The Grand Imperial Palace was a dazzling spectacle of gold, crystal, and heavy velvet. The Imperial Winter Gala was in full swing, dual-purposed as a lavish celebration and a solemn send-off for the journeying holy knights, imperial soldiers, and the Elite Order heading to the frozen northern border.
At the center of the hall, the atmosphere was thick with divine solemnity. Sir Lucien Arden stood fully armed in a breathtaking suit of high-end, silver-and-white plate armor—a personal gift forged by the Emperor's master blacksmiths. His usually let-down silver hair had been also tidied up, looking like one of the highest nobles in the room. He was unusually breathtaking.
With a crisp metallic echo, Lucien knelt on one knee, digging the tip of his legendary holy sword into the polished marble floor before him. His head was bowed respectfully as the Emperor's grand herald read the royal decree for the expedition to annihilate the continent's enemies.
Yet, while his posture was a flawless monument of knightly obedience, Lucien's mind and heightened senses were completely elsewhere.
Specifically, across the room.
There, entirely unbothered by the heavy military atmosphere, sat Prince Cassian.
Cassian was openly, shamelessly overjoyed. He was practically drowning himself in the finest vintage wines and exquisite delicacies of the banquet table, a lazy, radiant smile plastering his face. Next to him sat his younger half-brother, Leo. The two were stuck together like a pair of well-tailored gloves.
Those watching the display were trapped in a state of utter disbelief. Cassian wasn't just tolerating the concubine's son—he was endlessly smothering him with attention, pouring him sweet juices, and openly supporting Leo in front of the entire assembly of high-ranking vipers.
From the upper dais, Crown Prince Adrian's jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white around his golden goblet. He was thoroughly ticked off.
But what enraged Adrian the most was Leo himself. The boy was no longer the small, timid, shaking shadow who hid in corners. Trained ruthlessly by Cassian in modern confidence and flawless royal etiquette, Leo stood tall, exuding an undeniable, magnetic poise. He was beyond handsome and charming, speaking with a sophisticated, melodic cadence that had several high-ranking duchesses whispering in admiration.
"My older brother Cassian is truly the most brilliant mind in the empire," Leo was currently telling a group of captivated ministers, his eyes shining with pure, unadulterated adoration. "His guidance is the only reason I stand here today. I owe him everything."
"Indeed," one of the ministers murmured, casting a wary look toward Cassian.
"And the boy's mana fluctuations... he is remarkably well-adept for his age, he sure is taking after his highness the second prince very well."
Hearing the praises, Leo's birth mother—the King's third concubine, a woman of low-born origin who had spent years weeping in isolation—wiped a tear of immense pride from her eye.
The brothers were well dressed, with hair pushed back and undeniably looking neat. Cassian and Leo casually strolled around the ballroom to offer standard greetings to the nobility, they eventually looped back to the royal family's elevated seating. They approached the Emperor, the stern Queen Cassian's mother, and the array of imperial concubines.
The surrounding crowd held its collective breath, fully expecting the notoriously volatile, pure-blooded Cassian to cause a humilating scene or throw a tantrum at the sight of his father's mistresses. Instead, they were treated to a display of absolute, dizzying charm.
Cassian offered a smooth, elegant, and perfectly respectful light bow. He greeted each of the concubines genuinely, his crimson eyes softening into an affectionate, sleepy warmth. He stepped forward, gently taking their trembling hands one by one, and pressed a polite, chivalrous kiss against their knuckles, offering endless, smooth compliments.
"Lady Aria, your grace this evening completely eclipses the northern stars," Cassian murmured to a blushing concubine, his voice a low, velvety purr. "Father is truly the most fortunate man in the cosmos to be surrounded by such breathtaking beauty."
The concubines gasped softly, their fans instantly fluttering to hide their deeply flushed faces. They greatly appreciated his sudden, overwhelming charm, and the heavy tension in their corner of the room instantly melted into lively, giggling conversation.
Meanwhile, inside Cassian's modern, sleep-deprived brain, a completely different internal monologue was running wild.
'Wow... My supposed father's taste is absolutely immaculate,' Cassian thought, blinking his heavy eyes as he looked at the stunning women.
'Would taking my father's concubines as my own be considered a capital offense in this empire? They are so incredibly charming and nice. Compared to the noble vipers who used to be in my class, these ladies are absolute angels. I should come visit their palace wings more often. Maybe they have better snacks too....or even more."
From his kneeling position across the hall, Lucien's fist hardened around the hilt of his sword, a terrifyingly dark aura rippling off his armored shoulders. He watched Cassian flirt shamelessly with the imperial court, his ice-blue eyes narrowing into slits of pure irritation.
'Look at him... playing the charming prince, seducing the court, twisting everyone around his finger just as usual,' Lucien thought, his teeth grinding together so hard they audibly creaked.
'I will return from the north... and when I do, I will tear that cunning mask of yours to pieces and reveal to the whole world exactly who you truly are, Cassian Valemont.'
"Let us all offer prayers to our chivalrous soldiers," a booming, resonant voice interrupted the festivities.
The High Pope of the Holy Church stepped forward, raising a golden scepter. He began reciting a deep, melodic chant, invoking the blessings of the heavens to grant Lucien and his men victory over the shadow beasts.
As the final notes of the chant faded, the Pope turned toward the royal dais.
"Now... let us call for the one of pure royal blood to offer the sacred anointing to our courageous knights."
A low murmur rippled through the hall. The anointing task was a sacred tradition, a ritual that could only be performed by a member of the imperial family who was highly blessed with latent divinity and pure royal blood. Furthermore, the tradition dictated the task be done by an unmarried, pure-blooded imperial child whose innocence was intact.
If Leo wasn't a half-blood born from a low-born concubine, he would have been the one chosen as the youngest prince. But under the strict, elitist rules of the Edrath Empire, his blood was deemed impure. The task was strictly left to either the Crown Prince or Prince Cassian.
Cassian took a slow sip of his high-tier wine, scoffing quietly into his glass. 'How incredibly annoying,' he thought, his modern sensibilities thoroughly grossed out by the discrimination.
'Leo is still a royal prince with the exact same Valemont blood pumping through his veins. Just because his mother didn't have a fancy title, how does that magically get in the way of his lineage? These medieval politics are a total hassle.'
Before Cassian could finish his drink, the Emperor's heavy, crackling voice cut through the silence of the room.
"Cassian Valemont."
The entire ballroom froze. Cassian violently short-circuited, nearly choking on his mouthful of wine. He coughed subtly, wiping his chin with a silk handkerchief. 'Wait... me?'
"Bless our courageous knights with the holy anointing," the Emperor commanded, his gaze unyielding.
"But Father!—" Adrian instantly took an aggressive step forward, his face twisting with shock and jealousy. The anointing was a massive political honor, usually reserved for the heir to the throne.
But before Adrian could launch into a formal protest, Cassian's fast, spiteful reflexes completely cut him short, utterly overshadowing him. Cassian smoothly bowed toward his majesty, a lazy, mocking smirk playing on his lips as he stepped forward to accept the honor.
'Oh, I am absolutely doing this,' Cassian cackled internally, casting a venomous, triumphant glance at Adrian's furious face.
'I don't give a damn about the holy oil, but seeing Adrian look like he just swallowed a lemon is worth every single second of this hassle.'
Cassian stepped down from the royal dais, approaching the silver altar where the Saints of the Holy Church held a crystalline chalice filled with sacred anointing oil.
Up in the front row, Adrian managed to master his expression, settling into a cruel, expectant grin.
'Go ahead, Cassian,' Adrian thought viciously. 'Let the whole world see your true colors. The anointing oil reacts directly to the caster's latent divinity. Let him embarrass himself in front of the entire empire when his prayer shows absolutely no response from the heavens.'
Cassian stood before the altar, staring down at the glowing liquid.
'That's probably exactly what my dear, idiot brother Adrian is thinking right now,' Cassian's internally scoffed.
'Oh, Cassian has no divinity, he's going to fail.... But that bastard doesn't know one crucial thing: I've lived in this godforsaken world for more than fifty years across fourteen different loops. I've seen it all, and I've learned it all.' Cassian closed his eyes, a faint, secret smile gracing his lips as a sudden wave of bittersweet nostalgia hit his chest. 'In my twelfth turn... when I gave up on everything and eloped with that kind commoner girl... we had a beautiful last-born daughter named Rose out of five children. Rose had a rare affinity for both standard magic and holy magic. I spent years researching alongside her, teaching her the ways of the world, and that's when I discovered a secret, holy magic isn't some mystical, exclusive gift from a biased goddess. It's just a standard magic attribute. A normal mana with healing aspects, tuned to a ridiculously high, bright, and flashy frequency.'
'Haa... suddenly I really miss my little Rose.' Cassian's smile vanished, replaced by a look of profound, solemn focus. He dipped his fingers into the glowing oil and began chanting the ancient prayer of the ointment.
At first, a subtle, soft golden glow began to radiate around his hands and the crystal chalice. But it didn't stop there.
Cassian precisely dialed his Fourth-Circle mana core, forcing his massive reservoir of energy to vibrate at the exact, blindingly bright frequency of holy light. Suddenly, a colossal wave of radiant, golden power surged outward. The light crawled up Cassian's pale arms, swirling in magnificent, intricate bands before completely enveloping his entire body in a majestic, blinding aura of pure divinity.
The prayer grew louder, Cassian's voice ringing with an ancient, undeniable authority.
The entire ballroom fell into a terrifyingly silent, breathless awe. The ambient holy mana grew so dense that it began to ripple across every single breathing being in the room. The golden glow filled the eyes of the nobles, and a profound, supernatural warmth sank deep into their flesh. Old war wounds began to tingle; chronic illnesses suddenly felt refreshed and renewed. Several elderly ministers fell to their knees, weeping softly at the sudden, miraculous healing energy filling the air.
Silent gasps echoed through the hall, no one daring to disturb the prince's magnificent prayer.
Lucien was in absolute, unadulterated disbelief. His heart hammered violently against his silver chest plate, his mind completely reeling as the sheer, suffocating weight of the prince's divinity washed over him.
'This–... this is impossible! How can a corrupted, dark mastermind command a holy blessing of this magnitude?!'
Just as the final words of the prayer concluded, Cassian abruptly cut the flow of his mana. The massive, blinding holy power violently surged back into his body, snapping inward like a rubber band.
And in that split-second of sudden retraction, Cassian opened his eyes.
Because Lucien was a peak swordmaster with superhumanly heightened, hyper-focused senses, and because he was staring directly into Cassian's face from a few feet away... he saw it.
It was faint, fleeting, but terrifyingly clear. Beneath the disappearing golden light, a dark, sweltering, and shadowy violet vapor flickered across Cassian's crimson pupils.
'Dark mana.'
Lucien's fists violently clenched at his sides, his breath hitching in his throat.
'Haa–...in the end I was too late to save him. His dark mana has awakened after all.'
'And now he is truly a dark mage! He just let out a ridiculously bright, flashy burst of simulated holy magic to completely blind the crowd and distract everyone from the shadowy corruption hiding in his core!'
But as Lucien looked around the room, seeing the weeping, worshipful faces of the bishops, the concubines, and even the Emperor, a cold, bitter reality slammed into his chest.
'That sly, cunning prince...' Lucien realized, his jaw tightening in absolute frustration.
'He did this on purpose, he knew that by using holy magic that rivals the dark magic, the residues of his dark mana could show hence he made the holy spell bright and flashy...And even if I try to expose him right now, I am the only one who saw it. After a miraculous display like this, absolutely no one in the entire empire would ever believe me. They would crucify me for high treason before they ever questioned him. He has thoroughly neutralized me.'
"Be blessed on your journey, Sir Arden,"
Cassian murmured smoothly, stepping closer to the kneeling knight. He reached out, his soft, oil-slicked fingers gently tapping Lucien's silver forehead to finalize the anointing blessing.
But as he did, Cassian found himself locking eyes directly with Lucien's ice-blue gaze. The knight wasn't looking at him with reverence; he was glaring up at him with a lethal, unyielding, and terrifyingly obsessive intensity.
'You sly, vicious monster,' Lucien's eyes practically spoke, a dangerous, silent promise burning within them.
'Enjoy your little victory while I am gone. I will survive the northern wastes, I will return, and I will tear your dark secrets right out of your throat.'
Cassian's internal poker face instantly crumbled. A massive, cold shiver raced straight down his spine, and his modern soul let out a frantic, terrified shriek.
'OH MY GOD, LOOK AWAY!' Cassian's internal voice panicked, his knees turning to jelly beneath his royal tunic.
'Look away, you absolute psycho! Why is he staring at me like that?! Did I overdo the light?! Is he going to murder me right here in front of the Pope?! What is happening inside that massive, righteous head of his?!'
Cassian felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, a sharp, nervous ache radiating down his spine. He quickly pulled his hand away, aggressively turning on his heel to move to the next knight in line.
'Damnit, let's hurry this ritual up!' Cassian screamed internally, his heart hammering in pure desperation.
'Pack your bags and get the hell out of my country, Lucien! I need you gone immediately so I can go home!'
*****
At The Palace East Wing Gallery 1:00 AM.
The roaring music and heavy chatter of the main banquet hall faded into a dull, echoing hum as Cassian slipped out onto the secluded marble balcony of the East Wing. He desperately needed to escape the suffocating clouds of perfume and aristocratic sycophancy.
He leaned against the cold stone railing, completely exhausting his remaining social battery. In his left hand, he held an almost empty crystal decanter of 180-proof, highly concentrated Elven fire-wine—a beverage so potent that regular humans used it in small drops, but Cassian was aggressively swigging it like cheap juice to cope with his existential dread.
'I survived the gala. I survived the holy magic scam,' Cassian thought, his vision slightly swimming as the heavy alcohol began to aggressively hit his system. 'Adrian's face was priceless. Leo looked great. Lucien is leaving at dawn. Everything is coming up well Kagen.'
"Do you truly think a single flashy parlor trick changes what you are, Cassian?"
Cassian didn't even have to turn around to recognize the dripping, venomous voice. He slowly pivoted, blinking his heavy, slightly glazed crimson eyes.
Crown Prince Adrian stepped out from behind a massive marble pillar, his face twisted in a mask of absolute, unhinged fury. The public humiliation from earlier had stripped away his usual calculating composure. In his right hand, a small, black-iron dagger coated in a shimmering green substance—a high-tier magic-sealing poison—gleamed dangerously under the moonlight.
"You think you're clever, biding your time, training that little concubine rat," Adrian hissed, taking a predatory step forward, raising the blade. "But you're a stain on this bloodline. I should have carved that arrogant heart out of your chest years ago. If I cut you down right here, I can easily claim you attacked me in a drunken rage. Nobody will question the Crown Prince."
Cassian stared blankly at the lethal, poisoned dagger, his alcohol-soaked modern brain entirely failing to generate any actual fear.
'Oh, great. A classic hallway ambush,'
Caasian thought, taking another slow, sluggish sip directly from his wine decanter. 'Bro, I am too drunk for this monologue. If you're going to stab me, just do it so I can respawn on Earth. I have a 9:00 AM routine to watch anime I can't miss.'
Before Adrian could plunge the blade forward, a terrifying, sonic boom of pressurized air tore through the gallery.
*SHING—!*
The brilliant, blinding white steel of a holy broadsword descended from the shadows like a falling meteor. With absolute, pinpoint precision, the massive blade slammed directly between the two princes, embedding itself deeply into the solid marble floor. The sheer force of the impact created a shockwave that violently shattered the nearby stained-glass windows, sending a storm of colorful shards raining down around them. Now everyone's focus inside the ball was pulled to the East wing of the palace.
Adrian gasped, his boots skidding backward in terror as the tip of the holy sword rested mere millimeters from his throat.
Standing behind the hilt, looking like a literal god of war bathed in the silver moonlight, was Sir Lucien Arden. His high-end armor gleamed with a terrifying, suffocating holy aura. His ice-blue eyes were locked onto Adrian with a gaze of pure, murderous intent.
"Step back from the prince, Your Highness," Lucien's voice vibrated with a dangerous, controlled rage that made the entire balcony tremble. "My vow to protect Prince Cassian extends to anyone who threatens his life. Even the heir to the throne. Drop the blade... or I will consider this an act of high treason and execute you where you stand."
Adrian's face went entirely pale, his heart violently hammering against his ribs. He looked at the giant, hyper-intense Swordmaster, then at the shattered marble at his feet. He realized he stood zero chance against the realm's greatest hero.
Without a word, Adrian made a sharp 180-degree turn, dropping his poisoned dagger onto the floor as he scrambled backward. He literally took a 10-second dash, sprinting down the hallway in a blind, panicked run, his royal cloak flapping wildly behind him as he abandoned the scene entirely.
Cassian blinked, staring at the empty hallway, then slowly turned his gaze back to Lucien, who was smoothly pulling his heavy sword out of the shattered marble.
'OH MY GOD,' Cassian's thoughts shrieked, the alcohol making his thoughts incredibly loud and uncoordinated.
'Lucien just threatened to decapitate the Crown Prince. For me! Wait... no, no, no! If Adrian tells the Emperor that Lucien defended me, they're going to cancel Lucien's deployment to the north! He'll stay here! He'll never leave! My portal plans are ruined!'
The sheer, crushing despair of losing his ticket home broke Cassian's carefully crafted villain facade completely. Combined with the massive amount of 180-proof wine coursing through his veins, his emotional defenses utterly disintegrated.
He let out a loud, pathetic, and thoroughly undignified whine, slumping his back against the stone railing. He slid down until he was sitting flat on the floor, clutching the wine decanter against his chest like a toddler.
"Why did you do that?!" Caasian wailed, his voice slurring heavily, his default cold, arrogant tone completely replaced by the miserable, pouty rambling of a stressed-out college student.
"You ruined everything! You were supposed to let him stab me, or—or you were supposed to run away! Why are you still here?! Go to the North! Go chop up the shadow monsters! Just get out of my life!"
Lucien violently froze. He slowly sheathed his sword, his brow furrowing in deep, utter bewilderment as he looked down at the black-haired prince. This wasn't the cunning, dangerous mastermind who had crushed Damian Reinhardt or commanded holy light. This was... a completely broken, incredibly intoxicated teenager throwing a heartbroken tantrum.
"Your Highness," Lucien spoke, his voice dropping into a cautious, quiet tone as he stepped closer. "You are heavily intoxicated. The Crown Prince was attempting to assassinate you. I merely fulfilled my vow."
"Fucking forget your vow!" Cassian yelled back, waving his hand aggressively in the air, spilling a few drops of expensive wine onto his gala uniform. He looked up at Lucien, his crimson eyes swimming with tears of pure, drunken frustration.
"You don't get it, you big, shiny, silver boulder! You're suffocating me! Every single day, you're just standing there, breathing my oxygen, looking at me with those creepy, goddamn good looking blue eyes!"
Lucien's breath caught in his throat. His heart skipped a violent beat under his heavy breastplate. 'Good looking...?'
"You're always watching me," Cassian continued to ramble, his lips pouting as he took another messy sip of wine.
"I know why you're doing it. You're just waiting, aren't you? You're just checking the wind resistance, practicing the perfect angle to slice my head clean off my shoulders! You've done it fourteen times, Lucien! Fourteen times! In the garden, in the dungeon, on the battlefield... you always cut my head off!"
Lucien stared down at him, his entire mind experiencing a catastrophic, spiraling meltdown.
'Fourteen times? Slicing his head off? What is he talking about? Is he experiencing dark magic hallucinations... or is he speaking of something far more profound?'
"I don't want to play this stupid game anymore," Cassian sobbed softly, resting his forehead against his knees, his hair now falling over his face.
"I don't want to be the vile prince. I don't want to care about the Dukedoms or the concubines. I just want to go home... I want to watch my anime, I want to scroll through my phone, and I want to eat my instant noodles in peace. I want to go back to the 21st century and strangle my sister for shoving me into this garbage book..."
Cassian's voice trailed off into a soft, exhausted mumble. The heavy alcohol finally won the battle, and his head slumped sideways against the stone pillar, his eyes closing as he fell into a deep, unconscious slumber, still loosely holding the empty crystal decanter.
The balcony fell into a profound, heavy silence, broken only by the whistling night wind.
Lucien stood completely paralyzed under the moonlight. His mind was a chaotic storm of intense suspicion, deep psychological shock, and a sudden, violent surge of raw, possessive emotion.
'Anime? Phone? The 21st century? A book?'
Lucien thought, his hands trembling slightly inside his leather gloves. He slowly knelt down on one knee in front of the sleeping prince, his eyes tracing the soft, vulnerable curve of Cassian's face.
'He speaks as if... as if he belongs to an entirely different world. As if he has lived through countless deaths... deaths caused by my own hand.'
Lucien reached out, his large hand hovering over Cassian's pale, cold cheek before gently resting against his skin. The warmth of the prince's face sent a fierce, burning ache straight through the knight's chest.
'You think I want to kill you, don't you?...is that why you are always on guard towards me?'
Lucien thought, his jaw clenching
'Are you that guilty of wielding dark mana my prince?, Is that why you want to flee to another realm... you want to leave this world entirely because you feel like I might decapitate you for your son's that you even hallucinate about it?'
Lucien slowly leaned in closer, his voice a low, intensely dark whisper against the sleeping prince's ear.
"I don't care what kind of foreign demon or displaced soul you think you are," Lucien whispered, his fingers gently tightening against Cassian's jawline. "And I don't care how many times you try to run. I am going to the North tonight... but I will ride my horse to death to return to your side. You are never leaving this empire, Cassian. And you are never, ever escaping my grasp."
With a fluid, effortless motion, Lucien slid his armored arms beneath Cassian's limp body, lifting the sleeping prince into a secure, protective bridal carry against his chest. He turned and walked back into the castle shadows, determined to lock this beautiful enigma safely away in his bed before the dawn broke.
*****