"Are you rushing or are you dragging?" Lady Sora asked, a gentle smile gracing her lips, her golden eyes fixed on Kaden who was, in fact, trying to sing.

At Lady Sora's sudden question, Kaden abruptly stopped, his mouth still open mid-motion, then stared at her with a confused expression. "What do you mean?" he inquired.

"So, you don't know the difference between the two, handsome knight?" she retorted, then added, "Let me show it to you, in that case."

The moment she said those words, Lady Sora closed her mouth and paused, before slowly, unhurriedly, opening it again, and the world seemed to lag.

Kaden's eyes widened slightly, feeling an unholy amount of intent wrapping around Lady Sora's tongue.

At the first echo of her voice, the temperature of the silver garden rose exponentially, making ethereal smoke drift and coil around them as if the very space itself were burning.

Her voice rose, then rushed.

Tongues of golden fire erupted, enveloping the entire silver garden, and for a moment one could believe this place belonged to Hell itself.

Then, suddenly, Lady Sora's voice began to drag. The fire died down, the air cooled and the garden returned to its tranquil, silvery calm.

Everything went back to normal. Time itself seemed to resume its steady course.

Kaden watched the scene with genuine amazement glimmering in his eyes. This was not the first time Lady Sora had shown him how dreadfully talented she was in music.

In fact, he had discovered not long ago that she was the one who created the very concept of music and song.

She told him she had always loved using her voice in different tones, manners, and vibrations, while experimenting and exploring the full capacity of her voice. To her, people often neglected the true versatility of their voices.

Most feared to use them fully, afraid of sounding strange, or too bizarre, or too different from others.

But Sora never cared for such fear. She refused to stop. She kept experimenting, using her voice in ways the world had never heard before, even as people mocked her for it.

She continued until one day the words that left her lips were no longer mere words, but songs, literal songs that could seize both mind and soul.

She believed she had achieved something worthy.

But life was a place where disappointment ran free.

People began to shun her for her actions, claiming what she was doing was unbecoming of a Lady of Asterion.

And when she finally decided, in her ecstatic joy, to share her discovery with the people, most of them began to use her creation in ways that dragged her very will through the mud.

They used her gift to deceive, to manipulate, to charm. They used it to worm their way into hearts, flattering others with melodies that sang their names for all the world to hear.

It was quite successful. But those people did nothing but breed problems — daring to seduce the women of noble houses with their voices, or stirring conflict wherever they went — causing Sora's reputation to spiral downhill until retribution befell her at the hand of the Sun Empress, ending with her being assigned to care for dying woman in a barren house.

Kaden felt a pang of sympathy for her. All she had done was share her creation, yet when others misused it, she was the one punished.

He found it stupid and deeply unfair.

All she did was create a tool. And no tool was ever evil. It was the hands that wielded it that changed its nature.

Just like how a knife could feed billions in the hands of a chef, but become a weapon in the hands of a murderer.

Kaden sighed inwardly once more, wondering if her current condition with her teeth was somehow related to that past.

Most likely.

"Do you understand now?" Lady Sora whispered to him, pulling Kaden out of his thoughts. He blinked, startled, then nodded in acknowledgment.

In truth, he understood absolutely nothing. He realized singing was not something he was particularly gifted at. It seemed the only song he could perform correctly was the Song of Fire and Blood.

And yet, Kaden was certain that if he truly wished to learn, he could.

But he didn't.

Not because he lacked the will, but because something had been scratching at the back of his mind ever since his new quest began.

He raised his head and stared at the blue sky veiled by a soft morning fog, watching as the sun slowly crawled back to reclaim its throne and the clouds filled with the gentle flutter of morning birds.

A soft breeze ruffled the silver garden, peaceful and serene, fluttering his untied black hair.

Yet Kaden felt none of that peacefulness.

Soon, Aurora would come out, and Lady Sora would bring them to Solaris. His decision had already been made, and he had made all the necessary arrangements with Aurora for what was about to come.

Now that she had become aware of Solaris's actions upon her mind, Aurora was more than ready.

They said love and hatred were one and the same, differing only in where you chose to look.

Kaden was almost tempted to believe that.

But he also knew that going against the two princes meant going against even his subordinates. Meaning…

Kaden slowly lowered his head, watching the peaceful expression of Lady Sora as she basked in the morning sun.

'Do I have to?' he wondered, his expression faintly troubled.

"You look troubled, handsome knight," Lady Sora said suddenly. Her eyes were still closed, yet somehow she seemed to sense the turmoil swirling inside him.

He gave a wry smile. "Was it that obvious?"

"To me," Lady Sora replied, slowly opening her golden eyes with a soft smile, "it was indeed obvious."

She paused, then continued in a gentle whisper, "Maybe getting it out of your chest will help ease that frown on your face."

"You're still handsome," she added with a teasing grin, "but I prefer the first version."

Kaden let out a small laugh before shaking his head. "I just don't know what to do exactly," he admitted. "A sort of dilemma, you see."

She nodded. "A dilemma, huh?" she echoed softly, then raised her right calloused hand, with a subtle twitch of her fingers, a golden coin appeared in her palm, gleaming faintly under the morning light, before she tossed it toward Kaden.

He caught it easily despite the suddenness of the gesture. Looking down, he studied the coin, noticing its difference from the ones he knew. This one bore a face carved upon it, but no matter how he turned it, he couldn't quite make out the features.

He lifted his gaze, meeting Lady Sora's eyes with an arched brow, confusion written plainly on his face.

"A friend of mine once told me something intriguing," she said, before quoting, "When you are not sure about a decision, flip a coin. Because while it's in the air, you'll realize which option you were hoping for."

The words struck deep, and Kaden's eyes widened slightly as understanding dawned.

"So go, handsome knight," she smiled, "flip it."

Kaden said nothing. He lowered his head, staring at the coin before clenching it tightly in his palm, feeling the cold metal pressing against his skin. Then, taking it between his fingers, he prepared to—!

"I am ready!" Aurora's voice rang behind them, bright and strong, making both Lady Sora and Kaden snap their heads toward her.

There she stood, her beautiful brown skin glowing with a caramel luster under the sunlight, the white robe draped perfectly over her lean, graceful form.

Her starlit eyes gleamed, full of energy and naive enthusiasm at the thought of meeting her prince.

Lady Sora slowly rose from her chair, the wood creaking slightly beneath her movement, then turned toward Kaden with a knowing smile.

"Please, do tell me if it helped you," she said softly, before starting to walk toward Aurora. "Oh, and yes, you can keep the coin, handsome knight."

Kaden watched her go, then stood up himself, following behind.

'Bloody, bloody, bloody.'

He was having a bloody headache.

…

Fokay — Asterion, Tycoon's Merchants.

Old Smith was pacing around the room, her feet heavy against the ground, each step making the floor throb faintly beneath her weight. Between her lips hung her pipe, thick smoke spilling from it, enveloping the room in a choking haze.

Anyone looking at her would have noticed the stress and anxiety creeping out of every muscle in her small body, making even the simple act of sitting seem like a death sentence.

But they would have also noticed that she was listening to something, or rather to someone, for beside her right ear, low near her neck, a small patch of ice was still emitting cold frost.

"Please," Old Smith whispered, "please, my lady, you must surely have a way to help him. I've tried my best. I even traded my unique evolution stone for a powder from the Church of Sorrow to ease his pain."

"But it barely helped," she said, voice trembling as she tried to convince her interlocutor.

"Smith," the voice from the ice erupted, cold and unfeeling, "the deal with him was to only take the Mythic Artifact, not to try and use it. He should have been wise enough to know that only the blood of Asterion could wield it."

"Now, he will bear the consequences of his actions."

"But—!"

"Silence, Smith."

Old Smith immediately shut her mouth, her fists clenching tight beside her trembling body.

"Pray that his brother succeeds," the voice continued, "otherwise, I believe you do not need me to tell you what will happen… do you?"

Old Smith said nothing, but she nodded.

And as if able to see her gesture, the voice softened faintly before fading, leaving only a final warning,

"Dare nothing, Smith. I will find out, and I will kill you."

Then the voice vanished completely, leaving Old Smith alone in her study, her mind shredded by painful thoughts.

She grabbed her pipe again and inhaled deeply, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that dulled her mind, sinking her briefly into the mercy of numbness.

"What do I—!"

"Oh my. Oh my."

A voice suddenly echoed through the room, mocking and playful.

Old Smith's head snapped upward, her heart freezing as two figures emerged from the ceiling as if melting down from the stone itself.

Her blood went cold.

Each of them wore a mask streaked with tears of blood, hiding everything except their eyes, one pair yellow-grey, the other brown. Both were draped in crimson robes that flowed like a waterfall of blood.

The one that looked like a woman, judging by her silhouette, spoke first, her tone dripping with amusement.

"What do we have here, Anthropologist?"

Anthropologist shrugged lazily. "We have the key to the success of our mission, it seems."

Abomination cackled like a madwoman, then parted her lips again. This time, the room filled with a thick veil of purple fog. Her laughter echoed like that of a devil freshly escaped from Hell.

"We are the Harvester's Messengers," Abomination said, her yellow-grey eyes glowing with malice.

"Tell us, little black dwarf…"

Old Smith stumbled backward, her heart shivering as she met the cold brown eyes of Anthropologist. The air in the room suddenly grew dense, crushing down on her like a mountain pressing against her shoulders.

She staggered back again, the scent of death so thick she could almost see her own corpse on the floor, cold and lifeless.

Her breath caught in her throat, her lungs refusing to draw air.

And only then did she hear the question of the intruders…

"Where is Dain Warborn?"

Her legs gave out.

She fell.

—End of Chapter 317—

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