“Hey kid, what do you think of this city-state?”
Noa meandered toward the registration hall, his steps light and unhurried. His hands rested deep in his pockets as he leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting from the high, arched ceilings to the intricate masonry of Cirelith.
“I don’t really like it,” the boy murmured.
“Really? Why’s that?”
“I don’t know… My family was always poor, so I don’t have any good memories here.”
The little boy walked beside him with nervous energy, his small hands fidgeting in a restless rhythm. He looked as though he was still trying to process the fact that this strange man had actually agreed to help.
Noa watched him for a moment, a soft smirk playing on his lips, before reaching down to scoop the child up. He settled the boy comfortably on his arm, continuing their stroll without missing a step.
“Then how about we try to enjoy it for once?” Noa’s grin turned playful. “Besides, I’m gonna get you some money anyway.”
“R-really?”
“Really!”
They arrived at a desk where an official sat, looking as though he had been carved from the very gray stone of the walls. He didn’t even look up as they approached.
“Are you here to participate? Registration is five silver coins. Information must be filled out in full.”
The little boy went rigid in Noa’s arms, his eyes locked onto the coin in disbelief. Five silver? He had a single, lonely copper coin in his pocket—his entire life savings, which he had intended to bet on the man carrying him.
Then, a gold coin struck the desk, spinning with a rhythmic hum before settling flat against the wood.
“Here, gimme the paper,” Noa said, snatching the parchment before the official could even blink. “Mmm… name… kingdom… this and that… alright, done.”
“Thank you, Lord… Ravel,” the official stammered. His boredom vanished, replaced by sudden politeness as he handed back a stack of silver change. “Your number is thirteen. Please report to the colosseum when the herald calls.”
“Wait… are you… are you sure about this?” the boy asked, staring at the remaining gold coin.
“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’ve got a lot more of these,” Noa said, reaching into his pocket and pressing a fresh gold coin into the boy’s palm. “Take this. Put it all on my side when you go to place your bets.”
“A gold coin… for me?” The boy looked at the coin, then at Noa. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
Noa chuckled inwardly, thinking, Sugar mommy Vionette really made us rich this time.
<My dear Noa, what kind of degenerate thoughts are you having with that face?> Vionette’s voice drifted into his mind, laced with familiar amusement.
<Just thinking about how you’re my sugar mommy now.>
<‘M-mommy’?! Don’t call me that… at least not in public.>
He chuckled playfully as they continued their telepathic banter.
***
The colosseum was a bowl of roaring thunder, overflowing with the citizens of Cirelith and travelers from across the world. Thousands of voices merged into a single, ravenous beast, shouting and waving hands in a frantic dance of greed and excitement.
“The winner is… Kester Vale!” The announcer’s voice, amplified by sound magic, shattered the air, followed by a fresh wave of erupting cheers.
At the betting tables, a noble draped in expensive silks gathered his winnings with a satisfied grin. He then slid a heavy pouch of silver back onto the felt, doubling down on the champion.
“Next, we have a challenger from Crimvane—the kingdom that rose from the rubble like a ghost in the night!” the announcer cried, gesturing toward the tunnel. “I present Noa Ravel! Will he be the light that blinds our champion, or just another shadow that fades? Place your bets and find out!”
“I’m betting this on him,” a small, determined voice chirped as the little boy placed his gold coin onto the table, pointing toward the tunnel entrance. “All in for that mister.”
“A gold coin? Little brat,” the noble sneered, looking the boy up and down. “Where did you get that? You didn’t steal it from someone, did you?”
“No. He gave it to me himself,” the boy said, his eyes fixed on the arena below.
“Well, it’s a waste,” the noble smirked, leaning back in his seat. “He won’t stand a chance against Kester anyway.”
Noa stepped onto the sands, Acheron hanging casually at his hip. He walked with a relaxed, rhythmic gait, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other offered a friendly wave to the roaring crowd.
He stopped at the edge of the dueling circle, facing Kester Vale, who stood opposite him like a mountain of muscle. Kester’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as he took in the chilling sight of Noa’s black sclera and purple irises.
“Get ready… fight!”
The battle commenced not with a clash of steel, but with silence. Noa stood in a relaxed, almost arrogant posture. Kester, sensing something fundamentally ‘wrong’ with his opponent's utter lack of a combat stance, tightened his grip on his massive greatsword.
<Don’t be shy about showing off, Noa,> Vionette’s voice purred in his mind. <It’s very, very important for something I want.>
“I’ll do you a favor, then,” Noa called out to Kester, his voice carrying easily across the sands as he slowly drew Acheron from its sheath. “I won’t use any skills for this one.”
“What?!” Kester’s face twisted in fury as he flooded his blade with a surging aura. “You think you can play games with me?! I’ll break you!”
“Ohhhh!!! A declaration of pure physical mastery from Noa Ravel! Will he stand by his pride, or be crushed by his own arrogance?!”
Footsteps thundered through the arena as Kester charged, his greatsword raised high with both hands. He launched himself into the air like a falling star, bringing the heavy blade down in a devastating overhead cleave designed to shatter the earth itself.
Noa remained perfectly still. Even without the activation of his skills, Acheron pulsed with its innate purple hum.
A sickening, wet sound echoed across the sands upon impact. The one who bled wasn’t the man standing still, but the one who had struck with everything he had.
Kester’s massive greatsword was dead-stopped by Acheron’s serrated edge. The sheer kinetic shockwave of the parry traveled straight up Kester’s arms, tearing his muscle fibers from the inside out.
With a sudden, explosive shove, Noa threw Kester's blade aside. The champion was launched backward into the air as if struck by a battering ram. Noa didn’t wait; he sprinted across the sand, his feet a blur before he bounded upward, intercepting the airborne warrior.
Suspended in the sky, Noa aimed Acheron’s tip directly at Kester. The champion frantically hoisted his greatsword across his torso, bracing for a thrust.
But Noa simply let go of the hilt. As Acheron hovered in the air for a fraction of a second, Noa twisted his body into a rapid mid-air rotation. Then, descending with the force of a collapsing mountain, his heel axe-kicked directly into Acheron’s pommel, driving the weapon forward like a ballista bolt.
The tip of the dark blade struck the greatsword, shattering the defender's steel into a thousand glittering shards. Acheron didn’t slow down. It tore through the shattered metal, plunged clean through Kester’s chest, and pinned him to the arena floor with a thunderous impact.
Kester Vale lay lifeless, nailed to the earth by the dark blade. Noa landed gracefully beside him, reaching down to rip his sword from the man’s chest with a casual flick of his wrist.
He turned his gaze toward the stands, his eyes locking onto the little boy.
“Got the money, right?” he asked with a wink.
The boy, the noble, and the entire audience were frozen in stunned silence. A moment later, a joyful scream erupted from the kid as he jumped into the air, clutching the sack of prize money to his chest.
“Yes! Yes! I got it!”
Noa suddenly appeared beside the boy, hoisting him onto his shoulder just as the crowd finally found their voices in an uproar.
“Let’s go then. I’m starting to get hungry.”
[Blink]
…
“Five of those, please.” Noa gestured toward a stall selling skewers of sizzling, spiced meat.
“Here you go, sir! Enjoy!” the vendor stammered, his hands shaking slightly after having witnessed the carnage in the arena.
Noa took one skewer and handed the other four to the boy, who accepted them with bewildered awe. He looked at the food, then at Noa, his expression a map of conflicting emotions—gratitude, fear, and a tiny, fragile spark of hope.
Noa took a bite. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?”
“…Yes. It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” The boy nodded fervently.
“Now, after all that,” Noa said, looking out over the brick-paved roads of the city. “What do you think of this city-state?”
The boy took a bite of the meat, staring up at the grand spires of Cirelith with eyes that had seen too much for his age. “I don’t really like it.”
“Well… okay?” Noa chuckled, patting the boy’s head as they continued their walk into the fading light.
***
Vionette and Jain sat at a small table in the inn, the pale glow of Aether lights casting long shadows across their faces. Rose and Kaelen stood behind Vionette, while Jain’s knights waited behind their Saint.
“So his daughter is missing?” Vionette asked, her eyes narrowing as she picked at her dinner. “You think it’s connected to the others?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I can’t just walk away,” Jain said, her tone lined with unwavering resolve. “I’m going to find her. Until then, I’ll stay by his side.”
“That works for me,” Vionette nodded. “In fact, I was going to—”
“What’s the vibe in here? Did I miss the party?” Noa asked, sauntering into the room and instantly breaking the tension.
“You’re back. Did you send the kid off with some money?” Vionette asked.
“Yeah… I gave him some money.” Noa slid into the seat next to Vionette. He draped an arm around her waist, pulling her slightly closer.
Don’t ask me things like you weren’t watching the whole show through my eyes—oh, right. Jain is here.
“As I was saying,” Vionette continued, setting her fork down with a deliberate click. “Jain, I want you to visit that man’s house every day. Check in at four different times—morning, noon, evening, and night—and talk to him.” She then turned her head toward the shadow behind her. “Kaelen, you’re on the library. Head to the fourth floor every day and talk with Umel. Search for the Fable Mark info to keep up appearances.”
“As you command, My Lady,” Kaelen bowed.
…
Once night had fully fallen, Noa, Vionette, Rose, and Kaelen retired to their rooms. Jain remained alone on a second-floor balcony, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she gazed at the moonlit scenery below.
After dismissing the knights to their patrols, Nill stepped up behind Jain, his expression tense. “My Lady, do you not feel that something is off?”
Jain’s smile faded for a fraction of a second before blooming once more. She shook her head. “Are you doubting whether they’re truly helping us out of goodwill?”
“Yes,” he replied in a low, tight voice.
“There certainly are a few things… off about them. Lord Noa possesses no aura, yet easily dominates a tournament. Lady Vionette can read an entire page with a mere glance and remember it flawlessly. Even their knight carries a strange air about him.” Jain glanced at Nill over her shoulder with a fond, reassuring smile. “But aren’t they still helping? Aren’t their actions still moral?”
“But My Lady, what if they’re just using us? Deceiving us?” Nill asked, gesturing helplessly.
“Does it matter?” She looked back toward the quiet gardens below. “As long as they aid this investigation and help save more people, does it really matter?”
Nill continued staring at her, his face an unreadable mask. My Lady, how can you… why?
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