The Poisonous Eel was a legend in Atlantis. Terrifying. Venomous. Uncatchable. And now that legend was being hunted in every corner of the palace.
Hope walked with a dark cloak draped across his shoulders, positioned directly at Princess Elara's right side. Around them stood a dozen elite Scale-Skin guards holding electrified spears. Because Prince Nereus suspected the assassin's true target might be the royal family, he had assigned the strongest guest in the palace, the Architect, as his sister's personal guard. For Hope and Elara, this was nothing less than a rare gift.
"The corridor is clear," said the captain of the guards after sweeping the dark archway with the light of his spear. "No trace, Your Highness."
Elara inclined her head with noble restraint and faint irritation. "Continue the search, Captain. I will not tolerate that creature breathing within my palace."
The guards saluted and moved ahead. Elara glanced sideways at Hope. Both of them were smiling quietly.
"Searching for your own crime at the scene of the crime…" Hope whispered, matching his steps to hers. "Illogical, but incredibly satisfying."
"Be quiet, Hope," Elara whispered without barely moving her lips. "If we appear too comfortable, we will draw suspicion. Were you able to bypass the guards and map the lower dungeon?"
Hope lowered his head slightly. "Yes. The ventilation shafts and sewage channels of the dungeon have been recorded in my database through [Architect Sight]. The route for extracting Octavia is ready. The problem is… our time is running out."
Time truly was narrowing.
Four full days had passed since that night. Four days of a ghost hunt, countless interrogations, and rising paranoia. And the tightening clock was not caused only by Prince Nereus' suspicions.
The true reason was Lypin.
Palace Infirmary – Night of the Fourth Day
Hope slipped inside the infirmary during a guard rotation. When he pushed the door open slightly, he did not hear the painful groans he had expected. He did not smell scorched flesh. The room was surprisingly peaceful.
Lypin was sitting cross-legged on her bed. Her eyes were closed. Pale violet moon dust drifted around her. The terrifying purple veins along her arms had not completely disappeared, but they no longer writhed beneath her skin. They looked muted, motionless, as though sealed behind thick glass.
She was no longer burning from within.
She was learning to control the fire.
Hearing Hope's footsteps, Lypin slowly opened her eyes. Violet tones blended together, giving her gaze a mysterious depth. She smiled. That old, heartwarming smile had returned.
"I am refining my technique," Lypin said softly, moving her hands slightly. Moon dust danced between her fingers.
Hope sat at the edge of the bed, looking at her with admiration. "The purple marks have faded. You are not in pain anymore. How did you manage it?"
"By accepting it," Lypin said after taking a deep breath. "I stopped trying to push the power away or fear it. Instead of rejecting it, I chose to live with it. I healed it, and with its own strength, I wove a cage around it. But this cage is not made of iron. It is made of my will. I named it [INNER CAGE]."
For the first time, the heavy weight in Hope's heart truly lightened. Lypin was not a victim waiting to be saved. She was a warrior fighting her own battle.
"You are incredible," Hope whispered. "More than needing me… you needed your own strength."
Lypin reached forward and held his hand. "We both need each other, Hope. But you must win your battle too. The Prince is pushing you harder every day. Your body is covered with new wounds. You must defeat him. I have not been by your side to heal you for some time. I am sorry."
Hope looked into Lypin's eyes and shook his head. "I am truly glad you are well. I will win. I just needed a few more things. And I think I found them."
At that same hour, Prince Nereus was in his study reviewing the reports from the infirmary. The magnitude of the [Starfallen] energy within Lypin exceeded even his own estimates. If that girl lost control, a disaster as massive as a Kraken awakening could erupt in the heart of Atlantis. He was nurturing a ticking bomb within silk sheets.
"The Poisonous Eel remains unfound," Nereus thought. "And this Starfallen girl grows more dangerous by the day. I must end the Architect's training immediately and drive them from this city. The game is over."
Mirror Dome – Final Training
The next morning, the air within the Mirror Dome felt sharper than ever. Prince Nereus stood on the control platform above. His face was expressionless. His eyes were resolute.
"Today is the final day, Architect," Nereus said. His voice echoed against the icy walls. "Either you defeat these copies and surpass your limits, or my generosity ends. You will take your team and leave my palace."
Below, Hope stood on the frozen floor wearing only black, flexible combat trousers. His upper body was bare, faint green burn marks from [Hellfire] glowing across his skin. His scythe rested in his hand.
"Begin," said the Prince.
Ten copies burst from the water at the same time. Each was a flawless, emotionless, mechanized version of Hope. Raising their water scythes, they lunged.
In the past, Hope's mind would have opened an analysis grid. Calculate angles. Measure speed. Determine damage potential.
But the beatings of recent days, Lypin's struggle, and Elara's movements had taught him something.
Do not think. Flow.
As the copies were about to strike, Hope smiled. Gripping his scythe with both hands, he spun and hurled the weapon forward with full force. The scythe cut through the air like a boomerang, spinning with green flames. It passed cleanly through the first copy at the waist, splitting it perfectly in half. The water body evaporated.
One.
The remaining nine did not hesitate. They reformed their formation and charged. He was disarmed. In their system, that registered as a fatal error.
But Hope never intended to fight unarmed.
Emerald flames exploded beneath his feet. [Flame Spirit: Propulsion]
Hope shot upward like a rocket. The copies' attacks struck empty air. While suspended midair, he pulled his arms back. The green flames gathering between his hands began to solidify and take shape. This was not magic. It was pure will.
The flames formed into a massive emerald bow and arrow.[Tyrant's Bow: Rain of Fire]
While still airborne, Hope drew and released again and again.
The flaming arrows pierced the copies below, striking their chests and heads, turning them into steam. Three more vanished.
On the platform above, Prince Nereus' eyes widened slightly. Shaping fire into weaponry was something Hope had never done before.
As Hope descended, four copies leapt to catch him midair. But Hope was no longer merely in the air.
He was the shadow itself.
[Shadow Step: Scattered Reflection]
While airborne, Hope hurled green flames toward the icy walls and ceiling of the dome, creating countless shifting shadows. His mind no longer selected coordinates. Even he did not know where he would appear next. Instinct pulled him.
He appeared on the ceiling.He sprang to the wall.He struck the floor.He launched upward again.
The copies' Perfect Logic algorithms began to collapse. Their water heads snapped left and right, trying to calculate his next emergence. They could not calculate the uncalculated.
Hope burst like a bullet from the shadow directly beneath one copy. While it searched frantically, he appeared before it.
"I am right here!"
He thrust his hand forward and seized the water copy's face. Green flames erupted between his fingers. The copy's head boiled away without even leaving behind a scream.
Four remained.
Hope landed, breathing heavily but wearing a fierce grin. He caught his returning boomerang scythe and wrapped its blade in green flames before sweeping it forward.
This time the flames were weak, smoky, thin. They spread along the ground, filling the chamber with dense steam and smoke.
The copies halted.
Through the smoke, they detected the silhouette of a figure standing with a scythe planted into the ground.
They communicated internally.
"Target mana depleted. Offensive power reduced by eighty percent. Initiating termination."
All four extended their arms simultaneously. They sharpened the water into drill-like spears and fired with immense pressure toward the silhouette and the scythe.
Perfect accuracy.
But when the smoke cleared, their Logic Cores trembled with error codes.
No one stood there.
Only a burning scythe embedded in the ground and an empty cloak draped over it.
A trap. A decoy.
"Incorrect calculation," a voice whispered behind them.
The copies attempted to turn.
Too late.
"Surprise," Hope said.
They looked down.
The frozen floor was no longer ice.
During those brief seconds behind the smoke screen, Hope had used his flames not to attack but to melt the ground. The floor had transformed into a boiling swamp of water and sludge. The copies were trapped within it.
Hope snapped his fingers.
"Checkmate."
The molten ground spiraled upward into a massive green vortex of flame at his command. The swamp erupted. The final four copies boiled and evaporated within the churning pit, vanishing completely.
Silence.
Only the hiss of evaporating water and Hope's heavy breathing echoed through the Mirror Dome. He lifted his head. His shoulders were straight. His eyes were bright.
He had won.
On his own terms.
Slow, rhythmic applause echoed from above.
Prince Nereus descended the stairs. His expression was complex, impressed yet wary.
"Impressive," the Prince said, standing before Hope. He looked at the blackened, melted floor. "Using your weapon as a projectile, forging a bow from flame, scattering shadows unpredictably, and setting a trap. Are these the new techniques you spoke of, Architect?"
Hope walked toward his embedded scythe, pulled it free in one smooth motion, and rested it upon his shoulder. A confident grin curved his lips as he met the Prince's gaze.
"Of course not," Hope said with a slight shrug. "Those were only a warm-up. You will understand what my true new technique is… when the time comes."
It was an open challenge.
Hope turned his back and walked toward the exit of the Mirror Dome. No bow. No request for permission. Only the careless steps of a victor.
Prince Nereus watched him go. The faint smile vanished from his face. His eyes darkened like the deepest ocean trench. His hands clasped behind his back, fingers tightening.
This boy was no longer a trained dog.
He was a wolf ready to tear off the leash.
And there was no place for wolves in Nereus' kingdom.
"Guard," Prince Nereus said coldly, turning to a Scale-Skin assassin emerging from the shadows.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Follow the Architect. I want to know where he goes, whom he speaks to, what he eats, even how he breathes. If you witness even a single suspicious movement, do not report it to me."
The guard bowed. "What should I do, my Prince?"
Nereus' lips curved cruelly.
"Break his legs. Do not allow him to escape."