Days passed surprisingly fast, and Zachary continued to move around the Bright Castle.
In the mornings, he ate breakfast with Nephis and Cassie, and afterward he wandered through the marble hallways. Sometimes he visited the Artisans, joking with Lester and the others, bothering Kaor and Cera, or attempting to convince Kido to share another bottle with him. He failed miserably.
Thanks to being accompanied by the Artisans, Zachary managed to enter places that would have been off-limits otherwise. When he wasn't with them, he spent his time among the rest of the Tenants.
He visited the music lounge. Zachary had half-expected the person running it to be Kai, but unfortunately that was not the case. In fact, he hadn't met the dashing archer even once. He also befriended the small theatre troupe. In the Other World, his judo friend once dragged him to see plays with her, so Zachary was excited to watch the Sleepers perform here.
…No comments.
He avoided the Gambling Den, partly to prevent another meeting with the Hunters and Pathfinders, and partly to let his plan with Aiko develop on its own. He also befriended a small group of independent hunters. Seeing how they stood on their own without being part of the Host filled him with pride—a fact he made sure to tell them.
Talking with the other Tenants wasn't as pleasant. Like Harper, they were at the very bottom: sad eyes, nervous demeanors, quiet resignation. Even so, Zachary still managed to make them laugh and learn things from them. He remembered something one of his philosophy professors once said—that every person, no matter how insignificant they seem, has something to offer.
Maybe it was true.
When night came and Zachary and the girls returned to their rooms, his true odyssey began. Relying on Danger Sense and Cinder Eyes, he ventured through the forbidden corridors of the Castle. The Artisans had been open about their work, but the others weren't. So Zachary navigated by memory, filling the gaps with intuition.
It was extremely dangerous. He knew nothing about the routine of the Bright Lord's hidden blade, Harus, so he stuck to the less important areas: the outer training halls, the Guards' barracks, the entrance to the Hunters' domain. Thanks to the Crimson Labyrinth and the [Blasphemer] Attribute, Zachary had developed a sharp instinct for being noticed, so he always avoided those with detection skills.
But there was one group he avoided completely.
The Handmaidens. He avoided their quarters like the plague, for one simple reason:
He feared Seishan.
He would never admit it aloud, but fear was the correct word. In the novel, Seishan could sense Sunny's shadow—something only a few could. Now that Zachary stood here with his own strange flaws in reality, he refused to risk crossing paths with her. Avoiding her was the logical choice.
Surprisingly, Caster had not approached them either. Zachary sometimes felt him watching from across the dining hall, but he never came closer. No small talk, no friendly greetings, no forced interactions. It bothered Zachary more than he wanted to admit.
Considering Caster's entire purpose in the novel… his silence felt wrong.
'Why hasn't he made a move?' Zachary wondered.
'What changed?' he asked, the question circling his mind as he walked through the hallways with the girls on their way to breakfast.
Despite the tension twisting in his chest, the scene was almost comedic. On the way to the dining hall, Zachary was greeted by passing Tenants as if he'd lived there for years: a wave here, a snarky comment there. Someone even whistled at him; Zachary whistled back five sharp notes his Mexican friend from the Other World once swore were a blessing.
"Hey, Zach!" a blonde Sleeper called out as he passed.
"¡Qué pasa, amigo!" Zachary replied with a grin.
"Huh? You know I don't speak Spanish—" the blonde muttered, then waved it off with a laugh. "Anyway, we're performing today. You coming?"
"Are you giving me a discount?" Zachary asked, rubbing his fingers together in a universal gesture for coin.
The blonde barked a laugh. "Ha! You wish." His eyes flicked briefly to Nephis and Cassie. "But if you show up with those two beauties, I might reconsider."
"Dream on, bitch," Zachary laughed, flipping him off with zero malice.
Nephis watched the Sleeper disappear before turning to Zachary with a raised brow. "Explain."
"Oh, that?" Zachary shrugged. "He charges way too much for his plays. I've seen the rehearsals—it's definitely not worth the shards."
Cassie snorted, but Nephis kept staring at him, her gaze unreadable. Zachary cleared his throat.
"His name's Erio. He leads the theatre troupe." Realizing the girls didn't have the context he did, he added, "There's a theatre troupe, by the way. Yeah, I know. I'm still processing that myself."
His tone shifted, becoming more serious. "His Aspect lets him release bursts of light—bright enough to blind Nightmare Creatures. There were talks about him joining the Hunters, but nothing ever came of it."
Nephis's eyes sharpened at the tactical information, and Zachary nodded as if fitting a puzzle piece into place.
"His Flaw stops him from using his Aspect if someone is standing behind him. So now... he just does stage lighting."
Both girls looked at him, visibly surprised. Aspect, Flaw, history—it was far more knowledge than they expected him to have. Zachary chuckled at their expressions.
"What? Did you think all I've been doing is drinking, gambling, and loitering around?"
At that, Nephis quickly looked away, a faint blush creeping up the tips of her ears. Before she could compose a rebuttal, Zachary pushed forward.
"Because that's exactly what I've been doing," he said with a barking laugh. "But I've also been learning things. Come on, we're here."
He stepped into the dining hall ahead of the girls. Behind him, Nephis watched his back with an impassive face, yet the slight, almost imperceptible tremble of her lips betrayed her true thoughts. Zachary began to descend the steps, ready to serve himself breakfast, when his enhanced hearing caught the sound of hurried, rhythmic footsteps.
Turning toward the door, Zachary saw a torrent of Guards entering in an orderly formation. With chilling efficiency, they began shoving the long tables toward the walls, clearing a massive space in the center of the hall.
'Is it happening already?' Zachary thought, tension coiling in his chest. After the fallout in the Gambling Den, he knew this was coming sooner or later—but knowing it and experiencing it were two very different things.
He felt a sharp tug at his sleeve. Turning, he found Nephis questioning the situation with her eyes. He was about to give a vague answer when Danger Sense began to buzz. It wasn't a scream yet, but a slow, rhythmic warning—the kind of dread one feels when the forest suddenly goes silent, signaling that a predator has entered the clearing.
Ignoring Nephis's silent question, Zachary followed the pull of his instinct toward the alcove at the far end of the room. What he saw made him swallow heavily.
Since his grueling fight against the Demon and his subsequent Enlightenment, Zachary had partially awakened his Soul. He had let himself believe he now stood on equal footing with the most powerful Sleepers of the Forgotten Shore. Meeting Kido—a Lieutenant of the Host, despite her Utility Aspect—had only fueled that confidence.
How mistaken he was.
Stepping through the shadows of the alcove, Gunlaug's remaining Lieutenants finally appeared. Gemma, Tessai, Seishan, and Harus.
Each one exuded a crushing pressure that set them apart from the common Sleepers. To the others, they were simply the elite; to Cinder Eyes, the difference was staggering.
Tessai, the giant who seemed more bear than man, radiated a cold ferocity that froze the air in Zachary's lungs and made his skin crawl. Gemma stood beside him, his relaxed expression a sharp contrast to the boiling intensity he couldn't quite hide behind his eyes.
Harus was the worst of them. Seeing the man in the flesh made Zachary sigh with retrospective relief that he'd avoided the deepest parts of the Castle. The hunched butcher looked bored, but through his cloudy eyes, Zachary caught a glimpse of ferocious mania and an abnormal detachment—as if bloodshed had become as mundane as breathing.
And then there was Seishan. She was the most unsettling of all. She displayed no overt might, but Danger Sense allowed Zachary to perceive the hidden thorns of this beautiful, dangerous flower. She was a wolf in sheep's clothing in every sense of the word.
Each of them was drenched in the pungent aroma of blood—whether their own or that of others, Zachary didn't want to know.
Finally, as if perfectly timed, the Bright Lord entered the scene in all his shimmering, golden glory.
Zachary felt like throwing up.
He knew the true nature of Gunlaug's golden armor. Yet, even with all his knowledge, he was unable to resist the visceral reaction. The moment Zachary's eyes met the golden liquid of the armor and saw his own reflection, the world around him felt like it was about to collapse.
The control over his Mind granted by his Aspect Ability made Zachary capable of resisting most types of mental intrusion within his Rank—a fact proven by his harrowing encounter with the Soul Devourer. But there was a drawback; a trait that was usually a boon had now turned against him in the most unfortunate of circumstances.
Cinder Eyes.
His Innate Ability enhanced his vision to supernatural levels, and once again, it worked to his detriment. Because Zachary was able to perceive so much more than the average Sleeper, seeing his reflection on that golden surface hit him with the full, concentrated force of the armor's mental pressure. To make matters worse, the attack wasn't a targeted strike that the Witness Mantle could intercept; it emanated in passive, suffocating waves.
Zachary's mind instinctively scrambled to purge the fear and oppression leaking into his consciousness, but Cinder Eyes continued to drink in the sight with unrelenting clarity. In the clash between his mental defenses and his heightened senses, his body was the first thing to give way.
"Aghh." Zachary groaned, slamming his eyes shut. They felt as if they were being seared by white-hot needles, throbbing in pained, rhythmic pulses. He pressed a hand over them, trying to stifle the agony, only to feel a warm, wet sensation.
Opening his eyes with difficulty, his blurred vision caught the sight of his hand—stained crimson. The internal conflict had been so violent that he had quite literally cried tears of blood. Beside him, the girls noticed his condition immediately.
"Zach, are you okay?" Cassie whispered. Despite her blindness, her sharp senses caught the sudden shift in his breathing and the metallic scent of copper in the air.
Next to her, Nephis watched Zachary with an intense, silent worry. His mind was still cloudy, reeling from the sudden psychic trauma, but before he could offer a reassuring word, he felt a heavy, predatory gaze lock onto him.
'Not good…' Zachary thought, his instincts screaming as he traced the gaze back toward the alcove.
He met a pair of striking, dark eyes. Seishan was looking directly at him, her nostrils fluttering slightly as if she could catch the scent of the fresh blood on his face from across the room. As their gazes locked, she offered him a slow, knowing smile. Zachary felt his heart drop into his stomach.
'Really not good…' he cursed inwardly, exhausted by the sheer lethality of his surroundings.
The brief, terrifying exchange was cut short as a deep, insidious voice flooded the hall. It coiled around everyone present, nesting in their hearts with an oppressive weight.
"Ah, what a nice day it is today. A perfect day for justice, don't you think, my precious wards?" Gunlaug's voice was smooth, yet it carried the edge of a guillotine. "I've heard that there's a criminal hiding among us today. Well… am I not fair? Am I not just? Let me show you exactly how just I am…"
Zachary followed the Bright Lord's words only vaguely, his gaze drifting toward the entrance where two Guards were dragging a gaunt, shivering man. He wanted to remain present, to bear witness to the dark underbelly of the Bright Castle. He had enjoyed his stay thus far, but that comfort didn't erase the cold truth: this was the domain of a Tyrant, and no one within its walls was ever truly safe.
Yet, he couldn't maintain his focus. The aftereffects of the mental assault lingered, and the searing pain in his eyes dragged a jagged memory to the surface—one he had fought to bury. It was the memory of the time he had usurped the Forbidden Lineage and Fate had demanded its price, gifting him with an agony that transcended the physical.
The current pressure couldn't compare to the nightmare of having his entire being dismantled and remodeled over and over again, yet Zachary couldn't stop the shiver that raced down his arms. His clouded mind forced him to remember the nadir of his existence—how, at the absolute edge of his misery, he had done the unthinkable.
He had begged for death.
'Snap out of it, Fool!' Zachary clenched his teeth until they creaked. Taking slow, shuddering breaths, he forced those feelings back down into the deepest recesses of his heart. Finally, he looked up.
The hall was as quiet as a grave. Every Sleeper stood paralyzed, staring at the center of the room where the broken figure of a man lay in a growing pool of crimson. Harus was already walking away, the only proof of his handiwork the blood dripping steadily from his fingers. Zachary had missed the execution itself; honestly, he was glad he had.
Everything moved with a blurred, clinical speed after that. Following Gunlaug's final speech and departure, the tension in the hall vanished like a cruel illusion. Tables were shoved back into place, and Handmaidens appeared to scrub away what remained of another Sleeper—another trapped soul lost to this forgotten hell.
The group didn't stay for breakfast. With shaky steps, Zachary led the way out of the hall and back toward his quarters. The girls followed, their gazes heavy with worry, but they possessed the wisdom to know that now was not the time for questions.
Reaching the sanctuary of his room, Zachary went straight to the water basin and immersed his face in the liquid. The cold water washed away both the blood and the lingering grief in a ritual that felt almost sacred. When he finally pulled back, taking a sharp breath, the scent of copper was gone. He wiped his face with his sleeve, combed his messy hair back with his fingers, and finally turned to the girls.
"Well, that was intense, wasn't it?" Zachary asked, his voice sounding thin and tired as he flopped into the wooden chair.
Seeing him somewhat recomposed, Nephis and Cassie moved reluctantly from the doorway and sat on the edge of the bed, their eyes fixed on him, waiting. Cassie wore a grim expression, while Nephis's face was set in a deep frown, her jaw tight with a quiet, simmering anger. She had loathed what she'd witnessed in the hall—the clinical execution and the cold, arrogant demonstration of power.
"So?" Nephis asked, her eyes searching Zachary's.
He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "First things first. That golden armor..."
Nephis shuddered at the mention of it. She, too, had felt its weight, but seeing Zachary's violent reaction kept her from pressing for details on his pain.
"That attack... it's insidious," he said with a shaky, mirthless laugh. "It triggers the moment you see your reflection on its surface. So..." Zachary pointed toward his own eyes. "You can imagine why it hit me the hardest."
He sighed, his gaze drifting out the window toward the distant, haunting silhouette of the Crimson Spire. "My Ability grants me higher resistance to mental interference. I think if I were exposed to it enough, I might eventually adapt... but that's not the important part."
At his shift in tone, the girls grew serious. They knew he was about to share something vital. Zachary hesitated, weighing his words. He had promised himself to avoid revealing "meta-knowledge" he couldn't justify, but fortunately, the brute force of the attack had provided him with a cover. Cinder Eyes had seen something through the pain.
"That thing isn't a Memory," Zachary announced. "It's an Echo."
In the midst of the psychic torment, Cinder Eyes—further enhanced by the subtle influence of Blood Weave—had caught a glimpse of the armor's inner workings. He had seen the tangled, ethereal strings that formed its essence. The girls were visibly startled by the revelation, though they quickly composed themselves. The information was shocking, but they had no way to use it.
For now.
"And?" Nephis pressed. "What about the others... the Lieutenants? How strong are they? Your senses are sharper than ours, and your Core is the most developed."
Nephis's words trailed off, and Zachary blinked in surprise before realizing the weight of her observation. Despite not absorbing a single Soul Shard since arriving, he was still far ahead of Nephis, who gained fragments with every kill. He shouldn't have been surprised by her perception; Nephis noticed everything.
"They're strong," he said flatly. "Each of them has a saturated Core. They are forces to be reckoned with. It might seem like the gap between a full Core and one with six hundred fragments isn't that wide, but believe me—it is."
Both Nephis and Cassie snapped their heads toward him. It was Cassie who found her voice first.
"Six hundred? Zach... what did you even kill to start with that many?" Her voice couldn't quite mask her shock.
"Nothing much, really. Just a single creature," Zachary said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "A... Transcendent human."
Finally, a crack appeared in Nephis's ivory mask. The sheer shock on her face might have made Zachary laugh in any other context, but he moved to cut off the interrogation before it could truly begin.
"We can talk about my First Nightmare some other time," he said, pushing himself up from the chair. "I'm going to keep digging. Now that I've seen the players in this Castle, I can point my investigations in a better direction."
He paused at the door. "I'll tell you everything I've discovered once we're clear of this place. Until then, let's keep our heads down and stay out of trouble."
Zachary said this to the girls, but it was actually a reminder for himself. He moved to leave, but Nephis's voice stopped him.
"Zach... be careful."
He didn't turn back to meet her gaze. "Roger that."
Walking out of his room, Zachary found himself back at the broken courtyard where he had met the Artisans a few days prior. Leaning back and resting on his hands, he took a deep breath. The cracked stone and unattended grass evoked a melancholic peace that helped steady his troubled heart.
"I'm actually not in need of much more information," Zachary muttered quietly to himself, reviewing his recent activities.
The past few days had been extremely fruitful. The fragments of gossip he'd gathered from the Tenants worked in tandem with his meta-knowledge of the novel. In truth, he could stop digging altogether. Unfortunately, one nagging loose thread remained, making it impossible to rest.
Caster.
The Legacy's lack of presence around Nephis put him on edge. Zachary had been speaking with various independent parties, and in some of those circles, Caster had made brief appearances—mostly for a few hunts. It wasn't enough. He needed to see exactly what the man was up to.
Standing up and dusting off his pants, Zachary began walking toward a known gathering spot for independent hunters. Whistling a poorly tuned melody, he navigated the arched corridors and marble hallways. When accompanied by other Sleepers, the Castle felt warm with presence; alone, however, the silence only served as a reminder of its cold reality. This was no safe haven, but the absence of safety didn't discourage him. It only highlighted what this place could eventually become.
Suddenly, his thoughts were cut short. Cinder Eyes detected a presence hidden around the next corner, waiting. Zachary slowed his pace, watching to see if the person was simply passing through. When the figure remained unmoving, he had to accept the truth: they were waiting for him.
Zachary's mind began to race. Why him?
He had certainly been more visible than a typical newcomer, but after only a week, his presence shouldn't be that noteworthy. Then he noticed something else: Danger Sense wasn't buzzing. The person waiting for him bore no hostility.
Sighing deeply, he thought, 'Let's see what this is all about.'
He resumed walking at a normal pace, acting as if he hadn't noticed a thing. Just as he reached the turn, someone stepped out—perfectly timed to make a collision look like an unfortunate coincidence.
Cinder Eyes caught every detail of the act. A short girl, a Handmaiden carrying a bucket of water, rounded the corner at the exact moment needed to clash against him. Zachary could have dodged; hell, he could have jumped over her and caught the bucket without spilling a single drop. But he needed to see their play, so he did nothing.
A loud crash followed by a wet splash, and the Witness' Testament was completely drenched. Despite expecting it, Zachary couldn't stop a tired sigh from escaping his lips.
"I—I'm so sorry!" the Handmaiden cried, her face a mask of genuine worry.
"Don't worry about it," Zachary said, grabbing the hem of the mantle and squeezing the water out.
As he spoke, he realized he recognized the voice. Looking down at the nervous girl, he identified her as the same Handmaiden from the Gambling Den—the one who had helped him get back at Mauro.
"You..." Zachary muttered in recognition.
"Oh! Zachary?" she said, covering her mouth in surprise. "I'm so sorry!"
She pulled a cloth from a bag under her shoulder and began to dab at his shoulders. Zachary wasn't fooled by the performance.
"Hmm... I don't remember ever telling you my name," he said, gently taking the cloth from her hand to clean himself.
Without missing a beat, the Handmaiden replied obliviously, "Of course not. I heard it from your Artisan friends."
Before he could respond, she continued in an apologetic rush, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going! I know—I can clean it for you. Please, let me help as an apology."
Zachary raised an eyebrow. "Really, don't worry about it. It's a Memory. I'll just dismiss it to my Soul Sea and it'll be back as new."
The Handmaiden bit her lip lightly—a tell that Cinder Eyes didn't miss. "Please, I insist. Let me apologize for this. If not by cleaning, then in some other way."
She emphasized those last words. Zachary remained unmoved by the apology; instead, he focused on her insistence. It felt wrong.
Sighing, he decided he couldn't let the charade continue. "Firstly, what's your name? I don't feel comfortable with you being the only one knowing mine."
The Handmaiden blinked, but seeing he hadn't refused her entirely, she answered, "I'm Madi. Please, let me just—"
"You said in some other way, right?" Zachary asked, looking her straight in the eye. Madi nodded seriously.
"Do you know the ones in charge of the kitchen?"
Madi looked confused by the pivot. "Yes... there are rotating shifts. I know who's in charge this week, but why—"
"Good," Zachary interrupted, refusing to let her take the lead. "You say you really, really want to apologize? Then, do you think you can convince the kitchen to make the next meal a little more spicy?"
"Yes... I think I can," Madi said, clearly thrown by the request. "But what—"
"Perfect. If you can do that, we'll call it even. Okay?"
Without waiting for an answer, Zachary turned and walked back the way he came.
A bright smile remained plastered on his face, masking the storm of his thoughts and emotions. The independent hunters and Caster could wait, he needed to get out of these hallways and back to his room—immediately.
Returning to his room, Zachary locked the door behind him. The girls had already retreated to their own quarters, so he sat heavily on the edge of his bed, resting his forehead against a tired hand. A long, heavy sigh escaped his lips.
"I'll be damned..." he whispered into the empty room.
That brief, staged interaction with Madi was all he needed to finally comprehend the true nature of the Handmaidens. They were trained and looked after by Seishan, but their purpose wasn't just to serve as her personal force within the Bright Castle. They were something far more calculated.
They were a living information network.
The Handmaidens were responsible for every miscellaneous task imaginable; they were the blood in the Castle's veins. There wasn't a single corner of the fortress where they weren't present, from the Bright Lord's private quarters and the Hunters' barracks down to the cramped rooms of the lowliest Tenants. Their daily routines—shuttering windows at night, cleaning, and general maintenance—made them invisible.
They were everywhere, and because they were everywhere, they heard everything. Every whispered rumor, every fragment of overheard conversation, and every piece of minor intel flowed back to a single point. To Seishan.
So, what happened when a single name began appearing in those reports with increasing frequency? What happened when, in just one week, a newcomer made enough of a splash to reach the ears of their leader?
'Seishan has her eyes on me…' Zachary shuddered at the thought. The image of her nostrils fluttering as she smelled the blood on his face flashed through his mind. 'You know what? I think it's time to actually take my own advice. I'm staying low for the rest of my time here.'
***
Night descended upon the Forgotten Shore, and behind its veiled windows, the Bright Castle was swallowed by shadows and silence. Through this gloom, a single figure moved with practiced precision, utilizing every corner and cornice to mask his presence.
'Why am I here?' Zachary cursed inwardly as he slipped through the dark hallways, using Balance Control to keep his footfalls silent. 'Why can't I ever follow my own damn advice?'
He had explicitly told himself to lay low. Yet, here he was, roaming the Castle in the dead of night. Unfortunately, Caster's continued absence wasn't the only thing gnawing at his intuition—there was also the matter of the Guards' recent movements.
Zachary had caught a passing remark from Arlo the day before, though he hadn't pressed for details at the time. Even in the novel, a quiet friction existed between the Artisans and the Guards; the former only maintained their autonomy thanks to the implicit support of the Hunters. But that tension had begun to shift, and Zachary had to know what had tipped the scales.
He continued to move like a ghost, steering clear of any signs of life, until he finally reached the periphery of the Guards' barracks.
He was about to advance further, aiming for the training grounds, when Danger Sense gave a nervous twitch. Someone was coming. Ducking behind a stone pillar, Zachary peeked out and saw two figures entering the yard: the mountainous Tessai and a Guard following in his wake with hurried, anxious steps.
Zachary pulled back and focused his hearing. He knew that certain powerful Sleepers were sensitive to the "weight" of a gaze, so he was careful not to look directly at them for too long.
"Silence!" a gravelly voice hissed, the sound carrying a heavy, contained fury. Tessai.
"But sir, they're asking for more than they should," the Guard whispered urgently. "We need those men for the perimeter."
"You think I don't know that?" Tessai snapped, his dissatisfaction radiating off him in waves. "But it has always been this way."
"But why should they get the best of us?" the Guard blurted out, his frustration overriding his caution.
Zachary began to tie the threads together. The Guards were the largest faction of the Host, but the Hunters—the elite—handpicked their members from the Guards' ranks, taking only the strongest. While the Host appeared monolithic from the outside, the interior was a mess of conspiracies and bitter infighting.
Suddenly, the air in the training grounds turned unnaturally cold. A shiver raced down Zachary's arms—not from fear, but from a literal drop in temperature. It was the mark of a powerful Aspect.
"You dare question the Bright Lord's decree?" Tessai asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low rumble.
Zachary could hear the Guard's teeth chattering, but he sensed that Tessai wasn't truly offended; he was amused. Without waiting for an answer, the giant continued, his voice heavy with spite.
"The problem isn't the Hunters taking our best men; that's a tradition of blood. The problem is that Gemma is becoming far too daring."
The Guard gasped at Tessai's admission, and Zachary felt a similar jolt of surprise.
"That bastard," Tessai spat, the sound of his saliva hitting the stone sharp in the silence. "Just because that little wench got lucky... they think they can overstep. I've been here since the beginning, and Gunlaug knows it."
'So that's it…' Zachary finally understood.
The power balance was shifting, and—infuriatingly—he was at the center of it again. The "wench" was undoubtedly Kido, and her "luck" was the discovery of her Aspect Legacy. With the Artisans gaining political weight, Gemma was using his partnership with them as leverage to squeeze Tessai's faction. It was a petty, spiteful display of dominance.
"Have you found anything on him yet?" Tessai asked, his tone shifting abruptly. "He's been loitering around those fucking crafters lately. I refuse to believe it's a coincidence."
Zachary's thoughts short-circuited. 'Is he… is he talking about me?' He wanted to deny it, but the pieces fit too perfectly.
"We've already sent a request to Lady Seishan for information," the Guard replied with a loud, nervous gulp. "We should have a full report on him by tomorrow."
'Fuck,' Zachary cursed, his heart hammering against his ribs. This was infinitely worse than he'd imagined. 'Time to go. Now.'
With hurried steps and rigid control, Zachary retreated from the Guards' barracks. On his way out, his gaze caught Gunlaug's banner; the golden snake seemed to leer down at him, and for the first time in a long while, Zachary felt small. He shook his head and doubled back the way he'd come, his mind unable to settle. Only when he finally crossed back into the common hallways, leaving the prohibited zone behind, did he allow himself a relieved breath. He felt as if he had aged a decade in that single outing.
'I'm done,' Zachary muttered quietly. To his left, an open courtyard revealed the oppressive, starless sky of the Forgotten Shore. 'Laying low from now on. I'll even avoid the Artisans. I'll just stay with the girls, and once the week is ov—'
"Oh my. You really shouldn't be here."
A velvety voice drifted from behind him, cutting through his thoughts like a silk ribbon.
A violent chill raced down his spine. Danger Sense screamed a fraction of a second too late. Before he could even consciously register the threat, Zachary lunged forward in a desperate roll, putting distance between himself and the speaker. As he spun around, Ender's Solace shimmered into existence in his right hand, its dark edge gleaming in the moonlight.
"Aren't you an aggressive one?" Seishan asked, her red lips curving into a dangerous smile.
Zachary swallowed hard. Seishan, the Lost Princess, stood before him in all her lethal glory. Her grey, exotic skin was framed by a deep red dress that accentuated her supple figure, but Zachary wasn't focused on her beauty. He was focused on the nauseating aroma of blood that had suddenly flooded the hallway and the terrifying silence of his own abilities.
'I couldn't even sense her. Neither Danger Sense nor Cinder Eyes reacted until she spoke...' Zachary's knuckles turned white as he gripped his sword. 'Can I win?'
He rapidly tallied his strengths. Balance Control... Unity... Flow Control... 'No. Impossible.' He had improved tremendously, but she was a predator who had survived this hell for a decade. He couldn't even utilize Flow Control reliably in the heat of combat yet.
Worse, Danger Sense was now a steady, deafening hum—a constant warning of the human-shaped calamity standing ten feet away. Sighing deeply, his back damp with cold sweat, Zachary unsummoned Ender's Solace.
Seishan let out a melodious, dark laugh. "Smart." She took a predatory step toward him. "Now... who are you?"
For a split second, the urge to reply 'I'm Batman' flickered through Zachary's mind, but he suppressed it. It wasn't true, and it certainly wasn't smart. Instead, he met her gaze and countered, "Don't you know already?"
She arched an eyebrow, not bothering to deny it. "But I want to hear it from you."
After a few tense heartbeats, he finally relented. "I'm Zachary."
"Now tell me, Zachary, what are you doing here so late at night?" She took another step, closing the distance.
Zachary retreated a step, blurted out nervously, "Haven't you ever heard of sleepwalking?"
A melodic laugh escaped her lips, sending a fresh shiver through him. "Oh, honey. The Awakened do not suffer from sleepwalking."
Zachary cursed under his breath. Much like his "allergy" argument with the Soul Devourer, this partial truth had collapsed under the cold logic of the Dream Realm. 'Why must the Path of Ascension refine the body to such an annoying extent?'
"Can't it be a Flaw?" Zachary muttered, pointedly dodging her eyes.
"Is it your Flaw?" Seishan asked, her voice losing its warmth.
He bit his lip before finally answering. "It's not. Though, now that I think about it, aren't we all sleepwalkers? We're asleep in the Waking World, and this is the Dream Realm, so technically..."
"Enough." Her cold voice cut through his philosophical rambling. She let out a short sigh and continued. "You're not lying. Don't ask how I know—I'm not telling you."
Seishan spoke again, her voice as melodious as a siren's song, shifting topics with a casual ease that only made her more terrifying.
"You know, you're an interesting man. I only began to hear whispers of your name yesterday. At first, I deemed you just another nosy newcomer—someone trying too hard to carve out a foothold in the Castle."
She began to circle him slowly, her movements fluid and predatory, as if she were appraising a piece of meat. "But today, I finally put a face to the name. And oh, imagine my surprise when I felt it."
She closed the distance until she was only inches away. Her presence felt like an approaching storm. "You're dangerous."
Zachary's thoughts ground to a halt. "Huh?"
"Exactly," Seishan said, finally stepping back, though the pressure didn't lift. "That shouldn't be possible. After all, I am far stronger than you. So then, why are my senses screaming at me to get rid of you? Isn't it fascinating?"
She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on him with unsettling intensity. "And your blood—"
She trailed off, leaving the meaning hanging in the air like a threat. Her predatory eyes chilled his heart, but Zachary's mind remained in an icy, analytical grip. He desperately sifted through his knowledge, searching for the key.
Blood. He immediately ruled out Blood Weave; in the novel, there was no mention of Seishan reacting to Sunny's ichor in such a specific way. That left only one culprit: [Blasphemer]. Again, that cursed Attribute. Like a bolt of lightning, the description flashed through his mind: 'Hated by both the divine and the profane…'
Seishan was a bearer of a Divine Lineage—the Beast God's lineage. Nephis carried one too, yet she hadn't reacted this way... or had she? Was she just better at hiding it?
'Is this a uniqueness of the Beast Lineage?' Zachary wondered, his heart hammering. 'Stronger senses? A more visceral ability to detect something that shouldn't exist?' His internal monologue was cut short by a low, dark chuckle.
"Now... what am I to do with you?"
A dangerous smile gleamed in the darkness, sharp and hungry.