Julie rode through the winding forest road, her horse’s hooves striking the packed earth. The moon was rising when she finally reached the outer wall of Edelyn Manor. Lanternlight glowed warmly from the windows, soft and welcoming in contrast to the frustration and fury she felt.

  She dismounted at the stables, handing the reins off with barely a word.

  Then she stopped.

  She exhaled sharply through her nose.

  “Klara deserves so much better than him,” she muttered.

  Her mind betrayed her with unwanted images—Lucon carousing maids into his bed, night after night, from one maid to the next.

  He was the kind of man she hated most—a womanizer.

  Her rage reached new heights.

  The most peculiar part was his strength. He defeated a follower of the Divine Huntress.

  His power is suspicious, she thought.

  And did he see through my blessing or was I “emotionally loud” again…?

  A sudden shift in the air made her stiffen.

  Two massive shapes leapt from the treeline.

  Mana Beasts.

  Panthers.

  Enormous. Sleek. One pitch black, the other white as moonlit snow.

  Julie’s body reacted instantly.

  Dark Mana grew around her like a hidden dagger ready to be unleashed.

  Then she saw the riders.

  She hurried to use her hidden blessing, purging the black from her Mana.

  “Claude?” she said.

  The white panther landed soundlessly. The black one followed gracefully.

  Claude held up a greeting hand. “Hail, Julie.”

  From atop her black panther, Lyris had a radiant grin. “I didn’t know you were still in the Edelyn barony, Julie! You should’ve came with us to have lunch on the hill. The view was gorgeous! We could’ve rode on my panther together!”

  Julie straightened her dark tunic, composing herself. Honesty, or a slice of it, was the best cover. “I was simply delivering a letter from Klara to Young Lord Lucon.”

  Claude grimaced, a look of understanding crossing his noble features.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t a very nice letter.”

  Julie nodded stiffly. “Klara is going to abandon the betrothal. She plans to pursue her dream, unbound.”

  “Oh,” Claude’s interest was piqued. “What is her dream?”

  Julie opened her mouth, then closed it.

  She had been about to say to join the Hero’s Party. The boy before her was a prime candidate to lead that very party. Klara, proud and fiercely independent, would never voice such a desire to him; it would sound like begging to be let in. She would rather die than be seen as using their connection.

  Julie shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “To become the strongest Arisen. That’s all.”

  Claude nodded, smiling with nostalgia. “Klara always was a warrior first before anything else.”

  Lyris had slid forward on her panther to lie down on it, nuzzling her face into its fur. A rumble of contentment vibrated in its throat.

  “Lucon is not so bad,” she said casually.

  Claude’s eyebrows shot up.

  Julie’s jaw dropped.

  “…What?” She nearly shouted, “But you hate him the most!”

  Lyris continued petting the panther, utterly unbothered. “Maybe he’s just…misunderstood?”

  Claude chuckled. “I’m sure your gift has nothing to do with this change of heart.”

  Julie’s head tilted. “Gift?”

  Lyris flushed.

  She gestured at the two enormous beasts. “He gave us these. Tamed Mana Beasts. As mounts!”

  Julie stared.

  Priceless didn’t begin to describe them.

  You couldn’t buy something like this. You couldn’t even find something like this.

  Lucon was rumored to be wholly selfish and wasteful. Surely the rumors were true…weren’t they?

  This didn’t match.

  She shook her head. Then she narrowed her eyes at Lyris.

  “You don’t actually mean you want Klara to marry him, do you?”

  Lyris giggled as her panther turned its massive head and licked her cheek.

  “Maybe it’s meant to be.”

  Julie leaned forward, meaning in her eyes. “Then you would like to be Claude’s sister-in-law?”

  The effect was instant. Lyris paled, her eyes darting to Claude.

  “No!”

  Claude flinched back in the saddle, a flicker of genuine hurt crossing his face before he masked it.

  Lyris immediately panicked. “No, I mean—no, I would love to, I just—I thought we would—”

  She trailed off.

  Her cheeks burned.

  Julie exhaled through her nose.

  She nodded once.

  “I see.”

  She turned away.

  “Don’t worry,” she said firmly. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  She began walking.

  Lyris blinked. “Where are you going, Julie?”

  Julie didn’t look back.

  “To prepare.”

  ***

  Ambrosia Lucon watched Hilda from where he knelt on the forest floor.

  His eyes tracked her, unblinking. The Flow still swirled around him, but its turns were slowing, fraying at the edges, like a tide pulling back.

  Then his stomach lurched.

  He doubled over and vomited violently, the contents burning as they left him. His body convulsed, the warmth draining from his limbs.

  On the ground beside him, the vial rolled onto its side.

  Its label was visible.

  “The Real Lucon”

  Ambrosia Lucon lifted his head slowly. He stared at Hilda.

  “But I am the real Lucon,” he said quietly.

  Hilda’s hands trembled at her sides. Her eyes shimmered with conflict, but she didn’t look away.

  “I always keep my promises to you, Master,” she said. “Even when I don’t understand what you ask of me.”

  Georgi suddenly seized her arm.

  “What have you done?!” he barked.

  Skhav groaned, slapping a palm to his tattooed forehead. “No, no, no! I needed this boy alive! Why did you kill him, you foolish girl?!”

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  They quieted as Lucon suddenly stood up.

  He wiped the last of the bile from his mouth and sighed.

  “It’s alright,” he said. “I told her to do this.”

  Georgi stilled.

  “…What?”

  Skhav blinked. “…What?”

  Lucon was back, the Flow quiet.

  He nudged the empty vial with his foot.

  Prepare two vials, that was his instruction to Hilda. One with alcohol. The other with something that could help him “come back to his senses.”

  He smiled faintly.

  “Simple Lucon wins,” he smirked.

  Ambrosia Lucon had been put back to rest.

  He looked to Hilda and said, “Thank you.”

  He had told Hilda to prepare something to bring him back, keeping the plan a secret from himself, which meant Ambrosia Lucon wouldn’t know; she had taken it upon herself to procure an alchemical purging agent designed to expel alcohol and its effects.

  She had followed his instructions perfectly.

  Hilda merely nodded like a dutiful maid.

  Lucon clenched a raised fist.

  “I outsmarted him, the supposed genius schemer.” He laughed to himself. “Outdone by me, Simple Lucon!”

  The other three stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

  Lucon coughed awkwardly, not just because of them but for referring to himself as “Simple Lucon.”

  He clapped his hands together.

  “Well!” he announced cheerfully. “Let’s get back to mining!”

  Hilda straightened as she steeled her resolve. She nodded firmly.

  Skhav exchanged looks with his tamed wolf. “This is not what I was hired for.”

  Georgi dragged a hand down his face. “I need to stop being friends with you…”

  Lucon turned and began guiding them back toward the cavern, already walking as if nothing had happened.

  They crossed a tree with bark cracked at its base, blood painting the wood.

  Helto was gone.

  The man knows how to survive, I’ll give him that, Lucon thought.

  But as they approached the cavern mouth, Lucon stopped dead, facing a problem far greater than a missing fake bandit.

  The clearing around the entrance was no longer just a scene of their earlier battle. Dozens of new figures moved among the corpses of the fallen Blood Wraiths, checking bodies, inspecting the mine entrance. They were armed, faces strangely masked, and each one bore the same ghostly wraith tattoo on their skin.

  Reinforcements.

  Lucon’s body became taught.

  “Niles…!” he hissed.

  The portly merchant really had outdone himself this time.

  Lucon stood very still, very quiet.

  There was no holy warmth left in his veins. His merciful blessing was spent. The Flow had gone away.

  Even if he still had alcohol on him, he wasn’t confident Ambrosia Lucon could pull off another miracle without access to holy spells.

  Not against this many.

  Slowly, he raised one hand behind his back and made a subtle waving motion.

  Back away.

  Georgi saw it first and stiffened. Skhav followed his gaze. The mana wolf’s ears flattened.

  They began retreating, inch by inch.

  Then Hilda’s foot caught on a thick tree root.

  She stumbled.

  And fell.

  The crash of her body hitting the underbrush echoed through the quiet forest.

  Every head near the cavern snapped up. Dozens of masked men halted mid-motion—then turned.

  And saw them.

  “We’ve got company!” someone barked.

  The Blood Wraiths charged forward.

  Georgi swore under his breath and glowed golden and bright.

  [Mana Beast Form]

  Skhav snarled and rolled his shoulders, claws and fangs forming once again as the Mana wolf took a low, predatory stance.

  Georgi and Skhav were the only ones who could meet the charge. Lucon and Hilda were dead weight.

  But before they clashed, one of the bandits raised a hand.

  “Stop.”

  The others hesitated.

  The masked man stepped forward slowly, studying them.

  “Young Lord Lucon? Monk Georgi? Hilda?” His gaze flicked to Skhav, taking in the tattoos and bestial appearance. He paused. “…And you must be the farmer.”

  Skhav’s eyebrows went up.

  Lucon’s eyes widened.

  There could only be one reason why someone would refer to Skhav as “the farmer.” Skhav was the one tasked with cultivating the Mana Crystals. That meant this man was a part of the scheme.

  “Kaeson,” Lucon breathed.

  The masked bandit reached up and pulled down the mask, revealing the reliable face of Lieutenant Kaeson. “At your service, milord.”

  Lucon focused on his face, trying to reveal where Kaeson showed up in the seemingly endless schemes Ambrosia Lucon had devised.

  “You and whoever you hired…” Lucon said slowly, piecing together the thoughts, “…were supposed to pretend to be the Blood wraiths and make sure the Mana Beast population never became a problem. And scare off anyone who came too close.”

  It was Niles’s scheme flipped around in their favor.

  Kaeson nodded. “Yes, Young Lord. I did as you asked.”

  He gestured to the men around him. “I went to Teleris like you told me. Found the mercenaries you specified. They finished their business there and were about to leave back to the Capital when I managed to hire them.”

  One of the bandits stepped forward and removed his mask.

  He was confident, around Kaeson’s age, with neatly groomed black hair and a short beard. His posture was crisp, professional.

  He bowed.

  “The Fanatical Chimera mercenary company, and I am their captain, Lion Mane,” he said. “At your service, milord.”

  Lucon did not feel relieved.

  If anything, his stomach sank.

  The Fanatical Chimera.

  He knew the name. Everyone did.

  The name was famous, and infamous—not because they were cruel, but because they were absolute. They took any contract, no matter how dirty, no matter how dangerous. Civil wars. Mana Beast suppression. Escorting heretics.

  They had even fought alongside the Eternal Line against demons.

  But what truly made them feared was not their skill.

  It was their devotion.

  They did not break contracts.

  And worse—if a client did, they were known to hunt them down and kill them for breach.

  Lucon swallowed.

  If he told them to leave—if he broke the contract—he might actually die.

  And they weren’t cheap. Not even close.

  Ambrosia Lucon must have dumped an absurd amount of money into hiring them. He was likely siphoning off the entire next harvest of Mana Crystal profits.

  Everyone was staring at him as he silently deliberated.

  Awkwardly.

  Expectantly.

  Lucon forced his brain to move. Then his eyes lit up.

  “I need all of your help,” he announced.

  The mercenaries straightened slightly.

  “There are too many Mana Crystals for us to handle. We have to mine them all.”

  Silence.

  “…What?” one of the mercenaries muttered.

  Lion Mane cleared his throat. “Milord. We were contracted for defense and deterrence. Not…labor.”

  Lucon tensed.

  The Flow wasn’t there to warn him. But he could feel the shift. Pride. Resistance. The kind that could turn dangerous if handled wrong.

  Kaeson stepped in.

  Smoothly. He produced the contract. Unrolled it and pointed.

  “The contract states you will adhere to orders,” he said calmly. “All orders.”

  Lion Mane leaned in.

  Read.

  His jaw tightened.

  “…Damn it,” he muttered.

  The mercenaries exchanged looks. Some frowned. Some scowled. A few looked genuinely offended.

  Mining.

  Manual labor.

  In all the years they had been a mercenary company, this must have been the first time they were reduced to menial work.

  Lucon tilted his head slightly and added, “Don’t tell me the famous Fanatical Chimera mercenary company is thinking of breaching its own contract…?”

  That did it.

  Lion Mane flinched hard.

  He straightened, exhaled through his nose, then turned sharply.

  “Get to mining, boys.”

  A chorus of groans followed.

  “This is bullshit—”

  “I didn’t sign up for this—”

  “We should’ve just returned to the Capital—”

  But they moved.

  Grumbling, irritated, pride wounded—but obeying.

  As they began setting down weapons and preparing tools, Kaeson stepped closer to Lucon.

  Quietly, he said, “I didn’t know you hired one of the Abandoned.”

  Skhav’s head turned toward them instantly.

  “They’re bad luck,” Kaeson continued.

  Skhav growled. “Unlike you Heartlanders, I can double the worth of these Mana Crystals.”

  Kaeson shot him an ugly look.

  Lucon waved a tired hand between them. “Just…go along with it.”

  Skhav scoffed.

  Kaeson looked dissatisfied.

  Lucon felt a headache forming.

  There was no getting rid of the mercenaries.

  Not safely. Not in a way that could preserve his own life.

  He watched them begin to work, muttering and complaining as they entered the cavern.

  Maybe I can just make them guard nothing, he realized.

  Tell Skhav to stop growing the crystals. Let them sit around doing nothing until the contract runs out.

  He exhaled.

  But first things first.

  They had to take out the crystals.

  All of them.

  And quickly.

  ***

  Lucon woke up stiff and sore.

  Every muscle protested as he shifted, his back aching like he’d slept on stone. The ceiling of his room came into view. His eyes blinked blearily. Then a quiet groan oozed out from his lips.

  They had worked through the night.

  Georgi’s healing magic had run out sometime during mining, using [Rest for the Weary] not just on their small group, but on the grumbling mercenaries as well, just to keep the mining operation running at full speed. No doubt they were all paying the physical price today.

  Despite the ache, Lucon found himself smiling.

  They had done it.

  They had successfully cleared enough Mana Crystals to save the barony from an impeding swarm of Mana Beasts.

  All that remained was to dismantle the rest. Skhav would be sent away, and the Fanatical Chimera dismissed once their contract expired. At the very least, their presence would keep the villages near the Wilderwood safe from Mana Beasts while they remained.

  All was going according to plan.

  His plan. Simple Lucon’s—No! The real Lucon’s plan!

  Lucon sat up. His eyes drifted downward.

  Hilda was sleeping on the floor beside his bed.

  Curled on her side. Hands tucked under her cheek. Still in her dirty maid uniform.

  She hadn’t even bothered returning to her quarters.

  Lucon stared at her for a few seconds.

  Then sighed.

  “…How can Ambrosia Lucon ever question your loyalty?” he murmured. A thought occurred remembering Ambrosia Lucon’s words: These eyes…I’ve seen them before.

  Lucon shook his head vigorously. He wouldn’t listen to Ambrosia Lucon. His time had come and gone.

  Everything was finally going back to the way it was supposed to be.

  He would find his sobriety again. He would earn his parents’ approval. And who knows—he might even find a woman to start a family with.

  Carefully, he slid out of bed, crouched, and scooped Hilda up. She stirred faintly, murmuring something unintelligible. Lucon carried her back to his bed and set her down, tucking a blanket around her.

  Then nodded to himself.

  I’ll treat her, he thought. Shopping. Food. Something nice.

  He straightened, stretched with a soft grunt, and pulled on fresh clothes.

  As he did, he checked inward.

  His merciful blessing had come back.

  …Only halfway.

  Not great.

  “Maybe some time in the house temple will help,” he muttered.

  Stepping out into the corridor, he yawned and scratched his head, the picture of a nobleman just beginning his day. The servants he passed—a maid with a basket of linens, a young man polishing a vase—didn't just bow. They beamed at him, their smiles wide and genuine.

  "Good morning, Young Lord!"

  "Fine day, isn't it, milord?"

  Lucon blinked at them, still half-asleep.

  “…Morning,” he muttered. Then, under his breath, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.”

  He turned toward the kitchens.

  The thought of grabbing something came to mind, something simple. Bread. Fruit. Maybe some pastries if they had any left. Something sweet for Hilda.

  Breakfast in his room.

  An empty space on the wall gave him pause. It was where his painted portrait once hung. Perhaps his mother sent it to a painter to have it redone.

  Shrugging, he moved on.

  He rounded a corner and nearly collided with Peytr. The clerk was a whirlwind of organized energy, spectacles perched on his nose, arms full of ledgers.

  "Ah! Young Lord! A splendid morning to you!" he chirped, his voice overly bright. A meaningful look was in his eyes.

  "Peytr," Lucon greeted, confused by Peytr’s enthusiasm and strange gaze. But it was good to see him. It was time to untangle the webs Ambrosia Lucon had woven with him.

  "I was hoping to speak with you—"

  But Petyr walked briskly past him.

  Lucon turned, watching him go.

  “…Huh?”

  That was…unexpected.

  He was about to continue onward when he noticed Peytr pause a few paces down the hall. The clerk bent and picked up a small, neatly folded piece of parchment from the floor. He turned back, a polite, blank smile on his face.

  "You dropped this, Young Lord," he said, holding it out.

  Lucon stared at it.

  “I…did?”

  Peytr smiled again, handed it over, and bowed lightly.

  “Have a pleasant morning.”

  And then he left.

  Lucon stood there, staring after him.

  “How peculiar...”

  He resumed walking toward the kitchens, absently unfolding the parchment.

  There was only one line written on it.

  Four words.

  “The shadows are watching.”