The pristine rear gardens were now buried under a jagged mountain of shattered Noxara and the broken walls of the throne room. Eila’s gravity magic had directed the blast of the Orbash directly at the throne, and with it, Kaelen. .

  A massive slab of pale-grey stone shifted. A heavy shower of smaller rocks clattered down on the ground.

  “LOGIC: SCHISMA”

  The crushing weight of the boulder was perfectly cut into twos, causing it to fall and crumble into dust.

  Kaelen stepped out from the ruins. His perfect black coat was ruined, caked in thick grey mud. A bright streak of blood was visible on his shirt from the torn coat. He raised a white glove, wiping the dirt from his shoulder and the blood from his cheek. He stared at the red stain on his fingers in the dead silence.

  "He knows how to think," Kaelen murmured, his voice dangerously calm. “How amusing.”

  To his left, the rubble heaved. Grand Minister Zaban clawed his way to the surface, coughing up clouds of dark ash along with blood. His long, golden hair was no longer neatly tied. It fell freely around his shoulders, tangled and stained a sickly, dark red from the mud and his own blood.

  M-My Liege—" Zaban coughed dark blood onto the ruined stone. He clutched his right arm. It was twisted at a sickening, unnatural angle.

  "Quiet, Zaban." Kaelen didn’t even look at him. "I am thinking."

  Hurried footsteps echoed through the ash. The new High Priest of the Grand Church arrived, panting heavily. He was barely in his twenties. His brown hair rested on his shoulders, and his tall white cap was pristine. Unlike the sharp, cruel face of the late Pope Vane, this young man's features were soft and genuinely kind.

  "M-My King!" he croaked. The thick Noxara smog made it hard for him to see the figures clearly. "I heard the explosion, t-the—"

  He stumbled forward and froze. He saw Zaban’s mangled arm. All the color drained from the young priest's face.

  "W-We cannot heal you here, Grand Minister." He bowed nervously. "We must take you to the Grand Church. We have an abundant supply of healing potions."

  The clerics quickly loaded the groaning Zaban onto a wooden stretcher. They desperately called for the King to follow them to safety, but Kaelen ignored them. He simply turned his back and walked into the ruined halls of the castle.

  His face remained completely calm, but his aura was fracturing. Violent spikes of mana erupted from his body. The pressure was so monstrous that even the magic-killing Noxara walls began to crack and chip as he passed.

  _____________

  The pale morning sun finally broke through the frost, casting quiet shadows over the safehouse. Inside, the heavy exhaustion of last night's bear feast still pinned everyone to their sleep .

  Lucio blinked his eyes open. The room was dim, the air was cold. He let out a sleepy sigh and rolled over.

  THUD.

  He hit the hard wooden floorboards face-first.

  Groaning, Lucio pushed himself up, rubbing his bruised nose. He squinted in the low light, his brain slowly processing the fact that he was no longer on the soft mattress. He had been thrown to the cramped, lumpy sofa.

  He turned his head toward the bed. Riko was completely sprawled out, tangled in the heavy blankets like a starfish. She was snoring loudly, a smug, villainous smirk plastered across her face.

  Lucio just stared at her. He wasn't even angry; he was genuinely terrified. How in the world had she managed to silently drag his dead weight across the room and dump him on the sofa without waking him up?

  Sighing in absolute defeat, the timid organizer gathered his clothes. He quietly slipped into the washroom and splashed freezing water over his face, letting the cold wake him up for the long hunt ahead.

  Lucio walked into the dim kitchen. It was freezing and entirely empty. The rest of the house was still dead asleep.

  He grabbed a few eggs and the leftover smoked bear meat from the pantry . He stoked the iron stove to life, letting the welcome heat push back the morning frost. The rich, heavy sizzle of fat hitting the hot iron filled the quiet room. He whisked the eggs until smooth, pouring them into the pan and folding the thick cuts of meat right on top.

  The hot breakfast was plated on the wooden table just as Kian and Kaito stumbled into the room. A moment later, Imara stepped out of the hallway, rubbing her swollen eyes.

  "Mornin', Lucio." She stretched her arms over her head, her spine popping softly. "Sorry you had to cook alone."

  "I-It's no problem!" Lucio stammered. His face flushed completely red as he aggressively stared at a wooden vial of black pepper. "I-I actually like cooking!"

  Imara offered the timid boy a soft, genuine smile. Lucio panicked, nearly fumbling the vial as he frantically dumped pepper onto everyone's plates. Imara just chuckled quietly and headed for the washroom.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Suddenly, the kitchen door flew open.

  Riko marched in. She was already fully dressed in a plain white shirt with sleeveless doublet, her hose pants a bit loose. Her bright pink hair was tied back in a messy bun.

  "Morning, losers!" Riko yelled, completely shattering the quiet morning peace. She plopped into a wooden chair and immediately snatched a piece of smoked meat right off Kaito's plate. "Eat up! We have a highly dangerous weed hunt to go on today, and I am not dragging anyone who passes out from hunger!"

  "HEY!" Kaito snapped, his temple vein instantly throbbing. "That was mine!"

  Riko chewed her smoked meat loudly, washing it down with a long gulp of water. "Too bad."

  Across the table, Lucio wordlessly slid another cut of meat onto Kaito’s plate. Kian simply watched Riko, his expression souring at her complete lack of table manners.

  The scrape of a chair announced Imara’s arrival. Her dark hair was tied back neatly, and the simple white gown she wore made her look deceptively fragile. Riko instantly hopped up to pull out the chair beside her.

  “Morning, Imara!” she beamed. “Sleep well?”

  “It wasn’t bad.” Imara offered a soft smile as she sat down. “Though I used nearly all my mana trying to knit the wound on Eila’s leg, so I'm still running a bit hollow.” The smile faded slightly, leaving a strained, exhausted look around her eyes.

  The rest of the meal passed in a focused, quiet blur. Within the hour, their gear was packed and staged by the door.

  Imara leaned against the wooden frame, her eyes tracing over a piece of crinkled parchment Orlon had given them. “We have Chamomile in the pantry,” she murmured, half to herself. “Next is Veined Mugwort.” She closed her eyes, visualizing the local flora. “I believe that prefers the damp soil in the southern reaches of the forest.”

  Lucio flipped open a worn, leather-bound notebook. “I've mapped that,” he confirmed, tapping a page.

  “Good.” Imara scanned further down the list. “Valerian Roots. I have no idea where to find those.”

  “High altitudes,” Lucio answered without missing a beat. “Rocky peaks, or near the canopies of ancient trees.” He snapped the notebook shut, already calculating the route in his head.

  “The hardest part...” Imara folded the list and handed it off to Kian. “You will need to source Black Malmsey wine. As far as I know, the only merchants who carry it are in the capital, likely within Oakhaven.”

  Kaito let out a low, gruff breath. “I know of it. Getting to Oakhaven is one thing, but paying for it is another. A single bottle costs more than a Knight’s chestplate.”

  Imara hummed thoughtfully, turning back toward her room. When she emerged a moment later, she carried a thick leather sack that hit her palm with a heavy, metallic clink.

  “Eila keeps most of our funds locked in a spatial pocket, and I haven't quite figured out how to bypass the seal yet,” Imara said, her tone almost playful. “But this should cover a bottle or two.”

  She tossed the heavy sack. Kaito caught it, his arms dipping slightly from the unexpected weight. He tugged the drawstrings loose, and his rough hands immediately began to tremble. It was packed to the brim with gleaming Galvors.

  Riko leaned over the table, her jaw dropping. “Whoa... you must be rolling in it! That's more than a mid-tier Lord brings in from a month of taxes!”

  Imara just chuckled, entirely unfazed by the fortune illuminating Kaito's palms. “Well, the Hero of the Kingdom is paid rather handsomely. Plus, I saved quite a bit from my time as a squadron healer in the Vanguard.”

  Kaito’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. Wha—? A combat healer in the Vanguard? And she had just walked away from a life like that?

  The CINDERS set out toward the dense forest, the morning sun warming their backs. It was a welcome change of scenery; the crisp air and vibrant green grass felt like a lungful of life compared to the pale, suffocating monotone of the Noxara smog back in the Capital.

  It didn't take long for the terrain to shift. The ground grew soft and spongy, the air thickening with the smell of damp earth. Lucio guided them to the edge of a murky swamp, his eyes scanning the banks until he spotted them: short, spiky, dark-brown bulbs clinging to the muddy shoreline.

  Bags were quickly unslung, but before anyone could organize, Riko was already in the dirt.

  “Wait, Riko—!” Kian gasped, lunging forward.

  It was too late. Riko knelt in the mud, her hands coated in a thick, sticky juice from the Veined Mugwort she had just aggressively crushed. “Eh... it’s purple?” she muttered, staring at her stained fingers with profound disappointment.

  Lucio winced, hastily flipping through his notebook. “N-Next is the Valerian Roots,” he stammered, eager to move on. “They should be a bit further out.”

  They resumed with a lighter mood, the group falling into easy banter. They carefully navigated the lake by balancing across a massive fallen log, pausing briefly on the other side to share a flask of tea and catch their breath.

  By midday, the canopy darkened. The trees here were no longer just timber; they were magnificent, towering pillars that seemed to touch the sky. The group halted in the middle, craning their necks until their shoulders ached as they tried to spot the Valerian Roots sprouting near the upper branches.

  Kaito crossed his arms, letting out a gruff sigh. “How the hell do we get that? It’s way too high up for a climb.”

  Riko brushed past him with a haughty smirk. “The constant pressure of Noxara has dulled your mind, peasant,” she said. “We are mages. We use magic.”

  She raised a single hand toward the massive trunk. Mana flared around her fingertips.

  “LOGIC: SCHISMA.”

  The air cracked. An invisible blade of force splintered the wood. The cut wasn't perfectly clean, but it was deep enough. A terrifying groan echoed through the forest as the ancient tree began to wobble, its sheer weight shifting dangerously off-center.

  “R-RUN!” Kaito barked.

  They scrambled backward, diving for the safety of the brush just as the immense trunk gave way. It came down with a deafening crash that sent a cloud of dust and dead leaves billowing into the air.

  As the debris cleared, the canopy lay fractured on the forest floor, with the precious Valerian Roots now sitting in easy reach. Carefully, they stepped over the splintered wood to secure their prize.

  “It’s almost midday. The Vanguard patrols often sweep this area, and that crash will definitely draw them in,” Lucio said, his eyes scanning the tree line. “We should head back. Since we are all wanted, only one of us should risk slipping into the Capital to reach Oakhaven.”

  Bags secured, the CINDERS quickly retraced their steps through the dense woods, the gathering phase of their mission a complete success.

  Now, only the black wine stood between them and Eila's recovery.