Later, during another audience with the Empress, Lusian was unequivocal: no one would lay a hand on Elizabeth. The Empress supported him without hesitation, granting him the authority he needed. The heralds protested, but this time it was their loss. Lusian did not yield.
When he left the audience chamber, the training grounds were bathed in the reddish light of dusk, and dark mana trembled faintly through the air. Lusian stopped, resting one hand on the hilt of Dainslein. His gaze settled on a figure.
"Duke Lusian Douglas," he said coldly. "I've come to train."
"A practice duel. Nothing more," Lusian replied, hiding the fury burning in his chest.
"I accept," Deidara answered firmly. Yet inwardly she felt confident—facing Lusian without his magical beasts would surely be an easy victory.
When the duel began, Deidara moved first. With a fluid gesture, she unleashed a torrent of mana that split the earth around her. Lusian evaded it with lethal precision, anticipating every pattern, every shift in the flow of power. He had no intention of injuring her, but every movement reminded her of his skill and control.
"Interesting," Deidara murmured, surprised. "It's almost as if… you already know where every attack will land."
"Luck," Lusian replied, his eyes fixed on her. "I just want more experience."
Deidara raised both hands, forming circles of dark mana beneath her feet. The energy surged upward, descending again as towering columns of shadow capable of shattering the ground.
Lusian moved between them with perfect steps and flawless reflexes. Every time an attack nearly touched him, he countered with minimal but decisive motion.
A single punch to Deidara's stomach made her stagger.
Then Lusian appeared in front of her.
He seized her head and slammed it into the ground with a force that sent a shock through everyone watching.
"Deidara," Lusian said quietly, his voice heavy with resolve. "The next time you approach Elizabeth… you will die. Consider this a reminder."
Deidara rose slowly, breathing hard. Blood ran down her forehead, and her eyes shone with a mixture of fear and frustration. She had to admit it.
Lusian was not just strong.
He was relentless. Calculating. Terrifying.
Lusian sheathed his sword, dark mana still vibrating faintly around him. The message was unmistakable: no one would stand between him and Elizabeth.
The training field fell silent. Only the wind moved the sand and the long shadows of two warriors who had measured one another without spilling blood—leaving behind a quiet respect and an unforgettable reminder of limits and power.
Days passed after that explosion of demonic mana, but the palace had not returned to normal. The corridors were filled with tense silence, broken only by the hurried steps of servants moving cautiously, avoiding the princess's chamber. Whenever Elizabeth appeared, gazes turned away and whispers spread like wildfire among the staff.
"They say she was possessed…" one maid whispered while folding laundry, glancing nervously toward the closed door.
"I'm not going anywhere near that curse," another replied, her voice trembling.
Even the heralds, who had once shown the princess respect, now kept a careful distance, as though her presence alone might awaken the dark power that had once filled the room with thunder and fear.
Elizabeth walked the palace corridors alone, aware of the evasive looks. Her laughter no longer carried the same lightness. Her steps felt heavy, as though the air itself rejected her.
Lusian always remained close, his presence a steady shadow protecting her from the unease of others and the murmurs surrounding her.
"How can anyone stay calm after what we saw?" one servant muttered under his breath.
"I don't know…" another whispered. "But I'd rather keep my distance."
Whenever Elizabeth passed, servants stepped aside, bowed their heads, murmured prayers, and looked at the floor. It was as though collective fear had left an invisible scar, and she moved through the palace like a queen marked by a power no one yet understood.
Only Lusian and Emily seemed immune to that distance, acting as anchors in a world that now feared even its own princess.
And though the whispers continued, Elizabeth clung to one certainty: she was not alone. As long as Lusian stood beside her, no rumor or superstition could truly reach her.
Lusian, however, was furious.
He understood why people feared Elizabeth—but understanding it did nothing to lessen his anger. The silent rejection gnawed at him.
That night he could not sleep. He remained seated in the darkness, memories of the game drifting through his mind like fragments of another life. He searched for an alternative. A way out.
A cure.
And then he remembered.
Deep in the heart of the forest, under the protection of the Mother Tree, there grew a fruit capable of purifying any corruption. In the game it had been nearly impossible to obtain; reaching the forest's center meant crossing territory that even the most experienced heroes had failed to conquer without dying again and again.
But here, there would be no second chances.
Even so, if there was a possibility—no matter how small—he would take it.
No matter the cost.
Because if the world rejected Elizabeth… he would not.
The night camp breathed tension. The wind carried the scent of iron and damp leaves when Lusian entered the command tent, where Albert waited standing, without his cloak, as if worry weighed more heavily on him than the cold.
"You're going to the forest," Albert said.
It was not a question.
"Yes."
Albert clasped his hands behind his back.
"With only a small detachment… it's suicide. Let me accompany you. I know your limits better than anyone."
Lusian held his gaze.
"That's precisely why you can't come." His voice was calm, but his words allowed no argument. "The forest does not tolerate human presence. A squad would be detected. A troop… would be devoured."
He paused briefly. Just a crack in his resolve.
"I'll go alone… with Elizabeth and Thunder. No one else."
Albert muttered quietly,
"Allow me to accompany you, my lord."
"No. I need you to remain in command of the army and represent me while I'm gone."
The old man sighed. For the first time since serving as Lusian's tutor, he seemed to age in a single gesture.
"I cannot let you go… if something were to happen to you, I…"
Lusian stepped closer and placed a hand on the old man's shoulder.
"Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll move only at night. Thunder will be with me. If it becomes too dangerous… I'll run."
Albert lowered his head, like a general kneeling before his lord.
"So be it, my lord… please, be very careful."