The Market was as alive as ever, but it felt quiet since Lira had walked off. Kael wandered through the crowd, the thrumming of voices, the sights and sounds of magical effects fading into the background. He didn’t know exactly what he was searching for, he just kept moving forward.

  His focus sharpened when he heard it.

  Deep and in unison, resonating through the crowd. The voice echoed, as though two tones had been carefully blended into one. Both harmonious yet dissonant.

  “Dragon eggs for sale."

  Kael’s ears perked up, the words finding their way into his thoughts with certainty. He knew that voice.

  Tyrannix, the two-headed dragon.

  Kael turned his head, and there he was. Both heads raised high in proud stature, his jet black skin glistering in the Marketplace’s light.

  One of Tyrannix’s heads lowered slowly, his singular voice sounding odd.

  “The victor of the Gauntlet. Looking for more, are you, Kael?”

  Kael’s heart skipped a beat at the recognition.

  “I’m looking for an egg.”

  “Good choice, Kael. Have a look. My minions are around to help you out.”

  Its head lifted back, both heads rising like two mountains.

  “Dragon eyes for sale!” Tyrannix’s voice echoed out, back to peddling its wares.

  The stall was a spectacle in itself. Piles and piles of large eggs, each one unique in its own way. The shells were covered with patterns and textures that shimmered in the dim light. Some were hot, glowing faintly with the heat of something inside, while others were cool to the touch, with frost gathering around their base.

  Kael stepped closer, examining the eggs carefully. One egg was furry, another covered in thorns. As he stood there, contemplating his choices, a low growl interrupted his thoughts.

  “Hey, pal, you buying?”

  Kael looked at the source of the voice, raising an eyebrow. It had coarse fur and a jutting muzzle, almost like a hyena in appearance. It walked on two legs with its wild eyes that locked straight to Kael.

  “Any egg will do,” Kael said. He knew the egg was for sale, so he had little care for it.

  The creature laughed, a sharp, savage bark of amusement, its eyes narrowing as it tilted its head in a mocking gesture. "Any egg?" it repeated, its voice dripping with derision. "Come on, pal. What dragon do you want?"

  Kael's stomach tightened as the weight of the question settled on him. What dragon?

  He hadn’t even considered that. Kael hadn’t even considered that there were different dragons in the first place.

  “What kind of dragons are there?” Kael asked.

  The hyena creature rolled its eyes at Kael's question, a loud sigh escaping its lips.

  "Many kinds, pal," the creature said. "Fire ones, lightning ones, water ones, poison ones, acid ones, big ones, small ones..." It gave a shrug, as if that should be enough to cover all the possibilities.

  Kael stood still for a moment, his gaze flicking between the piles of eggs and the creature who had become his unwilling seller.

  The sheer number of options was almost overwhelming. Each were a piece of raw potential.

  But Kael had to stay focused. He didn’t need a dragon to fight by his side. He needed an egg to sell. A mere commodity.

  And since he was selling to the Outside Races, he needed it to be managed easily.

  "Which one is the weakest?" Kael asked.

  The hyena’s eyes narrowed, clearly puzzled by the question. The creature tilted its head, as if trying to understand why anyone would ask for the weakest of all things.

  "You want the weakest?" it asked, clearly bewildered. "Pal, they’re all the same price. Weak or strong."

  "I understand," Kael said, nodding. "But I want the weakest dragon when it grows up."

  “Yeah, whatever pal. Wyverns are the weakest.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the response. “Wyverns?”

  "Yeah, Wyverns. They aren’t even real dragons, pal. Only two legs, two wings, can’t breathe any element, can’t do half the stuff real dragons can. They’re your best bet for the weakest."

  Kael paused, thinking it over. If Wyverns couldn’t breathe fire or poison, couldn’t unleash the elemental chaos that came with true dragons, then perhaps they were exactly what he needed for his gold.

  "I’ll take one," he said.

  "You sure about that?" the hyena creature asked.

  "Yes, I’m sure."

  The hyena-like creature gave a sharp laugh, shaking its head before it started rummaging through a small pile of eggs. After a moment, it pulled out a small, greyish smooth egg.

  Kael reached out, accepting the egg with his hands. It was about the size of his head and was surprisingly light.

  “A thousand gold for the egg, pal,” it said.

  Kael nodded, reaching into his orb for the gold. It was a large amount of spending for Kael but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. This was the kind of deal he needed to make. Risky enough to secure a future for his conclave.

  He left Tyrannix’s stall, the wyvern egg nestled safely in his orb, yet Kael could still feel its weight. His mind was still on what lay ahead. The path was set now. The gold he needed to form a conclave, the reward from Vor was his. The dragon egg that he would sell to Myke for even more gold lay within his orb.

  He had a goal. And it was coming together perfectly.

  Then, as he turned a corner, his shoulder brushed against someone. It was brief, a jarring contact that snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced up, about to apologize, but then froze.

  There, standing before him, was Rova.

  He hadn’t seen Rova since the ritual in Avaris’s square, the one where Rova’s mana was drained and his body had been left a hollow shell. Kael had heard little of what happened to him after that, but he had never quite expected to see him again. Especially not here.

  Kael’s heart swelled. Rova had passed his Ascension and made it to Bronze. But as Kael looked up, he was surprised.

  Rova wasn’t the same.

  The yellow rotund Master now looked different, his form barely recognizable. The back half of his head was now covered in metal plates, glowing faintly. He looked as though his head had been replaced with machinery.

  The sight was unnerving, an unnatural twist. His eyes, usually filled with the nervous tension that had always defined him, were now sharp, cold, and something else.

  Anger.

  Rova clapped his hands together, a sharp crack echoing through the air. His expression was harder, the nervous, submissive Master Kael had once known gone. In its place was a creature with an unsettling air of vengeance, resentment in his voice.

  "Looks like you’re doing well, Kael," Rova said.

  “Rova,” Kael said, “how are you?”

  Rova let out a harsh, almost dismissive laugh. He gestured to his head, his hand brushing against the metal plates, the mana crystals shimmering with energy in the machinery.

  “I’m peachy,” he replied flatly. “I’m positively glowing.”

  "See what Avaris did?" Rova continued. “He put mana crystals in my head to boost my magic. Upgraded me, he said.”

  Kael felt the discomfort rise in his chest, his eyes flicking from the metal plates to Rova’s expression. The change in him was more than just physical. It was psychological.

  Something had broken in Rova.

  Rova’s lips curled into a tight smile, but there was no warmth in it. Instead, it was a smirk, one of resentment and scorn.

  “See,” Rova said, voice rising. "You left. All high and mighty. Thought you could leave and become something else, didn't you? But not all of us could leave Avaris. Not all of us could survive on our own.”

  Kael felt the weight of the words as they slammed into him. He could feel the guilt rising—he hadn’t stayed, he hadn’t helped Rova. He had walked away.

  But he wasn’t sure how to respond to the bitterness and anger that bled through Rova’s words.

  Rova wasn’t done, though.

  “So, I had to stay,” Rova spat. "Experimented on. While you and Lira are off having fun, living your dreams."

  Kael cleared his throat, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to find the right words. “Rova, I’m so sor—”

  Rova interrupted him, the words cutting through the air like a blade.

  “I’m not done.”

  The metal plates in Rova’s head began to glow brighter, a faint hum of power reverberating through the Marketplace. The ground beneath Kael’s feet started to vibrate, a subtle hum that quickly grew in intensity.

  “The worst part is that Avaris is dead,” Rova said, his eyes narrowing, "So the damn experiment couldn’t even finish."

  Kael paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Avaris is dead?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Rova replied matter-of-factly. “Some adventurers went to his square and killed him.”

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  Kael had always known Avaris was a dangerous figure, a powerful Master. But it seemed Terrance and his party had succeeded. Yet, Avaris’s defeat did not change a thing. Rova was still plagued by his influence.

  Rova’s gaze never faltered, his voice growing louder as the ground seemed to quake beneath them.

  “So…” Rova muttered. “What am I to do?”

  Rova’s question was almost rhetorical, but the anger in his voice, the underlying frustration, couldn’t be denied.

  Kael gripped his hammer tighter, the tension building to an almost electric level. Small trinkets in nearby stalls started to vibrate, some even levitated in the air. And just as the shaking reached its peak, there was a flicker in the air.

  It was a figure, small and translucent, but unmistakable. The creature wore a top hat, its appearance so out of place it almost felt comical. The imp floated before them.

  It was Mizzit, guide and Master of the Marketplace. The imp snapped its fingers.

  From the air, a pile of gold coins and treasure seemed to materialize, falling to the ground in a glittering cascade. It was a spectacle, a show of wealth, power, and something even more.

  The treasure began to move, the coins themselves rising from the ground. They formed into a towering humanoid form and atop the figure’s head sat a jewel-encrusted treasure chest.

  Mizzit clapped his hands together in satisfaction, his expression both pleased and bemused.

  "No fighting, Masters," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he grinned. "Unless, of course, you want to fight my treasure elemental."

  Kael glanced to the side, his gaze locking onto Rova, whose metallic head had begun to lose its glow, the faint light slowly dimming. The shaking of the stalls and items around the Marketplace ceased as well, the tremors in the air vanishing as if the world itself had settled once again.

  Rova’s movements were slow, deliberate as he walked towards Kael. His words seethed, the bitterness in them almost palpable.

  “You got the glory, the power that was meant for me.”

  Kael opened his mouth to respond, but Rova didn’t let him.

  “One day, Kael,” Rova continued, the words low and dangerous. “One day I will take them from you.”

  And then, without another word, Rova turned on his heel. Rova’s metallic head shined one last time before he turned round a corner in the Marketplace.

  The small crowd that had gathered to watch the altercation between Kael and Rova slowly began to disperse, their whispers fading into the air as they returned to their own business, their curiosity sated for the moment.

  And then, just as the last murmurs of the crowd faded, a familiar voice called out to him.

  “What is going on, Kael?”

  Kael turned to see Lira approaching, her step light, her presence still a source of quiet comfort for him. The playful edge that had been there earlier in her voice was gone, replaced by a sharp concern that mirrored his own.

  “I just spoke with Rova,” Kael replied.

  Lira listened intently, her expression shocked as Kael told her what happened. “Rova has gone through so much because of Avaris," she said after a long pause. "But he shouldn’t be threatening you, Kael. Not like that."

  "I know," Kael murmured. "But he’s still trapped in Avaris’s shadow. He has so much anger built up inside of him. I don't think he can see clearly right now.”

  “He might come around later. He just needs time. Time he has now has since Avaris is gone,” Lira said. “He’s been hurt. And right now, he can’t see beyond that pain.”

  It was the madness of Avaris’s experiments. Twisted him. Perhaps, in time, Rova could find his way back, find a way to see through the resentment.

  “Yeah,” Kael agreed. “Maybe he’ll see things clearer. Maybe even forgive himself for what he’s become."

  Lira didn’t respond immediately, but Kael could feel the weight of her thoughts. There was more she wanted to say.

  The quiet moment stretched between them before Lira finally spoke. Her tone was hesitant but gentle, like someone unsure of whether to share something personal.

  "This isn’t the right time…" Lira said, her eyes flicking down at her hands. Then, with a small smile, she revealed that she was holding something behind her back.

  “But… I got you a present.”

  In one swift motion, she revealed what she had been hiding. The glint of metal caught Kael’s eye immediately.

  It was a scimitar, the blade curved in an elegant arc, its surface gleaming in the light. The craftsmanship was flawless—sharp with a slight shimmer along the edge.

  “I know you like sickles,” she teased, “but a scimitar is pretty cool too, don’t you think?”

  Kael stared at the scimitar in awe, his fingers lightly brushing the curve of the blade. He had always admired the precision and shape of a sickle and he had been training with a sword recently.

  But this—this was something else. It was the perfect blend of a sickle and a sword.

  It felt right.

  The weight, the balance, it was like it had been made just for him. Before Kael could speak, there was a sudden burst of heat.

  The blade ignited in flames, the fire licking at the air, swirling around it. Kael was startled by the sudden surge of energy, but the fire didn’t burn him.

  “Whoa,” Kael said.

  Lira chuckled. “It’s a Scimitar of Flame,” she said. “You got that ice hammer, so I figured a flaming sword would work well with it.”

  Kael looked at the flames, the way they danced along the blade. Lira said it just right. The two opposites—fire and ice—came together perfectly.

  “So you like it?” Lira asked.

  “Yes, I love it.”

  Before Kael could say anything more, Lira leaned in quickly, her lips brushing against his cheek. The kiss was fleeting, but it was full of meaning.

  “Thanks for helping me with the Ascension.”

  The warmth of the moment, the joy of being in Lira’s presence, was everything he had hoped for. But then, almost as quickly as it came, the familiar shadow of guilt clouded his mind. His thoughts drifted to Rova, and the promise of vengeance that still lingered between them.

  Lira noticed the change in his expression almost immediately. “Kael? What’s wrong?” she asked.

  "Nothing," Kael replied. “Everything is fine.”

  Lira didn’t seem convinced, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she didn’t press him further.

  “I’m fine," Kael said again. “Really.”

  Lira simply watched him for a moment longer, then reached out and gently touched his arm.

  Kael knew it was almost time to go. Just as he thought it, an announcement rang out.

  “The Sunday meeting is beginning.”

  Kael and Lira exchanged a quick glance, before turning towards the gathering hall. Kael’s gaze drifted to Lira’s side, where her hand hung loosely by her body. A sudden impulse took root in Kael’s chest, a simple thought: to reach out and take her hand, to close the distance between them. His hand moved instinctively, his fingers curling as though to bridge the gap.

  But before he could act on it, a voice cut through the moment, loud and rough.

  "Kael!"

  He turned, and there was Nexi. The tall Master looked like he had been carved from rock himself. His hard, stony exterior remained unchanged as he walked toward Kael, but there was a faint light in his eyes.

  "Kael!" Nexi called again. “I got your gold. All hundred of them.”

  Kael held up his hands in a gesture of refusal. “You can keep it.”

  “Nah,” Nexi replied, that same stony expression never faltering. “I got to pay you back. It’s everything I got.”

  “I don’t want to leave you without any gold,” Kael said. “Maybe pay half today and the rest next week?”

  “Yes, that's fine with me, Kael. Next week it is.”

  Kael nodded, satisfied with the arrangement. He turned to Lira, offering her a small smile before introducing them.

  “I’m starting a conclave, Nexi. And I’d like to invite you to join us.”

  “Yes, I’d love to join,” Nexi said. “No one had invited me before.. So cheers for that, Kael.”

  Kael nodded, a feeling of satisfaction settling within him. His conclave wasn’t just an idea anymore. It was becoming something real, something tangible.

  The three of them moved to sit together, waiting for the grand overseer to start the proceedings.

  The Sunday meeting began with the usual formalities. Zibbit, the towering imp sitting at the front of the hall, his giant orb casting light onto the Masters. New Masters that survived had light shone on them, announcements were made, and the updates given that didn’t quite hold Kael’s attention.

  But then came the part that always drew the most eyes—the weekly kills leaderboard. It was the highlight, the moment of the hour for every Master present.

  Zibbit's voice, loud and commanding, announced the start of the leaderboard. His hands clapped together, his eyes glinting with mischief as the giant orb beside him flickered to life.

  The names and numbers flashed across the surface in a blur, faster than Kael could follow. Kael watched with mild curiosity, knowing fully well that his name would not appear.

  Then, amidst the chaos of flickering figures, Kael’s eyes locked onto one particular line.

  199th place – Kael – 51 kills

  His breath caught in his chest for a moment. He had done it.

  His name was on the leaderboard. Not top 10, not top 5, but still on the board. He had faced the Gauntlet, beaten the invaders, and now he was part of the record, a number among the many.

  Kael breathed out, trying to push the faint thrill of success from his chest, but he couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. This was a start. A beginning of something bigger.

  But as the leaderboard moved forward, his name was replaced by something else.

  The top three.

  First came Pathox—third place. The number next to his biomancer’s name was a huge figure, impressive in its own right, but it was nothing compared to what came next. The Dark Lord sat in second, another colossal figure.

  It was time for the top spot. And Kael already knew who it would be.

  Vor. The demon general. The Master that brought Golden City to its knees.

  And then, as expected, Vor’s name appeared.

  The giant orb flickered again, and the numbers froze for a moment, highlighting Vor’s name in bold, glowing letters:

  Vor – 27 194 083 kills

  The room was suddenly filled with a deafening silence, a collective shock rippling through the Masters gathered around the hall. It was as though the weight of the number had crashed down on them all at once, the magnitude of it sinking into their minds.

  Then, as if a dam had broken, the crowd erupted. The air was filled with cheers, the shouts rising in intensity as the Masters celebrated the achievement, the applause booming through the hall.

  Zibbit, his hands raised high, took control of the moment, his voice booming over the noise, louder than it had ever been before.

  “I had to wait almost a century,” Zibbit shouted, “For a record like this! An eight-digit kill count!”

  The energy in the room became electrifying. The cheers grew louder, and the Masters started chanting.

  “Vor!” they shouted, the name echoing off the walls, a chant that seemed to sweep through the crowd like a wildfire. “Vor! Vor! Vor!”

  “It was ingenious really, Vor,” Zibbit continued, still feeding the crowd’s frenzy. “I want to show how you did it to everyone, your brilliant play. But don’t worry, I won’t show your secrets.”

  The crowd’s cheering and screaming reached a deafening crescendo. The chants didn’t stop, the roar of excitement seeming to shake the very walls of the hall.

  “Vor! Vor! Vor!”

  Standing at the front of the room, Vor the Demon General raised his hands. The crowd fell into a hush, their voices silent as his commanding presence took hold. His ornate armor, forged from the finest demon-forged steel, gleamed in the light.

  “I did not do this alone!” Vor declared, his voice roaring through the hall with the force of his presence.

  And then, in a movement so sudden, so definitive, Vor pointed directly at him, across the room, across the sea of Master’s faces. His finger stabbed the air like a spear, a spotlight now turned on Kael.

  “It was Kael! Kael the strategist!”

  The words hung in the air. Before Kael could fully grasp what was happening, Vor’s lieutenant, the giant pale Master that threw the boulders, roared in agreement.

  “Kael the strategist!”

  The crowd’s reaction was immediate. His name rang out again, this time in a rising chorus. “Kael the Strategist! Kael the Strategist!”

  The sound was almost overwhelming, and Kael, sitting at the edge of the gathering, felt a flush of surprise rise in him. He had never expected this kind of recognition. He had been a consultant, an advisor, a behind-the-scenes player. To suddenly be thrust into the spotlight, the chant of his name filling the air, was… surreal.

  Voices from the crowd cut through, loud and almost proud in its tone.

  "Gauntlet winner Kael!"

  "Slime Master Kael!"

  He glanced around at the crowd, his gaze flickering over the Masters who were shouting, chanting, and clapping. The noise seemed to swirl in his ears as his mind tried to process it all.

  Pathox, as small and childlike as ever, sat with his tendrils clapping together, his eyes narrowed as he observed the spectacle.

  Tyrannix, the two-headed dragon, stood still, whispering something to his twin. Their silent conversation was ominous, their heads shifting in quiet harmony as they seemed to discuss the chaos unfolding around them.

  Zibbit, the giant imp who had seen everything and yet seemed to take great pleasure in watching, was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes gleaming with sinister mischief.

  Beside Kael, Lira sat with a proud smile. She had seen him through everything—from the uncertainty of his first steps as a new Master to their struggles with Avaris to his rise as a strategist for Vor.

  And then there was Rova, sitting in the corner, unmoving, his metal plates still glinting faintly in the light. His presence was heavy, like a silent shadow, but he remained seated, still, his expression unreadable.

  The chanting continued, the Masters growing louder, their voices rising in unison.

  "Kael the Strategist! Kael the Strategist!"

  Was this how Masters get nicknames? Kael thought. One victory, one show of strength, and they were suddenly transformed into legends?

  The name felt like it carried more weight than he was ready for.

  The chanting continued, and Kael smiled, finally embracing the moment.

  He was Kael The Strategist.

  ******