The sky over the plains remained a bruised, weeping purple, the clouds still scarred by the jagged violet light of Noa's previous exertion. Amidst this graveyard of kingdoms, only the army of Crimvane remained upright. They stood with their backs held high, a forest of iron needles and ragged banners silhouetted against a horizon that had been fundamentally rewritten. The Aurelyth host and the Caldris reinforcements had been turned into nothing but a carpet of anonymous corpses, their ambitions bleeding into the red mud.
Noa stood on the precipice of the hill—the very vantage point where Kahen, the King of Aurelyth, was meant to have declared his triumph. Now, it was Noa's shadow that stretched long and dark across the ruins.
His voice didn't just travel through the air; it resonated through the mental link, a tether of Aether that bound every survivor to his singular will. It was a command that carried the resonance of a tolling bell, vibrating in the marrow of every soldier who still drew breath.
Isla, the head of the healing unit, was the first to answer. Her mental voice was a shimmer of relief, a fragile melody that seemed to dance above the gore.
As the formal reports concluded, a different kind of sound began to swell within the mental link. It was not the rigid structure of military hierarchy, but a collective exhale of the soul.
The knights and mages, sensing the openness in Noa's query, began to pour their own unfiltered emotions into the shared consciousness. They felt how he had asked—not just for the tactical summary, but for the heartbeat of the survivors.
a young knight thought, his mind flickering with the image of a home he had thought lost.
a mage expressed her happiness, her mind radiating a warmth that felt like a hearth-fire in a storm.
Hearing the replies he wanted to hear, Noa allowed a genuine smile to grace his features. This was the masterpiece he had sought to build—a victory without the stains of betrayal, a triumph without the hollow mourning of lost friends. It was a "perfect win." He felt a swell of something warmer than pride; it was the satisfaction of a craftsman who had finally forged a world that didn't break in his hands.
The question caught him off guard. It wasn't a voice he recognized—perhaps a common foot soldier—but it carried a tone of genuine concern usually reserved for family. Noa paused, the wind tugging at his dark hair, before he closed his eyes and let a soft huff of mental laughter ripple through the link.
The army began to exchange jests and comforts across the field, a tapestry of conversation woven between people who had never met but were now forever bonded.
One by one, the weapons rose. Swords, magic staffs, and bloodied hands reached for the heavens. A roar of victory erupted—a sound so primal and resonant that it seemed to tear through the clouds, a scream that proclaimed the birth of a new era.
"You look real happy."
Vionette exited the tent after giving up on trying to figure out what Kaelen had done. As she had told Noa before, information could not be conjured from a vacuum. She approached him, her striking crimson eyes tracing his silhouette against the fading purple sky.
Noa turned his head and looked at her. "So do you."
Vionette closed the distance between them, stopping a few paces away. She wanted to touch Noa, but something was in her way. She looked at the blood splattered across his armor and face, her lip curling in a delicately disgusted pout.
"…Clean that up, it's messy."
"Ah, ok."
Then, a faint pulse of Aether spread from Noa's body. The clothes from Nymira's shop shimmered briefly as the blood staining them slid away, the fabric restoring itself to its original state. Crafted with special enchantments, the garments rejected foreign substances whenever Aether flowed through them, returning to the form they were first made in.
The pulse itself was nothing special—just a small release of Aether from Noa's body. The sudden pressure scattered the remaining blood clinging to his skin like mist caught in a gust of wind. Moments later, no crimson remained.
"Good, right?" He extended his hands to his sides, looking at his own newly cleaned clothes with a bit of pride.
Vionette closed the few steps she couldn't before and leaned forward, her face tilted up toward Noa, who stood slightly taller than her. She smiled—not a mocking or careful one, but a personal one. Her crimson eyes traced down his collar, then slowly back up to his face as if inspecting the results of his little trick.
As handsome as ever.
Her hand rose before he could react and its two fingers caught the edge of his collar and tugged him a little closer.
"Though you missed a spot."
"Where?" Noa blinked, because there's no way for blood to remain even after he erased it with his Aether.
Instead of answering, Vionette brushed her thumb lightly across the corner of his jaw, but there was nothing there. Noa stared at her. He knew what she'd done and she also knew it.
"…there," she whispered anyway.
Noa stared at her for a moment before a slow grin crept onto his face.
"Little princess," he said calmly, his voice a low vibration, "you just wanted an excuse to touch me."
"So?" Vionette didn't even pretend to deny it. She held his gaze with a fierce, unwavering confidence. They both knew what they were doing.
Noa deactivated the skill instantly after hearing the gossip, but it was already too late; the entire battlefield had just witnessed their private moment.
Vionette froze, her crimson eyes widening as she looked around with only her pupils, her face not turning even as a deep, unmistakable flush began to crawl up her neck.
"People are watching, you idiot," she hissed, her voice a mix of royal indignation and genuine embarrassment.
"You started it." Noa grabbed her closer, his hand sliding behind her back and pulling her flush against his chest. "And I'm finishing it."
Before Vionette could ask what he meant, Noa suddenly moved and lifted her up, one arm sliding behind her back while the other hooked under her legs.
"Hey…" She let out a quiet word from her surprised mouth, her hands reflexively gripping his chest.
Noa looked back at her and smiled, a look that was half-teasing and half-unbearably warm.
"Mmm?"
"?!!"
[Blink]
Before their lips could do more than share a soft, fleeting tap, Noa used his skill. The world folded, and the cliffside vanished in a blur of distorted Aether. They appeared instantly on the other hill, right in front of Lina and the others.
---
With the sound of shoes hitting the ground, Noa appeared in front of Lina and the others, Vionette still held firmly in his arms.
Elina and Lina had been huddled together, talking about the war tactics and events, though neither understood much about it. Roswell and Livora stood nearby, their gazes fixed on the horizon as they muttered about the sheer impossibility of the Crimvane victory.
As the air shimmered and the "Crazy Duo" appeared out of thin air, Lina and Elina spun around. Lina leaned forward, her eyes sharpening like a hawk's as she took in the scene. Vionette was currently sporting a visible, radiant blush, hugging Noa's chest as if she had been caught in a mid-air tumble. Noa himself looked unusually flustered, his usual mask slightly askew.
"Mmmmm…" Lina's voice trailed off into a long, suggestive hum, her eyes dancing with wicked delight.
"Hmmm…" Elina added, her draconic ember eyes widening until they looked like glowing coals.
"Enough of those faces," Noa said, his voice a bit more hurried than usual as he quickly set Vionette down on her feet.
"Yes," Vionette added, regaining her composure with a frantic sort of elegance. "It was just a ki—"
"AHAHAHAHAH!"
Lina's laughter exploded, her arms wrapped around her stomach as she doubled over. "The two crazy duo who smiles when killing someone gets flustered over a kiss? This is the best thing I've seen all year!"
"HAHAHAH! Right!" Elina joined in, her laughter wheezing and high-pitched. "Anyone else would have been normal, but seeing two crazy killers get shy is unbelievable! HAHAHAH—Eiiik!"
Suddenly, Elina's eyes popped in shock. Her cheeks began to turn a deep, vibrant red—not from love, but from the physical pressure of Vionette's vengeance. Vionette had stepped forward, her hand reaching out to scratch Elina's chin in that mocking way she liked, before her fingers suddenly clamped down hard on the girl's face.
Grap.
Vionette grabbed the dragon-girl's face with her hand, squeezing her cheeks together until Elina's eyes were forced into narrow slits and her mouth was a squished, trembling "O."
"What did you say, you lizard?" Vionette's aura shifted instantly, turning from a flustered girl into a cold-blooded sovereign. "Wanna see if you can survive starving for a month?" She smiled, but her crimson eyes were cold and lethal.
Elina's eyes filled with unshed tears, her mouth shaking as she tried to form a muffled apology through her squished cheeks.
"AHHH! Put me down!" Lina screamed from the other side.
Noa had reached out and hoisted Lina up by her twin-tails, holding her at eye level. Lina flailed her arms, clutching her own hair to prevent it from being pulled out, her eyes filling with dramatic, pained tears as she kicked her legs in the air.
"You two really don't know when to keep your mouths shut," Noa muttered, though a trace of the flustered warmth from the cliff still lingered in his gaze.
"You two, we need to talk to you."
In the middle of the chaos, Roswell interrupted, his voice cold and heavy. Beside him, Livora stood with her hands clasped tightly, her face pale. Noa and Vionette snapped back to attention, the playful energy evaporating in a heartbeat. The atmosphere shifted from comedy to a suffocating tension in the span of a single breath.
"Now that the war is over," Livora started the conversation, her voice trembling slightly. "Let's talk about how we shall share the territories of Aurelyth and Caldris. There are many borders to redraw—"
Shiin…
The sound of Vionette drawing her sword was a sharp, metallic whisper that echoed through the clearing. Before Livora could finish her sentence, the point of the blade was resting directly against her throat, the cold steel biting into the soft skin of her neck.