Nolan leaned against the marble balustrade of his villa balcony in Silver Blade City, gazing across the magical viewport toward the tower where Varros just made his invitation.
A slow, satisfied smile curled his lips. His students—Calien, Erik, and even their attendants—had been offered positions in the prestigious Black Vale Territory Academy.
That was promise fulfilled, and it glinted brighter in the sunset than any coin or jewel.
"No," he said softly to Lirazel, drifting nearby. "It's perfect. The chief's recognized their talent. They'll grow there—be unmatched soldiers one day. This… this is how real power is forged."
Lirazel hovered above the lifeless body of Yxthul, gently cradling the strange luminescent crystal he once carried—now dim and silvery in her hands.
Tears sparkled in her rouge-stained cheeks as she spoke softly to the corpse's cooling form.
