2026-09-15 07:40:06Not long after Derek left the mountain, he arrived in Blue Lake City, and the moment he stepped through the main road leading into the heart of the city, his eyes widened because everything had changed so much since the day he left fifteen years ago that he almost did not recognize the place anymore.
Blue Lake had always been a decent city back then, a place where families lived comfortably and where merchants traded goods without too much trouble, but now it had become something else entirely, something far bigger and far more modern than Derek had ever imagined it could be.
Everywhere he looked, there were tall skyscrapers made of glass and steel that stretched so high into the sky they seemed to touch the clouds, and the streets were filled with luxurious cars that moved smoothly along wide roads that had been paved perfectly without a single crack or bump. The buildings were clean and bright, their walls covered in advertisements and digital screens that flashed images and colors Derek had never seen before, and people walked past him dressed in expensive clothes, talking on phones, carrying bags from stores he did not recognize, living lives that looked nothing like the life he had been living on the mountain for the past fifteen years.
He stopped on the sidewalk for a moment and just stared.
This was the world Patricia West had been living in while he had been grinding herbs and learning medicine in a stone room on a mountain that most people did not even know existed.
No wonder she had sent him that letter.
No wonder she had decided to cancel the marriage arrangement without a second thought.
Who would want to stay tied to someone like him when they had access to all of this? Who would want to marry a man with no family, no money, no status, and no future when they could walk through a city like this and have everything they ever wanted within reach?
Derek did not blame her for the decision.
He was not angry about it, and he was not hurt by it either, because the truth was simple and clear: Patricia had moved forward with her life, and Derek had spent fifteen years standing still.
Still, he was not here because of the marriage.
He was here because Master Zachariah had told him to heal Old Master West, and Derek had never ignored his master's instructions before, so he was not going to start now.
He pulled the small card from his pocket, looked at the address Master Zachariah had written on the back of the letter, and began walking toward the West family estate.
It did not take him long to find it.
The estate sat at the edge of the wealthiest part of Blue Lake City, surrounded by tall iron gates and thick stone walls that stretched for what looked like miles in both directions. The main gate was massive, at least fifteen feet tall, with gold-trimmed designs carved into the iron and a security camera mounted above it that tracked his movements the moment he stepped close enough.
Derek stopped in front of the gate and looked up at it.
This was not just a house.
This was the home of one of the Five Gods of War, a family that commanded armies, controlled borders, and held more power than most governments.
He reached forward and pressed the alarm bell five times.
No one answered.
He waited, still no one, he pressed it again.
This time, after a few long seconds, the massive gate began to open with a low mechanical hum, and Derek stepped back as the iron doors slowly swung inward to reveal a long stone path that led toward the main house in the distance.
However before he could take a single step forward, he saw three people walking toward him from the other side of the gate.
The first was a woman in her late forties, dressed in an elegant dark blue gown that probably cost more than most families made in a year, her hair tied back in a neat bun, her posture straight and proud as she walked with slow, deliberate steps. Beside her was a tall man with broad shoulders and graying hair, wearing a dark suit that fit him perfectly, his face calm and serious as he walked beside the woman with one hand resting lightly on her lower back. And walking just ahead of them both, moving faster than the other two, was a younger woman dressed in a full military uniform with so many badges and medals pinned across her chest that Derek could see them glinting in the sunlight even from a distance.
Patricia West.
Derek had seen a picture of her once, many years ago, when she had still been a child and the marriage arrangement had first been made, but the woman walking toward him now looked nothing like that little girl.
She was tall, strong, and carried herself with the kind of confidence that only came from winning battles and earning respect through blood and sweat. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid, her jaw was set, and her eyes were sharp and cold as they locked onto Derek the moment she stepped through the gate.
He could tell immediately, even before she opened her mouth, that she was angry.
Furious, even.
Patricia stopped a few feet away from him, her parents coming to a halt just behind her, and the moment she spoke, her voice was filled with venom.
"What did I tell you?" she snapped. "I told you not to show your lazy face here again. Did you not get my message?"
Derek opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say a single word, Patricia's father stepped forward and spoke in a low, steady voice that carried just as much anger as his daughter's.
"So you got my daughter's message, and you still had the audacity to show yourself here?" He crossed his arms over his chest and looked Derek up and down like he was inspecting something worthless. "I knew it. I knew the moment you received that letter, you would come crawling here looking for trouble."
Patricia's mother stepped forward next, her eyes narrowing as she looked Derek over from head to toe, and when she spoke, her tone was sharp and dismissive.
"How much do you need?" she asked. "I know you must need money. Who would not need money when you have no family anymore, no background, no status, nothing at all? So stop playing games and stop beating around the bush. Just tell us how much you need, and we will give it to you so you can leave."
Derek remained still, his face calm, but before he could respond, Patricia exploded.
"You are not going to give him a dime," she said, her voice rising as she glared at her mother. "He does not deserve it. I already made a mistake years ago when I accepted that marriage proposal, but I was young and foolish, and my grandfather was the one who pushed for it. But now? Fifteen years later? How would you expect me to get entangled with someone like him, someone who does not even come close to my status?"
She stepped even closer to Derek, her eyes burning with anger, and the military uniform she wore only made her look more intimidating as the badges on her chest caught the light and reflected it back toward him.
"I am a War Goddess," she said coldly. "I command armies. I protect this country. I have earned everything I have through my own strength, and I will not let some nobody from a dead family drag me down."
Immediately Derek looked at her for a moment, then sighed and shook his head.
"Will you guys just cut off all of this?" he said, his voice calm but firm. "First and foremost, let me make one thing very clear: I am not here because of the marriage."
Patricia's eyes narrowed.
"I got your message," Derek continued. "And I accept it. One hundred percent. I am not here to argue with you, and I am not here to beg you to change your mind."
Before he could say another word, Patricia cut him off.
"Then what the hell are you doing here?" she snapped. "If you got my message, and you accept it, then you have no business being at this gate. So why are you standing here wasting my time?"
Derek did not look at her.
His eyes moved past her, toward the large estate behind her, and when he spoke again, his voice was steady and clear.
"I am here because of Old Master West," he said. "Specifically, I was told that I should come here to heal him. That is the only reason I am here, not because of the marriage. I am not going to force you to do what you do not want to do."
He finally looked back at Patricia, his expression calm and unshaken.
"Please lead me to where Old Master West is."
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Chapters 100
Inside, Derek washed his face. The water was cold, and it woke him up a little, and he changed his shoes — the ones still wet from the dew — and he stood there for a moment in the quiet room, looking at nothing, thinking about what she had said."Be careful."The first kind thing she had ever said to him. And now he had a choice to make, and he knew it, and he made it anyway.Kane's house. Nine o'clock. The book. The name. Vic, who had days and not weeks. Or the old man. Who had asked for him. Who had said, tell him I remember. He couldn't do both. He'd told himself all afternoon that he could — go to the old man first, be quick, be back by nine — but standing there in the quiet room, he knew that was a lie he was telling himself. Visits to dying men were never quick.Derek walked to the West mansion. He didn't run. He didn't hurry. He passed the market on the way, the stalls coming down, and he checked the clock above the square. Past eight. He still had time, if he was quick. If fiv
chapter 99
Derek left the old quarter with the sun going down.He'd told Samuel to leave tonight, and Samuel had nodded, slow, like a man agreeing to something he didn't want to agree to, and Harold had put a hand on his shoulder, and that was that. There wasn't anything else to say. Derek walked back through the lane, past the baskets and the cooking fires, and the smoke hung low, and it got in his eyes, and he didn't bother rubbing it out.The market was closing. The stalls were coming down, the traders packing up, and a woman was shouting at a boy who'd knocked over a basket of oranges, and the boy was laughing, and the woman was trying not to laugh, and Derek walked past all of it and thought about what he'd say to Kane at nine o'clock. He'd ask about the house on the hill first. See what he said. If he knew it, then the name in his book — the one that was scratched out — it lived in that house. And if he didn't know it — Derek didn't finish the thought. He never finished that thought. He ju
chapter 98
Derek hadn't slept. He hadn't eaten since yesterday, either, and his stomach knew it. His shoes were wet with dew from the walk, his coat smelled of the room under the house — dust and old herbs — and his eyes burned every time he blinked. He stood at the estate gate and waited for Harold, and the waiting was the worst part, because there was nothing to do but think, and thinking kept coming back to the same thing.The footsteps. In the house. Above him.He kept hearing them. Even now, in the quiet morning, with nothing around him but the gate and the road and the first smoke rising from the market. He kept hearing them.A car stopped at the corner. Harold got out, out of breath, carrying a paper bag."Young Master." Harold held the bag out. "Bread. Still warm. I didn't know if you'd eaten, and you never eat when you're —""I haven't," Derek said. He took the bread. It was warm. He tore off a piece and ate it standing there at the gate, and it was the best thing he'd tasted in days, w
Chapter 97
Derek walked to the estate in the dark.He did not go home. He did not call Harold. He walked through the quiet streets, past the closed shops and the shuttered stalls, and the key sat heavy in his pocket with every step. The city was asleep. The only sound was his own footsteps, and once, far away, a dog barking. He passed the market, its stalls covered and dark, and the river, black and still under the night sky. A night watchman stood at a corner, half asleep, and did not see him pass.He thought about the key, and about the room under the house, and about Vic, who had days and not weeks. The key had waited fifteen years. Vic could not wait. That was why Derek was walking now, and not tomorrow.The estate gates stood open. Derek walked through them and across the courtyard, and the house rose up in front of him, dark and silent. He had been here before, in the daylight, with Harold waiting at the gate. Now there was no one. The windows were dark. The front door was shut.Derek push
Chapter 96
In the morning, Derek went to the old quarter to see Samuel.The old quarter sat behind the market, down a narrow lane where the houses leaned close together and the air smelled of smoke and cooking oil. Derek had been there once before, in the dark, three nights ago. Now he came in daylight, and the lane was full of people carrying baskets and buckets, and children running between the stalls.Samuel's room was at the end of the lane, a small room with a wooden door and a window covered by a piece of cloth. Derek knocked. The door opened, and Samuel stood there, blinking in the daylight, his grey hair uncombed, his worn jacket hanging loose on his shoulders."You came back," Samuel said."Yes," Derek said.Samuel stepped aside and let him in. The room was small and bare — a bed, a wooden chair, a lantern by the door, a clay cup on the floor. Samuel sat down on the edge of the bed, and Derek sat on the chair across from him."I have been thinking since you came," Samuel said. "About th
Chapter 95
At nine o'clock, Derek stood outside the tall iron gate.He had walked the last three streets alone. Harold had driven him as far as the corner and waited there, the way Derek had told him to, and Derek had walked the rest on foot. He had stopped twice, once at a shop window and once at a street corner, and listened for footsteps behind him. There were none. The street was quiet.He passed the warehouse district on the way. Warehouse 7 stood dark and quiet by the river, and the smell of diesel and fish hung in the air. The ledger was still in the office drawer. The wage note was still folded in his pocket. Derek kept walking.The gate did not open. Derek stood outside it and waited. A full minute passed. Then another. The house was dark and quiet behind the iron bars, and no one came. Derek did not knock. He did not call out. He stood still, and he waited, and he thought about the book sitting on Kane's desk, and about the trap he had walked into — or the deal.Then the gate opened, a
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