"Prince Taranis?" The cultivators surrounding him murmured, finally identifying the young man. None of them had ever met him before, but the golden hair and eyes—along with the white silken robe embroidered with gold—gave away his identity completely.

"Greetings, Prince! Forgive our audacity for showing you hostility," the cultivators said, bowing at a full ninety degrees.

Taranis, whose eyes had unknowingly been locked onto Nymeria, snapped out of his daze upon hearing their greetings.

"O-oh… greetings, everyone," Taranis replied as he rose to his feet, still stealing glances at Nymeria.

"Lady Nymeria, greet the prince," an old cultivator whispered. He stood beside her, his long grey beard reaching his chin. The old man was the leader of the guards assigned by Aurelion for Nymeria's safety whenever she ventured out.

"R-right," Nymeria whispered back, averting her gaze from Taranis' face.

"Greetings, Prince," Nymeria said, lifting her robe slightly in an elegant gesture.

Taranis returned her greeting with a slight bow before shifting his attention to the trembling cat in Nymeria's arms.

"That kitty is injured," Taranis said, his eyes fixed on the cat.

"Alba is?" Nervousness appeared on Nymeria's face as she looked down. "But there's no injury on her body."

Taranis took slow steps toward her. As he came closer, he asked gently, "May I hold her for a moment?"

"Alba doesn't let anyone touch her besides me. She'll bite… you—"

Before Nymeria could finish, Alba had already jumped from her arms into Taranis'.

"Hehehe… aren't you a good kitty," Taranis chuckled, patting her gently, though her body still trembled.

He sat down, placing Alba on her back with her limbs in the air. With careful fingers, he parted the white fur on her stomach, revealing a sharp crimson thorn embedded in her skin.

"A thorn?" Nymeria gasped, her creamy eyes widening.

"Your name is Alba, right?" Taranis asked softly, touching the cat's chin. Alba let out a faint meow, her eyes closing. "It will hurt a little."

A golden aura enveloped Taranis' hand as it moved toward the thorn. Carefully, he grasped it and, in a swift motion, pulled it out.

A sharp cry escaped Alba as her legs flailed in pain. Beads of blood seeped from the wound the thorn had left behind.

"Alba!!" Nymeria exclaimed, rushing closer and sitting beside Taranis.

"There, there… good kitty," Taranis murmured calmly. His hand glowed golden as he gently patted Alba's injured stomach.

The wound vanished, and the fierce, strained expression on Alba's face softened into calmness.

"What was that thing?" Nymeria asked, confusion written all over her face. "Why didn't any blood come out before?"

"It's called a Blood-Drinking Thorn, Lady Nymeria," the old cultivator explained. "When it pierces the skin of any being, it drains their blood while preventing even a single drop from spilling. It causes intense irritation and can only be removed by a trained physician. Yet the Prince removed it so easily… I don't understand how."

Nymeria's creamy eyes shifted to Taranis, who was still gently patting the cat, oblivious to the explanation.

With every touch of the prince's gentle hands, Alba purred in delight, licking the fingers stroking her fur.

"I've never seen Alba this happy," Nymeria murmured, a smile unknowingly tugging at her lips.

Suddenly, she clasped Taranis' hands between her own and said sweetly, her voice filled with excitement, "Thank you, Prince, for saving Alba."

The unexpected gesture tugged at a string in Taranis' heart he had never felt before. His cheeks reddened, and for a moment, the young prince was completely speechless.

"T-Ta—Taranis!" he finally stammered. "Please… call me Taranis."

"But you're a prince," Nymeria replied, resting her index finger on her chin. "Mama told me never to call Father, the prince, or the king by their names."

"No! We were both born with divinity, so we're friends. I want you to call me by my name," Taranis insisted.

Even he didn't understand why it mattered so much to him.

"W-we're friends…?" Nymeria murmured softly, processing his words.

After a brief pause, she smiled brightly, still holding his hands. "My name is Nymeria El Snowbane. You are my first friend, Taranis."

The moment she spoke his name so naturally, a wave of gasps spread through the cultivators.

"Lady Nymeria, you mustn't address the prince by his name.That privilege is reserved only for the King and Queen," the old cultivator whispered into Nymeria's ears, reminding her gently of etiquette.

Just like Taranis, both Nymeria's body and mind were growing at an astonishing rate. Though only eight months old, she already appeared to be the size and maturity of a three-year-old child.

"But Taranis wants me to call him by his name," Nymeria protested, folding her arms.

"B-but Lady Nym—"

"I already said Nymeria is my friend. Why do you still insist otherwise?" Taranis interrupted, annoyance lacing his voice.

"F-forgive me, Prince!" the old man stammered, stepping back.

He assumed Taranis was angered because he was interfering with their friendship. Well, he was only half right. The real reason Taranis was irritated was that Nymeria, in protest, had folded her arms—removing her hands from his. For reasons he couldn't understand, that greatly displeased him.

Once the old man stepped away, Nymeria turned back to Taranis and asked brightly, "Taranis, would you like to play with me?"

"Sure," Taranis agreed instantly, without even asking what she had in mind.

Despite his noble status, the young prince had never had a true friend. Every child he approached treated him like a god rather than a companion.

Lonely within the vast walls of his royal chambers, and after failing to form even a single genuine friendship, Taranis had turned to the animals of the Mountain of Ten Thousand Beasts—the closest mountain to Heaven's First Step.

Yet with Nymeria, he felt a strange familiarity. Perhaps it was because they were both born with divinity… or perhaps it was something more.

The moment Taranis agreed, young Nymeria—who still understood little about etiquette or personal boundaries—grabbed his hand and rushed out of the third layer of the forest, a bright smile lighting up her face.

The cultivators, worry etched onto their expressions, followed the pair in silence, uncertain of how to handle the situation.

"Let's play sword-sword!" Nymeria announced the moment they stepped outside.

"Sword-sword?" Taranis repeated, hearing the name of the game for the first time.

However, it didn't take him long to understand what she meant when she drew her sword out with unmistakable enthusiasm.

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