Morning came quietly to Blackwood Keep.
The aftermath of celebration still lingered in the air—faint traces of roasted meat, polished silver, and extinguished candles—but the estate itself had already returned to its usual rhythm. Servants moved with practiced efficiency, boots soft against stone, voices hushed. It was a different kind of energy from the night before. Not festive.
Purposeful.
Elias was already ready.
His room was neat—too neat, as always. The bed had been made hours ago, the sheets drawn tight with almost mechanical precision. He moved out of the room with his luggage and closed the door behind him. His belongings were packed into a single travel bag, modest in size but heavier than it looked.A servant approached, hands outstretched to take his luggage.
Elias raised his hand.
The Beaded Bracelet on his wrist pulsed. Space folded. The bag vanished.
The servant blinked.
"Thank you," Elias said.
"Safe travels, young lord."
Elias nodded. The servant bowed and retreated.
Elias turned, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. He was dressed differently today.
Not in training attire. Not in the practical clothing of the forest.
Something in between.
A fitted dark coat lined with subtle crimson threading ran down the seams, the red catching the light only when he moved. Beneath it, a clean white shirt, the collar stiff but comfortable. His trousers were tailored, boots polished, the overall look balanced between formality and function.
Noble.
But not excessive. His hair had been trimmed down to its normal lenght giving him a composed look.
He looked older.
Or at least—more like someone expected to be.
He stepped outside.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of ironwood and distant mist.
The courtyard was already bustling with activity—servants carrying supplies, guards checking their equipment, a groom leading a horse toward the stables, though—
Elias paused slightly at the base of the steps.
There was a carriage.
But it wasn't being readied.
Instead, it simply stood there, unattended.
"That's odd," he murmured.
He continued foward. His father was already there.
Alaric Dukker stood beside the idle carriage, his presence calm yet immovable. He wore the formal robes of House Dukker—black fabric kaftan with deep crimson around the cuffs and collar with a red sash over his shoulder. He had the Dukker crest, a bird of prey decending with its claws outstreched desgined at his back with gold accents that seemed almost alive in the morning light. The garment carried weight, not just in material but in meaning.
Authority.
Responsibility.
His hair was combed neatly, his posture relaxed but attentive, as though he were always ready to move if needed.
He looked up as Elias approached.
"Everything packed?"
"Yes."
Alaric gave a small nod.
"Good. The situation in Aethelberg is… complicated. I don't know how long we'll be staying."
Elias tilted his head slightly.
"Because you left without official leave?"
"Yes."
Alaric didn't elaborate immediately.
"There will be matters to address. Questions. Answers."
Elias hummed softly.
"That sounds tedious."
"It is."
Alaric was about to continue—when a voice rang out from the keep's entrance.
"Oi!"
Both of them turned. Jamie bounded down the steps, her boots striking the stone with familiar energy. She wore a short, fitted coat similar in style to Elias's, though hers was looser, less structured, dyed a deep indigo with streaks of dark red along the edges. Underneath, a simple shirt tucked into fitted trousers, boots worn but freshly polished. Her hair had also been trimmed to its normal length, a few strands had already escaped, framing her face in a way that made her look less formal than she probably intended.
She looked like herself.
Jamie slowed as she reached them, placing her hands on her hips.
"I thought you left me behind."
Elias blinked.
"Where are you going?"
Jamie stared at him.
"…the capital, obviously."
Elias frowned slightly.
"You're not a Dukker."
Jamie shrugged.
"So?"
Elias stared at her for a moment.
"We're going for serious business."
"Yes," she said flatly.
"And?"
"We're going for serious business." He paused.
"I'd rather not go, but things are what they are."
"I can't let you have all the fun."
Elias looked genuinely confused.
"…what part of old people arguing in complicated terms all day sounds fun to you?"
Jamie opened her mouth—
Closed it.
Then punched him in the shoulder.
"Shut up."
Alaric watched them for a moment, his pocket watch still in hand. Then he walked forward.
"Time is of the essence," he said.
His gaze shifted to Jamie.
"You are not a Dukker."
Jamie's shoulders dropped immediately.
"…so you wouldn't normally be allowed to come along."
She froze.
Then—
"…normally?"
Alaric's expression didn't change.
"…yes,under normal conditions."
Jamie's eyes lit up instantly.
She spun toward Elias and stuck her tongue out.
"Ha."
Elias sighed.
"Of course, lucks always on her side."
Elias wouldn't notice—but if he had, he might have seen the faint flicker of memory behind his father's eyes.
Another boy.
Another journey.
A figure sneaking along where he shouldn't have been.
Roric.
The first time he had traveled to the capital, the future Hunter Chief had snuck along with him, disguised as a servant.
"I can't let you have all the fun." He had said at the time
Alaric exhaled softly.
"Besides," he added, "Elias would be lonely."
Elias glanced at him.
"I would not."
"You would." Jamie said with a wider grin.
"With your personality, I don't see you as the type to mingle with the children of other nobles. I won't be surprised if you beat up the twelfth prince for annoying you."
Elias opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"I'm not some brute. But fair."
He looked at the carriage again.
"So...where is the actual carriage?"
"There isn't one."
Jamie blinked.
"What?"
"How are we getting there then?" she asked.
Alaric smiled faintly.
"Come."
He walked past them.
Elias and Jamie followed.
At the edge of the courtyard, several figures stood waiting.
Elara.
Miss Gable.
Beth.
Aina.
They had come to see them off.
Elara stepped forward first, Ellaine cradled gently in her arms.
"Take care of them," she said softly.
Alaric nodded.
"I will."
He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Then reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against Ellaine's cheek.
The baby looked up at him. Smiled.
For a moment—everything was still.
Then—
Her expression changed.
Her small body stiffened.
And she began to cry.
Not loudly.
But suddenly.
Alaric blinked.
Something—flashed.
A burning city.
Blood falling like rain from a fractured sky.
Corpses. An endless sea of corpses. And in their midst...
Him.
Laughing with glee as the crimson rained poured.
The vision vanished as quickly as it came.
Reduced to something vague, uncertain, a memory that didn't quite exist.
Alaric blinked again.
Then smiled gently at his daughter.
"I'll be back soon."
He turned away.
Walked back toward Elias and Jamie.
Placed a hand on the back of each of their necks. His grip was firm, but not painful.
"Brace yourselves."
Elias frowned.
"For what—"
The world shifted.
No—
It didn't shift.
It compressed.
Elias felt it immediately.
Pressure.
Not from outside.
From everywhere.
It was like being submerged.
Like being forced through something thick—
Viscous.
Fluid.
Like being forced through Time.
For the first part of his life, Alaric Auro Dukker had been a mundane.
No Flow. No Anti-Flow. No Trait. Nothing but his name and his blood and the weight of expectation pressing down on him like a mountain. Fellow nobles laughed at him. Mocked his parents for producing a dud. Whispered behind their hands at social functions where Alaric stood alone, smiling politely, pretending not to hear.
"He's just wasting his time."
"He thinks he can make it with his family's connections."
"What a loser."
"Not even being a noble can get you what you don't have."
"Even among nobles, there are bottom feeders."
Alaric heard them all. He remembered every word.
But he did not give up. Because the nobles who mocked him—they had awakened young. They had peaked early. They had become content. They had stopped growing because they believed they had already arrived.
Alaric was not content.
He was hungry.
That hunger drove him to develop the Stillsword style—a technique so devastating that even Awakened opponents could not defeat him. That hunger drove him to master the art of governance, to study economics and law and military strategy until he knew more about ruling than any noble who had inherited their position currently. That hunger drove him to push past the limits of his mundane body, to train and study and strive until, at an age when most had given up on him entirely, he awakened his Trait.
He awakened 'The Wheel of Fortune.'
As a Saint of the Wheel of Fortune, Alaric currently possessed three Resonants. His First Resonant allowed him to slow time. For ten seconds, the world around him moved at a crawl—enough to dodge a blade, redirect an arrow, slip past a guard. The duration increased by ten to the next stage of Ascension.
His second Resonant allowed him to stop time entirely. For a hundred seconds, absolute stillness. Nothing moved but him. The duration now increased by hundred to the next stage of Ascension.
His third Resonant allowed him to steal time.
He could not create it. He could not destroy it. But he could take it from the space between moments, compressing hours into minutes. The duration of stolen time increased by thousand to the next stage of Ascension.
His current maximum was Two Hours, Fourty-Seven minutues
Time, in the physical sense, is tied to motion—velocity, entropy, the constant progression of systems toward equilibrium. To steal time was to temporarily remove oneself and others from that progression.
To move while the world did not.
Or rather—
To move while reducing the amount of experienced time needed to traverse space. It was the same principle as time dilation. The faster you moved through space, the slower you moved through time. Alaric was currently doing the opposite. He stole time, folding it like a piece of paper, stepping across the fold, and released it to let it unfold behind him
The journey to Aethelberg would normally take a full day.
Alaric reduced it.
From a full day to one hour.
Real time, time that wasn't stolen did not disappear.
It accumulated.
Like pressure in a sealed system.
When the ability ended, reality compensated shifting the remaining time that wasnt stolen to fill in the gaps. Also, anyone aside Alaric or any other Wheel Of Fortune Trait user didn't have resistance to the authority of time. As such, the body experienced the imbalance—nausea, disorientation, the violent reassertion of normal temporal flow.
It was the same principle as sudden decompression.
Except instead of air—
It was time.
Elias felt it.
His body lagged behind his existence.
His mind struggled to catch up.
Then—
It stopped.
Abruptly.
The world snapped back into place.
Elias's senses returned in fragments.
First, the ground beneath his feet—cobblestones, not dirt. Second, the air—cooler, drier, carrying the distant smell of smoke and bread and something metallic. Third, the sound—carts rumbling, merchants shouting, children laughing.
He opened his eyes and staggered forward.
"…ugh—"
He bent over and threw up.
Jamie laughed.
"Ha—you—" She doubled over, clutching her stomach.
"You actually—"
Her own stomach rebelled before her own face went pale. She turned and joined him. Alaric knelt between them and rubbed their backs.
"The sensation only lasts fro a brief moment, you will be alright soon."
Elias wiped his mouth, breathing slowly.
"I hate time travel."
Jamie groaned beside him.
"Same."
They both straightened.
"Next time... warn us."
"I did," Alaric said.
"I told you to brace yourselves."
"That wasn't bracing. That was—" Jamie waved her hands vaguely.
"Whatever that was."
Alaric tucked his pocket watch back into his coat.
They both took in the sight of the capital of Aerthos.
Aethelberg.
Massive.
Towering.
Alive.
"I have much to do. The Council would have already started by now. I'm sorry but we'll have to go there first before i take you to the Dukker townhouse.Come."
Alaric walked forward, toward the heart of the city.
Elias and Jamie followed.
Behind them, the morning light caught the red trim of Alaric's robes, and for a moment Elias thought he saw something flicker in his father's shadow.
Then it was gone.
They walked into the capital.