Leaving

"That... was incredible." Alexander lay sprawled across the sand, arms spread wide, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. The sting of exhaustion burned in his limbs, but exhilaration still coursed through his veins.

The once-pristine bathroom had become unrecognizable. A fine mist of white grains drifted lazily through the air, catching the dim light like falling snow. The smooth marble tiles were buried beneath shifting dunes, and cracks spiderwebbed across the high ceiling, bits of debris occasionally breaking free and tumbling down. The air smelled of dust and something more magical.

Beside him, Cypher lay still, staring blankly at the crumbling roof. His breathing was steady but measured, as if he were deep in thought.

After a moment, Cypher finally broke the silence. "The way you used that attack was interesting," he murmured, his voice carrying an edge of contemplation. "A Telekinetic technique… that may be the most powerful I've come across yet."

Alexander turned his head, a grin spreading across his face. "But yours is so versatile! Attack, defense? You name it, your sand can do it! And your Soul Manifestation is equally deadly!" His golden eyes gleamed with admiration.

Cypher blinked, processing the words. "So, is that what it's called? Soul Manifestation? I only followed instinct… I wasn't even sure if it would work."

"Well, I've only ever seen my father do it," Alexander said, propping himself up on one elbow. "He told me once ,'Alexander, don't let those worms beat you. With this, you'll be able to pull power directly from your Soul Space.'"

Cypher's fingers twitched. Something clicked in his mind. His breath quickened. If that were true, "If you can pull power directly from your Soul Space…" he muttered, "then what's stopping you from pulling the Soul Space into reality itself?"

Alexander sat up so quickly that a puff of sand scattered into the air. His eyes went wide. "Genius! If we can access a Soul Space's power… who's to say we can't manifest the Soul Space itself? It would simply be a matter of Caliber!"

For a brief moment, the two of them were no longer strangers but researchers caught in the thrill of discovery. The fight and the destruction, even the consequences - they all faded into the background.

Then Cypher let his head fall back against the sand.

And his breath caught in his throat.

A shadow loomed over him, broad and unmoving. A tall figure stood there, arms crossed, wrapped in an air of unnerving authority. The iron mask was as expressionless as ever, its hollow eye sockets staring down at him like a judge passing silent judgment a good covered his head.

Alexander was still speaking, oblivious - until he noticed the darkness stretching over him.

His voice faltered and His body tensed.

Then he let out a nervous chuckle. "V-Vanderwald?"

Alexander swallowed hard, forcing a strained smile. "Uh… We were just discussing who, um… destroyed the bathroom-"

A hand clamped over his head.

Before he could react, the prince was yanked off the ground with a single effortless motion. His feet dangled in the air as the masked figure held him aloft, grip like iron.

A deep voice followed, smooth yet commanding, slightly muffled behind the mask.

"It was entertaining to watch." He paused. "That is, to disobey your father's orders and fight the deacon regardless."

Alexander's breath hitched. "W-what do you mean?" He squirmed, hands grasping at Vanderwald's wrist, but the grip didn't budge.

"We can see through walls, boy. The Emperor and I had the pleasure of watching the whole thing," Vanderwald tilted his head slightly, his gaze shifting toward Cypher.

"And you," he said coolly. "Laying hands upon a prince without Theon's permission is treason. You're lucky he enjoyed the show."

Shadows erupted from the floor like living tendrils, wrapping around Vanderwald and Alexander in an ink-black sphere. No light escaped its surface as if the very concept of illumination had been swallowed whole.

Just before they vanished, Vanderwald's voice echoed one final warning ,"Do not use a Soul Manifestation like that again - at least, not until you can handle the energy drain. Both of you are foolish. Instinctively using Dreamspeak as a catalyst… impressive, but reckless."

The darkness collapsed inward, folding in on itself. Not long later, silence followed.

Vanderwald and the prince had completely teleported away, leaving Cypher alone.

The only sound left was the distant murmur of the outside world, faint voices and laughter seeping through the shattered walls from the ballroom.

Cypher exhaled slowly, sitting up. His gaze drifted toward the bathroom stall - the one he had originally come here for.

The toilet stood there, half-buried in sand, cracked and crumbling like some ancient ruin never too work again.

Under his gaze, it collapsed entirely.

"…Sigh."

He pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his tattered clothing. His muscles ached. Every movement felt sluggish, like he was wading through water. He had burned through too much energy in the fight, and his body protested every step.

But he didn't have the luxury of resting.

By the time he returned to the ballroom, the atmosphere had shifted. The nobility remained engaged in their whispered conversations, but Cypher could feel the lingering gazes. Some amused and others wary.

At the Baron's table, Drake sat patiently, swirling a goblet of wine in one hand. He raised a brow as Cypher approached.

Cypher made a bowing motion, his head hung low. "Baron, I apologize. I realize you may have other businesses, but if it's okay, can we head to your estate now?"

Drake chuckled, glancing around. The other lower lords and ladies cast him subtle, hostile glances. "Trust me, I have no further business here."

It was true. Drake was no longer the same man he was in the past. Every other Baron or Viscount only saw him as someone to drain of worth untill his death. They usually wouldn't openly harm him, but they would certainly undermine him in hopes he relented and gave up property or used his homes or businesses as collateral.

"Thank you, Baron." Cypher smiled and tapped Rain's head, getting the bird's attention immediately.

The raven clambered up, perching contently on his shoulder, chewing on a piece of meat from a leftover plate.

Drake grasped his cane, struggling up as his legs trembled. Once he stretched his back straight, they made their way out.

As they walked toward the exit, Cypher keenly noticed a pair of eyes glaring - not at him, but at Drake, with a quiet, malicious glee.

He followed the glance. Across the table sat a group of insignificant lords. They formed a closed-off circle, their frail frames and less extravagant clothing marking them as the lower echelons of nobility.

It was understandable that they stick together, being worthless in the eyes of those above.

Despite being members of the aristocracy on paper, they were more at risk around other nobles than commoners were. Peasants at least kept to themselved and lived underground out of sight, but Lords were forced to attend these gatherings, only to stand out as eyesores to the Dreamweavers who disdained them.

They even had a special nickname among the Aristocracy, that is, the Kings of peasants.

All of this piled onto eachother and as a result, these men and women were often paranoid messes.

However, it seemed one of them had ambition.

Cypher dismissed most of the lords but focused on one familiar face. That unsightly bald spot. That snake-like resemblance. Lord Gunter - overseer of Thorn City's underbelly.

As soon as Gunter noticed Cypher's gaze, he looked away, stiff and nervous. Cypher smiled and waved. Gunter hesitated before offering a weak, reluctant nod.

Drake, however, ignored him completely.

As they stepped through the black slab-like doors of Terra Cordis, the baron's voice dropped to a lower tone.

"I wouldn't associate with that man," Drake muttered. "Gunter has a history of abusing those within his domain. Worse yet, since he's directly below me in rank, he's always wanted to see me dead."

"I see." Cypher shook his head in disdain. "I'll be sure to limit our interactions."

"Good."

The cool night air blew against Drake's hair as they stepped outside, the ballroom's chatter fading into the distance.

The front courtyard remained silent, only the metal boots of patrolling soldiers breaking the stillness beneath the rustling of well-trimmed greenery.

Drake gestured toward a silver-lined carriage, parked humbly among more lavish ones.

It's frame glimmered under the amber moonlight, giving it a dreamlike quality despite the lesser decorations.

"My carriage is just over here." Gunter made a hand signal to the carriage driver in the distance.

Cypher nodded, following without hesitation.