Whitehall exited the chamber, where he advanced to Underlord. He ought to test out his new capabilities first to see how his techniques have improved. But deep down, he wanted to do something first.
As he made his way back to his shared room with Sadi a few of the Lord level Sacred Beast nodded at him with approval.
Did they hear his revelation? Or were they proud of his advancement?
He shook those thoughts away, rushing towards his destination. His Underlord body carried him quickly, even without using his enforcer technique.
When he entered his room, he found Sadi there, pacing about the room with nervousness .
She paused when he opened the door.
They stayed quiet as he entered and shut the door behind him.
He didn't know what to say. How to say it.
Sadi spoke first. "You've advanced."
Even behind the mask, he felt like she was seeing through him. Like she always could.
"Yes," he replied.
She smiled softly.
She was beautiful.
"Your lifeline is whole again?" she asked, her gentle smile still present.
"Yes," he nodded, trying his best to return a similar smile.
"That's good," Sadi replied, and Whitehall heard relief in her tone.
"Were you worried?" he asked quietly.
Sadi met his eyes, pushing away the feeling in her gut.
"Yes," she replied just as softly. "Very."
He approached her slowly, but she approached him, too.
They embraced each other, tight and long.
They let the comfortable silence brew between them, enjoying the comfort in each other's arms.
After a moment, they leaned back, but their arms were still held tightly around one another.
Whitehall was nervous, but he decided to say it anyway.
"I know I probably should wait for a better moment," he began.
This close, he can see Sadi's cheeks turning red beneath her golden glow, colouring her like dawn on fire.
"But I don't want to wait," he continued. "I don't want to wait for fate to offer us a better moment."
"Whitehall," she whispered.
She reached up, fingers trailing against the rough edge of his mask.
Carefully—reverently—she removed it.
The wooden mask landed softly on the mattress behind them.
And she saw him.
All of him.
"I love you," he whispered. "And I want to pick up where we left off right before Master disturbed us."
That was all the hint Sadi needed, and the next thing she knew, their lips were touching against one another.
His lips were moist and soft, yet strong at the same time.
Her lips were gentle and small, yet felt perfect on his.
They parted after a moment, both of them breathing heavily as they felt each other's breath.
She smiled at him. "You took the words right out of my mouth."
Whitehall opened his mouth to reply—heart full, words rising—
... Click.
The door slid open.
They both froze.
Ziel stood at the entrance, watching them apathetically with his emotionless eyes. His expression was blank, and his posture loose.
They both stared back awkwardly. There was no hiding what they were doing with their arms wrapped around each other and cheeks blushing.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
Ziel continued to stare silently.
The silence stretched.
Too long.
It was getting awkward.
Ziel began to slowly shuffle to the side as though he had never been there.
Ziel spoke once he was out of view. "The Beast King asked for your presence."
And then his spirit disappeared as he veiled himself and shut the door.
Whitehall blinked once.
Sadi let out a tiny laugh, muffled by the back of her hand.
"Of course," Whitehall muttered.
"Fate," Sadi said with a grin. "It's always watching."
"Where are we going?" Sadi asked, brushing a branch aside as she and Whitehall followed their master through a forest so thick it swallowed the wind.
The trees here weren't like the ones near their old training grounds. These trunks were wider than temple pillars, some covered in moss so thick it shimmered like velvet. Vines hung like curtains, swaying even though there was no breeze. The grass rose above their knees, untamed and silver-tipped, bending only under the weight of history.
Every step was muffled. Ancient.
Sadi had spent the last year in the Wastekabd — the sharp humidity, the music of insects, the scent of wet earth — they had always felt like home.
But this?
This place felt wrong.
Old.
Forgotten.
The kind of place the wild itself refused to claim.
Even the birds won't sing here, she thought.
Her skin prickled, and she caught herself walking closer to Whitehall.
The Beast King walked ahead of them with the casualness of someone taking a morning stroll — arms folded behind his head, jaw cracking in a yawn as he watched the bleeding gold of the sunrise break through the canopy.
"We're heading to the castle where the last Black Dragon Emperor resided," he said.
His voice carried easily through the trees. Too easily. The sound felt like it didn't belong here.
Sadi paused. "Wait… is he still alive?" Her hand instinctively brushed the hilt of her weapon. " I know we've both advanced, but I don't think we're ready to face a Dragon Emperor."
The Beast King waved a hand like he was swatting away a gnat. "None of that. He's long dead. Last I checked."
Whitehall raised an eyebrow. "And when was that, exactly?"
The Beast King turned, peering over his shoulder. His expression was half-smile, half-shrug.
"Couple centuries? Maybe four or five. Time's tricky. Once you hit a few hundred years, you stop counting in calendar terms. It's all vibes after a while."
Sadi narrowed her eyes. "And what's the point of going there now? You've been around long enough—you're telling me you've never raided the place already?"
That made the Beast King stop.
He came to a full halt in the middle of the path. The trees around them seemed to lean in, listening.
He turned slowly to face them.
For once, his usual lopsided grin was gone.
He knelt — not as a sign of humility, but to speak to them eye to eye.
The shift in his posture changed everything. He didn't feel like a reckless mentor anymore.
He felt like a Herald.
His voice was low. Steady. "I've never gone inside."
Sadi blinked. "What?"
"I don't know what's in there," he said. "Only that it's meant for you both."
Whitehall's expression tightened. "What do you mean 'meant for us'?"
The Beast King closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose like a beast tasting the wind.
"Whatever you see inside… you don't tell anyone."
He opened his eyes.
Dark. Clear. Sharp.
"Not even me."
Silence.
Whitehall and Sadi both took a small, involuntary step back.
The air felt heavier now. Not with danger — with depth.
There were layers to this. Plans within plans. Threads older than their understanding.
"…Meatball? " Whitehall asked quietly.
The Beast King shook his head once. "Not even her. She'll know. Probably already does."
Before either could respond, his expression shifted again . Like a sudden sunrise.
A grin spread across his face, wide and wild.
And then he laughed — a booming, delighted sound that cracked the silence like thunder.
The force of it pushed through the jungle like a wave, flattening the tall grass in a circle around them, rustling the trees like an invisible hand had stirred the world.
Sadi blinked in surprise.
That was when Sadi realised his laughter did not hurt her ears anymore.
"Underlord bodies are really something, isn't it? " The Beast King wiggled his eyes at Sadi knowingly.
"Don't try to change the subject, " Sadi growled. "What did you mean by- "
Their master cut her off. "Swear it first, " he suggested with a joyful tone.
Whitehall spoke without hesitation. "I swear. " And the soal oath snapped into place.
The Beast King nodded and looked at Sadi.
Sadi rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I swear. Now spill it?"
The Beast King gave a satisfied nod but didn't explain.
Instead, he stepped aside and raised his hand like a performer, revealing the final act.
"Good. Because…”
He paused for dramatic effect.
"We've arrived."
Sadi turned to look — and her breath caught.
Through a break in the trees, half-shrouded by morning mist, stood the outline of something massive . Cracked spires . A gatehouse swallowed by vines . Stone that shimmered faintly with dragon statues and old majesty.
But before she could say a word—
The Beast King grinned.
And threw them.
One hand on Whitehall's collar , the other on Sadi's, he flung them high into the sky like two wayward pebbles.
They soared above the canopy, wind howling past their ears, the jungle shrinking beneath them.
Somewhere far below, the Beast King watched them vanish into the distance , hands on his hips.
"They'll survive the landing, " he muttered. "Probably."
His grin widened.
"Hopefully."
Sadi didn't scream.
She wanted to.
But something in her pride — or maybe her newly advanced Underlord body — decided it was best to just suffer in silence.
That didn't stop her stomach from flipping like a leaf in a hurricane.
One moment, she was squinting through the morning mist at the ruins of a long-lost castle.
The next, she was airborne.
Launched by her insufferably cheerful master, flung through the treetops like a pair of mismatched laundry pieces caught in a sudden gust.
Whitehall, just beside her in the air, had his arms and legs tucked close, spinning slowly like an uncoordinated cartwheel.
Sadi twisted in midair to stabilise herself. The wind howled in her ears, tearing at her hair. She clenched her jaw.
Still, it wasn't the falling that was the worst part.
It was a funny feeling.
A kind of twisting in her gut—not fear, not sickness, but something weirder. Like reality had kinked somewhere, bent around her trajectory. The light shimmered wrong. The shadows cast by the trees far below didn't match the shape of the canopy. It felt like she was falling through the image of a forest rather than toward it.
Illusion, she realised, blinking furiously as her perception began to flare.
She reached for the glow inside her — not her eyes, but her spirit, the light tied to her madra and to Sunda's remnant.
And just like that—
The false image rippled.
What she had seen from the ground, what she'd thought was a crumbling ruin of collapsed towers and overgrown stone, began to peel away as she descended.
Vines shimmered and vanished. Broken walls reformed, revealing smooth, ancient stone with uknown writings seared into the walls with fire. The spires were no longer hollowed out but whole — etched with preserved murals and polished gold trim. Pathways that looked cracked from above were pristine, swept clean of debris.
The entire ruin had been an illusion crafted from light. A shell of decay masking elegance and intention.
Sadi gasped.
It was beautiful.
Which was unfortunate timing , because she hit the ground right after .
She landed hard — the kind of impact that would have snapped every bone in her old body. But her new Underlord form took it like it was nothing, skidding across the polished stone on her side, spinning once before crashing into a pile of ornately carved crates stacked by an entry arch.
Behind her, Whitehall landed with significantly less grace.
He tried to control his descent by manipulating wind aura from his feet. It worked—for a moment—until it overcorrected, and he cannonballed directly into a massive clay pot filled with sacred moss.
It exploded with a puff of fragrant dust.
Sadi groaned, coughing, still half-sprawled across the crates.
"Still alive? " she called.
Whitehall coughed back, voice muffled. "Define alive."
Sadi sat up slowly, taking in their surroundings properly for the first time.
What she saw made her pause.
This wasn't just some old keep left to rot in the jungle. This place had been preserved.
The light madra wasn't just hiding ruin — it was maintaining beauty. There were scripts embedded into the walls , glowing faintly like veins of firefly gold. The floors were spotless . The pillars unbroken. A carved mural of a dragon mid-flight circled the high ceiling like it had been done yesterday.
And it was silent.
Not the silence of emptiness.
The silence of something waiting.
She stood, brushing off her clothes, her expression suddenly sober.
Whitehall emerged from the wreckage of his moss jar, rubbing the back of his head, still picking flakes of sacred herb from his collar.
"This wasn't what I was expecting, " he muttered.
"It's not what anyone would expect, " Sadi replied quietly.
She stepped forward toward the grand arched entryway that yawned like the mouth of a slumbering beast.
The air here felt still but not stale. Clean. Almost reverent.
This place is awake, she thought.
Whitehall came to stand beside her, eyes roaming the high ceilings and meticulous script work.
"I don't think this place has been abandoned, " he said. "It's been waiting."
"For us? " she asked, almost afraid of the answer.
He didn't reply.
Not because he didn't want to.
Because at that moment, the doors ahead of them—massive slabs of blackwood inlaid with dragon bone—creaked open.
Not by force.
Not with resistance.
But with invitation .
Sadi tried to peer inside, but she could only see darkness. Her eyes should've allowed her to see in the dark, but something was blocking her sight. Someone had used light madra stronger than hers to completely block her view .
Whitehall opened his mouth, but Sadi spoke first.
"I'll take the lead, " she said, unsheating her knives. "My eyes are better than yours."
Whitehall looked like he wanted to argue, but he nodded at the end.
Sadi approached the entrance slowly, and she felt Whitehall place a hand on her shoulder as he activated his whip.
Together, they entered.
