One morning, a member of Snake Scale brought a sealed letter and handed it to Duke Kashchey, who was admiring an oil painting from afar.
"Hmph… nothing special," Kashchey murmured, a subtle bitterness rising in his chest.
He couldn't help but admit it: the artist possessed true talent and depth—far beyond his own casual dabblings in painting. Even among immortals, talent varied. Kashchey had always been a generalist, touching briefly upon many disciplines, relying on time and effort rather than innate gift. This painter, however, wielded their brush with a mastery Kashchey could only envy.
"…Next time, I'll send her some abstract art."
He muttered to himself, then casually opened the envelope, already thinking of how to handle his next artistic 'enemy.'
But the letter's contents quickly pulled his attention away.
"Certain nobles are planning to incite unrest in Chernobog under the banner of the Reunion Movement. Their precise motives remain unclear."
Kashchey sighed as he finished reading Snake Scale's report.
Again with the nobles… always eager to stir chaos. What a nuisance.
But this time, were they really foolish enough to target him by exploiting the name of the Reunion Movement?
Do they not know the leader of the Reunion Movement is my nominal successor? Or is that precisely why they're doing it—to force a confrontation?
No, it was more likely they wanted to inflame tensions between the infected and the uninfected, distracting the public from the fact that Ursus' national strength was steadily declining.
The current emperor had made it clear that the nation should focus on recovery, not conflict. These nobles must be trying to capitalize on unrest to shift power in their favor.
Which meant…
I'll have to go meet that naive, foolish child in person—as Duke Kashchey.
He took up his pen and quickly drafted a response:
"Keep close surveillance on those nobles. If necessary, contact His Majesty directly."
---
Meanwhile…
"Alina, be careful on the road," Talulah called out, standing just outside the camp.
"Don't worry so much. I've done these supply runs plenty of times and always made it back in one piece." Alina smiled and waved reassuringly, her figure slowly fading into the distance.
Talulah frowned, still uneasy.
She had once sent a small team to shadow Alina for protection, but the perceptive Elafian quickly noticed and returned them to the camp, scolding Talulah for wasting valuable manpower. After several more safe trips, Talulah had reluctantly stopped insisting.
And yet… why do I feel so uneasy today?
The worry gnawed at her.
---
Far ahead, Alina's cart came to a halt as a group of masked figures emerged from the treeline.
They wore tattered clothing, with scraps of cloth wrapped around their faces, revealing only hardened, desperate eyes.
"Hand over everything you've got," one of them growled.
Alina stepped forward calmly.
"I can't. There are still many starving people in our camp. I can share half… or, if you're willing, you can come back with me. If you work, you'll be fed—"
Before she could finish, one of the larger men lunged forward and drove his boot hard into Alina's stomach.
Alina collapsed to one knee, clutching her stomach as the supplies in her arms spilled to the ground. The bandits lunged for them, scrambling and clawing like starving dogs at a carcass.
"Quick! Grab what you can! Be careful not to get spotted by those Reunion Movement freaks!" one of them barked.
But just as they were preparing to flee, someone noticed the burly man standing motionless, staring down at Alina. She was weakly tugging at his arm—an arm now glinting with faint, crystalline dust.
"You… you're infected?!"
The man's scream cut through the cold air like a blade. The other robbers froze.
"What?! She's infected?!"
"Shit… if he touched her, does that mean he's infected too?!"
"Damn it! This day just keeps getting worse. And here I thought she was pretty…"
Amid the chaos of panicked voices, the burly man suddenly drew a machete from his waist.
"You filthy infected trash! You touched me—I don't want this arm anymore!"
He raised the blade dramatically, as if ready to sever his own limb.
Then-
"Kill him."
The voice was calm—too calm.
A noble-looking middle-aged Phidian man had appeared without a sound, standing at the edge of the treeline, leaning elegantly on a scepter. His poised demeanor clashed starkly with the desolate tundra around him.
But his eyes…
His eyes exuded such pure, suffocating malice that every bandit felt as if they'd plunged into an icy abyss.
It was a malice that transcended mere hatred—it was divine judgment, the weight of a god's wrath, the pressure of the deep sea, the despair of natural calamity.
They couldn't move.
A member of the Emperor's Blade stepped from the shadows and approached the burly man from behind.
Bang!
With a single blow, the man's body flew like a cannonball, slamming into a nearby tree. He died without a word.
"As for the rest of you… await the empire's judgment." The man gave the order with indifference. The Snake Scale agents moved in, silently hauling the stunned robbers away—none of them even capable of resisting.
The nobleman approached Alina slowly.
"You must be Alina, yes? Thank you for taking care of Talulah all these years."
He extended his hand.
Alina looked up at him, heart pounding. The man's smile was gentle, but his presence was overwhelming.
There was no mistaking him.
He was Duke Kashchey—Talulah's adoptive father. The patron saint of the infected. The shadow of the Ursus Empire. A man whispered about in awe and fear alike.
As relief washed over her, Kashchey was already working behind the scenes. Unseen to all, he planted a thread of his consciousness into the hearts of the robbers—one more offering to bolster his own strength.
What a foolish little deer, he mused inwardly. Wandering out alone into the tundra to trade supplies. Just like that child—birds of a feather.
But on his face, the gentle smile never faltered.
"May I visit your camp for a while?" he asked kindly.
In truth, Kashchey had witnessed Alina's attempt to persuade the bandits to join the camp. Yet, he hesitated.
He wasn't certain whether his "beloved daughter" had tarnished his reputation among her followers, painting him as some wicked villain. If so, her subordinates might not even let him set foot in the camp.
So, he devised another method—to find a loyal "guide."
Though Kashchey had the ability to forcibly read minds, as a kind-hearted immortal, he refrained from meddling with the souls of those who weren't his enemies. Unless absolutely necessary, such actions would only earn him more foes than friends—contrary to his long-held goal of peacefully dying a natural death.
What he needed now was not brute force or fear—but a witness. Someone who could vouch for him and soften Talulah's hardened heart.
And so, he waited patiently… and "coincidentally" appeared the moment Alina was attacked.
Of course…
The poor, kind little deer was being toyed with by the despicable old serpent.
---
Back in the camp, Talulah was pacing anxiously, unable to calm her restless heart.
Just as she was about to head out and search for Alina herself, a soldier wrapped in a white robe and wearing a mask hurried into her tent.
"Reporting to the commander—Alina has returned, but…"
"But what?!" Talulah snapped, her nerves taut. "Speak clearly!"
"She's brought a few outsiders with her…"
Talulah waved it off.
"Let them in. It's not the first time Alina's brought back homeless people. She would never lead the enemy here."
But the soldier hesitated, lowering his voice.
"Among them… one claims to be… your father."
Talulah froze.
Her heart sank like a stone.
The greatest enemy… has come knocking at the gate.