The Beast King sat on a log, one hand holding a tomahawk meat between his teeth and the other busy playing his instrument. A campfire was before him, casting shadows over several rats, who stood and listened to his tune.

  "I'm glad to see my disciples are finally back!" the Herald exclaimed, waving a tomahawk at them. "And Highgolds, nonetheless," he observed.

  "None of the wells work," Ziel said as he walked to sit against a large Vastwood Mammoth.

  "Hey guys!" a cheerful voice came from a baby mammoth beside Ziel.

  "Ellie?" Sadi asked.

  Ellie shifted through the cluster of other baby elephants and ran towards Sadi and Whitehall. "How was it?" she asked. "It's been so boring out here," she complained.

  "Ellie, let's not bother them too much. They must be tired from their journey," the large Vastwood Mammoth grumbled.

  "They're fine, mom!" Ellie replied to the Vastwood Mammoth. "Right?" Ellie turned back to the two humans, her tail waggling.

  "Mom?" Whitehall eyed the Vastwood Mammoth Ziel was leaning against.

  "Ellie...," her mother grumbled. "It is past your bedtime. Come back, now!"

  Ellie straightened at her mother's tone and returned to join the other sleeping calves without uttering a single word.

  The Beast King saw the state of Ziel's spirit. "It was a long shot. We can try to make it into an elixir." He turned to face his disciples, smiling at Whitehall's large tank on his back and Sadi's bulging bag. "How much did you bring?"

  "A lot," Whitehall admitted, and he and Sadi placed their bags before their master. "From all three wells."

  The Beast King's silver eyes sparkled at the sight. Whitehall was sure he already knew what was inside. "I knew you both won't disappoint me."

  He continued after a moment. "You even got seeds of plants I did not see when I went there."

  "That was me!" Meatball yelped. "I gathered the seeds all on my own."

  "That was because you ate the ones we have gathered," Sadi pinched the bird's cheek.

  "Owe owe owe owe," Meatball yelled. "I've said I'm sorry."

  The Beast King laughed. He placed a hand inside the bag, pulling out the ring of void keys. "You even found some void keys," he said. "Brilliant!"

  He pulled several glass vials from his soul space, filling them with the well water from jars and cylinders. Then, he placed them in order on two vial racks.

  "For you," he handed the first to Whitehall. "And you," he handed the other to Sadi. He clapped his hands together, which caused Ellie's mother to trumpet in annoyance. He raised a hand in an apology before returning his attention to his disciples. "Those should be enough for you to reach peak Truegold and a little extra."

  Whitehall and Sadi bowed. "Thank you, master," they said in unison.

  The Beast King wiped an imaginary tear with a greasy finger. "My disciples, how true in heart you both are. Not even asking for anything in exchange."

  "You've given us more than we can ever repay, master," Whitehall said while bowing.

  "He is right, master," Sadi concurred.

  The Beast King looked up to the stars. "Bless my master's soul; she was right once again." He returned his gaze. "Back straight."

  The two disciples complied.

  "Let it be known that I am a magnanimous master," The Beast King raised his voice, ignoring the glares from the sacred beast he had woken up. "I shall reward good deeds as they deserve. The seeds from Ghostwater shall bring the Wastelands to new heights. The water from the wells shall make our ponds and rivers a treasure for our people." He held his arms apart, his voice echoing through the woods.

  There was complete silence. The mouse by him clapped, and Whitehall and Sadi joined in after a moment.

  "Here," the Beast King tossed two keys at Whitehall and Sadi. "In exchange for what you have brought."

  Sadi's eyes widened as she saw it. She activated the void key, and a space opened in the air. It was the size of a wardrobe. Although it was not as big as Lindon’s, it was still big.

  "Thank you, master," Sadi lowered her head.

  Whitehall clutched the void key, eyeing it in his hand. "Master," he began.

  "Yes?" the Beast King raised his eyebrows.

  "I appreciate your help. But...," Whitehall paused. "Why?" he finally asked. "You've given us guidance and resources far beyond any master would. I don't mean to offend. But why?"

  "What got you into this?" the Beast King asked, confused.

  Screw it, Whitehall thought. If Sunda had trusted the Beast King, so shall he. "I learned how to kill the Dreadgods," Whitehall replied. "And certain issues... from the Oracle tree."

  The Beast King's eyes widened in understanding. When he spoke, his voice came low but with an authority Whitehall had never seen him use. "Everyone except Whitehall. Leave."

  The animals began leaving, Ziel sleeping on the mammoth's back as it walked away. The rats moved away, and so did Sadi after Whitehall gave her a reassuring nod.

  Once the closest being was a hundred yards away, the Beast King drew a script in a circle around them with wind aura. Whitehall knew what it was for—to keep their conversation private.

  The Beast King sighed once the privacy script was activated. "You learned about Hunger madra and where it came from," he stated more than asked.

  "The Monarchs," Whitehall replied. "They even made me swear an oath of secrecy."

  The Beast King spat to the side. "And how did it make you feel?"

  "I knew that people with such power are rarely good. But I never realised they would let their own people suffer."

  The Beast King clicked his tongue and nodded, closing his eyes. He spoke when he reopened them. "I was also bound to an oath to Northstrider. I was hoping you both would find out yourselves. I just did not expect it to be this soon."

  "Did Northstrider tell you?"

  "No," the Beast King answered. Then his voice turned into a whisper as if he feared someone would be listening to them despite the privacy scripts. "Sunda told me."

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Whitehall's eyes widened. The bird had known. But why had she not spread the news out then? Surely, the world's Sacred Artists would have gone against the Monarchs if they had known.

  "I don't know how she knew," the Beast King whispered. "I know what you're thinking. If we spread the word, other Sages and Heralds will surely challenge the Monarch."

  Whitehall nodded.

  "You're wrong. I tried," the Beast King looked up to the stars.

  Whitehall saw the tiredness in his master's face. He looked much older right now.

  "I was an Archlord when I began spreading the news throughout the Wasteland and Sacred Artist around our borders." The Beast King clenched his jaw and spoke through gritted teeth. "The Monarchs of the Dragons, Akura, and Northstrider, slew everyone that had learned of the secret without mercy. I was only spared because I was an Archlord nearing advancement and could be useful to Northstrider. Even then, he bound me with oaths tighter than yours."

  "We need to do something about this," Whitehall replied. "Millions of people are dying due to the Dreadgods."

  "I'm not," the Beast King replied. "My oaths barred me from planning any such actions."

  The Beast King was trying to tell Whitehall something, and Whitehall analysed his master's words carefully. "Sunda?" he asked.

  "I wouldn't know," the Beast King shook his head and smiled. "As I said, my oaths barred me from taking such actions. I am simply following a set of instructions left by my master."

  Whitehall nodded in realisation. "She wants to turn us into Monarchs. One can be easily beaten. But three-" Whitehall stopped as his master's form disappeared in a blur. The next thing he knew, he was lifted in the air by his collar, his face close to his master's.

  "No," his master growled, his silver eyes flaring. "Never a Monarch. Never a Sage. Do you understand?" he shook Whitehall.

  "But Ziel," Whitehall blurted.

  "I am not concerned with Ziel," the Beast King shook Whitehall again. "Do you understand?"

  Whitehall nodded furiously. The Beast King relaxed, gently placing Whitehall on the grass.

  "Why not a Sage?" Whitehall asked, fixing the collar of his shirt. He did not even know how to advance to Sage.

  "I don't know," the Beast King replied. "Sunda refused to tell me. I think she would've if not for the oaths I had to swear. But whatever the reason is. She stressed it the most. Never a sage."

  Whitehall nodded and chose his words carefully. "What should I do now?"

  The Beast King smirked. "Get stronger. You must have heard by now that Northstrider has chosen you to represent him in a tournament."

  Whitehall nodded.

  "You'll need to be Underlords to participate. I'll let you know of further instructions when we get there."

  The Beast King clapped his hands twice, and the privacy scripts on the grass disappeared. Soon enough, the Sacred Beast returned and continued sleeping as if nothing had happened.

  "It sometimes happens," Whitehall heard Ziel's voice and turned to see him approaching alongside Sadi.

  Sadi looked at Whitehall with a questioning gaze, to which Whitehall replied with various hand signs. I'll tell you later.

  She nodded at him.

  "Oh my," the Beast King said, placing a hand on Whitehall's shoulder. "I see you have your lifeline returned."

  "Yes, master," Whitehall nodded. The Beast King would have already known this. Whitehall had presented him with water from the Life Well just now. When Whitehall glanced up, he saw the Beast King gazing at Ziel.

  Ziel shrugged. "Might as well fix it now rather than waiting for Underlord. It was getting close."

  "What is done is done," The Beast King nodded with a smile. "And since you are so eager to help, I have something to occupy your time. I have a couple of Golds under my protection, and they have gotten themselves stuck. How about you three swing by and un-stuck them."

  Ziel sighed and summoned his hammer while Sadi and Whitehall placed their vial racks into their new void keys. "Where?"

  "Under the gold dragons," The Beast King snapped his fingers. "I'll send you close. I heard an Underlord is keeping them warm."

  Ziel eyed the two Highgolds and sighed. Guess he was not allowed to die today.

  Yerin was unsure if she was having a good or bad day. A good day when she considered that now she was a Truegold. A bad day when she remembered an Underlady was after her and Mercy.

  "Congratulations! Should we run?" Mercy hobbled towards Yerin, her bow returning to a staff.

  "Not yet," Yerin said, turning behind them, guided by her Truegold perception. "We can't look like cowards in front of our new guests." She readied her sword arms and her sword.

  Four figures emerged from the forest. The most alarming was a Truegold man with glowing emerald horns dragging a giant hammer behind him. He wore an expression like he had died two days ago. The next was a Highgold woman, tall with lean muscle. Her perception stopped at the last man with a Truegold sacred beast on his shoulder. The man was only a Highgold, so he should have been the least of her worries. But she recognised the uncovered part of his face. How would she ever forget?

  Her sword rang like a bell, sword aura heading straight at Whitehall. The horned man stretched his hand and created a circular green script, blocking the blow.

  "Looking to pick off the winner? Should've known you were a coward through and through, Whitehall." Yerin growled.

  The horned man sighed.

  To Yerin's surprise, Whitehall was not the first to react. Her vision blurred, and only due to her Truegold perception did she know a pair of knives was coming for her. She met them with her master's sword. The Highgold woman lept back, and it took a moment for Yerin to disperse the woman's technique. With her vision cleared, Yerin saw the woman's face clearly.

  "You want to go for a second round?" Yerin taunted. "You think your Highgold butter knives are sharper than my sword?"

  The dead-looking Truegold raised a hand, blocking Whitehall from joining the fight. "No," he drawled.

  The remnants from the dead dragons began to rise, and Yerin whipped a striker technique at the remnants. The remnants hissed as she slashed them.

  "We have to go," Yerin said to Mercy. She did not like it, but they were stuck between an Underlady and two Truegolds. She would give more odds of survival dealing with the Golds. She noticed Mercy's gaze stuck towards where they were running from, and Yerin's spirit crawled.

  Yerin looked behind her, and as she had sensed, the Underlady stood there, sword in hand.

  "On my blood and my name, I swear that you will suffer as none have suffered," she whispered, readying herself to strike.

  "What is happening?" Meatball's voice cut through the tension, but everyone ignored her.

  "Don't suppose you have another one of those shields," Yerin said to Mercy, who laughed lifelessly.

  The horned stranger stepped out of the trees. "I am the Beast King's witness," he sighed. "I witness an Underlady attacking two Golds. Fall back, or he has cause to intervene."

  The dragon laughed. "And who are you?"

  "Underlady," the horned man replied. "Believe me when I say I am no one at all."

  The dragon's golden eyes narrowed, and she bared her fangs. "No," she hissed. "I will not bow to you. Not even your master," She said, gathering madra on her sword to attack.

  "WHAT IS HAPPENING?" A piercing yell cut through the air.

  Yerin saw a black bird flying through the air, landing between the Underlady and her group. The bird faced the dragon, and Yerin saw Whitehall slowly make his way to join the bird, maintaining a considerable distance from Yerin. Good, Yerin thought.

  "Why are you attacking these lowly Golds, Underlady," Meatball asked, mocking the Golds behind her.

  "My sister was killed in Ghostwater," the dragon hissed. "The Skysworns entered without permission. It must have been them."

  Really? Yerin raised her eyebrows in surprise. She thinks Lindon, of all people, was responsible for killing a Truegold. It almost made her heart melt just thinking about it. Furthermore, something about the bird had made an Underlady dragon hesitate. That was when her perception landed on the bird. Poison, she sensed. Were dragons afraid of poison?

  "Ekerinatoth," the bird nodded, and the dragon's grip on her sword tightened. "I remember her."

  "It was you who were responsible then," the dragon hissed.

  "Nope," the bird shook her head. "It was the Redmoon girl. I swear on my feathers." The bird plucked a single feather and let it drift onto the grass.

  The Underlady seemed to hesitate. "Redmoon?" she growled.

  "Yeap," the bird nodded. "Noble Lady Ekerinatoth was magnanimous enough to let us join her on her hunt." She used the word she recently learned from the Beast King. "In exchange for us paying tribute in terms of our treasures, of course."

  The Underlady sniffed in their direction. "I can smell her scent on both of you. But why then are you still alive, and yet she's dead?"

  The bird looked down and spoke in the most solemn voice Yerin had ever heard. "The Redmoon was supposed to ally with us. And your sister's last words were... traitor ."

  The Underlady growled and slammed her sword into the scabbard. "Very well, I do not sense any lies. But remember that I am letting you go only because I do not have time to hunt you and the Redmoon both." She turned her back and faced the sky.

  Yerin followed the Underlady's gaze and saw a fortress-sized Thousand-Mile Cloud rushing towards them. Two Truegold dragons dropped down and knelt before the Underlady.

  "Sopharanatoth," one said, summoning a smaller Thousand-Mile Cloud.

  The Underlady, Sopharanatoth, did not reply and stepped onto the cloud.

  "I remember the scene," the bird continued. "The Redmoon Hall woman ambushed us from the shadows. Her Blood Shadow swallowing your sister's body whole," the bird let out a tear. "That Blood monster said she would use your sister's body as a template for her Blood Shadow. A trophy I remember she mentioned."

  Yerin looked behind her and saw the Highgold woman covering her face with her hands. Meanwhile, Whitehall stood alert, both hands behind his back next to the bird. She saw Whitehall kicked the bird lightly.

  "Owe!" the bird yelped. "The Underlady deserves to know exactly what happened to her sister!"

  The Underlady's hand rested on the pommel of her blade. Yerin could hear her voice clearly as she spoke to the two Truegold dragons. "Today, we burn Redmoon Hall." Then, the cloud carried her to the sky.

  Yerin took a deep breath of relief as the Underlady left. It was short-lived, as she remembered Whitehall and the other woman still there. She kept her sword ready as she shifted her gaze. Mercy looked to her and then to the newcomers.

  "Hi!" Mercy bubbled. "I'm Mercy."

  House of Blades

  Iteration requested. Amalgam

  Date? Request Rejected

  Report Complete

  Dayang, princess of Damasca, stepped through her portal into the Latari Forest, the air thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves. This secluded grove was her sanctuary, a place she often visited to gather flowers for her ailing mother. She was not part of the royal lineage, as her mother was a concubine, so the King would not care if she went missing for a few hours a day. The forest, with its quiet beauty, offered a respite from the stifling politics of the palace.

  She wandered among the trees, her fingers brushing against the delicate petals of her favourites, lilacs and tulips. The soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds filled the air, a soothing symphony that eased her mind. But as she bent to pluck a particularly vibrant tulip, her nose wrinkled. A foul odour wafted through the air, sharp and acrid, like rotting meat. It was out of place in this serene setting, and her curiosity was piqued.

  Following the stench, she pushed through a thicket of underbrush and stopped short, her breath catching in her throat. Before her was a massive flower, its crimson petals sprawling wider than her arm span. The centre was a gaping void of darkness, and the stench emanating from it was almost overwhelming.

  "A Rafflesia," she murmured, her voice tinged with awe. She had only read about this rare bloom in books, its grotesque beauty and putrid smell described in vivid detail. But seeing it in person was something else entirely. It was both fascinating and repulsive, a paradox of nature.

  As she stared at the flower, a faint movement caught her eye. She crouched down, peering beneath the broad petals, and her heart leapt. There, huddled in the shadow of the Rafflesia, was a large black dog. Its fur was matted with blood, and fresh claw marks marred its side. The poor creature was panting heavily, its dark eyes glazed with pain.

  Without hesitation, Dayang knelt beside the dog, her hands moving instinctively to assess its injuries. She had learned the basics of traditional medicine from her mother, and though her knowledge was limited, she was determined to help. She gathered broad leaves and sturdy vines, fashioning makeshift bandages to staunch the bleeding. The dog yelped softly as she worked, but it didn't struggle. It seemed to understand that she meant no harm.

  As she tended to the dog, she noticed the scars that crisscrossed its body—old wounds, long healed but telling a story of countless battles. Her fingers traced the ridges of one particularly deep scar, and a shiver ran down her spine. What kind of beasts had this dog faced? How many times had it fought for its life in this very forest? The thought made her uneasy, and she realised how careless she had been, wandering these woods alone. Luck, it seemed, had been her only shield.

  By the time she finished, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold. The forest grew quieter, the shadows lengthening as night approached. Dayang sat back on her heels, wiping her hands on her dress. "There you go, buddy," she said softly, stroking the dog's head. "You should be all right now."

  The dog looked up at her, its dark eyes filled with something she couldn't quite place—gratitude, perhaps, or a quiet intelligence. It let out a single, low bark as if to thank her.

  Dayang smiled, though her heart ached at the thought of leaving it behind. "I have to go now," she said, glancing at the darkening sky. "But maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

  The dog watched her as she stood and stepped back through her portal, its gaze lingering even as the shimmering gateway closed behind her. For a moment, the forest felt emptier, as if the bond they had forged in those brief moments had left an indelible mark on both of them.