Adom couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't even blink.

Law Borealis. The actual Law Borealis was right there, fighting a giant not twenty feet away from him.

For months after the events of the cave, Adom had imagined what the founder of modern magic might have looked like in combat.

Every apprentice mage did at one point, to be fair.

The Academy portraits showed a dignified man with stern features, usually posed with a book or a staff, looking wise and composed. Historical texts described his magic as "elegant" and "precise."

What Adom saw now was anything but composed or elegant.

It was brutal. Efficient. Terrifying.

Law darted backward as the giant's club--a gnarled tree trunk bound with iron bands--crashed into the floor where he'd stood a heartbeat earlier. Stone cracked and dust billowed, but Adom felt no impact, confirming this was indeed an illusion. An incredibly detailed one.

"Athlios anthropos!" the giant bellowed, its voice deep enough to vibrate Adom's bones despite being just a memory. The Ancient words translated roughly to "miserable creature" in Adom's mind, though he had no idea how he understood them.

The giant continued, swinging its massive club in a wide arc. "I will crush you for your insolence!"

Law didn't respond verbally. His eyes remained fixed on the giant, his expression calculating and cold. He circled, sword in his right hand, battle axe in his left. Both weapons glowed with energy--the sword trailing blue light, the axe edged in crackling red. His movements were quick, precise, constantly shifting his weight like a predator sizing up much larger prey.

The giant lunged again, surprisingly fast for its size. "What do you think you are, human? None can disrespect me and live!"

Law didn't try to dodge this time. Instead, he raised his sword and made a sharp gesture with two fingers of his other hand.

A blinding flash erupted where the giant's club met the air above Law's head. The club continued its downward arc, but something had changed. It bent and wobbled like it was made of rubber, wrapping harmlessly around an invisible barrier.

The giant stared in shock at its now-useless weapon. Law didn't waste the opening.

He slashed his sword upward, a streak of blue energy following the blade's path. Where it touched the club, the material transformed again--from rubbery flexibility to brittle, crystalline glass.

The glass club shattered when the giant tried to pull it back, raining glittering shards across the arena floor.

"Transmutation," Adom whispered, recognizing the spell but never having seen it executed with such speed and on such a scale. It was supposed to be impossible to change matter states that quickly.

The giant roared in fury, dropping what remained of its weapon and charging bare-handed at Law. "I will devour you!"

The mage darted between its legs, his blade flashing out in a precise strike that severed the tendons behind the giant's right knee.

Blood sprayed across the floor as the giant stumbled, trying to catch itself with a massive hand. Law was already moving again, leaping impossibly high to slice through the giant's left hamstring as well.

The giant crashed to its knees, shaking the entire chamber. It swung wildly with its fists, trying to crush the human darting around it.

Law avoided each attempt with almost casual ease, his body twisting and turning in ways that seemed to defy physics.

Seriously. It did not seem humanly possible.

With each pass, his weapons opened new wounds on the giant's limbs, torso, back--methodical, deliberate cuts that weakened without immediately killing.

Adom watched, transfixed, as Law continued his assault. His every movement seemed perfectly calculated, each strike precisely placed to disable and weaken.

The giant, growing desperate, slammed its fist into the ground. "You cannot defeat me!"

Law finally spoke, his voice was deep and low. More than Adom had imagined. "Édi se ékho nikései." I have already defeated you.

The words hung in the air as Law made a complex gesture with his free hand. The air around him began to shimmer. Symbols appeared--not modern runes as Adom knew them, but earlier forms, more primal in their construction. They orbited Law's body like moons around a planet, each glowing with internal light.

The giant's eyes widened. It tried to push itself up, to retreat, but its severed tendons wouldn't allow it.

"Mage, wait--"

Law launched forward, his body becoming almost a blur. He moved like water flowing uphill, defying logic and gravity. His sword flashed once, twice, three times across the giant's chest, opening deep wounds that gushed blood.

The giant tried to defend itself, but Law was everywhere at once--behind it, beside it, above it. His axe bit into the giant's shoulder, cleaving through muscle and bone. His sword carved patterns across its back.

Adom couldn't tear his eyes away. Law was using the giant's own size against it, leveraging its mass and momentum to increase the damage of his strikes. He fired concussive blasts of energy to knock the giant off balance whenever it started to regain its footing, then darted in to open new wounds during the moments of vulnerability.

The runes orbiting Law grew brighter with each successful strike, seeming to absorb something from the giant's wounds. Not blood, but something more ethereal--a faint blue mist that rose from each cut.

Law leapt onto the giant's back, running up its spine as if gravity were optional. The giant tried to reach back and grab him, but Law was too quick, too nimble. He fired a bolt of energy directly into the giant's shoulder, causing its arm to go limp.

"Mercy," the giant gasped, now slumped forward, barely able to hold itself upright. "Mercy."

Law paused, standing atop the defeated being's shoulders. For a moment, Adom thought he might actually spare it.

The giant sensed the hesitation too. "Let me live, and never--"

Law moved, faster than Adom could track. His blade flashed once, opening a precise cut across the back of the giant's neck, severing spine and arteries in a single stroke.

The giant's plea died in its throat.

It toppled forward, its massive body crashing to the arena floor. Blood pooled beneath it, flowing into channels carved into the stone--channels that looked disturbingly similar to those Adom had seen in the murals.

Law landed softly beside the giant's head, his weapons still glowing with power. He was breathing hard, his black hair plastered to his face with sweat, but otherwise showed no sign of fatigue from the intense combat.

The mage knelt beside the dying giant and placed a hand on its massive forehead. He began to murmur words--not a taunt or threat, but something rhythmic, almost like a prayer.

The giant's eyes, already glazing over, seemed to focus one last time on Law's face. Its massive lips moved, forming words Adom couldn't hear. Then the light faded from its eyes, and its body went still.

Law remained kneeling for several moments, continuing his quiet chant. The runes that had orbited him during the fight now drifted down to settle on the giant's body, where they sank into the cooling flesh and vanished.

Only then did Law stand.

His chest heaved with exertion as he wiped his blade clean. He sheathed his weapons, then sighed deeply, the sound echoing through the chamber. His shoulders slumped slightly as the tension of combat left his body.

Adom remained frozen in place, mesmerized by the aftermath of the battle. What would Law do next? Document his kill? Collect some trophy? The historical texts were frustratingly vague about the Farmer mage's activities outside of establishing the Academy.

Law turned slowly, surveying the chamber. Then his ruby-red eyes fixed directly on the spot where Adom stood.

"Adom?"

Huh? Adom stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance.

"Are... are you talking to me?" he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. This couldn't be happening. The event he'd just witnessed had occurred three thousand years ago. There was no way Law could see him.

...Right?

A small, knowing smile crossed Law's face. "I saw you in my visions once," he said, his voice clear and unnervingly present. "Since then, your name lingers in my mind like an image from an old dream. I do not know where you are, or by what means you can hear me. But I know you are listening."

How... unnervingly disorienting.

Not only was Law addressing him directly, but he was speaking in perfectly modern language—the exact dialect and accent used in present-day Sundar. Not the ancient tongue he'd used with the giant.

Hesitantly, Adom reached out toward Law's figure. His hand passed through the illusion, encountering no resistance, confirming what he already knew. This wasn't really Law. Not physically. Yet somehow, impossibly, the man had known he would be here.

"This is amazing," Adom whispered.

Law's smile widened slightly.

"I have lived my life as best I could, not knowing its purpose, but drawn forward like a moth to a distant moon. And one day, at last, I discovered a strange truth. That I am only a conduit for a message that eludes my understanding."

He tilted his head, studying where Adom stood. "Who are we, who have been so blessed to share our stories like this? To speak across centuries? Maybe you will answer all the questions I have asked. Maybe you will be the one to make all this suffering worth something in the end."

Frankly, Adom was unable to process what was happening.

"In my visions, you started this mission quite young," Law continued, his expression softening. "I am sorry that one soul has to bear such weight on himself. I figured... well, I figured I would help you in this task to the best of my abilities."

He glanced around the chamber, his gaze lingering on the giant's corpse. "This giant was one of the last of his race. A fate I wish to avoid for us humans."

"I understand," Adom said automatically, though he knew Law couldn't hear him. The threat of extinction—it had driven him much since he came back.

Law's expression brightened. "This is a fine place," he said, surveying the arena.

He knelt beside the giant's corpse and drew a dagger from his belt. With precise movements, he cut a small opening in the giant's chest, then reached into his own pocket and withdrew something Adom couldn't quite see.

"With the runes on his bones, this should be preserved enough to reach you," Law muttered, placing the object inside the giant's body and sealing the wound with a gesture that left a glowing rune over the spot.

He stood again, brushing dust from his knees. "I am so tired," he admitted, his voice softer now. "All I wanted ever since I came back in my own past was to make a farm, live in it peacefully. That was it." A small, rueful laugh escaped him. "A simple dream for complicated times. I think you'd get it, right?"

"You have no idea." Adom replied, smiling.

Then, abruptly, Law's expression turned serious again. "Adom. If you are truly listening. Make this place into your new hideout. Establish the Order's basis here, and lead in it."

Adom blinked.

"This location is a natural fort," Law continued, gesturing to the surrounding walls. "None could attack you from here. Take the golems away from the cave if you found them—I hope you did, if everything went according to plans. Divination is such a complex concept." He shook his head slightly. "Use the whole giant highlands. Make it your quarters. The mana is thicker here. You could train in it, become stronger than anyone else, faster."

The idea seemed... ridiculous. Or was it? The temple was certainly well-hidden, and if the cave could be compromised...

He'd have to buy the tourist part of the highlands, then.

"The thing I placed here," Law said, pointing to the giant's corpse, "is what you came for, probably. Take it. Use it. And eventually, you will unlock all of the book's secrets."

Law was already straightening up, turning directly toward Adom again.

He held his breath. Was Law truly looking at him, somehow seeing across three millennia? Or was this just a well-crafted message, designed to seem personal?

Law smiled, a sort of warmth spreading across his face that was nothing like the coldness he'd shown during combat. "Good luck to you, old friend," he said softly. "You and I will talk one day, when the time is right."

Old friend? Why would he say that? They'd never met. Couldn't have met.

"Wait, what do you mea–"

"Farewell, Adom. And Godspeed." Law said.

The illusion dissolved, collapsing like sand scattered by wind. The giant's body faded, then Law himself, until Adom stood alone in the empty arena, the torches extinguishing one by one until only darkness remained.

A single beam of blue light appeared, highlighting the spot where the giant had fallen.

Adom stood motionless for several long moments, trying to process what had just happened. Finally, he approached the highlighted area, crouching to examine the floor.

There, embedded in stone and bones where the giant's body had lain,

was a small circular depression. As he brushed his fingers over it, the stone gave way, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside lay a small leather pouch, its material remarkably preserved despite the passage of millennia.

Adom's hands trembled slightly as he picked it up. The leather felt supple, not brittle as he'd expected from something so ancient.

He loosened the drawstring and tipped the contents into his palm. A single object slid out—a monocle, its gold rim glinting in the blue light. The lens caught the light strangely, seeming to bend it rather than simply reflect it.

"This looks exactly like..." Adom whispered, lifting the monocle closer to his face.

The similarity was unmistakable. It looked almost identical to Riddler's Bane, the monocle he'd embedded into his current glasses. The same gold rim, the same strange crystalline lens. But where Riddler's Bane had a dwarven style runes on the rim, this one seemed to be elven.

Adom focused his perception on the object, activating his [Identify] skill.

[Revealer's Eye (S-Class)]

This monocle reveals that which is hidden from normal sight. It can perceive concealed text, invisible markings, hidden doorways, and disguised entities. Most potently, it reveals magical concealments that would otherwise be imperceptible even to trained mages.

Effects:

* Reveals hidden writing and markings

* Detects concealed spaces and passages

* Perceives through magical illusions and veils

* Can identify the presence of invisibility magic

Note: The monocle does not grant knowledge of what is revealed - only the ability to perceive it.

[Current Status: Dormant]

"Perceive," Adom breathed.

His thoughts went back to the cave, to the book Law had left for him. The Book of Primordial Runes, its pages frustratingly blank despite all his attempts to reveal their contents.

Adom pulled the book from his inventory, his hands moving with urgently now. He placed it on the stone floor, opened it to the first page, and held the Revealer's Eye up to his right eye.

The transformation was immediate and stunning. Where there had been only blank parchment before, the pages now bloomed with intricate, glowing runes. They swirled and connected in complex patterns, filling every inch of the page with text and diagrams that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Great," Adom said, a smile spreading across his face despite himself. After months of frustration, the book's secrets were finally laid bare before him.

He lowered the monocle, and the writing vanished, leaving only blank pages. Raised it again, and the runes reappeared.

Adom closed the book carefully and tucked both it and the Revealer's Eye into his inventory.

He looked around the empty arena again, where law had been standing.

"Thank you, old friend," he whispered to the darkness.

*****

Meanwhile...

Sam checked his pocket watch for the hundredth time. The needles spun wildly, completing entire circuits in seconds before reversing direction. He snapped it shut with a sigh.

"Time's broken here," he announced to no one in particular. "But I think it's been about ten hours."

"Feels like ten years," Karion muttered from his spot against the cave wall.

The pit cave they'd found—or rather, that Mia had led them to—was barely large enough for the seven of them. Its ceiling hung low enough that only Naia and Mia could stand fully upright near the center. The rest had to stoop or sit, which suited their exhaustion just fine.

Naia leaned forward to examine Eren's burns. "Hold still," she ordered, applying the last of their healing salve to his forearm.

"It's fine," Eren winced. "Save it for someone who needs it."

"You need it," Naia said flatly. "These are second-degree burns. If they get infected out here, we're screwed."

Eren didn't argue further. Nobody had the energy for pointless debates anymore.

Damus sat apart from the others, his back against the rough stone wall, eyes fixed on the cave entrance. His face was a mess of dried blood and bruises, but he'd refused treatment.

"Anyone hungry?" Gus asked, attempting to lighten the mood. He dug through Sam's pack, which had once contained enough food to last several days. Now only crumbs remained. "I've got... well, nothing anymore."

"Most of it spilled when those vine things attacked," Mia said quietly. She was braiding and unbraiding a lock of her hair, a nervous habit she'd developed over the past several hours.

Sam's stomach growled in response. Their food had been scattered during the series of disasters that had defined their journey into the Highland interior. First the fight with the giant fly, then the sprint through the burning canopy, then the hallucinations, and finally the carnivorous vines.

"Should've grabbed more when we were running," Karion said.

"Sure," Naia snorted. "While you were busy being strangled by a plant, I should've stopped to pick up nuts."

Karion opened his mouth to retort but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he examined the plant-fiber rope that bound them all together at the waist—a precaution they'd taken after the hallucinations started.

"I still say this is stupid," he muttered, tugging at the knot. "If something big comes for us, we'll all die together instead of at least some of us escaping."

"Better than wandering off alone and getting eaten," Gus countered. Luna was laying at the cave entrance, her scales a muted, anxious gray. "Besides, Mia's idea saved us."

Everyone glanced at Mia, who shrugged uncomfortably under the attention.

"I just didn't see anything," she said. "When the rest of you were... you know."

Sam remembered all too clearly.

They'd been fleeing from the second wave of giant flies—four of them this time, each the size of a small car, their compound eyes reflecting the flames Eren had unleashed on the forest canopy.

"That fireball," Sam said, shaking his head in reluctant admiration. "I've never seen anything like it."

Eren flexed his bandaged fingers. "Neither have I. I was aiming for a standard combat blast, but with the mana density here..." He trailed off, remembering how his modest attack had erupted into an inferno that engulfed two of the flies instantly and sent the other two retreating. "I nearly incinerated us too."

"Still saved our asses," Karion acknowledged.

They had escaped the burning section of forest, only to encounter something worse. The hallucinations had started subtly—odd movements in peripheral vision, strange echoes that sounded like voices.

Then Sam had seen his mother.

She'd been standing just off the path, healthy and whole, smiling and calling to him. He'd broken away from the group without thinking, running toward her. The path stretched endlessly before him as he ran, his mother always just ahead, always just out of reach.

...What an idiot.

"If Zuni and Gus hadn't caught up to me..." Sam stroked the small creature curled in his lap. Zuni chittered softly, little paws clutching Sam's thumb.

"I saw the Academy," Karion admitted quietly. "The main gates were open. I could see my room from outside."

"I saw my mother's tavern," Eren said. "Thought I'd somehow circled back to the coast."

One by one, they shared their visions—all except Damus, who remained silent and watchful at the cave entrance.

Karion's eyes drifted toward Damus. "Tsk," he muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Naia shot him a warning look. "Enough. Don't start something here."

"Why not?" Karion challenged, sitting up straighter. "This is all his fault. If he hadn't run off like a lunatic—"

"I said enough," Naia cut him off. Her tone left no room for argument.

Karion slumped back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Fine. Whatever."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. No one tried to defend Damus. Not even Damus himself. He remained by the cave entrance, staring out into the purple-tinged darkness, seemingly indifferent to the accusation.

Gus cleared his throat after a minute. "I wonder what Adom's doing right now."

Sam caught the obvious attempt to change the subject and jumped on it gratefully. "Probably making his way back from his expedition."

"Somehow," Naia said, "I wouldn't be surprised. This place is a nightmare, but if anyone could navigate it..."

"He's resourceful," Eren nodded.

The tension in the cave eased slightly as they reminisced.

"What brought you all here anyway?" Naia asked, looking around the group. "I mean, besides following these two idiots." She jerked her thumb toward Karion and Damus.

"Might as well talk about something," Gus agreed. "Not like we're going anywhere soon."

Naia leaned back, stretching her legs out in front of her. "I first heard about Adom when the news broke about the Crown Prince of Sundar's arrest. Everyone was talking about it. An imperial prince of a nation as powerful as Sundar, being brought down because of a boy."

She shrugged. "I've been intrigued ever since. When Karion told me he was up to something, I thought it might be interesting to see what it would be about. People like him generally have quite interesting lives."

Karion tensed visibly at her words, his fingers digging into his arms. Sam noticed the reaction but said nothing.

"What about you, Karion?" Eren prompted.

Karion hesitated, then sighed. "He's probably the strongest in our year. I wanted..." He paused, searching for the right words. "I wanted a measuring stick. Someone to compete against. To push myself."

"A rival," Sam supplied.

"Yeah," Karion nodded. "A rival."

Gus absently stroked Luna, who had slithered back to coil near his arm. "For me, it was his druidic knowledge. I always thought I was the most talented in that area. Then Adom shows up and starts talking to Luna in a way I never did."

He shook his head. "Made me want to learn more. I thought maybe spending time with him might help with that."

Mia tucked her legs under her, adjusting her position on the hard stone floor. "He started taking alchemy courses with me last semester with professor Mirwen. I was better at first, but recently..." She trailed off, frowning slightly.

"Recently?" Sam prompted.

"He's gotten ahead of me on some concepts," she admitted. "We had a few sessions together, and he just... got it. Faster than I did. He also has this book I need for my research project, so I thought if I came along..."

Everyone turned to stare at her.

"What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"I just never took you for the competitive type," Gus said, surprised.

"Yeah," Naia added. "You're always so... quiet."

Mia laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the small cave. "Being quiet doesn't mean I don't like to win."

Eren cleared his throat. "For me, it's simple. Adom's my best friend. I like spending time with him." He shrugged. "Plus, it's thanks to him I'm a mage at all. I always wanted to be one, but my family couldn't afford it. Adom helped me get a scholarship. And even more."

"Wait," Karion interrupted, frowning. "I thought Sam was his best friend."

Sam looked at Eren, eyebrows raised.

Eren shook his head. "I said he was my best friend. The person closest to me. That doesn't mean I'm Adom's best friend."

"Oh," Sam said, feeling oddly defensive and then immediately embarrassed about it. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Eren waved him off. "I know you two are close."

Sam nodded, relaxing. "I guess my reasons are similar to Eren's. Adom's been my friend since day one at the Academy. When he said he was coming here, I wanted to tag along." He grinned sheepishly. "Plus, I thought the Highlands would be nice to discover."

Everyone burst out laughing.

"Yeah, real nice," Gus gestured around their dismal shelter. "Scenic views, exotic wildlife that tries to eat you, hallucinations..."

"King-worthy vacation," Gus added.

Their laughter died down, leaving the cave quiet once more. Everyone had shared their reasons for coming—everyone except Damus. Glances shifted toward him, but no one spoke. The silence stretched, growing more awkward by the second.

Damus remained motionless, his profile silhouetted against the faint purple light filtering in from outside. If he noticed their attention, he gave no sign.

Mia opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, uncertain.

Sam caught Gus's eye, silently asking if they should prompt Damus, but Gus gave a small shake of his head.

The silence continued, broken only by Zuni's occasional soft chittering and the distant, unsettling sounds from outside.

Finally, when the tension had become almost unbearable, Damus spoke without turning around.

"...My mother died here."

No one spoke.

The only sound in the cave was Zuni's soft chittering and the distant, eerie noises from the wilderness outside.

Sam glanced at Eren, who looked as stunned as he felt. Naia's earlier hostility had vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable mix of surprise and pity. Gus shifted awkwardly, while Mia stared at her hands, suddenly finding her fingernails fascinating.

Karion opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. No words came out.

Damus didn't turn around. He remained facing the cave entrance, his silhouette dark against the purple-tinted fog beyond.

"She was sweet," he continued. "Her smile was contagious. Everyone said so. Always had flour on her apron and a joke ready. She'd also sing while she cooked, terribly off-key."

He paused, his shoulders rising slightly with a deep breath.

"She was... also a mage. An elementalist. And like all mages, she was curious. Decided to venture into the Highlands to discover its secrets." His voice grew quieter. "So she died here."

More silence filled the cave.

Sam wasn't sure why Damus was telling them this. He'd just wanted to lighten the mood, especially since they might actually die out here. But right now...

It wasn't even that he wasn't sorry to hear it. Of course he was. But... what could anyone say?

Damus continued without prompting, his voice taking on a distant quality. "My mother used to be my greatest supporter. Always telling me how good I was, how I was enough just as I was, how I didn't need to measure myself against anyone else. She'd say I was perfect exactly as I was."

He ran a hand through his blond hair, still not turning to face them.

"She said that because my father would always compare me to Adom. Ever since we were too young to even remember. In everything."

This revelation hit the group like a physical blow. Sam's eyes widened, and he exchanged a confused glance with Eren.

"Adom manifested mana a year before I did," Damus said. "We were seven, playing at the beach back in Kati. He made the water rise up and form a perfect sphere, hovering over his palm. Just like that. No training, no warning."

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "We used to be best friends, you know. Just like he is with you, Sam."

Sam felt his mouth go dry.

"My father wouldn't stop pestering me about how great Adom was, how smart he was, how he could do anything. Even when I manifested mana myself, the comparisons kept going. 'Why can't you focus like Adom?' 'Adom already mastered that spell.' 'Adom this, Adom that.'"

Damus's voice had taken on a mocking tone that made it clear he was imitating his father.

"All that time, my mother was the only one who reminded me that I was... enough." His voice cracked slightly on the last word. "Then, a few months before our first year at Xerkes, she died in an expedition here. This very place."

He gestured vaguely at the cave around them, at the Highland wilderness beyond.

"Without her, I was left alone with grief and my father's constant comparisons with Adom."

Damus chuckled, a sound so devoid of humor it made Sam wince. "I've thought about this a lot. I know my father wasn't even doing it to be malicious. He admired Adom's family, wanted to motivate me, push me to be better. 'A true Lightbringer should be good in anything he does' He always says to me."

He turned slightly, just enough for his profile to be visible in the dim light. "But it kind of... made me hate Adom. And so, I started bullying him. To feel better about myself."

More silence. Even Zuni had stopped chittering, as if sensing the weight of the confession.