Zay blinked and the next thing he knew, his eyes snapped open. He was back in the cave.
He exhaled sharply, a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. This time, his body felt... good. A subtle pulse of energy throbbed beneath his skin.
Pushing himself to his feet, he drew in a slow breath, then threw a punch forward, violet aura flaring around his fist. A small shockwave burst outward from the impact, tearing through the air. The thick vines that had once covered the ground shattered under the force, snapping apart and falling in broken pieces around him.
Zay lowered his hand and exhaled slowly, feeling the power settle.
...
An hour later, Zay found himself standing at the familiar doorstep of home. The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the street. He raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door, each tap echoing faintly in the evening air.
A few seconds passed before the door creaked open, revealing Lyra's bright blue eyes peering up at him.
Zay let out a slow sigh, exhaustion and resolve etched across his face.
"Everyone needs to be in the living room," he said simply, his voice low and unwavering.
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped past her, the soles of his boots brushing over the wooden floor as he entered the house. He moved to a chair tucked against the wall and sat down heavily, his body feeling heavier than it should.
His amethyst eyes scanned the room. In the soft glow of the hearthlight, he spotted Mike, his mother, his father, and Lily, all gathered around the living room table, laughing softly as they played a game of Blades & Crowns. The cards clattered as Lily made a move, her brow furrowed in focus.
Zay watched them for a moment—this fleeting image of normalcy—before drawing in a steady breath and standing up straighter.
"Start looking for a place in Summitset," he said, his tone brooking no room for argument. "There's not enough time to stall any longer. I'll be leaving."
The room quieted. The dice stilled on the table. Five pairs of eyes turned toward him.
"There's a lot I need to do... and I can't stay here any longer," Zay continued, the words scraping out of him heavier than he expected. He let out another breath, slow and pained.
"I'm sorry," he said finally, voice softer, though no less certain. "But this is something I have to do."
His mother stood up abruptly, her eyes locked onto him. "What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice trembling slightly. "You... you just got back!"
Zay didn't respond right away. Instead, he stood, drawing in a sharp inhale before slowly exhaling, steadying himself.
Dale looked up at him from his seat and sighed.
"I don't want you to leave," he admitted, his voice low. "But... I believe you won't go out and get yourself killed."
He swallowed hard after saying it, hating the idea of his son leaving, but knowing deep down that Zay was strong enough to survive—and that he couldn't hold him hostage just because he was afraid.
Lily peeked up at him from where she sat, her hands fiddling with the cards. "Again? Just don't die," she said, her voice softer this time. She swallowed, then placed another card on the table—slower, more deliberate than before.
Rosemary looked around at all of them, seeing no strong objections. She sighed deeply, the breath escaping her like the last bit of fight leaving her body. Her gaze drifted toward Mike, who met her eyes briefly before shaking his head and quietly placing another card on the board.
Finally, she turned her gaze to Lyra. The girl said nothing, but Rosemary caught the change immediately—the brightness in Lyra's eyes had dimmed, a silent sadness filling the space the news left behind.
With a long, heavy sigh, Rosemary leaned back into the couch and closed her eyes, deciding not to say anything more. She knew her son well enough. Once his mind was made up, there was no stopping him.
Zay looked at them all for a lingering moment. His chest tightened, but he forced himself forward, his boots thudding softly against the wooden floor as he made his way toward the door.
He turned back one last time, hesitating. He didn't want to leave—but he had to, if he wanted to grow stronger. If he wanted to protect them the way they deserved.
As he reached for the door handle, a sudden ripple passed through the air around him.
[The Resonance Lens has deemed you worthy of your next task.]
[Task: An Innocent Life Must be Ended]
You must take the life of someone who poses no threat to you.
[Reward]
The Arbiter will unlock Level 1 of the Seal of the Demoness and gain access to the Third Sequence.
[Notice]
As the Seal of the Demoness is that of a lower level than the Arbiter's existing Seals and Contract, the Third Sequence will include multiple tasks designed to raise its level to match with the existing Seals and Contract.
Warning: Failure to complete these tasks within the bounds of the Sequence will permanently lock the Seal of the Demoness from advancing further.
—
Zay read over the task once more, the words burning into his thoughts like brands on his conscience. He exhaled quietly, then closed his fingers around the worn iron handle of the door and slowly pushed it open. A soft creak followed. He stepped outside, letting the wooden door thud shut behind him. His hand fell from the handle, and the weight of his steps echoed against the uneven stone beneath his feet.
'I can only hope… they actually listen and head to Summitset. If they don't…'
He cut the thought short, shaking it off with another exhale. Violet aura shimmered faintly at his legs before flaring outward in a smooth and thin layer. Then, without wasting any more time, he bolted forward—racing through the Empire's emptying streets.
In less than a minute, he arrived at the heart of the Ovaris marketplace.
He stopped beneath a sagging arch of brick, eyes scanning the surroundings. The sky above had thick clouds smothering the horizon as rain began to pour in earnest, drenching him within seconds. The droplets pelted his skin and soaked through his tunic, the sound of rainfall a steady drumbeat against rooftops, stone, and glass.
Merchants, smiths, and wandering vendors scurried to retreat, pulling in signs and tarps, locking their doors. Hazy figures disappeared behind fogged windows. Rain splattered against the glass pane of a nearby bakery, its surface streaked with rivulets running like tears. The smell of yeast and warmth still lingered faintly in the damp air.
Zay's gaze drifted upward to the sign above the door.
"Ovaris's Best Bread."
He narrowed his amethyst eyes, returning his attention to the window. Through the blurred sheen of rain, he saw a figure inside, a man, or what he thought was a man, at least. It was hard to tell.
"Grey tunic… black trousers? It's hard to tell through all this damn rain." He whispered the observation aloud, voice nearly lost in the storm. Still, something about the man's posture made Zay choose him.
He began his approach, every step sending puddles splashing outward in thin arcs, water slapping back into the cracked stone with each impact. His hands tightened briefly as a thought crossed his mind.
'No gloves…' Then a shrug. 'I don't think I'll need them for this.'
Zay's eyes glanced down at his waist, Evershade hung onto his waist from the clip made for katanas. Zay's hand drifted toward the hilt, fingers curling until he froze. His eyes had drifted back up towards the bakery, he saw that the man inside was approaching the door.
Through the rippling veil of rain, Zay saw a glint of brass in the man's hand—a key. The stranger walked quickly and confidently, his footsteps muffled by the storm. He reached the door, inserted the key, and with a metallic click, twisted the lock open.
The door creaked ajar.
"Come on in!" the man said, a warm smile lighting up his expression.
Zay didn't hesitate. He stepped inside and gave a polite nod. "Thanks. It's getting pretty cold out there," he said, glancing down at his drenched tunic. His tone was easy, casual, almost friendly.
"So…" Zay looked back up, brushing water from his hair. "Any freshly baked bread?"
The man chuckled, closing the door behind him as he walked toward a small wooden counter. The inside of the shop was simple but cozy: stone floors, shelves lined with wicker baskets, a hearth burning faintly in the corner, and the inviting smell of dough in the air. On one wall, a metal rack held trays with loaves at various stages of baking, and to the right, Zay noticed a door handle half-hidden behind hanging fabric.
His eyes lingered on it for a second before returning to the man.
The baker pulled out a weathered journal from beneath the counter. "We've got some baking now… let's see here," he mumbled, flipping through the pages. His finger traced along the ink-stained lines before stopping.
"There it is!" he said, smiling with pride. "The batch in the oven will be ready in five minutes. Don't mind the wait, do you?"
Zay had already taken a seat at a small wooden table, one leg resting over the other. "Not at all," he replied, offering a smile in return. "Just let me know when it's done."