The paper pellet moved.Nobody could see it because its speed gave no time for eyes to follow.What was visible was the result.The young man's head snapped sideways instantly, his body lifting half out of his position before slamming back-first into the wall beside the table, then sliding to the floor in a way that gave no impression the process had been comfortable.Complete silence for two seconds.The young man lifted his head from the floor, his eyes unfocused for a moment. His hand moved to his neck by reflex, and his fingers found something stuck to his skin on the side. He took it off.A tiny paper ball. No bigger than a toy pellet, and on the skin beneath it, a small torn wound with a thin trickle of blood at its edges.The young man stared at the small object in his palm, then stood and swept his gaze across the entire room."WHO DID THIS?!"Nobody answered. Everyone was looking in different directions with the same expression, which was not knowing.His eyes moved from tabl

The next morning, Lein returned to the hollow between the roots of the giant tree and continued from where he had left off.The underground spring he had found wasn't something that could be dug for in a hurry. He learned that on the first day when he tried approaching it too quickly and found that the closer he moved toward it, the further away it seemed.So he stopped approaching.He simply sat with it.The next day, he began to understand that the fog wasn't a barrier. All this time he had been treating it as something to be broken through, a wall that had to be torn down. But fog had no structure that could be torn down. Fog was something that had to be entered.The day after that, he learned the fog's language.Not a language in words. More like a rhythm, like the way breathing follows a heartbeat without ever being commanded to. The spiritual energy moving from the ground beneath him had its own rhythm, and all this time Lein had always been moving to a different rhythm, one he

"This worries me." Victoria didn't take her gaze from the dark window. "Is it possible that bastard is still alive?"Jonathan didn't answer right away. His finger tapped the table once, quietly."With injuries that extensive and spiritual energy completely drained..." He paused. "It's nearly impossible that he survived."The room waited for the rest of the sentence that was clearly coming."But." Jonathan raised his head. "He is the Destroyer Devil. A man who should have died dozens of times based on the reports I've read. And not one of those reports proved it true." He drew a breath. "That's why, even if the most likely scenario is that he's already dead, the search continues until someone finds something concrete."Edmund shifted his gaze from Jonathan to a point in the middle of the table where there was nothing."What about the Supreme Leader? What is he doing right now?""Closed training." Jonathan answered quickly, like a question he had already prepared an answer for. "Nobody

That morning was different from every morning over the past week.No forest to visit. No root hollow waiting. Just the dining table Dorian had set up as usual, with scrambled eggs, toast, and black coffee still steaming.They ate in peace.After the plates were clean and the coffee was gone, Lein stood and picked up a small bag he had prepared before breakfast."I can leave on my own," he said. "No need to go to any trouble."Dorian didn't answer. He had already taken his car keys from the hook on the wall."Dorian. I already said I can leave on my own.""I know you can leave on your own." He turned around. "I still want to take you."Lein looked at him for a moment, then let out a breath."Alright."Honestly, Lein wanted to leave the Varek Continent by flying. It was faster than taking a plane. But since Dorian was insisting, there was nothing he could do except agree.---Aldenmoor Airport wasn't too large for the size of this city, but busy enough for a morning. Dorian had booked t

The room was small and had nothing special to see from its window, just the quiet corridor of the headquarters outside. But tonight, with three plates on the table and the smell of cooking that Lein had never been able to find anywhere else, it felt like exactly the place he needed most.Milady had cooked herself. The head chef at headquarters had offered help twice, and twice it was declined politely but firmly. This wasn't a dinner for guests. This was a dinner for her son who had just come back from a place he should never have gone.Soft, fluffy white rice. Clear fish soup with ginger and thin spring onion on top. Chicken roasted with seasoning whose taste had never changed since Lein was small enough to sit in a chair with his feet not reaching the floor. And chili sauce with no measured amount, because Milady already knew by heart exactly how much her son liked.Lein sat in front of all of it and said nothing for a few seconds."You made too much, Mom.""You're thin." Milady sat