Eithan Aurelius was having a good day. When he took everything into consideration, he changed his mind. He was having a fantastic day. He watched Fisher Gesha bowing before Emperor Naru Huan. He smiled as he watched the rewards she was given for her part in defeating Long Hook. She had outdone herself and deserved it.

  "Go in peace," Naru Huan announced to her before hardening his expression. "We must have an audience with our Underlord alone."

  Fisher Gesha glanced at Eithan as she left, trailed by three servants carrying her rewards in boxes. He winked.

  When the doors were shut, the mood in the room relaxed. Eithan yawned as he stretched his back.

  "Last audience for the day," Naru Huan said as Eithan approached him.

  They exchanged pleasantries and information about the effort against Redmoon Hall. Eithan even tried to pry some information about the Redmoon Hall Overlord stuck in the trackless sea. He knew exactly what was in the trackless sea but wanted to see what the Emperor knew—not much, it seems.

  The Emperor wanted Eithan to resume his task as Patriarch, but Eithan rejected the offer. It took some convincing, but the Emperor eventually relented. Now, Eithan could finally ask for what he wanted. The Emperor fell into Eithan's trap when he brought up the subject of the Uncrowned Tournament.

  "The Akura family might compete, but we won't. We can't," Naru Huan said as they entered his office.

  Eithan explained how the Dreadgods' strange activity would make the upcoming tournament a battle between Monarchs, and the Blackflame Empire would be forced to compete.

  Naru Huan sighed as he slouched on his chair. "What can you do, Eithan?"

  Eithan was practically shaking in excitement. "I have two, maybe three prospects of young Underlords. Given the ability to teach them more directly, I might be able to raise two of them in time."

  The Emperor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "All the more reason to reinstate you as Patriarch."

  "All the more reason to let me join the Skysworn," Eithan corrected.

  The Emperor gave him a sceptical look. "You think they would impress the Akura family?"

  "Huan," Eithan replied. "I think they could do a little better than that."

  A knock came on the door of the office. "Come in," Naru Huan said.

  The door opened, and a royal messenger stepped in, carrying a scroll. He handed it to the Emperor before bowing and leaving the room. Eithan raised an eyebrow as he saw the scroll's wax seal. Akura Family?

  Naru Huan sighed as he saw the seal. "Thought I would finally have a break."

  "You certainly deserved one," Eithan joked.

  The Emperor unsealed the scroll and began reading the contents. He frowned at first, and it worsened as it continued. He raised an eye at Eithan. "What do you think?"

  "I don't know what you are talking about," Eithan smiled.

  "Don't act like you haven't read it," Naru Huan replied.

  Eithan scoffed at the accusation. "I would never use my bloodline abilities to read contents meant for the Emperor without permission, no matter how tempting it is. Take that back."

  "Eithan," the Emperor's voice came out irritated. "Fine," he placed the scroll face down on the table, a smirk forming on the corner of his lips. "You're right. I do deserve a break. You want to join the Skysworn. Then you will. You'll handle them."

  "Wait, what?" Eithan asked, picking up the paper and began reading.

  The confusion on Eithan's face made Naru Huan's day. "I'm granting you what you want. Welcome to the Skysworn," he stretched his hand, offering a handshake.

  It took Eithan a moment to respond. "I'm sure the Wasteland representatives would get along well with my adopted disciples," Eithan smiled, eagerly accepting the handshake. How bad could it be?

  "You killed my master," Yerin seethed, pointing her sword at Whitehall. "I can finally repay that debt."

  Whitehall had a long day. And now, tired as he was, he was in no mood to settle this peacefully. They had come here to save her. And that ungrateful brat now wants to kill him.

  "Let's do it, then!" he yelled, grabbing Ekeri's whip from his void key. The whip came out black and purple as he activated it with his madra.

  "Poison," Yerin spat. "Finally found your true Path, I see. It suits you perfectly. A coward's Path."

  Sadi joined Whitehall's side, her knives in both hands. "I shouldn't be surprised that the disciple is as vile as her master," she shot back. "Threatening those that saved her."

  "I would not recommend fighting one another," Ziel said slowly, word by word. "I'm here as the Beast King's witness, remember."

  Mercy looked uncomfortable from behind Yerin, but she readied her bow nonetheless. "I think we should listen to him."

  "No," Whitehall shook his head. He was not sure why, but he wanted this fight. He needed to let out some steam. "If the bitch wants to die. Then I say, let's do it."

  "Agreed," Sadi added.

  Mercy facepalmed behind Yerin. "Maybe we can settle this over tea," she tried suggesting.

  "And get poisoned like they did to my master," Yerin spat. "I think not."

  "Are you going to keep talking, or will we fight?" Whitehall snapped.

  Yerin snarled and arched her sword, and her Blood Shadow did the same. When she was about to unleash her Rippling Sword technique, black shadow tendrils stopped her and her Blood Shadow's hands. Circular green scripts also restrained her targets. She looked behind her and gave Mercy a betrayed look.

  "Please," Mercy smiled, and Yerin saw the strain in Mercy's expression. "Let's not fight."

  "I would listen to the Akura heir," Ziel added. "You wouldn't want to create conflict with the Wasteland delegation."

  The tendrils pulled back, and Mercy laid flat on the ground, having run out of Madra. "Please, listen to him," Mercy whispered.

  With a growl, Yerin slammed her sword into her sheath, approaching Whitehall aggressively. She pointed a finger at him. She could kill him now with sword aura from her fingernails if she wanted to. "I know you were the mastermind behind my master's death."

  Whitehall looked back at her with disdain.

  "I will avenge him, you hear me?" Yerin promised.

  Whitehall leaned closer, daring her to strike. "And who will avenge those he killed?" he whispered.

  Yerin took a step back, surprised by his words.

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  "Who will avenge the thousands that died due to him?" Whitehall continued, his voice rising with righteous anger. "We begged him to stop whatever madness he unleashed in the ancestor's tomb. Every day, thousands of Dreadbeasts poured out when he opened the door. Do you know how your master reacted when we pleaded for him to stop? When we begged him for protection?" Whitehall snarled.

  Yerin gripped the pommel of her sword until her knuckles turned white.

  Whitehall's face turned dark with fury. "He laughed at us," he seethed. "To him, our lives were a joke. We were nothing but ants."

  Yerin felt the echoes of her master's remnant stir deep within her spirit, a fiery presence urging her to strike back. She gritted her teeth, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

  "A lion doesn't flinch when it crushes ants beneath its paw!" she shouted, her words sharp and defiant, brimming with unshaken resolve.

  "Then don't be surprised when the ants bite back," Whitehall replied, his last two words carrying a pointed edge.

  The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Yerin regretted her outburst the instant it left her lips. Those words were not hers. They were her master's remnant. His remnant burned hot and furious within her.

  Her master had raised her. He had taken her in when she was nothing but a lost and broken child. He had taught her the Sacred Arts with patience and care. He laughed with her, played with her, sat by her bedside when she was ill. He held her tightly when she wept over the loss of her entire family. He was her strength, her father in all but blood.

  But he was not perfect, and she knew that.

  Yerin loosened her grip on her sword, her hand trembling. The man Whitehall described, the Sage who laughed at the suffering of others, was not how she remembered him. Yet both could exist within the same person, and that gnawed at her soul. Now that she recalled, she remembered her master laughing in the faces of the Heaven's Glory Elders.

  Unprepared by the outcome and the sudden emotion, she grew sick. The Path of Endless Sword was simple: fight what you cannot defeat and grow stronger. It was straightforward, but this battle inside her was not. She turned and ran, unable to hold back her tears.

  Ziel sighed as he watched Yerin run into the forest, the Akura heir running after her. He turned his gaze to Whitehall. "You two are going to go after them."

  "What?" Sadi asked as Whitehall stared blankly at the ground.

  "My mission was to handle the Underlady. You two's is to keep the Akura heir safe," Ziel shrugged. "I'm only telling you two what the Beast King told me," he said before Sadi could speak, turning around and leaving.

  "When are we supposed to return?" Sadi called out to Ziel's diminishing form.

  Ziel answered by shrugging his shoulders.

  Sadi sighed and turned to Whitehall. She was surprised to find him standing still, head still facing the ground. "Are you alright?" she asked.

  Whitehall exhaled. "I went too hard on her, didn't I?"

  Sadi placed her hand on his shoulder. "She needed to learn eventually. Maybe it was good that she received your unfiltered honesty."

  "Maybe," Whitehall replied. "But why then do I feel like I just bullied a child to tears?"

  "It sucks, doesn't it?"

  "Yeah. She lost her father."

  "And we lost a lot more," Sadi replied gently. "It's a cruel world."

  Whitehall's fist clenched. "It is."

  "Come," Sadi said, holding Whitehall's hand and pulling him. "Let's find her. I'll talk to her."

  Yerin sat on the grass by the edge of a cliff, her legs pulled tightly to her chest. She heard footsteps approaching her. "Bleed and bury me, Mercy. You don't have to check up on me like a prized cow." She turned to look over her shoulder. "I'm fine." She paused when she saw that it was not Mercy who was approaching her. Yerin looked away, returning her gaze to the forests below.

  "I thought you also had a bone to pick with me," Yerin grumbled. "Don't sense the horned man around. Are you here to continue where we left off?"

  "No," Sadi sighed, halting a few metres behind Yerin. "Not exactly."

  "Then why are you here?"

  "To check on you," Sadi replied. "And apparently, we have a mission to keep you safe. At least until they come to pick us up."

  Yerin laughed. "That's the funniest joke I ever heard."

  "Well, keep Akura Mercy safe, to be more precise," Sadi corrected.

  "Makes more sense." Yerin shrugged. "But who is chipped enough in the head to send you three?" Her perception informed her that Whitehall and the bird were nearby.

  "The Beast King," Sadi answered. "He doesn't know about our history."

  "Thanks for letting me know. Now that you see we are prim and proper, feel free to leave as soon as possible," Yerin said. "Sooner would be prefer

  "Can't do that, I'm afraid," Sadi shook her head.

  "Then go entertain Mercy and leave me alone," Yerin quipped.

  "I guess I can do that. Let me know if you have any questions," Sadi said, leaving.

  "Wait," Yerin stopped her. "Tell me true. What was my master like from your eyes? And don't sugarcoat it."

  "Are you sure?" Sadi hesitated.

  "No," Yerin raised her hands in frustration. "But I need to know, don't I?"

  The woman's answer surprised Yerin. "No," Sadi answered. "Not if you don't want to. There's nothing wrong with remembering your master however you thought of him."

  Yerin sighed, her hands drifting to her stomach above her core. She thought of her master's remnant. She remembered that his remnant's instincts had previously suggested ludicrous advice. How was she supposed to listen to him if she did not even know what he was like? What he was truly like to others.

  Yerin turned to face the woman. When she saw Yerin's expression, the woman dropped to sit across from her.

  "Did my master really laugh?" Yerin asked. "When the Elders begged him for help?"

  "I wasn't there," the woman answered, devoid of anger. "But he did, according to my brother who was present."

  "How bad was it? The Dreadbeasts." Yerin knew that Dreadbeast activity increased when she and her master arrived in Sacred Valley. However, she never knew the extent.

  Sadi gulped, recalling her memories. "It was," she paused. "Bad."

  "Then Whitehall is right, true?" Yerin looked down. "Thousands died because of my master, and he laughed when you lot begged him for help."

  Sadi did not reply, and Yerin took it as an answer.

  "It doesn't make me hate Whitehall any less," Yerin continued.

  "If it helps. He doesn't expect it either." Sadi replied. "He only wants you to understand why he did what he did."

  Frustratingly, Yerin had to admit she understood. She would probably strike whoever was killing her family where they stood. But at the same time, it was her master that they killed.

  "Believe it or not, I understand your position," Sadi continued. "You don't have to stop yourself from grieving someone you love. No matter how vile they could be. You didn't lose an evil man. You lost someone who cared for you."

  "You lost family too?" Yerin asked.

  Sadi nodded. "My brother. He was not a good man, I know. He died over two years ago. I grieve for him to this day."

  "Let me guess," Yerin exhaled. "My master killed him."

  "No," Sadi answered. "You did."

  Yerin paused at the woman's answer but did not sense any hostility in her voice. "Oh," she muttered. "So, you do have a bone to pick with me."

  "Not really," Sadi snorted. "He was an idiot for coming after you. Whitehall called him that in front of the other Elders."

  "Whitehall?" Yerin asked in surprise.

  "You didn't know?" Sadi replied. "Whitehall was the only Elder who disapproved of the school coming after you."

  "Whitehall," Yerin repeated. "Disapproved the school hunting me? At least he got something correct."

  "Yeap," Sadi concurred. "He always says that the sins of the father are not the sins of the child."

  "That's cute," Yerin snorted.

  "It is, isn't it," Said mused. "If it helps, he was the one to prevent an all-out Jade assault on you."

  "And how did he do that?" Yerin asked, processing the information she was receiving.

  "He threatened to poison the Elders that approved of such an assault. He couldn't outright ban any assault, especially by irons. But he did what he could."

  "I'm surprised the other Elders did not kill him," Yerin leaned back to the soft grass.

  "Most didn't dare. He held too much goodwill with most of the school's Jades."

  "I don't get it," Yerin said, covering her eyes with her sleeves to block the moonlight. "Even if there were thousands of you, you are all Jades in the end. How did you kill my master?"

  "Poison," Sadi replied.

  "I know that," Yerin said in frustration. "He knew what he was drinking, but he assured me that his body would've been able to handle it like nothing."

  "I wouldn't know," Sadi shrugged. "Whitehall made the poison. You would need to ask him."

  "Poison," Yerin spat. "I'd bet my soul against a rat's tail that the Elders celebrated him with a grand party for killing a Sage."

  "No," Sadi muttered.

  Yerin sat straight to stare at the woman, whose gaze was fixed on the forests below as she spoke.

  "The Elders gave him scorn and disdain for what he did. Like you, they called him a coward for using such methods." Sadi smiled softly under the moonlight. "But that's just who he is. He'd throw away his pride without hesitation if it meant keeping the people he cared about safe."

  Yerin gritted her teeth. "I get it; he's not a bad man. You don't have to butter him up like that."

  Sadi looked away, blushing.

  "What about you then," Yerin continued. "You say you don't have a bone to pick with me. Yet earlier, you were ready to cross swords without a second thought."

  The woman rolled her eyes at Yerin and sighed. "It's not about my brother. I remember when we fought at the ancestor's tomb. There were two of us. Two Jades and you slapped us around like children. I hate feeling helpless. I wanted to test myself against you. At least test my resolve."

  Yerin nodded. She could respect that. "Lindon is too soft when we spar. If you're going to stay around us for a while, I can use a sparring partner who will not hold anything back," Yerin offered the woman a hand.

  The woman smiled and accepted it. "Nasiri Sadi," she said.

  "Yerin," Yerin replied. "Yerin Aurelius."

  "Yerin!" Mercy's voice cut through the air.

  Yerin's Truegold perception swiped through her surroundings, and she immediately rushed in Mercy's direction. Her legs carried her as fast as she could, and beyond, she saw a familiar tall form.

  "We came to save you!" Mercy beamed.

  Yerin crashed into Lindon, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tightly against her. She felt like she never wanted to let go.

  "You're solid," she said, her voice muffled by his chest. "You made it."

  Lindon gazed at Whitehall and Sadi's presence and, without hesitation, placed his real arm around her body protectively. "It's been hard, hasn't it?" he whispered to Yerin's ear.

  Yerin nodded in his chest, and Lindon embraced her tighter. "Forgiveness. It took me too long."

  House of Blades

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  The next morning, Dayang stepped through the swirling light of her portal and into the forest, inhaling deeply. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, the remnants of last night’s rain still clinging to the leaves. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in golden shafts, painting the forest floor in a mosaic of light and shadow. Birds sang in the distance, their songs blending with the rustling of the wind through the trees.

  She moved with purpose, her sandals pressing softly into the damp ground as she walked toward the place she had found yesterday—the clearing where the great Rafflesia flower bloomed. Its crimson petals, massive and veined like living parchment, had been an incredible sight, one she had intended to sketch today.

  But as she approached, she stopped abruptly.

  A man sat beside the flower, his bare body catching the dappled morning light.

  Dayang's breath hitched as she took him in. His skin was pale—too pale, like the untouched side of a river stone. His black hair was woven into a long, intricate braid that trailed down his back, and his sharp, black eyes gleamed with something unreadable. He was lean but strong, his body sculpted like someone who had spent a lifetime running, fighting, surviving.

  But what truly held her gaze were the scars.

  Thin, jagged lines stretched across his chest and arms, some old and silvered with time, others fresh and red. She recognized those wounds immediately—marks from claws or blades, the same kind she had seen on the injured dog she had treated the day before. Her eyes drifted downward. There, scattered in the grass, were the very leaves she had used as makeshift bandages. But the wounds they had covered were gone, leaving only scars in their wake.

  She swallowed.

  The man watched her with a soft, knowing smile. "Hello, traveller," he said, his voice smooth, almost musical.

  Dayang blinked. "...He... hello," she stammered.

  "Thank you for saving me yesterday."

  Her body stiffened. The words took a moment to sink in.

  "You..." Her eyes widened slightly. "You were the dog."

  The man nodded, his black eyes glittering. "I was."

  Dayang's heart pounded. Her mind raced to process what she had just heard, searching for logic where there was none. Shape-shifting? Was that possible? Had she somehow missed an ancient myth about creatures like this?

  She stared at him, searching for an explanation before finally blurting out the only thing she could think of: "How?"

  The man laughed, a rich, easy sound that curled around the space between them like mist over a river. "That's a long story," he said.

  "I have time."

  The smile he gave her was impossibly gentle, almost mischievous. For some reason, the warmth of it made her cheeks flush. "Well then," he said, patting the ground beside him, "have a seat."

  Dayang hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, keeping a careful distance as she lowered herself onto the grass.

  "My name is Mang," the man said. He gestured to the towering trees and whispering leaves around them. "And welcome to my forest."

  Dayang hesitated, unsure how to respond. She had never read about anything like this. No books spoke of a shapeshifting man living in the depths of the woods. Still, she found herself answering. "My name is Dayang," she said slowly. Then, awkwardly, she raised both hands and gave him two thumbs up. "And... nice."

  The man—Mang—tilted his head, then let out a laugh, a genuine, delighted sound that rang through the clearing.

  Dayang couldn't help but laugh as well.