B4 - Chapter 2: Welcoming Committee

Seth materialized atop the smooth white stone of Asethka's Recall Altar, squinting against the blinding flash of spatial light.

Having arrived at this exact location once before made the experience far less overwhelming. Even so, his gaze swept reflexively across the ten-foot monoliths ringing the circular platform and the runes carved into their surface.

All around him, other travelers appeared in rapid bursts of light before seamlessly joining the orderly stream flowing toward the exit.

This time, Seth wasted no time gawking.

Remembering the reprimand he'd received from one of the guards during his first visit, he fell into step behind Marcus and Kaelen. They passed through a wide gap between two monoliths and emerged onto the steep cobblestone road descending from the altar. Just like the last time, two imposing Platinum-tier guards flanked the path. They stood motionless with large halberds in hand and dark plate armor gleaming beneath the morning sun.

Seth turned his gaze toward the city on the left while going down the hill alongside Marcus and Kaelen.

Asethka sprawled across the landscape, dominating nearly the entire horizon.

Giant structures of pristine white marble and polished black granite pierced the skyline, some rising high enough for their spires to be at Seth's level. Sweeping stone bridges connected some of the towers while beneath countless districts could be seen.

Dense mazes of timber-framed houses crowded under steep slate roofs gave way to sprawling stone estates and glittering spires. An immense aqueduct cut through it all, carrying water across the city before spilling into the lower districts in roaring waterfalls.

At the metropolis's heart stood a breathtaking palace.

High above its gleaming towers, enormous eagles and armored griffons circled in slow, predatory arcs. Yet even the palace was dwarfed by what stood a little farther south.

Shenlong Tower.

The colossal structure of blue stone rose high enough for it to scrape the lowest clouds, looming over everything around it as though the city of Asethka had first been constructed in its shade.

As they descended the cobblestone path, Seth began noticing something else.

People were glancing at him. Not everyone, but at least a fair amount of the bystanders.

Their eyes narrowed as their attention settled on his face—more precisely, his eyes.

Marcus had already explained that brewing enough potion to conceal Seth's golden irises indefinitely simply wasn't possible. Better to accept the attention than spend his day hidden inside.

Vorath had more than agreed.

According to the wyvern, Seth needed to start behaving like a proper predator instead of skulking around behind disguises. And from what he had gathered during all the few arguments between the beast and the Alchemist, Vorath's opinions tended to carry a lot of weight.

"Are his eyes yellow... or gold?" a passing merchant whispered to his companion.

"Probably just yellow," the other man replied with a dismissive shake of his head.

Seth ignored them and continued down the steep, winding slope behind Marcus.

Kaelen deliberately trailed several paces behind, his shoulders hunched and his head lowered. The Dark Assassin clearly despised both the open sunlight and the lingering attention.

The trio soon reached the massive iron gates at the base of the hill.

Rather than joining the long queue snaking toward the guards at the entrance, Marcus veered right and led them toward a small shaded waiting area beside the wall. Several groups lingered there, seemingly waiting for companions before entering or leaving the inner city.

Seth stood beside Marcus and Kaelen beneath the shadow of the tall archway.

While the three of them waited, his gaze wandered across the bustling thoroughfare. Armored mercenaries, merchants, adventurers, and travelers of every description streamed in and out of the gates.

Marcus had given Seth and Kaelen a brief—and blunt—explanation of Asethka's unusual politics during their flight toward the Rift portal.

At the absolute pinnacle of the city's hierarchy stood Shenlong.

The Peak-Diamond beast both supervised the trials inside the colossal central tower bearing his name and guarded the Domain Flower sustaining the Rift City. As Marcus had already told them, Shenlong valued potential above almost everything else.

Governing millions of people, however, apparently held little interest for him.

So every few years, the powerful beast selected a human ruler to oversee the city's administration, enforce its laws, and ensure street-level crime remained virtually nonexistent.

The current ruler, Aemon of House Parayus, had managed to hold that precarious position for nearly five years.

According to Marcus, there were only two real requirements for claiming the throne: earn Shenlong's genuine respect, and be foolish enough to actually want the job.

Countless powerful factions operated largely beyond the ruler's direct authority—the Adventurers' Guild, the Oracle Guild, and the Merchant Guild, to name only a few. Beyond those vast international organizations, the city teemed with influential noble Houses, branches of powerful foreign families, and independent mercenary companies.

Yet while many of these factions commanded considerable influence, power rested mostly with what Marcus called the Five Pillars of Asethka.

They were the five strongest people within the city, surpassed only by Shenlong himself.

Each had reached the Diamond Tier while inside the Rift, granting them the ability to wield their full strength despite the realm's limit being of the Platinum Tier.

The first Pillar was Astred of Mishlin City, a reclusive place renowned for producing exceptionally talented Elementalists. The second was Galora, the enigmatic Head of the Alfordramri Family—a powerful organization originating from the western continent that had been forced to flee to Asethka decades ago after suffering a terrible defeat in war.

Then came Kolvak.

Marcus had hinted that the name was one many in the city preferred not to speak too loudly. Leader of a beastman tribe, that person was feared as much for his brutal reputation as for the overwhelming strength he possessed.

The fourth was a highborn noble from the Velmark Kingdom, Xavier of House Grava. His presence served as a stark reminder that although the NEVAK Council held no formal jurisdiction over Asethka, the influence of its five ruling nations remained deeply entrenched within the city.

And finally, there was Myrantha.

One of the wealthiest and most cunning merchants in the known world.

Unlike the other four Pillars, the woman didn't possess a combat-oriented class, yet the staggering wealth, manpower, and resources at her disposal made her faction—the Black Lionheads—arguably the most influential organization in Asethka.

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Joining its ranks was the goal of thousands of mercenaries. They all hoped to earn fortunes beyond anything ordinary contracts could provide.

In his usual dry tone, Marcus had commented that if the woman ever acquired the strength necessary to kill Shenlong and seize control of the city, she would have attempted a coup decades ago.

Plenty of people apparently believed she still might.

Marcus had attributed the ambition to simple, bottomless greed; Vorath had offered a different explanation.

According to the wyvern, not everyone living in Asethka appreciated having their worth measured almost entirely by Shenlong.

As they lingered beside the gates, Seth watched a stream of people pour into the city.

The unaffiliated civilians were easy enough to identify. Most wore plain clothes, simple leathers, or traveling cloaks without any obvious markings. Members of Asethka's countless factions, however, displayed their allegiances proudly through dyed cloaks, engraved armor, and ornate badges pinned over their hearts.

One emblem in particular dominated the bustling thoroughfare.

A black lion's head.

Seth spotted it everywhere—etched onto breastplates, painted across pauldrons, and stitched into the cloaks of armed mercenaries. It was easily the most common crest in the crowd, surpassed only by the insignia of the Adventurers Guild.

So many people have sold their services to that woman, Seth thought, watching another group of hired blades march past.

He turned toward Marcus, intending to ask how much longer they were supposed to wait. Yet before he could speak, something approaching along the cobblestone road seized his attention.

A group of beastkin fighters strode toward the gates alongside a loose formation of adventurers.

Their predatory features bore an unmistakable resemblance to tigers. Sharp feline faces sat beneath tufted ears, while cold eyes continuously swept about their surroundings. Thick muscles shifted beneath sleeveless leather armor, and weapons rested across their backs, the hilts scarred from constant use.

Seth studied the group as they approached. Every one of their steps carried both the smoothness and fierceness of beasts accustomed to hunting all day.

'Do you think there are ones with scorpion traits?' Colossus asked through Link.

'A humanoid with those horrible mandibles?' Nightmare chimed in. 'I hope not.'

Seth suppressed a sigh at the direwolf's remark. 'I don't know, Colossus.'

The moment the beastkin passed within a few paces of him, his core began to throb.

There was something different about them.

Judging by the pressure rolling off the group, most were somewhere within the Silver Tier. Only the two figures at their head carried the unmistakable weight of Gold.

And yet the strength emitting from them felt far greater than their Tiers should have allowed.

An unexpected hunger surged through Seth's veins. A feral, almost instinctive urge to step into their path. To challenge them and find out exactly how strong they were.

"They're known to be formidable Warriors," came Marcus' voice from beside Seth, his gaze following the beastkin.

Seth turned to the old Alchemist. "Does their physique grant them access to special subclasses?"

"No, but it still gives them a considerable advantage," Marcus replied. "It's rare for a beastkin to awaken a Common or Uncommon subclass."

As the hulking beastkin disappeared through the gates, a young man's voice rose above the surrounding bustle from somewhere behind them.

"Oh come on, Darshee. It wasn't that bad."

Seth shifted his attention to the speaker.

Three people, all appearing roughly his age, were following in the beastkin's wake.

The one who had spoken walked at the rear. The young man sported fiery red hair and green eyes and had a halberd resting casually across his broad shoulders. Both his arms were draped over its wooden shaft, and the posture gave him an almost scarecrow-like silhouette.

He radiated the distinct aura of an Iron-tier Wielder, yet the pressure felt dense, rivaling that of elite fighters like Morsh and Jaz.

The other two at the front made Seth's senses react even more.

To the right walked a stern young man with blue hair and piercing amber eyes. Lean and compact, he wore a leather harness supporting a curved blade on each hip. Long, tapered ears swept backward through his hair, making his elven heritage apparent.

Every single one of his movements carried a sense of vigilant poise, his attention constantly shifting across their surroundings as though he had been assigned to guard the woman beside him.

Not that Seth believed that the woman needed protection from anyone in the Iron Tier; his core stirred at her presence with an intensity unlike anything he'd ever felt from someone of that Tier.

Spun-gold hair framed her pale face, which was dominated by crystalline blue eyes and an expression of absolute indifference. Meticulously crafted plate armor covered her body, the polished surface gleaming beneath the afternoon sun. A spiked mace hung from her belt, while leather straps secured a reinforced steel shield across her back.

The most notable piece of her equipment, however, was the ornate insignia engraved into the center of her breastplate.

A sun behind a bold purple cross.

Marcus had described an emblem matching that design to Seth earlier and it belonged to House Grava—the prestigious noble family through which NEVAK's influence reached the heart of Asethka.

Seth scrutinized the trio as they approached the gates.

Unlike the blue-haired elf beside her, the blonde woman made no effort whatsoever to conceal her aura. Even so, Seth couldn't tell which of the two was stronger.

Darshee, he repeated inwardly. It was what the red-haired man had called her.

What irritated him most, however, was something else entirely: he genuinely wasn't sure if he could defeat either of them without the aid of Nightmare, Colossus, or Lumi.

The moment the trio passed, both the blonde woman and the blue-haired elf glanced toward him.

The elf's amber eyes narrowed, and a cold prickle brushed against Seth's Well. Identify.

Thankfully, the silver ring around his finger reacted and seamlessly deflected the invasive spell to show them question marks.

The red-haired young man at the rear initially walked past without sparing Seth a glance.

Then he abruptly stopped, and his head snapped around. His green eyes locked onto Seth's.

The young man frowned, removed the halberd from across his shoulders, turned, and strode directly toward Seth.

Great, he thought with an inward sigh.

"Faryx..." the armored woman called, voice filled with exasperation.

"A Draerian?" Faryx asked, stopping a few paces away. His gaze slowly dragged up and down Seth, then his casual demeanor vanished, replaced instantly by a razor-sharp seriousness. "Let's fight."

"Not interested," Seth replied, turning his shoulders away.

Faryx stepped sideways, placing himself back into Seth's field of vision. "Oh come on. It'll be fun." A reckless grin spread across his face. "Just a little sparring."

Before Seth could refuse a second time, Faryx jerked his chin toward the blonde woman and the glaring elf behind him.

"Besides..." His grin widened. "You really don't want to get on the wrong side of House Grava."

Seth stopped.

A cold spark ignited in his chest, and his core roared to life and hammered against his ribs.

"Threatening me over a sparring match?" Seth turned back to face the halberd-wielder. "I don't fight for fun."

Faryx burst out laughing and waved a dismissive hand. "No need to get upset. That was hardly a threat." He tilted his head, the broad grin never leaving his face. "And besides, why else would anyone fight if not for fun?"

"To kill."

The words had left Seth's mouth before he could temper them, and bloodlust spilled from him.

Several nearby travelers instinctively backed away, conversations dying as the atmosphere around the gate shifted. Seth paid them no attention. His golden eyes remained fixed on the redhead.

He could practically picture both Marcus and Kaelen pinching the bridge of their nose in exasperation. Vorath, on the other hand, would have approved.

The wyvern had made himself perfectly clear: no cowering, no hiding.

For the first time, Faryx's reckless expression faltered and his green eyes widened. Then an enormous, almost manic smile split his face, and his fingers tightened around the shaft of his halberd.

"Perfect. Then let's fight to the death."

The tension between them snapped taut, the air practically crackling with aether.

"You would die," the blue-haired elf's cold voice came from behind Faryx.

The halberd-wielding man glanced back, his grin twisting into a grimace. "No chance I'd lose to him."

"Yes, you would."

That answer hadn't come from the elf; a man stepped from beneath the shadow of the arched gatehouse to Seth's right, dressed in an immaculate, high-collared aristocratic coat.

Faryx whipped his head around. "Nah, I'd absolutely—"

The words died in his throat as recognition flashed across his face.

His entire demeanor changed. Not wasting a second, Faryx lowered his halberd and bowed deeply.

"Sir."

Seth watched as Darshee, the blue-haired elf, the two Platinum gate guards, and a dozen nearby travelers mirrored the gesture.

The aristocrat offered Marcus a subtle nod, acknowledging the old Alchemist without saying a single word.

Then his attention shifted to Seth, and a faint, courteous smile touched his lips. "A pleasure to finally meet you. Aemon of House Parayus."

Seth's throat went dry. The man standing in front of him was the current ruler of Asethka. "The pleasure is mine, Sir."

"Shenlong asked me to welcome you personally," Aemon added. "He was quite pleased to hear you'd decided to visit our city." The man's smile deepened. "He hopes you will attempt his tower soon. He is more than eager to see if you will be as spectacular as him."

Before Seth could respond, a cascade of Identifies probed at his Well.

Multiple onlookers had cast the spell almost simultaneously.

The silver ring around Seth's finger reacted once again, deflecting one attempt after another before they could penetrate his Well.

All attempts but one.

A single pulse tore straight through the artifact's protection. Seth snapped his head around to locate the one individual who had successfully bypassed his concealment.

It was one of the Platinum guards stationed at the gate. The armored warden's eyes were blown wide in unadulterated stupefaction.

The blue-haired elf beside Darshee lost his stoic composure, a frown creasing his features at the guard's reaction.

The blonde woman reacted differently. For the briefest instant, her breath seemed to hitch, as though she'd suddenly realized something.

Aemon turned toward the guard. "That was rather discourteous, soldier."

The Platinum guard flinched and lowered his gaze to the cobblestones. "My deepest apologies, Sir."

"See that it does not happen again." Aemon turned back to Seth, Marcus, and Kaelen, then gestured smoothly toward the open gates. "Come. We have much to discuss."