Jeather knew he was close before he saw it.
The wind changed first.
Mountains had a different kind of silence than forests. Forests whispered. Mountains judged.
The air grew thinner, sharper, as if it filtered weakness from lungs that dared inhale it.
He had traveled fifty miles beyond the Verdant Forest. The trees thinned. The earth turned rocky. Snow lingered in shaded cracks. Even Astrael's presence felt quieter here—less rooted, more watchful.
Velkaria walked slightly behind him, white armor gleaming against the mountain light, her silver hair moving with the wind like a battle banner.
Saxum rode on Jeather's shoulder in his compact earth form, small stone fingers gripping his collar.
"Jett," Saxum mumbled. "Smells sad."
Jeather didn't respond immediately.
Because Saxum was right.
The wind carried ash.
Not fresh.
Old.
Lingering.
Ahead, beyond a jagged ridge, something blackened broke the natural pattern of stone.
Charred wood.
Broken beams.
A collapsed watchtower.
Jeather slowed.
The fragments in his mind began to pulse.
Flames.
Smoke.
Screams.
He didn't remember the full memory yet.
But his body did.
His steps felt heavier as he approached the remains of what had once been a village.
Burned homes.
Collapsed roofs.
Execution posts.
Wooden stakes still stood in the central square, dark stains preserved by mountain cold.
Velkaria stopped beside him.
"My Lord…" she said quietly.
Astrael manifested partially, shadowed antlers rising behind Jeather's silhouette. The demon did not speak immediately.
But the air around them thickened.
This was not random destruction.
This was punishment.
Jeather stepped into the square.
The snow around the execution posts had long melted and refrozen over time, preserving the warped impressions of rope grooves.
His chest tightened.
Then—
A whisper.
"Young… Lord?"
Jeather's head snapped toward the sound.
From behind the broken remains of a storehouse, a thin old man emerged, leaning heavily on a wooden staff.
His beard was white. His clothes patched and worn. But his eyes were clear.
And they widened as he looked at Jeather.
"It's you," the old man breathed.
Jeather didn't answer.
His heart was beating too fast.
The man stepped closer, trembling. "You have his eyes. The Baron's eyes."
The word struck like a hammer.
Baron.
Flash.
A banner.
A crest.
Nine leaves forming a clover.
Not coincidence.
Memory surged violently.
A manor on a hill.
His father standing tall in armor trimmed with silver threads.
His mother holding his shoulder firmly during formal gatherings.
A younger sister hiding behind curtains during noble visits.
Then—
Flames.
Screams.
Men wearing black insignia.
Ropes.
Bodies hanging from posts.
He staggered.
Saxum grabbed his collar. "Jett?"
Velkaria moved instantly to steady him.
The old man fell to his knees.
"They slaughtered us," he whispered. "Your house refused to bend. So they erased it."
Jeather forced himself to breathe.
"Who?" he asked.
The old man hesitated.
Then he spoke a name that made the mountain wind feel colder.
"House Viremont."
The name felt familiar.
Political.
Powerful.
A rival noble house.
Flash.
A banquet hall.
A cold smile from a man with silver rings on every finger.
Negotiations.
Threats disguised as diplomacy.
Then betrayal.
Jeather clenched his jaw.
Before he could speak again—
The wind shifted.
Velkaria turned sharply toward the eastern ridge.
"My Lord," she said, voice lowering. "We are no longer alone."
Figures appeared along the cliffs.
Ten.
No—twelve.
Armed.
Cloaked.
Their armor bore a crest Jeather recognized from the flash.
A serpent devouring a leaf.
House Viremont.
Bandits? No.
Too organized.
Hunters.
One stepped forward.
Tall. Confident. Clean armor.
"We finally found him," the man said calmly.
"The surviving heir."
Jeather didn't answer.
The old man tried to rise.
An arrow struck the ground beside him, forcing him back.
"Stay out of this, relic," the hunter said coldly.
Beast cards ignited around them.
Bronze.
Silver.
Even one Platinum presence radiating from the leader.
Velkaria's blade formed in shimmering light.
Saxum shifted into stone-armored form on Jeather's shoulder.
Astrael fully manifested behind him, towering antlers casting jagged shadows across the burned village.
The leader smiled faintly.
"So the rumors were true. The heir bonded a demon."
Jeather exhaled slowly.
"I was hoping for answers," he muttered.
"Instead I get delivery."
The hunters attacked.
Bronze beasts charged first—Mountain Boars, Frost Wolves, Stone Talons diving from above.
Velkaria moved like a streak of silver.
Her blade split a Frost Wolf mid-lunge.
"My Lord," she declared calmly, "these are unworthy."
Saxum leaped from Jeather's shoulder, expanding mid-air into lava form, slamming into a Stone Talon with explosive force.
"Burn!" Saxum squealed gleefully.
Astrael lifted one hand.
The ground beneath two boars erupted with roots, lifting them and crushing them into containment.
Jeather moved too.
Mana surged through his veins.
Mana Empowered Strike activated naturally—he no longer questioned it. The integration with Saxum had strengthened his channels.
He punched forward.
A Bronze hunter's shield shattered under the impact.
The man stared at his cracked armor in disbelief before Astrael's vines wrapped around him and flung him aside.
Silver beasts entered next.
A Glacier Stalker.
A Windfang Cougar.
Velkaria intercepted the cougar, their blades clashing in sparks of frost and steel.
Astrael faced the Glacier Stalker directly.
Ice formed around Astrael's legs.
The demon did not flinch.
Green aura surged violently.
Roots burst from the frozen ground, shattering ice and impaling the beast from below.
The Silver aura collapsed.
The leader frowned slightly.
"Enough," he murmured.
His Platinum beast manifested fully.
A Stormcrest Drake.
Lightning wrapped around its wings.
The sky darkened.
Jeather felt the pressure immediately.
Platinum was not Bronze.
Not Silver.
It was weight.
Authority.
Velkaria moved instinctively to guard him.
Astrael stepped forward.
Jeather raised a hand.
"No."
Astrael glanced back slightly.
Jeather stepped forward himself.
He wasn't as strong as Platinum yet.
He knew that.
But he had something else.
He reached into his storage ring.
Pulled out two sealed Platinum cards from Ardent.
He crushed them.
Not to release.
To absorb residual mana.
A gamble.
The mana tore through his channels.
Pain flared.
He smiled anyway.
"Let's test something."
Astrael's aura expanded in synchronization.
Saxum shifted into metal form and slammed into the Drake's flank, distracting it.
Velkaria leaped skyward, blade striking lightning mid-air.
Jeather moved under the Drake's shadow.
Mana surged into his fist.
He struck the ground.
Astrael answered.
The earth erupted upward in a pillar of roots and stone, spearing through the Drake's underbelly.
Velkaria's blade followed.
The Stormcrest Drake roared—
Then shattered into dispersing light.
Silence fell.
The leader stared.
"You're not supposed to be this strong."
Jeather tilted his head slightly.
"I get that a lot."
The remaining hunters hesitated.
Then ran.
Jeather didn't pursue.
Instead, he turned to the old man.
"Why were they looking for me now?"
The old man trembled.
"Because the district fell."
Jeather stilled.
"What?"
"Ardent District is gone. Destroyed. Platinum beasts ravaged it. The Academy collapsed."
The words hung in the air.
Jeather felt… nothing.
No shock.
No grief.
Just confirmation.
He had retreated at the right time.
Then the old man added:
"House Viremont is consolidating power.
They're hunting remaining noble bloodlines."
Velkaria's grip tightened on her blade.
Astrael's aura darkened slightly.
From deeper within the mountains—
Another presence stirred.
Not beast.
Organized.
Disciplined.
A hunting party cresting the ridge.
More House Viremont insignia.
Jeather looked at the execution posts.
At the burned homes.
At the crest carved faintly into a shattered stone wall—his house's symbol.
Nine leaves.
He touched the faint mark on his skin.
This time—
The tattoo burned brighter.
Not from system prompt.
From blood.
He exhaled slowly.
"So," he muttered.
"They found him."
Across the ridge, a commander raised his hand.
"Target confirmed," the man called.
"Capture the heir."
Velkaria stepped forward.
Saxum cracked his stone knuckles.
Astrael's antlers pierced the sky.
Jeather rolled his shoulders once.
This time—
He didn't feel suspended.
He felt aligned.
"They want the heir?" he murmured softly.
His eyes lifted toward the approaching noble hunters.
"Then let's give them one."
And the mountain wind carried the first echoes of a war that had just begun.