As Max and Liora stepped out from the teleportation gate, the world shifted around them once again—but this time, it wasn't sudden. It unfolded gradually.
Eryndor.
The capital of the Valtherion Empire.
Max's gaze moved across the streets as they began walking, his pace steady, his expression calm—but his attention sharp. The city was alive in a way the academy never was. Lanterns glowed warmly along the streets, illuminating rows of shops that stretched endlessly in both directions. Merchants called out to passing nobles, polished carriages rolled across stone roads, and finely dressed individuals moved with purpose.
This wasn't controlled like the academy.
It was layered.
Complex.
Different classes of people existed in the same space—but not equally. Even without being told, it was clear who held power and who didn't. The quality of clothing, posture, the way others stepped aside—it all spoke without words.
"…Busy." Max muttered quietly.
Liora walked beside him, her gaze calm but observant. "…This is normal here."
Max nodded slightly.
Shops lined the streets—weapon stores displaying enchanted blades, artifact dealers showcasing rare items behind reinforced glass, and clothing boutiques designed with polished exteriors and soft lighting that drew attention without being loud.
They didn't stop at the first few.
Max walked with purpose.
Then—
He slowed.
A shop stood slightly apart from the others, its exterior clean and refined, the glass display showcasing tailored suits with sharp cuts and elegant design. No unnecessary decoration. Just quality.
"…This one."
He stepped inside.
A soft chime followed as the door opened.
The interior was spacious, far larger than it appeared from outside. Racks of clothing were arranged neatly, categorized by style and material. The lighting was warm, subtle, enhancing the texture of fabrics rather than overwhelming them.
A woman approached them almost immediately.
Professional.
Composed.
"…Welcome, sir… madam." she said with a polite smile. "…How may I assist you today?"
Max didn't hesitate.
"…Suit."
The woman nodded smoothly. "…Of course. This way."
She led them deeper into the store, toward a section dedicated entirely to formal wear. Rows of suits lined the walls—different colors, materials, and designs, each tailored with precision.
"…For a formal event?" she asked.
"…Banquet." Max replied.
"…Understood."
She began presenting options—dark blue, deep grey, royal white, and variations with subtle embroidery. Each one refined, each one fitting for high-status gatherings.
Max glanced at them briefly.
Then—
"…Liora."
She looked at him.
"…Which one?"
A small pause followed.
Not hesitation.
Just consideration.
Her gaze moved across the selections carefully, not rushing, not choosing randomly. She stepped slightly forward, her eyes scanning details—cut, stitching, balance.
Then—
She reached out.
"…This one."
Black.
Clean.
Sharp.
No unnecessary design. Just structure.
Max looked at it for a second.
Then nodded.
"…Yeah."
It fit.
From an outside perspective, the scene would have looked natural. A man choosing a suit with a woman beside him. Quiet discussion. Shared decision.
Simple.
But—
Liora didn't think of it that way.
To her, there was nothing unusual. No hidden meaning. Just practicality. He asked. She answered. That was all.
But to others—
It would look different.
"…A good choice." the saleswoman said with a slight smile. "…It suits your build."
Max didn't respond to that.
"…I'll take it."
The woman nodded and turned slightly, preparing to arrange the fitting.
Then—
Max spoke again.
"…Do you have a dress section?"
That caught Liora's attention.
She looked at him.
"…You don't need to—"
"…It's fine." Max said calmly.
A brief pause.
"…Consider it a gift."
Liora didn't respond immediately.
Then—
"…Alright."
Simple.
No argument.
The saleswoman smiled slightly, gesturing for them to follow again. "…Right this way."
They moved toward another section—this one softer in tone, filled with dresses of various styles. Elegant, refined, each one designed to stand out without excess.
Max didn't overthink it.
His gaze moved once.
Then stopped.
Black.
Not identical to the suit—but matching in tone. Clean lines, subtle design, refined without being excessive.
"…That one."
The woman retrieved it carefully, presenting it forward.
Liora looked at it.
For a second—
Nothing changed.
Then—
A small shift.
Barely noticeable.
But there.
"…It's fine." she said.
But there was a faint smile.
Small.
Unintentional.
Max noticed.
But didn't comment.
From an outside perspective, this would have looked like a couple shopping together. Coordinated choices. Matching colors. Quiet understanding.
But the reality—
Was simpler.
And more complicated.
Because in the original story—
This never happened.
Liora had always stood apart. Independent. Distant. She didn't share moments like this. She didn't walk beside someone like this.
Later—
She would align with the Hero.
But even then—
It wasn't like this.
Max's gaze lowered slightly.
"…Yeah."
Things were changing.
More than expected.
They completed the purchase without delay. The items were packed carefully, handed over with practiced precision. No mistakes. No unnecessary interaction.
They stepped out of the shop soon after.
The city hadn't changed.
But the night had deepened.
Lights glowed brighter now, the streets slightly less crowded but no less alive. The movement had slowed—but not stopped.
Max and Liora walked back without unnecessary conversation.
Not awkward.
Just quiet.
The teleportation gate activated once again, returning them to the academy grounds in an instant. The shift was familiar now—no resistance, no delay.
Back.
Inside structure.
Inside control.
They parted shortly after entering the dormitory building.
"…Tomorrow." Liora said.
"…Yeah."
That was enough.
Max returned to his room, placing the packaged suit aside before stepping toward the window briefly. The academy was calm. Still. The kind of silence that existed before something began.
He didn't stay there long.
The day had been full.
Not exhausting.
But complete.
He lay down without hesitation.
Sleep came naturally.
And the night passed without interruption.
—
The next morning arrived.
Not quietly.
But differently.
Because this time—
There was something waiting.
The banquet.
And whatever came with it.
Morning training. Classes. Sword practice. A short session with Elira. Everything followed the same structured flow he had been maintaining. Nothing rushed, nothing excessive. Even with the banquet approaching, he didn't allow himself to drift.
Control came from consistency.
And he wasn't about to lose that now.
By the time evening approached, however—the rhythm shifted.
Max stood in his room, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. The black fabric fit perfectly, tailored to his frame with precision. It wasn't flashy, but it didn't need to be. Clean lines, sharp cuts—everything about it emphasized structure.
His reflection stared back at him.
Black hair, slightly falling over his forehead. A sharp jawline that gave his face a naturally defined edge. His physique, built through constant training, was lean but muscular—broad enough to carry presence, refined enough to avoid excess.
The suit didn't change him.
It revealed him.
"…Good enough."
He stepped out shortly after.
The corridor was more active than usual. Students moved in formal attire, their usual academy presence replaced with something more refined. Conversations were quieter—but more intentional.
Then—
"…There you are."
Ronan.
Max's gaze shifted.
Ronan stood a few steps ahead, adjusting his sleeve with a slightly awkward expression. His suit was red—deep, polished, far more noticeable than Max's. It suited him, though. Not subtle—but confident.
"…You clean up well." Ronan said, glancing at Max.
"…You stand out." Max replied.
"…That's the point."
Max didn't argue.
Then—
His gaze shifted again.
Liora.
She stood beside Ronan.
For a moment—
Max didn't speak.
The black dress fit her perfectly, following the natural lines of her body without exaggeration. It didn't try to stand out—but it didn't need to. The simplicity of it only made her presence clearer.
Her posture remained the same—calm, composed—but there was a quiet elegance to her now that wasn't as visible before.
Her beauty wasn't overwhelming.
It was—
Balanced.
And that made it harder to ignore.
Max's eyes lingered for just a second longer.
That was enough.
Liora noticed.
And for the first time—
A small, genuine reaction appeared.
Not obvious.
But real.
A faint warmth.
"…We should go."
She said, her tone steady—but slightly softer than usual.
Max nodded.
"…Yeah."
They moved together.
The teleportation gate activated smoothly, transporting them directly to the capital once again. The transition was instant, but the difference in atmosphere was immediate.
From there—
A carriage awaited.
Unlike the usual public ones, this was refined, marked subtly with royal insignia. The driver acknowledged them without unnecessary words as they stepped inside.
The ride began.
Smooth.
Silent.
The city passed by outside the window, but this time—it wasn't just the usual bustle. The closer they moved toward the center, the more structured everything became. Guards stationed at intervals. Streets cleared more frequently. Presence of authority.
"…This isn't small."
Ronan muttered quietly.
Max didn't respond immediately.
Because it wasn't.
Though it had been described casually—
This was no minor gathering.
This was the 19th birthday of the Crown Prince of the Valtherion Empire.
And that meant—
Power.
Not just within the empire—
But beyond it.
Important figures from neighboring regions. Nobles. Influential families. Military leaders.
And—
Max's gaze lowered slightly.
"…They'll be here."
His parents.
Without needing confirmation—he knew.
The carriage slowed.
Then stopped.
The palace stood before them.
Massive.
Dominant.
White stone structures rising high, illuminated by golden light. Large gates stood open, guarded by soldiers in full ceremonial armor. The air itself felt heavier—not oppressive—but commanding.
They stepped out.
Invitations were presented.
Inspected.
Then—
"…Welcome."
The guards stepped aside.
Respectful.
Measured.
They entered.
And immediately—
The atmosphere shifted.
The interior of the palace was vast beyond expectation. High ceilings stretched above, adorned with intricate chandeliers casting warm light across polished marble floors. Golden accents lined the pillars, detailed carvings telling stories of history and conquest.
Music played softly in the background—live, not recorded. Gentle, controlled.
Tables stretched along the sides, filled with a variety of food—carefully prepared dishes from across regions, each one presented with precision.
People moved through the hall.
Not like students.
Like figures.
Each one carrying presence. Nobles dressed in fine attire, their posture refined, their conversations quiet but meaningful. This wasn't noise.
This was—
Hierarchy.
Ronan exhaled slowly. "…This is insane."
Max didn't respond.
His eyes moved across the hall.
Observing.
Analyzing.
Because this—
Was a different battlefield.
And then—
He stopped.
Because someone had entered his field of vision.
Familiar.
Close.
Important.
Max's gaze sharpened slightly.
"…So he's here."
His brother.