On the translucent screen, a dense forest slowly comes into view.
Towering trees stretch upward like ancient sentinels, their canopies woven so tightly together that only thin strands of light pierce through. Mist curls between the trunks, drifting low along the ground, giving the forest an unreal, dreamlike quality. At its very centre stands a castle.
It looks almost unreal.
The structure resembles something pulled straight from a children's storybook—a fairytale castle with tall spires, rounded towers, and pale stone walls softened by moss and age. There is something miniature about it, as if it were a carefully crafted toy placed gently upon the earth rather than a true fortress meant for war.
Fog coils around its base, obscuring its foundations.
The screen shifts.
The view pulls back, the castle shrinking as the forest surrounding it expands into perspective. The mist thins as the image widens further, revealing what lies beyond the forest's edge.
To the west, scattered farmlands stretch outward in uneven patches. Small huts dot the land, smoke curling faintly from chimneys. Narrow dirt paths connect clusters of buildings, and near one such cluster, a small gathering of people stands assembled.
Kaelan's gaze sharpens.
The screen focuses.
The figures resolve into familiar forms.
Clive.
Simon.
Cassandra.
Others are moving among them.
They stand at the edge of the forest, unaware they are being watched from far beyond their own understanding.
Bishop Zane inhales quietly, eyes fixed on the projection.
"My Lord," he asks, voice low and respectful, "what is the Church of Disaster's goal?"
Kaelan does not answer immediately.
His thoughts drift to Xeryen, the Lord of Disaster.
The Church of Disaster does not act without divine sanction. Without Xeryen's consent, its servants would not dare engage in open criminal acts, let alone something as brazen as child abduction and fate-altering rituals.
Bishop Zane continues, filling the silence.
"After your inquiry into the Church of Disaster, our people discovered that a civil war has broken out among its members."
Kaelan's fingers tap lightly against the counter. With his other hand, he swirls the wine in his glass, watching the amber liquid spiral slowly along the crystal.
"A civil war," Kaelan repeats quietly.
He looks at Bishop Zane.
"Did they discover the reason?"
Bishop Zane turns his head slightly, meeting Kaelan's gaze.
"Our people were unable to enter the Teaga Kingdom," he says. "Without access, we couldn't gather further information."
Kaelan frowns.
A civil war within a church is nearly unthinkable in this world.
This is not a realm where gods are abstract concepts or distant myths. Gods exist. They act. They issue commands. Faith is structured, enforced, and absolute.
For a church to fracture, only two explanations exist.
Either the god's will has been interpreted differently by its followers—
—or the god himself is in trouble.
Kaelan dismisses the first possibility immediately. Misinterpretations can happen, but they do not spiral into open conflict unless guided by something deeper.
The second possibility lingers.
If Xeryen is in trouble, then the balance of far more than one kingdom is at stake.
Kaelan's attention returns to the screen.
"Find the reason for the civil war as quickly as possible," he says calmly.
Bishop Zane nods without hesitation.
The image shifts again.
A new figure steps into focus.
A lean man with pale skin and striking crimson eyes stands at the edge of the forest. His presence is sharp, disciplined, and heavy with restrained force. Servants move around him, presenting a long spear with ceremonial care.
He grips it firmly.
Bishop Zane speaks, recognition clear in his tone.
"They've sent out Marcus."
Kaelan does not consult the database. He already senses the weight behind the name. Bishop Zane notices the brief pause and elaborates.
"Marcus Everblood," he says. "I've heard he recently broke through the Earth Knight realm."
Kaelan nods once.
The surname says enough.
Like Ava, Marcus is a member of the royal family of the Royal Griffon Kingdom. And like most male members of the Everblood lineage, he has chosen the path of knighthood.
The Everblood family's bloodline behaves differently depending on gender.
In males, it manifests as extraordinary self-healing and destructive power—but at a cost. Emotional control becomes more difficult, impulses stronger, reactions sharper. For that reason, male Everbloods are rarely placed in public-facing political roles.
They become weapons instead.
Knights.
In contrast, female members inherit greater adaptability and emotional balance. They control their power more easily and are therefore better suited for governance and alchemy. That is why women like Ava stand at the forefront of the kingdom's administration, while men like Marcus remain largely unseen.
The screen shows Marcus raising his spear.
He plants his feet firmly into the earth, posture steady, unshaken by the presence of the forest or the castle before him. Slowly, deliberately, he angles the spear forward, pointing it directly toward the mist-wreathed fortress.
He does not throw it.
He holds it.
At the spear's tip, crimson light begins to gather.
It pulses once.
Then again.
Energy condenses, thick and heavy, forming a cone of glowing red force that stretches outward from the spearhead, warping the air around it as if space itself is being bent. The crimson light pulses with restrained violence, each pulse heavier than the last. The ground beneath Marcus's boots fractures with sharp cracks, spiderwebbing outward as raw power pours through his body and anchors him in place.
Kaelan watches in silence.
The spear begins to tremble in Marcus's hands.
At first, the vibration is subtle, almost imperceptible, but it rapidly intensifies. Wind erupts behind the spear in violent bursts, blasting outward in chaotic waves. Dust and loose debris are torn from the ground and hurled into the air. Leaves spiral upward, stones rattle and skip, and the people gathered nearby are forced to shield their eyes and stagger backwards, struggling to remain standing.
Marcus does not move.
His grip tightens, muscles standing out sharply beneath his armour as he continues to hold the spear steady. The energy continues to condense, compressing further and further, the crimson cone growing brighter, denser, and more unstable. The sound of the wind deepens into a low, roaring howl that drowns out all other noise.
Then, without warning, Marcus releases the spear.
The weapon vanishes from his hands in a violent flash, launching forward like a bullet fired from a colossal cannon. The air screams as it is torn apart, the shockwave flattening everything behind it. Trees in its path are not merely uprooted—they are shredded, pulverised into splinters and dust. Stone and earth are ripped free, leaving a raw, gouged corridor carved straight through the forest.
The spear races toward the castle.
Just before impact, the air above the castle ripples.
An energy barrier surges upward, forming a translucent dome that envelops the entire structure. The barrier hums with layered resonance, its surface shimmering faintly as runes flicker into existence.
The spear collides with the barrier.
The impact is catastrophic.
A thunderous boom rolls outward, flattening what remains of the forest edge. The spear continues to push forward, its tip grinding against the barrier, crimson light flaring violently as it attempts to pierce through. For several long seconds, the two forces remain locked in opposition.
Shockwaves erupt repeatedly from the point of contact, slamming outward in expanding rings. The ground buckles. Loose debris is hurled skyward. Even from afar, the sheer pressure of the clash is overwhelming.
Slowly, the spear's light begins to dim.
The crimson glow flickers, unstable, as the energy fueling it bleeds away. The barrier holds firm, its surface rippling but unbroken. With a sharp gesture from Marcus, the spear abruptly disengages, snapping backwards in a streak of fading light.
It flies back into his hand.
Marcus catches it cleanly and slams the butt of the spear into the ground with a heavy, decisive strike. The impact sends a final tremor through the earth, then silence follows.
The attack did not shatter the barrier.
But it did something else.
A straight, devastated path now stretches from the forest's edge directly to the castle gates, cleared of all obstruction. Nothing remains standing along that corridor.
The barrier remains active, unyielding.
Marcus does not attack again.
Instead, he steps forward.
The group accompanying him begins to move, advancing along the cleared path toward the castle. Their pace is measured, confident. They do not rush, nor do they hesitate.
Minutes later, the group reaches the castle and enters through its main gates. Outside, patrolmen and several knights spread out quickly, forming a tight perimeter around the structure. They take positions at every visible approach, weapons ready, eyes scanning for movement. No one is allowed to enter.
No one is allowed to leave.
Bishop Zane studies the screen intently.
The image no longer shows what lies within the castle walls.
After a brief pause, he speaks.
"It would be better if we could see what is happening inside."
Kaelan nods slightly.
He closes his eyes for a moment, extending his thoughts outward. Somewhere within the Sand Market, a small alchemical bird stirs to life. Its runes flare softly as Kaelan's will connects to it, feeding instructions directly into its core.
The bird launches.
On the screen, its perspective shifts as it darts through the air, wings beating silently as it speeds toward the castle. Its movements are smooth, controlled, and nearly invisible against the dimming sky.
Bishop Zane suddenly lifts a hand and points.
"There."
On the edge of the projection, a cloaked figure moves with unnatural subtlety. The figure slips past the guards without drawing attention, timing each step perfectly between glances and patrol routes. Without resistance, it reaches a narrow side entrance and vanishes inside the castle.
Kaelan raises an eyebrow slightly.
"They've improved," he murmurs to himself.
The castle is no ordinary structure.
It is his refined alchemy item.
The Doll-House.
Under the control of its user, it can alter its size, internal structure, and even its outward appearance. It can masquerade as a toy, a fortress, or something in between, adapting fluidly to intent and command.
The bird reaches the castle and settles onto its outer wall.
Kaelan's power flows through the connection, threading into the alchemical framework of the structure itself. The screen flickers briefly, then stabilises.
The single image splits.
Two screens.
Five.
Nine.
Nine separate views appear simultaneously, each showing a different section of the castle's interior.
Kaelan watches closely as the situation inside finally comes into view.