Mindless Gathering

  The air inside the royal war chamber was heavy with tension. The grand hall, adorned with banners of the kingdom, was filled with the leaders of the strongest guilds—White Flame, Azure Tempest, Obsidian Fang, and the Crimson Guild. They had been summoned immediately after the battle, but none of them knew why.

  Seated at the head of the table was Magnus Regis, the Grand Marshal of the kingdom. His silver hair and piercing golden eyes radiated authority, and the scars across his arms told the story of countless battles. He was the only known SS-rank mage-fighter, a legend in his own right.

  Magnus: "The war was never meant to begin, yet you all fought it like it was destined. Tell me, what did we truly face?"

  Garrick, his arms crossed, leaned forward.

  Garrick: "They weren't just mindless invaders. Their retreat was planned, controlled. They didn’t fight to win. They fought to make a statement."

  Darius Valen of the Crimson Guild scoffed, his crimson cape billowing as he leaned back in his chair.

  Darius: "Then what was the statement? Why attack if not to conquer?"

  Cain, his expression grim, interjected.

  Cain: "They wanted something—or someone. But they never got what they came for. That’s why they left."

  Magnus studied them all in silence before speaking.

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  Magnus: "Then we are left with more questions than answers. And a fallen warrior who may hold the key."

  The room fell silent. Everyone knew who he meant.

  Within the castle’s medical wing, the atmosphere was entirely different. Healers from multiple guilds, led by Lyra, gathered around Hanzo's motionless body. His breathing was faint, and his skin had lost its warmth. The wound in his chest had closed, but something was still very wrong.

  Lyra pressed her hands against his chest, her healing magic flowing into him, yet she could feel something resisting it. Desperation filled her voice.

  Lyra: "Why isn’t this working?! His body is healed, but he’s not waking up!"

  The other healers exchanged worried glances. No matter how much magic they poured into him, nothing changed. That was when Roderic entered the room, his expression calm yet serious.

  Roderic: "Stop wasting your energy. It’s not his body that’s injured—it’s his soul."

  The healers turned to him in shock. He held up the weapon that had struck Hanzo—a sinister-looking dagger, its blade engraved with ancient runes.

  Roderic: "This is the Blade of Hypthasis. It doesn’t just wound flesh. It strikes at the soul, corrupting it. No ordinary healer can mend this kind of injury."

  A hushed silence followed his words. Lyra’s hands trembled as she looked down at Hanzo.

  Lyra: "Then...what can we do?"

  Roderic sighed and turned toward the doorway.

  Roderic: "There’s only one person who can heal a soul wound like this. We need Cyrmei—the S-rank healer of Azure Tempest."

  Lyra: "The Vice Guild Master of Azure Tempest...? But... she rarely intervenes in these matters."

  Roderic: "She doesn’t just use healing magic—she understands the soul itself. If there’s anyone who can undo the corruption spreading through Hanzo, it’s her."

  A heavy silence loomed over the group before Garrick finally nodded.

  Garrick: "Then we don’t have a choice. We need to find her. Fast."A flicker of hope sparked in Lyra’s eyes, but it was accompanied by fear.

  Would Cyrmei arrive in time? Would Hanzo even survive long enough to be saved?

  As the castle remained in turmoil, one thing was certain—Hanzo’s fate now rested in the hands of someone who had yet to arrive.