After a few minutes, the doors of the Action Hall swung open. A tall, middle-aged man stepped inside, his presence cutting through the noisy haze like a blade. His brown hair was streaked with silver, and a long scar slashed across his forehead. He stood over eleven feet tall—clearly an Aurellian.
The scarred man at Kurgan's table looked up sharply. "That's him," he muttered, raising his hand in greeting.
The newcomer's eyes scanned the crowded hall until they found the table. He moved with quiet purpose, boots thudding heavily on the stone floor. When he reached them, he pulled out a chair and sat across from Kurgan and the scarred man.
At the same moment, Valerius started walking with Luthar and Auri toward the exit. But Yelleen's voice cut into his mind, cool and firm. "Stop. Listen to what they have to say. You'll need that information later."
Valerius frowned. "Why?"
"Because you will go to Mazorik one day."
Valerius hesitated at the door. "So you know Mazorik."
"I do."
He narrowed his eyes. "And what makes you think I'll go there?"
"If you want to find out who you really are… you'll go there."
Valerius stepped outside and leaned against the cold stone wall, mind racing. He strained his ears, but the roar of the Action Hall drowned everything out—clashing mugs, shouts, the scrape of chairs.
"I can't hear them," he muttered. "There's too much noise."
"Your ears can detect a wide range of frequencies," Yelleen replied calmly. "As you grow, that range will widen. You can also learn to tune out certain frequencies and focus on just one. Try it. Focus, Valerius."
He folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes. A dull discomfort prickled in his ears.
"I can't…" he hissed.
"Focus," Yelleen urged, voice sharp but patient. "Listen for Kurgan's voice, and the voice right next to him."
Valerius clenched his teeth, shutting out the chaotic clamor. Slowly, the wall of noise began to fade, replaced by two distinct voices threading through the static.
"I can hear them now," he whispered.
"Good," Yelleen said. "Don't lose concentration."
From within the hall, Kurgan's low voice came through clear as crystal: "So you can take us to Mazorik?"
A deep, gravelly voice answered—the middle-aged Aurellian. "Not exactly. I can take you to the entrance. But it's going to cost you. This is black market information."
Kurgan glanced sidelong at the scarred man. "How much?" he asked, voice tight.
"Don't look at me," the scarred man said quickly, raising his hands. "You're the one paying."
Kurgan turned his sharp gaze back to the towering Aurellian. "How much?"
The man's eye narrowed slightly. "A hundred thousand narlins."
Kurgan's eyes widened. "A hundred thousand?"
The Aurellian leaned forward, resting his massive forearms on the table. "What you're asking for is sensitive. You don't just want directions—you want me to guide you there myself. You're not the first who's asked, but it's still dangerous for me every time."
The man leaned forward, eyes glinting in the flickering light of the Action Hall. "Though the rewards of Mazorik are great," he said slowly, "the risk is just as great. Are you sure you want to go?"
Kurgan leaned in to meet his gaze, voice low and unshakable. "We've all heard the saying: Only Mazorik can make you a god among men. We'll take our chances."
The middle-aged man's eyes narrowed. He exhaled, leaning back in his chair with a resigned shake of his head. "Very well. Your lives are yours to waste or cherish."
His eyes swept the table as he continued, voice dropping almost to a whisper. "Why do you think no one goes to Mazorik? Because everyone who tries… dies. No one can enter." He raised a thick, scarred index finger. "Except through one passage. One that opens only once every three years."
Kurgan's jaw clenched. "Have you been there yourself?"
The man's face hardened, his eye flashing. "Answering that question will cost you," he said evenly.
A tense silence fell before he finally added, voice almost casual, "You're in luck. The passage will open again this year." He pulled a small pen from his pocket, scrawling account numbers onto a scrap of parchment. "Send the hundred thousand narlins here. If we leave today, we might make it."
He rose, chair scraping against the stone floor, and glanced around the table with a predator's calm. "Meet me at the east gate in three hours."
With that, he turned and strode away, disappearing into the chaos of the hall.
Kurgan let out a slow breath. "I just lost all our money," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
---
Outside, Valerius leaned against the cold wall, mind spinning. "What is this Mazorik?" he whispered.
"You'll know when the time comes," Yelleen replied cryptically.
Moments later, the middle-aged man emerged from the Action Hall's heavy doors, boots echoing across the stone street. "See that man?" Yelleen's voice murmured sharply in Valerius's mind. "Remember his face."
Valerius raised a hand in a small, instinctive wave.
The man paused, eyes locking onto Valerius—and to Valerius's surprise, he raised his hand and waved back.
"Why are you waving at him?" Yelleen snapped. "I said remember his face, not greet him."
The man's boots thudded as he approached, each step deliberate. He stopped just in front of Valerius, peering down at him with a gaze sharp as a blade. "Are you an Earther?" he asked, voice low.
Valerius swallowed hard. "Yes."
The man studied him carefully. "Hmm… so young. You must have come with the last batch." He bent down, their faces inches apart, eyes boring into Valerius's like drills. "Your eyes," he whispered. "They remind me of someone."
He slowly lifted a thick finger, tapping the scar slashed across his forehead. "Someone… who gave me this."
Valerius's breath caught in his throat.
The man stood back to his full towering height, gaze sweeping Valerius with a strange intensity. "It's difficult for humans to survive here. The gravity in No Man's Land is at least ten times what your world knows… yet you're standing. Just fine."
His eyes seemed to pierce deeper and deeper, like he was staring through flesh and bone. Then, suddenly, his pupils contracted—and he staggered back a step, eyes wide with shock. A flicker of fear crossed his face.
Then he threw his head back and let out a booming laugh, raw and wild, echoing off the buildings around them. Raiders in the street turned, startled. Luthar and Zee, just stepping out of a nearby alley, froze at the sound.
The man lowered his head, laughter dying to a quiet chuckle as he wiped a tear from his eyes. He fixed Valerius with a smirk full of dark amusement. "Boy, you're quite intriguing… aren't you?"
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small black card etched with a rune-like emblem, handing it to Valerius. "This is my card. If you ever decide you want to be part of this world's madness… if you want to stand among this worlds mightiest... if you want to enter Mazorik… contact me."
Valerius took the cold metal card.
The man turned without another word, his quiet laughter trailing behind him as he walked down the street.
Yelleen's voice whispered sharply in Valerius's mind. "You need to be cautious, Valerius. Look at him—focus."
Valerius clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing as he directed his senses toward the man's retreating back. Suddenly, his vision shifted. Over the middle-aged man's head appeared not stars… but eight floating, crimson skulls, each one flickering with a ghostly, malevolent glow.
Valerius's breath caught. "What the hell…?"
"You see it now," Yelleen said, voice low and grave. "That man is extremely dangerous."
Valerius stared, stunned, as the man's silhouette grew smaller down the street. The red skulls swirled ominously above him before fading into nothingness.
"Of everyone you've encountered since arriving in Yilheim," Yelleen continued quietly, "no one compares to him. Well… except two."
Valerius's voice was tight. "What's someone like that doing here?"
"Something's not right with you, Valerius," Yelleen replied. "This same thing happened in Mystvir. Just like before… that man looked into you, saw something—and just like Quihote did, he laughed."
Valerius frowned. "I didn't know you used skulls."
"That's to show you how dangerous he is. I didn't expect you to meet someone of that level here. If I'd used stars, there would have been too many to count."
Footsteps approached behind him. Zee came up beside Valerius, Luthar trailing just behind her. Zee's eyes were sharp, her mouth curled in a questioning smirk. "Who was that?"
Valerius shook his head slowly. "I… don't know."
Zee glanced after the man's fading figure. "I wonder what a normal guy like that is doing in No Man's Land. He must have a death wish."
Valerius blinked. "Normal? That man is normal?"
Luthar nodded without hesitation. "Yes. A non-gifted. A man without mana."
Valerius's thoughts spun. "Yelleen… are they serious? Are they seeing the same person I am?"
"It's to be expected," Yelleen answered calmly. "To them, he looks like an ordinary man."
Valerius clenched his fists. "If they think he's normal… that must mean he doesn't have mana. Then how is he so dangerous?"
"You don't have mana either, yet you're far stronger than any normal person," Yelleen said, her voice turning quiet and ominous. "There is more than one path to power, Valerius."
Just then, the scarred man stepped out of the Action Hall, Kurgan following close behind him. Kurgan's heavy boots thudded on the blood-stained stones as he approached the trio.
He stopped in front of them, eyes steady and dark. "We'll meet at the east gate in three hours," he said curtly. "Go tell the others. We've got ourselves a guide."
---
An hour later, they were all gathered at a bar, seated around a heavy wooden table littered with empty mugs and flickering candles. The air smelled of spilled ale and roasting meat. Valerius lifted a mug of alcohol to his nose, sniffed, and recoiled with a disgusted face.
Across from him, Mira was already chugging hers down like water, foam dripping from her chin.
Auri, cheeks flushed, tilted her head at Valerius. "Aren't you a bit too young to drink that?"
Valerius nodded, setting the mug firmly back on the table. "Yes. I'll have juice, please."
Luthar snorted, raising an eyebrow. "And who's paying for your juice?"
Mira, now half-drunk, slammed her mug down and slurred, "Don't worry about it—drinks are on me tonight. Let's celebrate. After years of searching, we finally found a guide to Mazorik!"
Everyone raised their drinks in a cheer—except Zee, who sat quietly, arms crossed.
Valerius glanced at her. "Aren't you celebrating too?"
Zee shook her head. "I don't drink."
Auri, already swaying with a mug in hand, leaned across the table and squinted at Valerius. "I've been meaning to ask… how are you so strong when you're non-gifted?"
Valerius hesitated. "I don't know—genetics, I guess."
Auri's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "That's definitely not normal. Aurellians aren't that strong, not without mana."
She stumbled forward, nearly spilling her drink, and pointed the mug accusingly at his face. "So what race are you really?"
Valerius gently pushed the mug aside. "I'm… Elvhein, but actually from Ear—"
"Shut up!" Yelleen's voice cut through his mind like a blade, sharp and furious. "How many times must I tell you to keep your big mouth shut? Do you plan on telling every stranger your life story? Don't trust people so easily!"
There was a tense silence as Valerius recovered, Yelleen's voice softening with a weary sigh. "You've got to grow up, Valerius."
Auri blinked. "What was that you said?"
Valerius forced a small smile. "Nothing." He lifted his juice and took a careful sip.
Suddenly, deep bells began tolling across Redmarrow, their echoes rolling over the rooftops like thunder. The laughter and noise in the bar died instantly. Kurgan snapped to attention, eyes sharp.
Auri looked around in confusion. "What's that sound?"
Kurgan's voice was grim. "A beast wave."
In seconds, the bar erupted into chaos. Raiders jumped from their seats, knocking over tables as they bolted for the doors. Kurgan's team followed, weapons forgotten in their rush. Outside, the streets churned with a stampede of raiders streaming toward the massive stone gates, shouting in excitement.
Auri stared, wide-eyed. "Why are they running toward the beast wave? Aren't they afraid?"
Mira, now clear-headed, answered with a fierce grin. "This is their chance to raise their ranks. Who'd want to sit this one out?"
Kurgan barked a short laugh. "We're not missing it either." He turned sharply to Luthar. "Luthar—arms!"
Luthar spread his fingers and murmured a spell. Instantly, their weapons flew through the air from the inn, streaking into their waiting hands: Mira's enormous axe, Zee's twin daggers, and Kurgan's colossal hammer.
Zee glanced at Valerius, eyes glinting. "Will you join us?"
Valerius hesitated. "I don't have a weapon."
Then, Out of thin air, a massive sword appeared above them, crashing into the cobblestones at Valerius's feet with a metallic ring. Silence fell. Kurgan's eyes widened. "What in the hell…?"
Valerius picked it up slowly, recognizing the intricate runes and worn leather grip instantly—Gavurn's sword.
He remembered Lorde playing with it, and a thought flashed through his mind: Did he send this to me…? But how?
Kurgan stepped closer, eyes hard. "Where did that sword come from?"
Valerius slung it over his shoulder, the giant blade almost humming with power. He met Kurgan's gaze with a smirk. "I too have my secrets."
Kurgan stared a moment longer, then let out a short, approving grunt. "Fine. Keep your secrets."
They walked together to the towering stone gate of Redmarrow, tension thrumming like a live wire. Three Augmenters stood at massive ropes, muscles bulging as they hauled with synchronized effort. The enchanted stone gate slowly lifted, grinding open with a deep rumble.
Beyond the threshold, the horizon boiled with movement—hundreds of beasts surging forward in a wave of claws and teeth.
The raiders lined up at the gate smiled wide, eyes hungry for the coming slaughter.
Slowly, the raiders stepped through the massive stone gate, boots crunching over the blood-stained ground. Their weapons gleamed in the moonlight—axes, hammers, blades, and runed spears raised and ready. Smirks curled across hardened faces; their eyes burned not with fear, but with savage excitement.
They moved like a pack of predators, each stride deliberate, the scent of battle thick in the cold night air.
Valerius walked among these giants, each raider towering above him so that he couldn't even see the beasts ahead. Yet he moved with them, step for step, Gavurn's sword resting light and effortless across his back—a weapon that would have been crushingly heavy for any normal man, but felt like nothing in his grip.
And just like them—just like when he fought Gavurn—he felt it again.
Excitement.
A thrill he couldn't deny, surging hot in his chest.
As the beasts appeared on the horizon, a dark, roiling tide of claws and snarls, the raiders smiled wider—and Valerius smiled with them.
---
To Be Continued...