The words hung in the air between us, two simple syllables that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken truths.
"Well done."
Had I imagined it? My father's lips had barely moved, his expression as unreadable as ever, yet those words—those damned words—echoed in my skull like a struck bell. I had played my part perfectly, the picture of composed indifference while Duke Velmoris unraveled before the court. No one should have suspected me.
And yet.
Did he know?
I forced my shoulders to remain loose as I strode past the gathered knights, their stares boring into my back like daggers. The Knight Commander stood frozen, his usually sharp gaze dulled by disbelief. I could practically hear his thoughts—When did the princess become strong enough to shatter a 7th-tier spell barehanded?
A smirk tugged at my lips as I flicked my hair over my shoulder. If only they knew. Grand Swordmaster of an era long dead, reborn into this spoiled princess's body. Their shock was almost amusing.
Almost.
Han Rao waited by the gates, his tail flicking lazily as he scratched his jaw with a paw. The moment our eyes met, he bounded over, rubbing against my legs with a purr that vibrated through my boots. I scooped him up, his fur warm against my fingers.
"Good job, Salmon," I murmured, pressing a kiss between his ears.
He blinked up at me, golden eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction. His little mana bomb had been the perfect distraction—Dylan Velmoris hadn't even realized his magic was nullified until it was too late. By then, the smoke had swallowed the arena, and Master had already slipped away with the prize.
My chest tightened as I glanced at the moon, its pale glow a silent witness to tonight's victory.
I kept my promise, Xavier.
The dragon heart was his now. The first true step toward reclaiming what was stolen from him.
From us.
"Master," Han Rao's voice was a soft murmur against my collarbone. "Can you make the chicken soup you used to make me in the past?"
The request was so absurdly mundane that I laughed, the sound startling even myself. I ruffled his ears. "You deserve it. I'll make you the most delicious chicken soup."
I didn't let my smile falter. Didn't let the ache in my chest show.
Because beneath the triumph, beneath the carefully crafted mask of indifference, he was there.
Xavier.
Ever since we'd parted, my hands had developed a mind of their own. Fingers brushing my shoulder where he used to perch in his tiny draconic form. Once. Twice. A dozen times before I'd caught myself.
Idiot.
I clenched Slayer's hilt until the silver bit into my palm. The pain was a welcome anchor.
This—this weakness—couldn't be allowed to fester. I had a plan. A purpose. And Xavier...
Xavier had loved someone else, once. A girl whose memory had outlasted death itself. My selfishness had already dragged him back into this world. The least I could do was make sure he found her again.
Even if the thought made something in me splinter. All these thoughts will stop coming once I find the woman he loved once and get them together.
Yeah.
I have no time to let such feelings grow.
No time or right
---
The air on the unknown planet tasted of sulfur and burning metal, thick enough to choke on. Above, the sky churned in perpetual twilight, streaked with veins of molten orange where the atmosphere cracked like overstretched skin.
The ground beneath Edwin's boots was a patchwork of obsidian and brittle shale, fracturing underfoot with sounds like breaking bones. Rivers of lava cut through the landscape, their surfaces crusted over in blackened scales that split and re-formed in an endless cycle of decay and rebirth.
Edwin Ronald, architect of portals and breaker of celestial laws, clenched his jaw as he watched Xavier train.
The dragon-turned-demon moved through the hellscape with terrifying grace, twin blades carving arcs of black fire through the superheated air. Lava geysers erupted around him, their spray dissipating against his bare torso like rain against stone.
"Damn," Edwin muttered, shielding his eyes from the glare. "Is this some kind of mockery of my confidence in my luck as being the greatest prodogy of all time?"
Xavier landed in a crouch, his blades sinking into the cracked earth. Sweat traced the hard lines of his back before evaporating in the blistering heat. He didn't acknowledge Edwin's presence—not until the mage spoke again.
"At what level are you now?"
The question hung between them, underscored by the distant rumble of collapsing rock. Xavier exhaled through his nose, watching his reflection warp in the molten steel of his blades.
"You are at the level of Doombringer," Belhier's voice slithered through his mind, thick with smug satisfaction. "In my time, only three demons reached this tier without shattering their minds. You should be groveling with gratitude for my guidance."
Xavier's grip tightened. "Shut up, old fart."
Belhier's outrage was a hot spike behind his eyes. "You dare—"
But Xavier had already given up arguing with him and turned around, meeting Edwin's gaze.
The mage looked different—smaller, though nothing about him had physically changed rather Xavier himself had grown taller. Edwin usual smirk was absent, replaced by a pout.
"You didn't answer," Edwin said, forcing levity into his tone. "How ungrateful, after I scouted this paradise like training ground for you."
Xavier stared at him. The planet's heat had long since ceased to bother him, but Edwin's willful ignorance burned. "You call this a paradise like training ground?"
Edwin waved a hand at the rivers of fire. "Dragons are immune to lava, isn't it? Thought you'd appreciate the ambiance."
Xavier took a step forward. "Why not join me, Tower Master? We can admire the view together."
Edwin's laugh was thin. "Tempting, but I've got to return. Foxy's heading into danger tomorrow—"
The shift was instantaneous. Xavier's pupils contracted, his body coiling like a spring. "What danger?"
Edwin froze. The words had slipped out—a mistake. He rubbed the back of his neck, buying time. "A city between Nyxveil and Velmoris was massacred. Three hundred thousand dead."
The number landed like a physical blow. Xavier's breath hitched.
"Humans," Belhier mused. "Still as inventive with their cruelty as ever."
Xavier ignored him. "How?"
Edwin's expression darkened. "Children first. Then women, elders, finally the men. Foxy's investigating tomorrow. I came to give you this."
He extended the black box.
Xavier's world narrowed to that single point. The box was ornate, its surface inlaid with rubies that caught the hell-light and threw it back in bloody splinters. It pulsed—not with magic, but with something deeper, older.
"The dragon heart Foxy promised you."
Time fractured.
Xavier's blades slipped from his fingers, embedding themselves in the scorched earth. His hands, usually so steady, trembled as if gripped by palsy. The heartbeat was deafening—not his own, but the heart's, its rhythm syncopated with his in a grotesque duet.
*Thump.*
*Thump.*
*Thump.*
"Don't touch it." Belhier's voice was uncharacteristically sharp. "That malice isn't just residue—it's a trap."
But Xavier was already reaching.
The moment his fingertips grazed the box, it erupted.
Dark energy detonated outward, throwing Edwin back with a cry. The box shattered, its fragments dissolving midair as the heart within ascended, suspended in a maelstrom of violet lightning.
Xavier barely registered Edwin's pained shout. His entire being was fixed on the heart—golden, despite the corruption writhing around it like a nest of serpents.
"Now I understand," Belhier murmured. "The massacre wasn't just slaughter. It was fertilizer."
Edwin staggered upright, cradling his arm. Though he was unaware of Belhier's conciousness being inside Xavier, somehow their thoughts alinged.
"Malice! How is it possible? Aren't dragons immune to malicious energy?" He exclaimed in disbelief.
"Normally. But this isn't normal," Belhier's tone was clinical, as if lecturing a dull student. "But if the dragon died drowning in hatred, its heart becomes a sponge. And three hundred thousand souls' worth of fury?" He chuckled. "That's a feast."
Xavier wasn't listening. The heart's glow was fading, its light strangled by the encroaching dark.
Mother.
The thought was a knife between his ribs.
"Consume the malice," Belhier instructed. "But know this—if your resolve wavers, I'll be taking over your body."
Xavier didn't hesitate. He leapt.
The malice welcomed him as if it was always waiting for him
Agony was too small a word. This was unmaking—his flesh unraveling at the seams, his bones grinding to powder only to reform and shatter again. The voices of the dead filled his skull, their last scream before death-
I don't want to die
I have to return home, my children are waiting.
I am too scared, I am too scared to even look up
Oh god! Is this how I am dying? I hope I had lived a better life.
Don't kill me, Please don't kill me.
Ahhhh- Monsters, they are all monsters.
What sin did I even commit to die like this?
I wish, I had told her how much I love her.
Is this how this ends? How ironic and painful!
Among thousand of last thoughts, there was one last thought which wasn't a whisper of agony or hatred rather a wish...
- I am sorry my beautiful baby. You will be alone for a while but I pray you will find a light which will consume the abyss surrounding you. I am sorry, I am really sorry. I am sorry, my little boy.-
Her voice was like a whisper of warmth, familiar to Xavier somehow.
The wave of negative emotions got even louder and heavier but Xavier didn't break under it.
Through the storm, one image held firm in Xavier's mind: Selentia, her silver hair catching the light as she once broke the shackles caging Xavier.
Her faith, her stubborn, reckless faith in him.
Belhier watched, intrigued despite himself. The boy wasn't fighting the malice—he was absorbing it, letting it scald him raw without surrendering to its narrative.
And then, probing deeper, Belhier saw why Xavier remained sane even after all that.
Xavier's memories of Selentia weren't just recollections. They were foundations, load-bearing pillars holding up the roots of his will.
The way she'd smirked after a hard-won duel against her brother Dain.
The weight of her smile as she held his hand, her green eyes staring at him as she held her hand out to him despite knowing how he was a demonic vassel. The unshakable certainty in her voice when she said, I will stay by your side till the end of this.
Something in Belhier recoiled.
He withdrew so abruptly Xavier gasped, the intrusion's absence as startling as its presence.
Below, Edwin braced against the psychic backlash, his teeth gritted. "Xavier!"
But Xavier was beyond hearing. The heart's glow was returning, its golden light piercing the dark like dawn through stormclouds. The malice fought back, lashing tendrils around his throat, his wrists—
*Snap.*
The sound was infinitesimal. A single beat, clear as a bell.
The heart shuddered.
And then, impossibly—
*Thump.*
Silence.
The malice dissipated like smoke. The heart descended, cradled in Xavier's palms, its radiance undimmed. His knees hit the ground, his breath coming in ragged gulps.
Edwin limped forward, his face ashen. "Is it—?"
"Clean." Xavier's voice was hoarse.
Belhier said nothing.
Because far beneath the surface, in the places even demons feared to tread, a question echoed:
Why had he looked away?
And deeper still, the answer waited—patient, and hungry.