Noel led Julian down a narrow, shadowed passage that opened into a chamber carved neatly into the cavern wall. Warm steam drifted out, carrying with it the faint fragrance of herbal soap. She turned to him, handing over a folded set of fresh clothes, her voice a whisper.
"Here you go, Sandro. Everything you need is inside."
The name struck him like a knife. "Sandro." A faint tremor flickered across Julian's face. He froze for a moment, eyes following her as she quickly turned away and walked off. His gaze hardened, as though rejecting the weight of that name before it could sink too deeply.
When he emerged, his hair damp and dripping, dressed in clean clothes, Julian's eyes roamed the cavern as if searching for a crack, a gap, any exit that might offer freedom. This was no refuge—it was a crypt, a vault that swallowed anyone who entered.
On his way toward Mondrik's hall, he caught sight of Cable sitting in a corner of the dining chamber, gnawing on a strange piece of roasted meat. Their eyes met. Cable raised a hand, beckoning him over.
Julian sat opposite him. Cable's tone was friendly, but laced with mockery.
"You look different now… Come, try this."
He slid the plate forward—a bird roasted in some unrecognizable way. Julian picked at a piece, tasted it, and a brief spark of surprise lit his face.
"The flavor… it's good. But the roasting—unusual."
Cable grinned confidently. With a flick of his finger, a whip of lightning crackled into existence, striking toward the plate.
"I roasted it like this."
Julian's brows shot up, and he smirked faintly.
"Your methods are… strange."
Cable chuckled. "Not strange—innovative. Since training under Mondrik, my mana control has sharpened. Turns out, there's use to be taken from him after all."
A brief laugh passed between them before Cable rose, placing a hand firmly on Julian's shoulder. He leaned close, whispering:
"You should see him now… But here's a piece of advice: don't talk too much in front of Noel or Harris. Especially Harris. He's already turned into a loyal dog."
Cable's sideways glance came with a mocking smile before he strode off, steady and sure.
Julian remained, finishing the meal in silence, burying the conversation deep within him like a smoldering coal waiting for a breath of air.
When he reached Mondrik's hall, the man sat on his stone throne in the same posture, eyes closed, as if trapped in an eternal slumber. Julian stood motionless until Mondrik slowly opened his eyes. Their gazes met—one cold and indifferent, the other tense, weighed down by uncertainty.
Julian bowed lightly, greeting him with formality.
"Greetings, my lord."
Mondrik's voice rolled out, deep and resonant.
"In time, I will give you tasks… your role in my service."
His face remained a mask of indifference, while Julian's betrayed the faint tension of unease.
Mondrik continued.
"You will gather monster cores along the outskirts of the Great Desert. You may keep thirty percent of what you harvest. The rest—you bring to me. Do you understand?"
Julian inclined his head.
"I'll do what I can… but I want some freedom."
Mondrik's brow arched slightly in mild surprise.
"Oh? And what kind of freedom do you seek?"
Julian's gaze held firm.
"Freedom to hunt wherever I choose—not only near the central desert."
Silence lingered, heavy, until Mondrik shrugged and let out a soft laugh.
"What a trivial kind of freedom. I never bind my followers with chains. What matters are results. Do as you please."
He flicked his hand in dismissal.
Julian turned and left the hall, his expression hardening—a look caught somewhere between sorrow and resignation. Or perhaps it was something else entirely… something no one could yet name.