1 A new saying spreads across the Arcane Realms: "In good times, trust the First Blade. In hard times, the Second Star. In despair, only the Junior Disciple can save you." Thanks to Grandmaster Elara's new apprentice Rosalyn, our Celestial Apex Order now has all three legendary roles: Kaelen (First Blade): The righteous leader Lyra (Second Star): The silent warrior Rosalyn (Junior Disciple): The charming actress But I'm Fiora, the forgotten Third Disciple. While others shine - like handsome Alaric (Fourth) and sharp-tongued Theron (Fifth) - I tend my vegetables and chickens, invisible to all. When Grandmaster entered seclusion a century ago, she declared: "The Order's future rests on them!" Yet I remain a ghost in these halls. I once overheard some Inner Circle Adepts offering new initiates advice: "The First Blade upholds rigid decorum. The Second Star's combat lessons are brutal. The Fourth Disciple is handsome and harbors no grudges. Don't cross the Fifth Disciple; he has royal backing. And the new Junior Disciple is innocently charming." The initiates, fresh from the Outer Circle after years of grueling effort, wore expressions of utter bewilderment. "The Third Disciple? Is that a brother or sister? Which glorious battle claimed their life?" The Inner Circle Adept hesitated, his confidence wavering. "Uh… the Third Disciple should be alive." "And what about warnings concerning the Third Disciple?" "I… I can't recall. Hey, you, Senior Adept! Do you remember anything about the Third Disciple?" Listening to them discuss me, I calmly responded, "I don't remember." I didn't even bother to watch their flustered expressions, simply returned to digging for earthworms. Today's gossip from the Celestial Apex Order: "Junior Disciple cried after delivering a potion for the Second Star. Poor dear." "The First Blade reprimanded the Second Star for being cold-hearted, now they're in a cold war. Scary, scary." "The Fourth Disciple encountered an old foe, chose to let bygones be bygones. Admirable, admirable." "The Fifth Disciple gave nicknames to various Elders and is now wanted for insubordination. Curious, curious." "That pair of white rabbits in the back garden had a litter of black kits, sparking rumors of infidelity. Such a pity." "..." Even the rabbits get more mentions than me. The Third Disciple is so low-key, it’s as if I don’t even exist. I drifted against the flow of students leaving their blade lessons, admiring the overflowing basin of earthworms. All that hard work hadn't gone to waste. But when I pushed open my courtyard gate, I found all the main characters from today's gossip already there. Kaelen, the First Blade, a man of imposing bearing, stood with his hands clasped behind his back, lecturing: "How could you say the Elder of Lore looks like an eggplant, the Elder of Runes like a potato, and the Elder of Discipline like a bell pepper?" Theron, the Fifth Disciple, slouched lazily in my favorite sun-drenched rocking chair. "One purple, one yellow, one green," he drawled. "Makes for a perfect stir-fry of three garden delights." Beside him, Alaric, the Fourth Disciple, a youth of peerless beauty, lifted a sleeve, a faint, ethereal smile gracing his features. "Worms! First Blade, I'm so scared!" Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, a delicate and charming girl, flung herself onto Kaelen. I could clearly see Lyra, the Second Star, her sword hand free, her fingertips white with suppressed tension. This Junior Disciple was Grandmaster Elara’s latest apprentice, taken on three years ago when she unexpectedly emerged from seclusion for half an hour, only to descend the mountain and return with Rosalyn. “Innocently charming” was the general consensus among the male apprentices. “A manipulative charmer” was the common opinion among the female apprentices. As for what I thought… This was the first time I'd ever laid eyes on her. Was this truly the savior in times of despair? Grandmaster Elara's second departure into seclusion made the initiation ritual a hurried affair. I hadn’t made it back from the village below in time, and no one had even noticed my absence. All of Grandmaster Elara's chosen scions were supposedly present. As for the other four, it had been a hundred years since I last saw them, hadn't it? Kaelen, the First Blade, continued to soothe Rosalyn’s feigned sobs. It was a long while before he finally noticed me, squatting on the ground, dividing earthworms, utterly lacking in presence. He looked at me. "Uh…" I nodded in understanding. "No need to say my name." Kaelen's handsome face flushed with embarrassment. "Third Disciple, the Mystic Realm has opened." I snatched my little chick, nearly bald from Theron’s excessive petting, from his hand. "I’m not going." 2 Theron, the Fifth Disciple, stared at his empty palm, his neck stiff. "This fat chick is ugly anyway. Who cares about looking at it?" Kaelen, the First Blade, spoke with firm conviction: "All Inner Circle Disciples from every Order are required to participate in the Mystic Realm." I calmly continued dividing the earthworms. "No one will notice my absence." "Third Disciple, how can you be so devoid of loyalty to the Order? And to claim no one will notice is simply absurd…" I listened to his passionate lecture, then murmured drily, "First Blade, I'm right behind you." In the end, I went. The Mystic Realm, it turned out, required the presence of every Order’s Inner Circle Disciple to activate. Unless a Soul-Fire was extinguished – a literal death – the portal wouldn't open if even one was missing. My condition for going? They had to gather a full bucket of live earthworms. My chicks needed their rations, after all. Kaelen reluctantly agreed. The sheer quantity of live worms needed meant even Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, was dragged along to help. After an entire day. Rosalyn returned clinging to Kaelen's arm, her face streaked with snot and tears, completely devoid of her usual delicate image. Lyra, the Second Star, narrowed her cold eyes, a rare hint of satisfaction in them. With the tip of her blade, she nudged the wooden bucket forward. A few worms wriggled onto the ground. Her tone, usually detached, held a surprising note of camaraderie as she spoke to me: "Third Disciple, is this enough?" Rosalyn’s face went white. "First Blade, does the Second Star dislike me? I'm so scared~" Kaelen frowned in displeasure, scolding Lyra: "Must you always be so difficult with the Junior Disciple?" Lyra flinched visibly at his words, then turned and strode away. I'd heard this same charade had been playing out for five years, always the same tired script. I didn't bother to watch, simply picked up the bucket and headed towards the chicken coop. There, I saw Alaric, the Fourth Disciple, bending over a pile of plump, fluffy chicks, sighing. "Third Disciple, you really are… unique." Most people raise magical beasts or spirit familiars. Half my courtyard is for vegetables, the other half for chickens… Could he recognize me without hearing my voice? I asked curiously, "Fourth Disciple, has your… condition improved?" Alaric's smile stiffened. He turned and drifted away with his usual elegant stride. Guess not… Even Kaelen, the First Blade, didn’t know that Alaric was face-blind. The reason he constantly flashed that dazzling, almost blinding smile at everyone he met was simply because he couldn't tell anyone apart. We were to depart in three days. I busied myself with my courtyard, watering, fertilizing, and pulling weeds. On the journey. Unlike the others, who were arrayed in their finest ceremonial robes, I had simply changed into a disciple's tunic that wasn't covered in mud. Theron, the Fifth Disciple, ever the caustic wit, sneered. "You'd grow two extra biscuits by your side if you slept at the foot of the mountain. Don't tell anyone you're my Senior Disciple out there, alright?" Kaelen uttered a low reprimand, but it couldn't stop Theron's sharp tongue. "You're carrying a mere Satchel of Holding? That's so shabby! Aren't you using a larger Dimensional Pouch for the Mystic Realm?" My voice was earnest. "I don't have a Dimensional Pouch." Theron nearly bit his tongue. The Inner Circle Adepts around him looked at him with clear disapproval. Kaelen, feeling a surge of responsibility, offered me a high-grade Rune-Carved Pendant, a charm of storing. Rosalyn, unaware of the conversation, rushed to Kaelen, her eyes brimming with feigned tears. "I can't believe the Second Star cares so little. It pains me to see First Blade's kindness wasted like this." Everyone looked up at Lyra, who had just arrived, holding a Rune-Carved Pendant identical to the one Kaelen had offered me. Then they glanced at the somewhat awkward Kaelen. Kaelen, it turned out, had given one storage pendant to Lyra and one to me. Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, clearly wanted one too. I held it out to her, offering it. She scrutinized me from head to toe. "Third Disciple… you should keep it for yourself." Even though the pendants were identical, even a manipulative charmer like Rosalyn felt too awkward to outright snatch mine. Compared to them, I was just… too obviously poor. They didn't understand, and I didn't understand them. Why would you wear new clothes to an adventurous, dangerous expedition? I held out the pendant, offering it to each of them. Seeing their collective shakes of the head, I calmly put it away. When I returned and sold it at the Shadow Market, it should fetch a decent sum, shouldn't it? 3 The new generation of paragons from the three Orders and four Guilds had gathered outside the Mystic Realm. The Celestial Apex Order's six Inner Circle Disciples and fourteen Outer Circle Adepts stood in formation. Kaelen, the First Blade, stood at the front of the line, his presence refined and composed as he calmly reminded everyone of the dangers. Lyra, the Second Star, stood at the very end, an aura of cold detachment around her. Though young, she had already achieved the Grand Magus stage, and her renowned blade, 'Frostbane,' hummed faintly, as if eager to be drawn. Alaric, the Fourth Disciple, in robes of moonlight white, exuded an air of elegant grace, his eyes, dark as deep pools, shimmering with a gentle smile that met every probing gaze. Theron, the Fifth Disciple, leaned casually, his body askew, his sharp tongue freely assessing the combat prowess of the other Orders. And Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, with her lively, playful demeanor, drew curious murmurs from many. As for me, my appearance was ordinary, my abilities unremarkable. Even my clothes were plain, allowing me to fade seamlessly into the crowd. I was perfectly content with this; I was merely here to make up the numbers. "The Umbral Vault… opens!" We would be gone for a month in the outside world, but within the Umbral Vault, we had three months to seek out opportunities and grow stronger. Kaelen, the First Blade, skillfully led the way, guiding everyone smoothly forward. Wherever he stepped, a silent pressure descended, awe-inspiring and formidable. The twelve Outer Circle Adepts could form a variety of Blade Formations, in groups of six, four, or three, to engage foes. Lyra, the Second Star, her Blade-Song roaring like a crimson rainbow, served as the disciples' unwavering shield, ensuring their safety during the arduous trials. Her combat prowess was truly maxed out! My confidence in the Order's future soared! Midway, we encountered our sworn enemies, a contingent from the Starfall Covenant. Kaelen, ever mindful of his standing, wished to avoid a verbal spat. Lyra, the Second Star, seemed to be calculating the odds of simply cutting them down. But then Theron, the Fifth Disciple, with his incessant sharp tongue, and Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, with her sly, honeyed words, delivered such passive-aggressive barbs that the Starfall mages turned green, then purple, then a mottled grey before retreating in disarray. Their verbal artillery was truly unparalleled! My confidence in the Order's future increased tenfold! The air grew progressively hotter, and Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, began to wilt, her chatter ceasing. Seeing this, I pulled a waterskin filled with the Celestial Apex Order's Aether-Spring water from my Dimensional Pouch and offered it to her. The Order's future couldn't afford any mishaps. She drank it all in one gulp, and her pale complexion improved slightly. Seeing her reaction, I pulled out another waterskin. She drank that one too, and a faint blush returned to her cheeks. I heard the sound of swallowing. I turned to see the Inner Circle Adepts looking at me with envious eyes. The disciples had prepared for a near-certain death within the Mystic Realm, but they had forgotten the most basic necessity: water. Of course, there was water in the Realm, but one sip could kill three people without a problem. And while you could sustain yourself on aether and not eat, no one said you didn’t need to drink. I held my Dimensional Pouch in one hand, digging inside, pulling out waterskin after waterskin: one for you, one for her, one for him… It was the first time the disciples truly looked at me, and they all spoke in unison: "Thank you, Third Disciple!" I looked at Lyra, the Second Star – even the 'God of Hardship' shouldn't die of thirst – and handed her two waterskins specifically. Lyra seemed at a loss for words. "How much water did you bring?" I looked at the number of waterskins in everyone's hands, then silently reattached my Dimensional Pouch to my waist. "You might want to ration it. I… I think I'm out now." Theron, the Fifth Disciple, suddenly realized he'd been tricked. "How can a mere Satchel of Holding have so much space? You must have an Arcane Relic, you were deliberately misleading everyone!" Before I could speak, Kaelen, the First Blade, came to my defense. "It's common knowledge that the Umbral Vault has extremely hot zones. The Third Disciple is meticulous. To empty a Satchel of Holding solely for water isn't misleading; it's foresight." Everyone nodded in agreement, expressing their thanks. I looked at their appreciative gazes and offered a small smile. We soon arrived at a dense forest. I stood beside them, listening to the disciples' unbridled discussions. "The Third Disciple is so poor… but what a kind soul." "When we get back, let's pool our resources and buy her an Arcane Relic." I glanced at the "mountain" of Dimensional Pouches stacked inside my own Satchel of Holding, the one labeled "Aether-Spring" sitting right at the front. Wasn't it just easier to organize things this way? Besides… Aether-Spring water was a shared resource of the Celestial Apex Order; it didn’t cost anything. 4 Beasts roared, blades flashed in a chaotic dance. Four of us were protected for various reasons: Alaric, the Fourth Disciple, was an Alchemist. Theron, the Fifth Disciple, wasn’t suited for direct, brutal combat. Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, lacked experience. And I… well, I was simply forgotten by everyone. This life of fighting five battles a day, three of them deadly serious, was utterly intolerable. I spotted a gnarled, leaning tree about three hundred paces ahead, planning to slip away and lie low there. I’d just reappear when the trials ended and leave with them… Two hours later, a thick-trunked black python crashed to the ground with a thunderous thud. The disciples supported each other, exhausted but victorious. Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, scurried over to them, offering concerned words. The male disciples: "The Junior Disciple is so kind! She's even crying out of sympathy." The female disciples: "No, she just took a tonic from the Fourth Disciple." Alaric, the Fourth Disciple, despite having his credit stolen, didn't show the slightest displeasure. His smile even widened. Everyone praised him for his beauty, kindness, gentleness, and generosity. But I had just seen him pacing in distress, clutching a pouch of potent tonics. To him, every injured person on the ground looked the same. It would have been all too easy to administer the wrong one! Then Rosalyn snatched the tonic, her voice syrupy sweet. "The Fourth Disciple has been frightened. Let me take care of everyone, okay~?" I mused on her cunning. A century, and no one had noticed he was face-blind. Theron, the Fifth Disciple, specialized in heavy mauls, a singular fighting style. Against a beast like the giant python, with its impenetrable defenses, he could only hang back. Now, he grumbled, taking out his hammer to vent his frustration, pummeling the frenzied, man-eating black python until it was nothing but a bloody pulp. At the front, Lyra, the Second Star, wiped black blood from her blade. Kaelen, the First Blade, shakily rose to his feet, counting heads. "This area is dangerous. We must leave quickly." I seized the opportunity, slipping behind the gnarled tree and hiding. I watched them, a weary procession, pushing onward. With a grunt, I began to climb the leaning trunk, ready to rest, when I saw a scattered group lying ahead. Why were the future pillars of the Order sleeping on the ground? The Celestial Apex Order contingent, all nineteen of them, had been poisoned. I saw the white mist swirling above their heads. I tore a strip from the hem of my old tunic and tied it over my nose and mouth. This was the benefit of old clothes; no heartache over tearing them. The Umbral Vault was indeed a place where death lurked around every corner, not just a rumor. If a beast appeared now, there would be no survivors. I trusted Kaelen; they must have known there was danger. They just didn't know a single breath of that mist could bring them down. It took me over half an hour to drag my Senior and Junior Disciples out of the mist-shrouded area. I was panting, completely exhausted. Thankfully, all those years of dragging fertilizer had given me some useful experience. I leaned over them, checking for breath. They were all alive, but even slapping their faces wouldn't rouse them. This was a job for Alaric, the Fourth Disciple. He definitely had antidotes on him. I knelt, gripping his slender wrist, straining with all my might to pull off his storage bracelet. "Third Disciple, what are you looking for?" I gasped in surprise. "You're awake?" Alaric’s eyes, usually sparkling, held a resentful glint. "I was in pain, so I woke up." He flexed his wrist, then rummaged through his bracelet for the antidote. Perhaps my gaze was too eager, for he offered an explanation. "I often test potions on myself. I'm immune to most poisons." At his words, I patted his shoulder, ready to slip away. With you here, I can comfortably lie down. But his eyes, usually so welcoming, were now filled with scrutiny. "Third Disciple, why did you stray from the group just now? Are you up to something… unsavory?" My hand instinctively clenched, a cold dread creeping up my spine at his words. Alaric continued rummaging through his vials and jars. "Third Disciple must be wondering how I knew." He was right. It was impossible. For a hundred years, we’d attended lessons together, often crossed paths. Back then, Alaric treated me no differently from anyone else. "Why?"
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