Heful — Market District

  The streets pulsed with life. Stalls lined both sides of the cobblestone road, their canopies fluttering in the warm breeze. Spices, smoke, laughter — the scent and sound of the living city.

  Valerius and Eliana walked side by side through the crowd — a rare sight: the royal princess of Zitry in plain clothes, her golden hair tied into a simple braid, and beside her the tall, quiet Elvhein whose very presence drew eyes without effort.

  Eliana darted from stall to stall like a child freed from formality, her eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve never done this before,” she said, glancing over her shoulder with a grin.

  Valerius raised a brow. “Walk through a market?”

  “No,” she said, tugging his hand toward a steaming cart. “Eat food while it’s still hot.”

  The vendor turned as they approached, flames licking the skewers of meat on the grill. The scent hit like heaven. The man froze when he realized who she was — or rather, what she was — his hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped his tongs.

  Valerius chuckled under his breath. “You’ll startle the man to death.”

  “It’s not my fault he isn’t used to seeing an Elf,” Eliana replied, rolling her eyes.

  When the vendor handed them two dripping skewers, she bit into hers immediately—and yelped.

  “Hot! Hot—gods, that burns!”

  Valerius’s lips curved faintly. “You did say you wanted it hot.”

  She glared at him, cheeks puffed, still chewing. “It would burn you too if you tried it.”

  “No, it won’t,” he said.

  “Yes, it would.”

  “Alright then,” he said with a grin. “Look.”

  He bit into his calmly, unbothered. The sauce hissed on his tongue. He chewed as though lava didn’t concern him in the slightest.

  Her glare sharpened. “How are you doing that?”

  “I’m resistant to heat,” he said casually. “Used to train in lava, you know.”

  Eliana blinked. “What?”

  He laughed. “You’d be surprised by the things I had to do.”

  They walked on, weaving through stalls of glimmering fabrics and ripe fruit. Merchants shouted prices; children darted between legs, laughing. For Eliana, every moment was freedom.

  She stopped again, this time before a colorful stand crowned with glass tubs. “What’s that flavor?” she asked, pointing at a swirl of orange and blue.

  “Citrin-berry,” said the vendor.

  Eliana nodded, bought two, and handed one to Valerius. “Try it.”

  He took a bite, his expression thoughtful. “You know,” he said, “my grandma hates it when we eat ice cream. Says it isn’t healthy.”

  He straightened, then mimicked an elderly african accent with exaggerated authority:

  > “You better not be eating sugar! It will kill you!”

  Eliana burst out laughing. “What kind of accent is that?”

  “My grandma’s,” he said with a grin. “I miss her.”

  Her smile softened. “Is your entire family on Earth?”

  “Well,” he said, “apart from us here — yeah.”

  “That’s a very… strange accent,” she said teasingly.

  He shrugged. “You get used to it.”

  They found a place at the fountain’s edge, the water shimmering beneath a sky of drifting clouds. Street performers played light music nearby; children threw flower petals into the pool.

  For a while, neither spoke.

  Eliana broke the silence first. “I’ve been here before,” she said quietly. “With my father. We don’t like Aurellians, but we always liked the Zitry family.”

  Valerius looked at her. “What’s the deal with you and the Aurellians, anyway?”

  “Elves and Aurellians have been enemies since well, forever,” she said, her tone hardening. “They used to kidnap our women. Sell them as slaves. King Jonah outlawed it, but there are still those who think Elves are toys to be played with.”

  Valerius nodded slowly. “Back on Earth, we had slavery too — centuries ago. But not anymore.” He looked up at the sky. “After what happened in that ruin, I hated this world… but it’s not so bad.”

  Something caught his eye — a tall creature tethered to a post.

  “Are those… horses?”

  He walked over, circling the beast — an Ause, its sleek hide catching the light. “Apart from the fur these things look just like horses. Damn.”

  He slapped its flank.

  The Ause kicked.

  Valerius was flung straight into the fountain, crashing with a resounding splash.

  Eliana’s laughter filled the air. “You should know better than to slap an Ause’s behind!”

  He surfaced, drenched, grinning. “Yeah, yeah—laugh it up.”

  Then he raised his hand and pulled — the air bent like a ribbon. Eliana yelped as a gust of wind wrapped around her and hurled her straight into the fountain beside him.

  She sputtered, soaked, glaring daggers. “Lerius! How could you?”

  He waved lazily. “Please. You’ll get over it.”

  The ground beneath them shimmered — a single green vine sprouted between the cobblestones, curling upward.

  Valerius’s smile widened. “You’re not gonna be so petty as to use magic, are you?”

  “You just used your Bravo whatever thing on me!” she accused.

  “What? No,” he said innocently. “That was the wind.”

  Eliana gave him a skeptical smirk — that half-smile that said she’d heard better lies from drunk soldiers.

  Valerius laughed quietly. “Hey, I can feel every inch of this place. Want to see where the real fun is?”

  Eliana raised a brow. “Define ‘fun.’”

  He stood, extending a hand toward her. “Let’s find out.”

  She hesitated — then took it.

  And for that brief, bright moment, the chaos of the world seemed very far away.

  ---

  Heful — Night District

  The city pulsed with sound.

  Lights flared from every window; music rolled through the streets like thunder wrapped in rhythm. The air was thick with perfume, laughter, and the electric scent of magic burning faintly in the air.

  Inside the club, the crowd swayed as one — bodies moving beneath a storm of light. The bass thumped so deep it felt like a heartbeat under their feet.

  Valerius leaned close to Eliana and shouted over the music, “Ever been to a place like this?”

  Eliana shook her head, her braid brushing her shoulder. “No!”

  Valerius smirked. “Of course not — you’re a princess. All you do is boring royal stuff. Banquets, speeches, lessons…”

  He turned toward the dance floor and spread his arms. “Me? I’ve been coming here every night since we got here.”

  He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the center. “Come on, Eli. Here, you shut up and let loose.”

  He tapped his chest with both hands and said, grinning, “And let your body do the talking.”

  Then he started moving — shoulders rolling, hips shifting, the beat snapping through his body like lightning.

  The crowd around them cheered as he spun around Eliana in a wide, smooth circle.

  “Come on, Eli,” he said, still moving. “Shake it!”

  Eliana laughed nervously. “I don’t think I should—”

  Valerius spun once, sliding backward across the floor with fluid grace. “Awe, shy?” he teased, moonwalking in a perfect glide, hands flicking in rhythm.

  “Alright then,” he said, grinning. “Since this is your first time, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  The music built — the crowd clapped in sync — and Valerius moved.

  He spun on one foot, twisted down into a smooth slide, and flipped onto his palms. His body flowed with impossible precision — part martial control, part pure rhythm. He spun on a single finger, balanced midair for half a breath, and landed lightly on both feet as the beat dropped.

  The crowd erupted. Cheers filled the room.

  Every eye was on him — even the DJ froze for a heartbeat to watch.

  Eliana’s mouth fell open. “You…” she stammered, half laughing, “you can dance?”

  Valerius grinned, brushing his damp hair back. “In here,” he said, his voice low and rhythmic, “you let loose without giving a damn who’s watching. Doesn’t matter if you dance like shit or like art.”

  He stepped closer, his grin widening. “Or are you used to those old people dances?”

  She tried to glare, but it broke into laughter.

  Valerius winked, then spun on one finger again — the move impossible and effortless — before finishing with a quick chest pop that made the entire crowd scream.

  By the end of it, the room was wild — cheers, whistles, applause.

  Eliana was still laughing when they sat at the counter afterward. Their drinks clinked against the marble.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Valerius leaned back, breathing lightly but smiling. “My dad’s just a normal guy. Still a miracle he ended up with my mom.”

  Eliana took another drink, giggling faintly. “You say that like your mom’s a goddess.”

  “She kind of is, compared to everyone else” he said simply. Then, seeing her pour another glass, he gently took it from her hand. “Okay, I think you’ve had enough.”

  She pouted. “Oh, come on—”

  “Come on,” he said, standing. “Let’s get out of here before you start dancing like me.”

  They stepped outside into the night. The streets were alive with lantern light and distant music.

  Eliana swayed as she walked, her steps uneven. “How are you fine after all those glasses you had?”

  Valerius smirked. “Oh, I can’t get drunk. Found that out four years ago.”

  “Really?” she said, half-dazed. “Too bad.”

  She leaned against him, head resting briefly on his shoulder. “I feel… great,” she murmured, spreading her arms wide. “It’s like… I’m free. Makes me want to scream out loud!”

  Valerius chuckled. “Then do it.”

  She turned to the sky and shouted, “GOODNIGHT, SKY!”

  Valerius laughed. “Alright, my turn.”

  Together they yelled, “GOODNIGHT, SKY!”

  The ground shook — and several nearby windows shattered.

  Valerius blinked. “Oops.”

  Eliana snorted, pointing vaguely upward. “Lerius, I think I should visit Earth.”

  Valerius tilted his head. “I’m over here.”

  She turned toward him, swaying. “I said… I should visi—”

  Then she vomited.

  Valerius sighed, sped behind her, and gently rubbed her back. “You really drank too much.”

  By the time they reached home, she was fast asleep on his back. Her breathing was soft, her braid hanging loose over his shoulder.

  Inside, the lights were low. Mr. Baby was sitting on the couch, eyes fixed on the glowing Seer orb.

  Valerius stopped in the doorway. “Don’t you ever sleep? How come you’re always here each night?”

  Mr. Baby turned his head lazily. “Don’t you ever sleep? How come you’re always out each night?”

  Valerius grinned. “Fair enough.”

  He started down the hall. “Well, I’m going to bed.”

  Mr. Baby pointed at the sleeping princess. “Wah happened to her?”

  “Drank too much,” Valerius said simply.

  He carried Eliana into her room, laid her gently on the bed, and brushed a strand of hair from her face. For a moment, he just looked at her — peaceful.

  He smiled faintly and pulled the blanket over her.

  From the corner, Maloi’s voice came — cold, clipped.

  “Where were you?”

  Valerius didn’t look back. He walked to the door, hand on the frame.

  “Having fun,” he said lightly. “You should try it sometime.”

  The door closed softly behind him.

  ---

  A few hours later.

  The training hall was silent, save for the rhythmic sound of breath and strain.

  A faint shimmer of distortion warped the air — the effect of gravity far beyond what nature intended.

  Valerius’s palms pressed against the reinforced floor, the veins along his arms bulging under the crushing weight. Sweat rolled from his temples and vanished before touching the ground, vaporized by the pressure.

  “Ten-thousand, three hundred ninety-six…”

  His arms trembled slightly.

  “...Ninety-seven.”

  The air itself seemed to quiver.

  “...Ninety-eight.”

  The sound of his heartbeat became thunder in the room.

  “...Ninety-nine.”

  He exhaled sharply.

  “Ten thousand, four hundred.”

  A slow, deliberate clap echoed from the control booth above.

  From the shadows, Pungence’s voice rolled through the speakers — deep, resonant, and amused.

  >“Consistency and discipline. I like that. Even after being away from the Giants, you continue your training.”

  He looked down at the console.

  > “A hundred billion gravities,” he mused. “That’s more than your brother can withstand without augmentation.”

  The door slid open with a hiss, and Pungence stepped inside.

  The air shifted around him, yet the immense gravity did nothing to his posture.

  He approached and sat casually on a steel bench that groaned under his weight but didn’t dare break.

  “Steadfast Might has taught you well,” he said. “Taught you how to endure. How to grow. I’m impressed. Even without Bravo, you can survive this kind of pressure.”

  Valerius lowered himself onto the floor, resting his arms across his knees.

  “Don’t act like you’re impressed,” he said, voice calm but sharp. “I’m sure this is nothing to you.”

  Pungence chuckled.

  “It is nothing to me. But like everyone else, I need my Bravo. If I stopped using it — even for a nanosecond — that would be the end of Pungence.”

  Valerius blinked. “No way.”

  “You don’t believe me?” Pungence asked, raising an eyebrow. “Search this entire planet — you’ll find no one like you and your siblings. All of us, even the mighty, are nothing without Vitalis. Except for the few races with innate abilities.”

  Valerius tilted his head. “Innate abilities?”

  “Some races are born with gifts others can only dream of,” Pungence said. “Dragoons breathe fire. Demi-beasts transform. The Elvheins…” he paused, smiling faintly, “...were always believed to have none. Until I met you three.”

  He leaned back, eyes half-lidded in thought.

  “You and your siblings are anomalies. When Eryndor and Ziraiah developed enhanced hearing, it nearly drove them mad. Then came the eyesight — evolution happening before my eyes.”

  Valerius cracked a small grin. “Oh, I have those too.”

  Pungence gave a knowing smirk.

  “You train diligently, Valerius. But tell me — what does it mean to be strong?”

  Valerius stood slowly, the weight pressing down on him like a mountain, yet his voice came steady.

  “Well,” he said, “I can lift mountains. If I were on Earth, I’d be a walking super-nuke. To be strong is to have power. A lot of it.”

  Pungence frowned slightly. “That’s not the answer I expected.”

  Valerius met his gaze. “Alright then,” he said. “Let me give you a better one.”

  He stepped forward, eyes hard, posture straight.

  “For the past two years, I’ve trained — every second, every breath. And now, I understand.”

  He raised his hand, fingers curling into a fist.

  “Strength isn’t one thing. It’s a trinity — a law written into reality itself.”

  He lifted one finger.

  “First — Force. The raw power to lift, to crush, to shatter. That, I have. I can move mountains.”

  He lifted a second finger.

  “Second — Speed. The velocity to deliver that force in an instant. Not just movement, but the perception to see the world frozen in time… and to act within that stillness.”

  He drew back his fist, moving it so fast that it blurred — the air cracked faintly from the pressure.

  Then he froze again.

  “Alone,” he said, “they’re worthless. A parked truck has force. A grain of sand in a storm has speed. Neither is a threat.”

  His voice deepened, eyes narrowing.

  “But combine them — multiply them — and you get kinetic energy. Not Force plus Speed. Force times the square of Speed. Double the speed, and the energy quadruples. Multiply the speed a thousandfold… and you get a millionfold increase in destructive power.”

  Pungence’s eyes widened faintly. For the first time in a long while, he was learning something new.

  Valerius lowered his hand.

  “But it’s meaningless without the third pillar — Durability.”

  He tapped his chest. It rang like solid iron wrapped in thunder.

  “Your body must endure the recoil of the power you unleash. If not — your strongest attack becomes your own death sentence.”

  He took a breath, gaze steady.

  “So what does it mean to be strong? It means to unleash overwhelming force in an imperceivable instant… without your own body betraying you.”

  Silence filled the room — heavy, reverent.

  Pungence stared at him, then laughed softly. “In all my years, I’ve never once thought of it that way.”

  Valerius dropped back down to continue his push-ups. “Well,” he said between breaths, “I kind of know the science of things. Bravo just amplifies everything.”

  Pungence folded his arms, smirking. “I expected a philosophical answer.”

  Valerius shrugged. “You asked what it means to be strong,” he said. “Not what I think it means.”

  Pungence chuckled again — quiet this time. “Fair enough.”

  ---

  To Be Continued...