A moment later, Sera crouched, the icy ground seeping through her worn leathers. Her breath plumed white in the frigid air as she watched.
Below, the village was a charnel house: crimson splatters on snow-dusted walls, the acrid stench of burning wood and flesh. Wyverns, dark shapes against the pale sky, screeched as they descended, their shadows swallowing the screams of the dying.
'How ironic', she thought coldly, her crimson eyes reflecting the horror.
These were not just nameless peasants. To her, they were NPC's—the faceless characters from the novel 'The Way to Save Her'. And now, she was inside that very world, watching them die as the pages came alive before her eyes.
The novel had never promised a happy ending. If anything, tragedy was its natural conclusion. That truth didn't shock her anymore.
What unsettled her was that the story itself was changing—twisting. Keith, a side character, had already shifted the course of events. For better or worse, she couldn't tell. But the deviation forced her hand.
She had planned to intervene later, when "he" appeared. Yet fate was dragging her into the game now.
Sera, remembering Nicholas's story about Prometheus's unexpected appearance at the wedding arc—a detail not present in the initial story—understood the importance of this unusual event: the plot was becoming increasingly difficult.
"So this is where you are... phew..."
A voice cut through her thoughts. Nicholas's voice.
She spun around, startled, to see the young prince behind her, his cloak dusted with snow, his face drawn tight with worry.
"I've been looking for you," he scolded, striding closer. "You shouldn't be wandering alone in a place like this. Don't you understand the danger? What if you were wounded—or worse, killed?"
But then his gaze lifted over her shoulder, and his words faltered. His golden eyes widened in horror.
"What in the world…"
Before them, the villagers fought, a desperate dance. Faces contorted in fear, they wielded pitchforks and rusted blades. Wyverns' shadows fell, wings eclipsing the gray sky. A scream pierced the air, followed by quiet. Blood bloomed on the snow.
Nicholas felt an overwhelming urge to move, his instincts taking over. To run to the survivors. To fight. To save at least one life.
He stepped forward—
"Stop."
Sera's hand shot out, gripping his arm like a shackle. Steel seemed to carve her unyielding expression.
"Don't interfere," she said. Her voice was low, but the weight behind it made him freeze. "There are ten wyverns. Even if you fight, you won't defeat them alone."
Nicholas clenched his jaw. She was right. Charging in was suicide. But—
"At least that child!" he hissed. His gaze locked onto a boy, barely ten years old, cowering amidst the snow and gore. "I can save him!"
Her grip tightened, almost painfully. Her silver eyes bored into his.
"You're too important. You can't throw your life away here."
"I know I'm a prince," Nicholas spat bitterly, "but I'm just a bastard son. I'm not the heir. My death wouldn't matter."
"That's not what I mean."
She released him, her hand falling limply at her side.
"Whatever you think of yourself, obey me. Stay back."
He turned on her, fury sparking. "Who are you to order me? I knew it—you've been wearing a mask all this time. Even with Xerta, you're nothing but a two-faced woman."
Sera's lips curved into a small, mocking smile. "Raise your voice any louder, and you'll draw the wyverns to us."
Her words brought his anger to a halt, shattering it against the truth. He looked behind him, in the direction of the village. It was already too late to do anything. The survivors were torn to pieces. The snow was stained with blood, forming ugly puddles. Only the boy remained—frozen in terror, small shoulders shaking.
Nicholas's heart wrenched. 'He'll carry that memory forever.'
"Because you held me back," Nicholas snarled, "look. They're all dead. There's no one left!"
But Sera's face showed no flicker of remorse. Her gaze was stony, almost clinical.
"I prevented you from walking to your own death, Your Highness. You should be grateful."
Nicholas's fists trembled. "If you weren't a lady, I'd strike you right now."
Sera tilted her head, amused. She pointed to her cheek. "Then strike me. Right here."
His teeth ground together, but in the end he turned away, disgusted. She was like a mirror of himself—cold, calculating, hiding behind walls. That realization unsettled him more than her taunts.
"What the—?"
Sera's voice broke the silence, tinged with shock.
Nicholas glanced back, and his breath caught.
Through the smoke and snow, a figure appeared. A knight stood shielding the trembling boy. His red scarf snapped in the wind, a crimson banner against the pale winter. He smiled with calm defiance.
Keith.
In that instant, Nicholas realized—the world around him blurred as if he'd been swept away, leaving him utterly captivated.
Nicholas watched the scene unfold—Keith stood like a hero before the boy, shielding him with unwavering resolve. But Nicholas's eyes quickly caught the figures arriving alongside him.
Rubert… and the members of Norven.
Keith gently guided the boy towards the group, entrusting him to their care. Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived.
"How did he even get here?"
Sera's voice slipped out, a rare crack in her usual calm mask. Her expression shifted, no longer perfectly composed. Nicholas, too, realized the truth: with that many wyverns circling above, even Keith wouldn't stand a chance.
"He's moving strangely… is his leg injured?" Nicholas muttered.
Sera followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing as if the thought had just dawned on her.
"Tch. That reckless knight, always trying to look cool." A smirk tugged at her lips.
Nicholas frowned. 'Why is she reacting like this suddenly?'
"We have to help him," Nicholas declared, his fists clenching as he braced himself to leap into the fray.
But the next moment broke him.
The Norven members threw themselves forward, one by one, intercepting the wyverns' claws and fire with their own bodies. They fell in succession, their blood staining the snow in place of Keith's.
Nicholas's chest tightened.
His nails dug into his palms. "Tamara… Doloris…" Their names slipped from his lips like a prayer, like a curse.
He was obliged to witness the death of his people—cherished members of Norven.
Then Keith roared, his blade carving through the air with violent precision. Blood sprayed across the frozen ground as he hacked into the wyvern.
Even when a talon tore into his abdomen, leaving a gaping wound, Keith refused to stop. He fought on, staggering, relentless.
Nicholas stole a glance at Sera. Her expression was sharp, her eyes twitching ever so slightly as she followed Keith's every movement. It unsettled him—this quiet, intense attention she gave him.
Then came the surge. Keith's aura flared, condensing into a razor edge. A brilliant orange glow erupted from his sword, burning so fiercely that even the wyverns recoiled in instinctive terror.
'Keith… you…'
Nicholas's breath caught. He wasn't merely skilled—he was extraordinary. Worthy of standing alongside the greatest.
'He could rival even Father's knight, Sir Gaharum.'
But brilliance came at a price. Keith staggered, dragging his own battered body through the snow. He managed a weak glance at his surroundings… before collapsing face-first into the frost, motionless.
"We need to save him—" Nicholas surged forward.
"Wait—"
"What now?! Do you want him to die!?"
But then, movement caught his eye.
From the treeline came a cloaked figure—small, frail-looking, dragging a creaking wooden cart behind them. The stranger trudged to Keith's side, kneeling down without hesitation.
"Who is that?" Nicholas demanded.
"Necromancer." Sera's voice was quiet, certain. "Best let him take Keith for now. He's skilled with stitching wounds… and besides, I want to know where he's hiding."
Nicholas glanced at her. Her unwavering confidence just unsettled him further. How could she possibly sound so sure?
"Fine. Let's say you're right. What do you want us to do?"
"We follow him," she replied simply, her lips curling into a sly smile. "If you'd rather not, then return to the Helming Castle. One of your men already made it back there. Go join him."
Nicholas froze, disbelief swirling in his chest.
'Just how much of my mask has this woman already seen through?'
"No." His answer was firm, sharp. "I'll follow you. And I'll save Keith."
Sera's smirk deepened, satisfaction glinting in her eyes.
"Good," she whispered, turning toward the shadowed path. "Then stay quiet and follow me without a sound."
---
The cave was a black void, the absence of light absolute. Nicholas scratched his head, the rough stubble scraping against his fingers.
A musty odor of damp earth and something else, something acrid, filled his nostrils. The silence pressed in, broken only by the drip, drip, drip of water. He shook his head in disbelief. The Necromancer's lair? Here?
He had already heard from Xerta that a certain necromancer had cursed the entire Helming bloodline. What he didn't expect was that the very woman who bore that curse would be the one accompanying him now into the Necromancer's den.
'Sera von Helming.'
It was strange, but undeniable: she was calmer than she seemed. He'd looked into her background after Xerta first contacted Norven, but she defied everything his reports had said. On the surface, she was a cheerful, gentle girl, but beneath that was a chilling composure.
'Honestly, the resemblance between her personality and mine makes me uneasy.'
"What are you daydreaming about, Your Highness? You should walk a little faster," Sera chided.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm just amazed at this necromancer's hideout."
"Well, he's been around for over a hundred years. Of course he's upgraded his sanctuary by now."
'A hundred years? Longer than I thought…'
"After this, I'll take everything for myself… hehehe…" Sera muttered under her breath with a strange giggle.
'What's wrong with her?'
Once inside, Sera scanned the surroundings, looking for a suitable spot. "We'll hide here for now."
Nicholas frowned; the place felt unnerving. It might have been the Necromancer's chamber. Portraits of gray-haired people covered the walls.
"These…"
"That's right. Every one of them is a Helming bloodline he cursed."
A chill ran down Nicholas's spine. The Necromancer's sheer dedication baffled him. Why such deep hatred toward the Helming family? It was beyond his imagination.
Next, there was a noise from outside the room.
"Hide!"
Sera seized his arm and dragged him into a closet. Nicholas was stunned at her strength; she was far stronger than she appeared.
Moments later, a frail, pitiful-looking old man shuffled into the room. He gazed at the portraits with burning malice.
"I will destroy all of you! Now that I've found the perfect vessel, I'll erase your kind from this world! Hahahaha!"
His laughter was vile, spine-chilling. Nicholas could hardly breathe; the cramped closet barely had space for two.
Sera, however, observed the old man with sharp focus, her eyes unwavering."Vessel…" she murmured.
The necromancer opened a drawer and rummaged through it.
Crack!
'Damn it!' Nicholas winced. A noise had escaped from their hiding place.
The Necromancer turned, staring directly at the closet.
"You just can't keep still, can you?" Sera whispered coldly.
"Sorry—sorry, I was just curious about what he was searching for!" Nicholas whispered back.
Sera silenced him with a finger to her lips.
The Necromancer studied the closet intently, gaze narrowing… until he muttered, "Just rats."
With that, he left the room.
"Phew… thank goodness he didn't open it."
"Thank goodness there were rats. Otherwise, the two of us would have ended up like that." Sera pointed at a skull in the corner.
'Ughh…'
Nicholas shuddered, clutching his arm.
"He spoke of a vessel… and that body of his… Has he not replaced it yet?" Sera muttered, deep in thought. "Which means his true goal in taking Keith…"
Her eyes widened as realization struck. She turned sharply to Nicholas.
"We need to save Keith. Now."
"What? All of a sudden?"
"If we don't, he'll use Keith as his next body for his experiments!"
'What?!'
"So, Nicholas—create a diversion, right now!"
"Why me?!"
"To lure him away from Keith and distract him!"
Having activated a magical trap that produced a loud noise to distract the old man, Nicholas and Sera seized the opportunity. They rushed to Keith's cell and freed him while the Necromancer investigated the sound.
Back in the present, Nicholas blinked out of the memory and turned to Keith.
"So you two really were together," Keith said, his voice weak as he clutched his injured arm. "What about Regman?"
"He left earlier. We created a distraction to lure him away," Sera explained.
"So the Necromancer's name is Regman," Nicholas muttered.
"We need to leave before he returns," Keith urged.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
All three of them whipped around. Regman stood there already, grinning with malice.
"Well, well… I never expected Helming blood to walk willingly into my lair. That filthy gray hair—you think I wouldn't notice?"
"Damn it… he realized."
"You two thought you could sneak around like rats in my den? I have eyes everywhere."
"Regman, you—" Nicholas stepped forward, shielding Keith behind him.
"Leave this to me, Keith. You're still injured."
"But Nick—"
"Her Highness is right, Keith," Sera interrupted with a sly grin. "He's been holding back his anger all this time… his thirst to kill."
'She's not wrong.'
"You hear that, Regman? I'll defeat you and walk out of here alive."
"Try it, you miserable brat!"