Over the past six months, the clearing of biopunk laboratories proceeded steadily, while Xurien's studies at the Celestial Gene Academy in the Mintaka District served as a testament to her perseverance. In the main hall, a large astral board flickered to life, displaying the medical examination results of the students.
"Whoohoo! Xurien Wrez passed!" shouted Xurien's companion, running into the cathedral. "You're Top 1 in the examination!" The announcement caught everyone's attention. Xurien's cheeks flushed crimson upon hearing her score.
"Congrats, Xurien," came the introverted greeting from Chalthrea, a fighter-healer. "You're officially part of our team. But as long as the Cyprioxian healers are here, we'll remain mere observers to the wounded soldiers."
"Oh, Xurien, don't mind her." The glasses of a green-eyed girl shimmered as she offered a warm smile. "What matters is... we celebrate!"
"Shhh! Quiet down, Gaeia. You're too loud; we're inside the church," scolded Rubiel, another fighter-healer, distinguished by her natural red pupils and hair with crimson tips. "Look, you've disturbed the Father."
Inside the convent, a priest stood at the pulpit, folding an ancient, thick Cyprioxian Bible embossed with a golden cross sigil. Hearing the commotion, his white robes danced at his elbows as he descended the pulpit stairs. He approached Xurien with a smile, holding a scroll bound by silver thread.
"I am delighted by your fortitude, Xurien. Congratulations on your exam," greeted the forty-year-old priest. He sat on one of the benches near Xurien, the old wood letting out a soft groan under his weight. He had thick, sturdy arms and a deep breath that suggested he carried the weight of the world, yet his face always radiated joy. He looked at the girls. "Listen, all of you. Even if the Cyprioxian religious healer councils do not want you assisting them... haven't you already helped so many?"
"Yes, Father. Thank you for your support," Xurien replied, hiding a trace of bitterness in her heart. "But I wonder about the Cyprioxians. Instead of helping Thallerion elevate its healing abilities, I feel as though they are chaining us."
"I used to see you grieving in a corner of the sanctuary; was that the reason?" asked Father Hendrich Deveör, his soft green eyes observant. "Your perseverance will show how you serve the citizens and the heroes who sacrifice their lives for Thallerion's peace." He took Xurien's hand. "Xurien, from what I see... that is not a barrier. You simply need to stand firm against their presence. Show them your worth as true Thallerion healers."
Despite being a missionary and a relatively new priest in Mintaka, Father Hendrich preferred to have his own ailments treated by Thallerion healers. "Look at yourselves—shouldn't you be the queens of medicine? You have proven your skill to many. You are the backbone of the warriors." Xurien's companions felt their spirits lift as they listened.
"You're right, Father. For the sake of Thallerion, we won't let them get to us," Xurien responded calmly, her fingers tightly gripping the small white cross of her rosary. "We will also help you bless the Awakened-warriors before they head to war." Xurien's eyes fell upon the scroll he held, noting its noble scent of expensive wood. "We will heal, no matter what challenges come. For the peace of our nation."
"Yes, Xurien, we'll heal people even if the other healers pick a fight with us," Chalthrea added. "I'm not afraid of them." She drew her surgical blade, letting it glint in the air. Father Hendrich's eyes widened.
"Not just that. We'll show them exactly how good we are," Rubiel added enthusiastically. "They are stripping away our rights, so—"
"Alright, that's enough, before this turns into an actual war," the priest chuckled. A comforted smile crossed Hendrich's face as he untied the scroll, which bore a special seal—the Herzthroven emblem. He took in the sweet aroma of the perfume on the parchment before scanning the contents. His thick, gentle eyebrows rose with every line he read. "Perfect timing. The Prince is arriving today." Hendrich heard Xurien's nails click against her cross. He turned his gaze to the girls behind her.
"Listen everyone, the Prince of Thallerion is coming today. I need your participation," he announced, clapping his hands. The sharp sound echoed through the convent, stopping everyone in their tracks.
"The Prince!?" the girls exclaimed, popping up behind Xurien like mushrooms. They crowded around her bench, giddy with excitement. Their cheeks flushed, and the sacred convent suddenly sounded like a busy marketplace. "Is it true, Father?"
"Impossible. I wonder what kind of magic the Prince ate?" Chalthrea said sarcastically. "In a way, it's a miracle."
"Oh, stop it, Chalthrea. Don't speak about the Prince like that," Gaeia said, hands on her hips.
"Yes, it is true. He is seeking a blessing in our church." The priest's eyes crinkled at the sight of the girls wriggling with excitement. "This is the first time the Prince has visited. He is seeking a sacred blessing—not for your beauty to be noticed," he joked.
He watched the girls behind her, some seemingly delirious with giddiness while others fussed over their hair. Contrasted with Xurien's quiet demeanor, the priest let out a silent sigh.
"Follow Xurien's example. Go on, fix yourselves up; just imagine the Prince is visiting specifically for you." The girls obeyed like gentle sheep. The priest turned back to Xurien.
"Isn't today exciting, Xurien?" The priest's gaze lingered on her face. She forced a simple smile, but her underlying worry remained visible.
"Don't worry, Father. I'll make sure we won't cause any trouble during the blessing," Xurien replied. She walked toward her companions to prepare for the arrival of the Prince of Thallerion. However, Father Hendrich's eyes remained inquisitive. "What could be troubling Xurien's mind? She seems far from at peace."
Betelgeuse City, Thallerion
From the Mintaka District, people could see the white Sovereign's Shield encircling Betelgeuse City—a protection Thallerion paid for annually. At its center stood the Palace of Thallerion, surrounded by skyscrapers that looked like swords piercing the sky.
The metallic accents on the palace doors glistened in the morning sun. The doors creaked softly as a soldier entered. The thick wooden panels were carved with symbols of Thallerion warriors; they were so sturdy that even the horn of a monocerus wouldn't leave a scratch. Inside, King Zerceux stood on a balcony, observing the distant districts while monitoring Thallerion's economic status on a blue holographic screen. His female secretary stood silently by the veranda, holding an appointment notebook.
"Despite the wars of the past, Thallerion still learned how to rise," he mused, swirling a glass of wine. A soldier approached him.
"Your Majesty. The Prince is arriving."
King Zerceux didn't turn. Instead, his eyes followed the paved roads of the palace. The sound of carriages echoed on the straight streets. Civilians moved calmly toward the Bellatrix Merchant Guild, the district responsible for the nation's primary production and revenue.
"Tell him to hurry," he commanded. The king took a small sip, just enough to wet his tongue.
"As you wish, Your Majesty." The soldier bowed, his armor clinking as he exited the throne room.
King Zerceux stared into the distance, toward a place beyond his sight. "It has been a long time since the clan left the lands of Bellatrix. My friend, wherever you are now..." His face spoke to the void as he tasted the sweet and sour notes of the wine. He let out a long sigh. "I hope you can see the progress of Thallerion today."
Outside the kingdom, the thunderous hooves of knights approached. The Prince rode a white horse purchased from Dreamithrio, the land of Pegasus bloodlines. It was a Pegasus capable of hiding its wings within its skin, making it appear like a normal horse. At the entrance, guards stood at the center, flanked by two towering, majestic statues holding swords.
The King's attendant was waiting. "My Prince, the King is waiting inside."
The Prince dismounted, the iron decorations at his waist clinking. "Take care of my horse; it's a High-Grade Pegasus," he told the soldier. The soldier took the reins and stood at attention. "Brave warriors, wait for me here."
"Of course, Prince. We shall wait."
As the Prince entered, the hallway walls looked like a museum of Thallerion's history. His eyes feasted on the framed portraits depicting the bravery of King Zerceux's lineage.
Elsewhere, the walls boasted High-Grade and Legendary-type weapons belonging to deceased kings and famous warriors. If sold, they would fetch two billion astral coins, but their history was worth more than gold and diamonds.
The Prince's shadow glided across the polished marble floors of the palace, and the vast throne room was filled with the soft music of lyres.
"Father. I am here. My army is ready." The King had his back turned when he arrived.
The Prince glanced at the palace ceiling, admiring the prestigious chandeliers made of grain-sized crystals that resembled shimmering diamonds. His gaze fell upon King Zerceux's vacant throne. Behind it stood a massive statue wearing a belt similar to Marthew Ceréun's, adorned with five jewels. On its pavilion, a label read: Guardian Orion.
"Only one laboratory remains on the edge of our territory," the King said, approaching the Prince but heading straight for his seat. "Those biopunk-prototypes at the border are a threat to our people's security."
"Cerceux. Cerceux Herzthroven. You, as my only son. An Awakened-hunter." King Zerceux sat down.
At the foot of the throne lay a soft lion pelt, showing decades of wear; yet in the eyes of the statue, the footprints of former kings who stood there remained fresh.
"Today is the day you prove yourself to me. Are you worthy of sitting on this throne? Or must I wait for a better time?" The King's golden ring glinted as he swirled his wine.
The Prince knelt. "I promise you, Father, the last laboratory on the border of Betelgeuse City shall fall. If it is my destiny to serve the people of Thallerion, I will accept your throne in the name of Orion."
King Zerceux adjusted his majestic blue attire made of smooth silk and decorated with the lines of Orion. His towering cape was a symbol of his heroism, and his belt, adorned with precious gems, displayed his victories in past wars.
"Even if those monsters at our border are just experiments, do not let them pass. Harvest them and wipe them out. Those creatures yield great value because they are still creations of the Celestial Gene." The King looked to the side, where ministers were busy monitoring various Thallerion sectors via astral screens.
"Minister of Logistics, how many astral coins have we gathered in our threshold?"
"We have added one million astral coins, a 2% increase in our capital market after destroying four laboratories in succession. In just one month, it has surpassed the revenue from the Celestial Blade, which only saw 0.5% growth. Production among the Will-forgers has weakened," reported the Minister of Logistics.
"What is the reason for the weakened production? If our celestial stock market drops, we will lose high-profile customers. Fix the production of the Celestial Blade."
"This past month, our Will-forgers have been falling ill, even with treatment from the Cyprioxian religious healers. We cannot determine the cause of their illness. Their celestial genes are simply weakening."
"Father, I believe the appearance of those biopunk-prototypes has something to do with it," Cerceux suggested.
"Is that possible?" King Zerceux mused. "But the Cyprioxian council has reported no anomalies. This cannot happen; our country still has the national threat security tax to pay to the Cepheus Sovereign." King Zerceux looked at the list of top investors in the international celestial market. The Crown-System, an astral interface, appeared before him.
"Lumbricus Express," King Zerceux read. "Their stock rose by 70%. What are they selling to cause such a market increase?"
"The market analysts of the Hetitze clan investigated that, but they say it's a black market popular among beast-shifter bloodlines," the King's secretary said.
"Are they selling High-Grade potions for shape-shifter evolution?"
"Apologies, Your Majesty, but we have no idea what Lumbricus Express is actually selling," a minister replied.
"Father, it seems I must leave. My fellow warriors are waiting outside the palace." But the King didn't hear him, his face glued to the blue astral screen, busy clicking away.
"We need to buy celestial boosters for our Will-forgers. But the price is so high," was the only response Cerceux heard from his frowning father. The King stopped when he noticed Cerceux still standing there, clearly accustomed to his father's market-obsessed behavior. "Oh, right, Cerceux. Come home immediately. Help me increase our number of investors."
"Shouldn't we celebrate once the Thallerion border is cleared? But fine, I'll see later if I'm not busy." The King simply smiled and watched the Prince depart.