Once they were out of sight, Cairon pulled out a small communication device. His voice was calm, deliberate.
"Find out where they came from."
As they continued their tour, Rhys took them to one of his family's largest workshops. Unlike the one he usually worked at, this place was massive. Rows of constructs and devices lined the floor, each in different stages of completion. Some were just metal frames, while others had intricate patterns carved into them, glowing faintly with embedded archane circuitry. Workers moved efficiently, adjusting circuits, testing energy flow, and ensuring each piece functioned as intended.
"This is where most of our major projects take shape," Rhys said. "Weapons, armor, enchanted tools, even constructs for labor and defense. If it's made here, it's built to last."
Ian ran his fingers over a nearly finished construct, feeling the steady pulse of energy beneath its surface.
"This is impressive," he admitted.
Nearby, a group of craftsmen was carefully aligning a floating energy core within a larger construct, its circuits adjusting in real-time as they fine-tuned its resonance. Further down, another team worked on a massive automaton, reinforcing its plating with embedded circuits that would allow it to regulate power without external interference. Every workstation was dedicated to precision, every piece had to be perfectly balanced between material strength and energy flow.
"It's a different scale here," Rhys said, watching as a craftsman delicately adjusted a complex mechanism. "Most of the designs come through this place first."
Myrra traced a finger over a sleek, curved blade resting on a workbench. Its surface shimmered faintly, responding to her touch. "Even the smallest details are designed with the energy flow in mind," she observed.
Rhys smirked. "That's the difference between ordinary gear and what we make here. We don't just craft, we refine, test, and improve until it's the best it can be.
The rest of the day passed as they explored the city's wonders, enjoying the sights, and immersing themselves in the lively atmosphere.
Later, they gathered at an upscale restaurant, the ambiance warm and inviting. Over dinner, the conversation flowed naturally.
Rhys leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink lazily. "So, Ian, what do you think of the city so far?"
Ian set down his fork, glancing out the window at the bustling streets beyond. "It's different from what I'm used to. Everything moves with a purpose. The workshops, the trade, even the way people walk, it all feels connected, like a system running smoothly. It's efficient, but not lifeless."
Reina nodded. "That's how it's always been. Everything here is built to last, made to serve a purpose. This must be new for you, coming from the laid-back life in Lylva."
Myrra, who had been quietly sipping her drink, smiled faintly. "Yes, Lylva is… different. Slower, quieter. But I actually used to live in Vaelis when I was very little… though I don't remember much."
Reina turned to her with interest. "Really? What happened?"
Myrra hesitated, setting her glass down. "My family moved. It was a long time ago." She didn't elaborate, and the moment passed without further questions.
Ian discreetly shifted the conversation, querying regarding Cairon, his tone light but purposeful.
Rhys scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Cairon Veldrin. A hypocrite. His family's workshops are as skilled as ours, I'll give them that, but they don't work the way we do. They pull strings, make backroom deals, and let others do the actual work while they sit comfortably behind their desks."
Reina sighed. "Still, he's not someone to underestimate. Smart and careful." She glanced at Ian, sensing the real reason behind his question. "But I don't think he'd do anything reckless."
"Speaking of Cairon," Rhys added, "it was surprising to see Esar Urimaer with him."
Reina tilted her head in thought. "I think they just met, or at least it's nothing long-term…"
Ian tapped his fingers on the table. "So, a big-shot."
Rhys's expression turned more serious. "A prodigy. Same age as us, but already reached First Order."
Ian didn't say anything right away, but he kept it in mind.
The conversation drifted to lighter topics after that, stories of places they had visited, amusing encounters, the quirks of different cities. Laughter came easily, and for a while, the weight of serious matters faded into the background. Eventually, the meal came to an end, and they stepped out into the cool night air.
Rhys offered to have them escorted back, but they declined. Master Ordan's residence was only a short walk away, and the riverside path was quiet and inviting.
The canal stretched beside them, its dark waters shimmering under the lantern glow. The city's noise faded into a distant hum, leaving only the soft ripple of water and the occasional creak of a passing boats. Bridges arched over the canal at intervals, their reflections broken by the gentle current.
Myrra walked close to the railing, her fingers trailing absentmindedly along the smooth, time-worn stone. A breeze drifted past, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and night-blooming flowers.
"It's nice here," she murmured, glancing at Ian. "Feels like the whole city slows down once you're near the water."
Ian looked out at the lantern-lit ripples, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Yeah. Like everything else can wait."
Myrra hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you think we'll end up in the same place?"
Ian glanced at her, then back at the water. "Of course we will."
She smiled a little. "You say that like you've already decided it."
"I have." His tone was simple, certain.
Myrra reached out, her fingers just grazing his hand when Ian suddenly tensed. His eyes sharpened as he took a step in front of her.
A faint shimmer surrounded them. A containment field. They were trapped.
"Who's there?" Ian called out. "Show yourself."
Silence. No answer.
"If you have a reason for this, state it now," Ian warned, his stance tightening.
Then, without warning -
Boom.
A figure lunged from the shadows, its form humanoid but unnatural, moving with eerie precision. More emerged, their movements seamless and calculated, eyes glowing dimly beneath their masks.
Ian reacted instantly. He met the first attacker with a crushing blow, sending it skidding backward. Another struck from the side, he dodged, countered, and landed a decisive hit. Their coordination was impressive, but Ian was faster, stronger.
Then, a steel rod, swinging toward him.
Ian raised his hand. The moment it made contact, the rod crumbled into glowing fragments.
This was Assemble and Disassemble, a fundamental ability of an Architect. It allowed him to break down and reshape certain known materials, as long as their structure was within his grasp. He had trained tirelessly, refining his control.
But there were limits.
His hand brushed against an attacker's chest, nothing.
The material resisted him. Unknown. He couldn't disassemble it.
Ian stepped back instantly, placing a palm to the ground. In an instant, stone reshaped beneath his touch, forming a razor-sharp spike. He surged forward, driving it straight through his opponent's skull.
Another attacker closed in.
Ian moved quickly. He touched the ground again, transforming the rough pavement into a set of jagged shards. With a flick of his hand, they shot forward, striking with lethal precision. His body, hardened by the Eldritch Path, let him weave through attacks, parrying with both strength and speed.
One by one, they fell.
But the field still held. Ian remained alert, keeping Myrra close.
Then, a shift in the air. More of them, dozens this time, moving in perfect unison.
Ian's mind raced. He could fight, but against this many, extreme measures might be needed.
Then,
Swoosh.
A single sword sliced through the air, severing the containment field like it was paper. The barrier shattered with a crackling burst, and in an instant, the assailants were torn apart. Limbs fell in clean, silent pieces.
Ian turned sharply.
Urimaer stood amidst the carnage, his sword gleaming under the moonlight. His expression remained unreadable as he surveyed the aftermath before shifting his gaze to Ian and Myrra.
"It's you." His voice was steady as he smoothly sheathed his sword. "How did you get tangled up with these people?"
Myrra steadied herself, shaken but composed. "We don't know. This is our first time in the city. Who were they?"
Urimaer's gaze darkened. "They're from The Quiet Testament, a terrorist organization devoted to absolute silence. They believe voices are shackles, that words corrupt and bind the soul. To them, a world without voice is a world without deception, without chaos."
Ian and Myrra exchanged a glance.
"Thank you for saving us," Myrra said sincerely.
Urimaer gave a slight nod. "You might need to come with me to the law enforcement. If they were after you, they won't stop. It's best we figure out what they wanted before they try again."
Ian exhaled. "We live nearby. Can we at least inform our guardian first?"
"No worries. Maybe you can wait for law enforcement there."
Urimaer escorted them to Master Ordan's residence. He moved with the same quiet precision as before, detached from the situation, as if what had just happened had nothing to do with him. But Ian and Myrra were grateful, without him, the fight would have been difficult.
When they arrived, Master Ordan was already waiting. His usual composed demeanor was tense, his gaze sharp as he scanned them for injuries.
"What happened?" he asked immediately.
"The law enforcement will be here soon. You should stay inside until then," Urimaer interjected before turning to leave.
Ian and Myrra gave him a slight bow of thanks before he disappeared into the night.
Ian then recounted everything, the ambush, the containment field, and Urimaer's intervention.
Ordan's expression hardened. "This is not something to take lightly. If they moved so openly, then they must have truly wanted something… or someone." He exhaled slowly. "I will look into this. For now, report everything you saw to the law enforcement when they arrive."