I was back in the Sunless Reach, sitting at my camp and avoiding the tower for now. I didn’t want to tangle with the Sky Elemental again, not without better preparation, and definitely not alone. For the same reason, I’d taken to sleeping at the inn in the nearby village. The bed was lumpy and the food bland, but at least it didn’t try to strike me with lightning.

  Most of my time was spent outside, beneath the strange sky, studying the stars and trying to overcome the limitations of my teleportation. I was trying to master what I called star mana, that weightless energy that seemed to flicker in the space between dimensions. I tried to hold it longer, tried to transform my regular mana into it, tried to feed it with dream inspiration or my own Resolve.

  Nothing worked.

  It wasn’t that the theories were flawed. The real problem was simpler.

  My heart wasn’t in it.

  No matter how hard I tried to focus, my thoughts kept drifting back to the friends I’d left behind.

  Vena, the first person I’d truly connected with in this world. Bright-eyed, honest, and kind. She had shared her faith with me without ever pushing it, healed me when I was sick, trusted me with her fears, and treated me like family. We’d been close since day one.

  I’d met Kuru and Nakera that same day. I hadn’t known back then how important they’d become. Kuru, with her sharp insight and quiet strength. Nakera, with her humor, confidence, and that unshakable smirk that made everything feel just a little more survivable. We became close later, after I joined the Freelancer Guild, but when we did, it felt like catching up with old friends I didn’t know I’d lost.

  Yon and Kan… they weren’t as close, but they mattered too. Steady Yon, with a strong presence and helpful demeanor. Kan, with her fierce will and the quiet determination she hid behind that blonde hair. She’d been there when I first touched the madness hidden in the sewers, when I first realized that monsters weren’t always the real threat.

  And then there were the newcomers. Ja’a, with her charm and money-hungry tendencies. Raik, the friendly noble with a humble demeanor, but carrying a wound deeper than any of us could see. Katar, quiet and grounded, like a blade that had already endured a dozen fires. I hadn’t known them long, barely a couple of weeks, but I was beginning to care… more than I expected to.

  And every single one of them had chosen to fight. They believed, absolutely and without hesitation, that the Old Realm cult had to be stopped. That they were evil. That their actions justified bloodshed.

  And me?

  I’d stayed behind.

  I wasn’t a sword. I wasn’t a shield. I even left bait duty to Nakera. I was the researcher who had to be kept safe, tucked away at the edge of the world in case things went wrong.

  Was I a coward?

  Was I just... stupid?

  I kept asking myself that.

  Over and over, as I stared at the stars and tried to channel mana that refused to bend, I asked myself what kind of person I was. I had lightning magic. I had training. I had a teleportation gift that no one else understood. I had an artifact spear that cost its weight in gold, and more modern knowledge than anyone in this world.

  And still, when it came time to fight people, not beasts, I stepped away.

  Not because I disagreed with my friends. The cult was abducting people.

  But because I didn’t know enough.

  Because deep down, I was terrified of being wrong.

  War wasn’t simple. I’d studied enough history to know that. Most of the time, both sides believed they were right. And often, both were wrong in some way.

  Was the cult pure evil? Maybe.

  But if I killed someone in a situation I didn’t fully understand... would I ever be able to live with it?

  It had been two days since they left.

  By now, they must’ve reached the Pikar Steppe. Nakera had estimated they’d get attacked the day after the first hunt. That would be today. Or tomorrow at the latest.

  They will be fine. I should trust them. I kept replaying that in my head like it was a mantra, as if repeating it would make the uncertainty bearable.

  Could I be useful?

  I could teleport to them anytime I wanted. That much was clear. The ability still worked, and the Sunless Reach seemed to have infinite shooting stars.

  But would showing up actually help?

  Honestly… I didn’t know. I was probably weaker than Kan, maybe even Vena, and she was only there as a healer. What would one more spear do against a cult willing to sacrifice people? What difference would I make besides being another body to protect?

  I hated the doubt festering in my chest, the way it chewed through my resolve.

  If only I could ask the universe for an answer...

  Wait.

  Shit. Maybe I could.

  I looked up at the black velvet sky above the Sunless Reach, constellations rippling slightly as if caught in the surface of a still lake. I waited. And when I saw a streak of silver tear across the sky, I closed my eyes and whispered:

  “I wish I were somewhere safe, but useful regarding the Old Realm cult.”

  The stars blinked.

  And then the world shifted.

  The switch from night in the Reach to daylight wherever I’d landed was still as jarring as ever. One second, I was swaddled in cool starlight; the next, I was blinking in the golden afternoon sun.

  I hadn’t lost any personal mana. That meant this place wasn’t far, not too distant from the Reach. A nearby location, probably less than a day’s walk.

  I didn’t dare move. Mostly because I’d been teleported onto a branch. A very narrow branch. Of a giant sequoia tree. Three floors above the ground.

  Note to self: better word my wishes next time.

  Below me was a small caravan: six vardos, horse-drawn wooden wagons shaped like little mobile houses, painted in faded reds and greens. Near the center, twelve men sat around a large bonfire, eating, drinking, or simply watching the flames dance.

  I held my breath and crouched lower, letting my cloak settle around me. I tried to minimize movement and just listen.

  They were quiet at first, the fire crackling the only sound. Then one of them spoke.

  “I can’t believe the Boss went himself to hunt a simple girl.”

  “You don’t get it,” said another. “She’s got two Agame with her, and an Outspring.”

  “Damn Agame,” muttered a third, spitting into the dirt. “Root of all evil, I tell you.”

  “Still,” the first grumbled, “they’re just Sergeants and below. Lenfrie and Izair could’ve dealt with ‘em alone. I don’t get why the Boss needed to tag along, too.”

  “He probably wants to catch the Agame alive,” explained the second. “Stronger souls work better as sacrifices.”

  That made my stomach twist.

  “But we’re sitting ducks here,” the first snapped. “The strongest one of us is you, Kardok. And you got knocked out by one punch from that Yon fellow.”

  I narrowed my eyes and focused on the man they called Kardok. Broad-shouldered, shirtless, with corded muscles and a wooden club slung casually over one shoulder, like it was just another tool, not a weapon. I remembered that face. He’d been one of the thugs who jumped me outside the cobbler shop my first day in Hano. He was the one I fought first, extra sturdy; he barely felt my punches.

  The one who kept complaining stood and stalked away from the fire. His gait was familiar, too. When he passed through a patch of light, I saw the jagged scar across his neck.

  My breath caught.

  Him. He was the one who fought Vena, the one she’d slit open without hesitation, then reluctantly healed when I begged her to.

  He walked toward one of the rougher, more worn-down wagons and opened the door.

  Kardok’s voice thundered behind him.

  “Leave them alone. You don’t want to face the Boss’s wrath if one of them gets too damaged.”

  “Don’t worry,” the scarred man said in a voice that oozed like oil. “I’ll be careful.”

  He reached inside and pulled a bound woman out by the arm.

  My blood turned to ice.

  I recognized her. Luna, bunny ears, and wide, terrified eyes, shaking with tears. A former faithful, and one-time prostitute, who disappeared weeks ago.

  The man’s hands were already on her, roaming places they had no right to be.

  My fingers clenched around my spear.

  I nearly jumped down right then and there.

  I’d gotten stronger since that first day, but I wasn’t strong enough to fight twelve men alone.

  Still, my skin burned with rage.

  That bastard. I begged for his life. And this is what he does with it?

  Vena was right.

  We should’ve left him to rot.

  Then, to my shock, Kardok moved.

  He crossed the camp in three heavy steps, cracked the man across the back of the head, and shoved the girl, still weeping, back inside the wagon. Then he slammed the door shut.

  “I told you to stop,” he growled, towering over the other man.

  “You’re too soft,” the bastard spat. “She’s just a whore. Who cares what happens to her?”

  Kardok didn’t punch him again, but his voice carried steel.

  “This is why the cult gets no sympathy, even when our cause is just. Because too many of us act like bandits instead of the true rulers of this land.”

  The scarred man bared his teeth. “Why’re you yelling at me and not at Izair? He did the same thing yesterday. And you stood there and watched. You’re a fucking coward.”

  Kardok looked away. His head lowered, heavy with either guilt or shame, I couldn’t tell which.

  I didn’t care.

  I still wanted to harm them both.

  I guess the saying is true.

  Seeing is believing.

  I stayed hidden for nearly an hour, just watching and listening… learning.

  The cultists weren’t just murderers or fanatics; they were organized.

  They’d been emptying the bank accounts of the missing people. Slowly, methodically, siphoning funds into a single account in the High-Rock branch. They weren’t just killers. They were a full-fledged underground organization, smuggling, laundering money, and recruiting among the poor and wayward. That made them dangerous in ways beyond just swords and ritual.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  From the conversations I overheard, it became clear that Lenfrie and Izair handled the day-to-day operations. They gave the orders around camp, coordinated movements, and managed the prisoners. But they weren’t at the top. They both answered to someone else.

  The Boss.

  No one said his name. Not once. Not even by mistake. Just “him,” or “the Boss,” always with the kind of fear that made men look over their shoulders even in broad daylight. Whatever his real name was, it carried power, and probably a trail of blood.

  I also learned something else. Something that made my chest tighten.

  The team that went to the Pikar Steppe… wasn’t small.

  Eight people had gone, including the Boss.

  He’d gone himself.

  He hadn’t trusted his lieutenants to deal with Takur, Ki’a, or Raik. He’d gone in person. That said, everything I needed to know about how seriously he took the expedition, and how much danger my friends were in.

  I had to act. I couldn’t just sit and watch anymore.

  Drawing in a breath, I tapped the star mana stored in my spear and focused on the dark, silent sky of the Sunless Reach. I whispered a wish.

  And then I was gone.

  The stars welcomed me back with their usual icy calm. But my thoughts were in a storm. I paced the edges of my camp, heart pounding, running through scenarios in my mind.

  What now?

  I couldn’t just tell the Guild I “overheard some cultists in a tree.” I needed a map location. A reference point. Something concrete enough to file a report and have someone believe me.

  So, after half an hour of rest and recharging star mana, I tried again.

  This time, I shaped my wish carefully.

  “I wish I were in the nearest town or village to where I found the cultists.”

  The stars shimmered. The wind changed. And then the light twisted again.

  I landed on solid ground, not in the wilderness, but near a small ranch fenced with thick wooden posts and humming strands of twine. Across the field roamed a mob of tall, shaggy creatures that looked like overgrown emus, but with longer wings and a habit of gliding several meters between steps.

  I’d seen a few of them in Hano before, although I didn’t know their names. They were rideable giant birds that hadn’t entirely given up on the sky.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the field watching over them, shirt tied at the waist, arms tanned and muscled. He had a parrot perched on each shoulder. When one of the big birds wandered too far from the group, the man gave a short whistle. Instantly, one of the parrots launched into the air, mobbed the bird with sonic shrieks until it trotted obediently back into formation.

  It was like watching a two-parrot shepherd team.

  I was about to approach him when I heard a rustle to my left.

  An old man in his eighties stood up from the grass, brushing dust and hay from his patched-up trousers. He’d been lying under a tree with a straw hat covering his face. His squint was sharp, and his tone even sharper.

  “You with those damned brigands?” he asked, spitting into the dirt as the word itself offended him.

  I blinked. “I… sorry. I think I’m lost. I was trying to head for the Sunless Reach. I may have... taken a wrong turn.”

  “What? The Sunless Reach?” He stepped forward and jabbed a finger toward the distant horizon. “That’s thirty kilometers south! Are you lying, girl? Or are you with those brigands crowding the Redwood Forest?”

  He spat again, this time more venomously. “They stole a Stridwing from me last week. Ate the poor beast like it was some wild chicken! These birds are for riding, not roasting!”

  I held up my hands. “No, I promise I’m not with any brigands. I’m traveling alone. Could you tell me how to get to the Sunless Reach from here?”

  He huffed but didn’t walk away. Instead, he pointed toward a jagged stretch of mountains in the distance. “The Kurco Range. Reach lies just beyond it. You’ll have to pass through the cliffs on foot, unless you’re flyin’.”

  I squinted at the craggy silhouettes. They looked familiar, like something I’d seen from my stargazing spot. I must’ve been close, just from the other side.

  “Thank you,” I said, shifting slightly. “And the brigands, are they in my path?”

  He shook his head. “No, they’re holed up in the Redwood Forest. North of here. If you’re heading south, you should avoid ‘em. Unless you’re unlucky, or stupid.”

  I nodded again. “Got it. Thank you.”

  Then I turned and walked down the southern road for a few minutes, just long enough to sell the illusion.

  Once I was out of sight, I slipped behind the tree line and vanished, teleporting back to the Reach.

  Now I had what I needed: the relative location, the terrain, a nearby town, and proof that the cult was active beyond Hano. I just hoped it would be enough.

  After a short rest to recharge my star mana, I carefully shaped my next wish.

  “I wish I were next to Nada, only if she’s alone.”

  The world blinked.

  I landed with a soft thump inside her office, startling the poor girl so badly her hair instantly shifted into a crown of writhing squid tendrils. A dark glob of ink started forming behind her, hanging midair like a summoned elemental, then it dissolved harmlessly into a piece of paper when she recognized me.

  “Alice?! What are you doing here?” she hissed.

  “Sorry,” I said, holding up my hands. “But I found them. The missing people. They’re north of the Kurco Range, in a redwood forest. A full cult camp, Nada. It’s real.”

  She blinked. “Say what again?”

  Next to her, the residual ink in the page shifted and began recording everything.

  I explained quickly but clearly where I’d found the camp, what I’d overheard, and what I’d seen. I hesitated when it came to how I got there, though.

  “I’d like to keep the specifics of my power off the record,” I added, glancing at the ink-script page.

  Nada gave a sharp nod. “Only Commander Marina and I will see it. You have my word.”

  I exhaled. That was enough.

  “We need to tell Marina right now,” Nada said, standing abruptly. “Come on, we’ll go to her office. It is in the east building.”

  I threw up my hood; my presence here could blow the entire decoy plan if anyone recognized me. I was supposed to be far away, at the Pikar Steppe.

  Nada led me through a wing of the Guild I’d never seen before. The air felt crisper here, cooler somehow. This area was reserved for officers: Lieutenants and above.

  The front desk was manned by what I could only call a secretary, though that word didn’t do her justice.

  She sat ramrod straight behind a crescent-shaped desk of dark lacquered wood, a silver quill poised between two elegant fingers. Her dark blue uniform gleamed with silver trim, crisp and perfectly tailored. Her glasses perched high on her nose, and her hair was twisted into a tight chignon that dared a strand to rebel. Not a single paper on her desk was out of alignment.

  She looked up as we approached.

  And then, to my shock, she giggled, breaking all my expectations.

  “Did you hear?” she whispered to Nada. “Commander Kitchi Agame was caught sneaking out of Lord Aimone’s estate. With his daughter.”

  Nada groaned. “Not again… Last time this happened, we lost three shipments of honey thanks to diplomatic fallout. I need to get on top of that.”

  “But first,” she continued, voice flat now, “is Commander Marina in?”

  “She’s in the dressing room,” the secretary said, nodding. “With Captain Shiraky and Lieutenant Kerissa.”

  Nada gave a tight smile and started walking at a brisk pace down the left hall. I followed closely.

  “Wait, Nada!” the secretary called behind us.

  I braced myself, expecting a formal demand for an appointment.

  “Do you have any gossip for me?” she added hopefully.

  Nada didn’t even look back. “Later,” she said flatly.

  We rounded a corner and found ourselves in a hallway marked with a painted line on the ground. A plank nailed to the wall read, in cheerful brushwork:

  Women only beyond this point. Men will be castrated.

  Below that, in smaller letters:

  Especially you, Kitchi.

  I almost laughed. If this had been a college dorm, it would’ve been funny. Here, in the high command wing of the Hano Freelancer Guild, it was somehow worrying.

  We passed a few offices before stopping outside the door marked Dressing Room. Though “dressing room” didn’t really cover it.

  The space inside was more like a high-ranking military salon, walls lined with full-length mirrors, shelves stocked with perfumes and powders, racks of crisp uniforms and elaborate formal dresses. Soft golden light illuminated the room in a flattering glow that made even the walls look expensive.

  I hesitated in the doorway, suddenly aware that I was way out of my league.

  Commander Marina sat in front of one of the mirrors, reclined in a plush chair like royalty, smiling faintly as a mousy-looking attendant brushed out her long cyan hair. Each stroke was careful, reverent. But Marina barely noticed; her gaze was fixed on the reflection of someone across the room.

  On a velvet couch near the far wall sat a very small woman, barely one and a half meters tall, arms crossed, legs folded like a coiled spring. She radiated cold authority. Her expression was so frosty it could’ve turned water into ice. She didn’t blink. She didn’t fidget. She watched everything like a hawk.

  Near the wardrobe, a third woman, tall, graceful, and glowing, was casually flipping through silks and uniforms. Her hair floated around her like liquid gold, drifting weightlessly as if suspended in water. She hummed as she browsed, seemingly in her own world.

  I hovered awkwardly in the doorway, uncertain whether to announce myself or back away quietly and pretend none of this had happened.

  “Come on, Shiraky, don’t be like that,” Marina was saying with a lilt in her voice. Her tone was so light, so different from when we’d first met, relaxed, almost playful.

  “Na’a, stop defending his stupid actions,” said the frosty woman, Shiraky, apparently. “I’m sure Ma’a agrees with me.”

  “I don’t think he did anything wrong,” Marina replied with a shrug. “This is Hano, not the Holy Lands. Women can sleep with whoever they want. Lord Aimone needs to get over it. Tell her”

  “That’s a stereotype, Na’a,” said the glowing woman, probably Kerissa. “Even in the Holy Lands, noble daughters get frisky. That’s why most of their clerics come from ‘humble’ backgrounds.”

  “That’s not the point, Kerissa!” Marina pouted. “This wasn’t Lady Bella’s first affair. Lord Aimone is acting like Kitchi corrupted a pure blossom.”

  I was standing there, wide-eyed, absorbing every drop of this high-ranking drama, when Nada cleared her throat.

  Three pairs of eyes snapped to us.

  Instant tension.

  Nada didn’t flinch, though I could see the nerves in her spine. She stepped forward and handed Marina the ink-crafted report.

  “New emergency report on the Old Realm Cult,” she read.

  The shift in Marina was immediate. Her posture straightened. The warmth in her eyes vanished. She became the commander again.

  “Kerissa,” she said without hesitation, “forget the ball. You’re going on a mission.”

  “What?” Kerissa whined. “But I was supposed to smooth things over with the nobles!”

  “Yeah, well, scrap that. It can wait. Get Kitchi and Hanakudo and bring them to the war room.”

  “Rizo,” she added, turning to her hairdresser, “just a ponytail, please.”

  Shiraky stood with a sigh. “I guess I’ll handle the nobles, then. Is Yoka in danger? Should I inform General Kiddu?”

  Marina shook her head, already halfway through tying her coat. “Yoka’s a damned good fighter. She’d already be a commander if not for her age. I don’t want to undermine her authority unless I have to.”

  Her tone darkened. “But that’s not the point. We have missing people to save.”

  I sat beside Nada on the left side of Commander Marina in the war room.

  The chamber was more impressive than I expected. In the center stood a massive stone-etched map of the continent, carved directly into a polished basalt slab. Familiar landmarks caught my eye, like the undead dead-zone sprawling in the south and the Colossus dead-zone looming in the northwest, their ominous names etched in bold silver script. This wasn’t some decorative mural. It was a war table built for commanders to change the world.

  I barely had time to take it all in before the door opened and two young men entered, handsome, confident, and clearly Agame, the flame family crest prominent. They were followed by Kerissa, still radiant from her time in the dressing room, her golden hair floating in a soft glow.

  The two men were dressed in tailored armor: blue and red leather lined with steel chainmail across the torso, capped by a round metal plate over the heart. Their presence was commanding, but Kerissa still stole the spotlight; her uniform crisp, her steps purposeful, and her spear… unusual. It looked like it had been crafted from the spine of a giant bird, with a sharp beak jutting from the tip in place of a traditional blade.

  Everyone was so hot. Was this a military operation or a modeling agency?

  Marina stood. “Commander Agame. Lieutenant Agame. Thank you for arriving so promptly.”

  “I’d always make time for you, dear Ma’a,” said the older Agame with a flirtatious smile. He was the spitting image of Raik, just a few years older, his voice smoother, and his posture casual but strong. His armor reminded me of Rift gate Guard gear, but where theirs was black and red, his was blue and crimson.

  “Your younger brother may be in serious danger, Kitchi the seventeenth,” Marina said, her tone turning cold. “So take this seriously.”

  Kitchi’s smile faded. “What do you mean?” he asked, brows furrowed, faint flickers of fire dancing in his eyes.

  “I thought this was about that stupid noble’s daughter scandal.”

  Marina gestured toward me. “Alice discovered the cult’s hideout, the very cell young Raik is facing at the Pikar Steppe.”

  That silenced the room.

  “I want to send Hanakudo and Kerissa to investigate and rescue the missing people,” Marina continued. “But one of us needs to confirm whether the Boss is truly beyond Yoka’s level, and whether she needs reinforcement.”

  “I’m going,” said Kitchi without hesitation. “You stay here and keep things running, Ma’a. You’ve always been better at command than me anyway.”

  Then he grinned. “Plus, what kind of older brother would I be if I didn’t show off in front of my kid sibling?”

  None of them seemed too concerned about the distance, even though it would take multiple days by carriage. That’s when Hanakudo approached me.

  “Could you show us where the cult camp is?” he asked gently, flashing a charming smile.

  I nodded, stepping closer to the map.

  I started by locating the Sunless Reach, then traced my finger northeast to the jagged Kurco Range, then north to a dense patch of etched trees.

  “Here,” I said. “North of the Kurco Range. In a redwood forest.”

  Everyone nodded.

  “All right then,” said Kitchi. “Let’s move out.”

  Nada stayed behind with Marina. I hesitated for a heartbeat, but then followed the group of warriors out of the building.

  Once we were in the open courtyard, Hanakudo took a deep breath. Flames began to swirl around his body, gentle at first, then roaring. The fire grew, taller than the trees, until I instinctively took a few steps back.

  The others didn’t.

  They watched with calm expressions, as if this was completely normal.

  The fire collapsed inward with a pulse of heat, and where Hanakudo had stood now towered a creature of myth and legend.

  A dragon.

  Or maybe a wyvern?

  He had four limbs, not six, so technically not a classic dragon. But he also had elongated fingers extending through his wings like a pterodactyl. His tail was thick and muscular, ending in a broad fin rather than a stinger.

  Why was I even trying to categorize this like some zoologist? I was standing next to a dragon.

  While I was still stuck processing the sheer scale of what had just happened, Kitchi and Kerissa casually climbed onto Hanakudo’s back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Kerissa looked back at me, her golden hair shimmering in the sun. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked with a smile.

  I blinked.

  Me? Riding a dragon?

  “…Hell yes I am.”