Nick woke to the sound of gulls.
For half a second, his mind tried to convince him that it made sense.
Salt air. Waves. Warm light pressing against closed eyelids.
Then the bed creaked beneath him as he shifted, and the illusion cracked.
The ceiling above was wooden, not sky. The scent in the air wasn’t ocean spray, but clean linen and faint smoke drifting in through an open window. Somewhere below, boots crossed stone and a cart rattled past, wheels thumping over uneven cobble.
He sighed and opened his eyes all the way.
Morning sunlight spilled through the window in soft, slanted bands, catching dust motes midair. His body felt… fine. Not rested, exactly, but well enough. Any lingering aches from excessive swimming had dulled to a distant pressure, like a bruise that only flared when prodded.
He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds longer than necessary.
The beach was already receding in his memory, like something carefully set aside. He remembered the warmth of the sand, the sound of the waves, the way Kelsey had watched the horizon as if she were counting something he couldn’t see.
They’d parted without ceremony.
There were no promises or lingering touches. They left with a mutual understanding that the moment had been what it was—and whatever came next would be whatever came next.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.
With a wave of his hand, he retrieved a clean shirt and a pair of pants from his wardrobe. He dressed quickly, then paused as his hoodie settled into place. The man in the small, warped mirror across the room looked back at him with familiar eyes—but something in his posture had shifted.
It was just another morning.
Yet somehow, it felt new.
He glanced toward the window, then away.
He’d put it off long enough.
The duke told him a couple days ago now that he had something to talk about. He’d wandered aimlessly instead of fulfilling a social obligation, and now it was time to see if there were any consequences.
He headed for the door.
The city was already awake in that half-organized, half-chaotic way characteristic of the early morning. Merchants were setting up stalls, guards rotated shifts at the gates, and the smell of fresh bread tangled with iron, oil, and damp stone.
And then people noticed him.
It was a subtle ripple.
A woman mid-conversation faltered, her eyes tracking him as he passed. A pair of apprentices nearly walked into each other when they glanced his way. Somewhere behind him, a voice stumbled over a sentence and never quite recovered.
Nick felt the attention.
He adjusted his pace, keeping it steady. If he slowed, it would look deliberate. If he hurried, it would look guilty. So he walked as if he belonged… because, somehow, it didn’t feel like he was unwelcome anymore.
Eyes slid toward him without conscious intent. People straightened their posture when he passed, like they were being observed by someone who mattered. A few nodded reflexively, unsure why they were doing it.
Nick kept his gaze forward.
‘How am I supposed to manage this?’
If he ever got another chance to speak with the Goddess of Beauty, he had a few choice words for her.
At the barracks, a pair of guards recognized him.
One snapped to attention. The other hesitated, then followed suit a beat late, his face coloring faintly.
“Sir,” the first said. “Good morning.”
Nick blinked. ‘Sir?’
“Morning,” he replied neutrally.
They watched him go with expressions that bordered on awe and confusion.
He sighed.
The closer he got to the inner district, the more pronounced it became. Conversations dipped. Heads turned. People didn’t stare openly, but their attention brushed against him like static.
By the time he reached the duke’s estate, Nick was already tired.
The guards at the gate stiffened as he approached.
One of them, an older, scarred man, squinted at Nick for several seconds.
Then his expression changed.
“…You,” the guard said slowly.
“Yes?” Nick replied.
The guard swallowed. “Who are you?”
“Someone who is becoming a regular guest of the duke.”
The guard shook his head. “Not sure why his lordship would deal with your kind. You can find Beauty and her people down the street at their church…”
“I’m here to see the duke,” Nick repeated, feeling a faint headache forming. “And I’m not part of the Church of Beauty.”
“Sir, I can spot bullshit from a mile away. Believe me, you stink somethin’ rotten. Only them Beauty-folks can look like you do, all sparkly and shit.”
Nick raised his arms and looked at them carefully.
“You see… sparkles?”
“It’s all in my mind’s eye.”
‘What the hell?’
Nick had no idea what was wrong with this guy.
He lowered his arms.
“Then do me a favor,” he said evenly. “Pretend you’re right, pretend I’m exactly what you think I am, and then get your ass up to the duke and tell him that I’ve arrived.”
The older guard stared at him for a long moment. His jaw tightened, then worked as if he were chewing on something unpleasant.
“…Wait here.”
He turned and stalked off toward the inner gates, muttering under his breath.
Nick leaned back against the stone, folding his arms.
=You Are Beautiful=
-Divine Blessing-
Description: You are beautiful.
Beauty is truth seen sideways.
This damned curse wasn’t admiration or loyalty.
It was categorization.
People didn’t see him. They saw a story that already existed and tried to fit him into it. Some could view him as a priest. Others would see a symbol. For many, he was competition.
He wasn’t used to being pretty, so he wasn’t sure how best to utilize the attention.
After a short while, the gate creaked open again.
The guard returned, his posture stiffer than before. He didn’t meet Nick’s eyes this time.
“…His Grace will see you. Follow me.”
Nick pushed off the wall and stepped forward without another word.
***
The interior of the estate was quieter than the streets outside, but no less alert. Servants moved quickly and efficiently, their eyes downcast. More than once, Nick felt attention flicker toward him and then away again. Even here, in the estate of the most powerful man in the city, people weren’t quite sure what to make of him.
They passed through a series of arched halls before stopping at a set of heavy double doors.
The guard knocked once.
“Enter.”
The doors opened on their own.
The duke stood near the same wide table covered in maps that Nick saw the previous time he visited. His sleeves were rolled up and his blond hair was pulled back loosely. He looked up as Nick entered—and froze.
His eyes traced Nick from head to toe, then narrowed slightly.
“…Well,” he said. “That answers a few questions.”
Nick arched an eyebrow. “Good morning to you too, Your Grace.”
The duke huffed a short laugh and waved a hand. “Close the door.”
The door closed by itself, sealing the room in quiet.
Duke Jantzen straightened fully and regarded Nick with new interest.
“You’ve changed a bit since we last spoke.”
Nick shrugged. “I’ve had a busy couple of days.”
“I can tell,” the duke replied dryly. “You’re a bit later than I expected. It seems that certain… developments kept you away.”
He stepped aside and gestured to the table.
“Come. We need to talk about dungeons.”
Nick moved forward, eyes landing on the maps, noting red markings, notes in the margins, and several locations that were circled.
“I take it this isn’t a purely social visit.”
The duke nodded. “Correct. This is a warning.”
He rested both hands on the edge of the table and leaned forward, the maps between them rustling softly.
“You have an ability,” he said, “that no one else in this world possesses. At least not that we’re aware of. You can end dungeons. Anybody with half a brain can clear them, and someone with the proper resources can suppress and control them, but you can end them.”
Nick nodded once. “I take it this is a problem?”
The duke straightened and began to pace slowly along the length of the table, his eyes never quite leaving Nick.
“It makes you very dangerous,” he said. “I’d be very worried if you were reckless, but it is still a problem because you can be effective when you want to be.”
Nick folded his arms. “Dungeons are threats. The monsters inside kill people. I’ve heard that they destabilize regions. What could possibly be the issue with removing them?”
Well, besides the obvious economic benefits…
But he was best served by acting oblivious in this case.
“I didn’t say there was a problem,” the duke replied. “But there are consequences.”
He stopped at one of the circled locations and tapped it with a knuckle.
“This dungeon here produces spell-reactive iron. The yield is low, but consistent. We use it to mass-produce weapons and for research into warded armor.”
Another tap, further to the east.
“This one respawns crystalline growths every six months. The alchemical value is astronomical. This dungeon alone is supplying three research projects that would stall indefinitely if you were to close it.”
He moved his hand closer to the border.
“This dungeon is controlled. It’s dangerous, yes, but it’s a good place for new adventurers and soldiers to get their feet wet. We often send people there to learn what it feels like to fight something that doesn’t think like a man.”
Nick followed each gesture, committing their locations to memory.
“Dungeons are not monsters. They are infrastructure.”
“Infrastructure can be mismanaged,” Nick pointed out.
The duke smiled faintly. “Exactly.”
‘…Exactly?’ That wasn’t the response he was expecting.
Jantzen returned to the head of the table.
“Some dungeons must remain open,” he said. “Others must remain available so they can be studied and mapped over the coming decades. We learn from them by tracking their correlations.”
“And the rest?”
“The rest are liabilities,” he said. “Logistical nightmares, economic drains, border risks, death traps. Some appear in the wrong place. Some grow too fast. Some produce nothing of value.”
“Ah…” Nick realized where this was going. “You want me to focus on clearing those?”
“I want you,” the duke said carefully, “to be selective.”
Nick considered the request.
Outwardly, it was reasonable. Sensible, even.
Inwardly, he was already rearranging the map.
“So you’re not asking me to stop,” he said. “You’re asking me to coordinate.”
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t?”
The duke met his gaze.
“Then you’ll still succeed in closing dungeons,” he said. “But you’ll destabilize markets, starve research, undercut training pipelines, and force the crown to treat you as a problem instead of an asset.”
There it was.
It wasn’t a threat.
It was a forecast.
Nick nodded slowly. “So it’s fine if I break things, so long as I don’t break them so fast that you can’t adapt.”
“Not quite,” the duke corrected. “I want you to coordinate because I’m worried that you won’t realize what you’re breaking until it’s already gone.”
Nick looked back down at the maps.
The red circles formed a web.
Suddenly, everything looked so fragile.
If he just knew where to tug…
“I understand,” he said. “I’m willing to coordinate. As long as you are transparent about how you define ‘liabilities’.”
The duke let out a breath and gave a short, humorless chuckle.
“You really are dangerous,” he said. “Alright. We’ll start with a joint review. You’ll receive recommendations, not orders.”
Nick smiled. “That works for me.”
“Good,” the duke said. “Because whether you like it or not, you’re about to become deeply entrenched in politics. If you don’t navigate carefully, you’ll be eaten alive by the crows and scavengers.”
Nick’s smile faded.
Systems only appeared immutable until someone understood them well enough.
Foundations could be reinforced.
They could also be undermined.
“I’ll wait for the recommendations,” he said.
The duke nodded. “You’ll have them soon.”
Nick turned toward the door.
As it opened, the duke spoke again.
“One more thing.”
Nick glanced back.
“Were you aware that some rats snuck in yesterday?”
“…rats?”
“Some slippery rats of unknown background. Your vampire servant did a number on them when they tried to assassinate the beastkin princess.”
His gaze sharpened.
“Someone is after her. I can only assume it’s related to the Cain problem.”
Nick didn’t react immediately. He didn’t let it show in his posture or expression. Inside, however, frustration boiled to the surface.
‘So that’s how they want to play it…’
“I see,” he said after a moment.
The duke watched him closely. “I thought you might.”
Nick turned back toward the maps, studying them with renewed interest. The red circles no longer looked like warnings. They looked like fault lines.
“I take it the attempt failed?” he clarified.
“For the most part,” Jantzen replied. “Your servant healed her. I’ve increased security, so I don’t expect the attackers to make a second attempt anytime soon.”
Nick nodded.
“That won’t stop whoever sent them,” he said. “You’ve just increased the difficulty, but you haven’t applied any pressure to the culprits.”
The duke didn’t disagree.
“That’s why I’m telling you now,” he said. “If this is connected to Cain—and I believe it is—then I am thoroughly vexed that this problem is still rampaging through my city. You promised results, and I intend to hold you to it.”
Nick shrugged. “I’ll review your dungeon recommendations when they arrive,” he said. “And I’ll be careful about which dungeons I close.”
The duke studied him for a long moment, then nodded.
“And the other issue?”
“I’ll pay a visit to the various guilds. They managed to suppress him, so maybe someone who was there noticed something about him or the way he managed to escape.”
“If you think that is the best path forward, then go with strength.”
Nick turned toward the door.
As it opened, he paused.
“For what it’s worth,” he said without looking back, “if someone is targeting her… you and everyone in this city better pray that they don’t succeed.”
The door closed behind him.
The duke remained by the table, staring at the maps.
“Was that a challenge?”
A grin tugged at the edge of his lips.
“I’d love to see it.”
Project Knightfall 