Third Person POV
*Thud*
"Scum…" Eirlys muttered. The cloaked figure dropped lifelessly at her feet, a dark stain spreading beneath their twitching form as the glint of her short sword caught the hallway's dim glow.
There was no time to linger.
"Sis, come here! Quick!"
The voice came from the stairs—urgent. Eirlys spun and sprinted up the stairs to the landing.
Lily knelt beside Alaric's still body, trembling, her hands hovering helplessly in the air like she didn't dare touch him.
"Wh-What do I do—?!"
Eirlys didn't answer.. She pushed past Lily and scooped Alaric into her arms.
Lily trailed behind, her steps uncertain, but Eirlys didn't wait. She bolted down the stairs, ignoring the first floor—the only one that was lit. She didn't slow until she reached the ground floor and slammed the sliding door open with her shoulder.
The sharp crack of the door echoed through the quiet room.
Inside, everything paused. Doctors in white coats stood around a bed, tense and focused, until the noise tore their attention away.
"What is—?!" Before Eirlys could say anything, Elowen, who was in the room with five guards, two of them her own personal guards, appeared in front of her with a perturbed expression.
"Don't worry, Lady Elowen," Eirlys interrupted, her voice calm but loud enough to cut through the confusion. "He's fine. He is not in danger. I already took a look."
It was a lie. But without it, everyone will be way too agitated to focus on other things.
Every head turned toward her, eyes widening as they caught sight of the boy in her arms—Alaric, his clothes scorched, his exposed skin almost all burnt.
Aurelia's sharp voice cut through the growing buzz. "One of you, check him."
Only the area around the central bed was lit—every window draped, every source of light doused to keep this floor away from being noticed.
Eirlys moved toward the next ward's door. One of the nurses—a young woman with a braid swinging behind her—rushed forward, motioning frantically.
"Lay him down on the bed—I'll check for internal injuries."
Before Eirlys moved, Elowen's voice rang out behind her.
"Take a look around the building," she ordered.
With practiced efficiency, the guards turned and exited, their boots soft against the floor as they vanished into the dark halls of the hospital.
In the adjacent ward, Eirlys laid Alaric gently onto the bed. The nurse stepped closer, squinting under the dim glow to assess the boy's injuries. The burnt warmers clung stubbornly to his scorched skin, some patches fused into the raw flesh beneath.
"Alright, please leave," the nurse said firmly, pulling on a pair of gloves. "I'll handle it from here."
Eirlys didn't budge. Her jaw tightened, and she stared the nurse down with cold defiance.
"I can tell you haven't checked anything yet," she replied flatly. "Don't delay this."
The nurse met her gaze without flinching. "And I can tell you're in the way. Now go—you're holding up treatment."
The tension crackled between them, but Lily, still lingering hesitantly behind, placed a hand on Eirlys's arm and gently pulled her back. Eirlys allowed herself to be guided out, but not without a final glance at the boy on the bed.
"Hah... how tiresome," the nurse muttered under her breath once the door shut. She turned back to her patient. "Just don't wake up... It's going to hurt like hell for a while."
In the corridor outside, the air felt heavy—too still. Eirlys and Lily sat on a cold metal bench, the silence thick around them. Neither spoke. There was nothing to say.
Time passed. How much, they didn't know—only that the quiet gnawed at the edges of their nerves. Then, a sudden hiss broke the silence as a door slid open, followed by the sharp staccato of heels on tile.
The nurse emerged, walking briskly down the hallway. Her coat flared with each step, her pace too fast to be casual. She didn't glance at them.
"Is he alright?" Eirlys called out, standing halfway before the woman could pass.
The nurse slowed but didn't stop. "Yeah," she said quickly, her voice clipped, words rushing. "A few broken bones. Had to pull the warmers off his skin—they'd fused into it. Would've screamed the ward down if he'd been conscious. Lucky he wasn't."
And just like that, she was gone—slipping through the next ward door without waiting for acknowledgment, her figure vanishing behind the sliding panel into the room where Xironia lay.
Eirlys sat back down, her mind still spinning.
Something wasn't right.
The maids slumped back onto the bench the moment the nurse disappeared into the next ward, shoulders sagging with shared relief. For the first time in what felt like hours, their breath came easier. The tension that had gripped them slowly began to unwind.
The quiet, however, didn't linger long.
A steady rhythm of boots clicking against the stairs echoed down the corridor.
Eirlys and Lily sat up straighter, turning their heads toward the sound—clearly the female guards returning.
But before the first boot met the floor at the bottom of the stairs, a voice cut in from far too close.
"Oh, what are you girls doing here?"
"EEK!!" Both sisters jumped nearly a foot in the air, Eirlys nearly toppling off the bench as Lily let out a strangled squeal.
Standing a few steps away, Novius blinked at their reaction, tilting his head with a look of mild amusement.
"How did you appear out of nowhere?!" Lily cried, hands balled into tiny fists as she flailed them toward the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut in frustration.
Novius arched a brow. "What do you mean? I used the main entrance like a civilized person."
Eirlys spotted Valen and Caelum dragging their feet around the corner behind him.
"So, what are yo—"
Novius cut himself off mid-sentence as the guards emerged from the staircase.
Valen and Caelum, who had just begun to lower themselves onto the nearest bench, froze halfway, backs going rigid at the unexpected sight.
The only ones who didn't look surprised were Eirlys and Lily.
They already knew what the guards had found—because they were the ones who had killed most of them.
Without a word, the female guards strode forward and let five bodies fall unceremoniously onto the floor. One severed head rolled slightly before coming to a stop beside the heap of corpses.
Novius blinked, then stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
"Where did you find them?"
"Third floor," replied one of the guards, a stern-faced woman with a dark braid trailing down her back. She then turned toward Eirlys and Lily.
"These are the ones?" Eirlys locked eyes with her and gave a single, wordless nod.
Novius looked between the corpses and Eirlys, his brow furrowed. "Wait… Eirlys? You killed them? What the hell happened?"
His confusion was echoed in Valen and Caelum's faces, both of them staring.
Eirlys didn't blink. She gestured toward the two scorched bodies among the five. One was riddled with punctures, but both were barely recognizable.
"We took out the rest. Those two, we didn't kill."
"Wait… then who did?" Novius asked, his voice cautious. "How did they even get inside? The building was surrounded from all direction and we made sure not a single person remained inside, transferred every single patient, checked every single corner of the hospital… The guards should've noticed something…"
"Young master did."
"…Huh?" Novius reeled slightly.
"!!" Valen and Caelum's jaws dropped.
Novius stood frozen, eyes fixed on the bodies. His jaw was tight, his face unreadable. He was still.
"Don't worry, Master. He's fine." Eirlys muttered while the female guards bowed slightly before turning and disappearing into the ward where Xironia was.
Still, Novius didn't move.
The corridor seemed to hold its breath with him. No one—maid or butler—dared break the silence. Even Lily, usually the first to speak, remained seated, fidgeting with her hands. Eirlys leaned back on the cold bench, arms on her lap, her eyes closed, wondering how many more silences like this were they going to endure tonight?
That answer, mercifully, came faster than expected.
The door to the ward where Alaric was resting slid open halfway, the sound grabbing everyone's attention. Heads turned in unison.
For a moment, no one moved. All eyes were fixed on the half-open door.
Then, slowly, a familiar face peeked out with messy hair and tired eyes.
"Uh… hello~"
Alaric gave an awkward wave, his voice pitched a little too high.
Everyone stared back with unreadable expressions.
Novius exhaled, long and slow, like he'd been holding his breath. He took a step forward, gaze fixed on his son. "No, no. Wait a minute—"
He stopped just outside the doorway, hearing Alaric revolt. "What happened?"
"Uhh—I'm not wearing clothes. Yes, that's it. I'm naked. Can't just walk out like this."
Novius stared at him, unmoved.
Without a word, Novius lifted his foot and pressed it against the door's bottom groove. Alaric's head comically lowered, and he realised what was about to happen. Sadly, he was too slow. The door slid open with a flick of Novius's foot.
It was like the curtains were peeled away to reveal an art, but the revelation didn't mesmerise anyone.
Alaric flinched under his father's gaze, his smile faltering.
He was shirtless, but his pants were still on—his upper body was covered in burns, raw and red.
Novius's expression cracked. Not horror, not panic—not something one could tell, but something certainly did appear through that crack.
"You…" he began, but his voice wavered.
"Looks worse than it is. Very avant-garde, really."
Novius didn't respond. His hand dropped to his side, clenched into a fist.
But, Novius's arm then lifted, and Alaric watched it with a curious face until it stopped rising right in front of his stomach, right in front of a red mark from a burn.
"Hmm?" Alaric watched with a bewildered expression.
Novius hit the burn with a flick of his finger before Alaric could even realise what was happening.
"Ouch, Why?!!"
"Very avant-garde, for sure," Novius chuckled, making Alaric pout.
"So…" Novius tried again, "…how did you manage to—?"
His eyes drifted to the corpses still lying in the hallway.
"…kill two…"
"Green Stage cultivators." Eirlys finished the sentence for him, her voice soft and calm just as usual. Novius gave a faint nod, but his eyes never left Alaric.
Alaric's eyes flicked to the corpses lying across the floor. He pointed at the one riddled with holes.
"I didn't kill her," he said quietly. "When you told me to go downstairs, I was running—fast. Then, out of nowhere, on the third floor… they were just there."
He stepped closer to Novius, his expression faltering. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around his father and pressed his face into the folds of his robes.
"It was dark. I didn't see them until they were right in front of me." his voice was muffled, trembling. "She grabbed my arm, and I thought that was it—then the other guy, the burnt one, used some earth-based skill… and killed her. Right there. In front of the others."
Novius's eyes narrowed.
"The others didn't stop him. They just stood there. Probably scared. I was, too." Alaric's arms tightened. "I thought I was next. So I panicked… poured all my mana into one attack. But he saw it coming, tried to stop me—so the spell went off too close."
Alaric winced as his voice cracked. "And I got in the range of attack, too."
Novius placed a hand gently on his son's head. "You used the same [Fireball] as you did on the rooftop?"
Alaric nodded, the movement small and tired. His burns were visibly fading.
Novius exhaled slowly, running his hand once more through Alaric's hair as his gaze drifted to the body, the one torn through by jagged, unnatural holes.
"There's something off…" he murmured. "The way he died… I've never seen a skill like that."
He looked over his shoulder at the butlers and then at the maids.
"Any of you recognize it?"
They exchanged glances, then shook their heads in unison.
None of them had seen anything like it either.
While everyone remained fixated on the corpses, the door slid open once more.
"You're all still out here?" came Elowen's voice as she stepped into the hallway. "I thought I'd check on the sist—"
Her words faltered the moment her eyes landed on Alaric, still clutching Novius like a frightened cub.
Her expression softened instantly. A small smile tugged at her lips as she hurried over, her footsteps quick and purposeful. She gently pried Alaric away from Novius and gathered him into her arms, sitting beside the maids as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"There, there," she whispered, brushing his hair back with motherly ease. Alaric, perfectly content to be fussed over, let himself sink into her lap.
"I told you," Elowen said, her voice chiding, "you should have left him with us. There was no reason a child should have been out there."
Novius simply nodded, receiving her scoldings silently.
Elowen paused only after she noticed Alaric had begun to shiver faintly, despite his healing wounds.
"Do you have spare clothes for him?" she asked, glancing at Novius.
"No."
"Well, then…" Elowen sighed, her ring glowing softly as she summoned a thick blanket into her hand. "Looks like you'll have to make do with this, sonny."
Before she could unfold it, a voice cut in.
"Here." Eirlys stepped forward with practiced efficiency, holding out a folded pair of warmers and a coat. "These should fit."
Everyone turned to stare at her, blinking.
Elowen raised an eyebrow. "Did you pack his clothes before coming?"
Eirlys tilted her head slightly, genuinely puzzled by the question. "No? I just always carry a spare set of Alaric's clothes. I am his maid."
There was a beat of silence. Then everyone slowly nodded, as if the answer made perfect sense.
Because it did.
Eirlys, ever the consummate professional, took being Alaric's personal maid very, very seriously.
A small smile tugged at Elowen's lips as she watched Eirlys help Alaric into his clothes.
"What are you doing out here anyway?" Novius asked, finally getting a word in. "Weren't you supposed to be inside?"
"Oh, right! I nearly forgot," Elowen said, perking up. "The baby's doing great. Really healthy."
Novius froze. His face went blank as if her words hadn't quite landed yet.
"Baby?..." he echoed.
"Yep, yep. And Nia is doing fine too," she added casually.
It took a second, but the weight of those words finally hit him.
Novius turned toward the ward door. The world around him dimmed—his vision tunneled. Each step he took felt pulled by something deeper than instinct.
Then—
"Father, you stink. Really bad. Honestly, it's offensive."
Novius stopped dead.
Elowen burst into laughter. "He's not wrong. Go wash up before you go near the baby."
She turned toward the two butlers who had also frozen mid-step. "That includes you two as well. Maintain hygiene. We have a newborn, and newborns are really delicate. Go."
Novius blinked slowly, pulled out of his trance, and shot his son and mother a flat, unimpressed look.
"Don't give us that face," Elowen waved him off. "Besides, Aurelia wouldn't let you touch the baby yet anyway. She said it'll take a while before anyone's allowed in."
Alaric shrugged, fully dressed now. "She's right. You've got time. Also, you're terrifying when you get like that."
With a long, resigned sigh, Novius turned and started toward the bathing hall, the butlers trailing behind him like scolded students.
Elowen, Alaric, and the maids watched silently as Novius and the butlers disappeared into the hallway.
The moment they were out of sight, Alaric slipped off Elowen's lap with a little hop.
"Hmm? Where are you headed?" Elowen asked, watching him curiously.
Alaric turned and nodded, brushing off his coat. "I'm going to look for a scarf. Father gave it to me. It was bright blue… kind of thick, and warm. I think it was hand-knitted."
Elowen's lips curved into a knowing smile. "You mean this one?"
A soft glow shimmered from her ring, and in a blink, the very scarf Alaric described materialized in her hand.
Alaric's eyes lit up. "Yes! That's the one! How do you have it?"
She began wrapping the scarf gently around his neck. "I knitted this myself—years ago—for your father. My guards recognized it immediately. They've seen it on him too many times not to."
Her hands were warm as they adjusted the folds just right. Then, with a tug, she pulled Alaric close.
"And now," she said, her tone changed, "you're going to tell me everything. Every. Single. Detail."
Alaric froze. He gulped, eyes wide.
There was no escape.
So he did what any smart child would do.
He began talking.