Just as Alina stepped into the vast, white hall, she fought the urge to speak first. The anticipation weighed on her tongue, but she held it back.
"Welcome, my friends," Victor's voice carried from the misty upper hall.
They bowed toward him before taking their seats. Alina was about to voice her question when another sound came, firm and clear.
"Alina," Victor said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "We'll be heading into the Shadowland. We shall meet soon."
A smile blossomed across her face. Finally, after so long, she would see others who lived beyond the Shadowland.
"Tomorrow we'll begin our journey to the northern borders of the Kingdom of Magic," Victor continued. "If we fly, it should take us two days. After that…" He shook his head slightly. "I can't say. I've never set foot in that land."
"Then how will you find us?" Alina asked quickly, unable to hold herself any longer.
Victor lifted a small vial of blood from his magic bag. It floated toward her, glimmering faintly in the hall's light.
"Keep this with you. My blood is bound to me. From far away, I'll be able to sense it—and find your whereabouts. If it doesn't work…" His eyes narrowed, his voice lowering. "Well, for now, we don't have a plan B."
The hall fell silent at that.
Finally, Marco cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. "I've made my decision. Alongside being a warrior, I also want to become an enchanter."
Arthur's eyes lit with approval. "That's a strong path. Enchantments can make a warrior far more versatile."
Marco shook his head. "It's not just about being useful for a warrior. I want to learn how to create magic items."
Arthur leaned forward slightly. "Creating them? Normally, magic items are born out of chaos itself. An enchanter can only inscribe enchantments onto objects. But…" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I've heard of some rare enchanters who manage to use the remains of high-level creatures or high rank individuals to forge new magic items, instead of waiting for them to form on their own."
Marco nodded firmly. "Yes, that's exactly what I want to do." He hesitated, then asked, "Those enchanters… what rank are they?"
"From my intel," Arthur replied, "they need to be at least A5 and above."
Marco's expression tightened, a mix of hope and frustration flickering across his face.
Arthur caught the look immediately. "Is something wrong?"
Marco exhaled slowly, his voice quieter now. "It's just… the blacksmith I've been working for, he already created a magic item."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What is his name?"
"Edgar Wilkerson," Marco replied.
Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. "Never heard of him."
Victor, still the name the others knew Leo by, nodded slightly. "You've chosen a good path, Marco. Just… be careful around this man."
The hall fell into a heavy silence again, Victor's words hanging in the air like a warning no one dared challenge.
Then Liam's voice broke it. "Mr. Arthur, I have something to ask you."
Arthur turned his calm but curious gaze toward him. "What is it?"
"I recently obtained an item from my family vault," Liam said carefully. "It's powerful—too powerful, perhaps, for what I'll need in the future. I want you to divine whether it's truly by chance… or if something is guiding my path."
Arthur's expression sharpened, though his tone remained even. "Do you have the item with you?"
Liam hesitated. His eyes flicked toward Victor, searching for reassurance. A single nod from him was enough. With that, Liam drew out the gauntlet.
The heavy iron glove floated through the air, its molten cracks glowing faintly, before landing softly in front of Arthur.
Arthur extended his hand, hovering just above it, and whispered, "Reveal."
A dull gray circle of light bloomed beneath the gauntlet, rippling outward. Threads of magic wrapped around the relic like probing fingers, searching for hidden influence. Arthur's brow furrowed in concentration. After several tense moments, he finally lowered his hand.
"I can't sense anything suspicious," he said, though there was a faint crease of doubt in his expression.
Before anyone could respond, the air shifted. A dense fog rolled down from above the stairs, spilling like a tide over the floor. The temperature dropped. Every head turned, every breath caught, they all knew what it meant. The Creator.
The mist coiled around Arthur like a living presence, and his shoulders stiffened under the weight of it.
Victor's voice carried through the fog, calm and absolute. "Try again."
Arthur nodded, then pressed his hand against the gauntlet once more. Power not his own coursed through him, filling his veins, steadying his breath. Reverence flickered in his eyes as he whispered again, "Reveal."
This time, the magic erupted. The circle blazed brighter, flaring with a resonance none of them had felt before. From it rose a phantom image of the gauntlet itself, woven of fog and shadow, its molten cracks glowing like wounds. A pale green light pulsed inside it before lancing into the real gauntlet, and vanishing without a trace.
"So someone is really behind it?" Liam said.
"Maybe your father is suspicious?" Marco suggested, his tone hesitant but probing.
Before anyone else could speak, the fog stirred again. It twisted upward, coalescing into the massive head of a lion. Its mane rippled like smoke, and its glowing eyes fixed unblinking on the gauntlet. For a breathless moment, nothing happened. Then, with a low rumble, a green circle of magic flared beneath the relic, only to ignite and burn away in a violent hiss.
Victor's lips curved into a knowing smile. "It seems someone tried to curse you. But your pact summon intercepted it in time."
Arthur slowly drew his hand back from the gauntlet, his expression grim. "This was no ordinary curse. And I don't believe your father is responsible. Whoever it was, they're watching you, Liam. And they're strong. Strong enough to blind my magic." His gaze locked onto Liam's with quiet intensity. "You should be very careful."
"Fortunately we were able to foresee this because of the Creator." He said then put his fist on his chest. "Praise the Creator." Others followed his gesture.
Then Liam gave a sharp nod, though his thoughts were already spiraling inward. His jaw tightened, and silence settled over him as the weight of the revelation sank in.
With that, the gathering came to an end. One by one, the figures rose. Alina bowed low toward the Creator's mist-shrouded hall above before the domain dissolved around her, pulling her back into the waking world.
She exhaled, steadying herself, then hurried across the quiet corridors until she found Arlasan waiting.
"Well?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
Alina's lips broke into a smile, relief and excitement mingling in her expression. "They're on their way."
…
The next morning, before their departure, the group was escorted into a broad chamber with tall windows draped in heavy crimson curtains. At the far end, Count Errenor and Osvald waited behind a long wooden desk polished to a dark sheen. Upon the table lay several carefully arranged items, each radiating its own faint aura of power.
Leo's eyes darted around the room. "Where is Luciana?"
"She was here a moment ago," Osvald replied, arms folded. "Said she'll be waiting for you outside."
Errenor's gaze lingered on Leo before shifting to the others. His tone was steady, but there was a weight beneath it. "Along with the information I've shared, I've decided to grant you these items as well."
He lifted the first object—an amulet whose sapphire centerpiece glowed faintly in the morning light. The gem was suspended in a silver frame shaped like flowing currents, as though the metal itself had been sculpted by water.
"This is the Amulet of the Sapphire Well. The wearer's magical reserves are greatly amplified, allowing them to cast far beyond normal limits. It can store mana over time and draw upon ambient energy, turning the bearer into a walking font of power. But there is a cost. Each time one takes too much, the body consumes itself—first fatigue, then faint burns along the veins, and eventually, irreversible deterioration. Abused, the wearer may dissolve into pure mana." His eyes flicked briefly toward Leo and Elna. "I think one of you two vampires may find it most useful."
Leo picked it up, feeling the gem's hum pulse faintly in his palm. Threads of blue light shimmered from the sapphire and danced briefly across his skin. After a moment of consideration, he turned and handed it to Elna.
"I think you should wield this. My strength lies more in blood than mana. It will serve you better."
Elna smiled warmly, fastening the amulet around her neck. The sapphire glowed faintly against her pale skin, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. "Then I'll use it well. I promise."
Errenor studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before lifting the second item. A delicate silver ring, set with a pale gem that flickered like a distant star. Whenever it caught the light, faint rays seemed to stretch outward, like the first glimmers of dawn.
"This is the Ring of the Seer's Radiance," he explained. "It grants the wearer the ability to pierce veils—seeing hidden truths, sensing auras, and even glimpsing fragments of what may come. The ring can also guide its bearer through darkness, illuminating the safest path and revealing what others cannot see: hidden doors, traps, obstacles. But beware. Each use weighs upon the mind, planting whispers and visions that may not belong to you—shadows of futures that may never happen. Prolonged use risks unraveling the mind itself, trapping the wearer between realities. Some say its whispers come from the void itself. Use it carefully."
The group exchanged knowing glances. Without a word, they all turned toward Arthur. He extended his hand and accepted the ring, sliding it onto his finger with quiet gravity. "Thank you," he said, his voice calm.
Errenor reached for the final item, his tone softening as he looked at Briva. "And this last one has been prepared with you in mind, Ms. Briva."
He held out a dark wooden band, smooth yet sturdy, its surface veined with glowing emerald light that pulsed like a heartbeat. As it passed into the air between them, faint wisps of leaves and vines curled gently around the Count's hand before fading.
"The wearer can absorb life force from the surrounding land to temporarily transform into a powerful avatar of nature, a towering figure of bark, vines, and glowing leaves. In that form, they gain immense strength, speed, and regenerative power. While transformed, they can command plants and terrain on a massive scale, raising living fortresses, summoning walls of thorns, even animating entire forests." Errenor's tone grew more serious as he continued. "But the bond cuts both ways. Without a deep connection to nature, repeated use scars the land, leaving it permanently corrupted. And the wearer pays the price as well, each time, their link to humanity weakens, drawing them closer to the dying land they've drained. In the end, they may not return at all, fusing forever with withered roots and dead soil."
He carefully placed the band on the desk before looking at Leo. "Unfortunately, these are all the magic items I can spare."
Thorn slipped briefly from Leo's palm, curling upward like a living blade before retreating back into his skin. His lips tugged in a faint smile. "Don't worry. I've already got my own."
Errenor let out a low breath, as though reassured, then gestured to a small chest nearby. "I've also set aside a few crystals and scrolls—spells of different kinds. May they serve you well on your journey."
Arthur inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you, Count Errenor. Someday, I hope we can repay this debt."
The Count's smile was faint but steady. "You are already doing more than enough. You're hunting one of the world's greatest enemies. That, in itself, is repayment."
…
After stowing away the new items, they regrouped with Luciana outside. She was leaning against a wall near the carriage, her usual playful expression replaced by a serious gaze.
"What's wrong with your face?" Leo asked, teasing.
"To kill my brother, we need every advantage we can get," she replied, ignoring his tone. "I have decided to visit a family vault to retrieve a special item."
"Oh no," Arthur cut in, "you'll stay with us where I can keep an eye on you—especially since you've given us nothing."
Luciana's smile thinned. "I want my brother dead as much as you do."
Arthur's gaze hardened. "You say one thing, then act another."
"Don't worry," Errenor's calm voice came from behind them, "I've sent a few to accompany her, in case her intentions turn."
Arthur exchanged a brief nod with Leo and the others before turning back to Errenor. "Then I'll leave her in your care."
With that settled, they bid farewell to Count Errenor. Following the count's map and their own discussions, they decided to take the route through the Kingdom of Magic on their way to the Shadowland, as it was the safer path.
And so, their journey began again. They left the count's lands behind, heading toward the kingdom of magic. The first day passed uneventfully inside the sturdy carriage the Count had provided. Afterward, they took to the skies to hasten their travel. By nightfall, the ominous borders of the Shadowland loomed ahead.
From afar, the barrier had looked like a dark smear across the horizon, but up close it was something altogether different. The wall of shadow rose before them like a solid ocean of night, darker than the starless sky above. Its surface writhed faintly, as though alive, swallowing the light around it. It took them several long minutes just to comprehend its oppressive presence.
"We should rest here for tonight," Arthur said, lowering his voice instinctively. "We don't know what waits for us inside. We'll need every ounce of strength."
But before anyone could respond, the air shifted. An ominous presence pressed down upon them, chilling the air and vibrating the mana around them. Briva stiffened first, feeling the corruption seep through the land beneath her feet. Her bow was already in her hand, an arrow ready. Arthur's sword of light flared into existence, casting a pale glow against the darkness. Blood coiled around Leo's hand as his eyes burned with a fierce crimson light. Elna's form shimmered, half-shadow, half-flesh, shifting with her power.
On a hill just beyond them, two figures emerged from the haze. One was an old man cloaked in black robes, his face obscured beneath the hood. The other was worse—a walking skeleton, its eye sockets burning with green fire, the same tattered darkness draped across its bones.
"Well, well," the skeleton rasped, its voice like cracking stone. "Who would've thought I'd find you here, Mr. Light?"
Arthur's grip on his sword tightened, the golden light tracing down its edge steady despite the weight in the air. It was easy enough to guess who the skeletal figure was. His jaw set as he answered flatly, "You must be Mr. Immortal."
The skeleton's skull tilted, as though amused. "Please—call me Aran."
With a flick of his bony hand, a green skull of twisted mana shot forward, streaking toward Arthur like a screaming comet. Arthur swung in a single, decisive motion; his golden blade cleaved the cursed projectile in half, scattering it into sparks of foul energy.
Aran floated higher, robes fluttering as his presence swelled. His mana spilled outward like a tidal wave of poison, washing over the land in sickly green light. The grass beneath their feet wilted in seconds.
"I shall offer you to Mr. Sage," Aran intoned, his voice echoing with grim certainty.