Kaiser's Perspective:
12/30/2017 – 8:27 A.M.
Oh my god… food tastes so good.
I swear I could hear angels singing in the back of my mind. Maybe that was just the sugar rush from the honey glaze.
I tore another bite off the bread and dunked it in something that looked suspiciously like soup but tasted like pure happiness.
Across the table, Lucas raised an eyebrow, laughing as he leaned back on his chair. "Look at that. The dungeon crawler finally escaped his roach kingdom and discovered actual food."
Celia covered her mouth, trying (and failing) to hide a laugh. "Kaiser, eat slowly—you'll choke before the frost crawler even gets to you."
I chewed slower. "I'm… surprised they're even serving me food after throwing me in a pit for my charm and confidence."
Lucas smirked, tapping his fork. "Guess they decided roaches shouldn't die hungry."
"Funny," I said, pointing at him with my spoon, "I'll take revenge on you one day for this atrocious mockery!"
He just grinned wider.
A small fairy fluttered by—tiny, golden wings shimmering like morning dew. She bowed with a cheeky smile.
"Wait right here! I'll bring more for you, mister dungeon survivor!"
"See?" I said, gesturing at her. "At least someone respects my survival skills."
Lucas snorted into his drink. Celia giggled, finally relaxing a little. But even then… her smile had a tension behind it.
Still, the food kept coming, and laughter came easier.
Lucas leaned closer, elbows on the table. "By the way, Sylaphine told me you asked for some, uh—what was it—scraps? And a bunch of chemicals from her reserved alchemy?"
Celia tilted her head. "Chemicals?"
I swallowed, wiping my mouth. "Just… compounds and metal bits. You know, fun stuff."
Lucas chuckled. "Fun stuff? Bro, you literally asked for deep glycol, iron dust, and something called a heat compound. That's not 'fun,' are you building a pipe bomb?!"
Celia blinked, her face shifting between curiosity and disbelief. "What are you doing with all that?"
I smirked. "Science."
Lucas gave me the flattest stare imaginable. "Right. And what kind of science involves turning my spare heat packs into liquid flame?"
"The fun kind," I said, smirking. "Besides, I'm planning to take a short vacation after the frost crawler hunt."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Vacation? To where?"
"The ocean," I said casually.
There was a pause. Then both of them burst out laughing.
Celia gasped between giggles. "The ocean? It's December! You'll freeze before you even touch the water!"
Lucas nodded, barely breathing. "Yeah, yeah—'The Great Kaiser: Slayer of Crawler, Found frozen by the sea.'"
"Funny," I said dryly, sipping my drink. "At least I have relaxation plans."
Lucas grinned. "Touché."
Celia chuckled, shaking her head. "You two can joke anywhere."
"Joking?" I leaned back, smirking. "No, no. We're statistically planning. There's a difference."
"Sounds like something only you would say," Lucas muttered.
"Comes with my charm you know, they call me crazy often." I said, dramatically raising my cup.
Lucas clinked his cup against mine. "To craziness."
Celia joined, her voice soft but amused. "And victory."
The three of us laughed—real laughter this time, light and easy, like for a moment the frost and politics and death didn't exist.
The laughter faded just as footsteps echoed behind us.
I watched him step forward like a blade sliding from a sheath—Luke Everingmist, I'd heard his name—tall, hair like a war banner, wings the color of embers. He carried himself like someone who'd been born in the thick of battle and never left. Amber-gray eyes cut across the table and landed on me with all the mercy of winter.
"Greetings," he said, voice smooth and cold.
"I am Luke Everingmist, one of Queen Sylaphine's wings. I heard there were humans helping with the Frost Crawler. Apologies—I've been occupied outside our labyrinth." He inclined his head once, formal, the kind of bow that measured you by how you rose after it.
Lucas popped up from his chair faster than any greeting deserved. "Pleased to meet you."
Celia, cheeks still pink from laughter a moment ago, leaned forward and said in a clipped, teasing tone, "Oooo you're a strong one.." She hid a sharpness underneath the joke—protective, testing.
I shrugged and continued chewing, because manners are a form of politeness and performance. Someone had to look unbothered. Let them talk.
Luke's eyes flicked between Lucas and Celia, then landed on me again with a long, slow appraisal.
"Her Majesty spoke highly of your trio's capabilities. I came to see if the stories hold." There was no flattery in it—only inspection.
Lucas smirked, noticing the appraisal. "You've got quite the presence yourself."
Luke let out a dry laugh. "Only the powerful can understand the true power of others." It rolled off him like armor.
Celia's gaze narrowed, reading his battle-scarred frame. "You seem experienced," she observed. "That line across your eyebrow—what did it cost you?" She was always good at finding the shape of a wound.
Luke's voice softened a fraction, not warmth but history. "Aside from my sister, Aliana, I've been the one to meet outsiders and threats. I defend our borders because the wild monsters keep approaching our land." There was pride there—solid, carved-out-of-stone pride.
"Ooo," Celia said, trying to sound impressed and succeeding only halfway because she was half-smiling.
"Admirable," Lucas added, genuine enough to make it sound like a compliment.
I kept eating. Nice food.
They all seemed to feel it—some current running under the table. Three presences, each suppressed, each measuring.
It's a strange thing: people who can kill with a glance will often try to smile first. Useful habit.
Luke cleared his throat and turned back to Lucas and Celia. "Sir Lucas, Miss Celia," he said, every syllable deliberate.
"I want to speak plainly. Your strength is clear; I could sense it from the palace. You are not to be trifled with." He nodded at them with respect that looked earned.
Then his gaze came back to me and—just like that—his face changed. A small, cruel tilt. "Your companion," he said, voice blunt and without the pretense for politeness, "seems to possess none of that. A weak human. One who does not belong here."
The words landed like a thrown stone. The hall dipped. The fairy beside me folded a wing; conversations faltered.
A lot of people call you weak before they meet you. I've gotten really good at listening to their first impressions.
Luke's words carried the kind of weight only arrogance could sharpen. "You see," he said, pacing slightly, his long red wings twitching behind him, "in this world, the measure of a man is what he does with power. And from where I stand…" his amber-gray eyes flicked toward me, "…you don't seem to have any."
I didn't answer. The spoon touched my lips; I chewed slowly, swallowed. The food was good. Surprisingly good.
Luke scoffed at my silence. "Human beings are blessed—if nothing else—with a fragment of magic to defend themselves compared to other races. Even the weakest of your kind holds a spark. But you—" He leaned in, sneering.
"I've never seen a defect like you. Not even a trace. It's… disgusting."
The chair beside me scraped. Celia shot up, her red eyes bright with fury. "What dare you say that?!"
Luke turned to her, tone smooth and falsely courteous. "Apologies if it bothers you, Miss Celia. But everything I've said is truth. The fact that we're allowing a pathetic E-rank human to dine among our royals offends me to my core."
Her hand clenched against the table, knuckles pale. The air felt heavier—like the room itself was waiting for her to strike.
I thought, we were in a royal dining hall where countless fairies gathered each morning and night, glimmering under crystal chandeliers. And yet, every eye in this place was fixed on us now.
Some looked disappointed. Some looked disgusted. Most just waited—for me to break, maybe.
Celia started again, voice trembling with restrained rage, "You—!"
I raised my palm slightly, shaking it left and right. "Stay calm, Celia. Let him talk."
"But, Kaiser—!"
"It's alright," I said quietly, cutting her off. "He can talk."
I reached for another bite, unfazed. The silence that followed stung more than the insult did. Luke's jaw flexed.
He moved suddenly, slamming his hand across the table, sending my plate flying off to the floor with a sharp clatter.
"Do you even hear me, weakling?!" His voice cracked through the room, deep and venomous. He leaned closer, his shadow falling over me. I looked up, still calm, still silent—just enough to meet his eyes without offering anything else.
He smiled, cruelly. "You think silence will make you look strong? No. It makes you weaker. Empty. Power defines worth—blood defines fate."
"The strong are born with power, gifted by it, crowned by it. You?" His voice lowered. "You are a defect since birth."
He straightened, his tone growing colder, almost philosophical. "You can polish a pebble all you want, but it will never be a gem. The world was built by bloodlines, not beggars who wish upon them."
Celia's breathing grew uneven, her chair trembling under her grip.
Lucas, on the other hand, leaned back, hands clasped, his expression unreadable—but his eyes flickered, sharp, the faintest tension under the calm. He wasn't smiling anymore.
And I—I simply exhaled, brushing the crumbs off the table.
"Done?" I asked, softly.
I rose from the table, slow and deliberate, letting the scrape of my chair mark the moment.
The room tightened around us—crystal chandeliers, murmuring wings, the faint scent of honeyed pastry—and Luke's eyes sharpened.
"You have quite the audacity to stand your ground," he said, each word measured, cold. He stepped forward as if closing distance mattered more than protocol.
"Sir Lucas—your proposed strategy is clever. Precise. Admirable. But I have one question: why is your companion absent from every role?"
Lucas blinked, caught off-guard; the question hung in the air like frost. Luke didn't wait for an answer. He kept speaking—his voice a slow knife.
"You, Celia, the wings of Sylaphine, even the queen herself—everyone has a place. Everyone has a purpose. Yet this human—no role, no function. Is he too weak even to support you two? Pitiful." He let the pity sit, heavy and sour.
He leaned in, eyes boring into mine as though he could judge every inch of my soul that way.
"Alone, you're nothing but kindling—trash waiting to be burned. You have no lineage, no magic, no right to sit where royals dine. You stain this hall with your presence."
His contempt rolled across the table like winter wind. "Power is earned by courage and determination. The rest—beggars and children pretending—are a nuisance. You should know your place."
He paused, enjoying the silence that followed, the way forks slowed midair. Around us, fairies exchanged looks—some cold, some curious, some disgusted.
Celia's hands clenched so tight the knuckles whitened. Lucas had gone still, watching the scene with a predator's patience.
There's a habit to how people insult me—loud claims, thin threats. I've learned to listen until they run out of words.
When he finished, the room waiting for the motion I would make, I met his stare without theatrics. My voice was calm, almost soft.
"I'm sorry for being weak," I said simply. "And I'm sorry for staining your royal place with my presence."
It wasn't a plea—just fact, exact and small.
Luke's face curled, triumphant. "You'd better be. I've refrained from striking because these are our guests—but make no mistake, weaklings have no place here." His pupils narrowed.
"Do not waste our patience."
I nodded once, deliberately, the movement small. "Noted."
The air felt ready to snap—Celia on the verge of murderous violence, Lucas a coiled spring, the hall a held breath. Then—sharp and unexpected—Aliana moved.
She stepped between us, flame in her wings and steel in her voice. "Brother!" she said, but her tone was neither pleading nor mild. It held that bright, cutting thing family can wield: truth spoken plainly to someone you love and wish to correct.
Her emerald eyes fixed on Luke with that soft, relentless strength she wore when settling disputes. The name hung like a cast-iron rule: she would not allow this to continue unchecked.
"Brother, that's enough," Aliana's voice broke through the air—calm, yet edged with something sharp enough to stop him mid-breath.
Luke's expression twitched; his jaw flexed like he wanted to argue but knew better when she spoke.
"Don't," she said again, stepping between us. The faint glow of her amber wings brushed against the lamp light.
"This isn't the place. Nor the time."
Luke frowned, his pride folding into something restrained but unwilling. "You're defending him?" His tone was disbelief wrapped in irritation. "You, of all people, should know—"
"I do know," she cut in gently. Her eyes, soft but unwavering, flickered between him and me. "That's why I'm telling you to stop."
Her words carried more than calm—they carried knowledge. Something in the way she looked at me wasn't pity, but fear and defense. As if she sensed something that her brother's arrogance blinded him from.
Luke's lips pressed thin. He exhaled through his nose, his gaze still sharp but losing its edge. "…Fine."
Then, turning to me, he said, "Don't think this means you've earned my respect. You won't. Not today, not ever."
He brushed past, wings trailing sparks of red light.
"I'm sorry for my brother. Hope you three can forgive him." Aliana said.
She then followed him with a faint sigh, pausing once to glance back at me—her eyes holding quiet worry—before vanishing beyond the hall doors.
The silence that followed was awkward enough to choke on.
Celia turned to me first, her chair scraping as she stood. "Kaiser… are you okay?"
I looked down. My voice came out small, flat. "I'm… sad."
Lucas raised a brow. Celia's tone instantly shifted, furious. "Lucas. Let's go kill that bastard."
Lucas stood up in sync, cracking his neck and summoning his lightning daggers with a grin. "Say less. I'll cut him into equal-sized fairy chunks."
Both prepared for murder.
"Wha—" I raised both hands quickly. "Hold on! What the hell, I'm not sad over that."
They both blinked. I tilted my head down again, and they followed my gaze to the floor—then almost tripped on air. My eyes were fixed on the broken plate.
"My food," I muttered. "I wasn't even done. Bro, they gave me leftovers when I was in the dungeon, and now I'm half-fed again."
Lucas stared at me, blank. "You can't be serious."
"Dead serious," I said. "That was good food."
Celia almost fell over, clutching her stomach from disbelief. "You're unbelievable," she said, laughing despite herself. "You're completely unaffected by what he said?"
I shrugged. "Well, he didn't lie. I'm a weak E-rank human. That's just reality."
Lucas's mouth twitched, fighting laughter, his shoulders shaking slightly. Because he knew the hidden truth.
Celia's expression softened again, worry flickering behind her teasing smile.
"If you ever feel sad or hurt," she said quietly, "tell us. We'll handle it. Okay?"
I waved a hand dismissively. "No need. I'm fine. What we should handle resting and preparing before our encounter against the crawler."
They exchanged a glance—half sigh, half amusement. Then Lucas stretched and said, "Fine. Rest it is, half-fed warrior."
I smirked. "Better than dungeon leftovers."
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Luke's Perspective:
9:07 AM
Aliana led me outside the palace, her wings folding neatly behind her. The cold air hit my face, but it didn't faze me. My mind, however, was restless.
"Brother," she said, crossing her arms, her tone soft but firm, "you can't just throw insults like that. Especially not in front of our guests."
I snorted, exhaling sharply. "I was just stating the truth. Weak people don't belong here. It's the reality of this world."
Aliana shook her head. "That doesn't give you the right to humiliate anyone. You let your pride—your arrogance—overshadow reason. Control yourself, Luke."
I frowned, looking away. "You think I could have handled it differently? I didn't—"
"You should have," she interrupted, tilting her head, her emerald eyes flashing like molten gems.
"Your strength is meaningless if you can't temper it with judgment. Do you even realize how dangerous that could have been for him?"
I clenched my jaw, trying to explain. "I didn't strike. I held back. He's an E-rank. He can't hurt anyone. And besides, it's good for them to know the truth of their place."
Aliana's lips curved faintly, but her expression remained wary. "You think you know everything, but sometimes there are things you don't see."
I froze. My eyes narrowed. "Wait—do you mean him? Do you know something I don't about that pathetic E-rank?"
Aliana paused, biting her lip as if weighing her words. Then she shook her head, deliberately changing the topic. "No. It's nothing. Focus on the Frost Crawler. That's all that matters tonight."
I sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. "Fine… fine, I get it. I'll focus on the mission. But mark my words—"
She suddenly reached up and pinched my cheeks, smiling mischievously. "Loosen up, brother. You look better that way."
"Hey! Aliana!" I yelped, trying to step back, but she just laughed. I rubbed my face, grumbling.
"You promised me we'd go outside the labyrinth once it's defeated. You know that, right?"
"Yes, yes. Once the Frost Crawler is defeated, and our labyrinth is safe, I'll go with you—just like I promised." I replied.
That promise… it wasn't just mine to keep. It was a bond between us, years of trust and loyalty wrapped in a simple moment.
Just then, her wings chimed. She glanced down, reading the message. "Queen Sylaphine has called me. Keep your promise, brother."
I looked at her and grunted, masking the sudden surge of protectiveness. "I will. Always."
Aliana's eyes softened further, her wings catching the moonlight. I could see the trust she placed in me there, and it stirred something deep in my chest.
She's my one and only family. No matter what, I'll take care of her. I'll give her a life that's happy, free from the dangers I can guard her against. Nothing will hurt her while I can stand in the way.
And yet… my mind lingered on her earlier words. The subtle way she hesitated, the fleeting shadow in her gaze. What is she hiding?
Whatever it is, I'll find out… in time. But first, the Frost Crawler. First, we defeat it tomorrow.
Because nothing—no one—will come between me and the world I protect, especially not when it involves her.
I can do anything for her.
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Luke walked away from the palace courtyard, the air crisp against his face. His mind lingered on that E-rank—that human.
Whenever he humiliated others, they had to accept it with fear in their eyes, shrinking under the weight of his words. Yet that E-rank… even while apologetic, showed no fear.
Luke's amber-gray eyes narrowed. And for an E-rank, his physique is abnormal.
He had a full shirt on, hiding most of his build, but even from what he could see—muscular forearms, thick and corded—he was unlike any human Luke had ever encountered.
Luke flexed his own arms subconsciously, noting the strength that came from magical amplification. Even with that advantage, his forearms looked ordinary compared to the human's.
That's… strange.
He shook his head, frustration mingling with curiosity. That E-rank is suspicious. The way he looked at me—completely fearless, as if nothing I said or did could harm him—angered me, but it also made me wonder.
It doesn't matter. He should know his place.
Only the weak stay quiet.
Luke exhaled slowly, letting the tension leave his body. His promise to Aliana weighed heavier than any grudge or suspicion. That is his priority.
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Kaiser leaned back on his chair chair, eyes scanning the dimly lit room.
People will make assumptions about others based on how they behave. They're quick to label someone as strong, sociable, or easygoing. But appearances… appearances are only surface level.
I never judge people on their first impression. Sometimes people who seem sweet can be the biggest snakes. And people who look arrogant and rude can be the nicest people when you actually get to know them.
Yet no one can see the truth about me.
The mask I wear is all they are allowed to see.
A false impression.