Inside the burning heart of the Sun, within the grand halls of Zahir's castle, a crimson portal twisted open behind the dark figure standing at its center. From its depths, Erythros stepped forward, the light of the flames casting her long shadow across the polished obsidian floor.
Zahir stood motionless, his gaze unreadable. "Welcome, young lady," he said smoothly, his voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge.
Before Erythros could respond, another voice spoke—low, amused. "You smell nice," Calcifer commented from his usual perch, his fiery form flickering with interest.
Erythros ignored him. Instead, her sharp eyes fell upon a third presence in the room—Göll, standing silently beside Zahir, his expression unreadable.
"So, you revived Göll," she noted, a hint of skepticism laced in her tone. Göll burnt anxiously, flickering.
Zahir let out a soft chuckle. "Wonder I do… did you just notice?" He stepped forward, his golden eyes gleaming. "But tell me, Erythros, you haven't informed anyone of your arrival here, have you?"
She met his gaze without hesitation. "Don't worry, I haven't."
"Good." Zahir's lips curled into a smirk. "No one should know that I'm seeking… secret attention in order to dissolve Nyxath's power and kill Lunéviel. Luméon would be furious if she learned that our plans had been exposed. So no one should know—not even Jivyuj."
Erythros nodded, her face betraying no emotion. She trusted Zahir. At least, she thought she did.
But something felt off.
Zahir's castle stood still, the flames flickering softly in the background as Erythros crossed her arms, tilting her head.
"So, what's the next step?" she asked.
Zahir murmured under his breath, "The next step…" His voice trailed off, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable.
Across the room, Calcifer observed him closely. His thoughts ran wild. Master… this is wrong. Betraying someone who has served you for years… But he said nothing, only watched.
Zahir finally spoke, his tone lighter than before. "Well, just in case… if I ever run into any issues—wonder I do—I'd be in trouble. But let's suppose, hypothetically… would you hand me your Syroche?"
Erythros narrowed her eyes. Suspicion crept up her spine. "Why do you ask?" she countered. "What are you planning to do next?"
Zahir's expression barely shifted, but there was the faintest flicker of hesitation before he covered up with a casual shrug. "Ah, nothing. I asked just in case."
Erythros wasn't convinced. The air between them had shifted. She decided not to push, but she wouldn't fall into a trap either. "Maybe," she said, carefully tacking back. "It depends on the situation."
That shut Zahir up for a moment. He studied her, then forced a small smile.
"So," Erythros asked, her voice inexpressive, "where do you want to go?"
Zahir hesitated, as if debating something, before exhaling. "Constantinople."
Erythros gave a small nod. "Okay then."
Zahir stepped forward. His hands reached out, grasping Erythros' own to prepare for teleportation.
But in his thoughts, his anger surfaced. Unforeseen obstacles… meddling suspicions…
Unknowingly, his grip tightened—hard.
"Ahhh!" Erythros winced, struggling against his crushing hold.
Zahir didn't let go immediately. His expression was unreadable, but his golden eyes were darker, stormy.
"Why are you acting so strange?" she asked.
"Nothing," Zahir answered, his voice flat as he loosened his grip.
But Erythros noticed something strange.
His gloves—one engulfed in Göll's dark, flickering flames, the other wrapped in Calcifer's pure, steady fire—had changed.
The moment she cried out, the grip had switched.
Now, it was Calcifer's warmth she felt, not Göll's searing malice.
Her sharp gaze flickered to Calcifer, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable.
She felt something twist in her gut.
Still, she acted as if she hadn't noticed. If they wanted to play mind games, she wouldn't let them know she was catching on.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened, raising her free hand.
"Psychos Teleportus."
And in a flash, they vanished into the night.
And Somewhere in East, the Sun had yet to come up in Varanasi, but everyone was already awake in the temple, following their daily routine. Maybe.
Bastin, Baran, and Drengvar were deep in sleep when—
SPLASH!
Cold water drenched them, shocking them awake.
"Aghh!" Baran jolted up, shaking his wet hair like a startled cat.
Drengvar groaned, pulling his blanket over his head, while Bastin sat up, blinking at the disciples who stood over them, holding empty buckets.
"Get up, boys," one of them said sternly. "From now on, you have to wake up early."
Baran, shivering, grumbled, "You could've just shaken us awake!"
Drengvar, still curled under his blanket, muttered, "This is so unnecessary."
Bastin rubbed his eyes. "Is this how every morning is gonna start?"
One of the disciples smirked. "Only if you don't wake up on time."
They had no choice but to get up. The dorm was already bustling with activity—students folding blankets, tidying their spaces, and preparing for the day.
Erythros was nowhere to be seen, and before they could ask about her, a familiar voice called from the doorway.
"Sagishito-san?" Bastin turned to see the Japanese disciple standing there, waiting for them.
"Come with me," Sagishito said, motioning them forward. "Master Jivyuj is expecting you."
The three exchanged glances, nerves creeping in.
"Already?" Drengvar whispered.
Baran sighed. "Guess we don't get a break."
They followed Sagishito through the temple halls, the faint scent of incense filling the air. As they stepped into a quiet courtyard, they spotted Master Jivyuj seated on a raised platform, his posture calm yet commanding.
The old man looked at them with steady eyes. Then, in a clear voice, he announced:
"Your tests commence now."