Nighttime, in the Kingdom of Terith.
In this kingdom, streetlights were simply oil lamps. However, the light from these lamps was limited, so the roads were only dimly lit—just enough for passersby to vaguely make out the path ahead.
A group of men staggered out of a tavern, walking and laughing as if they'd just experienced something extremely amusing.
"Hahaha... Thomas, I never thought you could act so well!" one man exclaimed.
The man called Thomas looked like a thug, his face flushed from drinking too much, his eyelids half-closed from drunkenness, barely able to see where he was going.
However, upon hearing the other man's words, Thomas immediately replied arrogantly, "Of course! I make my living off this skill, hahahaha..."
"Hahahaha..."
"Thomas, aren't you afraid the Church will take revenge?" another man asked.
"Revenge?" Thomas scoffed, curling his lips in disdain. "Hell no! The Church has thousands of followers—do you think they'll kill all the traitors?"
"Huh! As long as I make it through tonight, I'll be safe. I'm not afraid of the Church anymore."
"Heh?!" The others were confused and asked, "Why?"
"Hahaha..." Thomas just waved his hand dismissively, "Don't worry about it. Come on, tonight let's head to the biggest brothel in town and play with all the beauties there, hahahaha..."
"Wow! That brothel is really expensive. Do you even have the money?"
"Of course!" Thomas laughed. "Enough for all of you to enjoy yourselves until the day is done, hahahaha..."
The group kept laughing and chatting, completely unaware that they were now the only ones left on the street.
The road was empty and dark, cold gusts of wind sweeping by and making the men shiver.
"Oy! You guys... do you feel something?"
"Hm?!" Thomas frowned at the question, feeling a little chill. "What do you mean?"
"It's just... why is there no one else on the street?"
Hearing the man's stammering, everyone looked around. Indeed, aside from themselves, it seemed there was no one else here.
The surrounding houses had all shut their doors, extinguished their lights—so silent it was almost frightening.
The only light they could rely on were the dim oil lamps lining the street.
Thomas still didn't seem to notice anything odd. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and said, "Tsk! Are you stupid? Do you know what time it is?"
"Everyone's gone to bed. Of course there's no one on the streets."
Another man shivered and stammered, "But... but... this place is really close to the market. Normally, even at this hour, there would still be a lot of people around."
Hearing that, Thomas was startled. The chilly night wind snapped him into a much clearer state.
"Damn it!" Thomas seemed to sense that something truly horrifying was coming, and he immediately shouted, "Run! Run!"
"What?! Run?"
"Why do we have to run?"
The other men hadn't realized what was happening, but Thomas was already running.
At that moment, he wished he had two more legs to run even faster.
He dashed alone through the night, under the dim, almost dying lamplight.
The sound of his shoes striking the cobblestones echoed harshly, shattering the silence of the night.
The farther Thomas ran, the more terrified he became, for he truly was the only one left on this road.
He didn't know how long he ran, until he was so exhausted his heart felt like it might burst, finally stopping in a narrow, dark, foul-smelling alley.
He leaned back against the wall, slumped down to the ground, mouth wide as he gasped for breath, sweat soaking through his clothes as if he'd just leapt into a lake.
"Damn it! Could it be... the Church really has... come to kill me?" Thomas muttered, panting.
His body trembled, eyes darting around as if watching for something.
But the place was too dark—everywhere he looked was pitch black, and the stench was so overwhelming he felt like vomiting.
He was scared... so scared that even his drunkenness had vanished.
"Thomas!"
"AAA!!!" Suddenly, a voice called out beside him, making him jump and scream.
But when he looked, he realized it was just one of the men who'd been with him earlier, and he let out a heavy sigh of relief.
"Damn it!" Thomas snapped angrily, "You nearly scared me to death."
"Help...!"
"Huh?!" Suddenly, blood began to trickle from the man's mouth, along with the word 'help,' making Thomas flinch.
"You... you..." Thomas stammered, unable to find words.
He could clearly see a sword piercing through the man's chest, fresh blood pouring out like a fountain.
The man looked at him, lips trembling, struggling to utter one more word: "Help... me..."
Whoosh!
The sword was violently pulled from the man's chest, splattering blood onto Thomas's face, scaring him so badly that he wet himself, soaking his pants.
He trembled violently as he saw the person stepping out from the darkness—a woman he knew all too well.
"You... you... why? Why?" Thomas stammered, unable to form a full sentence, only a few broken words slipping out.
Vera held her sword and slowly walked toward him.
In the darkness, her eyes were so cold that Thomas shuddered, feeling as if the temperature of the space had dropped drastically.
The murderous aura was so terrifying that he felt like he was facing a bloodthirsty monster.
"Please... I... I don't want the money anymore. I... don't kill me... please..." Thomas pleaded, tears and snot running down his face like a child.
Vera's face remained completely expressionless.
Still shaking, Thomas crawled backward: "Please... I... I promise I won't reveal this secret... please... I... I will..."
Whoosh!
Before he could finish his sentence, the sharp blade swept across his neck, leaving a cut so deep it looked like a second mouth.
Thomas opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but no sound came out. Both hands clutched desperately at his wounded throat, but blood gushed out like a fountain.
Within seconds, his eyes rolled back, turning white, his mouth agape, and he collapsed to the ground.
Vera didn't even look at Thomas's corpse. She simply flicked her sword, splattering the blood off the blade.
"The dead can never reveal any secrets," Vera said coldly.
Before leaving, she tossed a Church Believer's badge onto Thomas's body and disappeared.
...
Morning.
Lathel was still deep in sleep, but he felt a tickling sensation on the tip of his nose.
He slowly opened his eyes and saw Selvia in front of him, teasing his nose with her tousled blue hair.
"You mischievous little cat, do you want me to punish you again?" Lathel said with a teasing smile.
Hearing that, Selvia smiled and gently pressed a kiss to his lips.
She hugged him tightly and whispered, "Lathel... I'm sorry..."
Lathel gently patted her back and said with a smile, "You have nothing to apologize for—it was my carelessness, that's all."
"No! If I were stronger... if I were an Awakened One, I could have protected you," Selvia said, her voice trembling as if she was afraid of something.
"Lathel! I'm scared... I'm scared you'll disappear."
"I don't want to lose you..."
Feeling Selvia's soft body trembling in his arms, Lathel thought to himself: 'Looks like... it's time to throw her a little hope.'
He gave her a warm smile and said, "Selvia, do you know why I want to bring you with me to the Magic Academy?"
Selvia was a bit surprised by his question and shook her head, showing that she didn't know.
"It's because I want you to be exposed to magic," Lathel said with a smile. "Even if you can't become an Awakened One, you can still learn many other things."
"Really?" Selvia asked, her eyes lighting up with hope.
"Of course. Besides mages, there are many other professions in this world that don't require magic," Lathel explained. "I'm going to the Magic Academy not just to focus on my duel with Lucien."
"I want to use this opportunity to immerse myself in magic. Selvia, this journey will be a tough one—do you want to come with me?"
"Uhm! I do!" Selvia replied quickly. "I definitely won't be useless—I promise I'll be useful to you."
Lathel pulled Selvia into his embrace, a satisfied and slightly wicked smile appearing on his face as he thought to himself: 'Lucien, I'll have to rely on you to awaken Selvia...'
The two held each other for a while before Selvia helped Lathel get dressed.
"Selvia..." Lathel suddenly spoke, "Things like this—letting Mira help me would be fine too."
Hearing that, Selvia glanced at Mira, who was standing nearby holding Lathel's clothes, then looked back at him. "No, Lathel. I'm your wife. This is something I should do."
"Lathel, let me take care of you, okay?"
Lathel smiled and nodded gently. "Of course."
Selvia was delighted to hear that, and continued helping him get dressed. As she did, Mira suddenly spoke up, "Your Highness, there's something I heard yesterday—it's about the Church."
"Hm?!" Lathel, pretending not to know, frowned and asked, "Is it something important?"
Mira pressed her lips together, then softly said, "Your Highness, yesterday... the Church killed all the traitorous believers."