UNMEI: Pantheon's Game-Chapter 128: Black Mist

The courtyard buzzed with light and chatter, students scattered under the glow of floating lanterns while music played faintly in the distance.

Dune walked slowly, hands in his pockets, his dark hair shifting slightly in the breeze. As he moved between groups of chatting students, someone stepped in front of him and bowed.

Dune blinked.

Syras Vermilion.

Syras straightened. "Didn't think I'd see you here again," he said, tone calm but warm.

"What do you think about this place so far?"

Dune looked around at the decorations, the nobles, the coats of arms sewn into cloaks like walking billboards. "This is new for me... if i'm being honest, not a fan," he said.

Syras smiled faintly. "Yeah, but that's kind of how things work around here. You're already important to Rendely, whether you like it or not. An S-Class Bloodrose student? That's not something the King ignores. He might force you into a family."

Dune sighed. "I'd rather not."

Syras didn't push it. Instead, he said, "You were amazing in our fight. Seriously. Your swordsmanship, clean and fast. I thought I was decent until you made me look like a beginner."

Dune didn't expect praise from him at all. "Thanks."

"I'm gonna try my best to catch up," Syras added. "Think we could train together sometimes?"

"Sure, why not," Dune said simply.

Just as Syras was about to say something else, voices rose around the courtyard. Everyone turned.

The mood shifted like someone flipped a switch.

Dune looked toward the steps, and there they were.

The Murderthrones.

The crowd reacted instantly. People bowed their heads, even the Rodenys and the Cereseys.

Dune followed suit, watching carefully as two young men walked in, James and Damion Murderthrone. And with them, a tall, elegant woman in dark crimson.

Lady Neathel Murderthrone.

She moved like a ghost, graceful and calm, as if everything beneath her mattered only if she allowed it to.

Sarazel Rodeny himself stepped forward, bowing low. "My Lady. I hope your journey was peaceful. Glad you're back safely."

Dune frowned slightly. Journey?

Syras leaned over, whispering just enough. "She has a rare Neba ability. A red one. She can send her physical body to another dimension... and still be here at the same time."

Dune blinked. "Wait. You're saying she can exist in two places?"

"Sort of," Syras explained. "Here, she can't be touched. Like a ghost. Untouchable, unkillable. It's what makes her the perfect person for spying and information gathering missions. This time, she visited the Black Mist."

Dune raised an eyebrow. "What's the Black Mist?"

Before Syras could reply, a new voice joined in.

"It's a barrier between continents."

Leonard Amellia.

He approached with Azrael Rodeny at his side. Leonard gave them both a nod. Azrael mirrored the gesture.

Leonard continued. "It's basically a living wall of monsters. Millions of them. And none of them are below blue Neba. That's why no one crosses."

Dune's eyes widened. "So that's why people can't leave the continent?"

Azrael exhaled. "Even if you got through the Black Mist, the ocean's next, and it's worse. It's home to the Calamities."

"Calamities?" Dune asked.

Syras stepped in again. "Purple Neba creatures. The strongest."

Dune nodded slowly, starting to piece it all together. "What stops those monsters from attacking us?"

Leonard shrugged with a faint smile. "We're not sure. But they only react when approached. So it's like they're guarding something... or making sure nothing passes."

Syras sighed. "I still wonder how that even started."

Dune looked at him. "Someone probably made it."

That got all of their attention.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. Azrael tilted his head slightly.

"What?" Dune asked. "Makes sense. Something's controlling all that. Something,

or someone, had to set it up."

Azrael muttered, "If so, that someone is above purple Neba."

Leonard chuckled. "You mean the gods? Churches preach about them. My family prays to them. But let's be real, what proof do we actually have they exist?"

He glanced toward the sky. "And even if they do, why would trapping humans on separate continents benefit them at all?"

Before the conversation could go deeper, the music faded, and silence fell.

Lady Neathel stepped forward to address the courtyard.

Her voice was smooth, but it carried weight. Like every word meant something.

"I know the last few weeks have shaken many," she said. "The destruction of Fein... the lives lost. I feel that pain. Deeply."

She paused, her eyes moving across the students.

"But know this, His Majesty is doing everything in his power to make Rendely stronger than it's ever been. We are rising. We will not break."

Her gaze locked onto the newest students, Dune included.

"And to our brave new students... I hope you enjoy tonight. Celebrate. Laugh. You deserve it. But remember... in seven days, you face the trial. I wish all of you good luck."

She smiled.

"And I hope you all come back. Alive, and stronger."

The crowd burst into applause.

Dune stayed quiet. He was starting to feel the weight of this place now.

Soon enough, Dune found himself alone again.

One by one, the others bid him farewell, some with a nod, others with polite smiles, and disappeared into the rest of the garden. The stars stretched overhead, and the scattered hum of noble conversations carried gently on the wind. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

He kept walking, quietly weaving through hedges and soft lights, until something odd caught his attention.

At a small, elegant table, someone was crouched over a plate of food, tearing into it like she hadn't eaten in weeks.

He stopped.

"...Mindya?"

A laugh slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. His face brightened, and he began approaching her calmly, hands in his pockets.

But just as he reached out—

She spun around and shoved him.

Dune instinctively blocked the strike with a forearm, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

Mindya grinned, brushing crumbs from her lips. "What do you mean? I'm also in S-Class!"

"That doesn't matter. Plenty of S-Class students weren't even invited tonight. Where's your invitation?"

She casually glanced to the side and pointed, "It's right there."

Dune followed her gaze... only to find a single empty plate sitting on the table.

He turned back, but she was already gone.

"Wha—hey!"

He blinked, momentarily confused, until he spotted the back of her black hair darting through the crowd, laughing.

He squinted. Something stuck out of her back pocket.

His eyes narrowed. It was his own invitation letter.

"...Wait a second..."

He patted his jacket and groaned. "When did she—?!"

And with that, he bolted after her.

"Mindya!"

She laughed again, weaving between nobles, plates, and startled couples. "Too slow, Dune! Way too slow!"

He chased her across the garden paths, brushing past people and narrowly avoiding a waiter carrying a silver tray.

Atlas was just passing by with a drink when Dune zipped past.

He blinked, then sighed. "There he goes."

Dune didn't want to use Nebastep. He closed the gap on his own feet, pushing harder, until—

Thud.

They collided.

Both tumbled forward, right into an open clearing. Dune caught her wrist, stopping their fall. For a second, they stood still, stunned.

Music played gently in the background. He glanced around. Couples... slow dancing. Dozens of eyes on them.

Mindya's eyes widened. "Woops."

Dune sighed, brushing a leaf off her shoulder. "Let's leave. Quickly."

He took her hand to pull her out of the spotlight, just as someone caught up with him from behind.

"Dance, idiot!"

Dune turned his head to see Atlas, smirking.

Next to him stood a girl with long golden hair and noble grace, Hazel Amellia. Hazel Amellia? What is she doing with Atlas,

Is that who Sylvie was talking about?

Dune frowned. "No."

Atlas clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. If you dance, I'll cover everything for you. Every inn, every meal, even the training hall fees."

Dune blinked. "Where are you getting all this money from?"

Atlas grinned like he'd been waiting for the question. "I'm a Ceresey now. What do you think?"

Dune stared at him. For the first time, he felt the sting of envy. Family, Status, And Wealth.

It was like a different world, one you could buy your way through.

He looked around at the crowd of dancing nobles. Too much attention already.

He scanned the room. Sylvie Ceresey stood not far, regal and composed. "No, not her!" Dune looked back at Mindya, green eyes wide, hair tousled, cheeks flushed.

"No!"

He took her hand again.

"Come dance with me?"

She recoiled. "No! I don't know how! Let me go!"

"Don't be a child," he said calmly. "It's just a dance."

Her expression twisted. "You're the child!"

She made a strange, high-pitched sound.

Dune raised an eyebrow. "Did you just—?"

"Shut up!" she hissed, clearly angry.

He smirked. And then, casually, as if it were a training session, he whispered,

"Think about it as a fight. Whoever does it smoother, cleaner, wins. Just follow my movements, are you this scared?"

Her eyes locked onto his. "No, i'm not scared at all! But-"

"And I won't train with you anymore." Dune interrupted.

"...I'm going to kill you." But she grabbed his hand anyway.

Dune nodded. "Alright. Just follow my lead."

They began awkwardly. He moved left, she stepped right. He stepped in, she stepped back. "Not bad keep going!"

One step, then another. Her feet matched his. Their hands clasped, their movements soft, almost floating. Her green eyes met his, and she looked away quickly, hiding her face behind her hair.

Across the ballroom, nobles paused to glance at the strange pair. They didn't fit the scene, yet somehow, they weren't doing bad at all.

Atlas watched from the edge, he also was dancing with Hazel.

"One day," he murmured, "just one day. And he's already dancing like he's done it his whole life."

Hazel tilted her head. "No way, he's good."

"Too good," Atlas whispered, eyes still locked on Dune. "When he learned swordsmanship, he repeated movements like breathing. No one taught him footwork,he just copied it perfectly. Always has."

Even Cadogan and Daniel knew. He's a real prodigy...

Back in the center, Dune spun Mindya once. she stumbled into his chest, face burning red.

"Y-You didn't warn me!"

"I thought you were a fast learner."

"Shut up!"

Their dance slowed.

The song faded.

With a final step, Dune gently let go and bowed lightly.

"Thanks for the dance."

He leaned in and, without hesitation, slipped the invitation letter from her back pocket.

Mindya blinked in surprise, frozen.

"Don't let anyone catch you without an invitation. If anything happens... just find me."

He turned and walked away into the garden, the soft glow of lanterns behind him.

Mindya stood there for a few seconds, not moving. Her heart still raced.

She touched her chest.

"...Idiot..."