"Of course. I'm an Ascendant too." Without even realizing it, Malivor struck a pose. "And one of the best — almost a god already."
"Malivor…" From her tone alone, Fox was clearly scolding him.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop." The intense crimson hue faded, and his eyes returned to their natural green. "So, Tom — what do your Ascendant powers do?"
"Uh… I don't know."
Tom was honest. He truly had no idea, and there was nothing to gain from lying.
"Then how did you do that back in the pit?" Malivor raised his voice.
"I don't know. I didn't even know I was an Ascendant until five minutes ago." Tom shot an indignant look at his squadmate.
Oh, come on, Malivor. You expect me to explain something I'm hearing about for the first time right now? If I knew the answers, I'd have done something already.
Tom almost stood up to argue.
"Enough, both of you." Fox's firm voice immediately cooled their tempers. "And Malivor — weren't you just suspicious that Tom might be a spy? What happened to all that distrust?"
"Well, it's just…"
He raised his hands, then realized he'd already lost the argument.
Earlier, Malivor had been the most suspicious about Tom possibly being a spy who might betray the squad. But the moment he realized Tom was very likely an Ascendant, curiosity and excitement quickly replaced that doubt.
"Were you able to see anything else about the god who gave you your power?"
Tom rephrased Malivor's earlier question, hoping to gather more information.
"No. Just a dark silhouette." He shook his head.
Hm. He didn't mention a tornado. So, I guess it wasn't that god who handed me the glowing point. Which means that must've been the moment I became an Ascendant.
Different gods.
Malivor wasn't the only one reconsidering his assumptions. Tom himself — who less than an hour ago seemed dismissive of gods and religion — was now thoughtful, even excited, trying to interpret and understand more about Ascendants and the divine.
"And what's your power?" Tom's curiosity finally got the better of him.
The tall young man in the purple shirt couldn't resist. He smiled with clear satisfaction, as if he'd been waiting for that question since the conversation began.
Fox quickly pulled her elbows off the table when she saw Malivor extend his arm and raise his hand.
Suddenly, the weight vanished. In a single second, the table began to rise, floating upward.
Holy — did he just make things float? Tom thought, watching the scene.
"MALIVOR!!" Fox snapped, clearly irritated.
In truth, it wasn't the table that was floating — it was the Moonlight squad's secretary.
"Pfft. Relax, relax. I already let go."
He lowered his hand.
Both men laughed — Tom trying to hold it in, while Malivor burst out laughing.
And apparently, Tom wasn't the only one who found Fox to be an "teaseble."
She barely sat back down before speaking again.
"That's enough. This conversation isn't helping anymore. I'll just add one more hidden being to the list of things to investigate. And Malivor…" She raised a middle finger in a silent scolding. "It's late. Don't take too long — the captain will end you if you're late, Tom."
Fox stood and left the small room. Malivor didn't stop laughing for a second, only calming down once she'd left and closed the door.
Tom was the next to stand.
"I can lift things by pointing my hand at them and imagining I'm holding them. I control the height by tilting my hand." Malivor was clearly showing off now, lifting the wooden table with his power. "We'll test your powers tomorrow. I wanted to do it now, but Fox is right — Laylla will kill you if you're late for training."
"Alright then."
Tom felt a flicker of frustration. He really wanted to test things and discover what his powers were. But in the end, he agreed — considering how relentless Laylla was during training, he had no desire to see his captain angry, especially at him.
Leaving through the corridor, each of them went in a different direction until Tom entered his room. He grabbed clean clothes and headed to the natural thermal bath to wash up before sleeping.
As his body relaxed in the warm water, his thoughts began to swirl again.
If Ascendants receive power directly from the divine, have others had experiences like mine with Veyrael and that mysterious hall?
And Malivor? He's an Ascendant too, but he couldn't even see the god's appearance.
Above all else, there's one question I need answered: what is the relationship between this world and the game Dragon Sword?
The reason for that thought was obvious. So far, everything he'd seen — the places he'd visited, the people he'd met — had no clear connection to Dragon Sword. And yet, the words left in that VD Insurance message had power, drawing him into some kind of divine realm. That implied there was a connection, even if only a faint one.
Back in his room, now clean from his bath, Tom collapsed onto the bed. His body showed clear signs of fatigue, especially from the fight against Banjur.
A bit restless and anxious, he took a deep breath, exhaled, then opened his mouth again.
"Inrud Ze—"
A sharp pain struck his chest near his heart, forcing him to curl forward on reflex. The pain stopped him from finishing the word.
He fell back onto the bed, one hand pressed over his heart.
"Better try again another day…"
…
Inside a small private library, lit by a chandelier overhead, a thin book was placed on an oak table adorned with bronze.
"And after that, what happens to the hero?" The light-blond-haired girl asked in a sweet yet irritated voice, right after setting the book down.
Beside her, her bodyguard resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Boredom had been gnawing at her, and the late hour was making sleep increasingly tempting.
"No one knows for sure. There are continuations and theories, but this is where the official story of the hero ends." Loosening and tightening her grip on the hilt of her sheathed sword, she answered as formally as she could.
The past two days had dragged on endlessly, filled with boredom. Emily tried to entertain herself during the time she wasn't allowed to leave, while Niora stayed by her side, answering her frequent silly or unanswerable questions. They'd argued once or twice about their stay and the state of the kingdoms after Emily's disappearance, but little by little, they were aligning their very different mindsets into a more harmonious coexistence.
"I'd heard that story before. My mother used to tell it to me in pieces at bedtime when I was little. Of course, she left out a lot of details — the 'hero's journey' is pretty violent." Emily laughed softly.
"It's a very good story, but I'm not sure your mother deserves points for that."
Niora shook her head side to side.
She couldn't decide whether telling such a story to a child had been a good idea.
"I don't know either… haha. But it made me dream as a child that I'd be saved from danger by a wonderful prince. Like those old tales where a knight slays a dragon to save a damsel in distress." With a slightly naive smile, the princess twirled a lock of hair around her finger.
Removing her sheathed sword from her dark-blue uniform belt, Niora paused before responding.
As much as Emily's lack of life experience and worldly awareness had irritated her at times, Niora couldn't ignore the gap in age and upbringing between them. Friction was inevitable.
"Innocent dreams aren't wrong, Princess. Just don't cling to them forever. After all, aside from legends and the occasional rumor, no one's seen a dragon in centuries." Niora did her best to speak without sounding judgmental or dismissive.
Even though she truly despised the idea of a "damsel in distress."
Emily opened her mouth, then turned her face away in frustration. Niora was right.
Since being taken from Darcus Castle the previous week, she'd thought about escaping and returning home — but in her current condition, with Niora's constant watch and the presence of other SYNC mercenaries, that was impossible.
As she observed the mercenaries' behavior, attitudes, and daily routines, a small seed began to grow in her mind and heart: the desire to stay and experience adventure.
Still, it was infinitely smaller than her desire to return to the comfort of her luxurious life in the castle.
"Princess." Setting her sword aside, Niora removed her dark-blue coat, revealing the lighter clothing beneath.
"Yes?" Emily turned to look at the woman beside her.
"I think now's a good time to ask. How long have you been an Ascendant? And did you know you were one?"
Emily looked away and fell silent.
The air in the room seemed to waver, and the flames in the chandelier above flickered for a few seconds.
Unlike the princess, Niora remained firm and impassive despite the heavy atmosphere. She was already accustomed to the pressure of being near an Ascendant.
In fact, that was one of the reasons the squad commander had assigned her to accompany and watch over Emily.
Emily shifted her gaze, searching for a way to change the subject — or avoid it altogether — but to no avail. The woman beside her remained unmoved, determined to extract the truth not through force, but through patience and psychological pressure.
Nearly five minutes passed before the princess clasped her hands together and finally spoke.
"I knew. I just thought that if I didn't say anything, no one would ever find out." Her voice was weak and shy, tinged with resentment.
Niora stared at her without softening her expression. She only nodded slowly, silently indicating that the second question still needed an answer.
Emily froze again, sinking into the wooden chair. She had no choice but to continue.
Without looking at the mercenary, she spoke.
"It's been years. About ten. On my ninth birthday." Her words came out clumsily.
"Go on. What else happened?" Cold and unrelenting, Niora pressed on.
Through patience, openness, and quiet persistence, Niora created space for Emily to speak. As uncomfortable as the princess felt, this was the best opportunity to keep asking.
"It was… after my mother died." Emily lowered her head, her posture collapsing. "Months after she was gone, I saw her in a dream. She called me her 'special girl' and gave me a small red-and-white sphere."
"I knew it was an Ascendant's power. And that Ascendants often become warriors, soldiers, mercenaries, heroes. I didn't want that, so I stayed quiet. I hid."
Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking the fabric over her chest.
At last, Niora gently placed a hand on Emily's back, trying to ease her pain — even though she herself had brought her to this point.
Feeling the touch, Emily turned toward her. Niora's expression remained serious, but no longer severe.
"You did well, Princess. You deserve points for that. Get some rest — it's late.We'll talk more tomorrow."
Wiping her tears with her forearm, Emily nodded, stood, walked to the door, and left the library.
The moment she was gone, the air returned to normal, and the candle flames steadied once more.
The remaining woman took a deep breath, picked up her sword, and—
"Good work, Niora." A voice of approval — nearly emotionless — echoed through the room.
A chill ran down her spine. Her first conscious reaction was to look around, searching for the source.
As she did, several candles suddenly went out. Between two bookshelves, a tall figure emerged from the darkness left behind.
The instant she saw him, Niora dropped her sword, stood straight, and made a swift, respectful bow.
"Commander. I didn't know you were here."
With a wave of his hand, the commander dismissed the gesture. Niora straightened, maintaining a rigid posture.
"I only stopped by to see how things were going with young Winvere." He referred to Princess Emily.
"Oh — yes, of course." She faltered slightly, feeling a bead of sweat run down her back.
"Don't worry. You did an excellent job. Just keep doing what you've been doing."
"I didn't know you were watching…" She said, letting out a barely perceptible laugh.
Inside, she couldn't help but feel genuine satisfaction at the praise — especially coming from the mercenary squad's commander.
"I'm heading to the imperial capital. If you need anything, inform Reivan. The princess might even feel more comfortable speaking with him than with me — she seems afraid of me."
"Commander… I think everyone here is a little afraid of you."
Niora froze to the bone, realizing she'd spoken her thoughts aloud.
She almost held her breath, but didn't look away, choosing instead to face whatever reaction would come.
"Hm…" Only a murmur escaped him.
With firm, deliberate steps, the commander turned and left the room.
Niora finally breathed again, relaxing her posture and wiping a hand over her sweat-damp shirt.
She picked up her sword and dark-blue coat — the squad's uniform.
Standing there, eyes wide and brows drawn together, she stared off into nothing.
Did he… smile?