Chương 250: The Seven Sages

Vale blinked, the unfamiliar name lingering in the air as confusion settled plainly across his face.

"Kealix von… who?" he repeated, the syllables awkward and foreign to his tongue. He tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting together.

"Should I know him?" There was no recognition in his tone, only cautious curiosity, sharpened by everything he had already been forced to process that day. Silfur's reaction came a fraction too quickly. She stepped back, small, almost instinctive, her eyes widening just a touch too long before she dismissed it with a casual wave of her hand.

"Oh, no, not at all," she said, her voice light, but not quite naturally so.

"I was just wondering if you did." The deflection was clean and immediate… rehearsed. Vale's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion settling in as he studied her in silence for a moment, weighing her response before pressing further.

"Is he important to you?" he asked. Silfur held his gaze briefly, then rolled her eyes, shrugging in a way that felt practiced rather than genuine.

"Not really," she replied, turning her body just enough to suggest the topic bored her.

"He's just the one who sent us here." That answer didn't settle anything, it tightened the knot forming in Vale's chest. His posture stiffened, arms crossing as he followed up without hesitation.

"Us?" he asked, the single word carrying more weight than he intended it to. Silfur chuckled under her breath, as if amused by the question, and gestured vaguely into the air.

"You know, me, Maximus, the others. The sages." Before Vale could push further, she tapped Azure's side with a subtle cue. The wyvern responded instantly. A low, rumbling growl vibrated through its chest as its massive wings unfurled, displacing the air around them in a sudden burst of force. Dust and loose debris scattered outward, and Vale was forced to grab hold as the ground dropped away beneath them.

The moment fractured completely, conversation replaced by motion as they were carried skyward before he could force another answer out of her. Silence followed. And in that silence, Vale's thoughts surged.

'Why would I need to know that name?' The question circled relentlessly, sharpening with every repetition. Silfur was not careless, nothing she said ever was. Even her jokes had structure, intent hidden beneath her tone and timing. That meant the question mattered, whether he understood why or not. Then there were the sages. Fragments. That was all he had. Silfur. Maximus. Names without context. No sense of scale, no hierarchy, no purpose. Just a vague title and the implication of power.

And now Kealix, someone capable of sending beings like them across realms. That alone placed him far beyond anything Vale could reasonably categorize. A summoner? A ruler? Something older? Something worse? Vale exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening as frustration bled into his thoughts. Every angle he tried collapsed under missing information, every conclusion dissolving before it could take shape. It wasn't just that he didn't have answers, It was that he didn't even have the right questions.

The flight itself was brief, though it stretched under the weight of his thoughts. Soon, the familiar silhouette of the library rose ahead, its structure cutting cleanly against the skyline. Azure descended in a controlled glide, landing near the entrance with a muted but heavy impact that echoed faintly against the surrounding stone. Silfur glanced back, giving a small tilt of her head, a silent instruction.

Vale caught it and rolled his eyes faintly, and dropped down from the wyvern, his boots striking the ground with a dull, grounded thud. Even then, the questions didn't loosen their grip. He turned back toward her, arms folding again, gaze steady and unyielding.

"Silfur," he said, voice firmer now, "these sages, who are they, really?" For a moment, something shifted in her expression. Subtle and brief. But definitely there. Then it vanished beneath another easy chuckle.

"Oh, you know," she said lightly, tapping Azure once more, "the members of my original cohort." It was an answer that sounded complete while explaining nothing at all, deliberately vague, deliberately empty. And before Vale could challenge it, Azure launched skyward again, the force of its wings sending another rush of wind across the ground. The moment slipped away just as quickly as it had formed, leaving no room to pursue it. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Vale stood still, watching until she disappeared into the distance. Only then did he exhale, dragging a hand slowly down his face.

"That's helpful," he muttered under his breath, the words edged with quiet irritation before he turned and made his way inside. The library welcomed him with silence. Cool air. Stillness. Order. A sharp contrast to everything outside. But his mind refused to follow. Too much had piled up. Korin's confession. Ares' half-truths. The titan rising from the sea. The sages. Kealix. Each piece existed in isolation, disconnected, forming no clear pattern no matter how he tried to arrange them.

And beneath it all, Something lingered. Not a memory. Not yet. But the shape of one. Vale slowed slightly as he moved deeper into the library, his gaze unfocused, thoughts spiraling inward. There was something here. Something he wasn't seeing. Not hidden, Just… waiting for him to understand. He slowed as another thought surfaced, cutting cleanly through the noise in his mind and anchoring him to something far simpler.

"I should at least get Nym a gift," he murmured. The reminder lingered. Her birthday was close, closer than he was comfortable with, and after the way their last encounter had ended, he couldn't even be sure she would want to see him, let alone accept anything from him. The memory pressed at the edge of his thoughts: the tension, the anger in her eyes, the words left unfinished. It hadn't been resolved. Not even close. Still… doing nothing felt worse.

Vale exhaled quietly and kept moving, letting instinct guide him through the library's interior until he spotted a passing staff member. After a brief exchange, he asked about a bakery, half expecting to be told there wasn't one. To his mild surprise, there was. The room he was directed to was far more equipped than he had anticipated. Ovens lined the walls, their interiors dark but clearly maintained.

Shelves were stocked with ingredients, some basic, others less familiar, ranging from simple grains and sugars to rarer additives he couldn't immediately identify. The space carried a faint warmth, a lingering scent of past baking clinging to the air. Vale stepped inside and paused, scanning the room as if expecting instructions to appear on their own. Nothing did however.

"…Alright," he muttered. He began gathering what he assumed he would need, flour, eggs, sugar, butter, his choices guided more by vague familiarity than actual knowledge. He moved slowly, occasionally hesitating before grabbing something, second-guessing himself, then committing anyway. Eventually, he arranged everything neatly across the counter and stepped back. Then he just… stood there. Staring. A long silence followed.

"…Right," he said at last, scratching the back of his head.

"How do I actually make a cake?" He started searching, drawers, cabinets, shelves, expecting to find some kind of cookbook or guide tucked away somewhere. Each empty space added a little more frustration until, after several minutes, he let out a quiet sigh, shoulders slumping.

"Great," he muttered.

"Guess I'm improvising." The thought of Nym returned, sharper this time. He paused, leaning lightly against the counter, his gaze drifting unfocused. The last time he had seen her… it hadn't ended well. The anger she carried hadn't been fleeting, it had been real, grounded, justified in ways he still didn't fully understand. Would she even accept this? Would she care? Vale frowned, caught in that uncertainty, the weight of it settling deeper the longer he thought about it, Until a voice broke through.

"What in the creator's name are you doing?" Vale turned immediately, recognizing it before he even saw the speaker. Drago stood in the doorway, hunched as always, his sharp eyes already scanning the room. His expression settled somewhere between confusion and mild irritation as his gaze swept over the scattered ingredients before landing squarely on Vale.

"Don't tell me you don't know how to bake a cake," he added dryly. Vale gave a small, awkward smile, gesturing vaguely toward the counter.

"That would be correct," he admitted.

"I don't." Drago sighed, a long, theatrical exhale that carried just enough judgment to make his stance clear, before stepping inside. Without another word, he moved to the counter and began inspecting the ingredients with a practiced eye, picking things up, adjusting their placement, silently assessing Vale's choices.

"And who is this for?" he asked, already reaching for the flour.

"A friend," Vale replied. Then, after a brief pause, "Nym." Drago glanced at him from the corner of his eye, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"Ah," he said.

"So the girl you like." Vale groaned quietly, rubbing his temple.

"Call it whatever you want." The old man chuckled under his breath, clearly amused, before giving a small nod.

"Very well," he said.

"I suppose I'll help you. Friendship, however you choose to define it, is worth the effort." Vale let out a quiet breath of relief.

"Thanks." Drago had already started moving with purpose. Ingredients were repositioned, measured, sorted with efficient precision. Where Vale had hesitated, Drago acted without pause, his familiarity with the process obvious in every motion. For a moment, Vale simply watched. Then another thought surfaced.

"Hey," he said, catching Drago's attention, "do you know anything about the sages?" Drago paused mid-motion, tilting his head slightly as he considered the question.

"The sages…" he repeated, thoughtful. A brief silence followed before he nodded once.

"If you mean the ones Silfur and Maximus belong to, then yes, I know a few things." Vale straightened immediately, attention sharpening.

"Then tell me." But Drago shook his head, already turning back to the task as he poured flour into a bowl with careful precision.

"No," he said calmly. Vale frowned.

"What do you mean, no?"

"If you want answers," Drago continued, his tone steady, almost deliberate, "you should ask them directly when they return." The refusal landed heavier than expected. Vale's expression tightened slightly.

"Why?" Drago didn't answer immediately. He continued working for a moment, measuring, mixing, controlled and methodical, before finally speaking again.

"Because knowledge like that…" he said, "is rarely given without reason." He set the bowl aside and glanced at Vale briefly.

"Each of the seven sages serves this organization," he continued, his voice even but carrying a quiet weight.

"And I'll admit, they've proven themselves valuable. More than that, in some cases." There was a pause. Then, more quietly,"But they are not simple allies. Nor are they something you can fully understand through secondhand words." His gaze returned to the mixture in front of him.

"If you want the truth," he added, "you'll have to hear it from them."