A man's voice rang out through the estate gates:
"Open this damn door, Andrea! I've been standing here for fifteen minutes!"
Andrea, buried in her sheets, groaned and rolled over. She said nothing.
"Andrea! Andrea! Andrea!" the voice continued, louder with each call.
She yanked her head through the open window and shouted back, hair disheveled and eyes groggy.
"Why are you yelling like a lunatic? Don't you have a kingdom to run?"
From the door below, the man retorted, "I saw something pass through the dome last night. Only Pungence can do that. I know he's in there—let me in!"
Andrea scoffed, folding her arms over the windowsill. "You show up at my house at the crack of dawn barking orders, and I'm just supposed to welcome you with tea?"
"As your king," the man declared, "I order you to open this door!"
"And as the owner of this house," Andrea snapped, "I order you to get your royal ass off my property!"
Down in the corridor, the staff froze like statues. Stunned by what they heard.
The butler went pale, mumbling, "She's going to get us killed."
The chef leaned against the wall, whispering, "One of these days, we'll all die because of that woman…"
The king bellowed, "Stop being so difficult! This isn't even your house—it's Pungence's house!"
Andrea's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Keep barking nonsense like that, and I'll tell your wife what you did in Alaros."
Gasps erupted from the staff.
Stereen slid to the floor in slow motion. "She just… she just threatened the king."
Meanwhile, upstairs, Eryndor rubbed his eyes as he sat up in bed. "What in the gods' name is going on?"
From down the hall, a door opened. Pungence stepped out, yawning, wearing nothing but his underwear. His eyes were half-shut and his hair disheveled.
"What's all this noise…" he muttered.
The staff instantly straightened and bowed.
"Welcome home, sir!" Stereen said, snapping into a salute.
Pungence waved it off and squinted toward the door. "Just open it already…"
Stereen scrambled to obey, unlocking the door with trembling hands. The grand entrance creaked open to reveal King Juval of Zitry—annoyed, disheveled, and towering at nearly eleven feet tall. His tousled blond hair framed a face marked by sharp blue eyes and a scowl of rising impatience and he was very much unimpressed.
"So," Juval said with narrowed eyes, "you were here the whole time."
Every servant in the building dropped to their knees, foreheads pressing against the marble.
"Forgive us, Your Majesty!"
Juval stepped inside in his casual wear—boots dusty, coat unbuttoned, not a hint of regality in sight.
From the balcony, Pungence leaned lazily on the railing and muttered, "What brings you here so ear—"
Before he could finish, a slipper flew through the air with deadly speed. He ducked.
BOOM.
The slipper tore through several walls and shot out the back of the house like a missile.
Pungence yelled, "Damn it, woman! Stop throwing things at me!"
Andrea stood at her doorway in her purple nightwear, holding her remaining slipper.
"You came back and didn't say a single word to me?"
"Because you were sleeping," Pungence argued. "You hate it when I wake you up."
Juval stepped into the foyer, shaking his head. "Tch. This old hag still has you whipped, huh?"
Silence fell like thunder.
Every staff member gasped and looked toward Andrea. She didn't say a word.
Pungence slowly turned to Juval, thoughts already racing.
Oooh, Juval… You shouldn't have said that.
---
An explosion of shockwave erupted.
The shockwave rippled outward with thunderous force, blasting the entire estate into a cloud of dust and debris. Walls crumbled, windows shattered, and the manicured grounds buckled beneath the pressure. The blast hurled everyone into the air—staff, guests, even Eryndor and Ziraiah.
"What the hell?!" Ziraiah shouted, limbs flailing mid-flight.
Eryndor twisted mid-air, eyes wide with disbelief. "What in the blazes just transpired?!"
In the streets below, the citizens of Heful turned toward the hill, where the estate had once stood.
"Are we under attack?" someone cried.
"I swear Pungence's house was there a second ago!" another said.
From midair, Stereen quickly waved her hand, and a silvery glyph materialized. A pulse of mana expanded from it, and suddenly Ziraiah, Eryndor, and Stereen froze in midair—hovering, suspended as if gravity had forgotten them. Everyone else was flung far across the hillside, rolling or tumbling into hedges and fountains.
---
Later, after the dust had settled...
Pungence, Juval, and Andrea sat side-by-side at the edge of the ruined hilltop, gazing silently down at the city of Heful. Dust still curled faintly from the shattered remains of the estate behind them.
Juval looked like he had been through a war. An ice pack rested awkwardly against his swollen face; his right eye was blackened and nearly shut.
He groaned. "It's about Zely… She's not talking to me anymore, and I don't know what I did wrong." He looked over. "What do I do, Pungence?"
Andrea scoffed, brushing dust off her nightwear. "Why are you asking this womanizer for advice?"
Pungence smirked. "Don't hate the player. I'm excellent with women."
Behind them, mages and construction workers were already rebuilding the estate with smooth coordination, casting spells, floating stone into place, and restoring shattered beams as if they'd rehearsed this very scenario before.
Ziraiah stood nearby, still in a crumpled nightshirt, watching in disbelief. She saw the chef casually serving stew to the workers.
"These people are acting like nothing even happened…" she muttered.
Stereen, brushing dust from her sleeves, replied, "You thought we were normal? First requirement to work here is mana aptitude. If we were weak, we wouldn't have gotten this job."
Ziraiah blinked. "All this… caused by Aunty Ann?"
Stereen crossed her arms. "Don't underestimate her."
Nearby, Eryndor stood with arms folded, still clad in his nightclothes. "What astonishes me more… is the king himself. That he would abide such flagrant insolence."
The old butler, gray-haired and wise-eyed, appeared beside them and said in a hushed tone, "You're right. Anyone else would've been executed. But Andrea… isn't anyone else."
Stereen nodded solemnly. "Even the king knows better than to push her too far. There's history between them. Deep history."
---
Back at the hill's edge, Juval removed the ice pack from his face, wincing. "I'm telling you, I didn't forget anything. It's not her birthday. It's not our wedding anniversary."
Pungence leaned back on his elbows, amused. "What about the anniversary of the day you met?"
Juval frowned. "Seriously? Who remembers that? Who even remembers the exact day they meet people?!"
Pungence smiled, clapped a hand on Juval's shoulder, and said, "And that, my friend, is exactly why you don't understand women. To them, every detail matters. And today—is that day."
Juval stared at him. "How do you remember that? Your memory's terrible."
Pungence shrugged, eyes twinkling. "Some dates are important enough to burn themselves into even the most unreliable minds."
Juval leaned back on his hands, sighing as the breeze tousled his blond hair. "By the way… why didn't you tell me you had kids now?"
Pungence gave a dry chuckle. "They're not mine. I just took them in."
Juval blinked. "Huh?"
"They were kidnapped by Unbounds," Pungence said, his voice quieter now. "I found them during one of my sweeps. Took them out before anything worse could happen."
Juval's brows drew together. "Damn Unbounds. Always causing chaos. But wait—two kids? Same parents? That's rare as hell. Those parents must've prayed to every god in the pantheon." He paused. "So who are they? The parents, I mean."
Pungence shook his head. "No idea. All I know is… they're from Earth."
Juval's eyes widened. He sat up straighter. "Wait… So what that old woman said… those stories—"
"Were true," Pungence finished for him, his tone firm.
They both turned simultaneously, glancing toward Eryndor and Ziraiah chatting in the distance. Then, almost in unison, they turned back.
"I had my doctor examine them," Pungence said. "Ran full scans, bloodwork, mana resonance tests. You won't believe this—but they're not Rare Breeds."
Juval looked back toward the siblings and narrowed his eyes. "Could've fooled me. They look like Rare Breeds to me. Just… small. Especially the girl. How is she so tiny? Your kind are usually massive."
"They had suppressors implanted," Pungence replied. "Advanced devices. Built to stunt growth. Keep them weak."
Juval whistled low. "Unbelievable."
"I found another one," Pungence added. "In the Beniek ruin. Same size as the girl. He's their brother—I'm sure of it."
Juval raised an eyebrow. "Three? From the same parents? Come on, Pungence. You know how hard it is for Elvheins to reproduce. That's not just rare—it's borderline impossible."
"I'd agree," Pungence said, "if it weren't for this—he, too, had only one heart."
Juval stiffened, mouth parting slightly. "You're joking… right?"
But Pungence wasn't smiling. He was staring out over the city of Heful, eyes fixed and thoughtful.
"They're not Rare Breeds," he said. "Because calling them that would be an understatement."
Juval sat in silence for a moment, then pulled a strek device from his pocket.
"I'm calling the kids," he said. "It's been a while since they saw you. Might as well surprise them."
He tapped the pen like device, and the soft hum of connection filled the air. After a few moments, a cheerful voice answered:
"Morning, Dad! Where are you?"
Juval smiled. "Good morning, sweetie. I'm at Pungence's house."
There was a brief pause. Then the girl's voice rose with excitement. "Uncle Pungence is there?! Can I come too?"
Juval chuckled. "That's exactly why I'm calling. Come to Starlight Peak. All of you."
"Right away!" the voice said, and the call ended with a cheerful chime.
After some time, a glimmer of white crested the hilltop—an elegant carriage gleaming like ivory under the morning sun, drawn by two glistening silver Auses. Andrea rose slightly and shaded her eyes with her hand.
"Oh, I see them," she said, her voice soft with familiarity.
At the gate, Pungence and Juval stood waiting, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the approaching carriage. Ziraiah and Eryndor lingered nearby.
Ziraiah nudged Eryndor with a sly grin. "First I meet the king, and now the queen? All in one day. Who knew Pungence had royal connections?"
The carriage slowed as it neared the estate. The moment it came to a full stop, a head popped out of the window, sunlight catching a cascade of golden hair.
"Uncle Pungence!" called a clear, joyful voice.
It was Isabela Ramathena Zitry, Princess of Zitry—blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and radiant with youthful energy. At sixteen years old, she stood an imposing 9 feet 7 inches tall, her posture noble yet relaxed.
Pungence folded his arms, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
A second later, she leapt gracefully from the carriage and rushed toward him. Pungence caught her in his arms with a practiced spin, lifting her off the ground like she weighed nothing.
"How have you been, Isabela?" he asked.
"I've been training hard!" she beamed. "Soon I'll be an unstable augmenter, just like you!"
Juval leaned in, whispering out of the side of his mouth. "Why does she think you're an augmenter? She can't sense your mana, you don't even have any."
Pungence replied under his breath, "Told her I'm too powerful to measure. Easier than explaining I can't use it at all."
Juval chuckled. "Smart."
As they spoke, the carriage door opened again. This time, a tall, confident figure stepped down with quiet dignity—Julian Ambrose Zitry, the young prince of Zitry. At sixteen years old and already 9 feet 10 inches, he stood with the calm poise of a future ruler. Like his sister, his golden hair caught the light, and his piercing blue eyes swept across the estate.
Pungence opened his arms. "Little man," he called with a smirk. "Come here."
Julian walked forward and embraced him. Pungence clapped him gently on the back. "You've grown," he said. "At this rate, you'll be your father's height in no time."
Julian grinned. "He's not the one I'm chasing."
Juval barked a laugh. "Give it up—no one's catching Pungence."
Meanwhile, Isabela turned to Ziraiah and bent down slightly to meet her height, offering a playful smile.
"And who's this little cutie? Wait... I've seen you at school, haven't I?"
Ziraiah gave a shy wave. "Hi. I'm Ziraiah."
Before Isabela could respond, the soft clack of high heels echoed from the carriage steps.
All eyes turned as a slender foot emerged, adorned in a graceful silver heel.
The Queen had arrived.
---
To Be Continued...