The air inside the small, rundown eatery felt heavy after Virumi dropped the bombshell that her family lineage wasn't just any royal bloodline. She belonged to the King's family itself. Everyone's reactions were almost synchronized. Spoons clattered against the plates as the rice scattered back into the heap of pilaf, momentarily forgotten. Silence settled, thick and palpable, as if time itself paused to register the weight of Virumi's revelation.
Griswa, usually calm and composed, blinked slowly as his mind processed the implications. His eyes, always vibrant with multiple colors, seemed to darken, their light dimming as the gravity of Virumi's confession set in. He leaned in slightly, his voice low and serious.
"So, you're not just from any royal family of the Mertromath. You actually belong to the king's family itself," he whispered, his tone a blend of shock and intense curiosity.
Virumi, unable to meet their gazes, lowered her eyes to the table. She gently traced her fingers over the wood, as if grounding herself in the tangible world before continuing. Her voice wavered slightly, carrying the weight of unspoken guilt and shame.
"Perhaps that's more of a reason why I want freedom, noi."
The room felt colder for a moment, as if her words had the power to drain the warmth from the air. There was no need for further clarification—her pain, the burden of her legacy, was something they could all feel. In that quiet space, they understood the depth of her struggles. Born into privilege, yet weighed down by the chains of her family's decisions.
"I didn't disclose that I belong to the king's family because I felt ashamed," Virumi continued, her voice almost trembling. "I hope you guys understand noi... But now that I know my family serves a purpose that can help you, I chose to swallow the shame and tell you this."
Everyone instinctively leaned forward, creating a more intimate circle of understanding. Virumi's vulnerability opened a new dimension to their relationship, and they all sensed it.
Virumi took a deep breath before speaking again, "Now that I've learned what you guys truly are, where you come from, what you've faced… My struggles look childish in comparison to yours, noi. Your pursuit of freedom is even greater than mine, noi! Haha, the world is filled with people you can never imagine could exist, noi."
She smiled, a bittersweet expression that mixed relief with regret. "If you were to tell your story to anyone else, they'd laugh at you for making up some fantasy. But as I have seen what you all can really do… how you saved me, how you got me here… your actions speak louder than any words. You're trustworthy. And as much as it doesn't matter what struggles we've been through, I feel like we can be in this… together."
Her words were heavy, but they brought a certain lightness to the group. Griswa, Yesdar, and Malaes exchanged glances, a soft smile tugging at the corners of their lips. There was no need for further words. In that moment, they all understood each other. A melody played in their minds. A tune of reconciliation with a lost friend they never had.
Yesdar, the first to break the silence, leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist. "Well, now that you've disclosed something valuable, it becomes easier for us to get in contact with the King's family and unravel the deeper secrets Griswa mentioned earlier," he said, his tone sincere but determined. "Those secrets might just be the key to taking our first real step toward freeing this world from the Yahunyens. Thank you, Virumi."
His words, spoken with such casual warmth, had an expected effect. Virumi gasped audibly, her face flushing bright red as she was catapulted back into her daydreams of Yesdar-sama. The reality of the situation faded away, and in her mind, she saw herself in a surreal, flowery field, running toward Yesdar, who was waiting for her with open arms. She got up from her seat in the real world, doing a strange, twirling dance as she mumbled in her lovey-dovey tone, "Yesdar-sama! Your oath to eat a fruit after freeing the world is such an amazing thing noi! I can't express how great you think! How firm your resolve is, noi!"
A collective sigh echoed from the trio, and sweatdrops formed on their heads, including the lady sitting behind the counter, who glanced at the group in confusion. Yesdar's eyes widened in a mix of amusement and disbelief.
All that's fine, he thought, trying to wrap his head around Virumi's reaction, But why does she call me 'Yesdar-sama'? Isn't she the one who's the princess here?!
Once Virumi had exhausted her whimsical display of affection and returned to her seat, everyone quietly resumed their meal. The clatter of spoons and plates replaced the silence, and for a brief moment, the group focused on eating their long-overdue breakfast. The pilaf was simple but satisfying—a warm, hearty dish that filled their empty stomachs after everything they had been through.
As they finished, the lady who had served them approached the table, holding her hands together nervously. "Is there anything else I can get you? Tea, perhaps?" she asked, her voice kind but tentative.
The group shook their heads, signaling they were done. But there was an awkward pause before the woman hesitantly spoke again, clearly curious. "I don't mean to intrude, but… earlier, when you all dropped your spoons… I wondered if something was wrong with the pilaf?"
Malaes smiled politely, quickly dispelling her concern. "Oh no, no, no. The meal was fantastic. Honestly, we haven't had something like that in years." (Really)
The woman's eyes softened with relief, though a faint trace of doubt remained in her expression. She nodded before retreating back to her counter, seemingly reassured.
"Alright," Malaes said, turning to the woman. "So, how much do we owe you?"
The woman approached them with a small, almost sheepish smile. "That'd be 280 Yuloss."
The trio exchanged glances, clearly unfamiliar with the local currency. 280 Yuloss? Yesdar echoed, his brow furrowing. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the old wafferion notes Fheniz had given them before their journey. "We don't have Yuloss, but we do have wafferions," he said, a touch of uncertainty in his voice.
Malaes, being a pragmatist, interjected, "That works, right?"
The lady nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "Yes, that works just fine. In fact, wafferions are a much more valuable currency. Just give me a moment to calculate the exchange rate." She retreated behind the counter, opening a small drawer that contained an old, dusty calculator. After wiping it down with a rag, she punched in the numbers, muttering to herself quietly before returning to the group.
"280 Yuloss is equivalent to 36.4 wafferions," she said.
Yesdar furrowed his brow again, pulling out his notes and counting through them. He was about to hand over a 10, a 10, and another 10, but then paused, staring at the remaining money in his hand. "Umm, I don't have a 6.4 wafferion note."
An awkward silence fell over the table again, with sweatdrops forming on the lady's back as she processed Yesdar's confusion. A 6.4 wafferion note doesn't exist. What is he talking about? she thought, trying to suppress a small laugh.
Gently, she tried to explain, "Umm… kind sir, I don't have the change right now."
Yesdar's eyes widened in surprise. "Change? What change? You're gonna change the currency again?"
The lady was visibly confused, her expression blank as she stared at him. What…? she thought to herself. She was utterly lost in the ridiculousness of Yesdar's misunderstanding. Even Virumi, who was still half-lost in her Yesdar-sama fantasies, found herself blinking in confusion.
Finally, Virumi tried to help. "Ah, umm, Yesdar-sama, change noi, is the money returned to you after paying for something with more money than it costs noi."
"Oh, I see!" Yesdar said brightly, a look of sudden realization crossing his face. He then, with a completely straight face, turned back to the woman and handed her 40 wafferions totally. "Then keep changing the currency yourself. I can't change it."
🥲
In their minds, everyone except Yesdar groaned internally, He doesn't understand it at all.🤦🏻♂️
"Umm, keep the change, you need it," Griswa said with a calm voice. The lady gave a small but genuine smile. After all, how much business did she even have in a place like this? She kept the money graciously. Her eyes fell on the handle of Griswa's sword that peeked out from under his coat.
Her curiosity got the best of her. "Are you guys here to enter the Tournament?" she asked, her tone casual but laced with intrigue.
The trio exchanged glances, clearly puzzled. "Tournament?" they echoed in unison.
"What tournament?" Yesdar added with a raised brow, already sensing this might be something worth knowing.
The lady cocked her head slightly. "Oh, so you aren't here to enter the tournament." She nodded thoughtfully, as if she had expected something different. "I thought for sure you were, seeing those sword handles and all. No one really carries those in this era unless there's a reason."
Griswa, now interested, decided to press. "We just might. Why did you care to ask?"
"Oh, just out of curiosity. There's a big tournament happening in this city. People from all over Mordul Uls' territory, over 900 cities, are entering. I thought you folks might be part of it because, well, you look so foreign, like someone who's been trained in... well, extraordinary ways."
She hesitated for a moment, scanning their faces, especially Griswa's unreadable expression, before continuing, "The tournament is huge. It's not just sword fighting; there's bare-handed combat, other types of weapon fighting, all kinds of challenges. And the prizes this time... well, they'll be awarded in wafferions. The first prize is a staggering amount—1 billion wafferions, along with a trophy as tall as the average man."
"1 billion?!" they all exclaimed in shock.
"In cash," the lady whispered, almost as if that sheer amount of money was too much to even say out loud.
The trio sat still for a moment, their thoughts clearly racing. They quickly deduced that they were in Mordul Uls territory—supporters of the king's decision for economic support.
"So," Griswa muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing, "a tournament with a cash prize like that…"
They began to consider how important money could be for their goals. While their mission transcended wealth, it would be foolish to overlook its significance. Fheniz, ever the pragmatic mentor, had always drilled into them that they would need resources—material, financial, and intellectual—if they were to free Aeartha from the looming shadow of the Yahunyens. Money was no different; it could mean the difference between life and death, between victory and defeat. Emergencies would arise, unexpected challenges would confront them, and having financial backing was a strategic necessity.
Winning the tournament... would be easy for them. As skilled as they were—trained beyond the normal constraints of reality itself—this would be little more than a warm-up. So why not? If there was an opportunity staring them in the face, there was no reason to walk away.
Griswa broke the silence with a calm, determined question. "Where is it happening?"
"The Red Arena of the city, of course," the lady replied, her excitement showing through her words. "I know because my brother is entering. He's doing it to improve our financial condition. Look around, you can see how things are."
The trio glanced around the restaurant again. The dilapidated furniture, the old walls, and the general feeling of decay that clung to the building like a layer of dust spoke volumes about her situation.
"What's the tournament called?" Yesdar asked, his curiosity piqued.
The lady paused for a moment, trying to recall the details. "It's... The Eternal... Twilight, most probably," she said, nodding slowly.
"The Eternal Twilight," they repeated under their breath, absorbing the name, trying to gauge what it might entail. There was perhaps a mystery to it, a weight that intrigued them.
"The elites of Mordul Uls organized it," she continued. "You see, Mordul Uls is the poorest in Aximia, economy-wise, even in this era. Only the wealthy elites and leaders have contacts with the King's family, and they use that to fill their pockets. Meanwhile, the common public has been middle class to poor for thousands of years. It's the same story generation after generation. But this time, they're offering a chance—an opportunity to improve our lives. And the ones who want to use it will. My brother included."
"Hmm, we see," Griswa replied, his voice low as he processed the information.
"I'm sorry," the lady quickly added, her tone a bit embarrassed. "It's just... I haven't had anyone to talk to in a while, so I guess I'm using this conversation as an excuse to talk."
"It's quite alright, ma'am," Griswa reassured her. "I'm Griswa, and these are my companions: Yesdar, Virumi, and Malaes. May I ask your name?"
The woman looked touched by his politeness. "Maayaz, sir. Maayaz Somia."
"Lady Maayaz," Griswa said with a sardonic smile, "you've played your role efficiently."
Maayaz chuckled lightly, grateful for the conversation, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, as if the brief exchange had brought her a little bit of warmth in her otherwise difficult life.
As they got out of the restaurant and moved further away from the slum area, Malaes turned to Griswa, her voice skeptical but intrigued. "So, are you serious about entering this Eternal Twilight tournament?"
"I don't see any losses, so why not?" Griswa replied, as if the answer were obvious.
Yesdar wasn't fully convinced and he stepped forward to ask something practical. "Yeah, but even if winning a billion wafferions is somehow easy for us, where are we going to keep all that much money? We're not exactly carrying around treasure vaults."
Griswa's smirk widened. "Remember what Orngea said back on Ehayor about his seals? When we were training in the white dome arenas underground?"
That was all it took. A hint to a flashback.
Flashback: Back Into The White Dome Arenas of Ehayor
"Yesdar, your attack is slower. Be faster," Griswa commanded, his tone laced with calm superiority, as he dodged a strike from Yesdar.
"My attack ain't slow. You can dodge it easily because you're faster... as a God!" Yesdar shot back, his words echoing across the vast dome as he readjusted his stance.
Griswa's eyes narrowed, the light around him seemed to intensify as he replied with a mocking grin, "Then catch up to my speed, otherwise you'll remain unworthy of becoming a god! You aren't going back to Aeartha as a pussy, right?"
Yesdar's grip tightened on his sword, his pride flaring. "Don't talk like Fheniz!" he snapped. "Not being a god ain't being a pussy, but I do not wish to remain at the same level either. If I can become a god, I will be. And you don't need to remind me that!"
"Haha, all you can do is talk," Griswa replied with a smirk, his figure shimmering as if about to disappear at any moment. "Push yourself to greater limits. The rest? That's just common sense."
"Huh, see? You talk like Fheniz," Yesdar grumbled, rolling his eyes in frustration.
Griswa, seemingly unfazed, shrugged. "I like that line, that's all. One way to surpass your master is to become an enhanced version of your master itself. And for that, the first step might just be to repeat his lines. Maybe?"
"You're already way beyond," Yesdar muttered under his breath, adjusting his sword once again.
"True, lol," Griswa replied with a sly grin, acknowledging his own superiority with casual arrogance.
The atmosphere grew lighter between them for a moment. The raw, competitive energy that fueled their training was always tempered with a camaraderie that only years of fighting side by side could foster.
Suddenly, Yesdar's expression shifted. "Where's Malaes?" he asked, glancing around the vast arena as if expecting her to appear out of nowhere.
"On special training with Fheniz. Didn't get the details," Griswa replied dismissively, his focus never leaving the sparring match.
As if summoned by the conversation, Orngea, as usual floating, entered the dome. His figure was draped in his usual dark cloak, which dragged on the sandy ground beneath him as he glided silently toward the two. His presence was eerie, almost ghost-like, yet always somehow amusing. Of course, he wanted attention being unimportant.
Both Yesdar and Griswa halted their training to glance at him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. Orngea was holding something above his palm—something that immediately caught their eyes.
A cubic seal, radiating neon blue energy, hovered just above his open hand. Its glow pulsed faintly, shrinking and expanding as Orngea clenched and unclenched his fist, like it was breathing.
"Hey Orngea!" Yesdar called out in a tone that was both sarcastic and dismissive, as if Orngea were nothing more than an afterthought. "What the hell did you come here for?!"
Orngea, desperate to showcase his creation, turned toward them with an exaggerated flourish, proud as ever. "I've been working on something..." he began, holding up the cubic seal with a gleam in his eye, expecting awe.
Yesdar stepped forward, unimpressed yet curious. "Yeah? Becomes big to small. You kept your brain inside it?" he said, his voice dripping with mockery. Orngea, of course, couldn't resist.
In his most dramatic, whispering voice, Orngea responded, "STOP TALKING NONSENSE, YOU SON OF A STUPID BRAT! KONOYARO!!" He flailed his arms in frustration, his face contorting into a comical rage inside his dark hood. 🤣🤣
Yesdar laughed, but his eyes remained on the seal. "Ahem, ahem," Orngea cleared his throat, trying to regain his dignity. "This is a special seal I made. You can make it smaller or bigger depending on your need. I prefer smaller because, you know, it takes up less space. But it will still store the same amount as it could in its initial form, regardless of how small or big you make it."
"Huh?" Yesdar blinked, unimpressed. "That's it? That's what you were blabbering about as an 'innovation' before?" His expression was flat, unamused.
"Hahaha! A fool speaks too soon!" Orngea chuckled, confident he had more to reveal.
Griswa stepped forward, now intrigued. His eyes locked on the glowing cube. "So, what's new, Orngea?" His tone, though indifferent, carried the weight of a serious question.
Orngea puffed up his chest, proud of his work. "Earlier, my seals could only trap proper living energies—beasts, monsters, and whatnot. But now..." He paused dramatically, letting the tension build. "It can also seal non-living matter. Anything. Living or non-living, it doesn't matter! HAHAHA!! Now that is the innovation I've been talking about!"
There was a beat of silence. Both Griswa and Yesdar stared at him, blinking slowly, absorbing what Orngea had just said.
The silence stretched on for a moment too long.
"What?!" Orngea shouted, his voice desperate. "Say something!"
Griswa took a deep breath, his expression unreadable. "For the very first time," he said slowly, "you've actually done something good." A small, approving smile crept onto his face.
Orngea, clearly pleased with himself, crossed his arms and nodded smugly. "Of course I have!"
Back to Present:
"Yesdar," Griswa said suddenly, pulling his friend back from the memory. "Now do you remember?"
Yesdar's eyes lit up with sudden realization. "Oh yeah! When we win the money, we can store it in the seals. Orngea's seals can shrink into micro sizes, and you've got hundreds of them in your bag. We're fully stocked."
"Exactly." Griswa responded with a smirk. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
"Who's Orngea noi?" Virumi interrupted, clearly confused by the mention of the name.
Yesdar let out a small chuckle, "An ally... Ah! We forgot to mention him in our story before. No worries, he's kinda unimportant."
(Back on Ehayor, Orngea was silently crying in the corner. "I am not unimportant!" he muttered to himself, wallowing in self-pity.)
As the sun began to rise higher, casting warm light over the streets, Griswa clapped his hands with his usual confident smirk. The sound echoed through the slum, crisp and decisive.
"Well," he said, his eyes glinting with excitement, "looks like we're ready to enter the tournament!"
Pronunciations:
Yuloss: [YOU]+[LOSS]