Chas shook out his hand, but his stance didn’t shift. “Damn, she’s got a lot more mana than I expected,” he muttered before turning to me. “Hey, kid! I hear you’ve had a busy week. Oh, hold on.”

The courtyard wall exploded. Maris shot through the opening, a glowing red blade aimed straight at Chas. Something invisible caught her mid-air, slowing her momentum until her feet hit the ground. She pushed forward against the unseen force, each step like wading through thick mud.

I recognized Chas’s presence—his aura, the same one I’d felt when he held the portal open. It filled the space, pressing outward with defiant energy, as if declaring that nothing could touch him unless he allowed it.

“Whoa now, I wasn’t aware we were at war. I can pull my weapon out if you’d like,” he said, sidestepping as her sword flickered out of existence.

Maris shifted immediately to close combat. Her strikes were perfect—measured, precise. A textbook display of martial mastery. But it didn’t matter. Chas slipped past every hit like she was moving in slow motion. Her robes snapped through the air as she spun into a series of kicks that should have landed, but Chas moved through them like they were an afterthought. His golden energy pulsed outward, not just defending him but actively ridiculing her efforts.

Without Bravery flaring in my mind, I would have missed half their movements. Their auras clashed like storm fronts—his gold, her deep violet. I wondered if the colors meant something, but there wasn’t time to think about it.

Maris’s composure cracked. Her precise strikes grew erratic, her face twisting with frustration.

“Oh, don’t look like that, Mary,” Chas said, his grin sharp as he dodged another strike. “You’re the one who made sure I became a Monster Hunter. I’m just doing my job.” He slipped past her guard and tapped her on the forehead with a single finger.

Bravery screamed a warning just as my knee gave out. A hand caught me under the arm, hauling me upright. Cold metal pressed against my collarbone.

An orange dagger.

Not just tipped with Orichalcum—the entire thing seemed forged from it.

The courtyard fell silent.

“Then we’ll just kill him, and the problem will be solved,” said a voice behind me. The maid from earlier. Her tone was as casual as if she were discussing the weather.

Chas’s grin vanished. He raised his hands. “Whoa now—”

Maris’s foot slammed into the side of his head mid-sentence. The impact cracked through the air like a hammer on stone. Chas barely moved. His head tilted slightly before he straightened, pushing her off balance with the lightest shove.

“Killing an Acolyte of the Monster Hunters is a bad idea,” he said, his playful tone gone.

“Then move aside,” Maris spat. “And we’ll sort this out once he’s gone.”

She stepped toward me.

A tiny yellow canary, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, landed on her head.

Maris froze mid-step. The bird opened its beak and started to sing—what sounded like cheerful peeping to everyone else was, somehow, a non-stop string of the most vicious curses I had ever heard.

The bizarre moment stretched until Diana’s voice cut through the bird’s song.

“Well said, Stanley.”

She stood on the courtyard wall, dressed in a shining blue qipao, her white hair pulled into a tight bun. An orange energy around her flickered—no, burned—like a controlled flame.

She stepped down into the courtyard with practiced grace, as if lowered by unseen strings.

“I believe you are currently holding my apprentice at knife-point,” Diana said. Her tone was light, almost friendly, but the weight beneath it made my throat dry. “Which is very unbecoming of someone in your position, my dear Maris.”

Maris glared at Diana but didn’t move. Stanley, still perched on her head, let out another string of profanity-laced chirps.

Diana’s steps were slow, deliberate, each one measured as if she already knew how this was going to play out. The flickering orange aura around her shifted with each movement, like living fire.

“I’d really appreciate it if we could talk this out,” she gestured vaguely at the courtyard, at the massive ship still looming overhead. “Maybe one of those tournaments your group is so fond of? But this?” Her voice sharpened. “This is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Maris didn’t answer. She was still frozen in place, the tiny yellow canary on her head started glowing softly.

Diana tilted her head slightly. “If my apprentice dies here, Stanley will melt your fucking face off—and I promise, I won’t lose a wink of sleep over it.”

Maris’s jaw clenched. “You know how he got here, and you still insist?” Her voice came out strained, forced through barely contained fury. “We can’t have Caretakers here. Not—”

Red trotted into the courtyard.

He moved at his usual easy pace, tail up, tongue hanging lazily from the side of his mouth. But something about him felt different. Deliberate. His red fur seemed to hum with quiet energy, his paws too silent against the stone. He didn’t slow until he was sitting squarely between Maris and me, cocking his head slightly before looking at me directly.

I barely had time to process the moment before Diana’s voice lost its edge.

“Uh… does that mana beast belong to someone?”

The tension shifted, like a held breath suddenly exhaled. Maris remained locked in place, her muscles tight beneath her robes, but Diana’s focus had entirely snapped to Red.

Orange energy rippled through his fur. His eyes met mine, and in that instant, I knew what he was asking: Ready?

Despite everything, I smiled. Whatever he was about to do, I trusted him.

“That’s my dog,” I said.

Red barked once.

The dagger at my throat vanished.

No—melted.

I absorbed every mana pearl from my earring at once. The rush hit like a flood, mana slamming through my pathways faster than my body could handle. My head went fuzzy, everything feeling distant and muffled. Something dripped down my shirt. For a second, I thought it was blood, but no—golden liquid ran down my collar, pooling at my feet. The dagger. It had fully dissolved into a pool at my feet.

Behind me, the maid took a sharp breath. “What the—”

Valor erupted inside me.

The blue energy surged outwards, forcing my body past its limits. The sudden force nearly buckled my legs, but I braced against it. Every nerve in my body burned, but I had more than enough power to keep going.

I didn’t think. I acted.

I slammed my head back without hesitation. The crack of impact rang through my skull as I felt her nose break. Her grip loosened just enough. I twisted free just as her fist came at me, faster than I could react.

Pain ripped through my leg and abs as I barely avoided her strike. My spear materialized in a flash of blue, and I swung the broad side into her chest. The shaft bent awkwardly from the impact as she flew back, skidding across the stone before hitting the ground.

Chas let out a whoop. “Fucking nice! They don’t just give the Breaker title to anyone, you know, Jenny.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Well that’s one way to end a standoff,” Diana strolled forward and kissed Chas on the cheek. “Good to see you, dear.”

He beamed. “Not nearly as good as seeing you in that dress. Damn.”

Stanley finally abandoned his perch on Maris’s head, fluttering to Chas’s shoulder with an indignant peep.

Maris’s shout echoed through the courtyard. “Fuck! FUCK!”

“Oh, shut up,” Elara’s voice cut through the aftermath like a blade. She approached, unimpressed, arms crossed as she surveyed the wreckage of the city. “You lost. So now you get to negotiate. And that little dagger stunt? That’s gonna cost you.”

I barely heard them. The world tilted. My vision blurred, spots dancing across my sight. Too much mana followed by the incredibly fast drain of Valor.

Chas stepped toward me, watching closely. The golden glow around him had faded, but there was something in his expression I hadn’t seen before. Appraisal. Calculation.

Then he grinned. The same grin he’d given me when he kicked me through the portal.

“Sorry, kid,” he said.

And then he punched me in the face.

----------------------------------------

I woke up on a couch, dim light filtering through the room in soft golden hues. Somewhere in the background, quiet music played—a slow, rhythmic melody.

Pain lanced through my head when I tried to sit up, and my face throbbed where Chas had sucker-punched me. At least my mana felt mostly normal. That was something.

The room reminded me of the meditation space where I’d met Ferris, but smaller, cozier. The main difference? Significantly more dog.

Red was sprawled across the opposite couch, head resting on his paws, watching me with the unwavering judgment of someone who’d been waiting way too long for me to wake up. When I moved, he let out a loud huff and narrowed his eyes. The message was clear: snacks.

I still wasn’t sure what he was. Even Diana hadn’t known, and the way he’d walked into that fight between actual superhumans didn’t exactly scream normal pet. But he’d looked at me, and I’d understood. Whatever he was, he’d chosen to stick with me.

I fished a piece of cheese bun I’d secretly stored from my earring and tossed it to him. He snatched it from the air and retreated to the floor with a satisfied grunt.

Maybe he really was just a dog. A magical one.

My spear sat against the couch, bent and looking awfully sad next to me. I picked it up and stored it, bent or not it was still a useful weapon.

A door flickered into existence and swung open, voices spilling out mid-argument. Heated, clipped.

“Later.” Diana’s voice cut them off. She stepped through, and the door vanished behind her like it had never existed.

She sighed heavily. “Gaia’s sagging tits, I need a drink.” Then she spotted me. “For fuck’s sake, Ben, you’re bleeding on the couch. Here.”

She tossed a small white pill onto the table before stepping around Red, giving him an almost comically wide berth.

I grabbed my water gourd from my earring and swallowed the pill. Relief spread through me instantly, dulling the sharp edges of pain, my mana pathways locking down as my body finally started to recover.

Diana collapsed onto the couch opposite me, rubbing her temples like she was debating where to start. Before she could speak, I pulled out the bottle of Sevenfold Spirit from my earring and held it out.

Her eyes lit up. “Where the fuck did you get that?” Then, deciding she didn’t actually care, she grabbed the bottle and took a long drink. She exhaled, content. “Ah. I’m glad to see you’re figuring out that earring.” She studied me, the sharpness returning to her gaze. “And that display—Valor, was it? A bit shaky, but damn impressive. Almost enough to get you into Sylvarus.”

I nodded sternly, careful not to jostle the healing still working through me. “Sorted it out yesterday… or maybe the day before. How long was I out? What happened?”

“Several hours.” She took another drink, swirling the bottle absently. “Oh don’t look so serious. No one died and the city was already in shambles. In fact, that boat couldn’t have missed more buildings if it tried.”

I frowned, thinking back to the cataclysmic feeling of the street being ripped apart. “Alright. What now?”

Her smile turned cryptic. “We’ll get to that. Want to play question-for-question again? I’ll bet you’ve got better ones this time.”

I sighed. So this was how she was going to teach. “Alright. Are you and Chas an item?”

Diana barked a sharp laugh. “As together as two eternally busy people can be. But I think that’s why it works.” She pointed at Red, who perked up at the attention. “What is he? To you, I mean.”

“That’s Red. He’s a dog. My dog,” I said, nudging his belly with my foot. “I had one on Earth too. Starting to think they aren’t that common here.”

Diana’s expression softened, just for a moment. She got up and walked to a nearby table, returning with a book so ancient it looked ready to fall apart.

Red sat up fast, his attention snapping to it. The illustrations inside showed dogs—detailed sketches from every angle, annotated in careful script.

“This was penned by an Arcadian scholar during the last age,” Diana said. “Eighty to a hundred thousand years ago, give or take. Time wasn’t exactly documented well back then.”

I frowned. “Arcadian? There were people in Earth’s ancient history by that name. It’s come up a lot in our stories.”

Diana raised an eyebrow. “The First Ones. The first living species in the Multiverse, created by Gaia herself. And this mana beast,” she tapped a drawing on the page, “Canine. They weren’t just familiars—they were bound to the Arcadians, connected beyond magic. When the Arcadians fell, the Canines died with them. Your dog isn’t common because they’ve been mostly extinct for thousands of years.”

I stared at Red, trying to process that. Another civilization, lost to time, and they had dogs too. And somehow, this one had survived.

“So where did he come from?” Diana asked, though it felt like she wasn’t really asking me.

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “Katie said she and Carlos used to feed him. He’s been here a while.”

Diana turned that over in her mind, but before she could respond, I pushed forward. “What destroyed the First Ones?”

She didn’t hesitate. “The Shi’an.” Her voice was flat, stripped of its usual teasing edge. “More commonly known as the Caretakers. They are, literally, death incarnate. They’re not alive—never have been. The Aldertree saw one a millennium ago and still passes the memory to us at birth.”

A cold weight settled in my stomach. “These Caretakers wouldn’t happen to be huge and made of metal, would they?”

Diana laughed, breaking the heavy mood. “What a weird question. No. My memory of them is old and not my own, but they are similar to us non beast-folk outwardly but that’s as far as the similarities go.”

Not giant evil robots, then. That was… something, at least.

“And these things are what brought me here?” The pieces clicked together in ways I didn’t like.

Diana’s eyes gleamed. “It’s my turn for a question.” She swirled the bottle. “Why do you think Maris wants to get rid of you?”

Her tone had that leading edge to it, like she was walking me toward an answer I already knew—or maybe one I just didn’t want to say out loud.

“The crazy death room that started this whole thing,” I said slowly, “was the Caretakers.”

“More than likely.” Diana leaned forward. “She’s following an agreement. Portals to spirit realms have been showing up more often on Ark these last few years. Most things can’t make it through, but the rule is clear: if anything connected to the Caretakers comes through, we put it back and get it as far from Ark as possible. Same with humans most of the time. But that’s just because your kind doesn’t usually fit in.”

I let that sink in. “And I’m a human connected to the Caretakers.” I exhaled. “So… why did you rush me onto Ark instead? Sounds like Maris has a point.”

Diana took another drink, her eyes narrowing like she was choosing her words carefully.

“Without drowning you in details, it’s because something saved you from them.” She met my gaze, her voice quieter now. “Something defeated them. And from what you told us, it wasn’t just anything. It was a Runebinder. Someone. We didn’t know that was possible.”

She tapped the bottle against her knee. “So now I get to figure out why.”

I leaned back against the couch, letting Diana’s words sink in. Something saved me from the Caretakers. A Runebinder. It wasn’t just that I survived—it was that something stopped them?

I exhaled. “So let me get this straight. The rule is: if something connected to the Caretakers shows up, it gets sent back. No exceptions.”

Diana nodded. “That’s the agreement. The Hunters enforce it, and the ruling factions support it.”

“But you broke that rule. You brought me here instead.”

Diana swirled the bottle absently, her demeanor shifting. “I had a gut feeling.”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “A gut feeling?”

She smirked. “I mean, it helped that Chas contacted me and said, ‘Hey, I found a guy who survived the fucking Caretakers—we should check that out.’”

I ran a hand through my hair. “And now Maris wants to kick me back through a portal because I might be a threat.”

“Not just might be, Darling,” Diana’s expression turned serious. “Maris isn’t an idiot. She’s ruthless, but she doesn’t waste resources on petty paranoia. Even though we haven’t seen one in a thousand years, that doesn’t make the Caretakers any less of an issue. The Multiverse is a big fucking place, but if they do come looking, I guarantee you don’t want to be the thing they’re looking for.”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring.

I shifted forward. “And you’re still convinced I should stay?”

Diana shot me a look as if I was an idiot. “Ben, you figured out your Seal in under a week. You survived multiple fights that should’ve killed you. Your familiar just melted a fucking Orichalcum dagger through sheer will. Even without my curiosity about how you got here, I’d still be dragging you both to Sylvarus kicking and screaming. And I’m pretty sure Lyra will burn the gods-dammed tower down soon if she doesn’t get to study you.”

I let out a breath. “Right. No pressure, then.”

Diana grinned and took another sip, clearly feeling the liquor. “Speaking of pressure…” Her tone turned almost playful.

I furrowed my brow. “Oh, I don’t like that lead-in.”

She leaned back, watching me as she took another sip from the bottle. “You now have a way to make sure Maris doesn’t try to grab you again. Something even she can’t argue with.”

I had a bad feeling in my gut. “Diana, what did you do?”

Her grin widened. “We’re going to have a Grand Tournament. Cassandra says she’s explained them to you.”

I stared at her. “Oh fuck no. You do realize I’ve been here for a week, right? A week.”

“Yep.” She took another sip, completely unbothered.

I gestured vaguely at myself. “I just learned how to use Valor. I still pass out when I use it. What part of this sounds like a good idea?”

She gave me a slow, knowing look. “The part where you don’t actually have to win.”

That made me pause, I opened my mouth to reply but closed it again.

Diana leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “A Grand Tournament isn’t just about fighting—it’s about proving capability. As long as you perform well enough, you’ll be acknowledged as a legitimate combatant. If you place high enough, then even Maris can’t claim you’re a loose end to be ‘cleaned up.’”

I frowned, mulling that over. It did make sense. I didn’t have to win—I just had to do well enough to earn my place.

“Besides,” Diana continued, stretching lazily, “it’s not like you’ll be alone. You’ll have a ton of support, training, and plenty of time to prepare.”

I eyed her suspiciously. “How much time?”

She leaned back, draining the last of the bottle, her smirk turning razor sharp. “A week.”

I groaned. “Fuck.”