The first step to leaving a place like the capital of Ash wasn’t deciding to leave—it was deciding how. It was a problem that consumed my every waking moment, gnawing at the edges of my focus during classes and creeping into my restless dreams at night.
One-Bill’s threats had been enough to drive home the truth: the capital wasn’t safe for me anymore. My days were numbered, not just by the criminals who wanted me dead, but by the noble elite and their hunger for gossip and intrigue. The jewel, the evolution, the whispers of Sin Skills—it all tied me into a web that could snap shut at any moment.
I couldn’t afford to stay. The first thing I did was hoard food. The academy’s cafeteria served well-preserved goods—dried meats, hard biscuits, and other provisions meant for long-term storage. I carefully pocketed portions from every meal, slowly building a stockpile hidden beneath my mattress. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to last until I could find something more sustainable.
Hexa was silent during most of this planning, though I could feel her quiet calculations in the back of my mind. I had come to recognize the subtle hum of her processes when she was analyzing, mapping, or planning.
"Hexa," I whispered one night as I slipped another handful of dried fruit into my stash. "How far is the Forest Kingdom of Drugar from here?"
Her response was instant. "Approximately 240 miles east. With consistent travel in a caravan, it would take three to four weeks, depending on weather and road conditions."
“And from Drugar to the world city of Pict?”
“Another 600 miles. At caravan speed, likely an additional two months. However, travel from Drugar may include interruptions due to raids or wildlife.”
I frowned. “So... three months minimum to get to Pict.”
“Correct. That assumes no delays.”
I nodded, more to myself than to her. Three months was doable. Painful, but doable.
The library became my sanctuary. By day, I maintained appearances, sitting in lectures and keeping my head down. By night, I poured over maps and travelogues, searching for anything that could help me plan my route.
Maps of the Forest Kingdom of Drugar revealed a land thick with towering trees and winding rivers, its people known for their woodcraft and resilience. Caravans frequently crossed the region, and many of them made their way toward Pict, the sprawling capital of Minor Eden. More importantly, Pict was home to a Nexus Thread—the lifeline of living mana that tied our planet to the web of worlds above. As well as the seat of the world teleporter, something that could transport people and goods across the Nexus.
The thought of standing in its presence sent a thrill down my spine. It wasn’t just about running away. This was a chance to start over, to see something greater than the insular world of the Ash Kingdom. The world city of Pict loomed large in Wolfhart's mind as the next great milestone of his escape—a place both promising and daunting in equal measure. Nestled at the heart of Minor Eden, Pict was not just the planet’s largest city but its most significant.
Hexa’s voice filled the quiet of my dorm as I reviewed a map I had borrowed from the academy library. “Pict is the closest thing Minor Eden has to a planetary capital. It’s considered neutral ground by all kingdoms, overseen by the Nexus Accord to ensure that no single power controls its resources. Its role as a world city is anchored by the presence of the Nexus Thread.” I stared at the map, tracing the winding roads that led from the Ash Kingdom to Pict. “Neutral ground,” I repeated, skepticism thick in his tone. “Sounds like a utopia.”
“It is anything but,” Hexa replied. “While Pict is officially neutral, it is also a concentrated hub of politics, trade, and ambition. It has no king, but the wealth and influence concentrated there rival any monarchy. If Minor Eden has an epicenter of inequality, it is Pict.”
I frowned, the corners of his mouth twisting in frustration. “Rich coming from you, Hexa. You’ve seen the Ash Kingdom, right? We literally have a king. Half the population doesn’t even have basic education, let alone enough to eat.”
“The Ash Kingdom is feudal in its inequality, which is overt and systemic,” Hexa said, her tone clinical. “Pict’s inequality is a more complex structure. It thrives on the illusion of opportunity, drawing people from across Minor Eden with the promise of a better life. But those promises are often hollow. Those who succeed do so at the expense of countless others, and the divide between its wealthy elites and its struggling masses is staggering.”
I couldn’t help but imagine it. I pictured a city as vast as it was vibrant, its streets teeming with people from every corner of Minor Eden. At its heart, the Nexus Thread—a pillar of living mana—would rise like a beacon, its radiant blue glow connecting their world to the great web above.
But for all its splendor, Pict was a city of contrasts. Lavish estates and towering spires for the privileged; cramped alleyways and endless toil for the rest.
“So... Washington, D.C.?” I asked, mostly joking.
Hexa’s response was immediate. “Your comparison to Earth’s capital is apt. Like Washington, D.C., Pict serves as a hub for governance and diplomacy. But where D.C. is dominated by national politics, Pict’s influence spans worlds. It is a city shaped by its proximity to the Nexus, its wealth derived from the trade and travel it facilitates.”
“And its people?” Wolfhart pressed.
“Pict’s population is vast and diverse, drawing individuals from every kingdom on Minor Eden and beyond. You will find humans alongside elves, dwarves, beastfolk, and other races. Many come seeking opportunity or refuge, but for most, Pict is a place of struggle—a battleground for survival in a city that values ambition over compassion.”
Wolfhart leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The vision of Pict forming in his mind was as awe-inspiring as it was intimidating. A city of endless possibilities and crushing realities. A place where power and privilege reigned supreme, but where someone like him—a runaway, a sinner, a Void Shaper—might slip through the cracks and find a way to survive.
It wasn’t just the draw of the Nexus Thread that pulled him toward Pict. It was the chance to disappear in a city so vast, so chaotic, that no one would notice him—at least for a while.
“Sounds like the perfect place to get lost,” he muttered.
I sat on the edge of my bed, counting coins under the dim glow of a magical lamp. My savings were substantial, but far from endless.
50 gold coins, I noted silently. 10 silver. About 40 copper.
It was enough to pay for a caravan fee and keep me afloat for three months, maybe more if I rationed carefully. Selling some of my more expensive belongings—my enchanted coat, the hoverboard—could stretch that timeline even further. The thought of parting with those things stung, but survival didn’t leave much room for sentimentality.
Hexa’s voice cut into my thoughts. “Wolfhart, I must point out that while this plan has a high probability of success, there are significant risks. The forest is dangerous, and the world city of Pict is no haven. You may be trading one danger for another.”
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“I know,” I replied, my voice low. “But the capital is a ticking time bomb. Every day I stay, the risks get worse.”
Hexa didn’t respond.
Three days after One-Bill’s final warning, I returned to my dorm to find the door slightly ajar. The sight sent a cold spike of dread straight to my core. My pulse quickened, and every step toward the door felt heavier than the last. With a trembling hand, I pushed it open, bracing myself for what lay beyond.
Chaos.
My mattress was slashed, its stuffing spilling out like entrails. My desk drawers had been yanked out, their contents strewn across the floor. Even the floorboards beneath my bed had been pried up, leaving gouges in the wood. Every hiding spot I’d meticulously chosen had been ransacked, exposed for all the world to see.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the doorframe as I scanned the destruction. My breaths came shallow and fast. The living mana crystal—the one they were looking for—was gone. Not stolen, not misplaced. Gone. It had been consumed, fully absorbed into my body during my evolution three days ago, leaving behind nothing but this heavy, oppressive trait of Sovereign Ascendance that weighed on me like a crown of thorns.
The jewel no longer existed, but they didn’t know that.
“They won’t stop,” Hexa murmured softly, her tone devoid of the usual sarcasm or bite. “They think it’s still here.”
I nodded, the movement stiff and jerky. “They’ll tear the place apart again,” I whispered. “They’ll tear me apart if they find out what really happened.”
I set to work immediately, my hands trembling as I tried to restore some semblance of order. I flipped my mattress, stacked my overturned drawers, and carefully arranged the torn remnants of my clothes. But it was futile. The room still looked violated, every surface a reminder that my safe haven had been breached.
When my roommates returned, their concerned glances only added to the suffocating weight pressing on my chest. I waved them off with a muttered excuse about a clumsy accident, but inside, I was crumbling. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to leave, to run, but I couldn’t—not yet.
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The next day, I began to notice them.
At first, it was just a sense—an uncanny feeling that lingered at the edges of my awareness, like shadows shifting in the corner of my vision. But soon, it became undeniable. Strange faces mingled among the usual crowds of students, their eyes tracking my every move. Too rigid. Too focused. They didn’t belong.
“Two on the north end of the hall,” Hexa informed me during lunch. “Another trailing you through the west wing. Their routes are calculated, staggered. These are professionals.”
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to take another bite of the bland cafeteria stew. My appetite was nonexistent, but I needed the energy. Every step felt like walking a tightrope, my balance precarious. I could feel their eyes on me even now, and my skin prickled with the awareness.
Hexa’s voice returned, quieter this time. “You can’t keep stalling, Wolfhart. They’re closing in.”
“I know,” I muttered under my breath. The spoon in my hand trembled as I forced another bite down. “But where do I go? What do I do?”
“Anywhere but here,” Hexa replied bluntly.
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That night, I stood at the window of my dorm, staring out at the cityscape of the Ash Capital. The sprawling lights of the city glittered like stars, but they brought no comfort. Every glow felt like a watchful eye, every flicker a reminder that my time was running out.
The Sovereign Ascendance trait pulsed faintly within me, a quiet thrum of power I didn’t yet understand. It was as if the evolution itself was taunting me, whispering of potential while chaining me to a fate I couldn’t escape. I clenched my fists, frustration boiling beneath my skin.
“I should’ve known better,” I hissed. “I should’ve seen this coming.”
“Regret is a luxury you can’t afford,” Hexa snapped, her voice sharper than usual. “You need to focus on survival, not self-pity.”
Survival. The word felt hollow. What was I even surviving for? My actions had already cost me the only semblance of friendship I’d ever known. Git and Sona were gone. Ava would never understand. And the academy—this gilded cage—was no longer a sanctuary. It was a battlefield, and I was woefully unprepared.
The following morning, I tried to go about my routine as if nothing had changed. But everything had. My steps were heavier, my mind clouded by the ever-present threat looming over me. Every time I turned a corner, I half-expected to see One-Bill’s thugs waiting for me.
As I crossed the main courtyard, I caught sight of one of the strangers lingering by the fountain. He was pretending to read, but his eyes flicked up as I passed. Our gazes locked for the briefest moment, and my heart skipped a beat.
I knew then that time was up.
The academy could no longer protect me. The walls that had once felt impenetrable were now nothing more than a façade. If I stayed, it was only a matter of time before they cornered me, and when that happened, I wouldn’t survive.
That evening, I returned to my dorm to find it in disarray once more. The door hung slightly ajar, the lock twisted and broken. Inside, the mess was worse than before—my belongings scattered, my bed upturned, the window cracked.
I froze in the doorway, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.
“They’re escalating,” Hexa whispered. “This isn’t a warning anymore. They’re looking for you.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My gaze drifted to the sack beneath my coat—the empty sack that had once held the living mana crystal. It was still there, a useless decoy, but it wouldn’t fool anyone for long.
My hands balled into fists at my sides. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to leave.
“Time’s ticking,” I muttered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “And I’m out of options.”
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A week after the ranking matches, I made my move.
Under the cover of darkness, I gathered what little I could carry. The academy dorm was silent, the soft snores of my roommates drifting through the thin walls. The sack that had once held the living mana crystal was tucked beneath my coat, empty but still weighted with the memories of what it had contained—and what it had cost me. It had been three days since the crystal was consumed during my evolution, but the fear of discovery still gnawed at the edges of my mind.
I strapped my hoverboard to my back, laden with the provisions I’d hoarded over the past week. Dried food, water skins, and a few spare clothes—everything I would need to survive the journey ahead. My heart pounded as I slipped out of the dorm, every creak of the floorboards sounding impossibly loud in the stillness of the night.
The academy grounds stretched before me, cloaked in shadow. I stuck to the edges, avoiding the main paths where patrols might spot me. My nerves were frayed, every rustle of leaves or distant footstep setting my pulse racing.
“Hexa,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “You’re sure this is the best route?”
“It’s the only route,” she replied, her tone clipped. “You’re already a marked target. Staying here is suicide.”
The gate loomed ahead, its wrought-iron bars glowing faintly with enchantments. My palms were slick with sweat as I approached, keeping to the shadows. The guards stationed there looked bored, their attention focused on a card game spread out on a nearby crate.
“Go now,” Hexa urged. “Before they notice.”
I slipped through the narrow gap in the hedge beside the gate, my heart hammering in my chest. Once on the other side, I unstrapped the hoverboard, its familiar hum a small comfort in the suffocating darkness.
The streets of the capital were quieter than usual, the oppressive weight of recent events hanging in the air. Word of the stolen coronation jewel had spread like wildfire, and tension simmered beneath the surface of the city. Patrols were more frequent, their lanterns casting shifting shadows on the cobblestone streets.
I kept my head down, gliding through the maze of alleys and backstreets. The hoverboard’s hum was barely audible, but every sound seemed amplified in the stillness of the night. My thoughts churned with the weight of my decision. I wasn’t just leaving the academy—I was abandoning everything I’d built here, however tenuous it had been.
By the time I reached the caravan station, the first light of dawn was creeping over the horizon. The bustling activity of the station was a stark contrast to the stillness of the night. Merchants shouted orders, laborers loaded crates, and travelers haggled over fares. I slipped into the crowd, just another face among the chaos.
As the caravan prepared to depart, I glanced back toward the distant spires of the academy. They shimmered in the morning light, a gilded cage that had once felt like a sanctuary.
No more.
By the time the sun fully rose over the horizon, Wolfhart Valda-Ashdock had disappeared from the capital of Ash.