The prison beneath Caldryn was carved deep into the mountain's core. Cold iron chains bound the Six to separate pillars, each restraint etched with anti‑spell markings. Even Seris remained still, conserving her power.
"We break out at my signal," Amagi whispered.
Before anyone could move, a dry cough echoed from the shadows.
"Young warriors… if you rush, you will only prove his point."
From the darkness stepped an old man—thin, bent with age, but with sharp, knowing eyes. His clothes were simple, like a forgotten prisoner who had long ago stopped resisting.
Gorath frowned. "Who are you?"
"A witness," the old man replied. "And one of the last who remembers what Caldryn used to be."
Ace stepped forward as much as his chains allowed. "Then tell us."
The old man exhaled slowly.
"Caldryn was once disciplined but fair. Strength was respected, yes—but honor guided it. That changed when a warrior named Vaelros rose through the ranks."
The name lingered in the cold air.
"He was unmatched," the old man continued. "A fighter obsessed with control. Not protection. Not unity. Control."
Vaelros sought more than physical strength. He searched ancient ruins beneath the mountains and uncovered a forbidden spell—one that did not simply grant power… but altered the hearts of those exposed to it.
"It twisted ambition into obsession," the old man said. "Turned discipline into domination."
Vaelros used the spell publicly—claiming it would 'purify weakness.' Instead, it corrupted nearly everyone in Caldryn's inner circle. Loyalty became fanaticism. Obedience became worship.
He formed a cult.
Not of believers.
Of cursed users.
Seris's eyes narrowed. "So the curse was deliberate."
"Yes," the old man said. "He called it evolution."
But Vaelros was not satisfied.
"The corruption gave him influence. It gave him followers. But not enough strength."
So he pushed further.
He abandoned the path of warrior and studied deeper arcane forces. Rituals. Forbidden knowledge. Sacrifices of time and humanity.
"He did not remain a man," the old prisoner whispered. "He became something else."
"A wizard," Amagi said quietly.
The old man nodded.
"And now he rules from the shadows. Not as a king. But as the source."
Silence filled the chamber.
Ace's fists tightened.
This was no ordinary kingdom preparing for war.
This was a cult-state built on corruption.
The old man stepped closer.
"If you break out recklessly, you fight soldiers. If you want to end this…"
His gaze sharpened.
"You must face Vaelros."
The iron doors above creaked.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Time was running out.
And now, the Six understood—
They were not prisoners of a nation.
They were prisoners of a wizard.