"Now that you know who I am," Kulmar said calmly, his voice dripping with contempt,
"do you still dare to stand against me, Princess of Azel—knowing full well that it is utterly futile?"
Urillia did not flinch.
"I challenge any existence the Empire deems a threat to its people," she replied coldly.
"I care nothing for your reputation, nor for the grotesque achievements you pride yourself on. My purpose here is singular—to stop you from inflicting any further devastation upon this city."
Kulmar chuckled softly.
"And can you truly stop me?"
His blade pressed down harder.
Asuma's knees slammed into the ground, stone fracturing beneath him as he strained desperately to hold the jagged sword back. His arms trembled, muscles screaming, every breath burning his lungs. The edge of the blade hovered inches from Urillia's throat.
"G–Get... back..." Asuma gritted out, teeth clenched, blood running down his arm.
"Asuma!" Leon shouted.
Leon and Amira struck in unison.
Leon's daggers flashed like silver lightning, aiming for Kulmar's exposed side.
Amira vanished in a crack of thunder.
"Lightning Magic: Flash Step!"
She reappeared around him again and again, her spear carving arcs of light, attacking from every angle imaginable.
Kulmar didn't even look at them.
Shadowy hands erupted from beneath his feet and behind his back, forming layered defenses that effortlessly blocked every strike—catching blades, redirecting lightning, crushing momentum as if swatting insects.
His gaze never left Urillia.
Useless...
Amira realized grimly.
Their attacks weren't even registering.
Leon grit his teeth.
"This monster... he's not even trying."
Urillia's mind raced.
This won't be won through force alone.
There was a truth known only to the highest ranks of the Empire—one never spoken aloud beyond royal chambers.
The Royal Covenant.
A privilege and a curse.
A member of the Azel royal family could bind a warrior they deemed worthy—granting them overwhelming aura and authority beyond mortal limits. In return, the bound warrior would become eternally tethered to the royal will.
Denias was proof of that bond.
But Urillia was different.
Because she bore the Draak Eyes, she alone possessed the authority to form more than one pact.
At a cost.
This is my only option, she thought grimly.
Her golden pupils blazed brighter, draconic sigils flickering within them.
Urillia's golden gaze swept across the battlefield, searching for the one who could bear her mark.
Her eyes fell first on Asuma.
He was still bracing Kulmar's blade, his body battered, armor fractured, blood soaking into the ruined stone beneath his feet—yet he did not yield. His will alone kept him standing.
Urillia stepped behind him and placed her hand against his back.
The moment their consciousnesses brushed—
Her breath caught.
A chilling presence surged up her spine.
No—two presences.
One was ancient, vast, and regal, its authority crushing like an unseen crown pressing down on reality itself.
The other was far worse.
It was violent, feral, drenched in bloodlust—something that carved, consumed, and rejoiced in suffering.
Urillia's pupils contracted sharply.
For the first time in years, the Cold Princess of Azel felt fear.
She tore her hand away as if burned.
What... are you?
In that instant, she understood.
Asuma Nortel—
the boy standing before her—
Was not merely dangerous.
If left unchecked, he could one day become the greatest threat the Empire had ever known.
Her jaw tightened.
Even so, she schooled her expression.
Kulmar could not see weakness—not now.
She turned away from Asuma, forcing her racing heart to steady.
Her gaze shifted again.
And then—
It fell upon Amira.
Urillia's eyes narrowed slightly.
Strange...
Amira's aura was pure.
Unnaturally so.
Most mages carried traces of demonic contamination—inevitable residue from living in a world steeped in corruption and conflict. Even holy practitioners bore faint stains over time.
But Amira's aura...
It was clean.
Clear.
Almost sacred.
Urillia felt something click into place.
A faint smile curved her lips.
Of course... just like her sister.
A quiet, unsettling thought passed through her mind.
She, too, will be forced to serve the Empire.
Before hesitation could take hold, Urillia reached out—not physically, but spiritually.
Her consciousness pierced Amira's.
Amira blinked.
The chaos vanished.
The stench of blood, the screams, the crushing aura of Kulmar—gone.
She stood barefoot in a vast field of lavender flowers, their scent soft and familiar. A gentle breeze brushed her face, carrying memories she hadn't visited in years.
Her chest tightened.
This place...
It looked just like the garden her mother used to tend at their old estate.
"Huh?" Amira murmured, turning slowly.
"Where... am I?"
A figure knelt among the flowers.
Golden hair shimmered beneath a peaceful sky.
Princess Urillia plucked a single lavender stem and rolled it between her fingers.
"This is your consciousness," Urillia said calmly, her voice softer than Amira had ever heard it.
Amira stiffened.
"My... consciousness?"
She looked down at her hands—whole, uninjured—then back at the princess.
"Why am I here?" Amira demanded.
Urillia rose to her feet, lavender petals brushing against her dress as she faced Amira directly. Her golden eyes bore into her—not cold this time, but resolute.
"To form a pact with me," Urillia said without hesitation.
The air grew heavy.
Amira's breath caught.
"A... pact?"