The hallway was quiet. Just a few steps from Logan’s door, Rowan stood still—his bow unfinished.
Logan blinked in confusion. "What are you doing, prince?"
Rowan slowly straightened, eting Logan’s eyes.
"I never got the chance to say it properly," he said. "So... thank you."
Logan blinked. "For what?"
"For saving my life," Rowan replied. "Twice. In one day."
His voice wasn’t grand or theatrical—just honest. Quiet. The weight of it settled between them.
Logan smiled politely. "You make it sound like I showed rcy. Just like you couldn’t let people die, I couldn’t either. I did what I had to."
Rowan gave a half-smile. "You didn’t. But still it ans a lot."
He took a breath, looking down the hall briefly, then back at Logan.
"I wanted to protect everyone. But today, I couldn’t even protect myself. If you weren’t there, I wouldn’t be standing here. I wouldn’t be able to co back to my sister."
Logan didn’t reply imdiately. The silence stretched for a mont.
"I wasn’t trying to be a hero," Logan finally said. " I couldn’t let a person die, who brought his people’s safety before his own. And...." Logan paused for a second. "I made a promise to your sister, which I almost failed to keep."
Rowan raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "My sister?"
"Yes. She wouldn’t leave without you. So I made a promise to bring you back safely." Logan replied.
A light breeze passed through the hallway from an open window nearby. It carried the faint scent of flowers from the palace gardens, softening the tension just a little.
Rowan nodded once more, his tone lowering.
"She is always concerned about . That’s one more thing I am grateful for. Or else she would have never left. And if she followed to the fight, then...." He couldn’t finish the sentence. "I really don’t know how I will ever repay you."
Logan gave a small shrug. "Don’t jump straight into a fight and get yourself killed again. That’ll do for now, Prince."
That made Rowan laugh. Not loudly, but sincerely.
"Deal."
He stepped back and gave Logan a respectful nod, not a bow this ti—but it felt heavier sohow. More personal.
"I’ll let you rest. Big day tomorrow."
As Rowan turned and was about to leave, he stopped again thinking sothing. "Just call ’Roawn’ from now onwards." He turned back and told Logan.
"Ha! No way, Prince. I wouldn’t dare. You aren’t just Prince but my senior as well. I can never be that bold." Logan replied. He was totally shocked hearing what Rowan just said.
"Co on now, Logan. Age is just a number. What matters is our goal that brings people of the sa flock together. And I think, ours is oddly similar. So don’t let a title be a obstacle." Rowan waved back while turning and walked away. He didn’t wait for Logan’s reply.
Logan kept staring in the direction Rowan walked away. And a smile crept on his face.
He turned toward the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.
The room was quiet and dim. A single wall crystal gave off a soft glow, and a small fire crackled gently in the hearth, filling the space with warmth. The faint rustle of wind brushed in from the open window.
Logan closed the door behind him with a quiet click.
He didn’t bother changing.
He then walked straight to the bed, dropped onto it like a stone, and stared at the ceiling.
Everything felt heavy—not just his limbs, but his thoughts. His mind kept turning, even though his body begged for rest.
Three days.
That’s all it had been since the Arcadia Tournant began. But it felt like weeks.
The first two days had been a whirlwind of battles and attention. The third—today—was sothing else entirely.
A dungeon break. Chaos. A fight for survival in the heart of the capital.
And the Orc.
He’d fought to protect, to fulfill a promise, to stop a massacre. He almost died back there.
But what lingered in his mind wasn’t the fight, or his death.
It was the ash.
The way the Orc crumbled, it was normal, sure. But the ash from its corpse wasn’t.
It had sothing unknown to this present era.
It was spiritual energy.
Faint, but it was there for sure.
Though he knew about it, he himself cultivated with it, he never expected it to be present in a monster’s corpse.
"And that Orc! It wasn’t just strong," Logan whispered.
"It was strategising. That ans, it had intelligence."
He turned onto his side, frowning slightly. His eyes remained open, watching the flicker of the firelight across the far wall.
"Could soone be enhancing dungeon creatures? Could monsters be... evolving?"
He didn’t know. And that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Logan exhaled slowly.
He tried to stay focused. To connect the pieces. But sleep was already creeping in.
His thoughts blurred.
His body gave in before his mind did.
And before he even realized it—Logan was asleep.
The fire crackled on.
And the silence of the room embraced him.
At the sa ti....
Far beneath the royal palace, in a cold underground chamber, two n were chained to the wall.
The air was damp.
One of the n had a jagged scar running down his face. His eyes were tired. So of his nails were uprooted. There were many cut marks all over his body. It was Zacharia. The mastermind behind the assassination attempt of Rowan.
The other man barely moved. His body was also covered in sa type of injuries.
Footsteps echoed. Two hooded figures entered the chamber. One of them carried a small tal box. It rattled slightly, hinting at the sharp tools inside.
Zacharia looked up and gave a tired smile.
"Back again? I was starting to miss you," he said weakly.
The box opened with a click. One of the two newcors made a hand gesture.
And with that, the other restrained man beside Zacharia, began to shake. His body reacted instantly. The chains shackling them, glowed red and tightened.
Zacharia also winced. But he didn’t scream.
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