“What happened?” she asked quickly, her voice laced with concern.
“I don’t know. The lord went out, and when he came back, he collapsed just outside the inn. I sensed his presence and retrieved him,” Eunuch explained.
“Place him on the bed,” she ordered.
She checked his pulse and breath, then examined the wounds across his torso.
“He’s alive, but he’s exhausted... and he’s lost a lot of blood.”
Without hesitation, she summoned various paradise medicines and tonics. Her hands moved quickly—trained, precise. In time, his wounds faded and his color returned.
“He’ll be fine. He just needs rest to recover his cosmic energy,” she said, then turned toward the door. “Eunuch—be on high alert. We don’t know if whoever attacked him is still out there.”
Though Eunuch’s loyalty was solely to Taryn, he had been ordered to protect Xara as well—and her commanding presence already made her feel like a deputy to the Sovereign.
It was daylight before Taryn stirred.
He found himself lying in bed, warm, with Xara sleeping softly against his chest. Her breath tickled his collarbone. Any other boy his age would have panicked—or blushed—but his emotions were sealed. Platonic. Pure. Detached.
He gently slid her arm off him and sat up.
Eunuch stood at attention nearby.
“She stayed with you all night,” the retainer said quietly.
“She must be exhausted.”
Taryn stood and stretched. “Stay here. I’ll go to Leo and Lia. We need to finalize the craft’s design.”
“Be careful, Master.”
Taryn nodded. “The threat is gone.”
Leo was waiting eagerly when he arrived.
“You’re back! Did you bring it?”
Taryn handed him the cosmic array scrolls—including the one containing the gravitational spell, and the new strange, low-grade array he had extracted through devil meditation.
Leo’s hands trembled slightly as he unrolled the final scroll.
“This one… it’s definitely the weakest of the five. Its energy signature barely registers—it’s E-Class at best...”
He paused, then looked up.
“But since it came from you… there’s no doubt it conceals something extraordinary.”
Taryn said nothing. The scrolls pulsed faintly with cosmic ink.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“I’ll integrate them all,” Leo said. “This final core will help stabilize the Void Wanderer’s functions, even under extreme conditions.”
They discussed layout and configurations briefly. Leo promised completion within two weeks.
Taryn stored the finalized cores into his dimension and left.
In the streets, he overheard whispers.
“That abandoned house… it burned with black fire. The kind that doesn’t go out.”
“Some say it was haunted. Others say it was cursed.”
Taryn exhaled softly.
“Every time I act, it causes ripples.”
He asked about the house and learned the story of the orphan boy: his parents dead, mistreated by relatives who took the home for themselves. Then, he vanished. And one by one, those relatives died—mysteriously. The house had stood untouched ever since.
Taryn closed his eyes briefly. “So that devil was the boy’s spirit.”
He looked up toward the distant sky.
“I’ll visit him… in Gehenom Valley. And pay my respects.”
Later that afternoon, he passed by the Sun Kingdom Dojo—a fortified training center for aspiring soldiers. Entrance into the kingdom’s army required a recommendation from such an institution.
Taryn paused.
Despite all his abilities, he lacked one thing: refined close combat.
The Merlin Sect had emphasized summoning and law mastery. But in this world, brute strength and martial technique often decided who lived and who bled.
He walked inside.
To his surprise, the dojo was empty.
At its center, a weathered old man sat with his legs folded, eyes half-lidded in meditation.
“Hello, boy. What brings you here?” the sage asked without opening his eyes.
“I wish to learn melee arts,” Taryn said. “But I only have two weeks.”
The old man opened one eye. “Leave. You’re mocking me.”
“I’m serious. You seem to have time.”
“There are no students here because I’ve declared my rebellion against the Sun Kingdom,” the sage said. “I dared them to replace me. They haven’t.”
Taryn’s eyes lit up. “Then you’re perfect.”
“Perfect?” the old man asked dryly.
“You’re their enemy. So am I. I can’t say why yet, but if you give me two weeks, I promise not to disappoint you.”
The sage studied him for a long moment.
Then he stood, and with a slow breath, clapped his hands together.
The earth trembled.
The dojo shook.
And then the entire building lifted skyward—raised atop a pillar of solid rock that cracked the cobbled streets below.
The city trembled.
“Someone challenged the Sage!”
“No… he took a student.”
Far away, Xara’s meditation ended in alarm. The tremors had awoken her. She looked beside her—Taryn was gone.
“Again?” she sighed, already reaching for her cosmic communication device.
Before she could call, it buzzed with a pulse.
“I’m training. I’ll return in two weeks.”
He ended the transmission before she could protest.
High above Dale City, the dojo hovered in the clouds. Wind whipped around the platform.
The sage stood calmly.
“You’re composed. Most boys your age panic during earthquakes.”
“I’ve felt bigger,” Taryn replied.
The sage smirked. “Let’s begin. Show me your cosmic imprint. My training adapts to your law, type, and element.”
Taryn raised his palm. His imprint appeared—dimensional, intricate, flickering with shadows and embers.
The sage’s eyes bulged. Then he burst out laughing.
“Oh... I see.”
Taryn said nothing.
“I’ve never trained your type,” the sage admitted. “But fire—I understand fire.”
Taryn nodded. “That’s my element.”
“Do you have a weapon of choice?”
“No.”
“Then search your soul. Channel your flame and let it show you.”
Taryn closed his eyes.
Within the depths of his spirit—past memory, past ego—there it lay.
A glint. A flicker of burning steel.
The silhouette of a sword, hazy and distant, hovered like an ancestral echo deep in the fog of his being.
His imprint pulsed.
Flame surged from his palm.
It spun, twisted, gathered—
And took form.
A blade of black flame—sleek, balanced, and eerily silent.
“The sword,” the sage murmured. “The king of weapons.”
“But your flame… it’s alien. It refuses any normal vessel.”
Taryn nodded. He retrieved the Netherworld tablet from his dimension—the one etched in abyssal script, taken from the ruins of the Merlin Sect.
He guided his fire into it.
The tablet shuddered.
Then melted.
The dark metal stretched and groaned—twisting into a refined edge.
When it was done, he held a blade unlike any other.
Dark. Elegant. Covered in runes of forgotten law.
The sage could only whisper:
“Sigh... it indeed seems dimensional cultivators are terrifying.”