When the day of the engagement arrived, the priest of the god Sangus came to the Douglas residence, which at that hour was bustling like a swarm. Servants rushed back and forth, decorating carriages, preparing offerings, and arranging ceremonial garments. Sophia Douglas, immaculate and serene, personally supervised every detail. For her, perfection was not an option… it was a sacred duty.
Lusian watched everything with a mixture of respect and apprehension. He had never felt the pressure of such an absolute, irrevocable oath. The temple waited, silent and solemn, as if the god Sangus himself held his breath for the pact that was about to be sealed.
Every step he took toward the ceremony was a reminder of the invisible chain binding him: a blood contract, sanctioned by a god, that he could not break… without condemning someone else. Emily.
The divine responsibility rested on her, yes, but the moral weight—that uncomfortable mix of fear, solemnity, and anticipated guilt—sank into his chest like a stone. He did not want to see her suffer because of him.
The sound of his boots on marble echoed like a silent drum of war. Lusian swallowed. A shiver—a mixture of respect and fear—ran down his spine.
This was not just a ceremony. It was the first step onto a path where every decision could trigger tragedy.
In front of the mirror, Lusian adjusted his black suit, its golden embroidery seeming to glow with its own light. A white cape fell over his shoulders like a mantle of authority and fate; the threads formed the image of a two-headed wolf and crossed swords, the ancestral emblem of his house.
But neither the symbols nor the elegance could hide the unease in his eyes.
"Are you afraid, Lusian?" Sophia asked softly when she saw his shoulders tense.
He took a deep breath, trying to mask the truth with calmness.
"A little, mother," he admitted. "I know the oath is mandatory… but it's just tradition. There won't be any complications."
Sophia smiled with the elegant pride characteristic of the Douglases, though part of her knew very well that her son did not fear the ceremony. He feared what would come after. The future. The events pressing from the horizon like unreadable shadows.
And Sophia, without fully understanding why, felt a slight shiver. As if she sensed that after the oath, something far greater than a simple engagement was about to awaken in her son.
When they arrived at the ceremonial hall, the Douglas family was already waiting before the altar.
Laurence Douglas stood like a marble statue: solemn, distant, unbreakable. Martha, beside him, wore a gentle smile, but in her eyes danced a complex mixture of pride and melancholy. Caleb and Catalina, on the other hand, remained neutral, almost cold; for them, this was nothing more than a political formality. None of them seemed truly happy. In the duchy, even celebrations carried the weight of duty.
The murmurs of the guests faded, as if a silent fog enveloped the room, when Emily Carter entered.
Lusian raised his gaze… and his breath stopped.
Emily walked down the aisle as if she were floating, wrapped in a light blue dress whose embroidered flowers seemed to reflect the first light of dawn. The temple's soft glow slid across the delicate pink lace, and each of her steps echoed on the white marble with a calm, almost sacred elegance.
The guests stood. Absolute silence filled the hall.
Only her footsteps could be heard… and those of her parents behind her.
When Emily's eyes met Lusian's, he felt heat rise to his face. Emily gave him a soft, serene smile—so perfectly controlled it almost seemed natural. But Lusian, who had seen fear in her eyes days before, felt that calmness was a fragile mask, as beautiful as it was deceptive.
For an instant, the world stopped moving. There were no gods, no fate, no dark future. Only her. Only that suspended moment.
The high priest stepped forward and raised his hands. His deep voice echoed through the temple dome.
"We shall begin the oath ceremony under the gaze of the god Sangus."
He took a small silver awl, placed it on Lusian's finger, and pressed. A drop of blood fell onto a silver ring on the altar.
Then he repeated the gesture with Emily. Her blood fell beside his.
Both drops glowed, first individually… and then merged into a faint red light that traveled through the symbols of the ring, as if the metal itself were breathing.
A murmur of magic filled the hall.
"With this oath," the priest proclaimed, "the promise of union is sealed. May Sangus be witness, judge, and guardian of this sacred pact."
A wave of energy swept through the temple, a deep pulse that raised goosebumps on everyone present. The air grew heavier, as if the god himself had turned his gaze upon them.
Lusian felt the weight of the pact sink into his bones. Emily lowered her gaze with a barely perceptible tremor.
The engagement was sealed. And there was no turning back.
After the ceremony, the guests moved to the adjacent hall, where an impeccably arranged banquet awaited them. The aroma of spices, wine, and roasted meat filled the air, mixing with the murmurs of nobles offering blessings and congratulations. It was an evening of appearances, calculated smiles, and promises no god would listen to.
The blood rings on Lusian and Emily's hands glowed with a faint reddish light—the symbol of the bond that now united them. For many, it was an honor. For them, a chain.
—Noble families approach—
The first family to approach was that of Count Noah Armett, accompanied by his wife and children. His daughter, Isabella Armett, with snow-white hair and deep blue eyes, looked like a winter flower in the middle of the hall. Her ethereal beauty caught the attention of many… but especially Caleb Douglas, whose wandering gaze did not escape Lusian.
"So… this is where his tragedy begins," Lusian thought with a silent sigh.
Next came the Kesslers, offering their respects, followed by the Macallisters from the Empire of Ithaca. Lusian remembered them perfectly from the game: a house without great military power, but with something far more valuable—an ancestral affinity for spatial magic. Their artifacts were coveted across the continent.
As expected, they presented two enchanted bracelets capable of storing magical items in a dimensional space. Emily widened her eyes in amazement; Lusian maintained a polite expression, though internally he recognized their value.
The Stanley, Briggs, and Schneider families followed, each fulfilling protocol: greeting, gift, smile. The Mondrings, Sophia's maternal family, bowed briefly and withdrew without drawing attention—silent as always, like noble shadows.
—The Bourlandes: strength and fire—
The atmosphere changed when the Bourlandes arrived. Born warriors, obsessed with combat, famous for their body-strengthening spells guarded jealously in their family grimoires.
Among them stood Kara Bourlande Bekker, the seventeen-year-old heiress. Fiery red hair, sky-blue eyes, firm posture. She was as beautiful as she was lethal.
Lusian recognized her instantly. In the game, Kara was one of the main heroines, a woman impossible to defeat… literally. Many routes ended in battle against her, and most players died without ever seeing her smile.
She looked at Lusian with a mixture of curiosity and challenge. He held her gaze. An invisible spark passed between them: respect… and warning.
—The Denisses: poison disguised—
The Denisses approached next, wrapped in diplomatic smiles. Lusian did not look away from them.
He knew who they truly were: imperial rats, conspirators willing to sell the kingdom to the highest bidder. Their presence here was not a greeting… but a silent reminder that danger was already inside the country.
When he shook their hands, Lusian did so with impeccable courtesy. In his mind, however, he only saw blood.
—The royal family—
The hall fell silent instantly when the heralds announced the arrival of the royal family.
Everyone knelt. Only the three ducal houses bowed.
Queen Adelaine Erkhan Stanley advanced with the elegance of someone who carries an entire kingdom on her shoulders. Beside her walked Crown Prince Andrew, and Princess Elizabeth, sharp-eyed and imposing.
Emily, nervous, tried to kneel, but Sophia held her arm, preventing a fatal mistake.
The queen congratulated the couple with noble, measured words, presenting a gift wrapped in crimson velvet. Then she withdrew to a private chamber, followed by her royal shadow.
—The Douglas gift—
It was then that Sophia raised her hand. Two servants stepped forward carrying a long chest covered by a black cloth.
When the cloth was removed and the chest opened, a dark glow illuminated the velvet interior.
The entire hall held its breath.
Lusian felt a chill run down his spine.
There it was:
Dainslein.
A black-bladed sword, polished like a fragment of night, with a subtle bluish glow that seemed to pulse with the surrounding mana. It did not emanate malice, but a deep calm—a serene darkness inviting silence.
An Ætherion.
An ancient weapon whose purpose was not destruction, but to harmonize mana flow and reduce the wielder's energy consumption.
Lusian recognized it immediately. Not because he had wielded it… but because in the game, the sword was the final reward for killing Dark Lusian. His fallen version. The fate he was determined to avoid.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips.
"Dainslein… my warning."
That gift was no coincidence. It was as if the world itself was showing him the weapon that, in the original story, would only appear when it was already too late.
The first act had ended.
The game… had just begun.