"Why not take the easy route and accept the truth? There is no logical reason for my existence, after all."
Lou's gaze remained locked onto me, his black eyes flickering with unspoken thoughts. He was trembling—just slightly—but it was there.
The weight of my words was sinking in, pressing down on him like an unbearable force.
I had given him a single name. Ash Wyvern.
And just like that, his composure had crumbled like brittle glass.
Even now, he struggled to regain control. His fingers twitched, his breathing was just a little uneven—telltale signs of a mind caught between logic and the impossible.
Yet in the end, he did what I expected.
With a sharp click, he slid his sword back into its scabbard. A scoff left his lips as he turned his head slightly, avoiding my gaze.
I supposed he realized this wasn't the right time to dig any deeper. Not yet.
Nine years.
For nine agonizing years, I had waited for this moment.
A single name had shaken Lou to his core. But what would happen if he knew the truth? If he realized that the very Ash Wyvern he spoke of was standing right before him?
Would he draw his sword again? Would he try to kill me, knowing I was an easy target for the time being?
I watched as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, sighing.
Then, without a word, he knelt and grabbed a stick, pressing it into the dirt.
"Imagine this," he muttered, dragging the stick through the soil. A crude figure took shape—a stick-man with a severed head.
I arched an eyebrow.
Lou glanced up, expression unreadable. "This," he said, stabbing the stick into the dirt, "is Ash Wyvern."
I nodded.
Beside the drawing, he etched a bold 13.
The Thirteen Months?
"Ash Wyvern," Lou continued, voice laced with something almost close to fear, "was a monster. Overpowered. It took the strongest force of that era—the Thirteen Months—to bring him down."
His hand trembled slightly as he gripped the stick tighter. "They were the pinnacle of Gloria's strength. Trained their entire lives, wielding the deadliest weapons ever forged."
He drew thirteen small daggers around the stick figure.
"Each blade was crafted from a demon's claw. Thirteen daggers for thirteen executioners."
I nodded again, watching the sketch form before me.
Lucifer's Claws.
Lou… He was well-informed. Painfully so.
Lou paused, scanning my face. "You following, Bug?"
"Every word," I murmured, my gaze fixed on his crude sketches.
He let out a ragged sigh, adding rough shapes beside the stick figure and the number 13. "The freaky Ash Wyvern," he rasped, "was a relentless force. Unmatched. Even the legendary Thirteen Months paid the ultimate price for their victory. Wiped out, every single one, before they could finish the job."
My jaw clenched.
Hearing him spit curses at Ash Wyvern—at me—was harder to stomach than I thought. The temptation to reveal the truth gnawed at me, but I held my tongue.
Then, Lou drew a thick "X" over the rough shapes. His voice dropped lower. "We never understood how, but every recovered record points to one chilling fact: the moment that butthole finally died, Gloria crumbled into ash. Literally obliterated. And the power that annihilated the kingdom… it originated from Ash Wyvern himself."
…What the hell?!
My head snapped up, eyes wide.
"One of his skills destroyed Gloria?" My voice came out tight, barely above a whisper. "But... how? Didn't he die before the fall?"
Lou nodded, his expression dark. "That's what the records claim. Upon his death, a surge of Mana erupted from his body. A torrent so powerful, it drained the life force from thousands of people. Earthquakes followed, tearing the land apart."
I sucked in a slow breath, gripping my chin in thought.
The Soulquake.
I knew exactly what he was talking about. That spell was mine. I had unleashed it against the Thirteen Months before my death—but not at a scale that could annihilate an entire kingdom.
I would never have wished for Gloria's destruction.
A pit formed in my stomach.
This was too suspicious. Had my assassination been orchestrated for this exact reason? Did they want my power?
But… who?
Before I could dwell on it, Lou pressed on.
"Let me tell you something else," he muttered. His tone shifted, like he was about to drop another revelation. "Though he wasn't raised in castles or surrounded by luxury, Ash Wyvern was the son of the king."
My fingers twitched.
I already knew what was coming next, but I let him take the lead. If he knew that I already have that much intel, things won't be good.
"The king… Alaric Crownwell the Fourth, was the mastermind behind the system that produced the greatest assassins. He worked tirelessly to protect the kingdom, but when it came to the commoners—especially the girls—he didn't give a damn."
A bitter taste filled my mouth. Don't tell me…
"Ash Wyvern was the child of one of those… encounters."
…
…
Tsk. Fuck you, Lou.
Lou noticed my sudden frown. "What's with that stupid look on your face?"
I waved a hand dismissively, forcing my expression back to neutral. "Just… continue."
Lou sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But Alaric wasn't a tyrant, you know. When he learned about the children he fathered, he didn't turn his back on them. He gave them and their mothers a grand cathedral to live in—a place of warmth, protection, and status. He supported them, fed them, treated them like royalty, even if they weren't in the castle."
I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to click my tongue. My fingers twitched at my sides. I had to keep my face blank, no matter how much his words twisted the truth.
Because everything Lou just said—was a blatant lie.
"Still," Lou continued, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me, "Ash Wyvern refused to live outside the castle. He burned the cathedral to the ground, slaughtering his own mother along with the other women and children."
A sharp, cold numbness spread through my limbs.
"Then," Lou pressed on, "he stormed the palace, nearly killing his own father because he wasn't promised the throne. He cut down guards, butchered people without hesitation—he was a ruthless monster."
I squeezed my hands into fists.
"And yet," Lou mused, his tone almost incredulous, "despite all that, the king still accepted him as his son. Instead of executing him, he offered Ash a chance to atone—by serving in the shadows, protecting Gloria as its unseen blade –"
The moment he finished speaking, something inside me snapped.
"ENOUGH!"
My voice cut through the air like a whip, raw and unrestrained. My hands shot up, fingers curled as if they could claw the very words from his throat.
Lou blinked, startled. "Huh?" He arched a brow, but mercifully, he fell silent.
I clenched my fists tighter, nails digging into my palms. Damn it. Damn it. DAMN IT.
Why?
Why the hell was I remembered like this?
I never killed my mother.
I never slaughtered innocents.
I never burned that cathedral.
So why?
Why had my legacy been twisted into something so vile?
A bitter chuckle scraped its way up my throat. My lips curled—not in amusement, but in something far colder.
So this was their gratitude.
All those years I spent protecting them. Every mission I took, every enemy I erased in the darkness for the sake of Gloria. And in the end, this was how they repaid me? By painting me as the villain?
Pathetic.
A slow, eerie calm settled over me. My heart, once hammering, steadied. My body stopped trembling. My mind cleared, sharp and deadly.
If I looked in a mirror right now, I bet…
I bet I'd see those dead, colorless eyes again.
I lifted my gaze to Lou, my voice unnervingly even. "And what does Ash Wyvern's case have to do with the Academy's goals?"
Lou exhaled sharply. "As brutal as he might have been, even I find it hard to believe Ash Wyvern destroyed Gloria."
The name dripped with venom, a subtle jab. But this time, it barely even registered.
"Our real goal," he continued, "is to uncover the mastermind behind his assassination—and the ones who exploited his power afterward. Whoever set this in motion didn't just want him dead. They wanted everything he had. And today?" His lips curled slightly. "Feels like we just got a step closer to unraveling the truth behind Gloria's fall. You see where I'm going with this, Bug?"
I met his gaze, my expression unreadable. "I see it clearly."
Because, in the end, our goals aligned.
And as long as they did—this life was going exactly according to plan.
A silent challenge. I held his gaze, daring him to elaborate when he clearly thought I was still clueless.
After a beat, Lou raised the retrieved collar, his expression sharp with meaning. Understanding clicked into place.
"You're suggesting," I signed, jabbing a finger toward the artifact, "that the woman we encountered—and her organization—are somehow connected to a five-hundred-year-old event?"
It was a long shot, sure. But if the threads lined up, even the most absurd theories had merit.
Lou let the collar drop, the dull thud punctuating his grim nod. "Unlikely as it seems," he muttered, something raw—almost desperate—laced in his tone, "my gut tells me the same mastermind is behind both."
I didn't scoff. Lou's instincts were rarely wrong.
"Here's why," he continued, voice low. "She wielded Mana. She had a Mana artifact. She harvested souls. And that Marloth entity—" he paused, shaking his head, "it all feels connected. Somehow."
Without another word, he stretched out on the ground, exhaustion finally creeping in.
"Your watch tonight," he mumbled, eyes already slipping shut. "Technically, I should report to the Academy before launching into a solo investigation. And once I do, you'll definitely be summoned by the Council. You know way too much, after all."
That was fair.
"But knowing you," he exhaled through his nose, "you'd just pester me endlessly. So..."
I arched a brow. "So?"
Rolling my eyes, I stood, sharpening my senses for the long night ahead.
Lou's lips twitched into a lazy, knowing smirk. Even half-asleep, the bastard couldn't help being smug.
"...Tomorrow, we pay a visit to the ruins of Gloria."
His snores filled the air before the weight of his words fully settled in.
Gloria's ruins.
A place I had spent nine years chasing shadows for. A place I had once called my home.
Had remnants of my former life, my kingdom, really been sitting in the Beast Lands all this time? And if so—why had I never seen them in the past two and a half years?
A slow, sinking realization washed over me. Lou hadn't chosen my training location at random.
Tsk… He's sharper than I gave him credit for.
I had spent nine years waiting. Nine years surviving. Nine years treading water while a plan took shape in my mind.
I had always envisioned infiltrating the Academy first, gathering resources on my own terms. That was the path I had set for myself.
But this…
This was an opening I couldn't ignore.
I exhaled a short, bitter chuckle, my breath barely misting in the night air.
Nine wasted years? Maybe. But that relentless drive—the hunger that had once defined me—was stirring again.
Some things, it seemed, even reincarnation couldn't take away.
The next day stretched before me, long and unyielding. Unlike the usual eight-hour nights, this one had passed in a blur, leaving only the promise of a grueling trek ahead.
Lou, his expression unreadable but laced with grim determination, took the lead.
I followed, boredom gnawing at me, my fingers idly tugging at the hem of my clothes.
A blue tracksuit, worn thin from countless scrapes and escapes, clung to my frame. Comfortable, sure—but unfamiliar.
My chest, still adjusting to the biological differences of this new body, strained slightly against the fabric. Tsk. Guess I really was starting to develop boobs.
Even my concealing cloak, once a reliable shield, was barely holding together. The edges were frayed beyond repair, riddled with holes that rendered it useless. My aura had begun to fluctuate too much—an open invitation for Flow Beasts to view me as a threat.
Sorry, Elza.
Without another thought, I shed the ruined cloak, shaking off the remaining scraps. Salvaging an undamaged portion, I twisted the fabric between my fingers, swiftly braiding it into a makeshift bracer.
Lou, ever observant, glanced my way. "Developing a sudden interest in fashion?" he drawled, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Not exactly your forte, I'll tell you that."
I sighed as I adjusted my handiwork. "A girl has to maintain appearances, wouldn't you agree?" My gaze swept over my attire. "Makeup and frills aren't really my thing, but decent clothes wouldn't hurt."
Lou chuckled—an uncommon sound. "Well, a tomboy like you pulling off the cool look shouldn't be too hard."
I arched a brow. "Coming from a fashion disaster like yourself? I don't know if I should take that as an insult or a challenge." A smirk tugged at my lips. "But hey, I'll take what I can get."
For a moment, silence stretched between us, broken only by the crunch of our boots against the dirt path.
Then, Lou sighed, shaking his head.
"Arrogant Bug..."