Somewhere in the pins…

  Ian reached into his rough, well-worn bag and fished out the st stos weight pressing against his palm.

  With a muted exhale, he crouched and pced it carefully onto the ground, aligning it precisely with the others before stepping back to examine his work. The polished surface of the stone pulsed faintly, the are energy within barely perceptible—but it was there, waiting.

  “Finally,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his shoulders to shake off the dull ache creeping into his limbs.

  All around him, the ndscape buzzed with movement. Hundreds of pyers—some shining pte, others in flowing robes—scurried across the vast clearing, their silhouettes trasting against the light of the sun.

  The makeshift ritual grounds stretched for miles, a sprawling mass of activity, where teams diligently pced simir stones iiculous patterns. It was an enormous, anized chaos, each fa pying its part in what was surely the prologue to something far greater.

  Beyond the sea of workers, near a small, grassy hill, a cluster e, heavy-duty tents stood like ominous watchtowers over the operation.

  The banners rippling against the wind had the insignia of Queen Irwen’s army. Some tents beloo her, others to her chosen generals, their octs hidden withiing up the war mae that Ian now found himself a cog in.

  His bag y, he turned and strode toward the as, his boots g against the dirt-packed ground, avoiding to dispg any of the stones.

  Inside one of the rger tents, the atmosphere was deh expectation. The air carried the faint st of part and wax-sealed maps, mingling with the rich leather of chairs dragged hastily into formation around a tral table. The pyers of Vainqueurs Imbattables, the guild he had only retly joined, were gathered here, preparing before the stage of the campaign.

  “Done?”

  The voice came from the woman cloaked in gray-bck fabric, her tone smooth. Ian’s gaze flickered toward her, noting how her hood cast deep shadows over her features, revealing only the fai glimmer of a grih the fabric.

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  She ined her head ever so slightly in aowledgment before her gaze drifted past him, out toward the camp beyond. “What’s going on?” he asked, following her line of sight, though he couldn’t yet see what had piqued her i.

  “You’ll see,” she murmured, her grin widening just enough for him to glimpse her white teeth in the darkness of her hood.

  Ian tensed instinctively. He had learned not to uimate her—not after she had beaten him in bat with such ease that it still made his stomach twist in frustration.

  Shorter than him, lean, and unassuming at first gnce, she moved like a shadow—her daggers a seamless extension of her will, cutting with precision honed by skill rather than brute force. He had trained under a master of sword, yet even he had not left him as humiliated as she had.

  The memory of their duel cwed its way to the surface, spontaneous.

  The flicker of her movements too fast to track the cold press of a bde against his throat before he had even parried. Ia out a slow, trolled breath and pushed down the lingering sting of defeat.

  Every new guild member has to get humiliated, so at least he wasn’t alone in that.

  The air crackled with anticipation as the st of the pyers and soldiers stepped back, their task plete. The massive, intricate formation of stones now y in perfect alig, spanning miles in every dire. Eae pulsed faintly with stored energy, waiting for the catalyst that would awakerue purpose.

  At the ter of it all, moving with deliberate, regal grace, was Queen Irwen herself.

  The embroidery on her flowing robes shimmered uhe sunlight, giving her a glow as she made her way to the heart of the ritual circle.

  Her presence alone seemed to shift the atmosphere, an invisible weight pressing down on Ian’s chest. Even the most hardened warriors and experienced pyers in the camp lowered their heads as she passed, as if the very air bent to her will.

  Ian swallowed, brag himself for whatever came . “So it begins,” a deep voice rumbled beside him.

  Ian flinched, startled—he hadn’t heard anyone approach. He turned sharply to find himself standio Dmitry, The Hero of the Fme-God. The man was a looming presence, draped in a long beige robe that cealed the bulk of his battle-hardened frame. His head gleamed uhe pale glow of the magical lights, the few stray hairs that stubbornly g to his scalp doing little to mask his otherwise bald .

  “Good job, Ian,” Dmitry tinued, his deep brown eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Infiltrating the fort must not have been easy.”

  Ia out a weary sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sadly, I got burned,” he admitted, frustration clear in his tone. “I apologize for the failure.”

  Dmitry threw his head bad let out a booming, belly-deep ugh. “Oh, burned indeed!” His thin lips curled into a smirk, the motion deepening the angur wrinkles lining his face. Ian fought the urge to shrink under his gaze. “Have you reached level eleven as I asked?” Dmitry’s tourned sharp, his eyes narrowing with sudden iy.

  Before Ian could ahe world around them shifted. Queen Irwen raised a single hand, and the very air trembled in response.

  A shockwave erupted from her, radiating outward with a literal physical force. The vas of the nearby tents strained against their poles, fpping wildly like trapped birds. Ian staggered, his boots skidding slightly across the dirt as the invisible pressure crashed into him like the o of a violent storm.

  His breath caught in his throat as raw, golden energy gathered at the queen’s feet. It twisted and writhed, tendrils of pure mana surging across the ritual circle like veins of liquid fire.

  The stones responded in kind.

  One by ohey ignited—fring to life in a casg rea, each abs and amplifying the are energy c through them. The process was slow, ing only a handful at a time.

  There were tens of thousands of them.

  With each passing sed, the ritual intensified, the air growing thick with tangible power. Ian forced himself to remain steady, g his fists at his sides to ground himself against the sheer magnitude of it all.

  “Yes,” he finally managed, his voice steady despite the chaos surrounding them. “I reached level eleven.”

  Dmitry exhaled sharply through his nose, pleased. “Good. Your service is appreciated.” He tilted his head slightly, the sharp angles of his face casting deep shadows uhe flickering golden glow. “Now, you’ll serve in a new way.”

  Ian stiffened, unsure whether that was a threat or an opportunity.

  Dmitry’s smirk widened, a cruel amusement flickering in his pierg brown eyes. “It’s a promotion,” he said smoothly, the weight of his words sinking like stones in Ian’s gut. “You’re moving up into the middle guild ranks. From this moment forward…”

  His heavy hand nded on Ian’s shoulder, the grip firm—unyielding, like shackles snapping shut. “You will be Imbattable.”

  A moment passed, the world hanging on the edge of something unseen.

  Then Dmitry added, almost casually, “I reeing your reality limit to one pert.”

  Before Ian could eveioatement, fire erupted from where Dmitry’s haed.

  The heat was instantaneous, searing through his armor like it was nothing more than part, lig up his shoulder and ing his chest in an inferno of crimson. Ian’s breath hitched, eyes widening in raw, unfiltered shock.

  His entire body screamed as fmes danced hungrily over his skin, spreading too fast, too violent.

  He staggered, trying to move, to do something, but the fire had already taken root inside him. His nerves fred like live wires, sending jolts of pain through every fiber of his being. His reality limit was still set to ten pert, so it wasn’t unbearable—not like it would be at full iy—but it was real enough.

  And he didn’t uand.

  Through the r agony, Ian turned his disbelieving gaze toward Dmitry, his expression raw with inprehension.

  Why?

  Dmitry met his eyes with a wry smile, pletely unbothered by the suffering unraveling before him. “Every member has to give me power,” he expined, his tone light, almost versational, as if he were discussing guild logistics rather than a burning man in front of him. “It’s only a day out of the game for you… but ay of strength for me.”

  Ian’s fingers curled into fists, his nails biting into what little flesh remained uncharred. He tried to speak, but his throat was already raw from the heat, his breath ing in ragged, basps.

  “Why… not… tell… sooner?” he managed, his voice barely a rasp, each sylble choked out between the searing waves of pain. His skin boiled as the fire ed him whole.

  Dmitry’s smirk didn’t waver. “You could’ve gotten scared, my friend.”

  Ian wao curse him, wao sh out—wao do anything—but his body was no longer his own. His muscles gone, his bouro embers, and then—

  His lungs burned away.

  There was no more breath. No more sound.

  Only fire.

  And then, nothing.

  [You died.]In Ngogeon…

  “So,” the prince pressed, his tone sharpening, “use me now, or never.”

  I slowed, staring down at the elegant, insufferable ring ed snugly around my finger. Suspi coiled in my gut. “What do you mean, use you?” My voice dripped with irritation as I flexed my fingers. “The cooldown’s still tig down. Unless I suddenly grew ara twenty hours of patience ht, I ’t exactly magic time forward.”

  “You charge the ring with mana. In about a minute.”

  I stopped dead. Blihen, with an exaggerated flourish, flung my hand out as if about to unch the priraight into the bog water. “What?” I demanded, my disbelief practically crag the trees of the damp dungeon. “And you couldn’t have mentiohis ba the treasury when I was actively being hunted?”

  A deep, satisfied chuckle echoed through my mind. A prince’s ugh, polished and deliberate, like a man who had never once been invenienced in his life. “Oh, I could have.”

  I narrowed my eyes, resisting the urge to actually throw my fist into the ree. “But?”

  His amusement lingered, his voice taking on that maddeningly smug tone I was starting to hate—which was impressive, sidering he irit. “It damages me and decreases the quality rather rapidly, so, until now, I saw no reason to tell you.”

  I ched my jaw so hard my teeth might just turn to diamond. “So let me get this straight,” I said, my voice the kind of calm that preceded rge-scale property destru. “You had a desperation-fueled emergency mana recharging fun this eime—but it’s bad for you, so you decided to keep it to yourself?”

  The ring practically radiated smugness. “You’ve grasped the cept splendidly.”

  I pihe bridge of my nose, inhaled deeply, thehe exhale do the talking. “And now you’re it. Why?”

  There ause—just long enough to be suspicious. Then, his voice, softer. “Because so’s existence will be pointless.”

  That sobered me up faster than a sp to the face.

  “We better use the time then,” I whispered, more to myself than the ring, before pulling up my friend’s list.

  Lisa was online. Perfect.

  [Charlie] Lisa <3 I’m ready to port you.[Lisa] where we meet?[Charlie] Where are you? ^^[Lisa] (sending sshot)[Charlie] Be there right away!I smirked. Finally, something going my way.

  “Alright, my dear prince,” I announced with as much dramatic mastery as the damp, monster-ied bog allowed. “We’re traveling to a meadow! Now, how do I do this, oh wise and powerful ented jewelry?”

  “Just push mana into the ring,” the prinstructed, his tone somehow being both annoyed and desding at once.

  I rolled my eyes but did as he said, fog inwardly. My mana surged, a familiar warmth flooding through me before funneling straight into the ring. The artifact pulsed in response, gulping in the energy like a starved beast, the golden inscriptions along its surface fring to life.

  “That’s it?” I asked, watg as the glow intensified.

  “I am a genius,” the prince decred, his voice practically dripping with self-satisfa. “Even an idiot pretender use my magic.”

  I snorted. “Oh, great, so it’s idiot-proof. I was worried I’d have to perform a whole ritual involving virgin sacrifices and twin moon phases.”

  The ring hummed, ign my sarcasm.

  Fine. Whatever.

  The surrounding air ed, the stale, bog-sted atmosphere rippling like the surface of disturbed water. My vision blurred, twisting into a swirl of light and motion, and with one final pulse of magic—

  I vanished.