Chapter 54 Enter Whispering Haven City
The trio of Elton, Zoro and Ramiro stood in the slow-moving line just outside the tall gates of Whispering Havens City. Elton, Ramiro, and Zoro were breathing heavily, their clothes tattered and their bodies riddled with bruises, minor cuts, and blood smears. Every movement caused a wince or groan. Around them, people glanced over with widened eyes or subtle avoidance, clearly not wanting to be entangled with whatever madness had brought three bloodied young men to the city gates.
When they reached the front, a city gate guard with a long scar over one cheek squinted at them. His gaze lingered, narrowed in scrutiny, before his lips curled into a smirk.
"Try not to start any more trouble in the city, unless you're keen on losing your heads," he said, his tone half-joking but fully cautionary.
Elton offered a wry, weary smile. "We'll do our best."
Ramiro let out a tired chuckle, and Zoro, ever silent, gave a slight nod as they stepped into the city.
Whispering Havens City was... grand. Far more than any of them expected from a place in the miserable and brutal Whispering Expanse. High spires made of white-gray stone loomed across the skyline, and the streets bustled with a strange diversity—races, merchants, warriors, even the rare Shackleless openly walking without chains.
Ramiro let out a low whistle. "This place… could compete with some of the mid-tier cities back home. Maybe not quite, but close. Feels more alive."
Elton nodded in agreement but noted the contrast in the air. "Yeah… The Whispering Expanse still has a thick air to it, But the arrays on the city walls… they're filtering and purifying the essence around us to an extent."
He paused and furrowed his brows. "Still… even this filtered air is murky. Staying here for too long will rot our foundation. This place just isn't made for long-term cultivation."
After spending some time walking the streets and gathering a general idea of the layout, they tracked down a local realtor who handled short-term housing. After some back-and-forth negotiations they secured a small, reinforced home on the city's outer ring—safe, quiet, and not too suspicious.
They entered the home, sealed the wards, and got to work.
The three of them tended to their wounds first. Bandages, healing salves, and light recuperation pills. They worked in silence, each weighed down by exhaustion and lingering adrenaline. Elton leaned back on the floor against a wall, his breath slowing as his body finally began to rest. His mind, however, raced.
"We need to talk," he muttered aloud, glancing toward the inner rooms. "One week here. That should be our max amount of time spent in this place. Just enough to recover, cultivate, and prepare for whatever comes next."
He clenched his fists, memories of their desperate escape flashing through his head.
"White Star Sword Transformation…" he thought. "The ability itself is not difficult to activate. But that technique is a whole concept. A battle technique I probably have no business using at Silver-Tier 4. Not with how demanding it is on Ki, body, and spirit. Even with my constitution, it felt like I was being pulled apart."
The inner voice scoffed from the recesses of his mind. "That's because it's my technique executed by a genius. You merely... borrowed it."
Elton didn't even reply this time. He just closed his eyes and exhaled.
In another room, Ramiro sat cross-legged, his spear laid before him. Bandages wrapped his arms, and his breathing was steady but labored.
"Those two… Elton and Zoro… monsters," he muttered to himself.
He could still picture the clash against the shackled Silver-Tier 5. Even though the man had been restricted, the danger had been all too real. Elton's tactics, Zoro's precision…
Ramiro clenched his fists, then reached for the spear.
"I need to level up. I have to."
He began cultivating, focusing all his effort on unlocking the next stage of his spear intent. He could feel it… almost within reach. One more push, and he'd stand as a true threat to a Silver-Tier 5 at full strength.
Zoro meditated in silence, still as a stone, even with dried blood on his skin. The air around him pulsed softly with the quiet intensity of Dark Ki Healing him.
Outside the city, miles away, the meditative form of the Gold-Tier guard still sat in the cracked earth. Then, the rumbling of engines broke the silence.
Several sleek, black, rune-covered magic vehicles appeared on the horizon and came to a halt nearby. Dozens of guards, all bearing the sigil of Brymia Town, emerged.
The Gold-Tier guard opened his eyes, his brows low.
"They're in the city," he muttered.
A Silver-Tier officer stepped forward. "Should we attack?"
"No. Not now," the guard growled. "Whispering Havens isn't some loose settlement. They've got a lot of backing… and that mage was no joke."
He stood to his feet and dusted off his uniform.
"Call for backup. We'll set up camp here. We're not letting them get away again."
The other guards nodded grimly as they began making preparations.
Whispering Haven City away from the dusty roads and crowds into a magnificent, luxurious building perched atop a raised district. Inside, a lavish banquet table stretches across a grand hall lit with chandeliers formed from crystallized essence. Around the table sat seven individuals of various races, each exuding authority and strength—none of them bear the shackles of servitude.
Among them was the light-green-skinned mage who had been present during the earlier city commotion. As he tears into roasted meat, he relays the events from just hours ago: three young warriors at Silver Tier escaping pursuit from a Gold Tier enforcer of Brymia.
A Demon-kin with long crimson hair, sharp golden eyes, and a large muscular frame taps his fingers against his tankard. "Brymia's quite a distance from here. To chase some kids all the way here... What in the world did they do?" His voice carries a note of amusement and suspicion.
A lithe woman with four eyes arranged vertically on her face and four arms folded elegantly across her black dress leans back. A blood-red shawl wraps around her shoulders like a serpent.
"Regardless of their crimes, those Brymians dared to throw a destructive technique so close to our city." Her voice sharpens with disdain.
"Unforgivable. We should make an example out of them."
She grins, licking her lips. "And those boys... if they're good-looking, I may just keep them for myself be it as servants, guards, or... more intimate roles."
A deep snort erupts from a rhinoceros-like Demi-human seated across the table. "Stick to your wine, woman. Not every battle needs to involve your bedsheets."
Next to him, a Goblin-faced Demon-kin scoffs. "Speak for yourself. She's got the right idea. You bring up 'roles' and 'servants,' and suddenly I'm feeling inspired too. How about we go a round?"
The four-eyed woman waves him off with one of her hands, laughing darkly. "You wish, Norg."
The discussion soon returns to seriousness. The mood tightens slightly.
A man in martial robes with scaled skin and a long goatee taps his chopsticks on his bowl. "No need for brash action. Let's observe for now. I suggest we assign someone to monitor those three youths."
The others murmur in agreement.
A extremely beautiful elven woman with soft emerald skin, fangs protruding slightly over her lower lip, and long golden hair woven with living vines smiles calmly. Draped in robes made of actual leaves, she raises a hand. "Let my kin handle this. They'll draw less suspicion from the humans, and they have the temperament to get close without alarming them."
After a short deliberation, all agreed. Toasts are raised, and the banquet continues with discussions shifting to more casual topics.
Moments later, the large chamber doors creak open. A figure stomps in, grumbling. He looks mostly human but has long, thick arms and massive hands. His features are blunt and heavy.
"You all started without me again?" he grunts.
The group bursts into laughter, tossing playful insults and mock apologies his way. After helping himself to a plate, he becomes serious. "I've already reported to his Excellency Groverton... but you should all know. In my, Devrak's, and Norg's Homeland in the upper lands a phenomenon has appeared. A massive magical gate. It's growing by the hour. It's not just a portal but it's warping land, swallowing wilderness, and even erasing small outposts."
Everyone goes freezes in place upon hearing this news.
The mention of Groverton, the Mortal Shedding Realm Guardian who governs Whispering Haven city, sobers the table even more.
"A dimensional invasion?" the scaled martial artist says slowly.
The others murmur grimly. Faces of the elite servants and maids nearby also darken with dread. The elven woman with fangs and glowing green eyes suddenly freezes mid-drink. Her gaze grows vacant, then flashes with flickering emotions—hope, fear, confusion.
She whispers to herself, "Should I gamble on it? My ability has always guided me true... but this, this is beyond the known paths. Still, if there's a chance to free my people after a thousand years trapped here..."
She clenches her goblet. Her mind makes a decision.
"You alright, Aeloria?" Norg's curious tone cuts in.
She snaps out of it, clearing her throat. "Fine. Just fine."
"I could escort you to your chambers. Make sure you're... fully relaxed," he adds with a devilish grin.
She rolls her eyes. "Don't push your luck."
He chuckles, but there's a flicker of cunning behind his gaze.
Six Days Later.
Elton, Zoro, and Ramiro sit around a stone table at an open-air restaurant, enjoying a hearty meal beneath the glow of Whispering Haven's enchanted lanterns. With them are two acquaintances they've grown comfortable with over the past three days: Shayleaf and Joe-Pine—members of the Fanged Elf race.
Ramiro had nearly dropped his fork upon meeting them days ago. "The Fanged Elf race? Records said you all vanished from the Red Star Continent nearly a thousand years ago!"
The pair were equally shocked. "Red Star? So you're not from here... Our tribe's elders spoke of that place. Said it was once home... before the 'Calamity' drove us into this world."
Now, as they enjoy fire-roasted beast, fruit wine, and spiced bread, the group swaps stories and customs.
Shayleaf grins, her eyes twinkling. "You outsiders sure are weird... but you're fun."
Joe-Pine raises his glass. "To new friends, then. May your road be less chaotic than your arrival!"
They all laugh, not knowing just how much more chaotic their journey is about to become.