I Tricked a God

The chants echoing throughout the city had not yet faded, but at that moment they were cut off by the sharp creak of the wheel of the last cart crossing the giant arch.

The sound seemed to separate one space from another.

The youths of Lasthold had finally entered the territory of the Imperial Academy.

Sitting in the first cart and holding onto the side, Kael looked around with undisguised interest, letting his gaze calmly drift over the details. The main building, which had already seemed enormous from the outside, appeared even more imposing up close—its sheer size pressed down on him, and the clear division into sections felt even more pronounced.

The inner courtyards were arranged neatly and thoughtfully: paths of light stone tiles branched in different directions, connecting the buildings; green areas stretched between them with carefully trimmed trees; and statues lined the walkways. Some depicted robed mages, others warriors, and from the level of detail it was clear these were not mere decorations.

Casting a glance at one of them and quickly reading the inscription below, a thought flashed through Kael’s mind: “So these are statues of the strongest professors and students…”

The more he looked around, the clearer it became—the Academy grounds were far larger than they had seemed from the outside. It felt as though it would take hours to walk around everything.

Turning his head slightly to the left and narrowing his eyes, he noticed vast open areas in the distance. The space there was cleared and divided into sections, and even from afar, a structure could be discerned.

“Looks like arenas…”

Watching carefully and piecing together the details, he continued the thought: “Do they hold full-scale battles here… or just training spars?”

At that moment, the cart smoothly veered off, turning away from the main road, and as Kael followed the new direction, he noticed a massive greenhouse ahead. Its glass walls shimmered softly in the light, and inside, a variety of plants could be seen—from strange trees to small beds of herbs.

But Kael’s gaze caught on what lay beyond the greenhouse. There stood an entire complex of buildings, resembling a small separate town within the Academy.

These structures were noticeably different from the rest.

Against the backdrop of grand buildings and carefully planned grounds, they looked much simpler—some even slightly worn. The facades were more modest, the roofs lower, and the overall appearance lacked the same sense of power and status that radiated from the main structures.

Details were lost behind the trees and in the distance, but Kael, narrowing his eyes and quickly estimating their trajectory, thought: “Judging by where we’re being taken… that’s where we’re headed.”

Roselle, also watching the unfolding view, whispered almost under her breath, “How luxurious… I thought my family was wealthy. But here, my status is a joke.”

Kael turned a calm gaze toward her and replied evenly:

“When you compare your path to others, it’s easy to lose your own.”

Girren immediately let out a heavy sigh, not even trying to hide a tired smirk.

“There you go again,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Don’t talk like an old man. It doesn’t suit you, Kael.”

At that, Violet couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh, and Roselle and Lissandra soon followed with soft giggles.

Kael merely glanced at them, maintaining an unbothered expression, though a faint trace of a smile flickered in his eyes.

✦ ✦ ✦

While they exchanged friendly jabs, the cart, without slowing, smoothly passed the massive greenhouse, and its glass walls with occasional glints quickly fell behind.

Just as Kael had expected, the road led straight toward that very “town.”

Now it could no longer be mistaken for anything else—the buildings were drawing closer, and the differences were obvious. Simpler forms, worn finishes in places, denser construction—all of it sharply contrasted with what they had seen earlier.

At that moment, the others also began to look ahead more closely.

“Do you know what this is?” Violet asked, shifting her gaze from the houses to Kael.

He tilted his head slightly, not taking his eyes off the road, and answered calmly:

“Elder Cornelius said we’d be given lodging. Most likely, this is where we’ll be staying.”

The others exchanged glances, surprise flickering in their eyes.

Gilmesh, on the other hand, grinned with satisfaction and, puffing out his chest, confidently declared:

“Looks like they valued us highly if they gave us this much space. We’ll each have several rooms.”

Girren shifted his gaze forward and added with mild skepticism, “Several? I’d say several dozen…”

At that, Kael merely smirked, shook his head, and said evenly, “Don’t be naive. We don’t have that kind of status.”

Girren frowned, not immediately grasping the meaning. Studying the silence of the “town” ahead, he replied:

“It does seem strange to me too. But judging by the sounds, no one’s there…”

Kael, without looking away from the road and continuing to watch the approaching buildings, answered calmly:

“Don’t be fooled by the silence. Did you forget that the entire city recently went to pray to the God of Blood and War?”

After those words, the realization hit them almost at once, and their expressions noticeably changed.

By then, the carts had come close enough, and the “town” finally took shape—it was not a single building but a full residential sector made up of dozens of houses, tightly arranged in rings and connected by narrow streets. Each of the houses was two or three stories tall, no more.

The overall style remained—white walls and red roofs—but the quality differed from the central structures, at times noticeably simpler and rougher, as if this sector had never been considered a priority.

At the center lay a square, and from the scattered belongings it was clear that life had been bustling here until just recently—but now everything stood still: open books lay on the ground, cloaks had been hastily abandoned, and some items looked as if they had been left in the middle of work or conversation.

Girren slowly scanned it all and exhaled quietly: “Looks like we arrived at the wrong time. Our future neighbors are gone.”

Kael only gave an ironic huff, tilting his head slightly: “Or the opposite. We arrived at the best time—so as not to catch anyone’s attention.”

With those words, the cart smoothly crossed an invisible boundary, entering the residential sector, and the change in surroundings was immediately noticeable. The houses closer to the central square looked neater, while farther out, nearer the outer ring, the buildings grew simpler—here and there were signs of rough repairs, as if they had been patched up hastily and without much care for appearance.

The streets here were narrow, in places barely wide enough for two carts to pass, and between the houses were small courtyards, tightly enclosed by walls, with no extra space. To the left, beyond a row of buildings, training grounds came into view—packed earth, simple racks, traces of recent practice. To the right, almost by the road, stood a small two-story building with a simple sign depicting a mug of frothing drink.

Noticing it, Gilmesh immediately perked up, licking his lips and exclaiming with obvious excitement:

“There’s even a tavern here? They gave us elite housing!”

Lissandra, who had been silent the whole time, timidly raised her hand and pointed somewhere beyond the buildings:

“Look…”

The others almost simultaneously turned their heads in the indicated direction. In the distance, between the rooftops, a thin wisp of steam rose into the sky, barely visible in the daylight, dissolving into the air.

Kael narrowed his eyes, peering into the distance, and muttered with mild interest, “Baths, perhaps?”

But the thought didn’t fully form.

At the moment the carts rolled onto the central square, a new view opened before them—one of the streets curved gently downward, disappearing between the houses, and there, at the edge of visibility, the corner of a red structure appeared.

Kael’s gaze immediately caught on it, noting inwardly: “Another temple?”

The temple was smaller than those in the central districts, but built in the same style—dark-red stone, elongated shape, and strict geometry.

Kael’s eyes narrowed slightly as he listened to the familiar chants.

“It seems that worshiping the God is an obligation.”

Taking a slow breath and feeling a dull irritation rise within him, he calmly added inwardly, “If it’s necessary for survival in the capital—I’ll pray.”

And after a brief pause, he added in thought, “I need to create the Soul-Veiling Amulet as soon as possible…”

At that moment, the carts began to slow, the wheels creaking dully against the stone as the movement gradually came to a halt. One of the escorts, straightening in the saddle, loudly called out in the language of the Empire:

“Overseer Malzir, we have arrived!”

The youths of Lasthold immediately tensed, instinctively glancing around, trying to understand what was happening.

The answer came without delay.

From the doors of one of the most well-kept houses at the edge of the square came sounds—first muffled footsteps, then the creak of hinges, and a moment later the doors swung open. A man of about fifty in a red robe appeared in the doorway.

He was thin, yet his belly protruded slightly forward, disrupting the proportions of his figure, while sparse gray hair and a shiny bald spot—which he immediately scratched with long nails—gave him a strange, slightly unhinged look. A hooked nose and deep-set eyes only added to the effect.

Stepping forward slowly, he cast a long, assessing glance over the carts, then muttered with displeasure: “What am I supposed to do with you…”

He was not addressing anyone in particular and did not even try to hide his irritation. Turning his head slightly to the side and continuing to scratch his bald spot, he added, still ignoring those present:

“Those from the distant provinces go to the outskirts of the student district… so where do I put these?”

The lead escort—the same man who had earlier presented armor to Severus and whom they had heard called Zergal along the way—shifted his shoulders slightly, brushing back his short red hair, and stepped forward, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“The order was delivered to you in advance,” he said evenly, though there was a clear coldness in his voice. “Are you still not prepared?”

At that tone, Malzir flinched as if doused with cold water, and his expression instantly changed. The irritation vanished, replaced by a wide, almost greasy smile. He hastily bowed his head, matching the other’s tone, and spoke quickly:

“Of course, of course! I’ve had everything arranged for a while now. I was just… thinking a bit, yes…”

He shook his head sharply, as if driving away stray thoughts, and began darting his gaze around until it caught on one of the distant houses with a darkened, weathered roof.

“Dormitory number fourteen!”

And the moment the words left his mouth, he gave a strange grin.

Letting out a vile chuckle, he slowly swept his gaze over the carts, lingering on certain faces a little longer than necessary. His eyes slid over Roselle, then over Lissandra, and for a moment something unpleasant flickered within them.

He cleared his throat as if casually, then added in a more insinuating tone:

“Not the best dormitory, of course… but there aren’t many vacancies right now. If anyone would prefer more comfortable accommodations…” he paused briefly, drawing out the words, “come see me this evening. Perhaps we can work something out…”

The words hung in the air with an obvious implication.

One of the escorts standing slightly aside visibly grimaced and, lowering his voice, muttered, “Why hasn’t that bastard been fired yet?”

The second immediately tugged at his sleeve, sharply cutting him off.

“Looking for trouble? Just shut up.”

While the other youths of Lasthold stood in confusion, not understanding a single word of what was being said due to their lack of knowledge of the language, a sharp, cold glint flickered for a moment in Kael’s amber eyes.

“We need to be careful with this Malzir…”

He quickly, almost instinctively, assessed the pressure coming from Malzir, and a conclusion immediately formed in his mind: “Besides… he’s a Golden Mage.”

The thought settled clearly, without unnecessary emotion.

At that moment, noticing that his words had drawn no reaction, Malzir cleared his throat again, this time with obvious irritation, and, with obvious irritation, tried to hint again:

“I was saying that—”

But he did not get to finish.

Zergal, without changing his expression, cut him off in an even tone:

“They don’t understand you. Only one of them knows our language well enough.”

With that, he made a slight gesture, pointing directly at Kael.

Kael, without making any sudden movements, merely inclined his head slightly in respect and, choosing his words, spoke with a noticeable accent:

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“I greet you on behalf of the people of Lasthold, Overseer Malzir. I not understand everything yet… I need time to learn.”

Malzir’s face twisted for a brief moment, but almost immediately his expression changed. Feeling Zergal’s heavy, attentive gaze on him, he quickly forced a smile and, lifting his chin slightly, spoke with feigned goodwill:

“What fine manners for a savage.”

The words carried a hint of mockery, but he immediately, as if correcting himself, added in a more approving tone:

“When I learned that Elder Cornelius had found our distant and feral descendants, I imagined something far worse.”

Not a single muscle in Kael’s face moved.

He calmly held the gaze, not allowing a single emotion to betray his inner reaction, though inwardly he noted coldly: “This slime is obsessed only with himself…”

His gaze briefly slid over Malzir, assessing his manner of speech, behavior, and intonations.

“He doesn’t even care that we were found beyond the Central Dragon Mountains. Even random passersby in the city, who didn’t know who we were, showed more interest and surprise…”

Understanding this, Kael added inwardly: “Better to stay away from people like him.”

The silence between them was cut by Zergal’s voice. He did not raise his voice, but there was a clear hint in his words:

“Settle them in quickly, Overseer Malzir. And yes… Elder Cornelius will arrive in a few days, so do not overstep your bounds.”

Malzir hurriedly laughed and, with noticeable timidity in his movements, said, “It will be done!”

Zergal held his gaze on him for a moment, then shifted it to Kael and gave a short nod.

Kael understood the signal without a word.

Clearing his throat lightly, he straightened and, raising his voice, addressed the others, “Get down from the carts. We’ll be taken to our new lodging.”

And to ease the tension, Kael added more calmly:

“As I understand it, other students of the Imperial Academy live here as well, which means we'll have the chance to practice the language every day.”

With those words, the youths stirred, one by one rising and, glancing around, carefully climbing down from the carts. Some did so hesitantly, gripping the sides, while others hurried, as if afraid to linger even a second longer.

Kael rose as well, and as he shifted his weight forward, he tossed to Girren, “Help the girls down. I want to ask something.”

Without waiting for a response, he jumped down, landing lightly on the stone, and immediately straightened, letting his gaze sweep around.

Zergal and his men were already beginning to gather, checking the harnesses and exchanging short phrases. There was a sense of urgency in their movements.

Noting this, Kael thought: “Better to ask him than that Malzir.”

Taking a few steps forward, he approached from behind and, stopping at a respectful distance, inclined his head slightly:

“Thank you for escorting us.”

Zergal turned, clearly not expecting to be addressed, and held his gaze on Kael for a moment before replying calmly, “No need. We were just following orders.”

Kael nodded, accepting the answer, and after a short pause carefully added, “May I ask you a question?”

A faint smile flickered across Zergal’s lips.

“Only one,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly. “We need to hurry.”

Kael quickly lifted his gaze and, taking the opportunity, asked, “Do all students of the Imperial Academy live here?”

Zergal shook his head, answering without hesitation:

“No. For the most part, those admitted to the Imperial Academy are mages from noble families of the capital and the provinces. They prefer to live in the city, renting their own places.”

With that, Zergal gestured at the surrounding houses and added:

“This student quarter is for young mages who come from the provinces and lack the means.”

The answer was calm, without mockery, but clear enough.

Zergal inclined his head slightly and, already walking past, added:

“The conditions aren’t the best, but that only tempers you. If you end up at war one day, there won’t be any comfort there.”

Patting Kael on the shoulder, he lingered for a moment and, lowering his voice, said:

“And yes… if you’re not confident in your strength and resolve—better to submit. In the capital, it’s one of the most effective ways to survive. Good luck to you, kid.”

With that, he moved on.

A short whistle sounded behind them, the horses jerked their heads, and the carts, one after another, began to move, heading toward the exit of the student quarter.

Kael watched them leave, then turned back.

The youths of Lasthold had already, almost out of habit, gathered into a tight group, waiting for further instructions.

Overseer Malzir remained standing in place, watching the departing mages. His face froze for a few moments, as if he were waiting for the moment when he could drop the mask of politeness.

Meanwhile, Kael calmly took his place at the front of the group, unhurried and without drawing attention to himself, simply waiting for what would come next.

And as soon as the carts had moved far enough away, Malzir’s expression changed sharply.

His lips twisted into a clear grimace of irritation, his gaze hardened, and his movements grew sharp. He strode quickly toward Kael and, without ceremony, grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Follow me, boy!”

The tone was commanding, almost rough.

The youths of Lasthold, not understanding the words but sensing the shift in behavior, tensed involuntarily. Some flinched, others exchanged glances, but they held formation.

Malzir snorted, not even trying to hide his disdain, and, turning away, strode forward, calling over his shoulder:

“I am the law here. Tell the others—don’t cross me. Then you’ll have no trouble.”

Kael narrowed his eyes for a moment, watching his back as he walked away, then calmly turned to his group and, in the language of Lasthold, said evenly:

“Overseer Malzir asks that we obey him and not cross him. If you want to live here peacefully, it's best to follow his instructions.”

He paused briefly, sweeping his gaze over each of them, and then added on his own:

“And I advise you, for now, to keep your pride in check.”

Several people visibly grimaced at those words, especially those from wealthy families of Lasthold. Displeasure flickered in their eyes, and someone quietly scoffed, but no one voiced an objection.

Kael himself did not like it, but inwardly he only thought: “For now, we’ll have to endure…”

Letting his gaze move across the group, catching individual reactions, he added inwardly: “My initial plans were somewhat naive… In these conditions, I won’t be able to play nursemaid to all the children of Lasthold. At least not until I gain real influence.”

Meanwhile, Malzir had already started toward one of the narrow streets, shouting, “Why are you standing around?! Follow me!”

In response, Kael merely waved his hand, and their whole group moved forward as well.

But they hadn’t taken even ten steps when the sound of a bell cut through the air. The bell of the temple standing right in the student quarter rang out especially loud, its sound spreading through the streets and echoing off the walls.

Almost immediately after that, the chanting ceased.

A brief, strange silence fell, as if the city had held its breath for a moment.

And then the temple gates swung open.

People began to pour out—dozens, then hundreds of young men and women, gradually filling the street. Voices returned quickly: first scattered conversations, then laughter, shouts, a living noise that filled the space.

From down the street came a rising hum, as if a current had broken through a dam.

Life returned to the student quarter swiftly, like water rushing back into a dried riverbed.

Kael found himself watching it, assessing the movement of the crowd, the behavior of the people, their clothing, the way they carried themselves.

But at that moment, Malzir stopped as well.

He turned so sharply that the hem of his robe flared slightly, and, looking straight at Kael, his lips stretched into a smile.

“It would be rude not to introduce you to the other students,” he murmured with anticipation.

At those words, something unpleasant pricked in Kael’s chest, and a thought flashed through his mind: “I don’t like this…”

At that moment, a crowd began to emerge from around the bend in the street.

First came the silhouettes, then more and more figures filled the space, moving up the street. At the front walked a distinct group—around two dozen young men and about ten young women. They moved freely, unhurried, laughing and talking among themselves, as if nothing around them concerned them at all.

The rest followed a little behind.

They moved more cautiously, keeping their distance, unconsciously adjusting to the pace of those ahead, not attempting to overtake them.

Kael narrowed his eyes, watching carefully.

“No one dares to pass them... Are they something like seniors here?”

At the center of that group, his gaze immediately caught on one of the young men. Tall, with a fit build, he carried himself confidently, without unnecessary movement. Long silver hair fell over his shoulders, and deep blue eyes swept over the group from Lasthold, a trace of confusion appearing in his gaze.

He said something quietly to his companions, and within a moment the entire group reacted. Interest lit up in their eyes, their pace quickened, and they moved almost in unison straight toward them.

The reaction spread further.

Those coming out of the temple also began to notice them, conversations shifting mid-sentence. Soon the entire street was filled with people who kept glancing their way and picking up their pace.

Kael, without changing his expression, caught fragments of conversation from the crowd:

“Who are they? The academic year started a month ago…”

“Where did such a large group come from?”

Nearby, two girls from the group ahead exchanged quick glances.

“Where are they from?”

“I don’t know… But their clothes… have you ever seen anything like that?”

At that moment, the silver-haired one had already stepped forward, reaching the edge of the square without slowing his confident pace. His gaze was fixed directly on Malzir, and his voice rang out clear and loud, cutting through the noise:

“What is going on here, Overseer Malzir?”

At those words, Malzir visibly changed. His face immediately broke into a much more friendly, almost obsequious smile, and his voice softened, “You won’t believe it…”

He paused, as if savoring the attention, and then continued with deliberate intrigue:

“Seiran, you’ve heard of Elder Cornelius’s expedition, haven’t you?”

The name was no coincidence.

The silver-haired one—Seiran—froze for a moment, and his expression changed sharply. Genuine surprise flickered in his eyes, bordering on shock, and, leaning slightly forward, he exhaled:

“No… That’s impossible…”

Meanwhile, the crowd had fully spread across the square. Some remained standing, clearly unwilling to miss what was happening, while others, on the contrary, began quietly dispersing into the narrow streets, as if preferring to stay out of it.

Malzir, running a hand over his sparse, greasy hair, continued, clearly pleased, no longer hiding his enjoyment:

“It is! These savages came from beyond the Central Dragon Mountains. They don’t even know our language!”

The words spread instantly.

A wave of shock, astonishment, and outright disbelief rippled through the crowd. Those who had been about to leave stopped, turning sharply around, and conversations flared up with renewed force.

“From beyond the mountains? You mean the lost part of the continent?”

“That’s impossible…”

“How did they even survive?”

Sensing the reaction, Malzir narrowed his eyes with satisfaction, then, as if recalling something, sharply pointed at Kael:

“Oh, I made a mistake… One of them understands us.”

Tilting his head slightly toward Seiran, he added with an obvious hint:

“If you take them in hand, Seiran… young lord Valkeris will be pleased…”

Seiran narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze from Malzir to Kael, and, not hiding his interest, stepped closer. His blue eyes fixed on him, as if trying to read more than just his appearance.

“How old are you, boy?”

The question sounded simple, but it carried a test.

Kael did not hesitate.

“Sixteen.”

Approval flickered across Seiran’s face. He took a few more steps forward, closing the distance, and extended his hand, as if sealing the first impression:

“My name is Seiran. This year I’m in charge here.”

Kael shook his hand in return and had just begun to open his mouth to respond and introduce himself, but Seiran, without even waiting, continued, taking over the conversation completely.

“I never would have thought that any of the ancient refugees could cross the mountains and survive…”

His gaze slid over Kael’s figure, now evaluating him not just as a person, but as a resource.

“With your strength and… unique background,” he paused slightly, “you’ll make an excellent subordinate.”

The smile widened, but there was no warmth or friendliness in it.

“You’ll be a special—an exotic pet among my brother Valkeris’s subordinates.”

Standing nearby, Violet subtly pressed her lips together. She didn’t understand every word, but the tone, the look, and the intent were clear enough—and she clearly didn’t like it.

Seiran immediately caught that reaction. Without releasing Kael’s hand, he shifted his gaze to Violet, lingering on her face with obvious interest, then gave a quiet chuckle and, as if offhandedly, said:

“Who’s that beauty, boy?”

Kael kept a calm expression. Slightly slowing his speech and deliberately thickening his accent, he replied: “My command of the language is not enough to keep up with you. Could you speak more simply?”

The answer sounded soft, but there was neither haste nor servility in it.

Seiran looked at Kael again. His gaze grew colder, and his fingers tightened around Kael’s hand, as if testing boundaries.

“The capital won’t feed you for free,” he said, no longer with his previous ease. “If you want to live here, you’ll have to serve the younger generation of the Imperial Branch. That’s how things are done here.”

Tilting his head slightly, he added, a note of threat in his voice, “Now do you understand me?”

Kael held his gaze without tension and answered calmly, without raising his voice, “For now, I don’t understand well. But we don’t want any trouble. In time, we’ll adapt.”

Seiran watched him for a few moments, then released his hand and clapped him on the shoulder a bit harder than necessary.

Without even asking Kael’s name, he said with a smirk, “I like you, Liaison.”

Letting his gaze slide over the other youths of Lasthold, he shook his head slightly in mild surprise, “Well, I’ll be…”

Not hiding his smile, he added:

“It’s a shame you’re the only one who speaks our language, Liaison. I wouldn’t mind hearing about your homeland from one of your beauties…”

His gaze settled on Violet again.

Girren, standing behind Kael, involuntarily clenched his fists, growing more tense with each passing second. He clearly didn’t like what was happening, but he held himself back, not stepping forward.

Kael, however, not letting the pause drag on, calmly intervened:

“Unfortunately, they need time to learn the language. I can speak with you instead.”

Seiran gave a short chuckle, as if amused by that, and nodded: “Don’t worry. Tomorrow after lectures, we’ll definitely talk.”

As if losing interest in the whole exchange, Seiran turned to Malzir and, in a more casual tone, asked, “Which dormitory did you put them in?”

Malzir scratched his bald spot, thinking for a moment, then answered carelessly:

“For savages like them, the fourteenth will do. It’s almost empty anyway.”

Seiran nodded in approval, as if hearing exactly what he expected, then turned to the crowd and, raising his voice, called out:

“Who’s from Fourteenth Dorm?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then a boy stepped out of the crowd at an unhurried pace.

Not tall, with a pale face that showed neither interest nor irritation nor even fatigue—only an empty, detached calm. His short violet hair was neatly combed back, revealing a high forehead, and dark shadows lay beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in a long time. His gaze swept over the scene without lingering, as if none of it mattered to him.

Seeing him, Seiran clicked his tongue in mild irritation and said:

“Didn’t know you were from the fourteenth, Weirdo… Anyway, take them to your place—and make it quick.”

The pale boy let out a quiet sigh, as if burdened with an unnecessary task, turned, and without a word headed toward a narrow alley.

Seiran had already turned back to Malzir and, with a slight smirk, added:

“Overseer Malzir, let’s go have a drink instead. No need to trouble yourself.”

And, catching out of the corner of his eye that the youths of Lasthold were still standing, he barked in a commanding tone:

“Hey, Liaison. Lead your people after Weirdo.”

Kael, restraining his emotions, merely gave a short nod.

Turning to his group, he said calmly in the language of Lasthold, “Everyone, follow me.”

The group from Lasthold followed.

The crowd watched them go, and the farther they went, the louder the hum of voices behind them grew—whispers, guesses, and open curiosity blending into a steady background hum that didn’t fade.

Some tried to imagine what their homeland looked like, others confidently claimed that beyond the mountains only savages could live, knowing neither magic nor order. There were even outright ridiculous assumptions, making the corner of Kael’s lips twitch for a moment.

“They’ve got quite an imagination…” he muttered inwardly.

Walking beside him, Violet cast him a slightly worried glance. Others saw only Kael’s calm expression, but she saw the cold, almost unsettling glint in his eyes.

“How are you, Kael?” she asked cautiously.

Kael slowly turned his head, meeting her gaze. And with firm certainty in his voice, he replied:

“Don’t get used to this place, Violet. We won’t be living here.”

Violet froze for a moment, not immediately understanding whether he was joking or not.

Kael had already turned away, continuing forward analyzing as he walked, “Those who can’t afford their own place live here. So it’s only a matter of money… not restrictions.”

His gaze briefly slid over his friends, then forward, to where the pale guide was walking.

Seiran’s gaze came back to him—assessing Violet as an object. And Malzir, lingering on Roselle and Lissandra a little longer than it should have.

Kael’s fingers tightened ever so slightly.

“Like hell I’ll let them live among these bastards.”

A cold glint flashed in his amber eyes, but his stride remained the same—steady, measured.

“And I won’t be staying here long myself.”

He exhaled calmly, keeping his thoughts in order.

“Enduring insults from trash like them isn’t a problem. But I’m not going to be anyone’s lapdog.”

With those thoughts, Kael turned into a narrow alley after the pale boy. The alley immediately narrowed, the noise of the square fading behind them, and ahead stretched a dim corridor between the walls, where there were almost no prying eyes.

And in that shadow, Kael’s amber eyes gleamed with particular menace.