The inner sanctum split into two groups: the main one led by Abla, and the auxiliary, of which Pierce was in charge. Abla’s group was half the size of the other, but when it came to awakened level the members were considerably higher.

Dallion, naturally, was part of Abla’s group. As the “top mage” it was his job to protect the group from any spells that the dragons could cast. Along with him were the Count, Astra, two more noble hunters, and Tors. The latter was a little too eager to have been selected. Despite claims that there were no titles in the inner sanctum, outside the Order of the Twelve Suns, Abla remained an important noble in the main imperial family. Kissing up to him went a long way, especially if someone was aiming for the new archduke title. Dallion had no doubt that his relative was using the hunt to prove what a good fit he would be.

“Here’s where the dragons were spotted.” Abla gave Dallion a map of the northern area. Whoever had done it had put in a lot of effort, achieving a level of quality that would make Earth cameras envious. “Take us right there.”

“Sure.” Dallion chose not to summon his aura sword. “Do I wait for Pierce and his group?”

Abla glanced over his shoulder. A short distance away, Pierce was discussing something with three hunters. No emotions could be caught emanating from them, but based on their expressions, they were displeased about something.

“Keep him within sight, but don’t wait. He’ll let me know if there’s trouble.”

“Right.” Dallion cast a mass spell. All members of his group rose up into the air.

Blocks of sun gold bladerers flocked towards them. From a hundred feet away, they kept on observing the group, remaining motionless like ominous floating statues. This was the first instance in which Dallion witnessed the emperor’s paranoia. Having seen the ruler in person, he knew how powerful the man was. He could easily use his domain ruler’s abilities to follow exactly what was happening within the capital or, failing that, order the overseers to do so. Having bladerers involved so openly was counterproductive.

You’re overthinking things, dear boy, Adzorg said. Bladerers and metalins have always moved about the capital.

I know, but why?

Dallion spent a few moments using magic threads to attach the rest of his group to him. Once done, he finally cast the flight spell that propelled them onward.

The immediate domain barrier of the palace came and went, releasing them into the larger territory of the Tamin Empire. From there, it was going to be a few hours’ flight until they reached the real border.

The rest of the Order, from what Dallion had been told, would be transported in bubbles of reality by the imperial overseers. The approach bore a striking resemblance to the Star cult’s method of travel. Hopefully, the outcome would be better.

The further they went north, the more the terrain changed. It was a gradual shift, but traveling at such speeds, one got to see it happen in real time. Large vegetation grew more and more sparse. Forests were the first to go, shrinking into clusters of trees, then vanishing altogether. Bushes and grass grew smaller and smaller, yet never completely disappeared. After several hours, nothing more than a layer of green moss covered the ground. There were no seas, no lakes, not even any rivers to speak of.

There was no wonder why the empire hadn’t expanded in that direction. Even the south was bursting with potential in comparison. Concentrating, Dallion used his forging skills in the hopes of finding any ore of marginal importance, yet failed. The land had absolutely nothing.

“We’re getting near,” Abla shouted.

The noble had memorized the map, same as Dallion. If the Academy was to be believed, it was in the start of a natural canyon located between two slightly elevated sheets of rock. Calling them mountains would be like referring to a flowerpot as a jungle.

Gradually reducing the flight speed, Dallion landed along with the group at the estimated location, then removed the magic thread safeguards.

“When was the sighting?” he asked.

“Between weeks and months,” Abla replied. “The Academy isn’t very straightforward with their information.”

“I don’t see any magic,” Dallion looked at the ground at his feet. “No illusions, either.”

“The mages would have mentioned it had there been any,” the Count grunted in disapproval.

Dallion split into instances. For the next three seconds, hundreds of him carefully examined everything in a hundred-foot radius. Spells were cast, magic threads observed… after which he decided to have a chat with the moss.

Hey, he said.

Normally, talking with moss would be impossible. Even when combining herbalism and scholarly skills, communicating with that particular plant required an almost surreal vagueness of concepts beyond the capabilities of most sentient creatures. For that reason, Dallion used spellcraft to use the magic threads themselves as a means of communication.

Hello? The moss asked, confused that anything was addressing it. In its experience, only the light of the sun was interactable.

Am I the first person you’ve talked to? Dallion chose to take it slow.

I can hear you. The moss didn’t understand the question.

Have you heard anyone before me?

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A chorus of thousands replied “no.” Yet, a small group among them said “yes.” It was a cluster on the edge of the area Dallion was exploring. Leaving his instances to fade away, he rushed in the direction, then engaged in splitting once more.

Who has heard someone before me? he asked again.

A trail of answers made him go forward. Sensing something important was happening, the rest of the party joined him.

For several minutes Dallion followed the trail of yesses. It was a strange trail, shaped like a blob of water that had been spilled on the ground. It stretched for thousands of feet, continuing northwest, then suddenly stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Abla asked.

“The trail ends.” Dallion split into instances again, to confirm his suspicion. “Something passed through here, then vanished. No way to tell what it was for sure, but unless the mages were playing around on the moss, it should be our target.”

“The trail ends here?” Astra walked up to Dallion.

“Yeah.” Dallion took a step back. Remembering the Dragon in the fallen south, he had a pretty good idea what had happened. “They’ve entered the wilderness,” he added.

A less experienced group would have laughed at him, but everyone present was a domain ruler with enough of knowhow to know exactly what he meant. Three of them sunk into the ground without another world. Dallion followed.

AREA AWAKENING

The wilderness expanded in all directions like a chaotic sea of bleak ash. Since he had become a domain ruler, Dallion had seen the wilderness on several occasions, though not like this. There was a sense of abandonment all around. It wasn’t the void, although there were a few patches of that visible as well, like clusters of black fog. Rather, it seemed like this was the part of the world that was composed of basic foundations and nothing else.

As the rest of the group appeared, Dallion could spot the bubbles of emotions within them. Most had eagerness and bloodthirst the size of cherries scattered throughout their body. Tors, on the other hand, had a blob of fear the size of a melon.

“First time in the wide wilderness?” Abla turned to Tors.

The other nodded.

“Don’t think anything of it. Stay away from the void clouds and you’ll be fine.”

“Void clouds,” the Count snorted. “Back in my day, it took a lot more to be called a void cloud. They were large as mountains and sticky as quicksand, ready to pull you in.”

Of course they were, Dallion said to himself.

Up until recently, the void had a far larger presence. With the death of the general, and the aether vortexes brought by Adzorg’s device, a lot of it had been diminished. Seeing remnants of it was a reminder that one could never get rid of it fully.

“Can you track them?” Astra asked.

That was a difficult question. Magic threads were visible among the bleakness, but they were few and far between.

“It won’t be easy,” Dallion admitted. “I haven’t tracked a creature through realms before. We might go following magic threads, but we’ll need to get lucky.”

“We do it the old-fashioned way then, sir?” The Count turned to Abla. “Pick a direction and keep going?”

Everyone knew there was no point in splitting up. If any single person were to come upon a stronger dragon, they would end up as an instant fatality. Against creatures such as this, they couldn’t even run.

“What’s your perception?” Abla asked Dallion.

“In the nineties.” He gave a vague reply.

“Astra, you take the lead.”

In the real world, Dallion would have been the obvious choice, since he was the only one who could fly. Here, every domain ruler could.

Surrounding herself with her own bubble of reality, Astra slid forward.

“She’s done that before,” Dallion said as he used his domain ruler powers to do the same.

“Skills are everything,” one of the hunters said. “As a child, she wanted to become an overseer. Her father had an overseer take her into the wide wilderness and shock her enough to reconsider.”

“I guess it worked.”

“Not entirely. She was terrified alright, but determined not to have anything else frighten her again.”

You realize, of course, dear boy, that’s all a bunch of nonsense, Adzorg commented. Some are just naturally predisposed to certain things. Just as Vend was good at splitting. I doubt that anyone would have sent a child to the border.

Why not?

Because no one would risk sending an overseer that far out. It’d be like letting a kite loose in a storm. There’s every chance that they lose themselves and for no gains. If it wasn’t the case, nobles would have simply sent out armies of overseers to conquer the world on their behalf ages ago.

The surroundings shifted as the awakened floated through. While there was no getting used to the chaotic shifts and movements, one quickly found a few firm rules they could abide by. Like an ever-shifting wave, the dark rocks that composed everything rose and fell, occasionally slamming into each other. Only the void clouds remained static, clinging to their space, regardless of the ground’s movements.

“What if they’re not here?” Tors asked, still nervous.

“They’re here,” Abla replied. “Alien wouldn’t dare lie to the emperor.”

“What if he doesn’t think he’s lying? Mages aren’t infallible.”

Suddenly, tendrils shot out from a nearby void cloud. Their speed was impressive, or it would have been if the people present didn’t have their traits in the nineties and above. With an almost lazy motion, Abla sent a spark infused point punch at the cloud, shredding it along with its tendrils.

“They’re here,” he replied, as if the attack hadn’t happened. “Just stay on guard and keep your eyes open. I don’t want to be the one to tell the duchess that we’d lost you.”

And that’s the person who’ll be keeping an eye on me? Dallion sighed internally.

He has skills, Giaccia said from his realm. Just not for the wilderness.

That’s why taking a sheltered into the wilderness is never a good idea.

The further north they went, the more void appeared. The puffs of mist became as large as sticky hedges, then walls, requiring that spark attacks be used for the group to move on.

“Tors might be right,” Dallion said reluctantly. “Dragons wouldn’t allow that much void near their nest.”

“They’re smart,” the Count muttered. “Void is the only thing they can use to hide behind.”

“You don’t seriously think—” Dallion stopped. A bright glow of magic had suddenly appeared further ahead, coming from the hole Astra had punctured in the massive void cloud. “Stop!” he raised his left hand.

Immediately, everyone obeyed, freezing in place. The reality bubbles warped out of existence, letting them set foot on the shifting ground.

“I think we found one.”