Clank… clank… clank…
The chains rattled first, then came the low groan of metal grinding against stone.
GRRRRNNNKK…
The gates shuddered, trembling as if reluctant to open, until they finally gave way with a thunderous THOOM, releasing a gust of stale air that reeked of old blood.
The carriages carrying the injured entered first, followed by the escort soldiers.
A crowd was already waiting for them, filling both sides of the road,
Families clutched each other with sunken eyes, merchants stood with caps in hand, faces drawn with something between relief and grief. A few children peeked from behind their parents, too young to understand but old enough to sense the wrongness pressing down on everyone.
No one cheered for the men and women who used their own flesh and blood to halt the relentless tide of Narkals.
How could there be cheering…? Mutilated limbs, mangled spots, maimed faces… Even the relatively intact escorts looked on with dead eyes.
If someone cheered in these conditions, it would be considered more of a taunt than anything else.
Ashen felt a bitter sigh leave his lips as he remembered his past self when he'd just come to the Ashbastion, looking at the returning soldiers with dread. Now he knew how it felt to be on the other side.
It didn't take long for them to reach the central plaza, where Sabrina stood waiting with her usual military uniform that served less as a mark of rank and more as a deliberate invitation for attention.
And unlike the sloppy display of the recruits, this time discipline took over as everyone stood in line and performed the Iron Oath salute in perfect synchronization, making the air reverberate with the last motion.
"At ease." With Sabrina's permission, everyone relaxed. "The escort team can disperse, while the injured will wait for the medical team to arrive."
Everyone did as she conveyed, except Ashen, who strode forward instead. "Commander Sabrina, I'm ready for advancement. I was told I should report to you before proceeding."
Sabrina's eyes widened a fraction before a gentle smile graced her lips. It didn't last long, though. "Good work, Soldier. Follow me."
She turned on her heels and walked, and Ashen promptly followed.
As he gazed at her back, he couldn't help but reminisce on the time when she called him Sir Ashen, and he called her Miss Sabrina.
Back then, she just acted as a maid, and even though he felt she was much more than that, he would have never guessed that she was the Sin Lord's right-hand woman, the high commander just a step below the supreme commander.
Lost in thought, with only her swaying ponytail and the sound of her heels as a guide, he was eventually led to a building right in the heart of the Ashbastion.
She halted and turned back to him. "Advancing is always an internal battle with oneself, and interfering in such a battle can lead to unpredictable consequences that we don't fully understand to this day."
Then she gestured to the entrance. "Though, providing an ideal environment, free of distractions, is still within our means."
Ashen nodded silently and stepped toward the doorway.
"Good luck, Ashen. I'm glad for your survival." Sabrina whispered as he passed by her.
He froze for a moment, a bit flabbergasted that the ever-strict Sabrina had broken protocol and spoken to him with such familiarity.
But he wasn't one to embarrass people, especially not Sabrina, who had ever been good to him, so he grinned. "Thank you, Sabrina. It's also good to see you are still doing well over here."
A faint smile flickered across her face before vanishing behind her usual composure. Ashen's eyes glimmered with amusement as she turned away, her heels clicking faster now, as if retreating from the warmth of her own words.
⛧
When he entered the room, he was hit by a wave of tranquility, reminiscent of his healing sanctuary, just to an exponentially lesser degree.
Ashen closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as his body surrendered to relaxation almost instinctively.
His gaze swept the space: minimalistic, almost austere, with nothing but a soft, round white mattress occupying the center.
But as his eyes adjusted, he noticed the faint glow tracing the walls and ceiling; delicate mana circuits running like veins through the stone, all converging beneath the mattress in an intricate web.
At key points along the walls, large crystal orbs were embedded, pulsing with stored mana like luminous nodes in a network.
The room wasn't just quiet; it was designed to be tranquil.
He removed his military boots and cast a cleaning spell on himself before settling on the mattress.
Closing his eyes, Ashen allowed his mind to drift, letting the world outside fade until all that remained was the faint echo of his heartbeat.
At first, nothing happened, but he didn't get impatient and simply let his mind sink into the darkness.
Finally, when he almost seemed to drift asleep, the black void returned.
This void was where each pathwalker visualized their concept.
He lingered there, waiting, and then the faint silhouette appeared again, its back to him, moving forward with the same relentless cadence.
This time, however, the flame cupped in the candle's bowl wasn't crimson. It burned amber, warmer and more vibrant than before, shifting subtly with every step the figure took.
The glow rippled across the nobleman's attire, revealing finer details he hadn't noticed the first time: the embroidery on his coat, the subtle tilt of his hat, the deliberate precision in each movement.
Ashen felt the familiar spark of recognition. The amber flame didn't just illuminate the figure; it responded to him, reflecting his growing understanding of the Sloth Pathway.
He gazed at it for what felt like forever before eventually retracting his vision and letting himself sink backwards.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the chamber.
The transformation of the flame from crimson to amber was a visualization of his advancement, and when it fully turned amber, just as he had seen, it meant that he was ready for the next step.
The transformation had been gradual, neither slow nor fast, but everything changed when he created the Daydream state.
In that condition, he was technically asleep, even if he moved, heard, saw, and talked; part of his brain was asleep and dreaming.
His 7th Step Dreamer instincts savored the continuous flow of dreaming, hour after hour, day after day. So it wasn't surprising that he could rank up now.
What truly intrigued him, though, was the candlebarer.
His back was always turned, making it impossible to see his face. Same clothes, same stride, same posture… the figure remained a silhouette of mystery, offering no glimpse of identity beyond the candlelight he carried.
Ashen shook his head. 'Whatever mysteries hide behind that, I don't really care now. I should just get this over with and look for her.'
With that, he didn't waste more time and gave the silent signal.
'I'm ready.'
[Acknowledged]
He felt his mana starting to stir restlessly, like it was beginning to boil beneath his skin.
[Step advancement initiated: Dreamer (Step 7 → Step 6)]
[Warning: Soul Resonance Required. Domain Knowledge 'Sloth' Will Be Imprinted.]
Boom!