Years passed, and the boy from the slums became a man of discipline, strength, and silence.
Oscar now stood tall with calloused hands and calm eyes that saw everything. His swordplay was elegant and brutal; his mind sharp from years of self-teaching. But no matter how strong he became, he never left cera's side—not for power, not for money, not for the temptations whispered by nobles who feared and envied his closeness to her.
He was no longer just the stray she had picked up from the streets.
He was her shadow. Her sword. Her silent protector.
And secretly… he was a man who had fallen deeply in love.
cera was an immortal being, untouched by time, revered like a goddess, yet cursed with eternal loneliness. She never showed emotions. Her face was unreadable, and her words always measured. But Oscar saw beyond the cold exterior. He saw the weight she carried, the way she watched the stars as if she missed something—someone.
One day, news spread across the continent of a once-in-a-century event:
The Trials of Sera then—a legendary three-day competition known for taking more lives than granting victories. The winner would be awarded the Pearl Crown, a sacred relic of ancient times. Giving the crown to someone was said to be the highest expression of loyalty, love… or devotion beyond words.
"I'll win that crown," Oscar told cera one morning, standing tall in the palace garden. "And I'll give it to you."
cera's eyes narrowed. "That competition is not for mortals. You'd be fighting god-mages and demons. You won't survive."
Oscar bowed slightly, smiling. "Then I'll be the first mortal to break that rule."
She said nothing, but her fists clenched at her side.
Day One: Strength.
Oscar was dropped into an arena where participants had to defeat a wild, ancient beast to pass. The crowd watched with bated breath as sorcerers and giants fell like flies.
But Oscar—just a human—stood his ground.
He fought not like a man desperate to win, but like someone fighting for something sacred. Every cut, every dodge, every final strike—was for cera.
By dusk, the beast lay dead, and the arena was stunned into silence.
Day Two: The Mind.
Five sacred relics were hidden in the haunted Forest of Echoes, crawling with creatures of nightmare. Find one, or die trying.
As the hours passed, not a single participant returned.
Night came. cera paced restlessly on the balcony of her tower, her hands cold, her breath shallow.
And then… footsteps echoed in the dark.
A man, covered in blood, dirt, and sweat, stepped out from the shadowed edge of the forest—clutching a relic to his chest.
"Oscar…" cera whispered.
Everyone stared in awe. He had survived the forest, outwitted the monsters, and returned alive.
That night, Oscar's wounds were being treated in his chambers when the doors opened quietly. The healers bowed and stepped aside as cera entered, her expression unreadable.
She sat beside him on the bed, brushing his damp hair from his forehead.
"You should have backed out," she said softly.
Oscar looked up, startled. It was the first time she'd ever touched him like that.
"You shouldn't go tomorrow," she added, her voice tense. "You're just a human. You'll die in the final trial."
He sat up slowly. "I have to. I promised."
"No," she said firmly. "This is my order. You will not go."
Oscar froze. "You're afraid."
cera's eyes widened, but she didn't deny it.
"I don't want to lose you," she whispered.
Oscar's heart stopped.
He had confessed his feelings before—once, twice, maybe more. She had always dismissed it. But now, something broke in her.
"You're… special to me, Oscar. You always have been," she said. "I just never said it. Because I've lived too long. I've lost too many. I didn't want to feel again. But you…"
Her voice cracked.
Oscar reached for her hand. "Then let me go tomorrow. Let me fight. Not for the crown… but for you."
She shook her head. "If you go… you'll die."
He leaned closer, voice firm but full of quiet longing. "Then if I survive… will you grant me one wish?"
cera hesitated. "What wish?"
"You'll find out," he smiled.
She looked at him, torn between anger and fear… and something deeper.
"…Fine," she said finally. "But if you die, Oscar… I swear I'll never forgive you."
He laughed softly. "Then I'll just have to live."
That night, as cera left his room, she glanced back only once—and saw Oscar watching her with eyes not of a servant… but a man in love.
And she, for the first time in centuries, feared the morning