The next morning, the soft hum of nature echoed through the hidden domain. The air shimmered faintly, warm yet ageless, carrying a serenity untouched by corruption. The sky stretched endlessly above, neither day nor night—bathed in a golden hue that breathed calm into everything beneath it.
At the heart of the realm lay a vast lake, smooth as polished glass. It mirrored the heavens perfectly, so still that even a falling leaf seemed hesitant to disturb its peace.
By the water's edge stood Wilfred, the Heavenly Lord. His robe fluttered gently, though there was no breeze. The ripples that reached his boots glowed faintly, as if the water itself acknowledged his presence. His gaze was distant—beyond sight, beyond time.
A few paces away, Leofric watched him in silence. To see a being who could stand so calmly in a world like this—between dream and eternity—made him wonder what kind of mind carried such stillness.
He sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair.
How am I supposed to train that little girl to fight?
A knight, seasoned in war and blood, teaching a child who laughed more than she listened—it almost felt like mockery.
Behind him, the gentle clatter of dishes and a sweet, buttery scent filled the air. Edith was busy preparing breakfast, her face lit with a joy that hadn't touched her in years. She hummed softly, sleeves rolled up, the rhythm of normal life returning to her hands.
"Come on, Olivia! Eat first before your training starts!" she called cheerfully.
Olivia giggled, clutching her wooden spoon like a sword. "But I'm not even hungry yet!"
"Yes, you are," Edith replied firmly, tugging her into a chair.
Leofric chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. But when his gaze drifted back to Wilfred, his amusement faded. The immortal lord hadn't moved an inch.
Curiosity pulled Leofric forward. His boots pressed softly against the moss until he stood beside him. For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the quiet ripple of water and the distant hum of life around them.
Finally, Leofric asked, "What are you thinking about?"
Wilfred's lips curved slightly. "If you were in my place," he said, eyes still fixed on the lake, "how would you have saved humanity?"
Leofric blinked, caught off guard. "That's a strange question."
"It's an important one." Wilfred's tone was calm, but beneath it lingered something heavy—regret, perhaps.
Leofric looked down at his reflection on the lake. "If I'm being honest… it would've been too much. No mortal could bear such a burden."
"That doesn't answer me."
Leofric smiled faintly. "Then I'd have done what you did. Maybe even less. Balancing humanity isn't a task—it's a lifetime of choices. You've done what few could. You should be proud."
Wilfred's smile faltered. His gaze deepened, heavy with memory. "And yet, every time I think of it, it feels like I failed."
Leofric folded his arms. "Then you haven't done enough."
That drew Wilfred's eyes sharply toward him. "How so?"
"When a man doubts his own deeds," Leofric said, meeting his gaze steadily, "it means there's still something left undone. The world might think you've done enough—but you won't believe it until you do."
Wilfred studied him in silence for a moment before chuckling softly. "You have the heart of a philosopher, Leofric. I see now why the fates brought you here."
He turned toward the lake again. "Enough talk. Breakfast waits."
Leofric turned to leave, but froze mid-step. Wilfred was already seated at the table.
"What the—how did you—"
"Have you forgotten where you are?" Wilfred said mildly, sipping from his cup. "This is my domain."
Leofric exhaled, shaking his head. "I'll never get used to this."
The hut's interior was simple yet elegant—white stone walls faintly luminous, a round wooden table gleaming in the soft glow. The bowls before them steamed gently, filled with golden broth and bread that shimmered faintly with light.
Edith served each dish with practiced grace, while Olivia swung her legs beneath the table, sneaking glowing fruit slices into her mouth.
"So," Leofric said between bites, "did Lucifer have a domain like this when you fought him?"
Wilfred's hand paused halfway to his lips. The light in the room dimmed, as though the name itself carried a shadow.
"He did not," he said finally, his tone quiet but edged. "That was the source of his envy. I ruled through balance and creation. He sought dominion through chaos. The Crown of Life… was his answer."
Leofric frowned. "The Crown?"
Wilfred's eyes darkened. "It was forged to sustain harmony between realms. But within it lies the Dark Crystal—the heart of shadow. Lucifer sought that crystal. Had he claimed it, he would've created a domain of despair—a reflection of my own."
Leofric exhaled slowly. "That's madness."
Wilfred's lips twitched in something close to sorrow. "Madness… is simply ambition without restraint."
No one spoke for a while after that. Even Olivia grew quiet, sensing the gravity in his tone.
When breakfast ended, they stepped outside. The realm greeted them with the soft shimmer of dawnlight, though dawn did not exist here. The lake sparkled gently, and from the fields nearby came the whisper of unseen life.
Leofric and Wilfred stood across from each other on an open meadow. Edith and Olivia sat on a large stone, watching curiously.
Leofric unsheathed his sword, the blade catching the celestial glow. "Are you sure about this?"
Wilfred nodded once. "Think of this as preparation—for both of us."
"Both?"
Wilfred smiled faintly. "Even immortals must keep their edge."
Light flared in his hand, and a blade formed—ethereal, radiant, alive. The weapon pulsed like a heartbeat, humming with quiet divinity.
They circled each other slowly.
Then steel met light.
Leofric lunged, his strikes sharp and fluid, but Wilfred moved with inhuman grace—each motion a dance of precision. The clash of blades rang like chimes across the field, sparks scattering into the air like falling stars.
Wilfred parried a heavy strike, murmuring calmly, "Your stance is too rigid. Flow, don't resist."
"I'm trying!" Leofric gritted out, pressing forward.
Wilfred sidestepped easily, barely moving his feet. "Then your blade is lying to me."
Leofric growled, swinging again—this time faster, lower, desperate to land even one blow. But Wilfred moved like mist, his sword tracing silver arcs that left afterimages in the air.
Finally, Wilfred flicked his wrist and disarmed him. Leofric hit the ground with a grunt, panting, sweat beading down his temple.
Wilfred's sword dissolved into light. "Enough for now."
Olivia clapped cheerfully, her laughter echoing through the field. "Uncle Leofric lacked clarity!" she chirped, smiling like sunshine.
Leofric looked up, incredulous. "I what?"
Wilfred chuckled softly. "She's not wrong."
Leofric groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Even the gods mock me."
Edith smiled faintly, watching Olivia's bright eyes fixed on the horizon. There was something in them—something deep, ageless, flickering like a faint ember of power.
Wilfred followed her gaze, and for a brief moment, his expression changed—gentle pride mingled with a trace of sorrow.
The wind passed softly through the realm.
And though peace lingered still, somewhere far beyond that serene sky, a shadow stirred—patient, watching.
The war of light and darkness was only beginning.