News of the royal family's relocation reached Lady Mary of the Presia Dukedom with urgent force. Without hesitation, she summoned her knights and head steward.
"Clean every hall, every chamber. The royal family must feel no difference in grace or grandeur when they arrive," she ordered.
Guards were doubled. Magical alarms were embedded at every border of the estate. Secret watchers loyal to the duchy were activated. Lady Mary understood—this wasn't just hospitality. It was war preparation in disguise.
Meanwhile, at the royal palace, the atmosphere was unsettled. Though a fragile calm had returned after the poisoning incident, tension still clung to the air like fog.
Sara and Katherine were walking through the palace gardens in silence, the afternoon sun casting long shadows. Both had been trying to understand Sion's strange mood since the dinner.
That's when they spotted him.
Through the hedges, they saw Sion in a quiet corner of the courtyard, sitting shirtless, cross-legged, and radiating magical energy. The divine marks on his body pulsed faintly. His skin glistened with the golden hue of magic as he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.
Sara gasped. "He looks… different today."
Katherine couldn't look away. "He's… way more built than I imagined. That body's battle-hardened."
They looked at each other—and before either could say anything else, they dashed toward him.
"Wait! What are you two doing?" came Queen Elizabeth's voice, stern and commanding, echoing from behind.
Both women halted mid-run, almost stumbling as they turned to see her watching them, arms crossed.
"You forget yourselves. He is not some toy to chase. He needs rest, and focus. Give him his space."
Red-faced, both muttered apologies and slowly backed away.
Meanwhile, Raphael floated behind Sion, eyes wide. "I think they were coming for your abs."
Sion opened one eye, annoyed. "I noticed."
"Want me to erect a divine barrier that stops women?"
"Yes."
Just as he was about to relax again, he heard soft footsteps. He turned—and saw Sara and Katherine trying to sneak through the hedges once more, a determined look on their faces.
"Not again…" Sion whispered.
As they leapt toward him with outstretched hands, Sion activated his teleportation spell.
Flash.
Gone.
Both women landed face-first in the grass where he had just been.
Inside his room, Sion reappeared and leaned against the wall, heart pounding.
"I've faced monsters, assassins, and armies—but nothing terrifies me like those two when they're flirting."
Raphael burst into laughter. "The warrior retreats! You truly are brave in battle but helpless in love."
"Shut it, shorty."
"I'll seal the room," Raphael giggled. "No entry unless you lift the barrier yourself."
Sion sat down and took a deep breath. He had a task—something forgotten by this world but common in the one he came from: Warp Gate.
It would allow him to teleport to any place he had physically visited before—an invaluable tool for defense and strategic movement.
He drew the ancient glyphs in the air, infusing them with raw mana. Hours passed in silence as he balanced spirit, energy, and intent. Once ready, he stood, purified himself with cleansing magic, and chanted the final incantation.
The gate formed—glowing with blue and gold magic—and Sion stepped through.
In a blink, he stood before the gates of the Presia Dukedom, now under high alert. The sun had set. Wind swept the courtyard. Knights bowed deeply at the sight of him.
He didn't respond—his thoughts were too focused.
Inside the estate, Lady Mary sensed the arrival. "He's here," she whispered.
Sion's presence meant one thing—the war wasn't over. And he wasn't letting anyone else get hurt under his watch.
Not the royal family.
Not his people.
And certainly not his heart.