When Azriel's eyes opened, he found himself once again on the onyx shore, staring at the ink-black water.
This time, the wind wasn't howling. The clouds hadn't turned dark, and there were no screams of gods clashing in the distance.
So silent that Azriel found it unsettling.
It had only been a few days since he had first stood on this very shore, yet it already felt like a lifetime ago.
"Huh? W-what happened?"
"Yeah! Finally done fighting!"
"Ah, I thought my arms would fall off from swinging my sword..."
Azriel turned, his gaze falling on the soldiers slumped on the ground. Somehow, Joaquin had managed to teleport everyone to the onyx shore—those who were still alive, at least.
Without delay, Azriel made sure to subtly release traces of his aura, just enough to create the impression of subconscious leakage. It was a precaution, nothing more.
His eyes roved over the weary soldiers until they landed on Lumine and Yelena. The two were sitting on the ground, backs leaning against one another, utterly spent.
'Looks like they played "defend the castle" too,' Azriel thought.
Then, two powerful presences caught his attention. Turning, he saw Joaquin standing beside Malcolm. Before them, two figures appeared out of thin air—Mira and Amon.
Azriel's eyes widened. He began moving toward them, accompanied by Jasmine, who held Iryndra's hand, and Nol, who trailed silently behind.
But before he could get far, a certain black-haired maid stepped into his path.
Azriel stopped, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Unlike Azriel, who seemed amused, Amaya's expression was sharp.
"Have you enjoyed your stay in the Sunken Islands, my prince? Shall I book this place again for next year?"
"Ah, yes, I've had a delightful time. I really should visit this beautiful world more often."
Her glare softened, giving way to concern.
"Did something happen?"
It was a fair question. She hadn't been allowed to see him and likely had no idea.
Azriel's smile didn't falter.
"Of course. I was just spending some quality time with my father and sister. Nothing to worry about, Amaya."
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before shifting to the little girl standing beside Jasmine. Both Jasmine and Iryndra stopped, their attention drawn to the exchange.
Amaya opened her mouth as if to speak but then closed it, shaking her head. She knew now wasn't the time to bombard him with questions—though the curiosity was almost unbearable.
Who was this little girl?
"B-big brother... You get along with a lot of women, huh? Even back when we met, you were talking to that stone girl..."
Azriel found himself both amused and exasperated. She was clearly forcing herself to call him "big brother," though he wouldn't have minded if she stuck with "mister."
Watching her cheeks flush red and her demeanor turn shy every time she said it was entertaining.
Unfortunately, her words made his lips twitch.
'I don't speak to a lot of women… It's not me. It's them who speak to me.'
He twitched again, noticing Iryndra's mischievous grin.
Amaya blinked, confused by the interaction.
Azriel turned to her, ignoring Jasmine's bemused look. A crooked smile appeared on his face.
"Ah, yes. Haven't you heard, Amaya? Iryndra is my father's illegitimate daughter."
Amaya's eyes widened as Iryndra blinked in confusion. Jasmine sighed, rubbing her temples, while Nol barely stifled a laugh.
Pointing at Iryndra with a trembling finger, Amaya stammered,
"T-the king… is unfaithful?"
Her words carried, drawing the attention of nearby soldiers. They glanced between Amaya and Iryndra, the pieces falling into place with alarming speed.
"No way… The king had an affair?"
"Woah! That's my king!"
"She does have his hair…"
"Black hair is the most common, idiot."
"Wait, does this mean there's another princess in the Crimson Clan?"
Azriel watched the frozen Amaya with amusement as he casually walked around her, Nol and Jasmine following close behind. They approached Joaquin, who appeared blissfully unaware of the commotion brewing behind him.
But as they drew closer, Joaquin's voice cut through the air, freezing them in their tracks.
"You're telling me the two of you failed to take down that void creature and allowed SICVC to be wiped out? Is incompetence the only thing you two are capable of?"
His tone was harsh, his presence suffocating. Even Malcolm stepped back, lowering his head.
Azriel understood why.
Amon was the first to respond.
"With all due respect—"
His cold words reached every soldier's ear, making even those on the ground flinch and straighten their backs.
In an instant, with his words, the entire atmosphere shifted. Everyone, save for Azriel and Nol, looked at Joaquin with fear in their eyes.
Azriel's mind was still numb from waking up, and Nol, not one to understand fear, stood unaffected. But if one looked closely, they could see his hand trembling ever so slightly.
Joaquin continued, and it felt like the air was pressing down on everyone's shoulders.
"Two grandmasters cannot take down a single Grade 1 monarch. You failed to protect a half-built Void capital and allowed countless soldiers to die in the process. Void worms have overrun the SICVC, making it uninhabitable. My—your king's anchor was placed in that very capital, as I had the confidence that you, old man, could protect it. I am disappointed."
Mira and Amon's faces darkened at his words—not from anger, but from shame. They were ashamed of themselves.
Iryndra seemed to clutch Jasmine's hand tightly, looking a little scared, causing Jasmine to snap out of her daze. She opened her mouth to speak.
"Don't," Azriel interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder.
No one, save for Azriel, looked more out of place. Mira and Amon, bloodied and bruised to the point where they no longer resembled grandmasters, looked more in place than Azriel, who was casually dressed in a simple T-shirt and joggers.
Jasmine, still confused, glanced at Azriel, but he kept his gaze fixed on Joaquin.
The reason was simple.
He had every right to be angry. Jasmine, despite being one of the most talented humans in the world, was still only 17. She had much to learn—not just about strength, but about ruling as a queen.
If Jasmine had interrupted Joaquin's tirade because of her kindness, it would have been undeniable that Joaquin would not have looked favorably upon her mercy.
Azriel knew Joaquin would never harm Jasmine, but he might punish her for it.
One of the best parts of the "Path of Heroes" was watching the characters develop, but here, things were different. Azriel was alive. And with his survival, Jasmine wasn't as cold-hearted and merciless as she was in the book. She had more kindness in her heart, which was admirable for a hero—but not always fitting for a queen.
It was Mira who spoke up this time, her voice breaking the tension as she knelt.
"… Your Majesty, the Void creature was perhaps a Grade 1 monarch, but it was something we've never encountered. At first, I thought it was just a mere wyvern. But… I was wrong."
Joaquin narrowed his eyes, and so did Azriel.
Azriel's eyes widened.
'Wait… you're kidding, right?'
And then, under the collective breath of everyone watching, Azriel walked toward them. Shock flashed across their faces as they watched him approach.
Jasmine was about to speak but closed her mouth as she saw Azriel's serious expression, walking up beside Joaquin.
Joaquin looked at him, but before he could say anything, Azriel spoke first.
"What did the creature look like?"
Mira and Amon exchanged a confused glance. Mira studied Azriel for a few moments, noticing Joaquin's silence before she finally spoke.
"It looked identical to a wyvern—only much larger, stronger. Its scales were harder, and it had four legs instead of the usual two..."
Mira kept talking, describing the creature, but Azriel was no longer listening; he already knew enough.
Azriel's face paled, his skin prickling with goosebumps. His heart started racing.
He remembered something from the book—a fragment of memory that had never been mentioned again, yet echoed in his mind relentlessly.
In the book, Lumine had once discovered ruins containing runes in the Void language. He couldn't translate them, but Yelena could.
She had translated a single passage—one that had never been revisited.
They are nowhere, yet everywhere. Unseen but never absent. They are feared not for what they are, but for what they cannot be—understood. Unknown, unknowable, and yet they choose to be known. Where the sky devils roam, their sanctuary is forged. A place so forsaken that even the sky devils—harbingers of terror—become as docile as hounds before them.