CLINK... CLATTER...
The rhythmic sound of heavy silver cutlery striking fine porcelain filled the grand dining hall of the Blackwood estate. The sprawling obsidian table was groaning under the weight of yet another ridiculous dwarven feast—roasted mountain boars, thick stews, and bread that tasted like it had been baked by angels.
Sitting near the center of the table, Alden took a quiet sip from his goblet of water.
He looked entirely different from the dirt-caked vagabond who had stumbled out of the woods just a few days ago. Earlier that afternoon, fully reconnected to the billions of gold coins sitting comfortably in his newly repaired storage ring, Alden had gone on a minor shopping spree. He was currently wearing a crisp, perfectly tailored black button-down shirt, the top two buttons left casually undone. The dark fabric hugged his lean, newly dense musculature effortlessly.
And his face was entirely unobscured.
He had finally ditched the makeshift black eyepatch. The hollow, gruesome wound left by Liam von Ravel had completely healed over, leaving his left eyelid permanently and cleanly shut. A single, razor-thin silver scar traced a sharp vertical line from his brow, over the closed lid, and down to his high cheekbone. Contrasted against his pale skin, his messy black hair, and the piercing, chaotic glow of his remaining crimson right eye, the scar didn't look like a tragic disfigurement.
It just made him look incredibly, dangerously handsome. Lyra hadn't stopped stealing sideways glances at him for the entire meal.
Alden set his goblet down. The condensation pooled against the obsidian table.
"I'm leaving tonight," Alden said.
His voice was calm, casual, and completely devoid of inflection, as if he were commenting on the weather rather than dropping a localized bomb on the dinner table.
COUGH! HACK!
Elian, who had been midway through a bite of mashed potatoes, violently choked. He pounded his chest, grabbing his ale to wash it down.
Lyra's fork slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against her plate. She whipped her head toward him, her dark eyes wide. "Excuse me? Tonight? Are you out of your mind?"
At the head of the table, Herman Blackwood didn't choke, nor did he drop his utensils. The massive SS-Rank Demi-God simply paused, slowly lowering his knife, his heavy earth-brown eyes fixing on Alden.
"You got your ring fixed a few hours ago, boy," Herman rumbled, his voice low. "And now you want to run off into the dark like a thief? The Blackwood estate has plenty of guest rooms. Nobody is chasing you out."
"I know," Alden replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair.
"And I'm incredibly grateful for the hospitality. But I can't stay here, Herman. Not anymore."
Alden gestured vaguely toward the window, out toward the human continent miles away.
"I am an S-Rank Existential Threat," Alden continued, his crimson eye hardening.
"The Human Empire is mobilizing everything they have to find me. If I stay behind your walls, hiding in the lap of luxury, I'm just painting a massive target on your family's back."
"Let them come!" Lyra snapped, her pride flaring up instantly.
"This is Ironpeak! My father is the Grand Forgemaster! If those arrogant human inquisitors even think about stepping foot in our territory, we'll blast them into ash!"
"Lyra, enough," Herman ordered gently, holding up a massive, calloused hand.
Alden looked at the dwarven lord. "She's brave, but you know I'm right, Herman. You have a responsibility to your empire. To your people. You can't trigger an international political war with the Human High Council just to harbor the guy who saved your kids in the woods. It's bad business."
Herman's thick, iron-grey beard twitched. The SS-Ranker knew Alden was speaking absolute, undeniable logic.
"Besides," Alden added, looking down at his own hand, flexing his fingers slightly.
"I can't run from point A to point B forever. I have a stubbornly chaotic, betraying body that I need to violently hammer into submission. I need to train. I need to get stronger, faster. And I have somewhere I need to be."
He didn't mention the coordinates burning in his memory. That was a secret he was keeping entirely to himself.
Elian finally caught his breath, looking at Alden with a distressed, pleading expression.
"But... tonight? The mountain passes are freezing, and the nocturnal beasts are out. At least wait until the sun comes up. Please, Alden."
"He's right," Lyra crossed her arms, jutting her chin out stubbornly.
"If you leave right now, I'm going to assume you're just afraid of saying a proper goodbye. First light, vagabond. Or I'll personally lock the estate gates and swallow the key."
Alden stared at the twins. They were genuinely worried about him. It was a bizarre, incredibly warm feeling that he hadn't experienced in a very long time.
He let out a long, defeated sigh, running a hand through his messy black hair.
"Fine," Alden relented, a faint smile touching his lips.
"First light. But I'm leaving the second the sun cracks the horizon."
"Deal," Lyra smirked in triumph.
Crick... crick... crick...
The sound of the night insects filled the sprawling, immaculate gardens of the Blackwood estate. The air was bitingly crisp, carrying the scent of blooming night-jasmine and the distant, smoky tang of the city's forges.
Alden sat alone on a smooth stone bench near a massive, bubbling fountain.
The moon was high, casting a pale, silver glow over the garden. Resting on the bench right next to his thigh was the crystal sphere. The twin wisps of blue and gold drifted lazily inside the glass, pulsing with a faint, comforting warmth that helped soothe the volatile, chaotic energy constantly churning in Alden's chest.
In his hands, Alden held the small, sleek magical imprinter he had retrieved from his storage ring earlier that day.
Click-
He pressed the rune on the side.
A soft, luminescent blue light projected upward, forming a perfectly clear, three-dimensional holographic image in the cool night air.
It was Alisia.
The image was from their beach trip, just before the world had gone to hell. She was sitting on the sand, the wide sun hat resting perfectly over her silver hair. She was looking slightly away from the camera, her expression composed, dignified, and impossibly elegant. But if you looked closely—and Alden always looked closely—you could see the incredibly faint, almost imperceptible softening of her lips. The ghost of a smile.
Alden stared at the projection, his single crimson eye reflecting the blue light.
His chest ached, and for once, it had nothing to do with broken ribs or chaotic mana. He missed her. He missed the quiet. He missed the simple, profound peace of sitting next to someone who understood him without demanding explanations.
'I'm coming back,' Alden promised silently, his thumb lightly brushing the edge of the imprinter. 'Just wait for me.'
Crunch... rustle...
The sound of footsteps on the gravel path broke his concentration.
Alden didn't turn off the imprinter, but he looked up.
Lyra was walking down the path, wrapped in a thick, fur-lined shawl over her nightgown. She stopped a few feet away, her hands clasped behind her back, shifting her weight awkwardly from side to side.
"Couldn't sleep?" Alden asked quietly, his voice carrying effortlessly over the bubbling fountain.
"I was just taking a walk," Lyra lied, entirely unconvincingly. Her dark eyes immediately darted toward the glowing blue hologram hovering above Alden's hands.
She took a few steps closer, leaning in to get a better look.
"Who's the girl?" Lyra asked, trying to sound casual, but a distinct edge of jealousy bled into her tone.
Alden looked back at the projection. "Someone important."
Lyra squinted at the glowing blue figure. Suddenly, her breath hitched. Her eyes went wide, and she took a stunned step backward.
"Wait a minute," Lyra gasped, pointing a trembling finger at the hologram.
"Is that... is that Alisia von Valerion?! The Ice Queen?!"
Alden raised his single eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "You know her?"
"Of course I know her!" Lyra practically shrieked, though she quickly lowered her voice, mindful of the sleeping estate.
"Everyone who attended the Inter-Academy Tournament knows her! She's the daughter of the human SS-Ranker! She nearly froze the entire arena during the semi-finals!"
Lyra stared at Alden, her brain rapidly connecting the dots. The S-Rank Existential Threat, looking at a candid, highly personal photo of the most untouchable, terrifying girl in their generation.
A deep, uncomfortable feeling settled in Lyra's stomach. Her little fan-girl crush was being brutally, mercilessly crushed by the realization that her idol was seemingly attached to absolute royalty.
"You're mooning over the Ice Queen?" Lyra scoffed, crossing her arms tightly, her jealousy masking itself as sheer disbelief.
"She looks like she would freeze your blood just for breathing too close to her. Does she even know how to smile?"
Alden couldn't help it. A low, arrogant chuckle rumbled in his chest.
"She smiles for me," Alden replied, completely deadpan, turning the imprinter off with a soft click. The blue light vanished, plunging them back into the silvery moonlight.
Lyra's face flushed a deep, furious red.
"You are unbelievably narcissistic, you know that?"
"It's not narcissism if it's true, Lyra," Alden smirked, picking up the crystal sphere and slipping it into his pocket. He stood up, stretching his legs.
"Get some sleep, kid. I'll be gone before you finish your breakfast tomorrow."
Lyra watched him walk past her, her heart doing a frustrating, annoying little flutter as his black shirt caught the moonlight, highlighting the sharp silver scar on his face.
"I'm not a kid!" she yelled after him, though the bite had entirely left her voice.
WHOOSH...
The dawn air was freezing, sweeping down from the jagged peaks of Ironpeak and biting at the exposed skin of anyone foolish enough to be awake.
Alden stood in the massive front courtyard of the Blackwood estate. He was fully dressed for travel. The sleek, shadow-black trench coat fell to his knees, fastened tightly over his dark clothes. His storage ring was loaded with fresh supplies, rations, and the billions of gold he had reclaimed.
Elian and Lyra stood near the marble steps, bundled up in heavy winter cloaks.
"You're actually leaving," Elian said, stepping forward and offering his hand. "Thank you again, Alden. Truly. If you ever need a safe haven... you know where the Blackwood crest is."
Alden took the boy's hand, giving it a firm, respectful shake. "Stay out of the woods, Elian. Bandits are bad for your health."
Lyra stepped up next. She didn't offer her hand. Instead, she just glared at him, her dark eyes fiercely determined.
"If you die out there before I get a chance to demand a proper sparring match, I am going to find your ghost and kill it again," Lyra threatened, though her lower lip trembled ever so slightly.
Alden offered her a genuine, warm smile. "I'll keep that in mind. Try not to torture your brother too much while I'm gone."
Thud... thud...
Heavy, purposeful footsteps echoed across the courtyard.
Herman Blackwood approached, holding something relatively small in his massive, calloused hands. The SS-Rank Demi-God stopped in front of Alden, his deep brown eyes looking the boy over one last time.
"You've got a long, bloody road ahead of you, boy," Herman grunted. "And walking around with a face that holds a hundred-billion-gold bounty is just asking the universe to drop an anvil on your head."
Herman held out his hands.
Resting on his palms was a mask.
It wasn't a simple cloth mask. It was a masterpiece of dwarven craftsmanship. Forged from a lightweight, matte-black alloy that Alden couldn't immediately identify, it was designed to cover the entire face. It was sleek, devoid of any gaudy decorations, featuring only two narrow, angled slits for the eyes.
"Take it," Herman ordered.
"I forged it last night after I finished your ring. It's an artifact. It doesn't just hide your pretty face; the runic matrix woven into the metal completely scrambles and masks your ambient mana signature. As long as you wear this, even an S-Rank sensor won't be able to tell if you're a human, a dwarf, or a passing breeze."
Alden was genuinely stunned. The value of an identity-concealing artifact forged personally by an SS-Rank Demi-God was completely incalculable. It was priceless.
"Herman..." Alden started, reaching out and carefully taking the cool metal mask. "I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll survive," Herman rumbled, crossing his massive arms. "The Blackwood family pays its debts in full. Now put it on and get out of here before I change my mind and hand you over to the High Council for a new mountain."
Alden chuckled softly.
He lifted the sleek, matte-black mask and pressed it against his face. The metal was surprisingly warm, instantly molding itself perfectly to the contours of his jaw and cheekbones. A faint, invisible hum of runic energy washed over him, sealing his chaotic aura entirely within his body.
Through the narrow slits, his single crimson eye burned with a renewed, terrifying intensity.
Alden gave the Blackwood family one final, respectful nod.
He turned his back to the grand mansion, the tails of his black trench coat whipping in the frigid mountain wind. He stepped out of the protective gates of the estate, his boots crunching against the stone path.
He didn't know exactly what awaited him at the end of the coordinates burned into his fragmented memory. He didn't know how many bones he would have to break to finally tame the Chaos core roaring inside his chest.
But as he looked out over the sprawling, treacherous landscape of the Dwarf Empire, a sharp thrill of pure, unadulterated anticipation shot down his spine.
The S-Rank Existential Threat had officially entered the board.