[ Present ]
In front of Arthur, a girl with golden hair and ember eyes stood in the middle of the ruined clearing.
Her beauty drew the eye without trying. Soft golden hair, inherited from Sylvia Evan Imperius, fell in loose waves to her shoulders, catching the light slipping through the canopy. Her face was refined yet sharp—a straight nose, thin lips, and a stubborn jaw.
Even with dust on her cheeks and faint blood on her clothes from earlier fights, she looked like a noble painting that had wandered onto a battlefield.
In her right hand, she held a sword.
The blade glowed faintly along its edge, mana humming through the metal in a thin, controlled layer. It sat in her grip as naturally as if she had been born with it.
Arina Evan Imperius.
She stared straight at the black-haired boy in front of her.
