The air inside the "Inn of the Sleeping Dragon" was thick with peat smoke, the scent of spiced stew, and the constant hum of merchants and adventurers seeking shelter from Opes' cool evening breeze. When the heavy oak doors swung open, revealing the unlikely trio, silence fell for an instant, only to be shattered by a scream of pure joy.
"ANOTHER ROUND! NO, TEN ROUNDS!" Hayjin shouted, raising a fist toward the smoke-blackened ceiling. He didn't care that the nobles at the corner tables looked at him as if he were a madman escaped from a magical asylum. The adrenaline rush was still so strong he could feel his fingertips tingling.
Zhilian was no different. She had slipped off her heavy ceremonial cloak, tossing it carelessly onto a chair, and was laughing with such rowdiness that the city guards present exchanged confused glances. "We won, Hayjin! We played them! I wish I had a way to keep replaying Varek's face when Arkon said the word 'exemption.' He looked like he'd just swallowed a poisonous toad!"
The two dropped onto a rough wooden bench in a secluded corner, continuing to clap each other on the back and recount the highlights of the hearing. For Hayjin, this wasn't just a bureaucratic victory; it was confirmation that his place in this world wasn't that of a mere spectator, but of a lead actor.
Rhaegalur sat across from them, occupying by himself the space that usually held three people. He ordered a tankard of dark mead that looked like a small barrel in his massive hands. Though his eyes showed a spark of pride in his protégés' happiness, his face remained carved in the granite of caution.
"Enjoy this victory, kids," Rhaegalur said, his deep voice cutting through the excitement like a cold blade. "But don't let the euphoria and triumph cloud your vision. Hayjin, look at me."
The boy stopped mid-laugh, meeting the golden gaze of the Dragon God.
"What happened today was a miracle, remember that," Rhaegalur continued after a long sip of mead. "But the rope holding you to Opes is as thin as a spider's thread. If you don't want to be banished, if you truly want to stay by Zhilian's side until the day of the exam and beyond, from tomorrow you'll have to commit yourself in a way you've never even imagined. You will have to exceed your limits."
Hayjin nodded, his expression becoming slightly more serious, though the smile didn't entirely leave his lips. "I know, Rhaegalur. I know the Sages' condition is heavy. But I have Zhilian with me."
"You idiot, you haven't understood a thing," the God interrupted, lowering his voice until it became a whisper that made the candle flames tremble. "The Sages are not convinced. They only granted you entry because, let's face it, they had no other diplomatic choice against my word. But they will be watching. Every false step will be noted. In fact, I'll tell you more: do not fear only the monsters you will find in the exam dungeon. Fear those men in their silk robes. They might prove to be much more lethal threats than any external demon. A betrayal from within, a trap set to prove they were right... that is what you must expect. You never know."
"When one is in power, the mind often clouds over, seeing nothing but the maintenance of the status quo. The powerful fear change because it could be a blessing, but also a potential curse... so always watch your back. I won't always be there to defend you. Sooner or later, you'll have to walk on your own two feet."
Hayjin sighed, putting down his tankard. He looked at Zhilian, who was watching him with a mix of affection and determination. "It will be fine, Rhaegalur. I have no intention of sitting around waiting for them to hit us. I'll train with Zhilian every single day. We'll improve together. She'll teach me to read the mana flows I can't see, and I'll teach her how to demolish a magical structure using only logic and pressure points. We'll basically be as one on the field."
Zhilian placed her hand over Hayjin's, squeezing it firmly. "He's right. And besides, Rhae, we won't be alone. The official mission includes other support mages and observers from the Association. They can't just 'make us disappear' or sabotage us in front of international witnesses. We are strong, and we will become unbeatable."
Rhaegalur continued to drink, staring at the bottom of his tankard with a doubtful look that promised nothing good. "You are young, and youth is a cloak that prevents you from seeing the frost of reality. Other mages? Other witnesses? To the Sages of Opes, they are just more pawns to be moved or sacrificed. But do as you wish... after all, it's your business. I have done my part."
"Oh, come on, Great Dragon God, with all due respect, let's try not to think about those things right now, come on!" Zhilian exclaimed, trying to chase away the darkness Rhaegalur had brought to the table. "Today we celebrate! Tomorrow we sweat! Waiter! Another round for everyone present! It's on the future Professional Grade Mage of Opes!"
A roar of approval rose from the inn. The people, while finding it strange that a noble and a foreigner behaved this way, never refused a free drink. Hayjin started laughing again.
Rhaegalur shook his head, a small bitter smile curling his lips as he sipped his mead. He knew the storm was coming, but for that night, he allowed those two "fools" to believe the world was at their feet.
As the warm sun enveloped the capital, Opes seemed in no mood to rest. The streets were lit by a warm, amber light reflecting off the white marble facades.
Rhaegalur, seeing that the two youths were now full of restless energy, gave a wave of his hand a slow gesture that was half dismissal and half blessing. "Go," he said, his voice vibrating against the wood of the table. "Exhaust this energy of yours before you have to seriously commit to the exam tomorrow. I'll stay here. This drink has a lightning-root aftertaste I haven't tasted in years."
Zhilian didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed Hayjin's hand and, with an energy that seemed to have erased every trace of the previous days' fatigue, dragged him out of the inn.
Outside, the air was crisp. Opes was a labyrinth of wonders. Zhilian, acting as an exceptional guide, took Hayjin to the District of Celestial Artisans. Here, the workshops were still open, and the sound of magical hammers striking metal created a rhythmic symphony.
"Look at this, Hayjin!" Zhilian exclaimed, stopping in front of a stall of enchanted sweets. She bought two "Sugar Clouds." As soon as Hayjin took a bite of one, he felt the strawberry flavor turn into fresh mint and then into a strange warm sensation that tickled his throat.
"This is crazy!" he laughed, looking at Zhilian, who had blue cotton candy on her nose. "Back home we have donuts, but they don't try to talk to you while you eat them!"
Shortly after, they found themselves in a square where a group of street bards was manipulating the water of a fountain with music, creating figures of mythological creatures that danced in mid-air. Hayjin, caught up in the enthusiasm, challenged Zhilian to a local game of skill: hitting moving targets made of magical smoke with small pebbles infused with light.
Zhilian, being a mage, cheated shamelessly by using small puffs of mana to deflect Hayjin's stones, leading him to complain jokingly.
"Hey! That's external manipulation! Where's your academic honesty, Princess?"
"Honesty is for those who don't know how to use mana, Analyst!" she replied, sticking her tongue out at him before running away into the crowd, forcing him to chase her amidst laughter and friendly shoves.
They played, joked, and chased each other like children who had just discovered that the world was much larger than their room. At that moment, amidst the lights of Opes, the weight of the exam, the Sages, and the banishment seemed a thousand light-years away. They were just a boy and a girl, happy to be alive and together.
Meanwhile, at the Inn of the Sleeping Dragon, the atmosphere had transformed into something almost sacred. Rhaegalur was no longer just an imposing customer; he had become the center of gravity for the entire building.
The inhabitants of Opes, from veteran war heroes to young apprentices, had gathered around his table, some even sitting on the floor, eyes wide and tankards forgotten in their hands. Rhaegalur, after the third round of mead, had begun to speak. His was no ordinary voice: it was a rumble that seemed to come from the bowels of the earth, an ancient melody that painted images in the minds of those who listened.
"Do you want to know about the Fall of Aethelgard?" he asked, and the silence that followed was so deep you could have heard a pin drop. "It was when the sky turned black not because of clouds, but from the wings of my brothers. In those days, mountains were not dead stones, but beings that breathed fire. I was there when the first King of Opes tried to speak to the storms."
He told of his battle against the Emerald Hydra, describing how the creature's blood had given rise to the toxic forests of the south. He narrated how he had flown over oceans of flames and how he had seen kingdoms rise from the dust and return to it in the blink of an eye.
"You see these white walls as eternal," he said, nodding toward the outside. "But I saw the foundations of this city when they were just dreams in the head of a frightened man. True strength is not in marble, but in the blood that decides not to freeze before the unknown."
The people were amazed. Some wept with emotion, others stared at the giant with reverential awe. It wasn't just entertainment; it was living history taking shape before them. An old soldier, with a scar running across his eye, stood and raised his trembling tankard.
"To you, Dragon God. For reminding us that we are not just dust, but part of a legend."
Rhaegalur returned the toast with a solemn nod, while an unusual warmth heated his chest. Even for him, on that afternoon of waiting, telling those stories meant binding himself even more to that world that Hayjin and Zhilian were desperately trying to protect.
In the meantime, Zhilian and Hayjin were walking through the city, peaceful and serene. Zhilian dragged Hayjin into a side street where the signs weren't made of painted wood, but of molten metal that emitted a constant hum. They stopped in front of a shop whose display window was protected by thick wrought-iron bars. Above the entrance, a sign in silver characters read: The Steel.
"Go in," Zhilian said, in a tone that allowed no argument, pushing him inside.
The environment was saturated with a sharp, metallic smell. On the walls hung weapons that seemed to vibrate with a life of their own. Zhilian headed toward a reinforced glass case at the back of the store. Inside lay a short sword with a slightly curved blade, forged in a dark metal that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. The hilt was wrapped in salamander skin and set with a small milky quartz.
"This one," Zhilian exclaimed, pointing it out to the owner who approached with a bow. "It's a resonance blade, usually used by Grade B Combat Mages. I want it to be yours."
Hayjin's eyes widened, staring at the weapon that seemed to cost more than he had ever earned in his entire previous life. "Hey, Zhilian, wait a second," he murmured, moving closer to her. "Look, I'm the one who casts spells from afar, not the one who slices up dragons. A Grade B sword? It seems a bit much for someone who, until yesterday, considered a wind bullet a dangerous weapon. You don't want me to lop off an ear before I even get to the exam, do you?"
Zhilian shook her head, taking the weapon and handing it to him. As soon as Hayjin gripped it, he felt a strange vibration travel up his arm, like a very light electric shock.
"Listen to me, Hayjin," she said seriously. "This is no ordinary sword. It is designed to react to even the slightest mana flow. I know you don't have much, but that's exactly the point: the blade compensates for the lack of magical power with the precision of the cut. With your wit and your ability to find the weak points of any structure, this weapon won't be a burden, but an extension of your magic. If you understand where to strike, this sword will do the rest, cutting through spells and armor as if they were butter."
Hayjin weighed the weapon, admiring the purplish reflections dancing on the edge of the blade. It was light, balanced in an almost supernatural way. He looked up at Zhilian, who was staring at him with unshakable confidence.
"Well," he said, sheathing the blade with a gesture that tried to be theatrical but came off a bit clumsy. "I thank you, Princess. I guess I have no more excuses not to look like some kind of knight."
Zhilian laughed, giving him an affectionate shove. "Make sure you do. Now let's go; I saw a pastry cart waiting for us, and I intend to make you taste everything Opes has to offer!"
Toward nightfall, Hayjin and Zhilian decided to head back to the inn. They were exhausted, with aching feet but light hearts. They stopped on a bridge overlooking one of Opes' canals, where the water reflected the stars of the Alian sky.
"Hayjin," Zhilian said, leaning her elbows on the stone balustrade. Her voice was now soft, devoid of its usual exuberance. "Today was... perfect. Thank you for coming here. Not just to Opes..."
Hayjin looked at her, the city's reflections dancing in his eyes. "I couldn't have been anywhere else, Zhilian. Even if the Sages want to see me fall, and even if Rhaegalur thinks we're reckless... this has been the best moment I've experienced on ALIUS so far."
They exchanged a knowing smile, a silent pact that needed no words. They knew that from tomorrow, fun would give way to the harshest discipline, but that night belonged to them.
When they returned to the inn, they found a magical atmosphere: Rhaegalur was still the center of attention, surrounded by a people who seemed to have rediscovered their pride. The giant watched them enter and, for the first time that evening, gave them an almost imperceptible nod of approval.
The inn exploded into a chorus of greetings for the Princess and her "Analyst," and as they prepared to go to rest, Hayjin thought that, perhaps, true magic wasn't in mana, but in moments like that.
The revelry of the inn was now a distant echo, a muffled hum lost against the stone walls of the nearby circular square. In the center, a monumental fountain carved from white marble splashed lazily; the water, infused with a slight magical luminescence, slid over sculptures of nymphs and water dragons, creating a hypnotic sound, like a constant whisper.
Hayjin and Zhilian sat on the cool edge of the basin. The night breeze of Opes caressed their faces, carrying with it the scent of jasmine and wet stone. The Grade B sword, Zhilian's new and lethal gift, rested beside Hayjin, reflecting the starlight on its dark blade.
After minutes of silence, Hayjin decided to break the spell of that stillness. His gaze, usually cynical and ready with a quip, was now veiled by authentic concern.
"Zhilian," he began, distractedly fiddling with a bit of his sleeve. "There's something I didn't tell you. Earlier, while you and Rhaegalur were closed in that room fighting those old grumblers on the Council, Wren came to me. She was there, in the atrium, hidden among the shadows of the columns."
Zhilian turned sharply toward him, her large eyes searching for answers in the boy's face. "Wren? She spoke to you? What did she say?"
"She told me to be careful," Hayjin murmured, sighing. "But it wasn't the message itself that struck me so much as the way she said it. Zhilian, since I left to train with Rhaegalur, that girl has changed. She's no longer the curious little child who asked me a thousand questions with eyes full of light. She's become... dark. Serious in a way that doesn't belong to her age. There was a coldness in her gaze that gave me the chills. It's like she's not herself anymore."
Zhilian lowered her gaze to the fountain water, seeing her own reflected image ripple and fragment. A shadow of pain crossed her face.
"I know," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "I noticed it too, but I hoped I was wrong. She's training in an inhuman way, Hayjin. She spends hours and hours in the training grounds, consuming her mana to the point of exhaustion. She's pushing herself too hard, driving her body beyond the safety limits that even an adult mage would struggle to endure."
She paused, and a solitary tear slid down her cheek, shining like a diamond under the moonlight.
"After our parents died, she still seemed... normal, despite the difficulties we faced together. It seemed she had left it all behind and moved on."
"Then everything got worse once the successorship candidacies for the throne were officially announced," Zhilian continued, and this time her tone was steeped in devastating sadness. "Since it became clear that I am one of the favorites to become the next Queen of Opes, Wren has started looking at me differently. It seems she bitterly hates me, Hayjin. It's not just detachment, it's... resentment. A poison that runs through her veins every time I come near. I don't understand why. We're sisters; we're all we have left of each other in this place that's so gloomy and... empty, like the palace."
Zhilian covered her face with her hands, and the first sobs began to shake her shoulders. The facade of the warrior princess, the confident girl who had challenged the Sages, completely crumbled in that deserted square.
"Sometimes... I even thought about... giving up the crown for her," she sobbed between breaths, tears now flowing freely. "At first, I didn't care about power, titles, or glory. I only wanted... I only want to be loved by Wren. I want her to smile at me again. I want her to stop seeing me as an enemy or an obstacle. It hurts so much, Hayjin. Knowing that the more I try to protect her, the more she pulls away, nursing this hatred I don't know how to cure."
Hayjin remained silent for a moment, struck by the vulnerability of the girl who had saved his life and given him a purpose. Without thinking too much, he put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward him in a protective embrace. He felt the warmth of her body and the tremor of her despair.
"Listen to me, Zhilian," he said, with a gentle firmness he had never used before. "Don't let this get you down. Wren is young, and the weight she carries is too great for her shoulders. Maybe she sees in your success the solitude that awaits her, or maybe there is someone whispering the wrong words in her ears. But I make you a promise."
He lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes, which were red from crying.
"It will be fine. We'll pass this exam, we'll get that license, and we'll show everyone what we're worth. And when we're finished, when the chaos has calmed, I'll be there. I'll stand by Wren's side. I'll help her, I'll support her, and I won't let that darkness consume her. I'll use every bit of my logic, my wit, and this new sword to make sure she becomes the child we knew again. I won't leave her alone, and I won't leave you alone."
Zhilian stared at him for long moments, as if trying to absorb the strength of his words. Slowly, her crying subsided, replaced by a sense of peace she hadn't felt in weeks. She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve and forced a small, tender smile.
"Thank you, Hayjin," she whispered. "I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't met you that day. You're... you're much more than just a friend to me."
Without adding anything else, she threw herself back into his arms, but this time it wasn't a gesture of desperation. It was a hug of love, of gratitude, and of a bond that went beyond duty or the mission. They remained like that for a long time, two solitary figures before the fountain of Opes, united by the promise to protect what remained of their innocence, while the stars of Alius continued to shine, indifferent to the storms of human hearts.