Chapter 55: Mocking Test
The Reunion Was Short-Lived
Before Waker could ask Dorn or Kiran more about their survival, a deep chime echoed through the jade hall. It wasn't the sound of metal — it was water, resonating as if the canals themselves had been struck like a bell.
The hall instantly quieted. Murmurs rippled among clerks and travelers as every gaze turned toward the great archway at the far end. Two massive doors, carved with flowing wave-patterns, slowly swung open.
From within, a man and woman emerged.
Their presence alone silenced even the whispers. From the crown on the man's head and the tiara resting lightly on the woman's brow, Waker knew at once who they must be: the King and Queen of Fontarin.
The King was tall, wrapped in sea-green robes embroidered with silver waves. On his chest gleamed the crest of Fontarin — a spiral encircling a droplet. His hair was the pale white of sea foam, and his eyes shimmered with shifting colors, like deep water impossible to pin as green, blue, or something else entirely.
The Queen, however, stole the hall's breath. Her sky-blue hair curled in waves past her shoulders, framing a veiled lower face. Her uncovered eyes, round and luminous, glowed with a clear sky-blue light. Even behind the veil, her beauty was undeniable.
Waker's eyes flicked to the girl beside them. The resemblance to the Queen was unmistakable.
"Mother!" the girl cried, running forward.
The Queen bent gracefully, catching her daughter in her arms. Her voice trembled with joy as the princess pressed her face against her. "Mother, I'm back."
Behind the royal pair walked an old man wearing simple black robe. His sharp features, clean-shaven jaw, and long white hair tied at the back gave him a commanding presence. Though his steps were measured, his eyes carried a keen light that unsettled Waker.
The moment the old man's gaze settled on him, Waker felt sweat prick his back. There was no hostility in them — only a piercing curiosity, as though he were being measured and dissected all at once.
The royals approached them.
"You are the ones my daughter saved," the King said, his voice carrying both dignity and weight.
Dorn and young Kiran immediately bowed, pressing a hand over their chests. "We are deeply grateful to Your Majesty and to Princess Zinab for saving our lives," Dorn said respectfully.
The King's gaze shifted to Kiran. His deep-water eyes softened slightly. "I hear you've a dormant aspect … and awakened naturally, at that." His voice came low and gravelly, though not unkind.
Kiran, calm as ever for a boy his age, nodded.
The King regarded him for a moment longer before speaking. "Then I will offer my aid in any way I can."
Waker blinked, startled by the generosity. But then he remembered what Reydon or Ravi had once told him — dormant aspects were rarer, stronger, and more promising than ordinary ones. With Kiran's potential, the boy could easily rise into greatness one day. The King's favor wasn't charity; it was foresight.
Dorn understood this as well. Bowing again, he said, "We have learned that our parents and the rest of the Great Claws went to Xrylus City. With Your Majesty's permission, we wish to go there as well."
The King's expression dimmed. "That may prove difficult. Not long ago, this city suffered a sudden assault from a horde of devourers and cursed beasts. The teleportation gate linked to Alucone City was damaged in the attack as well. I cannot permit you or anyone to travel until the dangers have lessened."
Dorn's shoulders sagged, disappointment heavy in his breath. Waker, too, understood then why Fontarin's security was so strict.
"I will try to arrange an escort when the time comes," the King continued, his tone firm. "For now, you are safest here."
Before Waker could even process those words, something glimmered at the edge of his vision. A projectile — aimed straight at Nyra.
"Look out!"
He shoved her aside and raised his hand. Yellow-green grass shot from his palm, intercepting the object. It bounced harmlessly off, clattering to the floor. It was nothing but a rubber toy.
Waker's eyes shot up — only to see the white-haired old man lowering his arm to attack, his expression unreadable.
"Hey! Why did you attack us!?" Waker shouted angrily before he jumped back out of range.
"Attack?" The old man chuckled, producing a wooden sword. "Call it a test." His voice deepened. "I'm impressed. To think you've already reached the Advanced Stage with such an Unskillful aspect."
Waker froze. Advanced Stage? He hadn't realized it himself — but it explained the speed, the strength, the sharpness he'd been feeling.
"But you still need practice to fully use your Talent. Here I come," the old man warned, not waiting for an answer.
In a blink, he dashed forward, faster than Waker could fully follow. He felt his Instincts useless. Waker drew Ravi's silver sword and swung—only for the blade to cut empty air.
"Too slow," the old man's voice teased from behind him.
Whipping his head around, Waker barely caught sight of the man before another strike came. Each blow landed like a hammer. Waker managed to block one strike in three — the rest crashed into his body, rattling his bones. He felt like nothing more than a sandbag being battered about.
Dorn's eyes widened. "He's … stronger than before," he murmured, realizing Waker was holding his ground far better than he once could.
Nyra stirred where she had fallen. Her onyx-black eyes snapped open — now glowing violet, with a single white dot at the center of each iris. The dots rotated, spinning until they bloomed into a pattern of five white petals encircling violet cores.
At once, black water surged up from the tiles beneath the old man's boots, coiling around his legs and yanking him down. His eyes flared as his essence sputtered — disrupted, and suffocated. He couldn't move or feel anything. Worse, the liquid seeped into his very pores, invading his body.
The King's voice cut through, sharp as a command at that moment. He snapped his fingers.
A surge of crackling current raced across the floor, striking Nyra. Her body seized, her eyes starting dimming, and she crumpled unconscious to the ground. The black water dissolved instantly and disappeared.
The old man exhaled, as he was freed, but his eyes now gleamed with interest. He looked at Waker, lips curling into a sly smile. "I've decided. You two — will become my disciples."
The hall erupted with gasps, and murmurs. Even mocking laughter filled the chamber.
"Disciples? With that boy's aspect?"
"His Aspect was even worst among the Unskillful rank — he will only waste the time of Master Masud!"
"Has the old master finally gone senile? ... He'll going to teach that boy who is already at his limits."
Waker heard it all. Their scorn pressed against him like a weight. But he did not falter.
He tightened his grip on the silver sword, lifted his chin, and spoke clearly enough for the hall to hear: "I don't care that my aspect is unskillful. I don't care who mocks me."
His voice rose, firm and unyielding.
"All of you will see — One day, I will become a Great Arcane!"
The chamber stilled, but the people didn't stop mocking him. Instead, they started to mock him more.
The King gave a light smile, as he saw the courage and determination of the boy. He understood, why his father got interested in this boy.