"Oh! My dear daughter—after all this time apart, can't you at least give your father a warm hug?"
Kashchey's familiar smile returned as he opened his arms wide, his eyes gleaming with the delight of an old father reunited with his long-lost child.
He was dressed immaculately in noble robes, yet moved with a lightness belying his age. After years of refinement, Kashchey had mastered his new body—able to flip backward with ease and radiate waves of malice at will, all without cracking his smile.
Whispers rippled through the Reunion camp as curious eyes took in the strange nobleman.
"Wait... that's the chief's father?"
"But he looks like some aristocrat..."
"Idiot, haven't you heard the rumors? Our leader's a runaway noble!"
"Yeah! I heard an old patriot say that her father's the famous Duke of Kashchey."
"What?! I thought Duke Kashchey was just some myth in folktales!"
"Frog in a well! Kashchey's a real immortal. Been around since Ursus was founded!"
"No wonder… I remember those times we were ready to starve, and then, out of nowhere, mysterious supplies would show up… and the leader moved us to safety with them…"
Talulah's face flushed as the whispers grew louder.
If I really hug him here, my dignity as a leader will vanish…
She bit her lip and declared sharply,
"I am now infected!"
"Oh, my poor child… It seems that after leaving the Duke's mansion, you've completely forgotten the lessons I taught you."
Kashchey's tone was as warm as spring sunlight, yet Talulah could sense the chill behind it.
"Knowledge," he continued, "is a faithful companion. With it, you can break through the prejudice of ignorant people toward the infected. As long as you don't directly touch the Originium crystals exposed on the infected's body, you won't be infected~"
Still standing with his arms open, Kashchey waited patiently.
Talulah, with no excuse left—at least not in front of all these onlookers—stiffly stepped forward and gave her "dear father" a robotic, awkward hug.
At the very least… not in front of everyone.
---
Inside the newly constructed wooden house of the Integration Movement—
"You still haven't made up your mind, Talulah?"
Kashchey sat comfortably on a bench, his bearing noble and at ease. Beside him, his Emperor's Blade stood like a silent statue, exuding an oppressive, unshakable presence.
Kashchey handed Talulah a sealed letter, presenting her with two choices.
The first—lead the Integration Movement back to the dukedom. Under his protection, the organization would be legitimized. The infected could live with dignity and security. But in doing so, Talulah would have to temper her idealism—she could no longer devote herself entirely to her cause. She would need to bow to reality.
The second—refuse his protection and continue their lone path. This would preserve the "purity" of their mission… but would leave them vulnerable to attacks from the noble factions.
In the room, three figures watched Talulah closely: a towering Wendigo with a cold, soldier's discipline; a shivering, suspicious girl with a hint of ice in her voice; and a calm, gentle Elafia with an unreadable smile.
"How can we be sure you're telling the truth?" the nervous girl—Cautus, codenamed Frostnova—asked sharply, her icy glare fixed on Kashchey.
"Yelena," the Wendigo rumbled in his deep voice, turning toward her, "there is no need to doubt His Excellency."
He was known as Patriot, a warrior infected with Oripathy and burdened with many battles.
He understood the truth—if Kashchey had wanted to crush them, he wouldn't need elaborate schemes. A single order to his Emperor's Blade would have sufficed. Even with Patriot's strength—confident in fending off three Emperor's Blades—he knew that Talulah and Yelena could barely handle one each. If Kashchey sent seven or eight? Escape would be impossible.
After all, Kashchey wasn't merely a noble. He was a near-mythical immortal, a being who had existed since the founding of Ursus.
From his perspective, the Integration Movement had no real military strength, no resources, and no political leverage. There was no benefit in taking them over—not unless he truly meant what he said.
Kashchey wouldn't carry dead weight.
"Thank you for your offer, Your Excellency," Talulah finally said, her voice clear and resolute. "But I must refuse."
Her tone, polite yet distant, said all Kashchey needed to know.
She had made her decision. She was a fighter—a defender of the infected. And she would not accept his mercy, not even if he called it fatherly love.
"I see," Kashchey replied, nodding gently. "Then… would you permit me to take a look around your camp?"
Talulah hesitated. Her eyes drifted to the Patriot, silently seeking his judgment.
Yelena watched her father cautiously. Alina looked nervously at Talulah.
The Patriot gave a short nod.
"Of course," he said.
To him, Kashchey did appear to be exactly as described in the letter—a concerned father visiting his daughter abroad. Perhaps, this was also a good opportunity…
To exchange parenting philosophies.
After all, raising a daughter like Talulah—so determined, so full of ideals—must have taken extraordinary experience. He couldn't help but feel a touch of admiration.
This little girl, Yelena, had been causing more and more concern lately.
She was a child the Patriot guerrillas had encountered during a raid on an infected mine. Seeing how young she was—yet already forced into grueling labor—the Patriots took pity on her and decided to adopt her.
"That old snake makes me uneasy. I can't shake the feeling that he's up to something."
"Duke Kashchey is clearly kind and shows no prejudice toward the infected. Why does Talulah hate him so much...?"
"Hmph, hmph, hmph, ah~! We can't let him roam freely! If my childhood embarrassment leaks to my subordinates, my career as a leader will be finished!"
With each person harboring different thoughts, Kashchey, accompanied by the Emperor's Blades, strolled leisurely through the camp gate.
"Wait for me!"
Talulah stepped forward quickly, rushing to catch up.
Upon seeing her expression—anxious and intent—everyone watching shared the same thought:
"Maybe... their relationship isn't as bad as she made it seem?"
---
Elsewhere, an undercover agent's intelligence report had just been delivered.
A nobleman, naked and reclining with a Feline woman in his arms, read the document with a deep frown.
"The Duke of Kashchey and the leader of the Reunion Movement embraced each other warmly. Their relationship appears to be very good."
The noble's face twisted with rage. Without warning, he hurled the woman beside him to the ground.
She winced in pain but dared not utter a word—terrified of further provoking the already furious nobleman.
"How could this be? How could this happen!?"
Quickly getting dressed, the noble contacted his associates and rushed to a secret meeting location.
Inside the venue, a large number of nobles had already gathered. Some had gray hair and lined faces, others were still young. Some held prominent positions in the government, while others merely bore inherited titles. Yet all shared the same expression—discontent and unease.
"Didn't they say the Reunion Movement's leader had severed all ties with Kashchey? That she even went mad and touched Originium on her own?"
"Yes! I visited Duke Kashchey myself—he was so oppressive I could hardly breathe!"
"Exactly! How could he be friendly with such an ungrateful wretch?!"
As the room erupted into chaotic chatter, a dignified, middle-aged officer shouted above the noise:
"Silence! You fools! You let Kashchey scare you into this sorry state. How do you expect to restore the glory of the late emperor like this? The plan proceeds as scheduled!"
The room quieted under his command, and the officer nodded in satisfaction.
What a pack of cowards.
Even if she's Kashchey's adopted daughter—so what? Even if it's Kashchey himself, he wouldn't dare act recklessly in the face of so many nobles.
Once we launch the war, the domestic turmoil will be diverted. We'll reclaim the glorious age of our late emperor!
But just as he began indulging in this grand vision of the future, several elderly nobles rose to their feet.
"You Ursus are too reckless! You have no idea how terrifying that man truly is!" one of them barked. "We only agreed to this operation because you claimed the Reunion leader had cut ties with Kashchey!"
Another elderly noble—shaking slightly—pulled a pill from his pocket and swallowed it on the spot.
"Have you all forgotten the Great Purge from more than a decade ago? If he loses his temper… none of us will survive!"
"Please, calm yourself, Your Excellency," the officer said quickly, trying to soothe the agitated noble. This man was a major investor in their operation. They could not afford to lose him now.
"Of course I haven't forgotten His Excellency's cruelty—or his cunning. But we have this—"
He slowly, carefully produced a document.
An Emperor's Blade transfer order.
A collective gasp echoed throughout the room.
Is the Emperor… finally going to move against Kashchey?