Within the ruins, the silence was thick enough to suffocate.
Rhine slowly scanned his surroundings. The once-glittering royal city had been reduced to scorched earth; broken walls and shattered pillars cast jagged, mottled shadows under the dawn light. Dust swirled through the hollow expanse of the hall, the air heavy with the scent of death and stagnant magic. The Emperor had been dragged into the abyss, the Empress had vanished without a trace, and only Gerald remained—locked in a deep, unnatural slumber, the sole surviving trace of life in this wasteland.
Rhine stumbled and crawled to Gerald's side, his voice trembling. "Teacher... Gerald... please, wake up..."
But Gerald remained motionless, silent as a grave, as if time itself had forgotten him.
Rhine lowered his body, pressing his forehead against Gerald's chest to listen for a heartbeat. That faint, steady pulse was like a flickering candle in a pitch-black cathedral—the only source of warmth left in the entire castle.
—That night, no one came.
—The next day, there was still no one.
It wasn't until the morning of the third day, when the harsh sunlight pierced through the shattered window frames, that Rhine was jolted from his exhausted sleep. He clutched his stomach; hunger was like a searing fire, clawing at his weakened frame.
He shook Gerald once more, his voice thick with tears. "Gerald... please wake up... I'm so hungry..."
Finally, Gerald's eyelids fluttered. He groaned, his eyes cracking open slowly as he rasped out, "Ugh... I'm... not dead?"
Rhine's eyes ignited with hope. He flung himself onto the man, clinging to him. "Gerald!"
"My Prince?" Gerald struggled to sit up, his gaze sweeping across the devastation. A bitter, weary smile touched his lips. "What happened... why is... the palace like this?"
Rhine broke down, his face buried in Gerald's chest, his voice a jagged wreck. "You... you were asleep for two whole days! Father, Mother... they're all gone... there's no one left in the castle... not a single soul..."
Gerald placed a heavy hand on the boy's head, stroking his hair with a low, gentle rhythm. "I'm here... did you stay here by my side for two days?"
"Yes... you liar..." Rhine sobbed, his frustration boiling over. "You... and Father... and Mother..."
Gerald's expression darkened, a heavy, unshakable grief clouding his eyes. "Rhine... His Majesty the Sun Emperor has fallen for the nation. You... are now the new Emperor of the Great Solaria Empire."
Rhine froze. He looked down at his small, soot-covered hands, his fingers trembling. "Me? ... I am the Emperor now?"
"Yes." Gerald struggled to find his footing. His silhouette appeared frail against the backdrop of jagged walls and scattered rubble, yet his posture remained as unyielding as iron. "The war is over. We have lost. But we are still breathing. You must live, Rhine. Remember this: one day, you will rebuild the Empire."
Rhine wiped his tears away with a sudden, violent motion. His eyes were bloodshot and raw, yet they sparked with a sudden, piercing light.
"Then, as my first decree as Emperor—Gerald, you are ordered to live! You cannot die! You must live until you are a withered, stubborn old man!"
Gerald blinked in surprise, then let out a rare, genuine chuckle that softened into a weary smile. "By your command, Your Majesty. I shall live until the day you restore our glory."
Rhine puffed out his chest, his voice still thick with childish indignation. "You big liar! From this day on, I'm calling you 'Old Man' and 'Old Geezer'! I'll say it every single day just to remind you of my order!"
Gerald shook his head with a wry smile. "Haha... an Emperor this petty? I fear for the future subjects of your realm..."
The young boy took a deep breath and stood tall among the ruins. His gaze pierced through the smoke of the fallen capital, fixing upon the distant, rising sun. His eyes were sharp, filled with a cold, iron-clad resolve. "I promise you! One day, I will kill that witch with my own hands! And then... I will rebuild the Empire!"
[Present Day: Year 15 of the Lunaris Calendar — The Cabin in the Snow]
Outside, the mountain winds howled, driving a relentless white veil against the timber walls. But inside, by the crackling hearth, Gerald leaned forward to add a fresh log to the fire. The dancing flames cast a warm, orange glow across his smiling face, softening the deep scars of age and battle.
"And that's how it happened," Gerald said softly, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. "Ever since that day, the Prince has called me 'Old Geezer' and 'Old Liar' every chance he gets. But the truth is... he just wanted me to stay around long enough to see him become strong."
Lunethia sat in the stillness, using the back of her hand to gently brush away the lingering tears. "I never imagined... that Rhine had endured so much pain."
Gerald let out a soft sigh, followed by a wry chuckle. "Haha, and there's one more thing you should know. His Divine Flame burns fiercer whenever he's angry. Ever since that day, in order to hone his power, he's essentially kept himself in a state of constant fury. Before he knew it, he'd just grown into that foul temper of his... But he isn't a bad person, truly. Don't hold it against him."
Lunethia offered a soft, knowing smile, her eyes shimmering with a gentle understanding. "Storm... he has already told me as much."
Gerald raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "You can actually communicate with that horse?"
Lunethia nodded, her smile widening. "I can. It's actually quite simple to communicate with animals. If you listen with your heart, you can understand exactly what they're trying to say." She paused for a beat, as if a funny memory had just struck her, and let out a light laugh. "Though, to be honest, sometimes they don't even understand what they're saying themselves."
Gerald smiled, his voice carrying a mix of teasing warmth and paternal concern. "That must be the gift of the Virselis family—the descendants of the Moon Goddess. Usually, those born of divine blood go to great lengths to hide their abilities from the world to protect themselves. Lunethia, try to keep your gifts a secret as much as possible. You don't want to invite unnecessary trouble."
Though a flicker of confusion crossed Lunethia's mind, she could feel the genuine care in his warning. She nodded obediently. "I understand. I'll be careful."
Suddenly, Gerald's expression shifted, turning uncharacteristically solemn. His voice dropped to a low, heavy register. "There is one more thing... something I've been meaning to ask you."
Lunethia looked up, a trace of instinctive caution creeping into her eyes. "What is it?"
Gerald leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing. "During your time in the Kingdom of Lunaris... did you ever encounter the witch... one clad in crimson robes?"
Lunethia blinked, searching her memories as she slowly shook her head. "A crimson-clad witch? ... To be honest, this is the first I've heard of a witch residing within the kingdom."
Gerald's gaze instantly turned cold. His very presence seemed to sink, an unmistakable killing intent bleeding into the room until the air itself felt heavy and stagnant. "That witch... if I ever cross paths with her again, I will strike her down with my own hands!"
Just then, Rhine, still lying on the cot, let out a low, pained groan.
Lunethia started, quickly kneeling by his side. "What... what's wrong with him?"
The sharp edge in Gerald's eyes softened immediately, his voice returning to a much gentler tone. "It's nothing. He has night terrors whenever he overexerts his power. It's a recurring ailment of his."
Lunethia moved closer to Rhine, her touch light as a feather as she smoothed the tangled hair across his forehead. "It's all right now..." she whispered, her voice a soothing murmur. "It's all over."
As if sensing her presence, the deep furrow in Rhine's brow slowly relaxed. His muffled, nightmare-driven whimpers subsided, and his expression settled into a fragile peace.
Gerald watched the scene in silence, a faint, relieved smile touching the corners of his mouth. "We eventually realized... that perhaps the witch's final curse didn't quite work as intended," he said slowly. "I often fall into long periods of slumber—sleeping for three days straight, only to remain awake for one. It isn't a perfect cycle, but that's the general pattern. So, whenever I drift off... I'll have to trouble you to look after things."
Lunethia nodded softly. Her gaze then drifted to the four others still sleeping nearby. "Are they... also orphans of the Empire?"
Gerald nodded, his voice steady but tinged with a quiet melancholy. "In a sense. Rena and Milia were children of a butcher and a merchant, displaced by the chaos of war; the Prince and I took them in. Gareth and Owen, on the other hand, were Karl's attendants from a young age. On the day the Kingdom of Stellara fell, they happened to be outside the city, and so they survived."
As Lunethia listened to these heavy echoes of the past, her eyes dimmed with a sudden, surging guilt. "...They all lost their families because of the war sparked by the Kingdom of Lunaris, and yet I—"
Gerald sensed her self-reproach and cut her off gently. "You have no reason to blame yourself. When all this happened fifteen years ago, you were barely a year old—you probably couldn't even walk yet. Do not let it weigh on your heart; none of this is your fault."
Lunethia nodded slowly, a flicker of relief crossing her features. "I see... I was born a year before the Lunaris Calendar began... But how is it that you know so much about me?"
Gerald offered a small, amused smile. "As opposing forces, it was only natural for us to investigate the inner workings of the Kingdom of Lunaris. By my count, that makes you sixteen now."
He chuckled, his tone suddenly shifting into something more mischievous. "Tell you what—once we kick that fake Queen off her throne, why don't you just marry the Prince? An alliance between the Great Solaria Empire and the Kingdom of Lunaris... now that might actually bring about a true era of lasting peace."
Lunethia's face flushed a deep crimson instantly. She scrambled to change the subject, her voice a mix of bashfulness and genuine confusion. "I—I... I wouldn't know about that! But speaking of titles... didn't you say he's already the Emperor? Why do you still call him 'Prince'? Or sometimes... 'Boss'?"
Gerald took a deep breath, his expression turning thoughtful. "There are a few reasons for that. First, he stubbornly believes the Sun Emperor might only be imprisoned—that he isn't truly dead, though the odds are slim. Second, since the Empire has yet to be rebuilt, he feels that without a formal coronation, he isn't a true Emperor. In his mind, he hasn't earned the right to be called the Sun Emperor."
At this, his eyes twinkled with a bit of playful irony. "And then there's Karl—the Prince of Stellara. In terms of temperament and manners, he looks far more like a 'Prince' than Rhine ever does, wouldn't you agree? So, to distinguish them, he makes us all call him 'Boss'... Haha, it sounds like a title for a common bandit leader, doesn't it? Though, the surviving subjects of the Empire still insist on calling him 'Prince'."
Lunethia nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful as a flicker of resolve sparked in her eyes. "I see... Once I find the true Queen of Lunaris—my mother—I will do everything in my power to persuade her to help you restore your Empire!"
Gerald's gaze softened instantly. "You truly are a kind child," he murmured. "A perfect match for my Prince."
A faint blush crept back onto Lunethia's cheeks, and she quickly protested, "There you go teasing me again! I'd never want to be with someone so short-tempered. Everyone was exhausted to the point of collapse, yet he kept demanding we push forward—even though you all treat each other like family."
Gerald offered a small, knowing smile, his tone tinged with gentle irony. "Hehe... It wasn't that the others were tired, child. They were making excuses to force Rhine to rest. If they hadn't, he would have kept marching until he collapsed, just to ensure no one else had to shoulder an extra ounce of his burden."
Lunethia froze, stunned by the revelation. She turned her gaze toward the sleeping Rhine, a wave of tender warmth welling up in her eyes. She looked down at the youth, seeing not just a "Boss," but a boy carrying the crushing weight of an entire fallen empire upon his young shoulders.
Gerald stood up and stretched his weary limbs, his voice low and comforting. "You've had an exhausting day yourself. Why don't you get some sleep? I can hold out for a while longer."
Lunethia nodded and found a clean corner to lie down. As she closed her eyes, sleep claimed her almost instantly, her breathing growing deep and rhythmic. The firelight flickered against the walls of the dilapidated room, casting a quiet, warm glow. Only the occasional crackle of the logs broke the silence, playing a soft lullaby for the restless night.
Gerald walked toward the main door, his brow furrowing as he whispered to himself, "There's been a scratching sound against the wood for a while now... Is it just a wild beast?"
He came to a halt, tilting his head to listen. The sound was intermittent—a soft, persistent scratching against the wooden planks from the other side of the door.
"...No."
He shook his head, his eyes sharpening with caution.
"It sounds like a small animal. But in a place like this, I can't rule out the possibility of a magical construct."
On a night of such fierce wind and snow, very few living things should be active. Often, it was the smallest sounds that demanded the greatest vigilance. Gerald slowly approached the recently repaired wooden door, his footsteps as light as a whisper. One hand rested naturally near the hilt of his blade, while the other reached slowly for the doorframe.
Holding his breath, he cautiously pushed the door open just a hair's breadth, squinting into the darkness outside.
In that heartbeat—
A white blur lunged inward from the cold!
"What—!"
Gerald's reflexes were masterful. Driven by instinct, he lunged forward, his body coiling as his arm shot out like a lightning strike to intercept the intruder!
However—
His fingers closed on empty air.
The white shadow was impossibly agile. It performed a graceful mid-air twist, darting into a corner of the room before skidding to a halt and peering back at him.
Under the flickering orange firelight, the small figure finally revealed itself.
Gerald raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
He squinted, his tone shifting from lethal intent to a touch of surprised amusement.
"A rabbit, is it?"
It was a snow-white rabbit, its fur appearing soft and fluffy under the glow of the hearth. It tilted its head, watching Gerald with two dark, glimmering eyes that seemed unusually bright.
A slow, meaningful smirk tugged at the corner of Gerald's mouth.
"In the middle of a frozen wasteland..."
"Game that delivers itself right to the door. How convenient."
Sensing that the man's gaze was far from friendly, the white rabbit's ears twitched violently.
In the next instant, it spun around, desperate to bolt back out into the snow!
But this time, Gerald was ready.
"Think you can run?"
He kicked off the floor, his frame blurring as he gave chase, his hand darting out once more!
The rabbit reacted with startling speed, its powerful hind legs propelling it just a fraction of an inch past his fingertips.
The first attempt—a clean miss.
"Oh?" Gerald let out a dry chuckle.
The moment the white rabbit touched the floor, it sprang up again, attempting a desperate bolt toward the opposite side of the room. But Gerald had already predicted its trajectory. With a single, fluid sidestep, his palm swept down once more!
The second attempt—
The rabbit twisted mid-air, evading his grasp by a hair's breadth. However, its frantic maneuvers had finally driven it into a dead-end corner.
Gerald closed in slowly, a seasoned hunter cutting off every possible avenue of escape. "Quite the nimble little thing, aren't you?" He muttered with a wicked grin.
In the next heartbeat—
His hands snapped shut!
"Got you."
The white rabbit couldn't escape a third time. It was firmly caught within his iron grip. Gerald hoisted the fluffy creature up by its long ears, letting it dangle in the air. Its hind legs kicked uselessly against the empty space.
He squinted, inspecting the catch with a critical eye, and let out a soft laugh. "The meat might be a bit sparse..."
"But it's enough to give the kids a decent snack—"
The moment the words left his lips, the rabbit's eyes went wide.
It began to struggle frantically, its tiny body writhing and its hind legs flailing in a desperate blur. But Gerald's hold on its ears was absolute; no matter how hard it fought, there was no breaking free. After a few moments of futile resistance, the pain seemed to force it into submission.
The rabbit went still, looking up at Gerald.
And then—
It lifted its short front paws.
It began to wave and pat them together repeatedly in a frantic, rhythmic motion. To any observer, the gesture looked unmistakably like a plea for mercy.
Gerald stared at the sight, momentarily stunned.
He paused to think, whispering to himself, "Didn't Lunethia say... if you listen with your heart, you can understand what animals are saying?"
He brought the rabbit a little closer to his face, squinting with intense focus as he observed its frantic movements. Seeing his attention, the rabbit began to wave its front paws even more vigorously, gesturing wildly as if trying to communicate a complex message.
Gerald watched in silence for several seconds.
Then, he let out a long sigh.
"Forget it."
He shook his head, his expression dead serious as he delivered his verdict:
"No matter how hard I listen—"
"All I hear it telling me is exactly how delicious it's going to taste."
In that moment, the white rabbit looked as though it had suffered a devastating mental blow.
Its front paws slowly ground to a halt. The tiny limbs that had been waving so frantically now hung limp and powerless. The entire creature suddenly went still. It stopped struggling; it stopped gesturing. It only slowly turned its head, scanning the room as if searching in sheer desperation for any other spark of hope—any other path to survival.
However, as the rabbit's gaze swept across the interior of the cabin, its movements froze completely. Its dark, glimmering eyes locked onto a shadow in the corner.
There, Lunethia lay quietly on the floor in a deep slumber. Her long hair spilled across her cloak, and the flickering firelight cast soft, dancing shadows across the delicate curve of her profile.
The instant the rabbit caught sight of her, its body shuddered violently.
In the next heartbeat, it erupted into a renewed, frantic struggle!
"Squeak! Squeak-squeak—!"
Sharp, urgent cries tore from its throat, sounding jarringly loud in the silence of the small cabin. These weren't mere sounds of terror; they sounded like a desperate attempt to communicate. The rabbit writhed with manic energy, ignoring the pain in its ears as it flailed its front paws wildly in Lunethia's direction, as if pointing urgently at the sleeping girl.
Gerald watched the display, an amused eyebrow inching upward.
"Well now," he let out a dry chuckle. "You certainly have quite the personality."
The rabbit refused to quiet down, its cries growing increasingly shrill and frantic. However, Gerald clearly had no intention of deciphering its meaning; if anything, he looked even more intrigued by its spirit.
He squinted at the small creature, his tone dripping with dark playfulness. "The more they struggle, the firmer the meat. You might just turn out to be exceptionally flavorful..."
The rabbit stiffened for a fraction of a second, then doubled its efforts to break free, its struggle reaching a fever pitch.
But Gerald was no longer paying attention to its pleas.
He turned his gaze back toward the interior.
Inside the dilapidated cabin, the firelight flickered rhythmically. Rhine, Lena, Milia, Gareth, Owen, and Lunethia were all buried in a profound, heavy slumber. The grueling journey and the relentless blizzard had long since drained their strength; now, they slept with the weight of utter exhaustion.
Gerald looked back at the white rabbit, speaking to it as if soothing a trophy he was about to dress.
"There now, little one."
"Once they wake, I'll let Rena and Milia take care of you."
His tone was as casual as if he were simply arranging the details of an ordinary dinner.
"Just be good for now."
"The longer they sleep, the longer you stay alive."
With that, he strolled over to a cluttered corner of the room where a pile of scrap materials from the door repairs lay. With practiced ease, Gerald pulled out a length of coarse hemp rope.
Still holding the rabbit in one hand, he set it briskly on the floor. The moment its paws touched the ground, the creature scrambled to bolt once more.
However—
Gerald's hands were faster.
In a few swift motions, he snatched up its four small limbs.
"Don't squirm."
The rope danced between his fingers with fluid precision. Within seconds, the rabbit's legs were bound tight together—a knot so professional it looked like he was bundling a sack of grain for market.
The white rabbit was rendered completely immobile, able only to writhe helplessly. Gerald inspected his handiwork with a satisfied nod.
"Mm. That'll do."
He scooped up the rabbit and found a sturdy wooden rod. With the hemp rope looped over the wood, the white rabbit was left dangling upside down like a sack of ingredients, swaying gently in mid-air.
Its tiny eyes remained fixed stubbornly on Lunethia, its throat emitting small, frantic squeaks. But everyone in the room was lost in a dreamless sleep.
No one heard its plea.
Gerald walked back to the door, leaning against the wall to resume his watch. In the hearth, the burning wood gave an occasional, soft crackle. The orange flames leaped and danced, casting long, swaying shadows across the timber walls.
Outside, the blizzard continued to howl through the mountain forests.
Inside, it was warm and still.
The night flowed on in silence. Enveloped by the glow of the fire and the steady rhythm of breathing, the cabin in the snow returned once more to its quiet, heavy peace.