Three days had passed since Azriah arrived at Antioch Estate.
Three days of suffocating decorum.
Three days of noble education, bloodline expectations, political tutoring, and ceremonial exhaustion.
Three days of learning that the Antioch family was not merely powerful—
it was a force of structure.
And after enduring exactly enough of it—
Azriah had already chosen his next move.
He was leaving.
Quietly.
Morning sunlight filtered through the towering black-framed windows of his private chambers, illuminating ancient maps sprawled across his desk.
Among them—
one region remained circled repeatedly.
The Mountains of Tyber.
A dangerous northern range feared for its volatile mana storms, corrupted beasts, and unstable geography.
And hidden deep within it—
a fracture.
In this world—
fractures were mysterious tears in reality.
Dungeon-like anomalies whose origins remained unknown.
Scholars guessed.
Religions speculated.
Kings exploited.
But none understood the truth.
Azriah did.
'You've been staring at that map like it insulted your bloodline.'
Sham's voice echoed lazily.
'I assume this means we're about to do something deeply irresponsible?'
Azriah ignored the sarcasm.
'Do you know what fractures truly are?'
A pause.
Then—
'Places sensible people avoid?'
Azriah sighed.
'Residual breaches formed by Ein Shof.'
Silence.
Immediate.
Then—
'…I'm sorry, what?'
Azriah leaned back slightly.
'Ein Shof. The origin creator.'
A pause.
Then—
'Before divine authority fractured… before blessings split among countless gods… there was one singular source.'
Another pause.
'And fractures are likely manifestations of that source reclaiming what was divided.'
Sham was silent for several seconds.
Then—
'So… divine corruption isn't corruption.'
A pause.
'It's reclamation.'
'Exactly.'
Long silence followed.
Then—
'That is horrifying.'
Azriah smirked faintly.
'Reality usually is.'
His gaze returned to the map.
'Tyber contains Codex Arboris.'
Sham paused.
'That sounds important.'
'It is.'
A pause.
Then—
'An endgame codex.'
Another pause.
'One that grants both a system framework… and the skill Imaginary Tree.'
Silence.
Then—
'…Wait.'
A beat.
'You're telling me there's an artifact that gives you a system interface and prophetic abilities?'
'Yes.'
Sham was quiet.
Then—
'And naturally, there's an absurd price attached.'
Azriah's expression remained calm.
'Permanent blindness.'
Silence.
Then—
'Absolutely not.'
Azriah almost smiled.
'Temporary limitation.'
'You literally just said permanent.'
'Conventional sight is permanently lost.'
A pause.
Then—
'But Imaginary Tree allows alternate perception.'
Sham quieted.
Azriah continued.
'Mana flow. Structural existence. Probability. Causality.'
A pause.
Then—
'Eventually, I can regain visual function through alternate methods.'
Sham remained silent.
Then—
'You are voluntarily planning to blind yourself forever… because you know how to surpass blindness later.'
'Correct.'
Long pause.
Then—
'You are deeply unwell.'
'Prepared.'
'No, definitely unwell.'
The decision had already been made.
Now—
he simply required freedom.
Not permission.
That distinction mattered.
Because Azriah knew one thing with certainty—
if Asta knew where he intended to go—
she would never allow it.
So instead—
he went to her with half-truths.
Asta's administrative study radiated oppressive authority.
Black steel.
Ancient records.
Military precision.
Political weight.
And at its center—
Asta Antioch.
Reviewing reports with terrifying efficiency.
She didn't look up.
"…You want something."
Azriah folded his arms.
"I'd like temporary leave from estate grounds."
Silence.
Then—
Asta finally looked up.
Her gaze immediately suspicious.
"…For what purpose."
Azriah answered smoothly.
"Personal training."
Not entirely false.
Asta's eyes narrowed.
"Specific."
Azriah remained calm.
"I need field experience."
A pause.
Then—
"Remaining within estate grounds offers limited practical growth."
Asta studied him carefully.
Too carefully.
"…You're withholding details."
Azriah almost smiled.
"Only unnecessary ones."
Silence.
Long.
Dangerous.
Then—
Asta leaned back slightly.
"…I dislike that answer."
Azriah remained composed.
"I assumed as much."
Asta exhaled slowly.
"Your reasoning is valid."
A pause.
Then—
"But your phrasing is suspicious."
Sham nearly laughed internally.
'She absolutely knows you're hiding something.'
Azriah ignored him.
Asta's fingers tapped once against the desk.
"…Fine."
Azriah blinked once.
That was easier than expected.
Then—
naturally—
came the condition.
"When you return…"
A pause.
Then—
"You will attend every noble banquet, diplomatic event, bloodline gathering, and political function I assign."
Silence.
Azriah stared.
"…That somehow feels like extortion."
Asta's expression remained calm.
"It is."
Sham burst into laughter.
'She trapped you beautifully.'
Azriah resisted sighing.
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"No exceptions?"
"None."
"…Cruel."
Asta's gaze remained merciless.
"You are Antioch."
A pause.
Then—
"Learn to suffer with dignity."
Azriah exhaled.
"…Fine."
Asta nodded once.
"Good."
Then—
her expression sharpened slightly.
"…Return stronger."
Azriah paused.
Asta's voice lowered.
Not softer—
but heavier.
"…I will not have my son return weaker than he left."
The words settled.
Unexpectedly.
Heavier than anticipated.
Azriah nodded once.
"…Understood."
Asta returned to her documents.
Conversation over.
"…Dismissed."
As Azriah exited—
Sham immediately spoke.
'So let me summarize.'
A pause.
'You lied to one of the most terrifying women alive, are heading toward a god-fracture, plan to permanently sacrifice your eyesight, and your punishment is political banquets.'
Azriah's expression remained calm.
'Correct.'
Silence.
Then—
'…You are absolutely the main character.'
Azriah almost smirked.
'Unfortunately.'
And far beyond Antioch's borders—
within the forgotten depths of Tyber—
a fracture waited.
Ancient.
Hungry.
And hidden within it—
a codex capable of rewriting not only Azriah's future—
but his very perception of reality itself.