Raindrops beat against the roof of Rosovis Palace in a monotonous rhythm, while the outer courtyard appeared deserted and cold after having, not long ago, been brimming with life and noise.
Lima leaned against the arched entrance, watching the dark horizon.
She exhaled deeply, and her pink, woolly ears drooped slightly as a sign of fatigue.
She murmured as she closed the heavy door behind her, "Unfortunately, the party is over…"
Inside, the grand event hall had turned into a warm shelter; improvised curtains divided it into two halves—one wing for men, and the other for women and children.
"Any sign that the rain might stop, Lady Lima?" asked the maid Hota, the Cebuan-cow, as she approached Lima, the steady sound of her hooves echoing across the marble floor.
Lima replied briefly, "Doesn't seem so," then headed toward the group of women gathered around the fireplace, with Hota following her in silence.
There, Rofa—the Goblhum with long sky-blue hair—sat beside Jumana.
Rofa had decided to stay the night with the caravan in appreciation of her new friendship with Jumana.
Nearby, Imenata and Lina exchanged light conversation in low voices.
Meanwhile, Little Sofia was fast asleep in Zofia's arms, while Zofia gently ran her fingers through her hair.
Only Sonia seemed unsettled; she sat fidgeting with her skirt, her rabbit-like ears trembling with every roar of the wind outside.
The moment she spotted Lima, she rushed toward her anxiously.
"Brother Boris, and Leo and Lia… they're still outside, Lady Lima! My brother said he'd check the perimeter, but the storm got worse…"
Lima patted Sonia's head, stroking her fur reassuringly. "My knight, Guerreiro, is also outside. If there's one thing I trust, it's that man's ability to protect everyone."
Imenata chuckled lightly from her seat.
"You're the only one worrying, Little Sonia. Those three form an entire military unit on their own. They're more than capable of taking care of themselves."
On the other side of the curtain, the atmosphere was different.
Anton was deeply focused on cleaning his nunchaku chain.
Jon lay stretched out on his bed, covering his missing eye with his arm, trying—without success—to fall asleep.
Tamer stared silently out the window.
As for Ethan, he had reached the breaking point of boredom.
Lying on his back, he watched the wooden ceiling, unsuccessfully trying to count the sounds of raindrops striking the palace.
Beside him was Takashi… or what remained of him.
He lay there with his mouth slightly open, his chest rising and falling heavily, like a lifeless corpse.
He had completely drained his energy through training—copying, failing, succeeding, then collapsing.
Ethan glanced at him from the corner of his eye and thought sarcastically:
Wow… the potential hero taken down by a pillow! Try a little harder, man. I'm dying here—from boredom.
As usual, when the void grew too loud, Ethan's mind fled into absurdity:
*If a monster attacked right now, would Takashi wake up and defeat it in his sleep? Maybe he'd move on reflex, punch the pillow, then seriously apologize: "Sorry, Miss Pillow, I didn't mean to use my stolen secret technique on you!"*
Ethan barely managed to stifle his laughter, but his attention snapped to the sound of the front door.
The door opened quietly, letting in a cold gust heavy with the scent of rain before closing again. A figure appeared, soaked in water and mud, with calm silver eyes piercing the darkness.
It was Boris, holding Leo's hand in one and Lia's in the other. One step behind them stood Guerreiro, water dripping from his orange hair.
No one waited for words. Sonia tore herself away from Lima like an arrow and leapt forward, burying her face in Boris's wet chest as she cried, "Brother Boris!"
Boris froze for a moment, then gently stroked her head. "I'm here… I didn't go far."
She clung to him, murmuring, "I was scared of the rain… and you were gone for so long…"
Meanwhile, Guerreiro approached Lima and said curtly, "Finished."
Lima lightly patted his shoulder. "Well done. Thank you for your hard work."
Guerreiro nodded. "I'll remain at the entrance tonight on guard."
Lima smiled teasingly. "Good luck, Sir Knight."
On the other side, Boris gently tried to pull Sonia away. "Sonia… I'm covered in mud and rain. You'll dirty your clothes."
Sonia noticed the mud on herself but didn't care much. Lima intervened, "Mr. Boris, you may use the upper bathroom. And Miss. Sonia, you can take Lia to the lower one."
"Yes, Sonia, take Lia with you," Boris said, thanking Lima with a dignified nod, his hand placed over his chest, before heading toward the stairs.
In his mind, the conversation with his companions continued:
Sorry for having to wake you up from the forest. There was no other option with Sir Guerreiro around.
The mental replies came instantly from Lia and Leo, respectively:
*No problem.* *It's fine.*
In a dark corner, Saty silently watched Boris's retreating back, his fists clenched tightly, his eyes never leaving him…
***
As the hours passed, Rosovis Palace sank into complete silence.
The lights went out, and the caravan members fell into deep sleep—except for one individual who didn't seem likely to sleep anytime soon.
Boris stood alone before the large window, watching the world drowned in darkness and rain.
After making sure everyone was asleep, Leo and Lia returned inside him, their voices echoing only in his mind.
*Dad… try to sleep again. I'll stay by your side and drive the nightmares away with my encryption…* Lia whispered in his consciousness, her tone cold yet gentle.
A faint smile formed on Boris's lips, and he replied with hidden bitterness:
*It's no use, Lia… it doesn't stop. The tension caused by Lazy Dysesthesia and Sansai makes it impossible. I can't get more than two hours of sleep at best.*
Silence settled over Lia; she found no words to add, knowing how true his statement was.
Sensing her worry, Boris reassured her:
*Don't worry. I've gotten used to this. Besides, I can now reach a state of relaxation similar to sleep, as you know, so I don't suffer from a lack of energy.*
At that point, Leo intervened, his voice charged with frustration: *Dad… isn't there a fundamental solution to this torment?*
Boris sighed deeply, staring at his reflection in the dark glass of the window:
*It's fine… this is the least I can bear as the price for the souls that fell by my hand—*
*It's not just the nightmares!* Leo interrupted with a suppressed shout.
*I'm talking about the cursed traitums that torture you! How can you endure all of this?*
Boris fell silent. Heavy quiet filled the space, broken only by the rain outside.
Then, very slowly, that light, captivating smile he was known for appeared on his face.
*Thank the Creator for you two…* he said with sincere gratitude from the depths of his heart.
*You are the best thing that has happened to me since I left my village. Thank you for your constant support. I truly feel you are more than I deserve. Leo… Lia… thank you for being with me.*
Silence returned once more, until it was broken by soft footsteps approaching.
"Can't sleep, Lad. Boris?" Zofia's voice came from behind him, calm and warm.
Boris didn't turn. He resumed his neutral expression and replied simply, "Just a few moments and I'll return to sleep. You should rest too—we move again tomorrow."
Zofia stepped closer, stopping at a short distance, watching the ropes of rain pouring down the glass.
"Yes, but I'm worried… if the rain doesn't stop, we might have to delay, and I'm really afraid I'll be late for the entrance exam…" she murmured the last part softly.
Boris replied logically, "I don't think the rain will last until tomorrow. That's how the warm season is—just scattered, rare showers."
"I hope so…" She placed a hand on her chest, tilted her head toward him with closed eyes, and said, "Anyway, I'm heading to Atre Academy in the capital… and you're going there too, aren't you?"
Boris glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "And why do you think that?"
"Just a hunch," she answered with a mysterious smile.
"Just a hunch?" he repeated calmly, then added, "Or are you certain because of the necklace you're hiding under your shirt?"
Zofia stiffened and stammered, "No… that's… that's not—"
He cut her off, "You're completely transparent. Don't leak information like that casually—it could put you in great danger."
She froze, then exhaled in resignation. "Yes… you knew because of my necklace. It carries an Acquired TRAITUM…"
"You don't need to explain," Boris interrupted again. "You should keep your traitums as secret as possible."
Zofia looked at him intently and said, "You really are a good person, Lad. Boris, aren't you?"
A heavy silence fell.
Boris analyzed the situation with growing irritation, his thoughts unfolding quietly: *She revealed her traitum just to see if I'm a good person? No… impossible.*
His thoughts tangled further: *She deliberately told me about her destination—Atre Academy. Maybe she was expecting a certain reaction, or wanted me to start thinking about something… maybe to see if my destination is the same as hers…*
Lia's cold voice interjected in his mind: *Dad, maybe her traitum has nothing to do with that necklace at all. Maybe her ability involves reading people or detecting intentions, and the necklace is just a decoy to mislead you… or maybe it's simply foolishness. There are many possibilities.*
Boris replied briefly, *Perhaps…*
"Lad Boris? Are you alright? You went quiet for a moment," Zofia said, her face showing slight but genuine concern.
Boris sighed, trying to regain his composure. "No, it's nothing—"
A massive impact suddenly thundered from outside.
The palace walls shook, and sounds rose from those who had been sleeping.
"What… what was that?!" Zofia murmured, stepping back anxiously.
Boris didn't wait for explanations. His instincts flared instantly.
He rushed toward the entrance and found Guerreiro standing there, his body taut and ready, eyes fixed on the door with extreme caution.
"Sir Guerreiro, stay here for any emergency. I'll go check the area," Boris ordered—his tone commanding, unlike his usual calm demeanor.
He opened the door and plunged into the rain and darkness. Guerreiro answered only with a silent nod, remaining on guard.
***
While silence still covered the palace, an unknown figure walked the streets of Rose Village.
Amid the cold drizzle, the figure moved cloaked in black, a hood hiding their features.
Their steps were precise—no wasted motion, no hesitation—as they advanced toward a clear objective.
They stopped before a heavy wooden door, clearly carved with the words: "Rose Village Local Prison."
"Hey! You there! What are you doing here at this hour?" The guard on duty placed a hand on the stranger's shoulder to question them—but that was his last mistake.
In less than a blink, a thread of blood shot out from beneath the cloak, faster than any reaction a simple guard could muster.
In a split second, the guard's brain was torn apart, his skull shattered into small fragments. Gray matter mixed with blood, splattering the muddy, rain-soaked street.
Without batting an eye, the stranger proceeded and quietly opened the prison door.
Inside, the office sign read clearly: "Prison Guard: Jalaj, the Son of Jamama."
The elderly guard was sunk in deep sleep from the day's exhaustion.
A torrent of blood erupted from the stranger, severing Guard Jalaj's head from his body in a single, clean strike.
Blood sprayed from the arteries of his neck, staining papers and walls crimson as the stranger advanced toward the basement cells.
Along the dark corridor, the stranger never stopped walking.
Threads of blood moved independently, killing everyone in the cells in cold blood—muffled screams unheard behind stone walls.
At last, the stranger reached the wide room at the corridor's end.
There, Darmon hung unconscious, his body shattered from the previous beating by Guerreiro.
The stranger slowly pulled back the hood, revealing pale features, wrinkled skin, and light blue hair.
"How pathetic you are, Darmon," Sior muttered in an icy, merciless tone as he looked at his broken former ally.
"You must die. You're no longer useful after losing your men in the forest. Let it end here."
Sior coldly raised his hand, forming a sharp crimson blood spear aimed straight at Darmon's heart.
At that instant, danger surged behind him. His instincts forced him to turn immediately.
He barely managed to block a Kora-coated sword strike that would have split him in half, using a thread of blood driven by Kora.
The attacker was Roden, the Goblhum guard with long black hair and red eyes—eyes now overflowing with tears and rage.
"You bastard! You killed Kilf and Grandpa Jalaj!" Roden shouted, his voice choked with pain.
Sior remained silent. With a violent blood strike, he hurled Roden toward the stone stairs, then redirected his attack to pierce Darmon's heart once more.
But Roden didn't give him the chance. He surged back with explosive force, charging Sior in a frenzy and blocking his path.
"Damn it!" Sior hissed as Roden's arms locked around his neck from behind in a crushing hold.
Sior immediately countered, firing sharp blood threads from his back that pierced Roden's abdomen and burst out through his back.
A muffled groan escaped Roden from the horrific pain, yet he refused to let go—tightening his grip even more.
Sior tried to shred Roden's body with blood threads, but the Goblhum's Kora-reinforced physique held terrifyingly firm, suffering only shallow cuts.
"I don't know why you want to kill this criminal, but I won't let you do what you want!" Roden growled, crushing Sior's neck with all his strength.
Sior's vision blurred as darkness crept in. Desperation filled his thoughts:
*My body is weaker than his… I can't match him physically… If only it were mid-month! Damn it!*
He tried to increase the Kora charge in his body, but it was useless against Roden's overwhelming strength.
*I have to use the TRAITUM to escape… now!*
Sior summoned a small black staff from nothingness and moved it through a sequence of motions in the air—then—
A deafening explosion erupted!
Stones flew, the prison shook, and the blast hurled both Roden and Sior through the stairway and out into the rain-soaked street.
Amid choking smoke and dust, Sior staggered, pressing a hand to his bleeding wounds.
He cast one last, fleeting glance at Roden lying in the mud, then gathered his remaining strength and fled into the dark forest, leaving behind only a faint trail of blood quickly erased by the rain.
Seconds later, Boris arrived at the heart of the massacre.
He froze, his features rigid before a scene beyond description.
The wreckage wasn't just the remains of a destroyed prison and two adjacent houses—it was…
The blood of guards and innocent civilians stained the ruins a deep crimson, the rain washing over it in vain.
Boris's gaze stopped on the mutilated head of the old man lying in the road, then on the guard's body reduced to scattered pieces.
At that moment, a terrifying transformation overtook his expression. His pupils and irises constricted, his eyes widening in fury.
His fists clenched until the bones of his knuckles nearly tore through his skin, his teeth grinding audibly without his control.
His eyes fell upon Roden, who was drawing his last breaths in the mud.
*Lia… treat him.* Boris whispered in a voice devoid of life.
A brilliant glow burst from his body, and Lia materialized in her full physical form.
She knelt beside Roden, her hands and mouth moving at astonishing speed, whispering complex encryptions to the invisible Kona.
It was a miraculous sight.
Torn tissues and scattered organs in Roden's abdomen began to merge and return to place in a logical, vital order—cell by cell.
Roden opened his eyes with difficulty, seeing Lia before him, then turning to Boris…
Those silver eyes were terrifying—narrowed, locked in feral focus.
Roden weakly pointed toward the forest. "He… fled that way… the bastard who killed them…"
Boris looked toward the alley, then swept his gaze once more over the bloodstained homes of the innocent.
"Lia, stay with him," he said in a low voice, sharp as a blade.
Without another word, Boris shot after Sior like lightning—running with an expression that held something more terrifying than death itself.
*Dad…* Leo murmured deep within Boris...
He feel helpless and furious with himself...
Being unable to calm the raging storm inside his Dad.