Chapter Twenty-Two – A City of Lights and Shadows
Days passed as the group traveled southward. Their journey took them through forests of towering trees, past rivers that gleamed under the sunlight, and across rolling fields that stretched as far as the eye could see.
And at last, they arrived at a city.
It was vast, larger than any they had seen in their travels so far. High walls enclosed the buildings within, but it was no fortress—the architecture was elegant, with soaring spires and intricate carvings that told of a long, rich history. The streets were alive with people, merchants calling out their wares, travelers moving between inns and shops, and knights patrolling the roads in gleaming armor.
Stark let out a low whistle. "Now that's a city."
"It's called Veldora," Fern said, adjusting her glasses. "It's a major hub for trade and commerce. But it also has one of the largest magic academies in the region."
Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow at that. "Magic?"
Fern nodded. "Yes. The academy here is famous for training some of the most skilled mages. Their library is one of the most extensive in the land."
Gilgamesh hummed thoughtfully. "Knowledge… that is something I have always valued."
Fern glanced at him, curious. "Would you want to visit it?"
Gilgamesh gave a slight nod. "Perhaps. There is always more to learn."
As they made their way through the bustling streets, something caught their attention.
A crowd had gathered near the city's central square, and voices were raised in excitement and concern. People were whispering, some pointing toward a large bulletin board covered in parchment.
"What's going on?" Stark asked, pushing his way forward to get a better look.
Fern followed, adjusting her glasses as she scanned the posted notices. Her expression turned serious. "It looks like there's been… an incident."
Gilgamesh stepped forward, reading the words before him.
"WARNING: A powerful creature has been spotted near the southern trade routes. All travelers are advised to avoid the area until further notice."
Stark frowned. "A monster?"
Fern nodded, scanning the details. "It says a group of mercenaries was sent to deal with it, but only one returned. And he was too wounded to explain what happened."
Gilgamesh studied the parchment in silence, then turned his gaze toward the southern horizon. There was something offabout this. A presence… a disturbance. It was faint, but he could feel it—a ripple in the world, a whisper in the fabric of existence.
And he did not like it.
"What do you think?" Fern asked, noticing his thoughtful expression.
Gilgamesh's golden eyes glowed faintly. "Something old stirs in these lands. And I do not believe it will be easily stopped."
Fern and Stark exchanged uneasy looks.
Then, as if to confirm his words, the ground beneath them trembled. A distant roar echoed through the air—deep, guttural, and filled with an ancient fury.
The crowd gasped, fear spreading through the city like wildfire.
Stark swallowed hard. "That… can't be good."
Gilgamesh's lips curled into the barest hint of a smile. "No," he murmured. "It is not."
And with that, the group turned their gaze toward the unknown, ready to face whatever lay ahead.