The days that followed were filled with fighting and blood.
What started as just Fenric and Aria became three. Laxin—the heir of the Death Supreme—now walked beside them. His very presence was heavy, like a cold mist that carried the feeling of death. But it wasn't his bloodline that kept him here. It was vengeance, tied tightly to the one thing Fenric gave him: truth.
Fenric swore an oath.
Not to protect Laxin.
Not to guide him.
But to always tell him the truth.
And that truth hit harder than any sword. Laxin had grown up surrounded by lies and betrayal. Hearing Fenric's blunt, merciless words left him stunned, unable to hide or make excuses.
So he didn't argue. He didn't fight back.
He only listened.
And slowly, he began to nod—short, silent nods, carrying the weight of Fenric's words in his heart.
That's how the three of them were forged together.
Fenric, the cold-eyed prince who measured everyone.
