The rhythmic thrum of heavy cavalry arrived long before the first silhouettes appeared against the dawn. It was the synchronized, heavy gallop of armored horses, a sound unique to the high noble houses. Vane lay in the snow, his eyes fixed on the bruised purple sky while he counted his own shallow breaths. He could feel the warmth from Valerica's hand, a lingering heat that served as the only anchor keeping him from slipping into the dark. Mara was a small, shivering weight between them. Her breathing was thin but steady.

"They are coming," Valerica whispered. Her voice was cracked and hollow. The golden light had vanished from her eyes, replaced by a deep, weary violet. "Vane, your arm. We have to hide the necrotic signature. If the healers see that, they will know it was a Justiciar level strike."

Vane gritted his teeth, forcing a surge of silver mana through his fractured channels. He utilized the Silver Fang not to reject an enemy, but to push the visibility of the rot deep beneath the surface of his skin. He masked the injury as a traumatic crush from falling debris. It felt like needles of ice being driven through his marrow, but he held the pulse.

"Stick to the script," Vane rasped. He closed his eyes as a wave of nausea hit him. "The Justiciars were legends. They died for the crown. We are just the debris they managed to throw clear before the blast. Do not make yourself a hero, Valerica. Heroes get questioned. Survivors just get pity."

The first of the Sol family guards crested the ridge. These were the Sun Sworn, men clad in white and gold plate with heavy cloaks that caught the first rays of the morning. At their head was Sir Kaelas, a veteran Sentinel who had served the Sol estate for decades. He was not a man of the Imperial military, but a private protector of the bloodline.

Sir Kaelas dismounted in a flurry of movement, his boots crunching through the frozen crust of the snow. He was at Valerica's side in an instant, his hands glowing with a soft, restorative mana. He ignored Vane entirely, his focus fixed solely on the scion of House Sol.

"Lady Valerica! By the Sun, we thought the entire sector had been lost," Kaelas said. His voice was a deep baritone filled with relief. "The Star Forge erupted. We saw the thermal spike from the border. What happened to the Third? Where are the Captains?"

Valerica leaned into Kaelas, her body trembling with a fatigue that was entirely real. She looked toward the smoking ruins of the refinery in the distance, her eyes welling with tears.

"They are gone," she whispered. "Captain Varkas and Captain Kaelen... they stayed behind. The dungeon didn't just break; it woke up. Something from the deeper strata manifested, a construct of obsidian and void. We were caught in the crossfire."

She paused, taking a shuddering breath while Vane watched from the snow, his face a mask of pained indifference.

"I was at the lower refinery for my own cultivation, trying to find the thermal resonance for my breakthrough," Valerica continued. "This guide, Vane, was the one I hired to navigate the sub levels. The Third Division arrived suddenly, claiming they were tracking an Imperial variable. When the construct appeared, it didn't matter who was in charge. The Justiciars realized the core was going to detonate. They ordered the guide to take me and the girl and run. They held the bridge. They gave their lives so the Sol name wouldn't end in that pit."

Kaelas looked at Vane then, his eyes narrowing as he took in the broken, soot-stained youth. "A mercenary guide survived while Justiciars fell?"

"He knows the sub levels like a rat, Kaelas," Valerica snapped. Her voice regained a sliver of its noble edge. "He dragged us through the mercury slush while the mountain was coming down. If you doubt his utility, look at his arm. He took a hit from a falling girder meant for me. He is the only reason I am standing here."

The lie was a masterpiece of half truths. It explained Vane's presence, the Justiciars' deaths, and Mara's survival without revealing a single spark of the Silver Fang or the reality of the fight. To the world, it was a tragedy of heroic proportions. To the Sol family, it was a miracle that preserved their heir.

The journey to the Sol Manor was a blur of high end recovery tonics and the rhythmic swaying of a luxury carriage. Inside the velvet lined interior, the three of them were finally alone. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and expensive oils, a jarring contrast to the metallic tang of the refinery.

Vane sat in the corner, his arm strapped in a medical brace. Valerica sat opposite him, her gaze fixed on the window, but as the carriage hit a dip in the road, she reached out and rested her hand on his knee. She didn't pull back. The distance between them had been burned away in the Star Forge, replaced by a silent, bone deep understanding. They were no longer just a noble and her guide. They were survivors of a shared massacre.

"My father will want to speak with you," Valerica said quietly. "He will try to find a hole in the story. He is a Grandmaster, Vane. He can feel the lie in the air."

"Let him feel it," Vane replied. His eyes were hooded and dark. "He wants the Third to be heroes. It protects his reputation. If the truth is that two Justiciars were slaughtered by a student and a girl on his land, it makes him look weak. He will choose the lie because the truth is too expensive for him to own."

Mara was asleep on the bench beside Valerica, her head resting on a silk pillow. She looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the girl who had been screaming in the mercury mud only hours ago.

"We got closer than I expected," Valerica whispered. Her fingers tightened slightly on Vane's knee. "Not just to the core. To the end of everything."

"The end is just a transition," Vane said, looking at her. For a moment, the clinical mask slipped, and she saw the raw weight of the boy who had killed for her. "We balanced the ledger. That is all that matters."

The carriage slowed as it passed through the massive iron gates of the Sol estate. The manor was a sprawling palace of white stone and gold leaf, perched on a cliff that overlooked the capital. It was a fortress of wealth and power, a place where the dirt of the groves was not supposed to exist.

As the door opened and the servants rushed forward with silken robes and warm water, Valerica stood up. She paused at the threshold, looking back at Vane.

"Stay close to me," she said. It wasn't an order. It was a request.

Vane stood up, his body screaming in protest, and followed her into the gold lit halls of the manor. The Iron Groves were behind them, but the gilded cage of the capital was just beginning to close.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.