They told them.
About Marcus.
The war-grade relic.
Ifrit breaking free.
Ikurus catching the flame spear.
Finally awakening his mana core.
Saving the entire ballroom.
The longer it went on-
The wider Arria's smile grew.
The darker Rokash's expression became.
"…He fought a greater demon?" Rokash said slowly.
"Yes," Abella replied sweetly.
"With war grade magic," Lucien added helpfully.
"And won," Demetrius finished.
Rokash stared at Ikurus.
Then at the ruined side of the castle still visible in the distance.
Then back at Ikurus.
"…I took a nap."
Ikurus shrugged sheepishly. "You looked tired."
Rokash dragged a hand down his face.
"I miss one evening," he muttered, "and you casually defeat a greater demon, awaken a mana core, and charm a demon princess."
His jaw clenched.
"Unacceptable."
Arria, meanwhile, looked absurdly proud.
Her eyes shone as she walked over and gently cupped Ikurus's face.
"You did wonderfully," she said softly. "You trusted your strength. You protected people. And you didn't let rage control you."
She kissed his forehead.
Rokash crossed his arms. "I should've been there."
Kealith clapped his shoulder. "Relax. Our boy handled it."
Rokash huffed. "Yeah. Too well."
Then he glanced at Ikurus with a small smirk.
"Next time, wake me up before you fight ancient demons."
Ikurus laughed.
"I'll try."
The family finally began moving toward the carriages, the night calm once more.
Rokash walked beside Ikurus, still shaking his head in disbelief.
Arria followed behind, smiling proudly.
As the castle faded into the distance, one thing was clear.
This trip to Berfolt County had changed everything.
And Ikurus's path had just taken a massive step toward legend.
The moment Ikurus returned home, the adrenaline finally left his body.
The warmth of his newly awakened mana core pulsed once… twice… and then exhaustion hit him like a mountain.
He barely made it to his bed.
Still in half-shifted clothes, tail curling instinctively around himself, Ikurus collapsed face-first into the sheets and was out cold before his head even settled.
Two days passed.
Servants tiptoed.
His family checked on him constantly.
The house stayed unusually quiet.
On the morning of the third day.
"IKUUUUU!"
A door slammed open.
Sunlight exploded across his face.
He groaned.
"Mmmgh… five more minutes…"
Lucien jumped onto the bed.
"BRO YOU'VE BEEN DEAD FOR SEVENTY TWO HOURS."
Demetrius yanked the blanket away.
"GET UP!."
Abella stood in the doorway laughing.
"Breakfast is getting cold, sleepy hero."
Arria crossed her arms with a proud smile.
"Mana awakening exhaustion. Completely normal."
Ikurus squinted blearily. "I fought a demon… can I get a medal instead?"
Kealith leaned in. "You can get pancakes."
Ikurus shot upright instantly.
"Why didn't you say so?!"
A few plates of pancakes and an unhealthy amount of kolugi later, Ikurus finally felt human again.
Well.
Divine beast-human again.
As he wiped his mouth, Kealith gestured toward the hall.
"Come with me. There's something you should see."
Curious, Ikurus followed his father to the study.
Kealith opened the doors.
Papers.
Stacks.
Piles.
Mountains.
Letters covered the desk, chairs, floor, even neatly tied bundles leaning against the shelves.
Ikurus blinked.
"…did the library explode?"
Kealith snorted. "Nope."
Ikurus walked in slowly, picking one up. It was sealed in wax with a noble crest.
Another.
Another.
Another.
All different houses.
All addressed to him.
"Dad," Ikurus said slowly, "why are there approximately a thousand letters in your office?"
Kealith leaned against the doorframe with a grin.
"Courtship letters."
Silence.
Ikurus turned.
"…what?"
"Seems like every noble who attended that party wants a piece of you," Kealith said cheerfully.
Lucien peeked in behind them. "Some want alliances. Some want engagements. A few offered dowries."
Demetrius added, "One offered a small island."
Ikurus's jaw dropped.
"I'M A CHILD!"
Kealith shrugged. "A child who beat a demon in public."
Abella called from down the hall, "One family proposed immediately!"
Ikurus stared at the mountain of letters in horror.
"…I just wanted pancakes."
Kealith laughed loudly, clapping his shoulder.
"Welcome to noble life, son."
Ikurus groaned, tail flicking.
"This is worse than fighting Ifrit."
The castle had long since fallen silent.
The fires were gone.
The rubble cleared.
Servants whispered in corners, guards doubled their patrols, and Berfolt Castle tried desperately to pretend that a demon had not walked its halls only hours ago.
But fear lingered.
Especially for Marcel.
Marcus's younger brother walked alone through the dim corridor, soft candlelight flickering across stone walls as his small shoes echoed faintly.
His hands were clenched behind his back, his mind racing.
"Father sent Marcus away…"
"Mother too…"
His jaw tightened.
Which meant only one thing.
Father would be watching him now.
Watching closely.
He needed to be careful.
Needed to move smarter.
Needed-
A voice spoke.
"So I was right after all."
Marcel froze.
His heart skipped.
Slowly, he turned.
At the far end of the corridor stood something wrong.
A shadow that didn't belong.
It wasn't cast by candlelight.
It was deeper.
Thicker.
Alive.
Two faint golden eyes opened within it.
Marcel blinked.
The shadow was closer.
He hadn't seen it move.
He blinked again.
It stood directly in front of him.
His breath caught.
The figure was tall, vaguely humanoid, but wrong in every way that mattered. Limbs slightly too long. Shoulders slightly too broad. Horn-like silhouettes curling from its head. Violet-black smoke curled off its body like dying light.
But the presence.
He recognized it instantly.
Ikurus.
"Wai-"
The word never finished.
A clawed hand shot forward and wrapped around his throat, lifting him clean off the ground.
Marcel choked, grabbing at the arm, his feet kicking uselessly.
Golden eyes burned into his own.
Cold.
Predatory.
"You know," Ikurus said quietly, voice distorted, layered with something far older than a child, "it did occur to me."
His grip tightened slightly.
"Why would a blockhead like your brother bring a war relic into a crowded ballroom?"
Marcel's vision blurred.
"I thought about it."
Ikurus leaned closer.
"Then I realized."
His fangs gleamed faintly in the dark.
"He didn't."
A pause.
"He was manipulated."
Marcel's pupils shrank.
"And from what I've seen," Ikurus continued softly, "you seem to be the brains behind your brother."
Silence.
"For someone so young," he added, "that level of planning is impressive."
Marcel trembled violently now.
"I was going to let it slide."
Ikurus's eyes narrowed.
"Until you threw piss at me."
The air grew heavy.
Oppressive.
"You almost killed hundreds of people," Ikurus said.
His voice dropped lower.
"Not to mention my family."
His claws pressed just enough to draw a thin line of blood along Marcel's neck.
"I'd hate to imagine what would've happened… if I wasn't strong enough."
Marcel sobbed silently, body frozen in pure terror.
Ikurus leaned in until his fangs were inches from the boy's throat.
"So now I say this, little lord."
Each word was calm.
Precise.
Absolute.
"Do anything like that again…"
His grip tightened.
"…and despite our family bonds…"
His aura flared for just a split second.
"…I will kill you."
A pause.
"Painfully."
Another.
"Slowly."
Another.
"Publicly."
Marcel's body shook uncontrollably.
Ikurus's voice softened to a whisper.
"Blink if I've made myself clear."
Marcel blinked instantly.
Tears streamed down his face.
Ikurus held him there one second longer.
Two.
Then-
He dropped him.
Marcel collapsed to the floor, gasping, clutching his throat.
Ikurus gave a low, animalistic growl.
Then his body dissolved into black smoke, fading into nothing.
Only his final voice lingered in the air.
"Tsk."
A pause.
"Kids these days."
The corridor fell silent.
Marcel remained on the floor long after the presence vanished.
Trembling.
Because for the first time in his life-
He understood fear.
Not of his father.
Not of punishment.
But of something far worse.
Something that had spared him.
Ikurus stood before the mountain of letters like a soldier facing an enemy army he had absolutely no intention of fighting today.
Silk envelopes. Gold-trimmed parchment. Perfumed paper that practically screamed desperation wrapped in etiquette.
He picked one up, skimmed two lines, and dropped it back onto the pile.
Another followed.
Then another.
His expression grew increasingly dead inside.
"Nobles really have too much free time," he muttered.
Then he noticed it.
A single black envelope resting near the center of the desk.
No perfume.
No decorative nonsense.
Just smooth obsidian-colored paper sealed with dark crimson wax.
Pressed into the seal was an unmistakable crest.
The mark of the Demon King, Syrax.
Ikurus's lips curled upward slowly.
"Well," he murmured, claws tapping the desk, "took you long enough."
He slit the envelope open with one claw and unfolded the letter.
His eyes moved across the page.
He blinked once.
Then again.
This… was not what he expected.
And somehow it was better.
The handwriting was elegant but lively, ink flowing with playful confidence.
A faint warmth seemed to linger in every word.
To Ikurus,
I hope this letter finds you before another catastrophe does. Our meeting was regrettably brief, though I suspect you have a talent for turning short encounters into unforgettable ones.
I have been thinking about our conversation more than I probably should admit. The Demon Kingdom feels terribly dull now by comparison.
If you are willing, I would like you to visit. I promised myself I would properly show you my home someday. There is a café near the eastern gardens that makes a drink I am convinced even you would approve of, and I insist you try it with me.
Also, you still owe me a dance.
Do not pretend you have forgotten.
I look forward to seeing you again.
-Voxis.
Ikurus stared at the page.
His ears slowly turned red.
Then redder.
And suddenly the terrifying prodigy who had threatened nobles and fought monsters was smiling like a complete idiot.
Behind him, a chair creaked.
"Nice work, kid," Lith said dryly. "Syrax is going to kill you for courting his daughter though."
Ikurus nearly jumped, spinning around.
He had completely forgotten his father was there.
Lith leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching with the deeply entertained expression of a man witnessing future chaos unfold in real time.
Ikurus glanced down at the letter again, smile lingering.
"We'll see."
He folded it carefully and slipped it into his storage ring as if it were something fragile.
Then he turned toward the door.
"Where are you going now?" Lith asked, already pulling another stack of letters toward himself. "You do realize you have hundreds more of those things, right?"
He began sorting them alphabetically with terrifying efficiency.
"Oh, Grandpa's friend is here," Ikurus said casually. "I'm going to give them the King's Nectar I made."
Lith's eyes narrowed immediately.
"Annnnd?"
Ikurus paused at the doorway.
"I'll sort through the letters when I get back."
"Good."
Lith returned to his desk as Ikurus stepped into the hallway.
The door had barely begun to close when Lith looked up again.
"Oh, by the way Iku-"
The sentence never finished.
The door burst open just enough for a small glass bottle to come flying through the air at alarming speed.
Lith didn't even look.
His tail flicked out smoothly, catching the bottle mid-flight before it could shatter.
He set the shimmering vial of King's Nectar neatly onto a nearby shelf.
The door shut again.
Silence returned to the study.
Lith stared at the bottle.
Then toward the door.
A slow smirk spread across his face.
"…Definitely my son."