Kaiser’s face shifted slightly, just enough for Regulus to notice. The smirk faded and the sharp focus on Kaisers face dulled for a brief, quiet moment. He opened his mouth to speak, only to stop.

  He tried again. Nothing.

  And again. Still nothing.

  “…Take your time,” Regulus said, his tone softer than usual, though still laced with that pure confidence. “I’m not going anywhere. We're still underground, remember?”

  Kaiser exhaled sharply through his nose and finally spoke, his voice low and distant. “He was… a man of many talents.”

  There was a pause. Kaiser’s eyes were focused, but not on the room, but on some memory far away. “An extremely strange individual. The greatest swordmaster I ever met… and the biggest loser I’ve ever seen.”

  Regulus snorted. “Now that’s a combination. Legendary blade and absolute mess?”

  “You don’t even know the half of it,” Kaiser muttered, shaking his head slowly. “He dressed in the most absurd ways. Wore half a tunic, one boot, a scarf that never matched the season and claimed it was all intentional. Like he was doing it on purpose, fully knowing that it didn’t make sense.”

  He continued. “He drank things that smelled like poisoned swamp water. Ate things that bit back. I saw him swallow a cactus whole just to win a bet he made with himself.”

  Regulus chuckled, but was cut off before he could say anything. “But,” Kaiser said, his voice growing just a little quieter, “He was free. A man without shame. He did everything he ever wanted, exactly how he wanted, and he never apologized for who he was.”

  His fingers curled on the edge of the chair. “He didn’t care about kingdoms or titles or legacy. He only wanted to be free, and that was his highest goal.”

  “…Sounds like the kind of man who’d drive half the world mad and inspire the other half.”

  “He did both,” Kaiser chuckled at some memory. “He drove me mad more times than I can count.”

  “But I take it that he was the one who made you who you are.”

  Kaiser nodded once. “He did.”

  “Sabel Stoorm…” Regulus spoke, but hesitated for a second. “Did he train under that same master?”

  Kaiser’s gaze sharpened like a blade slowly being unsheathed. “Yes,” he said after a pause. “That’s where I first met him.”

  He shifted in his seat, his voice no longer laced with nostalgia, but with something colder, like the crack of steel meeting stone. “Sabel was one of us, a student, like me, and a damn good one. He was precise, obsessed and beyond naturally gifted, which made him frustrating to deal with, gods I still remember him mocking me every time he got to.”

  Regulus hummed, thoughtful. “That explains why he fights like no one else. I haven’t seen the man with my own eyes, but I heard so many stories of that man, of how he fought like an animal, and of how nonsensical his style is.”

  Kaiser nodded slowly. “He was younger than me. I was already thirty when we were first introduced formally. He came to the training grounds in a gilded carriage, I still remember it… He was a prince, draped in red and silver. But our master didn’t care about crowns nor titles, as he always just said that his sword doesn’t bow to status, and he took him in like anyone else.”

  “He trained royalty?” Regulus scoffed. “Was he also a royal?”

  Kaiser shook his head. “Our master believed in neutrality,” He continued. “He stayed out of politics, out of rule of nations, so he didn’t pick sides. At least not until the great war broke out, that’s when everything changed.”

  There was a shift in his voice now, something darker starting to rise. “The world had already outlawed slavery, and the concept died long before I was ever born. No one practiced it anymore…Well not openly. But the Shabab Empire… The place Sabel was meant to rule… They brought it back, repackaged it and gave it a new name, but overall it was the same thing. Chains are chains, no matter how polished.”

  Regulus didn’t speak. He let the silence hang.

  Kaiser laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “I still remember how our master spoke of freedom. How he lived it, how he breathed it. And yet one of his students, maybe even his greatest, turned around and spat in the face of everything he stood for.”

  He looked down at his hands again, like he was remembering days that brought him nostalgia, but also pain.

  “He once told me,” Kaiser said slowly, “That to enslave another being… is to commit a sin so raw it ruptures the very meaning of life. That to chain a soul is not just cruelty—it is the betrayal to creation itself.”

  Regulus shifted slightly, the subtle creak of his armor whispering through the comms. His voice, when it came through again, was quieter, but not softer. It carried the same edge his blade likely would.

  “Kaiser… what did it feel like? Watching Sabel fall like that. Watching him turn from a trusted comrade into the very thing your master hated most?”

  Kaiser’s jaw tensed before he answered, his fingers drumming slowly along the edge of the armrest like he was counting the years backwards. “It felt,” he began, his voice heavier than before, “Like watching a man throw dirt over his own soul and call it progress.”

  He didn’t rush the rest. Each word came like iron being hammered.

  “Sabel was brilliant. Ruthless, yes—but brilliant above everything else. He could’ve changed the world for the better. We all thought he would. He could’ve built something worth following. But instead…” Kaiser leaned forward slightly, his gaze darkening as sand continued to swirl past the window.

  “He built an empire on the backs of the broken. He called it strength. He called it order. But it was rot, Regulus. I’ve razed cities. I’ve burned tyrants off their thrones. But I’ve never once shackled a child and sold them to a man who pretended to be king.”

  Regulus didn’t interrupt nor he dare speak. He just listened.

  “The Shabab Empire thrived off fear. Off pain. They didn’t rule—they bled their people dry until the screams become a silence they could sleep under. That wasn’t leadership. That was decay wrapped in gold.”

  Kaiser let the silence stretch before adding, quieter this time, “And Sabel… I think a part of me still hopes that when I see him next, he’ll say it was all a lie. That he was pretending. That there was some sort of plan. But deep down, I know better.”

  He turned slightly, eyes narrowing, voice sharpening once more. “He made his bed in the bones of the innocent. And I’ll burn that bed down with him in it.”

  “…Didn’t think you had poetry in you.” Regulus muttered.

  “I was taught by a madman who danced with swords and drank with ghosts,” Kaiser replied. “Some of it rubbed off.”

  Kaiser rose a bit in his comfortable seat, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. “My turn now.” Kaiser leaned forward slightly. “Also… for your information, those were three questions.”

  There was a long pause over the comms, followed by a sudden, outraged shout that nearly blew the speakers. “WHAT?!” Regulus barked. “That’s cheating, you—!”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Kaiser didn’t flinch at the noise. “You asked me about my master, about Sabel, and about my continent. That’s three.”

  Regulus growled like an armored wolf denied dinner. “I didn’t realize we were counting like a tavern accountants!”

  “You made the rules,” Kaiser said, leaning back with a faint smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

  Regulus grumbled something that sounded like it involved breaking furniture and swore in at least three different dialects. “Fine. Your question then, sword-saint of semantics.”

  Kaiser folded his arms, the warlord’s calm settling back into place. “I’ll keep it broad, since you did the same. What are the Grounded, exactly?”

  Regulus went silent, and it stretched long enough that Kaiser raised an eyebrow.

  “…Fair question,” Regulus finally muttered, his voice low and thoughtful. “A Big one as well, so I’m counting it as two.”

  Kaiser’s eyes narrowed. “That’s rich.”

  “Take it or leave it. I’m answering, but not for free. This explanation comes with weight.”

  Kaiser sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like a tired general. “Fine. Two, then. But it better be worth it.”

  Regulus exhaled. “Alright. In this world, there are three races that matter when it comes to life’s balance. The Humans. The Grounded. And the Unborn.”

  Kaiser tensed slightly at the last word, but said nothing.

  “Humans,” Regulus continued, “Sit at the top of the hierarchy—because they are the oldest race, and because their strongest rise far above all others. The Ten Hopes, the strongest beings to exist are entirely made of humans, with only a few exceptions. The Grounded exist just beneath them—primordial and powerful, yes, but more mysterious than dominant.”

  Kaiser’s expression didn’t change, but his body stilled, like stone setting around the edges.

  “The Grounded are primordial spirits,” Regulus said, letting the words hang in the air like sacred ash. “They weren’t born from a mother or a father. They were born from the world itself. Forests, deserts, volcanoes, oceans—where there’s a primal force, a Grounded may rise from it.”

  Kaisers breath slowed and a strange intensity lit behind his eyes, but he said nothing.

  “They don’t age. They don’t get sick. They can live forever, unless someone kills them outright or their place of origin is destroyed. And even then, death isn’t always… final.”

  Kaiser finally spoke, his voice cold. “You’re telling me spirits just crawl out of the dirt?”

  Regulus let out a low laugh. “Not crawl, but manifest! Their appearances are wild. Some are small, gentle things, like river nymphs. Some are gigantic, walking forests or storm-cloaked beasts. But three stand out.”

  Kaiser’s brow lifted. “Three?”

  “Dragons are the first. The apex. Supreme among the Grounded. They are ancient, powerful, and rare. Their breath can melt mountains and they tend to sleep in places most wouldn’t dare tread. They’re intelligent. Willful. And some still walk among us in disguise.”

  Kaiser’s lips pressed together. “You said there were three.”

  “Second,” Regulus continued, “Were the Vampires. Not the ones from bedtime stories—real ones. Grounded who evolved in blood-drenched places. Stronger at night, terrifyingly fast, obsessed with lineage and dominance. They’re almost extinct now. Last one that was seen was around two hundred and fifty years ago, and even that was just a silhouette on a mountaintop.”

  “And the third?”

  Regulus hesitated.

  Kaiser sat forward, sensing the shift. “What?”

  “…The Old Ones,” Regulus said slowly. “Grounded so ancient, so powerful that they’re beyond comprehension. No one knows where they came from. No one knows what they are. We just know they exist. They dwell deep beneath the Infinite Sea, far beyond reach. No human has ever returned from those waters sane.”

  Kaiser stared at the comm panel like it had grown teeth. “You’re telling me there are gods under the ocean.”

  “Not gods,” Regulus replied. “They’re older than any myth, and worse than any nightmare. You know that feeling, when even the wind stops and the ocean forgets to move, like the world itself is holding its breath? That silence belongs to them.”

  Kaiser leaned back slowly, muttering to himself. “Dragons born of fire… vampires forged in blood… and eldritch titans sleeping under the sea. What kind of cursed world have I walked into?”

  Regulus didn’t laugh this time. “It’s the only world I’ve ever known,” he said simply, his tone carrying no smugness nor the armor of sarcasm he usually wore. “So I can’t imagine one much different.”

  Kaiser let that settle for a moment, then leaned forward slightly, ready to speak—but Regulus cut him off before the words left his mouth.

  “Hold that thought,” he said, voice calm but serious. “I still owe you one more answer. But this isn’t a question. It’s something you need to know.”

  Outside, through the windows, soft threads of sunlight began to pierce the shifting sea of sand, casting fragmented rays across the metal walls like celestial veins. Their time in solitude, Kaiser realized, was nearly over.

  Regulus’ voice followed, a bit lower now, but steady. “Rarely… very rarely, a human child is born with the soul of the world instead of a regular one. These people aren’t fully human. But they aren’t quite Grounded either.”

  Kaiser turned his head slightly, visibly intrigued.

  “We call them the Silvarin,” Regulus said. “They are Grounded born from a mother and father. The only kind that come from the womb, not the land.”

  Kaiser blinked slowly. “You’re telling me humans can give birth to spirits?”

  “They can give birth to something between,” Regulus replied. “They do not age and the diseases cannot touch them. But they can be killed like men, and they have no place of origin to tether them. They don’t need it.”

  Kaiser exhaled, brows furrowed as he processed the weight of it. “So they get the best of both worlds. They don’t need to worry about their environment being destroyed… and they live forever unless someone ends them.”

  “Exactly,” Regulus said. “They walk among us more than most know. Not gods. Not monsters. Just... rare. But not as rare as the true Grounded. Maybe one in ten thousand births results in a Silvarin. But a new Grounded?”

  He paused, looking to the window as more golden light shimmered through the sand.

  “That’s different. A new Grounded is only born when the world itself changes. A new forest forming, a desert overtaking a plain, a river splitting into two… or when something ancient dies and gives way to something new. And sometimes… it takes destruction. If a volcano erupts, it might give birth to three or four new dragons, but it could kill hundreds of forest spirits in the process. Nature trades lives for balance.”

  The hum of the metallic dragon, deep and steady like the slow breath of a slumbering giant, filled the silence that followed. Kaiser remained still, watching the filtered sunlight grow bolder through the sand-coated windows, knowing they would break the surface soon—but something still lingered in his mind, an itch of curiosity that hadn’t yet been scratched.

  “I’d like to meet a Silvarin one day,” he muttered, mostly to himself, though he knew Regulus was listening.

  Regulus didn’t miss a beat. “You already have.”

  Kaiser blinked slowly. “…What?”

  “You’ve already met more than one, actually.”

  Kaiser’s expression didn’t change right away, but the gears behind his eyes shifted. He stared at the window, replaying the words in his head like they might change on a second pass.

  Regulus chuckled. “Come on Kaiser. Use your brain and think. Who do you know that clearly doesn’t add up?”

  Kaiser frowned, then narrowed his eyes. “I know plenty of people that don’t add up, Regulus. Be more specific.”

  “Alright. Here’s a hint. Mia and Ivan are brother and sister, right?”

  Kaiser froze and stared at the window like it had just slapped him.

  “Mia is a Grounded,” Regulus continued, casual as ever. “Ivan’s human. But they’re siblings with the same parents. Just think about it.”

  Kaiser raised a hand slowly to his face and slapped his palm against it with a groan that echoed with the weight of his own obliviousness. “By the stars,” he muttered into his hand. “How the hell did I not connect that sooner?”

  Kaiser shook his head, letting the realization settle. “Mia’s a Silvarin. That’s why she has those weird animal ears… and that’s why Ivan, while human, still shares blood with her.”

  “Exactly,” Regulus said, and then—after a pause—added, “And so am I.”

  Kaiser turned his head toward the voice like he was physically there. “…You?”

  Regulus let out a soft metallic tap, like he was drumming his fingers against the pilot console. “Yeah. I’m a Silvarin too. My mother was a war-singer from the Southern Liberatorium, and my father? He was a Liberator from the Northern Liberatorium. He was a strange man, stubborn too, beyond belief. I guess that stuck.”

  Kaiser narrowed his eyes. “So you’re part spirit?”

  “Part human, part world. Best of both, worst of neather.”

  Kaiser ran a hand down his face, still processing, still catching up to the new information. “And here I thought the world I came from was complicated.”

  Regulus laughed again, the sound low and full of static warmth. “That was your first mistake. This world doesn’t care for simplicity. It’s got gods under oceans, dragons in caves, and children born between breath and soil.”

  Kaiser let the silence stretch for a moment. “And now you’ve got me.”

  “Now we’ve got you,” Regulus corrected. “And that’s going to make things a lot more interesting.”

  The sand outside began to shimmer brighter, the grain patterns turning gold and silver as beams of light broke through with more force. The hum of the ship began to change tone, shifting upward like a beast preparing to leap.

  Regulus’ voice returned, louder now, more focused. “Brace yourself. We’re breaching the surface!”

  Kaiser didn’t need to be told twice. He gripped the armrests as the floor beneath him began to shift with a groan that felt tectonic in scale. The air thickened. The lights inside pulsed with warning.

  And then, the metallic dragon roared. Not with sound, but with force. With movement. The sand above them split like ocean waves crashing backward, and the world turned upside down.

  The floor tilted violently, and the chamber lurched as the ship burst from the earth in a blast of gold and glass-dusted wind. The pressure shifted so hard it popped Kaiser’s ears and even the light poured in like the gods themselves had torn open the sky.

  “Welcome back to the surface!”

  ?? Bonus Chapter – 100 Followers Milestone! ??

  I honestly didn’t expect to reach this so soon, and I’m incredibly grateful to each of you who decided to stick around. Thanks for reading, supporting, and letting me tell this story. It means more than you know!