---
Silence.
Then—Raina turns.
Her hair ignites, flames threading through every strand, her eyes blazing like twin suns.
Another breathless moment of stillness.
Evil Being 5: …Run.
They scatter instantly.
Fire erupts from Princess Raina's hands, searing through the air in merciless arcs. The beings flee between cabins and stalls, shrieking as flames snap at their heels.
Nearby, an elf struggles outside his cabin, frowning at a slab of raw meat in his hands.
Elf: Why can't I harness fire to roast you? Must I cook you ag—
The fleeing beings streak past him in a blur, and a flame shot meant for them collides with the meat instead. It roasts instantly—perfectly. A rich aroma fills the air.
One of the beings hesitates, nostrils flaring, and lunges for the food.
With reflex honed by instinct, the elf tucks the meat beneath his armpit, grabs the creature by the neck, slams it to the ground, and stamps down until its form dissolves into nothingness.
Only then does the heat register.
Elf: Ow—ow!
(wincing, waving at Raina as she rushes past)
Thanks to you, friend!
---
Meanwhile, Cendric races through chaos, shouting warnings, pulling villagers to safety. He reaches a village already under siege.
At its entrance, he drops to one knee, arms crossed.
From the point where his forearms meet, an enormous shield erupts—translucent, trembling under relentless assault. Totutũks slam against it again and again, screeching as they claw and strike.
Cendric: (Through clenched teeth) Argh!
With a final surge, he releases his gathered Energy. The shockwave obliterates the attackers before him. Weak but unbroken, Cendric forces himself upright and draws in a massive breath.
He exhales skyward.
The air condenses, expands—forming a vast, shimmering globe that seals the village beneath it. The Totutũks recoil, unable to penetrate.
Cheers rise from the villagers. Some collapse in gratitude. A few maidens stare openly, breathless at the sight of a charming rescuer, unaware of the truth hidden beneath illusion.
Ælfen 1: Oh my goodness…
Ælfen 2: By his badge—he's a Student Knight.
Cendric stiffens.
Ahead, the Village Market burns.
He sprints.
What he finds freezes his blood. Knights lie fallen. Villagers—slaughtered. Totutũks hover above the corpses, siphoning glowing souls from the dead.
Cendric: Lawks!
He charges, striking with everything he has—but the deaths multiply. The stronger Totutũks merge their shadows, weaving a vast ring high above the market before hurling it downward.
Impact.
The explosion levels the square.
Bodies fall. Smoke rises. The stench of charred flesh hangs heavy.
With a cry torn from grief and fury, Cendric attacks again—only to be struck down in an instant. The Totutũks converge, drawn to the brilliance of his soul.
Cendric barely manages to raise a barrier around himself, ignoring his wounds as blood soaks into ash.
Then—retreat.
The creatures recoil as the sky-portal above them begins to close, their forms unraveling as they vanish into darkness.
Decorum returns slowly.
Survivors stir. Weeping breaks the silence.
Cendric's barrier dissolves. His legs give way, and he collapses into the burnt dust, laughter escaping him—hollow, broken.
Cendric: (murmuring) Yang… why?
(raising his voice, cracking)
Why did you choose me?!
(muttering) Without you, I was a thug—a menace. People died around me… and I—
(teeth clenched)
—and I never felt a thing.
Flames crackle behind him as stalls collapse.
Cendric: (softly) What use is cultivation… when so many still died?
Footsteps approach—careful, hesitant.
Derlinê: Your Highness?
Cendric glances over his shoulder.
Derlinê gasps, covering her mouth.
Derlinê: (Muffled) Your Highness! (Turning, calling out) Over here!
She and Braiden rush to him, tears streaming.
Cendric: How did you know it was me?
Derlinê: The Empress Dowager ordered us to bring you home.
Braiden: We're so glad you're alive, Your Highness.
Derlinê: Come, let us return.
An Elf-Soldier lifts Cendric gently and carries him away.
From a distant shadow, General Tyrên watches—eyes unreadable.
---
Imperial Palace
Throne Chamber
The crack of a slap echoes.
Ernest stumbles as the Emperor's hand strikes his cheek. The Queen Mother cries out and catches her son before he falls, pulling him into her arms as his breath turns ragged with pain and shock.
The Emperor stands rigid—perfectly composed, fury restrained behind his gaze.
Elflord: Have you seen the consequence of your disobedience? You placed countless lives in peril.
Lady Courtney, Ernest's senior lady-in-waiting, drops to her knees at once.
Lady Courtney: Regal Elflord, I beg for mercy! The Young Lord wished only for harmless divers
ion. It was his idea that we should all go out together.
Queen Mother: That is true.
Silence descends upon the chamber.
And then—
---
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