"Considering that we are old acquaintances, I can let your rudeness slide..."
Darius’s voice was as calm as still water—yet within it swirled a biting chill, sharp enough to flay skin.
"...but there are limits to everything. If you think just anyone can et with the Venom Fang Overlord, then you’re very wrong."
His words landed like iron weights, heavy and final.
Rosary’s brows furrowed slightly. That wasn’t what she expected.
Not from him.
Back in the Royal Academy, while they had never shared deep camaraderie, their relationship had remained cordial—amicable, even. Mutual nods in the corridor, occasional conversation, nothing more, nothing less.
But the man in front of her now wasn’t the sa Darius.
His aura was different. Sharper. Hardened. Less patient.
Her heart sank.
Is he still holding onto that grudge?
Her mind imdiately drifted back to the past—the battle for the throne.
Darius had sought support during those uncertain days, extending feelers to those with influence. Rosary, wary of the danger, had quietly withdrawn. She never refused outright, but silence, in political gas, was louder than any rejection.
And now that silence had co back to haunt her.
Her voice softened. "Crown Prince, if you’re still offended by that..."
She bowed slightly, her tone more sincere than before.
"...then I ask forgiveness for not supporting you when it mattered."
Darius blinked, montarily caught off guard.
He hadn’t been thinking about that—not consciously at least—but now that she ntioned it... yes.
It all made sense. That mont of hesitation from her in the past. The quiet retreat. The neutrality.
A flicker of mory clicked into place, and the atmosphere grew denser.
Darius took a step forward. He was already tall, but now the space between them seed to shrink in an instant.
When their eyes t, Rosary felt his presence loom over her like a mountain.
Not violent—but overwhelming. Commanding. Unyielding.
The faint breeze that had been brushing through the spiritual garden ca to an unnatural stillness, as if even the wind dared not offend the mood.
Realizing she had misstepped again, Rosary lowered her gaze. Her instincts scread that sothing about this Darius... was no longer mortal in nature.
Then his voice ca—quiet, but with all the finality of a closing gate:
"It doesn’t matter anymore."
He paused for half a heartbeat, letting his words hang.
"But if you know what’s better for you... then do as I say.
Because if you don’t—there’s no going back."
A hush fell over the area.
Noctys and the other onlookers, even the nearby guards, held their breath. The wind itself seed to halt mid-drift, as though it feared its very presence might tip the balance of tension.
Just then—footsteps.
Deliberate. asured. Drawing closer.
Darius’s expression instantly shifted. He straightened his back, his pupils narrowing slightly with recognition.
He already knew who was coming.
The shift in the air confird it. The presence approaching wasn’t loud or aggressive—just inevitable, like a rising tide.
A whisper of power moved across the ground.
Darius grit his teeth, eyes twitching in restrained irritation as he internally muttered:
"That little devil..."
The "little devil" in question was none other than Forty-Two, the unruly undead princess who had, sohow, turned the Erald Green Forest into her personal playground.
"Aye, little Darius, hiding all the way out here, are we? I’ve been searching everywhere for you."
A sing-song voice rang out from above, and before anyone could react, Forty-Two descended—hopping down from a treetop like she weighed nothing at all.
She landed on one leg and began to hop in place, spinning around the two like an oversized butterfly caught in a gust of mischief. Her eyes sparkled with chaotic glee, her grin wide and mischievous.
Then, like a dagger hidden in a bouquet, her gaze sharpened. A glint of teasing cruelty danced in her eyes.
"Ah! Darius, you sly little royal. So you’ve found yourself a lover, have you? Quite talented indeed..."
Her words were slow, deliberate, and loud enough for everyone to hear.
Darius’s expression turned icy. He didn’t even bother responding.
Rosary, on the other hand, stood frozen.
This was her first ti seeing the child-like girl, and instinctively, her expression turned grave. Her brows furrowed as she took in the girl’s pale, almost corpse-like features, her strange presence, and the otherworldly aura clinging to her like death’s perfu.
Is this... a child from the castle? Darius isn’t married... So who is she?
The montary confusion in Rosary’s eyes faded as sothing else took its place—concern.
Regardless of circumstances, Rosary had always harbored a soft spot for children. The girl might be acting wild and unruly, but to her eyes, she was still a lost child.
Rosary stepped forward slightly, her tone softening, shoulders relaxing.
"Little girl, are you lost? Where are your parents?"
Her voice was gentle, soothing—like she might speak to a frightened animal in the wild. She made sure to appear as non-threatening as possible, worried that any sign of force might spook the child.
But compared to her, Forty-Two didn’t even acknowledge the question.
Her expression shifted completely, her mischievous grin fading. She turned her head slightly—her nose twitching like she had caught scent of sothing unpleasant.
Her crimson eyes narrowed toward a distant corner of the forest.
Then, as if spitting venom, she growled:
"Damn... that fire bitch won’t let live in peace."
Rosary’s jaw dropped.
Wide-eyed, mouth gaping, her expression was akin to soone who had just overheard the secret to eternal life and promptly forgot how to breathe.
For a solid few seconds, she couldn’t even rember what she was supposed to be doing.
Did that little girl just say what I think she said...?
Darius closed his eyes and sighed deeply. This was exactly why he hated being around Forty-Two. She could take a calm diplomatic encounter and detonate it like a landmine dipped in sarcasm and wrapped in chaos.
Rosary’s lips parted slightly, and her eyes narrowed in disbelief.
Is this how a child is supposed to talk? What kind of upbringing is this? What are her parents teaching her?
A strange mixture of offense and genuine concern took root in her heart.
She softened her tone, crouching slightly as if trying to level with the girl. Her voice was gentle, laced with concern—like a warm breeze brushing past a fla.
"Sweetie, that’s not a nice thing to say. Where did you learn to talk like that? Why don’t you tell where your parents are, hmm? I’ll take you to them."
For a mont, there was silence—too long of a pause for a normal child.
Then, Forty-Two turned her head slightly, casting Rosary a sidelong glance from the corner of her crimson eye. The once playfully chaotic energy had vanished, replaced by cold indifference.
Her voice was sharp and distant.
"Mind your own business."
Before Rosary could even open her mouth to respond, the girl’s body flickered like a dying fla—then vanished into the depths of the forest in a streak of violet light.
Rosary stood dumbfounded, a chill prickling down her spine.
What in the world was that child?
She was still processing what had just happened when another presence entered the clearing—one that nearly stole the breath from her lungs.
A woman erged, graceful and striking, her beauty so otherworldly it made Rosary’s heart skip a beat.
The aura around her was refined and yet distant, like a blade hidden beneath silk.
Felicia.
The elegant healer’s gaze didn’t linger on Rosary at all. She scanned the surroundings briefly, and without a word, darted after Forty-Two, her robes fluttering behind her like a trail of moonlight.
This was the perfect mont—she couldn’t afford to lose that rebellious princess now.
Within seconds, Felicia too had disappeared into the forest.
Rosary remained rooted to the spot, feeling completely out of place. Her mouth opened as if to call after them, but no words ca out.
anwhile, the others—Noctyss, Darius, and the few present guards—remained utterly unfazed.
They had clearly seen enough chaos to not even blink at what had just occurred.
From her seat in the shade, Demon Queen Noctyss narrowed her eyes, an amused curl forming on her lips.
How delightful. Things are finally getting interesting again.
But her smirk froze the next mont.
Her lips twitched.
A faint ripple in the air brushed past her awareness like a whisper on the wind.
And then—
BOOM!
An ear-shattering explosion erupted from sowhere deep inside the wooden castle.
The shockwave made the trees tremble and scattered birds into the sky.
It ca from a very familiar place.
From within the swirling smoke and flickering embers, a figure staggered out, coughing violently.
His skin was blackened and charred in several places, and his once-pristine alchemist robe now hung from his body in tattered shreds—little more than scorched rags. His hair stood up in every direction, singed at the ends, giving him the appearance of a man who had just returned from wrestling lightning itself.
Valemont.
But strangely enough, there wasn’t even a trace of panic or frustration in his expression. His face was calm—too calm for soone who had just survived a minor explosion.
In fact, even as ash and smoke clung to him like a second skin, he pulled out a clean, untouched notebook from so unknown dinsion, as though it had been completely protected from the chaos.
Then he casually flipped it open and began writing, muttering to himself under his breath as if nothing had happened.
"Even the thousand-year-old Crystal Mountain Dew showed no effect. Supplentary ingredient efficiency did not improve. Probability of resonance failure remains unchanged..."
He didn’t even look up. His pen scratched quickly and furiously across the page as he continued jotting down formulas, thoughts, and observations in a chaotic flurry of scholarly focus.
Ash still drifted from his shoulders.
A spark still clung to his collar.
Yet his muttering didn’t stop.
"Will need to recalibrate the concentration of Dragon Bone Marrow next. Maybe introduce Void Blossom Extract in place of Ether Sprigs..."
He paused.
Sniffed the air.
Then with utter seriousness, added:
"And I sll burnt eyebrows. Again."
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