Fang stood before the veranda in his full splendor.
His massive body had returned to its original size—powerful, flame-red fur faintly glowing in the morning light. Each breath he took was calm, controlled. He was not a wild creature. He was a guardian.
Cale sat firmly upon his back, his hands gripping Fang's fur with confidence. A large, carefully packed backpack hung against his small frame—far too big for a six-year-old boy, yet Fang carried the extra weight as if it did not exist. Inside was everything Andre had prepared for him: food, water, spare clothes, simple gear, and a few items his father could not bring himself to leave behind.
Andre stood at the edge of the veranda, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on his son.
Anne stood beside him.
"Be careful," Andre said at last.
Cale smiled—not childishly, but with understanding.
"I will be," he replied. "Fang is with me."
Fang turned his head slightly toward Andre.
Andre nodded.
A moment later, they moved.
Fang surged toward the forest, his strides light yet impossibly fast—too fast for human eyes to follow for long. The air stirred in their wake, branches swayed, and within a few breaths, they were gone.
Anne and Andre continued to wave for a short while longer, until the forest swallowed the last traces of their passage.
Then, everything grew quiet.
Andre stepped down onto the veranda stairs and sat heavily, elbows resting on his knees. He stared into the empty space before him and spoke without thinking, as if to himself.
"I don't know…" he said quietly. "If I'm a good father. Letting a six-year-old ride an Inferno Wolf into an unknown forest."
Anne remained standing for a moment, then sat down beside him.
She didn't answer right away.
"I don't know much about raising children," she said honestly at last. "But I do know this."
Andre looked at her.
"Cale is a good boy. And it's clear you wouldn't have let him go if you weren't certain about your decision."
Andre let out a long, heavy breath.
"Yes," he said finally, a tired smile crossing his face. "You're right. Besides… even I wouldn't want to fight Fang. He's one of the strongest magical beings I've ever encountered."
"That he is," Anne replied softly.
Silence settled between them.
A gentle breeze passed through the yard, brushing over the grass and the veranda posts. The forest rustled faintly—not threateningly, but knowingly.
Anne looked toward the direction where Cale and Fang had disappeared.
And she knew she could no longer remain silent.
"Andre," she said at last. "There's something I need to tell you."
Andre turned to face her.
Anne hesitated, as if searching for words that were never easy to speak.
"I'm not just a demon," she said quietly. "I am the princess of the Horn Realm—the Demon Kingdom."
Andre did not react immediately.
"My father is a Demon Lord," Anne continued. "And I… am the first in line to the throne."
Andre's eyes narrowed slightly—not in fear, but in focus.
"I also have a younger sister," Anne added. "And I am one of the five generals of the demon army."
She lifted her gaze toward the forest.
"There are five demon kingdoms in Atlas. Five Demon Lords. Each of them seeks absolute dominion."
Andre remained silent.
"We were patrolling our kingdom's borders," Anne continued. "They lie close to the Monster Forest. Then… another demon kingdom attacked us."
"Which one?" Andre asked calmly.
Anne's eyes darkened.
"The Obsidian Abyss," she said. "Their lord believes that only destruction can bring order."
Her hands curled slightly into fists.
"The attack was sudden. Our unit was scattered. I fled for days—wounded, exhausted. And then… I ended up here."
Andre nodded slowly.
"That's why you'll have to leave soon," he said.
Anne met his gaze.
"Yes," she answered quietly. "My subordinates are searching for me. And when they find me here…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
Andre understood.
"Then this forest won't remain just a forest," he said.
Anne nodded.
Silence returned between them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The forest breathed softly around the house, leaves whispering in the distance.
Andre was the first to break it.
"Anne…" he began, then hesitated. "No—Your Highness—"
Anne stiffened instantly.
"Please forget the formalities," she cut in, a little too quickly. Her voice lost its usual composure, sounding almost stubborn. "We've been living together for a while now, haven't we?"
Andre stared at her for a heartbeat.
Then he burst out laughing.
Not politely. Not quietly.
A genuine, unrestrained laugh.
Anne froze.
Color rushed to her face, spreading fast across her cheeks.
"What?" she demanded, clearly flustered. "What is it? I knew I shouldn't have said that."
Andre wiped a hand over his face, trying to collect himself, his tone still light with amusement.
"I suspected you might be someone of high standing," he said. "When I healed you, it drained a tremendous amount of my own mana. And when you finally woke up… I felt it. Your aura. It wasn't ordinary."
Anne fell silent for a moment, then asked quietly,
"Then why didn't you ask me sooner? Weren't you afraid that a demon like me could be a danger—to you or your son?"
Andre answered without hesitation.
"I didn't sense any threat from you. Not once," he said calmly. "And attacking someone who saved your life wouldn't make much sense either."
He glanced toward the forest before continuing.
"Everyone has secrets they wish to keep. I don't pry into someone's life unless they choose to speak. So… thank you. For trusting me with your story."
Something loosened in Anne's chest.
She had never imagined a human—especially one like Andre—would accept a demon so naturally. Not as a weapon. Not as a risk.
But as family.
Andre spoke again, more thoughtfully this time.
"I assume," he said, "that if you're a princess… then your father and your sister must be worried."
He paused.
"And your companions as well."
Anne lowered her gaze.
"Yes," she admitted softly. "They are."
The forest stirred gently, as if listening.
And somewhere beyond its borders, forces already in motion drew a little closer.
Meanwhile far away, deep within the woods, Fang moved steadily forward, Cale upon his back, eyes fixed on the path ahead.
Their paths were beginning to diverge.
And Atlas had begun to take notice.