Chapter 305: Chapter 305

Vaeliyan and the others were regrouped in the meeting room aboard the Boltfire. The mirror-silver ship floated through the upper atmosphere, its surface catching the harsh white glare of noon light pouring through the thin clouds. Every reflection gleamed like liquid glass, throwing fractured flashes of brilliance across the curved walls. The atmosphere inside the ship felt stretched and distant, like being wrapped in a vacuum. The silence pressed against their ears, heavy but comfortable. The crew sat together, eyes shifting between the holographic interfaces and each other. They hadn’t finished their training at the Citadel, yet they were already legends to those below. Power, rank, and scars they didn’t ask for. No map forward. Just questions.

Vaeliyan leaned forward across the table, voice low but focused. “We are going to hit the halfway point soon. The leveling is going to start slowing down. If we don’t figure out what comes next, we’re going to stall.” His words hung in the air like a pulse of gravity, drawing everyone’s attention. Even Styll, curled along the console, lifted her silver head.

Lessa drummed her fingers. “Feels wrong, doesn’t it? Like the system’s choking us on purpose.”

Jurpat gave a sharp exhale through his nose. “That’s how it always works. Advancement slows is your soul is lacking.”

They needed answers. So, they reached for their old instructors. The team waited, eyes reflecting the shifting icons across the 360° glass, until finally a single connection flared to life.

Deck’s projection filled the display, a sharp grin spreading before he even spoke. “Hey, you little shits, what’s going on?” His tone carried a kind of warmth only he could pull off, half mockery, half affection.

Vaeliyan crossed his arms. “You were the only one we could get to. You’re always listening.”

Deck barked a laugh. “Damn right I am. Been listening to all your recordings too. Some crazy shit you’ve been doing. Congratulations on your first not fuck up,” he said, grinning. “I mean, mission. That’s cool. You’re probably looking for Velrock about the soul thing, right? Maybe Wirk. I’ll patch you through. And hey, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you little bastards. Good luck out there.”

The 360° glass flickered as Deck’s image dissolved. A ripple of static washed across the surface before stabilizing into five new projections: Dr. Wirk, Isol, Velrock, and Imujin. They appeared in scattered lighting, each surrounded by the familiar glow of their personal environments.

Velrock spoke first, rubbing his eyes as if dragging himself out of a dream. “Oh sorry, I thought I sent you all a list of progression details and such with Varnai. Guess that must’ve slipped my mind. I’ll send it now. I was in the middle of a power nap, and you have no idea how hard it is to break out of one of those.” He squinted, studying their faces. "Do you have any questions I you need answered right now or can I go back?"

Vaeliyan’s expression didn’t shift. “What’s the next stage, then?”

Velrock blinked, sluggish, then smiled faintly. “You all are stage four. The fifth stage is...” He paused, searching for words. “You’ve got to give me a second, I’m still half-asleep.”

Dr. Wirk stepped forward, his projection cutting closer. “It’s the stage of conflict. You need to go into your soul and find what it fears. Not what you fear, what it fears. What it truly fears. The fifth stage marks the beginning of understanding your soul as its own creature. When you reach level fifty, the System changes the rules. It’s your first true entry into power.”

He continued, voice gaining clarity as he spoke. “When you hit fifty, you’ll gain Skill Synthesis points. They let you fuse two skills into one, something stronger than both. You can save points to merge more, but I don’t recommend it. You lose efficiency. Better to evolve gradually. Every level ending with five gives you two evolution points as before, but now it will also give you a Skill Synthesis point. This is what defines the advanced path.”

“That sounds incredible,” Vaeliyan said, a genuine smile cutting through his usual calm. “So, the next step isn’t grinding. It’s introspection.”

Imujin lowered his cup and smirked. “You finished your first mission, but did you ever go back to Mara?"

"Yeah, we went home for a bit." Vaeliyan replied.

"What about that seed I gave you?” Imujin questioned.

Vaeliyan frowned. “I figured it could wait.”

Imujin clicked his tongue. “That seed is the foundation of your Citadel. Don’t let it sit dormant.”

Vaeliyan blinked. “That’s something you should’ve mentioned earlier.”

Imujin laughed. “I did you idiot. Do you think I hand out seeds for decoration? It’s not symbolic. It’s engineered. Feed it your blood, and it’ll form a structure that reflects your will. At first, it’ll be small, but over time, it’ll grow in ways you need it to.”

“Wait,” Vaeliyan said. “So, the Citadels are alive? And you weren’t being hyperbolic?”

“Alive enough,” Imujin replied. “Made of Bloodvine, sustained by the headmaster’s blood. It must be fed yearly. If the headmaster dies, the Citadel dies with them.”

Imujin chuckled. “Mine’s blood-red. Yours will be gold, same as the pulse in your ring when it’s honest with itself.”

Vaeliyan exhaled softly. “You could’ve told me that before I left.”

Imujin sighed. " I didn't think about the fact you don't have access right now. So, didn't learn what you needed to."

Isol’s projection leaned closer. “We’re heading to Mara soon. We’ll help you set up. It’s time.”

Vaeliyan nodded. “Then we’ll be ready.”

Imujin’s cup clinked against the table. “I’ll delay clearing out the rest of my stuff for now. I’ll leave a few vials of blood to keep it alive. See you soon.” ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ novel※fire.net

Isol turned and shouted off-screen, “Josaphine, change course. We’re going to Mara.”

Josaphine’s voice floated back, dry as ever. “Send me coordinates. I still don’t know where that is.”

One by one, the projections vanished. The Boltfire drifted on, suspended in noon’s white blaze. The light ran down the polished table like liquid fire. Vaeliyan sat back, eyes steady, a faint reflection of gold catching on his ring.

Vaeliyan looked at his ring, the faint pulse of gold still tracing through the metal like a heartbeat. It glowed softly against the dim interior light, a constant reminder of what he carried within him. He lifted his gaze toward the rest of the Complaints Department, everyone except Chime, who was still at the helm, locked in her rhythm of precision. The others were gathered loosely around the long table, half-listening, half-lost in thought. The air inside the Boltfire felt clean and weightless, but the quiet pressed in all the same.

Bastard padded around the meeting room, silver eyes flicking from wall to wall. His claws clicked against the polished floor, a steady rhythm that carried impatience more than sound. The ship was enormous, a mobile fortress of mirrored surfaces and seamless corridors, but confinement was confinement. The walls could change to look like anything, open fields, painted skies, vast ocean horizons, but Bastard saw through it all. The illusion didn’t help. He didn’t hate being indoors; he hated that he couldn’t leave, that even the infinite projections were still just a cage pretending to be a sky. His tail lashed once, slow and deliberate. He wanted real wind, real space.

The others had learned to ignore his restless pacing. Momo sat in Lessa’s lap, purring lightly, her rocky hide faintly humming with warmth. The bear’s miniature form looked almost delicate, a stark contrast to the power she carried when fully grown. Styll was draped across Vaeliyan’s shoulders, a living scarf of fur and muscle, eyes blinking with curious rhythm as she watched the others from her perch. Her tail flicked lazily against his jaw each time someone spoke. It grounded him.

Vaeliyan finally broke the silence. “Is it normal for buildings to be seeds in the Green Zone?” His voice carried evenly, more thought than question.

It wasn’t Elian who answered. It was Ramis. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his expression halfway between disbelief and humor. “Honestly, it’s not that uncommon. Another one of those Green Zone gimmicks that took off for a while. Sounds like yours is way more advanced, though. Most of the time, they’re just small house seeds, bio-constructs that grow a foundation and maybe a support frame. They still need builders for the rest. Yours, though… sounds like it’s something else. If it can grow Bloodvine walls and ceilings, then that’s a different league entirely.” He rubbed his temples and let out a low breath. “Still, if that’s a full Citadel seed, holy hells. Where are we even supposed to put it? That thing’s going to be bigger than Mara.”

Vaeliyan blinked slowly, the reality of it setting in. “Yeah. I have no idea. Mara’s smaller than I thought. I used to think it was a city. So, if this thing grows the way Imujin said, it’ll be at least three times the size of everything we’ve got down there. Maybe more.”

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“Then we’re going to have to start building up,” Ramis muttered, straightening in his chair. “Way up.”

Elian gave a slow nod, already swiping through holographic panels hovering above his wrist. “That’s why I’ve been preparing all these forms.” He flicked his hand, and a cascade of digital files slid across the table toward Vaeliyan’s interface: blueprints, requisition forms, material manifests. “I can handle logistics, but the real funding is on you. We’ll all chip in, but you’re going to have to cover ninety percent, minimum.”

Vaeliyan opened one of the files, his eyes tracking the long columns of data. He scrolled slowly, frowning, until he reached the projected total. The number made his breath catch. “Oh dear gods,” he said quietly. “I’m going to have to sell Bell to afford this.”

Elian didn’t even look up from his screen. “They wouldn’t take your child. Not efficient.”

Vaeliyan shot him a glare. “I wasn’t being serious.” His tone softened into resignation. “But this is going to drain a lot. I could pull from the Glass Ocean accounts, but that project’s not supposed to exist yet. If I do that, someone will notice. Maybe I can convince Imujin, Isol, and Josaphine to help fund some of it. I doubt they’ll cover everything, but even partial support could stabilize the start.” He exhaled through his teeth. “Still… this is going to bleed me dry. Dear gods.”

Lessa looked up, her voice soft but firm. “Speaking of gods, have they tried contact you?”

Vaeliyan shook his head, eyes distant. “No. Usually, when I finish one of Steel’s tasks, she calls me into her realm right away. Nothing this time. It’s strange. Either she’s busy or something’s happening beyond us. I could reach out to Umdar and ask.”

Elian cleared his throat. “So what’s the plan then? We get to Mara, we find a spot for this seed, and then what? Just watch it grow?”

Vaeliyan’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “Something like that. We start with the impossible and build from there.”

Ramis leaned back, crossing his arms. “Typical.”

The Boltfire broke through the clouds, sunlight scattering across its mirrored hull in a thousand molten shards. The ship glided downward, cutting through the haze until the city of Mara appeared beneath them—low spires, crumbled walls, veins of greenery crawling through the fractures of what had once been civilization. The craft descended silently, coming to rest in the park behind Vaeliyan’s house. The grass bowed beneath its weight, bending but not breaking, silver reflections rolling across the sleek surface as the hatch slid open. The smell of home hit them first: dust, salt, iron, and the faint sweetness of flowering moss. It was the scent of a city that refused to die.

They stepped out one by one, blinking against the light. Boots pressed into the soil, grounding them after weeks of metal floors and filtered air. Fenn was the first to move. He had armfuls of lances strapped together in a chaotic bundle, stacked up to his chin, half of them not even his, and he could barely see over the pile. It looked like a walking storage closet had suddenly gained legs. The lances clattered softly against one another as he adjusted his grip, staggering for balance before breaking into a full sprint. He bolted forward, laughing, the absurd image of him vanishing toward the city before anyone could stop him. His laughter echoed faintly across the park.

Vaeliyan frowned. “Do you have any idea where you’re going?” he shouted, raising a hand to block the glare.

“Yeah! I’m gonna find Car!” Fenn’s voice drifted back, bright and confident, though his sense of direction had never once lived up to either.

Vaeliyan sighed, shoulders slumping. “Alright, good luck then. There’s no pad out here, so you’ll be on foot. And if you get lost, we’re not coming to find you.”

Fenn called over his shoulder, “I have a great sense of direction!”

Ramis snorted. “Can anyone confirm that Fenn has any sense of direction at all?”

Varnai covered her mouth, laughing. “He got lost trying to find the bathroom once.”

“Yeah, he did,” Torman said flatly. “He’s dead.”

They all turned to watch as Fenn continued down the winding street until he disappeared behind a cluster of ruined buildings. For a moment, silence. Then Vaeliyan cupped his hands and called out, “You’re going the exact opposite direction!”

From somewhere out of sight, Fenn’s voice returned, indignant. “I knew that! I was just testing!”

“Sure you were, buddy,” Vaeliyan muttered. He flicked his wrist, pulling up a translucent display and sending coordinates through his AI. “Here. Try not to end up in the wrong district again.”

Fenn blinked at the map that unfolded before his eyes. Mara was a labyrinth of uneven streets and reconstructed architecture. Entire blocks built on top of old foundations. Corridors that led nowhere. The kind of place where even locals used AI mapping to avoid dead ends. “Thanks,” he said finally. “Didn’t need it, but… oh. Okay. Maybe I did.”

Vaeliyan smirked. “Good luck. Have fun finding Car. He might not even be there.”

Fenn waved dismissively. “Florence said he should be when I messaged her. Your going to be to see Belle and the others, right?”

Vaeliyan nodded. “Yeah. Don’t get yourself killed trying to prove a point.”

Fenn grinned. “No promises!” Then he broke into another sprint, vanishing once again into the maze of the old city.

They stood there a moment longer, watching the dust settle where he’d been. Roan crossed his arms and exhaled sharply through his teeth. “He’s not coming back alive.”

Vaeliyan’s mouth curved in the faintest of smiles. “If anyone can survive this city’s layout, it’s Fenn. Or… maybe not.”

Xera shook her head, laughing. “I’m betting not. You know he’ll end up back here in a few hours acting like he planned it all along”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Chime added dryly. “Last time he tried to navigate, he made a full circle and called it a shortcut.”

They began walking toward the house. The park stretched behind them, the Boltfire’s mirrored body gleaming like a captured sun. It reflected the skyline in liquid fragments, the ghost of movement skating across its surface.

Vaeliyan slowed, taking one last look over his shoulder at the ship. It stood there like a memory carved in light, silent and still. “Feels strange being back,” he said quietly.

Lessa looked at him with a faint smile. “Home always does.”

He nodded once, then turned toward the narrow path leading to his house. Mara’s shadows stretched long under the sun, a living reminder that even ruins could grow roots again.

Out of the side hallway near the entrance, Wren slid in on socks, hitting the floor in a perfect, practiced glide like she had sprinted for miles just to nail the landing. She grinned, hands out like she had scored a point. “Hello. Your home?”

Vaeliyan stepped through the doorway beside her, Sylen and Lessa right behind him. “Yeah. We completed the mission. I’m home for a few hours, and then we have… hmm.” He tilted his head. “Would you like to go to dinner with High Commander Ruka and the rest of the Complaints Department?”

Wren didn’t even hesitate. “No. No, I really wouldn’t.”

Before Vaeliyan could respond, Sylen slipped around him, eyes bright. She didn’t say a word, just wrapped Wren in a tight, genuine hug. Wren smiled softly and hugged her back, a quiet moment of relief passing between them. Then Sylen let go and walked off without another word, heading down the hall following Jurpat.

Lessa stretched, rolling her shoulders as Momo, Bastard, and Styll padded in behind her. “I’m taking these three,” she said. “We’re going to the courtyard to meditate or wrestle or something.”

“Or something,” Vaeliyan said.

Lessa smirked and vanished down the hall with the Bonds trotting close behind.

Vaeliyan sighed contentedly and turned back to Wren. “Fair enough. I have about five hours before I need to leave again. After that, I’ll be home for real. Apparently, we’re going to have a stretch of downtime before the next deployment. Hopefully, no message from the High Chancellor asking me to come visit him or telling me he’s coming here. That’s the last thing I need right now. After that, I’m free for a few days. Maybe more.”

He set his gear bag onto the rack by the door. “Our instructors from the Red Citadel are coming to help me set up my own Citadel. It’s supposed to be larger than all of Mara put together. So, we’ll need to figure out where in the world to put it.”

Wren tilted her head. “Yeah, that’s going to be fun to explain to the neighbors.”

He laughed softly. “After that, we can just be a family again.” He paused. “Oh, and I also need to talk to Grix, see what’s going on with her.”

“Oh, she’s here,” Wren said casually. “You can talk to her now. She’s in the seventh pool.”

Vaeliyan blinked. “Did you just say seventh pool?”

“Yeah. Did you know we have, like, ten pools?” She smile.

He groaned. “You counted?”

She shrugged, smiling. “You built them.”

Vaeliyan raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t actually build anything in this house. It kind of builds itself around me, so I guess it makes sense that it decided I needed a lot of pools.”

House’s voice chimed in from the ceiling. “Yes. It seemed like the right amount of moisture for your optimal environment. Though after you did shift my structure, you appeared to forget about the pools.”

Vaeliyan blinked, glancing upward. “Yeah, that sounds like something I’d do.”

He leaned against the wall, shaking his head with a half-smile. “I’ve lived in this house for a year, and I’m still finding new places. I didn’t even know we had a single pool, let alone ten.”

House replied warmly, “That is because you have spent most of your days either training or in your forge, which is still off-limits until the power lines are upgraded. Did you happen to file the forms Lord Sarn sent you?”

Before Vaeliyan could answer, Elian entered from the side hallway, datapad in hand, clearly exhausted. “Yes, he did, House. The upgraded power line should be connected within the next day or two. I’ve been signing forms all day to make sure it happens.”

Vaeliyan nodded. “Good. I really need to get the Skill Forge up so I can start fixing my build.”

The front doors opened again as more of the Complaints Department entered shaking off travel fatigue. They greeted Wren with tired nods and soft hellos, moving into the house with the rhythm of routine. One by one, they dropped their lances and packs onto the recessed platforms near the wall, watching as the equipment sank into the storage system with quiet efficiency.

“Still weird,” Vaeliyan muttered, watching the lances vanish. “Feels like feeding the house.”

House replied evenly, “It is efficient. Retrieval is immediate upon request.”

Elian snorted. “At least it doesn’t make us fill out requisitions before it eats our gear.”

Vaeliyan smiled, the faint warmth of home settling over him as the structure adjusted its light to the new occupants.

Vaeliyan went to get Belle, carrying her in his arms as he followed House’s directions toward the third sub-basement. The hallways curved and shifted slightly as he moved, lights softening to mimic the glow of early afternoon. When he stepped through the last door, he found himself standing in front of what could only be described as an indoor beach.

Warm sand pressed between his bare feet, smooth and golden. The pool beside it rippled like real seawater under artificial sunlight. House had said every pool was themed, but this one went beyond that, it felt like stepping into another world entirely.

Grix wasn’t swimming. She was stretched out on a reclined chair, sunglasses perched lazily on her face, a drink balanced on the table beside her. Cassian was sprawled next to her, equally relaxed. In the water, Deanna floated on her back, eyes closed, her hair drifting lazily in the artificial current while Nanuk practiced spear forms a few meters away, each motion slicing cleanly through the water.

Near the shoreline, Mel sat cross-legged in the sand, watching his little sister Tasina as she built an ambitious fortress of sandcastles. He helped occasionally, pressing walls and towers into shape when they started to slump.

Vaeliyan blinked, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “Huh. This is actually really nice,” he said. “Didn’t know I liked beaches… but then again, I didn’t hate Meri’s house, so I guess that makes sense.”

He shifted Belle in his arms and walked toward them, the texture of the sand soft beneath his feet and the air carrying the faint scent of salt and sunlight.