One time, a princess and her partner went to a kingdom to talk about making a treaty with them.
It sounded simple enough — the sort of event scribes summarize in three neat sentences and tuck away in archives.
They talked it over nicely, drinking tea beneath chandeliers of polished crystal. Steam curled upward from porcelain cups like quiet spirits carrying half-spoken intentions into the air. Smiles were exchanged. Words were chosen carefully. Even the clink of ceramic against saucer seemed rehearsed.
After formally greeting the king, they decided to head back.
That's when a dangerous man appeared.
He did not arrive like thunder. He did not announce himself like a villain in a stage play.
He simply stepped forward — and sometimes that is more than enough.
He provoked the poor princess and started to bully her. His words were sharp, dipped in condescension. He stood too close. His shadow stretched long under the golden lights, falling across her like the edge of a blade.
When the princess tried to fight back, he tried to punch her.
The poor princess' eyes filled with tears as the punch came towards her — large, glistening droplets that caught the light like falling stars on the verge of extinction.
"Kyaaa," she screamed.
"Hold! Up!"
The narration shattered.
"What? I was getting to the good part."
Noa spoke to Vionette in disagreement, folding his arms as though personally offended by editorial interference.
They were walking along a moonlit road now. Their carriage could be seen in the distance, horses shifting their weight impatiently, their breath fogging faintly in the cool night air. Gravel crunched softly beneath their boots.
"Why would you use that skill? Are you crazy?" Vionette yelled at him.
Her voice carried authority — not merely as a princess, but as someone who understood consequences far better than he did.
Noa stretched his arms and twitched his shoulders as if loosening up after light exercise.
"C'mon," he said casually. "It's not that bad."
"You could've killed at least half present there accidentally."
"Not that bad?" A faint wrinkle appeared on her forehead — a rare fracture in royal composure — as she stepped forward and grabbed his ear with precise elegance. "You could've killed at least half the people present there accidentally!"
"Ouch! Ouch! Hey, you're not my mom! Let go!" In pain he shouted, bending instinctively as she pulled him down.
"So what if I'm not?"
Her grip tightened.
He was taller.
That only made it easier for her to drag him down to her level.
Noa — who had bent down a little when Vionette grabbed his ear — turned his head—
Ready to retort.
Ready to argue.
Ready to—
Instead of meeting her face…
His eyes landed elsewhere.
Not her eyes.
Not her expression.
Her chest.
Refined. Composed. Framed elegantly by her attire, fabric curved with deliberate grace. The moonlight did not discriminate — it illuminated everything equally.
"???"
Holy shit!
For a moment, time betrayed him.
The wind stilled.
The carriage seemed further away.
Politics? Forgotten.
Diplomacy? Irrelevant.
The grand strategy of two kingdoms? Completely erased.
"I guess this is fine too," he whispered to himself slowly.
Noa would not fall for a woman just because she is beautiful.
He had standards.
As for Vionette, however…
She was, in both personality and form, his type. A personality he could go along with well — sharp, ambitious, unafraid to manipulate the board when needed. A form he liked — not too big nor too small, the perfect combination. Balanced like a well-forged blade.
To him, she was the most beautiful woman he had met.
"What did you say?" she asked, catching fragments of his whisper.
"Nothing," he replied brightly, giving her a thumbs-up. "You can continue."
What is he thinking?
"…That smile is suspicious," she muttered after a brief silence.
Anyways—
In this world — Mythara — when someone awakens a skill, its name and a brief description will be embedded into the awakener's mind. Not learned. Not studied.
Engraved.
As if an unseen hand carved annotations into the soul itself.
The same happened to Noa.
When he crossed over here, he also got some skills, but couldn't use them until his body came to a significant state. In Cyradis, they weren't even shown. They existed like sealed doors behind his consciousness.
He himself was surprised.
These are the skills he has right now:
[Low Pain Resistance (Common)]
Reduces perceived pain response. Does not reduce actual physical damage.
[Low Explosion Resistance (Common)]
Reduces explosion-type damage by a small percentage.
[Minor Regeneration (Uncommon)]
Gradually restores minor physical injuries. Recovery speed increased. Severe or fatal wounds unaffected.
[Minor Regeneration (Uncommon)]
Gradually restores minor physical injuries. Recovery speed increased. Severe or fatal wounds unaffected.
[Aura Blade (Rare)]
Applies user's aura to held weapon. Increases cutting efficiency, durability, and impact force based on aura quality and output.
[Blink (Rare)]
Instant short-range spatial displacement. Maximum distance limited. Consecutive use increases energy consumption.
[Presence Override (Rare)]
Allows controlled emission or suppression of aura output.
[Echo Reclamation (Unique)]
Absorbs negative emotions and converts it into destructive energy. Power output scales with intensity and volume of accumulated emotions. Excess saturation may cause mental instability. cause mental instability.
[A Match Made in Hell (Unique)]
Two souls written within the same forbidden paragraph of fate. Born in different worlds, shaped by different scars, yet aligned by a design that even the heavens cannot ignore. A bond forged not in purity—but in mutual ambition, survival, and shared desire to rise. If trust is given willingly, a pact may be formed at the level of the soul itself. Effect:
– Detect and locate your destined counterpart's soul (pre-pact).
– If one perishes, the other follows.
– Enables long-distance communication and perception.
– Allows compatible skills and abilities to be shared.
–Switch places with each other (Cooldown: 24)
Pacts created: (1/1)
[Low Pain Resistance] was acquired during the escape in Cyradis — a small mercy born from desperation.
[Low Explosion Resistance], [Minor Regeneration] and [Aura Blade] were acquired in the battle with the church — forged in chaos, baptized by violence.
Others were granted when getting summoned.
While [A Match Made in Hell] was from the pact with Vionette — not given by a god, but sealed by choice.
Earlier today, he had used [Presence Override] to suppress his aura — letting Cassian's instincts dull. Then [Blink] to close the distance between heartbeats.
This was why Roswell couldn't see Noa's movements.
Trying to use [Echo Reclamation] was the reason Vionette was punishing him for.
Though, to Noa it was not punishment now.
Why is she angry?
Partly because of the "Excess saturation may cause mental instability" part — a line that read less like a warning and more like prophecy.
It could theoretically be settled down by using [A Match Made in Hell] as a corridor, allowing her [Mind Fortress] to stabilize his mind through their soul pact.
But mostly—
She was angry because of its destructive power.
As described, it can absorb negative emotions in a certain radius and use them as destructive energy.
And royal halls are never lacking in negative emotion.
If he had used it on Cassian, not only Cassian but people besides would also be dead by now.
Courtiers.
Knights.
Servants.
Ash does not discriminate.
…
As they got closer to the carriage, Vionette let go of Noa.
"Are we going by carriage again?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes." Vionette said in a serious face.
Too serious.
"Well then, good luck with that. I'll go using a teleportation circle."
He turned around quickly without a second thought and waved his hand.
Vionette's eyes widened as she saw him leaving.
Whaaat?
"Wait! Wait! Wait! Please don't. No! No! No! Absolutely not. Please man."
She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, trying to stop him.
For some reason—
Her eyes shimmered faintly.
Not dramatic tears.
Real ones.
"No." Noa replied in a straight face.
Vionette thought for a while. Calculated outcomes. Imagined worst-case scenarios.
She decided she had no choice.
"…Okay. Okay. We'll go tomorrow, alright? Don't go alone."
Looking at the pitiful Vionette, Noa agreed, trying to push her away.
"Okay, geez. Get off."
Wait a minute.
An idea sparked.
"Wait, no. Stay like that."
After hearing Noa agree to go tomorrow, Vionette's tears brushed away instantly.
"You like being hugged?" One eye widened and one eye narrowed.
"No."
"Then?"
"I like being hugged by you."
Silence.
The night grew warmer.
Her cheeks flushed crimson.
As she heard that, she blushed and grabbed his back, pressing her face into it to hide her expression.
Perhaps a little embarrassed, Noa also turned his head in another direction.
There, he saw—
Mara.
Lina.
Isla.
Numael.
Standing there.
Watching.
Crap!
Mara's right hand was on her lips, barely containing laughter. Lina somehow had a book and was writing notes at alarming speed, eyes shining with scholarly excitement. Next to them, Isla was giving off a proud face while fake-crying dramatically. Numael stood straight, giving off a salute as if witnessing a historic alliance.
"Oh my~ on the street?" Mara teased.
"This will be good notes for the future," Lina said earnestly.
"She's grown so muuuch. Sniff," Isla wiped imaginary tears.
"Omedetou, Vionette-sama," Numael declared gravely.
"Huh?"
"Eh?"
Noa and Vionette froze.
"Wait—this is a misunderstanding!" Noa panicked.
"Y-yes! A misunderstanding!" Vionette echoed.
The four exchanged smiles that suggested otherwise.
"Oh don't worry. We won't tell anyone."
"Just taking notes. That's all."
"Mmm-hmm."
"Precisely."
Noa and Vionette had no way out.
They will probably spread rumors.
Probably.
Undoubtedly.
Certainly.
---
In The Royal Garden.
Roswell sat in the royal garden, fingers interlocked, hands resting on the cold stone table, face leaning close as though staring into an invisible abyss.
The night was quiet.
His thoughts were not.
Aurelyth possessed superior knight numbers. Armor forged from rich ore. The backing of the northern church — whose blessings often mattered more than swords.
While Crimvane only had a young girl as a ruler.
And some more food.
However—
"Please think wisely about your decision."
Vionette's words rang through his mind over and over as if a danger bell ringing in fog.
Over.
And over.
It became worse after seeing today's event.
The night wind swept through trimmed hedges and marble pillars, carrying the scent of damp earth.
"Your majesty, what's your decision?" Cornelius asked, worry faint but present in his composed expression.
"…"
The reply didn't come.
Cornelius — his personal butler — tried to sort through the chaos.
"If we talk in a logical way, Aurelyth has the best chance of winning. If we were to join in too, the odds will be enormous. But…"
"Yes," Roswell murmured. "We all witnessed it… she had changed. And…"
He looked at Cornelius.
"Yes, your majesty?"
"Do you know of that man named Noa? Or his family name?"
Roswell's eyes narrowed.
Cornelius gave a moment of silence.
That alone dampened Roswell's hopes.
"Quite the opposite. We don't know any of his origins."
Cornelius looked disappointed in himself.
Roswell shifted.
"Then, did you see his attack or him moving?"
"None."
"…He looked unusual," Cornelius added. "I have seen only a handful of people with eyes like that. Though not identical. In those cases—it was merely a skill."
"Is that so?"
Roswell leaned back slightly.
The situation was like a ball of knitted yarn tossed into darkness.
He pulled one thread.
Another tightened.
He tried again.
Dead end.
Again.
He closed his eyes briefly.
"What are we supposed to do…" he muttered.
Cornelius, seeing Roswell exhausted, conjured a glass of water filled with ice created using magic. Frost formed along the rim.
"Your majesty, please drink this and relax a little."
Roswell looked into Cornelius' eyes.
sigh.
He's right. I'm not in my calm self. I need to calm down.
gulp-gulp.
He leaned back into the luxurious chair, arms resting across its back, eyes lifting to the indifferent stars above.
"You really did screw me up…"
His jaw tightened.
"…Vionette Crimvane!"
Above him, the constellations watched without answer.
But somewhere far away, a young princess laughed under the same sky.
And the board continued to shift.