Suntuzel poured himself a cup of tea; his eyes narrowed in thought.

He then looked at Sylas and started talking, placing his cup of tea on the small coffee table.

“This room may seem not that important, but my lord, I believe if the Distantias or the Third Circle have members lurking there, we need to know what spells and strategies they favor.”

Sylas gave a brief nod.

“You are right on that," he said.

Sardias smirked.

"I would like to see what they would use to attack us."

"Despite, it may be dangerous."

Sylas chuckled quietly, his gaze distant.

Sardias could not help but ask.

"May I ask what kind of spell you cast my master?"

Sylas nodded.

"Of course."

"It is nothing that big of a deal."

"I gave a name to your mage that we have appointed to the mission of the investigating of the practice room."

Sardias smirked and kept his silence.

Sylas knew he wanted to know more, so he continued.

"I gave him the name of the Brofli; with a name despite not being that much of a smart creation of mine, he will be much stronger and improved than other creations."

Suntuzel added.

"He should be thankful, master."

Sardias nodded, agreeing.

"Yes, Lord, I myself am grateful for giving such a gift to my underling."

Sylas smiled and said nothing

-

Brofli took a deep breath as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his new name—a gift from Lord Sylas himself—ringing in his mind like a quiet oath.

The weight of his mission felt lighter knowing that he now bore an identity specifically crafted for this role.

He squared his shoulders, feeling a subtle surge of confidence as he approached the first checkpoint.

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Two guards in dark blue armor stepped forward. “Identification, please,” one of them said, his tone firm.

Brofli offered the Sylind Family VIP pass with an air of calm authority, nodding as the guard examined it briefly before gesturing him through.

“All good, sir. Have a good day,” the guard muttered, stepping back.

Brofli gave a curt nod and moved past them. With three more checkpoints to go, he maintained a steady stride, scanning his surroundings to commit every detail to memory.

Each checkpoint had two guards, each carefully eyeing those who passed through.

The second checkpoint followed smoothly, with Brofli giving a polite but cool nod as his pass was checked.

At the third, a guard’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than Brofli liked, but the man waved him through without incident.

Finally, at the fourth checkpoint, a guard raised an eyebrow as he looked over the pass.

“VIP access, huh? Pretty rare, even among the mages,” he commented casually, glancing up.

Brofli gave him a restrained smile.

“It’s necessary for our business. My superiors requested it.”

The guard shrugged, handing the pass back.

“Good enough for me. Proceed.”

Brofli slipped past the guard, letting out a slow breath as he entered the practice room.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense and charged, with energy sparking off in faint trails of light as mages cast controlled spells for practice.

The room was expansive, easily the size of several banquet halls.

As he walked along the edge, Brofli mentally mapped out the space, noting two main exits and a small side door that likely led to an adjacent storage room.

The guards posted along the walls were alert, but the sheer number of mages training made it clear that they couldn’t track every individual’s movements with close precision.

Brofli could move here without attracting much attention—ideal for observing the situation.

He saw a familiar insignia near one corner of the room.

A group of mages wearing the colors of Dark Father were casting spells in a focused but aggressive manner, their eyes shifting around, occasionally falling on others in the room.

One of them noticed Brofli’s gaze and narrowed his eyes, as if assessing him.

Brofli moved on, making sure to keep a neutral expression.

A few steps further, he spotted another group, the Frost Elves, unmistakable with their silvery robes and icily elegant bearing.

They moved in tandem, practicing spells that emanated a chill even from a distance.

Brofli inclined his head slightly in greeting, and they offered a cold nod before returning their attention to themselves.

As Brofli continued his observations, he heard somebody talking to himself.

“Quite the scene, isn’t it?”

Brofli turned to find a mage from one of the smaller organizations,

The man grinned, casting a sidelong glance toward the Dark Father mages.

“Everyone’s showing off a bit more than usual,” the mage continued, her voice lowered conspiratorially.

“The Frost Elves look like they’re preparing for something... or someone. And Dark Father?” He scoffed.

“They’re practically itching for a fight.”

Brofli raised an eyebrow, keeping his tone light.

“Seems like a lot of nerves are at play here. Maybe they’re just adjusting to being under one roof.”

The mage laughed.

“Maybe. Or maybe everyone’s aware of the... unspoken rivalries, and this ship is just a floating cauldron waiting to boil over.”

He gave Brofli a sly look.

“What about you? Which side are you on?”

Brofli gave a nonchalant shrug.

“Just here to hone my skills. No alliances here, just focus.”

The man nodded knowingly.

“Good answer. Better to keep a low profile with all these big players around.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Well, enjoy the show.”