In the dim, shadowed back room of the forge, two figures faced each other, the air thick with tension and unspoken history. Diomede stood firm, eyes blazing with an intense orange fire, his fury barely contained. Across from him, Diego emerged from the shadows—a man with a twisted grin that curled like smoke, every twitch of his lips hinting at mischief and menace alike.
"What do you want?" Diomede's voice was low, sharp, and heavy with barely repressed anger.
Diego took a slow step forward, his grin widening as if he were enjoying a private joke. "Ah, so perceptive as always, young Diomede. Running away with a new bunch of friends? How delightfully sweet."
Diomede bared his sharp canines, his glare cutting through the dim torchlight. "You wouldn't be here without a reason. Spit it out."
Diego's smile flickered, and the playful light in his eyes deepened into something darker—yet still laced with a trickster's sly amusement. "The last has been given to the seal. No more will be born after this one, you see."
A cold shadow crept over Diomede's heart, sending waves of shock crashing through him. "That can't be true. The seal… it's supposed to be endless."
Diego chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling. "Endless? Oh no, dear Diomede. Everything has its end, even the grandest of seals." He circled slowly among the suits of armor, like a cat playing with its prey. "The last one… was the Galeianin King's daughter herself."
Diomede staggered, the weight of that revelation sinking in like a blade. "That should never have happened. No Galeian would have been born to bear that mark— Especially not the damn princess, not ever."
Diego's eyes sparkled with wicked delight as he locked gaze with Diomede. "You still think like a mortal, bound by hope and rules. But I'm here to remind you—anything is possible. Even the impossible."
Questions churned inside Diomede's mind, anxiety and doubt gnawing at his resolve. "So, what now? Are you here to send me on some grand, heroic mission? Some twisted game?"
Diego's grin broadened, his tone teasing but edged with something darker. "No grand quest today, just a little warning—to be ready. Things are shifting, and the game board is about to change… dramatically."
He laughed then—a bright, mocking sound that danced through the shadows like flickering flames. With a sly bow to the darkness, he melted back into the gloom, leaving a trail of unsettling mirth behind.
Diomede sank to his knees, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. And even as silence fell, Diego's laughter echoed faintly in the recesses of his mind—a trickster's promise that nothing would ever be the same again.
His vision was swallowed by darkness, and Diomede found himself standing once again in the shadowed realm of Omikuna. The air was thick with cold, the ground beneath littered with bones and chains that clattered softly with every breath of wind.
A deep, twisted voice echoed from the gloom.
"What's the matter? Afraid of the end of everything?"
Diomede rose steadily, unshaken.
"Don't start your nonsense now. I'm in no mood for your games."
From the shadows, a massive figure swirled, its form shifting and distorting like smoke caught in a storm. Laughter rolled out, dark and harsh.
"Come now, you really thought His return would never come? You're not that naive, are you?" The voice hissed through razor-sharp teeth—Omikuna himself.
Diomede stood firm amidst the bones and rattling chains, his mind racing. What was to come? Who would fall first? Would the kingdoms erupt once more into bitter war?
Omikuna's voice cut through his thoughts, cold and taunting.
"And what is it you fear? It's not like you can truly die."
Diomede's gaze snapped to the glowing, immense eyes staring down at him.
"There's more than that," he said quietly but with burning conviction. "If the negative energy seeps through the seal, his power will only grow. Whether we can die or not, it means unending war… endless chaos."
The chains around Omikuna screeched and tightened with a metallic howl as he leaned forward.
"Then let chaos reign. We will become the strongest, as we always do."
Diomede broke his gaze, shutting his eyes for a moment.
"Enjoy your little group while you can. They won't live much longer."
The darkness closed in around him, and Omikuna's laughter echoed wildly in his mind—dancing and mocking—until it was suddenly broken by a sharp, urgent voice.
"DIOMEDE!"
Lily's shout cut through the shadows.
Diomede's eyes snapped open, and he turned to meet her scowl, grounding himself once more in the waking world.
"What are you doing in here? Clayton said you were changing, but you haven't even begun to dress yourself."
Diomede turned from Lily, rubbing his eyes as if to reset them, allowing himself a few seconds to relax from the strain. "Yeah, I am… just got stuck in deep thought." He met Lily's gaze as he spoke, his voice calm but distant.
Lily felt a shadow flicker over her, and suddenly her father's voice echoed in her mind:
"Leave him be. That man has something inside him… something I can't explain. It's neither dead nor alive. Be careful, my daughter."
Lily's heart quickened, her mind whispering back, What do you mean? But her father's presence faded like mist on the breeze.
Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted behind her.
Lily spun around to see Kira standing at the forge's entrance, still in her spell form, drenched in sweat. Her face was strained, and her wide eyes screamed in shock.
"What happened?!" Kira shouted urgently. "I felt overwhelming fear and distress from Diomede!"
Lily's eyes darted to Diomede, but he stood just behind her, clutching the armor he had chosen.
"What's with all the shouting?" Diomede asked, but beneath the surface his mind churned with worry.
Kira could tell he was holding back. She knew what she'd felt, but trusted he would reveal the truth when the time was right.
The blacksmith, still confused by the tension, handed Clayton his repaired blade—now sharper and straighter than before.
"Lad, do me a favor. Take one of those swords over there too. I know that broken thing means a lot to you, but you'll need something more reliable on your journey."
Clayton nodded, grateful for the blacksmith's kindness. He pulled a longsword from the wall, its silver crossguard gleaming, the dark brown leather wrapped tightly around the hilt.
Diomede reached into a hefty bag that jingled as he moved it, then handed it to the blacksmith.
The blacksmith bounced the bag in his hand, a grin tugging at his lips.
"To be honest, Sir Murkwood, I was expecting you to spin me some sob story about how you couldn't pay."
Diomede laughed, a low, genuine sound.
"It's rare I carry debt in this world, but I thank you for your service."
The blacksmith tucked the bag into his well-worn apron—each crease and stain a testament to years of hard work.
The group stepped out of the shop and reunited with Francisco, who had slipped back into his elderly form amidst the lively street.
"Ah, my dear son, you look handsome in your new armor!" Francisco exclaimed in his aged voice, playfully grabbing at Diomede's cheeks.
Diomede swatted Francisco's hand away, letting out a small sigh.
Francisco chuckled softly. "Oh, I almost forgot—I bought these for you two." He handed Clayton a deep blue cloak and Lily a rich burgundy one.
"And you rushed off before I could get this on you, my dear," he added, offering Kira a dark green robe.
Kira quickly wrapped herself in the soft fabric; its smooth texture brought a quiet calm to her.
"I would've gotten you one too," Francisco said, glancing at Diomede, "but with that thick bear skin of yours, I figured you wouldn't want it."
"It's fine," Diomede replied. "But we need to find this Jacob Walters so we can get moving toward Kinga." He started walking in the direction he assumed they needed.
"We should ask for directions instead of wandering aimlessly," Clayton said, keeping pace.
"No need," Lily replied, fastening her cloak tightly around her shoulders.
Clayton raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
Lily pointed toward a caravan of wagons rolling into town. Just beyond them stood a large mushroom-shaped building next to a wide barn with a sign reading: Fungal Grove Farmers Market.
"I'd wager the head farmer is there."
The group melted into the bustling crowd, their silhouettes quickly swallowed by the town's lively hum.
High above, on a nearby rooftop, Diego brushed back his brown hair, a devious smile spreading across his face.
"How exciting, someone I haven't seen for a long time," Diego murmured, lifting into the air, eyes gleaming with mischief.The smell of manure hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of freshly disturbed dirt. The cacophony of animals and townsfolk clamored all around, a raucous symphony of daily life.