After the Summit, Jonathan Valence went to his palace library. Whole library overflowed with lofty wooden shelves laden with heavy-heavy books and the place was giving vibe as if wisdom was rotting in the depth of this space. A weird scent of ink, lamp oil, and old research paper filled the whole space with smell of wisdom.
At the center of all this messy and madness of his research Jonathan sat there, with tower of books and document staring at him with eyes of paper. His royal table looked less like a workspace and more like a battlefield — paper sprawled across its surface like fallen soldiers. Ink stains, diagrams of sword forms, the anatomy of beasts, and a hand-drawn map of twenty nations scarred the table's polished skin.
He mumbled something as he turned a page in Dojon's Encyclopaedia of Warfare, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"Swordmasters, generals, duelists, tamers… there must be nine worthy souls somewhere under the sun."
Till yesterday, this had been a hobby — a harmless obsession. Cataloging warriors, ranking them, writing treatises no one ever read. But after the Summit of Calvizor, the crown itself had made him arbiter of humanity's fate. The man who once wrote The Ninety-Nine Strongest in History now had to choose nine real ones to save the world.
He rubbed his temple. Why couldn't they have chosen a general or prophet… anyone but a scholar?
The ticking of the clock mocked him from the corner. Two days had passed since he returned from the Parliament of Logue Porl Megus — a journey that had devoured nearly five days in total. The route from Murrchel City to the Frontier City of Charkon took four hours by royal carriage; from there, the Feysich Express had carried him across twenty aligned nations of the Feysich-Malborn Empire. Twenty nations worth of noise, steam, and sighing souls.
He'd traveled through Romero, crossed borders to Punamara, reached the Parliament City of Harus, and then traced that exhausting path back again. One day and nine hours each way, and now his back still ached from the journey.
Still, the work had not waited. Even in the train, using the royal telephone — a luxury only noblemen could touch — he had arranged reports, lists, and correspondence with academies across the empire. Now the results littered his desk, like ghosts of impossible decisions.
He leaned back, sighing. The flickering candlelight caught the edges of his face — a man brilliant, tired, and terribly unfit for the weight he now carried.
Outside, Murrchel's evening bells tolled. Somewhere beyond his window, the world was unraveling.
While Jonathan drowned in scrolls and thought, far across the academy grounds, Jennifer was drowning in frustration.
She had been searching for Abraham for hours.
From the training fields to the damaged towers, even to Kamora Site — the cratered ruin where the Kamurine ship had fallen — she found nothing but silence. The place, once an academy wing, was now alien property, guarded by strange glyphs and humming silver mist. It felt wrong to even breathe there.
Jennifer's boots clacked against the stone as she crossed one of the hostel corridors. The hour was late; students whispered behind closed doors. Her golden hair shimmered faintly under the lantern light, her academy uniform neat despite the exhaustion in her eyes.
Then, turning a corner, she saw Maria.
Maria wore a fitted dark-blue leather suit — part battle gear, part arrogance. The color deepened the glow of her fair skin and made her look like she had walked out of an imperial painting. Jennifer, in contrast, was still in her uniform — plain, proper, and too formal for chasing a runaway idiot.
They stood a heartbeat apart, rivals forced into uneasy truce by apocalypse.
"Have you seen Abraham anywhere?" Jennifer asked evenly, hiding the edge in her voice.
Maria blinked, her expression neutral. "No. I haven't seen him since last night."
Jennifer's jaw tightened. Last night? What did she mean by since last night? Was she watching him that closely? The thought gnawed at her for a moment, but she brushed it aside. There were bigger problems than jealousy — like the end of the world.
She gave Maria no reply, no farewell. Just turned and walked past her, the air between them cold as glass.
Maria stayed where she was, lips pressed thin. After a moment, her thoughts drifted — unwillingly — to that same last night.
It had been well past midnight when a knock came at her door.
At first, she thought it was the wind. Then came another, sharp and impatient. Grumbling, she opened the door halfway — and froze.
Abraham stood there.
His presence hit her like cold water. Abraham maria know is no where like that this boy whole appearance changed in her perspective, the new look surprised her like she saw a angel but in different time, as he didn't resemble the indolent, sardonic student she knew. A dark, fur-lined overcoat and a muffler concealed most of his face, with only his hair showing across his forehead. His boots even seemed polished, like those in a noble's painting.
He looked alive — dangerously alive.
"Hey," he said, voice calm but urgent. "Can you spare me some coins? It's… kind of important."
Maria blinked couple of time. "Coins? At this hour?"
"Fifty gold," he replied matter-of-factly, counting his fingers like an accountant. "It's travel expenses."
She almost dropped dead. Fifty gold? That kind of money could feed fifty poor families for twenty-two days. Even middle-class officials barely earned two or three gold a month. And he was asking it like pocket change.
"well, if i being honest with you this month actully im going in total losts, so you see i don't have that much of coin" she hesitated for a second before saying all this in one breath.
He looked at her, eyes steady, and smiled slightly. Her smile worked better than any weapon, She get suddenly flustreted and embarresed by looking at his impression, she suddenly pause on the place and hurried back to her room as if she forget to swicth off the gas, she start to search her drawers,small chest and gatehred her little box and things that were scattered everywhere in one place.
When she comeback she was breathless swallowing the air itself for the lack of oxygen, then she placed a small pouch in his hand. the pouch was tidied with a red feather
Abraham opened it, and the gold coins shone under the light. One side had Calvizor's face on it, and the other had the empire's lily. He smiled slowly, the reflection lighting in his eyes.
"Thanks," he said simply.
Then, as if it were an afterthought, he murmured, "Strange, isn't it… how people treat kindness differently these days."
And with that cryptic comment, he was gone.
Maria stood there long after he vanished, unsure whether to feel angry, charmed, or both.
Now, morning light spilled across the Charkon Station, steam and noise filling the air. Abraham stood on the platform, a lone figure with a travel bag slung across his shoulder. The great Golmol Feysich Express waited before him — a train of silver and black, built to tear across nations like a thunderbolt.
He held his ticket tightly. Seven gold coins had bought him passage to Johnersburg Country, Sorchen City, the frontier city of the River of Holem Empire — far beyond the borders of Feysich. The ink on the ticket gleamed faintly, like it disapproved of his poverty.
Abraham exhaled and boarded to golmol express for a long journey .
Inside, he found his seat by the window — A-class, barely affordable even after robbing Maria. He sat, watching the world blur into motion.
Outside, cities crawled by like sleeping beasts; hills rose and vanished; towers burned faintly in the dusk. For a moment, Abraham saw his reflection in the glass — a fugitive dreamer with 22 gold and 55 silver coins left, plus two pitiful sokkon coins. He had started the night with thirty-three gold, and now most of it was gone — spent on tickets, food, and escape.
He slightly smile. "Guess I'm an investor now," he muttered to himself.
The train roared forward, shaking the windows. Abraham leaned back, muffler drawn over his mouth, thoughts heavy but strangely calm.
Seven days until the tournament begins. Two days to reach Johnersburg. Then few hours by iron carriage to the Lord Vaskho… I'll make it.
Whether it was for Joel's revenge, for pride, or because he assume this is the the lorchen apocalypse — he didn't know. But he would go. He would fight.
With his head against the window and eyes barely open, he mumbled, Sorry, Maria... but robbing you seemed like the best plan I've had so far.
A soft laugh followed. The sound disappeared into the train's endless rattle.
Outside, the horizon burned red — like the dawn of a world about to change.