Yvain was standing in front of a room the academy provided for Burn and Man. His face was down, knowing he couldn’t do anything for his master.

  His hands were beside him, ched. Now that he had gained more muscle a, it was obvious how tense his body was.

  “This world is in danger, Yvain.”

  “Everything your Master had done for you… for your sake…”

  “...We had to do this. And…”

  Well, Burn didn’t try to sugarcoat things.

  “You were supposed to die.”

  Yvain closed his eyes. Even now, he felt like it was better to die if he couldn’t be useful. He thanked God fiving him the strength he had now, but it wasn’t enough. He must… get even stronger.

  “Sir Sator…?”

  Yvain flinched, his gaze meeting Bir's ed eyes as she stood there with Matthew and An.

  “Are you okay?” Bir's voice sounded distant, uo fathom the sight of Yvain in such a state of vulnerability. Witnessing his unraveling facade was chilling, casting shadows over all she had previously known about him.

  “Yes. This has happened before. Please don’t worry,” Yvain tried to smile.

  Bir and the other two felt chill run down their spines. In truth, in that moment, the weight of Yvaience bore down on him like a heavy burden, suffog any flicker of hope within.

  The thought of being rendered useless cwed at his soul, seemingly a proof of his perceived inadequacies. Despite the strength he tried to muster, he found himself drowning in a sea of despair.

  Matthew's ughter cut through the tension, but it held a hint of helplessness. "You don't look okay at all."

  An's sigh added to the somber atmosphere. "Sir Padparadscha… of course he wouldn’t look okay."

  Yvain managed a weak smile, trying to push aside his struggles. "Thank you for your . Mama will recover soon. We don’t eveo call a doctor. Let's go back to the buffet."

  Bir exged a worried gh Matthew and An. The ck of doctor needed for the situation raised questions in their minds. Could it be that they had grown aced to her dition, or was there truly nothing more that could be done?

  Matthew pced a reassuring hand on Yvain's shoulder. "Stay strong, okay?"

  An shook his head, his voice filled with . "Is there nothing that be done… for your mother?"

  "What's the matter?" Yvain furrowed his brow, sensing their unease.

  After a moment of hesitation, Bir softly replied, "It's nothing, Sir Sator. We uand."

  ***

  Ihe room, the atmosphere hung heavy with tension and seriousness. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken fears and the sharp pang of ay. Everythi hushed, as if the very walls were holding their breath in anticipation.

  Burn's gaze was steely, his features set in a ask, while Man's expressiorayed a mix of vulnerability and defiahe space between them crackled with unspoken words, a battlefield of emotions g in silence.

  After they heard Yvain’s and the others’ footsteps disappearing, Man sighed in relief. The two put their ears away from the door.

  "We !" Man decred triumphantly. "The cssic 'si trope’ card has been pyed!"

  “This crazy woman…” Burn rolled his eyes, muttering, "What a plot twist, heh."

  With a mischievous glint in her eye, Man teased, "Oh, e on, Burn. It's practically a rite of passage for every hero to have a parent on the verge of death. It's always the moms for some reason."

  Burn raised an eyebrow and strolled over to the couch. "Right, so I'm the stoiguished father who goes from loving husband to heartless vilin in a single hospital visit?"

  "Pfft," Man snickered, plopping herself unceremoniously onto his p. "You were practically born for that role, Vilin. Embrace your destiny."

  Bur out a mock gasp. "I feel so hoo be typecast in the world's oldest cliche. What a time to be alive."

  As they shared a smirk, the weight of their fial narrative seemed to momentarily lift, repced by a shared sense of absurdity in their exaggerated roles.

  “Still hurt?” Burn asked.

  Man shook her head. “Not that bad.”

  Yesterday, they were supposed to die. The stage should be set as the sed White Dwarf made its grarance, adding a dash of fir to the usual ielr sery. Along es the Junior Fleet Admiral, armed with a brilliant idea: "Let's spice things up by throwing in an order to obliterate the world!"

  Because, of course, what's a typical day without a generous sprinkle of immi destru and a hint of recklessness, right?

  Man shrugged, expressing a sense of acceptance. "I had believed that a new loop would e ience a little further down the line. However, it appears that this development simply validates our past efforts and as. We are on the right track."

  "However, this time, it's only you who will die. Lately, I've been thinking that perhaps it's better for both of us to die together. It means we’ll be separated at some point," Burn muttered.

  "But it just means that whatever it is, it won’t be too dangerous. That’s... a fg I raised. I’ll take it back," Man closed her eyes.

  Burn snickered at that.

  "I mean, who kill you?! Maybe I’ll die because I’m too weak to fight alongside you," Man said.

  "You do have a point, but that’s still insulting to my proteg capability. How about we take the time to visit the moon a your treasures?" Burn asked.

  Man nodded, “We will do that. Let’s do that.”

  And now that they talked about it, Burn suddenly recalled something and csped Man's waist tightly. "Do you happen to possess a fine long sword in your treasures?"

  Man arched an eyebrow and replied with a slow shake of her head. "No. But hold on a moment. Perhaps Isaiah might have one."

  "Isaiah...?" Burn inquired. "The dragon?"

  ***

  Emperor Burn's office at Soulnaught Pace was a bit busy today. The room exuded an air of sophistication, with intricate tapestries ad the walls and gleaming silver debras casting a soft, flickering light.

  As visitors ehey were greeted by the sight of ornate furniture upholstered in rich velvet, the kind that practically screamed, "I'm tal for you." The st of exotise lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma ahat seemed to permeate every er of the room.

  Emperor Burn himself sat upon a grandiose throne-like chair, his expression a perfect blend of superiority and boredom. His eyes, sharp as daggers, sed the room with a mixture of disdain and amusement, as if silently judging every soul that dared to cross his path.

  “This is the guest he’s been waiting for…” the man muttered as he read a letter in his hand.

  “Yes, sir?” his subordinates raised their faces.

  Burn stood from his chair. “Send word to Sator Mert Group that the guest has requested attendance. Junior Fleet Admiral Rudolf Blitzen…”

  “When should we prepare for the meeting, Sir?”

  “In three days. Don’t let them ehe premises,” Burn answered.

  “Yes, sir.”

  CLICK! SLAM!

  “C…C-Caliburn~!”

  A beautiful, blonde-haired womaered the room. Even though seemingly shy and awkward, she walked across the room and reached one hand forward toward Burn.

  “Momo, e. All of you, out,” Burn said as he shooed away the blushing visitors and subordinates.

  Ohey were all out, the beautiful woman’s face twisted into a frown.

  Landevale exploded in red, as red as her inal hair. “W…why do I o act like that… in front of people?!”

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  I ship it.