The Madness of Yilheim

Somewhere in Yilheim…

In the depths of a forgotten prison, silence hung like dust. Two figures sat in the same cell, chained to opposite walls—arms and legs bound in thick, rune-etched shackles.

Dreados sat with his back straight, calm and unmoving. Across from him, Omfry strained against his restraints, every muscle rippling with effort.

With a quiet breath, Dreados spoke.

"It is futile, Omfry. You cannot break those chains."

Omfry froze mid-struggle, turned his head slowly, and whispered, "Futile? Futile?"

Then he vanished.

A split-second later, he reappeared—his fist crashing into Dreados's face.

BOOM.

Wind howled through the cracked door, slicing the air like a blade. Dreados exhaled sharply, blood trailing from his lip.

Omfry yelled, voice raw, "This is all your fault! If you'd stayed with us—if you hadn't left—we wouldn't have lost so many friends! We wouldn't be captured!"

Dreados raised his eyes, voice steady.

"You're being illogical. So now it's my fault Pungence appeared? Even if I had stayed… do you truly believe we could've defeated him?"

Omfry slammed his fist into the stone wall, the walled remained unscathed. He slumped to the floor, trembling with frustration.

"I've never felt this powerless in my life."

Dreados gazed at the ceiling.

"You know the saying: No matter how strong you are… there is always someone stronger."

---

Elsewhere in the same prison…

In a separate corridor, Daiel and Sumshus sat chained to the walls. But their restraints glowed faintly, inscribed with suppressing runes.

Daiel stood, straining as he tried to summon a portal.

"Damn it! Why can't I open one?"

Sumshus sat cross-legged, fingers brushing the glowing chains.

"I can't make my twisters either. Must be the bindings…"

Daiel collapsed beside him, panting.

"I didn't know the Binding Hand was this powerful… They can even suppress our Seed abilities. We're screwed."

---

Another section.

Jeriana and Anuel hung in silence, chained in a separate cell. Neither spoke. Their eyes did all the screaming.

Not far from them, in a dim solitary chamber, Lisa sat alone—motionless, emotionless, shackled in the dark.

---

Meanwhile, in Donesria…

Eliana lay unconscious, tied with rope, her body bumping gently inside a wooden wagon pulled by a horse. Two Aurellians flanked her.

One held the reins. The other—bandaged heavily across his eyes and arms—sat beside the bound princess.

The driver spoke.

"How much do you think we'll get for her?"

The other replied weakly, "Enough to be set for life. With it, I'll find a high-tier healer to fix me…"

The driver chuckled.

"After this, we can finally leave this life behind."

Suddenly—

BOOM.

The ground cracked. Dust flew. A massive figure landed before the horse, halting the wagon in an instant.

The driver's eyes widened.

"What was that…?"

The bandaged Aurellian stiffened.

"Baiu? What happened?"

But Baiu—gripping the reins—couldn't speak. His mouth moved, but no sound came.

Pungence stared at him with eyes like judgment.

The other Aurellian called again, "Baiu?! Say something!"

Without a word, Pungence walked past the silent driver and reached the wagon's rear. He stared down at Eliana.

The bandaged man shouted, "What's going on?!"

Pungence reached forward and gently pulled Eliana into his arms.

The man growled, grabbing her back. "Don't you dare—!"

Snap.

With a flick of Pungence's finger, the Aurellian was blown away—the wagon disintegrating in the blast. Eliana remained untouched.

The driver, panicked, launched into the sky, fleeing at top speed.

Pungence picked up a small rock with two fingers.

He didn't even look. He raised his hand behind him—and flicked.

The rock broke the sound barrier several times over in a blink—BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

It struck the fleeing Aurellian in the chest, obliterating his insides. He crashed lifelessly to the ground, blood misting the wind.

Pungence held Eliana close and whispered into his strek.

"Come to my location immediately. I have two prisoners to arrest… and a small task for you."

Pause.

"What do you think of a trip to Ignir?"

---

At the Black March hideout…

Gozay hovered 3 kilometres above ground, flanked by the surviving Spellbounds. His expression was cold.

He raised two fingers.

A golden barrier enveloped his wife—and shot her upward, through the mountain, toward him.

As she reached him, he whispered, "Maloi."

Maloi extended a hand. A cyclone of freezing air blasted downward like a divine cannon.

BOOOOM.

The Black March hideout froze solid—structures, weapons, and warriors encased in crystalline death.

Starla reached Gozay, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"They took our daughter, Gozay! Our poor daughter—"

He held her, firm and unshaken.

"She will be returned to us. That I promise you."

His strek rang.

He answered.

Pungence's voice crackled through:

>"I have your daughter."

Gozay's lips curled into a smile.

"Words aren't enough to express my gratitude."

> "Don't mention it," came the reply.

Starla turned to him, eyes wide. "Was that…?"

Gozay nodded.

"Yes. Our daughter is safe."

---

In the quiet forest near Kintol, the air rang with the sharp whack of steel against bark. Valerius stood shirtless beneath the sun, lean and quiet, his long sword slicing effortlessly through the thick trunks of ancient trees. Each swing was clean. Final. No wasted strength.

Despite his lack of bulk—no abs, no muscles—he brought down trees like a seasoned lumberjack. One swing per trunk. That was all it took.

Grace sat nearby on a chopped log, chin resting on her palms, elbows on her knees.

"How are you so strong?" she asked, eyes fixed on him.

Valerius shook his head, sweat barely on his brow.

"I'm not strong," he muttered. "I used to think I was."

Grace tilted her head. "Stop lying. You just chopped down that tree like it was paper. With a sword."

He walked past her, swung again, and another tree collapsed.

"Why are you always following me?" he asked, resting the sword on his shoulder.

"Don't you have friends?"

"I do. You're just... interesting," she said with a shrug. She picked up a stick and twirled it between her fingers. "Is everyone where you're from as strong as you?"

Valerius paused, blade resting.

"No. Apart from my mother and my brother..." He looked at her. "No one was. Not even close. And that—" he smirked bitterly "—that went to my head. Until I came to this bullshit place."

"'Bullshit'? So, my village is horrible now?" Grace asked, raising an eyebrow.

Valerius waved his hand. "Not your village. Somewhere else. Far away."

He sliced another fallen tree into smaller pieces.

"The people there... they can crush me like an ant."

Grace stepped forward. "Is that how you got injured?"

"Yeah," he said plainly. "Those people are powerful. Beyond anything you've ever seen. Magic, strength—"

"My uncle went to the capital once. Said the mages there could do incredible things."

Valerius didn't reply.

Grace walked to him and bent slightly to look into his eyes.

"You look so frail... but you're strong. It's strange."

Valerius glanced up. "Who are you calling frail?"

Grace grinned. "You're not even breathing hard."

He turned and walked off.

"I need clothes. I can't wear this every day."

"Only the children's clothes will fit you," Grace teased.

"Better than nothing."

Without warning, Valerius dug his fingers into two fallen trunks—one with each hand—and began dragging them behind him.

"Let's go."

They returned to the edge of the ruined house—Grace's home, now collapsed into rubble. Valerius dropped the logs and sighed.

"Time to clear this place."

He frowned.

"I forgot the sword..." Then he turned and walked back into the forest.

As soon as he was gone, Grace's friends appeared from behind the trees—three of them, all familiar faces from the village.

Brian, with long messy brown hair.

Lilith, short-haired and bursting with energy.

Freya, cautious, arms always crossed, hair neat and long.

Freya folded her arms.

"Leaving us for the demon already, are we?"

Grace turned to them. "It's been one day. I'm not leaving anyone."

Brian smirked.

"Grace found herself a pretty boy and forgot all about us."

"It's not like that," Grace said quickly.

Lilith leaned in, grinning.

"Then can I have him? He's gorgeous."

Brian chuckled. "You sure you won't break him? He's tiny."

"I'll be gentle," Lilith purred.

"Stop it." Grace rolled her eyes. "And for the record, he'd be the one breaking you."

Lilith put a hand on her chest, pretending to be offended.

"Excuse me, Grace? None of the boys in this village can handle me."

"He's not like the boys here."

"Nope," Lilith said dreamily. "He's gorgeous."

Freya narrowed her eyes. "I still don't trust him. Maybe he's trying to gain your trust… and then have his way with you."

Grace groaned. "Is that all you people ever think about?"

Freya sniffed. "I want to see this 'demon' up close."

"You know he's not a demon, right?"

"He might be in disguise," Freya muttered.

Brian added, "As good-looking as he is, he might be nobility."

Lilith gasped dramatically, covering her mouth.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Grace. Planning to marry into nobility already?"

Grace turned away, ignoring them, and began lifting stones from the debris.

Freya blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Helping rebuild my house. What does it look like?"

Brian laughed. "That's a man's job, Grace."

"Then thanks for stopping by."

Freya sighed. "Fine." She joined her.

One by one, they all started clearing rubble.

As they worked, Lilith asked, "So where did he come from, anyway?"

"He's the guy who fell into the river."

Lilith lit up. "Really?! That was him?"

Grace nodded. "Since you all ran away, you never got to see him."

Freya said, "And why didn't you run away, Grace? Your curiosity's going to get you killed one day."

Grace smiled faintly.

"Maybe. But not today."

Valerius returned, sword in hand, dragging it lazily across the ground. As he stepped into view, he paused. A soft breeze rustled his messy hair. His green eyes narrowed.

Grace was no longer alone.

Three others were with her, lifting stones, laughing, talking. Grace saw him and smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"There you are," she called.

Valerius raised an eyebrow. "What's this? Reinforcements?"

Grace dusted off her hands. "You were taking too long."

Lilith turned, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw him.

"Oh," she breathed. "So that's him."

Brian whispered, "He really is pretty."

"I know, right?" Lilith replied without shame.

Valerius stopped beside the pile of rubble, his gaze calm but piercing. "Who are these people?"

"My friends," Grace said. "Don't worry, they're mostly harmless."

"Mostly?" Valerius repeated.

Lilith dropped the rock she was holding and stepped forward, her grin wide. "Hi. I'm Lilith. I've heard so much about you. Grace wouldn't shut up."

Grace rolled her eyes. "I literally said two things."

Valerius looked Lilith up and down. "Do you flirt with every stranger who falls from the sky?"

"Only the cute ones," she said with a wink.

Brian stepped forward. "I'm Brian. Don't mind Lilith, she flirts with tree trunks."

"Hey!" Lilith elbowed him.

"And I'm Freya," the last girl said, arms crossed, her tone sceptical. "I don't trust you."

Valerius tilted his head. "The feeling's mutual."

Grace sighed. "Be nice, all of you. He's helping me rebuild the house."

"Really?" Brian said, nodding toward the fallen trees. "With that sword?"

"It's all I've got," Valerius replied. "Unless you've got chainsaws around here."

Lilith chuckled. "What's a chainsaw?"

"Never mind," Valerius muttered.

Freya watched him carefully. "Where are you from, anyway?"

Valerius glanced at Grace, then looked back at Freya. "Far."

Lilith grinned. "That's not an answer."

"Exactly," he said.

Brian smirked. "He's cryptic. I like it."

"Good for you," Valerius replied flatly, walking over to the rubble. He placed his sword down and began lifting large stones with quiet ease.

Lilith whispered to Grace, "Is he always this grumpy?"

Grace whispered back, "Only when he's awake."

Valerius turned his head slightly. "I can hear you."

Lilith giggled. "Just checking."

Freya watched him work, narrowing her eyes. "You don't look strong."

Valerius didn't respond. He lifted a slab of wall effortlessly and dropped it to the side.

Brian gave an impressed whistle. "I stand corrected."

Valerius straightened and looked at Grace. "Why didn't you tell me you had backup?"

Grace shrugged. "You never asked."

He nodded. "Fair."

Lilith smiled at Grace. "You've got a thing for quiet, dangerous boys, don't you?"

Grace shook her head. "Don't start."

Valerius raised a brow. "I'm standing right here."

"Exactly," Lilith said. "Makes it more fun."

Freya stepped closer. "You're not from here, and you've got no family. What exactly are you planning to do?"

Valerius looked her dead in the eye. "Survive."

That silenced her for a moment.

Grace spoke up. "He's helping me rebuild. That's all. You guys can go if you're going to keep interrogating him."

Brian lifted his hands. "Hey, no harm meant. Just curious. It's not every day someone falls out of the sky and steals your spotlight."

"I don't want a spotlight," Valerius said. "I want clothes that fit."

Lilith laughed. "We've got some children's outfits. You'd look adorable."

Valerius looked at Grace. "Is this normal?"

Grace nodded. "Very."

Valerius sighed and picked up another piece of rubble. "Then I'll endure."

---

The sun shone brightly over Heful, the glorious capital of Zitry Kingdom. Tall spires and white-gold buildings glimmered across the skyline like blades of light piercing the clouds. Marble streets sparkled beneath their feet, enchanted to remain clean no matter the traffic.

Eryndor, Ziraiah, and Stereen strolled through the noble district, flanked by fountains that sang soft melodies, golden vines slithering up lamp posts, and aristocrats dressed in glowing fabrics.

Ziraiah tugged at the bottom of her Earth-style denim skirt, her hoodie sleeves bunched awkwardly at her wrists. People stared—some whispered.

Ziraiah frowned. "What's up with these people? Why's everyone staring at me?"

Stereen laughed gently. "You are tiny. And you're wearing that. Why wouldn't they look?"

Ziraiah crossed her arms. "I'm not tiny, I'm fun-sized."

Eryndor glanced down at her and smirked. "At best, you rise a breath beyond my elbow. Hardly a stature to boast of."

Ziraiah rolled her eyes and snapped, "Oh, shut up."

They passed a circular plaza where a large magical device floated—a translucent orb surrounded by runes. Inside the orb, a holographic image flickered to life: a serious-looking man in a blue cloak appeared, his voice projecting around the square.

"Breaking News: An attempted theft at the Royal Relic Vault was foiled last night. The suspect fled toward the Brimvine Mountains—"

Ziraiah blinked. "Oh... they have a TV here too."

Stereen nodded. "That's a seer. It shows current events. Most noble cities have a few scattered around."

"We saw something like this in Mystvir." Ziraiah circled it. "That's so cool. You've basically got cable!"

"Cable?" Stereen asked.

Ziraiah waved it off. "Earth thing. Don't worry about it."

As they continued walking, they passed dozens of magical devices: a stall selling levitating lanterns, a mirror that applied makeup on command, gloves that warmed your hands by absorbing sunlight, and even self-sweeping brooms dusting the streets.

Ziraiah pointed at everything, eyes wide. "Look at that! And that! Is that broom doing chores on its own?!"

Stereen smiled proudly. "Magic is woven into daily life here. Enchanted devices like these are common in wealthy cities."

"Stereen," Ziraiah said, turning to her, "can you do magic?"

"Of course." Stereen replied.

With a casual motion, Stereen raised her hand. Water shimmered in the air, drawn from the moisture around them. It danced into her palm, twisting and turning—then condensed into a tiny figure with twin braids, a skirt, and a mischievous expression.

Ziraiah blinked. "Is that… me?"

Stereen smirked. "Yup."

Then she snapped her fingers. The water doll crystallised instantly into ice.

She handed it to Ziraiah.

"Whoa…" Ziraiah cradled the icy sculpture in her hands, her green eyes sparkling. "Magic is really awesome."

Eryndor crossed his arms. "And dangerous."

Ziraiah side-eyed him. "You're such a killjoy."

"I prefer the term realist."

He turned to Stereen. "I am in dire need of augmenting my physical prowess. Might you direct me to an object of considerable mass—something extraordinarily burdensome, fit to strain even the most unyielding of sinews?"

Stereen thought for a moment. "I know a place. I'll see what I can arrange."

A low rumble passed beneath their feet, and a sleek magical train zipped by on floating rails—no smoke, no tracks, just soft light humming underneath.

Ziraiah gasped. "Whoa, they've got trains here?!"

"Maglev trains powered by crystal cores," Stereen said. "Efficient, fast, and quiet."

Eryndor raised a brow. "Impressive."

Then hooves clattered from a nearby street. Ziraiah turned, and her jaw dropped.

A massive carriage pulled by two giant, furry blue beasts strutted by. Each stood nearly 12 feet tall, with elongated hooves, thick limbs, and lion-like manes.

Ziraiah pointed. "Okay. Horses? Really?! Those are horses?"

Stereen giggled. "That's not a horse. That's an Ause."

"Can we call that a horse?" Ziraiah muttered. "It looks like a horse had a baby with a bear."

Eryndor nodded approvingly. "At least they're majestic."

Stereen guided them into a wide street lined with massive columns and banners bearing golden runes. "This is the main road leading to Festitude Academy."

Ziraiah looked around. "So… what's it like?"

Stereen smiled. "It's a place where anyone can learn—magic, politics, combat, history, knighthood, alchemy, even strategy. Commoners, nobles, even royalty attend. I graduated from there myself."

Eryndor raised an eyebrow. "The royal lineage entrusts their progeny to that institution?"

"Yes. The King's own twins are currently enrolled."

Ziraiah's eyes widened. "Wow. Must be really fancy, then."

Stereen chuckled. "It is. Festitude is one of the most prestigious academies in all of Yardrad."

Eryndor frowned slightly. "I imagine the fees are exorbitant."

Stereen waved her hand casually. "They are. But don't worry. We're rich."

Ziraiah clapped. "That's good to hear!"

Eryndor muttered, "The way you worship vanities such as wealth demands study."

Ziraiah nudged him. "No matter what world you're in… it always revolves around money."

---

To Be Continued...