Lucian snorted softly, arms folded beneath his head. "What is there to change? He flaunts his status and influence whenever possible. In the end, he only proves that his background is grander than mine. That is hardly impressive."
Arceus laughed quietly and handed him the pistol. "Then perhaps you should change your focus. Anyway, come with me to the store that sells this. By the way, the owner of the store is just your type."
Lucian raised an eyebrow, "My type? Is she that beautiful?"
Arceus nodded his head stubbornly. "Yup. I know your beauty standards... and believe me, she will fit them. It wasn't her looks that were special. There is this dangerous gaze she had. I mean, she is not even a spirit warrior. Just a plain folk, yet…" He couldn't help but sigh then, "I don't know..."
"Looks like someone had developed a crush?" Lucian chuckled, nudging him.
"The hell are you talking about. I'm engaged." Arceus scoffed. He refuted it right away.
Lucian shrugged calmly, "It's not like you love the lady of House Vale. It's just something that your father decided it for you, to increase his political influence with the help of House Vale. There is a reason why you rarely find an Emperor who had love for the Empress. Almost for every Emperor, one of his Queen Consorts would be his favorite."
Arceus couldn't help but glance in a certain direction, where Sienna was sleeping, her back facing him. "I guess that is true." He sighed. A pause later, he added, "but I don't plan on taking anyone else other than Sienna. For me, there can be only one wife. Anyway, let's stop talking about me. So, do you want to come with me? If not for the lady, atleast for this unique weapon?"
Lucian studied the pistol under the firelight, turning it carefully.
"Perhaps I should visit," he murmured.
Their conversation drifted to lighter matters until fatigue overcame them. One by one, their voices faded, replaced by the steady crackle of firewood.
Hours passed.
The forest grew colder and quieter. Beyond the campfire's glow, darkness pressed inward, thick and patient. Ralph remained seated upright, though his eyelids drooped occasionally. The four-star knight's vigilance also began to falter as exhaustion settled into his bones.
Arceus, still clutching the pistol loosely, had forgotten to return it to his storage ring.
In his dreams, he stood atop a battlefield, facing a monstrous orc twice his height. He aimed confidently.
"Die, you monster!"
His finger twitched.
Bang.
The explosion shattered the night.
Sienna bolted upright with a startled cry. Lucian flinched violently, hand instinctively reaching for his sword. Prince Kaelan's firelight flickered erratically as he jerked awake.
Ralph's eyes snapped open instantly.
"Toren, down!" he shouted, spotting a shadowed figure lunging forward with a dagger. "Everyone behind me!"
Sienna stumbled to her feet just as she noticed a bald, short man with a long beard standing a few paces behind Ralph.
"Another assassin?" Ralph growled, already pivoting to face the new threat.
The four-star knight attempted to dodge sideways, but panic betrayed precision. The young assassin's dagger sliced across his upper arm before he could fully evade. Blood flowed quickly down his sleeve.
The attacker retreated in a blur, landing beside his captain.
"What now?" the young assassin whispered urgently, his voice trembling with adrenaline.
The short leader's eyes narrowed.
"Ronald," he replied calmly, "we have been exposed. There is no more patience to be had."
He adjusted his grip on the staff whose tip flickered with small flames.
"I will handle the five-star knight. You deal with the rest. There is only one four-star among them. It should be simple."
Ronald swallowed hard.
Despite being recruited at ten and reaching five-star by eighteen, he had only tasted a handful of true human battles. Excitement and fear coiled together in his chest.
Across the clearing, Ralph stepped forward, sword drawn, shielding the nobles behind him as the firelight cast long, trembling shadows.
The fragile peace of the forest was shattered completely.
*
A few hundred meters away from the flickering campfire, beneath the dense canopy where moonlight struggled to slip through the leaves, a hooded man leaned silently against the trunk of an ancient tree.
His breathing was slow and steady, so composed that one could mistake him for a statue carved from shadow itself.
In the darkness, it was impossible to tell whether he slept or simply listened to the forest breathe.
Several meters behind him, two assassins descended from the branches without stirring a single leaf.
Their boots touched the ground like whispers, and their daggers gleamed faintly as they drew them from their sleeves. Exchanging only a brief glance, they crept forward with measured steps, eyes fixed on the unmoving figure.
When they were no more than three feet away, one assassin gently tapped the other's shoulder as a silent signal. In the same instant, both lunged forward, blades arcing low as they aimed to sever the man's legs and cripple his mobility before he could react.
Steel met flesh.
Their daggers sliced cleanly through what appeared to be living limbs, yet instead of blood, a cloud of gray smoke erupted outward.
"What!" both assassins gasped in unison, their confidence shattering as the hooded figure dissolved into mist. They had struck a clone.
Realization dawned too late.
From behind them, a glowing double-edged blade attached to a long chain cut through the air in a perfect crescent.
The weapon sliced across both of their necks in a single fluid motion, so precise that their expressions of shock remained frozen as their heads tumbled to the forest floor.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The real hooded man stepped forward from the darkness and regarded the two corpses with indifferent eyes.
"Dead in one strike," he murmured softly. "Who are these weaklings that have been spying on me for so long?"
He crouched down and searched their bodies methodically, retrieving storage rings, small pouches of gold coins, a handful of ether crystals, and miscellaneous trinkets. None of it seemed remarkable.
"Tch," he muttered under his breath. "Not even a proper insignia. I wonder who sent them."
Before he could contemplate further, a loud explosion echoed through the forest from behind him.
*Bang*
His head snapped toward the direction of the camp.
"That sound… it is where the young master rests," he thought instantly. "And it is the same thunderous sound of Lord Silver's strange weapon."
Without hesitation, he pushed off the ground and dashed toward the source, moving like a streak of shadow between trees.
When he arrived at the clearing, chaos had already taken root.
Captain Ralph was locked in fierce combat with a short, middle-aged man who bore the appearance of a monk but moved with the lethal precision of a seasoned assassin. The monk's Bo-staff glowed red with circulating ether, and each strike forced Ralph to defend with full concentration.
Nearby, a young assassin, around twenty years old, was pressing aggressively against a wounded four-star knight while also threatening Lucian.
Prince Kaelan held a blazing fireball in his palm, yet he hesitated to release it because Lucian stood dangerously close to the enemy.
Arceus Silver aimed his pistol with tense focus, but he too refrained from firing, counting the few remaining bullets in his possession silently.
Sienna Vale positioned herself protectively near Arceus, blade drawn, though her attention remained fixed on the battlefield.
The hooded figure moved instantly toward Lucian's side.
"Ronald, retreat!" the monk shouted suddenly upon sensing a new presence.
The young assassin's instincts flared.