The air in the dimly lit hideout was thick with exhaustion and grief. Gustein, having just finished healing Ziraiah, collapsed to the ground, utterly drained. His breath came in ragged gasps before his body succumbed to unconsciousness.
“Why the hell are you passing out now?!” Sumshus’s voice rang out in frustration. “Get up and save Festron!”
But before he could take another step toward Gustein, a gentle hand grasped his wrist. Anuel, sitting beside Lisa, who clutched her broken leg, pulled him in for a hug.
"I'm sorry, Sumshus," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Festron is gone."
Sumshus trembled against her, his face pressed into her shoulder. His body tensed, his hands clenched into fists… but then, slowly, he exhaled. His arms wrapped around Anuel, and the dam holding back his grief shattered. A sob tore from his throat as he held onto her, mourning the comrade they had lost.
A man approached, draping a cloth over Festron's still body before silently carrying him into another room.
Valerius and Eryndor stood to the side, watching the scene unfold. Their eyes, unreadable, followed every motion—the grief, the pain, the silent acceptance of death.
Then, from the shadows, a figure rose.
Dreados.
He stood from his seat at the bar, his movements slow and deliberate, as if the weight of the moment pressed against him. In one hand, he clutched a worn leather bag, the clinking of metal barely audible as he lifted it.
When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, calm… yet undeniably commanding.
"You all knew what was in store when you chose this life," he said, his tone unwavering. "Our world… is unlike the world of mundane men. Danger lurks at every corner, waiting—watching. It is up to us to protect ourselves. That is why we must make it a point of duty… to grow stronger."
He let the words settle, his gaze sweeping across the room, past the grieving and the silent.
"So that we do not die at the hands of others."
The air in the room shifted. Even those wiping away their tears listened intently, their bodies frozen in place.
"We are known as outcasts. Criminals. We bring death and destruction. And because of that…" His voice dipped into a chilling, resolute whisper. "We must be prepared… to be on the receiving end as well."
His eyes locked onto Omfry.
Omfry, seated in the shadows, met his gaze without flinching.
Dreados turned away and took a step forward. "Festron's death is a reminder. A warning. The weak do not survive in our world." His voice, slow and deliberate, carried a weight that seemed to press down on every soul in the room.
Then he did something unexpected.
With a swift motion, he overturned the bag, sending dozens of small knives into the air.
For the briefest moment, time stood still.
Then—instinct took over.
The Unbound reacted as one, their hands flashing like shadows. Before the knives could touch the ground, every single one had been caught—seized from the air in perfect synchronization.
Valerius and Eryndor could only watch, stunned. The sheer precision, the speed—it was unnatural.
Daiel knelt beside Anuel, pressing a knife into her palm despite her injured leg. She took it without hesitation.
"You will all enter a bloodpact," Dreados declared.
And then—it happened.
A shift in the air.
A creeping weight.
The atmosphere thickened, charged with something unseen, something dangerous.
---
From the adjacent chamber, the Elf Queen's voice rang out in alarm.
“Eliana, get away from the wall!”
Her daughter leapt back, retreating toward the bed.
Eliana turned to her mother, concern etched across her delicate features. “Mother… I can feel it. Magical energies—rivaling the Spellbounds, some even greater.”
She turned back to the wall, her expression darkening. “Dozens of them. And they are all… ominous.”
---
Valerius and Eryndor, though unable to sense mana, could feel the change in the air. A weight had descended upon them, pressing against their very bones.
The once lively group of Unbound had transformed. Gone was the camaraderie, the casual ease of criminals drinking in the dim glow of the bar.
Now, their eyes were cold. Their movements—purposeful.
These were not mere outlaws.
These were warriors.
Killers.
Dreados spoke again, his voice steady.
"Jeriana."
A woman stepped forward, her expression unreadable. Among the Unbound, she stood at a normal height, yet by any other standard, she was an imposing figure—9 feet 2 inches of solid presence. Her orange skin gleamed under the dim light, her deep blue eyes cold and unreadable. Long strands of vibrant blue hair flowed behind her like liquid sapphire, accentuating her sharp, stoic features.
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Without hesitation, she reached for a knife. The blade gleamed as she sliced her palm open, crimson blood contrasting starkly against her fiery skin.
Dreados followed. Then Omfry.
One by one, the Unbound mirrored them.
Except for one.
Jeriana lifted her hands before her, closing her eyes. A whisper escaped her lips, soft but filled with purpose.
"Givayel sintos, givayel tharis, givayel mortem."
The air pulsed.
The wind stirred, whipping through the room with unnatural force.
She clapped her hands together in front of her face.
Her eyes snapped open—completely black.
"Morkperi yestaan."
The blood from their wounds rose into the air, swirling in delicate lines toward her.
Magic surged.
The very walls of the hideout trembled.
---
The Elf Queen grasped Eliana’s wrist, her eyes dark with worry as the tremors rattled the furniture.
"This is…" she whispered. "Forbidden magic."
Eliana's breath hitched. "Mother… what kind of magic is this? It’s incredibly powerful… and dark."
The Queen hesitated. Then, solemnly, she answered.
"There are three recognized tiers of magic: Common, Advanced, and Superior. The difference between them is like night and day—a gap so vast that what seems powerful in one tier is nothing more than a flicker in the next."
"Yes, everyone knows that," Eliana said, confused.
But her mother shook her head. "There is a fourth. One the world has deemed forbidden. Oblivion Tongue."
Eliana’s eyes widened.
"Unlike conventional magic," the Queen continued, "no one understands how it truly works. We only know this—when certain words are spoken… something happens. The power it requires is immense. In the olden days, entire groups of mages would chant together… and most of them would die in the process."
Her voice dropped lower.
"For someone to wield this magic alone…" She exhaled, her expression grim. "It seems I have underestimated the Unbound."
---
Before Jeriana, the swirling blood condensed into a single, hovering sphere.
Then—it split.
Dozens of symbols formed in the air, shifting, rearranging, pulsating with power.
Jeriana lifted a single finger before her face, pointing upward.
"Yotah."
The blood symbols moved.
One by one, they burned themselves onto the foreheads of the Unbound.
And then—they vanished.
The hideout fell silent.
The shaking stopped.
Jeriana swayed, sweat dripping from her brow. “It’s done,” she breathed.
---
In the other room, Eliana shuddered, hugging herself.
"I've never felt such ominous magic," she whispered. "I don't… I don't think our forces can go against these people."
The Elf Queen pulled her daughter close, her fingers gently grasping the pendant around Eliana’s neck.
"Your father will save us," she murmured. "Have faith."
---
Back in the main room, Valerius leaned toward Eryndor, his voice low.
"Hey… what do you think this bloodpact is?"
Eryndor turned, his face deadpan.
"Oh, you expect me to know? I’m honored you think so highly of me."
Valerius stared at him.
Then sighed.
This world just kept getting stranger.
Dreados leaned forward, his fingers steepled in thought, before he finally spoke—his voice slow, measured, and deliberate.
"For thousands of years… many have sought to enter the Ancient Ruins… yet none could breach the doors."
He let the words hang, his piercing gaze scanning the room, watching as the Unbound listened in rapt silence.
"Every door is inscribed… with the Ancient Tongue—a language long lost to time." He leaned back slightly, his tone turning contemplative. "The Ignir Royal Family possesses a stone… carved with these inscriptions. And on my most recent mission… I encountered an Elvhein girl—one who could read it."
His gaze shifted, landing on a single figure.
"So… I had Anuel bring her here."
Murmurs broke out among the Unbound. The room stirred with curiosity and speculation.
"But…" Dreados continued, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife, "things didn’t quite go according to plan."
With a deliberate movement, he raised his hand and pointed straight at Ziraiah.
"This… is that girl."
The Unbound turned to her, their whispers growing louder. Some looked intrigued, others skeptical.
Dreados let the chatter continue for a moment before speaking again, this time with an air of finality.
"I took the liberty of bringing her brothers as well."
A silence fell over the room.
"And so now… the question is…"
His gaze turned toward Valerius and Eryndor.
"Can they also read the Ancient Tongue?"
The question echoed in the dimly lit hideout. The Unbound waited, their expectant eyes locked onto the siblings.
Dreados’s cold stare bore into them as he repeated, softer this time, yet with even greater weight:
"Well… can you?"
Valerius hesitated, then instinctively glanced up at Eryndor.
Eryndor’s mind raced. The Unbound had not mistreated them since their arrival. They had fed them, sheltered them, and allowed Gustein to treat Ziraiah’s wounds—even as hostages, they had been shown a degree of consideration.
If we lie… and they find out… things could turn for the worse. Eryndro thought.
A calculated decision formed in his mind.
Eryndor exhaled. Then, with calm certainty, he spoke.
"Yes… we can."
Dreados smiled. It was neither warm nor cruel—just a simple, knowing smile.
"Wonderful."
Then his gaze shifted once more, scrutinizing Valerius.
"Now tell me…" Dreados’s voice was laced with intrigue.
"What is wrong with your brother?"
Eryndor blinked. "Pardon?"
Dreados slowly walked forward, his boots tapping against the wooden floor. He bent down, gripping Valerius’s jaw with an almost clinical precision—turning his head left… then right… examining him as though he were an artifact of unknown origin.
His eyes narrowed.
"I'm sure…" he said, his words dragging like silk over steel, "some of you have felt it."
He released Valerius and studied his own hand, flexing his fingers.
"This boy harbors a Bravo monstrosity within him."
A murmur rippled through the Unbound. Some glanced at Valerius with new scrutiny.
Dreados took Valerius’s hand, pressing his fingers into his palm, feeling the weight of something only he seemed to perceive.
"How… is this possible?" he mused.
Eryndor stiffened. "I wasn’t aware. I only recently discovered the existence of Bravo."
As Dreados's words lingered in the air, Valerius felt a strange unease settle in his chest.
"This Bravo thing again…?" he thought, his mind racing. "How do I even have it? Kaelan said people needed to train relentlessly—pushing their bodies past their limits—to awaken it. But me…?"
His fingers curled into fists as he tried to make sense of it. Apart from kaelans short training, he had never trained a day in his life. No grueling regimen, no brutal conditioning—so how?
And yet, Dreados saw something in him. Omfry saw it too.
"Just what the hell is inside me…?"
Before anyone could react, Omfry approached.
With a smirk, the towering man lifted Valerius effortlessly by the head, his fingers gripping his skull like a vice.
"If I were to train this one," Omfry mused, grinning, "he’d surely rival those at the top."
Then, just as easily, he set Valerius down.
Dreados observed, his expression unreadable.
"We’ll discuss this later," he finally said. "For now… we have more pressing matters."
With a slow, practiced motion, he pulled out a chair and sat down, drumming his fingers on the armrest.
"With these children…" He let his voice lower, dragging the words as his icy stare met each Unbound in the room.
"We will launch a mission… to the Baniek Ruins."
Gasps rippled through the Unbound.
"In one week’s time… we will see if they can open the door."
One of the Unbound, skeptical, crossed his arms. "Can they really do it?"
Dreados exhaled through his nose, a subtle amusement flickering in his eyes.
"Let’s… hope so."
He let the statement settle before adding, "And also… we have the Elf Queen and Princess—should the Elf King try something funny."
The weight of that revelation sent another murmur through the room.
But Dreados wasn’t finished.
"And finally… our mission to Ignir was a success. We now possess both the Ancient Stone and the Solstice Gloves."
He turned his head slightly.
"Silvie."
From within the crowd, a voice answered, "Yes."
A figure stepped forward—Silvie, hidden before by the taller Unbound.
Dreados gestured toward a shelf lined with artifacts—strange objects of different shapes and sizes, each humming with a history of power.
"Place them there."
Silvie nodded and moved toward the shelf, carefully placing the artifacts among the collection of relics the Unbound had amassed.
Omfry let out a small chuckle. "Another artifact to add to our collection."
Jeriana’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. “Did you really leave the Solstice Gloves in the hands of an Earther?”
Dreados, seated with his usual composed demeanor, barely reacted. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his voice smooth and unbothered. “Is there a problem?”
Jeriana’s tone sharpened. “What if she had ran with it?”
For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then—Dreados chuckled. It wasn’t loud, just a quiet, knowing sound deep in his throat, laced with amusement.
“Oh, Jeriana…” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Such a stupid question.”
His eyes met hers, sharp and unwavering.
“Tell me… where...would she run?”
Jeriana said nothing.
Dreados leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly against the wood.
"Daiel," he called.
Daiel looked up. "Yes?"
"The stone—where is it?"
"Outside."
Dreados nodded slowly. "It was originally meant for Gefubin to decipher…"
Then, he turned his head… his gaze settling once more on the siblings.
"But now…"
A smirk tugged at his lips.
"We have them."
The weight of those words was not lost on Valerius, Ziraiah, or Eryndor.
The path before them had changed.
They were no longer just hostages.
They had become keys.
Dreados exhaled softly before giving his final command.
"Silvie… you’re in charge of the Elvheins. I trust you’ll get along… just fine."
Silvie gave a short nod, her face betraying no emotion.
Dreados let his gaze linger on the room once more.
"That… is all for now."
And with that, the meeting of the Unbound was over.
To Be Continued...