The throne room's heavy doors shut behind Regulus with a resonant thud, sealing the end of his audience with Cornelius. The Founder's final words still hung in the air:
"Your trainers will be arranged. The first lesson begins once you've settled affairs with the Hebe Familia."
Regulus exhaled sharply. The negotiation had been a blade's edge—demands met, but at a cost he couldn't yet measure.
Nyx walks beside him in the corridor, her shadow stretching long against the walls. "How tedious. Babelonians do love their paperwork."
-----
Moonlight spilled through the manor windows as Nyx's fingertip left fading crimson trails across Regulus' back. The divine script of the Falna pulsed like a living thing before settling into new numbers:
Regulus Nihil
Level 1
Strength: H-129 → H-151
Endurance: I-92 → H-155
Dexterity: H-118 → H-160
Agility: H-104 → H-187
Magic: H-101 → H-199
Skills:
[Numquam Itineris] – You know what to do.
Magic:
[As I've Written] –
"O Heavens, witness my great undertaking,
As stars above, so ink now waking.
As above, so below aligned,
What was once imagined now defined.
From silent pages to shouting steel,
Let every inscribed word be made real.
By quill's command and author's hand,
I rend the veil 'twixt thought and land.
Let history bend! Let stories rise!
Unwritten falsehoods take corporeal guise.
All fables woven, all legends spun—
For it is, As I've Written!"
Regulus' breath hitched. "This can't be right. That dragon didn't even wake properly—"
Nyx's laughter was a velvet-edged thing. "Oh, sweet, oblivious moth." She spun him around to face her, her violet eyes gleaming like twin galaxies in the dim light. "You literally put the First and Final Calamity back to sleep. The strongest creature in recorded history. The one even the gods whisper about in tenses of 'never' and 'impossible.'"
Regulus opened his mouth, but Nyx pressed a shadow-clad finger to his lips.
"Ah-ah. Before you start whining about 'favorable circumstances'—" she mimicked his voice with startling accuracy, "—remember that Excelia cares for what you did. My dear liar, what you accomplished was something no Level 1 should have survived attempting, let alone achieved."
"And Regulus," Nyx purred, her shadow wrapping around his wrist where the dragon-scar gleamed. "Excelia isn't just about what you fought—it's about what you felt." Her nail dug in just enough to draw blood. "Which is why your stats only grew a liitle less of a single rank."
She leaned in, her breath cold against his ear. "Why do you think Orario's fools grow stronger in the Dungeon's depths? It's not the monsters—it's the moment when death whispers 'this far and no further'... and they scream 'watch me' anyway."
Nyx licked the blood from her nail.
Regulus' fingers twitched toward his glowing back. "Then could I fight Antares—"
"No." Nyx's shadow lashed out, pinning him to the bed before he could finish. Her violet eyes darkened like storm clouds. "Antares may not be the Black Dragon, but don't mistake that for weakness."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that made the air hum. "The Great Spirits didn't seal it in Elsos Ruins because they could kill it. They did so because it was the only option." Her nail traced his jugular. "Six arms that crush mountains. Legs that stride across battlefields in seconds. And that eye..." A rare shudder ran through her. "It doesn't just see you. It comprehends you."
Regulus swallowed hard. The scar on his back pulsed hotter, as if reacting to Nyx's words.
Nyx released him with a flick of her wrist. "The Black Dragon is destruction incarnate, but Antares? It's hunger given form. You might as well try to outwit gravity."
"So what then?" Regulus rubbed his mark, the heat seeping into his bones. "We just ignore such a good source of Excelia?"
Nyx's laughter was dark velvet. "Oh, my dear moth. I didn't say forever." Her shadow stretched across the ceiling, forming a monstrous silhouette with six grasping arms. "But walk before you run. Or..." The shadow dissolved into smoke. "You'll learn why the Ancient Times were known as the end of the world."
-----
Regulus awakens groggily and sees a silhouette. A maid had shaken Regulus awake stood against the faint light of dawn, her features sharpening as his vision adjusted.
"You took nine seconds to become combat-ready," she observed, watching him with clinical detachment. "Unacceptable for someone with Hebe Familia's training."
Regulus rubbed his face, the last dregs of sleep clinging to his thoughts. "You're not one of the training matrons."
"Correct. I'm your escort." She produced a folded Hebe Familia tabard from her cloak and tossed it at his chest. "Dress quickly. Lady Hebe dislikes tardiness."
Nyx stretched lazily on the chaise, her violet eyes glinting. "Oh, this should be entertaining. The Virtuous Goddess finally sends her attack dog."
The maid's gaze flicked to Nyx, her expression unchanging. "Mistress Elaina's exact words were: 'Fetch our wayward trainee before he stumbles into another political catastrophe.'" Her finger tapped twice against her thigh. "The Rosewind incident has made you... notorious."
Regulus groaned, memories of the party's gossip flooding back. "That wasn't my fault."
"Irrelevant." She turned toward the door, her scar catching the moonlight. "You have four minutes. I'll be timing you."
As she strode into the hallway, Nyx chuckled. "Careful, little moth. That one smells like a killer."
Regulus pulled on the tabard, its silver embroidery cool against his skin. The fabric carried the faint scent of lemon verbena and steel polish—Hebe Familia's signature blend.
Somewhere downstairs, a pocket watch clicked open.
Tick.
Tock.