Imperial Military Airport – Lumenia
The motors rolled through the towering iron gates of the military airfield, escorted by armored cavalry on both sides. Mana-powered engines hummed beneath the vehicles, faint blue sigils glowing along their frames as they advanced.
Ahead, a massive imperial warship hovered above its launch platform — a silver hull reinforced with holy inscriptions, artillery cannons mounted along its sides. Runes pulsed beneath its surface like a living heartbeat, steady and ominous, preparing for war.
The lead motor slowed.
Then stopped.
The door opened.
Princess Aurelia Galewyn stepped out, her brown hair tied back neatly, golden eyes steady and unreadable. She wore light ceremonial armor — polished white and gold, practical yet undeniably regal. A thin white sash marked mourning.
Knights followed behind her in formation.
She took two steps forward—
—and stopped.
Waiting at the base of the boarding ramp stood Lucan Carvon.
Dressed in white.
The mourning attire of a noble house that had lost its head.
His posture was straight. Immaculate. Controlled.
But there was something behind his eyes.
He stepped forward and bowed cleanly.
"Your Highness."
His voice carried no tremor.
Aurelia regarded him calmly.
"Lucan Carvon."
Her gaze flicked briefly to the white band wrapped around his arm.
Then lingered on him a moment longer than etiquette required.
"I heard about Count Alaric."
A brief pause followed.
"House Carvon has suffered greatly."
She inclined her head.
"You have my condolences."
Lucan lifted his head.
"My uncle died protecting the Empire. He fulfilled his duty," Lucan replied evenly. "To the Empire."
He didn't say protecting me.
He didn't need to.
The wind shifted between them, stirring the hem of her cloak.
"I did not see you at Her Majesty's funeral," Lucan said carefully.
It wasn't an accusation.
But it wasn't casual either.
Aurelia's eyes didn't waver.
"I was at the front."
A simple answer.
"The Queen would have expected nothing less."
Lucan held her gaze for a moment — measuring the truth in that statement.
Then he nodded once.
"The fleet is ready," he said. "We depart as soon as you board."
Aurelia's eyes shifted briefly to the warship above them. Holy runes glowed along its hull as crews moved quickly across the deck. The air felt tense — like a bowstring drawn tight.
"You're joining the hunt," she stated.
"Yes."
There was no hesitation.
The Demon King's son.
The one who walked away from the battlefield.
The one responsible — directly or indirectly — for his uncle's death.
Aurelia studied him.
"Revenge clouds judgment," she said evenly.
Lucan's jaw tightened slightly.
"This is not revenge."
A beat passed.
"It is duty."
Aurelia stepped past him toward the boarding ramp.
"Then let us fulfill it."
She ascended first.
Lucan followed.
Behind them, the mana engines roared louder as chains released one by one.
Above the capital still dressed in mourning white—
—the hunt began.
---
Above Lumenia
The chains released.
One after another.
With a thunderous hum, the imperial warship lifted from its platform. Holy inscriptions along its hull ignited in flowing light, stabilizing the massive vessel as it ascended into the sky.
Wind tore across the runway below.
Knights saluted.
Priests whispered blessings.
From the deck, Princess Aurelia Galewyn stood at the prow, golden eyes fixed forward. Beside her stood Lucan Carvon — silent, unmoving.
The warship tilted—
—and shot forward, cutting through the clouds.
The hunt had officially begun.
---
Border of the Valtheris Kingdom
Beyond the Empire's Reach
Far from Lumenia.
Far from holy runes and mourning halls.
The forest stretched endlessly — darker now, thicker, older. Ancient trees loomed overhead, their canopies swallowing light.
At the very edge of a distant kingdom's borders—
Blood struck the ground.
Violently.
A guttural roar split the air as something massive crashed through the undergrowth — scaled hide, bone-plated shoulders, jagged tusks slick with drool. Its eyes burned a feral yellow.
Behind it, more shapes emerged.
Clawed.
Horned.
Malformed.
Monsters.
The deeper they moved toward the forest's edge, the more frequent the encounters became. It was as if something beyond the tree line was pushing them inward — or drawing them out.
Draven didn't stop walking.
"Fourth pack today," Aldric muttered from above, hovering briefly before landing on a branch. "Why are there this many near the border?"
Lyriana's gaze sharpened. "They're agitated."
The first beast lunged.
It never reached him.
A red thread flashed.
The maid's blood magic sliced through the creature's throat mid-air. The body struck the ground before its head did.
Two more rushed in from the sides.
A pack of oversized wolves burst from the undergrowth — fur matted, eyes glowing faintly with unstable mana. Not trained. Not controlled.
Just hungry.
One leapt.
The maid's blood magic pierced it mid-air.
Another charged blindly at Draven, not recognizing him as anything special.
Just prey.
Draven shifted slightly, mana wrapping thinly around his arm. His punch crushed the creature's skull, but the recoil sent pain ripping through him again.
A horned, boar-like monster followed — thick hide, low intelligence, pure aggression.
Lyriana's mana lanced through its shoulder.
No formation.
No strategy.
Just instinct.
Aldric glanced around with mild annoyance. "These are just normal forest beasts."
Draven shifted.
Mana folded tighter within him — constant, grinding, controlled violence.
He released a thin strand.
Just a strand.
His body blurred forward.
The impact cracked bone.
One monster's skull caved in beneath his fist, the reinforced mana around his arm dispersing on contact like shattered glass before reforming.
Pain flared through him.
He didn't slow.
Another beast leapt.
Lyriana's mana erupted, clean and precise, piercing straight through its chest.
Silence returned.
Heavy.
The clearing was littered with carcasses — scaled wolves, horned boars, twisted deer-like creatures with too many joints.
Draven stood still.
Breathing steady.
Monster blood steamed against the cold air.
Lucifer watched with wide red eyes.
Elenya giggled as the cat swatted at a severed horn near Draven's shoulder.
The maid approached the fallen beasts, kneeling as crimson threads seeped outward once more — extracting.
Moments later, she rose.
In her palm—
Magic stones.
More than before.
"Stronger than the previous groups, my lord."
Draven stared at them.
Then toward the direction they had come from.
"…They're not attacking randomly."
Aldric narrowed his eyes.
"You noticed."
Draven's gaze hardened.
"The closer we get to the edge, the more they appear."
As if confirming his words—
A distant roar echoed deeper within the forest.
Not one.
Several.
Low.
Vibrating.
Moving.
Toward them.
The cat on his head lifted its head as well, ears twitching.
Draven extended his hand.
"Give them to me."
The maid hesitated only a second before placing the stones in his palm.
He swallowed them.
This time—
The mana surge was violent—
—but shorter.
Sharper.
Contained faster.
Blood dripped from his nose, then stopped almost immediately as the folding resumed.
Aldric stared.
"…You're stabilizing it."
Draven exhaled slowly.
"No."
His eyes shifted toward the forest behind them.
"Just getting used to it."
Another roar.
Closer.
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of something larger.
Much larger.
Lyriana stepped forward slightly.
"Your Highness… something is driving them."
Draven adjusted his hold on his siblings.
The cat dug its claws lightly into his hair to steady itself.