NOVEL NEXT Chapter 36: Year of Riftless Reckoning
Inside the huge chamber that resided within the massive cave housing several primordial officials, the white marble floor gleamed as if it were polished by the hands of time itself. The glow from crystal chandeliers above cast an ethereal light, painting soft reflections across the surface like ripples on a still pond.
Two figures stood well and truly alone in the giant room, Everok and Onyxelle, each prepared to leave, but then a purple void-corridor flickered into view some steps behind them; the edges pulsed vaguely, as if alive.
They turned to him, their eyes sharpening with curiosity as they awaited what-or who-would emerge. A few moments later, Vacuros stepped out, his form exuding a quiet power that seemed to ripple the very air around him. Nyxander followed a second or so later, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of the familiar faces approaching.
Wow, that is far quicker than we could have hoped," Onyxelle whispered gently, her words singing in a soft tune of amazement. She nodded, her eyes slowly setting on Everok beside her, a look of inquiry in her gaze.
"What do you mean?" Nyxander asked, calm but with that edge of unbridled youthful curiosity never quite hidden.
"Oh, it would appear our young one does not know," Everok chimed, stepping closer with a mirthful tinge. "You see, the longest any generation of the primordial race-all the clans put together-have ever had in the ancestral world is two months. But this time…" He stopped, letting his words fall like a stone into still water.
"This time, it only took two members from a single clan to finish in a month. It seems Captain and Void Archon worried for nothing." His chest swelled with pride, his hands resting on his waist, as he nodded in self-approval, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Hum." Vacuros's throaty growl sliced through the air like the crack of some distant thunder, breaking the rhythm of the conversation with a mysterious weight.
Oh, forgive me. I must be off. The captain needs to be aware of your arrival," Onyxelle said, her voice soft but firm. With fluidity, she turned and the great door to the room swung shut behind her, sealing her exit with finality, her footsteps barely audible.
But Mr. Everok…" Nyxander's voice called out, drawing Everok's attention as though pulled by some invisible tether. It was a sound filled with the magnetic pull of curiosity.
"Yes, what is it?" Everok asked, interest piqued.
"Can you explain what qualifies our successful coming of age in the ancestral world?" Nyxander asked, his words carrying a respectful tone, yet tinged with the earnest desire for understanding.
"That's simple," Everok said as his voice leveled and he made a casual gesture. "When two-thirds of the primordial beasts in the ancestral world are defeated or killed, the ritual is complete." He paused and added, "It may be a little late to say this, but congratulations to both of you on your coming of age."
He patted both Vacuros and Nyxander on their shoulders, his hands firm yet warm, the gesture as much a symbol of camaraderie as it was of pride. His smile lingered, a spark of admiration lighting his eyes as the vast chamber seemed to grow quieter, the moment settling over them like a gentle veil.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the door banging open, and Captain Umbrazel strode in, his steps swift and resolute, like the force of a dam breaking and water gushing out with unstoppable intensity. Onyxelle followed closely behind, her presence a quiet echo to his commanding entrance.
Umbrazel marched straight to Vacuros, his sharp eyes scanning him from head to toe, his hands prodding every joint and muscle as if searching for hidden injuries. Each touch made Vacuros stiffen, his embarrassment creeping onto his face, turning it a vivid shade of red.
Nyxander fought not to laugh at Vacuros squirming, his shoulders quivering with the effort of it as he watched. Umbrazel's gaze cut to him, sharp and expectant. "And you?" he asked without a waste of words.
Nyxander straightened, his voice sure and soothing. "You don't have to worry, neither of us is hurt," he replied calmly, his tone filled with conviction that finally caused Umbrazel to stay his hand. Finally, Umbrazel exhaled a heavy sigh, labored breaths escaping his mouth like a gas finally released from its pressurized cylinder. "That's great. Let's head to the Void Anchor Castle. They'll be pleased to hear about both your victories," he said.
Before he could instruct them, Nyxander was already well on his way to the exit, purposeful steps hurrying him toward the reunion with his family. In an instant, he was outside the big cave, leading the way, with Umbrazel and Vacuros following.
As they walked, Umbrazel's voice cut through the quiet air like a father's probing question. "So, what do you think of the young Archon?
Vacuros hesitated for a moment before answering. His voice was low, though even. "Everything about him is so annoying sometimes," he said, though without any trace of irritation. A slight smile worked its way onto his face, softening the words. "But he's not bad… for a young Archon," he said, nodding at Umbrazel. After a moment, Vacuros spoke again, "About the duty you offered me-I'll think about it." He finished his words with a small, fleeting smile.
Umbrazel raised an eyebrow, watching as Vacuros walked a little ways ahead. "Did he just smile?" Umbrazel murmured to himself, shaking his head as if unable to believe what he had seen.
After crossing many sprawling caves full of busy Primordials, they finally arrived at the castle. Inside the castle's royal conference room, deep in deliberation over a mysterious turn of events that had plagued the clan, sat Zephyrion and Nihara, plus the ever-jovial old man Obsidar. Immediately, their voices hushed at the loud noise of the door.
"Dad, Mom, I'm back!" Nyxander exclaimed, bursting into the room with joyful energy. He darted toward his mother, who stood to meet him, her arms opening instinctively. The three adults in the room quickly masked their troubled expressions with warm smiles, hiding the weight of their concerns.
Umbrazel and Vacuros entered shortly after, bowing respectfully to all present. "Mum, see what I brought back," Nyxander said with a hint of pride. The air shimmered faintly as a Nullpoint Fabric opened behind him, revealing a large cross-woven bag. He handed it over to his mother, who was marveling at the size and weight.
The air was filled with gasps before she had even properly opened the bag. It seemed even Vacuros, who had fought alongside Nyxander, could hide nothing of his astonishment. The bag was completely packed with hundreds of crystals swollen with Essentia's light, illuminating streams around the space.
"Wait, did you get it all?" Old man Obsidar asked in question, pointing to the dazzling crystals that sent shimmers in their reflective brilliance.
Yeah, though I was lucky to lay my hands on most of them," Nyxander said as he recounted every single detail of his journey. His story captured everyone's interest, and despite the weight that hung in the room, the amusement shone through.
But the conviviality was short-lived when Nyxander asked a question that pierced through their carefully maintained facade: "What might have happened within the clan that could have made the three of you so sad?" he asked, his serious gaze not wavering from theirs.
Though they tried to mask their expressions, Nyxander knew them well enough to betray their efforts. Old man Obsidar, usually brimming with energy and humor, had been uncommonly subdued, and it was this uncharacteristic behavior that Nyxander focused on.
"There's nothing to worry about, son. You must be tired from the trial. Why don't you rest?" Nihara said, her tone soft but unconvincing.
Nyxander's gaze remained fixed, unyielding, and the tension in the room thickened. Zephyrion opened his mouth to add to his wife's words, but Obsidar placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
Umbrazel took this as his cue to leave, motioning for Vacuros to follow. "We'll take our leave," he said, turning toward the door.
"Wait," Obsidar's voice cut through the air, stopping them. "You, too, have to be present in this discussion," he said, his voice serious. His gaze turned to Vacuros. "He is a new member of the clan, and he should know this too."
Obsidar leaned on his staff as his gaze wandered, weighed down by the burden of memories. "It all started in a year called the Year of Riftless Reckoning…