"What's wrong, Brother Lein? Is the forging requirement too extreme?" Laras asked while dabbing her lips with a napkin. Her eyes never left Lein's face, which looked unusually distant.
Lein shook his head slowly, then shared part of his concerns—about ability, limitations, and lingering hope. Laras listened without interrupting, and when he finished, she gave a small nod. There wasn't much she could offer beyond quiet sympathy.
"I just hope you find the answer," she said softly.
Meanwhile, Efan was busy chewing on a piece of crystal-finned fish. Mid-chew, he suddenly raised his index finger high—like he'd just discovered a brilliant idea.
"Laras! What do you think of this?" he exclaimed, pointing eagerly at the golden ring on his finger.
Laras tilted her head. "That... the ring you won at the auction?" she asked, intrigued. Lein glanced over as well.
Efan nodded quickly. "Yeah! Can you tell? Do I look any different?" His hopeful tone betrayed the worry in his eyes—like he already suspected something wasn't right.
Laras narrowed her gaze, eyeing him up and down. "What's the supposed effect?"
Efan's face fell like a child caught sneaking sweets. He slumped forward.
"Efan!" Laras snapped, impatience leaking into her voice. "I asked—what's it supposed to do?"
Efan lifted his head slowly, like someone awaiting punishment.
"It's… supposed to increase my charisma," he muttered, his voice nearly drowned by the soft clinks of tableware.
Laras raised an eyebrow. Lein didn't say a word, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"Charisma?" Laras repeated, then looked at him again. "Are you sure that's not a prank item?"
"I don't know… maybe it takes time?" Efan offered, his voice full of doubt.
Lein finally spoke, his tone calm but firm. "Read the full description, Efan. And check for activation conditions. Artifacts like that usually have complex triggers."
Laras nodded. "Especially those tied to mental or social attributes. They often depend on external circumstances."
Dragnar, silent until now, added without looking up, "Artifacts that influence charisma often rely on perception. If someone already has an emotional anchor or idol, the effect can weaken—or vanish altogether."
Efan stopped chewing, a sinking feeling settling over him as he reopened the holographic panel linked to the ring. He scrolled through the description carefully.
A few seconds passed. Then his shoulders sagged.
"Effect only reaches full potential when the user has no personal idols, attachments, or close relationships," he read aloud, voice barely above a whisper.
He kept reading… One by one, a long list of restrictions appeared.
"Effect diminishes drastically during mealtime..."
"Effect disabled if user appears overly confident..."
"Temporarily nullified when in the presence of more than two close friends..."
Efan closed the panel. He sighed—long and defeated—then resumed eating his meal with a hollow look in his eyes. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Damn artifact's sulking…" he mumbled.
Laras held back a laugh. Lein turned away, pretending to sip his tea. Even Dragnar, typically unreadable, seemed to curl the corner of his lips.
Efan stared blankly at the last panel before closing it with a bitter tap. That sea of absurd conditions had killed whatever hope he had left. He continued his meal quietly, eyes glassy and movements sluggish.
Lein and Laras could only shake their heads at his misery.
A brief silence blanketed the elegant dining room, broken only by the faint clinks of utensils against plates.
Laras let out a quiet sigh and turned her gaze to the glass walls, staring at the grand towers under the simulated night sky.
"I miss... Mother, Father, and the others," she said softly, almost to herself.
Normally, downtime would be spent with Nita and Elen—strolling through the Celestial Gardens or just wandering around the capital. But it had been over three months since they left that plane behind.
Lein heard her, but said nothing. He knew they'd return soon. Laras knew it too. But longing had never cared for timing.
He too looked outside—but what he saw wasn't the city, nor its lights.
His eyes stared past the dimensional veil. Something was there. A ripple. Subtle. Thin. But enough to raise the hair on his neck.
Something was coming.
Before he could speak a word, the floor trembled.
A sound like bones snapping and glass fracturing echoed from all directions—a noise that shouldn't exist.
Dragnar stood instantly. His voice was low and tight. "This dimension... it's being forcibly folded inward."
Lein looked up, his pupils narrowing.
"No way… they're attacking here, in the middle of the city?"
The shaking worsened. Cracks spread across the floor beneath them—intricate, spiderweb-like lines. But instead of collapsing, the fragments began to float, defying gravity.
The air split open with streaks of violet light bleeding from the void. Ancient symbols ignited, swirling into a formation of living glyphs—glowing, pulsing, rejecting the very laws of space.
Golden aura ignited around Dragnar. His eyes gleamed sharply. In a single step, he released the pressure of a Mid-Rank King.
"Forced teleportation… and it's coming from outside this dimension!" he growled.
He raised his hand. Three layers of spell formations unfolded into concentric rings of law. Dimensional-binding light glowed all around them.
The first formation shattered. Then the second. The third broke like glass struck by a divine hammer.
Lein retrieved three crystals from his storage ring: a Dimensional Stabilizer Gem, a Time Delay Clock, and even a fragment of the Chaos Gate. He activated all three at once.
A piercing noise exploded—like the dimension itself was screaming in protest. Light burst from the three artifacts... but it was all in vain.
Their bodies began to float. The air lost its substance. Laras turned pale, her hair drifting weightlessly. Efan clung to his chair—but his hands passed through it. Matter around them began to unravel.
"This… isn't ordinary magic," Lein hissed, his eyes sharp with tension. "We're being pulled into space… within space."
Dragnar grunted, claws digging into the floor in a desperate attempt to resist. But light fractures formed on his skin—signs that the pressure was eroding his very existence.
But resistance meant nothing.
One by one, their bodies were pulled into a violet vortex that screamed in silence.