Chapter 8
Chapter 8
As the mana-rich wind brushed gently across the field, the ticking of the time-dilation zone slowly faded into silence. Ezra was now sealed within, and the world around him stood still.
KairosZeth sat lazily on a nearby stone, arms behind his head, eyes watching the sky. Ren stood beside him, silent, arms crossed, his gaze resting on the spinning time-clocks above Ezra’s training zone.
A long pause stretched between them before KairosZeth spoke, almost casually.
"You know, it’s strange to think how far humans have come. There was a time when mana techniques were hoarded like gold."
Ren didn’t look at him, but replied, "The royals and nobles treated them like heirlooms. If you weren’t born into power, your path ended before it even started."
KairosZeth chuckled. "They only handed scraps to the commoners. Weak techniques with more limitations than use. That’s why your continent was always fighting itself... even while demons tore it apart."
Ren nodded slowly. "That’s how it was—until he came."
KairosZeth’s eyes narrowed slightly with respect. "The last emperor of the Ardent Empire... the Fourteenth Patriarch of the Ardent Bloodline. That man."
Ren glanced at him. "Lucien Caelum Ardent."
Even dragons remembered that name.