The sun rose over the horizon, casting a golden glow upon the courtyard of the estate. Arlan and JD emerged from the manor’s front door and made their way to the courtyard. They were met by Edgar and his ten Stormriders, who were already assembled and ready for departure.
“General Arlan,” Edgar saluted with a crisp salute, “we’ve gathered and await your permission to depart.”
Returning the salute, Arlan replied, “Upon your return to Galmora, train the Stormriders in preparation for what’s to come. Erin will be in command of the Banner of the Claw; support him as needed.”
“By your command, General!” Edgar acknowledged with fierce determination.
“Safe travels, my friend,” smiled Arlan as he reassured Edgar with a hand on his shoulder.
“You've got this,” added JD with a supportive thumbs up.
Edgar climbed onto his horse and led his loyal troops out of the estate grounds, their hooves clattering against the cobblestone path.
“So what exactly are we expecting from Duke Frank?” JD asked curiously.
Arlan's lips curved into a grin as he replied, “You'll see, JD.” As if on cue, an entourage of Lansley Soldiers entered through the same gate that Edgar had just exited. “Right on schedule.”
JD's eyes widened in disbelief as he saw at least fifty soldiers marching alongside a luxurious wagon adorned with intricate gold carvings. He couldn't help but joke incredulously, "Did you rob the poor man of his life savings?"
Arlan chuckled and replied nonchalantly, "Basically."
A Lansley mage appeared before them, bowing respectfully. "My liege, the requested delivery of the item from Duke Frank's own vault."
JD's face paled and retorted. "An item from his vault? You mean a fucking legendary artifact?"
"I'm going to need it," answered Arlan confidently. "It wasn't exactly free, but I believe it was a fair trade."
The mage presented a scroll to Arlan and unfurled it, revealing a sigil that glowed with powerful magic. "Please, my liege. Your hand must be placed on this sigil for the chest to be unlocked. Anyone else attempting to open it will face a fifth-tier [Death] spell."
Arlan nodded and placed his hand on the sigil, feeling the rush of magic course through him as the chest before them clicked open. The Immortal General stepped forward and opened it, revealing a black cuirass with striking red trims. It emanated an aura that was both powerful and unnerving.
With his palm, Arlan traced over the intricately crafted armor made from scales instead of metal. Something within the cuirass seemed to call out to him, tempting him with its power.
JD's realization broke through his shock, "You managed to get Duke Frank to give up the Black Draconian Cuirass?! What the hell did you trade? The entire kingdom?!"
"The South-Eastern provinces," answered Arlan calmly. "He will govern over them when I am King."
The Tempest Blade paused for a moment before nodding, "Actually… That's not half bad."
Before they could discuss further, the clatter of hooves signaled more arrivals. Arlan and JD turned to see two figures approaching the courtyard—Yanie and Fiala. Yanie dismounted first, her teal hair catching the sunlight, and strode over with a characteristic impatience. Behind her, Fiala moved more gracefully, her golden staff glowing faintly at her side.
Fiala’s gentle smile greeted them as she approached. “Arlan, JD. We’ve come as you requested.” She gave a light nod, her demeanor ever composed and calm. "By Numen’s Grace, the evil that may lurk inside it will be cleansed."
Yanie's eyes lit up with excitement. "It has been awhile since I’ve last been inside a dungeon, Arlan! I’m actually kind of excited!" She exclaimed, clearly thrilled to be there.
Arlan's smile broadened as he raised an intrigued eyebrow. "You'll soon understand. The Iron Grotto is unlike any other dungeon."
JD chuckled, nudging Yanie. “And now that you’re a veteran of war, you’ve grown a lot stronger.”
Yanie smirked but crossed her arms. “I’m now a fourth-tier yellow-core.”
Before Arlan could respond, a sharp pain tore through his mind. His vision blurred as a wave of agony slammed into his thoughts, forcing him to one knee. His hand shot up to his head, but the pressure only intensified.
“Arlan!” Fiala’s voice came from a distance, though it felt as though it were worlds away. “What’s happening?”
JD rushed to his side. “Arlan! Are you alright? Talk to me!”
But Arlan couldn’t hear them. The only sound that reached his ears was a cold, familiar voice, seeping into his very soul.
“Ashra… I’ve been waiting for you in the Iron Grotto. If you do not come to face me, I will unleash the armies of the Abyss onto your world.”
It was Soketh’s voice, a chilling reminder of a long-past encounter from when he ventured into the Iron Grotto with the Moon Striders. The malevolent presence clung to Arlan’s mind like a vice, dragging him into darkness. His body shuddered as he fought to stay conscious, but the overwhelming force of Soketh’s voice was too strong. Arlan tried to reach Sophia with his mind but there was no response.
The world spun around him as his strength faded. He could see the concerned faces of Fiala, JD, and Yanie, but their voices became nothing more than muffled echoes in the background. His vision darkened, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Fiala was the first to reach him, her glowing hands moving swiftly as she began casting a third-tier holy healing spell, [Numen’s Reprisal]. Golden light enveloped Arlan’s body, but no matter how hard she tried, the magic seemed to dissipate as soon as it touched him.
“It’s not working!” Fiala cried, frustration creeping into her voice.
Marie, Chrysta, and Yuna burst out from the grand manor, their faces twisted in a mixture of panic and confusion. As they took in the chaotic scene before them, Marie's blue eyes blazed with concern as she demanded to know what had happened.
The servants rushed out behind them, and the sound of clashing metal filled the air as the Heracul Knights formed a defensive circle around the group, their shields held high in protection
“He collapsed,” Yanie explained quickly, kneeling beside Arlan. “He just… went down out of nowhere.”
“I’ve tried everything,” Fiala said, her voice tense. “Nothing is helping. This isn’t any physical injury—it’s something within his mind or his core.”
Chrysta bit her lip, her icy demeanor cracking under the weight of worry. “We need to do something. He can’t stay like this.”
Fiala nodded, determination hardening her features. “Let’s take him to the Church of Numen. There’s a paladin there who just arrived. He may be able to heal Arlan’s afflictions.”
Without another word, the group moved quickly, lifting Arlan’s unconscious form and rushing him toward the grand Church of Numen, hoping to find salvation for their fallen leader.
As the sun rose, its warm rays illuminated the sprawling estate. Arlan's companions frantically rushed him to the Church of Numen in Auron, its towering spires already in sight. The air was charged with tension, each step heavy with the weight of Arlan's condition.
The mismatched group of mages and warriors appeared almost comical as they hurried through the cobblestone streets, JD carrying Arlan on his back with Fiala leading the way with unwavering determination. They were a determined bunch, united by their love for their fallen leader and driven by the urgency to save him.
Chrysta looked down at Arlan’s pallid face, her brow furrowed in concern. “He’s not getting any better,” she muttered, barely keeping the panic out of her voice. “What or who could have done this to him?”
“Soketh, the Naraka Lord,” Marie answered firmly, her voice loaded with dread. “It has to be. Arlan once told us of his encounter and how he failed to beat it then.”
JD's face contorts in rage, his fists clenching so tightly that his fingernails dig into his palms. "That’s a fucking Naraka Lord for you! We're doomed if Soketh can effortlessly take down Arlan," he growls, his playful personality vanishing under the weight of determination and grit.
Fiala, still composed, led the way through the grand doors of the Church of Numen. The interior was vast, filled with towering statues of Numen, the sacred spirit of light and protection. Priests and clerics, clad in white and gold robes, moved about, attending to their daily duties, but all activity ceased the moment Fiala marched in with JD carrying Arlan’s limp form.
“Someone get Sir Niren Dwain,” Fiala barked, her usually calm tone now urgent. “Now!”
A pair of clerics darted off without hesitation, vanishing through a side door. The air in the church felt heavy with divine energy, but even that seemed insufficient to ease the tension surrounding Arlan’s mysterious condition, which was carefully laid down.
Marie drops to her knees by Arlan's side, her hands trembling as she reaches for his forehead. Her fingers recoil from the lack of warmth emanating from his skin, and she gasps in shock. "What in the name of hell..." Her eyes widened in shock as she took in the scene before her.
The air was thick with a dark, ominous presence that she had never encountered before. It felt heavy and suffocating, like a malevolent force lingering in every corner. "It's some kind of dark mana? I've never seen anything like this," Marie exclaimed, her voice filled with both awe and fear.
Chrysta's arms are tightly folded across her chest, her own tension building with each passing second. "Dark mana?!" She exclaims, her eyes wide with disbelief as well. "Is it similar to your demonic mana?"
Marie nods grimly, now fully focused on Arlan's condition. "Vastly different from my demonic mana," she confirms, her concern growing with each passing moment. "But he's still alive… I can sense his core and it’s responding. I think it’s Sophia keeping him alive." Her mind races as she tries to piece together what could have caused such a catastrophic transformation in Arlan.
"What happened in the courtyard?!" Marie demands, her voice laced with urgency and fear. Whatever had transpired there must have been beyond anything they could have imagined.
But before anyone could respond, the sound of armored footsteps echoed through the halls. A striking figure clad in full silver plate armor entered the main chamber. JD noticed the Paladin’s silver armor was infused with mithril. The paladin had long brown hair that was tied back in a neat knot, and a large sword and shield were strapped to his back, symbols of his rank appeared on his pauldrons.
“Sir Niren Dwain!” Fiala's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, urgency laced in every syllable.
Yanie's mouth hung open in disbelief. "Him? Sir Niren Dwain? But he looks so young!" she blurted out.
"Yanie, quiet!" Chrysta scolded, her eyes darting nervously to their surroundings.
"I know it's shocking, but we don't have time for this," Marie snapped, frustration evident in her tone. "We need to focus on Arlan!"
Sir Niren raised an eyebrow at the commotion before him. "What is this emergency that I am summoned for?" he demanded of Fiala.
Fiala stepped forward, her golden staff glowing faintly as she gestured toward Arlan. "It's the crown-prince," she began, her voice shaking slightly. "He's been struck by dark magic and none of my spells seem to be working. We were hoping you could assist us, Sir Niren."
The paladin knelt beside Arlan, his brow furrowing in concentration. He hovered a hand over Arlan’s chest, closing his eyes as he called upon his divine connection to Numen
“I’ve seen this before. I can feel its presence and its corruption,” Niren murmured. His voice, while soft, carried an undertone of absolute confidence when speaking of magic. “This is Ancient Black Magic. This is no ordinary affliction either—it’s at least a fifth-tier curse on his mind. I’ve only ever seen this once before in a scripture.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Yanie stepped forward, concern written on her face. “Can you help him?”
Niren didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he placed his hand firmly on Arlan’s chest and began chanting softly, the words of the fifth-tier holy spell [Devout Word: Cleanse] flowing smoothly from his lips.
Golden light flared from his hand, bathing Arlan in a radiant glow that filled the entire chamber with warmth and power. The very air around them seemed to shimmer as Niren channeled the full force of his spell into Arlan’s body.
The affliction within Arlan's mind writhed and shrieked in agony, a primal force fighting against Niren's holy spell. Beads of sweat dripped down Arlan's contorted face as Niren doubled the mana output into the channeled holy spell. The golden light in his trembling hand blazed brighter and brighter, reaching a fever pitch that threatened to consume them both.
For a tense moment, the air crackled and the room seemed to hold its breath. Then suddenly, the light flickered and faded away. Niren stood unphased, “It is done. I’ve banished the curse.”
Slowly, Arlan began to stir. Marie let out a sigh of relief, her worried shoulders sagging with the weight of tension being released. "Thank you," she said to Niren with genuine gratitude.
“My Lords and Ladies, do not thank me,” Niren replied while holding up his palm as to deflect the gratitude, “Instead, praise Numen for blessing this servant with the Archangel Regalia.”
“You have the Archangel Regalia?!” JD was surprised by this revelation.
“Sir Niren has had it since his birth,” answered Fiala, “The Archangel Regalia is bestowed upon a new holder when the previous holder dies.”
“Sister Fiala is correct. I am one of the three Chosen Apostles of Numen,” stated Niren proudly, “We reside at the highest position over our sacred order.”
Marie couldn't help but feel hate towards Niren. Her own regalia was acting up on its own. It was Lilith.
With a now cold tone, Niren pointed out, “Baroness Marie… I sense a demonic presence within your core. You must be the holder of Lucifer’s Regalia.”
Despite Niren’s neutral demeanor, the Embercaller felt the paladin’s words fuel her desire to kill him.
"You may rest easy here," Niren assured Marie, "No harm will come to you from this servant of Numen." Marie felt Lilith stir within her, eager to kill but she quickly suppressed it.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” apologized Marie, “I don’t know what’s gotten over me.”
“I see,” nodded Niren as he paced back and forth, “Come now, this is no place for us to talk. The clergy has prepared a very… generous room for me. There, I will grace you all with my knowledge and… I would like to make a humble request.”
Everyone followed Niren as a group of clerics escorted Arlan on a stretcher. After a few twists and turns through the majestic halls, they arrived at their destination.
Once inside, the grand room was nothing short of magnificent. The ceiling stretched high above them, painted with intricate murals depicting the angels, demons and devils alike. Golden chandeliers dripped with crystals that refracted the light in a dazzling display across the marble floors below.
At the center of the room stood a massive bed, draped in rich crimson and gold linens, where the clerics gently placed an unconscious Arlan. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of holy battles, vibrant with the image of Numen’s radiant warriors clashing with shadowed fiends. Every corner of the room was filled with relics and sacred symbols, each carved with painstaking detail, reflecting the deep reverence Niren held for his faith.
Chrysta couldn’t help but be impressed. She traced a hand over one of the tapestries, her sharp eyes taking in the depiction of Numen slaying a mighty abyssal beast. “This place… it’s like something out of a history book,” she said softly, awe creeping into her normally controlled voice. “Every detail… it’s perfect.”
JD whistled, his gaze sweeping across the ornate murals and the opulence that filled the room. “Niren, you live in more luxury than most nobles. You sure you’re not hiding a crown somewhere?”
Yanie smirked, her teal hair catching the light as she tilted her head. “Not bad for a paladin.”
Niren chuckled softly at their comments, though a hint of awkwardness colored his tone. “It’s not mine by choice, I assure you. The Kastron Theocracy ensures that the Chosen Apostles live in… comfort.” He gestured toward a large mahogany table at the center of the room, beckoning them to sit. “But we have more pressing matters to discuss.”
As they all settled into the high-backed chairs around the table, Niren sat with his hands clasped before him, his expression becoming more serious. “I’m sure the mysterious powers of the Regalia’s still elude you all,” he began, his voice taking on a lecturing tone, “Allow me to past on what I know: Regalia’s are powerful spirits created by either a God or the ancient race called, the Krea, who were bestowed the knowledge.”
Marie's eyes widened with disbelief as she spoke, her voice tinged with excitement and fear. "I've read about the Krea," she added, "But I always believed they were just a myth. No one has ever laid eyes on the Krea and most information about them has been lost to time."
“When the cataclysm happened, they disappeared,” answered Niren, “Along with their extensive knowledge of the Regalia’s.”
“But then how are the Regalia’s still around?” inquired Chrysta, her tone laced with intense curiosity.
“I merely have a theory: All Regalia’s exist on a separate plane,” answered Niren, “They choose a suitable ‘Holder’ whose strong enough and aligns with the Regalia’s affinity.”
Now full of questions, Marie couldn’t help but ask, "Then why did they choose us during our final battle at Eisanyr?"
“It likely has to do with the Regalia’s conditions being met,” answered Niren, “Along with Arlan’s unknown powers that are still lurking within himself… And now, all of you.”
“All of us?!” barked Yuna.
Niren smiled and revealed “Most of you are unaware of this but the real power inside Arlan’s Regalia… Whenever you’ve received strength from Arlan through his Regalia, it also enhances your likelihood of receiving a Regalia by a thousand fold. The primary function of his evolved Monarch’s Regalia is to gather as many Regalias as he could.”
Everyone exchanged glances and realized the revelation explained how they all received latent powers.
“So… What does your Regalia do?” asked Yanie to the paladin, cutting the silence.
“The Archangel Regalia has many powers,” answered Niren, “But it infinitely refills any mana used to cast a holy spell. I can manipulate any holy spell cast within my core’s functional range, currently up to a hundred meters. Holy spells cannot be used offensively against me or anyone I’ve [Blessed]. Finally, holy spells cast by me, can be amplified by up to five times its potency.”
JD raised an eyebrow. “Amazing… How do I find out if my Hurricane Regalia has anything like that?”
Niren smiled faintly. “In time, your Regalia may still need to attune itself to your core.”
“You mean to tell me that our Regalia’s can still grow in power?!” exclaimed Chrysta.
“Yes they can!” answered Niren while sipping on a goblet of juice, “The more your core is attuned to the Regalia, the more powers and traits become available. Ultimately, the Regalia’s will also take on their Holder’s will—” He glanced at Marie, his eyes softening with understanding. “—even Lucifer’s Regalia, the one you possess, Baroness, is not inherently evil. It is up to the Holder to control it.”
Marie stiffened, her fingers gripping the edge of the table as she met his gaze. Lilith stirred within her, a dark presence that had been with her since the War of the Great Houses. “Control is a relative term,” she muttered. “Mark my words, I’ll tame my Lucifer’s Regalia.”
Chrysta shot Marie a glance, then turned back to Niren, her tone cool. “This information you provided regarding our latent powers is greatly appreciated but you mentioned a request? What is it?”
Niren’s expression hardened. “I’ve come to Auron to banish the Naraka Lord that resides within the Iron Grotto,” He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering with concern. “We Chosen Apostles have decided that I would lead an expedition of our Order’s best paladins, priests, and clerics to destroy the Naraka Lord. But sensing your strengths, I realized I’d be more successful in my endeavors with you all. Especially after what it’s done to your Duke Arlan… I believe my place is with you.”
JD leaned forward, incredulous. “You’d abandon your whole expedition to join us?”
Niren nodded, his gaze resolute. “Yes. If Soketh can remotely deliver a [Mind Blast] and leave a lingering curse, then this battle will require more than just numbers. Instead of sacrificing many of my order’s lives, we can come together as the best fighters across Midland and banish this evil.”
Before anyone could respond, a soft groan from the bed caught their attention. Arlan stirred, his hand twitching as he slowly regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, scanning the room until they landed on Niren.
Arlan’s voice was hoarse but steady. “Sophia told me everything while I was unconscious. Thank you for removing the curse and the knowledge you’ve provided.”
Niren stood and nodded. “I beg forgiveness for my rudeness but allow me to properly introduce myself, I am Sir Niren Dwain.”
Arlan pushed himself up, renewed and healthy again. “I accept your request to join us in our expedition to kill Soketh.”
Niren blinked in surprise. “My liege? Just like that, you accept?”
“Your powerful holy magic will heal the Black Magic wounds and ward us from curses,” Arlan continued, his voice gaining strength. “Soketh… He’s stronger than before. When I felt him assault my mind, I also felt a connection and Sophia was able to analyze it. Soketh is a tenth-tier black-core.”
Niren hesitated for only a moment before nodding firmly. “Thank you for humbling my request, my liege.”
Arlan locked eyes with Niren, his voice carrying the weight of command. “On two conditions—you follow every order I give, without question and you knock it off with the formalities, just Arlan is fine.”
Niren bowed his head. “As you wish, Arlan.”
The room seemed to ease slightly as Arlan settled back against the pillows, his eyes drifting to his companions. “Good. We’re supposed to meet Yozac Grayshaper today. The Adventurer’s Guild has all the reconnaissance intel from the reporting parties. Let’s go, everyone.”
The streets of Auron bustled with life as Arlan’s party made their way toward the Adventurer’s Guild. Though the weight of the morning’s events hung over them, the sight of the guildhall brought a welcome distraction. The grand structure stood tall, its wooden beams and stone pillars exuding an air of strength and history. This brought memories back to Arlan when he first signed up.
As they walked through the entrance, a murmur rippled through the crowd of adventurers gathered inside. Whispers floated through the air, curious eyes locking onto Arlan’s group.
“Is that really the Immortal General himself?” one adventurer muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Another leaned in to his companion, eyes wide with disbelief. “And Sir Niren Dwain? What’s he doing with them?”
A third adventurer, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, pointed toward Marie and Chrysta. “I heard those two Balan girls wiped out whole battalions during the War of the Great Houses.”
Arlan remained unfazed by the attention, his focus was on their mission. But as they walked, a soft voice rang through his mind—Sophia. “Arlan…” her voice carried a note of warning. “There’s someone here… unusual.”
Arlan’s gaze swept across the crowd, and his eyes landed on a woman wearing a black cloak. Her charcoal-brown hair framed her pale face, and when she turned slightly, he noticed something unsettling. Her eyes—dark red with glowing rings—locked onto his for the briefest moment. But what truly unnerved him was what Sophia pointed out.
“My liege, she has no core.”
Before Arlan could react, JD bumped into him, breaking his concentration. “Sorry, man. Didn’t see you stop.”
When Arlan looked back, the mysterious woman was gone, swallowed by the crowd.
Before he could dwell on it further, the guild receptionist appeared, bowing slightly. “General Arlan, we’ve been expecting you and your party. Please, follow me to Yozac’s office.”
As they followed her through the guildhall, JD couldn’t resist commenting. “You hear what they’re saying? We’re like a celebrity troupe or something.”
Yuna smirked. “It makes sense. You guys are considered heroes, Arlan especially when he was made King’s Blade.”
Chrysta’s eyes narrowed as she looked around. “Not sure how I feel about all this yet but I guess it's something I’ll have to get used to.”
Soon enough, they arrived at Yozac’s office, the heavy wooden door creaking open to reveal the grizzled branch manager of the Auron Adventurer’s Guild. Yozac looked up from his desk, a broad grin spreading across his face as he saw Arlan.
“Arlan, you dirty ingot! There you are! Casually making a ruckus wherever you go,” His tone was casual, bordering on indifferent, as though Arlan’s status as the crown-prince meant little to him.
Arlan grinned in return, stepping forward. “Yozac, you haven’t changed.”
Yozac chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t care if you’re the king of my mother’s ass, you’re always the little Arlan Reeve to me. But… I didn’t expect to see Sir Niren Dwain in your crew.” He gestured toward the paladin. “A real Chosen Apostle in the flesh. Now that’s something.”
“I didn’t know I was that interesting,” Niren said, scratching the back of his neck, a slight awkwardness creeping into his voice.
Yozac waved it off. “Don’t be modest. I’ve heard stories. Anyway to business! I know all about each of you but aside from Arlan awhile ago, I have no idea how strong each of you are. Let’s fix that, shall we?”
At his command, two guild assistants entered the room, carrying a medium-sized chest. Yozac opened it with a flourish, revealing a massive ruby that glowed faintly in the light.
Arlan’s eyes widened slightly. “A measuring ruby? Haven’t seen one of these since my first time here at your Guildhall.”
Yozac nodded. “Thought you might remember. I got a new one here that is the most accurate ruby across all of Midland.”
Arlan chuckled. “Alrighty, I’m assuming you need our evaluation for access to the Iron Grotto officially?”
Yozac grinned, setting the ruby on the table. “Aye! It’ll allow you to place a bid on the S-Rank Contract for exclusive access. This way, we can prevent any groups who aren’t strong enough from going in. Now, let us get started.”
One by one, the group stepped forward to measure their cores. Fiala went first, placing her hand on the ruby and channeling her essence into it. A soft white glow spread through the gem, and a glyph appeared—a third-tier white-core.
“You definitely punch above your weight, Fiala,” JD reassured, earning a light swat on the arm from Fiala.
Next, Yanie stepped forward, her yellow essence swirling through the ruby. “Fourth-tier yellow-core,” Yozac announced.
Yanie shrugged. “Normally, I’d appear pretty strong to others but in this room with you guys… I’m in another league.”
Chrysta was next. As her essence flooded the ruby, a deep red light filled the room. “So the rumors were true,” Yozac said, nodding as if he had seen a ghost. “Chrysta Balan, a sixth-tier red-core. You’re more powerful than any known Archmage in Midland history…”
Yuna followed, the ruby glowing brightly once more. “Fifth-tier red-core,” Yozac confirmed, raising an eyebrow. “And here we have someone with the capacity to be an Archmage.”
JD stepped up with a confident grin, placing his hand on the ruby. The glow intensified again, revealing another sixth-tier red-core. Yozac wasn’t surprised but the shock factor was still there, “I’ve only ever met those who’ve peaked as a fifth-tier… To see you youngin’ just powerful at such a young age.”
Niren was next, his white essence flowing smoothly into the gem. “Fifth-tier white-core,” Yozac announced, his tone respectful.
Marie stepped forward, her essence and mana nearly overwhelming the ruby. “You’re an Eighth-tier red-core!” Yozac declared, his voice tinged with awe. “This is the first time in Midland history anyone has ever achieved this!”
Marie simply winked at Yozac and stepped aside, “”
Finally, Arlan placed his hand on the ruby, his golden essence flooding the room. The glyph that appeared was unlike any Yozac had seen before. “Seventh-tier… Gold-core?!” he yelled in disbelief.
Yozac leaned back, shaking his head with a mix of awe and respect. “I’ve never seen a gold core before… I’m standing in a room with the most powerful party Midland has ever seen. Even more powerful than Ser Jarin Lancel’s legendary group of heroes.”
The dwarf’s gaze swept across the room, lingering on each of them. “If anyone can take down the Naraka Lord, it’s this group.”