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The Corridors of the Luminous Palace
The light was blinding. If the city itself was grand and awe-inspiring, then the palace stood on an even higher plane. What a soul-snatching sight! Marble columns, adorned pavements... Life bustled with nobles and people of influence everywhere. The two heroes walked behind the High Minister, entering a room furnished with elegant taste. A maid set down a tray of mint-infused tea. Clark and Jean didn't touch it, but the minister broke the silence:
Minister:
"My dear gentlemen, I assure you the tea contains no sedatives."
Clark turned to the maid and stood up:
Clark:
"Your intentions may be pure, Minister. But this… whore who doesn't know her place!"
In an instant, his hand clamped around the maid's neck.
Jean intervened:
"That fool added more than the usual dose of sedatives into both our cups. It was obvious. And worse, she stirred it with a spoon. If the tea already had sugar, why stir it again with a different spoon? That's why we didn't drink. I imagine, Minister, that you're the only one in this cursed land who wants us here. No one enjoys mistakes—or a slap on the ass. You know what? This came to mind: 'Take it or leave it—I don't care.' They say you don't realize how wrong you are until the third slap. I won't be slapping any idiot three times. Or maybe your words are true, and I end up tossed in the trash. Think about it—what's in it for me? You think I'll sleep peacefully? You expect I won't suspect betrayal or kidnapping? No. This place is not right for me, Minister. I respect your intentions, but even so… Listen: I don't care how much influence you have here, and don't you dare say a word to me."
Jean's eyes reddened like someone confronting the murderer of a father or the violator of a sister. His face sank into a heavy scowl, then he said:
Jean:
"Don't tell me to 'prove myself.' I hate that worthless line."
Clark sat beside him, forgetting that his hand still gripped the maid's lifeless neck—distracted by Jean's words.
The Minister tried to speak, but Clark cut him off with a question, grinning as he pushed back his hair and gently stroked his chin:
Clark:
"Do you understand the value of life? Of death? Do you know the difference… the depth?"
Minister:
"Death gives meaning to life, and life to death. If you're good, people remember you kindly. If you're evil, they curse you."
Clark laughed heartily:
Clark:
"Ha ha ha ha! That's the most generic, stupid answer I've heard. Listen carefully, noble genius: If I carry your nation on my back, I'll end up betrayed and dead. Every forgotten rat will credit someone else for my deeds! What would I be then? Your kingdom's mutt? There's no true value; everything is symbolic—whether we like it or not. Minister, no matter what you do for your beloved kingdom or king, people forget. But there are things... secrets… new horizons that maybe you've yet to see. There's eternal life. The world is vast."
He raised his fist, looked at Clark, then turned back to the minister and chuckled:
Clark:
"We accept."
The Minister beamed with joy:
Minister:
"Ha ha ha! At last, we shall witness the light."
Jean frowned and asked:
Jean:
"What?"
Clark replied calmly:
Clark:
"Wait. Listen. Minister: we won't stay in your palace. We'll live at the blacksmith's place. Also, send us enough coin to live properly. We won't be living here for free—got it?"
Jean was angry, but there was no turning back now.
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Paradise Forged
Minister:
"Then it's settled, Mr. Clark and Mr. Jean. Allow me to give you a tour and explain what's to come—the sacred selection process, worthy of great heroes."
His demeanor was disgusting, showing his obsession. But neither of them cared. One question lingered in both their minds.
Jean:
"If the sacred selection is happening across the state, must people come here? Or does it affect anyone within your borders? And what happens to those affected?"
Minister (with a sinister smile):
"Excellent questions. The sacred selection targets only those aged twenty-five and below. And if someone is selected but fails to awaken… well, their heads explode!"
He raised his hand, mimicking an explosion with a gleeful laugh.
Clark laughed too:
"Ha ha ha! I love your madness. Didn't expect you to sacrifice your own youth like this. Such coldness!"
They reached a massive door. Jean felt a bit sickened by the way they spoke, how they belittled human life. But reality was brutal… they couldn't save anyone. Quite the opposite.
Jean whispered to himself:
"I—I'm the one who needs saving."
The Minister stopped in front of the door and declared proudly:
Minister:
"Let me show you the great sky—and the great statue that forged paradise… my statue! Light and darkness! Lucifer, Lord of Shadow… and Lucius, Lord of Light!"
He added:
Minister:
"Tomorrow shall be your rebirth. I'll send companions with you—to show you the city and the academy soon to open, where you'll meet the sealed ancestors."
Jean, sarcastic:
"Yeah, yeah… sure we will."
Minister (calling out):
"Guards! Send Emilia and Giovanni with them!"
As they walked, Jean whispered to Clark:
Jean:
"Did you buy into that crap, you idiot?"
Clark (quietly):
"To be honest… after everything we've seen—lightning from bare hands, a battle against an undead army… how is this any crazier? I'm beginning to understand the value of life."
He gazed into the horizon:
Clark:
"Life must be eternal. I don't want to rot into forgotten dust. I don't want to become like the dead in that necromancer's army—no names, no memory. Just fighting… forgotten things. Everything fades. I will break that… with my own hands. For myself."
He smiled bitterly:
Clark:
"Women, power, wealth... none of that follows you to the grave. Your money goes to someone else. Your wife might remarry. Everything fades, Jean."
Jean, calmly:
"Maybe... But you're the one who defines your own worth. As long as you're alive, why think this way? Try to understand a little."
Clark:
"I don't care. Whether you listen or not…"
They exited the palace and found it immensely vast—with wide courtyards and countless buildings. The walk itself was exhausting.
Jean, groaning:
"No… please. I don't want to keep walking…"
Suddenly, two young men appeared ahead. Each looked like a caricature of arrogance, insulting the guard:
Young man:
"Foreigners? Who cares about them? Damn them…"
Jean looked at Clark, who returned the glance with a smirk:
Clark:
"Ha ha ha… Some young asses need a good slap."
To be continued...
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