Kara exited Lusian's room with her chin held high, forcing herself to maintain the imperturbable posture of a veteran warrior. But the moment she crossed the threshold, she stopped dead in her tracks.
In front of her stood an impassable wall of inquisitive gazes.
The women of the mountain had not left.
They had only been waiting.
The famous post-combat inspection.
Elizabeth was the first to step forward. She crossed her arms with the natural elegance of someone used to judging entire kingdoms with a single glance.
—Well now... —she said, tilting her head with a dangerous half-smile—. Did you enjoy it, or are you going to pretend you were discussing military tactics all night?
Kara opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.
—Oh, come on! —Emily cut in with a shameless laugh, elbowing Isabella conspiratorially—. It couldn't have been just talking. Didn't you hear how she was screaming last night? The echo reached all the way to the farthest rooms of the palace.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, never losing her composure.
—Well, Emily —she replied smoothly—, at least she has variety in tone. She doesn't scream as much as you do... you sound like you're summoning a thunder spirit every time Lusian touches you.
Emily turned as red as a ripe apple, but didn't have time to defend herself.
All eyes returned to Kara.
Her face was now dangerously competing with the color of her hair.
—Shut up! —she exclaimed, covering her face with her hands—. It's not what you think! We were... stabilizing the divine mark. It was a spiritual process.
—Oh, really? —Adela asked, covering her mouth with one hand while discreetly pointing downward with the other—. Then why are you walking like you're trying not to break an egg with every step? Your knees are a bit weak for a "spiritual stabilization," don't you think?
Kara let out an indistinct sound, half growl, half surrender.
Dayana, the small vampire girl with crimson eyes, walked over and gave her a comforting pat on the hip, wearing an expression of ancestral wisdom.
—Don't worry, Kara-san —she said solemnly—. We understand perfectly. My lord Lusian sometimes gets very... wild. He follows instinct and forgets that we are flesh and blood.
Isabella nodded with almost clinical seriousness.
—It's true. When he's about to finish... he becomes especially strong.
Selvryn, the leader of the dark elves, who had been silently observing everything with almost academic curiosity, stroked her chin.
—Really? —she murmured, more to herself than to the others—. I wonder... if it feels as good as they say.
That was the final blow.
Kara lowered her head, defeated, and practically fled toward the spring, muttering under her breath something about Lusian being a merciless monster.
The mountain fell silent again.
Not the uncomfortable silence of fading laughter, but something deeper, more ancient.
On the upper terrace, far from the murmur of water and voices, Lusian—still in recovery—stood before one of the sprouts of the World Tree growing from living rock.
The sprout, which had been a deep green the day before, now showed incandescent white veins, like streams of light running through its young bark.
When he touched it, Lusian felt a presence both familiar and foreign.
It resembled the divinity pulsing within him, first filtered through the mountain, absorbed and softened by the Tree: it did not burn, it did not hurt.
A gentle energy fluctuated in the air.
—The Tree is having a feast —Selvryn commented, approaching with a crystal vial filled with luminous sap—. Aurelius' explosion should have incinerated the entire mountain, but the World Tree acted as a lightning rod. It absorbed the Hero's divinity... and is digesting it.
Lusian studied the sprout with renewed attention. The mana around him was thick, saturated with particles of light floating in the air without burning, like resting solar dust.
—Does that mean the mountain forest will grow faster? —he asked.
Selvryn nodded without hesitation.
—Without a doubt.
Adela pulled out a small knife, measuring the sprout with a practical gaze, and leaned in to try to make a cut.
—Don't even think about it —Selvryn stopped her immediately, with maternal indignation—. Don't you dare hurt it.
Adela clicked her tongue but put the weapon away.
Lusian looked away from the Tree and toward the valley.
There, the enemy camp remained intact. Divine artifacts raised a golden dome of protection that pulsed slowly, dense, impenetrable, like a luminous mockery against the wounded mountain.
—We must grow stronger —he said—. They will attack again.
As he spoke, he felt his own dark mana respond, denser, deeper than before. It did not clash with the light the Tree had absorbed.
For the first time, Lusian and the mountain shared the same breath—dark and alive—as if both were breathing in unison.