The Prince's Return
The sky, which had been a peaceful sea of blue dotted with wandering clouds, had now started to shift. The mighty sun, which had blazed at its strongest point, now slanted towards the west. Its half-molten body sunk low, pouring forth streams of molten colours of orange and red in the skies. Golden lines streaked madly across the clouds, colouring the edges red, as if the world itself were on fire with a subdued flame.
Under that painted sky, the woods vibrated with life. In the distance, a guttural roar like thunder echoed through the trees as a beast let out its cry, only to be succeeded by birds' chirping, a light melody weaving through the desolation of the wild. The air of earth—damp soil, crushed leaves, and residual dew—climbed the evening wind with it, bringing the untamed, unmarred beauty of this place.
And through that wood, a solitary figure stepped.
Tall. Young. He stood before them so unobtrusively, yet his presence was impossible to avoid. The boy moved with a quiet dignity that rendered the savage forest itself apelike in comparison to his court. He had a crisp white shirt, elbow-length sleeves rolled back, and simple black trousers that clung tightly enough to emphasize the lean lines of his body. His garb was unadorned, but the simplicity served only to underscore his compelling good looks.
Each step he made was deliberate, measured—quiet strides that seemed to convey quiet mastery. A small smile played on his lips, not arrogance, but quiet contentment. This was a man who had survived, who had been an orphan elsewhere, and who now wore on his chest the glow of something he had wanted all his life: home.
This was Victor Lionheart.
The curve of his lips wasn't simply for the loveliness of the forest or the sinking golden light filtering through the leaves. No—it was for the recollection of what had just transpired. Once the walls of Violet's conjured room had given way to the force of their unrestrained passion, the two had continued in the very center of the forest, consuming each other with no hold back. Soil had adhered to their bodies, leaves had stuck to their knotted limbs, and still they hadn't ceased. Hours blended into a haze of moans, gasps, and perspiration, until at last—when the evening fell—they both rested spent and content, the connection between them forged as greater than spirit and host.
That was when the contract tied them totally. [Spirit Contract Complete]. The silent acknowledgement of the system had resonated within him like a holy promise.
Victor moved now with a lightness in his chest, the lingerings of passion still thrumming in his blood. He could feel it even in his breathing, as if each inhalation drew in not merely air, but strength.
Alongside him, Violet's voice hummed in his mind, rich and provocative. "Darling… just as I said. You've grown stronger. After all that… release, it would be strange if you hadn't.
Victor smiled quietly, gaze sticking on the horizon's radiance. "Stronger, yes. I can sense it… like something is rolling in my body. My veins buzz like fire runs through them rather than blood." His tone became reflective. "You told me earlier when I was still in the [Foundation Realm], low level. Now, tell me—how do I climb higher? How do I reach the next rung?"
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then the sultry laugh of Violet spilled into his mind. "Mmm, so eager. Typical man. You've only just begun cultivation, and yet already you think of vaulting ahead."
He scowled, although the smile on his lips never wavered. "I'm not blind, Violet. I feel something inside me changing, breaking loose. Speak plainly."
Her voice became more serious, more like the spirit she actually was. "Very well.". Listen well, my love. This world's path of power is veiled in layers. You are currently at [Level 1 – Foundation Realm]. Next is [Level 2 – Stabilization Realm], when your core ceases to shake and your energy sets like stone, unshakeable. After that is [Level 3 – Tempering Realm], when body and spirit are tempered like steel. And after that. [Level 4 – Evolution Realm]. Few in this world will ever glimpse it, for it belongs to myth more than reality."
Victor absorbed her words in silence, eyes narrowing as though memorizing each syllable. The orange sun painted his face in shadows, making his handsome features sharper, almost regal.
But before he could answer, another voice interrupted—hushed, musical, a woman's voice that entwined around him like silk. "Darling, slow down. Cultivation isn't a competition. If you ascend too rapidly, you'll lose the very roots you're standing on. Patience, or all you acquire will fall."
Her voice was gentle, persuasive, yet laced with concern.
Victor took a breath, shaking his head. "I know. Back in my old world, I read those very cautions in hundreds of novels. But excitement…" He laughed hardily. "Excitement dulls the mind. My body comes alive in ways it never has before, Violet. Forgive me if I crave going further."
"Darling…" Violet's sigh found him, half-reproachful, half-admiring. "You'll kill me with worry."
He paused for a moment, gazing up through the leaves, and whispered, "It's okay. I have you."
Then he continued walking, his smile set.
The forest evolved as his way extended out before him. Trees became fewer, their thick canopy lessening until the sky opened above. The ground declined downward, and at its terminus, a wondrous scene lay in wait.
Before him lay a vast plain bathed in the fading light of the sun. And beyond that plain—shining like a jewel cut from heaven—was a kingdom.
Victor caught his breath.
White spires pierced the heavens, their tips gilded by the fading sun. Walls shone, broad and uninterrupted, around a city filled with feeble sparks of light. From a distance, he could already see the shadows of bridges, roads, and houses layered like stairs on the land. The citadel towered in the middle, proud and indomitable, the soul of the Lionheart Kingdom.
For a very long time, Victor did not speak. His chest came up and down as if he had never learned to breathe. At last, his voice shattered the silence—low, awed, shaking with feelings he wasn't prepared for.
"So this… this is my world. To see it, not in dreams, not in someone else's story, but with my own eyes… it's more beautiful than I imagined.
"Darling," Violet's voice taunted, softer now, verging on bashfulness. "Are you prepared? To meet the parents of this existence? To release the sorrow of the family you never knew?"
Victor's smile shook. His eyes smoldered softly, yet no tears dropped. "I've already released the instant I met you. You are my family, Violet. But now. to have parents too. it is greater than I ever had the courage to dream of. This is a miracle."
Her response was a breath, a strand of feeling she did not often lose. "Then. let's go, my love."
Victor's pace took him down the hill, across the plain, and onto the royal road of white stone. The nearer he came to the city, the greater the expectation in him built up—winding, growing tighter, until he was sure his chest would burst.
But as he was only just fifty meters from the outer walls, movement caught at the edge of his gaze.
A black blur ripped down the road with impossibly high speed, more rapidly than a galloping horse. Violet's warning breathed in his brain—"Darling!"—but before he could move, arms closed around him, shaking and hard.
He stumbled back, his cheek against softness that smelled of lavender and heat. A voice, shaken with fear, clung to his ears.
"Son… where are you going? I was so worried…"
Victor stood still. His breath stopped. His heart, which had been cold and resigned to loneliness for so long, thudded violently, painfully. His arms stirred slowly—not out of reflex, but out of a hunger that had been buried for decades. He hugged back, holding with equal tightness, fearing he would lose this if he relaxed his hold.
And for the first time in two lives, Victor Lionheart felt the word Mother shake on his lips.