Sh-cot. Sh-cot.

The long dining room remained cloaked in silence, broken only by the meticulous sound of blade against wood.

Zuni Keita sat at the far end of the banquet table, with the fireplace flickering behind him. Golden birch shavings curled around his feet like discarded parchment. A faint, resinous scent lingered in the air, mingling with the dry aroma of blue mahoe dust. Both woods took well to the tungsten blade, though he preferred the golden birch—it had a more satisfying grain to cut into.

In his careful hands, another figurine was coming to life: a child with golden eyes. Zuni's blade moved with a meditative rhythm, the muscles in his pale hands flexing beneath stretched skin. The red figurine of Grandov already stood upright, positioned within Genise of the Adovorian Kingdom, though his exact location was yet unknown.

Carving the figurines was a meditative process, one that Zuni gained deep enjoyment from. He had improved in his craft over the many loops as well. There was a ritual to it: the first day, he'd gather the needed materials, and on the second, he'd carve out all of the known Awakened and Aware individuals. He paid special attention to any notable features and carefully carved them into their expressions.

The final task was placement on the ingrained map. Having gone back several years, the location of the figures had slightly changed. Moreover, there were new Awakened that did not appear to exist before.

His favorite figurine to craft, as always, was of Rana Sol. Her curls were a challenge, and he found the complexity enjoyable. There was beauty in the patterning. Saga liked to insinuate there was something more behind his preference, but she misunderstood.

Romantic attachment? Hardly.

Even if Zuni appeared young, after so many loops of rising from the dead, such emotions had decayed away. They were like this room that he sat in, once opulent and full of richness but now faded and unattended.

In his view, Rana Sol wasn't all that different from the golden-eyed child in his hand: interesting, delicate, worthy of his attention in the moment, but that was where his feelings ended.

He pressed the child's figurine atop the polished embedded map that covered the table, aligning it with their last confirmed location. The soft tap of wood meeting lacquer echoed unnaturally loud in the stillness.

"That's a child," Lord Tobias Ashbourne said, his voice low and rough, like the scraping of a broom across a stone floor.

Barely a day into his resurrection, Lord Tobias's form was barely functional: a skeleton clinging to a veneer of tendons and half-regrown flesh. He sat hunched across the table, a cane leaning nearby, his golden eyes—the only part of him fully restored—watching closely.

"Yes, it's a child," Zuni replied without looking up. His hands were already preparing another block of golden birch.

"That kid's only what? Ten?" Tobias pressed, voice slightly sharper.

"Twelve, actually," Zuni replied.

Lord Tobias exhaled a sound between a breath and a groan. With his skeletal hand, he reached across the map to move the child's figurine toward the sidelines—where it had sat, untouched, for seventy-seven loops since having been identified as a golden-eyed.

However, the figurine didn't get far. Zuni's grip closed around Lord Tobias' skeletal wrist, stopping it from continuing its motion off the table's map.

The contact was gentle but unyielding.

"It's much too early for them to awaken," Lord Tobias growled. "We've barely passed the threshold for eighteen-year-olds."

"It's not wrong," Zuni said simply.

He reclaimed the figurine from the older man's frail grasp and returned it to its marked position on the map. Lord Tobias had no chance against Zuni's much more preserved flesh.

"They're an Irregular," Zuni added softly, meeting the sunken golden gaze across from him.

He hadn't meant to be impolite. He held Lord Tobias in high regard—revered him, even. However, he didn't care for his figurines being mishandled and incorrectly placed, regardless of who reached for them. Everything needed to be in the right place.

Lord Tobias let out a hiss—an old-fashioned curse muttered under his breath, one that Zuni presumed to have been popular during the golden age of the Kobar Empire but which sounded rather absurd today without the proper setting or decorum.

"This is why we need to finish this damned Game once and for all," Lord Tobias muttered.

Zuni didn't reply.

He was too busy staring at the figurine on the table.

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Why would a man like Tobias Ashbourne—genius battle strategist and warmonger—react so sharply to a mere child?

It was… incongruous.

Lord Tobias had razed cities, shattered alliances, and rewritten political maps by sheer force. A child—Irregular or not—shouldn't have drawn more than a raised brow.

Unless…

Zuni frowned, the tungsten blade still in his fingers, resting now against the untouched edge of the new golden birch block he had picked back up. His fingers flexed, but he didn't begin carving yet.

Unless Lord Tobias saw something I cannot. Something personal. Familiar.

Zuni glanced across the table. Lord Tobias had no expression, lacking the skin and muscles needed to give physical shape to his emotions. But Zuni could tell from his skeleton and slight tone that the man across from him was in a foul mood.

Perhaps he recognized the shape of the threat because he had once been the same.

Lord Tobias never entertained questions about his past. He was a stone wall regarding himself, but history had already recorded him in fine detail. Not just in dusty volumes housed in imperial vaults, but in the scripts of stage plays and children's bedtime tales. There wasn't a soul in the Kobar Empire who didn't know of his greatness.

Tales hailed him as a genius from birth—his victories stacking up before he'd even reached adulthood. The power of being an Awakened didn't define his success; it simply sharpened what was already unstoppable.

But Zuni had lived through too many loops to take legends at face value. Especially having met the legendary man himself.

He was indeed brilliant, but what if Lord Tobias hadn't just been born exceptional? What if he had looped far earlier than any of them realized? Perhaps he had awakened as a young child, like the figurine on the table, and changed the trajectory of the Kobar Empire with foreknowledge others mistook for the early onset of genius.

An Irregular.

Irregulars broke the natural sequence. Most Awakened surfaced in order, eldest to youngest, their awareness spreading like ripples in age-graded pools. It was as predictable as the changes of the moon, entirely calculable. However, an Irregular dropped like a stone into still water. According to Saga Duex, they could be disruptive, early, and dangerous.

But they were also rare. In seventy-seven loops, there had only been one other confirmed case in the current Game aside from this child.

Leticia Elvidar.

She had awakened at twenty-one on the seventh loop. Daughter of a Barakian noblewoman and a war hero. She hadn't tried to hide her knowledge of the future. Her actions were swift, reshaping events and circumventing disaster in her lands. Her impact on her first loop gave her away immediately to anyone who paid enough attention.

Unfortunately, the Kobar Empire was unable to take her under their control.

Ceanna Lupton, future Empress and current Crown Princess of the Barakian Empire, had acted first. She had scooped up Leticia under her family's protection long before anyone else could lay claim. It was hardly surprising. The Barakian royal family, unlike most, was loop-aware. They understood the value of the golden-eyed and were willing to cultivate that power. Anyone suspected of being a retired Player was invited to settle in their lands under highly favorable conditions to secure their bloodlines.

Zuni looked down at the great wooden map that dominated the room. A little over a dozen completed figurines stood atop it, with the rest still in progress of being carved. Five golden birch pieces rested within or to the side of the Barakian Empire's borders, more than any other realm. The three inside the borders were those who had Awakened.

His gaze slid eastward.

The Adovorian Empire held the second-highest number of golden-eyed. And at this moment, it had amassed the most Awakened.

His eyes dropped back to the Irregular child's figurine, which was fortunately not within the Barakian Empire's borders.

"Don't worry," Zuni said, at last, his voice resolute. "I'll make sure not to underestimate the boy and his family, as I had with Luca Frey and Rana Sol. I'll test him almost the same vigor as Grandov underwent."

Lord Tobias didn't respond.

He shifted his weight with difficulty, leaned into his cane, and pushed himself to his feet. His chair scraped against the stone, echoing like a warning in the enormous dining room.

With slow, deliberate steps, the skeleton of a man turned and limped toward the door.

He muttered another curse beneath his breath, but Zuni couldn't make it out.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

I sighed.

It was the moment of truth.

I stood outside the door to my father's office, palms slightly damp, fingers brushing over my pants.

"Young master, is anything the matter?" Henry asked behind me. "Did you forget something?"

He had been the one to inform me that Sarka Jarbez and her son had arrived and that they were already waiting for me inside Father's office.

"No, I have everything I need," I said, patting the two notebooks tucked securely into the inner pocket of my jacket.

I didn't move.

My lips quietly formed the first lines of greeting in Sorvogarian. Again. Then again. I mentally adjusted the rhythm, the inflection, the pacing. But I couldn't stall forever. Even though this meeting was important, I had a tight schedule to attend if I wanted to journey into the Humton Forest in time.

I knocked, introduced myself, and walked inside before obtaining official permission.

Four faces turned toward me. Father and Micah sat on one couch, composed as ever. Across from them sat Sarka Jarbez and her son, Leo. A porcelain pot of tea and five cups were on the short table between them.

It was a familiar view from previous loops. But this time, my heart thumped harder.

I turned to Sarka first.

"Hello, my name is Luca Frey," I said in Sorvogarian, her native tongue. I extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sarka Jarbez."

The System's blue screen provided the diction, but I knew it well enough that I didn't need to rely on it.

Sarka blinked, then smiled and accepted my handshake. Her eyes flicked toward Father and Micah in mild surprise.

"You know how to speak Sorvogarian?" she asked.

"A little bit," I replied with a smile, lowering myself into the single armchair between the two couches.

Any more than that, and I'd have to start utilizing Illusion Magic to have the System continue translating for me.

I glanced at my brother and Father, neither of whom revealed any amount of surprise at me suddenly speaking a foreign language I'd never been taught.

Finally, I let myself look at the boy beside Sarka, whom I'd been carefully avoiding.

My throat tightened.

Ah.

A strange mix of relief and disappointment filled me as I saw his expression. He looked the same: golden-eyed, poised, thoughtful. He had the air and maturity of a genius.

"My name is Leonard," he said, offering his hand with polite formality. "If you don't mind, I'll continue to translate for my mother."

There wasn't the faintest flicker of recognition in his gaze.

Nothing at all.

"Of course," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat as I reached forward to shake his hand.

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