Veol stood behind the chair where Oreq slept, his eyes narrowing with mischief. He leaned down, placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder, and whispered:

“Wake up, old man.”

Oreq jolted awake, instantly gripping his wand and pointing it toward the window.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!”

Veol stepped closer, lowering his lips to Oreq’s ear, and hissed:

“Death.”

A shiver raced down Oreq’s spine. For a heartbeat, he froze—until he recognized the voice. Whirling around, he shouted:

“You little brat!” Oreq barked, his wand still raised. “After all I did to save you, is this how you treat your savior? Two years, Veol. Two long years of watching over your corpse-like body, checking your breath every morning to see if you still clung to life. Do you think that was easy for me? Do you think I didn’t have better things to do than babysit a half-dead fool?”

Veol smirked, trying to mask the unease curling in his chest.

“Sounds like you enjoyed playing nurse. Maybe you grew fond of me after all, old man.”

Oreq scowled, but before he could retort, Veol’s expression hardened. The smirk faded into a cold laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Ha. Don’t twist the truth. You didn’t save me. Aevon did. Where is he?”

Oreq’s face darkened.

“Daydreaming again, are you? I was the one who saved you, not some ‘Aevon.’ When I returned from my meeting with the king, I found you lying on the ground, drenched in blood. You were barely clinging to life. I carried you to the healer’s chamber, restored your damaged organs with magic, and to replace the blood you’d lost—I gave you mine.”

Veol’s expression froze, but inside, his mind spun like a storm.

Aevon’s words… the hand that pulled me back from the abyss… was all of it just a dream? If Oreq is telling the truth, then why do I remember the warmth of Aevon’s touch more vividly than the pain of dying? Dreams blur, but that memory is sharp as steel. So which is the lie—Oreq’s words, or my own mind?

He asked, voice shaking:

“And… what about my pure energy capacity? Did it return to normal?”

Oreq sighed, frustrated.

“You’ve only just woken up after two years. And you still don’t remember. Your capacity has always been the same as any ordinary person. In simple words—you’re not cut out to be a mage.”

Shock flashed across Veol’s face. He wanted to deny it, to cling to Aevon’s promise. But in the end, he clenched his fists and steadied his breath.

Dream or not. Weak or not. Even if fate, luck, or the gods themselves turn against me—I will train. I will rise. I will take revenge. And after that, I will journey to become the most powerful mage in history.

But the doubts gnawed at him. First Crest. Now Aevon. And Oreq’s story that didn’t align with what he remembered.

“What’s happening in this world?” he muttered under his breath.

He asked Oreq instead:

“Where’s Azec? Did anything like what happened in Fhiola occur again?”

Oreq leaned closer, his expression hard.

“Listen carefully, Veol. First tell me—do you know about the Nine Gods’ Realm, and the half sun within it?”

Veol nodded cautiously.

“Good,” Oreq continued. “Then you should understand why Azec was thrown out so suddenly. When he rushed in ahead of you, he saw the half sun beginning to fade. The next moment, some unknown force expelled him from the realm entirely. As for your other question—no, nothing like that has happened again in the last two years. But the king has ordered every guard, mage, and swordbearer to prepare and strengthen themselves in case it does.”

“I want to see Azec,” Veol said firmly.

“He’s at the temple,” Oreq replied. “But your body is weak. Rest for two or three days, eat something proper. Then you can go.”

Veol frowned, then asked gloomily:

“And in those two years, how did you keep me alive if I couldn’t eat or drink?”

“That,” Oreq said curtly, “is not something I can explain in detail. A magic tool helped sustain you. Enough questions. Go rest.”

Veol didn’t push further. Maybe Aevon really was just a dream, he thought. But why does Oreq care so much for me? The question burned in his chest, yet when Oreq left the room, Veol swallowed it down and drifted into sleep.

The next morning, he woke early. After dressing, he slipped out of the palace through a broken fence in the garden. When Oreq came later to check on him, he found the bed empty and roared:

“YOU LITTLE BRAT!”

Meanwhile, Veol wandered the streets. The city buzzed with a life he hadn’t felt in years. Scarlet and gold banners rippled above the shopfronts, while vendors draped their stalls with ribbons and garlands of paper flowers. The air carried the scent of roasted chestnuts, sweet wine, and frying dough, mingling with the sharp tang of incense from temple shrines set up along the roads. Children darted between the crowds with painted masks, laughing as jugglers tossed flaming torches high into the dusk sky.

A festival? he wondered. For what? The city looks like it’s celebrating victory, but Oreq spoke of nothing but caution and fear. Is this joy real—or just another mask hiding the rot underneath?

Instead of heading straight to the temple, he went to find the old mage who had taught him the basics and delivered him to the castle long ago. But when he reached the familiar street, his heart sank. The grimoire shop was gone—replaced by an empty patch of ground. 

Veol clenched his fists and muttered under his breath, “Great… just when I thought I could find some answers.”

He asked nearby shopkeepers.

“There was never any such shop here,” they said.

Frustrated and unsettled, Veol pressed through the crowd toward the temple.

Why me? First Crest. Then Aevon. Now the mage. What thread of fate is binding all this together? His thoughts sharpened. I’ll ask Azec about the nine gods. Maybe then I can connect these threads. And if Crest and Aevon are the same… no matter what they are—person or not—I will turn them to dust.

At the temple, Veol stepped inside. Azec knelt before the glowing orb in prayer. When he rose and turned, his eyes widened.

“Veol… you’re awake!” He rushed forward, grasping Veol’s shoulders. “When Oreq and I found you on the ground, covered in blood, we thought we’d lost you. But now… you’ve grown.”

“Thank you,” Veol said quietly. Then his tone sharpened. “I have questions. First—you promised to tell me about the gods.”

Azec led him into a side chamber. They sat near the window. Veol smirked.

“Is it necessary to sit by a window just to look dramatic?”

Azec chuckled. “Cheeky, as always. But listen carefully. I’ll tell you their names, domains, appearances, and worship. The temple texts are written in a poetic tone, so forgive me if I sound the same. And perhaps,” he added with a faint smile, “a few interesting legends too.”

Then he began.

Aurethis, the Radiant Flame

Domain: Fire, light, courage

Appearance: Towering figure of molten gold with ember wings, eyes burning like suns

Worship: Soldiers and smiths

Legend: A village smith once invoked Aurethis while trapped in a forest fire. The flames consumed everything around him, but his forge remained untouched. Villagers believed the god’s fire tested his courage and preserved his skill.

Veol’s eyes widened. "So this god’s strength is a blessing… but dangerous too."

Lunarae, the Veiled Tide

Domain: Water, secrecy, intuition

Appearance: A woman woven from flowing rivers, face hidden beneath a silver veil

Worship: Sailors, healers, spies

Legend: A captain caught in a storm survived after whispering Lunarae’s name. While the rest of his fleet sank, his ship floated untouched under moonlight. Sailors still call upon her to navigate unseen perils.

Veol furrowed his brow. “Even the seas bow to her… and she favors only those who understand caution.”

Tharion, the Stone Sentinel

Domain: Earth, endurance, law

Appearance: Colossal knight carved of rock and crystal, roots sprouting from his body

Worship: Judges, kings, builders

Legend: During a rebellion centuries ago, a king invoked Tharion’s name. Stones rose to form barriers, protecting the innocent and crushing only those who defied the law. It was both salvation and judgment.

Veol nodded, impressed. "Power tied to order… interesting."

Zephyros, the Whispering Gale

Domain: Air, travel, freedom

Appearance: Faceless, shifting figure cloaked in endless winds, voice carried on breezes

Worship: Wanderers, thieves

Legend: A thief once escaped an entire city’s guards by following a sudden gust of wind, which later vanished without trace. Locals whispered it was Zephyros himself guiding the rogue, testing the limits of freedom.

Veol chuckled quietly. "Even thieves have a god looking out for them…"

Veythra, the Eternal Bloom

Domain: Life, fertility, renewal

Appearance: Half-human, half-flowering tree, hair of vines and blossoms

Worship: Farmers, lovers

Legend: A drought struck a village long ago. Crops withered, and despair filled the hearts of the villagers. A single prayer to Veythra caused a bloom to erupt in the center of the fields, spreading vitality to every corner. Yet, the flowers withered within a fortnight, a reminder that life is fleeting and must be nurtured.

Veol murmured, "Life comes at a cost… everything has its balance."

Noctyros, the Dream-Eater

Domain: Night, dreams, fate

Appearance: Shadowy beast with many faintly glowing eyes, feathers dissolving into smoke

Worship: Oracles, assassins

Legend: A young oracle predicted a kingdom’s collapse. On the eve of disaster, a shadow passed over the city, silencing the doomed visions. It was said Noctyros consumed the fatal dreams, sparing the innocent while letting fate’s threads unravel only where necessary.

Veol shivered. "Fate isn’t kind… but it’s precise."

Kaelith, the Shattered Blade

Domain: War, ambition, betrayal

Appearance: Warrior god clad in broken armor, wielding a splintered sword

Worship: Generals, rebels, tyrants

Legend: A general once prayed to Kaelith for victory in a civil war. He won, but at the cost of his closest comrades. The god’s blessing was absolute—ambition rewarded, mercy denied.

Veol frowned. "Power without restraint… deadly."

Elyndra, the Star-Maiden

Domain: Knowledge, time, cosmos

Appearance: Luminous maiden cloaked in constellations, eyes swirling with galaxies

Worship: Scholars, mages, dreamers

Legend: A scholar studying Elyndra’s constellations claimed to have glimpsed the rise and fall of empires in a single night. Yet, the knowledge drove him to madness, leaving only his notes scattered like stardust.

Veol exhaled slowly. "Even knowledge can destroy… every gift comes with peril."

Veol leaned back, impressed. “But you only told me of eight gods. What about the ninth—the one without a name?”

Azec’s voice lowered.

“The Ninth… the Forgotten One.”

He described the half-shattered statue that stood behind the orb.

“No records speak of his domain or appearance. Only in the kingdom of Enok is he worshiped. In their temples, only his statue may be built. If they attempt to raise another god’s image, it shatters into dust. Why this happens, no one knows.”

Azec placed a hand on Veol’s shoulder. “That’s all I can share for today. Come back tomorrow.”

Veol nodded and stepped outside.

Oreq was waiting. His words cut through the temple’s quiet.

“Would you like to know,” he asked, eyes glinting in the fading light, “why I care for you so much—when you still know so little about me?”

Veol opened his mouth, but no words came. Oreq’s gaze pinned him in place, and all he could do was meet the old man’s eyes, curiosity and caution warring within him.