Part 5: Sire and Subject
The silence that followed was thick with burnt air and old power.
Yuji stood with the copper taste of his own blood still on his tongue, feeling his Fertility core quiet again—like a beast fed just enough to fall back asleep.
Across the chamber, Amelia stretched languidly across her coffin like it was a bed she'd never left. Her fingers idly traced the rim of the glass lid. She looked like she could've been sculpted from candlelight and nightmares.
Tillo reappeared first.
He didn't speak. Just walked slowly into view, hands up, eyes wide, blade sheathed.
"I'm not here to fight," he said quickly. "I just want out."
Kess followed, her limp more pronounced. She avoided Amelia's gaze entirely.
Yuji looked at them.
He should've killed them.
They were cowards. Cutthroats. Their lives meant nothing to the guild, and even less to the system they upheld.
But they hadn't struck him from behind.
And in this world, that counted as a miracle.
"Fine," Yuji said. "You tell the guild I cleared the vault. Say it was filled with failed necromancy experiments. Everyone else died. You two survived by staying the hell out of the way."
Tillo nodded, too fast.
Kess hesitated. "What about her?"
Yuji looked at Amelia.
She grinned. "I'm a hallucination. Don't worry. No one will believe you."
Yuji turned back. "Say anything else—and I'll burn out your mana cores myself."
They didn't argue.
They just fled.
The return to Ironhorn was quiet.
Yuji walked ahead, cloak swaying. Behind him, Amelia walked barefoot, her skin flawless despite the mud, her presence unmistakable.
Sylvia met them at the gate.
She stood with her arms folded, tail twitching dangerously, still wearing her collar. Her eyes took in the blood, the scorch marks, the woman beside him—naked, amused, too close.
And then she growled. Low. Deep. Possessive.
Yuji didn't break stride.
He simply nodded toward her. "We'll talk upstairs."
Amelia laughed softly.
"I like her."
Sylvia didn't answer.
She just followed, silently, jaw set.
In the rented room, they faced each other.
Yuji didn't speak first.
Sylvia did.
"You smell like her."
"I bled," he said.
"You let her taste you."
"She would've taken it anyway."
Sylvia stepped forward, close enough to bare her teeth at his chest. "You think I care who you fuck?"
"No."
"You think I care who you bond?"
"No."
"Then why," she asked softly, "does my chest feel like it's splitting open?"
He didn't have an answer.
Not yet.
Behind them, Amelia was already reclining on the bed, fangs glinting, one leg crossed over the other. She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Yuji placed a hand gently on Sylvia's shoulder.
"Because," he said finally, "something is happening between us. And it's real."
Sylvia looked up at him—furious, trembling.
Then leaned into his chest and whispered, "Don't leave me behind."
"Never."