“I don’t like this,” Grant mutters to Baz under his breath.

  After the briefing, Obelius assigned us to the mission alongside Ellina. Sharon remains under the Divine Legion’s care—not as a hostage, but as someone they genuinely seem to want to take care of.

  Despite Obelius’s parting words about “taking care of each other”, I can already see the reluctance in both royalties’ faces.

  After gathering supplies at the inn, we set out toward the Thundwinder Mountains. We walk along valleys and forests. The Thundwinder Mountains are infamous for their challenging and perplexing pathways, but I know the way. I used to travel around here a lot during my time in Shin Academy.

  “Your Highness, please, she’s on our team, for now.” Baz sighs and shows regard to Dominic. “Also him. The faster we finish the mission, the faster we can get rid of her.”

  “There are too many personalities on this team,” Baz groans, rubbing his chin.

  I nod. Affirmative.

  Still, there’s one dynamic that needs to be addressed immediately–making sure we can trust Dominic as a team.

  Baz tugs me along and walks up to Dominic. “Alright, let’s settle this now,” he starts. “Dominic, I know you’re only here because of Felicia.”

  Dominic’s head subtly pans away as if dodging the conversation.

  Baz doesn’t let up. “But you need to understand something. Felicia is on our team.”

  He turns to me for confirmation. His eyes are firm, asking me to back him up. To acknowledge the team.

  I nod, meeting Dominic’s gaze. I may not be the real Felicia, but he already agrees to be “our” protector. We need to be working together.

  There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—conflict, hesitation—but he answers with a begrudging, almost reluctant nod. “I understand.”

  I smile.

  Then, with a gnce at Baz, he adds coldly, “But you also need to understand something, too.”

  His voice hardens. “If there’s ever a moment where your strategy puts her in danger, I will save her first. No matter what.”

  A tense silence falls over the three of us.

  Baz exhales sharply. “Then I guarantee—as the team strategist—that I’ll never let that situation happen.”

  Dominic scoffs. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” His eyes narrow. “Just do what you can. I don’t expect an ex-Omenmian official to care about their people.”

  Baz’s jaw tightens. “Then I’ll prove you wrong with my own actions.”

  Baz moves away, rejoining Grant, deep in thought.

  An unstoppable urge creeps up my spine. Before I can stop myself, my hand swings out and sps Dominic’s shoulder.

  The moment my palm contacts him, I freeze.

  What am I doing?

  Dominic looks at me, startled. His usual stoicism flickers—like asking me why.

  I exhale sharply. A small puff of air, almost like a huff. Why do I feel this urge? Why do his words—his coldness—make me react like this?

  Like I’m a sister punishing her siblings.

  Before I can make sense of it, a tiny, fiery presence jumps into the moment.

  “Mommy?”Mop’s voice slices through the air, filled with immediate arm. Her tiny palm shoots up, fully prepared to retaliate on my behalf.

  I quickly grab her wrist, holding her close before she can follow through.

  She blinks up at me, confused for half a second. The tension melts from her body as she snuggles against me, utterly pleased with my reaction.

  As if my touch was all she needed.

  Her pure delight sparks something in her. She grabs Benica next, dragging her into our little circle. The girl stumbles slightly, confused but too tired to resist.

  Mop clings to both of us, a self-satisfied grin on her face.

  Mission accomplished.

  I sigh, shaking my head at her antics—but I don’t let go.

  Just as the moment settles, Ellina hops over next to Grant, all smug confidence and casual ease.

  “So,” she muses, tilting her head. “Where do you want to fight?”

  Grant straightens up instantly, puffing out his chest. “Well,” subtly shaking his head, he adds, “I’m always ready. Choose your own battlefield.”

  Ellina grins. “Then I choose here.”

  The shock spreads through the group.

  “What?” Grant blinks.

  Ellina crosses her arms with an even bigger grin. “Scared?”

  Grant stutters. “No! Of… of course… not! I can fight here if you want!”

  His voice rises slightly—just enough to betray his flustered state.

  Ellina’s smirk only widens, her emerald eyes gleaming with amusement. She tilts her head, watching Grant struggle with barely concealed glee.

  “Great.” Her voice rings out as she hops forward, effortlessly nding in front of us.

  “Since we’ve got two royalties here…” She twirls a lock of her silver-blond hair, her expression downright pyful. “We should at least decide who’s in charge.”

  Grant stiffens immediately. “Of course, I’m the leader! This is my team!” He gestures wildly at the group, seeking our agreement. Only Baz and Benica nod back to him. I’m a bit hesitant to agree, but I still nod.

  Grant’s indignant spluttering is cut short as she reaches behind her back.

  With a single, fluid motion, she draws both spears. The bck metal catches the sunlight—sleek, heavy, waiting. Uxiospean emblems shimmer at their base: seahorses, coiled in gold pines. The wind rushes around her. These aren’t ceremonial. They’re dense—real weapons. She channels her Shin constantly just to wield them.

  Ellina raises an eyebrow. “No.” She flicks dust off her glove. “This is Uncle Obelius’s team.”

  A chill rolls down my spine.

  Ellina twirls them effortlessly, the sharp tips whistling through the air.

  A strong demonstration of Shin.

  Then, she pnts her feet, dropping into a loose, casual stance—one that is actually welcoming.

  She grins.

  “Shall we?”

  Grant pulls out his rifle. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “As the ground rule, the first scratch wins,” Ellina suggests.

  Bang.

  Grant shoots without a doubt, but Ellina still dodges it effortlessly.

  “Nice shot, but you need to try harder.”

  “Are we going to fight or not?” Grant grunts.

  “Sure,” Ellina says as she dashes toward him.

  Grant is not going to win. Their combat levels are too far apart.

  I dash between them to stop this meaningless duel. As soon as I arrive, I notice Dominic is with me already, pausing at Grant’s side.

  I look at Baz for assistance.

  Baz hastily moves closer, whispering, “Should we just stop the fight?”

  I shake my head slightly. If we stop this now, tensions will only fester. Without a proper resolution, there will be smaller conflicts on the way, one after another.

  At the same time, if we let them fight under Ellina’s terms, it means we will have to acknowledge her as the leader. Grant will never accept that.

  Unless…

  We change the duel’s format.

  A memory suddenly resurfaces. The Gustanese Honor Duel.

  A three-round duel where each warrior fights once with their preferred weapons and the final round is fought with a third weapon agreed upon by both sides.

  No Magic or Shin allowed.

  The st time I participated in this…

  Empress de Nova.

  After Uxiospea was founded, she visited the northern nobles, offering gestures of appreciation for their support. She sparred with me in this very format for entertainment.

  Without Shin, Nanali was no different to a young noble dy—athletic, but not extraordinary.

  “I haven’t fought without Shin for years,” she admitted, struggling to hold her greatsword properly.

  “It’s good to test your technique without relying on Shin,” I reassured her.

  She lost the sword fight, but in the second round—hand-to-hand combat—she was surprisingly agile, subduing me in the end.

  In the final round, we agreed upon a saber duel. She was still new to the weapon, so after a few exchanges, I executed my signature disarming move—The Wind of Sibelius.

  Her saber flew from her grip.

  She surrendered instantly.

  “You’re still an incredible swordsman, Prince Aulsman,” she had praised me. But we both knew that if she had used Shin, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  “It was an honor to spar with you again, Great Star.”

  “Felicia?”

  Baz’s voice pulls me back from my thoughts.

  I lift my rapier parallel to my forehead—the formal gesture marking the start of an Honor Duel.

  Baz understands immediately.

  His eyes widen briefly in realization, and then he smirks.

  “What are we waiting for?”

  Both Grant and Ellina yell in unison, “Let’s do this!”

  Baz steps forward, turning to Ellina. “Your Brightness, since this is a duel on Gustanese ground, I suggest we follow the format of a traditional Gustanese Honor Duel.”

  Ellina blinks. “Sure?”

  She doesn’t seem to oppose it—just mildly confused.

  Baz continues, “Since this is a formal duel for leadership, we should establish a fair battlefield. That way, no one can cim there was any… misconduct.”

  Ellina squints. “You think I would cheat?”

  “No, of course not.” Baz smiles disarmingly. “But it’s a duel without magic or Shin. Some safety precautions should be in pce.”

  Grant cuts in, “So one round with rifles and one round with spears. What do you want for the st one?”

  Ellina scans the area. “Not many choices here.”

  Then, suddenly, her eyes lock onto Dominic’s twin Northian bdes.

  She points. “How about those?”

  Dominic, who had been watching silently, raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t protest, but he doesn’t like it either.

  “…If you want.” Grant shrugs, showing indifference.

  In the meantime, Baz kneels down, drawing a rge circumancy on the ground. Hexagonal lines stretch outward, linking to embedded magems at the edges.

  Grant frowns. “What is this?”

  Baz, still working, expins, “It’s an energy hex. A circumancy that drains energy from the area. This ensures the dueling ground has no active Shin flow.”

  Ellina rolls her shoulders. She flips her spear toward Grant.

  He barely catches it, fumbling.

  She smirks. “Let’s do this.”

  But the moment she steps into the circumancy, something shifts. A flicker of hesitation, barely noticeable—but it’s there.

  Her spears, once weightless in her grip, now feel… different. Heavier. Not much at first, just a slight drag. A trick of the mind, maybe.

  She takes another step. Then another.

  Her fingers tighten. The weight is real.

  As I suspected, she never trained much on her physical strength. Not like the Divine Legion. Not like her uncle.

  She is just like her mother. Nanali struggled with this too. But Nanali adapted. She learned.

  Ellina?

  She’d never even considered a world where she couldn't use Shin mastery.

  Grant spins Ellina’s other spear in his hand, testing the weight. He doesn’t look any different. Not stronger. Not faster. Just… unchanged. As long as Grant doesn’t make any major mistakes, he is winning.

  Ellina frowns. Shifts her stance. Adjusts her grip.

  Grant smirks as he raises the spear to his forehead to greet. “What’s wrong? Too heavy for you? Sorry, no backing out.”

  Her gre could burn through steel. “Shut up.”

  She tightens her grip on the spear and forces herself to lift it to greet back.

  A mistake.

  It wastes all her strength just to lift it to the forehead.

  Her bance is off, one step away from falling to the ground.

  They enter battle stances.

  The moment she shifts her weight—WHAM.

  Grant’s spear smashes down on hers, driving it deeper into the dirt.

  She stumbles—falls.

  The ground rushes up to meet her. Before she can blink, cold steel hovers just above her throat.

  Ellina freezes.

  Grant’s chest rises and falls—breathing hard, but not from exhaustion. From realization.

  He actually won.

  A grin flickers on his lips.

  “Yield?”

  She nods shamefully.

  Ellina is still on the ground, staring at the dirt. The realization is setting in.

  She lost. Just like that.

  Not in a drawn-out battle. She lost before she even began. She lost the second she stepped into this fight.

  She forces herself to look up. Grant is still standing over her, hand extended.

  For the first time, she hesitates.

  Then—shame burning through her—she takes it.

  Second round—shooting. Since we only have one rifle, they will have to take turns shooting at a target.

  Ellina grips the rifle tighter.

  It’s heavier than she expected. Awkward. The stock doesn’t sit right against her shoulder. It shouldn’t be this hard.

  She takes a slow breath. Steadies her aim.

  Fires.

  Miss.

  Fires again.

  Miss again

  Her hands are tense. Her grip is too tight.

  She exhales sharply. She can feel everyone watching.

  I can see she feels ridiculed.

  She adjusts her stance. She’s better than this. She has to be.

  One st shot.

  She fires—

  Miss.

  The silence after burns.

  Grant takes the rifle over.

  On the contrary to Ellina, rifles are Grant’s most practiced weapons. He perfectly takes the three shots.

  All clear hits.

  “That’s enough, I yield,” Ellina mutters, spiritless, eyes on the floor.

  “We’re not finished yet.” Grant’s voice is too casual. Like he doesn’t even notice her breaking. He is already grabbing the bdes from Dominic.

  Her head snaps up. Her face turns scarlet.

  Her face flushes—not just from humiliation, but rage.

  He’s not even trying to humiliate her.

  That makes it worse.

  Every part of her seems eager to scream, to throw a final punch, to prove something—

  But what is there to prove?

  He already won. Twice.

  Grant watches her frustration, then exhales like this is inevitable.

  “Fine,” he shrugs, as if this was never a question, to begin with. “Just to be clear—I’m the leader.”

  Then, he extends a hand toward her, with one knee on the ground. Like she’s some noble dy he invites her for a dance at a ballroom.

  Ellina stares at it.

  The rational part of her knows she has no choice but to take it. The other part of her wants to sp it away.

  Grant waits, not smug, not taunting—just waiting, staring earnestly into her crying face.

  Ellina grits her teeth. Slowly, furiously, she takes his hand.

  He guides her out of the circumancy.

  The moment her strength returns, her grip on his hand tightens just slightly—a reassurance for herself.

  Grant pretends not to notice.

  The rest of the group starts packing up the magems and getting ready to move.

  Ellina walks beside Grant the entire time.

  She says nothing.

  But I feel like her silence says everything.

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

  After another long day’s journey, we finally reach the mining town. Even from a distance, something feels… wrong.

  The town should be alive with the sound of hammers and voices, the steady pulse of industry—but instead, it’s quiet. Too quiet.

  “Please… my husband is still in there,” one woman whispers, clutching her shawl. Her knuckles are white, trembling.

  We check with the survivors, gathering what little information they have. A week ago, the mine went silent. No messages. No workers. No bodies.

  Obelius had warned us before we left.

  “During the Civil War, the Divine Legion was the only thing keeping the demons in check in these mountains,” he had said. “If not for us, Gustan would have fallen long ago.”

  However, the demons are coming back.

  No one knows why. No one knows how.

  “I believe a splinter group of demons has taken the miners hostage. We are running thin on other parts of the mountains. That’s why we need you.”

  Something is down there.

  Our team consists of four elite-level Shin masters, and more should be enough to purge the mine.

  Grant is already stepping toward the mine’s entrance, the glow of magem veins illuminating the tunnel’s wide mouth.

  We step inside.

  The silence is the first thing that gets to us.

  Not a comforting silence, but one that presses against our ears, making every step feel louder than it should.

  Grant walks head-on without hesitation, leading the way. The tunnel walls loom over us with some glowing gems, rough and uneven.

  Then—fluttering.

  Bats. Just bats. They shriek as they scatter, disturbed by our presence.

  But… that’s it.

  Where are the miners?

  We push deeper.

  We go down into the cart, deeper into the mountain.

  The cart creaks as we descend further into the heart of the mine. The deeper we go, the colder it becomes.

  We slowly approach a giant cave where multiple cart tracks cross each other, up and down. It’s a scene to be awed with.

  The magem veins embedded in the tunnel walls give off a faint, pulsing glow, casting eerie shadows as we move.

  A hundred years ago, this mine was discovered—but not built. No one knows who—or what—constructed them.

  The mining guild assumed it was an abandoned site from a lost civilization like ancient Omenmia. But even now, after a century of excavation, we still haven’t mapped the deepest paths.

  Because every time someone tried—

  They might not come back.

  As we reach the station, which is the st destination the miners went to, we see the broken communication line, cut off by someone intentionally.

  We creep deeper into the tunnel.

  The temperature drops lower. Colder than it should be. Not like a normal underground chill—something unnatural. It’s magems.

  Baz stops as he is the one holding the torch. He exhales, his breath a visible mist. “I should start setting up some protective circumancy hexes. Better to have a failsafe before facing whatever’s ahead.”

  We help him copy the sigils onto the stone walls, their faint light casting eerie shadows from the energy of the magems. The runes pulse slightly, drinking in energy. Protection against the unknown.

  Then, we hear it.

  The sound of pickaxes striking stone.

  The rhythm is off.

  Too slow. Too weak. Too… wrong.

  A second noise joins it.

  CRACK.

  A whip.

  A scream.

  I motion for silence. We creep forward.

  Ellina’s expression darkens. She clenches her fists.

  Benica is obviously frightened, which forces Mop to be the one to comfort people.

  Baz and Grant exchange serious eye contact.

  Dominic’s hand is already on his bde.

  The smell overwhelms us with rot and sweat.

  The flickering torch barely illuminates the tunnel ahead, but we start to see shapes.

  At first, only shadows dance against the cave walls. Silhouettes of hunched figures, pickaxes rising and falling.

  Someone stumbles. A pickaxe ctters to the floor. A winged shape swoops down from the darkness above—so fast we barely catch it. A cwed hand fshes.

  CRUNCH.

  A miner’s leg snaps the wrong way.

  The scream never finishes. The demon sms the sve to the ground, holding him there.

  Now we see them.

  A pack of bat-winged demons, their skeletal frames wrapped in tight, decayed flesh.

  They whip. They beat. They feast.

  Some of the miners are barely human anymore. Hollow-eyed. Wasting away.

  One of them lifts his head toward us—an empty gaze, as if his mind has already shattered.

  Not pleading.

  Not hopeful.

  Just gone.

  They are just imps. We can take it.

  Grant raises up his rifle.

  Ellina pulls out her spears.

  Benica grips her mace.

  Baz begins chanting, fingers rewriting energy into lines in the air.

  Dominic and Mop step in front of him, shielding him from any sudden attacks.

  I start to draw my rapier—

  And then, the air shifts.

  A shadow drifts downward, slow and effortless.

  A figure. Tall. Slim. Draped in darkness.

  At first gnce, he looks human.

  But the wings stretch wide—bat-like, sleek, emitting an almost zy elegance. His hair is long and dark, cascading like flowing ink down his back. Gray-skinned like a corpse. A smile—a chill, amused smile—curls across his lips.

  He must be the leader, a demon lord.

  Every breath feels heavier.

  Grant’s rifle trembles.

  His hands shake.

  His entire body stiffens.

  His breathing sharpens—shallow, unsteady.

  His pupils shrink.

  Like he knows.

  Like he remembers.

  A single name escapes his lips.

  Barely above a whisper.

  “…No.”

  He drops.

  Grant colpses to the ground without warning.

  “Grant!” Ellina shouts, her voice cutting through the suffocating silence.

  But Grant doesn’t respond.

  His breath comes in ragged bursts.

  His entire body trembles.

  The winged figure hovers just above him.

  Watching. Smiling. Enjoying.

  Then, the voice.

  Silky. Charismatic. Eerily… pleasant.

  “Welcome to my humble operation.”

  The cheerfulness in his voice makes my stomach twist.

  His red, inhuman eyes flick toward Grant.

  Grant is trembling.

  Grant flinches.

  “Let me introduce myself.”

  The pressure in the air spikes.

  The mine itself trembles.

  Magem veins flicker violently, reacting to his very presence.

  “I am Camity,” he announces.

  His voice is silk—but carries the weight of something ancient.

  “Son of Apocalypse,

  Grandson of the Great Dryhten Eternity,

  Lord of Doom.”

  He is a demon lord of the Seven Houses.

  I thought Obelius said it was just a splinter group.

  Then—

  A sudden outburst of energy.

  A pulse so strong it reverberates through the rock, through our bones.

  The very air cracks under the weight of it.

  Baz stumbles mid-chant.

  Ellina’s grip on her spears tightens.

  Benica’s knuckles whiten around her mace.

  Dominic shifts instinctively, stepping in front of me.

  And Grant—

  Grant is frozen.

  His pupils are dited.

  His lips part—but no words come out.

  Camity watches him like an old friend.

  Still smiling.

  Then—

  “Pleasure to meet you again, Prince Grant.”