The Bright Castle was dead silent, its deep marble walls shrouded in shadows. It stood atop the Dark City as a testament to both defiance and quiet surrender, its hallways empty, without a single soul brave enough to navigate the night.
In one of its towers, facing the harrowing silhouette of the Crimson Spire, a small room was occupied by a single being.
Zachary sat in a wooden chair, his head resting in his hands, fingers clenched so hard against his scalp that his knuckles were white. He sat unmoving for minutes that stretched into an hour, a statue of tension. Finally, a shiver began to take hold—a tremor that turned into a full-body shake before exploding into a sudden, violent uprising.
"Fuck!"
Zachary screamed at the top of his lungs, hurling the chair against the wall. It hit with a deafening crack, splintering into countless jagged pieces.
He didn't have the mental energy to be thankful that the room next door was unoccupied. Ragged, turbid breaths escaped his throat as a deep scowl twisted his features. His crimson eyes shone in the dark, his Soul boiling in a mixture of agony and fury. His fists were clenched so tight that his nails dug deep into his palms; Blood Weave was the only thing preventing his blood from dripping onto the floor.
Zachary continued to breathe heavily, his shoulders trembling as a single image repeated on a loop in his mind: Seishan's red, twisted lips curling into that predatory smile.
"I've never felt so... humiliated," he muttered, the memories of the hallway replaying with cruel clarity.
The cold night air, the suffocating darkness, and the echo of her voice had frozen his heart. She took a step toward him, and the world felt suddenly, terrifyingly small.
He heard the drumming of his heart in his ears and the rhythmic, pained throb in his head as he racked his brain for an escape.
"I want to teach you a lesson..." she whispered, her voice a melody that vibrated through his entire being. "In the worst kind of way."
Zachary swallowed hard, his back soaked in cold sweat.
'Can I win?' he asked himself in a final, desperate attempt at defiance. 'If I go all out... if I stop caring about my own survival...'
He quickly smothered the thought. Even if he somehow managed to best the Song Princess by some miracle, then what? He would have struck a Lieutenant of the Host. Gunlaug was possessive of his people and would never tolerate such an affront. Worse, Zachary knew he was nowhere near ready to clash with the Bright Lord himself.
"You may go," Seishan said with a soft sigh, effortlessly dismantling his spiraling thoughts.
Zachary looked at her mesmerizing dark eyes, his confusion plastered openly on his face. Seeing his expression, Seishan covered her mouth with a hand, laughing at him as if he were a particularly amusing pet.
"Oh, honey. I can hear how that beautiful brain of yours is twisting and turning." Hearing her speak about his mind as if it were an organ she could dissect made Zachary's stomach coil in disgust. "But, oh my... I'll satisfy your curiosity, just this once."
Turning her back to him, she continued, "I don't know if it was luck or wits, but the way you stuck to those Artisans was definitely smart."
She chuckled, glancing back at him over her shoulder. "Too many eyes are fixed on you, you know? Kido shows you goodwill, Gemma's curiosity has been piqued, and that moronic Tessai simply wants to keep the others in check. Any move against you now would be... complicated."
"Wouldn't it be interesting to see their conflict evolve?" Seishan asked with a dark laugh. "And you, Zach... in the middle of it all, you will owe me for today."
She passed by his side, disappearing into the darkness of the corridor. She left behind a trail of two scents: the sweet aroma of flower petals and the nauseating, heavy stench of blood.
From the shadows, her voice drifted back one last time. "Until then, wait quietly. I'll have what I deserve sooner or later."
Remembering those words—the promise of an unknown debt—Zachary's tremors returned. He clenched his teeth until they creaked. He wanted to scream again, to shatter the bronze mirror, to break something else. But he forced himself to calm down. The girls were sleeping in the next room, and he couldn't afford to worry them.
Dropping onto the bed, he passed a tired hand over his face.
"I've never felt so small," he whispered to the ceiling. "So utterly impotent."
Knowing the characters and the history of this world had allowed Zachary to subconsciously develop a dangerous sense of confidence. It wasn't a confidence born of his own strength, but rather the belief that nothing in this hellish place could truly surprise him or shake his resolve.
His encounter with Seishan had shattered that delusion. Worse, it had exposed how pathetically weak he truly was. The memory of the other Lieutenants reinforced the feeling, humbling him and forcefully showing him his place in the hierarchy of the Castle. No matter how much he knew about the future, that knowledge was worthless if he lacked the power to give it value.
The truth was now laid bare: he was weak. He had grown arrogant, leaning on the potential of Flow Control and the promise of his Path being validated by [Enlightenment]. But an unclaimed promise could not parry a sword, and an unwalked Path offered no protection against a predator.
"You will owe me..." Seishan's velvety voice echoed in his ears as if she were standing right behind him. He could almost taste the faint, cloying aroma of blood and flowers lingering in the stagnant air of his room.
"Fucking shit," Zachary cursed, his voice raspy.
He knew exactly who Seishan was—the adopted daughter of Ki Song and a Princess of her Great Clan's domain. It was easy to imagine the labyrinthine conspiracies nesting in her mind, but the terrifying reality was that he now had a place within them. He was a piece on her board.
'I'd rather have a known enemy than an unknown debt…' That debt was all that mattered now. How would she use it? When would she call it in? And most importantly, how would it interfere with his plans to leave this nightmare behind?
One thing was clear: he had to master Flow Control, and he had to do it now. Over the past few days, he had become far too comfortable, lulled into a false sense of security by the routine of the Castle. That ended tonight.
Zachary shifted, sitting cross-legged on the bed. He closed his eyes and began to reach inward, searching for his essence. Through Unity, he called it forth. It felt sluggish, moving through his veins like thick tar, resistant and heavy.
He didn't mind. He would push. He would improve—inch by inch, step by painful step. He would bridge the gap between the man he was and the man he needed to be.
***
The remaining days of their stay in the Bright Castle passed in a blur of forced discipline. Zachary still ate with the girls, but his behavior had shifted; he was reserved, the easy jokes he once traded with the other Tenants now replaced by a brooding silence. Nephis and Cassie noticed the change immediately, but they attributed it to his harrowing experience with the Bright Lord's armor.
Zachary stopped visiting the Artisans. He stopped making rounds. When he wasn't eating, he was confined to his room, obsessively practicing Flow Control.
But progress was agonizingly slow, and the lack of results gnawed at his heart. He tried to replicate what he had achieved at the Ashen Barrow, this by focusing the essence of his body into a single point—but the process took an eternity. He could feel a marginal improvement each time he repeated the cycle, but the gain was so infinitely minuscule it felt like trying to fill an ocean with a thimble. He was restless, driven by a fear he couldn't share.
Finally, their week was up.
As they walked through the grand hall toward the exit, Zachary let out a long, quiet sigh of relief. They weren't truly safe yet, but putting distance between himself and Seishan's presence filled him with a fragile sense of peace.
At the reception desk, a thin, nervous figure was waiting. Harper.
Zachary had exchanged words with the man over the past few days, but Harper was uncomfortable to be around. He was a "yes-man" to a fault, agreeing with everything Zachary said until their conversations felt hollow.
"Harper," Zachary called out with a soft, tired smile.
The receptionist jumped at the sound of his name, but his shoulders slumped in relief when he saw it was Zachary. "Ah! Zach..." He then noticed the two girls trailing behind. "And, uh, Cassia and Nephis, right?"
He turned to the parchments on his desk and gasped. "Oh, gods! It's already been a week. Are you here to pay the next tribute, Zach?"
Zachary shook his head, feeling Nephis's attentive gaze on the back of his neck. "No. We're leaving for a while."
Harper stared at him for a few seconds, speechless. Then, a look of genuine sadness clouded his thin face.
"T-that's such a shame..." he trailed off, his voice small. "Don't be down, Zach. Knowing you, I'm sure you'll be able to earn your way back in here soon." Harper seemed to be trying to convince himself more than anyone else.
Zachary gave a short, dry chuckle as he turned toward the massive Castle doors. "We'll see about that."
With that, they stepped out. The heavy doors groaned shut behind them, and Zachary finally felt like he could breathe. The past few days had been a pressure cooker of stress. He glanced at the girls, who offered a silent nod before they began the long descent down the white stone stairs.
They made their way toward the Outer Settlement in total silence. Each was lost in their own thoughts, and for once, Zachary was grateful for the lack of conversation.
As they entered the slums, the very air shifted. It wasn't just the smell—the stagnant stench of poverty and unwashed bodies—but the way the disheveled residents looked at them. They saw newcomers descending from the heights of the Castle, and their eyes held a bitter mix of sympathy and shamelessness. Zachary was back in the mud, but at least in the mud, he knew where the predators were hiding.
Suddenly, and to Zachary's surprise, Nephis took the lead. She threaded through the maze of makeshift hovels and ruined huts, guided by a silent purpose, until she led them to the very edge of the slum. There, perched over a vertical drop at the edge of a stone platform, stood a crude, spartan lodge of weathered rock.
Zachary had to swallow a chuckle at the sight of it. 'What a coincidence.'
Leading them inside, Nephis scanned the interior, ensuring no one—human or otherwise—lurked within the ruined building. Once satisfied, she sat on a slab of broken stone.
"It should be quiet here," Nephis said, her voice flat. "I spotted this building the first day we arrived."
She turned her gaze to Zachary, her eyes piercing. "So. Are you ready to tell us what you found?"
Nephis understood the basic structure of the Host; she had even stood in the presence of its Lord and Lieutenants. But because she and Cassie had been largely confined to their room, Zachary was the only one with the street-level intelligence they needed.
"Hell, where to begin?" he sighed.
Zachary started at the beginning, weaving together his observations from the past week, and his knowledge from the novel into a cohesive picture. He broke down the factions: the Artisans, the Guards, the Hunters, and the Pathfinders. He explained that while the Host looked like a monolithic force from the outside, it was actually a nest of hidden conspiracies and bitter internal strife. He spoke of the Tenants—those who managed to carve out a life, and the many who didn't.
"That bastard... he even called me a pussy, you know?" Zachary added spitefully as he recounted the events at the Gambling Den.
Cassie let out a light, genuine chuckle. While Nephis arched an eyebrow. "Is he the one who was accused of murder?"
Zahary nodded, and with an awkward cough he moved on.
He focused on the shifting power balance: Kido's discovery of her Aspect Legacy, her silent partnership with Gemma, and the way the Hunters were using that leverage to squeeze Tessai and the Guards. He detailed the Handmaidens, explaining their true function as an ubiquitous information network that fed directly to the top. And at the center of that web sat Song Seishan.
At the mention of that name, Nephis's eyes shifted ever so slightly—a hairline crack in her impassive mask. Through Cinder Eyes, Zachary caught the emotion behind it. Rage. Cold, ancient rage.
Feigning obliviousness, he cleared his throat. "Hmm. I don't know if this is worth mentioning... but I might possibly, in all probability, and most certainly have caught the personal attention of Seishan."
Both Nephis and Cassie snapped their attention to him. Cassie looked horrified, while Nephis radiated a sudden, quiet tension.
"Explain," Nephis demanded.
Sighing in deep regret, Zachary revealed his hand in Kido's success and how both Gemma and Tessai had suddenly locked onto him as a person of interest. Finally, he admitted how Seishan had cornered him and effectively claimed a "debt" over his head.
For a moment, Zachary considered mentioning the twisted, predatory interest the Song Princess had shown in his blasphemous blood. Hoping to reveal if Nephis felt the same "wrongness" from him. But he bit his tongue.
It wasn't the right time, and more importantly, Zachary was afraid he wouldn't like her answer.
Nephis remained silent for several seconds, her gaze fixed on the floor, before she exhaled slowly. "Not good."
"My exact words," Zachary winced.
"But there is nothing we can currently do about it." Regaining her icy composure, she looked back at him. "Continue."
He moved on to the master of the fortress: Gunlaug, the Bright Lord. At the mention of his name, the atmosphere in the lodge turned brittle. A deep frown marred Nephis's pristine features. Zachary spoke of Gunlaug's Aspect, how the madman had dared to venture into the Dark Sea, and how, by some twisted stroke of fate, he had received his Transcendent armor and clawed his way to the throne.
"The Echo," Nephis muttered, her mind returning to Zachary's previous revelation.
"That's right." He chuckled grimly, the phantom pain of his bleeding eyes flickering for a second.
Finally, his voice dropped an octave, signaling the most vital information he had to share. He spoke of the First Bright Lord—the valiant Sleeper who had conquered the Castle, only to vanish into the edge of the labyrinth in search of an exit. He spoke of the Second Bright Lord, who had gathered the survivors for a desperate assault on the Crimson Spire, only to meet a crushing defeat.
And then, he spoke of the Spire itself, and the Gateway hidden at its summit.
Cassie's face brightened at the news—a spark of hope in the dark—while Nephis remained unmoving.
"As expected..." Nephis said, her voice like cold iron. "The Spell wouldn't send us to such a place just to die."
Her tone was impassive, as if she were merely stating a boring fact. But Zachary could hear the thick venom and spite boiling just beneath the surface. She didn't just want to find the exit; she wanted to tear down the world that had trapped them there.
"And defending it?" she asked, her gaze locking onto his.
He held her eyes for a few beats before delivering the truth without emotion. "A Fallen Terror."
Cassie turned deathly pale, her breath hitching. Nephis simply nodded, her face becoming a mask so absolute that not even Cinder Eyes could find a crack in it. Silence filled the lodge as they digested the weight of that revelation. A Fallen Terror was a calamity that could wipe out entire cities in the waking world; here, it was a gatekeeper.
Finally, trying to break the suffocating mood, Cassie spoke up. "Good job, Zach." Her voice carried a genuine, soft brightness. "That... that is incredible information."
Nephis nodded in stiff agreement. "Good job."
Zachary grinned, rubbing a finger under his nose sheepishly. "Come on, keep the compliments coming. Don't stop now."
Seeing their expressions quickly sour at his words, he cleared his throat and added more seriously, "I mean, I think I deserve it a bit, don't I? My Aspect isn't built for reconnaissance. This was all raw effort and personal charm."
Nephis looked at him for a moment longer, then turned toward Cassie, ignoring his plea for more praise entirely. "During the past week, based on what I observed within the Castle and the information I managed to gather, I have been forming a plan."
At her words, the playful atmosphere vanished instantly. Zachary leaned forward, his focus sharp. The game was over; the strategy for the future was beginning.
"And finally listening to what you have said." She said turning to Zachary. "I think the last parts of it had taken shape."
Nephis let her words fill the room, her gaze lingering on the dust motes dancing in the dim light of the lodge. Finally, she spoke. "We need to form a hunting party."
Zachary nodded. He wasn't surprised. During those long, solitary nights in the Castle, with only the darkness to accompany his thoughts, he had anticipated this. No matter how much his presence had shifted the pieces on the board, the core reality of the Forgotten Shore remained unchanged. If they wanted to reach the Crimson Spire, they needed a force.
They needed a counterweight of defiance to challenge Gunlaug's reign of quiet surrender.
But a question gnawed at him, one he was almost afraid to answer: what approach would Nephis take? Would she still follow the path of the Changing Star he remembered—fanning the flames of hope until they turned into a fervent, sacrificial zeal? Or would his presence here allow for a different path, one less paved with the bodies of the desperate?
He remembered Cassie's vision atop the knight statue: "a sea of fire and rivers of blood."
A tired sigh escaped his lips, but he quickly forced his emotions into a cold, iron box. His goals were far beyond simply surviving Gunlaug or the Spire. They were beyond the conspiracies of the Sovereigns, beyond the slow collapse of the Waking World, and even beyond the Forgotten God and the indifferent gaze of the Nightmare Spell.
His goal was to return to his loved ones. To a life that had names and faces, far away from this dying world.
'I don't care what I have to do,' Zachary told himself. But the words felt hollow, ringing with a subtle dishonesty. Unbeknownst to him, his left fist began to clench, the knuckles white and trembling. 'I don't care.'
Shaking the intrusive thoughts away, he looked up at Nephis and raised an eyebrow. "Are we thinking of the same person to start with?"
"If you're thinking of her, then yes," Nephis said with a decisive nod. "She is the only one we know well enough, and we have already experienced working with her—briefly."
Zachary stood up, dusting the grime from his pants. The weight in his chest didn't vanish, but it transformed into a focused, kinetic energy.
"Well then," he said, offering a small, sharp smile. "What are we waiting for?"
A few minutes later, the group stood in front of a makeshift cabin tucked away in a quieter corner of the slums. Nephis had already knocked once, but the only response was the hollow echo of wood on wood. She turned to Zachary, raising a silent eyebrow. Her question was clear: Is she even home?
Zachary shook his head and gestured with his thumb, flicking it upward twice. The signal was simple: Louder.
With a weary sigh and a shrug of her shoulders, Nephis didn't just knock; she hammered on the door so violently that the bleached bestial skull hanging above the frame rattled loose and fell into the mud.
The silence was immediately replaced by a string of vulgarities and creative curses so colorful that Zachary actually whistled in appreciation. Heavy, angry footsteps thudded toward the door.
'Wait...' Zachary's eyes widened as the handle turned. 'Isn't she usually—'
The door flew open, and there stood Effie. The tall Huntress looked ready to tear someone's throat out—a prospect made significantly more distracting by the fact that she was completely, unabashedly naked.
"Who the hell is... oh. It's you."
"Oh my," Zachary muttered. Before his eyes could even begin to wander, he felt a piercing, lethal gaze from his side. Being the gentleman he was—and valuing his continued survival—Zachary snapped his head upward, fixing his gaze firmly on the cabin's overhang.
"Man, the craftsmanship of this ceiling..." Zachary said, nodding with profound, scholarly approval. "I can see the details, yes. It has this touch of archaic brutalism, but with a quiet convenience in the way it integrates the beast hides... truly a masterpiece."
The silence stretched into eternity, broken only by Effie's low, throaty chuckle. "A poet and now an architect? Aren't you just full of surprises, Mr. Inconvenient?"
He let out a nervous laugh, but the weight of Nephis's glare at his side forced him to continue his frantic rambling. "What can I say? I'm a Jack of all trades. Now, returning to the structural integrity of the eaves—"
"Ahem!" Nephis cleared her throat loudly, the sound like a cracking whip. "Effie. Can you please summon a Memory? This is indecent."
Zachary didn't need his enhanced senses to hear the way Nephis's teeth were grinding as she spoke.
"Awww, am I making you nervous, Princess?" Effie laughed, though she eventually let out a sigh of defeat. "But oh well. If you insist."
Seeing the tell-tale shimmer of sparks from his periphery, Zachary finally stopped his forced appreciation of the architecture. Effie stood before them now, clad in her usual bronze-like armor, and gave him a deliberate wink.
"Like what you saw? Has Bartholomew's opinion of me changed?"
Zachary coughed, his brain on autopilot. "I don't know. He didn't get a good look... maybe with another—"
A sharp elbow to his stomach effectively cut him off. Nephis didn't even look at him, turning to the Huntress with a tired, long-suffering sigh. "Can we come inside?"
"I don't know, can you?" Effie laughed, stepping back to let them pass. Once they were inside the cozy, dim cabin, she reached down to retrieve the fallen beast skull and kicked the door shut behind her.
"So, how was the Castle? Seeing you all shiny and jolly-dolly must mean it was great?" Effie asked, sprawling out on her massive pile of furs with her usual casual grace.
Since he was the one who had experienced the Castle's "hospitality" most intimately, Zachary felt compelled to answer.
"So-so," he said, tilting his hand back and forth. "Too much drama for my weak heart."
Effie let out a hearty laugh, but Nephis remained focused. She didn't let the humor distract her. "You haven't hunted since the day we met. Right?"
As the conversation began to unfold, Zachary felt that nameless emotion clawing at his chest again. It was the same weight he'd felt atop the priestess statue, growing heavier at the walls of the Dark City. Effie, Nephis, and Cassie... these charac-, people were planning their way forward, but Zachary's mind flowed back to the prophecy. The rivers of blood... The burning wheel atop the Spire.
What should he do—
"They are weak because Gunlaug will never allow anyone strong to exist outside of his control," Effie's voice, suddenly serious, snapped him back to the present. "So… I am not going to be your pathfinder. Sorry, Princess."
Nephis frowned, looking genuinely flustered. But before she could argue, Zachary let out a loud, deliberate sigh, drawing every eye in the room to him.
"I heard a little about you in the Castle," he said.
Effie's gaze sharpened as she turned to him. Even Nephis and Cassie seemed to lean in. He had heard whispers, but the truth he was about to share came from a much deeper source.
"I heard how you rejected the Host's invitation," Zachary continued. "How the Bright Lord grew jealous and prohibited anyone from getting near you. He's allowing you to exist."
Nephis's eyes widened at the implication, while Effie merely smiled calmly, making no move to deny it.
"Well," Zachary said, trying to regain his footing. "Our relationship with the 'Golden Egg' might not be complicated, but—"
"I don't care if you're Gunlaug's best friend or his worst nightmare—good nickname, by the way," Effie said dismissively, waving a hand. "The fact remains the same. You're weak."
Nephis's jaw set, her lips thinning into a hard line. "So," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "If we prove we have strength, you might reconsider?"
Effie chuckled, the sound devoid of any real belief. She looked at the three of them—a blind girl, a wannabe philosopher, and a stoic girl with a sword—and shook her head. "Good luck with that."
The group stepped out of the cabin into the humid air of the slums. Zachary glanced at Nephis; her ivory face was as still as marble, but white sparks danced deep within her eyes—embers of stubbornness and defiance fueled by a quiet, burning power.
Taking one last look at Effie's hut, Nephis turned and began walking back toward the towering white silhouette of the Castle. Zachary sighed, trailing behind her.
"You're not going to ask what I'm planning?" she asked, catching his gaze out of the corner of her eye.
"Why should I? You're probably going to cause some kind of trouble, aren't you?" Zachary shook his head.
Nephis remained silent, and seeing her lack of a retort, he slumped his shoulders in defeat. "You're not even denying it..."
A small, rare smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Tell me about that Pathfinder... the one who called you a pussy."
Zachary winced. "Could you please not repeat his specific choice of words?" He sighed, pushing past the annoyance to provide the tactical data. "Andel. He has an Ability to increase the sharpness and durability of weapons."
"Flaw?"
"Aside from being an asshole? I don't know," Zachary shrugged. "Despite what I shared before, not everyone in the Castle is that open about their weaknesses."
"He's right, Neph," Cassie added softly from her side. "We don't even know his, remember?"
Zachary looked at Cassie briefly. For a fleeting second, he considered opening up about Mara's Whisper. After all, there was no real way for them to weaponize it against him without knowing the existence of the Penances.
'But it reveals too much about my specific... situation,' Zachary thought, turning his head back toward the road. 'And they already know more about me than I'm comfortable with.' T
They reached the Castle gates again. The Guards immediately blocked their path, their eyes lingering on the girls with suggestive, oily looks. When they turned to Zachary at the back, his dark frown and the cold intensity in his crimson eyes were enough to stifle whatever nasty remarks they were about to make.
'Is being a degenerate a requirement for the Guard?' Zachary wondered as he watched Nephis step forward. 'Probably. It's the Forgotten Shore—stripped of social norms and the laws of the Waking World, the worst in people just bubbles to the surface.'
His internal lampooning was cut short by Nephis's voice. It was even, level, and carried a weight of indomitable emotion that seemed to make the very air vibrate.
"I am here," she said, her voice ringing against the white stone, "to invoke the Right of Challenge."
Zachary had to give the Guards some credit. Despite their lack of virtue, a sliver of conscience seemed to remain; they actually tried to deter Nephis from her crusade. But Nephis was known for two things: being unchanging and being steadfast. Once her mind was set, the world itself had to move out of her way.
The lead Guard sneered, letting out a rough sigh. "Fine. I guess we'll have some entertainment today!" With a mocking gesture, he signaled for the group to follow.
Entering the Castle only hours after leaving it made Zachary chuckle. It wasn't that he hadn't expected to return, but the speed of it filled him with a strange, surreal feeling. Harper, still buried in his parchments at the reception desk, looked up in shock as the heavy footsteps echoed through the hall.
"Zach?" he blurted out, his face brightening with surprise. "I—I knew you'd earn your way back, but I didn't think it would be this fast!"
Zachary laughed, stepping ahead of the group toward the desk. He reached into the pocket of his mantle.
"Harper, my friend," he said, dropping an arm around the young man's thin shoulders. "Would you like to earn a shard?"
Zachary pulled his hand from his mantle, a shimmering Soul Shard pinched between his fingers. Harper's eyes went wide; he gulped audibly before nodding so fervently Zachary was momentarily worried the boy might snap his neck.
"Perfect. It's nothing difficult. Just run to the gambling den and tell Aiko that I said it's time," Zachary whispered, pressing the shard into Harper's palm. "Do it fast."
Harper didn't need a second prompt. He was already sprinting toward the side door before Zachary could even pull his hand back. Zachary chuckled, watching him go. 'He certainly has his priorities straight.'
Nephis looked at him, her brow arched in a silent, sharp question. Zachary just shrugged as they continued to follow the Guard, who remained indifferent to the exchange.
"Nothing you need to worry about," Zachary said, offering Nephis a reassuring smile. "Just a little something I've had planned since that... insulting day. It'll complement your plan perfectly, you'll see."
She studied him for a few seconds, her gaze unreadable, before turning back to the path ahead. Her thoughts remained a mystery behind that pristine mask.
As they moved through the corridors, a thick, strange tension filled the air. By the time they reached the main hall, a crowd had already begun to form. Aside from a few armored Guards, the rest were independent Tenants, gathered by an unknown call.
Scanning the room, Zachary spotted Aiko standing in a far corner, trying her best to look inconspicuous. Their eyes met, and he gave her a sharp wink. Keeping his hand below his waist so only she could see, he pointed his thumb toward Nephis.
He remembered his secret talk with Aiko. He had revealed his intention to fix a match between Andel and "someone else." If Nephis had chosen a different path, he would have spent the afternoon trying to convince her to fight the scout. Fortunately, fate—or Nephis's protective streak—had done the work for him.
"So, I bet on him..." Aiko muttered during their talk, a pensive look on her face. "That way, I'll retrieve what he owes me. In a way, he'll be working for me!"
"No," Zachary corrected, throwing cold water on her idea. "You bet against him."
"He's going to lose," he declared with absolute confidence. "Andel is a well-known Pathfinder. Once the bets open, the crowd will flock to him. The odds against the 'newcomer' will be massive. So, when he falls..."
He didn't needed to finish the sentence. Aiko's eyes flashed with a brief spark of greed, though it was quickly replaced by resignation. "He's not going to lose..."
"Trust me on this," he said, feeling a strange, dark animation. "Besides, what's the fun in gambling if you already know the result?"
"There's no fun in gambling!" Aiko snapped. "The fun part is winning!"
"I can't argue with that," Zachary said with a laugh. "Either way, you'll just have to trust me."
"Hey, isn't that Zachary?"
A hushed whisper pulled him back to the present. He sharpened his senses, tuning into the low-frequency chatter drifting through the hall like smoke.
"Yes, I haven't seen him in days."
"I heard someone invoked the Right of Challenge. Was it him?"
"Impossible. He's not a fighter."
"I think he has a Utility Aspect—look at how much time he spends with the Artisans."
"But I saw him with Derek's hunting party the other day. I thought he—"
"Forget him. Who are the ones at his side? They're stunning."
"I... I don't know. I think I remember seeing them at breakfast. They're always with him, but they never talk."
The gossiping was cut short by a sharper voice. "What? A... gambling debt? Did Aiko send you?"
Zachary focused. Standing ahead of them, lounging on the hall's marble stairs with an expression of bored authority, was Gemma.
Aiko, tucked away in the shadows of the crowd, flinched at the mention of her name. Fortunately, her small stature and the press of bodies kept her hidden from the Lieutenant's line of sight. Zachary felt a wave of relief for a different reason: it seemed Gemma didn't recognize him. The man had likely heard his name from Kido, but unlike Seishan—whose senses were as sharp as a razor—Gemma couldn't yet put a face to the name. To him, Zachary was just another face in the crowd.
"It's not about shards," Nephis continued, her voice cutting through the murmurs.
Seeing that the challenge was already set in stone, Aiko began to move. She worked through the Tenants with a predator's efficiency, flanked by two Sleepers Zachary recognized from the den. They registered names and took bets while Aiko handled the shards. By her quick involvement, it was clear she had put her faith in Zachary's word. She had even invested a significant portion of the Gambling Den's own reserves to serve as an incentive, driving the pot higher.
As expected, the majority of the Sleepers were betting against the "newcomer." There were a brave few—perhaps madmen or those with nothing left to lose—who put their faith in Nephis, but they were a tiny minority. The rest were here to see blood and walk away with a share of the Den's shards.
Aiko was just finishing her rounds when Gemma spoke again, his expression grim. "What is your name? Tell us. That way, you will at least be remembered."
Nephis stepped forward, her presence suddenly expanding until she seemed to fill the entire hall.
"I am Changing Star of the Immortal Flame clan."
Her proud, profound voice rang out, announcing her True Name to everyone present.
The Starlight Armor materialized around her in a flurry of silver sparks. The ornate plates molded to her agile figure, bathing her in an ethereal, mystical glow that seemed to freeze the very air. The moment should have been sacred—the arrival of a legend—but for the Tenants watching, the awe was quickly replaced by a different, sharper emotion.
Regret. Pure, unadulterated grief.
Their shards.
Even Aiko was paralyzed, her trembling hands nearly dropping the box of collected wagers. The reveal of a Legacy Clan and a True Name changed everything. The odds were no longer in Andel's favor; they were looking at a daughter of the Immortal Flame. Nephis wasn't just a challenger; she was a catastrophe for everyone who had bet against her.
Just as Zachary was losing himself in the calculation of his future winnings, a familiar voice cut through the din. "Zach?"
His eyes snapped open. He turned toward the sound, following the whisper to an alcove where Kido, Lester, Arlo, and Mauro were descending the steps toward Gemma. The Lieutenant heard it too; his head snapped around, momentarily forgetting Nephis's world-shaking proclamation to fixate on Zachary.
Zachary exhaled a pained sigh. The Artisans had heard the news—the Challenge was the talk of the Castle. But as they looked at him, their gazes weren't filled with anger, nor did they look betrayed.
They were just confused.
He cursed inwardly. The meaning behind their expressions was clear, and it stung more than a direct insult would have. He had truly enjoyed their company. But the world was moving, and he was ready to do whatever had to be done.
'Whatever it takes,' he repeated to himself, offering the Artisans an apologetic shrug.
A voice he took no pride in recognizing yanked him back from his thoughts. "You again? What's the matter, pussy? Couldn't solve your own problems, so you brought your pretty girlfriend to do it for you?"
Andel stepped into the light, his face twisted in a sneer. Zachary merely picked at his ear with a pinky finger, ignoring the scout with Olympian disdain.
Holding Cassie gently by the shoulder, Zachary began to guide her out of the immediate path of the conflict. "Do you need any encouragement?" he asked over his shoulder.
"None," Nephis replied, her voice flat. "His words were enough." She didn't even bother summoning her weapon yet.
Andel ground his teeth at their lukewarm reaction. He knew that in front of a crowd this size, actions spoke louder than insults. With a burst of ferocity, he jumped into motion, dashing toward Nephis like a predatory blur.
He died a second later.
The shift in the air was instantaneous. The quiet tension of the Guards curdled into shock; Aiko's surprise transformed into a silent, victorious joy; the Tenants stood frozen, their grief over lost shards momentarily eclipsed by the sheer impossibility of what they had just witnessed.
Zachary felt the weight of the room change. He saw the Artisans' grim expressions as they looked at him, and he saw Gemma's shock sharpen into a cold, calculative understanding as the Lieutenant shifted his gaze from the Changing Star back to Zachary.
And tucked away in the shadows, a short Handmaiden watched every detail with predatory focus.
Zachary looked up at the hall's high, vaulted ceiling, a long, tired sigh escaping his mouth.
'There's no going back now.'