Realizing he could read my thoughts, I did the only thing that made sense.

I started repeating the lyrics of my favorite song in my head, over and over again.

If he wanted to pry into my mind, he'd have to suffer through an annoying mental concert first.

But instead of getting frustrated, the man burst into laughter. A deep, booming laugh that rattled my skull, making my head pound in protest.

Even without seeing his face, I could feel his eyes on me. Studying, analyzing me from head to toe.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that…" he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Do you realize I could erase you in an instant?"

I didn't flinch.

"I don't care what you can do. Just tell me what you want." My tone was cold, unwavering.

He chuckled. "I had a feeling you'd be difficult."

A pause.

"For now, I'm simply here to observe you up close. Consider this… our first meeting."

Then, without warning, he extended one of his wrinkled hands toward me.

I couldn't move. I couldn't even see what he was doing.

"A little parting gift," he said with a sharp, ear-piercing laugh.

Pain.

A searing, unbearable pain exploded in my skull.

My vision went white.

I could hear a distant roar of noise, chaotic and overwhelming.

And then, gradually, the white faded, replaced by something far more familiar.

Voices.

Shouting.

The unmistakable sounds of Ironwood Team.

[[Eryndor Leafshade (Marked)] [Soul Level: 1 → 2 Vitality: 51 HP Regen: 6 Physical Resistance: 13 Magic Resistance: 10 Fire Resistance:12 Strength: 78 Agility: 19 Movement Speed: 8 Wisdom: 37 Willpower: 134] [Spells: Rejuvenation, Galestride, Inner Beast, Tempest Shield, Gorgroth's Call Skills: Fiery Wrath, Hellfire Passives: Ooborosk's Mantle, Blazing Cinderstorm]

***

"Erynd, what happened?! We were so worried!" Elena's voice trembled, her eyes glistening as if she were about to cry.

Before I could respond, Darwyn pulled me into a firm hug. "We thought we lost you."

Muradin, as always, broke the tension with a smirk. "Took a little detour, did you?"

I blinked in confusion. "Wait… what exactly happened?"

Orin let out a sharp breath, speaking so fast it was almost one long sentence. "After I went through the portal, I arrived on the second floor. Elena was already there, waiting. Not long after, Darwyn and Muradin showed up. But you… you never appeared."

Darwyn's jaw tightened. "I saw you enter the portal right after Orin. We all did. At first, we tried to stay calm, thinking maybe there was a delay. But then the Tower closed, and we got sent back to the city. That's when we really started to panic."

Elena nodded, still looking shaken. "No matter what happens inside the Tower, all survivors are supposed to return to the city at the same time. But you didn't. We feared the worst… that you didn't make it."

I frowned. "How long have you been waiting here?"

Muradin shrugged. "Only about five minutes, really. But Elena insisted we wait here, just in case."

Elena's face turned red, and she looked away, embarrassed.

Darwyn crossed his arms. "So? What happened to you?" His voice was calm but firm.

I hesitated, lowering my voice. "I'd rather talk about it somewhere else."

Muradin immediately clapped his hands together. "Great, let's discuss it over food. I'm starving!" He patted his stomach dramatically.

Just as we took our first step forward, a group of Royal Guards approached us.

"Ironwood Team?" A burly guard with a thick, fiery-orange beard stepped forward, his sharp eyes scanning us. "You are to come with us. Immediately."

Before we could react, eight heavily armored guards surrounded us, their polished breastplates glinting under the afternoon sun. They didn't just guide us. They shoved us forward, forcing us to march like prisoners. The weight of their authority was as heavy as the steel they wore.

Muradin, never one to hold his tongue, snarled in protest. "What the hell is this?! Where are you taking us?"

One of the guards, a stocky man with a thick moustache, clamped a gauntleted hand on Muradin's shoulder. His grip was like iron. "You'd do well to keep your mouth shut."

Darwyn shot Muradin a warning glance, subtly shaking his head. Not here. Not now.

I took a deep breath, keeping my voice calm as I turned to the bearded officer. "We'll cooperate, but at least tell us what's going on. You don't want to cause a scene, do you?"

Around us, the plaza was already stirring. Whispers spread like wildfire, eyes darting toward the unfolding spectacle. Some people craned their necks, curiosity overtaking their caution. Others shuffled away, wary of getting involved.

The bearded guard studied me with cold, unreadable eyes. His face remained impassive, but his gaze carried weight. Authority. "We are acting on orders from the Palace," he said, voice like stone. Then he stepped closer, his breath hot against my face. "And you. Threaten me again, and you'll find your head separated from your body. Know your place."

I met his stare without flinching, keeping my expression blank. Showing weakness now would be a mistake. I refused to give him that satisfaction.

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Orin and Elena instinctively linked arms, their expressions tight with unease. I caught Orin's eye, and she gave me a slight nod. Silent reassurance, or perhaps a warning.

Could this have something to do with the figure I encountered earlier? A chill ran down my spine at the thought.

"Good," the bearded officer finally said, his lip curling in satisfaction. "Now shut your mouths and follow us."

With little choice, we obeyed, moving in silence as the crowd's murmurs followed us like a ghostly echo.

Before long, we were ushered into a massive royal carriage, its polished mahogany frame reinforced with gold-trimmed steel. It was an imposing sight, drawn by six powerful steeds, their muscular forms clad in ornate armor. The moment we stepped inside, four guards followed, including the one with a fiery-orange beard. They seated themselves across from us, while others secured the doors from the outside. Any thought of escape vanished instantly.

As if that wasn't bad enough, before the carriage even lurched forward, they confiscated our sub-space inventories.

Muradin let out a low curse. "Great. Just great. Now we're unarmed and locked in a moving prison."

One of the guards shot him a glare. "Would you rather we knocked you out and dragged you?"

Muradin scoffed but crossed his arms, muttering under his breath.

I exhaled slowly. "Let's just stay calm."

I wasn't sure if I was telling him or myself.

The ride was eerily silent, save for the rhythmic clatter of hooves against stone. None of the guards spoke a word, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets. The occasional jolt in the road made the lanterns sway, casting shifting shadows inside the cabin.

Elena leaned toward me, lowering her voice. "Any idea what they want with us?"

I shook my head. "No. But it's definitely not a casual invitation."

Muradin grunted. "Figures. Anything involving a palace usually means trouble."

The journey lasted around forty minutes, though it felt longer with the thick tension in the air. Finally, the carriage slowed, then came to a stop. Through the ornate metal bars of an enormous gate, I caught my first glimpse of our destination.

Asterion Palace.

Its towering spires gleamed under the midday sun, each adorned with intricate carvings and shimmering banners bearing the royal crest. Marble statues of past figures lined the courtyard, their gazes frozen in silent judgment.

Muradin let out a low whistle. "Fancy."

Darwyn didn't seem impressed. "Looks like a cage wrapped in gold."

Before we could say more, the doors swung open, and a fresh wave of guards surrounded us.

"Out," one of them ordered.

We obeyed, stepping onto the pristine stone pathway. But our so-called welcome was far from over. The moment our boots touched the ground, we were subjected to a series of strict inspections. Every pocket checked, every hidden item uncovered. It wasn't until they were satisfied that we were finally ushered inside.

Elena cast me a worried glance. "I really don't like this."

Neither did I.

But like it or not, we were here now. And whatever awaited us beyond those grand palace doors, we would have to face it.

After a thorough inspection, we were ordered back into the carriage. Fortunately, they hadn't noticed Orin's sub-space inventory.

From inside the carriage, we caught our first real glimpse of the palace grounds, the world hidden behind towering stone walls. This was a place common folk would never set foot in. The estate was vast, stretching far beyond what we could see, with more than just the grand palace where the king resided. Majestic buildings dotted the landscape, each one boasting intricate architecture and amazing details. Beautiful gardens stretched between them, carefully manicured and bursting with vibrant colors, their beauty almost surreal.

The carriage continued forward for another fifteen minutes before slowing in front of an imposing structure on the eastern side of the palace grounds. Unlike the other buildings, this one connected directly to the main palace. Perched above its entrance was a massive bell, gleaming as though it were plated with gold.

As we drew closer, I noticed three figures standing at the grand entrance, their presence commanding.

The carriage door swung open, and we were ushered out, still flanked on all sides by the Royal Guards. The one with the fiery-orange beard, their apparent leader, stepped forward and saluted sharply before addressing the man in the center.

"Sir Valtieri," he announced in a firm, disciplined voice. "Sergeant Dorian reporting. We have brought the Ironwood team as ordered." He then turned slightly, offering a respectful nod to the other two figures beside him.

The man in the center, Valtieri, was in his early thirties, exuding an air of effortless confidence. His broad shoulders and tall stature were accentuated by the expertly crafted silver-and-gold armor he wore, each piece adorned with the sigil of a roaring lion. But his most striking feature was his piercing steel-blue eyes. Sharp, calculating, and unwavering. His dark, slightly wavy hair was neatly kept, just long enough to lend him a rugged charm without betraying his disciplined nature. A well-trimmed beard framed his strong jawline, reinforcing the image of a man both refined and battle-hardened.

At Dorian's words, Valtieri gave a small nod before striding toward us with measured steps. The Royal Guards beside us immediately straightened and bowed their heads in respect.

"I trust your journey was pleasant, Ironwood Team," he said with an easy smile. Though his tone was polite, there was a weight behind his words. One that hinted at authority and expectation. His gaze shifted to Darwyn. "You must be Darwyn Vonn Gwydion, the leader."

Darwyn stepped forward, meeting Valtieri's outstretched hand and shaking it firmly.

"Darwyn is fine," he replied, studying the man before him.

"Alistair Valtieri," the knight introduced himself. "But you may call me Alistair."

His words were friendly, but something about him told me he wasn't a man to be taken lightly.

"Sir Alistair, it's a pleasure to meet you," Darwyn greeted with a polite nod.

Before he could say anything further, Alistair raised a hand, cutting him off smoothly.

"I imagine you're wondering why you were brought here so suddenly." His voice remained calm, but there was an undercurrent of urgency beneath it. "Forgive our abruptness. This wasn't exactly planned on our end either. Unusual… circumstances led to this."

Muradin crossed his arms, his expression dark. "Then maybe tell your men to be a little more polite next time," he grumbled. "They dragged us here like criminals. Threats, shoving… was that really necessary?"

Alistair's smile didn't falter, but his steel-blue eyes flicked toward Sergeant Dorian with an unsettling sharpness. In an instant, the warmth in his face vanished, replaced by something much colder.

"Is that so?" His voice carried a quiet authority that sent a shiver down my spine.

Sergeant Dorian straightened, his stance rigid. "Sir, we only followed protocol."

"Protocol doesn't require intimidation," Alistair remarked icily. Then, turning back to Muradin, his expression softened. "My apologies for their behavior. I'll deal with them later."

Muradin let out a grunt, clearly still annoyed but satisfied enough not to push further.

Darwyn hesitated before speaking. "And… our inventories? Can we have them back?"

Alistair let out a hearty chuckle. "Ah, don't worry. It's standard palace procedure," he assured us. "I promise your belongings are in safe hands."

That didn't make me feel much better.

"Now, before we continue, allow me to introduce our honored envoys." Alistair gestured toward the two figures standing beside him. "This is Bishop Malven and Priestess Seraphine, representatives of the Novortus Church."

The older man stepped forward first, offering a warm smile. His round face was framed by a neatly trimmed beard, and a pair of thin spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose. He wore a pristine white robe adorned with delicate gold embroidery, the fabric catching the light as he moved. At the center of his chest was an intricate emblem of a golden sun. But upon closer inspection, the "sun" was actually a flower viewed from above, with twelve golden petals radiating outward, each tipped with a subtle glow, and at its core, a deep azure center.

In his right hand, he held a staff crowned with the same symbol, its polished surface gleaming under the palace lights.

"I am Bishop Aldrith Malven," he introduced himself, his voice carrying a scholarly elegance. "And this…" he gestured to the woman beside him "...is Priestess Isolde Seraphine."

The priestess, clad in robes similar to his, gave us a gentle smile. Her presence was calm, almost ethereal, as if she carried an air of quiet wisdom.

"We wished to greet the Ironwood team in person," Bishop Malven continued, his eyes twinkling with what seemed to be genuine admiration. "After all, you've accomplished something extraordinary."

That last word hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

I exchanged glances with my companions. Somehow, I had the feeling that whatever we had accomplished was exactly why we were here.

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