B3 - Chapter 71: Wildfire

'Wait... why do you have that title next to your name?' Nightmare asked through Link. 'He Who Cannot Be Chained? What does that even mean?'

'Seth!' Colossus chimed in before Seth could answer. 'Do you think I could get a title too? Maybe He Who Protects With His Giant and Incredible Shell?'

'That's a… little long, Colossus,' Seth replied mentally.

A faint smile tugged at his bloodstained lips despite the exhaustion threatening to make him collapse.

Then his gaze fell to his forearms.

He couldn't feel the inscription the Scribe had carved into his flesh half a year ago anymore. That wild power had shattered the chains binding his Well had destroyed the trial's seal as well.

Seth slowly flexed his fingers.

Was it really just his Talent? Or was there something else feeding into it? Something deeper—something that was simply part of who he was, shaped by the Path he had chosen for himself?

His eyes moved back to the contribution list in the center of the neutral zone and stopped on the new title next to his name. He Who Cannot Be Chained.

"Seth!" Marcus called from behind. "We have to leave. More NEVAK enforcers are on their way."

Seth turned.

Marcus was already climbing Vorath's massive slate-gray flank, and once he'd made it to the top he swung his leg between two obsidian spikes of the wyvern's spine.

Seth followed, but not before sweeping one last glance across the neutral zone.

The banners of House Vancaws, House Surani, House Ryehill, and House Chester had shifted up, forming a defensive wall around the Champions of Chaos.

Yet the remaining Great Houses hadn't moved an inch.

They should have been charging toward Orwen to avenge the headless king lying in the middle of the plain.

But they were right to hesitate.

Without a single Platinum Wielder capable of matching either Marshal Vancaws or the leader of the Champions of Chaos—and with nearly every Royal Guard already dead—an assault would be nothing short of suicide.

Seth's eyes found Orwen first.

The silver-haired man stood behind the locked shield wall beside Professor Reat and Celine.

Orwen gave Seth a calm, reassuring nod. Celine, next to him, followed with a playful wink.

They are going to be fine.

Seth's gaze shifted to the Surani House formation. Jenna, Devus, Selena, Henry, and even Floria, who was still chained, were all staring at him. Each of them wore an expression of utter disbelief. Well, all except Devus.

The Guardian sported the biggest grin Seth had ever seen and was pointing straight at Vorath.

Then Seth found Elena.

The crimson-haired noblewoman met his gaze. A warm, proud smile spread across her face. She mouthed a single word: Go.

Seth returned her smile, then sprang upward to grab one of the thick runic scales along Vorath's shoulder and pull himself onto the wyvern's broad back behind Marcus.

From his new vantage point, he looked across the plain.

The Empress and her daughter, Celess, stood behind a wall of imperial soldiers, both staring directly at him. The male officer of the NEVAK also continued to watch him.

Despite Marcus and Vorath having just saved their lives by driving off the Draerians, the man's face didn't show even the slightest hint of gratitude.

The behavior fitted him just fine.

From everything he had seen, gratitude didn't seem to exist within an organization like the NEVAK.

Seth's gaze moved to the wounded woman in the man's arms.

Though still bleeding, she bore a hateful expression; her eyes were locked on a lone figure standing near the Champions of Chaos.

Kaelen.

The assassin swayed where he stood, barely able to remain upright. His dark leather armor was scorched black, wisps of smoke still rising from the burns left by the raging aether.

Seth grimaced.

The NEVAK diplomats had survived, which meant Kaelen was as good as dead.

The duo would demand Kastal hand him over. And there wasn't the slightest chance they would refuse.

The assassin had sacrificed everything for a vengeance that he would never have the chance to see be fulfilled.

Seth stared down at him.

Every rational part of Seth told him that what he was about to do would come back to haunt him. Yet his gut refused to let go.

He cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Kaelen!" he shouted over the rising wind. "Did you know?"

The assassin frowned in confusion. For a moment, he simply stared back before realization flickered across his face.

He shook his head.

"That man's eyes were blue back in Asethka! Not golden!"

Seth pressed his lips into a thin line, then he leaned to the side and looked at Marcus behind the obsidian spike of Vorath's back. "You said I could bring one person with me, right?"

The Alchemist frowned. "Yes, but…" The old man's gaze darted down toward the assassin. "No! Absolutely not—"

Before he could finish, Vorath shifted beneath them.

The colossal wyvern lowered his body, and his powerful muscles rippled beneath his slate-gray scales as he prepared to take flight.

Seth flashed a defiant smile and stretched out his arm toward Kaelen.

At first the assassin simply stared in sheer bafflement. Then instinct took over.

Without a word, Kaelen exploded into motion.

He sprinted across the scorched battlefield and jumped just as Vorath's colossal wings flapped downward.

Kaelen's hand locked around the forearm of Seth, who planted his boots against the runic scales of the wyvern and heaved with everything he had.

Kaelen cleared the edge of Vorath's flank and swung his legs over the beast's spine to land directly behind Seth.

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Marcus groaned and shot the newest passenger an incredulous look.

"We already have half the continent as our enemies," he said over the roaring wind. "And you've decided to bring an imperial traitor with us?"

"He saved my friend," Seth replied without hesitation. "The Surani."

"His mate," Nightmare corrected from within the teardrop necklace.

Marcus slowly pinched the bridge of his crooked nose.

Then he let out a long, resigned sigh as Vorath let out one final roar. The sound rolled across the neutral zone and shook the plain. The wyvern drove his wings downward with more strength this time, and a blast erupted beneath him.

The resulting wind flattened the trampled grass, tore banners from their poles, and hurled debris into the air. The next beat launched them skyward.

The acceleration crushed Seth against the wyvern's back as the battlefield shrank beneath them.

What had been a war-torn plain only moments earlier dwindled into a blur of crimson, steel, and ice. Then Vorath tore through the cloud layer and they disappeared from sight.

Vorath flew above the clouds. His immense wings beat with powerful strokes, each one carrying them farther into the blue horizon.

Marcus leaned closer to Seth, raising his voice over the rushing wind. "You knew the real target was the NEVAK officers from the beginning. You lied about it being the Empress."

"Yes," Seth admitted. "I didn't want anyone else to be in trouble. Since Orwen and the others believed she was the target, the NEVAK won't be able to come after them for not giving a warning. Even if they search their memories."

Marcus ran a hand through his wind-tossed beard and let out a sigh. "That was actually a good idea." The Alchemist then glanced back at Kaelen. "I suppose bringing him along is slightly less terrible." Turning forward again, he continued, "The NEVAK council will be furious for months. But with no direct casualties aside from two Living Armors, they'll eventually let it go. Most of their anger will fall on Draeria. They will probably impose economic sanctions or something along those lines. Nothing Kaiser or Zakar wouldn't have already expected."

Seth's jaw tightened. Kaiser. Now he had the second man's name.

"Do you know them?" he asked.

"I crossed paths with them a few times," Marcus answered. "A long time ago."

Seth didn't hesitate. "Did they kill my father?"

A rumbling snort vibrated through Vorath's massive frame.

"Them?" The wyvern's deep aetheric voice dripped with contempt. "Ulric would have slaughtered the two in seconds. Ten years ago, the difference between your father and them was even wider. They were mere hatchlings begging for his recognition. "

Seth frowned. "Then why does everyone from the Champions of Chaos say the Draerian who crushed the Kastal rebellion was a Platinum Wielder?"

Marcus shook his head. "He wasn't." The old Alchemist reached into his robe and pulled a silver bracelet engraved with intricate runes. "They just thought that because he wore one of these."

Then, he rested a hand against Seth's shoulder, causing the artifact's description to appear in his field of vision through Shared Identify.

He had barely finished reading when Kaelen spoke from behind.

"Kaiser had one of those too," the assassin said. "He was wearing it back in Asethka."

"Many people in that city do," Marcus answered with a nod.

Seth grimaced. "So stepping into a lower-Tier Rift won't stop them from following me."

"It doesn't, but most of them won't do that," Marcus answered with a shake of his head before holding up the bracelet. "Using one of these makes them vulnerable. If a Diamond Wielder suppresses their attributes to Gold in order to enter a lower-tier Rift, they don't just lose raw power—they lose access to everything they gained after Gold. Their spells, Seeds, and everything else above that tier won't be accessible." He glanced at Seth. "In other words, they're no longer a Diamond Wielder inside that Rift. They're simply an exceptionally skilled Gold. A coordinated group of the same tier could kill them."

Seth nodded, thoughts working.

So stronger Wielders could follow him into lower-tier Rifts, but by doing so, they would put themselves within his reach.

Just as the thought settled in, Seth's gaze drifted back to the bracelet. The artifact had also made him realize that his assumption about his father had been wrong. The man had been even more powerful than Seth had believed.

The Diamond Tier... Seth recalled how Vorath had effortlessly halted two Draerians who had each been at the Diamond Tier. It all makes sense, considering he was once my father's beast.

Cold wind howled across Vorath's broad back as the wyvern cut through several clouds. Far below, Kastal disappeared behind them. The familiar forests and rolling plains gave way to towering mountains of the southern part of the Bridan Empire.

Each beat of Vorath's wings sent a tremor through Seth, carrying them farther and farther from the kingdom he'd spent most of his life.

Adjusting his grip on one of the wyvern's runic scales, Seth glanced toward Marcus. There were dozens of questions he wanted to ask the old Alchemist.

Why had Zakar possessed a scroll capable of crippling anyone carrying blood from the Elrod Clan? Why had Vorath claimed the chains had been made by a god? And, perhaps most importantly, how had one of Seth's Talents allowed him to break something created by a deity?

That alone raised countless questions about Talents, their origins, and what exactly they truly were.

But Seth's gaze shifted behind him.

Kaelen was there, close enough to hear every word. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to start asking questions about all this.

So Seth settled on something far simpler.

"Where exactly are we going?" he shouted over the gale.

"To a city called Ithalara!" Marcus replied, half turning between two of the spikes of the wyvern's spine. "Far to the north, inside Morvane Kingdom."

Seth searched through his knowledge of geography and eventually landed on it. Morvane lay at the northernmost edge of the eastern continent.

"Why fly all the way there?"

Marcus held up the Tier Suppression Bracelet again. "Because we need an Artificer capable of forging one of these for Vorath."

Beneath them, the colossal grey wyvern let out a low growl of disapproval.

Marcus sighed. "I know you hate the idea," he shouted toward the beast's head, "but we already discussed this. It's the safest option."

Vorath answered with another irritated growl.

Seth blinked. "You can make one for a beast?"

"Of course," Marcus replied. "Artifacts interact with aether, not species."

Seth looked back at the bracelet, genuinely surprised. He had never even considered that contracted beasts—or something like Vorath—could wear human-made masking artifacts.

"Why does he need one?"

"So he can leave his Pocket Realm if someone comes after you while we're in Asethka."

Seth stared. "We're going to Asethka?"

Marcus nodded.

"Even after what just happened with the NEVAK?" Seth asked.

"Asethka lies beyond their jurisdiction," the Alchemist answered. "The council's laws, treaties, and execution warrants mean absolutely nothing there. Shenlong is the only one who rules in that land."

Vorath let out another low growl, and Marcus glanced toward the wyvern's head.

"Yes, yes," he muttered. "You'll have to tolerate him. We've also talked about this."

The growl that followed was even less pleased. Marcus sighed again before looking back at Seth. "There's some… history between the two."

Seth frowned, but wisely chose not to ask. Questioning the wyvern while flying thousands of feet above the ground seemed like a particularly poor idea.

'Vorath reminds me of Big Brother Nightmare,' Colossus remarked through Link.

'Because he's strong?' Nightmare asked.

'No. Because he's grumpy.'

Nightmare grumbled in his den. 'Once I reach Silver, I'm ripping that shell right off your back.'

'What makes you think you'll reach Silver before me?' Colossus retorted.

'Oh, I will. Don't doubt that.'

Seth rolled his eyes as the two beasts continued bickering. A faint rustle came from behind as Kaelen shifted on Vorath's broad back, causing Seth to look over his shoulder. "You don't have to come with us all the way, you know."

The assassin shrugged. "Asethka was my destination anyway... assuming I survived all this. I might as well stick with you for now." He hesitated before adding, "Besides, I owe you my life."

Seth shook his head. "You saved my friend. So as far as I'm concerned, we're now even."

He turned back toward Marcus. "So if the NEVAK don't have jurisdiction in Asethka, and Vorath can intervene if things go wrong..." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Does that mean I can actually walk around there without having to hide who I am?"

Marcus dragged a hand over his neck. From the look on his face, he was already picturing the inevitable chaos that would follow Seth wherever he went. "I'll need a little time before that," the Alchemist answered at last. "If I can convince a few people to stand with us, then yes. You should finally be able to."

Seth turned back toward the horizon, letting the wind strip away some of the drying blood from his face. Inside his chest, his core pulsed beside his heart while Will of the Defiers rested quietly between them.

King Theron was dead, and now Kastal stood on the brink of a new era—one Seth hoped would finally free countless people from the nobles' grasp.

But that was only the beginning of his goals. Too many obstacles still stood in his way. Too many enemies were still breathing. And if he wanted to tear them down, he needed to become stronger. The same was true if he wanted to avenge his father.

Seth closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. He had already decided his Path.

Draeria could gather every champion they had. They could raise armies and call for the help of their strongest beasts. No matter how they prepared, it wouldn't make any difference. They had missed their chance.

The moment they had failed to extinguish the threatening spark, their fate had been sealed. The spark had now turned into a flame, and soon it would become a wildfire.

When that day came, nothing would stop him.

He would crush every single one of them.