As the party began to disperse, Justin noticed Elena and Irina beelining for the doors—not running, but definitely walking with purpose, as if they couldn't get out of there fast enough.

He looked at his other party members, who lingered to examine their new equipment or discuss the Queen's gifts.

Justin's instincts flared. They were leaving. Now. Before he could ask questions.

He jogged after them. They didn't stop as they disappeared past the threshold.

Justin left the throne room, still a scene of organized chaos as the guards tried to corral people away. Looking around, Justin spotted them threading through a knot of servants and rounded the corner into a deserted corridor.

Justin chased them down, catching them just before they went out the side entrance.

"Hey! We need to talk," Justin said, slightly out of breath. "You're from Earth, right? Both of you?"

Elena's expression remained neutral, almost cold. She didn't answer.

"I have questions," Justin blurted out. "You've been here a long time, right?"

Neither woman responded, letting the uncomfortable silence build.

But Justin didn't care. He had to know the answers to all the questions that had been haunting him for months.

"Is this place real?" Justin pressed, the questions tumbling out. "Or is it a game, like Valdrik says? What did you mean by 'exploit' back there? Is Dragomir really your father, Irina? What's the Terra Club? How long have portals been—"

"Stop." Elena's voice cut through his barrage like a blade. "For someone with Charisma as high as yours, you certainly don't know how to use it."

Justin blinked, caught off guard by the rebuke.

Irina watched impassively from beside her mother, those silver eyes almost haunting. "Mother, he hasn't learned yet. Not properly."

"What do you mean, 'hasn't learned yet'?" Justin asked. "Did you not see me stun that lich?"

At last, Elena broke her silence. "This place is not safe for us, Justin Talemaker. We cannot entertain your questions, nor do we have a reason to." Her eyes flicked to Justin's chest—or more precisely, to where his cores resided within, or perhaps where he wore the Sapphire Star. "Besides... you took that which was meant for us."

The accusation landed like a physical blow. Justin's hand moved reflexively to his chest. "The Prismatic Core? I'm sorry, but Reginald gave it to me. He chose—"

"Mother." Irina's voice carried a strange certainty. "It could not have turned out differently."

Elena watched her daughter, seemingly annoyed. "You led me to believe this was why we were coming here: to gain that core."

"You would not have come otherwise," Irina said. "And if we had not come, my father would have gained two Prismatic Cores instead of none."

"He wouldn't have gotten the one from Reginald," Elena said.

"The Vault guaranteed one," Irina reminded her. "If not from him, it would have come from somewhere else."

Elena did not like that answer, but after a moment, her expression softened fractionally. She studied Justin for a long moment, as if weighing him on scales only she could see. "We cannot be sure about you yet. You're an unknown variable in an equation we've been solving for thirteen years."

"Thirteen years? So you came here seven years after Valdrik arrived?" Justin asked.

"Again, that is not for you to know. Not until you prove yourself an ally, Mr. Talemaker."

"How can I prove myself, then?"

For the first time, Elena's stoic face wrinkled in amusement. "We will reach out when the time is right, not before. You'll understand eventually. Or you won't. Either way, we have work to do."

"You are part of the Terra Club, right?" Justin asked desperately. "What is Valdrik trying to do? I'm not going to let you leave until you give me something of a—"

Before he could finish, vines erupted from the floor.

They moved with impossible speed, wrapping around Justin's arms, his legs, his torso. Within a heartbeat, he was completely immobilized. More vines coiled around his mouth, sealing it shut. He tried to speak, to shout, but only muffled sounds escaped.

Elena stepped closer, her new staff glowing with emerald light. The vines tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to make the point crystal clear.

"Would you kill us all, Justin?" Her voice was soft, dangerous. "The palace is swarming with Templars. I have history with Tiffany, your employer. One Templar is no match for us, but if she discovers us, then we will be forced to hide for a long time. What good are your questions then, hmm?"

Justin considered. He could likely use his Vorthak's Flame to burn his way out of Elena's vines, but what then? She was trying to make a point, nothing more.

He forced himself to remain still. To stop struggling. To nod, slowly and deliberately.

Elena watched him for the space of a breath. Then she stepped back at the noise of footsteps pounding down the corridor.

With a final glance, she and Irina went through the side door, and the two women were gone.

The vines began to loosen, unwinding from Justin's limbs, and then disappearing as if they had never been.

"Justin!" Alistair said, pulling up. "What happened? Did they leave?"

Justin adjusted his coat with as much dignity as he could muster. "They're gone now. And they don't intend to answer questions, but said they may when the time is right."

Alistair's expression darkened. "You split from the group. Again. Those two... I have the feeling they are far more dangerous than any of us realize. In fact, I know so. They are Travelers."

"Travelers?" Myrelle asked. "What Irina said about this Earth... I've heard of it before, of course, but only as a legend. Are you saying it's real? A Seventh World of Creation?"

Justin's eyes widened. "You know about Earth?"

"Among the learned, it's hardly a secret. A legend that borders on blasphemy." Myrelle nodded. "But knowing truth from fiction is another matter entirely." Her blue eyes found his. "And Irina implied you're one of them, too." Her gaze narrowed. "Is that true?"

Justin forced himself to nod. "I suppose I have a lot to catch you up on. I'm... sorry for that. I didn't intend to deceive you. It was all about the mission, playing a role. I'm still the same Justin you know, just... not a noble from the Wildwood. Everything else is pretty much the same." Justin turned to meet Alistair's eyes. "I know I ran off again. I just... I needed answers. Desperately."

The Paladin remained silent. Alistair had sworn an oath not to betray Justin's origins, but he'd made no such promise about Elena and Irina.

"Alistair," Justin said carefully, "I need to learn more from them. Please don't report them to the Templars."

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The Paladin was quiet for a long moment. His hand tightened on the grip of his war hammer, then relaxed. "I won't," he said finally. "For now."

"For now?"

"The Templars are hunting Valdrik and the Cult for now. Even if Travelers are a threat to this world, I doubt the Templars would divert resources to pursue two goals at once. Too many fish and only one pot, as they say."

"Elena mentioned she and Tiffany have history."

Alistair's eyes were hard. "But there's clearly more to this than meets the eye. Elena wanted that Prismatic Core; that much is clear, which means she's no friend of yours, Justin."

"And it sounds like they will talk to you on their own terms," Lila said. "But if Alistair is right, is that something you really want?"

"I agree," Eldrin said solemnly. "What is to stop them from killing you? If what they're truly after is the Prismatic Cores, it sounds like it's required if they ever want to go home. And you have two of them, Justin. Enough for both of them."

"None of us knows how any of this works," Justin said. "But I mean to find out."

"Fair enough," Alistair said. "But let's not forget the job isn't over yet. The Cult is on the run, so we have our work cut out for us."

"What's next, then?" Lila asked. "Helping Tiffany sort through the bodies?"

"That is important work they won't want us interfering with," Alistair said. "We'll let her touch base with us later when she's ready. She'll have something for us to do. Likely, we'll be tasked with reporting our findings to the High Priest. As soon as tonight."

"So, back to headquarters for now," Justin said. "Hopefully, things haven't fallen apart while I've been gone." He frowned. "Wait, what about Theric? He seems to know them both."

"I saw him heading off, too," Lila said. "At least he told us where he stays, in case we have questions later."

That much was true. Justin would have to pursue that later, on his own terms.

He reached out for his interface, and as the System had already told him, he still had access to his Angel's Pitch skill and Living Ledger boon. He wasn't sure why he got to keep both, but for now, it seemed his Entrepreneur class had come to an end otherwise. He supposed Level 22 would bring him his next boon for his new Living Legend class.

They made their way back through the palace, navigating corridors that had transformed from battlefield to controlled chaos. Guards stood at every junction, their eyes tracking the party as they passed.

When they reached the main entrance hall, Justin discovered they weren't leaving quietly.

A crowd had gathered—nobles, courtiers still disheveled from the evacuation, and servants who should have been working but were instead clustering near the doors.

All eyes turned toward Justin and his companions as they emerged into the main hall.

The whispers started immediately:

"—demon in the throne room—"

"—not a demon, a Lich—"

"—Prismatic Vault, can you imagine—"

"—Belshar the Nightbringer, they're saying, come back from the Nether—"

"—impossible, how could anyone survive—"

Justin felt the weight of their attention like a physical thing. Every person with a class in that hall had been part of the Vault, had seen the notifications, had read the description.

News of the Lich—if not all the details—was already spreading through the palace like wildfire.

He could slip away quietly. Keep his head down. Let the rumors die.

Or...

He thought of his new class: Living Legend. The entire point was visibility, public deeds, stories that spread.

Justin drew himself up to his full height. He activated Dandy's Swagger, letting confidence flow through him like liquid courage. His new coat seemed to shimmer in the light, the silver threading catching every eye.

He had commanded everyone's attention without saying a word.

"Citizens of Belmora," he said, his voice carrying through the hall with perfect clarity. The crowd fell silent. "I know you're frightened. I know you've heard rumors about what happened in the throne room today."

He paused, letting the tension build.

"I'm here to tell you that you can sleep safely tonight." His new cane tapped once against the marble floor. For effect, he swapped Affinities for Vorthak's Flame. While he didn't let the flames consume him, having the Affinity active was enough for the Syncretic Cane to be imbued with the fire element. He held onto it, a staff of living flame.

"Yes," he continued, "a Level 50 Ascendant-rank Lich was summoned in the heart of the Royal Palace by Lord Blackwood and Count Dragomir Valdrik. Yes, it was powerful beyond measure. And yes, we fought it with everything we had."

The crowd leaned forward, hanging on every word.

"But I dealt the final blow," Justin continued, his voice ringing with authority. "Belshar the Nightbringer—a Level 50 Lich Emperor—has been banished back to the Nether Realm from whence he came. The threat is ended. The Queen is safe. And Aranthia stands."

Whispers erupted through the crowd. Justin could almost feel the story taking root, spreading, becoming legend even as he spoke it. It would likely be a couple of days before it reached the local level.

A nobleman in purple silk—some minor lord Justin didn't recognize—dared to step forward. "The Prismatic Core?" His voice cracked slightly. "The Voice said one was offered by the Vault. Is it true?"

Justin tipped his top hat. "All mine, good sir." He let a slight smile play across his lips. "Belshar the Nightbringer thought to claim this city. He once brought terror to this land during the time of the Shadow Empire. But I said, 'Not today.'"

The crowd exploded into conversation. Nobles clutched at each other, servants whispered urgently, and courtiers began spreading the tale even as it was being told.

"Tell the city what happened here," Justin finished. "Tell everyone! I want this story to be told all over Aranthia. All over Serenthel! Even beyond! Because the ones who did this are still around. May the Queen's justice find them and give them no mercy!"

There were a few shouts of agreement. Eldrin was pulling on his sleeve. Justin allowed himself to be pulled away. He was probably going overboard.

"Not one for subtlety, are you?" Lila asked as they pushed through the crowd toward the palace gates.

"I think subtlety became impossible the moment I absorbed a second Prismatic Core," Justin replied. "Might as well lean into it."

As they passed the palace's outer gates, the sun was beginning its descent over the western rooftops, painting Belmora's buildings in shades of gold and amber. Despite the chaos inside the palace, the city beyond seemed almost peaceful.

"We should get what rest we can," Alistair said as they walked. "The Templars will want to converge on both Valdrik's mansion in Silverton and Lord Blackwood's estate. There will be evidence to gather, conspirators to root out. And Valdrik has a head start on us and will have hours to prepare."

"I imagine several notable nobles will go missing at court, too," Eldrin mused.

"Yes, I imagine so," Alistair agreed.

"Should we not go straight to Mont Elea?" Justin asked.

"We wait until Tiffany gives us the word." Alistair glanced back at the palace, where the crimson banner of the rooster still flew despite everything. "For now, we should return to the store, check on things, and make sure everything's secure there. After today, there's no telling what ripples have spread through the city."

Justin nodded. His store. His business. It seemed so small in comparison.

They walked in silence for a while. His mind kept returning to Elena and Irina, to the coldness in Elena's eyes when she'd looked at him, to Irina's cryptic certainty that things couldn't have turned out differently.

What had she seen? What futures had she glimpsed? He was clearly a part of them.

If, after all this, he turned out to be some bloody chosen one, he was going to lose his mind.

The sun continued its descent as they made their way through Belmora's streets. Merchants were closing their shops, families were heading home for dinner, and life continued as it always did. Justin wondered how many knew how close their city had come to destruction. Even so, Justin noticed clusters of people gathered, watching them go by. Rumors were already spreading, then. How could they not, with an undead drake flying over the city?

Justin adjusted his new top hat and kept walking.

Tomorrow, assuming he got a decent night's sleep, he'd process his first level-up and unlock his first Living Legend boon. There were still countless decisions ahead: hunting down Valdrik, learning more about Earth, figuring out Elena and Irina's role, discovering if there were other Earthers—not to mention what it actually meant to be Sir Justin Talemaker, Knight of Aranthia, landowner, and legend-in-the-making.

But all that could wait. For now, he just needed to make sure the store hadn't burned down.

As they turned down Copper Lane and the familiar placard of Summon & Supply came into view, Justin felt something in his chest unclench. The windows were intact. No smoke. And better yet, no angry mob of customers demanding refunds.

It was the small victories that mattered.

Ilsa, Rinna, and the rest would have questions—lots of them. Word would spread about the Lich, Justin's role, and probably even the knighthood and other things besides.

Eventually, Justin would have to explain that his modest business venture had actually been a front for the Templars to uproot a Death Cult conspiracy. And with his Entrepreneur class gone, the future of the business itself—and the livelihoods it provided—was uncertain.

But that was a problem for another day.

Tonight, they would take what rest they could, share a meal, and try to process the fact that they'd survived something that should have killed them all.

Justin pushed open the door to Summon & Supply. The bell chimed its familiar welcome.

The warmth of the shop, the colorful potions on display, the simple ordinariness of it all—it felt strangely like coming home. As much as home could be in this world.

From the looks of things—the well-organized potion displays, the well-swept floors, the polished countertops, the gleaming glass displays—his employees had managed just fine without him.

Perhaps it was a sign that he'd chosen his people well. That they might even keep this place running whether he was here or not, no matter where life took him.

And maybe that was exactly what he needed.

For the first time all day, he allowed his shoulders to relax.

Footsteps came down the stairs, revealing Tammy, her face a mask of concern.

"Mr. Talemaker! You've returned."

She took in the sight of him—his new coat, the fiery cane, the way he carried himself.

"It's been... quite the day, Tammy."

"Oh?" she asked with a knowing smile. "If that be the case, I imagine you've worked up quite an appetite. There's plenty for all, including your friend, Mr. Thornwood: beefsteak, potatoes, roasted vegetables, and rhubarb pie. The ladies have been worried sick—leaving so early, coming home so late! And with that drake flying over the city! Did you see it?"

Justin chuckled. "Oh, I saw something of it."

She gave him a curious look but didn't press. In the end, she simply ushered them all upstairs.

Whatever the rest of the night brought, it was best to face it on a full stomach.

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