With determination burning in her eyes, Nymeria lunged forward gracefully with her little steps.

She had barely reached halfway when the old cultivator stopped her mid-stride.

"Lady Nymeria! You mustn't raise your weapon against the Prince!" the old cultivator exclaimed, his face horrified. "It would be treason!"

"Grandpa Oswin, I'm only playing sword-sword, just like I play with you," Nymeria pouted in protest, her cheeks puffing out.

"Th-this is different, Lady Nymeria," the old man named Oswin insisted. "The Prince mustn't be harmed, or we will face the wrath of the heavens."

Taranis, who had been listening to the conversation from the sidelines, grew angrier with every word that left Oswin's mouth. The reaction Oswin was giving was exactly the same as the one countless parents had shown whenever their children tried to get a little closer to him—resulting in the same unbreakable wall being erected between them and Taranis.

Until now, Taranis had never insisted further when parents or elders stepped in to ensure their children wouldn't cross the line. As the Prince of the Hundred Sky Mountains, he had to maintain his dignity; pleading further was simply out of the question.

The young prince had lost count of how many times he had heard the same damn words Oswin was saying. Just like every other time, Taranis should have turned away with his usual arrogant line: I was only showing goodwill by offering my friendship, but it seems you are not worthy of it.

However, something within him refused to let him either speak those words or turn his body away. He felt that if he stepped back this time as well, he would surely regret it.

Taranis parted his lips, and just as he was about to step in—

"Mr. Oswin, you are disrespecting the Prince by halting a game the Prince himself wishes to play," Nymeria muttered, her visage serious and her voice cold. "Moreover, my status as the goddess of the Hundred Sky Mountains and the daughter of Aurelion El Snowbane already makes me worthy of becoming friends with Taranis."

Oswin parted his lips to protest but couldn't utter a single word. If he stopped them now, he would not only be disrespecting Aurelion—the lord to whom he had sworn his loyalty—but also challenging Nymeria's status as a goddess, which could invite the heavens' wrath upon him.

"F-forgive me for my insolence, Lady Nymeria," Oswin muttered, biting his lips.

When he stepped back, Nymeria turned to Taranis, who had been utterly enchanted by the little goddess's words. It was the first time someone had gone against an elder's orders just to be his friend.

"She is truly an angel," Taranis murmured to himself.

"Taranis… Taranis?" Nymeria called, moving closer to the dazed prince.

"Oh—right. Let's play," Taranis blurted out, finally returning to his senses.

"Then draw your sword," Nymeria ordered, stepping a few feet back.

Giving a slight nod, Taranis drew his sword. The moment he did, Nymeria hurled herself at him with fast, graceful steps.

This time, their blades clashed, emitting bright sparks and a sharp screech.

Nymeria's physical strength was nowhere near Taranis's. Not only was he older, but he had also spent most of his time in the forest among wild animals. He didn't even use half of his strength to block her attack.

Nymeria withdrew her sword and, pouring more strength into her little arms, brought it down again.

Taranis easily dodged by stepping sideways, yet still didn't launch an attack of his own.

For the next half hour, Nymeria relentlessly swung her sword against the immovable boulder that was the Prince, while he dodged and parried every one of her attacks with ease.

"Taranis! Why won't you swing your sword?" Nymeria demanded, her eyes narrowing in irritation. "You said we are friends, but you're treating me just like Mr. Oswin and all the other guards."

She lowered her sword, sadness tugging at her snow-white face.

Since the moment Taranis had learned to walk, the greatest joy of the little prince had been engaging in duels and emerging victorious—no matter the opponent. It was as if battle itself was engraved into his very blood.

By now, Taranis had already defeated every beast that resided in the second layer of the Mountain of Ten Thousand Beasts. Not even once had the prince held back against his opponents until they admitted defeat.

But with Nymeria, it was different.

Against Nymeria—who appeared like an angel in Taranis's eyes—he simply couldn't bring himself to raise his weapon against her.

Taranis couldn't understand the reason behind this strange feeling, but by remaining stiff and refusing to launch an attack, he had unknowingly treated Nymeria the same way her guards always did when she asked them to play sword-sword with her.

"I was only assessing the depth of your skills, Nymeria," Taranis announced, finally realizing his mistake. "Brace yourself. I will be the one attacking now."

Nymeria's saddened expression instantly brightened upon hearing his words.

Her sword rose once more as she declared, "I'm ready, Taranis."

In a swift blur of motion, Taranis rushed forward, his sword slicing horizontally toward Nymeria.

The snow goddess barely managed to block the strike with her blade, yet the force still sent her skidding several feet backward.

Her little hands trembled uncontrollably from the aftershock of the blow, but her eyes gleamed with excitement like never before.

This—this was the feeling of exhilaration the little goddess had been yearning for.

"One more time," Nymeria ordered, a bright smile lighting up her luminous face, betraying the strain her hands were enduring.

Taranis obliged, lifting his sword once again. And so, a fierce dance of blades began between the two gods.

---

"Y-you are so strong, Taranis," Nymeria huffed, resting as she leaned against a tree. "I couldn't hit you even once."

"I had so much fun, thanks to you, Nymeria," Taranis murmured as he sat beside her. Unlike Nymeria, who was drenched in sweat from head to toe, Taranis had barely broken a sweat.

"Lady Nymeria, it's getting dark," Oswin said nervously, afraid of being scolded again. "We must return now."

Letting out a reluctant sigh, Nymeria rose to her feet and prepared for their departure.

Oswin retrieved a grand silver chariot adorned with intricate patterns from his spatial ring. Just as Nymeria climbed the chariot's steps, Taranis called out, his features etched with worry.

"Nymeria… will you come tomorrow?"

Nymeria halted mid-step and turned back to look at the anxious prince, who feared this might be their final meeting.

"I will surely come," she replied, a beautiful smile tugging at her face.

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