CHAPTER 168: CHAPTER 168 | EXCITEMENT

Troy took the note gently from Jinn’s hand, his brows already pulling together as he unfolded the paper. The faint light from the eidric lanterns above cast a soft shimmer across the ink, making each written line glow for a moment as Troy’s eyes darted from word to word.

"Eidra... golden... saint... candidate... Holy Empire of Seraphim...?" Troy murmured, almost whispering the phrases as he read them aloud. His expression grew more serious the further he went, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Each paragraph carried details about a chosen candidate or candidates for sainthood—someone tied to the Holy Empire itself.

He kept reading for several long seconds, the silence stretching between them inside the towering archive platform. When he finally reached the end, Troy exhaled through his nose, folding the note neatly before his gaze lifted toward Jinn.

And Jinn was watching him—quiet, tense, waiting for the answer that could either calm or trouble him even more.

Because the message... the message wasn’t about politics or some nameless noble girl. This one pointed toward someone from Jinn’s childhood.

Someone important.

Ophelia.

"Hmmm..." Troy hummed thoughtfully as he handed the note back into Jinn’s grasp. Jinn’s fingers closed around it with a small, almost nervous tightness.

"The information is correct," Troy said, his tone steady but carrying the weight of a teacher preparing to explain things carefully.

"But usually, the Holy Empire doesn’t choose just one candidate for something as big and sacred as becoming a saint. They often gather several, sometimes even dozens. And golden-haired women are not exactly rare in Seraphim—they’re actually very common."

Troy lifted a single finger, as if marking a very important point.

"However," he continued, leaning slightly closer, "you do have someone close to you—very close—who has precise information about the current candidates. Every single one of them. Because she has traveled across countless empires and galaxies for her work."

A faint smile tugged at Troy’s lips, as if hinting at something he already expected Jinn to realize.

"Someone who would know exactly who the current saint candidates are... without any doubt."

For a brief moment, Jinn honestly expected Troy to mention Venedix. It made sense—Venedix always had her own network of spies scattered across the far reaches of Zerafhon’s borders, gathering intel about rival empires such as the Seraphim.

But Venedix herself never traveled beyond the empire’s reach. She wasn’t the type to hop between worlds or drift through galaxies for "work," not the way Troy purposely worded it.

And the way Troy phrased it... it sounded less like he meant a noble, or a scholar, or someone tied to any official order. It felt more like he was hinting toward someone who takes jobs—dangerous jobs. Someone who moved silently between empires, someone who didn’t ask questions unless they were paid to.

A mercenary.

A very specific kind of mercenary.

And Jinn knew only one person like that.

"Evakhell," Jinn muttered, saying the name as if it held a sharp edge.

Evakhell—the assassin mercenary who once worked directly under Venedix, and the same person who saved his life years ago when a warden attempted to kill him.

"Exactly!" Troy snapped his fingers with a grin, his satisfaction obvious. He didn’t waste another second.

"I’ll give you her contact number so you can reach her when you’re ready. She’ll know everything you’re trying to find."

*clack!

Then Troy tapped the bottom of his staff against the polished floor. A soft, deep thrum followed, and black eidra smoke erupted around them in a controlled spiral before forming into a stable circular portal.

The mist swirled like liquid shadows before opening fully, revealing the interior of Troy’s private office—the very same room where Jinn had spent countless hours being tested, lectured, and occasionally scolded.

"Now," Troy said, his tone switching into the familiar mixture of excitement and authority, "bring those books and let us finally discuss Muradryn, Jinn. Today, we begin the real lecture... the one about your destiny."

Jinn exhaled lightly and shifted the three books under his arm.

"Fine," he replied, simple and direct, though inside he felt something else—an uneasy mixture of curiosity, anticipation, and a strange weight he couldn’t quite name.

He stepped forward into the swirling portal first, the cold touch of eidra brushing against his skin as he crossed through.

The air changed instantly, the scent of ink and old parchment from the archive replaced by the warm, dim glow of Troy’s office.

Troy followed right behind him, and as soon as both had fully crossed the threshold, the portal closed with a soft hiss. The black mist scattered like dust blown apart by wind, vanishing into the air until nothing remained.

And with that, the Grand Archive disappeared behind them completely, leaving only the quiet chamber of Troy’s office—and the beginning of a new path Jinn had no choice but to walk.

"We could have discussed it back at the Grand Archive earlier," Troy said as he gently leaned his staff against a nearby chair, the motion looking almost casual but still carrying that usual care he always had for his tools.

After placing it down, he walked toward the main table of the office, the same large desk covered with scrolls, papers, and old documents that Jinn had grown very familiar with over the years.

"It seemed that you were followed—thankfully, I deployed an eidric sound-proof field the moment I arrived," Troy added, his voice calmer than the weight of his words, as if this was something normal for him but definitely not normal for Jinn.

Jinn’s eyes widened a little, the realization hitting him like a shard of ice cutting through skin.

He didn’t sense it at all.

Not even a hint.

He prided himself on his awareness and the instincts he had sharpened from the life he lived, yet he felt nothing.

If what Troy said was true—and with Troy, it usually always was—then the person tailing him must be someone incredibly skilled, skilled enough to hide even from him.

It’s definitely Akavi... Jinn thought immediately.

Akavi always had that strange grip over him, that constant need to control every decision he made, watching every movement he took, almost suffocating him just to make sure he would never break the contract he had with her.

She wanted him tied, owned, kept under her fingers like some treasured weapon she found and refused to give up.

Even now, Jinn felt a mix of frustration and resignation building in his chest.

As much as he wanted to tell Troy and even Venedix about what exactly tied him to her, he couldn’t.

That would mean breaking the contract, and breaking the contract wasn’t something he could do—not yet.

Despite Akavi’s manipulative ways and her unsettling obsession toward him, she was still useful. Her royal blood alone put her in places he could never enter on his own, and her influence opened paths that could, one day, lead to his freedom.

And his freedom... that was everything.

Because once he became free—truly free from all chains, titles, and forced loyalties—he could finally return to the people he cared for the most.

Not just friends... no, they had long stopped being just friends. They were his family, the people he chose and the people who never abandoned him even in the darkest times of his life.

Still, no matter the reason, the truth was harsh and simple: living in this empire had carved a new rule deep into his mind, a new code that shaped how he moved, how he fought, and how he survived.

Strength is everything. Without strength, you cannot protect the people you love. Without strength, you cannot even protect yourself.

Those words had echoed through him many times, especially on nights when he lay awake thinking about how far he still needed to go.

Because of that, Jinn made his decision—one he repeated again and again to himself so he never lost focus.

He would use Akavi, use every bit of influence and status she carried, to make sure his freedom in the future was secured. And while doing that, he would continue to grow stronger, stronger than the version of him who once had nothing, stronger than the boy who could not save the ones he loved.

He needed to stand tall on his own power. He needed to keep moving forward.

So he could protect himself.

So he could protect his friends.

And he would do anything to achieve that goal.

.

.

.

Jinn then carefully placed the books he had brought from the Grand Archive onto the main table in front of Troy. The books made a soft thud as they settled on the wooden surface, and dust drifted lightly into the air, glowing faintly under the warm light of the room.

Jinn straightened himself after setting them down, his expression shifting into something more focused, almost tense, as if he was finally ready to face something he had been putting off for way too long.

"Now, let’s talk about this thing inside me, shall we?" he said, his voice steady but carrying that weight he always felt whenever the topic of his "inner power" was brought up. Even now, he didn’t fully understand it—this strange, overwhelming presence inside him that felt both like a blessing and a burden, something that pushed him forward yet also scared him in ways he never admitted.

"Gladly," Troy replied without missing a beat. His tone was almost cheerful, but not in a careless way—more like he had been waiting for this moment with genuine excitement.