When Leo woke, the mansion was already alive with noise. Servants hurried through the halls, their footsteps echoing against marble floors, voices carrying in every corner. The entire household was buzzing with activity, and Leo knew exactly why.
The room Count Errenor had given them included a private bath. Elna was already inside when Leo stirred, so he joined her. Half an hour later, they emerged ready.
Together they made their way toward the main hall. The place was vast, but with their sharpened sight abilities, finding their path was effortless.
At the grand staircase, Leo spotted Arthur, Briva and Luciana waiting below. Count Errenor stood with them, joined by several nobles and guards, all gathered in expectation.
Arthur glanced up as Leo and Elna descended. "Looks like Osvald has arrived earlier than expected."
Leo shifted his gaze to Briva, noticing the glint of excitement in her eyes. "Obvious, judging by her reaction," he muttered. From the corner of his eye, he also caught Luciana watching them intermittently, her expression calm but unreadable.
Briva met the remark without embarrassment. "I intend to make the most of this opportunity."
The main doors opened, and a broad-shouldered man entered, a group of soldiers trailing behind him. He was just as Leo remembered from the night before—tall, powerfully built, with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. His druid robes, dark green with faint silver patterns, marked him unmistakably for what he was.
Errenor strode forward with open arms. "Osvald."
"Uncle," Osvald said warmly, embracing him.
They held the embrace for a few seconds before stepping back. Errenor's expression softened, grief shadowing his features. "I'm sorry. I couldn't save your father."
Osvald placed a steady hand on his uncle's shoulder. "He died for what he believed. That was his choice, not your failing. But I swear to you, the one responsible will face justice." His voice was firm, emptied of anger but edged with steel.
Afterward, Osvald moved through the group, shaking hands and greeting those he knew. When he reached Leo, their eyes met.
Leo gave a respectful bow. "Thank you for saving my life."
Arthur and Briva exchanged startled looks, while Elna kept her eyes on Leo, waiting quietly for him to speak. Luciana, meanwhile, observed with her usual calm, unreadable expression.
"Wait—you two know each other?" said Arthur.
Leo nodded. "Last night, Mr. Osvald saved me from the beast God."
Arthur's face twisted, alarm flashing in his eyes. "He came again?"
Osvald's gaze hardened. "As I told you, you'll need to grow stronger, quickly. My barrier won't hold forever against a creature of that level. But I'll share with you everything I know." His attention shifted then, settling on Briva. Her eager expression made him pause, confusion flickering across his features. "You… are you a druid?"
Briva's smile widened, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yes—and I have lots of questions too."
Osvald's gaze shifted, hardening as it settled on Luciana, who stood waiting with a patient smile curving her lips.
"I can't say I'm happy to see you again, Dimont," he said, his voice like tempered steel.
Luciana tilted her head slightly, her eyes glimmering with amusement. "As serious as ever, aren't you?" she replied, her tone smooth and disarmingly charming.
"You sure have to say that to a lot of people." Arthur said with a rare smile.
Before the tension could rise further, Errenor lifted a hand in quiet command. "This is not the place for drawn-out exchanges," he said calmly. "Let us move somewhere more… comfortable."
He led them through a side corridor into a grand chamber. Only a handful of attendants and close retainers followed, and inside, servants had already prepared a lavish spread of food and wine. Silver trays gleamed, roast meats steamed, and goblets caught the light rays, coming through the windows. Yet despite the feast, no one rushed to eat—the air was too heavy with unspoken matters.
The companions held back their questions, waiting patiently while Errenor and Osvald exchanged updates. Their talk meandered at first, touching on family news and half-forgotten tales. But as the minutes passed, the conversation inevitably turned northward.
"So the prince truly seeks war…" Osvald sighed, his deep voice carrying both weariness and iron.
"I've received word that the Kingdom of Magic is aligning with the Kingdom of Light," Errenor said grimly.
"That is no small alliance," Osvald replied. "With their mages at his back and the orcs of the Shadowlands pushing from the north, this kingdom walks straight toward ruin."
Errenor's brow furrowed. "Perhaps. But first, we must find Varein. I have searched everywhere… no sign, no trace." His frustration was palpable.
"I already saw him," Osvald said calmly.
Errenor's jaw dropped.
He continued, voice low but steady. "I sought him in the dream world. He confronted the prince after discovering the king had been poisoned. But the prince was prepared. With countless A-ranks at his side, and two S-rank relics, they overwhelmed him. Varein survived, but only barely. Now he hides—so deeply that even I cannot reach him—healing his wounds."
"At least he is not with them," Errenor murmured, some relief softening his features. "There is still hope, then."
"Don't worry, Uncle," Osvald said, conviction flashing in his eyes. "I will take the prince down."
Errenor's lips curved in the faintest smile, pride and sorrow mingling. Then his gaze shifted toward the younger group, who had sat silently through the exchange. "We've made them wait long enough. Osvald, perhaps it's time to answer their questions."
Briva glanced at Leo, then back to Osvald, her eagerness tempered. "Mine can wait."
Osvald inclined his head to her, then turned his attention to Leo. "You wished to know why I called the beast God a creature?"
Leo's answer was a single, sharp nod.
"Because," Osvald said, his voice carrying across the hushed chamber, "he is not a God at all."
A stunned silence followed. Every pair of eyes widened.
"Before the four hundred years of history we know," Osvald went on, "there was a war among the Gods themselves. I don't know all the details—but I know this, one by one, the Gods fell. The world remembers the victors. The rest…" His gaze hardened. "Do you know anything of the Four Guardians?"
"The four S-ranks that conjurers can summon?" Leo asked, recalling something he had read during his days as Alexia's student.
Osvald shook his head. "That is not the right way to speak of them. The Four Guardians are not creatures a conjurer can bind or command. They are beings in their own right—ancient powers that grant fragments of themselves to chosen mortals. They cannot be controlled, not by any human hand." His expression hardened. "And among them, Bahamut, Lord of the Skies, stood with the might of a God."
He paused, eyes narrowing as though weighing whether to continue.
"Unfortunately," he said at last, "my wards can only shield so much. Those below A-rank cannot hear what comes next without risk."
At that, Elna stood gracefully, her chair sliding back. "Then we should leave."
Leo turned to her, his chest tight with conflicting emotions. "Elna—"
But she silenced him with a smile, warm yet firm. "This is knowledge meant for only the strong. You can tell us when we've earned it—when we've reached A-rank ourselves."
Briva rose as well, giving Osvald a nod, and together with several others, they stepped out of the chamber. The heavy doors shut with a muffled thud, leaving only Count Errenor, his head guardian, Arthur, Leo, Luciana and Osvald in the room.
Osvald folded his hands behind his back, his gaze distant as if he were speaking to ghosts. "I have seen only fragments in the dream world… remnants of memories burned into the fabric of existence. In the war of Gods, Bahamut stood against the Destroyer, who was clawing its way into this world through an open rift. For an age, he fought them back. But in the end, he realized even his strength could not hold forever. And then…"
He hesitated. His jaw tightened. The next words seemed to weigh a thousand tons.
"…the Mad God tricked him. Bahamut did what only a handful had ever dared—he gazed into the Void itself. And in that gaze, he became corrupted."
Arthur's fists clenched at his sides. Errenor's face paled.
"But with the last shred of his true self," Osvald continued, voice dropping to a solemn whisper, "Bahamut bound the gate of hell inside his own body. He sacrificed everything—his divinity, his freedom, his sanity—to prevent the rift from devouring the world. I do not know why the Shadowland formed where it did, but I believe it exists to shield that sealed gate."
The room was silent, the air heavy with the weight of his words.
Leo let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. 'So the Earth's Guardian Lilith mentioned… was Bahamut?'
Then, faint as a ghost, a murmur brushed his ear. He stiffened—and from the startled glances of Arthur and the others, they had heard something too. Leo's thoughts were still tangled when Osvald's sharp gaze fell on him. "You know something?"
Leo swallowed, then nodded. "The Shadowland… it was created by the Goddess of the Moon. She forged it to keep the God of Light away from the gate. But Bahamut's corruption twisted it into something else—something far darker."
Osvald's eyes widened slightly. "The Goddess of the Moon… Then it is true. In the places I have wandered, I've seen scraps of scripture, whispers that the God of Light was once called the Betrayer." He leaned forward, his voice dropping, sharp with unease. "But why? What is his true intention? Why destroy the world?"
"I suppose he just wanted more power—and to rule over everything," Arthur muttered darkly.
Leo leaned forward. "Then what does this have to do with the beast God?"
Osvald's gaze hardened. "There is no such thing as a beast God. What you've faced is only a fragment. During Bahamut's final battle against the forces of hell, his body was torn apart. Shattered. Pieces of him scattered across the world. Each piece carried power too great for the world to swallow, and each twisted into something monstrous."
The room fell silent.
"I've glimpsed some of them in the dream world," Osvald went on. "One fell into the Shadowland. I believe it is the source of every horror that breeds there. Another sank into the depths of the ocean. That one grew so strong that sea-dwellers began to worship it as a God. They even gave it a name. If I recall correctly, it was O…"
"Osara?" Arthur interrupted, his voice caught between disbelief and expectation.
Osvald's brows shot up. "Yes. How did you—"
Leo, Luciana and Count Errenor the three members of the secret meeting, smiled knowingly.
"You've spoken often of Osara, Arthur," Errenor said.
Osvald looked between them, puzzled. It was Leo who answered, his voice calm. "Because we killed Osara not long ago."
Osvald stirred with shock. "You killed it?" his tone was sharp with disbelief. "That creature was far too powerful for any of you."
Arthur spoke next, his jaw tight. "We had help. Selina the Red Rose, the A5-ranked pirate, fought beside us. Even then, we failed." He glanced at Leo, uncertain if he should reveal more.
Leo met his eyes and gave a faint nod. "I asked for my God's help. He is the one who struck the killing blow."
Osvald's expression darkened. "Your God?"
"The Creator," Leo said simply.
Both Osvald and Errenor froze, their eyes widening as the weight of the name sank into them. Even Luciana, ever composed, fixed her gaze on him, the faintest flicker of surprise breaking through her charm.
Osvald leaned forward. "Who is this Creator?"
Leo shook his head. "I can't say more. Only this—he is here to save this world from destruction."
Errenor frowned, then a thought sparked in his eyes. "Wait. The incident at the secret meeting…" He turned toward Arthur. "That was him, wasn't it?"
Arthur exhaled. "Yes. That was the Creator."
"And he acted through Mr. Clone…" Errenor studied Arthur, then turned his sharp gaze toward Leo. He didn't press further, only nodded once. "As expected. I thought your way of speaking felt familiar."
Luciana's eyes darted between Errenor and Leo, once, twice—until at last they widened further, the realization striking her like lightning. "So it's like that." She whispered to herself.
Leo smiled inwardly. This man is a genius. He's already pieced together that I was Mr. Clone.
"So the beast God?" Leo asked, his eyes narrowing on Osvald.
Osvald inclined his head. "Yes. When the Goddess of Nature fell, the strongest fragment of Bahamut slipped into Ethereon and claimed her place. That is the so-called 'beast God.'"
Leo let out a low breath. "All that power… and it isn't even a true God." He hesitated, then forced his voice to remain steady. "What would happen if two of these fragments clashed against each other?"
Osvald's gaze sharpened. "They would try to tear each other apart. After centuries, each fragment has grown into its own creature, distinct and self-willed. Why do you ask?"
Leo shook his head lightly, feigning casualness. "I just wanted to make sure they could never recombine into something worse—a disaster the world couldn't survive."
But inside, his thoughts burned. That wasn't the real reason. What he truly needed to know was whether calling forth the beast God to destroy Osara had risked dooming the world itself.
Errenor straightened, breaking the heavy air. "Enough talk for now. Osvald, you need rest, and we've all much to consider."
The gathering stood, chairs scraping softly against the polished floor.
As Osvald turned to leave, he paused by the doorway. "Tell your friend I'll meet her in the castle's back garden in an hour. She has questions—and I'll give her answers."
With that, he departed, his expression calm but his eyes storming with thought.