The carriage rolled down the cobbled streets of the Capital, polished wheels rattling faintly over uneven stones. From his place at the rear, Egon kept his head bowed and his posture humble, like just another servant trailing behind nobles.
But his eyes... his eyes drank in every detail.
The city was alive—no, boiling with color and sound. Children ran along the alleyways, hawkers shouted over one another to sell charms and trinkets, and steam carts buzzed with strange devices clattering atop their racks. Every step deeper into the city was a step closer to the Core.
Noella laughed inside the carriage, the sound soft and noble-like, while Vienna chatted calmly beside her. Archon, ever graceful, walked beside the wheels with a confident gait. He looked more like a bodyguard than a porter.
But he didn’t know. Not yet.
He didn’t know what lay ahead.
Egon kept his eyes low, yet scanned the horizon. The Old Market district wasn’t far now. He could feel the faint pull—like a string tied to his chest, vibrating subtly.
The Soul Core.
A fragment of legacy left behind by a fallen powerhouse.
Rare. Mysterious. Powerful.
Hidden within a simple-looking merchant stall, its glow sealed by a masking talisman.
Only those who had destiny with it, would be able to feel a connection.
And Egon, who had read the future, surely would be able to see it.
He had seen this Chapter play out before, clear and detailed.
Today was the only window. Afterward, the Core would vanish for decades.
He won’t let it pass.
They arrived at the market square just past noon.
The Old Market sprawled out like a chaotic maze of canopies, wood stalls, and steaming carts. Antiquities and cursed trinkets stacked beside enchanted herbs, while peddlers shouted exotic languages, offering glass bottles, rusted weapons, and beast bones.
Vienna disembarked with her usual grace. Noella followed, parasol in hand, eyes alight with childlike wonder. The guards circled them subtly.
Archon was already lifting boxes of wine and silk samples Vienna had pre-ordered. Then he carried them towards their cart.
Egon lagged behind, hands politely folded, unnoticed. That was good.
That was perfect.
Vienna took Noella through the treasure stalls while Archon was sent to fetch refreshments.
The guards remained alert but gave Egon little attention. He was a just slave, after all.
Now was the time.
Egon turned, quietly falling into step behind Archon at a distance.
Archon was headed straight for his fated moment—the intersection where destiny dangled just within reach. If Egon was to seize it for himself, he’d have to act before Archon did.
The tall youth carried the supply boxes lazily in his arms, clearly unaware of what was coming. Then, just as he passed a run-down shop with faded curtains and cracked wooden signs, a shrill voice cut through the market noise.
"Young man, do you want to change your fate? If so, come here!"
The voice belonged to an old woman hunched behind a makeshift table. Her canopy looked like it would collapse in the next breeze, and her eyes were milky with age.
Archon barely spared her a glance.
But something... something tugged at him.
He paused, hesitating. Then, with a puzzled frown, he stepped toward the stall.
Egon’s heartbeat quickened.
The woman opened a small wooden box lined with faded cloth. Inside lay half a dozen stones, each one oddly shaped and painted in swirling colors. Most were dull. Decorative at best.
"One try for three silver," the old woman cackled. "One of these holds a true Soul Core, I swear it.
You have no core in you, I can feel it. Why not try your luck?"
She was trying to scam him. That much was obvious.
Even she didn’t realize a true Soul Core was buried among the junk. If she had known, she would have vanished into some noble estate by now, not rotting in a market stall.
Archon frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Sounds like a scam."
"Think carefully, young man. This could change your miserable life as a slave," the woman shrugged.
Archon hesitated again.
Then his eyes landed on a particular stone; one that looked utterly plain. Ash-colored. Dull. Unremarkable.
But his fingers twitched toward it.
"Sigh, I know I’m going to regret this," he muttered. "Still... I’ll take this one."
His hand reached for it.
The moment was here.
Egon went forward without a sound.
A sharp tap of his foot against a loose cobble. A sudden breeze stirred the canopy.
The old woman turned slightly, distracted for just a blink.
And in that heartbeat, Egon moved beside Archon, shoulder brushing lightly.
"Careful," Egon muttered, bowing politely as he ’accidentally’ bumped Archon’s arm.
Archon looked down at him, frowning. "What are you doing here?"
"Nothing... I just came to help, Archon," Egon replied slyly, eyes glinting with false innocence.
Then, without missing a beat, he reached out and snatched the dull, ash-colored stone before Archon’s fingers could touch it.
"And I’ll take this one, thank you."
Archon stared at the stone in Egon’s hand. For some reason, an unsettling feeling crawled through his chest—an ominous premonition he couldn’t explain.
"Hey! I was buying that, Egon. Give it back!" he snapped.
"Sorry," Egon said smoothly, already pulling out three silver coins—the exact amount he’d begged and scraped together over weeks, all for this moment. "I want to change my fate too."
He handed the coins to the old woman with a firm, almost theatrical flourish.
The old lady gave a toothless grin and pocketed the silver without hesitation. To her, it didn’t matter who bought it—silver was silver.
"Well, that one’s gone," she said with a crafty smile, turning back to Archon. "Why don’t you try another, young man?"
Archon’s expression tightened. He didn’t like it—any of it. But what could he say?
With clear reluctance, he reached toward the box and picked up another stone at random. It was red-veined and flashy, the kind of thing that looked valuable but felt hollow in his hand.
A strange emptiness settled over him. Like a breeze that whispered of missed chances.
Archon dropped the stone into his pouch without inspecting it and walked away with a sigh.
"I’m never listening to weird old ladies again."
He was leaving, but the feeling lingered.
It wasn’t anger. Not quite jealousy, either.
It was regret.
Sudden, sharp, and inexplicable.
As though fate had brushed past him... and chosen someone else.
The woman cackled behind him.
Egon bowed once more, then followed quietly, returning to his lowly role behind the group.
His heart thundered. His fingers clenched the pouch tightly, already sensing the dormant energy pulsing inside.
He had won.
Archon may have looked the part of destiny’s favorite...
But Egon was rewriting the script.
And this time, he was the one holding fate in his hands.