Four days after the harbor burned, Leroy, Lucretius, and Elysius were deployed to the Great Empire of Abyss, deep within the Kimaror Valley. With them came two Vanguard members, D’Hertz and Raidbones. Their task was simple in theory and exhausting in practice: monitor the migration of the Abyssal war-elephants and ensure the herd stayed within its ancient route, never spilling into the wider reaches of All Realm.

  The valley trembled with each step of the beasts. Massive shadows moved like living mountains, tusks curved and scarred, hides etched with old battle marks from forgotten eras.

  Elysius, D’Hertz, and Raidbones treated the sight with reckless familiarity.

  “Hey, D’Hertz,” Elysius said, pointing at the herd, “try your guitar. Find a song worthy of this.”

  “That kind of inspiration can’t be forced,” D’Hertz replied, adjusting the strings. “It has to be felt.”

  “Just admit you’ve got nothing,” Raidbones said, wiping ash from his hammer.

  Raidbones glanced sideways. “By the way, Elysius. Princess Samartian keeps mentioning your name. What’s going on between you two?”

  “How would I know?” Elysius said, hands on his hips. “She’s aggressive.”

  “An aggressive woman won’t bore you,” D’Hertz laughed.

  “She carries centuries of Abyssal zeal in her blood,” Raidbones added, swinging his hammer lazily. “Of course she’s aggressive.”

  “The kind that gives me headaches,” Elysius shot back.

  Their laughter echoed across the valley.

  Not far from them, Leroy and Lucretius stood apart, eyes fixed on the migrating herd. The ground shook beneath their boots, yet neither moved.

  Leroy unfolded a report and held it out. “Lucretius. About security. Have you considered proposing any new programs? You’re the only one who almost never submits anything.”

  Lucretius glanced at the figures. “Are these numbers considered high during peacetime?”

  “High enough to deserve attention,” Leroy replied.

  Lucretius’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “All Realm won’t stay peaceful forever.”

  “No,” Leroy said, “but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to prevent what we can.”

  Lucretius turned his head slightly. “Why have you grown soft?”

  Leroy met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “You weren’t like this during the war.”

  “Times change,” Leroy answered. “In peace, even small conflicts can spiral.”

  Lucretius faced forward again, arms folding across his chest. After a long pause, he said, “I have nothing to propose. Nothing to change.”

  Leroy exhaled sharply. “After Susanoo. After Starfall. After the Colosseum infiltrator. You still think this isn’t important?”

  Lucretius replied coldly. “We did mistake too.”

  “There’s always room for improvement,” Leroy said, his voice tightening. “You’re not a frontline war general anymore. You’re councilman.”

  Lucretius turned fully toward him. “I still command Vanguard.”

  “And you always will,” Leroy shot back. “But fear and reputation won’t hold forever. You need systems.”

  Lucretius’s voice rose, sharp and raw. “I was not made for this.”

  Elysius and the two Vanguard noticed how sharp the argument had become. For a brief instant, the boy activated his foresight. His golden eyes flickered.

  Then he froze.

  He stood silently behind them, caught between the two council members, saying nothing.

  “I’m a soldier too,” Leroy said firmly. “Back when I was still commonfolk, maybe even now. Everything can change, Lucretius.”

  Lucretius’s patience snapped. He turned away. “I’m still not a statesman. Take your ideas to Cygnus or Bjorn.”

  The Fallen Knight waved a hand and called for Raidbones and D’Hertz to follow him. Raidbones hurried after his general, glancing back just long enough to gesture apologetically at Leroy, silently asking him not to take the words to heart.

  “Elysius,” D’Hertz called over his shoulder as he ran, “if you ever get sick of the council, join the Vanguard. There’s still one slot open.”

  Elysius watched them go.

  He then walked back to Leroy, who had sunk down onto a rock, shoulders heavy. The Green Wraith had carried too many burdens these past months. Elysius sat beside him.

  “Big brother,” he said softly, “This will pass.”

  Leroy chuckled dryly. “You can see the future that far ahead now?”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to cheer you up,” Elysius replied. “Besides, everything’s temporary, right?”

  “Yes,” Leroy said, staring at the valley, “but sometimes the temporary feels like forever.”

  Elysius fell quiet.

  After a moment, he spoke again. “I can only see about twenty minutes ahead, you know.”

  “That’s progress,” Leroy said, finally looking at him. “Last year it was fifteen.”

  “According to the Celestial records, this power can reach up to a week,” Elysius said.

  “You’re still young,” Leroy replied, patting his shoulder. “You’ll get there.”

  Leroy went silent after that.

  His thoughts drifted through the events of the past months. The harbor. The council. The near disasters piled one atop another. Too many of them traced back to Vanguard actions, to warlords under Lucretius who knew only command and obedience, never compromise.

  Starmist could not be disturbed.

  Cygnus was unreadable as ever.

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  Speaking with Amaterasu risked sparking a new fire.

  Bjorn was buried somewhere within the affairs of his faction.

  That left only Elysius.

  Leroy realized it was time to speak seriously, not as a superior or a council elder, but as a man trying to understand the ground beneath his feet.

  “Elysius,” he said quietly, “do you think that in times of peace, our abilities and instincts begin to dull?”

  Elysius blinked, caught off guard. He looked at Leroy’s face and saw no trace of jest.

  “Well…” he said slowly, “I’ve never fought in a real war. But I think you’re not wrong.”

  “And what makes you think that?” Leroy pressed.

  Elysius frowned and pointed back at him. “Don’t test me like that. You think I don’t notice what’s going on?”

  “Just answer,” Leroy replied. “Is it really that hard?”

  Elysius exhaled and gave in.

  “Instincts,” he said, “rise or fall depending on the environment. That applies to all living things. If the environment no longer demands them, even a god of war can grow dull. Not because they’re weak, but because their purpose stops being fulfilled.”

  He paused, choosing his words.

  “When that happens, the instinct doesn’t disappear. It adapts. And sometimes it adapts in the wrong direction. That’s when dysfunction appears.”

  Leroy stared at him, genuinely taken aback.

  The explanation sounded like Cogworks theory, but it was spoken with the cadence of a Sorcerer, blending logic with intuition.

  “And if someone can’t adapt?” Leroy asked.

  Elysius scratched the back of his head and grinned. “Really, you ask that? I don’t have an answer for it.”

  Leroy let out a quiet breath and nodded. That was enough. More than enough.

  They stood and walked toward where Lucretius, Raidbones, and D’Hertz were keeping watch over the herd. The Abyssal elephants loomed closer now, massive and ancient, moving with a calm certainty that made councils and titles seem small.

  That morning at the Stargate, Lord Star walked toward to the keep, a folded newspaper in his hand. Several guards followed at a respectful distance. Near the construction site, Njall and his workers paused, waving as their lord passed. Lord Star returned the gesture with a faint smile. The pace of the rebuilding pleased him. Njall, once again, had done his work well.

  He stopped before the small citadel.

  Its door was forged of iron. Most of the tall windows had been sealed with metal bars, all but one. Ten guards stood watch.

  “How has he been these past days?” Lord Star asked the captain.

  “The young lord speaks little, my lord,” the man replied. “At times he laughs and mocks your name.”

  Lord Star nodded. “Open the door.”

  Inside, Starfall sat cross-legged on the floor. Chains bound his wrists and ankles. The room itself was orderly. No shattered walls. No claw marks. No signs of rage spent outward.

  Starfall did not look up as his father entered.

  Lord Star stepped closer and tossed the newspaper at him. It struck Starfall’s chest and slid into his lap.

  His eyes focused.

  The headline burned into him.

  STARFALL PERMANENTLY REMOVED FROM REGAL VANGUARD

  Starfall picked it up with both hands. Lucretius had moved decisively. He crushed the paper in his grip, knuckles whitening, eyes wide.

  Lord Star spoke without warmth. “You are finished son. Your precious Vanguard title is revoked.”

  A low, shaking sound escaped Starfall’s throat. “What did you do?”

  Lord Star frowned, confused by the tone.

  Starfall tore the newspaper apart. With a violent pull, he snapped the chains around his wrists. In a blur, he lunged forward and struck his father. Both men crashed to the floor.

  “What have you done?” Starfall roared. “I would rather rot in the Abyss than lose that title.”

  He hammered his father with his right fist again and again. Guards rushed in, only to be hurled aside like broken dolls, slammed back into the walls of the chamber.

  Lord Star’s hand ignited. Pale stellar light flared from his palm. He struck back once.

  The blow sent Starfall flying across the room. He hit the stone hard. Blue blood streamed from his nose.

  The guards pulled Lord Star to his feet. The old man’s voice trembled with fury.

  “You still think I hold all the power here?” he said. “Your narrow mind cannot grasp it. The council stands above us all.”

  Starfall did not rise.

  For the first time since the harbor burned, since blood and fire followed his footsteps, he broke.

  He sobbed.

  Not for the loss of his inheritance.

  Not for the loss of his father’s name.

  But for the loss of the Vanguard title.

  The only place where he had been allowed to be himself.

  Lord Star turned away. “Seal the last window. Chain him fully. Not just his hands and feet. Everything. Until he regains control.”

  The guards obeyed at once. Iron bars slid into place. Fresh chains wrapped around Starfall’s body as he lay shaking on the floor, grief breaking him in quiet, uneven breaths.

  Lord Star watched until it was done.

  He walked back alone toward the main keep.

  Along the way, Lord Star summoned Njall, the Cogworks apprentice, and instructed him to add several new guard posts around Starfall’s prison. Njall listened carefully, nodding as he committed the details to memory.

  Near the garden path, Sicilia noticed the bruises on Lord Star’s face. She stopped at once and asked after his condition. Lord Star answered with a calm smile, assuring her that he was fine, then asked her to send his regards to Cygnus.

  Sicilia watched him go. From a distance, Njall paused in his work and looked at her with open curiosity, sensing something unspoken in the air.

  Lord Star reached the family chamber.

  Inside, only Starmist and young Starlax were present, sitting together and reading from the same book. Starlax looked up at once, eyes widening at the marks on her father’s face. She started to speak, worry spilling across her expression, but Lord Star smiled gently and stroked her hair, wordlessly assuring her that everything was fine.

  A moment later, he asked her to go outside and play for a while. He wished to speak with her aunt alone.

  Starlax nodded and ran off toward the garden.

  When the door closed, Lord Star sank into a cushioned seat, letting his body finally rest.

  “Starmist,” he said, his voice low, “I want to arrange a meeting with the other Houses of the Extraterrestrial faction. Is that possible?”

  “Yes,” Starmist replied. Then she hesitated. “But there is something you should know first.”

  Lord Star looked at her, attention sharpening. She continued.

  “A few days ago, Lord Umbrion, Lord Necrit, and Lady Pharsa went to the council by invitation,” she said. “Elysius informed me. They offered themselves as temporary stewards of the faction while our situation remains unstable.”

  Lord Star’s hand tightened on the armrest. “They answer the council first?” he said sharply. “That should have been discussed internally, with us.”

  “Their move was hasty,” Starmist said softly. “And their intent was clear. They wanted to exploit our weakness and rise as permanent leaders.”

  Lord Star exhaled slowly, anger mixing with weary disbelief. “And the council’s response?”

  “Cygnus, Bjorn, and Lucretius confronted them openly,” Starmist answered, folding her fingers together. “According to Elysius, the three House leaders left the chamber pale and shaken.”

  Lord Star let out a long breath.

  The council truly had gone to great lengths to preserve his family’s image.

  Starslayer entered the room with a newspaper in hand. He took a seat directly across from his father, his expression flat as ever.

  “Father,” he asked, “where is Mother?”

  “She went to Takamagahara to clear her mind,” Lord Star replied. “She left last night.”

  Starslayer nodded once, then moved to his real concern. “Father, I think you should remove Sicilia, Njall, and the others from outside factions who remain in our household. They’ve seen too much.”

  “The council is already conducting its own purge of witnesses,” Lord Star said calmly. “And for now, I still need them here.”

  Starslayer did not press aggressively, as he usually would. “It’s too risky. I overheard your discussion about the three Houses trying to take our position. People from other factions can be bribed.”

  “If you believe bribes alone can sway them,” Lord Star replied evenly, “then that is precisely why I intend to convene the other Houses and figure this openly.”

  Starmist remained silent, observing the exchange without comment.

  “Starslayer,” Lord Star continued, “you will accompany me to that meeting.”

  “Of course, Father,” Starslayer said, a smile forming as he looked between his father and his aunt. “I won’t disappoint you.”

  Starlax wandered toward the structure Njall was overseeing, her footsteps light and curious. She called out to the Cogworks apprentice, asking him to keep her company for a while. Njall gave his final instructions to the workers with quick, precise gestures, then leapt down from the scaffolding. The iron Cogworks gauntlets on his arms extended their fingers as he moved, allowing him to land with ease.

  “Young lady, it’s dangerous here,” he said, glancing at the half-built frame. “You shouldn’t come too close.”

  “Come play with me,” Starlax replied, smiling brightly. “I’m bored.”

  Njall shook his head at first. Work came before leisure. But then he noticed Sicilia approaching from the far path. The sight of her made him hesitate. With a quiet sigh, he relented, agreeing to step away for a short while and guiding Starlax away from the construction site.

  Sicilia continued on alone.

  She walked toward the small citadel where Starfall was confined. As she drew closer, she heard raised voices from within. Shouts, fractured words, something that sounded uncomfortably close to sobbing. Her expression did not change.

  With a subtle incantation, she altered her appearance, reshaping herself into the likeness of one of the guards. She saluted the others in passing, receiving their acknowledgment without suspicion.

  Then she stopped beside the chamber.

  She did not enter.

  She stood there quietly, listening.