7:00 PM
Merlion Camp
Kesca circled the three newcomers, arms folded. She still hadn't decided what to do with them.
"So… what are your names—and your capabilities?" she asked flatly.
The three immediately stood up, almost too eager.
The man in the green shirt stepped forward first. His claws shimmered slightly in the firelight.
"I'm Kaedric, Aqua Marshal. Wind mage. The labyrinth your father owned gifted me these magical claws." He let out a sly chuckle. "Heheh."
Next was the girl, calm and composed, gripping a staff laced with stone.
"I'm Thalara. An earth mage. The labyrinth gifted me this staff, Milady."
And then came the strongest.
A bald man stepped forward. No shirt. Muscles carved like stone. His presence alone quieted the entire camp.
"I am Berren, Milady," he said.
He raised his hand—and a flame ignited in his palm. It wasn't red or orange. It was lighter, more refined, almost elegant.
'Huh... so the labyrinth gave him a trinket of mana,' Kesca thought.
"You know those aren't gifts, right?" she said, unimpressed.
"Yes, Aqua Marshal Kesca!" the three said in unison.
Kesca's eyes narrowed as she studied Berren. Her boots thudded softly against the ground, pacing back and forth with her hands behind her back. The firelight danced across her armor, casting long shadows as she moved.
'Me and him could definitely take Dante down,' she thought. 'But it's not just him… Cassius is there. And the Captains. If we focus only on Dante, we're finished. Tsk… please, Father, what do I do?'
She clenched her jaw. Her steps slowed… then stopped. Her eyes fixed on the dirt before her.
'Sorry, Father.'
She turned sharply. "Listen up!" she barked.
All conversations stopped. Every mage, every fighter in the camp turned to face her.
"This is the plan."
Frings Costamado Estate.
"Halt!" the knight barked, raising a hand to stop Kaeli in his tracks. "This is the limit."
Kaeli offered a tired nod. "Got it."
"KAELI!" a familiar voice called out.
He turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Oh, Eri!"
She ran up and wrapped her arms around him.
"I missed you," she said, breathless.
He chuckled, returning the hug. "Missed you too."
"Where's the goods?"
"Right there in the back," he said, gesturing toward the carriage.
Eri climbed in and leaned toward something—or someone—inside. She whispered a few words, grabbed a few pieces of food, then stepped out and joined Kaeli as they walked off to report.
Inside the carriage, Rethrus and Gerard sat in the shadows, tension thick in the air.
"You heard what she said?" Rethrus whispered.
Gerard nodded quickly.
"Yeah… yeah. Let's go. But slowly."
Frings Costamado Estate
The invisibility wrapped around them like mist—silent, weightless, and almost fragile. But it came with a cost.
"I swear, if you take one step too far to the right, I'm leaving your ass behind," Gerard whispered.
"You'd walk off a cliff without me," Rethrus murmured, his voice low. "Stay close. Left foot forward, now."
Together, they walked side by side through the wet grass, their footsteps silent, but the tension louder than war drums. The estate loomed ahead, its many windows like eyes in the dark. Lantern light flickered inside, casting long shadows across the marble steps. But it wasn't the light they feared.
It was the guards.
Dozens of them, pouring in from the sides, sweeping through the grounds.
A knight stopped just five feet away, eyes narrowing. He stared into the distance, directly toward them.
Rethrus stopped breathing.
Gerard flinched. "He sees us—"
"No," Rethrus hissed. "He hears something. Not us. The wind."
The knight lingered, then slowly turned away.
They kept moving, step by step.
Another squad passed behind them—four men with wolf-shaped familiars, their noses close to the ground. Rethrus pulled Gerard to the side just in time, dragging him behind a large garden statue. The beasts sniffed the air where they just stood seconds ago.
"Damn wolves…" Gerard muttered.
One familiar growled and took a single step forward.
Rethrus clenched his jaw, his hand moving to his staff. If it pounced, he'd have to kill it—fast and silent.
But its master tugged the leash gently. "False scent," he muttered, turning away.
The moment passed. But barely.
Sweat slid down Gerard's temple. "This is suicide."
"No," Rethrus replied quietly, eyes locked on the side entrance up ahead. "This is gamble."
They were nearly there. Just ten more steps.
Suddenly, a loud horn blared from the outer walls—someone had found something. A wrong footprint? A noise? A broken twig?
Guards scrambled. Lights flared.
"Incoming," Rethrus warned.
They dove behind a hedge as two patrols dashed past them, nearly brushing shoulders. One guard's boot actually crushed a flower petal beside Gerard's hand.
Rethrus whispered, "We move in ten seconds. Left side—service stairs."
Gerard didn't speak. He couldn't. His heart thundered like a war drum in his ears.
Ten seconds later, they were gone.
The night swallowed them again.
The massive double doors of the mansion towered before them, adorned with golden etchings of hammer symbols of Frings authority.
The polished steps reflected the moonlight, slick from the light drizzle earlier. They had no key, no invitation, just silence and shadows on their side.
Rethrus exhaled quietly. "This is where it gets harder."
Gerard didn't respond. He just watched—alert, pale, ready to bolt if needed.
Rethrus glanced to his side—there. The narrow corridor Eri had mentioned, tucked behind a curtain and absent of any patrol.
Without a word, he and Gerard slipped through.
No torches lit the path, just stone walls and silence. It sloped downward, damp with moisture and cold with secrecy.
At the bottom, a single guard stood in front of a rusted door, arms crossed, bored.
Rethrus tapped Gerard once on the arm.
They stepped in unison.
The guard blinked. A gust of air shifted.
Then darkness erupted.
Rethrus's fist slammed into the guard's jaw—a sharp crack, and the man slumped down silently.
But the noise... someone heard it.
"Everything alright?" a voice called, footsteps fast approaching.
Rethrus and the unconscious guard vanished.
Gerard stepped forward, now dressed in the guard's armor. The helmet covered his sweat-drenched face as he raised his thumb in a casual sign.
"All clear," he said, trying to mimic the previous guard's voice.
The patrol left.
Gerard remained behind, still posing as the guard.
Rethrus entered.
The chamber was suffocating.
Shadows pressed in from every angle. The smell of iron and damp stone clung to the air. He dragged the unconscious guard into a corner, letting his body slump against the wall.
He looked around.
Nothing.
Stone floor. Chains on the wall. A dim torch barely clinging to life.
'Tsk… Where is she?'
He walked deeper. Each step echoed like a bell in the quiet.
Then—he heard it.
A cry.
Soft. Ragged. Not of pain—but grief.
He moved toward it. The hallway narrowed.
The cry grew louder.
More desperate.
More familiar.
He turned the corner—and froze.
There, sitting on the cold floor, was a small girl. She trembled beneath a patchy blanket, arms wrapped around her knees, face buried. Her sobs echoed off the walls like ghosts.
Rethrus's breath hitched.
Something inside him twisted. His head throbbed—flashes of memory hitting him like waves.
A glimpse of an alley.
A hand reaching out.
Tears.
The same cry.
The girl looked up, sensing something. Her eyes scanned the darkness, confused, hopeful.
Then, slowly—Rethrus walked near her.
He stood there, cloaked in faint light and silence.
The girl's eyes widened.
She stared.
A second passed.
Then two.
And then—she ran.
Straight into his arms.
"You came!!"
She buried her face in his chest, tears streaming, sobs shaking her whole body.
Rethrus stood there—arms stiff at first, uncertain. Then he wrapped them around her. Tight.
No words.
Just the sound of her crying.
And his own heartbeat… slowing for the first time.