QUICK RECAP-
Sir Ronald leads the team through the sentient Blood Cave, using ultrasonic pulses to battle horrors like Blood Worms and glyph-scarred spiders.
They discover Vispen's dissected corpse—Bexam's chilling "instructions" on memory and worth.
Arthur's emotional defense of James ("a soul shaped like frost") moves even Ronald.
Trimat's cryptic motives deepen when he annihilates a swamp serpent with a finger-flick.
The team finds Bexam gone—"freed, not escaped"—and a memory-swallowing pond hinting at greater mysteries.
Racing against time, they emerge at Rudenberg's Outcast Gate. Ronald's final order: "Let's get that boy." : What awaits in James' journey?
-RECAP ENDS
The gates of Rudenberg didn't welcome.
They watched.
Carved from stained stone and pulsing with dormant glyphs, the Outcast Entrance sat like a scar stitched across the base of the cliff. Guards turned. The wind thinned. Every footstep echoed not because of architecture—but anticipation.
Sir Ronald Klaus led the group forward, echo field active, tracking heartbeats and pressure points through the streets like sonar searching for sin.
Arthur walked beside him, chest tight with dread. Ruby and Adam flanked close, her Light glyph steady, his Hydro engine synced and reserved. Trimat followed at his own rhythm, white hair unmoving, presence undeniable.
Twelve Dentrian knights held formation behind them.
The mission wasn't stealth.
It was correction.
The city of Rudenberg had changed.
It always looked wounded, even on clean days.
Market stalls whispered. Cast-burned alleys turned their faces inward. The frost running through the city veins didn't belong to the weather.
It belonged to James.
The Abyssal Engine's reputation had tinted the bricks. Specters of past malfunctions turned into stories. Children stopped saying his name. Nobles mocked in corners. Scholars speculated aloud.
Because death was schedule-bound.
And the Hollow Bastion had a timetable.
Ronald's echo rippled faster now.
They were close.
The cathedral-turned-prison opened like a crater in the city's chest. Fractured glass, symbol-stripped spires, and a public execution dais carved across the center.
And on it—
James Rubenblood.
He stood bound to a cast-pillar.
Hands locked in suppression cuffs.
Head bowed, face unreadable.
His engine was quiet.
His breath was not.
Arthur froze mid-step.
Ruby whispered, "He's still alive."
Adam clenched his glyph-wrapped palm.
Ronald didn't slow.
Inside the Hollow Bastion, the Duke had already begun.
"By Dentrian law, under Clause 27—"
"—with authority from Rudenberg and the Relic Board—"
"James Rubenblood, son of Arthur, bearer of Abyssal frost—"
"—is sentenced to cast rupture, core separation, and dissolution—"
Ronald cast forward.
Supersonic echo.
Soft.
Focused.
His boots struck the platform.
Then—
"WAIT."
The sound cracked through the Bastion like prophecy.
Not yelled.
But undeniable.
It didn't ask for silence.
It forced it.
Duke Aaron Goldsen halted mid-sentence.
The cast executioner's glyph flickered, destabilizing under Ronald's pulse field.
The crowd inhaled as one.
Murmurs froze.
Eyes turned toward the man now standing between fate and finality.
Ronald.
And behind him—
Arthur.
Ruby.
Adam.
Trimat.
And twelve Dentrian soldiers.
Goldsen's head turned slowly.
His eyes scanned Ronald.
Then Arthur.
Then—
Ruby.
And they flared with hate.
—
His mouth didn't move, but his expression screamed.
Absolute fury.
Direct.
Targeted.
Ruby didn't blink.
But her Light glyph pulsed once in reflex — not fear, but defense.
Adam shifted closer.
Arthur reached toward her shoulder instinctively.
Trimat's eyes narrowed—but didn't speak.
And the crowd?
Fell into an eerie hush.
Not tension.
Not confusion.
That space between doubt and fear where myth steps forward.
Every bystander looked at Goldsen.
Then Ronald.
Then Trimat.
Then Ruby.
And didn't know what story they now belonged to.
Goldsen's voice returned — quieter, but sharp.
"You dare interfere?"
Ronald stepped closer.
"I act on royal command."
He lifted a scroll.
Sealed.
Stamped.
Marked in ink that didn't just belong to a king—
It belonged to Leontius D. Dentrius IV.
The wind shifted.
Goldsen stared.
Then scoffed.
Then—
Swallowed.
Ronald didn't move.
But the platform did.
It seemed to listen.
James raised his head slowly.
Eyes rimmed in exhaustion.
Pulse calm.
Goldsen stepped forward again.
Closer to Ronald.
Closer to Ruby.
Every guard tensed.
Every knight waited.
Even Trimat angled half a shoulder forward.
Goldsen sneered.
"You bring forged parchment?"
"You think it buys silence?"
Ronald didn't speak.
He presented the seal.
Goldsen grabbed it.
Stared.
And—
Knew.
His rage didn't vanish.
But it bent.
He turned toward the platform's crest.
Then—
He knelt.
It was reluctant.
Resentful.
But it was real.
The Bastion watched.
The citizens stood frozen.
The sigil shimmered once under the morning light.
Ruby didn't react.
Adam exhaled.
Arthur whispered, "We made it…"
Ronald didn't smile.
Trimat didn't blink.
James?
Still chained.
Still waiting.
But now—
He breathed.
And just before the wind moved again—
The city changed.
Not publicly.
Not visibly.
But quietly.
History turned a corner.
END OF FLASHBACK
"Release the boy."
Duke Aaron Goldsen's command dropped with no ceremony — just cold authority.
The Bastion's guards hesitated, momentarily caught between instinct and bewilderment. The execution platform had been primed, sanctified, readied for cast rupture. But when a command comes laced in the wind of royal law, hesitation dies.
Sir Ronald Klaus didn't move.
Arthur's pulse eased as James's suppression cuffs unlatched.
Ruby's glyph shimmered with a golden exhale, and Adam clenched his wrist engine with soft satisfaction.
James Rubenblood blinked — chest rising slowly, arms trembling slightly. His eyes didn't widen. They anchored. He was still standing in the place built to end him.
But now the air around him didn't want him dead.
Silence spread through the Hollow Bastion like pressure waiting to return.
The crowd hadn't moved — as if the word "release" hadn't yet reached their bones. A prince of frost had just survived law. Their breath hadn't recalibrated.
Then—
A voice broke the tension.
Unhinged.
Cracked.
"YOU!"
Sir Ryan Flask stepped forward from the northern tier of the crowd.
His face was half-covered in ceremonial silver plating. But his right eye—an embedded Ether gemstone, ruby-cut, gleamed beneath cast light like a judgment system of its own. His left eye twitched with disbelief.
His words weren't aimed at James.
Not Ronald.
Not Arthur.
They were for the man standing quietly behind the royal envoy.
Trimat.
"I know that face," Ryan barked, his voice too loud for protocol.
"That's him! That's the wretch from that very night.!"
He stormed forward, shoving past a Bastion guard.
The crowd recoiled.
Goldsen's face paled.
Ronald's boots slid half a pace in alert stance.
Ruby looked confused.
Adam's cast pulse dropped.
Arthur's breath stalled.
And Trimat?
Still.
Ryan pointed directly at him, finger trembling slightly.
"You were there the night I subdued the boy. You walked straight into the field like fog with footsteps."
"You told me he was yours."
"You made him sleep."
He paused.
Chest heaving.
Then whispered.
"And I didn't kill him."
The air twisted differently now.
Not with magic.
With memory.
Ryan's Ether eye flickered, pulsing faint shadow-red. He stepped further forward.
"I was going to finish him."
"I had full cast authority. No one was watching. The boy had broken two shield glyphs and injured a Rudenberg knight."
"The order was clear."
His voice lowered.
"You interfered."
"You... made me afraid."
"I felt my cast signature shrink when you stepped near."
Ronald blinked.
Arthur leaned forward.
Goldsen muttered, "Impossible…"
Ryan laughed — but it wasn't joy.
It was disbelief.
"I didn't even know what you were."
"Beggar. Cloak. No sigil. No pulse. But you looked at me…"
His ruby eye pulsed once.
"And I thought I might vanish."
Ronald's echo field surged with tension.
Trimat still hadn't moved.
Ryan flared again.
"You shouldn't be here."
"You're no envoy. You're no council."
"You're just…"
He turned toward the crowd.
"...a BEGGAR."
He spat the word like cast venom.
Silence followed.
Not from compliance.
From disbelief.
Because no one — no one — called Trimat D. Dentrius a beggar.
Not once.
Not aloud.
Not in Bastion air.
Goldsen's face contorted, panic blooming behind annoyance.
"Ryan. Leave."
Ryan didn't move.
He turned back toward Trimat.
"Name yourself," he demanded.
"What are you hiding behind those rags?"
"Why do you silence city law?"
Arthur stepped forward.
"Don't do this…"
Ronald added, "You don't know what you're asking."
Ryan barked, "I do!"
"I want a name!"
"I want truth!"
"I want the beggar to SPEAK!"
Trimat lifted his head.
And smiled.
Just softly.
As if the interruption was a breeze brushing an old thought.
His eyes locked with Ryan's ruby gem.
Then looked down.
Then up.
Then said—
"Begging…"
He gestured toward himself lightly.
"…is my side business."
The crowd didn't laugh.
They didn't flinch.
They just stopped.
Ryan blinked.
His Ether eye lost pulse for half a second.
Ronald bit his own lip to avoid smirking.
Then muttered inwardly—
**"If Trimat is a beggar…"
"…I'm worse than one."**
Goldsen erupted.
"RYAN. LEAVE."
His voice cracked with fear now, not command.
Ryan flinched.
"No. I won't let a ghost walk with impunity."
Goldsen snapped.
"Leave this Bastion or I will strip your seal."
Ryan's posture stiffened.
He scanned the royal sigil again.
Then stared at Trimat once more.
No reply came.
The silence surrounding Trimat was more lethal than any answer.
Ryan turned.
Walked away.
Not calmly.
Just… careful.
Ronald exhaled again.
Goldsen closed his eyes.
Arthur looked at James—
Freed.
Shaken.
Awake.
Trimat?
Gone.
No swirl.
No glyph light.
No cast shimmer.
He had been there.
Then he wasn't.
The space where he stood still remembered him.
Then—
Wind flickered beside James.
And he was there again.
Trimat didn't bend.
Didn't lean.
He simply touched James's shoulder.
And the boy — already half-broken — blinked once.
Eyes wide.
Lips parting.
"I…"
His voice thinned.
"You…"
Arthur stepped forward, unsure what to say.
Ronald turned sharply.
Even Goldsen recoiled.
Trimat said nothing.
James staggered backward.
Recognized the cloak.
Recognized the gait.
Recognized the quiet.
"It was you…"
His voice cracked.
"You saved me…"
"From them…"
"In the streets…"
He blinked.
Again.
Then faltered.
His breath slowed.
His limbs weakened.
And through torn thoughts he whispered—
"But you…"
"You betrayed me…"
"You made me sleep…"
Tears welled.
Arthur stepped closer.
Ruby didn't move.
Adam watched in silence.
James's voice collapsed.
"Why you…"
And with that—
He fell unconscious.
Into Trimat's arms.
The Bastion held its breath.
Because whatever the boy saw in that final moment...
It wasn't the cloaked man.
The man who gave him hope.
It was memory.
And memory doesn't always forgive.
**"When Names Fade,
Power Stays"**
END OF CHAPTER 18
-To Be Continued-