Mirelle Veyran let out a soft, almost playful laugh as she glanced back at the crack they just came out of. "Well, isn't this interesting? It seems the flow of time between that little trap and the real world is somewhat distorted. We were in that trap for some time but it seems only some minutes have passed in real life, quite fascinating," she mused, her eyes glinting with mischief even as she looked at the moon.
Valen's hand tightened slightly around the hilt of his sword. The movement was not much and was hidden beneath his cold face. In contrast, Duke Reinhardt and Elder Viridiel could not conceal their anxiety; the restlessness was etched on their faces, their eyes darting here and there anxiously.
The fear for their heirs' safety was plain to see, worry unguarded in their expressions even as they tried to maintain the dignity of their stations.
Reinhardt's patience finally snapped, his voice gruff and urgent. "I can't wait any longer for Selwyn to join us. My daughter might be in danger. I'm leaving now." He cast a quick, restless glance at Elder Viridiel, who nodded in immediate agreement, his own worry for Marius plain on his face.
Lady Isolde hesitated, her eyes staying on the breach in which the Duke Selwen is still present. For a moment, she seemed torn between duty and the safety of people, but at last she gave a small sigh and a reluctant nod. "Very well. The lives of people is of much concern."
Cassian Durmont stepped forward, his tone smooth but carrying a note of concern. "We should at least ensure Duke Alaric's safety before we move too far. If something goes wrong with the fissure, we may all be at risk."
Internally, however, Cassian's thoughts were far less altruistic. 'If Selwyn dies too soon, I lose any chance to profit from his knowledge and connections. Better to keep him alive as he is the one who is keeping Valen in check for now.
Lady Mirelle gave a sly, knowing smile. "Cassian's right. It would be to lose such a shame if he was to get hurt cause we left him and he got ambushed here."
Valen, who had been silent, finally intervened, his voice brooking no argument. "Enough. We'll do this simply: two will go ahead, the rest will stay here and wait for Alaric. Kallenhart, you and I will go. The rest of you, stay alert and be ready to move."
After a brief, tense silence, the group agreed. With a final, curt nod, Valen and Reinhardt stepped through the breach together, their figures quickly swallowed by the moonlit corridor beyond, leaving the others behind in the wavering shadows.
Valen and Reinhardt hurried through the moonlit corridors, their footsteps echoing with urgency. The palace was eerily silent, shadows stretching long and thin as they pressed on, each man's thoughts racing ahead to the fate of their heirs.
As they neared the grand hall, both men slowed instinctively. Just ahead, the familiar doors to the gathering stood battered but upright-yet a faint, silvery barrier shimmered across the threshold. The mana moved slowly around the barrier, which was much weaker than the barrier in which they were trapped in but unmistakably it's a magic barrier.
Reinhardt's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening on his sword. "Another barrier. This one's nothing compared to what we faced, but it's still holding the hall shut."
Valen studied the wavering magic, his expression was still cold. "It's much weaker, probably set by whatever demon or traitor orchestrated this mess. But it's a sign: the danger isn't over yet."
They exchanged a look, silent understanding passing between them. With a final, steadying breath, they readied themselves to break through, knowing that whatever lay beyond could decide the fate of their families- and the Empire.
Valen stepped forward, his eyes flashing crimson for a heartbeat as he reached out to the weakened barrier. With a single, dismissive gesture, he broke the barrier like it was never there to begin with.
In an instant, the barrier shattered, turning into harmless light fragments as it drifts away into nothingness. It was child's play-nothing compared to the demonic prison they'd just escaped.
Reinhardt surveyed the battlefield on the other side of the now-open door: flipped tables; splatters of blood on the marble floor; noblemen huddled together or draping bandages on the wounded. But more importantly, he spotted Aurianne-with sword drawn-protectively placed over a group of survivors. Nearby, assisted by loyal retainers, Marius Viridiel climbed to his feet, bloodied and sore but alive.
Valen's gaze swept the hall, landing on Selvaria's unmistakable silver hair. She stood tall, frost still lingering at her fingertips, eyes burning with resolve. Anwir and Selene were at her side.
"They're alive," Reinhardt said quietly, relief and pride mingling in his voice.
Valen nodded, his tone cool and measured. "They survived. And more than that-they learned. This chaos, this taste of real danger… it will temper them."
Reinhardt's jaw tightened, but he didn't disagree. "Some will call it cruel, but the Empire's future isn't built on comfort. A few deaths, a brush with fear-it will make the survivors stronger. The weak would never have lasted long anyway."
Valen's lips curved in a faint, almost approving smile. "Let them face the aftermath. Let them see what power and ambition truly cost. It's a lesson we all learned, once."
They lingered in the shadows, silent witnesses to the aftermath, choosing not to intervene. This night, the heirs would carve their own path through the wreckage-and the Dukes would see which among them was truly worthy of the Empire's future.
Valen and Reinhardt rose to the upper gallery above the grand hall, their boots silent on the cold marble surface as they stepped into the shadows behind a shattered balustrade. Below, the world was chaos. Tables were upside down, crystal was shattered, and nobles stood pressed tightly against the walls, eyes wide with fear. The moonlight pouring through the broken windows created an unearthly sight, everything a mixture of blinding silver and black.
Out on the ballroom floor, Anwir sculpted moments with desperation. He was a lone, outstretched arm between Selvaria and the monstrous demon that hunted its prey.
This demon was a nightmare with sharp claws, lost in shadows, and only focused on the Rosenthal heiress, the prey in its hunt.
When it attacked each time, Anwir rushed forward, parrying and deflected each and every attack of the demon aimed at his mistress, with every being of his strength, keeping this monster at bay for another moment.
The nobles could only watch as the outcome of the battle unfolded without their intervention. To stand in those remains of sanctuary was to abandon logic and exposure to unspeakable horror.
Even though some of them had the ability to intervene and help but none of them wanted to rist their own life.
Selvaria stood behind Anwir, frost gathering at her fingertips, her red eyes burning with both fear and fury. Every muscle in her body was taut, ready to unleash her own power should Anwir falter for even a heartbeat.
From above, Valen's eyes narrowed, taking in every detail. Reinhardt's jaw clenched, gaze flicking between his own daughter, Aurianne-sword drawn, protecting a cluster of survivors-and the deadly dance at the center of the hall.
They saw, in that moment, not just the chaos and terror, but the forging of heirs in fire: Anwir, battered but unyielding, standing between death and his mistress; Selvaria, refusing to cower; the next generation, forced to face the darkness with no shield but their own willpower.