A stout old man sitting crossed leg on a throne carved out of a single block of basalt, stroked his long, flowing white beard absentmindedly. His closed eyes and a jolly smile would have projected a calm image, if not for the muscular frame and a golden monocle mounted on his right eye.

"Master, the entrance exam for the Academy has commenced in Tarkhel." The words, sharp and loud, cut through the silence in the room.

The smile on Master's face waned a little, "Are all the Pawn candidates present?"

"Yes. The Director confirmed himself." The mysterious voice replied.

"Hmm. What's the number of candidates?"

"Six, master, if I recall correctly."

"Six! That's way more than I thought. Are you sure its not a mistake?"

"Yes, master."

"The Director is clever, I doubt he is wrong, but the thought of losing so many talents...the Gods play a cruel game."

The source of the voice flinched. "You Acolytes and your Gods, humanity would have been to the Seventh Realm if the devotion was pointed to the Emperor rather than figments of imagination," the man chuckled as he finished the sentence.

"We have confirmed that the Conduits are on the move too." The Acolyte continued as if his master hadn't questioned his faith.

This time, it was the master's turn to flinch. "It has been at least a century since a single Conduit farted. What do they want now?"

The master opened his eyes and gazed at the Acolyte knelt in front of him with heterochromatic eyes.

The Acolyte sported a red robe fastened at the waist with a golden belt. He directed his blindfolded eyes towards the ground in reverence to his master.

The old man let out a heavy sigh and rose from his seat. He raised his little finger and a cigar appeared, twirling haphazardly in the air. He grabbed it in between his index and middle finger and took a series of short drags in quick succession. The end exposed to air glowed red, every time air was inhaled.

"Young folks these days, they need to be disciplined the way it was done in my days," the old man said in an exasperated tone, "we are going to Tarkhel, its time for the return of Karagrim."

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"Achoo..." Eren woke with a sneeze scaring away the moth perched on the bridge of his nose. He rubbed his sore eyes and scanned the surroundings.

Glowing mushrooms cast blue iridescent light on the damp, moss-covered cave walls. Vines sprawled across the floor, with strange flowers sprouting from them. Gnarled roots dominated the roof and in the eerie light possessed an uncanny resemblance to a mass of coiling snakes frozen in time.

The gurgling and babbling sound of flowing beckoned Eren towards itself. Feeling his parched throat, Eren rose to his feet and motioned forward, careful not to slip on the wet ground. The source was a stream which ran along the walls, he sank to his haunches, scooped up some water with his cupped hands and gulped it down. The water turned out to be sweet instead of brackish unlike he expected.

He jerked his arms twice, to shake off some water from his hands, and trotted towards Rudra and Milin ten feet south of him.

Rudra was propped up against a huge skull of an unidentifiable creature, which nature had claimed a long ago, judging by the deterioration and the healthy herbage jutting out from its base. Milin was still deep in sleep, her head resting on Rudra's lap.

Eren's thoughts returned to order as he gazed at their faces. A few minutes after the fight, much to their surprise, their health was restored, everything, even the smallest of bruises were healed. But that was not the strangest thing, even more peculiar was that their Aether reserves were restored back to normal and their clothes were as good as new, no signs of wear or tear, fraying or even a smudge of dirt. Fortunately, they had found the current place or more like stumbled upon it by accident. The entrance was small enough that they had to crouch to enter and camouflaged by vines.

"Don't!" Eren called out in alarm as Rudra reached out for one of the glowing mushrooms. "That could be poisonous", Eren responded after Rudra's expressions withered, clearly displeased.

"Yo, Eren, look what I found." Rudra's sporadic changed his intent and priorities disturbingly quickly. He plunged his hand into a hole in the skull, where an eye might have been present. After probing for a few seconds, trying not to move too much lest he woke up his friend, he found what he wanted.

It was a box made of wood tiny enough to fit in a grown man's palm. It looked deceptively normal, except for the golden inlaid patterns on the top.

Eren's brows furrowed as he grabbed the box, "what's in it?"

"Dunno, was waiting for you to wake up."

Eren slowly raised the lid. Inside was a small paper folded into a neat square. He handed the box back to Rudra and unfolded the paper.

"What's written on it?" Rudra asked, not able to hide his eagerness.

Eren looked at Rudra with an expressionless face, "this place, is an illusion."