Renner's head tilted back.
He smiled.
He'd bitten the crown. He had proven enough. The mountain did not break—but the mountain DID bleed.
He would climb again.
–——
In the heart of the Empire, past miles of ivory avenues, tiered lodges, and arches, Seraphim's Hold towered as though it were proof to divine authority.
Marble spires shimmered like mirages in the midday sun, and leyline veins pulsed beneath cobblestones, embedding the city with steady currents of mana.
Statues of emperors draped in ivory stood silent along the streets, their stone eyes watching citizens—a silent but clear reminder that power watched every breath.
Yet, beneath the grandeur and subtle light magic dancing between columns, tension threaded through the city like a cold breeze.
Rumors of Ian Night—the Sovereign Titanslayer—had already slipped through the marble gates, spurred by whispers of beast tides, broken bones, a colossal wall—and the death of a princess named Velrosa.
