That night was like a violent rainstorm, shattering the silence of the Alchemy Workshop and the tranquility of the Imperial Capital Xinbal.
Years later, Crows were peddling a certain piece of news to News Dealers in the Night Markets found in every corner of the various imperial capitals: The chief knight of the Glorious Seven, Captain Blaine, had fallen under an Evil Spell. Controlled, he led his subordinates into the Alchemy Workshop, defeated Great ntor Guzan, stole the workshop's experintal results, and incurred the king's wrath.
This news seed ordinary, but it contained a wealth of valuable information. The Alchemy Workshop's experintal creation, the defeated Master Guzan, and the Glorious Seven—these seemingly unrelated people and entities were all connected by these profit-seeking Crows. For behind these three, and the events surrounding them, lay the stirring ambitions of others. Powerful forces backed each of them. Now that these individuals and items had vanished from the Imperial Capital Xinbal, the secrets they concealed were scattered across the continent. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ NoveI[F]ire
The spread of this news ushered in a period of prosperity for the Night Market. Suddenly, items such as the Alchemy Workshop's Alchemy Equation, the Great ntor's exchange runes, and armor fragnts from the Glorious Seven—all bearing special Markers—beca popular across the continent, though such items could only truly be found in the Night Market.
The Crows always embellished the truth, twisting it into sothing else entirely. After all, facts are often bland and uninteresting compared to the tales they spun.
Kuyi Tulan took a deep breath. He still rembered everything that happened that night; he would never forget it as long as he lived. This event was a scar upon his heart, and its impact was difficult to express in words. Because of this incident, the title of 'Glorious Seven' was suppressed by His Majesty the King. From then on, the Kayne Empire no longer recognized this honorific. The Alchemy Workshop's status also declined, and the young king's expectations for it dwindled. As for Kuyi Tulan, his entire plan lost its backing. Without the support of His Majesty's treasury, his project was indefinitely shelved. And no one could control the rumors that spread throughout the Empire.
The Night Market offered weapons and armor purportedly from the Glorious Seven, along with Alchemy Equations and residues from the Alchemy Workshop. Kuyi Tulan found himself having to verify these claims at the Night Market from ti to ti. Although he knew that ninety-five percent of what circulated was likely false, he couldn't ignore the five percent possibility. He had to pursue even the smallest chance. This was also what the Great ntor had cautioned him about.
Kuyi Tulan knew the truth was not what the street peddled. The actual events involved no thrilling battles, no atmosphere thick with tension. Captain Blaine of the Glorious Seven had indeed been involved, but he hadn't led his subordinates to attack the Alchemy Workshop. Nevertheless, his n, the Silver Lion Knights, were subsequently utterly forsaken by the enraged king; so were arrested, others scattered. Everything that transpired that night was like ripples spreading across a calm lake—otherwise unremarkable.
Great ntor Guzan had paralyzed Kuyi Tulan's entire body with Heart-Intoxicating Grass, leaving him able to do nothing but whisper. Even now, Kuyi Tulan regarded this as the cruelest of blows: to see and hear everything, yet be unable to move, unable to call for aid, forced only to watch as failure descended. Failure, sothing that should not have been mine, had slowly devoured . This agonizing sensation was a gift from my ntor. I couldn't complain, nor did I have any way to.
Failure was sothing he was fated to confront; he simply hadn't anticipated it arriving so soon, or in such a way.
Only later did Kuyi Tulan understand: Blaine, one of the Glorious Seven, was the Great ntor's 'redy'—a potion that gave those on the brink of despair a reason to live. If he had understood this from the start, perhaps Dastan and the others would not have harbored such resentnt towards his plan. If he had understood this from the start, his plan might not have stalled so completely. If he had understood this from the start, he might not have faced abandonnt by the Great ntor.
But the world offered few 'ifs.' He hadn't considered these things back then, so he could only accept his incapacitation in the laboratory, watching helplessly as the Great ntor and Blaine took his creations away, one by one.
For Kuyi Tulan, it is a sad story.
For Great ntor Guzan, it is also a painful one.
However, for the twenty beings in the Alchemy Workshop—figures more monster than human—it was a ti of solace.
They had originally lost all will to live, rely awaiting further tornt at the hands of the Alchemy Workshop's Kuyi Tulan. They had nowhere else to go. With their grotesque appearances, they would be hunted and ostracized no matter where they fled. Even if soone were willing to shelter them, they knew they would eventually be cast out. They were once warriors of the Empire, its finest protectors; they understood these harsh realities, and they did not wish to bring trouble upon others.
When the Great ntor opened their cages, not one of them stirred. They remained lying or kneeling, utterly devoid of hope.
This sight was unbearable for Guzan. He couldn't imagine the Empire's proud warriors reduced to such a state. They had never feared war, never shied from danger, yet they could not endure being misunderstood and rejected by others.
For those devoid of hope, even the most favorable conditions cannot stir a deadened heart. Thus, even though Kuyi Tulan had implanted Markers in them, allowing him to control them freely, he could not compel their cooperation. Once the heart dies, all is lost. Only by reviving their spirits could hope be rekindled, allowing them, in so asure, to reclaim what they once were.
The Great ntor knew he possessed no such ability. He could not save those dying hearts. He had no thod, nor could he find one. All he could do was help these individuals remove the Markers Kuyi Tulan had implanted within them. To live without hope is already tragic enough; to also lose one's freedom is even more agonizing...
Silently, Great ntor Guzan removed the Markers Kuyi Tulan had implanted in each of the twenty warriors. Every movent felt leaden.
An apology would be useless now. Even if I wished to offer one, I couldn't expect their forgiveness. Regret, too, was futile. What had happened, had happened; no one could alter it. The mory of failing to stop this plan before His Majesty filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt. A guilt that could never be atoned for.
Master Guzan uttered not a single word. The Alchemy Workshop remained deathly silent. No one knew that in that very mont, seeds of hope were being sown in a land of utter despair.
"We bear the faces of monsters. Why have you co here, ntor?" one of them finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Do you also intend for us to serve His Majesty the King, wearing these wretched skins?" another voice added, laden with bitterness.
Resentnt, thus voiced, began to fester and grow, gradually coalescing into a potent hatred. A hatred capable of devouring everything.
"I ca here," Great ntor Guzan began, taking a deep breath, his voice heavy with aning, "solely for all of you."
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