"You did good today—just like all the other days this break," Dylan's dad said, his voice mellow beneath the blanket of stars. "Even with your return tomorrow, you still went out, hunted, and brought food home. That's something, kid."
Dylan tilted his head, a sly smirk ghosting his lips. "Well, can't let the legendary Wellington laziness catch up to me just yet."
His dad chuckled, low and warm. "Fair. But tell me this—how's the princess doing? Heard she followed her brother's footsteps… enrolled in the Dark Knight Academy."
"Sheila?" Dylan raised a brow. "She's good. More than good, actually. Holding her own—and currently ranked first among us first-years."
"Hm," his dad hummed, glancing away with a knowing smile. "Still ahead of you, huh?"
Dylan groaned, folding his arms. "I'm painfully aware, old man. No need to salt the emotional wound."
"That's what dads are for," he said, nudging Dylan's shoulder with his elbow. "Besides… you like her, don't you?"
Dylan blinked. "What?"
"Don't play dumb. I saw the way you looked at her back when I was stationed as a guard at the Crescent Palace. All dreamy-eyed and noble—like some fairytale sap."
"Ugh. Over my dead, still-living body," Dylan replied in mock disgust. "Are you trying to embarrass me in front of the moon?"
"I live to embarrass you," his dad said proudly. "But since it's not Sheila on your mind, it's gotta be Priya. Don't lie—can't say you don't like her, kid."
Dylan froze, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. "Priya, huh? It's… it's been a while since I saw her."
His dad leaned forward, resting his arms on the railing. "Yeah. And I doubt you'll see her anytime soon. She went off to the Noble Knight Academy, remember?"
"Yeah. I wish they'd stayed in Sear instead of moving to Zone 5. Maybe I would've seen her again." Dylan shrugged, eyes flicking to the stars. "But fate's not mine to control. Still… I hope our paths cross again someday."
They let the silence settle between them, easy and comfortable. Crickets chirped in the distance, and a cool breeze threaded through the porch, ruffling Dylan's hair.
"Anyway… you nervous?" his dad asked softly. "About going back tomorrow?"
Dylan looked down, thumb brushing the grain of the wooden railing. A smirk crept across his face. "Yeah. The academy's… something else. It's full of monsters—smart ones, strong ones. And there are two bastards in particular who seem dead set on staying ahead of me, no matter how hard I try."
"I've never had to push myself this hard in my life."
"But you like the challenge," his father said, eyes gleaming. "You always have. And I doubt quitting's even in your vocabulary."
Dylan's grin widened. "Of course not, old man. I'm no mere mortal."
"Damn right." His dad clapped him on the back. "That's my boy."
There was a moment of of silence.
"You still suck at archery though," his dad added with a sly grin.
Dylan narrowed his eyes, scandalized. "Excuse me? I'm literally the best archer in Sear."
"You're the only archer in Sear," his dad snorted.
"...I don't have to do this," Dylan said, turning away with dramatic flair. "I refuse to argue with someone whose bedtime is before mine."
"Oh ho! Little man's getting bold now, huh?" His dad laughed and ruffled Dylan's hair in the most disrespectful way possible. "Go on. Get some rest. Big day tomorrow."
"Yeah…" Dylan turned toward the door but paused. "Thanks, dad."
"For the talk… and, y'know, for existing."
His dad smiled, softer now. "Wouldn't have missed it for the world."
Dylan slipped inside, meeting his mom still at the sink, humming some old tune as her hands worked on the dishes.
"Back already?" she asked, not turning around.
"Yeah." Dylan walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist again, resting his chin on her shoulder.
She chuckled. "What now?"
"Just... recharging," he said with a yawn. "Dad's got this way of making you feel like you're either gonna save the world or trip over your own ego doing it."
"That means he still loves you," she said, nudging him with her elbow.
Dylan let her go and helped dry the dishes beside her for a while, not saying much.
The Tempest Kingdom — Royal Palace
After uncovering the truth about Sylvathar's presence in Amthar, Mystica had wasted no time arranging a meeting with Queen Lucy. But diplomatic visits weren't solo missions—and the one person she wanted by her side had zero desire to tag along. Too bad for him.
Mystica and Galen walked through the palace's grand halls as two royal knights led the way.
"Remind me again," Galen muttered, hands buried in his pockets, "why it's me playing escort instead of Dove?"
"Because," Mystica answered with a syrupy smile, "you're the only one who can explain what happened with Roots and that delicious little scoop you fed me."
Galen sighed, exasperated. "Great. Haven't seen this woman in years, and now I get to be the messenger boy. Classic Mystica."
"You're welcome, sweetie," she said, breezing past a statue like royalty herself.
They reached the Queen's study after a few minutes. The knights halted at the door.
"You may enter," one of them said with a slight bow.
The double doors opened, and the two strolled in with calm confidence. The knights shut the doors behind them.
"Still soaked in that royal aesthetic, I see," Galen muttered, eyeing Queen Lucy seated behind her polished mahogany desk. Her emerald eyes were locked on them, cool and composed, with the faintest hint of amusement curling at her lips.
"Long time no see, Galen Magna," she said smoothly.
"Yeah," Galen replied, already meandering toward the wine shelf. "Honestly, I'd have preferred it stayed that way. But fate, as always, drags me where the mess is."
He picked out a bottle and a glass like he owned the place. "I've been eyeing this since my last visit," he said, pouring himself a drink.
But before the glass met his lips, a cold dagger pressed against his throat. Not that it fazed him.
Galen's eyes shifted sideways. Wyjin. Masked, silent, deadly—just as he remembered. One of the Queen's executioner-assassins.
"I suggest you show some respect in Her Majesty's presence," Wyjin warned, voice like steel in a snowstorm. "Before I separate your head from that smug body."
Galen kept sipping, completely unbothered. "I'll let that slide, Mr. Assassin," he said, brushing the dagger away with two fingers. "Because the Queen clearly has a soft spot for you. That's the only reason you're still breathing."
He took a seat in the chair opposite the Queen, crossing one leg over the other with a grin.
"Next time, though?" he added with a calm stare. "I will kill you."
Queen Lucy didn't blink or flinch. She simply folded her hands over the desk, her eyes locked on Galen like he was a wild animal she'd long since tamed.
"Still dramatic and reckless as always," she said, her voice crisp like a winter breeze. "And still alive. That's the part I find most surprising."
Galen smirked, swirling the wine in his glass. "You'd be amazed how often I hear that."
Mystica stepped forward and took a seat as well. "We came for more than the usual banter. There's something serious—and dangerous—you need to hear."
Lucy's gaze shifted to her. "Go on."
Mystica exchanged a brief glance with Galen, who rolled his eyes before taking another sip of wine.
"Sylvathar is in our realm," he said casually. "And he's not just poking around—he's made a move."
Lucy's brow arched slightly. "You're certain?"
"Yep. Confirmed it. I encountered one of his kin—only this one had a name and a position. Right-hand demon of Sylvathar. He… I mean, it… was stronger than the usual Gaia demons we've faced. Stronger. Taller. Smarter." Galen leaned back again. "And a very annoyingly emotional bastard."
Mystica took over smoothly. "Sylvathar's made deals with humans. Willingly. People obsessed with power. They now carry his blood. They're not just vessels—they're becoming something else entirely. Just like Duchess Aveline."
Queen Lucy tapped a finger on the desk once. Then again. The sound echoed through the room like a ticking clock.
"How many?" she asked.
"We don't know yet," Galen admitted. "But Roots—the bastard I handled—said phase one is already complete. That means the infection has spread. It's not just this kingdom. It's across all three."
Lucy leaned back slightly.
"Do we know his goal?" she asked.
"To strengthen his kin," Mystica said. "He's aiming for a seat higher in the Demon Lord hierarchy. By flooding our world with mutated Gaia hybrids, he wants to return to the demon realm and challenge the pecking order."
Lucy nodded, thoughtful. "And here I thought the dragons were going to be this month's headache."
She turned to Galen. "I know how much you'll hate this—but you're the only one who can do it."
Galen sipped his wine. "Yeah, not the first time I'm hearing that."
Queen Lucy leaned forward slightly. "Since this problem has clearly spread across all three kingdoms, we all need to be on the same page. I can speak with the Crescent Kingdom, even though it won't be easy."
"I need you, Galen, to speak with your family—the Solara Kingdom."