Chapter 102: The Next Step!
Earth
Region 32...
Cumba city...
Swampy Base of Ruma
The murky winds howled through the shattered remnants of the arcane lab. Crumbled walls and scorched earth painted the aftermath of what should have been a final mission—a glorious rescue. But instead, the air hung heavy with something else:
Loss.
Josh Aratat, their leader, their anchor, their hidden prince, had vanished through the exchange portal, stolen away into the unknown claws of the 5th Dimension.
The Trickster God was gone. But the wound he left behind was bleeding into their resolve.
Lola stood still in the epicenter of the chaos, her boots pressed into cracked earth, her shoulders frozen in place, her eyes locked on the glowing residue of where the portal had once been.
She hadn't moved. Not since that final scream.
"I AM KING..."
It echoed in her skull like a bell tolling at a funeral.
Her mask—now removed—lay on the ground beside her, and with it, a part of her heart.
The generals gathered around her, not just for direction—but for reassurance.
But she had none to give.
---
Conrad Stan, tall, muscular, the always-strategic second-in-command, stepped up. The flames of ruined magic reflected off his pauldrons. He looked over at Lola—strong Lola—whose lip trembled slightly beneath the clenched expression she wore.
He knew what that trembling meant.
She wasn't broken.
She was holding the pieces together with a thread of rage, sorrow, and unspoken devotion.
Conrad drew in a breath. The silence among the generals was unbearable. They needed grounding. They needed a leader, now more than ever.
"Everyone… listen up." His voice cut clean through the wind.
"I want us all to be brave. Not just for ourselves—but for him."
He paused.
And that pause opened the door.
---
Before he could say more, the questions exploded from every corner.
Ralia Amia, eyes wide, tone sharp with emotion.
Baggon, rubbing his palms together, brow furrowed.
Limro, usually quiet, spoke like a hammer to stone.
"Is it true?" Ralia asked, stepping forward. "Was he truly the prince? The eighth son of the Emperor?"
"The one they said died two years ago to save someone?" Baggon added.
"You mean our commander… is that prince?" Limro whispered. "All this time…?"
Conrad's eyes flicked from one to the other.
He'd expected this moment. But the reality of it—seeing their faith twist into confusion—stung worse than a blade to the gut.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"Is that why he wears a mask?"
"Was it to hide from the Emperor?"
"How long have you two known?"
It was like being pelted with stones of truth. Conrad raised a hand—slow, deliberate.
"Enough," he said. Calmly, but firmly. "This is not the place. We're still behind enemy lines. Our priority is survival and regrouping. When we're safe… I'll tell you everything. Every. Single. Thing."
The group fell silent.
The fire crackled in the distance.
The wind moaned again.
"Okay?" he added.
A moment passed.
Then the group nodded—united in pain, confusion, and loyalty.
"Okay," they echoed.
Ash continued to fall like grey snow from the shattered ceiling of what once was the arcane lab. The air reeked of ozone, blood, and burnt ambition.
Conrad Stan stepped forward again, his armour clinking softly with every resolute movement. Around him, the other generals gathered closer, their expressions hardening, their loyalty becoming steel.
"We have freed prisoners outside," he continued, his voice firm but not without sympathy. "Some have scattered into the swamp, looking for safety. Some are still out there, waiting for direction… for hope."
He turned slightly toward the gaping hole in the eastern wall where misty rays of moonlight were pushing through.
"We'll give them options. It's their choice: join us, or go their own way. But they must know—with the Trickster God now loosed into this world, it won't be the same Nazare Blade Empire they once feared. It'll be something far worse."
The air tensed.
Even the swamp outside seemed to shiver at the mention of the Trickster God.
Conrad's voice dropped a register.
"This empire will be turned inside out. Lies will become truth. Truth will become ash. We need to vanish, gather strength, and when the time comes—strike. But most of all…" he paused, his gaze slowly turning toward the silent figure beside him,
"...we need to find out how to bring our master back."
---
Lola
She hadn't moved in several minutes—hadn't spoken. She stood apart from the group like a shadow in mourning, eyes slightly unfocused.
But inside her, the storm hadn't stopped. It was swirling—pain, rage, fear, and above all… guilt.
She should have stopped it.
She should have figured out the Trickster's trap.
"Lola," Conrad said gently, "you okay there?"
She jerked slightly, like someone stung by a hornet, her trance broken.
Her gaze swept the others—each face staring back with a mix of concern and expectation. Her lips parted, dry and cracked.
And then—
---
Her Voice
"Let's get out of here," she said, voice hoarse like wind against stone. "He's not dead. He's not done. I can still feel him on a deeper level…"
Everyone nodded. They could all feel him through the connection of the death level loyalty that they had for him, it was what calmed them the most, however, knowing he was alive was one thing, saving him was another.
Conrad Stan also nodded along. A sigh escaping his lips.
Ralia Amia tilted her head.
Baggon and Limro exchanged looks.
"Y-You felt him on a deeper level? Was the feeling more than we all do, did he leave you a message?" Conrad asked further, almost whispering.
Lola nodded slowly, her tone stronger now.
" My soul link got some sensations from him. Apart from being very much —alive...He is just not in this realm as you all know. He is currently in a prison in the 5th dimension." Lola's special connection of love/death level loyalty had given her, a higher level access to the situation of Josh in the 5th dimension.
The crowd gasped in fear when they heard prison.
"Don't worry, he is not hurt or anything, infact he seems to be very calm now.." she completed.
A flicker of hope stirred in the chest of everyone present. Small, fragile—like a candle trying to stay lit in a storm.
Conrad clenched his jaw and sighed.
"Yeah… I think we all feel him. Like a heartbeat in the silence."
"The problem isn't knowing he's alive," he continued grimly, "the problem is getting him out of the Fifth Dimension... and surviving here while that monster—the Trickster God—is walking around unimpeded our world."
Lola's eyes narrowed with new clarity. Her grief hadn't disappeared—but now it had shape. Purpose.
"Then we prepare," she said quietly.
"For both missions."
---
The Unspoken Mission
They knew what she meant.
One mission was to protect what remained of the empire—what remained of truth.
The other… was to reclaim their king. Their friend. Their family.
From a realm where gods were imprisoned and nightmares ruled.
A realm where escape was a myth.
And yet…
Somehow, with hearts full of defiance, they believed.
Even if only a little.
It was enough.