In the royal court:
"Dark temples are falling one after another… Who is responsible?"
"The Duke Douglas, Your Majesty. The heir."
"…That child?"
"No, Your Highness. Not a child anymore."
In the monasteries:
"Pray for him. Only the heavens know how much darkness he carries."
In the villages:
"If the Duke passes through here, do not look him in the eyes. They say he is made of fury."
In military reports:
He has eliminated forty-three demonic cult cells in the last twelve months.
The kingdom no longer measured the passing of timeby the sun,by the rain,or by the seasons.
But by the number of enemies who vanished without a trace.
By the rumors of the Avenger of the North.
By the fear the demonic cult felt whenever a shadow moved in the night.
Dim moonlight slipped through the window of a chamber in the ducal palace of Acropolis. Everything was quiet; outside, the city slept after a year stained with blood and whispers about the "duke who hunts cultists."
The room still smelled of warm skin and spent desire.
Candlelight flickered gently, illuminating the tangled sheets and the sheen of sweat still glistening on their bodies.
Lusian lay against the headboard of the great bed, breathing deeply, his dark hair disheveled.
Emily rested beside him, one leg draped over his, her cheek pressed against his chest as she listened to the irregular rhythm of his heartbeat slowly trying to calm.
Her fingers traced soft circles along his sternum.
Neither of them spoke.
There was no need.
Lusian closed his eyes.
The warmth of her body soothed him.
"Lusian…" she finally said, her voice trembling slightly. "I need to talk to you."
He didn't answer, but his fingers tightened.
Emily swallowed.
She was afraid.
Not for herself.
For him.
"I've been watching you… this entire year," she whispered. "Every day you burn away a little more of yourself. You hunt cultists without rest, without sleep, without giving yourself a single moment to breathe. You're destroying yourself, Lusian."
The young duke remained silent.
His eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, as if there were a danger there only he could see.
Emily continued more softly.
"I'm not saying they don't deserve it. They're monsters. What they've done… what they're trying to do…" She shook her head and took a deep breath. "But you have to stop, even for a moment. If you keep going like this, something will happen to you… and I won't be able to stop it."
Lusian closed his eyes.
She didn't understand.
No one did.
He wasn't hunting cultists for vengeance.
Not for hatred.
Not for justice.
He did it because of fear.
A fear so deep it corroded his soul.
The cult.The Demon Queen.The prophecy only he knew.The fate in which Elizabeth was sacrificed as a vessel…
That thought alone was enough to freeze his blood.
"Emily…" His voice barely cracked. "I can't stop. Not now."
Emily pushed herself up slightly and looked directly at him.
"Why? What's driving you this far? What are you hiding?"
Lusian took a long time to answer—long enough for a knot to form in her stomach.
"Because if I leave even one of them alive…" he said quietly at last, "…something could happen that I cannot allow."
"Something… like what?"
He couldn't tell her.
He couldn't say that he feared losing Elizabeth.
He couldn't confess that he knew a future no one else did.
He couldn't explain that the cult sought a single goal—
And that goal carried the name of the woman he loved.
So he simply murmured:
"Something… terrible."
Emily studied him for a long moment.
With fear, yes…
But also with sincere affection.
Her fingers brushed his gently.
"Lusian… I came to tell you that tomorrow… I leave for the Empire."
Lusian stiffened instantly.
"What?"
Emily lowered her gaze.
"The gods summoned us. They say the situation there is… critical. The monsters have evolved too much. The barriers are collapsing. The Empire might not survive without help. The kingdom is sending troops to support them…"
She hesitated.
"And… Princess Elizabeth has been appointed commander of the expedition."
Lusian's heart slammed violently against his ribs.
"Princess… Elizabeth?" he asked, forcing his voice not to shake.
"At the request of the temples," Emily replied. "I don't know why they asked for her."
For a brief moment, Lusian's gaze went empty.
The gods were moving Elizabeth away from the Duchy.
Out of his reach.
Toward chaos.
Toward a place where he could not easily protect her.
Emily squeezed his hand, mistaking his silence for concern about her.
"I know what you're thinking. That it's dangerous. That you should come. But Lusian… I need you to promise me something."
Lusian looked at her from within a deep shadow.
Emily spoke with all the strength she had.
"Promise me you won't lose yourself in this war. I don't want you to become someone unrecognizable."
He inhaled slowly.
He could promise many things.
But not that.
If the gods wanted Elizabeth…
If the cult tried to touch her…
He would be capable of destroying the entire Empire.
So he said the only thing he could.
"I promise…" he whispered.
Emily smiled sadly.
"That's not the promise I wanted… but I'll accept it."
She rested her head on his chest.
She felt his heart beating hard.
Painfully.
Burning with a determination she could not understand.
That night, even love was not enough to quiet Lusian's fears.
Emily fell asleep against his chest, breathing softly, trusting.
But he could not close his eyes.
The silence in the room grew too heavy.
His own heart pounded as if trying to escape his ribs.
Carefully, Lusian slid his hand from beneath Emily's and rose without waking her.
He needed air.
He needed to think.
He needed… to see her.
He walked through the dim corridors of the ducal palace, guided only by an unbearable instinct.
There would be no rest for him.
Not tonight.
The night covered the entire city, perfect for crossing the royal palace unseen.
When he reached the chamber where Elizabeth was staying, he almost turned away.
But then he heard her voice from the other side of the door—soft, worried…
As if she somehow knew he was there.
"Lusian… is that you?"
And every fear, every guilt, everything he tried to hide… collapsed in a single instant.
Elizabeth sat at the edge of the bed, her hair still disheveled and her skin lightly flushed from the intimacy they had shared not long before. The quiet warmth of the room was broken only by the slow rhythm of her breathing.
Lusian stood by the open window.
Moonlight bathed his figure as if trying to reveal every shadow he carried inside.
Elizabeth watched him with concern.
"Lusian…" she whispered. "That look again? It's like your spirit doesn't know how to rest."
He didn't answer immediately.
The silver light outlined the tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion carved into him…
And something darker she could not fully understand.
She rose and approached him from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her forehead between his shoulder blades.
"You've been hunting cultists without stopping. You barely sleep. You barely eat. I'm afraid that… you're losing yourself."
Lusian closed his eyes.
His throat ached with the truth he could not say.
I'm afraid of losing you too.
"I'm not losing myself," he murmured. "I'm preparing."
Elizabeth turned him so he had to face her. Her blue eyes held that gentle mixture of firmness and concern that always disarmed him.
"Preparing for what?"
Lusian swallowed.
The words burned.
The rage he kept buried.
The fear he would never admit.
He remembered the scene from the game… the future only Erwin Lenox knew.
The demonic cult.
The Demon Queen.
Elizabeth as a vessel.
The horror of it.
The thought of losing her suffocated him.
"To protect you," he said at last, his voice low and rough. "From them. From everyone."
Elizabeth frowned slightly.
"From the demonic cult? Lusian, I know we're at war, but you can't carry the entire world on your shoulders. I'll be fine."
Those words pierced his chest.
She didn't know.
She couldn't know.
Lusian clenched his jaw.
The mana in his veins burned as if reacting to his emotions.
"No," he said with an intensity that forced her to take half a step back. "You won't be fine. Not if you're away from me."
Elizabeth blinked, confused.
"Lusian… what are you talking about?"
He stepped toward her and cupped her face with both hands, as if afraid the world itself might pull her away.
"You're going to the Empire," he said with dangerously calm certainty. "The gods asked for it. The kingdom agreed. And you will leave with the royal troops."
Elizabeth lowered her gaze.
"Yes… the queen decided today. We leave in a week."
Lusian lifted her chin so she had to look at him again.
"And I will go with you."
She blinked in surprise.
"What? Lusian, you don't need—"
"Yes. I do," he interrupted, firm though his voice cracked beneath the surface. "I won't leave you alone. I won't allow anyone… anything… to lay a finger on you."
Elizabeth felt something tighten in her chest.
There was love in his words…
But also a dark fire.
A desperate protectiveness she could not fully understand.
"Lusian… I don't want you living trapped by the fear of losing me."
"It's not fear," he lied.
Then he lowered his voice.
"I wish it were. It would be easier."
She embraced him.
And felt him trembling.
It was strange.
Lusian never trembled.
Never.
"I'll be with you," he repeated like a vow—like a sentence for the entire world. "Wherever you go, I'll go. And if the Empire is filled with monsters, cultists, or gods who want to harm you…"
He tightened his arms around her.
"They should pray. Because I won't leave a single one of them alive."
Elizabeth rested her head on his chest, listening to his racing heart, feeling that the man she loved was slowly becoming something harder… colder…
And yet he still held her with a broken tenderness.
A dangerous mixture.
One no one else would ever see.
"Then," she whispered, lifting her gaze and brushing his lips, "let's travel together."
Lusian kissed her—not the way he had before, but with the urgency of someone afraid of losing the last ray of light left in his world.
The decision had been made.
And not even the gods would stop him.