“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Aunty Anya,” Azuma said, his voice small and defeated in the confined space of the prison cell.

  Anya sighed, a long, weary sound, and offered a soft smile. “It’s alright, dear. I was at fault, too. I’m the adult, and I allowed it.”

  Azuma’s face was very pale and looked tired and thin, his skin pulled tight across his jaw. He was clearly exhausted, yet he still offered comfort. “You don’t have to worry, my mom and dad know you aren’t to blame. They’ll release you soon.”

  A warmth momentarily softened the worry in Anya’s eyes as she took in his drained appearance. “You don’t need to worry about my punishment, dear Prince. It will be superficial for me, at least. Now, for you…”

  “Ahhh, Aunty!” Azuma panicked, covering his mouth with both hands, his eyes wide in sudden dread.

  Anya chuckled, a dry, faint sound. “Hush. Don’t worry. After they hear what you accomplished, I’m sure they will show leniency.”

  “That might be the case, but I’m still worried about how my mother will react,” Azuma murmured, dropping his head down to stare at the dusty floor. “She was awfully silent when they brought me here. That’s not like her.”

  Before Anya could reply, the heavy thud of footsteps announced Vikram’s arrival. He stopped at the bars of the cell, fixing Anya with a hard, accusing stare that made her guilt rise like bile in her throat.

  “You are summoned to the City Hall,” Vikram stated flatly.

  Anya pushed herself up and walked toward the door, avoiding Vikram's angry eyes. She felt the heavy burden of having taken the child into the Cursed Lands. As she left, Vikram turned his attention entirely to the boy. His gaze hardened with undisguised rage, and a slow, cruel smirk spread across his face. He glanced around the empty prison block to ensure they were alone.

  He was about to reach out and break the cage door to step inside when his eyes met Azuma’s. A shock of icy terror ripped through Vikram. Azuma's deep blue eyes held a flicker of intense, radiating silver light—a sight that brought a primal, choking fear up from his throat. Vikram froze instantly, recoiled as if struck by lightning, and then quickly retreated, turning toward the Council chamber without a word, the malice replaced by a sudden, consuming dread.

  The moment the sound of Vikram’s boots faded, Azuma’s already pale face went ghostly white. He clutched his mouth, a sudden, heavy rush of blood surging forward. A fire ignited in his stomach, spreading through his core until his entire body felt like it was being ripped apart. He could taste the metallic tang of his own blood. With a choked cough, he stumbled, falling hard against the stone wall of the cell. He fainted, but just before consciousness left him, the agony triggered a memory—the last moment of the fight with the second cobra.

  —Flashback: The Second Cobra—

  The second Armoured Scale Cobra, twice the size of the first, was a terrifying mountain of white scales, its rage absolute. Azuma was several kilometers away from the formation, his small body strained to the maximum. His lungs felt like they were collapsing with every ragged breath.

  Damn it, he swore under his breath. The gigantic figure was closing the distance, a white blur of pure, furious destruction. Is this it? he thought. And then, like the chime of a sudden, deep bell, the name "Eonvor" echoed through the cavern of his soul.

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  No. I need to survive this. I need to. The firm resolve flashed through his mind as he thought of his parents and the people of Oasis City. He gritted his teeth and spun around to face the behemoth. Its enormous maw opened, wide enough to swallow him whole. In that moment, he saw the cobra’s golden eyes shift, now laced with an incandescent, fuming red.

  His world went dark. He was instantly transported into an illusion of vast, cold space. The shift was familiar, bringing back the ancient, vivid memory of his soul travelling through the void, heading toward this world, toward this child's body. One specific memory was crystal clear: his soul was about to collide with a giant meteorite when a word, echoing with the law of the universe, rang out: "NULL." In that instant, the entire meteorite was eradicated into nothingness, completely unexpected and total.

  Null, he murmured, still lost in the dark illusion. As he spoke the word, something surged within him—a flood of deep, innate power. Suddenly, he knew the spell. It was as if the knowledge was embedded in the very fabric of his soul.

  He yelled into the darkness, putting all his will behind the command: "NULL!"

  A considerable amount of silver energy drained from his body, pulled out like a physical rope. As the silver left him, the illusion shattered. He saw the giant cobra collapse onto the ground, unable to move, its breathing ragged and strained.

  Immediately, a splitting headache hit him, and a booming, resonant voice erupted in his mind: "STOP."

  With that mental command, the rest of his remaining silver energy was violently drained away. He reverted to normal, suffering heavy, internal injuries as his body rebelled against the sudden loss of power. He was about to collapse when Goar’s strong hands caught him, lifting him. Goar then delivered the final, swift blow to the suffering cobra. The splitting headache and draining pain were too much, yet Azuma's sheer will fought through the crushing grogginess. He forced himself to look, his eyes widening with a fresh wave of panic: Three cobras? He saw a third cobra relentlessly pursuing Goar, heading straight toward the formation. Seeing his Aunty Anya in the distance, already preparing the trap, a wave of desperate confidence washed over him, and he finally lost consciousness.

  —Return to Present—

  Azuma bolted upright in the cell, groaning from a head-splitting ache. He looked down and saw a dark, expanding pool of blood on the ground near his knees. He panicked, trying to scramble to his feet to hide the evidence, but as he stood, his head spun violently. He fell, collapsing against the cold stone floor just as he heard approaching footsteps.

  He lifted his head and saw his father, the king, standing in the doorway with a look of stunned horror fixed on the boy and the blood pooling at his feet.

  Somewhere in the mayogam, right at the exact moment Azuma unleashed the silver energy that killed the second cobra, a silent figure sat on a throne deep within a dungeon. His body, reddish-black and massive, was held in place by large, ancient chains that seemed to pay him no mind. The chains gave a small, protesting groan and shook faintly.

  The figure on the throne, massive and still, cracked open his eyes. No light was needed to pierce the gloom; his eyes were the light. They were two intense, focused silver flares. The gaze held for a heartbeat—a flicker of ancient, potent interest—before it cooled, the brief moment of vigor draining away like smoke. He slumped back, his massive head dropping, ready to drift back to his century-long slumber. But before the eyes fully closed, a slow, deliberate breath escaped his lips. It was a visible exhalation of shimmering silver hue that spread instantly, not flowing, but blasting outward. As the silver energy touched the dungeon walls, every single creature held within—every monster and beast—stiffened. A low, collective snarl rose as they evolved, instantaneously jumping to C-rank, ready for the day of their liberation.

  The Day of Liberation was only just beginning.