Another day had slipped by.
The blizzard raged even fiercer than the day before. Violent gusts whipped up a shroud of white, swallowing the whole of Starfall Cliff. The patrolling soldiers had long since abandoned the heights, retreating to their camps at the mountain's base to huddle against the gale. It was as if even the hunt itself had been forced into a tentative truce by the elements.
But atop the cliff—within the cavern—a different, far more unsettling scene was unfolding.
Five figures took turns standing vigil beside a rudimentary cot. Their gazes never strayed, fixed with an intensity that bordered on the predatory. They were waiting.
Watching them, Lunethia couldn't shake a lingering sense of bizarreness. It had all started when Rhine uttered a single, cryptic sentence:
"It's about time he woke up."
From that moment on, someone had been on guard every second, terrified of missing the precise heartbeat of his return to consciousness.
Suddenly, Gerald's eyelashes gave a microscopic flutter. It was the faintest of movements, yet it was intercepted instantly.
"He's awake!" Gareth hissed, his voice vibrating with a suppressed thrill. "The old man moved!"
In a synchronized surge, the group closed in.
Gerald slowly peeled his eyes open. Before his vision could even clear, he found himself staring into a ring of complex, demanding stares. It felt less like a reunion and more like an ambush that had been prepared for hours.
He blinked, a wry, weary smile touching his lips. "My Prince..."
He propped himself up, his tone laced with a hint of helplessness. "I've only just opened my eyes, and you've already set the stage for an interrogation. Are you planning to put me on trial?"
Rhine stood to the side, arms crossed, watching him with a frigid, unyielding gaze. "Something like that."
He let out a sharp, cold huff. "Old man, since you're back among the living—it's time for some long-overdue answers."
"Answers?" Gerald let out a ragged sigh. "What could I possibly have to say—"
"Stop playing dumb." Rena cut him off without a shred of ceremony. She pointed into the darkness of the cavern, toward the door they had forced open. "Explain yourself. What is the deal with that third room?"
Gerald's gaze followed her finger. For a fleeting second, the practiced smile on his face didn't just fade—it froze.
He let out a couple of dry, brittle chuckles, his tone forced into a semblance of casual ease. "Oh dear... so you lot actually broke into my private quarters? Now, that's hardly good manners, is it?"
"Is that so?" Rhine's voice dropped to a frigid temperature. He took a predatory step forward, his gaze bearing down on the man. "Then why don't you enlighten us? The things you've stashed away in there—are they merely a... hobby? Or something else entirely?"
Gerald spread his hands, his face a mask of wounded innocence. "They're just records, truly. A bit of diary-keeping to pass the long, lonely hours." He spoke as if it were the most mundane thing in the world. "Honestly, rifling through a man's private belongings—don't you think that is the real impropriety here?"
Rhine narrowed his eyes, his gaze as sharp and unforgiving as a blade.
"A diary?" he repeated slowly, tasting the lie. "So—every single event occurring across the entire continent... that qualifies as your 'diary' now?"
He leaned in closer, pinning Gerald with a piercing stare. His voice was low, yet it carried an inescapable edge. "Tell me then... every time you 'disappear' after waking up... is it all just to 'update these journals'?"
Gerald remained unruffled, his smile as composed as ever. "Haha... I suppose I might have accidentally made the entries a tad too detailed." He gestured airily, his tone bordering on smug self-importance. "Consider it a byproduct of a loyal subject's devotion to his future Emperor. Your Highness needn't be too moved by my diligence."
"Moved!? Like hell we are!" Rena exploded. She was practically vibrating with fury, her voice a suppressed, frantic hiss. "You call recording the private affairs of every woman on the continent 'devotion'!?"
She jabbed a finger toward the gaping maw of the opened room, her indignation boiling over. "That entire cabinet of files! Records on women from age five to forty! Explain yourself—just what the hell is that all about!?"
"Ahem..." Gerald offered a couple of strategic coughs, attempting to salvage a shred of his dignity. "In my eyes, they are all like daughters to me. As their elder, showing a little... interest in the finer details of their lives is only natural, wouldn't you say?"
"You have that many daughters!?" Rena's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. She spoke through gritted teeth, her fury palpable. "Spit it out! How exactly did you dig up all that private information!?"
Gerald let out a soft chuckle, his tone becoming maddeningly vague yet smug. "An intelligence network... well, one doesn't simply reveal its secrets." He offered a light shrug. "Let's just say mine is... slightly more robust than most."
Rhine's brow furrowed, his voice dropping several degrees. "Then could you perhaps refrain from using that 'robustness' on this sort of thing?"
"On the contrary, this is serious business." Gerald's smirk vanished, replaced by a sudden, jarring solemnity. "His Highness will one day ascend to the throne. Taking a wife and siring heirs—these are sacred duties."
He looked at Rhine, his eyes shining with a sense of self-righteous duty. "Therefore, what could possibly be improper about pre-screening suitable candidates for the royal succession?"
"Bullshit!" Rena couldn't hold back any longer. Her face was flushed with a mix of fury and sheer disbelief. "That's no excuse to put every woman on the continent on a 'candidate list', you perverted old fossil!"
"A regrettable necessity," Gerald sighed, spreading his hands. "His Highness has shown a stubborn refusal to declare his personal preferences."
He spoke with a casual air, yet every word was a calculated barb. "I had no choice but to prepare for every contingency. Whether they be young or mature, slender or... curvaceous—"
"I don't need your help finding anyone!" Rhine finally snapped. It was a suppressed roar, vibrating with pure, unadulterated frustration. "I can handle my own affairs!"
"Is that so?" Gerald shot him a look thick with implication, slowly shaking his head. "I had actually hoped that when you chose to bring Rena and Milia back with you, you had finally... blossomed. But alas," he let out a theatrical sigh of disappointment, "zero progress."
"Shut up!" Rhine's face turned so red it looked ready to emit steam. "I've been busy!" He added through gritted teeth, "When I have the time—and the interest—I will take action on my own!"
Suddenly, Gerald pivoted. He turned his gaze toward Lunethia, who had been quietly watching the spectacle from the sidelines. A playful, dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.
"Tell me, Thea," he said, his tone light and deliberately provocative. "Do you find yourself... having a bit of an 'interest' in my boy Rhine?"
The question struck like a sudden thunderclap.
Lunethia froze in place, her brain seemingly short-circuiting for a heartbeat before a soft, delicate crimson bloom rapidly flooded her cheeks.
"YOU SENILE OLD BASTARD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU BABBLING ABOUT!?"
Rhine completely lost it. He lunged forward, his fist flying straight for the old man's face!
The wind from the punch was fierce, cutting through the stagnant air.
Yet, in the very next heartbeat—it was neutralized with effortless grace. Gerald simply shifted his weight, a subtle tilt of his torso as he swept his hand upward, parrying the strike as if brushing away a stray autumn leaf.
"Haha—" He chuckled, looking every bit the cunning old fox. "Is the Prince feeling a bit bashful? It seems... you really do have an 'interest' in Thea after all."
"Go to hell!" Rhine, fueled by a mix of embarrassment and rage, unleashed a powerful leg sweep.
But Gerald caught the momentum with a backhand grip, using Rhine's own center of gravity against him—
THUD.
In an instant, Rhine was pinned to the ground, his movements utterly neutralized.
"Sigh." Gerald let out a weary breath, sounding like a disappointed mentor lecturing a wayward youth. He turned his gaze toward Rena, his tone shifting into something uncomfortably meaningful. "Rena, dear... this really won't do."
He scrutinized her from head to toe, shaking his head in mock pity. "With your assets—you still can't manage to catch the Prince's eye? Such a waste of that figure of yours, not to mention your... thirty—"
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!!" Before he could finish the sentence, Rena's face exploded into a brilliant crimson, her fist already blurring through the air.
Gerald tilted his head a fraction, dodging the strike with maddening ease. His smirk only deepened. "What? If you can't even utilize your own advantages... how do you expect to compete with Thea?"
"YOU BASTARD!!" Consumed by a cocktail of shame and fury, Rena unleashed a flurry of strikes.
Yet, within three moves—Snap.
Her wrist was caught. In the next breath, she too was countered and forced down right next to Rhine. The two of them lay side-by-side on the cavern floor, a picture of absolute disarray.
Gerald dusted off his hands as if he had just finished a trivial chore. "Next—"
His gaze pivoted, landing on Gareth and Milia nearby. "Milia, you shouldn't always be so shy either," he said in a slow, melodic drawl. "The Prince claims to have no interest, but in his heart—"
"ENOUGH!" Gareth let out a thunderous roar, hurling the bowl in his hand directly at the old man. "You're just trying to test our reflexes, aren't you!? If you want a fight, then fight! Stop the damn rambling!"
"Count me in!" Owen let out a low, rare laugh, stepping forward with a lunging punch.
However—Gerald's silhouette blurred. He moved like a shadow caught in a gale. With a light, agile leap, he avoided the flying bowl and delivered a fluid, sweeping kick in mid-air.
BAM!
Owen was sent flying, crashing squarely into the "human pile" of Rhine and Rena.
The three of them were now hopelessly tangled together in a heap of bruised egos and tangled limbs.
The scene was a chaotic tangle of limbs and bruised egos.
Amidst the wreckage, Gerald stood rooted to the spot, his attire unruffled, not a single thread out of place. That same composed, maddeningly calm smile remained etched on his lips.
"Alright, alright—" Gerald clapped his hands together, as if casually dismissing a children's game. "As Gareth so eloquently put it, let's move past the idle chatter."
His gaze swept over them, his grin deepening with a sharp, predatory edge. "Let me see... exactly how much you've grown these past few days."
Lunethia stood by, her mouth slightly agape as she took in the chaotic sight. Milia leaned in with a wry, helpless smile, whispering an explanation: "Don't worry... every time Gerald wakes up, if there isn't a dire emergency, he finds an excuse to spar with us."
She paused, adding a note of weary resignation, "Consider it... a physical check-up."
Before the words had even fully left her lips—it was over.
In the span of a few heartbeats, the skirmish reached its conclusion. Gerald remained standing exactly where he started, the hem of his robe barely fluttering in the draft.
As for the other four—they were scattered across the floor. Some clutched their shoulders, others doubled over holding their midsections, every one of them struggling just to find their footing. Lunethia's eyes widened in utter shock.
Gerald lightly brushed the dust from his sleeve and let out a rhythmic sigh. "You lot..." He looked at them with a mixture of pity and resolve. "You're still miles away from where you need to be."
He slowly circled the room, his gaze resting on each of them in turn. His voice was measured, yet each word fell with the surgical precision of a blade.
"Rhine—"
"Your fury grants you explosive power, yes, but you've become a slave to it." His eyes were piercing. "Once emotion dictates your movements, your attacks become nothing more than predictable 'straight lines'. Remember—even in the white heat of rage, keep one fragment of your mind cold. That single spark of composure is what will keep you alive."
He pivoted slightly. "Rena."
"Your technique has improved, but it's too flamboyant. Combat is not a performance. If your foundation is unstable, every flourish is an empty shell."
His gaze shifted again. "Gareth."
"Stop thinking only of the retreat. You are indeed gifted at reading an opponent's move—" His voice suddenly dropped, turning heavy. "But what happens when an opponent is so fast your eyes can't track them? In that moment, you won't even have the luxury of hiding. Learn to strike first—force the opening."
"Owen."
"Your fists are heavy, but every punch feels like a desperate gamble. If you miss, you leave nothing but a gaping hole in your defense." He added tonelessly, "Hold back a fraction of your strength. Only then can you find the momentum for a second strike."
Finally, his gaze settled on Milia. His tone softened a fraction, yet remained ruthlessly direct.
"You rely too heavily on your concealment. If an opponent possesses enhanced dynamic vision or sensory perception—you aren't an assassin. You're a target."
The critique landed, and a heavy silence smothered the cavern.
"Dammit!" Rhine gritted his teeth, his voice low but vibrating with raw frustration. "This old fossil... why is he still so impossible to handle!?"
"I'm done! I quit!" Gareth wailed, clutching his head in theatrical agony. "Every single strike was aimed at my face! This wasn't training—it was a personal vendetta!"
"You have the nerve to complain?" Owen barked back. "If you hadn't tripped me just now, I would have landed a solid hit on him!"
"My foot is practically snapped in half because of you!" Gareth shot back, rolling his eyes.
"Will you both just... shut up..." Rena groaned from where she lay sprawled on the cold stone, her voice weak and threadbare. "If you still have the energy to bicker... I think I'm actually going to throw up..."
Watching this scene of "utter carnage," Lunethia couldn't help but offer a wry, concerned smile. "Are you... are you all alright?"
"Don't you worry, little one," Gerald chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "I controlled my output. It stung a bit, certainly—but nothing that will break a bone or tear a tendon."
He withdrew his smile, his gaze regaining its abyssal depth.
"However—" He swept his eyes across the group, his tone sinking into true gravity for the first time. "I now have a clear measure of your combined strength. And so..."
"It is time to discuss the real objective."
The group scrambled to their feet, finding places to sit amidst the shadows. Their breathing had yet to fully steady, but the atmosphere in the cavern followed suit, growing heavy and focused. Gerald's expression turned somber.
"We have six days remaining."
His voice wasn't loud, yet it tightened around their hearts like a vice. "In six days' time, we must depart for the Royal Capital."
He paused, his eyes lingering on each of them. "If I manage my recovery correctly, I should be able to maintain consciousness until the day of the Winter Moon Festival."
"And on that day—" His voice dropped an octave, resonating with a cold finality. "The false Queen will be unmasked. And the Scarlet Witch... she is highly likely to reveal herself as well."
After a heartbeat of agonizing silence, he uttered the final word:
"The Decisive Battle."
The air in the cavern seemed to freeze solid in that single instant.
Rena furrowed her brow, a sliver of unease creeping into her voice. "You keep saying she's difficult to handle... is she truly that powerful?"
Gerald didn't hesitate. "Aburdly so."
He looked her straight in the eye, his tone chillingly calm. "Even with perfect preparation—our victory is not guaranteed. But..." A cold, predatory glint flickered in his eyes. "If the plan holds... we will have our opening. Our chance to kill her."
Rhine's hand slowly tightened into a fist, his knuckles turning a stark, porcelain white.
"This time..." his voice was low, vibrating with suppressed fury, "I will burn that witch into nothing but ash."
Gareth tilted his head, shifting his gaze toward Lunethia. "Come to think of it, Thea... do you have any memory of the Scarlet Witch?"
Lunethia gently stroked the white rabbit in her arms, her expression hesitant before she slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered. "In truth... I only recently learned what magic even is."
Owen blinked in surprise. "Eh? I always imagined the Palace of Lunaris was crawling with magical creatures."
"I've never seen a magical creature," Lunethia offered a soft, wistful smile. "But there were always plenty of ordinary little animals around."
Milia offered a gentle, sympathetic smile. "Once this is all over... I'd love to meet those 'friends' of yours."
For a fleeting heartbeat, the atmosphere softened.
"Enough." Gerald raised a hand, cutting through the sentiment with sharp, professional efficiency. "The pleasantries end here."
He straightened his posture, his gaze sharpening back into a lethal edge. "These next six days—we cannot afford to waste a single second."
He jabbed a finger toward Rhine. "You. Refine your control over the Divine Fire. At the same time, learn to suppress your emotions during combat. Use your rage, but do not let it lead you by the nose."
"Rena." He pivoted his gaze. "You will spar with him. And while you're at it—solidify your foundations."
Then, he looked toward Gareth and Milia. His tone grew perceptibly heavier. "You two. Within six days, you must master the basic application of Chakra. Otherwise, you won't even be able to manifest that technique for the final battle."
He paused, adding as an afterthought, "I will provide you with my personal cultivation insights."
"Owen." Gerald's gaze shifted, his tone regaining a hint of steady composure. "You've actually been using Chakra unconsciously—but you're wasting every bit of it on brute force."
He lifted his hand, beckoning for their attention. "Try to concentrate your Chakra into a single point on your body."
As the words left his lips, his palm gave a microscopic tremor. A wisp of pale white vapor, almost ethereal, rose slowly from his center, looking like warm breath condensing in the frigid air. The vapor didn't dissipate; instead, he drew it inward, reeling it in bit by bit.
The energy flowed along his arm—a controlled, rhythmic stream—until it finally pooled entirely at the tip of his forefinger.
In the next heartbeat, his finger was shrouded in a soft, steady white glow. The light wasn't blinding, but it was dense and refined. One could almost feel the hum of compressed power circulating within that small space.
He gave his finger a casual wag, as if showing off a simple parlor trick. "Manage this... and you can consider yourself a novice."
Owen blinked, staring down at his own massive fists in thoughtful silence.
Finally, Gerald's gaze settled on Lunethia. His expression softened, the hard edge of the instructor fading into something more fatherly.
"Thea. You aren't a combatant, but you must still undergo the basic drills." His tone was casual, yet carried a weight of earnestness. "At the very least... you must be able to protect yourself."
He paused mid-sentence, that familiar, mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Besides, if you stay healthy and strong... you'll be able to bear the Prince some very healthy children once you're wed."
"WHAT ARE YOU BABBLING ABOUT AGAIN!?" Rhine exploded, his voice a frantic, low-volume roar of pure embarrassment. "After all that talk, what about you!?"
Gerald spread his hands, offering a smile of mock helplessness. "Me?" He gave a light shrug. "My duty is simple—I shall focus on sleeping exceptionally well." He let out a playful sigh. "I'll be doing my best to ensure I stay awake when the Winter Moon Festival arrives."
"THAT IS SO UNFAIR!!!" Gareth's howl of despair echoed through the cavern.
A fresh wave of hushed bickering and laughter rippled through the cave once more. Lunethia watched them in silence—watching them squabble, argue, and complain, yet noticing how they naturally drifted closer to one another as they did so.
A soft, tender curve touched her lips.
Within this cavern, sealed off by the relentless blizzard, she felt it for the first time—a clear, unfamiliar warmth. It felt like...
"Home."
And yet, amidst that blossoming warmth, a sudden realization struck her.
Wait. Weren't they... originally here to hold Gerald accountable for his secrets?