The hall was quiet again.
The goblin had already left. The golden pressure had withdrawn. Only the old merchant remained, collapsed on the cold floor, blood at the corner of his mouth, breathing unevenly.
The Vice Captain looked down at him.
"Stand up."
The command was simple.
The old man flinched, then pressed his palms against the ground. His arms trembled as he forced himself upright. Every movement should have been agony, bruised ribs, split lips, shattered pride.
He braced for pain.
It did not come.
He paused.
His brows furrowed.
Slowly, he straightened further.
The ache in his chest, gone.
The sharp sting along his jaw, fading.
The deep, old soreness in his back, the stiffness in his knees that had haunted him for decades
Absent.
His breathing steadied.
His spine uncurled.
He stood fully upright.
Not hunched.
Not trembling.
He inhaled deeply, and the air filled his lungs without strain.
His eyes widened.
"What…?"
He touched his face. The swelling was gone. The bleeding had stopped. Even the fatigue that had clung to him for years felt lighter.
His heart beat steadily.
Strongly.
"What is this?" he whispered.
The Vice Captain regarded him calmly.
"This is the result of obedience."
The old man stared, stunned.
"You listened," the Vice Captain continued. "You returned when I called. You endured the punishment. You did not resist. You did not attempt to escape."
A faint pause.
"So you are rewarded."
The old man flexed his fingers. His joints no longer cracked. His vision felt clearer. The fog that had crept into his mind with age seemed to have thinned.
He felt...
Younger.
The Vice Captain's voice remained steady.
"The mark I placed in your heart is not merely a seal. It is also a conduit."
The old man swallowed.
"It monitors you, yes. But it can also nourish you."
"This," the Vice Captain said, "is proof of my intent."
"I do not want to cooperate with you through pain and fear."
The old man's eyes flickered.
"You were tested," the Vice Captain added. "I needed to see how you respond under pressure. Whether you would betray. Whether you would break."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"And you did not."
A subtle shift in tone.
"On top of allowing the goblin to reclaim something of his own… I allowed you to see what I am capable of."
The old man lowered his head instinctively.
"Be thankful," the Vice Captain finished.
"Thank you… thank you, Vice-Captain. I am unworthy. I am deeply grateful. I will not forget this. I will serve faithfully. Truly. Completely."
His words tumbled over each other, excessive and fervent.
The Vice Captain did not respond.
He did not need to.
The old man rose, moving with an energy he had not felt in years. His steps were lighter. His back straighter. His breathing steady.
Then exited the hall.
The door closed softly behind him.
Silence returned.
The Vice Captain remained seated.
He knew the old man's gratitude was exaggerated.
He also knew it was genuine.
Pain had broken him.
Relief had bound him.
And now...
The arrangement was complete.
Only then did the air begin to shift.
Subtle at first.
Elemental.
Approaching.
Elemental power rolled toward the city like a silent tide.
A single golden light cut across the horizon, descending at impossible speed. It did not roar. It did not burn.
It rewrote.
As it approached, the air trembled. The fortified walls of the small military city, scarred stone, reinforced towers, charred forest at its borders, began to blur at the edges.
Then they changed.
The burned forest softened into green.
Blackened trunks straightened.
Ash vanished.
The heavy watchtowers thinned into wooden balconies.
Barricades dissolved into market stalls.
Soldiers in armor flickered and became ordinary townspeople in simple clothes.
The transformation spread outward from the sky like a ripple across water.
The vast military compound at the city's center shrank.
Stone became timber.
Banners vanished.
The Vice Captain's residence folded inward, compressing into a modest house no different from the others lining the street.
The great hall where he had just stood turned into a common sitting room. The massive chair beneath him softened into a simple wooden seat.
Outside...
Laughter filled the streets.
Children ran between market stands.
Vendors argued cheerfully over prices.
Men carried baskets of fruit.
The scent of smoke shifted from warfare to cooking.
The city had become peaceful.
Normal.
Alive.
And yet...
The Vice Captain did not move.
He did not resist the change.
He did not acknowledge it.
As the golden light descended fully, the illusion completed itself. The pressure that had been gathering in the air solidified.
A porcelain cup appeared in his hand.
Imaginary.
Refined.
He lifted it and took a calm sip.
"Welcome back, Captain."
The golden light condensed in front of him.
Then...
It formed.
A tall figure stepped forward from the glow. White hair fell past his shoulders, smooth and immaculate. Red eyes, narrow and sharp, gleamed with reptilian focus. His gaze resembled that of a serpent studying prey, calculated, unblinking.
Heavy armor covered his frame, engraved with faint golden lines that pulsed softly beneath the surface.
He did not speak immediately.
He simply looked around.
The false city.
The softened buildings.
The harmless civilians.
The illusion.
Then his eyes returned to the Vice Captain.
Without asking permission, he pulled a chair forward, one that had not existed a second earlier and sat.
The wooden legs touched the ground without sound.
The illusion did not falter.
The peaceful city continued outside.
Children laughed.
Merchants shouted.
Wind rustled through trees that had been ashes moments before.
The Captain rested one armored arm on his knee.
His red eyes glowed faintly.