His footsteps echoed softly as he moved deeper into the cave.
Lyriana and Aldric both lowered themselves fully—one knee to the stone, heads bowed. Not out of fear alone, but **recognition**. The blood had spoken. The hierarchy had corrected itself.
Draven didn't even look at them.
He passed without a word, without a glance, the dark red mana around him receding just enough to stop crushing the air. When he reached the far wall—where his siblings had been laid—his pace slowed.
Carefully.
So carefully it was almost painful to watch.
He knelt.
One hand slid beneath Elenya, the other beneath Lucifer. Their small bodies were warm, breathing steady, utterly unaware of how close the world had come to ending. He lifted them with practiced gentleness, drawing them close to his chest.
Only then did he turn back.
His face was calm now.
Too calm.
"What's the current situation of the battle?" he asked.
His voice was level. Controlled. Empty of emotion.
"…Is my dad still fighting?"
Silence answered him.
Not the awkward kind.
Not confusion.
A **heavy**, suffocating silence.
Lyriana's fingers tightened around her robes.
Aldric's jaw clenched so hard his teeth creaked.
The maid—still on the ground—didn't speak.
The cave seemed to shrink.
Draven waited.
Seconds passed.
Then Aldric finally spoke, his voice rough, low.
"…We lost contact."
Draven didn't react.
Aldric forced the words out anyway.
"The pressure vanished. The battlefield… went quiet. Too quiet. Whatever happened out there—"
No dramatics.
No denial.
No comfort.
Draven stood there, holding his siblings, eyes fixed on nothing at all.
The cave remained silent—
—as if the world itself was afraid to say what that truly meant.
The maid straightened, as if the violence moments ago had never touched her.
"The battle has already ended," she said calmly. "The Empire's army retreated **three days ago**."
Draven's brow furrowed.
"Three days…?" he repeated quietly.
He looked down at Elenya and Lucifer in his arms—still asleep, still breathing—then back up.
"So I've been unconscious for three days," he said.
There was a faint edge of disbelief in his voice, but it vanished almost immediately, replaced by something sharper.
"If that's the case," he continued, eyes lifting, "then where's my father?"
No one answered right away.
The maid lowered her gaze—not in submission this time, but restraint.
"We don't know," she said at last. "After the final surge… after everything collapsed… **the battlefield was erased**. What remained was silence. No trace of the king. No body. No mana signature."
Aldric spoke next, voice tight.
"The Apostles withdrew. The airships pulled back. Whatever happened at the center…" He shook his head once. "It was beyond what any of us could sense."
Lyriana's grip tightened around her robes.
"There was no confirmation of his death," she said carefully. "But no confirmation of his survival either."
The words hung there—
Balanced on a knife's edge.
Missing.
Not fallen.
Not alive.
**Missing.**
"The chances that His Majesty still lives are far higher," the maid added quietly, "than any of you might imagine."
Draven didn't speak.
He stood there, holding his siblings, the cave dim and quiet around him. The rage that had consumed him earlier didn't return.
Instead, something colder settled in his chest.
"If he's not dead," Draven said slowly, "then he's alive."
He looked down at Elenya and Lucifer again, then back up, resolve hardening behind his eyes.
"And if he's alive," he continued, "then I'll find him."
The cave seemed to darken slightly at those words.
Not with menace.
With **certainty**.
"You say everything was erased," Draven said quietly. "But I'd like to see it for myself."
His gaze sharpened.
"I don't like trusting words that come out of other people's mouths."
He took a step forward—
—and stopped.
Something **moved**.
The blanket around his siblings shifted, just slightly. Draven's eyes snapped downward, every muscle tensing.
A small head pushed its way out.
Black fur. Too clean. Too still.
A **tiny cat** wriggled free from the folds of the blanket and sat there, tail flicking once as if completely unbothered by the tension in the cave.
Its eyes lifted.
**Purple.**
Not reflective.
Not animal.
Aware.
Draven froze.
"…Huh," he muttered. "A cat?"
The kitten met his gaze without fear, purple eyes unblinking—ancient and curious in a way no animal's should be.
"Where did something like this come from?"
The maid stiffened.
Lyriana inhaled sharply.
Aldric's hand twitched toward his weapon—then stopped as the cat blinked slowly, calm as could be.
The cave felt… different.
Not heavier.
Not lighter.
Just **watched**.
The small black cat tilted its head, studying Draven as if *he* were the strange one.
And for the first time since waking—
Draven felt it.
A presence.
Quiet.
Close.
And very much **not accidental**.
Lyriana finally spoke, her voice low, careful.
"…That's the magical creature," she said. "The one that hatched from the **spirit egg**."
Draven's gaze never left the cat.
"It reacted to your mana," Lyriana continued. "It hatched after absorbing it."
Aldric let out a short, humorless breath.
"Have you seriously not noticed?" he said. "The contract mark. It's pretty obvious."
Draven frowned.
"…Contract?"
His eyes dropped to his hand.
And there it was.
A black mark—no, a **brand**—etched into his skin like living ink. It spread from the back of his palm, winding up his wrist, crawling along his forearm in intricate, unfamiliar patterns. Veins of shadow threaded higher, across the left side of his chest and shoulder, stretching toward his neck.
It didn't look fresh.
It looked **ancient**.
Draven flexed his fingers slowly, watching the mark shift faintly, as if responding to him.
"…When did this happen?" he asked.
The small black cat chose that moment to move.
It stepped forward and placed one tiny paw directly onto the back of Draven's marked hand.
The purple eyes glowed softly.
The mark **warmed**—not painfully, not aggressively—just enough for Draven to feel it.
A connection.
A presence.
Not invasive.
Familiar.
The cat flicked its tail once and sat, perfectly at ease, as if the matter were settled.
The cave fell silent again.
Draven stared at the mark, then at the cat, his expression unreadable.
"…So," he said slowly,
"this thing decided to bind itself to me while I was unconscious."
The cat blinked.