Chapter 14: The Day Before Battle.

  The forest exhaled.

  Moonlight spilled through the canopy as the boundary of the Tabu stirred at last—the air folding inward with a soundless, unnatural shift, as though reality itself were releasing a breath it had held for far too long.

  Rayvaris stepped through.

  Cold night air brushed her skin. Silver light touched her face, unfamiliar in its clarity, sharper than memory, cleaner than before. For a brief moment, she simply stood there.

  Breathing.

  The forest felt distant. Or perhaps she did.

  Then she smiled.

  Layra saw the figure emerge and immediately bowed, the motion sharp, almost reflexive—relief contained by discipline, fear dismissed only because it had been proven unnecessary.

  “Your Highness…” She hesitated, then lifted her head. “Are you truly Princess Rynvaris?”

  Rayvaris tilted her head slightly, the movement casual, unburdened. “Who else would I be?”

  Layra blinked. The voice was unmistakable.

  “It is you,” she said slowly. “But… your height…”

  “It changed,” Rayvaris replied evenly. “One hundred sixty-three centimetres.”

  Layra frowned, confusion surfacing despite herself. “…Centimetres?”

  “A unit of measurement,” Rayvaris said, a faint lightness touching her tone. “I created it. I’ll explain later.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Layra’s gaze shifted, cautious now, studying the unfamiliar cut and fabric of Rayvaris’s clothes. They were not palace-issued. Not ceremonial. The design was simple, restrained—and carried a gravity that did not belong to this world.

  “…Your Highness,” Layra asked carefully, “your attire. This is not what you wore when you entered the Tabu.”

  Rayvaris glanced down once, briefly, as though acknowledging something already settled.

  “A gift,” she said.

  Layra’s breath caught.

  “…From whom?”

  “The First King.”

  Layra straightened at once. “…I see.”

  Rayvaris did not elaborate.

  She turned away slightly, her gaze already set forward. “Let’s go, Layra. Everyone is waiting.”

  She took a step.

  Then stopped.

  Once.

  Her gaze shifted back toward the silent boundary—the place where time had bent, where a god had lied kindly, and where something irrevocable had been left behind.

  The forest did not respond.

  Rayvaris turned forward again.

  And without another word, she walked on.

  -----

  Layra and Ray arrived at the First Princess’s villa—only to find First Princess Elowen Sylvaris already waiting at the entrance.

  “Sis Sylve,” Ray said lightly, “were you waiting for me?”

  “No,” Sylvaris replied at once. “I was waiting for Layra.”

  The lie settled between them, thin and unconvincing—even to herself.

  “Oh?” Ray tilted her head. “Your sister disappears into a Tabu for days, and you’re not even a little worried?”

  “Why would I be?” Sylvaris answered coolly. “You didn’t go to battle. You were merely training.” Her gaze swept over Ray once, sharp and assessing. “…Though I don’t understand why only your height changed. Nothing else did.”

  I’m in a girl’s body, Ray thought. Drastic changes would only invite trouble.

  She shrugged. “Were you expecting me to come back looking like a seasoned knight?”

  “No,” Sylvaris said, her eyes flicking—briefly, deliberately—toward Ray’s chest. “You are misunderstanding me.”

  Layra stepped forward, breaking the moment. “Your Highness, it is late. This conversation should continue tomorrow morning.”

  Sylvaris paused, then spoke again, quieter. “Ray—before you rest. Did the First King leave you a legacy?”

  “No,” Ray said simply. “He gave me nothing.”

  “Then,” Sylvaris pressed, “why did you emerge after three days?”

  Ray answered without hesitation. “He broke the rules for me.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Sylvaris froze. “What?”

  “The First King,” Ray repeated. “He broke the rules.”

  Silence followed.

  “…I see,” Sylvaris said at last.

  Ray turned and walked inside, Layra following close behind.

  The First King… Sylvaris thought. When I stood before him, he said the rules could not be broken. Yet for my sister— If he were ever to step beyond the Tabu…

  The thought remained unfinished.

  ------

  Inside the First Princess’s guest room, silence settled like a held breath.

  She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, hands folded loosely over her stomach. There was no tension in her body—no restless anticipation of the battle to come. If anything, the calm felt unnatural.

  “…How long has it been?” she murmured inwardly.

  Days blurred together. Two months since she woke in this world—no, longer, if she counted the years swallowed by the Tabu. Three years lived outside time. Three years that the world had not acknowledged, yet her body had not forgotten.

  I’ve grown stronger, she admitted. Stronger than the girl who died quietly in this palace.

  But strength did not equal safety.

  The First King’s voice surfaced in her mind, uninvited—measured, distant, carrying a weight that refused to fade.

  Don’t trust the gods.

  Ray frowned faintly.

  What was that supposed to mean? I don’t even have contact with them. I’ve never prayed. Never been answered. If they exist… they’ve already made it clear I don’t matter.

  She exhaled slowly and let the thought pass.

  Still… this world is full of people who do matter.

  The old man in the Tabu—no, the First King. Even now, she could not grasp the depth of his strength. He felt less like a warrior and more like a fixed law of the world itself. Unmovable. Unchallenged.

  Then there was Sylvaris’s master.

  And Sylvaris herself.

  Ray’s lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

  Strong. All of them. Strong in ways she couldn’t yet measure. Not just power—but position, history, recognition. The kind of strength that didn’t need to prove itself.

  Compared to them, she was still fragile.

  A weak princess. An inconvenient one.

  No powerful faction stood behind her. No divine favor. No ancient bloodline awakening. If tomorrow someone decided she needed to disappear, the world would barely pause.

  Enemies could form without warning. Intent did not require announcement.

  Her fingers tightened slightly against the sheets.

  Then I can’t rely on protection.

  I can’t rely on mercy.

  If I want to survive… people have to believe in me.

  Not fear me. Not pity me.

  Believe.

  That thought settled deeper than the rest, anchoring itself somewhere quiet and firm.

  As sleep finally claimed her, her breathing slowed, expression smoothing into calm. The battle ahead did not haunt her dreams.

  But the resolve she carried into them would one day reshape far more than she understood.

  -----

  The next morning, sunlight filtered softly into the dining hall, illuminating the long table set with practiced elegance.

  Ray was already eating.

  Without restraint. Without ceremony.

  She leaned forward slightly, moving from dish to dish with honest enthusiasm, as though the presence of fine china and attentive servants had entirely escaped her notice. There was no deliberate disrespect in her manner—only the unguarded hunger of someone who had gone far too long without variety.

  She chewed, swallowed, then spoke.

  “Layra,” Ray said, eyes bright, “the First Princess’s cooks are incredible.”

  Layra inclined her head. “I am pleased it suits your taste, Your Highness.”

  “Inside the Tabu,” Ray continued, undeterred, “that old man didn’t know the first thing about cooking. Three years of food that tasted like it existed only to keep me alive.” She paused, scooping another bite. “I didn’t realize how much I missed proper meals.”

  Across the table, a chair scraped softly against the floor.

  Sylvaris took her seat with composed precision, posture flawless, expression unreadable.

  “So,” she said, watching Ray with faint amusement, “are you planning to steal my cook as well?”

  Ray glanced up. “No, Sis. Moon’s a good cook too. I don’t need yours.”

  “Hm.” Sylvaris rested her chin lightly against her hand. “Then I suppose I’ll have to taste Moon’s cooking myself before I believe that.”

  Layra moved efficiently, serving Sylvaris. Once her plate was set, the First Princess began to eat—measured, graceful, each motion reflecting years of discipline.

  For a moment, the contrast between them was unmistakable.

  “So,” Sylvaris said at last, “how much did you actually learn?”

  Ray answered between bites, words only half-formed. “I jus’… lear’… three forms of the Flow… Mo… Sword…”

  Sylvaris raised an eyebrow. “Then you’re already strong enough to rival me.”

  Ray nearly choked.

  “Sis… don’t tease me.” She waved her utensil dismissively. “You’re fifth-rank Miki. I’m only second-rank. There’s no way I’m stronger than you.”

  Sylvaris did not immediately respond. Her gaze lingered on Ray—not dismissive, not indulgent. Assessing.

  “Power isn’t always measured cleanly,” she said at last.

  Ray shrugged, unconcerned, and returned to her food.

  After a brief pause, Sylvaris spoke again. “Did you inform your maid? She came looking for you earlier.”

  “Oh—right.” Ray nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll meet her.”

  The conversation drifted after that, light and unremarkable on the surface. Plates gradually emptied. Morning continued its quiet advance.

  Yet beneath the ordinary rhythm of breakfast, something had shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.

  Rayvaris Elowen was no longer the fragile presence she had been.

  And Sylvaris had noticed.

  ------

  By afternoon, the villa had settled into a quieter rhythm.

  Inside Rynvaris’s room, Ray stood near the window, arms loosely crossed, eyes tracing the slow movement of light across the floor.

  “…I came back,” she said aloud, more to the room than anyone else. “Where is Moon? I told her to keep watch.”

  Silence answered her.

  Then—

  click. clack.

  The door opened.

  Moon stepped inside, posture straight, hands folded neatly before her. She halted at once and bowed.

  “Greetings, Your Highness.”

  Ray turned. Relief flickered across her face. “Moon. Finally.”

  Moon straightened. Her gaze lingered on Ray longer than propriety allowed.

  “Forget the formalities,” Ray said, waving a hand. “You look like you’ve been holding your breath.”

  Moon hesitated, then nodded once. “Your Highness… I have prepared everything.”

  Ray’s brow lifted slightly. “Prepared what, exactly?”

  Moon drew a careful breath. “The terms for withdrawing the challenge.”

  Ray waited.

  “You will serve the Eight Princes,” Moon continued, voice steady despite the tension beneath it. “Attend to their duties. Obey their orders. For two months. In return, they will formally retract the challenge.”

  For a heartbeat, the room was still.

  Then Ray laughed.

  “Haha… hahahaha…”

  The sound was light, almost carefree.

  “Moon,” she said, wiping at the corner of her eye, “why did you make it that cruel?”

  Moon did not answer at once.

  Instead, she take looked at Rayvaris.

  She was taller. Not by a little. Her posture had changed too, subtle but undeniable, as though her body now understood how to occupy space. Even her presence felt different—clearer, steadier. There was a quiet sheen to her, like light settling naturally instead of being forced.

  Four days ago, she was smaller, Moon thought. Frailer. Like she might shatter if the world pressed too hard.

  What happened to her?

  Moon’s fingers tightened unconsciously against her skirt.

  “…Your Highness,” she asked softly, “do you truly have a chance to win?”

  The words escaped before she could restrain them—carrying worry, fear, and something dangerously close to hope.

  Ray met her eyes.

  There was no bravado there. No false confidence.

  “Yes,” she said simply. “I do.”

  Moon swallowed.

  She wanted to ask how. Wanted to beg her not to risk herself. Wanted to remind her how easily the palace devoured the weak.

  But she said none of it.

  As Ray turned back toward the window, a faint smile curved her lips—calm, assured, and utterly out of place for someone the world had already decided to break.

  Behind her, Moon brought a hand to her mouth, biting her finger without realizing it.

  Because for the first time since pledging herself to this fragile princess…

  She was afraid to believe.

  Moon trembled behind her.

  Rayvaris did not.

  -------