Noah remained seated for a few seconds longer. The confession had been made, the pain exposed — and yet, something inside him insisted there was still one last thing left unsaid.
He took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on his own hands.
"Thank you again... for listening. For staying. For not walking away when I wanted to disappear."
His voice was low, honest — almost raw.
"I don't have much to offer. But from now on, I'll be one hundred percent honest with you — even if I'm wrong sometimes. Even if my view of the world is twisted by anger. I... I'm here to grow stronger. To become someone capable of finding the ones who took her from me."
His gaze lifted to meet hers.
"If you think that's selfish, I'll understand. But I'm not going to lie to you anymore."
Syl held his gaze. There was no judgment in her eyes — only steadiness. And something more... something slow-burning, like embers beneath ash.
"You talk like I'm a child, Noah," she replied. "I know what it's like to carry responsibilities I didn't ask for. I know what it means to endure things I never chose. And I know how to recognize truth when I hear it."
She drew a deep breath, letting the silence stretch before she continued, her tone now deeper, more intimate:
"What they did to your grandmother was unforgivable — and, sadly, it wasn't just an isolated cruelty. It was part of something bigger. Something that rots from the inside. The human kingdom is rotten, Noah. You know that. I do too. Those two Summoners you faced? They're just the surface. Like the skin of a rotting apple — by the time you see the decay, the inside's already gone."
She paused for a moment, looking at him not as Syl, not as a princess — but as a friend. Someone who, even without living that pain, could feel its echo through him.
"You have every right to fight for justice. To hunt down those who took her from you. But don't let it consume everything you are. Don't let that pain shape all of you. Because if it does... it might end up making you lose even more than what you've already lost."
Silence settled between them once more — but this time, it carried no tension. Only understanding. And something new. Something steady.
Noah rose in silence, his eyes still red from the weight of what he'd shared. His knees cracked slightly as he straightened, not from exhaustion — but as if the heaviness was lifting, piece by piece, and each movement was part of the healing. He extended his hand toward her with a smile.
"Friends?"
"Syl looked at him with a faint, sideways smile — then took his hand, firm and steady, rising to her feet with his help, as if the weight between them had shifted."
"Friends."
The word hung between them like a vow — light and quiet, yet more solid than many shouted promises. They followed the corridor opening ahead. The floor still bore faint traces of the essence that had powered the earlier mechanisms, like dormant veins of light beneath the darkened marble. The silence was dense, but no longer hostile. It was warm.
Noah suddenly stopped, crouching near the ground. His eyes scanned the dust and cracks in the stone with the precision of someone used to reading silence. Then, he gestured for Syl to come closer.
"Come here. Let me show you something."
She knelt beside him, her knees brushing the floor softly, and followed his gaze to a set of uneven marks carved into the stone — deep and spaced apart.
"This here is interesting when it comes to tracking. See these prints?" — he ran his fingers lightly over them. "Four paws, deep marks... you can even see the claws. That kind of creature doesn't care about being noticed. It walks like it knows nothing would dare stop it."
He moved forward a few inches, pointing to another set of nearly invisible marks. Just two footprints — lighter, more subtle.
"Now look at these. Shallow, aligned... no sign of claws. But look closely — the spacing is the same as something large. And yet... it looks small, doesn't it?"
Syl nodded, leaning a bit further, curious. As she got closer, the scent she had noticed before — herbs and mint — grew stronger. There was something comforting about it in that moment. Familiar. Almost like home.
Since their earlier conversation, it was as if — the boy from the lavender field — was slowly emerging from behind the armor Noah had worn since entering the labyrinth.
He continued, a soft brightness in his eyes. Not arrogant — just quietly glad to share this with her.
"That happens when a predator steps with its back paw in the same spot as the front. It's a way to hide its real size. Fewer prints. Less noise. Harder to track. Most stealth predators do this — like felines."
He glanced at Syl, his eyes gentle.
"If you only saw those two marks, you'd think it was something small, light. But really... it's just a trick. A way to lead you straight into an ambush."
He lifted his gaze to hers — and in his expression was something shared. A calm, almost tender trust.
"That's how they catch the unwary."
Syl stayed silent, absorbing every word. And for a moment, she forgot they were still in a labyrinth. All she saw was him — the boy who had shielded her with his body. Who, even wounded, still taught. Still cared.
"You've always been good at this?" she asked.
Noah replied with a small smile.
"My master made me track our dinner. She used to say that if I got it wrong, we'd be eating roots." — He paused. "We ate a lot of roots."
They stood up, brushing dust from their knees. Syl spoke with a light tone:
"Thanks. As surprising as it sounds... you really do have a knack for teaching."
Noah walked beside her in silence, until he suddenly stopped.
"Wait... what do you mean 'as surprising as it sounds'? Who's the one who doesn't know how to say thank you now?"
She kept walking slowly and replied over her shoulder, smiling:
"Probably your fault. Can't even complain…"
Noah stayed quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Then shrugged, as if what she said made just enough sense not to argue.
Syl then took two steps back, that same teasing smile still on her face, and hooked her arm through his, giving him a light tug — pulling him along with a grin.
"Come on, Mr. Tracker. We need to find a way out of here. I just want one night without some murderous shadow trying to gut me while I sleep."
After a few more minutes of walking, the path curved and opened into a new space: a vast, circular chamber carved into the rock, roofless — like an inverted dome. A wide, jagged fissure split the floor before them, revealing a sunken path far below. There, rising from the depths of the abyss, dozens of narrow stone pillars jutted upward in a single line. Each one was barely wide enough for a single foot. The only way forward was to cross them — one by one — until reaching a raised platform at the far end, where a massive iron gate stood sealed.
In front of that gate, five winged figures crouched in perfect stillness. Curled like gargoyles, their stone bodies were silent, their wings furled tight — yet even from a distance, their eyes, sculpted from lifeless rock, seemed to follow. Watching. Waiting.
Syl stopped beside Noah, studying the descent and the pillars that led toward the gate.
"They'll move the moment we try to cross."
Noah nodded.
"I'd bet on that."
He scanned the layout — the height of the fall, the spacing between the pillars, the enemies that still slept below but would awaken the moment the first foot touched stone. Then, for the first time since they'd entered the labyrinth, he turned to face her. His shoulders still held weight, but now there was something steadier anchoring them: resolve.
Noah took a slow breath.
"Syl… looks like this part's on me. The space down there's way too tight for two. If we both try to cross, we'll just get in each other's way. I need you to let me handle this. And I need you to trust me when I say — this isn't recklessness. I trained for this. My master made sure of it."
He took a step toward the ledge, then stopped. His gaze met hers again, firm and honest.
"And I promised not to hide anything anymore. You said you'd trust me — now I'm proving I trust you, too."
Syl's brow furrowed slightly, but she said nothing.
"I... I can use all elemental essences. Even if I'm not strong in every one. I don't know why, or what it means yet, but... it's real."
He raised his hand slowly, palm up. A magical circle unfurled in the air — thin silver runes spiraling with quiet precision around his wrist. And one by one, the elements began to manifest.
First came Light.
Above a silver circle, a soft white flame hovered — calm, not fierce. It lit the lines on his skin and bathed his arm in a quiet glow. The runes around it pulsed gently, almost reverently.
Then Wind.
A delicate current stirred, forming a gentle vortex above a mossy-green sigil. Bits of dust and light caught in its movement, floating like petals in a breeze.
Earth followed.
The ground trembled subtly. From a rich brown circle, a small sculpture of stone floated upward — rough, heavy, but light in the air. Vines crept from its base and curled around the rune below.
Then Fire.
Reddish-orange flames shimmered over a soft red circle — smaller, less intense, but alive. The fire moved like it was being held back, barely restrained by his focus.
And finally... Water.
A deep blue rune appeared, and above it, a single droplet hovered, dense and slow-spinning. It quivered slightly, faint and fragile compared to the others — but still present. Still obedient.
All five circles rotated softly around his palm. There was no pride in his face. Only openness. Vulnerability.
He didn't say a word — he didn't have to. The sight alone said everything.
Syl watched in silence. Her eyes flicked between the essences and his face. No illusion. No show. It was real.
And even with everything she'd seen — royalty, elite Summoners, the best of her realm — she had never witnessed something like that.
Five essences. Simultaneous. And he hadn't even become a student at the Academy yet.
Noah slowly closed his hand. The circles faded, one by one — Light was the last, vanishing in a silver trail.
He lowered his arm.
And waited.
"My master used to say I'd know who I could trust with this secret. And now… I do."
He expected shock. Doubt, maybe. But instead — she laughed softly. A quiet, breathless giggle escaping her lips.
Noah blinked, confused.
"Noah… I really didn't expect you to control all five essences, but… from what I've counted, it's been at least three since we entered the labyrinth. I might get lost easily, but you're a terrible liar. Did you really think I believed that perfectly crafted table made of Earth Essence, showing up out of nowhere beside the campfire, right in front of our tents, was just a coincidence? Or that those utensils, with all those intricate details, were just a bonus from the starter kit?"
"But… you didn't say anything…"
She wiped the corners of her eyes, her voice softening.
"I didn't say anything because… just like you opened up to me about your grandmother, I could tell there was something weighing on you. But it wasn't putting your life at risk — not back then — so I didn't want to pry."
Syl took a deep breath, and for a moment, the humor faded from her voice.
"And besides… I know what it's like to carry a secret. I'm not just saying this as your friend. In my world… secrets are weapons. They're used to manipulate. And that's one of the things I hate most about nobility. Regardless of race."
I have to tell him. I can't keep this to myself forever…
She hesitated. The pause was short, but heavy.
"And since you opened up to me, I think it's only fair I tell the truth too. At the Academy, we usually keep our external identities a secret, but... I know I can trust you. I'm… I'm—" her heart stumbled, and she finished with a voice barely above a whisper, "a princess of this kingdom…"
Coward. Syllaria Feerlynia, you're a coward…
Silence returned, for a second. Syl couldn't look at him — the fear in her chest felt almost childish. She didn't have the courage to tell him she was the girl from the lavender field… but ended up revealing something just as important.
Will he hate me? Think I've been lying this whole time?
Think I'm a Zoul… just because I'm noble?
But when she finally lifted her gaze, Noah was trying — and failing — to hold back a smile.
"What's so funny?" she asked, folding her arms.
He answered, unable to hide his grin.
"Syl… or should I say, princess…" he said, offering a mocking bow.
"I may not be good at lying, but someone with your looks? It was pretty obvious you were highborn. I didn't expect the princess, but that you came from noble blood? That was written all over you. And thank you for telling me. "
He took a step closer.
"You're the bravest person I've ever met — because even knowing how I feel about nobles and Zouls, you still told me. And I know you're not one of them. Just like not every human is awful… not every noble claims to be a Zoul."
Syl's cheeks flushed at the compliment, her shoulders easing slightly with relief — but then she glanced down at herself, frowning, visibly thrown off.
"You're saying my clothes were too expensive-looking? I did make sure to wear plain ones—?"
Noah stepped even closer, lifted his hand, and with a gentle motion, brushed a loose strand of hair behind Syl's ear. His fingertips grazed her skin with care. He looked at her with an expression hard to name — warm, honest.
"It's not the clothes."
His voice came out as a near whisper.
"Syl… do you really think I called you an angel that day by accident?"
He raised his eyebrows with a small, crooked smile, then turned and walked toward the edge of the platform.
...What the hell did I just do?
I just touched her hair. I touched her damn hair.
And then I dropped that line. That stupid, clichéd line.
Great. This is your fault, Master. Just so you know.
Noah looked up for a second, cheeks burning, as if his Master could actually hear him from wherever she was.
You flirted your way through half the continent — and now I'm here, doing... that.
I could've just said you taught me to read people's fighting patterns.
That I was watching her stance. Her form. Nothing weird about that, right?
But no. That would've sounded like I'd been staring the whole time.
Which I was, but only to fight better at her side…
And of course the solution my brain found was: "Move her hair. Call her an angel, again!"
Brilliant, Noah. Really. Top-tier survival instincts.
There's probably a death sentence for even breathing near a princess — touching her hair? Can't even imagine.
So wherever you are, Master... if I die for this, I swear I'm haunting you.
Focus. Just... focus. You can deal with this later.
If you're still alive.
He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the pillars ahead. One by one — narrow, solitary, dangerous. His heart still pounded, not from the crossing, but from the touch. From the way her eyes had widened for a moment. From the softness of her hair between his fingers.
Syl stood frozen. Her face burned. Her hands tingled with heat.
He said I look too noble because I'm… beautiful?
That doesn't even make sense, Noah.
Just be straightforward for once. Now I'm the one who looks slow.
She got to her feet and stepped closer to him, cheeks still slightly flushed. Noah stood facing the pillars, his expression calm — but steady.
Syl stopped beside him. Took a breath.
"All right," she said, her voice lower than she intended. "I agree… you're better suited for this. My only elemental essence is Light — and its variant, Mind. Heightened senses won't stop me from falling into the abyss. You, on the other hand, can use Earth and Wind. That might actually help you get back up if you're pushed."
She looked at him, serious. "But be careful, Noah. You promised — no recklessness."
He turned to her, blue eyes steady and sincere.
He gave a single nod.
"Thank you."
Then, without hesitation with a serious face, he closed his eyes…
opened his arms — and let himself fall backward into the abyss.
She ran to the edge, heart caught in her throat — but stopped.
Her eyes followed his fall until the landing.
He spun in the air with precision and touched down lightly on the first pillar. She muttered under her breath:
"Was that really necessary…?"
She folded her arms, scowling down at him.
"Show-off."
The world seemed to still for a heartbeat.
Then — the sound of stone cracking filled the chamber like a wave: the gargoyles, once dormant along the edges of the room, began to split. Shards flaked off like shedding skin. Wings burst open with a dry snap, and the eyes of each creature lit up with elemental essence.
Five in total.
Five distinct forces.
Blue, golden, green, brown… and one — the last to awaken — radiated with a violet glow, just like the light that shimmered in Syl's eyes whenever she used her elemental mind essence. Each beat their wings slowly, studying the intruder like silent predators. But Noah didn't flinch. His gaze was locked.
Syl watched from high above, frozen. Instinct screamed at her to act — to do something — but she knew.
Fighting side by side here would be impossible. Reckless. Deadly.
He promised…
Trust him.
Noah moved, unsheathing his sword — the blade pulsed with light.
With a steady step, he advanced onto the next pillar.
The first to strike was the one infused with blue essence — water.
He dodged with seamless grace, every motion flowing like a rehearsed dance. As if he already knew the creature's rhythm.
His blade slashed through the air — fast and clean — slicing one of the gargoyle's wings.
It crumbled before it could even cry out, dissolving into ash before hitting the ground.
The second came fast, cloaked in a golden electric halo — the evolved form of the Fire essence.
Noah could wield all elemental essences, but only in their basic forms.
Noah pivoted on his heel, using the momentum of the creature's charge to strike back.
His blade slipped between the armored ridges of its neck — a sharp crack — and it too vanished in mist.
Syl's eyes followed his movements from above.
Between the flashes of steel and essence, she noticed something.
His eyes… they're closed…
Her hand gripped the hilt of her saber. She took a step forward—ready to leap in if needed—
—but then paused.
Not a single blow was landing on him.
Not one scratch. Not one misstep.
Slowly, she let go of her weapon.
Her fingers slid away from the hilt.
you better know what you are doing…
The third gargoyle dove from above, lashing out with blades of cutting wind.
He didn't even flinch.
He let it pass, turned his back at the last moment — and drove his blade straight into the creature's chest without ever opening his eyes.
The precision was cold. Almost merciless.
His steps were light. Gentle. Calculated.
Noah moved as if walking across the still surface of a lake — so precise that the water itself might not have noticed his presence.
But the fifth…
The one with violet essence…
Hesitated.
Syl didn't notice it at first.
From where she stood, everything still looked the same — like a dance of light and shadow, balanced and graceful.
But something had shifted.
Noah noticed.
That gargoyle — the one that, from the very start, veered slightly off course and took flight — was no longer focused on him. It was heading toward the ledge where Syl stood. Drawn to her. Drawn to the same essence they shared.
The air around Noah thickened. The pressure shifted.
Heavy. Dense. Almost gravitational.
The gargoyle flinched in the air.
It tried to push forward, wings beating harder.
But something was pulling it back. Something invisible — anchoring it midair, like a force dragging it away from Syl.
Then, slowly — Noah opened his eyes.
The gargoyle turned her head.
And saw him.
His gaze locked onto her with a blue fire that cut through the distance. He raised his hand — and gathered the wind.
A sharp blade of air formed in his palm, silent but deadly, spinning tight like a crescent.
He hurled it without a word.
The blade sliced through the air with surgical precision — and struck.
The gargoyle's left horn shattered clean off.
Stone fragments scattered through the chamber.
Noah's voice came next — calm, even — but heavy enough to bend the air around it.
"I don't usually prolong my fights. I was taught that ending your opponent quickly is a sign of respect…"
He took a step forward on the pillar — steady, deliberate.
"You didn't just ignore me…"
Another step — and the weight in the air grew denser, almost suffocating.
"…but you dared to go after her."
He drew his sword, slow and fluid, the blade catching the light like a whisper of intent.
"Today, I'm going to find out if stone can feel fear."
The violet gargoyle roared and lunged — but Noah didn't retaliate. Not with the same ruthless precision as before. He didn't aim to end her. Not yet.
He simply moved.
A sidestep — effortless.
A shallow cut to the side of her wing.
A grazing slash across the stone of her arm.
None of it lethal. All of it measured.
Three had already fallen — clean, precise, silent. Now only two remained. And of those, only the violet one still fought.
But she was slower now. Her strikes unsure. Movements hesitant. The confidence she once had… fading.
Across the chamber, the fourth gargoyle — the one bound to Earth — hovered in place, watching. Her talons scraped against stone, tensed and ready — yet she hadn't moved since the pressure began. Not even once.
Then — the moment the weight in the air collapsed — she lunged. Fast. Heavy. Claws outstretched, stone wings flaring wide.
But Noah was already in motion.
He twisted his body and drove his blade upward in a single, fluid strike.
Cracked.
Broken.
Gone — the Earth-bound gargoyle dissolved into mist.
Right in front of the violet one's eyes.
And in that instant… she understood.
She was the last.
He had made sure of it.
Like a cornered animal, she recoiled — not toward Noah anymore, but away. Toward the sealed gate on the other side of the chamber.
It was instinct — raw and desperate.
A pointless move.
She might've been carved from stone… but she was alive.
And now, finally, she was afraid.
But it was too late.
Noah moved like a shadow.
The moment the gargoyle's claws scraped the ground near the sealed door, he jumped — landing with one boot square on her back. She slid forward with the impact, her stone face scraping across the floor until she came to a halt — gasping — just inches from the gate.
Noah set his other foot down firmly, right above her head.
And with a gaze that now carried something denser — almost dark — he spoke, voice laced with venom:
"Lay a finger on those I cherish…"
His foot came down.
"…and I'll carve your agony into the bones of time."
And the violet gargoyle's head shattered like glass under searing heat, dissolving into the air with a crisp, final crack.
The gate creaked open, revealing the path ahead. Behind him, the pillars still hummed, echoing the memory of battle.
From above, Syl began to move.
She leapt from pillar to pillar with practiced grace, her eyes fixed on him.
The expression he'd worn before — that shadowed, threatening look — was gone, replaced by something lighter. Genuine.
Not rage. Not pride. Just quiet relief.
"See? Not a scratch," Noah said with a grin. "Told you, you could trust me."
She reached him, gave his shirt a light pat, then glanced up at his face.
"You're in one piece? No injuries?"
He shook his head.
"None. Not a single scr—"
Syl's knuckles landed squarely on the top of his head.
"Ow! What was that for?" he asked, turning toward her like a scolded puppy.
Syl was already walking ahead, heading toward the open doorway without a word.
But then — she paused.
Without turning, she said — her cheeks still faintly red as the memory of his hand brushing her hair resurfaced:
"You know you deserved that."
Noah scratched the back of his head, sheepish, and muttered with a crooked smile:
"Yeah… I probably did."
They stepped through the doorway — into white marble. Smooth. Untouched.
The signs of battle were left behind. But not what it had awakened.
Syl walked beside Noah now. The silence between them had shifted. Comfortable. Warm.
And then — white began to dissolve into green.
At first, just vines. Thin, timid, creeping along the cracks in the walls. Then grass — small patches pushing up through stone underfoot. And as they passed through the final stone arch, they emerged into a place unlike anything they'd seen so far.
A garden.
Old. Alive.
The greenery crept over every surface as if it had always belonged there. A fountain sat in the center — cracked in places, but still bubbling softly, as if time had simply forgotten it. Statues draped in moss watched in silence — half-faded, half-eternal. Stone benches lined the space, tucked beneath hanging vines that draped like living curtains.
And at the far end stood a massive circular door carved into dark stone. Five symbols adorned its surface — each one representing a distinct essence: Water. Fire. Earth. Wind. Light.