Chapter 5: Chosen for the Road Ahead

The house felt colder that night.

Not from the breeze slipping through the window shutters, but from the absence of someone who always sat across from them.

Lyon sat at the low table, poking at his half-finished meal. Across from him, Kinana noisily slurped her soup, stealing glances at him between gulps.

It's been silent for too long.

Usually, Neema would be the one breaking that silence like correcting Kinana's table manners or scolding Lyon for overcooking the rice. But tonight, it was just the two of them.

Lyon exhaled loudly.

“…It's weird, huh?” Kinana finally said, eyes flicking to the empty seat beside her.

Earlier that day…

After Sariel vanished in a flicker of divine light, the tension in the sanctum had lifted—but not the confusion.

Louille, prince of Luminette, had stared at Neema in stunned silence. Then, suddenly, he stepped forward, eyes wide with recognition.

“Neema Mischiella… the first daughter of the Crestoria kingdom.”

She stiffened.

“Where have you been? You've been missing for over a year." Louille said.

“I didn't want to be found.” she said flatly, avoiding his gaze.

Louille's voice softened. "This isn't safe. Sariel may return. And there are others like him. You should stay here, in the palace. At least until your kingdom is contacted. This is the safest place in Luminette."

Neema looked uncomfortable.

Lyon, standing nearby, didn't say anything.

But he noticed the way her hands were clenched at her side.

He had a feeling that she didn't want to stay.

But she also didn't want to put them in danger.

“…Alright,” Neema finally said.

“I'll stay.”

Now, back at the house—

Lyon stared at his untouched plate, the shadows from the lantern stretching long on the walls.

Kinana, now half-drunk and sprawled across her seat, let out a sigh and leaned back.

“Well,” she said with a weak smile, “at least you don't have to fight over the last dumpling tonight.”

Lyon didn't respond.

Kinana leaned forward, her expression softening as she rested her chin on one hand.

"...Hey. We can still visit her tomorrow?"

“She's not gone,” Kinana added. "Just... behind fancier walls. Still the same snarky Neema inside."

He lowered his gaze again, then nodded once.

“…Yeah.”

Kinana grinned and held up her cup.

"Let's bring her something. Oranges, maybe." She said.

Lyon finally gave a tiny chuckle.

“Seriously, enough about oranges.” He said.

The palace gates loomed ahead, golden and wide open in the soft morning light. Birds fluttered over the towers of Luminette's royal estate, and the scent of dew still lingered in the air.

Lyon and Kinana stepped into the courtyard together. A guard approached and, upon recognizing them, gestured them forward.

They didn't wait long.

“Welcome,” came a familiar voice, smooth and warm.

Prince Louille Gabrieg, dressed in a deep red overcoat lined with gold trim, strode toward them with a slight smile. The sunlight caught in his crimson hair and golden eyes, making Kinana freeze.

She tried to play it cool.

But instead, her jaw dropped slightly, and she stared. “S-So charismatic…”

Lyon sighed and muttered, "Don't drool."

Then—

Footsteps echoed behind Louille.

Out walked Neema.

Her usual travel cloak and plain clothes were gone. She now wore an elegant silver-blue dress. Her long white hair had been neatly brushed and braided over one shoulder.

Lyon blinked and turned a faint shade of red.

“…What?” Neema said, catching his expression. Her sharp gray eyes are narrowed. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

"N-No," Lyon replied, eyes averted. “You look… pretty.”

Neema’s eyes twitching a bit and she simply looked away.

Kinana, of course, ruined the moment.

"Is this what royalty looks like? I still can’t believe we spent time together for one year."

Then, another presence approached.

A moment later, Lady Myria arrived, walking with soft steps across the garden path. She wore the same flowing robe from before, her arms exposed to the breeze.

All four of them straightened to greet her.

Louille turned to Lyon, "I've decided to travel to Crestoria. Neema must be returned home properly. It's the safest place for her now."

Lyon remembered the expression Neema’s had yesterday, “You’re forcing her, she must have a reason why she was running off.” He said while clenching his fist.

Neema interrupted, “Lyon, it’s okay. We talked last night and I agreed.”

Lyon opened his mouth, but couldn't find the words.

Then Louille added, "Also... I need to inform the rulers of Crestoria. The demigods are moving. If what Sariel said was true, a war is coming."

The word demigod stabbed into Lyon's mind like a spike.

He saw again that charred village. The twisted figure standing amidst the flames, faceless, armored in black, a scorpion tail slithering behind him.

That word hit Lyon like a hammer, his fingers twitched toward the hilt of his sword, instinctively.

“Demigod…” he repeated, eyes widened. "Can I come with you?"

Louille looked surprised. "You do know demigods aren't just anyone. They were chosen by gods themselves, granted divine power. They're not human anymore."

“I have unfinished business with one of them.”

“Unfinished business?” Louille asked.

Lyon’s eyes darkened, “Abaddon.”

The name fell like iron into the air.

Even Myria's expression shifted. “That's one of the underworld's.”

Louille stared at Lyon and then, quietly, smiled.

"You stood before a god and took a blow meant for her. If that's your resolve..." He extended a hand. "Then I'll count on you and as one of my personal bodyguards."

Lyon blinked. “…You’re serious?”

Louille nodded, "Let’s do this, partner."

Then Louille turned toward Kinana. “What about you, redhead?”

Kinana turned redder than her hair. “Me?!”

“You've got strength, Neema also said a good thing about you.” Louille added, grinning.

Kinana instantly looked at Neema who already turned her heads away, avoiding a contact.

"I—I mean, yeah! Sure!" she stammered, elbowing Lyon. "Did you hear that? He said strength! That's me!"

Louille clapped once, a maid appears moments later.

"Get them both something suitable. They'll be riding with the carriage."

Later in the palace dressing chambers.

Lyon's new attire was white and silver. He wore a light armor coat made of reinforced cloth stitched with silver threads, the shoulder guards etched with the Luminette’s crest. His black boots come up to the knee, sturdy and ready for travel. Across his waist was strapped his sword in a black leather sheath with silver buckles.

Kinana, meanwhile, has been given a sleek crimson-black uniform trimmed with pink, mobile, and slightly rebellious. She kept her messy hair in loose buns, refused to tie them properly, and wore fingerless gloves and heavy boots that stomped with each step.

"I feel dangerous," she grinned.

"You look like someone I'd stay away from," Lyon replied.

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

In the courtyard, the royal carriage awaited, its body carved from whitewood and decorated with the emblems of Luminette. Four armored horses, each glinting under sunlight, were already hitched.

Lady Myria stepped forward, her divine presence soft and warm.

She raised a hand and placed her palm above Lyon and Kinana's foreheads.

“May the roots of this world keep your feet steady,” she said. “And may your path remain unbroken.”

A soft, glowing mark pulsed once on each of their chests, then vanished.

With that—

The gates of Luminette opened.

The wheels turned to the journey to Crestoria.

The other side—

The scent of ash and steel drifted faintly through the dry air as Nagi stood before a towering black wall, its stone etched with ancient markings, as if the earth itself had been scorched and carved. Beyond the walls, tall rooftops painted in blood red crowned the skyline like a warning.

At his shoulder, the white owl, Pupa, stirred slightly but didn't open its eyes.

Nagi stepped forward.

The gatekeepers wore dark armor, expressions like chilled masks. They let him in without a word, but the moment he passed the threshold, everything changed.

"Hey! stranger!"

A woman with gray dreadlocks and a robe stitched with bone trinkets rushed toward him. Her eyes were wide with wonder, and she clutched Nagi's wrist with alarming familiarity.

"You're not from here, right? You should become one of us!"

Before Nagi could answer, a sharp voice was interrupted.

"Don't listen to her!"

A tall, wiry man with a serrated blade strapped to his hip stepped forward. His eyes scanned Nagi.

"He's more fit for us. You've got that sharp, death in the eyes look."

More people gathered one by one towards Nagi and they separated into two groups.

"What's your name, outsider?"

“Join us.”

“No! He belongs to us!”

“He's destined for immortality!”

Then Nagi, calm as ever, looked between them and asked flatly, “…Is this the Welch Kingdom?”

All at once, the crowd fell silent. Some blinked. Others stared, shocked.

Then—

One group was booed, loudly.

“What kind of question is that?!”

“This is Reuben, fool!”

“He’s a heretic!”

“Throw him back outside!”

But the other’s group cheered like they had just won a festival. One man raised her arms to the sky. Another began crying.

"He said it! He said Welch!"

“He's one of us!”

Before he knew it, they were pulling him through a cave entrance, down a grated stairwell behind a crumbling temple.

Darkness swallowed the path, the deeper they went, the thicker the air became. Cold. Damp. Claustrophobic.

But then—

Light.

Soft lanterns of strange blue-glowing crystal revealed a massive subterranean city, larger than anything Nagi expected. Streets carved from black stone snaked between jagged buildings. Water dripped from the stalactites above like the ceiling was crying.

And there, growing in the distance, a dark palace with black walls and a roof of cold blue metal, shaped like a crown of icicles.

“This is Welch.” the woman said beside him, voice almost reverent.

"Above us is Reuben, worshipers the God of War."

She smiled.

“But we… we follow the God of Immortality.”

Nagi stood before a small group of locals who had guided him through the caved alleys of Welch's underground.

“Where can I meet this Serania?” Nagi asked, flatly.

The question hit the air like a curse, making the citizens around him gasped.

“Did he say her name?”

“You can't just—”

A hush fell as the air seemed to tighten, colder and heavier.

…A presence.

From the mist-veiled stairway that descended from the palace arch, he appeared.

A man with ink-black hair, slicked back. Eyes yellow as sulfur, slitted like a predator. His skin is pale, but not sickly, more like marble under moonlight. Two darks, twisted horns curled subtly from his head. His teeth were sharp, shark-like.

He wore a robe lined with black velvet and silver thread. His boots echoed on the stone as he stepped forward, every footfall heavy with authority.

“You dare to speak our god’s name.” he said, voice low and cold.

No one replied.

Everyone dropped to a knee, bowing deeply, their foreheads touching the ground.

All except Nagi, he stared at the man, face blank as always, hands at his side.

The newcomer's eyes slowly moved to meet his. Despite standing at the same height, he somehow made it feel as though he was looking down on Nagi, like a noble to a beggar, or a god to an insect.

Silence lingered between them like a drawn blade.

Then, in unison, the entire crowd chanted, “Hail to Prince Evan.”