As Raymond watched the golden crystal continue to emerge from Leon's forehead, a terrifying possibility entered his mind.
A legend. One of the countless stories his father had told him during his childhood. Not an ancient tale from a forgotten age—the stories were said to come from all across the Empire. Rare occurrences that supposedly happened from time to time.
At first, he dismissed the thought immediately. Impossible. He had never truly believed those stories. As a child, he had regarded them as little more than bedtime horror tales meant to frighten youngsters, the sort of stories that left children checking beneath their beds before sleeping. Nothing more.
Yet as the seconds passed, dismissal became increasingly difficult. What was happening before him resembled no awakening he had ever heard of. Not a warrior's awakening. Not a mage's awakening. Not anything recorded within the kingdom.
The golden crystal continued to grow, and Leon remained unconscious, his face twisted in pain as his body trembled violently.
Raymond's heart sank.
If his suspicion was correct...
No. He refused to think further.
Without hesitation, he tore off his cloak and wrapped it around Leon, concealing the crystal from sight. The fewer people who saw this, the better. Carefully lifting his younger brother onto his shoulder, Raymond rose to his feet—and the cobblestones beneath him cracked as a violent gust of wind erupted outward.
Then he ran.
The ruined city became a blur. Citizens carrying supplies barely had time to react before he shot past them. Soldiers turned in surprise. Medics looked up from their work. Within moments he had vanished from sight, moving at a speed that far exceeded that of any horse or carriage, like a storm tearing through the streets.
Every second mattered.
The castle soon appeared before him. Unlike much of the city, its walls remained largely intact despite the battle, with guards standing watch at every entrance while servants and messengers hurried through the courtyard carrying reports from various parts of the city.
Raymond didn't slow down. Ignoring every salute and bow directed his way, he stormed through the castle gates.
"I need to see my father immediately!"
The shout echoed through the entrance hall and several guards stiffened. A man in polished armor stepped forward—Captain Roland Vale, commander of the castle guard. Despite the chaos surrounding the city, the veteran officer maintained his usual composed demeanor.
"Young Lord," he said respectfully. "The City Lord is currently attending an important meeting with the war council."
"I don't care." The sharpness in Raymond's voice caused several nearby guards to glance at one another. "This is more important."
Captain Vale's eyes narrowed slightly. Raymond was not a man prone to panic, and seeing him in such a state immediately raised alarm bells. The captain's gaze shifted toward the figure wrapped within the cloak. Though Leon's face was partially obscured, his identity wasn't difficult to guess.
Raymond stepped closer. "Inform him his son has urgent business." Each word was spoken with deliberate emphasis. "He is to come to my chambers. Immediately."
Without waiting for a response, he pushed past the guards and disappeared deeper into the castle.
Captain Vale stood frozen for only a moment before his instincts took over. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Turning on his heel, he hurried toward the council chamber.
Inside the council chamber, the atmosphere was tense. Though the battle had ended in victory, the cost had been severe. Maps covered the large wooden table dominating the center of the room, with markers representing military units, supply routes, and defensive positions scattered across its surface. Seven individuals sat around the table.
At its head sat City Lord Arthur Ashbourne. Despite having advanced well into middle age, he appeared no older than a man in his thirties. His sharp features and composed demeanor gave him an air of authority difficult to ignore, and years of leadership had forged a calmness within him that few could match.
To his right sat Marshal Gareth Stoneheart. The giant of a man towered over nearly everyone in the room despite remaining seated, his broad shoulders stretching the limits of his uniform while numerous scars decorated his weathered face. Many considered him the strongest warrior in the entire frontier region.
To Arthur's left sat General Elara Voss. Her athletic frame rivaled many men in size and strength, and years of military service had forged her into a formidable commander. Despite her imposing appearance, her expression remained surprisingly gentle.
Beside her sat General Cedric Vale. In stark contrast to the others, Cedric looked more like a scholar than a military officer, with thin spectacles resting upon his nose and several documents laid neatly organized before him. His greatest battles were often fought with maps and numbers rather than swords.
Across from them sat Commander Darius Thorn and Commander Lucian Thorn—twin brothers so similar in appearance that strangers often struggled to tell them apart. Even their expressions carried the same calm confidence earned through years of fighting side by side.
The final member of the council sat quietly near the end of the table. Matriarch Agatha, chief healer of the city. Though she appeared well over eighty years old, her back remained perfectly straight and her eyes bright and alert. The faint aroma of medicinal herbs followed her wherever she went, and age had weakened neither her mind nor her presence.
At that moment the chamber doors burst open and Captain Roland Vale rushed inside. Ignoring proper decorum, he immediately dropped to one knee.
"My lord."
The urgency in his voice caused every conversation within the room to cease. Arthur frowned slightly. "Captain?"
Roland lifted his head. "Young Lord Raymond requests your immediate presence."
The room fell silent.
"Did he say why?"
The captain hesitated, then answered truthfully. "No, my lord." His expression hardened. "But judging by his condition, I believe the matter cannot wait."
As every eye in the room turned toward him, Roland felt a sudden pressure settle upon his shoulders. Under normal circumstances he would not have minded, but today was different—particularly when his gaze met that of his older brother. General Cedric Vale adjusted his spectacles slightly, his sharp eyes fixed entirely upon him. For a brief moment Roland's heart nearly skipped a beat, though years of service allowed him to maintain a composed expression.
Arthur remained silent for several moments, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden table as the room waited. Finally he rose from his seat.
"Very well."
The simple words immediately drew everyone's attention. Arthur's expression remained calm, but those who knew him well could see the subtle tension behind his eyes—the urgency in Raymond's actions was not something to be ignored.
As he stepped away from the table, Marshal Gareth Stoneheart spoke. "Should we accompany you, my lord?" The giant marshal folded his arms across his chest. "Judging by Young Lord Raymond's tone, the matter appears serious."
The others nodded, and even Matriarch Agatha had set aside the documents she had been reviewing. Arthur glanced toward them and for a moment seemed to consider the suggestion, then shook his head.
"No." His voice was firm. "The matter before us is no less urgent."
He walked slowly toward the chamber doors. "The orc horde this time was unusually large." The room immediately grew more serious—every officer present had noticed it during the battle. "Although our city was not their primary target, we were nearly annihilated regardless." No one disputed his words, as the devastation outside served as proof enough. "We need to regroup, reinforce, and strengthen our defenses. That responsibility requires your full attention."
Silence settled over the chamber. Arthur stopped at the doorway, his expression hardening. "If we fail to prepare before the next assault—" he looked toward the war map spread across the table— "then let us say there may not be a next time."
The grim statement hung heavily in the air and no one spoke, because everyone present knew he was telling the truth. The city had survived. Barely.
Arthur pushed open the chamber doors and without another word stepped into the corridor.
Arthur moved swiftly through the castle corridors as guards and servants instinctively stepped aside. Though his pace was hurried, there was no panic in his movements—only purpose.
Within minutes he arrived before Raymond's chambers and pushed the door open without bothering to knock.
The room was silent. As soon as he entered, the first thing that greeted him was Raymond's worried expression. His eldest son stood beside the bed, armor still stained with blood from the battle, and upon the bed lay Leon—unconscious and motionless.
Arthur's gaze sharpened. "What happened?" His voice reverberated through the room—deep, calm, cold, like a hidden dagger.
Raymond immediately straightened. "I don't know." The admission seemed difficult for him. "It started while we were walking through the city. I was showing him the aftermath of the battle." He glanced toward Leon. "He suddenly collapsed. Then this happened."
Arthur followed his son's gaze as Raymond slowly raised a finger and pointed toward Leon's forehead. For the first time since entering the room, Arthur looked closely at his younger son. A portion of Leon's forehead remained visible beneath the cloak, and there between his brows protruded a small crystalline structure—golden, brilliant, with faint pulses of light flowing beneath its surface.
The room seemed to grow colder. Arthur stared at it as several seconds passed, and his expression darkened. The calm mask he usually wore cracked ever so slightly, and a single word escaped his lips.
"Anomaly."
The word hung heavily in the air. Raymond froze, his heart sinking as the possibility he had desperately hoped was wrong was confirmed. His gaze instinctively shifted toward Leon, and a knot formed in his stomach as silence filled the room.
Then Raymond spoke. "You know what it is?"
Arthur did not answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed upon the crystal, his expression growing increasingly grim.