The throne room of Olympus, a place carved out of eternal marble and bathed in divine radiance, trembled with the voice of a woman's fury.

"Caerus… our son is dead, and yet—you sit there on your throne, unmoved, like the almighty Zeus you think yourself to be?!"

Her voice cracked between grief and rage. Tears clung to her lashes, but her eyes burned with fire as they locked onto the King of the Gods.

Zeus sat upon the central throne, the colossal seat of Olympian Palace. His jaw was hard, his expression grim, and though lightning occasionally crackled faintly around his form, his face betrayed little.

He had just received word of his son Caerus' death. And now, one of his numerous wives—the mother of that fallen child—stood before him, trembling with fury and despair.

"You used his admiration, his love for you, and sent him to his death!" She shouted.

Zeus' eyes narrowed.. "I would never send my son to die. I asked only for information. Nothing more."

Her sobs came sharp, but her words were sharper still. "Excuses! I don't care for them, Zeus! My son is dead. To you, it means nothing. Just another one of your countless children scattered across eternity!"

"Enough."

The single word reverberated through the chamber. Zeus' voice rolled like a storm breaking over mountains, and in that instant, sparks of lightning danced across his body as if summoned by his wrath alone.

But the goddess did not cower. She spat venom back at him, her voice hoarse with grief. "If you loved him even a fraction… you would avenge him."

And with that, she vanished, leaving only the fading shimmer of light where she had once stood.

For a long moment, Zeus stared at the empty space she left behind. His eyes were cold.

How had this happened?

Caerus was not among his strongest sons, true, but even so, a mortal killing him was a humiliation that stung the King of Olympus' pride. The possibility had always existed, but the reality of it was another matter entirely.

More important, Nemesis. The Goddess who was supposed to have died with Samael like it was said to the other Gods but truthfully sealed away. If she had returned, escaped, and if she had any hand in his son's death…

Zeus rose abruptly from his throne. He would have set out at once to see for himself—but he was halted.

A presence shimmered before him, and in the blink of an eye, Nihil stood in his path.

"Nihil," Zeus rumbled, his eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"

"It should be I asking you that question, Zeus. Sending your son to the mortal realm? Have you lost all reason?" He asked sternly.

Zeus' eyes sparked with irritation. "I heard whispers of Nemesis. That she had been seen again. She was supposed to have died alongside Samael—yet we are not fools enough to believe such tales. I know you had her imprisoned, in a place only a handful of us knew… and yet imagine my surprise to hear she was spotted within the Vessel of Samael Eveningstar." His gaze hardened like stone. "From what I know the Vessel of Samael is your son, I do hope he isn't the one who killed my son.."

Nihil's stare was cold. "You speak too much, Zeus. And your son… by attacking mortals without provocation, he had already violated Ymir's laws. Alive or dead, he would have suffered the consequences."

Zeus' lips curled, thunderous disdain in his voice. "We are the ones who wrote those laws. Are we not free to bend them as we see fit, so long as it serves the order we keep? Nemesis is no ordinary fugitive. She is dangerous, and worse, she walks now beside Samael's Vessel. That alone justifies my actions."

But Nihil shook his head. "Then keep your worries to yourself. If ever my son becomes a threat, I will kill him myself."

With that, Nihil vanished, but not before casting a final, frostbitten glance that lingered like a blade pressed against Zeus' throat.

Silence returned to the throne room. Zeus stood still, then slowly lowered himself back into his seat.

Nihil was hiding something.

That much was clear.

But what?

***

A faint knock echoed against the wooden door of one of the chambers in the Olphean Castle of Natulen.

"I'm entering," Lisandra muttered softly when no answer came. She pushed the door open with care, as though afraid to disturb the silence within.

The faint glow of lantern light spilled over the room, revealing Edward sprawled across the bed. His body was wrapped almost entirely in bandages—arms, chest, even parts of his face still marred by recent battle. His breathing was steady, shallow, the kind of rest that came not from peace but from sheer exhaustion.

Yet he wasn't alone.

Beside him lay Amaya. The vampire's purplish-black hair spilled like a shadow across the white sheets, her slender hand resting lightly against his chest. To an outsider, the scene might have looked intimate, almost suggestive—but Lisandra knew better. There was nothing carnal in Amaya's touch.

It was hunger.

Restraint.

Amaya's crimson eyes flicked open at Lisandra's presence. They glowed faintly in the dimness, a dangerous shade of red but the expression she wore was distant. After a moment, she closed them again as if disinterested, turning her face back toward Edward's chest.

Lisandra lingered by the doorway, uncertain. The relationship between Edward and Amaya puzzled her. He acted as though they were bound together, but the nature of it never quite fit. Something about it felt strained, incomplete. The same could be said of Alicia.

No, Lisandra wasn't blind—when it came to love, she wasn't as foolish as they seemed to think.

"Did he wake up?" Lisandra asked quietly.

Amaya gave no answer.

Only silence, as if the question hadn't even reached her.

Suppressing a sigh, Lisandra approached the bed. She stood over Edward for a moment, taking in the sight of his resting face. For once, the usual sharpness, the constant frown, was absent. His features were calm, softened by slumber. In that fragile stillness, he looked… peaceful.

Almost vulnerable.

Without quite realizing it, Lisandra leaned closer. Her hand rose, trembling slightly, reaching toward his cheek. She closed her eyes. And then—again—those flashes of memory surged within her. Images that didn't feel like her own, yet they pulsed as if etched into her very soul.

It was as if parts of her life had been rewritten, overwritten by something beyond her grasp.

"Lisandra."

The name, spoken sharply, froze her hand midair.

She opened her eyes to find Sylvia standing at the doorway, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the scene before her.

"Amael is back," she said.

At those words, Lisandra's hand fell quickly to her side. She straightened, nodded once, and stepped away from the bed. Without another glance at Edward—or at Amaya—she followed Sylvia out into the corridor.

This time, there would be no more evasions. They would get answers.

Amael stood waiting just outside. His posture was relaxed, but his expression was clouded, heavy with thought.

"Amael," Lisandra called.

He turned to them, his gaze lifting from the stone floor. "How is he?"

"Recovering," Lisandra replied.

Amael gave a slow nod, but his eyes did not soften.

Sylvia spoke next. "Then, are you finally going to tell us the real reason we're here?"

His gaze shifted from Sylvia to Lisandra. Both women stood firm, their expressions hard, expectant. For a moment, Amael only stared at them, silent, before finally exhaling a long sigh.

"The truth is simple," he said at last. "We are here to kill Edward."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Lisandra's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in horror. "...!"

Sylvia's heart skipped a beat, pounding furiously in her chest though she forced her face to remain composed.

"W–What?!" Lisandra stuttered, dumbfounded.

"You heard me. We are here to kill him," Amael repeated calmly.

Sylvia's voice was tight, strained as she tried to keep calm. "What do you mean…?"

Amael's gaze was cold and calm. "He is the Vessel of Samael, just as I am. But unlike me, his mind is… fragile. Unstable. You've seen it yourselves. Nemesis, the one who once fought alongside Samael, lingers within him—whispering, gnawing at his sanity. Edward cannot be trusted. He cannot be controlled. And if Nemesis gains hold of him, if she succeeds in dragging Samael back with her…"

He closed his eyes.

"It will be the end."

Lisandra shook her head violently. "T–That doesn't mean we have to kill him!"

Amael's eyes sharpened. "Do you hear yourself, Lisandra? If Samael rises again, and Nemesis stands at his side… you cannot begin to imagine the destruction this world will face."

Lisandra flinched, lips parting, but no rebuttal came.

The truth in his tone was undeniable—yet her heart screamed against it.

"T–There must be another way," Lisandra whispered, her fists trembling as they clenched tightly at her sides.

Amael shook his head. "There is no other way. You've seen it yourself—he used Nemesis's power freely, and he did so while looking perfectly sane. That's what makes it dangerous. It's only a matter of time before he falls completely into her grasp. Another trigger… another moment of weakness… and it will be over. We are here to stop that from happening."

Lisandra's head snapped up, eyes flashing with anger. "S–So what? You're just going to kill him while he sleeps?!"

"Unfortunately, killing him won't be simple. Not with Nemesis inside him. Striking recklessly will achieve nothing. We must be ready to act at the right moment, when the chance presents itself."

"No…" Sylvia's voice broke softly as she shook her head, her usually composed demeanor faltering. Her hands trembled where they clutched her sleeves, and though she fought to keep her expression calm, the deep emotion in her heart betrayed her.

She had always trusted Amael. She admired his strength, respected his clarity, perhaps even cared for him more than she would ever admit aloud. Yet… when it came to Edward, something inside her refused to yield. Her feelings for him ran deeper than she could explain—deeper than she wanted to face. And now Amael's words were forcing her to choose between the two.

"No, Amael… I cannot accept this," she said. "He isn't as weak as you make him out to be. You saw it yourself—he saved those two Vampires when every other people wanted them exterminated. He handed over Rulana without killing her. He is capable of restraint… of control."

Amael's eyes hardened. "Sylvia, we cannot gamble the fate of the world on a slim possibility. Edward is not resisting Nemesis—he is inviting her. She is a Primordial Being. Even the strongest wills are dust in the face of her words."

"Then—" Lisandra broke in desperately, "then let's talk to him! We'll warn him, tell him what Nemesis is trying to do—maybe we can—"

"Do you think he is unaware? Do you think Edward is oblivious to Nemesis's intentions? He knows. He knows better than anyone, and still, he chose to use her power. Do you not see? He has reached the point where the means no longer matter to him—only the goal. That is the most dangerous state of all."

Lisandra opened her mouth, but no words came. Her throat tightened, a painful lump forming as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She shook her head weakly. "I–I can't…"

Amael's expression softened for only a moment, then turned to stone once more.

"We will have to. Put aside your personal feelings and look beyond yourselves. Think of the world. Think of the kingdoms you were born to protect. You, Sylvia—you are still a Princess of Celesta. And you, Lisandra—you are still a Princess of Arvatra. Remember your duties. Think carefully about where your hearts lead you."

Without waiting for a reply, Amael turned and walked down the corridor.

The silence he left behind was suffocating. Sylvia and Lisandra stood frozen, both unable to move.

***

Meanwhile, in the capital city of Vanadias.

Several days had passed since Edward's departure, and already Alicia felt the gnawing ache of his absence.

At first, she had tried to dismiss it. He had left her with plenty of his blood, carefully measured and stored, reminding her with his usual sternness to drink it sparingly, to ration it alongside ordinary food the way Amaya did. It was enough to keep her strong, enough to keep her hunger at bay.

And yet…

As ashamed as she was to admit it, nothing could compare to the taste of his blood taken directly from him. Fresh, warm, intoxicating. Her heart pounded traitorously at the memory of it—the way his scent overwhelmed her senses, the heat of his body against hers, the sharp ecstasy of his fangs piercing her neck.

Her face flushed crimson. She groaned and slumped back onto her bed, burying herself in the sheets as if she could hide from her own thoughts.

"W–What am I even thinking…" She whispered to herself, her voice trembling.

Her gaze drifted to the side. Levina was curled up beside her, fast asleep, her small chest rising and falling with steady breaths. After Edward's departure, the girl had cried endlessly, thrashing about in panic, screaming for him until exhaustion claimed her. Alicia had barely managed to soothe her, to keep her from breaking down completely.

Now, as Alicia watched her sleep, her own heart twisted.

"Senior…" She mumbled softly.

Her hand lifted to her neck, fingertips brushing over the faint marks that still lingered there. The memory of his bite was seared into her body. Even now, her skin tingled at the phantom sensation of his fangs pressing into her flesh.

A breathy moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it. "Hm~…"

Her legs shifted restlessly beneath the sheets, heat coiling in her stomach. But the realization of what she was doing struck her like a slap. Her eyes flew wide in horror, and she bolted upright.

"No!"

Her hands clamped over her face, as if to physically block the thoughts clawing through her mind. Her long blond hair fell forward, brushing against her cheeks in a golden veil.

"Why… why am I like this…" She whispered, ashamed.

-BOOOOOOM!

She hadn't even time to recover as a deafening explosion tore through the castle walls, rattling the ceiling and sending dust raining from above. Alicia flinched violently, her heart hammering.

She scrambled to the window, pulling the curtains aside with trembling hands. Outside, the night sky was marred by smoke and fire. And there—floating calmly amidst the chaos—was a figure.

A man.

His long white hair shimmered like pale moonlight, his crimson eyes glowing like fresh blood spilled on snow.

And then… he turned his gaze directly toward her.

Alicia froze.

Every instinct screamed danger.

She spun around instantly, scooping Levina into her arms.

"Mama…?" The little girl mumbled weakly, blinking awake.

"It's okay," Alicia whispered as she clutched her close. She hurried to the door, stepping into a corridor already filled with shouting knights of the Resistance as they rushed past in disarray.

But she didn't slow down. She ignored them all, her only thought on escape.

Then, with a deafening crack, the ceiling ahead caved in. Stone and dust crashed to the ground, forcing her to halt. And through the falling debris, the figure appeared.

The man with the pale hair and crimson eyes stood before her now, smiling as though he had been expecting her.

He was none other than Rucain.

The Regent King of Valachia.

"You must be Alicia," he said.

Alicia tightened her hold on Levina, taking a cautious step back. Her crimson eyes glared at him.. "What do you want?"

Rucain's eyes glowed as he extended a hand toward her.

"You."

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