When they returned, Sophia didn't waste time.
She led Lusian straight to his chambers.
The room smelled faintly of mint.
Golden curtains softened the sunlight into warm, filtered beams.
"In six days," Sophia said, calm as ever, "the engagement ceremony will take place at the Temple of Sangus."
A small pause.
"The god of loyalty and truth."
Lusian dropped into the nearest chair, gripping the armrests.
"Mother…" he hesitated. "Is this… mandatory?"
His voice wavered.
"The oath. The blood… what happens if something goes wrong?"
Sophia sat across from him, composed.
"Listen carefully," she said. "You're overthinking it."
He swallowed.
A chill crept down his spine.
"So… if something fails… am I the one who pays for it?"
Sophia smiled faintly.
"No."
That single word hit harder than anything else.
"The burden isn't yours," she continued. "It falls entirely on Emily."
Lusian froze.
"You only need to be present," Sophia said. "She will swear before Sangus. That is all."
A long silence followed.
"…So if something goes wrong," Lusian said slowly, "she's the one who suffers."
Sophia nodded once.
"Exactly."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
"This is a sacred pact," she added. "Her loyalty sustains it. Your role is simple—accept her, marry her, give her a place in this family."
Lusian looked away.
"I've never seen anything like this…" he muttered. "It's… messed up."
Sophia placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You'll get used to it."
A pause.
"This is part of your life now."
Then she left.
Silence settled into the room.
Lusian closed his eyes.
Tried to think.
But the future didn't give him peace.
It came back in fragments.
Violent.
Clear.
Unavoidable.
First.
The Crown Prince dies during the royal hunt.
The court fractures.
Leonardo rises.
And he hates Lusian.
Second.
Caleb is murdered.
The Duchy collapses into internal war.
Laurence dies.
Marcus Valentini finishes him.
Third.
Mana spirals out of control.
Creatures mutate.
Cities fall.
Ansdale burns.
Emily watches her father die.
Fourth.
Rifts open.
Demons pour through.
Faith turns into power.
The Church takes control.
The king becomes irrelevant.
Fifth.
Him.
Lusian.
A tyrant.
A monster.
A throne in flames.
Twenty heroes standing against him.
And Emily—
Driving a blade through his heart.
He opened his eyes sharply.
Breathing uneven.
"If I do nothing…"
His voice was low.
"I die."
Dawn began to creep through the curtains.
Slowly—
His breathing steadied.
"This time…" he whispered, "I change everything."
He moved to the desk.
Scrolls spread out.
Names. Creatures. Materials.
But all of it led to one thing.
Affinity.
In the game, the strongest weren't just high-level.
They had alignment.
Affinity meant efficiency.
Less mana cost.
Faster casting.
Stronger output.
In real combat—
That difference decided who lived.
And who didn't.
He clenched his jaw.
He had seen it before.
Equal fighters.
Same level.
One runs out of mana first—
And dies.
He needed power.
Fast.
Absolute.
There was only one real option.
The Arcane Resonance Ritual.
Ancient.
Forbidden.
Effective.
One method required a magical beast.
A perfect match.
A sacrifice.
He dismissed it immediately.
Too dangerous.
Too unpredictable.
Too final.
But the direction was clear.
Affinity.
Power.
Survival.
"If fate won't change…" he murmured, fingers pressing into the desk, "then I will force it to."
His grip tightened.
The game had rules.
This world had consequences.
Now—
He would learn both.
And break them.