In the main hall of the Varavium headquarters, a colossal map lay unfurled across the heavy wooden table. Leon, Kazan, Nix, and Xuánhú gathered around alongside Arthur.
"You must exercise extreme caution," Arthur opened, his finger tracing the mountainous realm along the map's western expanse. "The latest intelligence I retrieved indicates that the City of Cloţca is no longer merely a gloomy, ancient settlement. It has rapidly evolved into a multi-tiered mega-fortress reinforced by strict blood magic and impenetrable steel."
Arthur slid his fingertips across five distinct points encircling the city's perimeter.
"Cloţca is protected by five primary gates," Arthur detailed.
"First is the Mesa Gate, the grand entrance forged from black steel and mesa stone, bordered by perpetual fog and engraved with the motto: Those Who Enter Do Not Always Leave. Second is the Chasm Gate to the west, constructed from rust-red stone facing a river of blood-hued water, guarded by a noble house. Third is the Forest Gate to the east, built of ironwood and steel, facing the most frequent monster onslaughts and similarly held by a noble house. Fourth is the Ash Gate to the south—an ancient, ash-crusted door kept firmly shut, rumored to be a dumping ground for cursed vampires that occasionally opens on its own on certain nights. And lastly, the Blood Gate, a portal carved from pulsating red crystal guarded by absolute blood magic leading into the Inner City."
Leon and the others nodded, committing every route detail to memory. Their plan was now firmly laid out: breach Cloţca while searching for the exiled dual-element mage, harvest the Solaris Ignis and Luna Glacies flowers for Raina, then cross through Venturia toward the City of Dragons to seize The Forbidden Tome of Laws.
Two weeks of recovery and intensive training flew by.
Deep within a quiet clearing, Leon immersed himself in dark meditation. Guided by Arthur's instruction and the lingering warmth of Sylvaine's memory, he controlled the surging Void energy within his chest, preventing it from consuming his consciousness.
In the main courtyard, Kazan honed the sharpness of his katana under Arthur's direct supervision, refining his combat reflexes and quelling the churning rage inside his chest to ensure he wouldn't be easily provoked when confronting Kaze Ryusei in the future.
Meanwhile, Xuánhú taught advanced magical breathing techniques to Veylin and Sylphine, allowing their mana pathways to flow far more efficiently without straining their physical stamina.
The day of departure arrived. At Varavium's outer gates, the two teams stood facing each other.
Arthur's team—consisting of Arthur, Zephyr, Sylphine, and Veylin—and Leon's team—composed of Leon, Nix, Kazan, and Xuánhú—were ready to move. Arthur's group prepared to march toward the northern border to track down ancient temple ruins in search of Satan's physical body.
Before departing, Leon walked quietly into the infirmary. He looked upon Raina's peaceful, sleeping face. Gently touching the child's small fingers, Leon whispered with firm resolve, "Rest well, Raina. I promise... I will bring back the cure for you."
Stepping beyond the concealed borders of the Varavium forest, Leon's team surveyed a vast plain that gradually faded into a bleak, freezing atmosphere.
Nix extended his arms, unleashing his majestic Phoenix form. The four leaped onto his golden back and tore through the heavens.
Hours of continuous flight passed. Yet, before they could even reach the boundaries of Cloţca, an unnatural environmental anomaly began to manifest.
The sun set far too rapidly behind the mountain ranges. Above them, clouds swirled slowly into a colossal vortex. Wild birds flew in a frenzy, fleeing the city's direction; not a single winged creature dared approach that airspace.
As night descended, a faint purple luminescence like an alien aurora danced across the sky. High above, a strange void existed where constellations of stars abruptly vanished.
Nix finally landed on the outskirts of a gloomy village to rest.
"The stars themselves fear Cloţca," a passing elderly villager whispered softly upon seeing Leon staring up at the empty sky.
Within the village, the wind carried echoes of faint, distant music despite no city being nearby. Soft moans reverberated from the ravine, accompanied by flocks of ravens perching on rooftops, silently observing without attacking.
Strangely, the villagers showed no surprise at the arrival of Leon and his companions. The arrival of foreign travelers seemed routine. Yet most actively avoided them, whispering behind shuttered windows, while young children ceased playing the moment Leon drew near.
Upon the doorway of every home, strange symbols carved from dried blood, bone, or stone were displayed. White chalk lines were drawn across the dirt roads, never to be stepped over. From the bushes outside the village, Leon spotted shadowy silhouettes watching them, yet none dared set foot inside the village boundaries.
Upon settling into an old stone inn, Kazan inquired about these anomalies to the innkeeper.
The innkeeper merely offered a cold glance. "All you need to know... is that we are protected here. Never ask by whom."
That night, a torrential downpour abruptly blanketed the village alone, while the lands just beyond the village boundary remained bone-dry.
Inside his room, Leon fell into a deep slumber. In his dream, he stood at the edge of a bottomless abyss. A soft voice called his name from the dark depths—a voice identical to Sylvaine's, the person he loved most. When he turned around, no one was there. The whisper grew louder, echoing until Leon snapped awake with ragged breaths!
The following morning, they departed the village, choosing to continue their journey on foot.
While traversing the forest at the foot of the mountain, they noticed a strange occurrence: fallen trees along the path formed regular, deliberate patterns like a guided trial, even resembling ancient script.
"These tree patterns... it's as if they were deliberately laid out for us," Kazan murmured, running a hand along a fallen trunk.
"If we follow it, we will reach the city far quicker," Xuánhú chimed in, narrowing his eyes. "But if we ignore it and attempt to force our way through randomly, we will simply wander in circles and end up right back where we started."
They decided to follow the pattern's guidance.
After several hours along the mysterious route, a thick, freezing perpetual fog crept in, enveloping their sight—clinging to their skin like the touch of an icy palm.
As the mist slowly parted, standing proudly before them was the Mesa Gate—the giant entrance forged from black steel and the mesa stone of Cloţca.
Before the gate stood two towering men on guard. As Leon's group approached, the two guards exchanged glances.
Xuánhú's eyes widened in surprise, before a sly smirk broke across his face. "Oho... it's you two old men!"
The two sentinels shifted their gaze, instantly recognizing the Nine-Tailed Fox Ancestor.
The first guard stood erect and lean like an ancient statue. Long white hair was tied low, his eyes a cold, dark crimson, and his fingers were long and pale beneath a high-collared, deep red cloak. This was Vaskar Vladirescu, known as The Blood Judge.
The man beside him was broad-shouldered and heavily built, with short brown hair and a thick mustache. His steel-gray eyes glared sharply, while his veiny hands rested upon the hilt of a colossal sword slung across his back. This was Bran Kravenshtadt, The Iron Gate.
Vaskar stepped forward unhurriedly, his voice echoing like a smooth threat.
"One of you carries a bloodline... that is exceptionally intriguing," Vaskar whispered, his sharp gaze locking onto Leon's party. "Regrettably, I cannot read motives. Only blood."
Bran let out a rough grunt, adjusting the heavy broadsword on his back with a sound like thunder. "I don't give a damn about your blood! I only care if you can stay standing after I hit you!"
=== CHAPTER 58 END ===