----Page 19----
The bush rustled again, the sound sharp and deliberate.
Arin drew his bow.
"Everyone, stay alert."
The leaves parted, and a massive boar burst from the undergrowth, tusks gleaming.
Before any of us could react, it lunged straight at me.
I raised my hand, ready to summon the Chronicle, but a blazing streak of red shot past my shoulder.
A hammer of flame slammed down, knocking the creature flat with a single blow. The ground trembled as smoke rose from its singed fur.
"Hah! Did I get you all?" a familiar voice laughed.
Floating above the stunned boar was Tauren. His smaller form hovered midair, fiery horns curling faintly as his tail flicked like a glowing ember.
"Tauren..." I sighed, lowering my arm.
"You almost gave Arin a heart attack."
"Aw, come on, Master," he grinned, scratching the back of his head.
"You should've seen your face."
Rynveil crossed his arms.
"You're lucky I didn't swing at you. I thought we were under attack."
Tauren floated higher, pretending to look insulted.
"Attack? That was a harmless prank. Just a little fun after all that cave nonsense."
The boar groaned faintly and toppled sideways, smoke curling from its snout.
"Harmless," Rynveil whispered.
"Right."
Nivara stepped forward, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"I tried to stop him, Master, but he wouldn't listen."
Behind her, Lysera remained silent. She kept her hood low, her fingers twisting the fabric. Something about her posture felt different.
Rynveil looked at her for a moment, then turned to me.
"She's been like that since we got out. Won't talk much."
I nodded, then glanced back to Nivara.
"What happened after Kael escaped? We lost track of you all in the chaos."
Nivara hesitated.
"It's a bit hard to explain, Master."
Her gaze shifted toward the mist-covered horizon, her voice softening.
°°°
"Earlier before..."
After hearing Kael's final words before he fled.
"I will return, maybe not today but someday.. I will claim Kinon's head, and the last laugh will be mine."
Then, Lysera struggling to stand. Her hand clutched her head, knuckles white, as if something inside her was tearing loose.
"Lysera!" I shouted calling her name.
Her eyes flickered open, unfocused, trembling.
"I... I remember... everything."
She whispered.
But, before I could ask what she meant, a shadow loomed behind us.
"Are you alright?"
A man suddenly appeared behind Lysera, perfectly timed as he catches her fall by his arms.
He was tall and poised, his golden hair catching the faint light. A long sword rested across his back, its hilt shining with pale runes.
Two others followed behind him. One was a huge man in white robes, dark hair streaked with silver, holding a staff that hummed faintly with mana.
The other was a woman with light blue hair, her face partly hidden behind a black scarf. Her eyes were sharp and restless, like she was used to living in the shadows.
"Lord Elmhein, wait for us!" the man in white called out.
"Don't waste your breath, Dolein" the woman said.
"You know he never listens."
Elmhein ignored them, kneeling beside Lysera.
"You're hurt. Let me"
"I can stand by myself," Lysera whispered, forcing herself upright.
Tauren flew over Lysera, smoke curling from his nostrils.
"Hey young man get your hand off her."
The blue-haired woman raised an eyebrow.
"Easy there, young fellow. We're not enemies."
"We received reports of a massive mana surge," Dolein explained, his tone calm.
"It came from this direction, so we came to investigate."
I straightened, still wary.
"Then you must've sensed Kael. He escaped."
Elmhein's expression darkened.
"Through a rift, I assume?"
I nodded.
"Yes. We couldn't stop him."
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Elmhein rose, his eyes scanning the broken terrain.
"I see. You've already done enough. The prince will want to know about this."
"Prince?" I asked.
Dolein smiled faintly.
"We're adventurers well.. you make call us that.. But were actually, acting under the direct order of the Third Prince of the Seldene Empire."
°°°
And then...
They questioned us briefly, asked about the battle, then released us when they confirmed Kael had vanished and the Tyrant hands was involved.
Then we discovered that Elmhein was the third prince of Seldene Empire one of the four powerful nations in Veleria.
Elmhein gave us a small nod before leaving.
"Rest while you can. You've crossed paths with something the Empire itself fears."
Also he asked, about if we knew about a boy who hold a magical book called the Chronicles.
Nivara's voice trailed off, and a chill settled over the clearing as the wind picked up. The past felt closer than ever, its shadows stretching long across the present.
"So," I said quietly, the weight of her story settling upon me.
"That's how you met Elmhein."
She nodded.
"Yes, Master. He seemed different. But trustworthy enough."
Before I could respond, the bushes ahead rustled again.
Arin immediately drew his bow, his knuckles white as he gripped the string.
Rynveil gripped his hammer, and the air around him crackled with barely contained energy.
But instead of monsters, three familiar figures stepped into view.
It was them, the third Prince of Seldene Empire Lord Elmhein, Dolein, and the blue-haired woman.
"...I'm sorry, Master" Nivara sigh.
Elmhein raised his hand in greeting, calm and composed as ever.
"It seems fate enjoys repeating itself."
"Hahaha" Elmhein laugh awkwardly.
"You mean, you followed us"
Tauren interrupted his tone slightly annoyed.
Before anyone could speak further, a whistle sliced through the air.
An arrow buried itself into the ground near Elmhein's feet, the fletching vibrating with deadly intent.
Dozens of shapes emerged from the surrounding trees, along with men in rough armor, faces half-covered with cloth. Bandits.
Their leader, a scarred man with a broken spear, sneered.
"There he is! The Prince's lapdog! His head's worth more than a gold mine!"
Elmhein's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features.
"Assassins," he murmured.
"How persistent."
Dolein shifted his stance, the ground vibrating beneath his boots as his staff flared with purple light, illuminating the grim set of his jaw.
The woman, blades glinting like captured moonlight, moved beside him, her body coiled like a viper ready to strike.
"Master?" Arin asked, readying his arrow, his voice tight with adrenaline.
Elmhein turned toward us.
"Stay back. This is our fight."
His gaze flickered to the Chronicle for a fleeting moment, a strange intensity in his eyes.
"The threads of destiny are drawing tight, and this encounter was inevitable."
Before we could protest, he drew his golden sword. The moment the blade left its sheath, the air itself shuddered, threads of light spiraling from its edge, illuminating the forest in an ethereal glow.
The bandits charged, a rabid wave of steel and desperation.
Dolein's staff slammed down, and the earth erupted in a geyser of violet energy.
The ground beneath the first line of attackers shattered, sending them sprawling as the force of the blast ripped through their ranks. The air crackled with ozone, and the smell of burnt earth filled the air.
The blue-haired woman vanished, a whisper of shadow in the undergrowth.
Then she reappeared behind them, moving with impossible speed, her daggers a blur of silver, cutting through armor and bone with graceful precision.
A strangled cry, a soft thud, and another bandit fell, silenced forever.
Elmhein moved last, his blade drawing radiant arcs through the air. Each swing carried both beauty and terror; each step, a precise dance of control and death.
The golden sword sang as it met steel, deflecting blows with effortless grace. One moment, a bandit would be charging, axe raised high; the next, he'd be collapsing, his weapon clattering to the ground as disbelief filled his eyes.
Within moments, twenty men lay scattered across the forest floor, their weapons broken, their bodies twisted at unnatural angles, their spirits broken even further.
The air hung thick with the smell of ozone and fear.
Not a drop of blood had touched Elmhein's clothes.
Tauren floated closer to me, his voice barely a whisper. "Remind me never to prank him."
Even Rynveil stayed silent, watching the aftermath with an unreadable expression. His hand tightened around the haft of his hammer, as if measuring his own strength against Elmhein's.
Elmhein cleaned his blade with a faint flick, then turned toward us. "As I said, the world is shifting. And the Chronicle's return will not go unnoticed."
Seville, who had remained quiet until now, stepped forward. His gaze was steady, though a faint sadness lingered in his eyes.
"Before anything else, I need to return to the Khel Mines," he said. "My father and the others... their bodies are still buried there. Please, Lord Elmhein. If it's possible, send people to help retrieve them. They deserve a proper rest."
Elmhein's expression softened, and he placed a hand on Seville's shoulder. "You have my word. I'll send a team from the Maren Adventurer Division to recover the remains and sanctify the site."
"Thank you," Seville whispered.
I stepped closer.
"And after that? What will you do?"
He looked up, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"I think... I'll stay in Maren for a while. Now that the Sylpheeds have accepted me, maybe I can register as an adventurer. I'll train, grow stronger, and someday I'll face the Tyrant Hands myself."
Elmhein smiled.
"Perfect. Then perhaps, when the time comes, you can join my party."
Dolein chuckled.
"A bold offer, my lord. But fitting."
Seville blinked, surprised.
"You'd let me?"
Elmhein nodded once.
"If your resolve endures, I see no reason why not."
The third prince and his party starts walking away heading back towards Maren along with Seville.
"Farewell.. I know our paths will crossed once again."
With one last wave of goodbyes by the prince, one thought remains inside my head..
What fate awaits of us in the North.
°°°
Beyond the frozen plains and the reach of dawn, a grand estate of pale marble stood beneath the moonlight.
Inside, a nobleman dressed in white gazed out through a tall window, a glass of wine in hand. The candlelight traced the sharp lines of his face, composed and dangerous.
"So," he murmured softly, voice smooth as silk,
"the Chronicle finally appears."
A shadow stirred in the corner of the chamber. A man cloaked in black stepped forward and knelt.
"My lord," he said, head bowed.
"Reports confirm it. The bearer has awakened the Codex."
The nobleman's reflection smiled faintly against the windowpane.
"Lord Veyren," the shadow continued carefully.
"Shall we proceed as planned?"
Veyren swirled the wine in his glass, watching the crimson ripple like blood.
"Yes," he said, his tone measured and cold.
"Begin the plan."
The air in the room seemed to grow colder, the shadows deeper. The wheels of fate had begun to turn, and the consequences would soon be felt across the land.
The glass tilted slightly, a single drop spilling to the marble floor.
Outside, the northern wind rose, whispering through the endless snow as though carrying his command to the far corners of the realm.
And far away, deep within the forest, the Chronicle pulsed once, like a heartbeat sensing the storm to come.