The formal, competitive energy of the training grounds gave way to the easy, relaxed vibe of the evening. With Khione, Eltreth, and Azalea all occupied with their own pursuits—likely strategizing, venting, or preparing for the return to the academy—the guys were left to their own devices. Even the perpetually lazy Blake had been dragged out of his room, looking vaguely annoyed but present.
Their first stop was the estate’s private arcade, a high-tech playground Lux had installed. The sounds of blasters, racing engines, and 8-bit music filled the air.
"Alright, no powers, no prana," Lux declared, picking up a plastic guitar for a rhythm ga. "Pure, unadulterated skill."
What followed was a tournant of absurd proportions. Adam, with his dwarven precision, was unnervingly good at a sniper simulator, hitting impossible shots with grunts of satisfaction. Lux, of course, dominated any ga requiring rhythm or speed, his fingers a blur on the guitar controller. Blake, to everyone’s surprise, was a savant at a complex puzzle ga, solving levels with bored, lazy efficiency that was sohow infuriating and impressive.
Nero, however, found his niche in the old-school fighting gas. His reaction ti and ability to read opponents translated perfectly. He went on a legendary winning streak, defeating each of his friends in turn, his focus at the screen a mirror of his focus in battle. The trash talk was constant and hilarious.
"Ha! Take that, you over-muscled gno!" Lux yelled after finally beating Adam in a racing ga.
"Call a gno again, you silver-haired show-pony, and I’ll use your controller as a toothpick!" Adam roared back, but he was grinning.
Blake, after annihilating everyone in puzzles, simply yawned. "Can we do sothing that requires lying down now?"
After exhausting the arcade, they moved to the estate’s sprawling ga room. A massive billiards table made of dark polished wood took center stage. Adam, ever the craftsman, examined the cues with a critical eye.
"Decent balance," he muttered, selecting one.
The pool ga quickly devolved into a combination of skill and sabotage. Lux would use his incredible hand-eye coordination to make ridiculous trick shots, banking balls three tis before sinking them. Adam played a powerful, strategic ga, using force to break up clusters with brutal efficiency. Nero played with a calm, calculating precision, planning three shots ahead.
Blake, who had claid the most comfortable armchair, offered comntary. "You’re going to scratch, Adam... yep. Called it." He was almost always right.
Halfway through the ga, Lux produced a sealed bottle of sothing fizzy and golden from a hidden cooler—non-alcoholic, but magically chilled and flavored with exotic fruits. They clinked bottles and continued their ga, the friendly rivalry as refreshing as the drinks.
As the sun fully set, they ended up on a large, open veranda that overlooked the city lights of Angel’s City twinkling in the distance. Soone produced a deck of cards. They sprawled on luxurious outdoor couches, and a ga of a simple, high-stakes (with pretend money) card ga began.
This was where the dynamic truly shone. Lux was a brilliant bluffer, his silver eyes giving nothing away. Adam played a straightforward, aggressive ga, betting big on good hands and folding quickly on bad ones. Nero observed quietly, learning their patterns, his poker face as solid as stone. Blake, who had been persuaded to play, was a wild card, his sleepy deanor making it impossible to tell if he was holding a winning hand or about to fall asleep on his cards.
The pretend money shifted back and forth amidst laughter, groans, and accusations of cheating. Stories were exchanged between hands—embarrassing academy monts, tales from Adam’s mountain ho, wild stories of Lux’s family events.
"Rember when Professor Thistle made us identify monsters by sll alone?" Nero asked, shaking his head. "I thought Blake was going to pass out."
"I did pass out," Blake mumbled from behind his cards. "It was the most reasonable response."
Adam launched into a story about a forging mishap that involved a runaway magma elental and a very singed beard, his gestures wide and animated. Lux countered with a tale about a disastrous high-society party where he’d accidentally swapped the regular wine with a batch of experintal Frostfire, leaving half the nobility hiccuping clouds of sparkling vapor.
Through it all, there was a shared, unspoken understanding. Tomorrow, they would return to the academy city. The pressure would be back. The political gas would intensify around Nero. The princesses’ rivalry would beco a public spectacle. Their training would beco more serious. But for this one last evening, they were just four friends hanging out, being stupid, and enjoying the simple, profound luxury of each other’s company without any world-changing drama.
When the card ga finally broke up and they headed to their rooms, the night air was cool and the sky was clear. There were no grand goodbyes, just shoulder claps and yawns.
"Don’t be late tomorrow, Sleeping Beauty," Lux said to Blake, who just waved a dismissive hand.
"Try not to break the world before breakfast, kid," Adam rumbled to Nero.
Nero smiled. "No promises."
After a whim he went back to his room.
Pushing open the door to his room, still smiling from the evening’s fun with the guys, Nero stopped dead in his tracks. All thoughts of card gas and arcade battles vanished.
The room was softly lit, not by the harsh overhead lights, but by several small, floating magical orbs that cast a warm, gentle glow. The subtle scent of sothing savory and herbal filled the air, mixing with her familiar fragrance of winter roses.
And there she was. Khione. She was dressed in a stunning gown of pale blue silk that seed to shimr like ice under moonlight. Her silvery-white hair was styled elegantly over one shoulder, and a delicate silver necklace rested at her neck. She stood by the small table in his sitting area, which was now set for two with fine china and crystal glasses. On the table were several covered dishes.
She looked up as he entered, a rare, slightly nervous, but genuinely warm smile on her face.
"You’re back," she said softly.
Nero was speechless. He just stood there, his ominous red eyes wide, taking in the scene.
"Khione... what is all this?"
She gestured to the dishes. "I made dinner."
He finally moved, closing the door behind him. "You... cooked? Again?"
"I’ve been practicing," she admitted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "The chefs have been... patient with ."
He walked over to the table, overwheld. This was the girl who commanded glaciers, who faced down princesses without flinching. And here she was, having secretly learned to cook to make him a quiet dinner. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him.
He pulled out her chair for her, and she sat with a graceful murmur of thanks. He sat across from her, and she lifted the covers from the dishes. It was a simple al—herb-roasted chicken, creamy potatoes, stead greens—but it was perfectly prepared. No hints of frost or accidental freezing.
"This is amazing," he said, his voice thick with emotion as he took his first bite.
They ate in the soft, intimate quiet, the only sounds the gentle clink of cutlery. The conversation was light and effortless.
After dinner, they moved to the large, cushioned window seat, looking out at the night sky over the estate. She leaned against him, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. No words were needed. The entire evening—the beautiful dress, the secretly-learned al, the quiet companionship—was a silent, powerful declaration.
In this peaceful, perfect bubble she had created just for them, all the coming challenges of the academy felt distant and manageable. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent, knowing that no matter how complicated the world beca, this right here was his true ho.
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