Zagan gave a short nod. "Where do we meet your swordmaster?"

"There’s a safe house near the old bell tower. If we split up, meet me there. And don’t do anything suspicious."

He looked at me, unimpressed. "I do not do ‘suspicious.’"

"Says the guy who looks like he eats souls for breakfast. Just—blend in."

The moment I arrived, my stomach dropped.

The safe house? Abandoned.

My swordmaster? Dead.

He was gone. Killed. It took me a second to register it. The citizens nearby told me the place had been empty for days. And that he had been found dead a few days ago.

A few days ago? That timing wasn’t a coincidence. There was only one way to get answers—I had to find his daughter.

We went straight to Miss Jenna’s bakery. She’d been long married to a baker and had built a quiet life here. I spotted her inside, rolling out dough, unaware of me standing at the door.

"Thalia?" Her voice cracked the moment she saw me. "You shouldn’t be here. What happened?"

I swallowed. "Do you trust me?"

Her eyes softened, and she stepped closer. "Of course. Tell me everything."

I hesitated. Should I tell her about Zagan? He was outside, unseen for now, but I couldn’t risk exposing him just yet.

"Jenna, is it true? Is your father really..." I trailed off, unable to say the word.

Her expression darkened, and she looked down. "I’m sorry..."

"No," I shook my head, my fists clenched. 

"I’m sorry. If there’s anyone who could’ve helped you, it was him. But—things happened..."

"What do you mean by that?"

She hesitated, glancing around before lowering her voice. "Strange people started showing up at my father’s place a week before he died. He suspected them. I know it wasn’t suicide, no matter what they declared. He had no debts. No reason to..." Her voice cracked. "Something was wrong."

I inhaled sharply. "Did he say anything? Anything at all?"

Jenna wiped her hands on her apron, eyes darting to the back of the shop, as if fearing someone would overhear. "The last thing he mentioned was... a weapon. He made trades with the black market."

My breath hitched. "What kind of weapon?"

She hesitated. "One that could repel and kill Celestians instantly."

My blood ran cold.

A weapon that could kill Celestians?

-----------------------------------------------

Jenna insisted we stay for the night after realizing I was traveling with Zagan. There was a caravan heading east at dawn, an opportunity we couldn't miss.

“The caravan is going to Ashenreach, habitable city in Valtara,” Jenna explained, setting down a mug of steaming tea. “That’s where you’ll find the Phoenix King.”

Valtara—the infamous wasteland of the east. A land of abandoned factories, crumbling ruins, and toxic remnants from the last war. A place so barren that the capital had washed its hands of it, leaving only merchants to travel between Alazne and Terran. A vast mountainous range divided the royal capital, Caelithar, from the western lands, Valtara, and the only way to cross was by traveling with a merchant caravan, which only ran once a month.

“The Phoenix King?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, that name rings a bell.”

Jenna nodded. “They say he rules over the entire west, and if you're looking for answers, he might be your best shot. But Lord Zagan…” She hesitated. “He might not approve.”

I glanced at Zagan, who leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his usual unreadable expression in place.

“I don’t intend to form an alliance,” I admitted, watching him. “But it wouldn’t be a bad idea, right?”

Zagan’s gaze darkened. “Tch. You really think a man who deals with Terran merchants will trust you?”

I sighed. “Do you know him?”

He didn’t answer.

Before we left Calithar and escape prison, the town leader and villagers who we met along the way were oddly enthusiastic about my journey. They openly declared their support if I chose to take the throne and make Zagan my king. Our first allies. Not that I was sure about Zagan’s thoughts on ruling. He still didn’t seem interested in the throne.

I, however, had more pressing concerns—like my personal mission to seduce Zagan.

Seduction Attempts: FAILED

Under the forest shelter – I casually leaned closer while resting against the wooden beams. Zagan simply moved away without a glance. On the watchtower – I tried to ‘accidentally’ touch his hand while admiring the view. He didn’t even flinch. While riding his horse – I clung to him dramatically, hoping he’d at least react. Instead, he said, “You’re slipping. Hold tighter.” At the lake while bathing – He saw me, blinked, and tossed me a towel. Nothing more. NOTHING.

Ugh. This man is impossible!

Inside the caravan, the air grew thick and humid. The scent of sun-scorched earth and coal lingered as we passed through the mountain caves, their walls adorned with glowing crystals. Mining trails stretched endlessly, guiding us through the treacherous landscape until we finally reached the oasis—the last stop before the trading capital.

The Phoenix King was elusive. No one could get an audience without reason. And yet, his title—it stirred something in me, a memory just out of reach.

As we entered the village, a festival was in full swing. The Grand Colosseum Trials had begun—an annual event where warriors, men and women alike, showcased their strength.

The village was alive with music and color, its people adorned with flower crowns, flowing garments, and intricate golden accessories. The air smelled of sweet fruit, roasted meats, and spiced wines.

I felt out of place.

Zagan? Even more so.

People gawked as we passed. I suggested blending in, but Zagan refused, opting instead to lurk in the shadows.

Hard to convince this man of anything.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted—a thief dashed through the crowd, pursued by a girl shouting, “Get back here!”

Zagan moved before I could react, intercepting the thief with effortless precision. The girl stopped in front of us, breathing hard. She was tall, lean, and radiated a fierce, warrior-like energy.

“Oh… that was convenient.” She accepted her stolen bag and opened it, revealing various tokens. “Thanks.”

“You’re not from here, are you?” she asked, tilting her head. Her accent had that distinct gladiator-like cadence, different from our own speech.

I hesitated before nodding.

“Ah! In return, I’ll help you blend in.” She eyed Zagan skeptically. “Especially him.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

She chewed gum absentmindedly. “Suit yourself.”

As we followed her through the bustling market, she explained the festival and its meaning. The tokens in her bag were rewards for placing bets and participating in battles.

I took the chance to ask, “Do you know anything about black market trading?”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s a shady question.”

“I’m investigating a friend’s death, not looking to make deals.”

She considered me for a moment, then sighed. “Well… you won’t find them.”

“But if you want their attention,” she added with a smirk, “qualify for the Gladiator Battle and bring something of value—a unique weapon.”

The girl stood confidently before us, her stance exuding the power of a seasoned warrior. She wore a fitted leather cuirass over a crimson tunic, its hem lined with golden embroidery. A wide, bronze-plated belt cinched her waist, securing a satchel at her side. Her lower attire was a skirt of layered, reinforced leather strips, allowing freedom of movement. Strapped to her feet were sturdy gladiator sandals, their straps winding up to mid-calf. A delicate band of woven flowers crowned her head, a stark contrast to the battle-hardened air she carried. Her wavy brown hair framed her sun-kissed face, and her striking golden eyes gleamed with mischief and wisdom alike.

"You want unique weapons?" She crossed her arms. "That’s tough. Unique weapons are rare unless you get a blacksmith to customize one for you."

Zagan and I exchanged glances before I turned back to her. "Do you know any blacksmiths?"

She nodded and gestured for us to follow. As we navigated through the bustling festival streets, she casually tossed a token in the air before catching it. "Only way to pay for anything here is with these."

"So... your currency is just tokens?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. "Pretty much. You need tokens, you either earn ‘em or get ‘em gifted."

"And how exactly do we earn them?"

She raised three fingers. "First, by the decree or gift of the Phoenix King. Second, by heroism—helping clear out the toxic waste up north." She wrinkled her nose. "Not exactly a fun job. Third, by winning in the gladiator battles."

I frowned. "And the fourth?"

"Trade or sell goods. But considering you don’t have much with you, that’s not really an option."

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Alright, so how do we meet the Phoenix King?"

She laughed. "That’s... unpredictable."

"Unpredictable?" I echoed, unimpressed.

She shrugged. "No one knows his whereabouts exactly. He just shows up whenever and wherever he wants."

"Well, surely he’s got some grand entrance, right? Maybe he flies in with a red bird or something?"

The girl chuckled. "That’s funny. His ‘red bird’ is made of flames. Only he can repel its fire. Everyone else? Toast. He wouldn’t be flying it over the townsfolk unless he wanted to burn down the whole place."

She pointed towards the distant mountains, where a column of dark smoke curled into the sky. "His phoenix usually roosts at the active volcano over there. He rides it out whenever there’s a Celestian attack."

I folded my arms. "So... Celestians aren’t welcome here, huh?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "They’re nothing but trouble—mindless beasts that devour anything they see. No one here wants them around."

Great. That meant finding any answers about Celestians in this place was going to be even harder.

Zagan, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. "The only way forward is to join the gladiator battles."

"No one is joining any battle," he immediately countered, fixing me with that usual strict and nonchalant stare. Then, just like that, he vanished into the shadows.

I exhaled sharply. "Great. Just great."

The girl beside me smirked. "Well, while he’s away... why not enjoy the festival?"

I glanced at her, my irritation melting slightly at her enthusiasm. "I guess it wouldn’t hurt. What’s your name, anyway?"

She grinned, a twinkle of excitement in her golden eyes. "Danica, or you can call me Nyx."