Deep beneath the surface of the world, far from sunlight and sanity, a chamber of black stone pulsed with a faint, unnatural glow.
Twelve lanterns hung in a circle, each filled with a pale, ghostly flame.
Each one represented a Seat of Evernight.
Tonight, only eleven remained lit.
It had guttered out hours ago, a quiet and abrupt extinguishing, as though someone had pinched the flame between two fingers.
A cloaked figure stood before the dead lantern, arms folded behind his back.
"…So," he murmured, "Scorpio has died."
His voice held neither anger nor sorrow. Mostly curiosity, like a scholar observing an unexpected specimen.
"AHAHAHAHA! I TOLD YOU! THAT BUM WOULD DIE BEFORE ME!" another hooded figure shrieked in hysterical delight.
"Hmmm… this was definitely most unexpected," a woman mused from the opposite side of the chamber.
"Indeed, it is."
The first figure tilted his head, studying the lifeless lantern as if it were a puzzle missing a piece.
"Which target was he assigned?"
A robed attendant stepped forward with a scroll.
"Amelia Grandal, daughter of Duke Grandal. Holder of the S-Rank: Flame Queen."
The cultist reading the scroll frowned.
"She shouldn't have been capable of killing him."
"She wasn't," another hissed. "It's quite absurd."
Silence.
Then:
"Then she had help."
A few heads turned.
The figure at the center didn't move, but the corner of his mouth curled.
"Of course she did," he murmured. "The pattern never changes. Talents attract each other. Interfere with our culling."
The scroll-bearer bowed. "Shall I raise her threat level?"
"No."
A lazy wave of the hand.
"Amelia Grandal was never a primary target. Bright, yes—but not one of the Pillars. Scorpio was sent simply to eliminate her early and disrupt future resource allocation."
The scribe bowed and took out another scroll.
The first figure turned toward the lanterns.
"Send a retrieval team," he ordered softly. "Have them comb through Deimos and record everything."
The figure leaned forward.
"We need to focus on our next priority."
The hysterical laugh came back, "OOOH, OOOH! PICK ME! PICK ME!"
Seat Nine.
He hopped down from a stone pillar, robes fluttering like torn wings.
"Since Scorpio failed," he sang, "it's my tuuurn~."
The figure at the center chuckled slightly.
"Alright, Gemini, this is your mission now."
Seat Nine—Gemini—clapped his hands together delightedly, bouncing on his heels.
The central figure unfurled a map and pointed to a nation marked in gold:
The Holy Kingdom of Raias.
A wave of murmurs rippled through the chamber.
Seat Nine giggled, rocking on his heels.
"Your target—is Fritz Calder."
Gemini's grin widened until it nearly split his face.
"The soon-to-be chosen Hero."
***
The training yard was silent, washed silver by the moon. Ryn stood alone at its center, not to train, not after everything that had happened. He felt like he deserved some rest and peace of mind after that.
Ryn reached into his Dimensional ring, pulling out two things: His broken sword and the last vial of Basilisk venom.
The blade's metal was cleanly split. There was no repairing it; even the best smith in Arctis wouldn't bother.
My fault for expecting it to survive that, he thought.
His gaze shifted to the vial.
The venom glimmered faintly, alive even in stillness.
One of the core ingredients for the Vitalis Core…the thing he never managed to obtain early enough in his past life.
However, even if he had grasped one of the ingredients in his hand, the rest still felt so far away.
But this time, it'll be different.
Ryn sank onto a nearby bench, turning the vial between his fingers. His thoughts drifted back to the Core, to why it mattered, to what made it so extraordinary in the first place.
Then the answer struck him so abruptly he nearly dropped the vial.
What would've been an expensive and potentially catastrophic mistake was quickly avoided as he slipped it back into his ring with shaking hands.
Ryn sighed. In his past life, he'd always tried to force pieces together without knowing what the final shape was supposed to be.
I'm doing the same thing again, he realized.
The Vitalis Core wasn't powerful because of rare ingredients alone. It was the method, one that only a genius could produce.
He needed to find that genius.
Ryn leaned back, breath steadying as clarity washed over him.
The future 'Master Alchemist' hadn't begun as a legend—Ryn remembered him as a scruffy orphan working part-time at a bakery.
And that boy… lived in Lumen.
One of the mid-sized artisan cities in eastern Raias. A quiet, forgettable place in the Holy Kingdom.
Exactly the kind of place a genius could grow without anyone realizing it.
Ryn's thoughts finally settled, the last threads of clarity falling into place.
Lumen… That's where it begins.
He didn't get a chance to linger on it.
Footsteps approached. Familiar enough that he didn't bother turning.
"You're out here again," Amelia said quietly.
Her voice always carried a warmth that didn't match the cold night. When she stepped into view, moonlight softened her features, making her look almost surreal against the dim training yard.
Ryn straightened slightly. "Sorry, I was a bit restless."
Amelia's eyes swept over him. His posture, something he never cared for, but now it looked extra bad.
"You're thinking about something," she said. Not a question.
"There's a place I need to go," he said softly.
Amelia turned toward him immediately, eyes sharp despite the gentle moonlight. "Where?"
"…Lumen."
The name alone made her eyebrows pull together. "Lumen? In Raias?" Her voice wasn't loud, but in the empty training yard it might as well have been.
She breathed in slowly, calming herself.
"Raias, huh… Even if Lumen's still inside the kingdom, it's not exactly close."
Amelia hesitated, then added quietly:
"…Then we might not be apart long."
Ryn glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
She sighed.
"The Hero's crowning ceremony is soon. Raias sent a request to several territories asking for influential figures to attend. All that show of unity and political stuff."
That caught him off guard. "Already?"
"Yeah. I'm representing Grandal."
Ryn froze.
Amelia… at the Hero's ceremony.
The event that, in his last life, sparked political chaos—and a tragedy he never forgot.
She continued, voice soft but steady.
"Arctis is sending someone too, of course. Your brother," A small, almost apologetic smile tugged at her lips.
"Heir duties."
He let out a long, quiet sigh, leaning back against the bench.
"So my brother's going for Arctis… you're going for Grandal…" His eyes drifted upward toward the moon.
"…which means everyone I know is going to be in the same place."
Amelia smiled at the way he said it.
"Well," she said lightly, crossing her arms with exaggerated pride, "not everyone. Just the heirs and politically important people."
Ryn gave her a look.
She lifted her chin dramatically.
"Unlike some people, I don't get to wander off to Lumen whenever I feel like it. I have to stand next to the Hero and nod politely. Tragic, really."
Ryn stared at her. "You're jealous?"
She made an offended noise. "Obviously."
Then, softer, more teasing:
"I wish I were a middle child like you. Must be nice prancing around wherever you want."
Ryn actually chuckled under his breath. "I don't prance."
"You do a little."
He shook his head, but his smile lingered.
Amelia's expression softened again, the playful jealousy giving way to something warm.
"Still," she murmured, "if you're going to be in Raias too… it makes all of this feel less overwhelming."
Amelia's voice lingered in the cool air, quieter than before.
She watched him for a moment, her expression thoughtful… then just a little hesitant.
"Ryn," she said softly, "the reason you're going to Lumen… is it because of your past life?"
He avoided eye contact, simply breathing out slowly, and nodded.
"I thought so," she murmured.
Ryn huffed a tiny, quiet laugh. "Is that so?"
"Mhm." She tapped his shoulder lightly.
"It's the face you had when you talked about the hellhound incident. When you warned me about Scorpio. And… now."
He didn't deny it.
Because she was right.
And because it felt strangely relieving, being seen without having to explain everything.
Amelia gave him a small, gentle smile. "Then I won't ask for details. Just…" Her voice softened again.
"Come back from Lumen, okay? Even if you're there for… reasons only you'd understand."
Ryn swallowed, the promise forming before he even spoke.
"I will."
Amelia's shoulder rested lightly against Ryn's, the space between them shrinking with every quiet breath.
She didn't move away this time.
If anything… she leaned closer.
Ryn felt the warmth of her hair brushing his cheek. His pulse quickened, a slow, unavoidable pull drawing them together.
Amelia's eyes lifted to meet his.
"The festival tomorrow," she whispered, voice barely a breath. "Just us?"
Ryn swallowed.
"Just us."
The words hung there, gentle and fragile.
She tilted her face up.
Ryn leaned in without thinking—closer, closer—until her breath mingled with his, their lips only a heartbeat apart.
And then—
A thunderous voice shattered the night:
"NO PROFANITY BEFORE MARRIAGE!!!"
Both of them jolted like they'd been struck by lightning.
Ryn whipped around. Amelia went rigid.
"YOUNG LADY!" he boomed, pointing dramatically at Amelia. "THERE WILL BE NO INDECENT ACTIVITIES HERE."
Amelia's face turned red, whipping around.
"FATHER!? How long were you— WHY ARE YOU EVEN— WHAT PROFANITY? WE WEREN'T EVEN—"
"I SAW THE LEANING!" he declared, cape rustling proudly. "First leaning becomes hugging, hugging becomes hand-holding, and hand-holding—"
He clutched his chest as if suffering a moral attack.
"—becomes scandal!"
Ryn blinked.
"…Hand-holding is scandal?"
Amelia covered her face, groaning loudly. "I want to disappear."
Ryn gently cleared his throat—trying, and failing—not to laugh.
Amelia made a strangled sound. "FATHER, GO HOME!"
"FINE! BUT I'M WATCHING!" He spun around, somehow tripping over a root, and stormed away, trying to preserve his pride.
They both waited for a while before the man fully disappeared into the distance.
Ryn looked at Amelia. Amelia looked at Ryn.
And they burst out laughing, sound filling the peaceful night sky with warmth.