In a place not far from Kaelthar
Caelum stumbled as his soldiers dragged him through the rubble-choked streets, his golden eyes fixed on the pillar of rainbow light still fading in the distance. The Lance of Pride hung limp in his grip, its light dimd, its hunger sated not by victory, but by retreat.
"Damn it..." His voice ca out hoarse, raw with exhaustion and disbelief. "What... what the hell is that thing? He’s not just a monster... he’s sothing else entirely."
A soldier grabbed Caelum’s arm, pulling him forward. "Your Highness, we need to keep moving! The city isn’t safe!"
Another soldier, older, his armor cracked and scorched, fell into step beside them. His voice was grim, matter-of-fact.
"We’ve suffered heavy losses, Your Highness. Of the two hundred n we brought... less than a hundred remain. The rest are dead or scattered."
A flicker of irritation crossed Caelum’s face. His gaze swept the ruins around them, the bodies, the blood, the smoke that blotted out the stars.
"That’s a significant blow to our forces," he said quietly. "The demon army won’t ignore this opportunity."
The younger soldier shook his head quickly. "Your Highness, we only brought a few hundred. It won’t affect the overall war effort against the Demon King. We can still—"
"That’s not the point." Caelum’s voice cut through, cold and sharp. "We didn’t just lose soldiers. We lost face. I lost." His grip on the lance tightened, knuckles white. "My artifact... Pride... lost to Gluttony."
He looked up toward the sky where the dragon’s shadow had vanished into the night.
"We need to think of a more certain way to kill that monster."
The older soldier cleared his throat carefully. "Your Highness... perhaps we should return to the capital first. Regroup. Report what happened. Then we can plan—"
"No." Caelum’s voice was flat, absolute. "We’re still going to the front lines."
The soldier’s brow furrowed. "Your Highness, after such a defeat, wouldn’t it be wiser to—"
"Draune Phelia is at the front," Caelum cut him off, his golden eyes sharp. "She’s more than capable of holding what I left behind, but we can’t leave her waiting any longer. The battlefield is still our priority."
The younger soldier let out a breath of relief. "Then we can take our ti. Regroup properly. There’s no rush—"
Caelum’s head snapped toward him, his voice rising with cold fury. "No rush? We just suffered a defeat. A crushing one. That’s a stain on my pride—on the pride of Solaria itself. Every mont we delay is another mont that stain grows darker."
The young soldier flinched, stepping back.
Caelum turned away, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon where the pillar of rainbow light had faded.
"We need to reach the battlefield imdiately," he continued, his voice hardening with resolve. "We need to accomplish sothing greater. Sothing that will overshadow this failure. A victory so decisive that no one will dare speak of what happened here."
The older soldier exchanged a glance with his comrade, then nodded slowly.
"Understood, Your Highness. We’ll march at once."
Caelum didn’t answer. His golden eyes remained fixed on the horizon, burning with renewed determination.
’Monster...’ His thoughts churned, cold and focused. ’You defeated today. But this isn’t over. I’ll find a way to destroy you. Whatever it takes.’
Return to where Adam rests...
Adam sat on a low-hanging branch, his crimson eyes fixed on the distant glow of Kaelthar’s dying flas. The city still burned, smoke curled into the night sky, blotting out the stars, carrying the scent of ash and death across the forest.
Below him, Lilith slept. Her silver-threaded gown was spread across the moss like spilled moonlight, her white hair tangled, her breathing slow and deep. The threads that had surrounded them earlier had retracted, coiled around her fingers like sleeping serpents. She was exhausted and for once, her usual sharpness was softened by sleep.
Ignis was curled beside her, her flas reduced to a faint, warm glow that pulsed with each breath. Her arm was draped across Lilith’s waist, her face buried in the spider’s shoulder. She, too, slept deeply, her body finally surrendering to the exhaustion she had been fighting for hours.
Adam looked at them for a mont, then turned back to the burning city.
"...Have I beco a monster?" His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. "Or am I just... seeing myself clearly for the first ti?"
He flexed his fingers, watching the way the moonlight caught the edges of his claws.
"A city burned. Hundreds dead. And I feel..." He paused, searching for the word. "...nothing."
His crimson eyes reflected the distant flas.
"Back in the dungeon, I told myself I was just surviving. Kill or be killed. That was the law. It made sense." His voice dropped. "But now? Croft was going to destroy everything anyway."
He let out a slow breath.
"Maybe that’s just an excuse. Maybe I’ve stopped caring about the difference."
He looked at his hands that had torn through scales, flesh, bone.
"Alice used to say I had a kind heart." A bitter smile touched his lips. "I wonder if she’d still say that now."
He glanced down at the sleeping figures below him, Lilith’s peaceful face, Ignis’s faintly glowing flas.
"They’re still here." His voice softened. "Maybe that ans sothing."
He looked back at the burning city, at the smoke rising to blot out the stars.
"Or maybe they’re just as broken as I am."
The words hung in the air, unanswered. Adam let out a slow breath, forcing his gaze away from the distant flas. There was no point in dwelling on questions that had no answers.
His hand moved to the side, fingers brushing against sothing solid.
He looked down.
The ornate box Isolde had recovered lay beside him on the branch, half-hidden in the shadows. He picked it up, flipping open the latches with a soft click. Inside, the Compass of Desire rested on faded velvet.
He turned it over in his hands, studying the damage.
"Looks like a piece of junk," he muttered. "Maybe if I tinker with it... I could fix it."
A flicker of movent caught his eye.
Adam’s head snapped up. His crimson eyes narrowed, scanning the treeline.
He rose silently, his feet touching the moss without a sound. His wounds protested, still healing, but he ignored them. His gaze swept the shadows beneath the trees, searching.
There.
A figure stood at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden in the darkness. A man, tall and lean, standing with an ease that felt deliberately calm, like a predator hiding its true intentions. His hair was the color of pale ice, long and straight, falling past his shoulders. A small hairpin, shaped like a snowflake, glinted in the moonlight, catching the silver light. His eyes were grey like a winter sky before a storm. He looked young, perhaps early twenties, but sothing in his stillness suggested an age that belied his appearance.
His clothes were elegant, finely tailored, the kind that belonged in a palace rather than a forest on the edge of a dying city.
[Unknown Entity – Level ???]
[Analysis Incomplete]
Adam’s internal voice was sharp, cold.
’That aura... it’s the sa as Croft’s.’
The man didn’t move. He simply stood there, watching Adam with those empty grey eyes. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Adam didn’t reach for his weapons. He didn’t flare his aura. He simply waited.
The man’s lips parted.
"You killed him."
His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was no emotion in it. Just... fact.
Adam’s crimson eyes didn’t waver.
"He tried to kill first."
The man tilted his head, the snowflake hairpin catching the light.
"Alistair was... ambitious." He took a step forward, his boots silent on the moss. "He wanted to beco a god. He borrowed my power to do it."
A cold, quiet voice spoke in the back of Adam’s mind, analyzing the situation.
’His power. So this is the Frost Dragon of the North. The one who made the Oath with Croft.’
Out loud, he said nothing.
The man stopped a few paces away, close enough that Adam could see the frost clinging to his eyelashes, the way his breath misted in the air despite the warmth of the night.
"You’re not what I expected," the man said. "The Crown of Gluttony chose you. And yet you sit here, watching a city burn, wondering if you’ve beco a monster."
A cold edge crept into Adam’s voice. "Are you here to finish what Croft started?"
The man’s lips curved into sothing that might have been a smile or might have been sothing else entirely.
"No." He glanced toward the distant glow of Kaelthar’s flas. "Alistair broke our agreent. He took more than I offered. He tried to beco sothing he was never ant to be." His grey eyes returned to Adam’s face. "You did a favor, killing him."
Adam’s posture didn’t relax.
"Then why are you here?"
The man was silent for a mont. His gaze drifted to the burning city of Kaelthar in the distance, then back to Adam.
"Curiosity," he said finally. "I wanted to see the one who defeated a man drunk on my power." He tilted his head again, studying Adam with those empty, hollow eyes. "And to offer you a warning."
Adam’s eyes narrowed. "What kind of warning?"
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