A month ago, before Amethiel's regression.
"You are going to die, Lord Amethiel!"
"What?" Amethiel turned just in time to feel something latch onto him. He looked down and saw a small, frog-like monster clinging to him with its tongue.
"YOUR GRACE!" Johnson, one of his guards, shouted as he unsheathed his sword.
"No, no. It's fine. I can handle this." Amethiel waved him off as he turned to the Froggo, as he liked to call them. He reached out and tickled the monster's tongue. It twitched violently before releasing him. "See? Froggos are more or less harmless, Johnson. Just relax."
Johnson frowned. "Your Grace, forgive me if I'm stepping out of line, but we've been searching for… whatever it is you're looking for, for hours. I've already received two messages from the duke, four from Lord Hyacinthe, and another two from Lord Lilior."
"And?"
"They're wondering why you're taking longer than usual."
"I'm taking longer because of all the monsters we've encountered. I've already catalogued one or two. I need more. I need newer ones." Amethiel crossed his arms. "They'll understand."
"But doesn't that mean we should stop now?" Johnson hesitated. "You said it yourself, Your Grace. There might not be any more. Maybe that's all the monsters there are. And they're terrifying. I don't—"
"Terrifying?" Amethiel tilted his head and pointed at the Froggo. "Do you honestly think that looks terrifying?"
"Yes."
Amethiel blinked. "Listen, Johnson. Monsters aren't like us. They're not even like ordinary animals."
Johnson raised an eyebrow. "How so, Your Grace?"
"For one, they're not what they appear to be." Amethiel stepped closer to the Froggo. "Take this one, for example. You'd assume it's just a strange variant of a frog, right?"
"I suppose…?"
"Nope!" Amethiel grinned and abruptly picked the Froggo up, earning a startled squeal from the creature.
"Your Grace—"
"Look." As Amethiel held it up, the Froggo's body began to glow, shifting through a dazzling array of colors, so bright it was almost blinding. Amethiel quickly let go. "When Froggos get scared, they light up like that. It's a defense mechanism."
The Froggo hopped away, still faintly glowing, while Amethiel beamed like he'd just proven a brilliant point.
Of course, Amethiel was met with strange, almost horrified looks. He sighed.
'They don't understand,' Amethiel thought. 'Of course they don't. Everyone in this kingdom are fools who think monsters are either nothing but danger, or profit.'
Monsters were dangerous. Yes.
They were also really valuable.
To the rich and the noble, monsters were status symbols, kept like exotic pets to show off wealth and power.
But to Amethiel, they were more than that.
Monsters hadn't been known for long. Or rather, their existence hadn't been acknowledged for long. Their discovery dated back only two generations.
And instead of learning from them, instead of understanding what made them so unique, people sold them. To other kingdoms. To other nobles. Even within their own borders.
The only one who had ever shown the same interest in monsters as Amethiel was—
"Ah, truly, you remind me so much of the duchess," Johnson said suddenly. "Not just in looks, but in personality as well."
'I've heard that so many times,' Amethiel thought, 'and yet I'll never know if it was true.'
His mother was dead.
All he had ever been given were stories about how similar he was to a woman he had never met.
Amethiel took a deep breath. "Let's keep going. I'm not leaving until I find a new monster. I saw that bitch from the Blue House—"
"Your Grace. Language," Johnson scolded.
But Amethiel didn't stop. "—has a new flying monster I've never seen before, and she refused to show it to me. And for the record, Johnson, she is a bitch."
Johnson sighed heavily, rubbing his face in frustration.
"Alright, Your Grace. If you want to continue, then we will. Just please remember to stay close to us—"
Amethiel tried to listen, but his attention drifted. He already knew the routine. This wasn't his first hunt, and he'd gone out with different guards plenty of times before.
While Johnson kept talking, Amethiel scanned their surroundings. Even the other guards looked tired of the lecture.
He wanted to go deeper into the area, but—
'Oh?'
Something white caught his eye.
It was flying.
'Is… that it?' Amethiel thought, his eyes widening. 'It has to be.'
The only flying monster he currently had was what he called a Lily-fly, a strange mix between a flower and a butterfly. Mostly flower-shaped, just with wings.
What he'd seen with Minerva Malverne was bird-like.
And the white shape that just passed by didn't look like a Lily-fly at all.
"There," Amethiel said as he immediately stepped forward. He could still see the white shape darting away, fast and elusive. "It's going that way!"
Amethiel ran fast.
Far too fast for someone who absolutely despised running.
'I hate this.'
His lungs burned almost immediately, his legs screaming in protest as he forced himself to keep moving. Each step felt heavier than the last, his breaths coming out sharp and uneven.
'This is the most exercise I've done in my entire life,' Amethiel thought bitterly. 'I am actually going to die if I keep this up.'
The white shape fluttered ahead of him, quick and maddeningly light.
"No, no, wait!" Amethiel hissed, pushing himself harder. "Don't you dare fly away now!"
His heart pounded painfully in his chest as panic set in. The creature was getting farther away. He could see it slipping between trees, darting just out of reach.
'Damn it. I'm going to lose it,' he realized, his breath turning uneven. 'Why must my brothers always have to be right?'
They had been telling him for years to pick up some kind of sport. Sword training. Knight classes. Even something as humiliatingly simple as daily exercise.
He had always refused.
Amethiel despised anything that required sweat, strain, or unnecessary movement. Physical exertion felt beneath him, like something meant for soldiers and stable hands—not for a Viremont heir.
And now his lungs burned.
'This is ridiculous…'
He tried to speed up.
Nothing could go wrong, right?
That was his mistake.
His foot caught on something solid.
And very large.
Amethiel barely had time to gasp before he pitched forward, slamming hard into the ground. Pain shot through his knees, his palms, and his side, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.
"Ow! Johnson!" he cried, his voice cracking. "Johnson!"
He pushed himself up slightly, wincing as he waited.
Hurried footsteps. Shouting. Anything.
"...Johnson?"
Nothing came.
The forest was silent.
Too silent.
Amethiel froze.
'Wait a minute…'
Slowly, he lifted his head and looked around.
No guards.
No armor glinting between the trees.
No Johnson.
He was alone.
His hands clenched into fists as frustration boiled over, sharp and hot, mixing with the sting of pain.
'Unbelievable,' he thought furiously. 'Absolutely unbelievable.'
Did they not follow him?
Amethiel wasn't a fast runner. That was exactly why he'd lost the white flying monster in the first place.
Which meant the guards hadn't followed.
He groaned as he shifted, every sore muscle making itself painfully known. "Of all the times," he muttered, glaring at the ground, "this had to be the moment Johnson decided not to listen to anything I say."
Johnson was probably still listing every safety rule in existence, which, ironically, had landed Amethiel in a far more dangerous situation.
Now anger simmered beneath the panic, tightening his chest.
Great.
He was hurt.
He was exhausted.
And he had chased a monster straight into the middle of nowhere.
"Ah. What am I supposed to do now?" he muttered. "Do I just stay here? Wait?"
Waiting was fine.
He was used to getting lost.
However…
"Ugh. At the very least, I wish I hadn't tripped on this stupid, fucking—"
…rock?
'No.'
Amethiel froze, his heartbeat suddenly loud in his ears.
It wasn't a rock.
"A… human?" Amethiel whispered as he pushed himself upright and leaned closer. His breath hitched the moment he saw it.
No.
It wasn't human.
"Forget that flying thing," Amethiel murmured, his hands shaking, half from the pain and half from pure excitement.
It was a monster.
A big one.