Air rushed past him as he dropped. He adjusted his body mid-fall, aiming precisely for the source of the pressure below, the boy at the center of it all. The one standing unnaturally still amid the dust and rubble.

The youth's clothes clung to him, dark and torn, bandages peeking from beneath his sleeves and wrapping unevenly around his limbs. They fluttered as they began to unravel, whipped by the spiraling air around him. Dust and rubble swirled in wide circles, drawn by the force radiating from his body.

He couldn't see the mana itself, but he could feel it, a weight pressing against his chest, a low hum that grew sharper the closer he got. The air was trembling, the energy condensing like a storm about to break.

And the ringing, by the time he landed, it was deafening.

He could tell right away the kid was using mana, too much of it. So when he leapt down, he let gravity do most of the work, twisting just enough to land with full force. His boots slammed into the boy's chest, pinning him hard against the cracked ground.

His sword was already drawn, its edge still streaked with fresh blood from his earlier scuffle, or rather, the beating he'd given those knights outside the hall.

They hadn't answered his simple question, "Got demoted?" Instead, they'd tried to posture, as if they'd forgotten who they were dealing with. He'd reminded them the hard way. Disrespectful brats. The captain of the royal brigade didn't take well to being ignored.

"You said there's trouble?" he called out, not to anyone in particular, his tone edged with irritation as he pressed his boot down a little harder. His gaze dropped to the boy beneath him.

Something about the kid seemed familiar, the face, the stance, but those eyes… those eyes were wrong. Wide open, glowing a sharp, slit pupiled red that's obviously wasn't human.

He frowned, sword lowering just slightly as he muttered, "This kid's the cause of it?"

He could hear some sputtering from the side, voices trying to form words through the settling dust. Then one of them muttered something under their breath.

"Mad Dog."

The words hit a nerve. His jaw clenched, the memory snapping back like a whip. Hinnom. That damned prince's loudmouthed vassal had thrown the same nickname at him back then.

"Who the hell are you calling Mad Dog?!" he barked, scowling in the direction of the voice. His glare found the culprit, and for a moment, he froze.

The realization hit him. He finally remembered who was pinned beneath his boot. And worse, he recognized who had spoken.

It was the princess of Hinode, the first prince's fiancée.

He almost called her out, but something else caught his attention. Behind her stood a young girl, small, tense, eyes wide as if ready to bolt no--- to bite him. But there was… something off about her.

Her ears twitched. Her face has patches that shimmered faintly even in the dim light. And behind her, movement. He couldn't tell.

The shadows from the caved ceiling swallowed the rest, keeping her shape just out of sight. But whatever she was, he knew for certain, she wasn't ordinary.

He cast a quick glance to the other side, and now he was sure.

That vassal. The same one from Hinnom. Olga's younger brother. Lenko.

The boy stood stiff, unmoving, his expression pale and strained. Keiser's eyes narrowed, following the line of his arm to the object clenched tightly in his grip. Whatever it was, he held it as if it were the only thing keeping him steady right now.

Keiser's gaze swept the area, cataloguing details out of necessity. An unconscious man slumped near a stack of crates. The scorched remains of.... beasts? Burned, cut, and half-dismembered, littered the floor. The smell of iron and char hung thick in the air.

But what truly made him pause was the figure kneeling in the center of it all. Blood stained the floor beneath her. Her body trembled violently, arms braced as if fighting to stand, yet she hadn't moved an inch from that position.

His brows knit. 'Why is she here?'

She should've been with Gideon. They'd left Ebony and Yuka to guard him, both dependable enough, but it had always been more reassuring when she was at his side. Seeing her here, away from him, made his gut twist.

Rumors of trouble had reached the capital, prompting the immediate recall of the royal brigade. A much-needed break after months of expeditions was abruptly canceled. What they returned to was an annual auction for nobility. The event itself wasn't suspicious, but the heavy security was.

The entire venue was surrounded by capital knights, not hired guards, and they were the same knights who were enforcing a new curfew ordered by the nobles' council. Since the royal brigade was stationed at the palace walls, they were completely out of the loop about what was truly happening.

Their main directive had been to keep the capital safe before the coming days of the King's Gambit. The auction had even been placed under the capital knight's jurisdiction. But seeing this now, in person, amid the blood and wreckage, the narrative of 'safety' felt like a lie. Something was going on, and the letter only deepened his suspicion.

Now that he could see better, his shoulders tensed. For a moment, he genuinely thought the blood pooling beneath Aisha was hers. She was bleeding from the temple and looked terrible, like everyone else trapped within the crater he'd just jumped into.

"What happened to you---" he started, but the words faltered as their eyes met.

There was something in her gaze, shock, disbelief, maybe even fear. Whatever it was, it made him stop cold. Instead of moving to check on her, his eyes narrowed. His sword shifted slightly, the tip angling away from the boy lying silent beneath him.

Too silent.

Even the dust and rubble that had been swirling moments ago had stilled, like the air itself was holding its breath. When he'd kicked the boy down, the pressure had been palpable, heavy, suffocating, but now it was gone.

Something wasn't right. He couldn't name it, but every instinct screamed that something was off.

"…What are you doing here, Aisha?" he asked, his tone sharper than intended.

Her lips trembled as she looked away. "You shouldn't be here, Keiser…" she murmured.

The weight in the air vanished completely. The ringing in his ears faded, leaving only the echo of her words, and the pounding in his head.

And then he remembered the letter.

Now, more than ever, he wasn't sure who he could trust.

"She did all this."

The voice was rough, strained, as if forced through clenched teeth. It wasn't the loud tone that once called him Mad Dog back in Hinnom. Keiser turned toward it, his eyes locking on the speaker.

The boy looked worse than anyone else in the room. Blood had bloomed across his chest, his clothes torn and dust streaked, his skin marked with cuts and bruises from something sharp. Yet, despite all that, his expression burned with grim determination as he pointed at Aisha.

"She's been killing and controlling people, turning them against each other," he said, then gestured to the boy under Keiser's boot. "And she's done the same to him. To his Highness."

Keiser's eyes flicked down.

The boy's dark hair. The red eyes. The familiar face from that night on the road to Hinnom. But something was different, the pupils were slitted this time. He only saw them for a heartbeat before the boy lost consciousness back then he didn't remembered it was like this, but now…

Now he had to be certain.

Keiser glanced up, catching the pale, shocked faces of the old men. But now that he was down here, he could finally see who Diego had been carrying. The copper hair, tightly braided, he recognized it immediately.

"Olga?" he muttered under his breath.

His gaze flicked back to the loudmouthed vassal. Slowly, he lowered his sword from the unmoving boy at his feet, only to turn it toward another.

Lenko didn't even flinch when the blade was aimed at him.

"What happened to your sister?" Keiser hissed.

Lenko swallowed hard, his eyes darting upward. One hand rubbed at his chest as if remembering something painful, the other clutching the pouch he always kept close.

"I believe it's the mage's fault too," he said, pointing shakily toward Aisha.

The girl was still kneeling, trembling. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the ground, as though trying to concentrate on something.

Keiser realized what she was doing instantly.

Without hesitation, he leapt off the boy beneath him and closed the distance. Gasps rippled through the onlookers, and he could hear the princess behind him draw her short blades in alarm.

He stopped beside Aisha, sword leveled squarely at Lenko, the tip now inches from the boy's throat.

"Why," Keiser demanded, "should I believe you?"

There was a collective uproar behind him, voices rising in panic and outrage, echoing from the rim of the crater above. The chorus of protests made Keiser roll his eyes.

Of course they would object. He was already bracing himself for the princess's retaliation, he could practically feel her fury simmering behind him.

But then, the pressure in the air shifted.

That wasn't her.

His instincts flared. His body twisted before his mind could catch up, sword raised, mouth parting to shout a warning, but someone beat him to it.

"No---! It's back again!" the young girl cried, stepping forward.

And then he saw it. The faint shimmer of scales breaking through her skin, her ears flattening back, and behind her, those tails, coiling and flicking wildly in the air like agitated whips. Her long red hair caught the light, burning like fire.

The moment the words left her lips, the ground erupted.

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