Chapter 43: Chapter 43 – Ghosts Above Sleeping Kingdoms

Night had long since disappeared.

Morning had arrived.

Yet the city beneath the Sinclair Domain still looked half asleep.

Golden sunlight slowly stretched across tiled rooftops and stone roads while market districts were only beginning to awaken from silence. Servants carried crates through side streets. Merchant wagons rolled through intersections. Estate workers cleaned courtyards and gates.

From below, everything looked peaceful.

Normal.

Predictable.

But far above—

Two shadows moved across rooftops.

Silent.

Fast.

Almost unreal.

WHOOSH.

A black cloak fluttered.

Then another.

Footsteps landed atop red tiles before immediately vanishing toward another rooftop.

Neither shadow spoke.

Neither slowed.

Because unlike below—

The world above the city belonged to entirely different creatures.

Those strong enough to run atop buildings without concern.

Those powerful enough to vanish before ordinary eyes could react.

Those dangerous enough that people prayed they never looked down.

Etherius Draven Sinclair moved ahead without hesitation.

Behind him—

Nysera followed.

Though "followed" felt insulting.

Because despite constantly complaining, despite endlessly questioning his ideas and despite claiming repeatedly that she absolutely did not support any of this—

She still kept up perfectly.

As expected.

Etherius smiled beneath his hood.

Not because she saw.

Not because he wanted her to.

Just because this felt familiar.

Very familiar.

Because long ago—

No.

Not long ago.

Another life ago.

Another timeline ago.

The two of them had done this countless times.

Sneaking into noble compounds.

Investigating corruption.

Robbing enemy officials.

Running from soldiers.

Causing political disasters.

Mostly Etherius causing political disasters.

Nysera fixing them afterward.

Normal friendship things.

WHOOSH.

They crossed another building.

Etherius looked at Nysera—

"...You know its easer to do heist in daytime as all the guards expect this to happen in nighttime and almost all officials are stuck at desk in morning"

Nysera let out a sigh and turned towards him

"...if after all the years current and past you still are bad at infiltration or should I stay stealing you should honestly give up"

Etherius looked at her

"RECOVERING"

Nysera shot back

"STEALING"

Nysera suddenly looked sideways.

"...You are smiling."

Silence.

Etherius blinked.

"...No."

"...You are."

"...No."

"...You absolutely are."

Silence.

"..."

"..."

Nysera narrowed her eyes beneath her hood.

"...Why."

Etherius looked ahead.

"...Nothing."

"...You smiled."

"...No."

"...You did."

Silence.

"..."

"..."

"...You look creepy when smiling."

Etherius immediately looked offended.

"...What does that mean."

"...Exactly what I said."

"...I smile normally."

"...No."

"...Yes."

"...No."

"...Yes."

"...You smile like someone planning tax fraud."

Silence.

Etherius stared.

Then slowly looked away.

"...That was oddly specific."

Nysera crossed her arms.

"...If the memories you shared with me are true then according to it in your previous life every time you smiled like that somebody important lost money."

Silence.

"..."

"..."

"...Fair."

Nysera sighed.

Very deeply.

Because sometimes she forgot.

Forgot that this absurd situation had somehow become reality.

Regression.

Time travel.

Shared Future memories.

When Etherius first explained everything—

She naturally assumed insanity.

Because any normal person would.

"Hello Nysera, I returned from the future."

Ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

Then he predicted three assassinations.

Two trade disasters.

One internal political scandal.

A failed military movement.

And correctly guessed what breakfast she had yesterday.

Very creepy.

Very concerning.

Very convincing.

Now?

Now she somehow followed him while wearing black cloaks and sneaking through Sinclair administrative districts.

Life had become strange.

Very strange.

WHOOSH.

They landed atop another rooftop.

Then Etherius slowed.

Immediately.

Nysera noticed.

"...Found it?"

Etherius looked downward.

Ministerial District Seven.

Several stone administrative buildings stood connected by bridges and pathways.

One larger building sat toward the back.

Old.

Storage district.

Quiet.

No guards.

No movement.

Perfect.

Etherius narrowed his eyes.

"...There."

Nysera followed his gaze.

"...Warehouse?"

"...Old records say warehouse."

Pause.

"...Reality says stolen goods."

Nysera sighed.

"...You say things very casually."

"...Hm."

Silence.

"...We are robbing corrupt officials."

"...Recovering."

"...Stealing."

"...Recovering."

"...Stealing."

"...Recovering."

"...Thie—"

"...Recovering."

Nysera looked skyward.

"...Ancestors forgive me."

Etherius immediately replied.

"...Not ancestor robbery."

"...STOP BRINGING THAT UP."

WHOOSH.

Both descended.

Silently.

They landed behind building walls.

No alarms.

No guards.

No problems.

The warehouse looked abandoned.

Dust.

Broken windows.

Rotting wood.

No one would investigate this place.

Perfect hiding location.

Etherius opened the door.

Creak.

Silence.

Dust floated through sunlight.

Shelves.

Boxes.

Crates.

Broken furniture.

Nothing valuable.

At least...

On first glance.

Etherius slowly walked forward.

Memory.

Think.

Future records.

Confiscation reports.

Bribery files.

Corruption investigations.

He remembered this place.

He knew he did.

Somewhere.

Somewhere...

Nysera searched nearby shelves.

"...Anything?"

"...Not yet."

Silence.

More searching.

Ten minutes.

Nothing.

Twenty minutes.

Still nothing.

Etherius frowned.

Wrong place?

No.

Impossible.

He remembered.

Absolutely remembered.

Unless—

No.

Memory couldn’t change.

Could it?

Regression changed events.

Butterfly effects.

Small details.

No.

No no no.

Too early.

Too small.

Etherius looked around again.

Broken tables.

Boxes.

Discarded tools.

Nothing.

"...Maybe I remembered wrong."

Silence.

Then—

"...ETHERIUS!"

He turned immediately.

Nysera stood near old armor piles.

Eyes wide.

Etherius ran over.

"...What happened."

Then stopped.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Then slowly—

"...Wow."

Because hidden beneath rotten armor sat old boots.

Very old boots.

Rundown.

Worthless.

Discarded.

Yet Nysera had ripped apart one sole.

Inside—

Elixir pills.

Hidden compartments.

Etherius blinked.

Then looked elsewhere.

Old chest armor.

Inner pockets.

Potions.

Ring compartments.

False stitching.

Hidden materials.

Silence.

Then—

He laughed.

Actually laughed.

"...This..."

Pause.

"...This is genius."

Nysera crossed arms proudly.

"...Obviously."

Etherius stared around.

Disguised as trash.

Mixed among discarded supplies.

No noble thief would hide valuables in treasure rooms.

No.

They hid things where people ignored.

Places beneath dignity.

Places no one searched.

Smart.

Very smart.

Etherius picked up another shoe.

More pills.

"...If only they worked this hard while actually serving."

Silence.

His smile slowly disappeared.

Because memories returned.

Not present memories.

Future memories.

No.

Past future memories.

When he became Patriarch.

When responsibilities arrived.

Tax records.

Investigations.

Embezzlement.

Corruption.

Theft.

Always theft.

Noble officials stealing grain.

Military officers selling weapons.

Ministers inventing fake salaries.

Armor disappearing.

Supplies disappearing.

Everything disappearing.

And whenever investigations happened—

Nobody knew.

Nobody saw.

Nobody remembered.

Until Etherius personally started cutting heads.

Then suddenly everyone remembered.

Strange.

Very strange.

Etherius sighed.

Humans truly never changed.

Nysera looked at him.

"...Thinking again?"

"...Hm."

"...Bad memories?"

Silence.

"...Very."

Long pause.

Then Etherius looked toward her.

"...You found this."

Nysera blinked.

"...Hm?"

"...Maybe you have talent."

Silence.

"...Talent?"

"...For discovering hidden things."

Pause.

"...Keep it up."

Nysera stared.

"..."

"..."

"...I am not becoming thief."

"...Recovering."

"...THIEF."

"...Recovering."

Nysera narrowed eyes.

"...I am only helping because I don’t want you raiding ancestor tombs."

Etherius sighed.

"...Again with tombs."

"...YES AGAIN WITH TOMBS."

Suddenly—

Etherius froze.

Immediately.

Eyes narrowed.

Silence.

Nysera noticed instantly.

"...What."

No response.

Etherius slowly looked toward door.

Footsteps.

Outside.

Three.

No.

Four.

Heavy armor.

Two guards.

One mage.

One noble.

Silence.

Etherius whispered.

"...Too late."

Door exploded.

BOOOOM.

Wood shattered.

Dust erupted.

Three figures entered.

Two armored guards.

And between them—

A middle-aged noble.

Sharp features.

Dark-green robes.

Cold eyes.

Minister Varess Halcion.

Silence.

Varess looked around.

Saw armor.

Saw hidden compartments.

Saw missing supplies.

Then saw two cloaked figures.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Then understanding.

Immediate understanding.

Mana exploded.

"...THIEVES!"

BOOOOM.

No hesitation.

No questions.

No negotiations.

He charged instantly.

Etherius sighed.

"...Unfortunate."

Nysera groaned.

"...Really unfortunate."

Because both knew problem immediately.

Disguises.

No unique elements.

No recognizable abilities.

No exposing identities.

Meaning—

Restricted combat.

Terrible.

Very terrible.

Varess roared.

"...KILL THEM!"

Two guards moved instantly.

Nysera stepped forward.

"...I’ll handle guards."

Etherius blinked.

"...You sure."

"...Go."

Mana erupted.

Both sides moved.

BOOOOM.

And Etherius suddenly found himself facing an Eighth Circle mage while remaining only Second Circle.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

The difference felt ridiculous.

Mana pressure alone hurt.

Like standing before mountain.

Yet Etherius smiled beneath hood.

Because impossible odds felt familiar too.

Very familiar.

Varess fired first.

Flames.

Wind.

Spears.

Instant casting.

Etherius moved.

Barrier.

Acceleration.

Stone shift.

Fusion.

Multiple spells erupted simultaneously.

BOOOM.

BOOOM.

BOOOM.

Mana exploded.

Varess frowned.

"...Second Circle?"

Silence.

"...Impossible."

Because Etherius wasn’t fighting like Second Circle.

No hesitation.

No wasted movement.

Perfect spell timing.

Perfect mana usage.

Every movement calculated.

Every barrier angled.

Every spell layered.

Monster.

Varess attacked harder.

Fire snakes.

Stone bullets.

Wind blades.

Etherius countered.

Move.

Counter.

Fusion.

Move.

Counter.

Move.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Meanwhile—

Nysera struggled.

Very badly.

Not weak.

No.

The guards were simply stronger.

No unique element.

No special abilities.

No advantages.

Only basics.

Metal clashed.

Ice.

Water.

Stone.

Explosions.

Etherius glanced sideways.

Not good.

Need faster finish.

Varess roared.

Dragon Fire Breath.

Eighth Circle.

BOOOOOOOOOOM.

Massive flames swallowed everything.

Etherius immediately formed barrier.

Curved.

Angled.

Compressed.

Mana screamed.

Barrier cracked.

Cracked again.

Again—

Again—

Then barely held.

Silence.

Varess stared.

"..."

Impossible.

Absolutely impossible.

Barrier shape redirected impact.

Curvature shifted pressure.

Mana density changed impact angle.

Perfect.

Absolute perfection.

An Eighth Circle spell...

Blocked by Second Circle.

Varess suddenly felt chills.

Because talent like this—

Shouldn’t exist.

What a waste.

What a tragedy.

Such genius.

Reduced to theft.

Varess raised hand—

Then paused.

Because Etherius looked upward.

Silence.

Then slowly—

"...No time."

Varess blinked.

Above—

A giant ice dagger descended.

Massive.

Terrifying.

Instant death.

Etherius stared upward.

No casting time.

No movement time.

Nothing.

Silence.

Then—

His eyes widened.

Because he suddenly realized—

Someone else had entered battlefield.

And whoever it was—

Felt familiar.

Very familiar.