The days passed quickly.
The schedule was fixed—direct, precise, and free of flaws.
Sharing meals with Kraye had become routine, almost sacred.
One day, he broke the quiet with a sharp question, heavy with curiosity:
— "You haven't made any progress.
You're still stuck at the same level.
I don't think the issue is understanding the techniques.
So tell me… what's holding you back?"
She paused mid-bite.
A soft sorrow passed across her face, hidden beneath a delicate smile…
like someone remembering a wound they thought had healed.
— "I can't move past this point.
Maybe you don't know, but I was once close to becoming a Sword Mistress…
I had reached the midpoint of the fourth level of the Bloody Shadow Legacy."
But the price I paid for running from my family… was my strength.
A punishment for my sin… and a way to atone for it."
He remained silent, gently moving his fork through the food.
Inside, however, he was seething.
Not with pity—but with fury.
Fury at himself… for feeling sadness at her story.
And that alone… made her a weakness.
It felt like he was fighting a faceless enemy—
one that attacked not with weapons, but with whispers.
Not with chains, but with guilt.
Even without looking, he could read the expression on her face.
— "Why are you smiling?" he asked, cold.
She replied with a warmth that never wavered:
— "Because someone… is angry for my sake."
He tried to deny it.
But the Ruler's voice came, mocking:
— "Denial does not suit you, my king.
But perhaps… there is a solution to her dilemma.
One that might benefit you as well.
After all, family… is a power that surpasses worldly bonds."
The king then spoke, voice low and sharp:
— "Speak."
Suddenly, his mind was filled with a hazy vision—
a memory not his… yet somehow it was.
He saw a masked man.
Only two piercing blue eyes could be seen, glowing like lightning.
He was casting magic.
Strange… and yet hauntingly familiar.
The king had never learned magic.
Even the Noxfaire family didn't use it.
— "Why does it feel like I've seen this before…?
As if this memory… belongs to me."
The Ruler's voice returned, quieter now:
— "This is my memory.
What you're seeing is a high-tier healing spell.
But you are far too weak to withstand it…
If you try, your body will collapse.
Still, the choice is yours."
…
He returned to himself, opening his eyes slowly—
as if the light itself stung after a long, dreamless sleep.
The aura around him was still.
But within that stillness pulsed a quiet control.
No chaos. No tremble. Only silent dominion.
She broke the silence, her voice soft and hesitant, her eyes wide with sincere shock:
— "You… opened your eyes again?
Can you feel anything?"
He rose slowly.
— "Don't worry. I can control it.
But more importantly… I think I can help you."
Her eyes widened.
Her voice filled with hope:
— "If you're the one saying that… then maybe it's possible.
My family forbade me from using any method. Even the Church turned its back.
But if I can heal myself… they'll have no right to interfere."
He turned to Lara:
— "We're going to the training hall.
Make sure no one is watching."
…
She followed him into the hall.
Hope walked behind her, fear beside it.
And in her heart, a quiet wish:
— "I don't care what happens…
I just don't want him to ever feel defeated.
I want pride to always be his shadow."
He stood before her.
Calm. Commanding.
— "Kneel."
She obeyed without hesitation.
And for a brief moment, he looked at her—
not as a student, not as a mother—
but as a woman of terrifying beauty.
She looked like the flowers he once tended in his garden.
He placed his hand gently upon her head.
And the blue energy began to flow.
Pure mana, channeling from his eyes deep into her core.
Their eyes met.
Blood-red… trembling.
Yet filled with hope.
The energy surged. He whispered:
— "Blessing of Life."
Mana rushed into her body.
Her skin quivered.
He said calmly:
— "You may scream."
She smiled through the pain:
— "Anything that comes from you… brings joy, not pain, my dear."
Though she felt the impact first, the backlash didn't spare him.
His body began to scream too.
The pressure was overwhelming.
His vision blurred.
His cells burned like coal. His eyes… began to bleed.
Still… he pressed on.
She screamed, tried to pull away,
called his name over and over.
But he held on.
Then… that voice returned again.
Mocking.
— "You were given a second chance… and this is how you waste it?"
The king's rage reached its peak.
He bit his lip until blood spilled.
Dug his nails into his chest.
And roared his power through his veins.
At the same moment, Kraye was overcome by a strange force.
It tore through her internal channels, then rebuilt them—
as if he was re-engineering her very body.
The pressure was too much.
She lost consciousness.
As for the king… he stood, swaying.
Barely awake.
His mind slipping.
The Ruler spoke again, final and resolute:
— "You may rest now."
And he fell.
As his head struck the floor,
the last thing he saw… was her face.
Tears still falling.
He whispered faintly:
— "I truly… don't understand that woman."