They skimmed through the story of Uvrodon, referring to it as a mere tale: His desires fulfilled, his journey to achieve his aspirations. The tale recounted the betrayals he endured in Saint Domon, the harsh realities of the world he encountered, and his relentless efforts to ensure others didn’t face similar hardships. It detailed his struggles to repair the old path and his resourcefulness in forging a new one. Ultimately, they described how he faced rejection from the higher-ups for aiding the less fortunate, yet remained steadfast in his convictions and pursued a fresh approach in Saint Cathel.

Tears welled in the group’s eyes, a rare display of emotion fostered by the minor comforts of the guard barracks. Their collective gaze shifted towards Yanko’s suit, yet none dared to confront the remains of what once was.

Were they desecrating the body of an innocent man, exploiting it for their own purposes? How long had they been manipulated? Was there a better world beyond their current existence, where they could enjoy simple luxuries like plentiful food and water for washing clothes?

Above all, one question gnawed at them: Were they fighting for the right cause?

For the first time, the sisters questioned their boss’s directives, though they already anticipated his dismissive response. “If you don’t want to serve me, then leave. I’ll find new pawns,” Ric would likely retort.

“Focus on the information about Cathel,” Wrilo instructed, eager to divert their attention from the unsettling contemplation of their moral standing.

The group rubbed at their eyes, attempting to clear their vision, yet not a single tear was visible in hers. Either she had wiped it away before they caught her or refrained from squandering the precious cup of water she had enjoyed moments earlier.

Yanko nodded and flipped through a few pages, his muttering curses directed at Ric. “Here!” he announced.

*!BANG!*

The sudden knock on the door startled the group.

“Who’s in there?” a guard shouted.

“A fallen hero!” Belle sobbed.

Without hesitation, Wrilo leaped across the table and concealed herself in her suit, while Rika slid across it and silenced Belle by crashing into her.

“Now!” Rika commanded in a sharp tone, prompting the rest of the group into action.

They collided with each other, toppling furniture and dismantling the barricade. The sisters playfully swiped at Yanko, adding to the chaos.

“Come in,” Mae called out, mimicking Claude’s authoritative tone.

Rika noticed her missing crab leg atop Yanko and hurled a pillow to knock it behind the sofa.

“Oh, sir... sire,” the guard stammered, saluting. “My apologies. I didn’t realize you had returned.” He bowed to everyone but lingered at Rika. “May I inquire if the sire wishes to sit on the sofa?”

Rika leaned away, feigning discomfort while concealing her missing limb. “Practicing?” she suggested with a wry smile.

“Get to the point,” Wrilo growled, her demeanor mirroring Bart’s disdain for everything in life.

“We never received orders to close the mud wall. The zone mages are at the brink of collapsing from exhaustion, and if they continue standing under the scorching sun, they might die,” the guard explained, bowing deep, almost touching the floor.

“Why isn’t there a door?” Mae’s voice came from behind the sofa.

“A door?” The guard perked up at the question and spotted Yanko struggling to climb onto the sofa. He banged his head on the floor by accident as Uvrodon’s tail knocked over a teacup.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Yanko, overlooking their guest, focused on capturing the mischievous creature. He considered tossing her to the guard but opted to knock her out instead.

“I’ll get it done,” the guard assured as he crawled away, his head still lowered.

“Add a small door,” Mae instructed, as the guard disappeared into the hallway.

“You scolded me and then turned around to torture them more,” Yanko remarked, his hip jerking.

The movement swung Uvrodon’s tail straight into Mae's face. The sight of Mae’s bewildered expression, followed by her nosebleed, broke the tension in the room, sending everyone into fits of laughter. They tumbled off the sofa and onto the floor, struggling to contain their amusement. Despite their attempts to remember their roles as infiltrators, they couldn’t help but succumb to laughter each time they looked at Mae’s dazed face.

Mae picked up the book, hoping to bring some semblance of order by starting the tale. However, her dumbfounded expression only grew more comical the longer she stared at the pages.

Activating her inner Ric, Mae began spouting nonsense, capturing everyone’s attention. “My inner demon ain’t that bad,” she thought to herself, patting her own back before handing the book to Yanko. “Enough chatter, old-timer. We haven’t got all day.”

The latest location allocated for Cathel was on the dual mountain of Zanor, known for its peculiar nature of spewing both lava and ice. Nestled at the peak below Mount Zanor, the castle of Cathel stood tall, accommodating the contrasting climates brought about by the mountain’s unique contract's.

“A mountain making contracts?” The sisters exclaimed as one.

“Shh...” Rika hushed the sisters. “No one in this room knows everything. We’ll relay the information to Ric for further analysis. Stop interrupting.”

“Have we decided whose side we’re on?” Yanko interjected, his gaze drifting over the suit he wore. “Are we fighting for the right cause?”

“Let’s discuss this after we’ve gathered all the information,” Wrilo interjected, pointing at the book, hoping to redirect the conversation.

Yanko’s voice caught, tears welling in his eyes.

“Feeling emotional, are we?” Mae teased, poking Yanko with a milder jab.

“We need the information regardless,” Wrilo interjected, her eyes glaring daggers. “And if you haven’t noticed, we’re amidst an infiltration operation that we seem to fail at. We’re questioning the loyalty of someone who has led us this far and has been transparent about his motives, unlike a certain noble snake who’s been here for over a year and done nothing.”

The group was stunned, witnessing Wrilo’s outburst for the first time. In all the years they had known her, she had never shown any signs of agitation or expressed her opinions so vehemently. Yet now, even she had reached her breaking point, demanding better from everyone around.

“I don’t want to argue,” Wrilo emphasized each word, her teeth clenched. “Let’s prioritize gathering the information first and save our debates for a safer place where our lives aren’t at risk.”

The group nodded in agreement, and Yanko resumed recounting the tale.

“A few miles below the true borders of Cathel, lies a sandy-white wall hundreds of meters tall, fortified with thousands of low-tier artifacts. These wall serves to protect and segregate the nobles from the commoners,” Yanko narrated.

“What quality lacks, the ingenuity of Cathel’s brilliant minds compensates with quantity. The low-tier artifacts integrated into the wall extend the illusion created by Mount Zanor. Except for a select few, most citizens are oblivious to the fact that they inhabit a mountainside,” he continued.

“The mirage, bolstered and controlled by the artifacts, deceives the populace into perceiving a flat landscape,” Yanko elaborated.

“At the peak of the mountain lies the maw of the mysterious Mount Zanor. The second sector, known as Heaven, is a summit beyond mortal dreams, reserved for the royal family and a privileged few who are privy to the truth,” Yanko explained.

“Below this unattainable peak reside the lesser nobles, individuals who are a mere few steps away from reaching Heaven. While they are aware of such a place, only a select few ever experience its true beauty,” he concluded.

Or perhaps these were the people planted on purpose to keep the hopes ignited and fuel the desires of mortals to serve.

The land between the walls of Heaven and Grimvale district: Richie Lane. A place meant for the rich and noblemen. They never saw the lands beneath or the lands above. Once they moved below, they were branded outcasts. Useless pieces of trash, never able to return. Once they stepped above, they became enlightened beings. Deemed too pure to mix with the commoners they shared their entire lives with, so they never returned.

Yanko flipped the page, the page feeling heavier than before, yet he powered through as the horror clutched his heart tighter.

It has been ages since the last batch of nobles got promoted to heaven. No one knows if they died or never felt like returning to their family. After all, only a select few individuals are permitted, and once they cross a wall, be it to the lower regions or Heaven, they never return.

Most of the folks living in Richie Lane never crossed either wall, forever stuck, boxed-in between the walls of Heaven and the Grimvale district.

Only I moved freely from Richie Lane to the Grimvale district and below, and as I got closer to figuring out the truth behind the walls of Heaven, they banished me to the place where people who get too close to the truth go: Grimvale district. A placed boxed in between the walls of Richie Lane and Endline.

The world ends after treading a certain distance inside the Grimvale district. Only the people residing close to the Grimvale Walls know the existence of the Endline Wall and the people of Hope residing beyond the END.

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