The deeper we ventured into the slums of Ravencroft, the dirtier the air felt. The atmosphere was heavy.
In a dark alley, some homeless people had formed a small community—a makeshift refuge where they could sleep and eat. The cold night air made them shiver.
A young boy lay asleep on the damp ground of their shelter, his body trembling. His hair, caked with mud, was nothing more than a tangled, filthy mess. His complexion was pale, so pale one might think he was on the verge of death.
A burly man, with a pitiful appearance, knelt down and covered him with a torn coat. A miserable garment, but enough to ease the boy's shivering.
I watched them from a distance, unable to step forward.
I, who had always lived while ignoring this reality… I had never known cold or hunger. No, I had never known suffering. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. But… was that my fault? No.
Yet could I truly turn my gaze away now that I had seen all of this?
A strange, almost nauseating feeling swelled within me. Instinctively, I looked away, trying to escape the sight. But even as I wished to flee, misery clung to me. To the left, to the right, before me… It was everywhere.
So, I forced myself to look.
— Young master… Let's head back, we've seen enough, murmured Sery, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I hate being touched. She knows that. Yet, strangely, that contact warmed something inside me, soothing the shadow that had begun to form in my mind.
Beside us, Ester remained silent, oddly distant. He hadn't uttered a word since our arrival.
— Let's go talk to them, I declared.
Sery frowned.
— Are you sure?
She must have sensed my discomfort. I felt almost ashamed to have let such an unworthy side of me show.
— If we keep wandering without trying to understand, we'll never learn anything, I replied.
I turned to Ester.
Maybe he had a better idea. After all, he knew Ravencroft.
He looked at me for a moment, then nodded in approval.
Sery, however, scrutinized him before asking:
— Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?
— My role is to follow. What you need to discover… you must do so yourselves, he simply answered.
Without delay, we approached the homeless community.
A dark-skinned man with a severe gaze immediately stepped in our way.
— Who are you? he barked, not bothering to hide his contempt.
Sery was about to answer, clearly irritated. It was rare for someone to dare speak to us like that. Since the incident with the group of five boys, no one had shown us such hostility.
— We're simply here to talk, I answered calmly.
The man narrowed his eyes.
— Kid, if you ran away from home, this isn't the place to be hanging around. You and your group… you're nobles.
— What makes you say that? But let's say you're right… why couldn't we be here? I asked.
He burst out laughing, but his tone hardened.
— Are you seriously asking me that? You reek of nobility. You're clean while we're covered in filth. Your very presence here is a nuisance to us.
He pointed at us, particularly Sery and me.
Then he stepped forward, menacing.
Sery tensed. Ready to strike if he dared cross the two meters separating us.
His onyx eyes gleamed coldly. His words made me uncomfortable, almost guilty.
— Stern.
Ester's voice echoed behind me.
— They're with me. Could you let us through, please? he asked calmly, as if the previous altercation had never happened.
I clenched my fists.
I didn't want to show that the man's words had frustrated me.
Stern stared at Ester for a moment, before a tired smile softened his face.
— Kid, it's been a while since you last visited. He was starting to wonder.
— Sorry, I've been busy. Actually, it'd be good to talk to him now.
— I like you, so I might let you in. But not them.
He pointed again at Sery and me.
Sery was still in shock. She was trying to process what had just happened. Barely two minutes ago, this man was ready to fight us. And now, he spoke to Ester like an old friend.
But me… I was thinking only of one thing.
Who was this he they spoke of?
What was his relationship with Ester?
— They're different, Ester said firmly, locking eyes with Stern.
Stern was about to reply, but he frowned, placed a hand to his ear, and nodded.
— Your friends are lucky, Ester. He wants to speak with them.
— Thank you.
Stern moved forward and motioned for us to follow him. We walked inside a building; the hallways were disastrous—concrete that no longer looked like concrete, broken walls. The ceiling was riddled with holes, raindrops falling onto the floor, giving the place a gloomy atmosphere.
The hallway was lit by candles and broken light bulbs. Far from the imperial palace. It was clear—we were at the very bottom of the food chain, far below the nobility, lower even than a commoner's family. No, this was pure, unfiltered misery. But what is the Duke doing?
How can places like this be allowed to exist?
********
Stern led the group to a reinforced door—a stark contrast to the poverty displayed behind them. The door itself wasn't the epitome of wealth, but after what they had seen earlier, the group thought no less of it.
Stern pushed the door open. Inside, the room was surprisingly modern, yet carried a certain grace difficult to put into words.
Zikron narrowed his eyes at the sight before him. He didn't know what to make of it. He scanned the room silently, but his gaze soon caught Ester, who had displayed no emotion since the start of the evening.
Yet now, Zikron noticed something shift—Ester was growing tense, his fists clenching slightly, as if to stop the subtle tremors running through his body.
Zikron saw it perfectly.Ester was afraid.The complete opposite of Sery, who stood there with a visible furrow in his brow.
Zikron took note of Ester's emotions but said nothing, continuing to observe.
The cold air that had accompanied them so far was gone. It was warm now, almost pleasant. The entire room was spotless—no cracks on the walls, no visible signs of decay.
A sharp contrast to where the homeless barely survive.It made one wonder if they were still in the same place.
In the center of the room, a throne stood. A black throne.And seated upon it, a man with a dark, somber aura.Braided hair hanging down in neat rows, skin the color of polished ebony blending seamlessly with the throne itself.
His face was perfectly balanced—not particularly handsome, but there was something undeniably magnetic about him. Mysterious.
Timeless.His eyes seemed to have watched centuries go by.He looked no older than thirty, yet the energy radiating from him suggested otherwise.
He fixed his gaze on Zikron, Ester, and Sery, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement.
Stern was already kneeling before his "master."
The strange man didn't speak, but calmly rose from his throne.Zikron didn't move.
He felt the pressure, sure—but after being raised under the shadow of Zeyos' emperor, this was nothing.
Stern shot Zikron a sharp look, displeasure clear on his face, before barking:
"Kneel. You are not worthy to look him in the eyes!"
"I don't see why I should kneel before
anyone."Zikron's voice was clipped, sharp.
With just those few words, Stern immediately understood Zikron wasn't joking.
But who the hell is this brat to say something like that in front of his master?Stern wasn't usually someone to get riled up easily.Yet looking at Zikron, his instincts screamed that this kid was far from normal.It irritated him.
"And who are you to say that?" Stern snapped back.
"You elites are all the same. I don't know what he saw in you—
"He pointed a finger accusingly at Ester,"—but me? I see nothing."
Stern stepped closer to Zikron, determined to put the boy in his place.
"Stern."
The voice cut through the room—soft, but fierce, like a warning.
Stern froze, his head immediately lowering as he spoke:
"My apologies. I lost my temper."
The man behind all this turned his attention back to Zikron's group, his gaze lingering on Ester.
"It's been a long time, Ester. I hear you'll be leaving Ravencroft in the coming days," he said, a warm smile curving his lips.
"Yes." Ester replied simply, making it clear he didn't intend to interrupt further.
"Who are you?" Zikron asked flatly, without a hint of emotion.He knew the man before him was stronger.But has a Zeta ever backed down?
"Good evening, young master,"
the man answered, inclining his head slightly. "Forgive the way you've been welcomed. Understand that some people… they don't recognize your status. Especially those whose only concern is survival."
Zikron didn't respond right away. His eyes stayed locked on the man, studying him.
"I understand. But that still doesn't answer my question.Who are you?"
The man straightened, letting out a quiet laugh.
"My apologies.
My name is Castiel Nemir.
But you may call me Castiel, young master.
And I am no one."