POV: Kael Lanpar
(Minutes before the journey to the Palace of Snow)
I walked beside my sister toward the carriage that would take us to our destination—at the border between Auroria and Vetraya, the ancient name of the kingdom of Acrona.
And yet, no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn't shake off that unsettling feeling that something was about to go wrong.
"You look deep in thought, little brother," said Mayrei, giving me a light tap on the shoulder. "Cheer up. Everything will be fine. You'll see."
"I wish I could believe that," I whispered to myself. "But the memories of a man who lost everything and became a monster taught me that words… often mean nothing more than that. Just words."
I lowered my head, trapped by the image of that other me—the one who had drowned in darkness.
Just thinking about him sent a visceral chill climbing from my feet up my spine, freezing even my breath.
"Damn it, my hat!" Mayrei exclaimed as a gust of wind snatched it away, rolling it across the red carpet beneath our feet.
"I'll get it," I said, taking a few steps back. "Tell Father I'll be right there."
She nodded and kept walking, while I let out a sigh I'd been holding for too long.
"I don't even know how I'm still sane," I murmured.
With a subtle motion of my index finger, I summoned a current of wind. The hat lifted gently, floating like an invisible feather until it landed in my hand.
I shook it absently, lost in thought—so much that I didn't notice the presence before me until I heard her voice.
"So… you were going to leave without saying goodbye?" said Airis, her tone filled with reproach. "Weren't we supposed to be friends?"
I couldn't help but smile at the sight of her. That proud attitude, that way she had of hiding her pain behind a mask of confidence… it was something I deeply admired.
She was one of the reasons I hadn't given up yet.
Seeing her smile after losing her entire race, after watching her father die before her eyes… and still standing tall—it was a beacon in my darkness.
"W-What are you doing?" she stammered, startled, as I stepped forward and hugged her.
"I'm going to miss you," I said softly, holding her tightly. "Take care of yourself… and promise me we'll keep in touch. At least one letter a month."
I knew my words had reached her heart when I felt her arms wrap around me in return. She didn't want to let go.
Her tears soaked through my formal jacket as her head rested on my shoulder.
"I'll miss you too," she whispered between sobs. "Damn you… why did you make me fall for you, only to abandon me?"
For a moment, I felt my heart crack open.
I had formed a bond with her—a real one—that didn't rely on the memories of a past life to exist.
She was my first friend.
I had promised Vastiar I would never abandon her; it was part of the blood pact. But beyond duty, it was a promise of the soul.
Even so, I also had a commitment to my family. And as a member of royalty, our responsibilities extended far beyond our desires.
(In the present)
I leaned my head back, sinking into the softness of the carriage seat. Closing my eyes, I exhaled a sigh heavy with uncertainty.
Before leaving, I had made a request to my father: that Airis travel alongside Striker Boro in a special training mission—with the possibility of becoming his future successor, should he fall in battle.
Not only would that keep her safe, but it would also allow her to grow stronger and learn to rely solely on herself.
A faint smile curved my lips as I imagined her future. If even now, at such a young age, she could wield astral magic with such mastery…
Who could possibly stop her once she grew?
"Please, Your Majesties… step down," said a servant as he opened the carriage door. "Welcome to the Palace of Snow."
One by one, we descended—and the first thing that struck us was the vision of an impossible palace: a fortress carved entirely from enchanted crystal.
It shimmered with an icy radiance, so pure and translucent that it seemed to breathe with the dawn's light.
This was no ordinary resource—it was unique, forged and traded only by the Astral family, the sole lineage capable and authorized to do so.
"It's even bigger than the castle of Auroria," I murmured, letting my gaze wander across the gleaming towers.
"It was built for protection and defense," my father replied, ruffling my hair with a faint smile. "If not the safest, it's certainly one of the most secure places in the entire kingdom."
His words carried even more weight as my eyes traced the sealing runes that ran along the palace's base—glowing like veins of light beneath the crystal.
Ethereal pillars supported a vast magical barrier enveloping the structure, while soldiers and Destroya-ranked mages patrolled each corridor with precision.
"Damn it! Watch where that thing's flying!" shouted a guest, ducking just as a white owl swooped down from the sky. Its antennae quivered as it landed, scattering a flurry of frost-dusted snow.
"I see something caught your eye," said my sister with a teasing grin. "That's a Lunar Owl—native to our kingdom."
I had seen magical beasts before, yet somehow the world kept finding new ways to surprise me. This realm breathed life, power… and danger.
I instinctively stepped back when a massive raven descended from above. On its back, it carried a wooden crate marked with glowing seals. From within emerged nobles—elegant, poised… and arrogantly aware of their own importance.
My stomach twisted as I noticed the scar that slashed across the raven's eye. From its wound emanated a faint, sickly stench—barely perceptible, yet chilling enough to make my skin crawl.
I shook my head and followed my parents inside.
If the palace's exterior was awe-inspiring, the interior bordered on unreal.
The air was perfumed with winter blossoms. The walls were adorned with living portraits—moving paintings that replayed scenes of ancient coronations in an eternal loop.
Near the crystal chandeliers floated ethereal musicians, their instruments weaving a crystalline melody that resonated deep within my chest, like an echo from another world.
For a brief moment, I wanted to believe that nothing bad could happen in a place like this. But that gnawing unease in my chest refused to fade—it clung to me like a shadow.
"Alfin!" my sister called, running toward a group of adolescents. "You're better! How have you been?"
I wanted to follow her and greet my young master, but my mother's hand closed firmly around my wrist, anchoring me in place.
Still, it eased my heart to see Alfin looking far better than the last time I saw him… though that faint scar near his eye told another story.
"Already trying to slip away, Kael?" my mother asked, frowning slightly. "You've been acting strange lately. Are you alright?"
It was only natural for her to worry. I was barely five years old, yet my face carried a weariness no child should bear. My eyes—at times—looked like those of someone who had lived too many lives.
"Yes, Mother. I'm fine," I replied with a faint smile. "I just wanted to greet Alfin. I'm glad he's recovered."
She sighed softly, kissed my forehead, and brushed my hair with her gentle hand.
"I promise you can see him after the meeting," she whispered. "Until then, stay with us. Alright?"
"Understood…" I muttered, lowering my gaze.
We continued forward. My father carried my baby sister in his arms, wrapped in a white mantle that looked as if it had been woven from snow itself.
It was a solemn moment—but my thoughts refused to settle.
"Your Majesties, it is an honor to welcome you back," came a firm, steady voice. It was Nova. His presence radiated the same unwavering confidence as ever. "And it's good to see you again, young prince."
"Nova, it's good to see you too," I replied sincerely.
Knowing that he—our royal guardian and protector of my family—was still alive… gave me a rare moment of peace.
We walked between white-quartz tables draped in crimson cloth, while nobles rose to offer perfectly measured bows. Everything was arranged with an almost oppressive precision.
They certainly take etiquette seriously here, I thought, glancing at the white uniforms trimmed with scarlet. They were identical to mine.
"Well… there they are," my father said suddenly, his tone solemn—the kind he used only on important occasions.
Following his gaze, I saw them.
At a long table near the back of the hall sat several imposing figures, laughing and raising their goblets as golden liquor flowed like a river.
By the crowns resting upon their heads—and the regality of their attire—there was no doubt who they were.
The first, a stocky man with a braided beard, drank with the enthusiasm of a dwarven god.
That was Maximus V, King of the Forjador Mountains. His short stature and thick arms gave him away even without his crown.
Beside him, radiating a natural elegance even amid the revelry, sat Darknight, the Elven King, accompanied by his family. Their pointed ears and serene eyes made them impossible to mistake.
"Well, Xavier… you finally decided to show up," the dwarf king teased, raising his goblet. "We thought you'd abandoned us, leaving all this wine to our mercy."
"I'd never do such a thing," my father replied with a smirk. "You know how vital a good drink is—and I know you can't survive without me."
Laughter rippled through the table. Darknight rose to his feet, spreading his arms wide.
"Xavier, old friend!" he said warmly, embracing him tightly. "I see you've brought your heir… and that you haven't been wasting your time with your lovely wife."
Despite their titles, both kings carried a disarming charisma. Between jokes and shared memories, the atmosphere softened. I couldn't help but smile—after all, even among kings, they were still human.
"This is my heir," my father said proudly, gesturing toward me. "Kael Lanpar, future King of the Human Realm and next head of House Lanpar."
"I believe he's about the same age as my daughter," said Darknight, glancing toward his family. "Kessie, come say hello."
From behind his majestic cloak stepped a small girl. Her silvery-gray hair shimmered under the chandeliers, and her deep navy eyes locked onto mine—as if trying to read my very soul.
"She's a little shy," said Queen Miranda with a gentle smile. "I'd love for our children to become good friends."
"That would be wonderful," my mother replied tenderly. "It would be like seeing ourselves as children again—sharing the past while they build our future."
The conversations carried on amid clinking glasses and laughter echoing beneath the crystal ceiling.King Maximus began recounting his war exploits, exaggerating so wildly that he nearly spilled his wine.
I, meanwhile, found my eyelids growing heavy.Across the table, the daughter of the Lankerman family remained silent, her gaze fixed downward. The palace's initial splendor was fading into a haze of fatigue.
"Mother," whispered Kessie softly, "may I go for a walk around the palace?"
"Of course, dear," Miranda replied kindly."Striker Ameria, accompany Princess Kessie. Protect her at all times."
The Striker nodded without a word.Together they slipped away, their footsteps fading into the gentle murmur of the night beyond the great hall, where the laughter of other children echoed faintly.
"Kael, wouldn't you like to go with Kessie?" Miranda asked, her tone kind but insistent. "You look bored surrounded by all these drunkards."
"Drunkards?!" Maximus bellowed, laughing heartily. "Ale is life, boy!"
I adjusted my seat and sighed.
"I think I'll stay here for a while," I said, picking up a book resting on the table. "I'd rather keep my family company."
The light in Miranda's eyes dimmed for a moment. Her voice lowered to a near whisper—just enough for me to hear, and enough to stir guilt in my chest.
"Kessie doesn't have many friends," she murmured. "I had hoped you might become one of them."
I pressed my lips together, trying to ignore the weight of her words.
Something about the Strikers had caught my attention earlier. They didn't breathe. They didn't feel. They were living shadows—appearing only when summoned by their monarchs.
Fascinating, yes… but deeply unsettling.
Amid the bustle, my eyes locked on the Striker walking away with the princess. Her aura flickered. The particles around her shifted hue, turning reddish—a violent, unnatural shade.
Thanks to my limited grasp of astral magic, I could sense emotions. And what radiated from that figure wasn't protection… it was malice.
"I'd better go out and play for a bit," I said, standing from my chair with feigned calm. "I'm getting bored of the book. I'll be back later."
"All right, Kael," my mother replied. "If something happens, find Nova or your sister."
I nodded and began to make my way through the crowd, keeping my eyes fixed on Kessie and her escort.
"Swift Step," I whispered, imitating Alfin's technique.
My version was clumsy, imperfect—enough to quicken my pace and blur my movements, but with limited range and a heavy toll on my body. Each burst left me more exhausted than the last.
"Please be more careful, young prince!" scolded a waiter as he caught a plate I had nearly hit.
"Sorry, sir," I answered, regaining my balance and quickening my stride. "My fault."
How could something like this happen in a place that was supposed to be impenetrable? I thought, sensing how tainted auras began to surface around me.
Not all followed the same pattern; some seemed manipulated, hollow, as if their souls had been replaced by something cold.
Maybe I should have told my parents. Or Nova. Or anyone. But who would believe a child? Especially one who was still learning how to breathe in his own life.
With each step, the light dimmed. I entered a wing of the palace where the moon barely seeped through; the windows let in shadows, not reflections. The cold smelled of iron and ancient echoes.
"This… feels like another dimension," I murmured, recalling the same unease I'd felt the first time I crossed into the kingdom of Acrona.
I drew Crimson Shade, the dagger with Vastiar's soul bound to its steel.
The infernal runes engraved on the blade flared at my touch, casting orange flames that barely tore through the gloom.
The light wasn't enough; the silence was too thick. And the worst part—I was alone. If anything went wrong here, there would be no second chances.
Cowardice crawled up my spine like a chill—an echo of past lives, a whisper of death.
But the girl in danger wasn't just a princess; she was the daughter of my father's friend. I couldn't afford to fail.
I swallowed hard, gripping the hilt until my knuckles ached. Adrenaline settled deep into every fiber of my body. Somewhere within, I knew something was about to break.
A sharp whistle sliced through the air. I turned on instinct. In slow motion, a needle grazed my cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. If I hadn't reacted, it would've been fatal.
"I didn't come for you, brat," a mocking female voice said. "What's the Lanpar heir doing here?"
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once, surrounding me like a fragmented echo. The impossibility of locating it made my head spin.
"You traitor!" I roared. "You betray your kings? What do you want with the girl—kill her!?"
"Hmm… and a loudmouth too," she replied before unleashing another rain of needles.
They came from every direction. Forcing my focus, I conjured a spinning dome of wind; the needles bounced off and scattered away. For a moment, I thought I'd gained ground.
"Damn brat!" I heard behind me, seething with rage.
A backward leap saved me from the next wave.
My reflexes kept me alive, but I knew I couldn't rely on them for long.
I had memories of another life, yes—but my body here was still that of a child: powerful in potential, clumsy in experience. She was a Striker; the gap between us was vast.
In a blink, her hand clamped around my neck. She slammed me against the wall with a force that knocked the air out of me.
Warm blood trickled from the corner of my lips; the pain flared, sharp and burning.
She gave me no time to recover.
She lifted me again and drove her knee into my stomach; the breath was torn from my lungs as my body hit the ground. Crimson Shade slipped from my hand, clattering out of reach.
I shuddered. My arms trembled as I forced myself up. Crawling toward the dagger felt like waging war with every inch of my body. Recovery was slow, but necessity drove me forward.
"Swift Step…" I whispered between ragged breaths.
"Kael, before you do something reckless… listen to me." A familiar voice echoed in my mind—it was Vastiar.
"I don't have time to explain how I can speak to you," he continued, his tone sharp and commanding. "But if you want to survive… do exactly as I say. Say: Continental Destruction."
The air froze. Everything stopped, even the frantic rhythm of my heart. The Striker stood motionless, still clutching the sack that held Kessie.
I looked at her, analyzing every possible move, every escape… and realized there was no other choice. Trusting Vastiar didn't seem like such a bad idea.
"Continental… Destruction," I muttered, my voice thick with pain and restrained fire.
The world ignited.
A blazing flame burst from Crimson Shade, racing up my arm and fusing with my mana. The energy roared inside me like a beast awakening. I felt my bones vibrate, my skin burn—and still, I smiled.
I dug my feet into the ground, cracking the stone beneath me. The air split in two as I lunged forward. The Striker tried to mirror my movement, but it was already too late.
I raised my arm, wreathed in infernal fire, and brought it down with all my might.
The impact thundered through the hall. I felt my fist sink into her abdomen, heard the dry crack of her ribs. The woman was sent flying, crashing through a glass window and tearing through several walls before vanishing into the debris.
Without wasting a second, I reached out and caught the falling sack. Kessie screamed, but I managed to cushion the impact and lower her gently to the floor.
My chest burned. Each breath was wild fire. The air reeked of iron, dust, and blood.
The hallway began to fill with shouts and hurried footsteps. It wasn't because of me—not because of the fight. It was something else. Something worse.
I stumbled forward, dragging my feet. Kessie, trembling, clung to my arm, trying to steady me. We followed the growing murmur until we reached the source of the commotion.
And then I saw it.
On the frozen marble floor, lying in a thick, dark pool, was the body of the elven representative. His ceremonial robe drenched in red, his face unrecognizable.
Silence fell, absolute and heavy.
My father's eyes met those of the elven king, and in that instant, I understood without a single word spoken.
This wasn't just bad news.
It was the beginning of a tragedy.