Chapter 90: The Savior’s Return

Chapter 90: Chapter 90: The Savior’s Return

"All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players." — William Shakespeare, As You Like It

•••

The journey out of the Shattered Heavens took two days, and Joel made sure everything went according to plan.

Aurelius carried the wounded.

Proctor Harrison was secured to the Dark-Matter Seraph’s back, seated high above the others. His injuries had been healed just enough to match the story they intended to tell.

With slow, powerful wingbeats, Aurelius carried him upward through the strata.

The rest of the Fate-Bound Legion followed.

Vulcan was pulled along using his own chains, which had now been reassigned for transport.

Thalassa kept her waters contained within several basins.

Nyx moved silently between everyone’s shadows, traveling from one person to another without being noticed.

Meanwhile, the thirty-seven surviving students followed the glowing beacon path back through the strata.

They marched in formation, just as they had during their descent.

Only this time, they were returning alive.

And every one of them had signed Joel’s agreement.

On the first evening of their journey, Joel gathered everyone and explained the story they would tell upon returning.

It was short, simple, and carefully prepared.

The Eclipse Syndicate had ambushed the vanguard expedition in the Tenth Stratum.

Valerius had betrayed the expedition and paid for his betrayal.

Half the expedition had died within the first hour.

A first-year student had fought alone, held back the enemies, saved the remaining survivors, and brought them home.

That was the official story.

The actual numbers were different.

Fourteen of the original fifty-two expedition members had died.

But the version they would tell claimed that half the expedition had been killed.

It was an exaggeration, and Joel knew it.

Still, stories rarely remained perfectly accurate.

The dead couldn’t challenge the report.

And all thirty-eight surviving witnesses had already agreed to follow Joel’s instructions.

Their accounts would remain consistent, from the moment they reached the docks until the academy and the rest of the city received the news.

Nobody questioned the story.

After witnessing what Joel had done in the Tenth Stratum, they knew better than to argue.

The return journey itself was something that could have filled an entire Chapter in the history books.

But Joel considered it simple.

Thirty-eight people traveled upward through nine strata without suffering a single additional casualty.

They moved at the pace of the slowest survivor, protected by a legion powerful enough to challenge the ancient rulers of the Shattered Heavens.

When they reached the Fourth Stratum, they passed through enormous causeways filled with the wreckage of previous expeditions.

Broken equipment, shattered structures, and abandoned supplies covered the paths.

They were reminders of the countless people who had attempted the same journey and failed.

The thirty-seven students walked past everything in neat formation.

None of them looked down.

After everything they had experienced, they understood just how easily they could have joined those fallen expeditions.

•••

Aethelgard received the news at dawn.

BRONNG!

Every herald tower in Spire-City rang at once.

The deep sound echoed through the sky-docks, shaking windows and making teacups rattle from the academy walls to the harbor.

Within an hour, the docks were packed with people dressed in expensive wool and silk.

The gray eagles of the Inner City Military stood in two orderly lines, waiting for the expedition’s return.

Even the Provost’s personal barge had arrived at the senior dock.

Officials prepared their seals and documents before the expedition was anywhere in sight.

Marshal Halden’s reports had arrived first.

Three dispatches, delivered by relay birds.

All three told the same story.

And every detail matched the account Joel had instructed the survivors to give.

The Marshal had witnessed Joel stop the sky over the Tenth Stratum. During the journey back, he had carefully reconsidered where his loyalties should lie.

His fourth dispatch contained only one sentence.

It was marked private.

Nevertheless, the Provost’s officials read it aloud inside a sealed meeting room.

"The academy’s anchor holds. Recommend the city hold its terms."

Then the expedition emerged from the clouds.

And the entire dock fell silent.

At first, nobody cheered.

They simply stared at the unbelievable sight descending toward them.

An enormous black Seraph spread its wings across nearly a mile of sky.

Proctor Harrison was secured to its back.

Behind it came a massive forge-golem, pulled along by heavy chains, smoke still rising faintly from its body.

Several glass basins held swirling water that moved as though it had a life of its own.

And below them, thirty-eight survivors descended from the sky along a glowing bridge of light.

At the front walked Joel.

He wore the ordinary field coat of a first-year student.

His expression was calm, almost indifferent, as though returning from the most dangerous expedition in academy history was nothing worth celebrating.

The soldiers stared.

Then one of the gray eagles recognized the enormous Seraph.

He had seen its silhouette before, painted on an old military recruitment mural.

Without waiting for an order, he raised his weapon in salute.

The other soldiers followed.

BOOM!

The gangway connected with the dock.

And the official story began.

Proctor Harrison was carried forward on a stretcher.

He appeared seriously injured, although he was still strong enough to sit upright and speak.

His voice carried across the crowded dock.

He described how the Eclipse Syndicate had ambushed the expedition near the entrance to the Tenth Stratum.

He explained how Valerius, an escort trusted by the academy, had betrayed them.

And how that betrayal had ultimately cost Valerius his life.

Then came the casualties.

According to Harrison, half the expedition had been killed within the first hour.

The remaining survivors had been trapped against an enemy they couldn’t defeat.

The Syndicate’s alchemist had transformed a professor into a terrifying monster.

And when everyone else was helpless, a first-year student had stepped forward.

Joel.

He had faced the monster alone.

Then, when an even greater threat emerged from beneath the temple, he had fought against the power controlling the entire sky.

And somehow, he had won.

More importantly, he had brought the remaining survivors home without losing another person.

Behind Harrison, the thirty-seven students stood shoulder to shoulder.

Not one of them interrupted.

Not one of them corrected his account.

Every detail matched the story they had rehearsed.

When the inquiry clerk approached the Warden twins, he asked them to confirm the timeline.

"Is everything the Proctor said true?"

"Yes," both brothers answered together.

The clerk blinked.

Then he wrote down their statements separately, as though hearing the same answer twice would somehow make it easier to believe.

The questioning continued.

Other wounded survivors were brought forward on stretchers.

Their answers were equally consistent.

A ballista gunner with his arm in a splint was asked what Joel had done when the monster attacked.

The young man thought carefully before answering.

"He stood there and let it use everything it had."

The clerk leaned forward.

"And then?"

The gunner’s expression remained serious.

"Then he collected."

Silence followed.

The officials exchanged confused glances.

They didn’t fully understand what he meant.

Nevertheless, the clerk recorded his words exactly.

And just like that, the sentence became part of the city’s official account.

BRONNG!

The herald towers rang again.

This time, they carried a name.

The Savior of Aethelgard.

The first-year student who had held the line.

The boy who had saved the expedition from certain destruction.

The announcement spread from tower to tower, traveling down through every level of Spire-City.

By the time it reached the harbor, the crowd had finally begun cheering.

Thousands of people applauded.

Their voices rose across the docks, drowning out the ringing bells.

But beneath the celebration, something else was already happening.

The noble families were calculating.

The merchants were calculating.

The military officers and academy officials were calculating.

Everyone wanted to know who Joel really was, what his power was worth, and how they could benefit from knowing him.

In less than an hour, his name had become the most valuable topic of conversation in Spire-City.

And the entire city had begun calculating the price of getting close to him.

[Ding!]

[Reputation logged: ’Savior of Aethelgard’.]

[Public standing: unimpeachable. The city has begun insuring the asset for free.]

[Note: the house has held many assets. This is the first one the liabilities of an entire city now orbit.]

[The script: delivered, 38 voices, zero variances. The house’s press office is now operational.]

The Provost’s reception lasted longer than expected, but everything went according to Joel’s plan.

Several medals were offered to him.

He declined the gold ones. He already had more than enough gold.

The academy opened a formal investigation into the expedition, but the testimonies were so consistent that it was closed without further questioning.

The official report was sealed with the same wax used for the city’s proclamations.

Meanwhile, the families of the dead received compensation.

The money came from properties confiscated from the Eclipse Syndicate.

Joel made sure every family received a pension, with his organization’s name written in small letters at the bottom of each agreement.

He had no intention of abandoning the families of those who had died.

Across the Inner City, powerful families were already reconsidering their plans.

Three noble houses whose heirs had survived the expedition canceled engagements, reopened marriage negotiations, and postponed long-standing feuds.

All within a single afternoon.

Their children had returned alive, but their futures were now tied to Joel.

And their parents didn’t even know the full terms of those agreements.

The Gray Eagle office quietly doubled the security surrounding Joel’s official records.

Joel noticed the change.

He recorded it and moved on.

Then came the families of the surviving students.

They arrived at the docks to welcome their children home.

But what they didn’t realize was that those children had already pledged their loyalty to someone else.

The Kole family arrived with an entire group of servants and guards.

Their procession stopped near the dock as Victor Kole descended the gangway.

He was the last of the thirty-seven students.

But instead of rushing toward his family, Victor walked straight past them.

He didn’t even check whether they were following.

His father stared at him.

Something had changed.

Victor’s shoulders were straighter.

His steps were steady.

And there was a confidence in his expression that hadn’t existed before.

The older Kole had spent his entire life using money to make things easier for himself and his family.

But looking at his son now, he realized something important.

Victor was no longer simply following his family’s decisions.

He had chosen someone else to answer to.

"You’re different," his father finally said.

Victor stopped.

"I read the terms," he replied. "Both sets."

His father frowned.

"What terms?"

Victor didn’t explain.

He continued toward the waiting carriage.

But just before entering, he paused and looked back.

Further down the dock, Joel stood beneath the golden light of the celebration.

The crowd surrounded him, yet he appeared completely unaffected by their attention.

Victor watched him for a moment.

Then he turned toward his father.

"Tell the family accountants that buying my place in the expedition was worth it."

His father stared at him.

For the first time in his life, his son had given him an instruction instead of asking for something.

And strangely enough, the older Kole took out a small notebook.

Then he wrote it down.

•••

By nightfall, Spire-City had decided its savior was priceless, and Joel let the rumors spread.

A reputation supported by the entire city was difficult to attack or destroy. Only a catastrophe could threaten it, and Joel already possessed something capable of causing one.

The fist-sized Apex Tear rested in his vault, its true value still unknown.

Somewhere in the north, a mysterious figure sat at a table, studying a ledger. In one week, they had lost their escort, collectors, ambush forces, and hound. Every entry in the ledger ended in failure, and their next move had yet to begin.

Joel now commanded four generals, thirty-seven students, and one proctor bound by an agreement. He was the first to clear the Tenth Stratum and had earned the title Savior of Aethelgard. His reputation throughout the city was stronger than ever.

He had kept records of everything.

And now, he was beginning to identify his next targets.