Lilieth tried to ignore all the stares coming at her. She sat at the nearest library she could find, gathered as many books she could get her hands on, and then just started reading through them. The problem was that to other people, her “reading” just looked like her flipping through the pages, putting the book down, picking up another one, and doing it again.

  And to be fair, she wasn’t really “reading”, so much as she was “memorizing”. All she needed to do was see the page. Even if it was for just a fraction of a second, her mind could perfectly replicate every stroke of ink, every crease on the paper. If she needed to actually “read” through the book later, all she needed to do was conjure up the pages in her head.

  Growing up, everyone around her thought she was crazy. Whenever she “read” a book, she’d just sit there and stare at empty space for hours on end. After some time, she learned that closing her eyes and humming while doing it makes her seem less insane.

  She knew for a long time that her memory was something abnormal, even among Blessed. A single instant didn’t feel fleeting to her, since she could just reexperience is whenever she wanted. As a child, she thought that was normal.

  It took her a while to realize that other people could forget, and even longer to really understand what that meant.

  She stayed in the library for a time, absorbing every book and putting them into her own personal mental library. She learned quite a lot of useful and interesting things. For one, she finally learned the origin of the Relic Festival that Artemest celebrates every year. Apparently it was based on a much bigger tournament hosted in Basandre, called the Dominion League, a nationwide combat tournament held in honor of Julius Azalerra, one of the Lesser Gods.

  It was strange to see a Basandran-inspired festival all the way here in Krysanth. The empire of Krysanth primarily worshipped the Hestareia the Valor, Greater God of heroes. The Lesser God associated with Hestareia was Astrid the Snowmelt. Julius the Dominion was worshipped primarily in the nation of Basandre.

  But apparently, Julius Azalerra himself visited Artemest about two-and-a-half thousand years ago, saving the city from peril long before Krysanth the hero united the shattered states. It made sense why Artemest focused on him rather than Astrid.

  “The Relic Festival,” Lilieth muttered out loud. Apparently, Spearman’s final test is to enter the semi-finals for that tournament. Obviously, as a new student. “Not that I stand a chance, even if I joined...”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “Well, obviously, I’m not that—”

  Lilieth jumped as she realized that a girl had sat next to her while she was busy “reading”. The girl was young, about twelve if she had to guess. She tucked most of her hair inside her massive hat, strands coming out the sides. She wore a loose jacket, clearly oversized.

  “Who are you?” Lilieth asked, cautious.

  “Oh, I just kinda saw you flipping through pages and wondered what you were doing.” The girl shrugged. “I’m Cynth, by the way. What’s your name?”

  Lilieth narrowed her eyes at the girl. “I’m not looking to make acquaintances with you. You should go home, young lady.”

  The girl, Cynth, pouted. “You don’t look that much younger than me. I’m almost taller than you!”

  “Didn’t you parents teach you not to talk to strangers?” Lilieth said. “I’m a stranger, so don’t talk to me, please.”

  “You’re not that much of a stranger to me. I saw you walking around with Sibei the other day.”

  Lilieth raised an eyebrow. “You know Sibeiya?”

  “Yep! And since you’re friends with Sibei, I figured we could be friends as well!”

  “Me and her are not friends. Just fellow students.”

  “Eh, you’re training under sir Spearman, too?” Cynth looked at her as if she were insane. “Seriously, what is up with you people...?”

  “...It seems like Master Spearman has a reputation.”

  “Oh, for sure! He keeps in touch with the archon’s family. He’s actually one of the people who started the Relic Festivals, apparently! But he’s kinda mean. Speaking of, are you participating in it? The Festival, I mean.”

  Spearman was acquainted with the governors of the city, and was one of the festival’s founders? But the Relic Festivals began fifty-one years ago. Spearman doesn’t even look like he’s pushing past forty.

  But at this point, it was probably best to assume two things: the man had plenty more secrets they didn’t know about, and none of them were ever going to get an answer out of him.

  “I’m not participating,” Lilieth told Cynth. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “Oh, okay. Cool. That means less competition for Grits!”

  “You know sir Grits, too?”

  “Yep! He’s sort of my brother, I guess. I’ve known him all my life. If anyone should win the Festival, it should be him. He worked really hard to get that strong! By the way, you still haven’t told me your name.”

  She sighed. “It’s Lilieth.”

  “What is this, even?” Cynth tilted her head as she opened one of the books Lilieth had on the table. “Eugh, agriculture. Boring.”

  “...Are you even listening to me?”

  “I wish I could join the Festival, too!” Cynth leaned back against her chair, nearly tipping it over. “I wanna use a sword, and go all ‘swing’, ‘schwing’!” She motioned using a blade.

  Lilieth felt overwhelmed by Cynth’s energy. Were all children like this? Lilieth herself never acted like this when she was at that age. Then again, she spent most of her time praying in the Hesperus temple.

  “By the way, you can’t join the Relics Festival unless you have a weapon,” Cynth said. “What weapon are you going to bring?”

  “I told you, I’m not participating...”

  “But if you were participating, what weapon? Tell me, tell me!”

  “...Why are you talking to me?”

  The girl was a bit annoying, but Lilieth decided to give her question some thought. The Relic Festival, much like Basandre’s Dominion League, was a tournament centered around the use of weapons. Before he ascended into godhood, Julius Azalerra was a hero who was known to have collected every weapon in Nomena. Thus, the Relic Festival was a test of weapon mastery, in honor of him. You couldn’t participate unless you wielded a weapon, and if your weapon was destroyed in the match, it was an immediate loss.

  She didn’t plan on joining the Festival, but if she did, then...

  “...A longsword, I guess,” Lilieth said.

  “Oh? Why that?” Cynth asked.

  “I ... someone I knew used a longsword.”

  “Who? What was their name?”

  Lilieth saw a figure in her head. Powerful. Dependable. Caring. A woman who flew through the air, wielding a longsword. A woman who would give her pats on the head every now and then.

  “Shouldn’t you be going home?” Lilieth said.

  Just as Lilieth said that, the door to the library swung open, and a group of armored knights walked in. The people inside, including the librarian, all tensed up, but one of the knights—the captain, judging by his coat—raised his hand and reassured everyone.

  “It’s all fine, everyone. Nothing to be alarmed of. Carry on,” he said. Some of the knights ran around the library, looking behind bookshelves, as if they were looking for something.

  Lilieth looked to her side, and saw that Cynth had disappeared. She looked around, but there was no trace of her.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Eventually, the knights all gathered around their captain. “She’s not here,” Lilieth heard them whisper. After that, they all left peacefully, and the library returned to peace, albeit with a few shaken up readers.

  “...Huh,” Lilieth muttered

  Were the knights looking for Cynth? Was she some sort of thief?

  Well, whatever was the case, she hoped she’d never see her again. She’d rather not get entangled into that sort of mess.

  As soon as Phaedon saw the knights run across the street, he pulled his hood up as high as he could and hid behind one of the street stalls. Of course, there was no guarantee that they were looking for him, but it didn’t hurt to be safe.

  After they had passed, Phaedon breathed out a sigh of relief and removed his hood. He had to calm himself down. Artemest was a megalopoleis. Each district was the size of an entire city in and of itself. If that man really was looking for him, he certainly wouldn’t have an easy time doing so, especially when he’s three districts away from the estate. Still, he knew better than to let his guard down.

  Phaedon continued walking. His arm injury was feeling a lot better now, thanks to Niko. The Festival was delayed, but word has it that it was set to start in about a month’s time. He just needed to be patient for a while longer.

  As he passed by an alleyway, he saw a commotion happening inside. He peeked in, seeing a group of men surrounding two smaller figures. Phaedon didn’t want to find trouble if he could help it, but he approached, intrigued and curious.

  “Finally found ya, stinking brats. Can’t run no more, can ya?” Phaedon could hear one of the men snarl. The man, who he assumed was the leader, had a large build, and tattoos practically covering every inch of his body.

  The group noticed Phaedon approach, and turned to him. They weren’t familiar to him. But the two figures...

  “...You’re those two brats who stole my coin pouch,” Phaedon said.

  “Oh? They gots you too, huh? We finally caught the slippery little buggers,” the large man said. “But sorry, pal. We’s the one who caught ‘em. Now piss off, we’s got some lessons to teach these brats.”

  “We already returned your money!” the boy said, standing in front of his sister. “We even gave you everything we have!”

  “Yeah, well I ain’t satisfied!” he yelled at them, spittle flying all over. “And someone’s gotta make sure ya understand right from wrong! Don’t worry. We’ll beat the lesson into ya. Ya won’t be forgettin’ it anytime soon!”

  The group began to laugh sadistically as they slowly approached. The boy spread out his arms, shielding his sister as the two of them stepped back, until they hit a wall.

  “This is ridiculous,” Phaedon said to himself, turning to leave. He’d rather not get in trouble again, especially with knights this close by. If he was caught again...

  “B-brother...”

  Phaedon stopped, hearing the little girl’s timid voice. So quiet, it almost couldn’t be heard.

  “D-don’t worry, Lyra. Your big brother’s gonna protect you...!”

  “Hahaha! Look at this brat! ‘Gonna protect you’, he says! It’d be a miracle if ya could protect yourself!”

  Phaedon reached down to his pocket, feeling a small pendant in his hand. A pendant he hadn’t worn—hadn’t looked at—in so, so long.

  He sucked in a breath. “Gods damnit...”

  Phaedon turned and walked, seeing one of the men raise his fist. Quickly, he grabbed the man’s arm, locking it in place. The man slowly turned, glaring at him something fierce.

  “Fuck you still doing here? Told ya to piss off.”

  “Don’t feel like it,” Phaedon said. “Why don’t you run along? Got some business with these kids.”

  The man gave a nod to his posse of thugs, and they all began to slowly surround Phaedon. There were about four of them, including their leader.

  Good odds.

  “Do you know who yer talking to?” The large man pulled away from Phaedon’s grip and was now directly facing him, cracking his neck muscles and making what Phaedon assumed was the most intimidating face he could muster. “Yer standing before Gaeus.”

  “Am I supposed to be shitting my pants right now? Cause that ain’t ringing a damn bell.”

  The man laughed, and his posse followed. “This one’s got a tongue, he does. Thinks he’s real funny. Listen here. Me? I’m Blessed.”

  Gaeus formed a fist and chanted, “[Plaka].”

  Translucent hexagonal plates appeared around his fist, surrounding it and forming a glove made of blue panels that hovered just above his skin. A Shieldmage, then. What an interesting way to use shields.

  Phaedon paused for a beat. “The hell you waiting for, a kiss?”

  “Still acting tough, are ya?” Gaeus snarled, moving his fist closer until it was only an inch away from Phaedon’s cheek. “One punch from me, and yer turnin’ into pulp. That’s just how it is, when you don’t got a Blessin’. So why dontcha start grovelin’, And we’ll see if I’m feelin’ a bit more merciful today?”

  The goons that surround him began laughing, and Phaedon laughed along with them, much to their confusion.

  “So confident,” Phaedon said mockingly. “You act like having some cheap parlor tricks makes you a god.”

  “It’s the law. The Blessed rule this world, and I’ll show it. When the Festival starts, I’ll tear through everyone and come out on top.”

  Phaedon let out a breath. “You’re a contestant.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. What of it?”

  Phaedon smiled. “I’m glad. Guess I’ll let them know someone’s dropping out early!”

  Before Gaeus could react, Phaedon drove his first straight into his jaw. Gaeus’ head snapped to the side, spit flying. His shield-glove flickered. For a moment, Gaeus’ eyes went glassy and he stumbled back. When he regained his senses, he glared at Phaedon.

  “For a Shieldmage, you sure were easy to hit,” Phaedon smirked as he grabbed and wore a pair of knuckledusters from his pocket.

  “You little...!”

  Gaeus charged in and swung with his shielded hand. Phaedon ducked in low and threw jabs at Gaeus’ stomach. Two, three, five, eight times in quick succession.

  “[Fragma]!”

  The ninth jab crashed into a blue translucent barrier that appeared in front of him, much larger than the plates that surrounded Gaeus’ fist. The large barrier cracked, but didn’t break.

  Gaeus grinned at him. “What’s wrong, you shit?!”

  “Tch!”

  Phaedon jumped backward, as Gaeus dismissed the shield and advanced, throwing a flurry of punches. Both his fists were coated in shields now. If one hit Phaedon, it would hurt. Badly.

  His retreated was stopped when one of Gaeus’ goons grabbed him by the arm and locked him in place. Gaeus swung. Phaedon kicked the goon’s leg, slipping him, then dragged him forward, straight into Gaeus’ fist. The punch connected, and the goon was launched back out the alley. Other people screamed and made a commotion, realizing what was going on.

  One down, Phaedon thought. None of the goons seemed to have Blessings, so Gaeus was the only real problem.

  Gaeus and the other two rushed at him, but Phaedon ducked and slid his way past them, positioning himself near one of the walls so he wouldn’t leave his back exposed. Gaeus began to throw another flurry of punches. Phaedon dodged, the man’s fist colliding with the brick wall, leaving deep dents and cracks in it.

  He spared a glance at the two children, huddling in the corner. The brother covering the sister with his body, whispering “it’s going to be alright”.

  Seeing that pissed Phaedon off.

  Phaedon grabbed a piece of crumbling brick from the wall and threw it at Gaeus’ eyes. He managed to catch the piece of rock, but the dust that came with it managed to reach him, and he stumbled back, covering his eyes. Phaedon rushed at one of the remaining goons, landing a solid punch to his side. The man unsheathed a dagger and swung. Phaedon jumped back, the blade grazing his cheek. The other thug strode in, carrying a wooden bat, and swung, landing a hit on Phaedon’s shoulder.

  He was wasting time. He needed to get rid of both thugs before Gaeus recovered.

  Phaedon kicked at the wooden bat thug’s knees, forcing him down. The man with the dagger swung, and Phaedon threw a punch right at the man’s hand. The dagger flew away, but Phaedon’s own hand was cut deeply, blood flying through the air. He didn’t stop. He grabbed the man’s arm and swung him straight at the other thug who was trying to stand back up. Both of them tumbled. Phaedon turned—

  “—Grh!”

  A punch hit him. He managed to block with both his arms, and heard something crack. Phaedon fell to the ground, arms burning in pain. Damn. His left arm was busted badly.

  Gaeus stood before him, a malicious grin on his face. “The fuck you think was gonna happen, huh? What, ya think you could just challenge me and not get your shit kicked in? Ya think you could outsmart me?! That ain’t how this world works, punk!”

  He threw another punch at Phaedon face. He blocked with his already broken left arm. Pain surged like crazy, and he tumbled sideways.

  “That’s what you get,” Gaeus rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “I’m gonna beat that into you, real thorough.”

  Phaedon spat out a tooth, wiped the blood off his mouth, and stood back up. Outsmart him, huh? Well, that was never Phaedon’s specialty. Dumbasses like him only knew how to be callous, impulsive, and rough. He knew that from the word go. But...

  You’re the strongest person I know.

  Those words came to mind. Those words like a curse. He raised his good arm up, ready to fight.

  “The hell you doin’?” Gaeus asked. “Don’t tell me you think you can still win?”

  “Why, you afraid?” Phaedon spat out. “Come on, now. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you too bad. I’m feeling a bit merciful today.”

  Gaeus’ face twisted, and he rushed in. A single punch flew at Phaedon. He waited, and dodged at just the last second, the fist grazing past his head. Phaedon launched a punch straight at Gaeus’ face.

  “Idiot! [Fragma]!”

  Gaeus chanted a spell, and a shield appeared in front of his face. But Phaedon didn’t stop. He screamed as his punch collided with the barrier—

  “Wha—?!”

  —And broke straight through, shattering like glass. The knuckleduster landed straight onto Gaeus’ jaw with as much force as Phaedon could summon out of his own body.

  Gaeus’ jaw had to have been weakened by his first punch. All Phaedon needed to do was break it again.

  The large man wobbled in place, took a few steps back, then fell to the ground, unconscious. Phaedon gasped for breath, exhausted. That last punch had straight up broken the bones on his hand. Had Gaeus not fallen, he’d have lost.

  He knelt down and searched Gaeus’ body until he found his own coin pouch, the one the children had stolen from him. They mentioned giving Gaeus everything they had, so of course it included his pouch.

  Ignoring the pain, Phaedon hobbled over to the two scared children. As always, the brother was standing in front of the sister, hiding her behind his small body. A nasty glare was on his eyes, clearly very distrustful of him despite the fact he just saved them. Well, that was a good attitude to have, generally. Can’t survive long if you weren’t at least a bit distrustful.

  Phaedon threw the pouch at their feet. The boy looked at it, then back at Phaedon, an expression of confusion on his face.

  “Next time you look for trouble, do me a favor and look for it somewhere else,” Phaedon said. “I hate getting involved in bullshit like this.”

  Phaedon walked away from the alley. He didn’t look back to see if the kids did end up taking the money. He didn’t even bother to look at their reactions. He just needed to get out of here before—

  He stopped, seeing an aged butler walk into the alley, standing as if to block his path. The old man looked at the fallen thugs and rubbed his chin.

  “I see you’ve been very busy,” the old man said. “Quite busy indeed.”

  Phaedon sucked in air through his teeth, realizing there was no escaping this. “Good to see you too, Rene.”

  The old man nodded. “I’m sure I need not tell you, but your father has asked me to escort you back to the estate. I’m sure you’ll be cooperative, young master?”

  A group of guards appeared behind Rene and gave a salute to Phaedon. Feeling his entire body exhausted from the fight, Phaedon found no energy to fight them on it, and simply gave a weak nod.