The estate gardens were quiet. Far enough from the hall, the gravel paths winding through cherry trees and fountains gave the illusion of peace.
Lysera's hand brushed against mine as we walked. I didn't pull away—why would I? Her fingers were warm, steady, a contrast to the storm coiling faintly around me even now.
"You've really changed," she said softly, eyes scanning my face as if trying to find some hidden truth. "More than I imagined. Stronger. Sharper."
I smirked, not stopping my stride. "I am stronger. And sharper. You should know better than anyone, seeing how I always like to surprise people."
Her laugh was soft, teasing. "You always have to be dramatic, don't you?"
"Always." My violet eyes caught hers. Sparks flickered faintly, brushing the edges of the fountain water like restless serpents. "It keeps life interesting. Besides… drama suits me."
We walked in silence for a moment, the soft sounds of the garden wrapping around us. Then she glanced at me, voice serious. "You should know something about my father."
I raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"
"No. He's… one of the first humans to awaken," she said carefully, almost hesitating. "He's at the level of a Sword Saint."
I didn't blink. I didn't even smirk—well, maybe just a little. "Yea, I already know." My storm rippled faintly, like an undercurrent waiting to be unleashed. "I've felt his presence when I scanned the grounds. Strong, disciplined, precise. But I don't need anyone to tell me how dangerous he is. I've fought worse—and I won."
Lysera's eyes widened slightly, but there was a sparkle of admiration there. "I… see. You really do know everything."
I chuckled softly. "Well, mostly. But let's keep the politics to him, alright? You handle the court and I handle… everything else." I leaned closer just slightly, enough for her to feel the warmth under the storm. "Now, I'm more interested in walking with you. Away from everything else."
Her blush deepened, but she didn't pull away. "You really have no sense of subtlety, do you?"
"Subtlety is overrated," I replied, smirking. "Besides, subtlety won't save anyone if things get… complicated."
She laughed quietly. "Complicated? With you? I think I've already realized that."
I let her hand linger in mine, tightening slightly. "Good. You'll need to get used to it. I'm not a man who's easy to keep up with."
She tilted her head, looking at me with soft defiance. "I think I'll manage."
I let a faint laugh escape me, stormlight flickering around my arms like the echo of a predator's tail. "You better. Because if you fall behind… well, let's just say the storm doesn't wait."
For a moment, the garden felt like our own little world. No nobles, no guilds, no threats. Just Lysera and me, walking side by side.
And yet… even in peace, the storm in me hummed, ready, waiting. Because there were dungeons to clear, enemies to challenge, and the Nameless God still whispering in my veins.
I glanced at her, violet sparks dancing along my forearm. "Just so you know, I'm still Level 55. My Storm Veins are mastered, Judgment Spark's sharper than ever, and Abyssstorm… well, it's something even gods notice now."
Her eyes widened, lips parting. "Level 55… already?"
I smirked, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Yeah. And don't forget—my wraiths are fully evolved now, each one named and ready to fight for me. I've survived catastrophic and beyond-catastrophic dungeons that would've wiped entire guilds off the map."
She shook her head, half exasperated, half impressed. "You really do live in another world, don't you?"
"Of course," I said, leaning in just slightly. "And I like it there."
The wind carried faint violet sparks across the garden as we walked, the tension of the world outside kept at bay, if only for a few precious minutes. But the storm—my storm—was never truly gone. It was only waiting.
And so was I.