A deafening boom shook the northern estate.
Elric, who had been reading reports in her study, froze as the sound tore through the halls. The walls quivered, dust falling from the beams above. For a second, her heart stopped. The direction—it came from Kael's wing.
Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood. "Guards! With me—now!"
The armored footsteps followed behind her as she ran down the corridor, the sharp smell of smoke and mana crackling in the air. Her thoughts raced—Reinhardt was supposed to be there. Please, she prayed, let him be protecting them, not—
When she turned the corner, her breath caught in her throat.
Half of the adjoining chamber beside Kael's room was gone—walls reduced to rubble, flames licking at splintered wood. The air was thick with dust and the metallic scent of blood.
In the center of the chaos stood Reinhardt. His spear, glowing faintly gold, was buried deep in Robert's shoulder.
"Reinhardt—!"
Robert's body trembled violently as he gritted his teeth, trying to wrench the weapon out before it could sink deeper. His blood pooled beneath him, dark and glistening in the dim light.
On the floor nearby, Lucy sat collapsed, her face pale and drenched in tears. She clutched her stomach with both hands, shaking uncontrollably as she stared at the man who had just tried to kill them.
Elric's chest tightened. No… not again.
With all her strength, she sprinted forward, seizing Reinhardt's arm. "What are you doing?! You're hurting Robert!"
But the man before her didn't seem to hear. His eyes glowed faintly, gold and wild, and his expression was void—no mercy, no recognition. Only the hunger of the curse twisting through him.
"Reinhardt!" she shouted again, shaking him.
Her voice barely reached him.
The spear pushed deeper. Robert groaned, blood spilling between his fingers. "Agh—R-Reinhardt, please… stop!"
Elric's heart dropped. The look in Robert's eyes wasn't just pain—it was terror. For the first time in his life, he was afraid of his brother. Reinhardt had warned him to stay away, to keep his distance while the blood-curse still lingered. But when Reinhardt attacked Lucy, Robert had instinctively stepped between them—breaking that rule.
Now, the curse saw him as prey.
The air trembled again—Reinhardt's aura flaring with unrestrained power.
From behind, the door to Kael's room burst open. Jaesper stumbled out, his face pale at the sight before him. "What in the name of—Reinhardt?!"
A moment later, Iris appeared at his side, her staff already glowing. Her sharp eyes took in the scene—the wounded, the curse, the chaos—and she shouted, "Get him away from Robert! That's the only way to stop it!"
Without hesitation, Elric shoved Reinhardt back with all her strength, the blast of mana colliding against his chest. He staggered a few steps, dazed, long enough for Jaesper to rush forward and drag Robert to safety.
"Hold on, my lord," Jaesper muttered, pressing a glowing hand over the wound. The smell of burned flesh filled the air as the healing spell sealed the torn muscle. Robert's breath hitched, his face pale with sweat.
Meanwhile, Elric knelt beside Lucy, who was shaking uncontrollably on the floor. "It's alright," she whispered, grabbing the girl's shoulders. "You're safe now."
But then Elric froze.
A faint moan escaped Lucy's lips, her eyes unfocused. "It… hurts…" she gasped weakly, clutching her abdomen tighter. When Elric looked down, her eyes widened in horror—blood. A dark stain was spreading rapidly beneath Lucy's trembling hands, pooling around her knees.
"Lucy!" Elric's voice broke as she caught the fainting girl before she collapsed completely.
Jaesper turned briefly, his expression twisting. "She's losing blood fast! Elric—move her away from the mana field!"
Elric obeyed, dragging Lucy toward the hallway. But as she did, she glanced back—and saw Reinhardt standing frozen amidst the ruin, his spear fallen from his grasp.
His eyes had lost their glow. Confusion filled them, then horror, as he realized what he'd done.
"R–Robert…" His voice was faint, almost childlike.
Robert, his shoulder freshly healed but trembling, didn't meet his gaze. His hands were shaking as he pressed against his wound. "Don't… come near me," he whispered.
Reinhardt took a half-step forward, but Iris immediately moved between them, her staff pointed at his chest. "Stay back!"
For a tense moment, no one moved. Only the sound of Lucy's ragged breathing filled the hall.
Then Reinhardt stumbled backward, his expression crumbling into disbelief. "I—I didn't mean to… The curse—"
The silence that followed was heavy and cold.
Lucy lay unconscious in Elric's arms, her breathing shallow. "Jaesper," Elric said urgently, "check on her. There's something wrong—this isn't just a wound."
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The night after the explosion hung over the Vaelthorn estate like a heavy fog.
The once lively halls had gone silent—guards spoke only in whispers, servants avoided the west wing altogether. The scent of burnt wood and blood still lingered faintly in the air.
Inside the infirmary, Robert sat upright on his bed, his shoulder bandaged and stiff. His eyes were dull, unfocused, as if his mind couldn't leave the memory of his brother's spear piercing through him. Every time he blinked, he could still see Reinhardt's eyes—those golden eyes, cold and unrecognizing.
Jaesper stood beside him, checking the wound. "You'll recover," he said quietly, but even he knew it wasn't the body that was broken. "Try to rest."
Robert didn't reply. His gaze drifted to the far corner of the room, where Lucy lay asleep, her breathing shallow.
Her face was pale, a damp towel resting on her forehead.
The sheets beneath her had been changed more than once.
"She…" Elric hesitated as she entered the room with Iris behind her. "She lost the child."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Lucy hadn't even known she was pregnant. When she awoke hours earlier, confused and trembling, she could barely form words through her tears. Between sobs, she told them everything—that she had been taken by Stanford during her time as a palace maid. That she had been too afraid to tell anyone.
Jaesper clenched his jaw. "Then Reinhardt's reaction makes sense. The curse didn't just respond to royal blood—it responded to Stanford's. He wanted to destroy every trace of that bloodline."
Even Iris, who had seen many horrors beside Reinhardt, lowered her gaze. "A child… an innocent. She didn't deserve that." Her tone trembled with quiet sympathy.
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By the next evening, the curse had faded.
Reinhardt emerged from Kael's room for the first time since locking himself inside. His expression was hollow, his clothes still wrinkled, his hair uncombed. The shadows beneath his eyes were deep enough to show how many nights he had stayed awake beside Kael's unmoving form.
When he entered Robert's chamber, the younger man instinctively straightened, hiding the slight tremor in his hands.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other—the silence heavy with everything that had gone unsaid.
"I'm sorry," Reinhardt finally said, his voice rough. "For… What happened."
Robert tried to smile, though it barely reached his eyes. "It's alright. I know you didn't mean to attack me."
Reinhardt nodded faintly, stepping closer. The wooden chair beside the bed creaked as he sat. He raised a hand, pressing it gently against Robert's forehead. "You seem feverish. I must have frightened you more than I thought," he murmured. "I'm relieved you didn't die of a heart attack."
Robert chuckled softly, though his grip on the blanket tightened. "You almost gave me one," he admitted.
For a fleeting moment, they both smiled. But the peace didn't last.
Robert hesitated before speaking again. "Brother… I need to ask."
His voice was quiet, almost fragile. "Is that how you killed the others? Our brothers, their wives… even the unborn children?"
Reinhardt's expression froze. His hand fell from Robert's forehead, fingers curling into a tight fist. "If I didn't, their cursed blood would have kept poisoning this world," he replied coldly. "You know as well as I do what our bloodline carries. We're born of sin, Robert. I only made sure it ends with me."
Robert's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're wrong."
He sat up straighter, shaking his head. "You think this will purify you? That killing them will bring peace? Reinhardt… this will consume you. Maybe not today, or tomorrow—but one day, it'll eat you alive."
He reached out, resting his hand over Reinhardt's. "You're starting to sound just like him. Like the man who murdered your mother, even though she was innocent."
Reinhardt flinched. His body stiffened as if Robert had struck him.
"Then how about your mother, Robert?!" Reinhardt snapped, his voice echoing sharply through the room. "You think I forgot what they did to her? Our half-brother had her killed—slaughtered her like an animal because she was a commoner! Did anyone defend her? Did anyone punish them?!" His voice cracked. "No. Because they were royals. Because their blood was pure!"
Robert froze. The mention of his mother's death—his little sister's murder—ripped something deep inside him. His throat tightened, and his words came out trembling. "But vengeance won't change that, brother… It won't bring them back."
Reinhardt's chest heaved, his hands trembling. He looked away, jaw clenched so tightly that blood welled between his teeth.
"You don't understand…" His tone dropped to a broken whisper. "At his last moment, our father couldn't even remember her name. Even after I tortured him, he didn't remember her. He didn't remember me." Reinhardt's gaze darkened. "He probably forgot your name too."
The air turned heavy again, thick with anger and despair.
Robert stared at him, tears welling in his eyes. His voice trembled when he asked, "Then what about me? Will you kill me too, if I stop following you?"
The question struck Reinhardt like a blade to the chest. His eyes widened. For a heartbeat, he couldn't breathe.
The tension in the air lingered between them—until Reinhardt's hands slowly curled into fists, blood dripping down his knuckles. "You don't understand, Robert…" he said softly, turning toward the door.
He paused before stepping out, his back facing his younger brother. "Don't bring this up again. Don't… make me choose."
His voice dropped lower, almost a growl.
"Don't make me want to kill you, Robert."
Then he left, the door closing behind him with a dull click that echoed through the quiet room.
Robert sat frozen, staring at the door long after Reinhardt was gone.
The silence in the room was deafening.
He pressed a trembling hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding against his ribs. His brother's words replayed in his mind over and over, but what terrified him most wasn't Reinhardt's threat—it was the emptiness he heard in his voice.
"…You've changed, brother," he whispered to the empty air. "You're not the same man Kael trusted anymore."
Outside, the night wind blew against the shattered window frame.
Somewhere in the west wing, Kael lay still as ever—silent witness to the kingdom's fall, and the crumbling of the man who once swore to protect him.
— Back to the present timeline. —
Robert stood beside the carriage, the morning air heavy with the scent of dust and faint ash. The once-grand Delcra Castle loomed before him—half of its structure had been destroyed during the fire yesterday, but now, under the effort of the remaining loyal servants, it was slowly being rebuilt stone by stone.
He took a long breath, his gaze softening with memory. This castle had seen everything—Kael's fall, Reinhardt's wrath, his own helplessness.
Footsteps echoed behind him. A steady, familiar rhythm that needed no introduction. Robert didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"Your Majesty." He lowered his head respectfully as Reinhardt approached.
Reinhardt stopped beside him, his golden hair slightly tousled by the wind. His usual sharp presence was dulled—tired, even—but his posture remained unbent, regal. Despite nearly dying the day before fighting the undead dragon, he stood as if unshaken.
For a moment, silence fell between them. The only sound was the faint cheer of people in the distance. Kael was there, standing among the citizens who had gathered to see him.
"Now," Reinhardt began, his tone low but steady, "most of this land knows that Kael is still alive."
He exhaled softly, eyes narrowing slightly. "It seems you're going to be busier than ever, Robert."
Robert's eyes followed the direction of Reinhardt's gaze.
Kael stood surrounded by the townspeople—children holding out flowers, old knights kneeling in reverence. His white hair shimmered under the light, a stark contrast to the black cloak draped over his shoulders. But despite the reverence around him, Kael looked… uneasy. His eyes flickered with quiet discomfort as he accepted the flowers from a young boy, the corners of his lips twitching in what could barely be called a smile.
Robert lowered his gaze. "What will you do, Your Majesty?" he asked quietly.
Reinhardt was silent for a moment before answering.
"Prepare him," he said simply. "Like we should have from the beginning."
Then his tone hardened, commanding and precise. "But keep your eyes close to him. I'm afraid something like yesterday might happen again."
Robert nodded without hesitation. "Understood." He turned briefly to check the servants readying the carriage. The horses snorted, restless from the morning chill.
Then suddenly, a hand landed gently atop his head.
Robert froze. His eyes widened slightly before he turned to look up.
Reinhardt's hand rested there—not in command, not in reprimand—but in something… different. Something almost gentle.
"Your Majesty…?" Robert's voice came out small, uncertain.
Reinhardt didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained locked on Kael, who was now walking toward them with Elric by his side. His expression unreadable, Reinhardt finally spoke in a voice low enough only Robert could hear.
"Don't push yourself too much, Robert," he said. "Kael still needs you."
Robert stared at him. For a fleeting second, he thought he saw something in Reinhardt's eyes—something human beneath all the steel and cold restraint.
He wanted to say something back, perhaps to tell him that he needed Reinhardt too, that the distance between them had never stopped hurting. But the words refused to leave his throat.
He looked toward Kael again. Kael's steps were slow but steady, his presence quiet yet commanding in its own way. The people still whispered his name—the Hero of Delcra who returned from death.
"I understand, Your Majesty," Robert finally replied, his voice composed but soft.
Reinhardt withdrew his hand, clasping it behind his back once more.
Kael stopped a few steps away, his crimson eyes flickering between the two brothers. He said nothing, but his gaze lingered briefly on Reinhardt—long enough for something unspoken to pass between them.
Elric, noticing the silence, placed a gentle hand on Kael's arm. "The carriage is ready," she said quietly.
Kael gave a faint nod, his movements calm, detached.
Reinhardt stepped back, his expression unreadable again. "Take him to Vaelthorn Mansion," he ordered, his voice regaining its usual authority. "There, he'll be safe. For now."
Robert bowed. "As you command."
As the carriage door closed and the wheels began to turn, Reinhardt stood still in the courtyard, watching the figures grow smaller in the distance.
The wind blew gently through the ruins of Delcra Castle, carrying the faint echo of children's laughter—an echo that did not reach him.
For a moment, Reinhardt raised a hand, brushing his thumb over the faint scar on his palm. The same hand that had once spilled the blood of his kin… and now reached, quietly, toward the only family he had left.
But as the carriage disappeared beyond the gate, his hand dropped back to his side.
His face hardened once more.
"Five years…" he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible. "And it still hasn't ended."
He turned away from the sunlight, disappearing back into the shadowed hall of the castle.