The day before

Helial and Circe were sitting on the rooftop of the royal palace with their legs dangling through the darkness. From time to time, the crescent moon would cast its gleam on their faces from over a thick shroud of clouds.

Helial was gazing intently ahead of himself. The flash of a new resolution sparkled across his eyes. He turned abruptly towards Circe. He caught sight of her eyes sparkling through the night. The view stuck a chord deep within him.

“Are you going to go serious with our engagement, or you’ll get rid of me as you did of the others?” Helial bluntly asked.

Circe wouldn’t seem to be taken aback by his words. Without even looking at him, she stirred up the corners of mouth in a fiery smile. “We’ll see.”

Helial stared at the face of Circe as it bathed in the moon rays. She really did have the silhouette of a heavenly creature. Her pitch-black hair framed her forehead and eyes. Along with her small proportioned nose, they gave her a malicious look. Her heavy make-up gave a strong contribution to her taunting gaze as she looked afar at Orma in the distance.

“There are way more talents than you image. In Orma, I mean,” Circe blurted out as she suddenly changed subject. “Pseudonym is nothing comprehensible for common people. But when people say I’m the second best talent in Orma, I can hardly stop myself from laughing in their face…”

As Circe’s voice died out in the wind, a number of shadows were hurrying down the streets of Orma making it home after a hard day’s work.

The warriors would now warm in inns and whorehouses to forget the work of the day soon to end – the same work that would expect them at the sunrise of the following day. Mothers would put their children to bed reminding them of the importance of gaining the favours of some master to pass the Royal Academy entrance test.

The merchants would dismantle their stalls lined up at the edge of the streets. Their faces were skinny and visibly tired. One of them didn’t even took notice of a little kid running away with some loafs of bread just stolen while he was bending down to pick up the baskets.

Helial cast a glance at Circe and fell silent. He waited for her voice to linger on his ears.

“The gap between first best and second best could never be compared to the gap between Pseudonym and me. Second best, me?” Circe shook her head. “I don’t even deserve to be second to Pseudonym. And anyway, am I the only talented practitioner in Orma? No way. Look at you, for example…” Circe went on to say as she turned towards Helial. She rubbed a hand against his shoulder. “You’re already more powerful than you were yesterday. You grow stronger with each passing day. It’s been like this since the day I met you. The only one who could possibly reach Pseudonym’s level in all Orma is you.”

Circe licked her lips, then went on saying: “But you and Pseudonym aren’t the only talents in Orma for sure. Despite his talent not being as astounding as that of Pseudonym, there is a Goblin who really deserves to be called second best in Orma. And that Goblin is not me…”

Circe pulled a crystal ball out of her cloak. Its surface glared under the feeble moonlight.

Helial raised an eyebrow. “A Soothsayer? It’s an Intermediate stage?”

The funds of the Guild of Life and Death must really be richer than Helial thought. The guy could not even figure what could be the cost of such a precious item. Despite having Caesar’s special permission to buy anything from the Merchant Guild, Helial knew that it wasn’t through money one could lay their hands on such an item. In order to lay your hands on a Soothsayer, you needed to know the right people.

A soothsayer could be used as a Divine Sense except it was far less tangible. Therefore, it made the perfect tool to spy on poor unsuspecting people.

Circe slowly ran her hands over the ball. It immediately began to glow with a soft light.

Within the crystal, Helial could see the image of a red-haired boy sleeping on a tree branch.

Helial could hardly stifle a giggle. Circe stared at him in puzzlement.

Before the Goblin girl could ask him why he would laugh, Helial gently stroked her face: “Vlad is far more talented than you. But there’s no way he’ll put any effort into it unless some motivation drags him on. He doesn’t seem willing to improve. Otherwise, he would have already been an unparalleled warrior. After gathering some information at the Merchant Guild, I found out that despite his power is acknowledged by many, the extent of it could be defined by few.”

The friendship between Helial and Caliban had let the Human get detailed information about the Orman powers. Of course Helial wouldn’t miss the chance to get to know more about the situation in the Guild of Life and Death. Therefore, he had now a clear picture of every talent in the capital. Among them, Vlad would be only mentioned as Circe’s hopeless cousin. Despite being born gifted, Vlad had never put any effort in cultivating his great talent.

Circe grabbed Helial’s hand and held it tight, pressing it gently on her cheek. Then, she slowly moved it all the way to her lips, which shaped a gentle kiss soft enough to send a shiver down the spine of every men on earth.

Helial went on to say: “However, your high consideration of him sheds a light on how underrated by everyone Vlad is. No one gains the esteem of the Witch so easily, right? Most likely, he has given you a hard time. Maybe you have even fought an-HA!”

Circe had just bitten Helial’s hand, the look of a fox in her eyes. Helial quickly drew back his hand and blew on it.

Circe stood up and snapped her fingers.

SNAP!

Some invisible force pushed Helial back and immobilized him on the roof edge. His ankles and wrists were now blocked by invisible Mana chains.

Circe put her foot on his chest. With the most mellow voice, she whispered: “That’s not how that tongue should be used for. Vlad’s story goes far beyond mere sloth…” Circe’s soft foot slid to Helial’s underbelly.

The Goblins hurrying up home down the streets below them all heard a moan of pleasure come from a rooftop.

“Haaaa!”

***

On the opposite side of Orma

Vlad was stargazing as he tried to fall asleep. Every time he closed his eyes though, his mind would play tricks on him. One after another, all his memories would relive and flow relentlessly under his heavy eyelids.

Not a single day seemed to have passed since the day when he was perched on a tree branch, as if nothing could be more natural to him, and caught a glimpse of a girl moving swiftly on a training ground of the Royal Academy. He knew her. He had seen her across the Royal Palace. She was… the King’s daughter!

Two curved daggers gleamed their way to the straw men standing at one end of the training ground. The young girl was exploiting the full potential of her Movement Skill. As she coalesced with the shadows cast by the sun, Francesca darted through the training ground while skilfully casting her Shadow Step.

Suddenly, Francesca perceived two eyes gazing at her and raised her head. She caught sight of a red-haired boy sitting up high on a tree branch, legs dangling. He was staring at her with a peaceful expression on his face.

Francesca gave him a bright smile, which Vlad returned.

“We could train together, tomorrow,” Vlad said. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

The girl smiled in response, turned on him and left.

On the following day, Vlad waited for Francesca to reach the training ground. Which she did. She came back to train with the fiery-haired boy.

The large blades generated terrifying ceaseless chained slashes. Vlad promptly dodged Francesca’s every attack without his smile vanishing from his face.

Francesca soon lost her cool. She pushed Shadow Step to the limit in order to hit her opponent. The daggers dashed towards Vlad’s chest. One second before hitting him though, the boy disappeared into a bloody mist.

Francesca felt a shiver down her spine. She froze. The tip of an arrow was stinging her neck. The calm voice of Vlad told her: “You lost again.”

Day after day, Francesca sneaked her way through Vlad’s heart. Under her advice, he had gone back to training. To Vlad, Francesca was now the only thing that mattered.

Despite this training taking place in secret, Vlad’s masters easily noticed the difference. They could already forecast his bright future as one of the unmatched talents in Orma. Whoever saw Vlad training would confirm without the slightest hesitation that by the day of the entrance test, Vlad would form no less than ninety steps.

The happiness Vlad was experiencing could hardly be compared to anything he had felt in his life. When he walked by Francesca’s side, he would only need to glance at her to feel a violent yet sweet feeling overwhelm his heart.

One day, however, Vlad noticed a shadow in Francesca’s usually unclouded eyes. Her clear gaze began to grow darker with every day.

Vlad opened his eyes. The memories were suffocating him. But it was late. There was no way he could refrain them at this point.

Before his eyes, Vlad ran through the most painful memories from his past. The images were overlapped by the sound of a Senior’s voice from the Clan of the Heavenly Eagle: “We are glad to announce that Young Master Comodus and Lady Francesca are officially engaged! Could this bring our beloved Orma an era of peace and joy!”

The official announcement had been made under the scowl of Caesar. His daughter’s idea had been a daring one. The Sect of the Worthy had accepted immediately.

The crowd rejoiced. Caesar, however, knew perfectly well there was nothing to be joyful about. Francesca’s proposal to marry Comodus was but a political move to appease the rising tensions between the Clan of the Heavenly Eagle and the Sect of the Worthy.

A powerful Aura surged from the crowd. It was so soaked in grief and disappointment it could explode at any moment. Caesar noticed it and scanned the crowd to trace it back to its source. He promptly found it in the figure of a fiery red-haired boy. The King shook his head in sadness at the view.

This means the heart his daughter betrayed belonged to him.

Vlad met the King’s eyes by chance and seemed to intercept his thought.

Caesar must have by now known that his daughter had fallen in love with a talented young man. However, he couldn’t come to terms with how promptly Francesca renounced to her love for the greater good. Extremely young age, such common sense nonetheless…

The King could not but feel the deepest sympathy for the boy.

It was then that Vlad made up his mind he would never train again. This was the last time he would show someone the real extent of his potential. He had been training hard, but only because he had found a reason to live; a person to shelter. Now that Francesca had freely decided to marry Comodus though, what was the point in trying even?

Vlad heaved a sigh. A bunch of shining stars peered through the limb of a cloud. He turned on one side. He was determined to finally fall asleep, perched on the tree branch overlooking the training ground of the Royal Academy.