Prince Josh walked off without another word, his tiny boots pattering softly against the polished palace stones. But there was nothing childish about the way he moved. His posture was that of a seasoned commander on a covert operation—silent, deliberate, razor-focused.
Relia Amia followed, unsure if she was protecting him or simply trying to keep up with him.
They headed toward the eastern edge of the palace courtyard, the part that overlooked the border between cultivated grandeur and the vast, empty sands.
Just a few more steps and he would leave the main palace grounds entirely—a place so enormous it could house half the population of Sanaria and still have room to spare.
Beyond its walls stretched Sanaria Proper—small, rugged land with sparse vegetation and endless dunes. A kingdom where the palace was a giant and the land was a fragile shadow clinging to its edges.
Josh stopped for a moment, his eyes narrowing—not like a child squinting, but like a hunter aligning his strike.
Relia felt her heart tug.
He's doing it again… that aura… that terrifying calm…
No five-year-old should look like that.
Prince Josh had spotted something—someone.
One of the masked assailants.
Hidden perfectly within the earlier crowd. A single shadow among thousands. A whisper of foreign aura, carefully suppressed… but not enough to fool him.
Josh inhaled lightly. The air shifted.
That scent.
That unnatural twinge of aura—sharp, foreign, cold.
A spy.
An intruder from the Nazare Blade empire.
Tension rippled through his tiny frame, but his expression remained unreadable… except for the faintest glimmer of something ancient.
He knew what the spy intended to do.
He knew what message they aimed to deliver.
He knew to whom.
Alloysius.
And worse—the Cyclops Army.
Josh felt his pulse tighten, not with fear, but with memory. The kind of memory that didn't belong in the body of a child.
Before I reclaim my empire… before I gather my armies and tear Alloysius from his throne… no one must know the whereabout of Empress Lola and the remnants that escaped.
Not him. Not his cyclopes. Not his generals. No one.
If the spy escaped Sanaria, the consequences would be catastrophic. Not just for Josh—but for his mother, for Relia, for every survivor of the Nazare Blade Empire.
He couldn't let that happen.
Wouldn't.
Josh took one last quiet breath—and burst into a sprint.
Relia almost jumped out of her armor.
"P-Prince Josh??!"
He didn't look back.
He didn't slow down.
He cut across the courtyard like a streak of controlled lightning, weaving through pillars and servants with impossible precision. Even Relia, the Empath Assassin, feared across empires, needed a full heartbeat to recover—and then she launched after him.
But even while chasing him, she felt it again.
That unmistakable feeling.
He wasn't running like a boy nor a prodigy.
He was running like a man who had led campaigns across continents.
A man who had stood on mountains of corpses.
A man who had commanded armies.
A man who was dangerously, frighteningly familiar.
Relia's stomach tightened.
He's too mature… too decisive… too calm…
Always one step ahead.
Always… adult.
She didn't know why he was running—but she knew this:
This wasn't a game, child's play, nor childish impulse.
This was war instinct.
And the five-year-old she was sworn to protect…
…was behaving like a general preparing to eliminate a threat.
Josh spotted it first—a flicker of shadow slipping between two clay pillars and vanishing into a narrow side street.
Then he saw him.
The masked man.
A single black streak darting across the far end of the courtyard, melting into the maze of sandstone houses that surrounded the outer palace district.
Josh's eyes sharpened instantly.
Relia Amia blinked once—twice—and then finally caught sight of the fleeing figure.
A masked intruder.
Her body tensed so hard she nearly snapped the hilt of her blade.
So that's what he sensed…
Josh didn't hesitate.
He veered sharply, making a beeline for the narrow path.
Relia ran after him, still confused but trusting—because if Josh was chasing someone, then that someone was doomed. And that someone deserved it.
---
Relia's Thoughts — Torn Between Panic and Instinct
She still didn't fully understand what was going on. The masked man looked like a common assassin blending into the city crowd.
But the prince wasn't a child acting on impulse. He chased with purpose… precision… focus.
Not even the elite scouts of the Nazare Blade Empire moved with such sharp instincts.
Relia felt her heartbeat skip.
How is he reading danger before I even sense it?
What exactly… is he?
But she didn't dare question out loud—not now.
Now she was the shadow following his shadow, trusting him more than she trusted her own thoughts.
---
Meanwhile…
Naze stood at a crossroads, literally and mentally.
He had been tailing them dutifully… until Josh broke into that terrifying sprint… and Relia followed… and the air shifted… and something ancient brushed against his mind.
His blind eyes widened behind the cloth strip.
"Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. I refuse."
He turned on his heel.
With the certainty of a man who had survived way too many supernatural crises already, Naze walked straight back toward the guest lodge.
"I said I would protect the prince, not lose all my brain cells trying to understand him."
He muttered the rest like a prayer:
"And if I keep following him, the next thing I know, I'll be speaking to ghosts, hallucinating giant chickens, or fighting a demon in the pantry."
He quickened his pace.
"For the sake of my mind—which is already hanging by a thread—let me just focus on something simple.
Like making sure nobody dies from eating poison leaf stew."
He shuddered.
"Purple-leaf poison… tch… kings are crazy."
With renewed determination (and fear), he marched into the guest lodging, ready to intercept anyone who so much as touched a spoon.
---
Josh skidded to a stop before a small clay-brick house on the outskirts of the palace district. The masked man had dashed inside, slamming the crooked wooden door behind him.
Relia caught up seconds later.
Josh didn't turn to her; he didn't need to.
"He's cornered," he said quietly.
His voice was soft… calm… but underneath it was steel.
An adult's steel.
Relia swallowed.
There was no hesitation in him. No fear. Not even excitement.
Just… decision.
The boy moved like a sovereign executing law.
Relia placed her palm gently on the hilt of her dagger, her instincts tightening around her.
"Prince Josh… what do you want us to do?"
Josh took a slow breath, eyes fixed on the sealed doorway.
"End this," he whispered.
The wind shifted.
The house seemed to tilt.
Relia exhaled once.
So be it.
She stepped forward to stand beside him—General Relia Amia, the Empath Assassin, Witch of the West… queen of emotional manipulation.
And at her side stood a five-year-old child…
…who felt older and more dangerous than any emperor she had ever