One of Asher’s golden eyes shone with a resplendent blue light, casting an eerie glow. Seeing that, blood trickled slowly down Lord Winter’s lips to his chin.
“Ack!… An Awoken one!”
The energy emanating from Asher was so overwhelmingly hostile that Lord Winter almost succumbed before his talent deactivated, snapping everything back to normal.
Instead of the ruthless figure from his vision, he saw a short-haired Asher squatting before him with a glint of concern flickering in his eyes.
Those were the same golden eyes that bore no reflection of humane emotions toward him and as hard as steel were impeccably soft and kind at the moment.
It wasn’t that Asher didn’t exude his hostile force but compared to the overwhelming presence of his future self, the force he exuded now felt nothing more than a casual breeze.
Looking into Asher’s eyes, Lord Winter let out a resigned sigh. ‘Child… what happened to you?’
In all honesty, a part of him wanted to create as much distance as possible between himself and Ashher, driven by an instinctive fear. But his compassionate side kept him rooted.
“City Lord!”
“Lord Winter. What happened?”
“Sir!”
Cries filled with concern, both from the council members and soldiers fell into Lord Winter’s ears but his focus was solely on Asher. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the exact time Asher would become like what he had glimpsed during his vision. But one thing was clear, the moment Asher’s eyes lit up, his heart jumped with unease.
“Lord Winter…” Asher spoke and tried to help the old man stand as the old man rejected help from the council members. As they walked into the castle, Lord Winter glanced at his staff and let out a hearty laugh.
“Child, why did you abandon your position as lord to live as a commoner?”
Asher glanced at him, his expression unreadable.
“I needed some time away from the seat of power to think.”
“I see.”
Silence hung between them until Asher helped him sit on the stone throne. This was the first time Asher had seen Lord Winter sit on the throne of Winter Castle.
With both hands on the staff, Lord Winter smiled at him.
“But…”
Asher, about to turn away, paused mid-step.
“…you look like a man who wants to redeem himself. A man who has lost something dear to him… A broken man.”
Asher’s brows furrowed at the words.
“Maybe.”
After uttering those words, he began to descend the throne’s platform.
“I want a word with Asher,” Lord Winter declared, his stern gaze sweeping over Isaac and the others while Asher frowned even more.
Heeding Lord Winter’s orders, everyone left the hall reluctantly while Asher looked at Lord Winter with a raised brow.
“A great army will be marching on us in three months,” Lord Winter began, his voice grave. “You won’t be able to help us as a soldier—but as a lord, you can. However, you must first be willing to return. And I don’t see you doing that anytime soon.”
“So?” Asher crossed his arms, his tone neutral.
“If I show you how to enter the spirit world without being confined to the territory of a spirit, will you aid us with an army—even if you fail to revive your wolf?”
Asher’s eyes widened in shock. He had discreetly spread word behind the scenes to figure out if anyone knew how to enter the spirit world, but Lord Winter had figured out he was the actual culprit of the news and even better, he had a solution.
“How do I go?”
Lord Winter smiled faintly. “We have a deal, then. In three months, the Edomites will march on us with a great army and the stronghold will burn if I do not return you to your position as lord. With your army, there is a possibility—just a chance—that we might survive.”
Asher sensed a keyword: Survive!
Lord Winter hadn’t said ‘win.’ He had said ‘survive’. This meant whatever was coming would bring the full might of the Edomites!
Just imagining it—thousands of rat beastmen in their imposing armor, their telekinesis-wielding nobles laying siege on the stronghold—was enough to turn Asher’s expression grave.
“Meet me at the temple tomorrow,” Lord Winter said.
“What time?” Asher asked.
“At first light.”
Asher nodded, turned on his heel and left the hall. The moment he went out of the hall, Isaac walked in.
“I thought that was a secret you were never going to tell him,” Isaac said, his arms folded across his chest.
“It was…” Lord Winter, whose wounds had healed through some unnatural means, looked at the door. “…until I saw his future. I can only pray that sending him to the spirit world will restore his good heart.”
Isaac’s expression hardened. “Sending a mortal to the spirit world? That is no different from an execution!”
“You’ve seen what he can do,” Lord Winter replied. “He faced the Edomites when the rest of us cowered. Because of him, we have located two other strongholds. He killed commander Ivar—a knight capable of rivaling Anderson—and he’s just a sacred-ranked Swordsman.”
“The spirit world is different,” Isaac snapped. “And what’s even crazier than going to the spirit world is trying to revive a being whose spirit has been recorded.”
Without waiting for a reply, Isaac stormed out with large strides.
_____
The early rays of the sun pierced through the clouds, casting the places with their warmth and radiance as seen in the temple.
Asher stood outside the temple, looking at the healers cleaning up the place while the knights clad in reforged legion armor gazed at him.
“You’re early,” came a voice behind him.
Asher turned to see the old man walking into the temple, his steps slow and deliberate. The rhythmic tapping of Lord Winter’s staff echoed in his eardrums.
“Don’t you have carriages?” Asher inquired, raising an eyebrow.
“At my age, I need to exercise,” Lord Winter replied with a soft chuckle as he walked past Asher.
Asher followed him into the temple hall and stopped before the altar.
“The spirit world isn’t as you think, child,” Lord Winter began. “It’s a world much like ours. But just like you need flesh to inhabit this world, you must die to live in the spirit world.”
Asher frowned. Seeing that, Lord Winter laughed softly. “You are not going to live there so you don’t have to die. But hear me well—once you exceed one month there, you will die.”
Lord Winter’s expression turned serious. “No matter what the reason, you should not stay there even for a second more than a month.”
Asher gave a slow, resolute nod.
“Now,” Lord Winter continued, gesturing toward the altar. “Sit on the altar, shut your eyes and speak to God. Tell him what you want and why.”
As Asher ascended the altar, two knights brought a snow-white sheep to the altar. Lord Winter’s voice rang out again, firm and clear.
“Kill the sheep before you sit. And remember—once you’re there, you’ll have nothing. Not even your clothes because you are entering the spirit world as a spirit.”
With steady hands, Asher drew Euodias and ended the sheep’s life before crossing his legs and exhaling heavily.
“I hope you come back alive,” Lord Winter murmured, his voice so faint that it barely reached Asher’s ears.
When Asher opened his eyes again, he was no longer on the altar or in the temple. The altar, the temple, the knights, and even Lord Winter were gone. Instead, he found himself in the middle of a forest where the skies above were painted with myriad colours.
There was no doubt about it… he was in the spirit world!
