"Haaa…" Nemesio exhaled, sinking deeper into the warmth of the spring as the tension in his shoulders loosened, if only slightly. "No place like Swan Spring."
Jurgen followed without comment, lowering himself into the water and settling near the far edge where the stone wall met the surface. The heat wrapped around him, but his posture remained unchanged, head slightly bowed, gaze unfocused, still caught in the quiet weight of his thoughts.
Nemesio noticed.
The surface between them shifted, subtle at first, a gentle distortion, before it suddenly surged. A swell of water rose without warning, forming a crest that crashed down toward Jurgen in an unceremonious wave.
"…What the—?!"
SPLASH.
A sharp burst of water swallowed him whole.
A loud, unrestrained laugh echoed across the spring as the surface settled once more, ripples spreading outward in widening circles.
"Don't think too much, kid," Nemesio remarked, clearly amused, leaning back as though nothing unusual had occurred. "Advice is only useful in moderation."
Jurgen resurfaced slowly, wiping water from his face, wet hair pushed back as his eyes narrowed with restrained irritation.
"You control water?"
Nemesio tilted his head slightly, expression mild, almost indifferent. "Is that a problem?"
"Not really…"
Jurgen leaned back against the stone edge, arms draped loosely along it as he exhaled, gaze drifting upward. "Just didn't expect an 'all-powerful emperor' to rely on something so… basic."
A pause settled between them, brief but deliberate.
"…Besides, that's not what you showed back at the ridge."
Another quiet laugh slipped from Nemesio, softer this time, almost entertained by the observation.
"Basic?"
The air shifted subtly.
The water stilled.
Completely.
Not a ripple remained.
"There are elemental users so overwhelming," Nemesio said calmly, his voice steady and composed, "you wouldn't even be able to remain conscious in their presence."
A brief pause followed, broken only by a soft exhale.
"I wouldn't underestimate them."
The water around Nemesio shifted again, subtle and deliberate, responding to something beneath intention rather than motion itself. His gaze remained forward, untroubled, as though the surface obeyed thought alone.
"And no… I'm not an elemental user."
His voice lowered slightly as his hand lifted in a faint, almost absent gesture.
"My ability grants me absolute authority… absolute control over anything within my domain."
A quiet ripple expanded outward from him, smooth and controlled, circling across the spring without disruption.
"And even with that…" He exhaled lightly, a trace of something restrained in his tone, somewhere between pride and measured disappointment. "I'm nowhere near defeating old man Jova."
A soft laugh followed, unforced and brief.
"He's in a league of his own."
"Absolute control, huh?"
Jurgen's voice cut in with a low, drawn-out edge, deliberately flattening the words as if testing their weight. "Sounds ridiculously broken… an ability worthy of an emperor."
A faint smirk touched his expression, more mocking than impressed, like someone humoring a story told too seriously. Then he eased back into the water, letting the warmth swallow his shoulders as he settled more comfortably against the stone.
"Speaking of elemental abilities…" His gaze drifted toward Nemesio, steady and probing now. "Who exactly is this 'old man Jova'?" A brief pause lingered before he continued, tone sharpening slightly. "And how the hell does he beat something like that?"
He exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing faintly. "I don't see you losing to anyone."
The words carried a quiet conviction, as though the idea itself resisted belief.
"Mhm. JOVATIS TRUEMANN."
Nemesio exhaled the name like a memory resurfacing rather than a statement, and in the same moment, the air behind him subtly changed.
A pair of unseen hands manifested from nothingness, settling with calm precision onto his shoulders and beginning a gentle massage, as though reality itself had decided to indulge him without explanation.
Jurgen jolted, shock cutting across his face, quickly followed by a flicker of discomfort as though something unseen had crossed a boundary meant to remain untouched.
"…What the—?!"
A sharp yelp escaped him as he instinctively pulled back.
Nemesio, however, remained composed, wearing a calm smile that bordered on effortless amusement.
"Technically, you've already met him," he said evenly.
"He was seated among the Prime Ministers… in the Black Hall."
Jurgen blinked once, then again, as though trying to drag a half-buried memory into clarity.
"The one with the rough beard. Sitting in the middle."
"Who?"
Nemesio's brow twitched faintly, frustration slipping through the cracks of his composure.
"The one with that absurd laugh. The one that echoed through the entire hall."
Jurgen tilted his head, thoughtful now, fingers idly tracing along his jaw as he sifted through recollection with visible slowness.
"Hmmm… yeah, I remember the laugh… what was he wearing?"
A brief silence settled between them, heavy and unspoken, the kind that carried an entire accusation without needing words.
Nemesio stared at him for a moment longer than necessary, the expression quietly shifting into something between disbelief and restrained irritation.
"…I see," he muttered at last. "Now I understand Leonidas."
A slow exhale followed as he composed himself, though the faint tension in his brow did not fully disappear.
What followed was patience stretched thin, Nemesio describing the man in careful, almost painstaking detail, each word measured as though he were reconstructing reality for someone who had misplaced it entirely.
Jurgen listened, unhurried, letting the description settle over him piece by piece, until something finally clicked behind his expression.
"Oh…"
Recognition surfaced at last.
"That cheeky old man."
A soft chuckle slipped out afterward, light and unbothered, as though the delay in understanding had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience rather than an entire unraveling of context.