The long Hall

My cell was vast, a spacious room that surrounded me, but after I left it and walked down the hall, it seemed endless.

I couldn't sense any other beings, meaning I must be completely secluded.

Considering I had been here for at least a week, the likelihood of escape felt impossible.

They couldn't find me.

It seemed I was the first perhaps the only one to escape my cell, and I doubted anyone else had dared summon a deity, let alone someone of the Lamb God's level.

He was far stronger than most gods, and though some Outer Gods were powerful, few could rival his might.

The dirt beneath my feet was black, and the hall stretched ahead, narrow and oppressive.

Flickering lights hung from the ceiling, casting shadows that danced along the walls.

Every so often, I passed an empty cell, suggesting this was part of a larger, sprawling prison.

The chill of the damp air seeped into my tattered rags, and as I paused, I looked down at my body.

I snapped my fingers, and my attire shifted long, dripping black jacket, jeans that cuffed at the ankles, boots, and the mask Ilia once made me.

I placed it over my face and began running.

I won't be able to hold this much power for long. My best chance is to seek Stark.

Despite his immense strength and hatred for weakness, Stark is a pushover if you offer him something worth more than a country—he likely wouldn't refuse.

That massive golden heart must be his most prized possession. It's enormous, after all.

Initially, I thought Stark would be weak, but now I realize that if I can't defeat him, I'll follow him. I plan to offer him something worth more than the world itself.

I reached a door at the end of the hall, its heavy frame barring my way.

With a deep breath, I charged forward, planting my foot firmly against the center of the door.

It splintered with a resounding crack, the wood splashing outward as I pushed through.

Beyond the door lay a vast staircase stretching upward into darkness.

Each step seemed to twist and groan under my weight, as though the very structure resisted my ascent.

I paused for a moment, exhaling sharply, then began climbing.

The climb felt endless. With each step, my legs burned, and the silence around me grew oppressive.

There were no guards, no barriers just the solitude of my thoughts and the steady rise of the staircase.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I reached the summit. The staircase opened into a vast room, bathed in dim light.

The room was filled with a random assortment of tables and shelves, as well as strange structures embedded into the walls.

It was an odd place, disjointed from anything I could recognize.

I could feel the presence of people beyond the door that led into the room.

While masking my own, I tried searching for anyone I could recognize.

But I failed. So, with that in mind, my initial guess was right—no one else had escaped.

As I moved forward, I realized I had emerged from the storage room where my cell had been hidden.

Beyond, the grand hall stretched out in all its opulence—nobles and knights gathered for a royal party.

Men and women were adorned in fine clothing, fit for a celebration of this scale.

This was a celebration a grand gathering to mark the start of the kingdom's ascension.

From the hushed conversations and occasional toasts, it was clear that this event was one of significance.

I then had an extraordinary idea.

I stepped back into the storage room and uncloaked myself.

Removing my mask, I reshaped my appearance.

My once dark, flowing coat shifted into a meticulously tailored old English-style outfit an elegant black double-breasted waistcoat, a crisp white shirt beneath, and a silver-embroidered cravat secured at the neck.

The trousers, fitted and slightly tapered, complemented polished black leather shoes that clicked softly against the stone floor with each step.

My hair, once dark and untamed, now grayed slightly, thinning at the temples and falling in soft waves that framed my weathered face.

The age lines were etched deeply into my features, giving a timeless, distinguished look that spoke of wisdom rather than frailty.

To complete the transformation, plain black eyes.

Stepping back into the grand hall, I moved with a slow, deliberate pace, my cane tapping softly against the marble floor.

The room was alive with conversation, laughter, and glass clinking.

Nobles and knights moved gracefully through the crowd, their fine clothing shimmering under the dim light.

I let my eyes drift upward, gazing at the opulent chandelier above a vast, ornate fixture, its crystals catching the flickering light like stars in a sea of darkness.

The sheer absurdity of my presence here struck me. How could I attempt something so reckless, so dangerous?

I was supposed to be underground, locked away from the world, yet here I was walking through a grand party filled with nobles and knights.

If my plan succeeded, I might even be able to save everyone else imprisoned down there.

The stakes were high, but the path forward seemed simple enough.

Moving through the crowd, I maintained my guise as an elderly noble, blending seamlessly into the opulent setting.

My goal was straightforward: to move through the party, acting the part until the king made his appearance.

Then, I'd approach him and make an offer.

Natalie had spoken about the Orders she created, detailing each Order's requirements for gaining its full power.

Right now, I wasn't truly a Visionary—I was an imitation.

I could perform basic feats like concealing myself, manipulating senses, and sensing fate.

However, my glimpse into the future wasn't through my own abilities it was a borrowed power, one tied to the Greed Order.

The Greed Order required immense self-restraint, and I planned to offer the king the method to ascend further.

After all, from what Natalie had shared, he should be close to reaching the final stage of his Order.

Scanning the room, I spotted a man across the hall a figure who stood out among the crowd.

His attire was simple yet refined: a blue suit, clean white gloves, and striking dark blue hair that fell just past his ears, parted neatly in the center.

His white skin and brown eyes suggested an air of distinction.

"Hello, good sir," I said, extending my hand as I approached him. "How may I address you?"

The man gave me a curious yet soft smile, his gaze briefly flickering before he replied, "You may address me as Lance."

Lance. I had been right. This man was Lancelot.

"Ah, Beric," I responded smoothly. "I was wondering, as I arrived with my daughter, what exactly is this party about?"

He chuckled softly, adjusting his gloves. "Ah, yes. I arrived with my wife as well. The king has ordered all the nobles who could attend this ball. He's going to announce the treaty results."

"I see," I nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, young man. I'll be sure to remember your kindness."

Lance gave a polite nod before his attention was drawn elsewhere. A voice called out to him soft and commanding. It was a woman's voice.

A woman approached him a striking figure with long blonde hair, light skin, and piercing blue-black eyes.

She wore a delicate, light blue dress with short sleeves and black gloves. Veronica. Another noble I had been eager to meet.

He turned to me, offering a brief breath. "My wife calls. I must go." With that, he made his way toward her.

I stood for a moment, tapping my cane against the floor as my thoughts spiraled.

This gathering wasn't just a celebration it felt like a prelude to something far more significant.

Whether it was war or diplomacy, the outcome would reshape everything.

Lancelot, I knew, was no ordinary noble. He was the father of one of the seven children.

For a fleeting second, I considered abandoning this mission and seeking out Rose, to ensure her safety.

But the sound of a bell ringing sharply brought me back to reality. The moment had arrived, and I couldn't afford to lose focus now.

The grand staircase at the center of the room stretched upward, a symbol of opulence and power.

Each step creaked softly beneath my weight as I descended, the faint echoes of my movements blending with the hushed conversations of the nobles gathered below.

Suddenly, the room seemed to be still.

An energy shift swept through the crowd as twenty knights emerged, clad in gleaming silver armor that reflected the dim light from the chandeliers overhead.

Their presence was imposing, a silent testament to the authority they commanded.

At the forefront of the procession, two figures stepped forward the pinnacle of grace and strength.

The princess walked with an elegance befitting her lineage.

Long golden hair cascaded down her back, framing a face of fair, radiant skin.

Her golden eyes gleamed like twin suns, captivating every gaze that fell upon her.

She wore a flowing, ethereal gown of ivory and gold, its intricate designs shimmering with every step she took.

Beside her, the prince exuded a quiet power.

His black hair contrasted sharply against his fawn skin, with golden eyes that seemed to pierce through the illusion of calm.

A unique outfit suited for the occasion a combination of deep maroon and gold hugged his form, and at his side, a finely crafted sword gleamed inlaid with gems.

He moved with deliberate grace, his gaze fixed on the princess as he extended his hand to assist her down the staircase.

Together, they descended slowly, the knights forming a protective circle around them.

The room watched in hushed awe as the royal pair reached the bottom of the staircase and stood on opposite sides.

The sun of the Veritas, Prince Rahbel, and the Princess Harbel two figures who had only been mentioned in passing, had their stories cut short before they could leave a meaningful mark.

The music began to play softly, a melody that hung in the air like a solemn hymn. Then, another figure descended from the staircase.

My eyes caught his, and a sly smirk spread across his face as he descended. Stark.

That bastard could still tell it was me, even from this distance.

Impressive. Truly impressive.

The king's voice rang out, smooth and commanding, as he addressed the gathered nobles.

"I am grateful for all of you who have come to join us tonight," he said, his gaze sweeping across the ballroom before pausing directly on me. 

A chill ran down my spine.

"I have gathered you here not only to celebrate the ascension of our kingdom but also to share some insightful information regarding the future."

He scanned the crowd briefly before smiling.

"But before we dive into that, perhaps someone would like to join the prince or princess for a dance?"

The room fell silent for a moment, as all eyes shifted toward the Veritas royal pair.

The princess, with her golden hair and radiant gown, smiled gracefully, while Prince Rahbel stood with his sword at his side, his dark gaze scanning the crowd.

It's a tradition in this kingdom to dance with the two suns before officially beginning a discussion.

Rahbel is twenty, while Harbel is nineteen both just entering adulthood, on the cusp of marriage.

One might assume many suitors both male and female would offer themselves, hoping to win their favor.

However, in this kingdom, it is they who choose their partners. Asking to dance with them rarely goes well, often met with indifference or outright refusal.

But this was a development I never could have suspected.

A boy with scruffy long white hair and eyes as red as blood, with a simple black suit with a white undershirt walked up to her.

He was strong, stronger than me at the very least.

The princess's golden eyes sparkled as she watched the boy approach. Her lips parted slightly as she asked, "And what is your name?"

The boy gave a small, confident smile, his dark gaze meeting hers. "Percival," he said smoothly.