✧ ✧ ✧
"You arrived just in time," said a tall man with white hair and a sharp gaze, waiting for us on the other side of the archway.
He wore no insignias, no weapons, but his presence alone was as imposing as an invisible wall.
"I'm Naoka. And you… I assume you're the ones that old man sent from Valeria."
That old man exuded authority. His voice echoed in my ears with a strength that defied age. It felt as though the years had only made him harder—like a wall of metal.
"Ah! But look who we have here. Young Kerl. You've grown a bit, you little runt. You actually look somewhat respectable now. Truly, it's ridiculously impressive," Naoka said, glancing at Kerl's bald head. "Looks like we have something in common…"
I brought my hands together in the traditional sign of respect to elders—fists pressed, thumbs touching, held at chest height—and bowed slightly.
"Master, it is an honor to meet you. I am Yeroy Ardyntal Valaryon, Rank 3 disciple, seventh year."
One by one, the others followed suit.
"Aethen Valaryon, Rank 4 disciple, seventh year."
"Keia Aerufil Valaryon. Rank 4 disciple, eighth year. A pleasure, Master."
"I'm Darel Pyros Valaryon. Rank 6 disciple, final year."
When I looked up, I saw him cross his arms and stare at us with a gaze so sharp it made me swallow hard. For a moment, it felt like he wanted to crush us under that gaze.
"And who are you?" Kerl asked, raising an eyebrow.
He wasn't fazed in the slightest. That man could have been a god, and Kerl wouldn't blink. Power really does raise your chin, I guess.
Then, a mischievous laugh echoed all around us.
"Hahaha! Well done, little Kerl. You saw through it right away. I had my son prepare to look just like me…"
And just like that, an old man stood before us.
He didn't walk. He didn't appear in a flash. He was simply there.
My eyes couldn't track the motion. It was as if he'd always been standing there, and we had only just now noticed.
"I thought I could fool you. But it seems you've grown more than I expected, insolent little brat."
As he turned to face us, he smiled faintly and said it was all just to see Kerl's reaction. None of us believed that for a second.
"Master… are you the Grandmaster Naoka Nokamura? The one who defeated a thousand men with an unbreakable fist?" asked Darel, eyes gleaming. What's he getting at?
"A thousand? Hahaha! You think I could only take on a thousand? It was many more than that, kid," Naoka said with a wide grin. I think this guy might be even more arrogant than me…
"Hmph… You don't look like you could beat a worm, old man," I said, glaring straight at him.
"Jojo… You must be Yeroy. Just like they described—rebellious, and with a big mouth. I wonder if your guts are just as big?" he said, and in that moment, he unleashed a terrifying wave of magical energy. His Lysae was flowing like a waterfall from a cliff.
Everything began to darken. The pressure was unbearable. His killing intent made me hallucinate a hundred different ways I could die. I was sweating. My hands were trembling. Still, I clenched my fist… though not with much strength. I could feel it slipping from me.
"Heh, that's all you've got with that big mouth, you little bastard?" he said. But by then I could barely see. I couldn't hear anything except his laughter. This man is insanely strong…
"I… understand. I'm nowhere near being able to even… see the soles of your feet, Master," I said, my breath escaping me, never to return. The pressure was overwhelming. At this rate, I could actually die…
But then, the Master's aura vanished.
I dropped to my knees, gasping for air. I could barely hold my body upright. I was weak.
"Remember to always know who you're talking to, Yeroy…" I thought, once I finally caught my breath again.
Naoka slowly lowered his arm and let out a soft exhale, as if all the tension he had stirred in us was nothing more than a passing breeze to him.
"The journey has been long. Rest," he said, his voice still deep but lighter. "Tonight, in your honor, there will be a reception. We will talk then... about the reasons for your arrival, and the role you will play here."
With a glance at his son, both of them turned and took a different path, disappearing into the tall corridors of the building.
A new young man stepped forward. He wore dark red robes with the emblem of a dragon crossed out in jet black and deep crimson. His hair was tied back, and his expression was so sharp it almost hurt to look at him. He would be our guide to the guest rooms.
Throughout the entire walk, he kept his hands behind his back and his posture straight, as if carrying an invisible spear. Every so often, he turned his head slightly. He didn't say a word, but his eyes... his eyes stabbed into me like I had stolen his dinner.
"You okay?" Keia whispered, barely leaning in.
"You don't look too stable," Aethen added, feigning a casual tone.
I smiled, though my legs still burned.
"I'm fine… physically. Emotionally, that's a whole different story," I joked, then clicked my tongue. "But did you see how that guy was looking at me? I swear he's doing mental math on how many times he can punch me before someone steps in."
"Yeah, I noticed," Aethen replied, more serious this time. "But... I think I know why he looks at you like that."
"Oh yeah?" I asked, but he just gave me a faint smile, with that damn aura of mystery he uses when he wants to play the wise guy.
The walk continued through wide hallways, polished stone floors, and masterfully carved details. It was clear we were in a place of high rank, and every corner seemed designed to make you feel small.
Once we reached a narrower corridor, the escort stopped and began pointing out rooms.
"You two, there," he said, motioning to Kerl and Darel.
"Those two, at the end," he added, indicating Aethen and me.
"And you, here," he said to Keia, pointing to a separate room.
Everything seemed normal—until I moved to enter mine.
The young man took a few steps closer, making sure none of the others were looking directly, and spat out with venom in his voice:
"Watch your back, insolent."
He was frowning so hard it looked like he was holding back a scream. Then he turned on his heel and walked away without another word.
I stood still for a few seconds.
"New enemy?" Aethen said behind me, arms crossed.
"Eh… I'm great at making friends, what can I say?" I replied with a half-smile.
And we stepped into the room, with the feeling that rest… wouldn't last long.
"Woah! This room is amazing. I should ask Master Naoka to adopt me so I can live here," I said, laughing.
Aethen let out a brief laugh.
"I'm pretty sure that guy from earlier won't let happiness thrive around here. You'll be whining every night, begging to go back to Valeria with us."
"Oh yeah? I'm not afraid of anyone. And if he wants to fight me, then let him come. Just... let it be after I nap," I said, letting out a yawn. "Right now, I just want to take a nap."
"Heh. Still as carefree as ever... I guess that's a good thing about you, huh?" Aethen murmured.
"Let whatever happens, happen. Besides, I think he wants a fair fight. Killing me wouldn't benefit him," I said as I threw myself onto the bed.
And with that last bit of bravado, sleep took over me. I don't remember much after that.
The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and the exhaustion from traveling —along with the recent clash with Grandmaster Naoka— dragged me into a deep sleep.
I dreamed of a thousand battles… and of the piercing gaze of that red-clad young man. But nothing kept me awake for long.
The rest was interrupted by a soft knock at the door and the clear —though formal— voice of that same young man.
"Master Naoka requests your presence in the main hall. The reception is about to begin."
I got up, still a bit dazed from sleep, and headed to meet the others.
The night promised to be long, and the conversation with the Grandmaster… would surely reveal more than we expected.
When we arrived at the hall, I noticed—rather strangely—that there was a huge empty space between all the arranged tables.
"You're finally here! Excellent, come this way," Naoka shouted with a wide smile.
Once everyone sat down, just as I was about to take my seat, the Master raised his hand and stopped me mid-motion.
"Ah, Yeroy. I have to ask you a favor. I know you've just arrived, but my grandson rarely gets a chance to spend time with people his age. And wouldn't you know it—he came to my office asking for a training session with you. Seems he likes you, boy," he said in a mocking tone. This old man's definitely up to something…
"I refuse, Grand Master. He can train with someone else," I replied, closing my eyes and pulling out the chair to sit.
"Jojo… I don't think that's the answer Terimaru wants to hear," Naoka said.
As if it were a cue, that guy jumped up, pushed off a column and launched a kick. I barely managed to raise my guard, and his strike sent me flying straight into the empty space at the center of the hall.
"Ah, now I get why there's that big empty space in the middle… decrepit old man," I said with a scowl.
"Ha! This kid's something else. Just a moment ago he almost pissed himself under my killing intent, and now he's insolent again… even throwing me cunning glances!" Naoka laughed.
The young man then leapt forward, landing in front of me. He stood in a strange stance: one hand raised with an open palm aimed at me, and the other bent from the back of his neck to his head, fist clenched.
"That's a weird fighting pose," I said, squaring up in front of him.
For a moment, the atmosphere went still. All I could feel was his gaze—intense, unblinking—like he was set on grinding me into the floor. But over my damn dead body… that's not happening.