Serin and his two knight guards emerged from the woods into the open plain, not far from the riverbank, where a gentle—nearly unnoticeable—sound of water echoed quietly behind them amidst the chirping of insects and the rustling of dry leaves.

  The sentry at the picket line noticed three silhouettes coming into the light from the torches at the perimeter and immediately went on alert—only to bow respectfully after seeing that it was Serin and the two knights.

  Serin acknowledged the guards casually as his gaze wandered around—curious and attentive to the things around him. The scene of the campsite, illuminated by hundreds of torches, reflected in his eyes, which seemed to be drowning in melancholy—making the twin knights look at each other in confusion.

  They could not understand why the Prince would suddenly be so saddened and melancholic.

  The sight of seventy-something horses grazing quietly, tied with a long rope stretching between stakes driven into the ground, was something that would always make Serin pause involuntarily.

  Perhaps he had become acclimatized to seeing knights in armour, old Victorian-era buildings made of stone, priests in white robes, and now even the Magi who wielded the power of Chaos—however, the sight of so many horses in one place made him feel like he was in a long, long dream, from which perhaps he could wake in the very next moment—only for reality to dawn on him like a hammer, reminding him that he was no longer the same person as in his past life, and that this was not the same world as Earth.

  Serin jolted out of his daze suddenly, hearing a horse hiss sharply nearby. He moved his head from right to left, admiring just how big the camp was, almost like a very small army unit.

  The tents of the fifty Hainar Family’s cavalry knights were right by the picket line—the line of stakes pierced into the ground for tying the horses. That was what Serin had learned it was called from his lessons at Helsby Castle.

  Serin narrowed his eyes and then threw the question into a corner of his mind, reminding himself to ask the Count later.

  The camp was big, but not so large that Serin would get lost in it. Although he wasn’t entirely familiar with the layout, with the help of Symund and Hymund he easily made his way back to the inner circle of the camp.

  Serin signaled the twins with his eyes to leave him alone. After the two went their own way, Serin sighed to himself and walked forward.

  Getting closer, he heard the crackling of wood while the whiff of cooked meat tingled his nose—a large fire burned in the middle. By the fire, Lieutenant Kael, who was warming his hands, turned to look towards him, waving from afar rather too enthusiastically.

  Serin forced a smile, somewhat wary, and waved back. Lieutenant Kael seemed to understand as he chuckled to himself, then returned to warming his hands and chatting with the others around him.

  This group consisted of a handful of Ascendant Knights of the Hainar Family, a handful from the Erwen Family, and their Commander. Serin even saw two robes of the Magi among the group, surprisingly so.

  Serin averted his gaze and glanced beyond the communal fire.

  The Count’s tent was the biggest and placed in the centre, easily catching attention as a handful of Ascendant Knights vigilantly kept watch in front of it. By the looks of it, the Count was resting inside.

  To the left, it was quite lively, which mainly caught his attention. There were six tents of the Magi—two tents placed closely as one group, three tents as another, and then the biggest one among them belonging to Master Vincent himself.

  From one of them, he even heard a few girlish voices, giggling and gossiping.

  “This must be Princess Leia…” Serin guessed, although he didn’t know to whom the other female voices belonged.

  Serin’s attention shifted to the group of three Magi tents belonging to the men. The flaps of the tents were open, and the young Magi, including Epher, were sitting around a smaller campfire of their own, interacting and exchanging ideas with each other in hushed voices, holding what seemed like thick books—the same Serin had noticed the Magi carrying in the Spire at Waham.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  It was quite a strange scene—oddly scholarly in the middle of an open plain amidst a convoy. However, Serin was shocked for a completely different reason.

  Behind the Magi’s tents, there was a small hill in the distance. On the hill, Serin suddenly caught a glimpse of what looked like two glowing eyes, almost scaring him silly.

  Due to the darkness, only the glowing eyes could be seen, looking quite ghostly. However, it didn’t take long for Serin to realise that this wasn’t some ghost or evil spirit, but Master Vincent.

  “What is he doing?” Serin muttered, still feeling chills run across his body while looking at the glowing eyes gazing at the sky.

  Narrowing his eyes, Serin could barely make out that Master Vincent wasn’t simply looking at the sky with his naked eyes, but in fact seemed to be holding in his hand what looked like a monocular.

  Seeing such a bizarre scene, Serin’s curiosity reached its peak. He pondered hesitantly whether to approach the Master directly or not, in the end deciding against it.

  Serin walked up to Epher’s group of Magi and offered an awkward smile. The three Magi put down their papers and books and looked at each other.

  Epher stood up, a gentle, polite smile on his face as he said, “Your Highness, what can we do for you?”

  Serin pointed towards the hill behind them with his eyes and said, “May I ask, uhm… what is Master Vincent doing there?”

  Epher opened his mouth in an ‘O’ shape and chuckled. “Stargazing!”

  Serin’s expression brightened. “Stargazing? Goodness, that must be—”

  “Not wonderful…” Epher interrupted, smiling bitterly along with the other Magi.

  “It’s very dangerous. ‘Stargazing’ like this can lead to madness, if not careful.” The smile vanished from Epher’s face as he spoke seriously.

  Serin pondered for a moment and then said cautiously, “That serious?”

  “Yes, Prince Serin.” A voice echoed as Master Vincent himself approached from behind and then walked to the front.

  Master Vincent raised his arm, a short whisper escaping his mouth. Immediately, the ground below rose ever so slightly, creating elevated seats. Master Vincent sat down casually and gestured to Serin to sit down as well.

  In a daze, Serin sat down. He was no longer unfamiliar with magic—even so, he was still caught off guard by how mundane, how nonchalantly it was used just then, as if it were as easy as breathing. He was somewhat dumbfounded.

  “Perhaps…” Serin heard Master Vincent speak and instantly broke out of his daze, sitting straight and listening intently.

  “…It could be because of the world barrier, or perhaps something else entirely. Who knows? What’s certain is that it is not wise to gaze at the stars.”

  Serin had many questions, but above all, he—along with the others—noticed that Master Vincent’s complexion was pale, his eyes red, and blood was flowing from his nose.

  “Teacher….” Epher cried out in concern, wiping the blood from Master Vincent’s nose with a clean silk cloth.

  “Hmm, alright, alright, don’t make such a fuss now!” Master Vincent sighed, his forehead creased.

  “Master Vincent… What did you see?” Serin asked incredulously. He had seen that look on Master Vincent’s face far too many times.

  Master Vincent sighed again and glanced slightly towards the sky, at the full moon, before blurting softly, “There will be a full eclipse soon.”

  Serin’s heart suddenly pounded against his chest inexplicably, and a sudden feeling of unease washed over him for a fraction of a second before disappearing, like a mere illusion.

  “Is that bad?” Serin asked subconsciously.

  Master Vincent lowered his head and looked at Serin. “Difficult to say. Eclipses are rare but predictable. Most of the time they are inconsequential… But…”

  Everyone gulped unknowingly, anxiously at the edge of their seats, waiting for Master Vincent to finish.

  “…This one feels a bit strange. We should have known it would happen much earlier. I’m afraid this is part of a larger anomaly.”

  Serin gulped once again, suddenly feeling very cold, the hair on his body standing on end. His heart pounded again, that feeling of unease creeping up on his soul.

  “What does this mean, teacher?” Epher asked worriedly, his brows knitted into a frown.

  “The dormant ‘Chaos Aberrants’ are stirring throughout the entire continent.” Master Vincent said and glanced at Serin. “Like the one that’s going to attack Brinescar.”

  “Perhaps… This sudden anomaly can explain why a Sea Beast like Akh’Thal, characteristically not known to ever approach the shore, is in fact approaching it as we speak.”

  Could that really be it? Serin mused inwardly, not even realising that the Anchor Blessing had taken effect, calming his nerves completely without him noticing.

  Serin sighed. He was already starting to feel fatigued, perhaps because everything he had heard was simply too much to digest. Apart from that, there was this constant feeling of unease gnawing at him, taking a massive toll on his mind and spirit.

  “Thank you, Master Vincent. Good night to you all.” Serin forced a smile and said.

  Master Vincent simply nodded and then stood up, leaving for his tent as well after Serin.

  Feeling sleepy, Serin looked at the sky, his mind occupied with thoughts. Looking at the milky ocean of stars, he felt his head buzz slightly. His gaze drifted towards the Big Dipper deeper and deeper, his soul as though slowly being drawn right out of his body.

  Unbeknownst to him, a tiny mark made of intertwining lines and symbols—the same one that had appeared on his body on Earth before ‘dying’—glowed faintly, flashing for only a second before fading into nothing.

  Like waking up from a dream, Serin’s eyes widened as he stumbled back in dizziness, barely able to stand on his two feet as he steadied himself.

  “What… just happened?” Serin mumbled, stretching out his hands in confusion.

  .

  Serin suddenly felt a chill beneath his nose, a certain unfamiliar dampness. Instinctively, he wiped his nose and then looked at his hand. A faint metallic, iron-like scent tingled his nose as he examined it closely—the crimson blood, already drying and turning darker on his fingers, shone through in the yellowish glow of nearby torches and campfires, as well as the faint moonlight.