The black carriage finally crossed the towering gates of Antioch Estate.
Home.
Or at least—
the closest thing Azriah currently had to one.
Snow-dusted iron gates parted as elite guards bowed immediately.
Servants rushed into motion.
Knights stabilized the arrival route.
And throughout the grand estate—
word spread quickly.
The young heir had returned.
Injured.
Azriah stepped down slowly.
Blindfolded.
Bandaged.
His movements steady—
but visibly burdened.
Even with potions and enhanced physiology—
his condition was impossible to fully hide.
The moment Asta saw him—
her expression darkened.
Dangerously.
"…Explain."
Her voice was cold enough to freeze stone.
Azriah stood calmly.
"Complications during training."
Asta's gaze sharpened immediately.
"…Training."
Not a question.
A warning.
Several estate healers were summoned instantly.
High-grade restoration specialists.
Among the best money and bloodline could command.
But Azriah refused.
Firmly.
"No."
The room fell silent.
Asta's gaze narrowed.
"…No?"
Azriah remained composed.
"My recovery must remain natural."
Silence.
Then—
Asta's irritation visibly deepened.
"Your eyes are damaged."
A pause.
Then—
"Severely."
Azriah's voice remained calm.
"I am already taking the highest-grade healing potions."
Another pause.
"Interference may complicate recovery."
Technically true.
Just not fully.
Asta studied him carefully.
Far too carefully.
"…You are hiding details."
Azriah's expression remained unreadable beneath his blindfold.
"Yes."
Silence.
Long.
Then—
"…I dislike that."
Azriah almost sighed.
"I know."
For now—
Asta relented.
Though visibly displeased.
"…Very well."
A pause.
Then—
"If your condition worsens, I will override your objections."
Azriah nodded once.
"Understood."
But then—
he shifted the discussion.
"I want to learn the way of swordsmanship."
Silence.
Immediate.
Asta blinked once.
For perhaps the first time—
genuine surprise surfaced.
"…Swordsmanship."
Azriah nodded.
"Yes."
Asta folded her arms.
"…How exactly do you know I practice swordsmanship?"
Azriah answered smoothly.
"I've seen you train at night."
A brief pause.
Then—
"I have heard it from the guard the antioch family especiallity the origin sword, fancy name right?"
Silence.
Asta froze slightly.
A rare reaction.
"…You know its name."
Azriah remained still.
"Yes."
Asta's gaze sharpened.
More curious now.
More dangerous.
"It may be a sword art."
A pause.
Then—
"But my art is different from the orthodox art of the antioch which they are famous for . You may have to learn both magic and sword."
Another pause.
"Are you intending to pursue that same path?"
Azriah answered immediately.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
Asta was silent.
Then—
"…Your training begins after you can clearly see again."
Azriah's brow furrowed slightly.
"That may take months."
Asta's voice was absolute.
"Then months."
Azriah shook his head.
"I can still function properly . I may have lost my sight but i can perceive the world through mana"
Silence.
Asta's expression shifted.
Subtly.
"…Explain yoursleft my son."
Azriah got tensed after hearing her call her son but he tried to answer carefully.
"My vision remains impaired."
A pause.
Then—
"But combat functionality is manageable."
That answer clearly puzzled her.
But—
for once—
Asta chose not to pry.
Not yet.
"…Fine."
A pause.
Then—
"If you are functional…"
Another pause.
"Forget about training for now but your obligations remain."
Azriah immediately felt danger.
"…Obligations?"
Asta nodded calmly.
Too calmly.
"The Spring Imperial Ball."
Silence.
Azriah froze.
Asta continued.
"You will attend."
Another pause.
"Represent Antioch."
Then—
with devastating precision—she said with slight tease
"You will also likely meet my potential daughter."
Azriah's body went still.
"…Who."
Asta answered without hesitation.
"Diana Elysium."
The room went silent.
Absolute.
For perhaps the first time—
true visible panic overtook Azriah completely.
"…What?"
Asta frowned slightly.
"The Elysium Imperial Family carries significant political debt to Antioch Highblood."
A pause.
Then—
"This arrangement was pushed by the emperor himself."
Azriah looked genuinely horrified.
"Why is she my potential betrothed?!"
Asta's brow twitched slightly at his outburst.
"…Because politics exist."
Azriah visibly paled.
"No."
Asta blinked.
"…No?"
Azriah's breathing quickened.
'This is bad.'
'…You look tensed.' Sham immediately noticed.
Being tense was an understatement.
Diana Elysium.
The main heroine of this arc.The unconquerable by the fandom .
The Imperial Rose.
The Crown Jewel of Elysium.
And—
in the original timeline—
one of Azriah's greatest political enemies.
The woman who would eventually lead a powerful faction against him.
Brilliant.
Beautiful.
Charismatic.
Dangerously competent.
And catastrophically troublesome.
Azriah's thoughts spiraled instantly.
'No no no—'
A pink-haired silhouette emerged in his imagination.
Graceful.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
Deadly.
And worst of all—
if timeline distortions had already begun—
there was no guarantee she would behave as expected.
Asta's voice cut through his panic.
"…Ultimately, her choice matters."
A pause.
Then—
"You will conduct yourself appropriately."
Azriah's expression remained frozen.
"…Yes."
Though internally—
he was unraveling.
The meeting ended shortly after.
And the moment Azriah exited Asta's chambers—
he collapsed dramatically against the corridor wall.
Then slowly slid to the floor.
"…Yeah fuck life now i have my potential future enemy on my ass"
Sham blinked.
'…That seems rather funny.'
Azriah looked genuinely broken.
'You don't understand.'
'Then explain.'
Azriah's breathing remained unstable.
'Diana Elysium.'
A pause.
Then—
'Main heroine. She was deemed unconquerable because how hard her route was and sometimes her route leads to being killed by her either you are killed by her animosity or drowning in her toxic show of love so players with unique choices really loved her but for me she is a disaster'
Another pause.
'Life hazard.'
Sham stared.
'…That bad?'
Azriah looked forward blankly.
'She leads one of the strongest anti-me factions.'
A pause.
Then—
'And now I may have to tolerate her .'
Silence.
Then—
'…Oh.'
Azriah's thoughts darkened briefly.
'Perhaps I can work this way out —'
'NO.'
Sham reacted instantly.
'You absolutely cannot solve political marriage through assassination!'
Azriah grimaced.
'It was a fleeting thought.'
'A deeply concerning fleeting thought!'
Azriah leaned his head back against cold stone.
Sweat visibly forming.
His mind raced.
Nothing aligned properly.
This wasn't how events should unfold.
The timeline was warping.
Accelerating.
Distorting.
And that—
was dangerous.
He exhaled sharply.
Then muttered—
"Why is this fucking timeline so out of shape…"
And somewhere beyond estate walls—
far beyond his control—
fate itself seemed to laugh.
----------------------
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