The lift’s descent stretched on for some time, accompanied by the low murmur of the others’ conversations and the hum of the platform’s workings. Gradually, the smooth stone walls changed. Pale, etched surfaces gave way to glimpses of a sheer black expanse veined with faint golden filaments — like strands of frozen starlight embedded in the dark.

Then, the shaft opened up.

The walls vanished entirely, and the lift emerged into an immense, yawning cavern that extended in all directions. Great columns of sculpted alabaster rose from unseen depths, disappearing into the distant shadows above like petrified trees propping up a sky of stone. Bridges, terraces, and suspended walkways spiralled through the air in complex configurations, their railings adorned with crystals emitting a soft emerald glow.

Far overhead, the ceiling itself shimmered — not with crystal, but with thousands of drifting runes and arcane diagrams. The proverbial constellations painted in liquid light. They pulsed in sync with some unseen rhythm, and every now and then, those filaments of golden light streamed from them, trailing down through the dark like celestial vines.

A soft breeze stirred Scarlett’s hair as they descended further, carrying the vague scent of metal and something subtly sweet, like distant incense. She took in the scene silently, eyes moving across the architecture.

“This is…wow,” Kat breathed.

“We’ve seen some incredible stuff around you, Red, but this is definitely top three,” Rosa added, her voice unusually sincere.

Allyssa squinted skeptically, disbelief plain on her face. “I don’t get it. How is it even possible to build something this massive? And we’re supposed to be under Lake Rellaria?”

“It does beggar belief,” Arnaud agreed thoughtfully, studying the dancing symbols above. “One must wonder what purpose such a space was meant to serve.”

Scarlett looked over the edge of the platform, towards the terraces suspended above the seemingly bottomless void. It was true that the sheer scale of this chamber was a lot to take in. It made one feel small. Even in the game, the sight had left an impression. It was one of those moments that stuck with you, whether rendered in pixels or witnessed in person.

She hadn’t been entirely sure this was where the lift would actually lead, but she was glad it had. It gave her a better sense of where in Beld Thylelion they were.

The lift came to a stop with an almost unnoticeable click, sliding neatly into a carved indentation at the heart of a circular platform. Behind them stretched only darkness, the walls lost to shadow.

Fynn rose from his cross-legged seat, already scanning the area. A single walkway extended from the platform, forking left and right. Each path led towards more terraces and structures glimpsed during the descent. At this level, though, visibility was limited.

“So, what’s this place called?” Rosa asked, turning to Scarlett.

Scarlett glanced at her. “I do not know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Much as you might wish it, Rosa, I still am not omniscient. There are things even I have yet to uncover.” She paused, eyes drifting across the space. “I am not entirely certain this place was ever given a name.”

Thainnith’s legacy couldn’t offer her any hints, and she couldn’t recall anything specific from the game.

“You really ought to work on that,” Rosa teased. “I’ve been spreading word you’re all-knowing. Your admirers would be terribly disappointed if they learnt you’re only mostly-knowing.”

“How regrettable,” Scarlett replied in a flat tone.

She stepped past Rosa, joining Fynn near the walkway as she considered their next move. Their lift wasn’t the only one connected to this chamber. Others would be spaced around the edges, a bit like spokes on a wheel. But those would only take them up again. To descend deeper, they’d first need to reach the centre. For that, either right or left would likely do.

After a moment’s thought, she pointed left. “We will take this path.”

It didn’t look much different from the right, but more connecting walkways branched off it.

The party formed up as before and crossed the bridge. Allyssa and Rosa leaned over the railings, trying to glimpse what lay below. Scarlett kept her gaze on the softly glowing crystals embedded in the railings, debating whether they were worth collecting. Ultimately, she dismissed the idea. She didn’t really need the coin as much as she once had, and prying them out one by one would only waste time.

They soon reached the first terrace — a wide, circular platform bordered by archways and slender pillars. Arcane arrays were carved into the stone underfoot, and at its centre rose a complex metal framework. Suspended within it was the upper half of a tall obelisk. One side gleamed a smooth, reflective grey, while the other drank in the light, matte and utterly black.

Half a dozen bronze-and-silver constructs orbited the obelisk. Delicate spheres of interlocking clockwork, turning in perfect silence like a miniature cosmos wound in metal.

“Is that what I think it is?” Kat asked, pointing at the obelisk.

“A Kilnstone,” Shin replied.

“Or part of one, at least,” Allyssa added. “Think it works?”

Rosa shook her head. “I’d be willing to wager ‘no’.”

While the others examined it with interest, Scarlett aimed her attention at the arrays etched into the ground. She was somewhat familiar with the mechanisms of Kilnstones thanks to the legacy, but she didn’t know enough to replicate one herself. That made seeing this—a half-completed relic of the past—all the more intriguing.

That being said, that probably shouldn’t be their focus at the moment.

The [Hartford Garnet Ring] on her finger began to glow faintly in warning.

She turned to Arnaud. “Mister Astrey. This may be an opportune moment to demonstrate your capabilities.”

He studied her for a moment, then dipped his head. His moustache twitched faintly with amusement before he turned towards the metallic constructs orbiting the obelisk. “I presume those are our foes?”

“Indeed.”

Arnaud stepped forward. Fynn moved aside to give him room. With one hand, Arnaud touched the hilt of his sword. With the other, he adjusted the crimson sash slung over his shoulder. His eyes lingered on the constructs for a few seconds as the others watched.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Then he drew the blade a finger’s width from its sheath — just enough to catch the light. A flash of flawless, gleaming steel.

The constructs reacted at once.

Their spherical forms began to unfold, shifting and expanding with precise mechanical grace. Metallic panels curled outward like clockwork petals, revealing intricate cores shaped like vertical hourglasses. Inside each, pale sand floated in suspension. Threads of golden light—the same hue as the runes overhead—flickered around them, shimmering like mirages.

Unlike the wardens they’d faced earlier, these were only guardians.

Scarlett frowned, glancing at the [Orrery of Dissonant Convergence] on her wrist. She hadn’t made the connection before, but these guardians bore a resemblance to her Orrery. She supposed it made sense, given Thainnith’s involvement in both, but still, the similarity caught her off guard.

Then, all six guardians moved in perfect unison. Instead of attacking, though, they sidestepped, reacting as if dodging an invisible strike. Golden filaments sparked around them — then went still.

Scarlett didn’t catch what happened next.

There was a rush of displaced air as Arnaud pressed his palm against the sword’s pommel and snapped the blade back into its sheath. A split second later, he stood upright, utterly at ease.

Across the platform, every guardian split in half.

Six constructs—spaced apart, hovering at different angles—were cleanly severed at the midsection. Their hourglass cores cracked, sand spilling like scattered dust. A faint silver glow flickered through them as if a hair-thin fault line had traced their destruction before they even registered the strike.

For a long moment, Scarlett could only stare.

She’d only seen someone move that fast once before — or rather, failed to see them.

Vail.

Naturally, she had known Arnaud was strong. Likely still beyond her, even with all the strength she’d gathered. In many ways, he was the kind of man who embodied the pinnacle of what this world’s finest could become.

But it was a very different thing seeing what that kind of strength looked like with your own eyes.

How were you even supposed to respond to something you couldn’t perceive? No matter how potent her magic became, it would be useless if it never connected. Maybe—just maybe—if she were fully buffed and armed with her best gear, she might stand a chance. For a bit.

Arnaud turned back towards the group, his gaze settling on her. “I do hope it’s not a problem that I broke them. You didn’t seem especially concerned about the warden earlier.”

She met his gaze, then shook her head. “No. It is not.”

He smiled faintly. “Good.”

“Dad…exactly how much have you been holding back during our training?” Allyssa asked, jabbing a finger at him. “I’ve never seen you do anything like that!”

Arnaud’s smile turned a touch sheepish as he turned to his daughter. “I wouldn’t quite say I’ve been holding back, sugarplum. I’ve simply…matched your pace.”

“I couldn’t even see you move!” Allyssa exclaimed, stunned. She turned to Kat. “Did you know he could move like that?”

Kat laughed, looking between Allyssa and Arnaud. “Yeah, ‘course I did. Your old man used to drag me around with him when I was still a junior Shielder, after all.”

Allyssa’s stare whipped back to her father. “What? You never did that for me or Shin.”

“I’ve actually seen it a few times,” Shin added casually.

Allyssa froze, mouth half-open, glaring at him like he’d just stabbed her in the back. “…Am I seriously the only one who didn’t know he was that fast?”

“I didn’t either,” Rosa offered, raising a hand. “You can count me among the shocked.”

Allyssa narrowed her eyes. “Rosa, you’re not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Rosa replied with a grin.

Allyssa muttered something under her breath, then let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You did know he’s an S-rank—” Shin began, only to fall silent as Allyssa raised a warning finger at him.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” she said. “We’ve both seen Old Man Graham and Rosanna spar with Dad, and they weren’t even close to moving like that then.”

Shin, perhaps wisely, shrugged and said nothing.

Arnaud stepped closer and rested a hand on his daughter’s head. She made a token effort to bat it away, ineffective as it was.

“I’ve never tried to hide it from you, honeybun,” he said warmly. “I simply never had reason to go that far in front of you.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying I’m weak?”

The man chuckled. “Not at all. But you’re still young, and there is much left for you to learn. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Even among your friends here, I suspect only he followed what I just did.”

He nodded towards Fynn, who’d been silent, eyes fixed on Arnaud. He looked less awed than…focused. Like he was trying to decipher a puzzle in motion.

Arnaud gave him a smile. “Something on your mind?”

Fynn was quiet for a few more seconds, seeming to turn something over in his head. “Why didn’t you draw your sword all the way?” he eventually asked.

Arnaud’s smile deepened, just slightly.

“Because that was what’s called a partial draw — or an anchor,” he explained. “It’s an aura technique, though I don’t imagine you’re too familiar with those. In essence, I did not need to draw the blade fully because the distance between it and the constructs was already collapsed.”

“Collapsed?” Fynn asked.

Arnaud nodded. “Were you able to perceive my aura at all?”

Fynn’s brow furrowed further. After a while, he shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

“That’s perfectly normal. Even Shin here still struggles with it, and he’s far more experienced with the nuances of my aura art.” Arnaud’s voice took on a patient, almost instructive aspect. “But through my aura, the distance between my sword and my target is effectively compressed. Drawing the sword fully could have achieved a similar result, but it wouldn’t have been quite as effective.”

Fynn considered that, his expression thoughtful.

Scarlett studied Arnaud closely. So it wasn’t that he had moved at an impossible speed. He’d altered space itself?

She wasn’t sure which was more terrifying.

Fynn eventually turned to Shin. “You use the same style? I’ve never seen you do that.”

Shin shook his head. “No. I’m learning a different aspect of the style. So far I’ve only trained in aura amplification and sword projection. What Arnaud did just now…that takes specialised training and high aptitude. It’s dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Fynn looked between them, then down at the shattered constructs. “Who came up with this style?”

Arnaud brought a hand to his moustache, his expression turning faintly nostalgic. “It was passed down to me by my master — and to him by his. It’s an old school of aura manipulation, supposedly dating back to Rasiel the Resilient’s era. But the deeper forms are almost never taught to more than one student at a time. As Shin said, they demand a certain…affinity. Not everyone can grasp them.”

“I don’t know who Rasiel is,” Fynn said.

Arnaud chuckled. “That’s fine. He was one of the founding heroes of the empire, but it hardly matters. If you’re curious, however, I could show you one or two techniques sometime.”

Fynn seemed to genuinely consider, then shook his head. “No, thank you. I don’t use aura.”

“I noticed. You’re employing a rather unorthodox blend between magic and aura, if I were to describe it.”

“It’s my tribe’s technique.”

“That explains it.” Arnaud gave a small nod. “I had a brief exchange with a Grehaldrael warrior in my youth. They used something similar.”

Fynn’s expression shifted slightly. “Do you remember their name?”

Arnaud frowned in thought. “Unfortunately, no. But she was a spirited sort. White hair, like yours. Though I imagine that’s common in your tribe.”

“That might have been my mother,” Fynn said.

Arnaud raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think so?”

“Not many of us leave home. She was one of the few who did.”

“Well then.” Arnaud offered a small, respectful smile. “If that was her, your mother was an impressive woman.”

“She was,” Fynn said simply.

The smile faded slightly from Arnaud’s face, his gaze lingering on the boy a moment longer.

Scarlett watched them both in silence, then turned her eyes to the guardians — broken hourglass cores still glinting faintly in the low light. Beyond them stretched more bridges, leading to other terraces and distant platforms.

Eventually, she turned back to the group.

“Further discussion on combat philosophies and personal history can wait. For now, I suggest we resume our exploration.”

A wave of dull weight pressed against Leon’s thoughts as he blinked awake, the haze of unconsciousness clinging stubbornly to the edges of his awareness. Darkness surrounded him. For a moment, he lay still, struggling to remember through the heavy fog clouding his mind.

Then his eyes snapped open.

Mantle of the Egis.

A familiar brilliance surged through him, burning the fog away. Light bloomed across his limbs, faint and steady, filling him with warmth and a sense of purpose. His breath caught—not in fear, but relief—as he shot upright, hand reaching instinctively for his sword.

It was there.

The weight of it grounded him. He drew the blade in one smooth motion, the glow radiating from his body spilling across the stone, casting long shadows.

He stood in a broad corridor. Cold, silent, and empty.

The walls, floor, and ceiling were etched with countless glyphs and intricate lines, forming a web of indecipherable patterns. He turned slowly in place, muscles tense, eyes scanning every shadow.

Where…was he?