Daruk was already on his feet when Aodhán and Aldric walked into his ward. The left side of his face was encased in a block of ice, and the right twisted into a scowl when he saw them. “Get me out of this place. I swear to the ascendants! This antiseptic is making me nauseous.”
“Master Brystion,” one of the two healers in the room began, but Daruk cut off with a firm wave of his hand. “I'm perfectly fine.”
“No, you’re not.” The second healer, standing on the opposite side of the bed, said, sighing as if she’d said those exact words a dozen times already. “Like I said earlier, Master Brystion, you suffered a concussion. Your self-regeneration is insufficient for such damage; neither is that block of ice going to do anything to heal your wounds.”
Daruk glared at her and turned his gaze back to them. “Get me out of here.”
“Mr. Brystion, I have to insist.” The first healer began again, but a yell from Daruk cut her off. “I said I’m fine! By ascendants, quit fussing over me.”
Aodhán was honestly surprised to see Daruk in such a state. He was usually so composed and cold. These explosive surges of anger and irritation he was displaying were incredibly unusual. Aldric sighed and whispered to Aodhán. “For some reason, he’s always hated hospitals.” Aldric turned back to Daruk, and in a placating tone, he said to him, “Daruk, I know you don’t want to be here, but you’re still injured. The sooner you let the healers do their jobs, the sooner you can speak to the government officials impatiently waiting to speak to you, and the faster we can get out of here.”
“I’m fine!” Daruk insisted with a stern glare, but Aldric sighed. “Brother, you can barely stand on your own.”
As one, they looked at the metallic bars Daruk was leaning against, and the healer sighed. “All we ask is that you rest for one more hour before you leave.”
Daruk glared at all of them and grudgingly lowered himself back to the bed. The healer fussed over him for a moment, placing pillows underneath him to help him get comfortable before leaving.
Aodhán moved closer to the bed and whispered. “I didn’t know you hated hospitals.”
Daruk sighed and turned his gaze to the clock on the opposite wall. “We’re going to be late for the Blackwell event.”
Aodhán grinned. “You’ll be of no use to anyone at the event if you can’t even stand on your own two feet.”
Daruk glared at him and sighed. “I don’t hate hospitals; I just don’t like the smells and all the fussing.”
“An hour of rest won’t kill you, Daruk.” Aldric muttered from the other side, and Daruk's glare intensified. “Maybe not, but I can already feel my brain rotting.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” Aodhán laughed and created a chair for himself. After finding a comfortable position, he crossed his legs and asked. “So, how are you doing?”
“Fine.” Daruk replied curtly and turned to Aldric. “You said something about government officials earlier. What's that about?”
Aldric explained everything to Daruk, and when he was done, Daruk grumbled. “Send them in. I want this to be over as soon as possible.”
“So irritable.” Aldric sighed as he moved towards the entrance and waved the agents in. The agents began to introduce themselves, but Daruk cut them off with an impatient wave. “Please, just give me the documents and let me sign.”
Ten minutes later, the agents left the hospital, and Daruk sighed. “How many more minutes before an hour is over?”
“Fifty.” Aodhán replied, and Daruk sank deeper into the bed with a groan. He glared at the wall for a moment before asking. “What happened to me?”
Aldric tittered. “You were slammed in the face by a slab of reinforced concrete, glass, and molten metal. Fortunately, he blacked out almost immediately.”
Daruk bristled at the memory and placed a hand on the block of ice to keep it from melting. “I definitely saw my life flash before my eyes in that moment.”
Aldric chuckled, and Aodhán grimaced. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”
Aldric nodded in agreement. “Those Valerion bastards are nutcases, the whole lot of them.”
Daruk snorted. “I’m not sure even Cyrus is mentally balanced. Eldrith is insane, and now this Nikolaus is a thief?”
“Disadvantages of having so many children.” Aldric muttered and shook his head. “How are you supposed to train them all with life being such an immense bitch all the time?”
Aodhán chuckled. “Perhaps Artemis escaped the insanity gene. He’s a champion after all.”
“Or perhaps he’s the craziest of them all.” Aldric muttered, and they all laughed. Their conversation continued until the hour was up, and Daruk immediately rushed to his feet. His innate regeneration had finished mending him, and although he was still a little weak, he could stand and walk on his own, which was all that mattered.
Aodhán had also benefited from the hour of rest, regaining more of his strength, and after checking themselves out of the hospital, Aodhán created a storm platform large enough to carry them and zoomed off in the direction of the portal station.
It wasn’t as exciting as walking had been, but they had learned their lesson. Besides, there was just something extremely satisfying about floating above a crowd of people and looking down on them. The view was amazing too, and this high up, the scent of ink was less pungent.
When they reached the portal station, they paid for their transport and made their way to Wraithstone, one of the cities controlled by the Blackwells.
Wraithstone wasn’t as crowded as Shilem or even Nematon, but it still bustled with life and activity. It was almost no different from Norbuik with its terracotta roofs and Victorian mansions, but unlike the streets of Norbuik, Wraithstone was in no way sleepy.
Neon lights flickered from every building, and just down the street, a few meters away from them, music blared loudly from what seemed to be a nightclub.
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Shadows covered the city in abundance, flickering and moving despite the light of the evening sun. The city was cast in a haze of darkness and shadows that gave it an eerie appearance. The houses were built with black stone and aether glass, a glass imbued with the element of darkness.
The buildings didn’t reflect sunlight or absorb it. Instead, it created shadows that fought against it, their deep hue contrasting greatly with the shimmering runes and neon lights that covered most of the buildings.
The perfect word to describe the city of Wraithstone was gloomy and gothic, yet the people were anything but. Most of them were dressed in bright colors, as if in defiance of the gloomy aesthetic around them. .
Surprisingly, the first building they saw after exiting the portal station was a library, albeit a very large one. It was even larger than the library in the academy, and Aodhán had to suppress the urge to explore it immediately. Daruk’s eyes widened in amazement, and Aldric, for the first time, didn’t have a negative reaction to the city, even going so far as to comment on its beautiful aesthetics.
They chartered a shuttle that took them to an inn not too far from the Blackwell estate, and when they arrived, they booked one of their best rooms and ordered a light dinner. They still had a few hours before the start of the event, so after eating, they decided to spend the time going over their plans once again. After almost an hour of discussion and deliberation, they came to a single conclusion. Their plan wasn’t as airtight as they’d previously assumed. In fact, the entire plan was a disaster waiting to happen, and Aodhán couldn’t believe he was a party to its creation.
They’d left too many things to luck and chance, and Aodhán would be certain the Ascendant of Luck, Bastille Myrthalian, was looking out for them if things really happened how they wanted. The major problem with the plan was getting into Makeba’s room in the first place. Their plan for that was riddled with so many holes that Aodhán had half a mind to call off the entire mission and simply go home, but he couldn’t do that. No, he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to make this work, not for the principal but for himself.
They spent the next few hours cursing, arguing, and then finally agreeing on a plan to escape the building just in case things went south. After securing their plans, they dressed, synced up their chips, and made their way to the Blackwell’s estate.
This time they chose to go on foot, and Aodhán tried his best to ignore the flashes of cameras that turned his way every time a reporter recognized him. It only took them fifteen minutes to arrive at the main gate, and Aodhán swallowed nervously when he saw the mass of people standing by the gate. Some of them were reporters, and others were members of the Blackwell Security, but most of them were simply fans. People who wanted to see their elites or favorite families walk the red carpet to the Blackwell event. Many of them were sleepers, but a few awakeneds were scattered among them, whistling and shouting in excitement whenever their favorite celebrities stepped out of their individual hovercars.
Since Aodhán and his brothers hadn’t boarded any vehicles, they weren’t immediately recognized by the mass of spectators as guests until they reached the red carpet and one of the reporters called out. “Aodhán. Where’s your familiar?”
A single mention of the word familiar, and all hell broke loose. Heads turned, people screamed, and before Aodhán knew what was happening, microphones were being shoved in their faces just as a dozen questions rang out in succession. “Aodhán, how does it feel to be the youngest champion candidate ever?” “Daruk, how has Aodhán’s fame impacted your family, both positively and negatively?” “Aodhán, can you share any insights into your relationship with your familiar?” “What is the secret behind your astounding control?” “Aodhán, who is this bearded man here with you today? Is he your butler?” “Speculations about your familiar have run rampant, Aodhán; would you like to clear up some of them?”
The questions came in a rapid-fire fashion, with Aodhán barely being able to follow half of the questions while being constantly assaulted by a flurry of camera flashes. Nevertheless, he refused to run and hide his face anymore, so he answered the questions directed at him as much as he could, leaving the rest to Daruk and Aldric, who was scowling at the reporters for being called a butler.
When they finally hit the red carpet, Aodhán was exhausted. He presented their invitation to the guards, and after confirmation, they finally stepped into the Blackwell estate.
Most of the estate had been obfuscated with runes from the outside, which had made it impossible to see the mansion from behind the gate. However, despite the hours they'd spent poring over the map of the Blackwell mansion, nothing could have prepared them for the sight that greeted them the moment they stepped into the estate.
The Blackwell mansion wasn’t as beautiful or awe-inspiring as the Willowood mansion, but it was still enough to take their breaths away, most especially Aldric, whose mouth had dropped open in amazement. The mansion was made entirely from reinforced black stones and Aether glass that shone gold as a result of the runes inscribed on them. Shadows flickered everywhere, seemingly alive now that the moon was out, but what took their breaths away was the large statue of Erina Blackwell, the Abyssal Terror, standing at the center of the courtyard. The statue was extremely lifelike, and somehow, the statue of her familiar, a humongous octopus, floated above her, suspended by seemingly nothing. Black water flowed from its limbs in a beautiful manner, obviously in tribute to her element, before pooling into the fountain below.
Erina Blackwell was a legend, one of the strongest calamities to ever ascend from Ragnarok. perhaps even in the entirety of Lutia. She had pushed her family from lowly merchants to the prestigious rank of a marquis. However, despite how high Erina had pushed her family, they had fallen in her absence. They still retained their rank as a marquis family, and in recent years, they’d even amassed so much wealth from the sale and export of ink that their names had climbed into the top 100 wealthiest noble families in the kingdom three years ago.
No, where the Blackwell’s had fallen was in regards to their strength and magical power. Ever since the ascension of the abyssal terror approximately four hundred years ago, only one other person from the family had risen to the prestigious calamity class, and he was a mediocre talent at best. Not that anyone who managed to reach the calamity class wasn’t a genius, but compared to other calamities and ascendant candidates, the man’s power had been found wanting.
The magical power of the Blackwell’s had been in a steady decline ever since then, and their current patriarch, Lycellis Blackwell, was considered a half-step Mythic. From the information they’d gathered during their reconnaissance for the mission, a half-step Mythic was someone whose spirit had been limited on the cusp of their Mythic evolution, so in essence, they had half the spiritual authority of a Mythic, yet remained in the advanced class.
It was a shame to say the least, but the rest of the family was even more pitiful, with most of their members limited to the advanced class while others like Makeba remained in the evolved class. Finding out that their target was an evolved class awakened had brought Aodhán a great deal of relief, as it meant their skills could still work on her if push came to shove.
Now that Aodhán knew the state of Imani’s family, he understood her need and drive to do better, to break the yoke somewhat.
They entered the main hall a few minutes later and were instantly bombarded by a cacophony of conversing voices and music. People milled about, dressed in elaborate, overly embellished dresses and suits. Servants moved around, dressed in the Blackwell family colors, blue and black, to signify their major elements. Water and Darkness.
The air was charged with excitement, and with a confident smile, Aodhán and his brothers made their way to the center, where they would find members of the Blackwell family. As they moved, they passed by several of their classmates, including Tobias, Dylan, and even Meredith.
When they reached the center of the hall, where they found Imani alongside several members of her family, they bowed in greeting, introduced themselves, and even produced a wrapped gift they’d bought from the Norbuik hall. It wasn’t anything special, considering their financial status, but it would have been extremely rude of them to show up without a gift, regardless of its monetary value.
It was as they conversed with Imani’s family that Aodhán suddenly caught sight of a face he hadn’t been expecting to see. The man stood at the edge of the hall, a cup of sparkling wine held in his right hand and a beautiful woman held in his left.
When their eyes locked, the man grinned, raised his glass in greeting, and said. “When I said I didn’t want to see your face until the academy resumed, I didn’t realize you would take me so seriously.”