The tall grass of the endless meadow continued to sway in the breeze of that warm, unnatural wind, bending in green and silver waves that seemed to stretch infinitely toward a sunless horizon.
Hayjin remained seated on the ground, cross-legged, his hands clasped beneath his chin and his gaze fixed on a small blue-petaled flower swaying a few inches from his boots. In his mind, the pieces of the plan for the next time loop were beginning to lock into place with the ruthless precision of steel gears.
Neutralize Riko immediately. Isolate Arkon. Protect Isabelle, Wren, Wilder, and Princess Zhilian.
However, as he ran through every single detail of his days spent inside Opes Castle in his memory re-examining the faces, the corridors, the conversations, and the rooms he had frequented a conceptual anomaly, a massive and inexplicable void, suddenly emerged from the fog of his memories.
A sudden doubt caught the breath in his throat.
Wait... Hayjin thought, his eyes widening slightly as his fingers tightened around his knees. Wait a second. How the fuck didn't I think of this sooner?
He mentally retraced his stay in the royal fortress from the first second to the last. He had met the guards, the footmen, the servants, Princess Zhilian, little Wren, Wilder, even the Cult's spies... but there was a category of people of fundamental importance to the crown of Opes that he had literally never crossed paths with.
The Sages.
On paper, the Grand Council of Sages of Opes was the most powerful political and magical body in the entire kingdom, second only to the Royal Family itself. They were seven legendary figures, high-tier individuals guarding the institutions, ancient knowledge, and the capital's protective barrier.
Yet, ever since Hayjin had set foot in the castle alongside "his father" Rheaghular, the only Sage he had ever seen, heard, or crossed paths with in the corridors was Arkon.
Where the fuck are the other six? Hayjin wondered, a cold shiver running down his spine. A royal palace in a state of crisis, with an unstable barrier and an imminent threat of invasion... and in the entire fortress, only Arkon was running the council? The other six Sages were never seen. No summits, no audiences, no presence during the Cult's attacks... Nothing at all. How is it possible that they vanished into thin air without anyone at the castle saying a single word about them?
With that question burning in his brain like a red-hot iron, Hayjin slowly raised his head.
The girl with long blue hair was still there, a few paces from him, standing in the tall grass with her hands clasped behind her back and her clear gaze fixed in his direction.
Hayjin stood up with a fluid motion, planting his boots into the soft earth. He stared at the ethereal figure with a new gravity and seriousness, free of the hysteria or despair from moments ago.
"Before you send me back..." Hayjin said, his deep voice cutting through the meadow's silence. "Before you throw me back into the past to start this massacre... there's one thing I absolutely need to understand."
The girl tilted her head slightly to the side, maintaining her enigmatic expression.
"The Sages of Opes," Hayjin continued, pointing vaguely upward. "There should be seven of them. But during my entire stay at the castle, the only one I ever met was that old bastard Arkon. I never saw the other six. No one spoke of them, no one mentioned them as if they never existed, or as if they vanished into thin air before I even arrived."
Hayjin took a step toward her, his fists clenching at his sides.
"Can you show me what happened to them?" he asked directly. "Can you show me where the fuck all the other Sages of Opes went before I got to the fortress?"
The blue-haired girl's eyes widened slightly. For the first time since Hayjin had met her, her perfect, imperturbable face showed a hint of genuine astonishment. Her eyebrows raised, and her lips parted in a silent expression of surprise, as if she hadn't expected the boy to dig into that specific blind spot of history at all.
She stood staring at him for a couple of seconds, studying the fierce determination carved into Hayjin's red eyes.
Then, an almost imperceptible smile curled the corners of her mouth.
The girl raised her right hand. With a slow, deliberate gesture, she brought her thumb against her middle finger.
SNAP.
The sound of shattering crystal echoed through the warm meadow air.
Instantly, the blue sky and the expanse of flowers vanished, swallowed by a vortex of white light and dense shadows that began to swirl wildly around Hayjin's body. The ground beneath his feet disappeared, replaced by the sensation of free-falling through a temporal void.
When the light stabilized and the dizziness subsided, Hayjin found himself immersed in a solemn darkness, broken only by the warm glow of dozens of candles set into tall brass candelabras.
The air was heavy, dense with an ancient scent of parchment, beeswax, liturgical incense, and aged oak wood. The distant roar of the wind beating against tall stained-glass windows made him realize he was in one of the highest towers of the fortress.
Hayjin immediately looked at his hands: they were translucent again, diaphanous, enveloped in that faint bluish glow that characterized his spectral form. He had returned to being an observing spirit.
I'm invisible again, Hayjin thought, taking a step forward. His incorporeal foot passed effortlessly through the base of a solid carved granite pillar. And I can pass through walls like last time. Perfect.
He looked around to orient himself. He was in the antechamber of a majestic circular structure. Before him stood two massive hardwood doors, inlaid with the heraldic symbols of the seven primordial magical elements and sealed with powerful protective runes.
This is... the Grand Council Chamber of the Sages, Hayjin recognized, recalling the moment he had first entered the castle several weeks ago.
Without hesitation, Hayjin stepped forward and passed through the thick wooden door as if it were made of warm air, making his way inside the room.
The Council Chamber of the Sages was a monumental circular room, dominated by a domed ceiling painted with star maps and magical constellations that glowed with a faint enchanted light. At the center of the room stood an immense round table of polished black stone, around which seven high seats of red velvet and carved wood were arranged.
And around that table, alive, present, and in the full exercise of their duties, were all seven Sages of Opes.
Hayjin held his spectral breath, positioning himself mid-air near one of the columns to observe the scene.
The atmosphere in the room was tense, thick with political and administrative exhaustion palpable in the air. Spread across the table were dozens of geographic maps, parchments bearing wax seals from various neighboring kingdoms, magical abacuses, and accounting ledgers detailing the kingdom's resources.
At the head of the table sat Archmage Vaelen, an elderly man with a long white beard braided with silver threads, wearing a solemn night-blue cloak. To his right was Sage Seraphina, a mature woman with a stern, aristocratic gaze, keeper of the magical archives; beside her sat Sage Koros, a stocky man with the burly arms typical of forge mages; Sage Gerald, a scholar with gray hair and glasses perched on his sharp nose; Sage Morvath, a specialist in defensive magic with a sunken face; and young Sage Elowen, overseer of the kingdom's Ley lines and agriculture.
And finally, in the seventh seat, sat Arkon.
The old sage wore his usual immaculate robes, his withered hands resting on the edge of the table with composed elegance, his face relaxed in an expression of calm and respectful devotion toward his peers.
At that moment, the meeting was in the thick of a heated political debate.
"The reports coming from the southern border territories are anything but reassuring," Sage Morvath said, tapping his knobby forefinger against a map showing the mountain ranges at the edge of the kingdom of Opes. "Skirmishes between border patrols and independent militias from the kingdom of Cudras have intensified over the past three months. There are constant incursions. If we don't establish a clear demarcation line and renew the non-aggression pact, we risk open conflict just as our mana reserves for the barrier are at an all-time low."
"Morvath is right," Sage Seraphina chimed in, organizing a stack of sealed parchments. "The Princess of Cudras has sent yet another formal request for an audience. They are organizing a closed-door diplomatic summit in two weeks in the neutral city of Ovestia."
"They want to discuss revising trade tariffs on iron ore and mana crystals, as well as renegotiating the mutual military aid pact. We cannot afford to ignore them or send low-ranking ambassadors. One of us will have to attend in person."
"Gerald and I will go," Archmage Vaelen proposed, sighing deeply and massaging the bridge of his nose. "Gerald handled the previous trade agreements and knows every loophole in that jurisdiction. I will handle the magical guarantees. We must ensure Cudras doesn't sign secret alliance treaties with the Astrarae Empire. If Cudras yields to Imperial pressure, we will be completely surrounded to the south."
"And what about the grain reserves for the coming winter?" Sage Elowen asked, looking up from an accounting ledger. "Harvests in the western provinces have dropped by fifteen percent due to recent anomalies in the barrier. If we need to ration supplies, we must do it now, before panic spreads among the populace."
"We will organize a controlled distribution plan with the captain of the Royal Guard," Koros replied in a deep voice. "I will handle it myself tomorrow morning."
Hayjin watched the scene with extreme attentiveness. The six Sages spoke in pragmatic, serious tones, deeply immersed in the complex dynamics of governing an entire kingdom. It was crystal clear that they were experienced administrators men and women who dedicated every hour of their time to managing and safeguarding Opes.
As the council drew its discussion on trade treaties with Cudras to a close, Arkon cleared his throat softly.
Low as the sound was, it was enough to silence the other six Sages, who turned their heads toward him respectfully.
"My esteemed colleagues..." Arkon began, steepling his fingers before his chest and adopting a calm, cautious, almost troubled tone. "All the points you have raised are of vital importance to the stability of the kingdom, and I fully agree on the necessity of attending the summit in Cudras. However... there is another matter, far more peculiar and potentially destabilizing, that we must discuss before this session adjourns."
Archmage Vaelen tilted his head, knitting his thick brows. "What are you talking about, Arkon? We have reviewed the entire agenda."
Arkon took a brief, dramatic pause, letting silence settle over the room.
"I am referring to the reports coming from the northern borders," Arkon said under his breath. "Regarding the ongoing visits to the fortress by the young boy... escorted by none other than the Dragon God, Rheaghular."
At those words, Sage Seraphina let out a short sigh of impatience, shaking her head.
"This story again, Arkon?" the woman said, straightening her back. "We have the Cudras situation to resolve, iron tariffs frozen, and a barrier that requires complete recalibration before the end of the moon. Frankly, right now we couldn't care less about some boy, whoever he may be. We have far more pressing matters of state to attend to."
"Precisely," Sage Morvath agreed, dipping his quill back into the inkwell. "If the Dragon God wishes to visit the castle to greet Princess Wren or Princess Zhilian, let him come. He shares a centuries-old bond with the Royal Dynasty. It isn't the first time he has appeared without warning, only to vanish again for decades. I see no reason why we should interrupt our work for an event of such minor political consequence."
Hayjin, floating near the ceiling, observed the reaction of the other Sages. It was obvious that to them, Hayjin's arrival was merely an insignificant footnote compared to Opes's sweeping geopolitical maneuvers.
But Arkon was undeterred. A tiny, calculated flash of malice glinted in his aged eyes before returning to a facade of genuine fatherly concern.
"I completely understand your position and the weight of the duties resting upon your shoulders, my dear friends," Arkon said in a honeyed voice, raising his hands slightly in a conciliatory gesture. "But I ask you to reflect for just one moment on the extreme gravity of this event. You say it is a matter of little consequence... but do you realize what we are talking about?"
Arkon leaned forward slightly over the black stone table, lowering his voice as if confiding a dangerous secret.
"About this boy... this alleged 'Hayjin'... we know absolutely nothing," Arkon pronounced, placing heavy emphasis on every word. "Nothing. We do not know where he comes from. We do not know where he was raised. We do not know who he truly is, nor what powers he possesses. We do not know his true nature, nor why he is showing up here right now at one of the moments of greatest political and magical vulnerability for the kingdom of Opes!"
Sage Gerald adjusted his glasses on his nose, frowning skeptically. "Arkon, your caution is always appreciated, but I remind you that the boy is escorted personally by Rheaghular. It is the Dragon God himself who declared that the youth is his son. Do you mean to question the word of a divine entity who has protected our lands since before this fortress was even built?"
Arkon offered a bitter smile, slowly shaking his head.
"I do not question his divine nature, Gerald," Arkon replied, his voice laced with a subtle, poisonous insinuation. "But I invite you to clearly remember the history of this kingdom. I invite you to remember who Rheaghular truly is."