[Zareth's POV]
The night was quiet.
Too quiet.
I tugged my coat tighter around my shoulders as I walked the winding streets of Raventhorn.
The city didn't sleep, not truly, but this deep into the night, it slumbered with one eye open. Lamps flickered like fireflies against the fog-draped stone, and the only sounds were the soft clack of my boots and the occasional creak of shutters in the breeze.
'Could've used sleep… but of course the king has to send him through the gate in the middle of the night,' I thought with a yawn.
Eventually, the worn cobblestone opened into the central plaza. And there it was—imposing as ever.
The Raventhorn Estate.
Old, massive, and built like a fortress draped in finery. Ivy curled up black stone walls like veins through marble, and high above the double doors fluttered the house crest: a black raven, thorn branch clutched in its beak.
Still dramatic, after all these years.
I stepped past the outer gate. Maintained better than half the noble homes in the noble district.
A butler was already waiting on the front steps.
He bowed deeply. "Guildmaster Zareth. Welcome. I've been instructed to escort you to the Gate Room."
I nodded back. "Of course. Will the young Lord Raventhorn be joining us tonight?"
The butler straightened, but his voice lost none of its smoothness. "My sincerest apologies, Guildmaster. The young lord is currently away… on one of his business ventures."
I stopped.
"…Business ventures?" I raised an eyebrow. "That's new. I wasn't aware the young lord had any. What kind of business is it?"
"You must forgive me, but I am unsure. Only a select few are informed," he said with another bow. "Unfortunately, I am not one of them."
'Hmph. Neatly dodged,' I thought.
I didn't push it, though, as I was too tired to care right now.
Instead, I gestured forward. "Very well. Let's get this over with."
The inside of the manor hadn't changed since my last visit.
Gold-trimmed furniture. Velvet-lined walls. Portraits lining the corridor, each more grandiose than the last. The young lord in full armour. On horseback. In his study, mid-penstroke, looking dramatically out the window like he could see the future.
'Tactful as ever.'
My eyes lingered on one particular portrait—one of the previous lord.
A pang hit my chest.
That old man had been sharp, and strict, yet also generous and responsible. He had truly cared about his citizens.
He used to tell me over whiskey and strategy maps that he feared his son would squander everything on ego and polish.
He hadn't been 'entirely' wrong.
But the boy turned out better than expected. A bit greedy, sure. Built a library he doesn't read from and owns three suits of ceremonial armour he'll never wear… but he hadn't bled the city dry. At least not yet.
We eventually stopped in front of a large bookshelf in the study hall.
The butler nodded to me.
I nodded back.
We each pulled out three books in a particular order. One red, one black, and one bound in silver.
*Click.*
The shelf groaned and slid backward, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness.
We walked in silence, the stairs winding like the roots of an ancient tree. After what felt like ages, the path evened out, branching into stone corridors lit by faint blue crystal sconces.
The Gate Room came into view.
A large circular room, stone walls and light crystals illuminating the place.
Runes embedded into the floor and walls, all centring around the 20-foot-tall stone arch dominating the center. Carved top to bottom in ancient glyphs, the kind that hummed when you got too close.
And standing near the far wall… was someone I didn't recognize.
A man. Mid-thirties. Pale green robes. Tall. Unassuming.
But there was magic on him. Faint, but coiled. Controlled.
The butler cleared his throat.
"This is a prospective candidate for the city's new Archmage," he said, as if explaining a misplaced piece of furniture. "The young lord requested that he observe the Gate's activation."
I stared at the man.
He bowed politely.
I sighed. "Fine. Just stay out of the way."
'Like I care tonight. Let the lord play his games.'
I walked toward the pedestal before the arch, reached into my coat, and retrieved the old key. Black stone. Inlaid with glowing blue sigils that pulsed in time with the ambient mana from the stone arch.
I slipped it into the hidden slot and turned.
*Fwwwooooom—*
The runes flared to life.
The air inside the arch began to shimmer.
Swirling colours burst forward—purple and black folding into each other like ink in water. For a brief moment, it became a window to the stars. A flash of nebula. Then it twisted again, like a curtain being pulled back—
—and there they were.
The other side of the Gate was a room almost exactly the same as this one. The only difference was the Royal banners hanging on the walls, and several knights and robed mages stood at attention.
And in front of them…
"…Kion," I murmured.
The Leonin was hard to miss. Over seven feet tall. Broad shoulders and a golden mane that framed his chiselled face like a halo. His armour was a practical blend of leather and metal—vital areas protected, joints left free.
Weirdly, I couldn't see the royal crest on his chest plate.
Unusual, but if this was meant to be more covert, the lack of an obvious high-ranking symbol and the fact that most people don't know Kion the Lionheart is a leonin would work in his favour.
Even stranger was the pair of curved swords strapped to a belt on his hip. One long. One shorter. Both are foreign in design.
He turned to a knight behind him, nodded, then stepped forward into the arch.
*VWWOMMP—*
The Gate flashed as he passed through. Then, with a hiss of sealing magic, the portal faded into nothingness.
I turned and pulled the key free, slipping it back into my coat.
"Good to see you again," I said, offering a hand.
Kion took it, his grip strong as ever. "Likewise. Been a long time."
"Since your promotion to head of the guard," I recalled.
He nodded with a smile. "Feels like a different life."
His voice was deeper than I remembered. But not off. Just… matured.
"Any trouble with Rook so far?" he asked as we walked toward the exit.
"Not yet. He's under surveillance, but hasn't made a move. Honestly surprised he hasn't skipped town."
I flicked my eyes toward the two others still in the chamber, then gave Kion a look.
'Not here.'
He nodded, and we followed the butler back through the manor without another word.
Once we stepped beyond the estate walls and out into the sleeping city, I cast a quick glance around. Empty streets. No nearby lights. No eavesdroppers.
I raised my hand.
[Curse of Isolation: Solitary Words]
Fwshh—
A low shimmer spread out like ripples across a still pond, surrounding us in a soft bubble of silence. The ward hummed quietly in my ears—a basic-grade sound-suppressing field—Cruder than the kind Jack likes to make, but effective enough for private talk.
Kion raised an eyebrow.
"Nice trick," he said quietly.
I shrugged. "It's not artful, but it keeps our voices ours. Let's walk and talk."
He nodded once. Then, without pause, asked, "What exactly do you know about the situation in Raventhorn… and the academy?"
His voice was level. Calm. But I could feel the weight in it.
'He knows something already,' I thought. 'King must've briefed him before he came.'
I slipped my hands into my coat pockets.
"A few things," I said. "There's the matter of the Dark Raven investigating a suspected cult operating in or near the city—nothing confirmed yet, but it's enough to raise eyebrows. Then there's the situation with Rook—former S-rank, bitter as ever, and probably dangerous now that he's free to act. And…"
I glanced sideways at him.
"There's a student in the academy. First-year. Shows potential that could classify him as an S-rank. Name's Jackson Drovas. Currently… he's also handling something quite serious. A potential possession case involving another student."
Kion's expression didn't shift much. But I caught it.
The flicker in his eyes. The way he stood just a bit straighter.
"You and the king are aware of Jackson already, aren't you?" I asked.
He gave a tight nod. "Yes. We've kept tabs on him for a few years now. Mainly because of him being a summoner and his loyalty to the Rondo family, plus we suspect he is the reason for their increase in power in recent years."
He looked up at the night sky and continued, "But the rumours of his entrance exam results, his recent rapid progress, and… other connections made him a priority to observe in person. But this cult and possession business—that's news."
I exhaled slowly.
"The cult is mostly Raven's suspicion," I clarified. "I haven't found any definitive proof, but… during the entrance exam at the academy last week, something happened."
I rubbed my temple.
"Each student was supposed to face F-rank beasts. Fair, safe, and manageable. Jack, being a D-rank adventurer, fought a dire wolf, a D-rank when alone. He handled it just fine. But after it died, it… came back. Not as an undead. But as a Hellhound Alpha."
Kion's brow furrowed.
"And then?"
"A pack of wolves that had been killed earlier? They came back too. All as hellhounds. Jack killed them quickly, though, so no one was hurt."
He didn't respond.
I added, "Still no known method or magic responsible. The beasts were corrupted, not raised. Jackson handled it, but it wasn't an accident. Something's targeting the school."
I hesitated a moment.
"…That's why the Headmaster asked me to assign three S-ranks to the academy as temporary instructors. Just in case. Raven agreed… but he started acting weird when I mentioned Jack's name."
Kion's head tilted slightly. "Weird how?"
"I'm not sure how to describe it. I think Raven knows Jack from somewhere, but he also seemed scared... or shocked, maybe. He left right before I could ask, and I haven't been able to get in contact yet," I said.
Kion crossed his arms, thoughtful.
"You know Raven better than I do. You worked together for a while when you first became an adventurer. Any chance you know if he has a past with Jack or mentioned a commoner family named Drovas?"
He shook his head, slowly but firmly. "Not that I'm aware of. And if something happened… I never heard about it."
I gave a low grunt. "Guess I'll keep my ears open."
We walked in silence for a moment until Kion asked, "What about the possession situation?"
I glanced down, frowning.
"It's a student. Name's Aaron Goldmane. He is a new adventurer and a first-year student at the academy. He is a shadow mage like Raven, but a rogue rather than a swordsman. There's something inside him. A shadow-based ethereal."
I kept on explaining before noticing that Kion had stopped walking.
I turned, confused.
"…You okay?" I asked.
He didn't respond at first. Just stared forward. Processing something.
Then he asked, very slowly, "Did you say Aaron… Goldmane?"
I nodded, uncertain. "Yeah. Slim kid. Leonin. Around sixteen. Bit quieter than most. Talented, though."
Kion's face went pale—something I didn't think was physically possible with his fur.
"Are you absolutely sure that's his name?" he asked, his voice tight.
"Yes," I said cautiously. "You know him?"
He stared at me for a long second.
Then nodded.
And for the first time in years… Kion looked shaken.
"Before I was exiled from my tribe in Bestia," he said softly, "my name was Kion Goldmane."
He took a breath.
"Aaron… is my nephew."
My heart dropped.
"...Well, shit." I muttered.