His crimson lips parted, Rising Pond's blood screaming in anxiety, praying not to be rejected like countless times before. "Come closer."
A desire to move filled her, but she held herself back. He might look young, but all candidates must be awakened, and that meant at least fourteen years old.
Her face had intrigued many, her skin had allured many—some had even proposed marriage for those features—but their hearts were never in the right place.
She used her willpower to resist the command. Surprise flickered across the boy's face, and he blurted out both praise and its opposite.
"Your face is very beautiful. The best I have seen. Your skin is unlike any other—I have never seen brown skin before." He muttered. Eiran's voice was unlike when he was a baby, but it still carried the allure and charm that held a listener captive.
"Your voice…" He lacked the vocabulary to describe it. "But your limbs are not well arranged."
Her face remained stern as she stared at him, but her blood contained a myriad of emotions. She hoped he wouldn't appraise her further. Most showed pity, but the most cruel ones demeaned her.
"Come closer, Rising Pond!" Her blood roared at the name call, and she found her body moving toward the boy. Her mind refused, but her blood—which commanded her emotions—did not listen.
By the time she was about to activate her talent, she was kneeling before him.
He had come down from the stone and raised his hand to her face. "Calm down!" His voice soothed her. Her blood's emotions overwhelmed her reasoning, and she calmed down, ceasing her resistance.
His warm hand held her face for a moment before he said, "I'm called Eiran Thorne."
He removed his hand and she nodded while standing taller than the boy. Her body was covered with sweat. As wind blew into the chamber, a cool breeze washed away her worries.
'This is an unusual candidate!' she thought. 'But why does he only have a skirt, not the royal attire?'
His eyes had overwhelmed her—she hadn't thought of it before, but now she did.
"Can you wait outside? I need to speak with this entity!" Eiran spoke.
This time she didn't resist his command. As she turned to walk, she stumbled but didn't fall. Somehow her shoes were uneven. She removed them to avoid delay and walked barefoot.
She was about to reach the door when she froze, fear gripping her. Her hand rose, the shoe she held dangling, and she dropped it to see more clearly. They were the same height. She looked down at her legs, stood firm—the same, with no height difference between her legs.
What was more disturbing now was that her breathing was shortening due to added weight on her chest. A small change, but undoubtedly a significant one.
She whipped her head back to the boy. He was back on his stone, but his gaze was on the orange man.
The man smiled as he observed the woman. "So, you are a Paladin?"
"A Paladin? Is that a talent category?" Eiran asked.
"Yes, a newly discovered one. Authentic healers fall under it. But they can do more than heal—they can fight too. Healing brings them certain perks!" The man's voice was normal, unremarkable like most people's.
Rising Pond calmed down and was about to walk out when the man spoke. "A chamberlain should be your confidant. Asking her to leave is not ideal. Perhaps she needs to stay!"
Eiran was thoughtful. "I don't know how these things work. Then it's fine!"
The man stepped forward, appearing close to Eiran, but Rising Pond was already between them.
"Apologies, Captain, but you are too close. That line was the limit for visitors."
There was a thick red line steps before the door. The man smiled but didn't move back as he spoke. "Most tried to escape him but failed. How did you do it while also maintaining your independence and mind?"
"Can you clarify what you saw?" Eiran asked. He needed to know what this entity saw before he answered.
"Aren't you from that Red Orb? Were you not the one who burst out of it and escaped?"
'He didn't see my headless mother. He also might not have seen me as a baby,' Eiran thought.
Eiran still didn't answer. The man sighed and said, "I'm building another team, and I want you to be in it!"
"I'm very interested. What should I do?" Eiran would never miss the chance to go after the vile man.
"Good. Grow. Reach phase 3 at least. If he hasn't reached Phase 4, we will hunt him. If he has, then that's out of my realm."
He turned to leave, but Eiran's voice halted him. "You need some healing. You are about to collapse. I recommend Doctor Gerard."
"That won't be necessary." He left, but on the stairs his body began trembling, his breathing ragged. If one were to look at his skin, they would see blood forming and flowing but also vanishing, consumed by something.
His body became half shadow, several hearts sending their pounding sounds out. But he calmed down moments later.
"I need to rest!" he muttered before his thoughts turned to the boy. He was confused—he thought he would meet someone younger and "He recognized me with a glance."
The man called Captain was the very captain who had led the team of thirty Phase 3 warriors to face the Blood Monarch.
He was the one who could turn into shadow. And beneath the shadow came something otherworldly.
Eiran got a glimpse of the creature beneath the shadow, and he felt it when it came into view—that was how he recognized the captain.
The captain had prepared to have a conversation with introductions and convincing, but when the boy said he would talk to "that entity," he grasped that the boy knew him and no longer felt the need for that conversation.
But something stirred in him about the boy—a desire to touch him and grasp what he was. Thankfully, he had control, or else he would have gone ahead with that desire.
His dark, thick uniform blended with the shadow around him. Only the numerous adornments on his chest—several medals of honor that shone in the little light—announced his presence.
His military peaked cap was also adorned with multiple metallic designs that instinctively attracted attention.
The whole uniform he wore attracted more attention than his orange skin. This served to ensure that even if he flickered and lost himself, people would not notice—lest they see things they shouldn't and lose their minds.
***
Eiran only relaxed when the man was no longer on the stairs. He jumped down from the stone and observed himself.
His limbs were perfect, as original—the sensation of touch, the feeling of slight pain, the texture of his palm, the major lines of his palm, and even the warmth were all like the original.
His feet too. He swayed back and stood on his heels, a smile coming to his mouth, then swayed and stood on his toes. "Haha!" He giggled like a boy and then jumped.
His jump wasn't that high—it was modest like every child's. He spun on one leg and then alternated to the other leg, his curiosity brimming with fire.
Then he began to dance with his feet, a local tribal dance he had once noticed on screen at Mama Thorne's orphanage. He wasn't good at it, but it brought him joy. The dance also involved clapping with his hands and striking his chest, thighs, and stomach.
As he performed the dance, the memory of the scents from the screen became vivid in his mind. His body began to coordinate better until he was doing almost as well as them.
Then he reached a climax with a pose: hands spread up, standing on his left heel, the right foot raised up into the sky.
"Haha!" he giggled.
Clap. Clap. Clap!
"Those are good moves. You seemed to have just mastered them!" Rising Pond said. Eiran turned and faced her—he had forgotten about her completely.
One step, two steps—he stood before her. She was taller, though he wasn't short either. He gazed at her now-sunken cheeks and eyes, thinner skin than when she had arrived, and more slender arms hidden behind sleeves that had once been tight on her arms but were now loose.
Eiran's hand shot out to grab her necklace made with beads, and she moved with ease. "Prince Eiran, what are you doing?" she asked gently.
"Let me see that necklace!" he asked as he attempted again, his voice playful. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I can't. Can we talk now about—"
Eiran was faster, but she saw it coming. Her body blurred and she appeared behind him. "You seem to have no formal body training."
She muttered as he swirled around. When he grabbed, she moved to his side, bent, and touched his bicep. "You have no muscle for explosive movement."
Eiran didn't stop attempting, but she kept moving slowly and elegantly. He was always a hair's breadth away from touching but failing, and frustration was building in him.
He stopped. "Let me see. It looks amazing!"
"I know. But not now. We have important things to discuss!"
Eiran ignored her. Trying to grab the necklace had a purpose—it was training his coordination in a fun way—and he got the gist of that. Then he ran around the chamber.
Rising Pond pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation and said in defeat, "We need to talk about your next test. A fight?"
Eiran came to a sudden halt. "A WHAT?" he shrieked.