Artifact.

The room was dim, a single lantern casting flickering light against the cold stone walls. Rael sat across from Victor, arms folded, considering everything that had just been said.

Victor exhaled, running a hand through his curled blonde hair. "As long as we reveal the artifact's true nature, Sir Reyas will understand. He's not an evil man—just blinded by grief. And as for the false artifact itself… you can have it."

Rael raised a brow. "Just like that?"

Victor gave him a sharp look. "As long as you don't use it to harm the Gurdle family."

"Wasn't planning on it," Rael said with a shrug.

Victor studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Good. But first, we need to find my sister."

* * *

A dimly lit warehouse. Dust drifted through the air, illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through a cracked window. In the center of the room, a girl with light blonde hair sat tied to a chair, her hands bound behind her back. Freya, bruised but glaring defiantly, kept her mouth shut as the men around her spoke.

"Finally caught this rat," one of the mercenaries sneered, arms crossed. "I wonder how much Sir Reyas will reward us."

Another scoffed. "Tch. Doesn't matter. The real bounty was on the vase she was carrying. That was the info, wasn't it?"

"Who cares? We just need to make her tell us where it is."

Before he could say more, a loud commotion erupted outside.

The first mercenary cursed, immediately drawing his sword. "The hell was that?"

"Go check," the second one said, gripping his dagger tightly and scanning the shadows. His instincts were sharp—he had been in this line of work long enough to know something wasn't right. He turned slightly, checking the corners of the warehouse—

A sudden impact.

The second mercenary's vision went dark as he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Rael stepped over him, shaking his head. "I thought you guys were professionals."

He moved swiftly, untying Freya and loosening the gag in her mouth. She gasped, flexing her stiff wrists before her blue eyes locked onto him.

"You—it's you," she muttered, recognition flashing in her gaze.

"Yeah," Rael said, offering a hand. "Your brother and I are getting you out of here."

She hesitated but nodded, gripping his hand as she stood.

They slipped out of the warehouse, moving through the shadows. The moment they reached the rendezvous point, Victor was already waiting.

Freya barely had time to process the sight of her brother before he wrapped her in a tight embrace. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low.

She nodded. "I'm fine."

Victor pulled back and smirked at Rael. "Those potions worked better than expected."

Rael had a brief flashback—Mira, their weathermancer, grinning as she presented one of her strange concoctions, talking about the 'perfect balance' between visibility and confusion. It was ridiculous, but he had to admit—it worked.

"Yeah," Rael muttered. "Worked like a charm."

They moved to a safer location, away from prying eyes. Once settled, Freya listened as Victor explained their plan.

After a pause, she nodded. "I know where the artifact is."

Both men immediately focused on her.

"Before Madam Lilia passed, she took me there once," Freya continued. "It's an underground cavern, a bit far from here. There's a mini lake inside… and a cabin built around it. Flowers everywhere. That's where it's hidden."

Victor's eyes widened in shock. "You mean that place?"

Freya nodded solemnly. "Yes. That's where Madam Lilia was buried."

A heavy silence settled between them.

"This just got more complicated," Rael muttered.

* * *

The air felt heavier as they stepped into the cavern. A soft glow bathed the area in silver light, filtering in through unseen cracks above. The underground lake stretched out before them, its glassy surface reflecting the wild scatter of flowers that bloomed along the edges. A small wooden cabin stood near the shore, its weathered walls entwined with creeping vines, long untended yet untouched by decay. The place was eerily serene, as if untouched by time.

But the center of the lake was disturbed. A slow, swirling whirlpool churned unnaturally, rippling outward in rhythmic pulses.

Victor exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is where Madam Lilia was buried."

Rael turned to him, but it was Freya who continued, her gaze locked onto the whirlpool. "Sir Reyas comes here often. He never let anyone else step inside, but I followed him once. He always stands at the water's edge, talking to someone." She swallowed. "Or something."

Rael's eyes narrowed. "And there's no one guarding it?"

Victor shook his head. "No one dares. Even the mercenaries avoid this place."

Before Rael could reply, the sound of footsteps echoed through the cavern. Slow, deliberate.

He turned sharply, and there stood Sir Reyas Gurdle.

The man cut an imposing figure in his rich dark robe, embroidered with silver threads that shimmered under the cavern's dim glow. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, his posture poised with the air of nobility. Yet, his eyes betrayed him—hollow, sunken with something far worse than exhaustion. His skin, once tanned, had faded to an unnatural pallor.

He barely spared Rael a glance before his gaze settled on the siblings. His lips curved into a sorrowful, almost delirious smile.

"I betrayed her trust," he said softly.

Victor took a cautious step forward. "Sir Reyas—"

"She loved you two like her own," Reyas continued, his voice trembling. "She would have wanted you safe. And yet—" He clenched his trembling hands. "And yet, the one who sold me the artifact told me… told me there is a way."

Freya paled. "What?"

The cavern's air grew tense as Reyas spread his arms, his voice gaining fervor. "I can bring her back."

His gaze turned sharp, feverish, as he finally looked Rael in the eyes. "But to do that… I must make a sacrifice."

Victor stiffened. "Sacrifice?"

"The two of you," Reyas said, as if it were the most obvious answer.

A gust of wind surged through the cavern, sending ripples across the water. At the heart of the lake, the whirlpool deepened, its pull intensifying. And then, something broke the surface.

A cube.

It hovered above the whirlpool, a seamless black construct with intricate runic carvings etched into its surface. Hollow lines glowed faintly, pulsating with a dull, ominous light.

Rael's fingers twitched toward his belt. The false artifact.

And Reyas began to chant.

The air grew heavy, thick with an unnatural force as Sir Reyas spread his arms, his hollow eyes gleaming with unhinged fervor. His voice, once filled with grief, now carried an eerie reverence as he began to chant in a tongue long forgotten.

"Zy'hal vekh thur'azan, suul drakar velmorith…

Vey'ash korr thulen'gra, xai'varoth zehn alzahir!"

A low, guttural vibration filled the air as the artifact pulsed, its runes shifting in erratic patterns. Then, behind Sir Reyas, the very fabric of reality twisted. A figure emerged—massive, bound in thick iron chains that rattled with unseen weight.

It had no hands, its arms ending in jagged stumps wrapped in broken shackles. Its face was devoid of emotion, its skin the color of burnt obsidian, and from its hollow eyes, thick black tears cascaded down like an endless stream of sorrow.

Two colossal horns curved upward from its head, pulsating faintly with a deep crimson glow. Though silent, its presence alone suffocated the cavern, pressing against Rael's very being. The weight of something ancient, something beyond human comprehension, bore down on them.

Before the creature could fully materialize, Rael and Victor lunged forward.

Victor's dagger gleamed in the dim light as he closed the distance, his movements precise, honed for close-quarters combat. A faint glow traced his off-hand as he murmured a minor reinforcement spell—Fleetstep—bolstering his speed.

Rael, moving in tandem, shifted his stance—his footwork sharp, deliberate. He feinted left, forcing Reyas to adjust, before abruptly vanishing from his line of sight with a swift pivot.

Reyas snarled, his body twisting unnaturally. Shadows coiled around his hands, forming jagged tendrils that lashed out to intercept them.

"You won't take this from me!" he spat, deflecting Victor's rapid thrust with a surge of dark energy. His eyes, once hollow, now burned with the artifact's malignant power.

Victor didn't retreat. He dipped low, his dagger carving a sharp arc aimed at Reyas' ribs. At the last second, Reyas pivoted, conjuring a thin, obsidian barrier that absorbed the strike. The momentary stall gave Rael an opening.

Ruinous Strike.

A dark violet hue crackled along the edge of Rael's blade as he executed the technique, slamming his sword down in a brutal diagonal slash. The moment it connected, a pulse of destructive force erupted outward, shattering the barrier and sending Reyas staggering back.

Reyas gritted his teeth, his breath ragged—but instead of faltering, he let out a twisted laugh. His fingers twitched, and a black blade coalesced in his grasp, jagged and unstable. He flicked his wrist—hurling it straight at Victor.

Victor had just shifted his weight mid-step. Off-balance. No time to react.

Rael moved first.

He twisted sharply, his footwork fluid as he cut into the projectile's path, bringing his sword down in a precise interception. The impact sent a shockwave up his arm, dispersing the brunt of the attack—but slivers of dark energy splintered off, grazing Victor's shoulder. A sharp hiss of pain escaped him, but he stayed standing.

Reyas was already preparing another spell.

The whirlpool at the lake's center surged, dark energy crackling as the demon's form began to fully emerge.

Victor darted forward again, his dagger flashing. He aimed for Reyas' exposed side, trying to disable him rather than kill. Reyas countered with a burst of force, shoving Victor back, then turned his sights on Rael.

Another blade of void-dark energy formed in his hands.

This time, he hurled it with full force at Victor.

Victor had no time to dodge. He was mid-step—his footing compromised.

A blur of motion—Freya.

She threw herself between them.

Victor's world slowed as Freya's body jerked mid-air, the jagged black blade embedding deep into her right abdomen. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as crimson bloomed across her clothes.

"FREYA!"

Victor caught her before she hit the ground, his hands trembling as he lowered her carefully. Her breath was shallow, her eyes fluttering.

No. No. No.

He fumbled with his satchel, grabbing a healing potion. With gritted teeth, he snapped the vial open and poured its glowing liquid directly into her mouth. Drink. Just drink. The thick red potion trickled down her lips.

Freya coughed weakly, some of the potion spilling, but she swallowed enough. Her breathing steadied—but she was still too pale.

"Damn it—!"

Rael had already moved, stepping in front of them as Reyas staggered back, staring at Freya with wide, shaken eyes.

His hand trembled. His spell had been meant for Victor. Not her.

"No..." Reyas whispered, his voice hollow.

A memory.

Madam Lilia, standing in the garden, two children behind her—one boy, one girl. "They will serve under me, Reyas. Treat them well."

At the time, he'd resented it. They were outsiders, strays she had taken in. But Lilia always treated them like her own. Even when he made them servants, she never let them feel like lesser beings.

The image of a younger Freya, laughing beside Lilia, overlapped with the girl now lying in Victor's arms—bleeding, wounded. Because of him.

His breath came ragged. His fingers twitched.

"No… I didn't… I didn't mean—"

But it was too late.

The whirlpool at the lake's center erupted.

A deep, abyssal BOOM shook the cavern as dark energy surged skyward, tendrils of black mist coiling violently.

Then it spoke.

"𝖟𝖎𝖑'𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖘 𝖟𝖔𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖑 𝖛𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑'𝖘𝖎𝖐."

A voice like a thousand shattered screams layered over each other. It didn't echo—it devoured the sound around it.

Chains rattled as the demon materialized.

A towering, malformed figure without hands, only stumps where they should have been. Its twisted horns curled upward, its blackened skin cracked with void-light seeping through. And from its hollow eye sockets, rivers of black tears flowed endlessly.

The darkness surged, reaching for Victor, Freya, and Reyas alike—about to consume their very souls.

And then, it stopped.

The demon's movements stilled as if time itself had faltered. The endless void where its eyes should have been shifted. It turned—directly at Rael.

For the first time, expression crossed its face.

Curiosity.

And then it spoke again.

"𝖅𝖎𝖑'𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖘 𝖓𝖚𝖗'𝖞𝖎𝖗... 𝕿𝖚𝖗'𝖆𝖌𝖍 𝖊𝖘𝖙'𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖎."

As the final syllable left its unseen lips, the towering demon began to dissolve. Its form unraveled, strips of void-dark mist peeling away from its body, vanishing into the air like ink dispersing in water. The chains binding it rattled one last time before fading completely.

The oppressive weight in the air lifted.

Then—

CRACK!

The false artifact—the cubic relic—shattered.

And from within, a Fragment of Zenith flew straight toward Rael.

[A fragment of 'Zenith' has been added to your inventory.]

[Fragments found: (2/?)]

Rael exhaled slowly, his grip on his blade loosening. The air was still heavy with the remnants of dark energy, but the immediate danger had passed.

Why did it just leave?

He had no answer.

Victor remained crouched beside Freya, still pressing his hands over her wound despite the healing potions taking effect. She was stable, her breath shallow but even. Across from them, Reyas sat motionless, his head bowed.

Silence hung between them before Reyas finally spoke, voice hoarse. "...I was blind."

Neither Victor nor Freya responded immediately, but Victor's grip on his dagger relaxed. He looked down at his sister, then back at the man who had once been their master. "...You were," he said quietly.

Reyas nodded. He did not beg for forgiveness. He did not weep. He simply looked at the ruined lake, at the shattered remains of his own folly.

By the time they returned, Order knights were already waiting. Reyas did not resist when they seized him, his hands bound in silver shackles. Before he was led away, he turned back to Victor and Freya.

"I name you both the rightful heirs of House Gurdle." His voice was steady. "This is my last act as its master."

Victor and Freya were too stunned to respond. The knights pulled him forward, but before he disappeared, Reyas glanced at Rael.

"Thank you," he said. And then he was gone.

Victor and Freya turned to Rael, the weight of everything settling in. "You didn't have to help us," Freya said softly.

Victor nodded. "We owe you."

Rael just shook his head. "You don't." Then, after a brief pause, he added, "But thanks."

And with that, he left.

* * *

As Rael left Zarfar behind, he pulled out his interface and opened the group chat. His fingers moved swiftly over the interface as he sent a message.

[Noctus]: Heading back now.

There were no immediate replies, but that was expected. Elias was probably off doing something dumb, Leon was either crafting or reading spell tomes, and Gale—well, Gale was Gale.

Rather than taking a direct teleport to Vash'kar, Rael opted for a longer route. He rented another mount, a sleek black-feathered raptor, and set off at a steady pace. The teleportation network was convenient, but he had a reason for this detour.

With two fragments of Zenith now in his possession, another seal should have unlocked. He needed time to check it properly.

The wind rushed past him as the raptor sprinted down the dirt path. Solmora's landscape stretched out before him—rolling hills bathed in the evening glow, distant forests darkening as the sun dipped below the horizon.

He flicked open his interface again and navigated to his inventory. The fragment sat there, its description unchanged. But now, beneath the faint glow of the two pieces, something pulsed.

A notification appeared.

[A new seal has been unlocked.]