The rubble still littered the floor, the dust had yet to settle. But from amidst the ruins and the chaos, a new tension rose—one no less complicated.
Gerald, the prince, stood frozen, disbelief etched across his face.
"Evelyne?" His voice pitched up a note, tangled between shock and frustration.
Evelyne, caught completely off guard by the sudden encounter, instinctively hid behind Darwin. She clung to his back like a child caught sneaking out.
"H-hi… Brother," she whispered sheepishly, her voice barely louder than a mouse.
Gerald raised his hand sharply, pointing at her.
"Return to the palace. Right now."
"Nope." Evelyne pouted like a child forbidden from playing outside. "I'm on an important mission. I'm with Darwin and…" she turned to him with pleading eyes. "Help me out here, please."
Darwin, suddenly dragged into what felt like a family drama, let out a long sigh. He glanced at Gerald, then met his gaze steadily.
"I made a promise to Evelyne. So let her stay with me for now."
Velmira, still seated at the edge of the table, stared at Darwin in disbelief.
"Wait… Do you know who you're talking to? That's the crown prince! Are you serious?"
Darwin turned his head slightly toward her, his expression flat.
"So what."
Gerald, hearing that, stepped forward, his movements heavy and brimming with tension. He stopped directly in front of Darwin, so close the air between them crackled.
"So that's how it is. You want to take my sister on a stroll? Then you'll have to go through my corpse first."
Darwin raised an eyebrow, a thin smirk forming on his lips.
"Is that… a duel you're proposing?" His voice carried a spark of excitement, and the faint aura of battle began to radiate from him.
The tension rose rapidly—until a calm but firm voice cut through it.
"That's enough."
Mireth stepped forward, her voice steady, like a mother scolding her children.
"This is not the time for petty squabbles. Olive has already fled, and she may be far by now. If my suspicion is correct… their next target is the last artifact fragment."
Darwin furrowed his brow.
"The castle?"
Mireth gave a slow nod.
And as if the world itself wanted to confirm her worry, a loud explosion echoed in the distance—deep, rumbling, and shaking the air.
Everyone turned at once toward the source. A thin plume of smoke rose from the direction of the royal palace.
"The palace…" Gerald said, his voice taut with dread.
"Mother…" Evelyne whispered.
Without needing further instruction, they all moved at once.
Gerald began barking orders to his troops, and Maevina, who had been silent until now, summoned a teleportation circle with a flick of her staff.
"Velmira, you're going with them," Mireth said.
Velmira looked hesitant. "But… I want to stay by your side. If they come back for you—"
Mireth chuckled lightly.
"Who would target an old woman like me?"
But Velmira did not laugh. Her eyes were filled with quiet concern. Mireth gave her a knowing look, then said more gently,
"I'll be fine. There are still plenty of guards left to protect me. But your sister…"
Mireth took Velmira's hand.
"She needs you."
Velmira paused, then nodded firmly.
"All right. I'll bring her back. So don't die yet—stay safe."
"That's the spirit," Mireth said with a warm smile.
Not long after, the group departed—leaving the shattered Dawnery Merchant behind.
+++++
Torain Kingdom – Throne Room
The morning air in the royal throne room was usually calm, accompanied by the disciplined steps of soldiers and the light clinking of silverware from busy servants. But today, King Thalreos sat in silence, his hands clasped tightly over the carved stone table he used to review state documents.
His gaze was fixed on the large window, staring out over the city as it prepared for the Annual Parade of Torain—a grand festival that gathered merchants from across the continent. The parade was more than celebration… it was a symbol of strength, economic power, and the kingdom's reputation in the eyes of the world.
But his thoughts were far from the parade.
"Evelyne…" the king murmured, quietly.
His worry had only grown over the past few days. Something felt wrong—too many whispers in court, too many sly glances from once-loyal nobles. It was as if a storm was waiting just out of sight, ready to strike.
Suddenly, the sharp whistle of arcane energy sliced through the air. A purple glow began to swirl, forming a magic circle suspended in midair.
The king's personal guard, Captain Garthen, stepped forward at once, drawing his blade and positioning himself in front of the throne.
"Teleportation circle detected! Close range! Shield formation, now!"
Four elite soldiers closed in around the king, shields overlapping in a practiced, defensive stance. The palace's defensive wards flared to life—but it was already too late.
The magic circle flashed, and a figure emerged from the light.
A large man with a savage expression and glowing red eyes stepped into the room. His hair was wild, and a wicked grin carved through the tension like a knife.
"You…" King Thalreos eyes widened in shock. "Donnovant…?"
The man—Derek—smirked darkly.
"So you remember me after all. I thought you'd forgotten, just like you forgot my mother."
Gasps rippled through the guards. One even shouted:
"An intruder! How did he breach the palace's wards?!"
King Thalreos rose slowly from his throne, eyes torn between memory and authority.
"Where have you been all these years, Donnovant?"
Derek didn't answer. Instead, his gaze slid over to Queen Elvianne, who stood frozen beside the throne. His eyes moved down her figure with a twisted smile.
"Ahh… no wonder you threw away my plain old mother. You found someone far prettier—and far more desirable."
The queen shrank back, arms wrapping around herself.
"Don't look at me like that…" she whispered in fear.
"Watch your tongue!" King Thalreos bellowed. "She is your stepmother, and you will not speak of her like that!"
"I have only one mother, and she isn't that woman," Derek growled. "You discarded her because she was common-born. And now… I'm here to restore her honor. In my own way."
Before the king could respond, Captain Garthen charged, magic blazing in his wake.
"Protect the King! Take him alive!"
A fierce battle erupted in the heart of the throne room.
Derek unleashed one of his skills.
Blood Howl – Resonance of Rage.
A red aura enveloped his body, boosting his physical power and magical resistance temporarily—but driving him into a more feral state.
He moved like a bullet, fending off the elite guards. Despite being outnumbered four to one, Derek held his own, even managing to push them back at times.
But the tide began to shift.
With his royal sword technique, Iron Tempest, Garthen finally drove Derek into the palace wall, sending his weapon clattering to the ground.
Garthen pressed the blade to his throat.
"Surrender. It's over."
But Derek only smiled.
"You think… I came here to win?"
His eyes glinted with something more cunning.
"I just needed… to buy time."
The guards exchanged confused looks.
"What does he mean—"
Suddenly, Derek's body ignited in a blinding red light. A magical bomb seal etched into his skin began to glow.
"Enjoy what little time you have left… Father."
And then he exploded.
Boom.
The arcane blast tore through the entire west wing of the palace. Walls crumbled, ceilings collapsed, and a scorching wave of heat swept through the chamber.
Captain Garthen, being the closest, was thrown back—his body scorched. Several others suffered grave injuries. Even King Thalreos, protected by the last shield ward, was thrown off balance and suffered wounds to his arm.
Smoke curled through the broken chamber. The once-majestic hall where the king ruled his nation… was now reduced to ruin.
War had begun.