The night air in the Capital, Lutetia, felt far heavier and more humid compared to the dry chill of the North. In the Argentos Pavilion, the silence was broken only by the chirping of crickets hidden behind the palace garden bushes. Seraphina stood before a large mirror, staring at her reflection, now dressed in different attire. The pale blue silk gown she had worn that afternoon had been cast aside, replaced by a tight black suit made of flexible synthetic leather—an outfit she had specifically requested from Elara under the pretext of "undergarments for warmth."
She touched the Argentos sapphire encircling her neck. The gem felt warm, pulsing slowly as if following the rhythm of her heartbeat. Alaric's explanation echoed in her head: this sapphire was a stabilizer. Without it, the Ghost Aura would ravage her fragile body from within.
"This body is still too weak," Sera whispered to her own reflection.
As Rei, she possessed the muscle memory of a legendary assassin. Her instinct to vanish into the shadows and her grip on a blade remained as sharp as ever. However, the original Seraphina's body had rarely engaged in strenuous physical activity. Every time Sera attempted extreme acrobatic movements, her lungs felt as if they were burning and her muscles trembled violently. She had to push this vessel beyond its limits before the grand banquet at the palace the day after tomorrow.
Sera opened the pavilion window with a graceful yet efficient motion. She vaulted out, landing on the grass without making a sound. Her target tonight was not merely physical training, but testing the extent to which she could manipulate the aura flowing in her blood.
She moved toward the rear of the palace, to an old garden long abandoned because the servants deemed it haunted. In the center of the garden stood the ruins of an ancient watchtower overgrown with vines. It was the perfect place to hide a power that the Church would consider black magic.
Sera stood in the middle of the tower ruins. She closed her eyes, seeking the "zero point" within her soul. As Rei, she had known no magic in her old world. But in Aethelgard, energy was everything. She began to summon the hatred, the fury over the betrayal befalling her family, and the chill of death she had felt when a bullet pierced her chest in her previous life.
Slowly, the air around Sera began to freeze. A thin black mist started to seep from the pores of her skin. This was no ordinary fog; it was the Ghost Aura. It felt like a viscous liquid, hungry for destruction.
Swish!
Sera snapped her eyes open. Her blue pupils were now encircled by deep, obsidian rings. She thrust her palm toward a thick stone pillar. Without violent physical contact, the black mist shot forward like an arrow and slammed into the stone.
CRACK!
The stone pillar did not shatter; instead, it melted and decayed as if consumed by centuries of time in a matter of seconds. This was the destructive power of the Argentos: atomic decay triggered by negative emotions.
But the price was devastating.
"Cough! Cough!"
Sera collapsed onto her knees. Fresh blood sprayed from her mouth, staining the green grass beneath her. Her heart hammered wildly, as if a giant hand were squeezing the organ with immense force. The sapphire at her neck glowed brilliantly, absorbing the remnants of the black aura still raging uncontrollably in her body.
"Insane..." Sera wiped her bloody lips with the back of her hand. "This power literally consumes one's lifespan as fuel. If I used it for ten full minutes, I might die on the spot."
"That is exactly why your father never wanted you to touch it," a cold voice rang out from atop the tower ruins.
Sera did not panic. She had sensed his presence from the beginning. "You certainly enjoy watching free midnight performances, Alaric."
Alaric leaped down from a height of five meters with effortless grace. He stared at the bloodstains on the grass, then looked at Sera with an unreadable expression. There was anger in his eyes, but also a hidden streak of admiration.
"You are stubborn. You know your body cannot handle it, yet you force it anyway." Alaric walked closer, pulling a cloth wrap from his pocket and kneeling in front of Sera. Without a word, he began to wipe the remaining blood from the girl's chin.
Sera brushed Alaric's hand away roughly. "I have no choice. Bastian and Valdemar are not opponents who can be defeated with mere smiles and noble etiquette. If I cannot use this aura, I am nothing but bait at the banquet."
"You have me," Alaric replied in a flat but firm tone. "I am your sword. You do the thinking, I do the slaughtering. Why must you soil your own hands?"
Sera stared directly into Alaric's crimson eyes. "Because I trust no one completely, Alaric. Not even you. In this world, the only person who will never betray me is myself."
Alaric went silent for a moment. Those words pierced him. As Duke Frederick's student, he knew how traumatic betrayal was for the Argentos family. Yet, seeing the girl before him—a girl who should have been fragile yet possessed the soul of a predator—made his chest tighten with an emotion he had never felt before.
"Then let me teach you a more efficient way," Alaric stood and drew his short sword. "That ghost aura of yours is like a wild horse. You are trying to choke it, when you should be riding it. Do not suppress the aura in your chest; let it flow to the tip of your weapon."
Sera stood back up, though her legs were still slightly weak. She drew one of the practice daggers she had brought. "Show me."
That night, under the pale moonlight, two monsters trained together. Alaric did not hold back his strikes. He attacked Sera with a speed that would have killed an ordinary soldier. Sera, using Rei's instincts, evaded and countered.
Every time Sera tried to use the Ghost Aura, Alaric would immediately correct its flow. He taught Sera how to distribute that energy into her leg muscles to move faster, rather than letting it explode all at once in a strike that would be fatal to the user.
"Again!" Alaric shouted.
Sera lunged forward. This time, she did not summon rage. She summoned the peace she had felt a second before dying in her old life. The black mist that emerged this time was no longer volatile; instead, it enveloped her body like a thin cloak, making her movements nearly invisible to the naked eye.
Clang!
Sera's dagger successfully grazed Alaric's neck, while Alaric's sword rested exactly in front of Sera's solar plexus.
"Almost," Alaric offered a thin smile. "Your speed has increased drastically. If you can maintain this state without vomiting blood, you could kill a second-class General in seconds."
Sera steadied her racing breath. This time, her heart did not feel as constricted as before. The sapphire at her neck pulsed more calmly. "Thank you, Alaric. I didn't expect a 'War-Mad Prince' like you to be such a patient teacher."
Alaric sheathed his sword and gazed at the sky beginning to dawn on the Eastern horizon. "I just don't want to see Duke Frederick's face in the afterlife asking why I let his daughter die a foolish death."
Alaric turned to leave, but paused for a moment. "Oh, one more thing. Tomorrow morning, Empress Isabella will send a servant to bring you a gown chosen by the palace. Do not wear it."
"Why?"
"That gown is soaked in extracted Mandrake powder. If you sweat even a little on the dance floor, the powder will seep into your skin and cause you to lose control of your emotions. Valdemar wants you to cause a scene so he has an excuse to lock you away in the Church's holy tower for being 'unstable'."
Sera snorted coldly. "Isabella... that woman is truly uncreative. Thank you for the information. I will make sure that gown reaches the 'right' hands."
Alaric let out a small laugh, his laughter sounding more sincere than usual. "I'm starting to feel sorry for the inhabitants of this palace. They think they've invited a lamb, when they've actually just opened the door for a starving wolf."
After Alaric left, Sera returned to her room through the window. Her body felt broken, but her mind was razor-sharp. She summoned Elara, who was already awake and preparing warm water.
"Elara, find out who Princess Clarissa's trusted tailor is," Sera commanded while stripping off her black attire.
"My Lady? Do you wish to send her a gift?" Elara asked, confused.
"You could say that. I want to give her appearance at the party an 'Argentos touch.' Ensure this is done with absolute secrecy."
Sera stepped into the warm bath, letting the steam relax her muscles. She stared at her palms. This ghost power was dangerous, but she was beginning to master it. Tonight's training had given her one certainty: she would not merely survive in this Capital. She would manipulate every thread of conspiracy until this entire palace burned in the fire they had lit themselves.