The first rays of dawn crept through the thin curtains, painting the modest inn room in a soft golden hue.
Azel’s eyes fluttered open before the sun had fully risen.
For a mont, he remained still, listening to the faint sound of birds outside, the distant murmur of wagons being loaded in the streets below.
His body felt warm, comfortable — too comfortable.
When he turned his head, he understood why.
Edna was wrapped around him like a living blanket.
Her silver hair spilled across the pillow and over his chest, her cheek pressed against him with an expression of pure serenity.
One arm clung to his torso, while her leg draped possessively across his lower body.
The warmth of her body enveloped him entirely, their limbs tangled as if she feared letting him go even in sleep.
Her lips parted slightly with each gentle breath, and now and then, she made a soft noise — half sigh, half mumble that lted away the sharp edge of morning silence.
Azel’s heart softened at the sight.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, careful not to disturb her.
"She looks so cute," he whispered, it was making his heart warm.
With practiced patience, he shifted his body, wriggling out from beneath her grip.
Edna clutched at him even in her sleep, frowning faintly, but when he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, her expression eased.
She smiled faintly in her dreams, murmuring sothing incoherent.
Azel lingered just a mont longer, drinking in her peaceful face, before standing.
"Rest well," he said softly.
He washed up, the cold water shocking away the last remnants of sleep, and changed into fresh clothes.
A yawn escaped his lips as he strapped on his belt and boots.
His thoughts were already running ahead of him.
’I need to prepare. The old man is coming today after all.’
He was coming to see Emilia, and Azel liked it like that, for them to reunite early was also good, it was better than both father and daughter dying together.
As Azel opened the door and stepped into the hall, a familiar voice rang out.
"Good morning, Master~ Did you sleep well?"
dusa was there, standing outside of the door casually if she had been waiting the entire ti.
The playful lilt in her voice gave away her amusent.
Her presence, sudden as it was, didn’t surprise Azel anymore.
That was just how she operated — appearing without warning, smiling as though she owned the mont.
"Yes, da," Azel replied evenly, though his eyes lingered on her with faint appreciation.
She wasn’t wearing her maid attire today.
Instead, she had chosen one of the dresses he bought, a blue dress he had bought her yesterday.
It was short, ending just above her knees, and the soft fabric clung delicately to her curves.
The simple design didn’t diminish her presence; rather, it emphasized it.
Her beauty was sharp, serpentine, impossible to ignore as always.
"You’re looking beautiful this morning," he added.
dusa’s eyes lit up, her lips curling into a delighted smile. "I tried my best to dress well for you, Master~"
That was another thing Azel had quickly learned about da — she did not hide her interest.
She didn’t bother with restraint or modest distance.
Everything about her, from the way she looked at him to the way she spoke, was unabashed.
Azel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Her eyes widened briefly at the gesture before her cheeks colored faintly, betraying her composure.
She touched the spot with a finger, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.
"I’ll have to go out today and handle sothing," Azel said, his tone firm but not cold. "When I co back, we can go have fun in town."
The communication orb weighed lightly in his pocket.
He knew once it began to glow, it ant Steven had arrived.
He needed to be ready.
dusa tilted her head, the flush still warm on her cheeks.
"Okay, Master~ I’ll look forward to it."
She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him.
The fragrance of flowers clung to her, fresh and alluring.
Azel exhaled softly, resting a hand on her head and patting it as she pressed into him.
"Take care of Lillia," he murmured.
Reluctantly, she released him, though her sly smile never faded.
"Of course, Master. Leave everything to ."
With that, Azel made his way outside.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of fresh bread from nearby bakeries and the faint tang of smoke from chimneys.
He pulled the communication orb from his pocket as it began to glow.
"Boy."
Steven’s voice carried imdiately, resonant and commanding.
A faint hologram shimred above the orb, the figure of the Sword Saint surrounded by clouds.
"I’m up above you," Steven said.
Azel squinted at the image and then at the sky itself.
"How the hell can you see that far?" he muttered.
Then he shook his head.
Of course he could.
He was the Sword Saint.
Deactivating the orb, Azel frowned slightly.
His magic.
He had totally forgotten about it last night.
If Steven could sense it, questions might arise.
’System. Is there any way to conceal my magic?’
[Concealnt feature has been activated. Your magic will now be concealed, although higher entities can still see.]
Azel’s lips curved faintly. ’Sotis you’re very perfect.’
He looked skyward.
The griffin was already descending, its great wings blotting out the sun montarily.
The beast landed heavily on the cobblestones, talons scraping against stone as it folded its massive wings.
Upon its back sat Steven, who dismounted with practiced ease.
He gave the griffin a few swift instructions, and with a powerful beat of wings, it soared back into the sky, shrinking into the horizon.
Then Steven turned, his expression hard. "Take to my daughter."
’He won’t even say a Hi?’
...
The atmosphere inside the residence was heavy.
Emilia sat on a chair in the living room, her fingers twined tightly together.
Her face was calm, but her eyes betrayed the nerves she held deep inside.
Today was the day.
The day her father would co for her.
Rain sat nearby, silent and watchful.
Hilda and Elga were there as well, each occupied with their own thoughts, yet united in the sa anticipation.
The room felt hushed, every sound amplified — the ticking of the small clock on the wall, the faint creak of furniture, the muted rustle of clothing.
They trusted Azel.
None of them doubted him.
But trust didn’t lessen the tension.
They were expecting the sword saint, in such a modest place.
The door creaked.
Every head turned as it opened.
At first, only Azel’s figure was visible — but then, a blur of movent slipped past him.
A presence so fast even Rain’s sharp eyes could barely keep up surged across the room.
In the blink of an eye, a figure knelt before Emilia and pulled her into an embrace.
The Sword Saint.
Steven’s arms locked around his daughter with desperate strength, his entire fra trembling.
Tears welled in his eyes, falling freely down his weathered cheeks.
For all his reputation, for all the power that shook nations, at this mont he was not the Sword Saint.
He was simply a father.
"Emilia," he whispered hoarsely.
"Father," she replied, her voice breaking as her arms closed around him in return.
They hugged...
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