Rotell moved steadily along the docks as the crowd instinctively parted around her.
-
They passed the crew of a small merchant vessel, their ship sitting down low in the water, its hull scarred and weathered, strangely simple in shape, with its crew carrying crates by hand and arguing as they worked. One man balanced a ledger against his knee, while another shouted prices to a simple peddler, his voice strongly suppressed by the noise of the whirling wind and waves.
The smell of herbs, dried fish, and wet rope clung to their bulky bodies, and their clothes were simple, patched, and practical, the look of people who lived by trade rather than ceremony, er… they were the 'working class', not the 'nobles'.
When they noticed Rotell, the mood of the scene shifted immediately.
Their conversations paused as their backs straightened.
Several sailors stiffened, then quickly bowed, before snapping back to their work, suddenly very focused on their cargo.
These burly men, they weren't great actors…
Rotell was well known, especially after the second calamity had ended. Everyone knew the story, especially because a certain dissatisfied father had helped spread it intentionally!
That naturally meant that they also knew that Rotell was a tomboy by trade, so seeing her in a dress nearly gave these monstrous men heart attacks. Some looked away in panic, while others stared for a second too long, before quickly realizing their mistake and awkwardly turning their heads.
A few were genuinely terrified that she might remember their faces, so they immediately slipped away.
Rotell didn't spare them a glance as she moved on…
-
Further along the docks, the atmosphere changed again.
Arthur followed Rotell into the shadow of a massive ship, its hull towering overhead like a wall of literal iron. Magitech cranes groaned as reinforced containers were picked up, lowered onto the pier, disassembled, and sent out by hired hands.
These containers were sealed with layered runes, stamped with unfamiliar markings, and closely guarded by both allies and outsiders alike.
This was a large cargo ship…
The crew moved with efficiency, their voices low yet loud, and each person was clearly assigned a role.
Unlike the 'fishermen' from before, these people had more of an 'industrial' aura, no, they even looked a bit like an underground mafia.
One of Rotell's servants leaned closer, lowering his voice as he talked, pointing up at the ship.
She glanced up, following his finger toward a cluster of foreign 'adventurers' near the railing, 'banned weapons' openly displayed in their hands.
These were crossbow-like artifacts and hand-sized magic cannons.
"They're carrying those so openly despite the restrictions," the servant whispered.
Rotell didn't slow down. She didn't care at all.
Her gaze flickered towards them once, assessing something, then turned away.
"It doesn't matter," she said quietly. "They want to be seen, that's why they're doing it. It scares off 'troublemakers', which isn't a bad idea, especially with so many outsiders present."
IN her mind, as long as they didn't use them, then it didn't matter…
Theo leaned forward, speaking in a low voice, "Security has already detained three 'foreign spies' this morning, so it's understandable that some people are slightly more on edge."
Rotell nodded, her expression unchanging, and continued forward…
-
There was a ripple ahead.
As Rotell neared the end of the dock, she lifted her gaze, sensing the subtle shift in the sparse crowd before even arriving. Before she fully saw the face of the change, she already knew…
As the distance shortened, conversations dulled, footsteps slowed, and for those few who did come this far out, even the rhythm of the harbor seemed to faintly falter.
It was like the world became heavy…
The spiritual energy around this part of the docks was heavy, sluggish, and very contradictory, almost earthly in a sense, like one was walking through a desert.
Before reaching the far end of the docks, they had to pass one final ship, but unlike the others, this vessel was dark gray, almost black, and many times bigger.
It was a towering warship, its massive hull rising over the docks like a sheer face of a cliff. All visible weapons had been removed, a necessity to allow it to dock, yet even stripped, the ship radiated an oppressive presence that made people instinctively lower their heads and quicken their steps.
This was—
The flagship of the 'Ash Stone Alliance', the Tera Trinity's 'first ship', The Black Island - 'Umbra Cineris'.
It belonged to the Telltera, and it was a very infamous thing…
The 'Ash Stone Alliance' was a coalition of the most powerful underground races, including the Black Dwarves, Dark Elves, Land Dragons, Earth Weavers, and the Telltera themselves. It was a terrifying force, one that rarely surfaced and even more rarely submitted itself to public scrutiny.
They were a shadow, one that was hard to find without entering the shadows yourself.
Their presence, the existence of the Ash Stone Alliance, felt heavy, like something that didn't quite belong under the open sky.
It was strange that they were here—
Regardless, their status was still extremely high, and if not for the Dragon Clan, then Rotell had no doubt that hosting the Telltera would have fallen squarely on her shoulders.
The earlier commotion had come from here…
As they passed the 'Umbra Cineris', Rotell noticed a group of Telltera unloading cargo.
Their dark, ash-gray skin was etched with faint black runes across their chests and arms. Some stood nearly four meters tall, their massive frames moving with a powerful momentum and an unsettling precision, as they lifted their heavy cargo with ease.
Nearby, a dock worker inspected the cargo, his figure stiff and uncertain. It was obvious that he had no real understanding of what he was looking at.
One crate had been opened, its contents revealed.
Inside were 'stacks' of black iron rods, each roughly the length of a man's arm. They were piled up neatly, uniform and unadorned, with almost one hundred in the crate. To the dock worker, they likely looked like nothing more than heavy metal pipes, and indeed, that was what he was thinking.
It wasn't only him—
Rotell felt the same unease, even if she couldn't explain why. The Telltera were never simple, and seeing such an unusual cargo only made it more suspicious.
Unlike the common giants, who could grow to a terrifying eight meters tall and were often driven by their combative instincts, the Telltera were different. They were calculative and careful, capable of scheming, horrifying hunters, and often came out on top in whatever conflicts they did have.
It was no secret that the Church of Light despised them, yet unlike the demons, the Telltera were untouched. It was for this very reason that few dared to speculate about it openly, but even the church seemed hesitant to provoke them directly. This was a mystery, one that the Hellion Empire couldn't investigate with its current standing in the world.
Rotell shook her head and continued.
They walked past, not wanting to interact, leaving the black ship behind…
-
After they passed a fair distance, Arthur paused and glanced back.
This was an action not born from his own interests, no, he had suddenly felt cold, very cold, so, he turned back instinctively…
At some point, one of the Telltera had already turned to look at them. No, that was wrong… not 'at some point', it was the instant Rotell turned away, the instant she let down her guard, that was when the Telltera's gaze shifted to Arthur and the others.
The timing was unsettling, making Arthur's instincts prickle upon this realisation.
It was 'too perfect', almost as if a creature, no, a predator, had been waiting in the dark for the exact moment they looked away, careful not to be noticed, unwilling to let its 'gaze' be felt.
When their eyes met, Arthur felt his whole body tense involuntarily.
A moment later, his brows furrowed.
There was something uncanny about these people, the Telltera…
They gave him a similar feeling to Petra.
He had no doubt that 'top forces' like the Dragon Clan and the Telltera could 'sense' through their own means that he, like the other Heros, possessed some form of foresight. What unsettled him was how incomplete his visions became when he looked at the Telltera.
To his ability—
Like most people, the Dragon Clan was normal, even predictable, but the Tibon Family, who hid behind fate, and freaks like Petra, who were simply immune, were anomalies in his eyes.
He had accepted this, but—
The Telltera were different...
Something was off….
He could see fragments, but it was as if the pages of the book he was reading were torn apart and rearranged each time he took a look. If people like the Tibon Family were a blurry book, and people like Petra were an ink-stained book, then the Telltera were no different than a puzzle book with certain pieces missing. If he stared long enough, he might piece together a large enough picture, maybe even a full image, but even then, the distortion never fully resolved for him.
Arthur had no idea why this would happen, but…
What he did know was that the distortions had lessened after his foresight deteriorated following his battle with Petra in Imai.
That is to say, after he lost an eye…
He had seen a Telltera once before, very briefly, but at that time the gaps in his vision had been far worse than they were now.
He couldn't be certain, but the thoughts born from this situation unsettled him deeply.
That was because—
He felt as if the Telltera's future as a clan was heading towards something 'vast and dangerous', something that 'resisted' being observed, and the closer his foresight reached, and the closer he tried to look, the more his ability failed. That was why he could see more when his ability became 'worse'.
Frowning, Arthur, and the group moved on…
-
Behind them, not just one, but several of the Telltera silently watched them leave, their eyes piercing through the shadows of the ship. If this had been in the underground world, then such a scene would have been terrifying beyond words.
They lingered like predators in the dark, patient, unmoving, unseen, and waiting for their target to relax.
And indeed, it was a chilling stare…
* * *
A few minutes later—
Rotell and her entourage reached the end of the dock!
The noise of the harbor disappeared as they stepped onto the final stretch, where the wooden planks gave way to a decent-sized artificial stone island, the path narrowing before widening as the Lularun River unfolded before them. Here, the smell of salt was strong, carried on a steady wind that tugged at their cloaks and wildly whipped their hair, sending a loose banner flying overhead.
The crowds didn't come this far, with the exception of a small area in the distance that was cordoned off. This section of the dock had been cleared entirely, leaving only a small group of officials who had already been waiting.
Everything was clean, orderly, and dignified, no longer just a small stone island at the end of a pier.
The magic stone was washed, decorated, and enchanted, the area marked and supported, with everything prepared carefully for the special arrival that required respect…
Guards stood at premeasured intervals, and no one crossed the invisible boundary they formed.
Even the distant spectators remained far in the back.
Rotell approached, then stopped.
She looked around.
An official stepped forward immediately, bowing and speaking a few words. She listened without interrupting, acknowledged him with a dismissive nod, and sent him away just as quickly.
He withdrew, leaving the space.
Rotell turned towards the sea.
Before her, the water stretched out endlessly, its surface broken only by the distant sails and the faint silhouettes of shifting ships approaching from the horizon.
Sunlight scattered across the waves, rippling and fading with each rise and fall of the river.
The rhythm was steady, natural, almost soothing in a sense…
There was something almost grounding about it… Each crest and dip felt intended, balanced, as if the sea was breathing with the world.
Rippel—
For a brief moment, a thought unconsciously surfaced in her mind…
- Enlightenment!
Rotell paused…
The concept of entering a state of enlightenment did exist, and on rare occasions, an individual would suddenly fall into a profound state, with their body instinctively adjusting to support itself as their mind entered an unconscious cultivation.
It was said to happen naturally, without any ritual or preparations, as if the world had opened a door.
However—
Such events were exceedingly rare…!
Most people only heard of it once every few years, often as rumors or second-hand exaggerations, deluded by distance and time.
Rotell exhaled, letting the thought pass.
She could feel 'it', but 'it' was far from enlightenment. She had no idea what that feeling was…
Behind her, the servants gathered quietly, their voices lowered out of habit. Arthur stood slightly to her side, hands tucked into his pockets lazy, and Theo was with the soldiers, scanning the water and the surrounding docks.
No one spoke.
They were waiting…
The wind continued to roll in from the open sea.
* * *