Arthur gazed towards the village gate from his palace balcony.

  Just two days. Only two days since Noah vanished. "Two days," he grumbled, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

  "Grok. It's nothing, really. He's probably just… busy." He knew he was lying. Noah wasn't the type to simply disappear, not without a word, not after… well, not after everything. "Grok.

  The bodyguard thinks he's gone," he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "Gone to that… window of two worlds.

  Bah!" He scoffed. "Grok. As if Noah would just leave without saying goodbye."

  He glanced at his hand, clenching it into a fist. "I know he's still there. Grok. I can feel it."

  He knew it was just a hunch, a gut feeling, but Arthur had learned to trust his instincts. "But what can I do?" he asked the empty air.

  "Grok. The Light Faction village… it's like a wall. A wall the gods themselves built." He scowled.

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  "Damn this Faction System. Damn it all!"

  He turned away from the gate, his gaze falling on the training grounds below his palace.

  His bodyguards were barking orders, trying to instill some semblance of combat skills into the motley crew of goblins that comprised his army.

  "Seven. Grok. Only seven who can actually fight," he mumbled, shaking his head. "A king with seven soldiers. What a joke." He sighed.

  "At least they're learning something.

  Maybe, just maybe, if they're strong enough…" He trailed off, the thought unfinished. Strong enough for what?

  To storm the Light Faction village? To defy the gods themselves? The idea was both ludicrous and tempting.

  He started walking away from the balcony, deeper into his palace, his mind still swirling with thoughts of Noah.

  "Two days," he repeated to himself.

  "Grok. It's not enough. Something's wrong. I just… I just don't know what." He reached the door of his private chambers, the crude paintings on the walls seeming to mock him.

  His wives were waiting for him, their faces expectant. He forced a smile onto his face.

  "Duty calls," he whispered, the words laced with a bitter irony. "Even a king has to play his part." He stepped inside, the image of Noah's face still burned into his mind.

  He needed to forget about Noah now. He needed to do what he must.

  Without Noah here..

  Arthur now enjoys a blissful existence. He luxuriates, sleeping on piles of gleaming, shiny things, surrounded by his wives. It's a scene of opulent comfort, a personal heaven he's created.

  No more worries, just pure, unadulterated pleasure in his golden paradise.

  He's finally found peace and contentment.