Oniihino(POV)

  "Why did you lie to the boy?”

  Oniihino did not flinch at the waves of power seeping into the room from behind her. Instead, she moved with deliberate patience, preparing a cup of tea. Her long fingers traced the rim of the cup before she lifted it to her lips. She took a sip, letting the warmth linger on her tongue, lashes lowering in satisfaction. Then, she placed the cup down with a soft clink, her touch precise and measured.

  She reached for one of her branches—a boundless potential, her link to an absolute multiversal law. Bloom. Through it, she accessed a sliver of that vast law she was eternally aligned with. Before acting, she felt her leaves—five in total—before settling on one. The power hummed with life and untapped potential. Then, she activated it. Seeds of Self.

  Her body withered, wrinkles deepening across her form, until she crumbled into flakes. In the next breath, she regrew like a plant enduring countless hardships, now seated on the opposite side of the table—where Sloras’s boy had sat.

  She crossed one leg over the other, an absent motion of ease. Shoulders loose, back arched just enough to suggest both comfort and provocation. A soft sigh left her lips as she traced a finger down her sleeve, drawing attention to the hidden fan within.

  Why should she fear? Did a beast fear prey caught between its jaws?

  "What lie would that be, honored one?" she asked, her tone delicate yet laced with amusement.

  She remained still, basking in the silence, though her fingers moved—lightly tapping against the wooden table in slow, rhythmic beats. Tok. Tok. Tok. A countdown to her growing frustration. She longed to be with Cipher and the others, on the battlefield where she belonged.

  "Gu-mushen," the voice introduced itself. "You know what I speak of."

  At his words, she tilted her head slightly, the curve of her neck exposed in a careless display of vulnerability that was anything but. A tight smile unfurled, nothing like the genuine ones she had shared with the young Montcroix-Wythe. The relaxed ease of her previous conversation slipped away, replaced by something far colder, yet, more familiar.

  When she spoke again, her voice carried a softness that barely veiled the sharpness beneath.

  "Ah," she mused, trailing a finger along the edge of the boy’s cup, as if contemplating something far removed. "You misunderstand, Honored Gu-mushen. It was more of a test."

  Something inside her stirred at the situation. The part of herself that had gone dormant in the presence of the child clawed its way to the surface. Her heartbeat quickened—not from fear, but from something far more primal. A slow inhale, as if savoring the scent of blood in the air.

  Tension, or more specifically conflict.

  "A test?" Gu-mushen echoed.

  Oniihino leaned forward just slightly, her fingers brushing over her collarbone before resting at her sleeve. She did not rush to explain. Only when the silence thickened did she allow her lips to part.

  "Yes, a simple test of brilliance. Surely, you noticed.” She let the words linger. If he had noticed simple, of he had not... A simple amusing insult. She continued.

  "Besides, the monster had been reduced to base Rank One strength. The boy’s raw instincts and skill matched it. And he is yet to fully mature, to even feel the wall of his body’s limits before the ranks."

  A slow, indulgent smile stretched across her lips, but the expression was too poised, too deliberate—a blade honed to cut. The air around her thickened, an unspoken challenge laced in the silk of her tone. Beneath it, a quiet, restrained hunger for violence leaked into the space. She would soon be free, she would hold on.

  "Hmmm. Truly, a vile woman," Gu-mushen mused, amusement threading through his tone.

  Her lashes fluttered slightly. Mocking. Indifferent.

  "The Patriarch finds your assistance pleasing. You will be rewarded. As for your test… we shall see its results. If your sneaky words lead the boy to death—or to something more desirable."

  She rolled her eyes in a lazy motion, yet there was a sharpness behind it. The rewards of those in high places did not interest her. She needed only one thing, and it was not to be found here, it was in the field of battle, in the cry of the dying, and something new although she had not acknowledged it.

  If he cannot figure the test out, Sloras holds the blame. A faint smirk curled her lips. After all, isn’t he a genius? He should notice. I made him sound stronger than he is—right?

  And yet, despite her belief in the child’s potential, frustration simmered beneath her skin. Not at him. No, at the presence before her. For all her pride, she dared not direct her anger at the true cause—the Patriarch. He, along with Cipher, had tasked her with preparing the boy. Yet, here the patriarch was sending his pet, the Polack-dots family's assistant head, to interrogate her about the very thing he had demanded. The lack of trust grated on her nerves.

  She longed for battle. Let her witches handle the politics; she belonged more on the field.

  As Gu-mushen’s presence faded, Oniihino exhaled, fingers tapping against her fan.

  Then, she stilled.

  A sharp sting bloomed in her palm. Slowly, she lifted her hand, watching as dark red liquid gathered in slow, lazy rivulets, trickling between her fingers. She had clenched her nails too tightly, cutting into her own flesh in absent frustration.

  "Look what you’ve done."

  Her voice was a murmur, void of anger or regret. Instead, she brought her palm to her lips, tongue gliding over the fresh wound. The taste of iron sent a shiver through her spine. A quiet, cruel pleasure.

  Her fingers flexed, blood still damp on her skin. The battlefield called. The weight of her chains in her hand, the chaos of war, the dance of flesh and steel.

  "Soon," she whispered. "Very soon."

  With practiced ease, she smoothed her sleeves, straightened her posture, and reached once more for her tea. She took a sip, expression serene.

  But the hunger in her eyes never faded.

  Chronifer(POV)

  Chronifer dreamed, and yet, he knew, Slora, answered one of the first questions he had ever asked her.

  “The system?” she asked gently, her husky tone making her seem like the most powerful woman Chronifer had ever encountered.

  “Yes, Mother. What is it?” he asked hesitantly, still unsure of how to act back then.

  “It's quite simple, my sun. The system is a guide for our survival,” she began as she went back to signing papers arrayed before her. “The system is everything. Our powers all originate from it, and it is the only reason we aren't dead from living in a universe so filled with essence. So I reiterate: the system is survival.”

  Chronifer saw a bright light beyond the figment of the dream, but before it could rip him away, his younger self considered a question that still lingered in his mind to this day.

  Then how have we survived on Earth?

  He woke up to find himself curled around a long casing—his parents' gift, which Oniihino had given to him.

  Their conversation came back to him now: her frightening words, which she had not explained, and the question she had asked.

  She had given him two choices: one, to take assistance from his family for the near future; the other, to forge ahead by his own might.

  Chronifer had found the answer easy. He knew what he wanted—his own story, forged by his hands. Yet his family was already part of his new legacy, no matter how much he tried to separate himself. In that moment, he came to a realization: there was no point in trying to become a fable of his own. He would strive for his own might but still rely on his family. So he made his decision—not to take their assistance... yet. He went with the first option.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  He would make his foundation of his own strength and from there who knows.

  With that decision made, Oniihino told him he had passed. Apparently, he had been under a test. Then, she offered him the only gift his parents had given him.

  After that they had separated

  He unfurled himself and stood up from the bed. With a sudden feeling of lightness, he found himself in a huge bath, the case floating beside him.

  “What in...” he gasped.

  “It's only a bath, darling,” Oniihino's rhythmic voice flowed through the warm white haze covering the bath. “Take your time to ease up before we begin heading for the summons.”

  “Where are you?” Chronifer asked, slowly moving his hands to cover his now bare crotch. He was very much naked.

  “I am everywhere, dear boy. Or do you want me to join you?” she asked in a playful tone.

  Chronifer ignored her, his mind circling back to the fact that this was the day of the summons. His heart thudded steadily in his chest, and he found himself ready to face whatever was to come.

  Not long after Chronifer was clad in a dark, layered ensemble, its design both practical and refined. A high-collared turtleneck hugged the throat, seamlessly disappearing beneath an overlapping outer garment that fastened at the side with a subtle knot. The fabric draped with a controlled weight, its long sleeves falling just past the wrists, offering both coverage and ease of movement. Below, a flowing, pleated lower garment extended past the knees, it's dark folds shifting with each step Chronifer took by Oniihinos side, partially concealing the fitted trousers underneath.

  He and Oniihino walked down a big auditorium that glowed with a deep emerald light and the paths were made of polished jade. Across the massive space of interwoven space paths where carriages and different breeds of beasts of burden.

  Oniihino headed for a particular carriage heavily designed with a mix of jade, gold, and red paint. Harnessed to it was a massive wolf like beast.

  She climbed into the carriage.

  “Aren't you coming, dear?” Oniihino asked her head sticking out with a playful smile

  “What about Ruhira and the other girls? And… doesn't this carriage need a coach man?” Chronifer asked worried about both girls, if they had gotten through.

  “The coach men will be here in a moment.” Chronifer nodded along, a bit pleased to hear something like coach men existed. “The girls are also on their way. I'm here earlier because of you. We need to keep you hidden, remember?”

  “Ah, I can't say I actually did.” Chronifer said as he climbed into the carriage an awkward smile on his face.

  “Are you with the flute?” Oniihino asked, her hands outstretched, her fingers painted a deep purple.

  “Yes. I've got it… here.” He said handing it over to her, curious to find out why, she asked. His mind briefly remembered his parents' message along with the flute. No man should be so cursed to only master chaos.

  “Do you know how to play anything?” Oniihino asked, a teasing smile in her eyes.

  “Well,” Chronifer laughed with a sheepish smile. In truth, he did know how to play—he knew how to play very well. One of his friends had taught him during some of the darkest days of his life as John, and he had always found the flute to bring him peace. It was his only support in all his decisions; it provided him warmth and comfort when no one else would see his side.

  “Here, I'll play you one song, you could learn with that.” Oniihino lifted the translucent glass flute to her lips, it had a cylindrical build with hand holes and mouth piece all spaced diligently across its length.

  Oniihino began, Chronifer watched her hands as it danced across the translucent flute, the sounds a melodic journey, bursting with emotions.

  As Chronifer watched her play, he found his mind slowing down, he felt more In touch with himself, within him was worry, for his parents, Nyte and shockingly Dante. Then there was anticipation for what was to come and the burning desire to come out victorious from a challenge and last of all encompassing all of these emotions stood one giant emotion, it was wonder.

  Chronifer wanted to see what stood outside all the walls that had surrounded him since his rebirth. Chronifer felt a soft smile growing on his lips.

  Before he knew it the song was finished, Oniihino handed the flute to him.

  “Give that a try. Go on.”

  Chronifer tried and succeeded. Well, I might just as well adopt the title of flute genius.

  Oniihino looked at him, eyebrows raised, her lips softly parted and she raised her chin.

  “Dear, I specifically heard from you, a moment ago, that you hadn't ever learned to play.” She asked in her voice, suspicious. “Did Slora teach you?”

  “I'm serious, I just did as you did, father taught me to copy quite well.” He said with a smile. “And I didn't say any such thing.”

  She looked at him, eyes squinting.

  “whatever.” She said in a dry voice.

  Chronifer was left smiling softly at her behaviour and watching the auditorium, through the tinted glass windows, he watched with interest as normal looking human men approached wearing tailored uniforms with top hats. They walked casually and laughed as they approached, some held bottles in hands, taking occasional swigs.

  The men stopped at a path near their carriage and got into a heated discussion, Chronifer could hear quite a bit of it.

  “I'm telling you gutter bound idiots, that little man was a real gambling man, he was on a roll” one of the men said angrily.

  “Shut your senseless trap, Semy. Yeah, we all saw him win straight rows of games. But it seems your sappy arse didn't see him lose like a gutter bound and unlucky wastrel, during the latter games.” The man shut back.

  “Both your problems if you pull out punches, I won't be getting sacked from this job.” Entered another man.

  “Well, I know what I'd be doing with my weekly pay.” Another man besides the man, Semy started.

  “Me and you, Xed. I'm getting on my knees and begging that beautiful lad to help me double, nah, quadruple my salary.”

  “Selsa will be smiling big with that one.”

  “Sure will.”

  “Until they catch the kid cheating.”

  The conversation got all chaotic as both agreements and arguments picked up all of a sudden.

  The conversations went on for a while but as the witches and their student appeared through the wide crested doors the men all stiffened and formed into an organised line, hiding bottles of rum, whiskey and other alcoholic drinks, while organising and straightening out their uniforms.

  “Alright Kin's.” Came a stern wizened voice that reeked of discipline. Chronifer had in fact heard the voice before. “From here on out, you are all witches, you've proven yourselves over and over, again and again. Standing before you is an opportunity not just for you but to make the coven stronger. This a chance for you to become seconds, generals, commander and recognised by large families across all six clans and by even the council of six. Keep this within your skulls though, your only obstacle is death. Now, what says you?” Asked Mistress Wombessa

  “Ever for sisterhood, ever for the six blood of coven, ever for the hand that binds. Pride for the Caj’malarie.” Came the answer in a cacophony.

  Across the crowd of men Chronifer couldn't really see Wombessa and only managed to spot Ruhira's head of green hair.

  “We shall see. Now each witch to her carriage. Semy!” The coach man scrambled from the back of the men frantically.

  “Yes, yes, yes Honoured Mistress Wombessa of the jad…” He said, his voice wavering.

  “Enough of that rubbish. You will be taking that carriage.” She paused and Chronifer did have to guess as all the men in standing in a huddle turned towards their carriage. “That, young Semy, makes you head of this movement, for inside that carriage waits high mistress Oniihino.”

  Semy wiz was heard through the crowd, “yes.” He finally said.

  Chronifer tried to catch sight of Wombessa, but she remained elusive. Soon after, the carriages began rolling toward a separate exit that curved into a sharp decline.

  Before Chronifer could discern what lay ahead, a burst of sound and scent struck him. First came the chatter of countless people—a familiar cacophony of human voices that swelled into a louder-than-life buzz. Then the smell hit: a perplexing mixture of sweat, a tang reminiscent of pancreas, and other odors he could not recognize.

  Oniihino, silent since the flute incident, turned to him with a smile and giggled, “What a caged little thing—welcome, dear boy, to the snake tunnels.”

  They emerged from a tunnel wall carved into and around the imposing jade tower underneath the ground, where several similar entrances stood. The coachman maneuvered through a smaller passage, and Chronifer’s eyes widened in wonder.

  Before him stretched a massive tunnel, its height sufficient to house a twenty-story building and its width equally impressive. Above, countless streams of golden water cascaded, producing light and casting a warm, bright glow throughout the passage.

  Ahead lay a city at the peak of life—not the desolate wasteland that winter had rendered Onyx Thorn to seem. Small passage's, reminiscent of those near the earlier passage, appeared sporadically along the sides of the path, entangled with the smaller buildings.

  Said small buildings lined the side of the carriage paths in organised lines.

  Countless people lined the road, talking, walking, buying stuff. simply living. Chronifer watched them and felt a smile well up to his lips. He bit his lower lip in amazement, comforted by the sight of so many living souls. Though he hadn't wondered if his life were an illusion, witnessing this vibrant, breathing place affirmed its reality, and made him ponder how Earth fared.

  His emotions flowed slowly like the gentle flowing stream flowing in the centre of snake tunnels

  Before he could completely calm down, a warm hand gripped his shoulder. Chronifer snapped his attention back to the carriage and saw Oniihino watching the supposedly empty seat beside him with intense eyes. He turned slowly. A man now occupied it, his eyes a piercing, offsetting crimson; his exquisitely tailored black suit, adorned with silver inlays, caught the light with each subtle movement; and his short, jet-black hair framed a face that radiated both elegance and enigma.

  “Hello, Chronifer,” the man intoned, his deep voice reverberating through the carriage as if it carried secrets of its own. “I've been looking for you.”

  Chronifer’s pulse quickened. “What brings you here, butler?” Oniihino asked, her voice colder than Ice and leaving Chronifer filling a deep unease