[No title provided]
Caught bluffing, and you'll see blood. Podala's expression was hidden behind the cloth, but there was no need to see it to know what it looked like. The crowd's murmurs exploded into chaos. Some were outright venting their rage.
"No wonder her prophecies always fell in favor of her own clan!"
"That unqualified woman dared to claim the title of grand sorceress!"
"What a scam! All the kin who believed her prophecies—what becomes of them now?!"
As the furious crowd stirred, Druein gestured to the warriors, ordering them to seize Podala.
"Our clan will handle this fraud's punishment. Does anyone object?"
No one answered her beast-like growl. After all, no one was more qualified for vengeance than the head of a clan that had lost a son and its fortune, plunging into ruin.
"D-Druein, please don't do this. Let's t-talk..."
Podala finally broke, trembling and begging, but Druein ignored her. She spun the dagger in her hand with a smile.
"Don't worry, Podala. You won't die. Why would I end this quickly when I've waited so long for it? Live on... for a long, long time. For me."
"N-No! No! Wait! Spare me! Mercy! This can't happen to me! M-Me...!"
Druein struck the back of Podala's head, knocking her out cold. As the warriors dragged her away, Druein turned to Aiden.
"We owe you a debt."
She bowed politely to him before descending the platform and vanishing. Once they were gone, the crowd's gazes toward Aiden had shifted. But he had no intention of stopping there.
He approached the remaining grand sorcerer on the right.
Pointing directly at him, Aiden declared,
"Damanein."
Once more, he named the figure whose face and body were concealed, voice distorted.
"Son of the Wind Petal Tribe's Tolome. Grandson of Gain. Disciple of grand sorcerer Togal. You lack the qualifications of a sorcerer."
The veiled grand sorcerer let out a hollow laugh and stepped forward. He rolled up his left sleeve, exposing his sorcerer's tattoo for all to see.
"Come on, then! Fetch a water jar and wash my tattoo! See? This fool is slandering me without reason! If my tattoo is real, yet he claims I lack qualifications—what else is that but slander?!"
Aiden nodded at his words.
"That sorcerer's tattoo is genuine. You have contracted with a spirit that grants prophecies of the future."
"He admits it himself! Nothing more to see here! You're a fraud and a liar!"
Damanein bellowed, but he couldn't hide the faint tremor in his voice. He was afraid. Perhaps that's why he thrashed about even more, desperately showing his tattoo to the crowd.
But there was no need.
"Kaien law strips sorcerers who murder their masters of their qualifications, doesn't it? Even with a tattoo, a master-killer like you has no right to it."
His lack of qualifications had nothing to do with the tattoo's presence.
"What nonsense! Got proof? Huh? Proof?! You're forcing baseless claims!"
Damanein ranted wildly, but Aiden remained calm and composed.
"There's no proof, either."
"Ha! See that? Everyone, look! This lying fraud is trying to undermine the grand sorcerers! Don't fall for his silver tongue...!"
"No proof, but there is a witness."
Damanein burst into laughter.
"Oh yeah? Then bring 'em out! Drag that witness up here on stage!"
He pointed at the gathering crowd. Aiden shook his head.
"He's not here right now."
"Name his clan, then! His tribe and clan—we can summon him immediately!"
"Can't do that. The witness I'm calling isn't a dark elf to begin with. Spirits don't belong to clans or tribes, do they?"
Damanein's body shuddered visibly now.
"Spouting utter nonsense! A spirit as a witness? Ridiculous!"
He shouted, but the tremor in his voice was now too strong to mask even with distortion. Aiden approached him slowly.
"Anyone else might not get it, but you know exactly what I mean. The secret vault hidden under your house. The spirit imprisoned inside. You know it well."
Damanein froze, unable to respond.
"H-Ha! Haha! What a joke! There's no such thing!"
He forced out a reply, but the dark elf crowd could now plainly see his panic.
"We can check if it exists or not. Warriors who heard my prophecy at the Wall of Blood—are any here?"
Three warriors from below the platform climbed up. Familiar faces: Sabernak, Juloa, and Jubea.
"We're here. What do we do?"
Aiden pointed to his three guard knights.
"Go with my guard knights to grand sorcerer Damanein's house. Find his study and the bookshelf on the wall. There'll be a thin red book titled On the Soul."
With every word, Damanein's body trembled like a leaf in the wind. He could no longer make excuses or shout.
"Open it to page 132. Recite the seventeenth rune inscribed there aloud, and the bookshelf will slide back, revealing a hidden passage. Descend and bring back the spirit imprisoned below."
"Got it. Hey, human! Come on—let's go!"
As Sabernak, Juloa, Jubea, and the guard knights moved, other warriors blocked them. Ordered by the remaining grand sorceress—not Damanein or Podala, but the one in the middle of the three.
"No more disruptions. Don't twist the truth! Great Sage, your task is to thrust your hand into the Trial Flame! Not stir up lies!"
"Guh!"
Suddenly, the shadow at Aiden's feet came alive, coiling around his body like a living creature. He couldn't move. His hand was forced forward and fixed by the shadow.
The unnamed final grand sorceress bellowed,
"Look, everyone! See the Great Sage's true nature! Don't be swayed by his wicked words!"
Aiden's body hurtled toward the Trial Flame at high speed.
"Lord Aiden!"
The guard knights rushed toward him, but warriors blocked their path. Just as his hand was about to enter the flame untouched, Aiden didn't flinch. He had already seen their futures. He knew how their desperation would end.
Suddenly, the shadow binding him released.
"What?!"
The grand sorceress spat in shock, looking down at the platform. Sorcerers and prophets from other tribes and clans—gathered to witness the clash between the Great Sage, grand sorcerers, and prophets—were summoning spirits en masse.
"What is this?! Why interfere with the Trial Flame's judgment?!"
A few sorcerers and prophets climbed the platform as the grand sorceress yelled.
"We are all disciples of grand sorcerer Togal."
"Everyone here knows Master died suddenly—a 'sudden illness,' we were told, and accepted it."
"But if she was murdered instead? That changes everything, grand sorceress."
"We deserve the truth."
The grand sorceress fumed.
"That can wait! Proving if the Great Sage is real or fake comes first! Don't block the Trial Flame!"
Despite her insistence, the prophets and sorcerers on stage ignored her.
"Forgive our insolence, grand sorceress. Like Druein just now, we'll take full responsibility. If the Great Sage is false, we'll plunge daggers into our own hearts. This is our Blood Oath."
Shadowy runes etched onto the sorcerers' bodies. The grand sorceress clenched her fists until they bled.
"You're empowering the Great Sage! Ignoring my prophecies?! He'll plunge Kaien into grief!"
"The Great Sage has never been wrong once. Your prophecies, grand sorceress? They've missed the mark before."
Their voices were polite, yet chillingly cold.
"Coincidentally, whether they hit or missed, they always benefited you. Master Togal's death is grave. If there's a killer, Damanein lacks qualifications. We must know the truth."
Damanein screamed,
"Ignoring a fellow kin and grand sorceress for that short-eared human?! Foolish!"
The sorcerers turned to Damanein.
"Damanein, can you prophesy exactly when an earthquake will strike and how long it'll last?"
"Th-..."
"When Betua will attack, how many? Which warriors will be hit where in battle? All precisely?"
"......"
"We believe the Great Sage. We've staked our lives on it. All of us. We must verify if his words are true."
The sorcerers and prophets gestured, mobilizing warriors from their clans and tribes. In an instant, the blocking warriors were outnumbered and parted ways for Sabernak, Juloa, Jubea, and the three guard knights.
"You idiots! Fools! How dare you?!"
The last grand sorceress ranted helplessly, but she could do nothing.
Moments later, Sabernak, Jubea, Juloa, and the guard knights returned to the plaza. In their hands floated a spirit made of white flame. Notably, its body was pierced by silver needles wrapped in countless talismans.
The sorcerers and prophets' eyes widened at the sight.
"Grief's Silver Needles?"
"Wait—that spirit... doesn't it live inside the Trial Flame?!"
"Why would a judge of truth and lies be...?"
The murmurs spread beyond sorcerers and prophets. The crowd's mood turned hostile.
"The Great Sage was right. There was a hidden passage, and below it... the spirit."
Aiden approached the spirit, now gently placed on the platform. Carefully, he began extracting the silver needles one by one.
Damanein's face was hidden, but his statue-still rigidity suggested a corpse-pale complexion.
No one spoke—not even the last grand sorceress who had mobilized warriors to interfere. All eyes were on Aiden.
As the final needle fell to the ground,
"Damanein... Damanein!"
The white-flame spirit roared fiercely.
"You murdered my contractor Togal, forcibly inherited the contract, then pierced me with silver needles for torment—and twisted my truth-bound nature to spew lies! I curse you! I curse you!"
Tears streamed as it bellowed. The white flames enveloping its body slowly turned black.
"I curse you, murderer! Murderer! The blood on your hands sickens and soils me! May your greed and lust that slew my beloved contractor lead you to ruin! I curse you, Damanein!"
Roaring, the spirit plunged into the Trial Flame's white blaze on the platform and vanished. The white flames swiftly blackened, wailing in agony as they pointed at Damanein.
The plaza fell deathly silent. The only sound was
"N-No... I-I... N-No! I didn't kill Master! L-Lies... It's a lie!"
Damanein, collapsed on the ground, trembling and sobbing.