Sylaphine — Perspective:
I descended the spiral steps into the cellar, each footstep echoing softly against the cold stone. The air was thick with the scent of metal and burnt oil — an odd fragrance to find beneath the halls of fairies. Boxes of scraps, dismantled gears, and scattered tools were stacked haphazardly across the floor. I remembered the higher fairies whispering about a human requesting these materials.
Kaiser, they said. The strange one.
I had allowed it. Curiosity has always been my undoing.
The cellar was dim, illuminated only by a trembling candle flame that painted shadows across his face. He was hunched over a worktable, scribbling numbers and symbols onto parchment — calculations even I couldn't immediately decipher. He looked so utterly human, yet there was something uncomfortably precise about the way his hands moved, as if guided by a rhythm older than logic itself.
"Welcome, welcome~!" he greeted without even turning, his voice light, theatrical. "To my underground fabulous living standards!"
I tilted my head, letting my eyes sweep the grimy room. "Quite the settlement," I murmured, "beneath our palace, and beside the dungeons where insects thrive."
He chuckled and waved a paper at me as if it were an invitation, shooing me toward an invisible seat. "Come now, don't be shy. Sit."
I raised a brow. "You invite royalty to sit on bare stone?"
He grinned. "Just for those guests who let their imaginations run wild."
With a faint flick of my fingers, threads of luminous mana swirled beneath me, shaping themselves into an elegant chair of glass-like petals. I sat gracefully, and he blinked in mock offense.
"So this is how you treat guests?" he teased. "Making them sit on conjured thrones? I feel underdressed."
"It's just for those who forget their manners," I replied coolly.
He leaned forward, his grin sharpening. "You're overthinking it. I'm merely confessing my love at first sight."
My expression didn't change, though something fluttered deep inside me — annoyance, perhaps. "You do realize I am thousands of years old, human."
He met my gaze without hesitation. "I can wait another lifetime."
I sighed softly, half out of disbelief, half out of… something else. Does he have an answer for every challenge I give him?
"Relax, Queen Sylaphine," he said with that irreverent tone of his, "no need to imagine our children this far ahead."
My glare froze the air between us.
He immediately raised both hands in surrender. "Erm— I was just, you know, giving a calculative response based on arbitrary bias and… theoretical reasoning."
I rolled my eyes, a small, involuntary smile threatening to betray me.
Still, this was not why I came. Beneath the teasing and insolence, I sensed something that pulled at the oldest parts of me — something dangerous, ancient, and human.
He made me remember.
Fragments of a past I had sealed away for millennia began stirring — laughter beneath the sun, betrayal under moonlight. I wanted to know why this man, of all beings, could awaken the echoes of my lost memories.
There is something strange about this human, I thought, watching him return to his work, candlelight flickering in his eyes. And I will find out what it is — even if it means walking once more into the storm I swore I'd never face again.
"Sir Kaiser," I began softly, my tone carrying both command and curiosity, "may I ask you a few questions?"
He looked up from his parchment, eyes meeting mine — an unguarded, almost boyish blue. "Uh, 'Sir' sounds too formal," he said, flashing a crooked grin. "Just Kaiser works."
"Hmm, if you say so. I'll… consider that."
He chuckled, dipping his quill back into ink. "So, what did you want to ask?"
"It's something personal," I replied, folding my hands in my lap. "I'd like to know about you. Who you are."
His lips curved into that same playful smirk. "Is this a confession—"
"No." I cut him off, my tone sharp.
He paused for half a second before mumbling, "Thought so."
"It's just to feed my curiosity," I continued. "You're quite… strange."
"Strange?" he asked, pretending to sound offended. "I'm just a chill guy, you know?"
"Then tell me," I said, leaning slightly forward, eyes narrowing. "Why are you in a party with Lucas and Celia? They both carry the presence of calamities — divine and cursed. But you… you have none. Why would they keep someone like you close?"
He scratched his cheek, glancing aside. "I'm just their sidekick, really. Handle the boring stuff — cooking, setting camp, moral support. You know, the usual."
I studied him quietly, sensing how effortless the lie rolled from his tongue. "Hmm… I've heard you're an E-rank adventurer. And that you can't use magic at all. Then tell me, how do you defend yourself?"
"I mostly rely on Lucas or Celia," he said without hesitation, smiling faintly. "The weak rely on the strong, right?"
I tilted my head. "Do you have any other talents? Knowledge of note?"
He pretended to think for a moment, tapping his pen. "Well… I can cook. And play poker. That's about it. Not exactly impressive."
My gaze drifted to the papers beside him — filled with geometric symbols, intricate lines, and unfamiliar equations. The faint scent of metal and heat still lingered from earlier.
"Odd," I murmured. "For someone who claims to only cook and gamble."
He froze for a fraction of a second.
"Can you explain what you're doing?" I asked.
"Oh, this?" He forced a laugh, his voice almost too casual. "I was just… bored. Tried doodling some designs for fun."
"If that's drawing," I interrupted, my voice calm but firm, "why is there mathematics involved?"
His shoulders stiffened. "Ah— well, you see, it's just basic measurements. I'm, uh, making a little trinket. For good luck." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Someone like me has to rely on luck, right?"
I exhaled slowly, watching him with quiet intensity. His words and his aura — they didn't match. His heart spoke of something vast, buried deep under layers of self-mockery.
This human is… unusual.
Every race I've encountered — elves, fairies, demons — they take pride in what they are. They boast of their gifts, their might. Yet this one… he deliberately hides his light beneath mud. Pathetic, perhaps. But also… intriguing.
I leaned back slightly, crossing my legs. "Then tell me, Kaiser. What do you truly seek from Lucas and Celia? Companionship? Protection? Or something else entirely?"
He laughed softly, still scribbling, as if my question were a passing breeze.
"Honestly? I just like good company. Lucas is smart, Celia's… well, unpredictable. Keeps life interesting. I guess I'm just tagging along, trying not to die."
"Yet you wander into my palace," I said, my tone dropping low, "and build… that." I gestured to the half-finished mechanism glinting under the candlelight.
"Something beyond the understanding of most scholars."
"Overthinking again, Your Majesty." He grinned. "I told you — just luck and curiosity. Maybe a little boredom too."
I said nothing for a long moment, letting silence fill the room. Only the scratching of his quill echoed between us.
"…You're lying," I whispered finally.
He glanced up, meeting my eyes — that same maddening calm in his expression. "Maybe. But isn't everyone?"
That answer struck deeper than I wished to admit. For a heartbeat, I saw myself in him — the masks, the quiet evasions, the desperate wish to stay unseen.
And just like that, I understood why he frightened me. Not because he was powerful, but because he wasn't. Because he mirrored the part of me that once trusted humanity — and paid the price.
"I have one last question, Kaiser." My voice was steady, though something beneath it trembled faintly — curiosity perhaps… or caution.
He looked up from his cluttered desk, smiling lightly. "What is it?"
I met his gaze, unblinking. "Why didn't illusions work upon you?"
His pen froze mid-stroke. "…Excuse me?"
"At the Forest of Wishes," I continued, tone even, "my fairies told me that Lucas and Celia were ensnared by illusion magic. They fell into deep slumber — visions meant to shatter their will. Yet you, Kaiser… you walked through untouched."
He gave a small chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. "I think you're over-exaggerating me."
I cut him off before he could continue. "They told me they felt like dying the moment they touched your mind," I said, watching the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"They said your mind was filled with death — a place of carnage and endless despair. It crushed them emotionally, nearly tore their souls apart."
For a moment, silence. Then his smile returned — almost too calmly. "Maybe it was the power of love I felt from you," he said with infuriating nonchalance, "even from that distance. Protected me, perhaps?"
I stared at him blankly. "You could have only resisted if you understood illusion magic to its core," I replied.
"Even higher fairies spend centuries studying its inner threads. From the description you've given me of yourself — and from what I've seen — you're contradicting your own existence."
He sighed softly, leaning back against the wall, folding his arms behind his head. "Just a coincidence, then."
"Uh huh?" I raised a brow, unimpressed.
"Your Majesty," he said, eyes closing as if bored of the entire conversation, "I think you should focus on that frost crawler or whatever creature's been giving you trouble. I'm just an E-rank who barely understands how the world works." He grinned faintly.
"And you're the Mother of Fairies, Lady Sylaphine. You already know the truth — so why bother asking someone as lucky and insignificant as me?"
The way he said it — lucky and insignificant — was deliberate.
I sighed quietly, rising from the chair I had conjured earlier. "Very well, then. I'll take my leave."
He blinked, tilting his head slightly. "Can you stay for some tea, at least?"
"Maybe some other time," I said, turning away. "Preferably when you're not serving tea in a dungeon."
I began walking toward the door, my heels clicking against the cold stone. The faint candlelight behind me flickered, casting his silhouette across the wall — calm, unbothered, unreadable.
Yet as I reached the exit, something made me glance back.
He was already hunched over his work again, sketching circles and lines with that same quiet focus, as though my questions had never existed. The air around him shimmered faintly — a ripple that even my magic couldn't name.
What are you, Kaiser…?
When I returned to my office, the air felt heavier than before — as though the faint echoes of my conversation with Kaiser still lingered within me.
Standing before my desk was Caelum, a tall figure with pale lavender hair cascading down like drifting mist. His wings shimmered with hues of sapphire, the edges glinting sharp as cut crystal. His posture was impeccable, his tone composed.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing with a hand to his chest. "The human, Lucas, has delivered this strategy note for your review."
"How interesting," I murmured, accepting the parchment from his grasp. My eyes traced the faint sigils sealing it — tidy, practical, human.
"Caelum," I added, "I need you to decipher something for me."
He straightened immediately. "Certainly, Your Majesty."
I waved my hand gently, and threads of luminous mana gathered before me — golden lines weaving into shape as I conjured a faithful replica of one of the notes I had glimpsed in Kaiser's cell. Each curve and number appeared with haunting precision, as though copied directly from his hand.
Caelum leaned forward once it materialized. For a long while, he remained silent, his brow furrowing deeper as his eyes darted between the symbols.
Finally, he exhaled softly. "Forgive me, my queen… this is beyond my comprehension."
I tilted my head slightly. "Why?"
"It resembles… dwarvian scriptwork, or perhaps their mathematical engineering patterns," he explained. "They use complex equations rather than runes to craft their mechanisms. This appears similar — far too intricate for elven or human design. Perhaps Aliana could decipher it, she studied under the dwarves during the Trade Age."
I considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Take it to her. Have her translate every symbol and theorem she can. I want a full analysis."
"As you command, Your Majesty."
He bowed once again and departed swiftly, leaving a faint shimmer of dust in his wake.
Once the room fell silent, I allowed myself a small sigh and seated myself upon the crystal chair behind my desk. The candlelight swayed faintly beside me as I unrolled Lucas's strategy note.
And my expression shifted.
Quite the cunning man, Lucas is.
His plan was flawlessly interwoven — each element carefully tethered to another, like strands in a spider's web. He proposed that our fairies assist by crafting illusions to distract the Frost Crawler while his team struck from behind.
A fair enough idea… but something about the layout unsettled me.
The formation itself — three positions forming a triangle. Two flanks of fairies along the sides, and at the peak… them.
"Why this particular shape?" I whispered under my breath, tracing the ink lines.
And then realization dawned.
If we were to betray them, they could simply withdraw, allowing the Frost Crawler to charge through and slaughter us.If they were to betray us, we could ensnare them within our illusions, trapping them long enough for the beast to devour them instead.
A perfectly mutual threat. Neither side could afford deceit. A contract bound by circumstance, not words.
And, of course… my presence was required at the center to command both layers of fairy troops.
They truly cornered me well.
The strategy accounted for every condition — the frost's movement patterns, the shifting temperature thresholds, the range and nature of illusions to use, even the optimal magical frequencies to disrupt the creature's senses.
Lucas had planned for everything.
Unlike that fool in the dungeon, he was truly cunning.
Just as I began marking a few notes of my own, soft footsteps approached.
The doors opened with a faint shimmer of light — Caelum returned, accompanied by Aliana.
She bowed gracefully, her silver-blue hair gleaming under the luminescence. "Your Majesty, Caelum informed me you have something most peculiar for me to examine."
I gestured toward the glowing replica still suspended midair. "Indeed. Something drawn by the human known as Kaiser. I wish to know what this truly is."
As the two of them approached the projection, I folded my hands beneath my chin, observing quietly.
"Let us see," I murmured, "what secrets this human hides beneath his harmless smile."
I drew the script into the air with a trace of light, the symbols arranging themselves like frost settling on a pane. They were small—only a handful of lines—but each one struck like a bell.
ΔQ = m·c·ΔT — but then modifies it to include decay over time:
Qeff = (m·c·ΔT)·e^(−k·t)
→ where k is the ambient entropy leakage constant he derived from frost density.
v = √(3·R·Tsys / M) → with Tsys substituted by Tf + η(ΔQ / V)
Φ = (ΔP / μ)·(A / L)·ξ(Tsys, v) → where ξ() is his adaptive thermal correction function, automatically adjusting pressure based on local temperature gradients.
There was much more than this..
The characters hung between us, clinical and fierce. Aliana drew closer, eyes narrowing until the pupils were thin slivers of moonlight. For a moment she was simply a listener—then the air around her changed, wary, as if something dangerous had stepped into the room.
Aliana stepped closer, eyes narrowing, her wings bristling slightly. "I don't even know where to start," she murmured. Her voice carried that rare mix of fascination and fear.
"This isn't dwarvish magic… nor typical engineering. He's written out thermodynamic behavior."
I raised an eyebrow. "Explain it simply."
She glanced at me, and then at the symbols hovering before us.
"Alright… imagine this: he's predicting heat loss, how quickly cold molecule energy, then countering it with a constant he derived himself. And not just from theory—he measured frost density, ambient temperature, all that. It's all about the frost crawlers cold density and how he'd counter it."
Caelum let out a soft hum. "To do that without magic… is audacious."
"Yes," Aliana agreed, eyes scanning the next line. "And here, he calculates velocity. Pressure. Adaptive thermal flow—look here, ξ(Tsys, v). That's a function that adjusts automatically depending on how the system is behaving."
"He can use this function in his head to calculate how much pressure of heat he should use during certain cold temperatures."
I frowned slightly, letting her words settle. "So… he could literally walk into subzero frost without freezing?"
She nodded slowly. "If these equations match reality, yes. And the clever part…" She hesitated, as if the thought itself shocked her,
"…he's doing this with scraps. Boxes, tubes, leather straps. He could have made something stronger, sure—steam engines, controlled combustion—but with what he had, he made a working model. From nothing."
Her words hung in the room. My pulse quickened slightly as I realized she was realizing the scope of what we were seeing.
I pressed further. "Okay, so… biology? Chemistry? Physics? How does it all tie together against something like the Frost Crawler?"
Aliana exhaled slowly. "The Frost Crawler spreads freezing enzymes. Proteins that harden on contact, ice that propagates across surfaces. If you introduce heat in a controlled, flowing way—steam, warm liquids in channels—it denatures the enzymes, fractures the exoskeleton."
"He's accounted for the creature's biology, the physics of phase change, even the chemistry of protein breakdown. And he did it without magic."
I tilted my head. "Without magic. But he's human."
"Yes!" Aliana's voice rose, a mix of excitement and disbelief. "Humans aren't supposed to think like this. Even the dwarves—masters of bellows, engines, and runes—would struggle to integrate heat, flow, and pressure so elegantly, especially without enchantments."
"And yet, here it is… a system that could be worn. Mobile. Operable at freezing temperatures. Minutes of immunity, long enough to reach the Frost Crawler's heart."
"He's… he's insane."
I let the image settle in my mind: tubes under leather straps like veins, a pack over the spine, wrist cuffs clicking valves, a single ember puffing heat into the system. A simple, portable engine made from scraps, engineered to survive where ice should kill.
Caelum swallowed. "So… he's not just clever. He's… terrifying."
Aliana nodded again, quieter this time. "And that's just the math. We're not even touching on the engineering precision required to build it, the materials, the tolerances… If he had access to proper scientific gears, he could have made something far stronger than steam power. He's working with what he has, and it's already lethal."
"I can't answer how it works without the blueprint and other components. This is just mathematics for temperature calculations and theory."
I leaned back, a cold thrill running through me. This human—this so-called 'E-rank adventurer'—he understands the world in ways I never imagined.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "If the Frost Crawler comes, and he wears this gear... I doubt he can be instantly frozen. No magic, no divine aid… just physics and engineering. And he's already mastered both."
I let the thought linger. I had seen genius before, but this… this was a mastery beyond what I could have guessed.
And the mortal—he wasn't a mortal, not really—was laughing beneath it all, pretending to be weak, pretending to be a fool.
Aliana finally looked at me, fear and awe mingling in her pale lavender eyes. "Even I… can't fully grasp this. Not fully. Not yet. Some dwarves might never understand what he's done here."
I pressed my hand to the desk, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Lucas's strategies are clever. But Kaiser… he's something else entirely. Something I hadn't even dared imagine.
I dismissed the two with a wave of my hand. "That will be all for now. You've both done well."
Caelum bowed respectfully, though his tone carried quiet hesitation. "Your Majesty… could we ever construct something like that?"
Before I could answer, Aliana spoke first, her expression tightening. "Not for at least a century, perhaps longer. It requires mastery in fields we've never touched—engineering, physics… things we've only heard the dwarves whisper about."
I leaned back, resting my hand beneath my chin. "Celestine thrives on magic, not science. The dwarves of Elysium merge their craft with runes to make progress… but this script—" I gestured toward the hovering formulas, "—this holds no trace of magic at all."
Caelum's voice lowered. "I'll keep an eye on that human."
Aliana frowned, guilt lacing her tone. "I was… angry, your Majesty. During the banquet, when he spoke so bluntly to you. I thought he was mocking you. But now…"
I smiled faintly, reaching forward to pat her head, as a mother would a restless child. "It's quite alright, Aliana. Go. Both of you. You've done enough for today."
They bowed once more and left the chamber, the door closing behind them with a soft thud that echoed longer than it should have. Silence wrapped around me—cold, watchful, almost sentient.
I sat there, staring at the floating symbols, the candlelight trembling along their curves.
"So, Kaiser…" I murmured to myself, "you were just drawing for fun, were you?"
A small, humorless smile touched my lips. "A gear that grants temporary immunity from freezing alive—created through steam-powered thermodynamics. How amusingly casual of you."
I leaned back in my chair, resting my hand against my temple. My understanding of human science was limited, yet across thousands of years, I had learned enough to recognize the pattern.
It works.
Heat transformed into motion—thermal energy reborn as power. The air, the gases, even vapors—they respond to change, move faster, push outward. Simple, yet the core of creation itself.
Even with just one mathematical page, I could feel it—his work functioned. It was alive in its logic.
But then… why hide it? Why pretend to be weak?
The memory of his grin resurfaced. That lazy, disarming grin that said nothing and hid everything.
Was it strategy? Caution? Or arrogance so vast it no longer needed to prove itself?
Lucas's strategy placed everyone—Celia, my fairies, even me—into clear roles.Everyone except him.
No task, no role, no mention. Yet somehow… it all revolved around him.
"What are you planning, Kaiser?" I whispered to the air.
My reflection in the glass window flickered, emerald eyes dim under candlelight. For the first time in centuries, I felt uncertainty—followed by an unexpected warmth blooming deep within.
It was flattering, almost… intoxicating. To meet a mind that moved beyond my reach.
Then—like a whisper, soft and cruel—I heard it. His voice.
"Good girl."
The words struck something ancient within me.
For a fleeting moment, I saw flashes—warm hands guiding me through a forest of light, a gentle laugh that echoed through my youth, a name I could no longer recall.
Someone who used to call me the same way… when I was small.
"Wait…" I breathed.Could it be—?
My heart twisted. No, impossible. Yet the thought refused to die.Could Kaiser… be him?
The reborn one. The savior of humanity from an age before history?
My breath stilled. The idea was absurd, blasphemous even.And yet—my hands trembled.
Because the fear I felt wasn't of him hurting me.It was of remembering who he was.
A genius who plays the fool.A deceiver who hides his power beneath laughter.
I pressed a hand over my heart, feeling it beat faster than it should.
The candles flickered once—and the scene shifted.
Kaiser
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, smearing a line of soot across his cheek. The cellar was hot now—alive with the sound of slow, rhythmic ticking from the metal pack he'd assembled. Tubes pulsed faintly under dim light, veins of warmth breathing across the straps.
He exhaled, watching steam curl around his wrists. "Might be a bit excessive," he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips.
He tapped the metal once, listening to its hum.
"The game doesn't make sense," he said softly, "if you don't aim to win."
The ember light caught his blue eyes—cold, sharp, and endless.
"It doesn't matter how."
He smiled faintly.
"I will prevail."