The trees cracked under the weight of frost and chaos.
Blades of wind cutting through the frozen forest like howls.
Frost and shattered bark filled the air, ice creeping along the roots and trunks like veins of death.
And in the middle of it all.
Noah stood, spear in hand, chest rising and falling heavily, blood running down his arms, his body bruised and worn.
Across from him, the old butler brushed ash off his shoulder.
Unfazed by the raw battlefield around them.
His tuck sword remained gripped in one hand.
The other neatly tucked behind his back.
Nnot once breaking the illusion of discipline.
He stepped beside the maid, whose poison-drenched blade still shimmered green, lips twitching into a tight smile.
"It seems..."
The butler said calmly, his eyes fixed on Noah.
"...the young master has one of the sin curses.
The maid tilted her head.
"Sin curse?"
"Yes."
The old man said, wiping a bit of dried blood off his cheek with the back of his hand.
