ARCADES

Silent whispers echoed through the chamber as Kalamari lay chained and unconscious on the cold stone floor. The air was thick with uncertainty, and the masters standing around him spoke in hushed tones.

"Is it true… is he really an Arcadian?"

"Can't you see the tattoo on his shoulder? It's just like the one on Tozi's hands."

"Rumors say he's searching for the remaining Arcadians."

"Ever since the fall of Arcades… only four have been found."

"Could this really be Master Olark's apprentice?"

"And yet, none of the Arcadians we've encountered are this powerful."

"I can sense it… only an A-rank could possess such aura."

"All we need is to question him."

A low groan broke through the silence. Kalamari stirred, his muscles twitching as his eyelids fluttered open. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog clouding his vision. Slowly, the forms in front of him came into focus—figures dressed in the robes of rulers and masters.

Thanks to his heightened hearing, Kalamari had already pieced together much of their conversation. Even in his unconscious state, his mind had cataloged their whispers, connected dots, and drawn conclusions.

He scanned the room. None of the faces were familiar.

"Oh my goodness, he's awake!" gasped one of the masters, stepping back in alarm.

Master Plato, the strongest among them, stepped forward, clearing his throat with gravity and respect.

"Long time no see, Kalamari," he said with a calm, knowing tone. "You've grown into quite the warrior. I must admit, I'm surprised you survived the war. Legends say not a single soul lived through the fall of Arcades."

He paused. "What brings you to this part of the kingdom?"

Kalamari squinted at him, still groggy. He didn't recognize the man, nor could he recall anything about the events that had brought him here.

"Uhmm… I guess I got lucky," he said, his voice low and dry. "Can you guys, like, get me off these chains? I'm starving."

A wave of disbelief rippled through the room.

"What?" the masters echoed in unison, stunned by his casual request.

They had expected him to grow furious, to lash out, to break the chains in a show of force and escape. Instead, he remained calm, collected—even slightly humorous. It threw everyone off.

From the back of the room, Master Galaru stepped forward, his face twisted with disdain.

"No! We will not remove the chains!" he snapped, his voice filled with contempt.

Everyone turned to him, shouting his name in disappointment.

"Galaru!"

Kalamari gave him a cold look. "You do know I can break these chains and walk out of here, right?"

The air grew thick with tension. Fear gripped every heart in the room. The aura surrounding Kalamari flared ever so slightly, like a storm barely contained.

Master Plato stepped in quickly, raising a calming hand. "That won't be necessary. Calm yourself, Kalamari."

He turned to the guards. "Release him."

The warriors hesitated, but Plato's voice was final. They unlocked the chains, and they clattered to the floor. Kalamari rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, unbothered, then nodded in quiet appreciation.

Moments later, food was brought into the chamber. The aroma filled the air, and Kalamari dug in without hesitation.

Plato gestured for the others to leave. "I would like a private word with him."

One by one, the masters exited the room. Even the Kingdom Protectors stationed at the door stepped out, leaving only the two men behind.

Kalamari wiped his mouth and leaned back.

"So, I overheard you guys talking about a warrior named Tozi," he said. "Sounds like we're alike. Care to explain?"

Plato folded his hands in front of him, his voice growing solemn. "Still can't believe you don't remember. But let me enlighten you."

Kalamari leaned in, his face finally showing the seriousness that matched his strength.

"Before the fall, you were an F-rank student," Plato began. "At that level, when a student advances to E-rank, we initiate something called land scalping—a journey through various kingdoms, where young warriors study different styles and traditions of training."

"You, however, were already known among the rulers. Not because of your rank—but because of your mentor."

Plato chuckled softly. "Master Olark wouldn't stop bragging about you. At every gathering of rulers and masters, he sang your praises."

"Even our late Overlord, Lord Leash, knew your name. Olark insisted you were his most gifted apprentice—more special than any he'd trained before."

Plato's expression darkened slightly.

"Of course, most of us doubted him. You were still F-rank. We all preferred Whuji, his best student—the one who trains all F-ranks."

"But that year, four students advanced and went scalping. One of them was Tozi. He came here, to Whoops."

"Their training was still in progress when the great war between Arcades and the Kings erupted. The four of them were the only ones who escaped Veth's wrath."

Kalamari furrowed his brows. "So you mean… there's an Arcadian here? In this kingdom?"

Plato nodded. "Yes. And you've already met him."

Kalamari looked genuinely confused now. "Who? When?"

Plato turned to the door. "Bring him in."

A Kingdom Protector entered, guiding in the apprentice Kalamari had fought earlier. Kalamari's eyes widened in recognition.

He hadn't realized it during the battle. And that confused him. As Overlord, he could normally read souls, detect energy signatures, and even determine a person's origin.

But this time had been different.

"Tozi," Plato said, "meet Kalamari. Kalamari—your fellow Arcadian."

"I never thought I'd witness a day like this," he whispered.

Tozi stepped forward, smiling softly, though his face remained stoic. Joy burned behind his eyes.

"Kalamari," he said with a respectful nod, "it was an honor to fight someone as strong as you. You fight like an A-rank."

Kalamari stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

"Tozi, my brother," he said with a grin. "Just because I whooped your ass doesn't mean I'm A-rank."

Master Plato chuckled. "With your abilities and strength, I can assure you—you are A-rank."

Kalamari nodded solemnly. "I plan to continue my journey. I need to find the others… the remaining Arcadians."

Tozi stepped forward. "Then I'm coming with you."

He turned to Master Plato, his eyes betraying the ache of leaving behind someone he loved and respected.

Plato met his gaze. "Don't worry, my boy. Your time has come. Go… find your people. Rebuild your world."

"I'll have the warriors prepare your carriage. You must leave quickly. If word reaches Veth, this kingdom may no longer be safe."

"We will have our warriors ready for Veth's arrival."

Kalamari gathered his things. Tozi rushed to collect his belongings.

Plato ensured they had everything they needed: food, gold, clean clothes, horses, and provisions for the journey.

Tozi stopped by his restaurant—reconstruction had already begun. His master, seeing him at the door, smiled proudly. There were no customers that day; the chaos from the previous battle still lingered.

Tozi grabbed a few Bon Luzania, his signature appetizers.

The Kingdom of Whoops felt different now. People gathered outside as Tozi passed in the carriage beside Kalamari.

Some cried, some cheered, some whispered among themselves.

"Could it be? Is he the Arcadian the outsider was looking for?"

"No way—the best chef in Whoops is leaving."

"The outsider… he's so hot."

"What a powerful warrior…"

"Now Tozi is working with the outsider?"

"May the souls of Whoops' past rulers guide them both."

And so, two Arcadians—one loud with strength, the other quiet with skill—rode away from the kingdom and into the horizon.

Their destination: Thruans Kingdom, the next in the Circle.

What lies ahead?

Whom will they find?

[Find out in chapter 7]

---