CHAPTER 77: IMAGE(2)

The council hall wasn’t grand in the traditional sense.

There were no golden tapestries, no jeweled chandeliers—just high arches, pale stone, and a circular table of carved whitewood that occupied the center.

Aaron stood just inside the chamber, the last steps of his boots echoing against the floor. His windbreaker still carried faint burns and dust from the shrine’s collapse.

Even after a wash, the air around him held the scorched tang of burned mana.

Two of the four Royal Magi were already seated.

Victor, the Life Magus, lounged in his chair, green-threaded sleeves flowing around his wrists. His easy posture didn’t quite hide the sharpness in his eyes.

Rufus, the Rune Magus, sat straight-backed with his fingers interlocked over a folder of neatly stacked papers. His expression was the kind of neutral that was meant to make you guess what he was thinking.

The fourth chair belonged to the king.

And as for the fifth chair, it belonged to their newest comrade, The Void Magus.

Aaron’s gaze lingered on it.

"No Void Magus?" he asked.

Victor waved a hand lazily. "Damien’s not needed here. Not for this. His words, not mine."

Rufus added without looking up, "If we brought him into every matter, we’d spend half our time trying to prevent him from taking matters into his own hands."

Aaron didn’t answer. He’d met Damien once. That was enough to believe both statements. Still, something about the phrasing, not needed, sat wrong with him.

He stepped forward and placed a folded cloth on the table. Inside lay the pendant, its dull metal etched with a coiled serpent whose three eyes were vertical slits.

Victor leaned in. Rufus followed, his gaze narrowing.

"I’ve never seen this before," Victor said after a long moment.

"Nor I," Rufus murmured. "No recorded sects or guilds use this as their mark."

"That’s because it doesn’t belong to any group we’ve documented," Aaron replied. "I found it in a shrine, if you can call it that, carved into a cliffside east of Renshaw’s Gorge."

Rufus tilted his head slightly. "The Gorge? That’s where the scout transmissions cut out last week."

Aaron nodded.

"Four days ago. The first message was fragmented. The next two operatives didn’t report back. I was sent to investigate."

He spoke evenly, without embellishment, but the chamber seemed to shrink as his words continued.

"The trail was faint. There were only old scorch marks, overgrown tracks that led to the shrine. At its center was a sigil identical to the one on this pendant. When I touched it, it rejected my mana, and a hidden staircase opened beneath the altar."

Victor’s brows lifted slightly. "You went down?"

"I did."

He told them what he found underground. The obsidian tiles. The mana torches that burned in perfect rhythm. The twelve robed figures encircling a black spire carved with the same serpent mark.

He didn’t linger on how fast they reacted when he entered. He didn’t need to, both Magi knew the kind of skill it took to make Aaron note their speed.

"They attacked in formation, spellwork and melee blended seamlessly," Aaron continued.

"They were trained and disciplined yet when I engaged them, I made sure none survived."

Rufus’s expression barely shifted, but his fingers tapped once against the table before stilling.

"You’re saying you eliminated an entire branch?"

Aaron met his gaze. "A branch led by an S-rank mage."

Victor straightened in his chair. "That’s... not possible. There’s no unregistered S-rank mage in the kingdom. Not one that could field trained subordinates like that."

Aaron didn’t flinch.

"This one wasn’t registered. And he wasn’t the leader of whatever this is. He said so himself before the fight ended."

He described the man: gold-tinged eyes, the scar under his jaw, the way his mana wasn’t overwhelming but tightly coiled, honed over years. The serpent constructs woven from toxins and illusions. The disorienting gases. The calculated precision of his strikes.

"He wasn’t trying to kill me," Aaron said quietly. "He was buying time. Controlling the pace. Every move was to hold the fight, not end it."

"And yet," Rufus noted, "he didn’t retreat."

Aaron shook his head. "No. When I broke through his defenses, he said, ’The Eye sees you now.’ And then... ’When the gods forget their shapes, the serpents remember.’ After that, a chemical reaction in his blood dissolved him before I could question further."

Victor’s voice lost its casual edge. "That’s a failsafe that is far too dangerous and expensive. Whoever controls him was willing to lose an S-rank asset to keep secrets."

Rufus looked at the pendant again, his jaw tight. "And you said the sigil was on the spire as well?"

"Yes. Once everyone in the chamber was dead, the spire’s glow faded as if their mana was sustaining it. When it went out, the mana across the entire region shifted. I can’t explain it, but it felt like something... opened."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"So. Unknown symbol. Unknown organization. Unknown leader above an S-rank mage. And some sort of what? ritual anchor hidden in our territory?" Victor asked.

Aaron said nothing. The answer was obvious.

Rufus exhaled slowly. "If we publicize this, we risk panic. But if we do nothing..."

"They gain ground," Aaron finished for him.

Victor leaned back, fingers drumming the table. "We don’t even know their name. No records, no whispers in the underworld, no guild logs. An entire trained branch operating unnoticed within our borders is... unsettling."

Aaron’s tone sharpened. "It’s worse than unsettling. They didn’t hide because they feared being found. They hid because the time wasn’t right for them. This branch wasn’t preparing for a war; instead, they were preparing for a signal."

Rufus looked at him. "And now they’ve sent one."

The words sat between them like lead.

Victor eventually nodded. "Then we agree that this can’t be treated like a rogue guild cleanup. We investigate quietly using full network tracing of supplies, travel routes, mana anomalies. I’ll reach out to my contacts in the outer provinces."

Rufus added, "And I’ll search the archives for any matches to the phrase ’When the gods forget their shapes.’ It could be old scripture, forgotten cult dogma."

Aaron’s jaw tightened. "And when you find them?"

"Then," Rufus said, "we decide how deep this goes."

They all knew what that meant, how deep, and how high.

Victor glanced once at the empty fourth chair before returning his gaze to Aaron. "And if Damien becomes... needed?"

Aaron’s eyes followed the look. "Then you’d better hope the Eye doesn’t see him first."

The meeting ended without ceremony. No written order was signed, and no official record marked the discussion. Aaron reclaimed the pendant and left the hall, his boots silent against the stone.

But as he stepped out into the open air, the unease stayed with him not just from the fight, but from the way both Magi had looked at that empty chair before making the decision.

They weren’t worried about the cult alone but at the Void Magus’ possible involvement.