SCRAPE...
The heavy, high-backed wooden chair dragged against the polished marble floor, the sound echoing sharply in the cavernous, dead-silent dining hall.
Alden didn't hesitate. Despite every single alarm bell in his head screaming at him to turn around and run, he pulled the chair back and sat down. He kept his posture relaxed, his shoulders loose, leaning back into the plush upholstery with an air of complete, manufactured indifference.
He rested his hands on the arms of the chair. He didn't reach for a weapon. He didn't tense.
Sitting at the head of the ridiculously long obsidian table, Herman Blackwood watched him. The SS-Rank Demi-God of the Dwarf Empire was a man who looked like he had been literally carved out of a volcano. His thick, braided beard was the color of cooling magma, and his eyes were a deep, heavy earth-brown that seemed to weigh down the very oxygen in the room.
Thump... thump... thump...
Herman tapped a massive, ring-adorned finger against the obsidian table. The rhythm was slow, deliberate, and incredibly nerve-wracking.
Across the table, Elian looked like he was five seconds away from passing out face-first into his roasted pheasant. The poor boy was sweating profusely, his eyes darting frantically between his terrifying father and the incredibly dangerous fugitive sitting next to him.
Lyra, on the other hand, was practically vibrating. She was biting her lower lip, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her dark eyes entirely fixed on Alden. The fear that a normal person should feel in the presence of an S-Rank Existential Threat was completely absent from her face. Instead, she looked like she wanted to pull out a notebook and start asking for autographs.
"One hundred billion gold coins," Herman finally spoke. His voice was a deep, gravelly baritone that vibrated right through the floorboards and into the soles of Alden's boots.
"I have forged weapons capable of wiping small countries off the map, boy. And yet, I don't think I've ever seen a single human head worth that much."
Alden met the Demi-God's heavy gaze with his single, glowing crimson eye.
"Inflation is hitting the Human Empire pretty hard these days," Alden replied, his voice a dry, deadpan drawl.
Elian let out a strangled, high-pitched squeak.
Herman's thick eyebrows twitched. For a second, the crushing, heavy pressure in the room spiked, threatening to flatten Alden against his chair.
But then, a rumbling sound started deep in Herman's chest.
Heh... heheh... BWAHAHAHA!
The SS-Ranker threw his head back and unleashed a booming, thunderous laugh that actually rattled the crystal chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling.
"Inflation!" Herman roared, slapping his massive hand down on the table with a loud SMACK.
"By the Forge, you've got some iron in your spine, kid! I'll give you that. Any normal man would be pissing his trousers right now, but you sit at my table and crack jokes."
Alden didn't smile, but he let the coiled tension in his gut loosen by a fraction of an inch. If the guy was laughing, he wasn't currently planning a murder.
Herman's laughter subsided, but a dangerous, calculating glint remained in his brown eyes. He leaned forward, resting his massive forearms on the table.
"Liam isn't a man who throws international tantrums for no reason," Herman said, his tone dropping the humor entirely.
"The High Council's decree says you're a demonic parasite. It says you launched an unprovoked terrorist attack against a Pillar of Humanity. Now, looking at you..."
Herman's eyes narrowed, scanning Alden up and down. His perception was so sharp it physically tickled Alden's skin.
"I see a boy with a missing eye, an aura that barely scrapes the bottom of D-Rank, and physical flesh so dense it belongs on an A-Rank frontline brawler," Herman analyzed, his voice dripping with intense curiosity.
"Your body is a walking, breathing contradiction. So, tell me, Alden. Did you attack him?"
The room held its breath.
Alden knew he was walking on a razor's edge. He couldn't tell Herman about the System. He absolutely couldn't mention the heavenly lightning that had struck Liam.
"Liam is a liar," Alden stated, his voice turning cold and flat.
"He dragged me into a sensory deprivation cell under the guise of an Academy audit. He realized I had something he wanted. He tried to torture it out of me."
Alden raised a hand, pointing a finger to the black cloth wrapped around his head.
"He took my eye. He shattered my core," Alden continued, the raw, unfiltered bitterness leaking into his words.
"I didn't launch a terrorist attack. I just refused to let him take what was mine, and I managed to escape. Because he couldn't hide the fact that I got away, he framed me to cover his own tracks."
Herman stared at him. The Demi-God's eyes didn't blink. He was searching for a lie, probing the micro-expressions on Alden's face, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
After a long, agonizing moment, Herman grunted.
"Human politics," the dwarven lord spat, a look of profound disgust crossing his bearded face.
"Always wrapping their greed in the white robes of justice. Disgusting."
"Father!" Lyra suddenly blurted out, unable to contain herself for another second.
"He took down seven bandits in the woods today! Peak D-Ranks! And he didn't use a single drop of mana to do it! He used this incredible, fluid open-palm strike—it was just like his quarter-final match in the tournament, but without the spatial distortions!"
Alden blinked, turning his head to look at the girl.
'She analyzed my footwork from a tournament match months ago?' he thought, slightly disturbed by the sheer level of her fandom.
"Lyra, quiet," Herman chided gently, though there was a fond glimmer in his eye. He turned his attention back to Alden.
"Which brings me to my next question. If you are the most wanted man on the continent, why in the name of the deep earth did you walk straight toward a heavily fortified Dwarven border? And why get in a carriage belonging to my family?"
Alden exhaled slowly. He reached a hand into the deep pocket of his trousers.
"Because I needed a favor," Alden said.
CLINK!
He tossed a small, heavy object onto the polished obsidian table. It skidded across the smooth surface, coming to a stop right in front of Herman's plate.
It was the broken storage ring. The dark metal was bent and warped into a jagged oval, and the spatial crystal embedded in the center was fractured, milky, and dead.
"I don't care about the Human Empire," Alden said, his voice entirely serious.
"I don't care about the bounty. But I had a lot of gold in that ring. And more importantly... I had some personal items in there. Sentimental things. I couldn't leave them trapped in a collapsed pocket dimension."
He met Herman's eyes.
"I came to the Dwarf Empire because I know you have the best forgemasters in the world. I needed someone to fix the spatial matrix."
Herman didn't say a word. He reached out with two massive, calloused fingers and gently picked up the ruined ring.
The moment the dwarf touched the metal, his eyes began to glow with a faint, fiery orange light.
Hummmmm...
A low vibration resonated from Herman's hand as he scanned the internal architecture of the broken artifact. His expression grew incredibly serious.
"This isn't normal damage," Herman murmured, his voice low and professional.
"A simple physical blow wouldn't do this to a high-grade spatial crystal. Whatever hit you... the sheer force of it tried to completely erase the space the ring was anchored to. The matrix isn't just broken; it's shredded into a thousand microscopic pieces."
Alden's chest tightened. "Can it be fixed?"
Herman set the ring back down on the table. The fiery glow faded from his eyes.
"Ninety-nine percent of the forgemasters on this continent would tell you to throw it in the trash," Herman said bluntly.
"Fixing a completely collapsed spatial matrix without deleting the items inside requires a level of runic precision that borders on the divine. It requires a Grandmaster."
"Are you a Grandmaster?" Alden asked, leaning forward slightly.
Herman raised a thick eyebrow.
"Boy, I am the Grand Forgemaster of Ironpeak. I could fix this blindfolded while drinking a keg of ale."
A massive wave of relief washed over Alden. The photos of Alisia, the gold, the mysterious sword hilt—they weren't lost forever.
"But," Herman continued, his voice dropping an octave, the heavy, suffocating pressure returning to the room in full force.
"Why should I?"
Elian whimpered again, sinking lower into his chair.
"I could snap my fingers right now," Herman said, his aura pressing down on Alden like a physical weight.
"My butler, Sebastian, could have you bound in anti-magic chains before you even blinked. I could hand you over to the Human High Council tomorrow morning. Do you know how many trade concessions, how many political favors I could extort from them in exchange for the head of their S-Rank threat?"
Alden gritted his teeth. The pressure was immense. His Chaos core writhed in his chest, violently demanding to be unleashed to fight off the oppressive aura, but Alden ruthlessly suppressed it.
"You could," Alden agreed, his voice strained but utterly defiant. "But you won't."
"Oh?" Herman leaned closer. "And what makes you so confident, vagabond?"
"Father, stop it!"
CLATTER!
Everyone at the table jumped. Lyra had just aggressively slammed her hands down on the table, grabbing a silver steak knife and glaring daggers at her own SS-Rank father.
"He saved us!" Lyra shouted, her face flushed with anger.
"The carriage was stopped. The guards were dead. Those bandits were going to kill Elian and take me for ransom! He didn't have to step out of those woods, but he did! You are not handing him over to those corrupt human hypocrites!"
"Lyra is right," Elian chimed in, his voice shaking terribly, but he forced himself to sit up straight and look his terrifying father in the eye.
"We owe him our lives, Father. The Blackwood family doesn't betray its saviors."
Herman stared at his two children. He looked at Lyra's fiercely gripped steak knife. He looked at Elian's trembling, but resolute posture.
Then, he looked back at Alden.
The suffocating, volcanic pressure vanished. It completely evaporated, leaving the dining hall feeling suddenly light and incredibly airy.
A warm, genuine smile broke through Herman's thick iron beard.
"Put the butter knife down, Lyra," Herman chuckled softly.
He leaned back in his chair, picking up his goblet of wine. He raised it in Alden's direction.
"The Human Empire's politics mean absolutely nothing to me," Herman said, his voice loud and clear.
"Liam von Ravel can choke on his own gravity for all I care. In the Dwarf Empire, and specifically in the Blackwood house, we value one thing above all else."
Herman took a deep drink from the goblet, setting it down with a satisfied sigh.
"Debt," Herman stated firmly.
"A debt of gold can be repaid with labor. But a life debt? That is sacred."
He looked at Alden, his brown eyes entirely stripped of their earlier hostility.
"You saved my blood today, Alden von Astra. You protected my children when my own hired guards failed," Herman said, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of profound, shocking respect.
"For that, you are not a fugitive in this house. You are an honored guest."
Alden sat completely still.
For the first time since the Sifting, the heavy, paranoid armor he had wrapped around his mind began to crack. He wasn't being hunted here. He wasn't a specimen. He was just a guy who had done a good deed, and it was actually being recognized.
"Thank you," Alden breathed, the words sincere and quiet.
"Bah! Enough of this tense nonsense!" Herman suddenly roared, clapping his hands together.
"The boy is skin and bones! Sebastian! Tell the kitchens to bring out the main courses! We have a savior to feed!"
Sizzle... pop!
The heavy oak doors swung open, and a line of maids carried in massive silver platters loaded with steaming, glorious food. Roasted boars glazed in honey, massive bowls of buttery mashed potatoes, steaming stews thick with root vegetables, and loaves of fresh, crusty bread.
Alden's stomach let out another violent, embarrassing rumble, but this time, nobody laughed. They just started passing the plates.
Alden piled a ridiculous amount of food onto his plate and took his first bite of the roasted meat. The flavor literally exploded on his tongue. It was the best thing he had ever tasted in his two lifetimes.
As he ate, the tension in the room entirely dissipated.
Lyra immediately leaned across the table, her eyes shining with unapologetic fanaticism.
"Okay, so back at the tournament, during your match against the arrogant guy with the wind-blades," Lyra started, talking a mile a minute. "When you did that weird half-step to the left and warped the air—was that a pure spatial application, or were you anchoring your intent to the ground?"
Alden nearly choked on a piece of potato. He coughed, grabbing a glass of water, looking at her with wide eyes.
"You... you actually studied my matches?"
"Duh!" Lyra grinned, completely unbothered by her father's amused huff.
"I've watched them a hundred times. Now answer the question!"
Alden couldn't help it. A real, genuine laugh bubbled up from his chest, cutting through the lingering darkness of the past month.
He was sitting at a table with an SS-Rank Demi-God, a trembling scholarly boy, and a hyperactive fan-girl with a penchant for threatening people with cutlery.
He was still broken. He still had a chaotic, highly explosive mana core that refused to listen to him. He was still the most wanted man on the continent.
But as he sat there, eating warm food and listening to Lyra ramble about footwork, Alden finally felt like he had a chance to breathe.
'I'll get the ring fixed,' Alden thought, a spark of pure, unadulterated anticipation lighting up his mind.
'I'll fix the ring, I'll tame this chaotic mana, and then... then we'll see what the future holds.'