"He's changed."

Micah smiled at his father's words; however, he didn't turn his attention away from the window overlooking the courtyard.

"As I said he would," Micah replied.

They stood together in Terrell Frey's office, both facing the tall, arched windows. Dust floated lazily in the sunlight between them, and the scent of old paper and lemony bergamot black tea lingered faintly in the room.

The meeting with Sarka Jarbez and her son had gone well. More than well, it was surprising. No one, including Micah, had expected Luca to break out into Sorvogarian. However peculiar as that was, it was incomparable to the shock value of the notebooks that Luca provided to Sarka and Leo. The contents put the genius inventor and her son into a stupor.

"No one changes that much overnight," Terrell muttered beside him. "Not under normal means, that is."

Micah's smile faded. He gave a slight nod, eyes still tracking the scene outside.

His phoenix-eyed brother had revealed his current reality only to a few individuals. While Micah thought it wise to extend the circle, particularly to the rest of the family, he wasn't about to be pushy. He suspected that Luca was already well aware of the advantages and disadvantages of bringing more people into the fold. And there were evident disadvantages.

Luca was becoming the person Micah had always hoped he would grow into. Focused. Strategic. Confident in the right ways.

However, the transformation came at a cost, one that was far higher than Micah had ever expected. Moreover, it would only rise, given that they were still so far from the final timeline. The Game was nowhere near its end, with over seventy loops having occurred to date, much of which even Luca was not Awakened for.

But I have the records of someone who was Aware during those loops: Claude Noire. Though the tattoos still need to be deciphered, complex as they are.

Below in the courtyard, a flurry of activity was taking place as Remlend oversaw the packing of Luca's carriage. Trunks, travel packs, and precisely secured crates were loaded under tight supervision. It wasn't just clothes. They were taking along some unusual contraptions, given the careful oversight by Elda. Her arms were crossed, foot tapping.

Micah raised a brow.

Is he planning to blow something up?

It was an educated guess. Anything that involved Elda more likely than not involved explosives.

He hadn't had time to speak with Luca in detail about this trip, so he was somewhat in the dark about what misadventure his younger brother was about to set out on that required one of Elda's inventions. However, he suspected it wasn't a regular trip out of town to visit their dying grandmother.

Besides, I have my own misadventures to chase.

"I'm going to find and meet with the Misfortune Sisters," Micah announced.

Silence followed. Only the muffled shuffle of movement and voices from the courtyard filled the space.

"Your mother will…. not be pleased," his father replied.

The second half of his words fell out of his mouth, having been chewed over for the most appropriate wording. It was an understatement, to say the least.

He turned from the window, his arms folding across his chest as he studied his son.

"What do you want from them?" he asked, his voice neutral. "Is it regarding Kaiden's actions?"

Micah turned as well, finally facing him. Daylight caught the sharp lines of Terrell's features—the slight wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the warm red in his hair making the emerald of his irises more vivid.

"No," Micah replied. "I already understand, to some extent, why Kaiden did what he did."

His mind trailed to the morning meeting and his final conversation with his long-time attendant, whom he considered like a second father.

He maintained a steady voice as he continued speaking.

"I want to hear the rest of a misfortune I was once told. The one Mother interrupted before it finished."

Terrell's expression shifted, a rare flicker of discomfort cracking through his tree-like calm.

"That was years ago," he said with a quiet sigh. "You were just a child."

"It was regarding Luca," Micah added, his voice dropping.

It was the first time he'd said it aloud to anyone. He had tried, once, to tell his mother. However, she had refused to hear it. Forbidden any mention of it.

His father's face tightened, jaw flexing once before smoothing over.

"I'm afraid the misfortune that your mother detests so much—the one said to Yelena—was also about Luca," Terrell replied.

Micah nodded once, unsurprised. "I suspected as much. After all, Yelena left Luca in our care after she heard it."

Terrell let out a long exhale.

"I trust my memory," he said, his gaze drifting back to the window, where Luca was stepping into the carriage. "But mine is based on a retelling. The words were passed down, not heard directly."

Micah's green eyes followed the motion below. The carriage rolled forward, trailed by three guards. One was Henry. The other two were knights Luca had hand-selected. No doubt because he knew their unique abilities that he'd gleaned over previous loops.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Terrell spoke again, his voice shifting in pitch as though reciting a line from a script long memorized.

"Those you care for most in this world will be met with great misfortune… disappearing out of existence."

Micah's head turned sharply. "You know the misfortune that Yelena was told?"

The corner of Terrell's mouth lifted slightly, but it held no humor. He gave a small nod.

"To prevent that misfortune," he continued, "you must leave behind your child and leave this world—never to return."

Micah's frown deepened.

Complicated feelings swirled within, layers of understanding settling atop one another. Micah had insight regarding Luca that Terrell and Elizabeth Frey did not have, which put the misfortune telling in a different light.

In the original timeline, everyone had died. Micah, Elda, Jarvis... and their parents. It was only due to Luca's existence that the Game shifted. The System switched Players and allowed Luca to regress in time far enough to save them all from imminent death, starting with Micah.

"It was a cruel telling," Terrell said quietly.

Micah nodded.

Cruel. Yes. But perhaps, in the end, it had been the best possible outcome.

He moved away from the window, having watched Luca's carriage roll out of sight.

What cruel fate would the Misfortune Sisters tell me to follow?

"Are you going to tell your mother, or do you want me to talk with her first?" Terrell asked as Micah walked across the office to the door.

"No, I'll tell her myself," Micah replied, exiting his father's office.

He didn't intend to skirt the uncomfortable conversation. It was better to do it himself.

Click.

"Yes, Master?" came the raspy voice on the other side of the looking glass.

"Have you located the Misfortune Sisters?" Micah asked.

"They passed through Ascot yesterday morning and were reported to be spotted later in the Maudel Duchy," Seymour replied. "Given their pace north, they should be crossing into Daylan Dynasty territory sometime today. I'll update you the moment we have eyes on them."

"Do so," Micah said simply.

He snapped the looking glass shut.

As much as he was in a rush to gain insight regarding the misfortune he'd never learned the second part of, he had urgent matters he needed to attend to within Genise and Adovoria.

There were allies with sharpened knives and velvet smiles to confront before they did real harm to his family. Nobles too corrupt or unhinged to tolerate a moment longer. Arrests to arrange. Disappearances to stage. And then the upcoming meetings that would unfold in the wake of Grandmother Ruth's death. The funeral was but a week away.

Foresight was a double-edged sword.

He knew every opportunity that would arise and the cost of letting even one slip past.

I'll eventually need to accept some loss. Life is meant to be lived and enjoyed. Not just optimized for profit and power.

He opened the door to his study.

Papers covered the wide desk, all of each had to be attended to. The piles were never small, but today, it was twice the usual amount.

"I've prepared all the documents you requested regarding the Selvine and Mentisun families," Louis explained, pointing to two files. "And I've already implemented the purchasing and selling of goods per your instructions."

Luca's instructions.

Micah glanced at the ledgers.

Despite all that was going on, Luca had ensured to provide intel regarding where to best invest in the short term so that the Frey Merchant Guild could reap the rewards.

"Louis," Micah said, walking past him toward the desk, "have lunch brought up. I'll dine here. Do not disturb me unless it's urgent."

"Understood," Louis said with a short bow before exiting.

Micah closed the door behind him, sealing the room in silence.

He crossed the room and drew his lucky black stone turtle from his pocket, the same one that Luca gifted him many years ago. Its surface was smooth and cool to the touch, and he had it on his person at all times. Aside from its sentimental and magical portal properties, it doubled as a decent secret rune key.

He placed the turtle on the red leather cover of the thick tome at the center of his desk.

A soft hum escaped the pages as the hidden rune dissolved.

He opened the tome, and lines of mediocre poetry that served as camouflage faded away, overwritten by ink that only he could see. His own handwriting emerged in sharp scrawl layered with notes, diagrams, and decisions preserved from the previous loop.

Micah flipped through the pages and smiled.

Everything he'd recorded during the last Round was intact—evidence against both current and future traitors, insights into the deeper mechanics of the Game, precise timing cues for political and economic leverage. What he held wasn't just a journal: it was a blueprint.

Not just for survival, but for dominion.

Luca was an invaluable resource. Irreplaceable, even. But Micah had no intention of leaning on him forever as a cripple might rely on a cane. That kind of dependence was dangerous.

And besides… some entries in this journal are too delicate for Luca's eyes.

His gaze slid over the enormous mural of the world map on one side of the room. Two continents were split into fragments, borders drawn not by nature, but by bloodshed and bureaucracy. Some were etched through the brutality of war, others with ink in the comfort of palaces, where battles were fought with clauses instead of swords.

This ledger in his hands wasn't just a safety net but his foundation for the future he would build.

Just like Claude Noire, Micah was now among the Aware. And he didn't intend to merely advise Luca.

No, I intend to rule with my own power.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"It's quiet," I commented.

The only sounds were the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves and the low rumble of the carriage wheels over the stone-paved road.

It wasn't a complaint, far from it.

The Humton Forest was always unnervingly silent, but this particular kind of stillness I'd only experienced once before in Round 8. The Round where the unknown phoenix died.

My gaze swept across the dense, twisted oaks lining the road. Their warped black limbs tangled like old crooked fingers, casting broken shadows on the forest floor.

We had already passed the point where bandits had attacked us in Round 7. And well beyond where Claude Noire intercepted us in Round 9.

That meant...

[[ System, how much longer until the phoenix cry? ]]

Remlend sat opposite me, so I relied on Illusion Magic.

[ Time remaining to Round 8's Day 2 shriek: 9 minutes, 32 seconds. ]

The numbers ticked on the glowing blue screen, marking off the seconds as time passed.

"Remlend, we're here. Please have the carriage stopped," I ordered. "And bring out Elda's rockets."

~Is it time?

Apophis hissed from my left shoulder.

I'm ready.

Leona's voice echoed into my mind. Her tone was focused, almost solemn. She remained invisible, but I could feel her stiffness on my right shoulder.

[[ Leona, we won't save it on this loop. ]]

I cautioned her gently, not wanting her expectations to rise too high.

I know, she replied without hesitation. We're just observing today and recording for the next loop.

I nodded and stepped down from the carriage.

Remlend, ever the perfect attendant, was already coordinating quietly with the two guards as they hauled the rocket canisters from the rear compartment. These were men who had accompanied Elda during her desert experiments; they moved with practiced ease, securing the base and setting the alignment without needing a word of explanation.

[ Time remaining to Round 8's Day 2 shriek: 1 minute, 17 seconds. ]

"Young master, both rockets are ready," Remlend called over his shoulder.

"Good." I nodded. "Get ready to launch the first rocket in thirty seconds."

[[ Leona, ready? ]]

Ready.

Leona's body lifted off my shoulder.

Her task was simple: to guide the descending parachute gently down toward us after launch. That way, we wouldn't have to venture into the Humton Forest ourselves to retrieve the images taken.

Today was merely the first step. However, I eventually intended to save the phoenix before it died and fell into eternal rest.

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