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"It’s the old burning man."
Leon spotted him first.
On the outskirts of the emperor’s castle, just beyond the barrier’s edge, a charred figure was making his way toward them. Slow and steady, one foot after the other, like the walk had been going on for a long ti and he intended to finish it regardless.
Leon watched him for a mont.
He rembered the previous experience with this place. The barrier, the resistance, the way it pushed back against anything that ca at it uninvited. He stayed where he was, skeptical, not moving to close the distance.
Then Zeke’s figure rose into the sky.
He flew up without a word, crossing the space between them quickly, and landed just ahead of the charred man. His eyes dropped to the canister in the burning man’s hands. Took it in.
"Give us a few minutes. We’ll be out."
"Ah? Okay."
The burning man stepped back and lowered himself to the ground, sitting down on the dirt without complaint. His posture was the kind that had stopped expecting comfort a long ti ago.
So minutes passed.
Then the barrier fell.
The group ca out of the forest side by side, stepping through the treeline into open air. The burning man got to his feet as they approached, eyes moving across the group one by one, taking stock of who had co out and who hadn’t.
Then his gaze landed on Nibbleskin.
He went still.
The divine energy radiating off the small white feline was not subtle. It pressed against the air around him like sothing with mass, steady and unmistakable, the signature of sothing that sat well above anything a person should casually encounter on the side of a road.
The old man’s expression pulled together. Skepticism, caution, the beginning of a complaint forming behind his eyes.
Then he looked at the faces of everyone else.
Nobody seed alard. Nobody was tense. Raven had two fingers resting in Nibbleskin’s fur like she was sitting in a garden sowhere. Enzo looked like he hadn’t slept properly in several voyages.
The burning man closed his mouth.
Swallowed whatever he was going to say.
Fine.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Back on Gaia.
The planet-wide tournant for the hunter gas had gone into full swing.
Many groups fought across isolated territories, spread out across the planet’s surface in clusters that rarely crossed paths. From those scattered battles, five hunting parties were being ford, each one built from blood and positioning and a great deal of careful maneuvering.
The gas were primarily designed for the royals closest to the high god of Gaia. But they also created loyalties. Real ones, the kind that lasted. And the winner walked away with sothing beyond title or territory.
Incredible power.
So before the gas could even begin, fifty top-level talents had to be identified and chosen. The process had consud the planet in Enzo’s absence. Politics bleeding into competition, competition bleeding into sothing that looked almost like war if you squinted.
This was what had occurred on Gaia while they were gone.
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"The ice wall has seen a lot of changes in the past few days."
"Yes, yes. The prince of the left’s son is climbing at a rapid pace. When he becos a tyrant, he would be a real asset to the throne."
"He’s doing well, sure. But you can’t compare him to the son of the Dawn Sword. He’s been number one for years. That’s not a coincidence."
The grand dining table was long and set with the kind of food that made it easy to forget the world outside was actively burning with competition. Candles, wine, plates arranged with too much care.
Several mbers of the royal court sat eating.
The prince of the right, Garnet.
The prince of the left, Longdan.
The Sword of Dawn.
The vice president of the Freedom Party.
All of them seated. All of them watching each other with the particular kind of attention that never fully switched off, even over a al.
In actuality, all of them were connected to Gaia in so way. So were her own children. Others were more distant but no less powerful, branches of sothing old stretching far enough that the original root was hard to trace.
Gaia was a powerful woman.
Naturally, she had borne children for multiple n she deed worthy over the course of her long life. She had never apologized for it and nobody with sense had ever asked her to.
"You can all stop tooting your horns."
Her voice ca from the head of the table, cutting through the chatter without effort.
"None of them are back yet. For all you know, your children might be dead. Or worse, corrupted."
She said it plainly. No particular cruelty in it, just fact laid out on the table like another dish nobody had ordered.
The table went quiet for a mont.
She looked down the length of it at all of them. These children of hers. Brilliant in their own ways, ambitious certainly, each one already asuring the throne from where they sat like she hadn’t noticed. Like she hadn’t been watching them do exactly this for longer than most of them had been alive.
They thought they would fill her shoes.
Which of them understood what it ant to persevere for as long as she had? Which of them had ever faced sothing that actually wanted them gone? Not politically. Not from a rival house.
True extermination.
The kind that didn’t leave anything behind to rebuild from.
Not one of them.
She picked up her glass of wine. Turned it once in her fingers. Let the silence at the table stretch a little longer than was comfortable.
’They’re already asuring for a grave.’
It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so familiar.
"Besides." She brought the glass up toward her mouth. Her voice dropped, not quite loud enough to carry past herself. "I already have a favorite in mind."
She drank.
Nobody heard it.
That was fine.
She wasn’t saying it for them.
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