The hunt was over, but the weight of it still hung in the air, heavy and metallic like the scent of blood.
Alista Tudor walked at the head of his small, eclectic formation as they traversed the boundary between the wilderness and the Outer Settlements. They were laden with the spoils of their violence—sacks heavy with the meat of Nightmare Creatures and pouches clinking with the distinct, crystalline sound of Soul Shards.
They moved with a quiet efficiency that separated them from the desperate scavengers of the slums. They weren't just surviving; they were conquering.
When they finally reached the safety of their secluded meeting room, the tension in their shoulders began to dissipate. Alista secured the door and moved to the central table, unrolling the map of the Forgotten Shore.
"We have secured one successful Shard," Alista announced, his voice steady. "For the next hunt, we will take our time. We need to prepare."
He nodded to the others. "Show them."
The room was instantly illuminated by three distinct, powerful lights.
Gwen stepped forward, her hand opening to reveal the [Moonlight Shard]. It was a ghostly stiletto, translucent and ethereal, humming with a silent sorrow.
Alista summoned the [Dawn Shard]. The crown materialized, radiating a gentle, hopeful warmth that seemed to push back the encroaching shadows of the Dream Realm.
Artemis brought forth the [Dusk Shard]. The heavy shield materialized with a thud, its surface dark and imposing, carrying the weight of the heavens and the inevitability of the end.
Dawn, Dusk, and Moonlight. Three keys to the lock of the Forgotten Shore.
Fors let out a low whistle. "We need to hunt for the others, but the remaining targets are… problematic. Both of them are in locations that are practically death sentences. We need time to strengthen ourselves."
Alista nodded. "Agreed. In the meantime, don't breathe a word of this to anyone. Once we have collected the full set, we shall use them. Until then, they stay hidden."
Everyone nodded in solemn agreement. The meeting began to disperse, the adrenaline of the hunt fading into the fatigue of reality.
Artemis lingered, stepping close to Alista. She lowered her voice to a whisper, her blue eyes intense. "The [Guidance]… it's actually pointing towards two specific people."
Alista raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Seishan,Effie," Artemis whispered. "And that Black Shorty, Sunny."
Alista's expression didn't change, though his mind raced. The Guidance pointing to Seishan made sense; she held a Shard. But Sunny? Did he already have one, or was he the key to finding another?
"No need to act on it yet," Alista replied calmly. "Let's deal with that later. We have enough heat on us as it is."
Artemis frowned, clearly unhappy with ignoring the pull of her Attribute, but she didn't argue. She stepped back, her face returning to its mask of noble indifference.
Klaus stretched his arms, his joints popping. "Well, since the hunt is over and the heavy lifting is done, I will depart. Lady Valor, why don't we take a stroll? The air in the slums is particularly fragrant this time of day."
Artemis nodded, perhaps needing a break from Alista's intensity. Both of them left the room, heading toward the bustling streets.
Fors looked at the closed door, then back at Alista and Gwen. "Now, let's go meet Seishan. We have things to discuss."
Alista, Gwen, and Fors made their way toward the imposing silhouette of the Bright Castle.
They moved through the checkpoints, handing over the required tribute of Soul Shards. Alista felt a gnawing sense of urgency in his gut. He knew he was moving fast—perhaps too fast for a Sleeper—but he had no choice. He needed to collect the Shards first. He needed to figure out a way to dismantle Gunlaug's tyranny without turning the entire forgotten shores population into collateral damage. He had multiple projects running in his mind, a web of schemes that threatened to collapse if he pulled the wrong string.
As they traversed the inner sanctum of the Castle, Alista noticed the stares. They weren't friendly. The residents of the Castle looked at them with faces contorted in displeasure and suspicion. They were outsiders, upstarts who didn't know their place.
Alista sighed internally and ignored them. Let them stare, he thought. Staring doesn't kill.
As they went deeper, the atmosphere changed. More women dressed in pristine white clothes began to appear—the Handmaidens. Some of them recognized Fors and Gwen, stopping to greet them with warm smiles and hushed conversations. Alista remained silent, playing the role of the stoic bodyguard, an audience to their world.
Finally, they reached their destination.
Seishan's Room.
Entering it felt less like stepping into a fortress and more like stepping into a different era. The style was distinctly Victorian, reminiscent of the Queen of England's chambers, but with a pervasive, gloomy filter applied to it. The shadows clung to the corners a little too tightly here.
Seishan sat on a high-backed chair, her legs crossed elegantly. She wore white clothes like the other Handmaidens, but on her, the fabric seemed different. She exuded an aura of dark elegance, looking for all the world like a Lady Dracula holding court.
Her dark eyes locked onto Alista.
"So," she purred, her voice smooth like velvet over gravel. "This is the Blood Emperor."
Alista offered a polite, disarming laugh. "It is nice to meet you too, Seishan."
Fors sensed the sudden spike in atmospheric pressure. "Why don't you two talk? Me and Gwen will leave you alone."
Before Alista could protest, Fors grabbed Gwen and scurried out of the room, closing the heavy door behind them.
Seishan watched them go with a faint amusement. "Typical Fors, isn't it?"
Alista smiled, relaxing his posture slightly. "I spent a life with her. You have no idea how true that statement is."
"So," Seishan leaned forward, her eyes sharpening. "How was the hunt?"
Alista didn't reply with words. Instead, he summoned the [Dawn Shard].
The crown appeared in his hands, its gentle light cutting through the gloom of Seishan's room.
Seishan's eyes widened. Her calm, predatory composure cracked for a fraction of a second. She stared at the crown, her breath hitching.
"Is it…?"
"Yeah," Alista interrupted, his voice firm. "I got it from the grave of the First Bright Lord. And I intend to collect all of them."
The implication hung heavily in the air.
Seishan recovered her composure, leaning back. "So, do you want mine? Is that why you are here?"
"No," Alista said, banishing the Memory. "I need your alliance. I want to escape from this hellhole with the least amount of bloodshed possible. I want to know everything about this place—the politics, the hidden armories, the secrets Gunlaug keeps. If possible, I want to open a dialogue with the other factions."
Seishan laughed. It was a cold, cynical sound.
"Let me tell you a story, Blood Emperor. There was a person from the Outskirts, much like you. He was talented, strong, and charismatic. His power attracted others. He made allies, he gained fame, and he rallied people to his cause. But in the end, he failed. Do you know why?"
She stood up, walking slowly toward the window that overlooked the dark city.
"He was too confident. He believed that even if the world broke, he could hold it together. He believed in his allies. And because of that, he died, betrayed and broken, leaving his only daughter alone in this nightmare. He was known as Broken Sword."
She turned back to Alista, her gaze piercing. "So, what makes you confident that you can do this? You are no Valor. Even though Artemis supports you, and you bear a majestic True Name, you are just one man."
Alista smirked. It wasn't the smile of a hero; it was the smile of a gambler who had seen the opponent's hand.
"Because," Alista said, his voice dropping an octave, resonating with the innate authority of his Aspect. "Unlike Broken Sword, who fought to keep things together, I fight to win. Do you know why I collected the Shards first instead of gaining good fame like Nephis or spreading terror like Gunlaug?"
He took a step forward.
"Because even if I fail, even if I die, the Shards will be gathered. The future generations—the people who come after me—will have a chance to fight easier because the keys will be here, ready for them. I won't rally the people with pretty speeches or false hope."
He looked her dead in the eye.
"A true King doesn't beg for followers. He simply shows them the way."
Seishan studied him for a long moment, searching for a crack in his bravado. "Then what you speak is purely naivety. Do you honestly believe you won't lose?"
Alista's smirk widened into a grin of absolute, terrifying confidence.
"Nah, I'd win."
[Klaus POV]
The air in the Outer Settlements smelled of desperation and unwashed bodies, a stark contrast to the sterile air of the Castle.
Klaus walked beside Artemis, his hands in his pockets, observing the people lining up for food and water.
'These people haven't changed at all,' Klaus thought, shaking his head internally. 'One free thing, one act of charity, and they fall to their knees like an angel has descended. They fail to realize that free things are the ones that cost the most. You pay with your dignity, your loyalty, and eventually, your life.'
"So," a loud, mocking voice cut through the hum of the crowd. "The Trash Talker and the Second-Rate Princess are here."
Klaus stopped. Beside him, Artemis stiffened, her posture becoming rigid.
They turned to see the source of the voice. Standing there, radiating arrogance and power, was Nephis's Cohort. Caster, looking noble and disdainful; Sunny, lurking in the shadows; Cassie, leaning on her staff; and Effie, the one who had spoken, crossing her muscular arms with a sneer.
Artemis was clearly pissed. Her hand twitched toward her weapon, but she held her tongue, the training of her clan keeping her silent.
But Klaus saw it. From a young age, Klaus had been adept at reading people—it was a survival mechanism. Beneath Artemis's anger, he saw a profound sadness and desperation. She was a Princess of Valor, yet she was treated like a leper, denied the respect she was owed.
Effie grinned, sensing blood. "The Trash Talker finally stays quiet. Cat got your tongue?"
Klaus looked at the group. He looked at Artemis's clenched jaw. And he decided he didn't like these people.
"So," Klaus began, his voice dripping with theatrical venom. "Dirty Buffie finally found a band. How adorable."
He stepped forward, placing himself between Artemis and the group.
"Let's see what we have here," Klaus continued, pointing a lazy finger at each of them in turn.
He pointed at Sunny. "The Black Shorty, lurking in the back like a kicked puppy."
He pointed at Caster. "Han Li's Ultimate Sucker, polishing the boots of authority."
He pointed at Nephis. "Bumstar, whose daddy went for milk and never returned."
He pointed at Cassie. "And the Blind Girl, who probably sees less than the rocks she walks on."
He clapped his hands together, a sharp sound that silenced the nearby crowd.
"Oh, my! What a colorful bunch of misfits. Are you guys heading to a Circus? Because if yes, I'm sure it will be a spectacular show. You've already got the clowns."
Instantly, the faces of Nephis's cohort went pale with rage. Caster's hand went to his sword. Effie's grin vanished.
Klaus stood his ground, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass.
'Take it, bitches,' he thought.