[Lush Cave - Uncharted Area - Brandléah Jurisdiction]
*Swish*
A towering plant-like monster loomed in the dim glow of the cave, its twisted form standing sentinel before the lone man. Dressed in muted, earth-toned garments, the human should have been preparing his crossbow—yet he waited, his hands steady, eyes focused, while the creature's gaze never left him.
Around the monster, an unnatural fog began to form. Pale green wisps curled from the ground, swirling lazily around its thorned limbs. The air thickened with an acrid scent, a warning the man couldn't yet recognize. The gas spread, tendrils of mist weaving through the cave's damp air, seeping into cracks and creeping toward the man.
But the creature was uneasy. Because he himself wasn't aware of the fogs origin, aside from that there was another—*another sapien*—nearby, concealed beyond the reach of sight. It couldn't locate him, though, not with the cloying stench of decayed Human matter and vapor hanging in the heated cavern. The foul odor blocked out any trace of the unseen enemy. And to the monster dismay, invaders knew the rules of this battle all too well; that's why only path forward was to strike down the lone figure before it.
But the man refused to close the gap. He remained just out of the monster range, as though baiting the monster, the glint of his crossbow hinting at a calculated plan waited to greet the fool who couldn't recognise the food chain. It hesitated, its instincts warning against the urge to advance. Something about this sapien didn't seem right—*too still, too composed.* Yet the monster could do little from behind its poisonous fog.
Then, there was the sound—the softest disturbance, barely a whisper.
*Step. Step. Step.*
The monster stiffened, its tendrils twitching in agitation, yet it had no time to react.
╠ Spectral Blade School ■ 5th Chapter ■ [Phantom Edge] ╣
*Swish.*
A blade cut through the air, swift and precise. For a brief moment, the sickly fog seemed to part, as though the mist itself feared the steel. The strike was unseen, yet undeniable in its lethality. The once-proud king of the lush cave faltered, its form collapsing under the sheer force of the blow. It had been felled in a single, calculated motion—a strike too quick, too silent to comprehend.
The man's sword shimmered for the briefest of moments—a narrow, spectral blade, impossibly thin, its presence a fleeting glimpse in the soft light of the cave. He sheathed it just as swiftly, the weapon disappearing into the shadow of his cloak as if it had never been drawn.
His crossbow remained untouched, hanging useless at his side, its purpose no more than a ruse.
The fog swirled around the creature's body, beginning to disappear. The monster, once the king of the lush cave, lay still—a life extinguished by a strike too swift for it to resist, its reign ended in silence.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※
After finally landing the last blow, Valorion collapsed onto the damp, mossy floor of the cave. He was utterly spent. If he had fought that thing head-on, he would've been dead for sure. He'd barely survived as it was.
"Finally! That goddamn monster's dead, huh?" Lucan called out as he emerged from his hiding spot. He staggered over and dropped beside Valorion, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
"Any sign of the others?" Valorion asked, his breath still labored. He knew Lucan's trait, [Sense], would help them track the rest of their team, if any of them were still alive.
Lucan's face fell as he shook his head. "Nope, not a soul."
Valorion frowned but couldn't say he was surprised. The mission had gone disastrously wrong, and he knew why. As if reading his mind, Lucan spat out in frustration, "We're too used to fighting head-on battles, in the open. But these plant bastards... they used every dirty trick in the book!"
Valorion silently agreed. They'd been utterly unprepared for the conditions down here. The damp, underground caverns had been the perfect terrain for their enemies to exploit, and they had played right into it.
And this entire disaster? A trap set by those bastards from the Flame Temple.
"Those *cunts*," Lucan growled, unable to hold back his curses. "Five years ago, no one had even heard of them. Now they're forcing everyone to convert to their faith!"
Valorion remained silent but clenched his fists. Lucan wasn't wrong. Just a few years back, the followers of the Goddess of Flame had been a respected order. But now, under the new leadership, they had turned into fanatical zealots, willing to burn anything—and anyone—that stood in their way.
Lucan continued, venting his anger. "Same tactics they used in Braziliana! Bribe the influential, give the poor free food and clothes, make 'em dependent on those luxuries... then boom, convert or lose it all! After that, they take out the opposition's strong leaders, one by one."
Valorion nodded grimly. "And we're in the 'thinning out the opposition's strong leaders' phase, aren't we?"
Lucan sighed. "Yeah. Damn Flame Temple's playing the long game, and we're stuck in the middle of it."
Five years ago, none of this had seemed possible. Their world had been so different. Now, they were on the verge of losing everything they had ever known.
"At least Master Demina handled the situation well this time," Valorion said, trying to find some silver lining in their grim situation. "He sent a lot of explorers on their side with us. Hope they're all dead by now."
Lucan chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, with any luck."
They both knew the Flame Temple wasn't going to stop until they had corner them to the wall. But at least in Wýrmfyrgeat, their home territory, they still had some autonomy. The ruler of their jurisdiction, is fiercely pro-Flame, but the diplomatic skill of their leaders had bought them the right to self-governance—for now.
"Enough depressing talk," Valorion said, eager to change the subject. "Let's focus on getting out of here."
Lucan used his trait to feel outside of the cave. "It's night outside. And we don't have the gear to camp out there."
"Looks like we'll have to stay here until morning."
"Yeah, and maybe pick up any survivors along the way," Lucan agreed, getting to his feet.
The two men set about securing the cave for the night, laying down monster-repelling wards and preparing a modest meal. As the fire crackled, casting flickering shadows on the cave walls, Valorion struck up some small talk.
"Hey, Lucan," he said, tossing a few more logs into the flames. "That fog back there, that was you, right? When did you learn a trick like that?"
Lucan looked up, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Oh, someone wants to know my secrets, huh? Even a great E-Rank explorer needs advice from a humble B-Rank adventurer if the technique's good enough, eh?"
Valorion responded with a deadpan glare.
"Alright, alright! Don't give me that look, you grumpy bastard. There wasn't any fog. That was all in your head—and the monster's. I just messed with both of your senses."
Valorion raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you make me feel it too?"
Lucan explained with a chuckle. "It's part of the illusion. If only the monster could sense it and you couldn't, it might've figured out it was a trick seeing your movements. I made you both see the fog, but for you it was just a regular mist. The monster, though, thought it was poisonous fog. That's why his movements became so sluggish in the end...well it didn't really stop it fully though!"
Valorion shivered at the thought. "One wrong move, and I would've been done for."
Lucan, still busy with setting up the tent, added, "Speaking of surprises, what was up with that move from the Spectral Blade School? Aren't you supposed to be from the Arctic Sword School?"
Valorion smirked. "I copied it from Lyssara. It was the only way to get past that thing's battle instincts."
Lucan whistled. "Ah, Sister-in-law! That move... wasn't it the same one she used to take down the boss during the 48' Revolution?"
The cave grew quiet as both men were swept up in the memories of that bloody chapter in their past—the time they had dared to stand against the State and had paid a terrible price.
Lucan broke the silence with a grin. "You lucky bastard. Strong and beautiful wife, an angelic daughter, and a genius for a son. How the hell did you manage to marry her?"
At the mention of his family, Valorion's mind drifted. He thought back to that day five months ago when his son, Renji, had truly came terms with his new life as Bravestone. Though Renji still avoided him, it was out of embarrassment, not disdain. He was diligent and faithful in his training.
Lucan's voice pulled him back to the present. "Seriously, how did you pull that goldmine of life off?"
Valorion smiled, but his thoughts were already far away, imagining his family waiting for him back home.
■-■ ■-■ ■-■
Part -2
[Capital City of Cynethron, Heart of the Hēahcyne Empire]
In the dimly lit bedchamber of the Third Wife of the Wiseheart Dukedom, Isolde sat by the window, staring out at the cold moonlit courtyard, lost in thought. The last five months had been nothing short of a nightmare. The entire Dukedom was in a frenzy, preparing for the debutante ceremony that would be held in the royal palace next month. For the Wiseheart family, this event carried even more significance. It was the moment they would finally announce their chosen heir candidates to the world. Yet, for Isolde, the bustle of her life as a duchess wasn't what kept her awake at night.
No, her problem was far more sinister.
She glanced over at the crib where her daughter, Ivy, slept soundly, her tiny chest rising and falling with soft breaths. Ivy. The reason Isolde's very existence was now under scrutiny. It had started with whispers, accusations of adultery thrown her way—false, but relentless. The cause of these suspicions lay in the very thing Ivy represented: a child born to two non-elemental force users, yet possessing an elemental affinity. And not just any element. Fire. A dangerous, potent force in this empire where bloodlines were everything.
Isolde's fingers tightened on the windowsill as her thoughts spiraled. It had been five months since the Flame Priestess made her a proposal, the proposal that had kept Isolde awake every night since.
*"Give me your daughter. Let her be my successor, and I'll grant her sanctuary. No one will be able to touch her, not the empire, not the Wisehearts. You can come with her, escape before they kill you off!."*
*"And what is there for you in this arrangements?" Isolde knowing there is no free food in the world asked back
*"Ofcourse I want escape before they marry me of to the Brandléah in the South!"*
Although thorn attached It was nonetheless a tempting offer. Ivy would be safe. She would stay by Isolde's side too. But accepting it would mean abandoning everything she knew, and defying the Wiseheart family outright—a family that had already begun to move against her, whispering of her elimination without so much as a trial.
Isolde's heart ached. Did she love Ivy, truly? Or was it rage—rage at the injustice, rage at the family that saw her as nothing but a pawn—that clouded her judgment? And she wanted use that child as a symbol of her defiance, She didn't know anymore. But one thing was clear in her mind: Ivy was the only reason she could still draw breath in this rotten world. Without her daughter, she was nothing.
A tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. Emotions had no place here. She had to be strong. For Ivy.
*"I can't let them take you from me,"* she whispered, her voice breaking the silence. *"Not without a fight."*
Isolde rose from the window, her decision hardening like steel in her heart. The priestess's offer had to be considered, not just for herself, but for Ivy even it meant abandoning her pride as a Everforge. If she stayed, Ivy would be bound to a life of misery, chained to a man who would see her only as a tool to be used or slave of some missinory If they fled, they could find freedom.
Her mind raced, already planning their escape. She would have to be careful. The Wiseheart family's eyes were everywhere, and she couldn't afford a single mistake. But she had no choice.
For Ivy. For her future.
Isolde moved to the crib and knelt beside it, her hand gently brushing Ivy's soft, dark hair. The child stirred but did not wake. Her heart didn't respond like a loving mother's should, she knew better than anyone not to listen what her heart says.
*"I will keep you safe,"* she vowed, her voice barely above a whisper. *"No matter the costs."*
The moonlight streamed through the window, casting long shadows across the room as Isolde rose once more, her resolve now unshakable. She will now respond to flame Pristess proposal with all seriousness.