Each time Aria used her aura, he felt it.
Not just the force — but her.
Her pain. Her breathlessness.
How much she gave, and how close she came to breaking.
And each time, his heartbeat faster, like it wanted to chase after her, to stop her from pushing too far.
But it was the vision that haunted him most.
Icarus.
He sat in his office, surrounded by scrolls and reports, ink-stained fingers paused mid-sentence.
Then suddenly—
Pain. A sharp stab through his chest.
He clenched his jaw, tilting his head slightly, the taste of metal on his tongue.
"Master? Are you not feeling well?" his assistant asked, concern heavy in his voice.
But Icarus didn't respond.
He stood.
Urgently. Silently.
"My lord, we still have more—"
He didn't hear the rest.
Because she was slipping again. And he wouldn't be too late this time.
He appeared just in time —
as Aria collapsed.
He caught her before her body could hit the ground, arms wrapping around her gently but firmly.
His breath hitched.
"What are you up to now…" he whispered under his breath.
But when his hand pressed over her heart —
the vision returned.
Flashes. Screams.
A girl—
—shouting at a man, her voice laced with betrayal and pain.
The words were distorted, muffled by time or magic, but her rage was unmistakable.
"I trusted you! You promised—!"
Then it was gone.
A void of silence.
Icarus staggered slightly, shaking his head, trying to grasp what he had seen.
Trying to remember.
"Why the hell are you here?"
The voice snapped like a whip.
Abigel.
He strode forward, eyes wild, fury brimming as he saw Aria in Icarus's arms.
Icarus didn't flinch.
He only held Aria tighter, protectively.
"Didn't I tell you? Whatever concerns Aria — concerns me," he said, calm yet cutting.
"You don't even know what she's doing! Are you spying on her?!" Abigel stepped closer; fists clenched.
Icarus's eyes darkened.
"Why would I tell you anything?" he replied coldly. "You're not my MASTER, Abigel. Don't act like you have the right to demand answers from me."
Abigel's fury snapped.
In one swift motion, he drew his sword — pressing the blade to Icarus's neck.
"Give Aria to me," he growled.
Icarus sighed.
Almost pitying.
Without even blinking, he raised a hand — and melted the blade into mist, its metal dripping through Abigel's fingers like silver rain.
"You're not ready yet… Young Duke."
He leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper layered in power.
"Or should I call you… Prince?"
Abigel froze.
His breath caught.
He stepped back, shaken.
"That's what I thought."
Icarus turned; his arms still wrapped around Aria's limp form.
"I'm taking her with me."
"No—!"
But Icarus was already gone.
The air folded in on itself, like reality sighing — and they vanished.
As Icarus vanished like smoke into the wind, taking Aria with him, silence fell over the courtyard. The shimmering traces of his departure left the air tinged with magic and tension.
Abigel stood still, breath ragged, fists clenched at his sides. His gaze slowly shifted—toward Selene, who had been standing there the entire time. Silent. Still.Watching.
She hadn't said a single word.Not even when Aria nearly collapsed.Not even when Icarus took her away.
"Don't you even care about Aria?" Abigel asked, voice low but sharp, like a blade dulled by grief.
Selene finally exhaled—long, tired. A sigh that carried years of weight.
"She'll be fine," she said, though her voice trembled at the edges. "There are things you don't understand, and it's better that way. For now."
She took a step forward, walking past Abigel and kneeling beside Theodore. His breathing was steadier now, the deathly pallor on his skin fading—thanks to the golden aura that had wrapped around him moments ago.
Selene's fingers brushed gently through his hair. Her expression softened.
"That child… she saved him," Selene murmured, almost to herself. "I should have known. I should have seen it long ago."
Her voice cracked.
"She was right. I've been a coward."
She stood, straightening her spine as if steeling herself for something. Her eyes no longer clouded with fear—but with resolve.
For the first time in years, she looked like the war duchess again.
Without another word, Selene turned and walked away.
But her silence whispered something louder than grief:She was going to do something.
Meanwhile, in the System Realm...
The cold glow of codes pulsed softly through the infinite expanse—alive, humming like a heartbeat. Y.G. sat before a translucent interface, his fingers flying with practiced ease. One last line of code vanished with a soft chime.
"Haa... everything's deleted as you told me before GF come," Y.G. said with a stretch, spinning in his chair. "Now, are you sure you can take her back?"
Across the room, perched on a floating crystalline platform, the Soul Keeper laughed—a rich, echoing sound that didn't match the weight of the conversation. It was the kind of laugh that made Y.G.'s neck prickle.
"Why are you laughing?" Y.G. asked, frowning, his cheerful energy suddenly dimming.
The Soul Keeper leaned back lazily, shadows curling around his fingers like smoke.
"No, no... it's just—" he paused, smirking, "What's the point of taking her back if she's going to lose everything anyway?"
Y.G. blinked, confusion shifting quickly into dawning horror.
"What do you mean—lose everything?" he asked slowly, sitting up straight.
But the Soul Keeper only smiled wider, eyes glinting with mischief and something darker beneath it.
Before Y.G. could ask more, the door to the chamber creaked open, and GF—the God of Fate—walked in with a tired groan. His robes were rumpled, a divine scroll tucked under one arm like forgotten paperwork.
"Haa... finally," GF muttered, rubbing his temples. "Supreme God's giving me more work again. Said I should 'intervene less emotionally'... tsk."
His golden eyes narrowed as they scanned the room—and immediately landed on the Soul Keeper.
"You're still here?" GF asked, tone cold and clipped.
"When are you leaving?"
The Soul Keeper turned slowly, his grin widening into a crescent.
"Noooo... I'm staying," he purred, resting his chin on his palm. "This place is far too entertaining to leave just yet."