You keep walking through the dark alleys of the slums.
— Atela.
She raised her head toward the one speaking. Noa kept walking without looking back.
— I wanted to ask, what is your innate technique?
Atela thinks he doesn't beat around the bush. His question was direct, but she knows he wants an answer.
— Well… where should I start? I'm not really sure if everything I'm about to tell you is correct, but I'll do my best. My technique is called Maëlle. It's a technique that allows me to create variants of a technique through a logical and autonomous process.
Noa touches his chin.
— Interesting.
Atela hopes he understood, because even she isn't sure her ability really works the way she described it.
— In this world, when a child's soul reaches maturity at the age of 5, they assimilate Chaos energy and develop an innate technique based on several specific factors such as personality, physique, mentality, etc…
Atela confirms.
— That's correct. This technique is unique to its owner, and even if two people have similar techniques, they cannot be identical, because their progression and evolution will always be different.
Noa thinks for a moment.
— There is a way to obtain other techniques, and that consists of creating logical variants of the base technique by respecting a logical theory and applying it directly to Chaos energy.
Atela adds a few words.
— For example, if someone has a technique related to the water element, theoretically they are also capable of producing ice.
Noa's pace slows down.
— But Maëlle allows you to create variants of a technique in a completely autonomous way, without you having to directly act on the process.
She nods and adds a small clarification.
— Maëlle is like a voice in my head, a separate consciousness that constantly evolves and analyzes everything happening around me to create techniques. It relies on my knowledge, even information I've forgotten and that it has stored within itself.
But a question still lingers in Noa's mind.
— If Maëlle only allows you to create logical variants of a technique, then what base technique does it rely on to create its variants?
Atela opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She had never thought about it before.
— If you don't know, you could just ask Maëlle directly.
— Ah… right.
She asks it, and she quickly receives an answer.
— In reality, my functioning is much more complex than that. At the core, I am an ability that allows you to create variants of a technique, but I can also create a technique from nothing, simply based on the information you possess. However, it takes a tremendous amount of time, because your knowledge is limited, and a lot is needed to create a technique from nothing.
— You couldn't have told me that earlier?!
Atela sighs and explains how it works to Noa.
— I see… so we function in roughly the same way, you and I.
A person steps out of the alley in front of them. He walks very slowly, dragging his feet.
— We found him.
said Noa calmly.
The man looks at them with wide eyes, his gaze first landing on Noa before stopping on Atela. A wide, disturbing smile spreads across his face. Maëlle issues a warning.
— I sense a very strong hostility directed toward you coming from this person.
— What? But I didn't do anything to him!
The man's eyes begin to glow with a silver light, almost completely white. The same energy starts to gather and emanate from his feet.
Atela steps back before Noa places his hand on her head.
— She's with me.
At those words, the man's silver aura dissipates, and the light gradually fades. But his wide smile remains unchanged, and his wide-open eyes barely blink.
— Good evening.
His deep and calm voice creates an unsettling contrast with his face. Atela finds him terrifying. Noa thinks she's not wrong.
— Atela, let me introduce you to Fou, the one who rules this slum territory. Oh, and… he's also crazy.
Atela wonders what she has gotten herself into. Maëlle's voice echoes.
— All the hostility directed at you from him completely disappeared the moment Noa started speaking.
Noa approaches him.
— By any chance… you wouldn't happen to know where the entrance to the underground is?
Fou's pupils dilate like a camera lens zooming out.
— Why are bananas yellow and not blue?
Noa facepalms.
— I forgot he always answers questions with other questions that have nothing to do with it… We're really not out of trouble.
Meanwhile, in the capital.
The atmosphere in the room where the family meeting is taking place only grows heavier minute after minute. Old André speaks.
— Alright, first of all, you must know that the kingdom of Zhaorin has been completely destroyed.
Everyone present, except Diane and David, is shocked. For them, it's simply inconceivable that such a great nation could fall.
Dante steps forward with a serious expression.
— Let me guess… Sélestia is involved in all of this, right?
Diane, sitting nearby with a glass of wine in her hand, wonders.
— Sélestia? I thought that organization had been destroyed.
— A new organization bearing the same name appeared a few weeks ago.
A young boy from the lower branch of the family approaches with documents, which he hands to Dante.
— According to what we found, this organization, although it has the same name, has nothing to do with the original. The first organization was mainly composed of simple terrorists, with minimal firepower and very little combat experience. On top of that, they all had criminal records.
He continues in an even more serious tone.
— But for this second organization, it's a completely different story. There is no information on the members of this recent organization. They have firepower capable of destroying a nation as large as Zhaorin in just 3 days, and their members are incredibly powerful.
David sits down in his chair.
— Initially, if I called this family meeting, it was to send all the young heirs to the kingdom of Garion.
All those concerned are surprised, but he hasn't finished speaking.
— Currently, the world order is very unstable, and we are getting closer and closer to a world war… and in the worst case, a new holy war. Even more so since I confirmed my suspicions that there may be a traitor among the 20 generals, someone providing them with confidential information that could endanger the world order.
Shock once again appears on every face.
Sitting on a chair near the patriarch's table, Lise Hyperion, 11 years old, 7th daughter of David and younger sister of our protagonist, speaks as if nothing were wrong despite her young age.
— The fact that there is a traitor among the 20 generals completely shifts the balance of power. At this point, we can no longer consider Sélestia as a simple criminal organization, but as a global threat.
She holds in her hands a black chess piece representing the queen, which she gently taps on the table.
— As far as I know, small kingdoms have already started going to war, and civil wars have broken out across many major nations. Given the timing, I'm willing to bet that Sélestia still has a role to play in all of this.
Lara, at the nearby table, speaks up.
— Presented like that, it would mean Sélestia also has political control over events.
Yuna intervenes.
— It goes without saying. If they truly have a general on their side, it's very likely that this person is helping them by weakening the defenses of other kingdoms or creating diversions large enough to allow them to operate in the shadows.
Johan lets out a yawn before adding a few words.
— We're lucky they haven't attacked the Eastern Empire yet… and I think I know why.
Oliver adds:
— It seems obvious to me. If they don't dare attack the Eastern Empire, it's because of the presence of Patriarch David, former Patriarch André, as well as the other adults in the family.
The murmurs in the room become less and less discreet. Iris speaks in turn.
— I agree with the young masters Johan and Oliver. The patriarch and his father both have a general-level power, and could even have been in the top 5 if they hadn't refused.
Apeche adds:
— That doesn't mean we should lower our guard. Let's not forget that the king of the kingdom of Zhaorin also had a general-level power… and yet his kingdom was destroyed in barely 3 days. That proves the enemy must not be underestimated.
Lara begins to realize the seriousness of the situation.
Vega Hyperion, third son of former patriarch André and younger brother of David and Diane, a brown-haired man with a massive build, sits in his seat, clearly under the influence of alcohol but without losing his lucidity.
— That's all well and good… but should I remind you that the kingdom's borders are still open, while those of all the other kingdoms are closed?
Apeche pats him on the back.
— We managed to close the borders of our territory, but not those of the slums. The inhabitants harbor a deep hatred toward the Hyperions and will not obediently follow us, even if it's for their own good.
Charl, in his seat, simply closes his eyes and lets out a light sigh.
— From what David told me, the leader of one of the major slum territories is an old acquaintance of Noa. I'm sure he'll manage to convince him to close his borders. And as for the second one, Ragna has already gone to take care of it, so it shouldn't be a major issue anymore.
— In that case…
The patriarch stands up from his seat with a straight posture that immediately commands respect.
— I address all the young heirs present here: you will depart tomorrow for the kingdom of Garion. I task you with training, becoming stronger, and gaining experience… but also with trying to find who the traitor among the 20 generals might be, in order to permanently cut off Sélestia's source.
— I didn't know we were so popular here.
Snap.
A snap of fingers. In just 0.3 seconds, a thick layer of ice blocks all the exits of the room, completely isolating them.
Despite that, no one is truly surprised.
David slowly turns his head toward the back of the room.
In a corner, a robust man dressed in black, wearing a hood that completely covers his face except for his eyes, sits on a chair, hands clasped and legs crossed.
Psimôn has just made his entrance.
Next to him, a woman with long black and white hair stands, her hands behind her back.
— It is an honor to meet you, Patriarch… David Hyperion.
Next chapter: That's not fair