Corvyn pinched the bridge of his nose, disbelief leaking through his composure. "How did—You are just an Acolyte!"
An awkward smile found its way to Eldric's face. "I got it on my way here."
Corvyn looked at him flatly. "Of course you did…"
Eldric understood his disbelief. As Corvyn had said earlier, obtaining an epithet was quite the achievement, and apparently the phrasing the world used when announcing one was equally significant.
It had used the word "Sovereignty", the highest Eldric had ever seen it regard someone. Even a Seraph was merely called "Majesty".
It took time before Corvyn's disbelief settled into grudging acceptance. When it did, he exhaled in surrender. "Alright. Your turn."
It was time for Eldric to uphold his part of the deal.
Eldric nodded.
He hadn't wanted to reveal the contents of the parchment. The message seemed meant for him alone, and he had no idea whether the sender intended for anyone else to know of it. But he wasn't forbidden from sharing it either. If it benefited him, Eldric wouldn't hesitate.
"The writing was vague, but it spoke of an impending doom."
Corvyn's expression stayed neutral, though his eyes betrayed curiosity. "Impending doom?"
Eldric dipped his chin. "Yes. The writer said something about reality breaking apart, the void seeping in, and all of it being caused by someone called the 'Usurper'—whatever that means."
Corvyn's amber eyes widened slightly. He muttered something under his breath—too quietly for Eldric to catch.
"Doesn't that epithet…"
Silence hung between them for a few moments before Corvyn spoke again. "What about the title? Why Migrathis?"
Eldric hesitated. Revealing his identity as someone who had reincarnated did not sit right with him. He had promised to reveal the letter's contents, not his own secrets.
"I'm not sure. The sender claims to have come to this world through Migrathis, yet it had little to do with the main message."
He shook his head apologetically. "I'm not very well-versed in this language, so it's difficult to make out anything else."
Corvyn's gaze lingered, doubtful. Then, as before, he dismissed it with a tired breath. "Very well. That will do."
His chair vanished in a soft, harmonious hum as the man rose to his feet. "Let's get you out of here. Or would you rather exit through the void again?"
Remembering the copious amount of vomit he had expelled during his journey through the black abyss, Eldric hurriedly declined. He did, however, feel a pang of regret at not saying farewell to his terrifying mount.
He followed Corvyn toward the door. Now that they stood side-by-side, Eldric could truly see how imposing the man was. He wasn't as tall as Rykard, nor as broad, and the mustached librarian might even be more muscular, but Corvyn carried a weight that made the world seem aware of his strength.
Corvyn opened the door—revealing a cluster of soldiers who had clearly been listening in. They scrambled, attempting to flee.
One, a small teenage girl, stumbled behind her straw-haired commander and landed face-first. He regarded her coldly.
"Private Iska."
She shot upright, snapping to attention. "Major Corvyn, sir!"
She had warm brown skin, ebony curls resting neatly at her shoulders, and she wore a fitted bodysuit with the Valtherrean emblem over the heart.
Her gaze flicked to Eldric, softening. He no longer minded being regarded as a child, but the look, especially coming from someone who he himself would consider a kid, sat awkwardly on him.
"What of Soren and Harrik?" Corvyn asked.
The girl hesitated, wilting under his crossed-armed stare. "They were right behind you, sir! They fled to the barracks as soon as you appeared!"
He nodded. "And did you hear anything while eavesdropping?"
Iska shook her head fervently. "No, sir!"
A satisfied smile tugged at Corvyn's lips. "Of course not. I had a barrier around the room."
With that, he ushered Eldric forward, leaving the stunned girl behind.
Eldric peeked back, spotting two young men peering from a doorway opposite where he and Corvyn had emerged. He ignored them and struggled to keep pace with the Sigiled.
As they made their way through the Garrison's base, Eldric finally saw the interior he'd been trying to glimpse for days. The base consisted of one vast hall, stretching several hundred meters in a perfect line. At each end loomed a colossal steel gate, mirroring those outside.
White marble walls gleamed on both sides. Gold-patterned carpet rolled across the floor. Golden vases, chandeliers, and ornaments dotted the hall like trophies of conquest.
Eldric felt grimy treading across such luxury in muddy shoes, but the carpet remained pristine—untouched by the filth lining his soles.
When they neared the gate, Corvyn halted. "Here we are. Simply walk forward. You'll find yourself outside."
Eldric nodded. "Can I really keep the insignia? Didn't you say Runic ones are extremely coveted?"
"It's fine," Corvyn replied. "Just keep the mark on your wrist hidden. Few people of enough interest would ever suspect you possess one."
His reply unnerved Eldric even more. The Garrison was too accommodating. No questioning, no demands—nothing in return. It felt as though they owed him… or perhaps he was the bastard of some high-ranking officer, which was not entirely impossible.
"Did one of your commanders perhaps visit a brothel in the common district?" Eldric asked.
Corvyn remained unmoved. "Unlikely. Such activities are forbidden while in service."
'Yikes.'
Eldric pitied them if that was the case. Thankfully, he was still young and therefore, unbothered by such urges.
He sighed, bid Corvyn farewell, and stepped toward the gate.
Before he could even register it, Eldric found himself on the roof of the Garrison's outer mansion. There was no flashy teleportation, no odd tingling—simply a quiet transition, like drifting into sleep without noticing.
It was still night, so it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Looking around, he noticed the base hadn't shifted even a single inch from the old shrine he'd used to enter.
'Come to think of it, how long was I in there?'
It had to be at least a day. Maybe two. He'd spent who-knew-how-long crossing the void, and even longer in that bizarre state of non-existence.
A cold knot formed in his chest. "Crap… she's going to kill me."
Either that or she'd already died of worry.
Shouts from below snapped his attention downward. He leaned over the edge.
"There you are, little guy! I was told to come get you!"
A cheerful man in his forties looked up at him, clad in the Garrison's white armor and wearing a broad grin.
He waved Eldric back from the ledge. "Stay put. I'll hop up and grab you."
Eldric was about to refuse and climb down himself—when the man leapt with a thunderous boom and landed beside him.
"Huh. Wonder why you didn't come out near the door," he mused. "Architect's getting sloppy…"
Before Eldric could reply, the soldier scooped him up like a stray puppy, then jumped down the three-story drop, landing feet-first perfectly. Eldric was set gently on the ground and patted on the head before being lightly shooed away.
For some reason, he felt as if he'd been casually thrown out with the trash.
'Jeez. Go on, smack me on the ass while you're at it.'
Eldric headed home, replaying everything in his mind.
He had broken into the manor. Fallen into the physical embodiment of oblivion. Ceased to exist. Been re-formed by the void. Befriended a creature from it. Gained an epithet. Reached the documents he'd been seeking. Met a Major of the Garrison. And obtained a mysterious "Runic Insignia."
Yet he was no closer to getting back home. 'Frustrating...'
"Still… that letter."
It did reveal a decent amount. And to a degree, gave him a goal to strive towards.
He hadn't come here by mistake. His past life wasn't a dream. He could go home—he just didn't know how yet. But if something brought him here, then that something could send him back.
Whether it was the world itself, the sender of the letter, or some other entity—he needed to get its attention. Either by finding this "Usurper" fellow or becoming so powerful that nothing could ignore him.
And for now, at least, he was moving in the right direction, on both fronts. He knew he had massive potential, especially now that he was much more well versed in the ways of the Sigiled. Still, he imagined that having power at your fingertips would feel more... invigorating.
'Hold your horses there, there's still that harrier to worry about...'
And the day he'd have to face it was getting closer by the minute.
His thoughts ended as his path did. The familiar inn stood ahead, in all it's ragged glory. It was much later than usual. Draven was already done training and had retreated inside. Small scuffs in the dirt from swinging his blade showed his effort.
"Right, I promised him we'd train…"
He realized he'd made a lot of promises, both to others and to himself, and that he would now have to commit himself to keeping them. He wasn't exactly an honorable person, but he wasn't a scoundrel either.
...
Actually, he probably was.
First, however... the wrath of his mother. He'd never been spanked before, the only sibling to hold that honor—but that streak was most likely over.
He shuddered, steeled himself, and stepped inside.
He passed through the noisy crowd of drunks and climbed the stairs to their part of the lodgings. He knocked on his mother's door, hand clenched.
"Who is it?"
"It's me, Mom."
The door opened, and Aurel's graceful figure came into view. She was lightly dressed—which was reasonable enough, being in the privacy of her own home and the company of her six-year-old son—but Eldric still looked aside politely.
She smiled warmly. "You're back already? Did everything go fine with Rykard?"
Eldric blinked. "Already? Why? How long has it been?"
Her brow creased. "About two hours. Why do you ask?"
His jaw hung slack before he shut it. In hindsight, it made perfect sense. The laws of time didn't mean anything to the void.
"No reason. Just… glad to be back."
She smiled again as he turned to leave.
"Eldric."
He paused.
"Thank you." She let her words linger in the silence.
Eldric sighed before replying. "Goodnight, Mom."
---
The next morning, He was shaken awake by an overly enthusiastic Draven. He groaned as the boy ripped his blanket away.
"What do you want…?"
"You're impossible to wake," Draven muttered.
Eldric buried his face in the mattress. "And why—on God's green earth—are you waking me up?"
Draven planted his fists on his hips. "You're the one who said you'd help at the inn, didn't you? Miss Hargette was ecstatic at the idea!"
Eldric's eyes widened in horror.
His tyrannical older brother released a maniacal laugh. "Your shift starts now, fresh meat!"