"Hey kid, what do you honestly think of this city-state?"
Noa meandered toward the registration hall, his steps light and unhurried as if he were simply a tourist taking in the local sights. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, and he leaned back slightly, his gaze bouncing from the high, arched ceilings to the intricate masonry of Cirelith with curiosity.
"I don't really like it," the boy murmured.
"Why's that?"
"I don't know. My family was always poor, so I don't have any good memories here. To me, these streets just feel like cold stone and hungry nights."
The little boy, who had just tasked Noa with a life-changing request, walked beside him with a nervous energy, his small hands moving in a restless rhythm. He looked as though he was still trying to process the fact that this strange, powerful man had actually said yes.
Noa watched him for a beat, a soft smirk playing on his lips, before he reached down and scooped the child up. He settled the boy comfortably on his arm, continuing the walk without missing a beat.
"Then how about we try to enjoy it for once?" Noa's grin turned sharp and playful. "Besides, I'm about to make sure you walk away with a very heavy pocket."
"R-really?"
"Really!"
They approached a desk where an official sat, looking as if he had been carved from the same gray stone as the walls. He didn't even look up as they approached.
"Are you here to participate? Registration is five silver coins. Information must be filled out in full."
The little boy went rigid in Noa's arms, his eyes widening into saucers. Five silver? He had a single, lonely copper coin in his pocket—his entire life savings, which he had intended to bet on the man who was currently carrying him.
Cling!
A heavy gold coin hit the desk, spinning with a rhythmic hum before settling into the wood.
"Here, gimme the paper," Noa said, snatching the parchment before the official could even blink. "Mmm… name… kingdom… this and that… alright, done."
"Thank you, Lord… Ravel," the official stammered, his boredom replaced by a sudden, frantic politeness as he handed back a stack of silver change. "Your number is 13. Please report to the colosseum when the herald calls."
"Wait… are you… are you sure about this?" the boy asked, staring at the gold coin as if it were a fallen star.
"Don't worry about the tab, kid. I've got plenty where that came from," Noa said, reaching into his pocket and pressing a fresh gold coin into the boy's palm. "Take this. Put it all on my side when you go to place your bets."
"A gold coin… for me? Thank you! Thank you so much!"
Hehehe~ sugar mommy Vionette really made us loaded now that Eryndor is practically our backyard.
Vionette's voice drifted into his mind like a cool breeze on a summer night, laced with a familiar, sharp amusement.
***
The colosseum was a bowl of roaring thunder, overflowing with the citizens of Cirelith and travelers from across the continent. Thousands of voices merged into a single, hungry beast, shouting and waving hands in a frantic dance of greed and excitement.
In the heart of the stone circle, the dirt was stained with the history of a hundred battles, the air thick with the scent of sweat and iron.
"The winner is… Kester Vale!"
The announcer's voice, amplified by the humming resonance of sound magic, shattered the air. A fresh wave of cheers erupted, sharp and tense.
At the betting tables, a noble draped in expensive silks gathered his winnings with a greedy, satisfied grin before sliding a heavy pouch of silver back onto the table, doubling down on the champion.
"Next, we have a challenger from Crimvane—the kingdom that rose from the rubble like a ghost in the night," the announcer cried, gesturing toward the tunnel. "I present Noa Ravel! Will he be the light that blinds our champion, or just another shadow that fades? Place your bets and find out!"
Thud.
"I'm betting this on him," a small, determined voice chirped as the little boy slammed the gold coin down on the table, pointing firmly toward the tunnel entrance. "All in for that mister."
"A gold coin? Little brat," the noble sneered, looking the boy up and down. "Where did you get that? You didn't pick a pocket, did you?"
"No. He gave it to me himself," the boy said, his eyes fixed on the arena.
"Hmpf. Well, it's a waste," the noble smirked, leaning back. "He won't stand a chance against Kester anyway."
Noa stepped into the arena, Acheron hanging casually at his hip. He walked with a relaxed, rhythmic gait, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other offered a friendly wave to the crowd. He stopped at the edge of the circle, looking perfectly at home, while Kester Vale stood opposite him like a mountain of muscle.
Kester's gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as he took in Noa's abnormal, black-purple irises.
"Get ready… fight!"
The battle began not with a clash, but with a heavy, expectant silence. Noa stood with a relaxed, almost arrogant posture, his expression one of a man watching a particularly interesting play. Kester, sensing something fundamentally 'wrong' with Noa's lack of a stance, tightened his grip on his massive greatsword.
"I'll do you a favor then," Noa said, his voice carrying easily across the sand as he slowly drew Acheron. "I won't use any skills for this one."
"What?!" Kester's face turned a deep, angry red as he flooded his blade with aura. "You think you can play games with me?! I'll break you!"
"Ohhhh!!! A declaration of pure physical mastery from Noa Ravel! Will he stand by his pride, or be crushed by his own arrogance?!"
Step-step-step.
Kester charged like a runaway landslide, his greatsword held high with both hands. He leaped into the air, a falling star of steel and violent intent, bringing the blade down with enough force to shatter the earth itself. Noa remained perfectly still, Acheron glowing with its usual, jagged purple light even without the activation of his usual skills.
Clang!
"Kwakh?!"
The impact was a lightning strike. The one who bled wasn't the man standing still, but the one who had attacked with everything he had. Kester's massive sword was halted by Acheron's teeth-like edge, the vibration of the block traveling up Kester's arms and tearing into his muscles.
With a sudden, violent shove, Noa pushed Acheron forward. Kester was launched back into the sky as if hit by a battering ram. Noa didn't wait; he sprinted across the sand, his feet a blur before he leaped upward, meeting the champion in mid-air.
Swooosh…
In the heart of the sky, Noa pointed Acheron's tip directly at Kester. The champion frantically pulled his greatsword in front of him, bracing for a thrust. But Noa simply let go of the blade. As the sword hung in the air for a fraction of a second, Noa performed a sudden, violent roll of his body—and then—
Thud!
With a force that felt like a falling mountain, Noa's leg slammed into Acheron's pommel. The sword was driven forward like a bolt from a divine crossbow.
Crack—Shrrrm!
The greatsword shattered into a thousand glittering shards. Acheron didn't stop. It drove through the steel, through Kester's chest, and pinned him to the arena floor with a sickening, heavy impact.
DHOOOM!
As the dust settled, the silence was absolute. Kester Vale lay dead, pinned to the earth by the dark blade, while Noa landed gracefully beside him. He reached down, pulling his sword from the man's chest with a casual flick, and turned toward the stands.
His gaze locked onto the little boy.
"Got the money, right?" he asked with a wink.
The boy, the noble, and the entire audience were frozen in time. But then, a wild, joyful scream erupted from the kid as he jumped into the air, clutching the prize money to his chest.
"Yes! Yes! I got it!"
[Blink]
Noa appeared beside the boy in a flicker of violet light, hoisting him onto his shoulder as the crowd finally began to find their voices.
"Let's go then. I'm starting to get hungry."
[Blink]
…
"Five of those, please." Noa gestured to the skewers of sizzling, spiced meat at a nearby stall.
"Here you go, sir! Enjoy!" the vendor said, his hands shaking slightly after witnessing the carnage in the arena.
Noa took one and handed the other four to the boy, who accepted them with a look of pure, bewildered awe. He looked at the food, then at Noa, his face a map of conflicting emotions—gratitude, fear, and a tiny, fragile spark of hope.
"Chum… tastes good, doesn't it?"
"…Yes. It's the best thing I've ever eaten."
"Now with all thay," Noa asked, looking out over the bricked roads of the city. "What do you think of this city-state?"
The boy took a bite of the meat, looking at the grand spires of Cirelith with eyes that had seen too much.
"I don't like it."
"Well… okay?" Noa chuckled, patting the boy's head before they continued their walk through the fading light.
***
Vionette and Jain sat at a small table in the inn, the flickering whitelight casting long, dancing shadows across their faces. Behind Vionette, Rose and Kaelen stood like statues, while Jain's knights remained vigilant behind her.
"So his daughter is missing? You think it's connected to the others?" Vionette asked, her eyes narrowing as she picked at her dinner.
"I don't know for sure, but I can't just walk away," Jain said, her voice filled with a quiet, unwavering resolve. "I'm going to find her. Until then, I'll stay by his side. That man is a ghost; if I leave him, he'll just vanish."
"That works for me," Vionette nodded. "In fact, I was going to—"
"What's the vibe in here? Did I miss the party?" Noa asked, sauntering into the room and breaking the tension like a stone through a window.
You're back. I assume you sent the kid home with a fortune?" Vionette asked.
"Yeah… I gave him some money," Noa said, sliding into the seat next to Vionette. He draped an arm around her waist, pulling her slightly closer, his other hand resting on the back of the bench.
Don't ask me things like you weren't watching the whole show through my eyes—oh, right. The Saint is watching
"As I was saying," Vionette continued, setting her fork down with a deliberate click. "Jain, I want you to visit that man's house every day. Go at four different times—morning, noon, evening, and night—and talk to him." She then turned her head toward the shadow behind her. "Kaelen, you're on the library. Go to the fourth floor every day and talk with Umel. Search for the Fable Mark info to keep up appearances."
"As you command, Lady Vionette," Kaelen bowed.
***
Five days later,
Noa sat before the vanity mirror, the morning light filtered through the curtains like gold dust. He was dressed in his usual outfit, but his hair was a disaster—a wild, sleep-mussed mess that refused to listen to his hands.
"Goddammit, why is this so hard?" he muttered, scowling at his reflection.
Suddenly, a warmth appeared at his side. Vionette had just rolled out of bed, her silhouette soft in a long-sleeved white nightdress that grazed her mid-thighs. She looked like a ghost of silk and sleep.
"You finally awake?" he asked, turning toward her.
Vionette didn't answer with words. She stepped forward and sat directly on his lap, her legs draping over his sides. Their eyes met, the slight height difference of his lap making them perfectly level.
"You gonna help me out here?" he asked, his arms wrapping around her back to provide a steady rest for her to lean against.
"Yeah," she whispered, her arms sliding around his neck with a soft smile. "Mmm~"
They shared a slow, lingering kiss, the quiet of the morning air only broken by their breathing. When she finally leaned back against the support of his hands, she reached up and began to finger-comb his hair, smoothing the stray strands with practiced ease.
"You know, you're a bit big to be sitting on someone's lap like a child," he teased, his lips curling into a grin.
"What possible reason do you have to not call me a child?" she challenged, her eyes twinkling.
"Well, I can see two big reasons from right here."
Vionette lowered her eyes from his hair to his face, only to find that his gaze was locked firmly on her chest. The loose v-neckline of her nightdress had shifted, revealing the elegant curve and shadow of her cleavage.
"Don't look at them like that, you absolute idiot," she said, though she didn't move away. Instead, she playfully grabbed a handful of his hair and gave it a sharp tug. "Do they really look that good to you?"
Noa looked back into her eyes with a mock-seriousness that would have been convincing if it weren't for the heat in his gaze. He gave her a firm thumbs-up.
"They are, quite literally, the perfect size I prefer. 10/10."
"Enough of that," she leaned in slightly, her expression turning serious. "I've been monitoring Jain for the past few days. There's no way we can get her into joining our side of the board. She's too pure for our plans."
"As expected, then," Noa said, a dark, sharp edge bleeding into his smile. "Looks like it's time for Plan B."
"Yes. We've found zero leads on the Fable Mark, and the probability of recruiting the saint has dropped to zero percent." She finished his hair and let go, her smile turning into a mirror of his own—mischievous, cold, and devastating. "Get ready, Noa. Today is going to be very, very entertaining."
With no gains left to claim, and every resource squandered on silence, the final recourse was simple: destroy it all—if not for profit, then for entertainment.