She carried herself with a quiet, unshakable composure, standing at ease in a sharply tailored black cadet uniform that traced her tall, slender figure with clean precision.

Her body had a graceful hourglass shape, subtle yet refined, with long legs and a poised posture that gave her an effortlessly commanding presence.

A long black military overcoat rested neatly over her shoulders, its dark fabric moving softly around her frame, while a fitted barrack cap framed her pale features and loose strands of golden hair that escaped near her face.

Her expression was calm but distant, the kind that made her seem perpetually thoughtful, and her light eyes held a restrained intensity that contrasted with the disciplined elegance of her stance.

Rosalith Celeste Runerth

’I’ve never seen her carry herself this gracefully before. Is Godfrey the reason?’

Leomaris caught Rosay through his peripheral vision and assumed a similar posture. Both stood at the edge of the grand staircase leading to the administrative office, by the roadside, waiting patiently for their father. Neither had acknowledged the other. Rosay hadn’t so much as spared Leomaris a glance.

’I don’t know what I expected... but I thought she’d at least acknowledge me.’

He gave a slight shrug.

Rosay was more involved in his plans than she realised. There was something about the Great Citadel he needed to speak to her about. And her ability, Trinity, was something he personally held in high regard.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

A first-year and a third-year, they rarely crossed paths. Her reputation as one of the strongest made getting her attention even harder. But he couldn’t speak to her now regardless. At this moment, they were beyond siblings. They were rivals.

A convoy of horse carriages came into view from their left before long. Leomaris was the only one who turned to look. Rosay didn’t so much as flinch.

Each carriage was pulled by four white horses, tall enough to rival Leomaris himself. The Runerth family crest was embedded across every carriage, visible enough that no explanation was needed.

The anxiety and fear that took hold of Leomaris wasn’t entirely his own. Some of it had been waiting, the bottled terror the original Leomaris had always felt in Godfrey’s presence. Rosemary had always been fond of him. Godfrey was a different story. The resentment was palpable, even now, even after everything he’d achieved.

His palms grew slick as he clenched them. He swallowed bile. The elegant posture he’d carried into the room had begun, quietly, to falter.

’He was regarded as a monster in the novel. Soon enough, he would ascend to the rank of Sage, only one step away from becoming a Transcendent. That alone would place him on the level of a deity.

Combined with his ability, Visionary, and his innate power, Divine Aura, he eventually became capable of instantly sensing whenever someone thought of him or spoke his name... although he could not achieve such a feat without consuming countless artifacts.’

When his thoughts settled, the carriages were already before him. That was when the fear nearly broke through. Godfrey wasn’t here yet, just his carriages, and already Leomaris was on the verge of a meltdown.

The carriages halted. A guard stepped out of the first and walked directly to the fourth and opened the door.

Godfrey stepped out, and Leomaris’s body moved before his mind could catch up, bowing deeply. Rosay did the same beside him, calm as ever. Leomaris, whose heart was threatening to jump out of his chest.

"Welcome, Father," they said in unison.

Godfrey moved toward his children, unhurried. His coat unbuttoned, the wind took it as he walked. His golden hair lifted with it. His deep crimson eyes found them and stayed, intense and unreadable.

The towering six-foot-three man said nothing at first, he only stared while his children held their bowed heads. The silence stretched. When he finally spoke, goosebumps swept through Leomaris.

"I heard you threatened someone, Leo. How true is that?" His voice was cold and detached, the kind that made people want to answer questions in thorough detail.

Leomaris gulped bile.

"I never did that, Father. It’s only a false rumor."

"And you thought learning the Mercy of Death sword art was the answer to all this?"

His throat grew heavy. He answered anyway.

"That’s true, Father. I needed something powerful enough to replace the reputation I already had."

"Hmph." Godfrey’s gaze moved slowly to Rosay. Three seconds of silence. "What did you do about this, Lithe?"

"Nothing, Father..." the words left her faster and more calmly than Leomaris could have managed.

"It wasn’t a situation that called for harsh action. Any move I made would only have added to the Runerth name’s reputation. Badly."

Godfrey shook his head. Massaged his temples. Then his expression grew colder than usual, which was saying something.

"I am gravely disappointed. The popularity you’ve gained adds nothing to the Runerth name."

He turned to Rosay.

"And you, Lithe. Standing before me with that answer. You couldn’t even advise your younger brother?"

He exhaled slowly. "The next time I see you, Leo, I want a smile on my face."

"Do otherwise and you know what will happen. This is your last chance."

He turned to Rosay.

"Your goods from San Paulette were hijacked. I assume you already know. Don’t make me feel this same disappointment toward you."

"Understood, Father," they said respectfully.

Without another word, Godfrey turned and entered his carriage. The convoy moved off. Neither Rosay nor Leomaris raised their heads until the wheels on the cobblestones had gone silent.

Leomaris crouched on the floor, breathless, barely holding himself together. He hadn’t had the time to tend to it before his attention found Rosay.

’What? She was scared too?’

Rosay stood with her hand propped against her knee, gasping and fanning herself through it. After everything she’d shown moments ago, the composure held so completely, this was the last thing Leomaris had expected from her.

Leomaris had apparently been waiting for precisely this and spoke before the moment could pass.

"Hey, Rosay. Can I have a chat with you?"

Rosay paused. Glared at him. Then, as though a switch had been flipped somewhere inside her, the corner of her lip curled in disgust.

"Huh? What do you want? Do you want to fight?"

Leomaris’s body moved on instinct, putting distance between them. Rosay said nothing more, then dashed across the road and, a moment later, launched herself into the air so high she simply vanished.

Leomaris was confused at first, but it didn’t take long to realise it was Rosay’s ability at work. Trinity allowed her to adopt three different personalities alongside her natural self, each coming with its own abilities.

"She was probably in one of her notorious phases when Godfrey arrived, but she still kept her composure. Honestly, that takes real skill."

He muttered with a smile.

Godfrey’s words lingered.

As a Runerth, the role was simple: play the villain, build influence in the underground market while maintaining enough respectability to reflect well on Duke Godfrey. His current popularity did none of that. He’d merely written his name into history.

"I can’t afford to fail this time. Mother is on my side, but Godfrey still called this my last chance. That alone tells me he hasn’t been impressed by anything I’ve done.

If I fail... the price will be severe. Maybe even a mission designed to get me killed."

He let it settle, then headed for his afternoon class, his mind already on the Fall of the Great Citadel arc and how best to use it.

Not even Rosemary could save him if he failed Godfrey. He was fairly certain of that.

—

San Paulette...

Inside the widened bunker, the silence did not feel empty so much as preserved, like it had been sealed in along with everything else.

Sebastian stood at the steel basin, grey hair slightly disheveled, carefully dragging a cloth down the length of his butcher knife until the last traces of blood stopped clinging to the edge, his movements unhurried as though he were cleaning silverware after dinner rather than what remained of the "lone wolf."

Behind him, Rosemary sat with her legs crossed in an ornate chair that looked misplaced in the concrete room, dressed too elegantly for a place built to hide sins. A black veil covered her face, leaving only her red lips visible.

A newspaper rested open in her hands, though she barely read it line by line anymore, her golden eyes fixed on a single section as if the ink itself was breathing.

"Interesting start, Leo." The words were more to herself than anyone else, her thumb moving across the paper like she could smooth his accomplishments away with it.

Her expression teetered between obsession and subtle cruelty. "I can’t wait... I just can’t wait to see more of you, my son. All of you."

Her voice softened into something almost reverent, almost tender, as though the words were a confession she could not stop repeating.

"Apostle of Death," it lingered in her thoughts longer than it did on the page, twisting into pride that bordered on worship.

Sebastian clicked the blade back into its sheath without looking up, while Rosemary leaned back slightly, smiling at nothing but the idea of Leomaris, as if the blood washed away beside her was only background noise to something far more sacred.

Her excitement was impossible to contain, and yet the smile it wore leaned toward something far more daunting than excitement had any right to. "Isn’t my son the best depiction of death?"