood near the table, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he reviewed the records laid out before him. His armor rested nearby, marked with insignia of the God of War and Battle. His presence was sharp, disciplined, and restless.

  “This one,” Blaze muttered, tapping a page. “Roy Val Drake. Appeared recently. Joined the Explorer Guild. No clear background.”

  He flipped another document.

  “No family records. No birthplace. No mentor. That kind of gap doesn’t happen by accident.”

  Beside him, Alister reclined in his chair, eating casually from a plate piled high with roasted meat. Unlike Blaze, he wore no armor—only finely crafted gear etched with countless runic notations.

  Blessed by the God of Weapons and Knowledge, he spoke between bites.

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  “Then check where he registered,” Alister said lazily. “Association history, Guild affiliations. If he’s clean and capable, recruit him.”

  He glanced at Blaze with a grin.

  “Put him under us. He might make a good soldier. What do you say?”

  Blaze didn’t answer immediately.

  Further down the table, a woman turned a page in a thick tome filled with shifting magical diagrams. Marcella sat straight-backed, composed, her presence calm but unmistakably dangerous. The air around her carried faint traces of mana even at rest.

  She closed the book with a sharp snap.

  “Lower your voices,” Marcella said coolly.

  Both men stiffened.

  She looked between them, eyes sharp.

  “Did either of you notice his aura?” she continued. “It’s… familiar.”

  Blaze frowned. “Familiar how?”

  Marcella’s fingers tightened slightly on the book.

  “The same distortion we sensed in the ruins months ago,” she said. “Subtle. Suppressed. But aligned.”

  Silence crept into the room.

  “He may not be responsible for the dragon’s death,” she continued, “but dismissing him would be foolish.”

  Alister stopped eating.

  Marcella stood.

  “We will observe him,” she said firmly. “No confrontation. No recruitment. Not yet.”

  She turned toward the darkened window.

  “He could become an obstacle,” she added. “Or something worse.”

  Blaze followed her gaze. “Worse how?”

  Marcella’s expression hardened.

  “The gods have given us a mission,” she said. “A world-scale quest. A darkness we are meant to defeat.”

  She looked back at them.

  “And he stands in a place that doesn’t align with any of it.”

  Outside, clouds drifted across the sky, slowly swallowing the moon.

  The light dimmed.

  Not suddenly.

  Deliberately.