Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

Alden leaned forward, his arms still folded but his posture tense.

He was waiting. Ethan could feel the weight of his silence.

Then Hera spoke. She was quiet at first, but her voice carried a sharpness that cut through the dim room.

"Duran is not just a blacksmith," she said. "He was once among the Imperial Circle of Architects. A title few ever earn. His hands carved the bones of the empire—vaults, sanctuaries, towers that still stand after hundred of years."

Alden blinked. "I've… never heard that before."

"You wouldn't," Hera replied calmly. "The Circle does not leave behind records. Only stone."

She stepped closer to the old scroll and pointed to a spot near the center of Cahaya.

"Duran was assigned here a decade ago, back when Cahaya was being restructured into a frontier seat. He was responsible for the design of the council chamber… and the vault hidden beneath it."

Ethan tilted his head. "Why would they need a vault under a council chamber?"

"Because Cahaya isn't just a border village," Hera said. "It's a listening post. A silent watchtower. The Elder's library was meant to house records—encrypted messages, classified scrolls, reports from the southern frontier. Not even the villagers know."

Alden's brow furrowed deeper. "How do you know all this?"

Hera didn't answer immediately. She lit a small incense stick and let the smoke curl into the air. When she finally spoke, her tone was slower, almost distant.

"I was raised in the Temple of Rielsar," she said. "Back before the temple burned. I was trained as a Voice. A dream-scribe. My task was to record what others dreamed… especially the dreams of those in power."

"You… read their dreams?" Ethan asked.

She nodded. "Some rulers speak lies with their mouths but truth with their sleep. That's how the Empire stayed alive for so long. By listening to its own nightmares."

She walked toward a small shelf and retrieved an old pendant, shaped like a teardrop and etched with the Empire's sigil.

"This was given to me by a High Seer after I transcribed the dreams of a man who tried to betray the Emperor," she said. "He failed. The dreams told us where he hid the contracts."

Alden's eyes narrowed. "That's why people call you mad."

Hera smiled faintly. "They see what they're allowed to see."

Then her voice dropped lower.

"Duran didn't leave the Empire just because of disagreements or bad politics," she said. "He left when Elder Harran rose to power in Cahaya… and not because they didn't get along."

She stepped toward the scroll and pointed at a spot on the map near the village center.

"During the construction of the council chamber, Duran noticed things. Details that didn't make sense. There were changes in the blueprints—hidden rooms, strange symbols carved into the foundation, and secret stairwells added at the last minute."

Alden frowned. "Who ordered them?"

"Orders came from outside the capital," Hera said. "Not from the Emperor. Not from any official office. Just… voices. Letters. Always sealed. Always delivered in the middle of the night."

She paused.

"Duran started digging. Quietly. He followed every note, every signature, every new blueprint. Most of the evidence was later destroyed. Burned or taken. But a few scraps survived—and they all pointed in the same direction."

Her eyes met Ethan's.

"The east," she said. "Across the sea."

Ethan felt something twist in his chest. "What do you mean by that? I'm not familiar with this world."

"The Eastern Sea..." Alden interjected.

Hera gave a slow nod. "Yes. That's where the envoys came from. Not noble diplomats. Not official emissaries. Just men and women dressed as traders. Spies, more likely. War brokers, at worst."

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She looked at the fire, her voice low and grim.

"They brought gifts. Coins forged with obsidian. Seals drawn in blood. Parchments that carried no royal crest, only a single message written in the old tongue—The Kannan Empire will fall from within."

A cold silence filled the room.

Alden rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head as if trying to dispel a dream.

"That doesn't make sense," he muttered. "I saw Harran swear his oath to the Empire. I was there. He placed his hand on the crest and swore before the entire council."

"Words are wind when no one's watching," Hera said softly. "The Empire is stretched thin, Alden. It has ruled for hundreds of years, but time makes even the strongest walls crack. And where there are cracks… shadows find a way in."

Alden had no reply. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came.

Ethan stared down at the map again. His eyes rested on the vault drawn beneath the council hall.

"So if I sneak in," he said, "what exactly am I looking for?"

Hera took a step closer, her tone sharper now.

"Evidence," she said. "Letters sealed with foreign sigils. Trade agreements that were never registered with the Crown. Meeting logs, gifts hidden from public records—anything that shows Elder Harran has made contact with powers outside the empire's control."

She lowered her voice, meeting Ethan's eyes directly.

"If Duran is right, and those envoys weren't just traders… then Harran is more than a corrupt official. He's a traitor preparing to open our gates from the inside."

That last sentence hit Ethan hard.

This wasn't just about growth or proving himself.

This was about uncovering a conspiracy. One that could ignite a civil war.

His hand tightened around the edge of the table.

"And if I find proof?" he asked quietly.

Hera looked at him with solemn eyes.

"Then this Trial is no longer just about your strength," she said. "It becomes a test of your will. You'll have to choose: stay silent and walk away… or expose the truth, even if it means setting the empire on fire."

A shiver ran through the room.

Alden stood still, his face pale. He looked between Hera and Ethan like he was seeing them both for the first time.

Ethan didn't answer right away.

His thoughts spun fast. This isn't just a mission. This is espionage. A warning. A door I might never come back through.

And deep down, a part of him knew this was the real reason Kaelthor had sent him here first.

Not just to grow stronger… but to choose what kind of person he would become.

He looked back at Hera.

"Then I'll find Duran," he said. "If he remembers the layout, I'll use it. And I'll get into that vault."

Hera gave a small nod, but her expression remained unreadable.

"The path ahead is dark," she said. "But even the smallest flame can change the course of night."

And with that, Ethan stood. The weight of the trial pressed heavy on his shoulders—but so did a new sense of purpose.

This wasn't just about Mark. Or the LaRues. Or even Dragon Soul fragments.

This was about stopping something before it started.

Something bigger than any one world.

***

Inside the highest chamber of the council hall, candlelight flickered against stone walls carved with imperial emblems long faded by time. Scrolls lined the curved shelf behind the desk, and two silver incense braziers hissed softly with curling smoke.

Elder Harran stood by the tall window, hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the distant edge of the forest beyond Cahaya's outer fields. His robes were clean, embroidered with gold thread at the cuffs, and he carried himself like a man who had seen the rise and fall of kings, and learned to survive them all.

Behind him, a man stepped forward from the shadows.

He moved without sound. Dressed in gray leather marked by the Elder's seal, he bore no weapons, yet there was something unmistakably dangerous in the way he carried himself. His face was sharp, eyes keen, and a faint scar ran down his jawline like a blade's memory.

"Elder," the man said quietly. "We have a visitor."

Harran didn't turn. "A visitor?"

"Not a normal one. He arrived through the western gate two hours ago. Not a local. Not from any of the border towns either."

"Describe him."

The man, Vareth, took a step closer.

"Tall. Black hair. Tunic strange in cut and cloth. Walks like someone who doesn't belong. Watched everything. Spoke little."

Harran's brow twitched. "Did the gate sentries question him?"

"They did. He claimed to be a wanderer. Said he was looking for trade and shelter. Standard story."

"And?"

Vareth hesitated before continuing.

"I've seen wanderers before, Elder. This one's different. He didn't look surprised by anything, but he didn't act like he understood it either."

At that, Harran finally turned.

His eyes were pale gold, sharp and tired, like an old wolf that had outlived his pack.

"You're saying he's foreign?"

Vareth nodded. "In more ways than one."

A silence passed between them.

Then Harran asked, his voice low but deliberate, "Is he the one?"

The room seemed to still at the question.

Vareth didn't answer right away. His jaw clenched slightly, as if weighing something heavier than mere words.

Finally, he spoke.

"…He might be." Harran's expression darkened.

"I thought the timing was off. I thought we had more time."

"So did I," Vareth said. "But if the prophecy is true… if he is the one… then we can't afford to dismiss anything."

Harran walked slowly toward the center table and placed his hand on a black-stone seal resting there, an old token of command from the Emperor, now dulled with age.

"I want eyes on him," he said. "Quietly. If he speaks to anyone, I want to know. If he meets with any known dissidents—"

"Like Duran?" Vareth interjected.

Harran's lips thinned.

"Yes. Especially Duran."

The elder lifted his gaze once more to the window, watching the distant road where the sun had nearly vanished behind the hills.

"Mark him, but don't confront him," Harran said. "Not yet. If he is the one… we'll need more than suspicion before we act."

"And if he isn't?" Vareth asked.

"Then we lose nothing by being cautious."

Another long pause.

Then Vareth said, more carefully this time, "And what if he's already planning to enter that place?"

Harran didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, where the last of the sunlight faded behind the hills.

"We watch. We wait," he said at last. "And if he crosses the line… we deal with him."

The room fell silent again.

Outside, the bells of evening prayer rang softly through the streets of Cahaya.

Unaware of the eyes now watching him, Ethan was already moving—step by step—toward the sealed library beneath the council hall.

Toward secrets not meant for him to see.