District Galangs, Imperial Capital.
A city within a city—home to over one hundred and fifty thousand souls, filling every alley, every market, and every social square. Towering buildings loomed over trade routes that buzzed with activity, yet small corners of open space still remained, where people could sit and talk beneath the shade of trees. It was here that Canis, Easton, and Aron finally set foot after their long journey.
"This is the largest district among all capital gates," Easton murmured, eyes fixed on the trade tower surrounded by merchant flags from beyond the walls.
"And the easiest place to vanish," Canis added softly, scanning the crowded streets.
They chose a modest inn—nothing too flashy. Canis reached for his coin pouch to pay for a standard room, but Aron casually slid a gold coin across the receptionist's desk.
"Best room available. A whole floor, if you've got it," he grinned.
Canis and Easton exchanged glances before letting out a small, awkward chuckle.
"Sometimes I forget this kid's got more savings than the three of us combined," Easton said, patting Aron on the back.
"You know, Aron," said Canis, "a real hero doesn't need a luxury bed."
"But a hero's back still needs rest. Think of it as a long-term investment," Aron replied lightheartedly.
---
Still within the same district, inside a lavish mansion adorned with marble furnishings and bustling servants, a furious voice echoed from the main hall.
"Why aren't they here yet!? It's been over an hour! Worthless slugs!" shouted a rotund old man with a coarse voice. His name was Hamburg—a figure known among merchants as the owner of most warehouses and logistics channels in Galangs.
A trembling servant bowed low. "S-sorry, sir. The patrol unit... needed confirmation from headquarters..."
Just then, a knock echoed on the door. A soldier entered, clad in the grey uniform of the Imperial Armed Forces, standing stiff with formal precision.
"Lord Hamburg, I've come in response to your request for escort and investigation," the soldier stated.
"Don't give me that formal garbage!" Hamburg barked. "Do you know how long I've been waiting!? That man's been roaming freely since yesterday!"
"My apologies for the delay," the soldier replied calmly. "Please provide a description of the target."
"Young man. Tall. Black hair. But most importantly... his eyes. Gold. Like a devil's!" Hamburg emphasized, teeth grinding in frustration.
The soldier paused, eyes narrowing.
[…] "Golden eyes, huh?" he murmured. This time, it wasn't fear in his gaze—but curiosity.
At once, his thoughts drifted beyond a simple civilian report.
Golden eyes weren't normal. They were rare—nearly extinct.
One of the most defining traits of an ancient race wiped out nearly two decades ago: the Foniks.
"Do you know who he is?" Hamburg asked suspiciously, noting the change in the soldier's expression.
"Not yet," the soldier replied swiftly, masking his reaction behind a blank expression. "But we'll follow up. If he truly attacked you, that's a serious offense against imperial authority."
Hamburg leaned in, voice low and sharp. "If you fail... I'll take this to Luthven himself. He doesn't tolerate failure in soldiers. Understood?"
The soldier bowed deeply. "Understood."
But as he stepped out of that lavish mansion, his thoughts churned.
Foniks. Golden eyes. That's no coincidence.
If that man truly exists… he could be far more dangerous—and far more important—than Lord Hamburg could ever imagine.
Best to report to the Division Commander first.
{Chapter 25 end}