New Eden: Live to Play, Play to Live

Nebulae’s gaze sharpened, doubt filling his mind. But the conviction in the elf’s words was undeniable.

“Fine. If you can get him here, then do it,” Nebulae scoffed, sitting at the entrance to the room.

But Astaroth’s grin widened.

“What do I get for helping you?” he asked.

This had become a negotiation. Why would he give orders to Khalor on behalf of this cat?

He wouldn’t force Khalor into something without something in it for both of them.

But the cat clicked his tongue, his tail swishing madly.

“My eternal recognition. That should be enough for a mortal.”

Astaroth burst into laughter.

“I could hardly care less about a cat’s recognition. You’ll have to make it worth both my time and his if you want me to force him into coming here, fluffy paws.”

Nebulae was starting to get aggravated at the nicknames this mortal was giving it. It was of divine essence!

How dare a mortal not pay it its due respect?!

“To hell with you, arrogant mortal. I am done playing your games. I will find the undead anomaly myself, and I’m sure this one will help me willingly.”

Nebulae turned his head to Chronos, who shrugged in response.

He had nothing better to do. Tagging along with Nebulae could prove useful to grasp more of his time powers, Chronos thought.

As the cat angrily tippy-toed out of the room, Astaroth chuckled to himself.

“Like I’m going to let you get this that easily, you chuckle-fuck of a cat,” he whispered to himself.

Opening the guild interface, Astaroth made Khalor’s location invisible to anyone but him and Phoenix.

“Good luck finding him now, hehe,” he laughed.

Chronos saw the location information disappear from his guild interface, but said nothing about it. He didn’t care that this made finding this Khalor more difficult. If it elongated his trip with the strange cat, it was a win in his book.

He entertained the cat’s questions and helped him, but it was mostly for his own benefit.

Astaroth left the meeting room, a bit disappointed it had been a waste of time. He had hoped Chronos would come to him to discuss the one that trained him in his time powers.

But it seemed fate had it otherwise, for now.

So he returned to the throne room, where Phoenix was meeting with the present officers of the guild. But while walking there, he saw a door appear on a wall next to him.

‘Huh? Who is making doors appear around the palace?’ he wondered.

But he was too busy to pay it any mind, so he walked by it, ignoring the door entirely.

Walking toward the throne room, the same, exact, door kept appearing on his path, to the right or left of the corridor. This made him frown.

Astaroth sped up his steps, trying to get away from this weird phenomenon. Until the door popped right in front of him, in the hallway, and opened, swallowing him in one fell swoop.

Astaroth tripped on the doorstep and almost face-planted inside a dimly lit room. As he caught himself putting his hands on a nearby table, Astaroth’s eyes widened.

He recognized the room!

Spinning his head around, he quickly confirmed this thought, as every part of the room was the same, aside from a large gaping portal open in the center.

This was the room from the third phase of the time capsule dungeon.

And sitting at a table in the far corner of it was Aberon, teacup in hand, with his young appearance on display, instead of his old-man facade.

Across the table from him, an elegantly dressed Elven man, probably in his forties, was wearing a swanky robe with dragons embroidered into it.

Aberon seemed to talk to the man with some modicum of respect, as Astaroth couldn’t hear him swear or shout from where he stood.

“Come closer, boy!” Aberon shouted at him.

Seeing as they had noticed him, Astaroth stepped forth, making his way to the back of the room. He looked around as he did, taking in the sights.

The damage from the battle they had fought here was still present in certain areas. One of these places, the ground in the center, where Shegror had vomited acid on the corrupted Elves.

He stared at it, wondering how the dungeon transposed this into the world. It made no sense to him.

“Yes, it’s the same mark. Me and my colleagues are still trying to find out how this happened…” the older Elf said, smiling at Astaroth.

Astaroth stared at him, recognizing some traits on the Elf’s face.

“You? I had assumed you would have died that night. We left you and you were so weak.”

Aberon choked on his sip of tea, looking at Astaroth with bewildered eyes.

But when he transferred his gaze to the progenitor, expecting to see him furious, all he saw was his chuckle.

“Ahh, yes. You indeed left me in quite a tough situation. One dead dragon, One weakened beyond repair, and the four others knocked out of commission.

“Plus, the spell to send you inside their minds came at a heavy cost. If I hadn’t been holding that portal shut for days, I would have been fine. But circumstances had me caught between a rock and a hard place.

“I was fine, in the end, though. Thank you for your concern.”

Astaroth looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“That wasn’t my — You know what? Nevermind. I guess it makes one other good mage to fight the oncoming end,” Astaroth said, shrugging his shoulders.

Aberon wanted to rip the kid’s head off, for how nonchalant he was being, with one of the seven forefathers of magic. One of the oldest beings alive.

But Aravelle raised his hand at him.

“Come sit with us, young one. We have things to discuss.”

Astaroth looked at the older elf warily. The amount of people he couldn’t trust rose by the day, and this one was most definitely part of the list.

But since Aberon was trusting of him, he could give the Elf the benefit of the doubt.

He pulled a chair closer to them, dragging it across the floor loudly, and sat closer to Aberon’s side.

Aberon eyed him like he was a madman. But Astaroth didn’t even notice, too busy staring at the older elf.

“So. What do you want? I’m a busy man.”