Little Flame’s message arrived clearly through the Blood Contract.
Not words. Never words. But the shape of it was unmistakable: *we won’t be back for a long time. We don’t know how long. Don’t call us.*
Leo sat with that for a moment.
Since the day Veyra had bonded with him on Knights’ Sacred Mountain, she had never once returned to her home dimension. Not for a single night. The bond between them had grown past the standard contract months ago — deeper, warmer, more present than anything he’d read about in the Temple’s records. She had chosen to stay. Every day, she had chosen to stay.
And now, something inside that stone sphere had called her back.
He looked at the space where she had been. Both heads had pressed against his legs before she left, the contact longer than usual, the *wuu-wuu* sounds quieter than he’d ever heard them. Then the purple veins along her back had lit up once, and she was gone.
Leo pressed his hand flat against the floor where she’d been sitting.
*Come back when you’re ready,* he thought. *I’ll be here.*
---
He stayed cross-legged on the floor for a while after, the three crystal vials from Evander in front of him. He opened each one and read the instructions inside.
First vial: *Take one pill daily before training. Each pill increases spiritual energy by 10 units. Effective below the fifth tier.*
Leo held the pill up. Spiritual energy by ten. Per day. He was currently at eighth rank of Grand Knight, roughly 1,600 units total. Three hundred units separated him from the Earth Knight threshold. That meant, with consistent use, thirty days of these pills would close the gap before natural progress filled the rest.
He set it down carefully.
Second vial: *Can be used in any circumstances. Restores 200 units of internal spiritual energy within ten seconds.*
Two hundred units in ten seconds. In a fight, that was the difference between a dead skill and a live one. He thought about the Dark Green Dual-Bladed Demon. He thought about how close the margins had been.
Third vial: *Immediately releases hidden potential. Increases combat ability by 20 percent for 30 seconds. After effect ends, user will be weakened for 12 hours.*
He put that one back the most carefully.
Thirty seconds of 20 percent boost. The weakness afterward was a serious cost — twelve hours of vulnerability after a fight wasn’t a small thing. But if the choice was thirty seconds of extra power or losing the fight entirely, the math became straightforward.
Leo thought about the first vial again. Then he took one pill, swallowed it dry, and settled into meditation.
Whatever was coming at the Halcyon Capital, he was going to arrive at it the best version of himself he could manage.
---
Morning came without ceremony.
The five of them gathered in the hotel lobby, paid what they owed, and rode out into a sky that was turning pale gold at the edges. The mood was different from the day they’d left Moonhaven City — quieter, more settled, charged with the particular focus of people who had already been through something and were walking toward something else.
Darius and Caden had not asked many questions about the auction house visit. Darius never asked questions he didn’t need answers to. Caden had taken one look at Leo’s expression when they returned and decided the questions could wait.
They made good time.
Two days of riding brought the Halcyon Capital close enough that the road began to change — wider, better maintained, more travelers moving in both directions. Vendors had set up along the roadsides. Inns appeared every few kilometers.
With the Selection beginning in a day and a half, there was no reason to rush. They eased back to a comfortable pace and let the road come to them.
That was when they heard the argument.
---
It started as voices through the tree line — sharp, overlapping, the specific texture of a confrontation that had moved past the point of being resolved politely.
One voice cut above the rest. Rough. Contemptuous.
"You’ve been annoying me since the start. Lucky for you, we’re not in the Capital yet. Hand over your entry plate and go back to Jiuwen City. A priest who can’t even heal properly has no business leading anyone anywhere."
"You want to mutiny?" came the reply. Deeper. Completely unbothered.
Leo pulled his horse to a stop.
That first voice.
He knew that voice.
Mira was already looking at him. "You recognize it?"
"Yes."
They moved off the road and through a short stretch of forest. The slope gave them a view of the clearing below before anyone below could see them.
Six people. Two sides.
On one side: five. A mounted fighter on a large scarlet-shelled worm that moved like fire had been built into its body — Leo recognized it immediately. The rider was Gareth, the same person he’d encountered on Knights’ Sacred Mountain. Gareth held a long spear at his hip and sat high, positioning himself above the confrontation.
The other four were spread around him: a warrior, two mages already murmuring incantations, and a slim figure in dark cloth who had the relaxed stillness of an assassin waiting for the moment to become necessary.
On the other side: one person.
A bald man.
Enormous. Two meters tall at minimum, with a back as wide as a door and arms that tested the limits of his clothing. His head was shaved clean and caught the afternoon light like polished stone. His brows were sharp as sword edges over eyes that were cold and entirely unafraid.
He wore white robes.
Leo stared.
The robes were unmistakable — the specific cut and color of the Priest Temple’s formal wear. The man standing in the middle of five people preparing to attack him was, genuinely and improbably, a priest.
Except.
In his right hand, he held a staff.
The word staff required some generosity. It was black, three and a half meters long, and as thick as a man’s forearm. A single dim-yellow gem was set at its top. Without the gem, there would have been no way to distinguish it from a length of iron pipe.
Gareth leveled his spear at the bald priest. "Soren. Give up the entry plate. Walk away. You’re a disgrace to Jiuwen City and I’m tired of looking at you."
The bald man — Soren — turned his cold eyes toward Gareth and said, with complete calm, "I, your father, will not be handing over anything. Come and take it if you want it."
Mira made a very quiet sound.
Gareth’s expression darkened. "Beat him until his own mother can’t recognize him. Go."
The scarlet worm lurched forward. The warrior charged from the left. The two mages’ incantations finished simultaneously. The assassin in dark cloth blurred sideways and circled wide, angling for the flank.
Five against one.
Leo was already moving forward when Mira’s hand closed around his arm.
"Wait," she said. "Look at him."
He looked.
Soren had not moved back a single step.
His expression had not changed.
If anything, he looked mildly interested — the way a person looks when something they expected has finally arrived.
Then he bellowed.
Not a word. Not a technique. Just a sound that came from somewhere below language, full-throated and furious, that rolled across the clearing like a physical force and rattled the leaves on the trees above.
And then he moved.
Not away. Forward.
His footwork was explosive and low, each step driving into the earth, and in three strides he had closed the distance to the charging warrior. The black staff came around in a horizontal arc with the kind of casual precision that only existed in people who had done something ten thousand times.
The warrior got his shield up.
The staff hit the shield.
The warrior left the ground.
He landed eight meters away, rolled twice, and did not get back up immediately.
Soren was already turning.
"Hm," Mira said.
The two mages released simultaneously — ice and wind, a crossed pattern designed to catch a target from two directions at once. Soren took two steps to the left, let the ice spell pass behind him, and planted the base of his staff in the ground.
The staff glowed.
A column of brilliant gold light erupted from his position, spreading outward in a rough circle. The wind spell hit the edge of the column and scattered. The assassin, who had been one second away from the flank, reversed direction without a sound.
*Sacred Light.* Leo recognized it. A priest skill — protective and offensive simultaneously, the golden light damaging anything hostile within its radius while shielding the caster at the center.
On the scarlet worm, Gareth pulled up hard, the mount rearing back from the light’s edge.
"He’s fine," Mira said, releasing Leo’s arm. "More than fine." A pause. "He’s enjoying himself."
She wasn’t wrong. Through the golden column, Soren’s expression was visible. He had the look of a man who had been waiting for this specific type of problem and was finding it a satisfying change from the road.
Leo watched him hold the column steady while the mages scrambled to reposition.
"We should keep moving," Liora said from behind them. "This doesn’t need us."
"It might," Darius said, watching Gareth.
Gareth had pulled his worm mount back to a safe distance. His expression had gone from contemptuous to calculating. The fight hadn’t gone the way he’d expected, and Gareth, Leo remembered from Knights’ Sacred Mountain, was not a person who accepted unexpected outcomes graciously.
Leo watched him.
The spear in Gareth’s hand was still raised.
And the four remaining members of his group were not withdrawing.