Liam nods, standing slowly, still calm and confident. His steady voice continues:
"My ability is fairly simple on the surface: I can materialize from one place to another. For nearby locations, there are no limits—I can use it as often as needed."
Before I can even process, he vanishes. Literally. No Liam in the chair. I blink, and he reappears by the door, as if that's where he'd always been.
"There."
I blink again, feigning indifference, though I'm genuinely impressed. "Hm. Not bad. What if I want something more… dramatic?"
A faint smile brushes his lips.
Without a word, his head disappears. Yes, his head. Before I can panic, it reappears instantly on my desk, right between my coffee mug and stacked files.
I flinch slightly, a reflex kicking in.
"Wow."
Liam seems unfazed. His head vanishes again, and he reappears whole, seated in his chair, as stoic as ever.
"But that's not all," he continues. "For far-off destinations, I need a seal I create beforehand. It acts as a connection."
Behind him, a glowing circle forms in the air. Inside, I make out the blurry outlines of a room. A bed, a shelf, a lamp… a bedroom.
"That's my room," he says simply before vanishing through the circle, reappearing there as if he'd never left. He disappears again and returns to his seat with the same effortless ease.
I let out an admiring whistle. "Impressive. And… can you transport other people with you?"
Liam answers without hesitation, as if he'd anticipated the question.
"Yes, it's possible."
I sit up slightly, suddenly even more intrigued. "But… the energy?"
Abilities like that usually draw from somewhere. Aunt Libel says it's almost always the case.
Liam shakes his head gently. "Not for me. Since it's an innate ability, it doesn't consume my ether. However, the greater the distance or number of people, the longer the charging time."
Ah, that's why Aunt Libel never believes me when I say I'm tired from my ability. Damn it!
Focus…
"How long, exactly?"
"For a hundred people or a distance of about a hundred kilometers, I need three seconds of preparation."
I stare, dumbfounded, then burst out laughing and clap my hands.
"Three seconds? That's it?"
He tilts his head slightly, a hint of a smile on his face.
I cross my arms, satisfied. Seriously, I definitely picked the right guy. This dude's gonna make my life so much easier.
I nod, almost solemnly, and decide it's time to let him in on a bit more. If he's my assistant, he might as well know what he's getting into.
I look at him, still unflappable in his chair, and say casually:
"Good, that'll help us wrap up this damn bet quickly."
Liam frowns slightly, curious. Clearly, he's waiting for me to elaborate. So, I decide to lay it all out.
"Tell me, Liam, ever faced a dragon?"
His reaction is immediate. His calm, stoic face falters almost imperceptibly. His brows lift a fraction, and his lips part slightly. He looks like he's not sure he heard right.
"A… dragon?" he says slowly, weighing each syllable.
I tilt my head, playing innocent. "Yeah, a dragon. You know, big scaly creature, can burn a city to ash with one breath, that sort of thing."
He shakes his head slowly, clearly searching for words. "I… I don't think dragons still exist… at least not on the continent."
I roll my eyes with a dramatic sigh. "If only that were true…"
Liam stares, still wearing that look of confusion.
"Listen, Liam, as my assistant, you're gonna help me kick a dragon king's ass. It showed up in the Northern Forest."
This time, his expression freezes completely. Not a wrinkle, not a twitch, like his brain just short-circuited. His eyes widen slightly, and I'm pretty sure he forgot how to breathe.
"Didn't Elder Libel tell you anything?" I raise an eyebrow, incredulous. "She briefs you on my morning habits but forgets to mention a dragon's part of the deal? Seriously?" I shake my head with exaggerated exasperation. "And then I'm the one they accuse of missing priorities. Unfair world, I swear."
Liam still doesn't react. He's frozen, completely still, like a statue. Am I imagining it, or is he trembling a bit? Well, fair enough. It's not every day someone asks you to take on a dragon.
I sigh, then clear my throat to get his attention. "Look, I'll be honest. If you're not up for it, no big deal. I can handle it alone. Well… I don't have a choice." I scratch the back of my head, hesitating.
Poor teleportation…
Inside, I'm already crying. Seriously, his ability would be so useful for this mission. But I won't force him into it. It's my bet, not his.
Then, out of nowhere, Liam bursts out laughing. A real laugh. A loud, genuine laugh that fills the room and bounces off the walls.
I stare, baffled. Has he lost it?
He finally calms down, wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and looks at me with a smile. "Sorry, sorry," he says, catching his breath. "But… kick a dragon king's ass? Seriously?"
I narrow my eyes, a bit offended. "What? That sound so crazy to you?"
He shakes his head, his smile widening. "No, not crazy. It's just… I like it."
I frown. "You like it?"
"Yeah," he says with a confidence that almost surprises me. "It's been a while since I dreamed of a real challenge. So, if you need me for this… I'm in."
I stay silent for a moment, looking at him like he just said he's ready to jump off a cliff.
"You sure?"
He nods without a hint of hesitation. "Absolutely."
A smile spreads across my face. Well, this guy's even more interesting than I thought.
"Perfect," I say, sitting up. "Then get ready, Liam. Because by tomorrow, we're off to hunt a dragon."
---
A massive door creaks open, the sound echoing endlessly. A woman steps slowly into the vast hall. She wears a long black cloak, slightly frayed at the edges, her hood revealing strands framing a stern face.
The hall itself is imposing. The walls are a deep gray. On either side, hooded figures sit on raised platforms. Their faces are hidden behind elaborate masks of gold, silver, or carved wood, each depicting an animal or emblem.
The woman stops at the center of the hall, where the marble floor is marked by a circle etched in stone. She stands tall, hands clasped behind her.
A voice suddenly rises, seeming to come from everywhere, as if emanating from the walls themselves.
"Speak."
The woman tilts her head slightly in respect.
"The Council of Magisters has convened. Regarding the Northern Forest matter, a decision has been made."
A murmur ripples through the assembly. Some masks turn slightly toward their neighbors, as if exchanging silent glances or words. Another voice, colder and sharper, rings out:
"We're listening."
The woman takes a soft breath, then continues: "Magister Roskales has been chosen to face the Dragon King alone."
This time, the murmurs turn into audible protests. The figures shift in their seats, some masks whipping toward her. The tension in the room spikes, but the woman remains unruffled, waiting for the uproar to subside.
"My report is complete," she adds calmly, as if the protests don't faze her.
A higher-pitched voice, trembling with indignation, rises above the rest.
"What are the Magisters playing at?"
The woman lifts her chin slightly.
"The same thing you are. We're working for the good of this country."
Another member, seated in a grander chair, leans forward. Their mask depicts a raven.
"Are you prepared to bear the responsibility if Magister Roskales fails?"
A faint smile tugs at the woman's lips.
"Are you prepared to bear the responsibility for his success?"
Her retort silences the assembly. A heavy quiet falls over the hall. Some masks turn toward the raven figure, seeking a reaction, but even that imposing presence remains mute.
The woman speaks again, her voice resonating in the now-still space.
"The Council of Magisters has decided that, in the event of success, Magister Roskales will be exempt from attending future meetings. We ask you to accept and respect our decision."
The silence that follows is heavier than before. Then, finally, a different voice, louder, rises. Its weight and tone seem to overshadow the others.
"Erda Voxten."
The woman tilts her head, this time with deeper respect.
The voice continues.
"The Association will not oppose the Magisters' decision. But consider this a warning. If this crisis is mishandled, we will act."
The woman lifts her head.
"Your warnings are noted."
She bows one last time, then turns on her heels. Without waiting to be dismissed, she strides toward the door. The heavy panels close behind her with a thud.
In the almost sacred calm of the hallway, the door opens softly, revealing Erda.
Leaning casually against the wall is an older man, his white hair falling in thin strands around his angular face.
"Well, all that for nothing. My presence here was utterly pointless."
Erda tilts her head, a delicate smile crossing her lips.
"One can never be too careful. Thank you for answering my call regardless, Magister Yonghoul."
The man lets out an exaggerated sigh.
"And you, Magister Voxten, what are you scheming?"
A glint of mischief flashes in Erda's eyes as she replies, slightly teasing: "Curious?"
He waves a hand dismissively.
"Curious? Me? Come on. I couldn't care less. What annoys me is how long this is dragging out. It's like you're torturing me on purpose. I remind you, you promised me. Before I die, you said, you'd entertain me."
Erda steps forward, passing the old man unhurriedly.
"You shouldn't be bored," she replies without turning, a smile in her voice.
The old man cracks a smile, his deep wrinkles creasing further.
"I've got a warning for you," he says, his voice suddenly graver. "Watch out for young Roskales."
Erda's steps halt abruptly. She stands still for a fraction of a second, as if frozen by his words.
"I'll keep that in mind."