The world tilted and twisted like broken glass.
Kael's breath hitched—sharp, burning—as if his lungs were collapsing from the inside. Warm, metallic liquid filled his throat. He coughed, and thick blood splattered onto the polished marble floor.
His fingers trembled violently.
Robert lay only a short distance away, collapsed beside the overturned table. His entire body shook. His hand clutched his chest desperately. His lips were turning faint blue, breaths shallow and ragged.
Kael's eyes widened.
He remembered—Robert's weak heart.
This amount of poison… even a small dose could kill him.
Kael dragged his body across the floor.
His limbs felt like lead. Every breath stabbed like a blade.
Another cough tore out of him—hot blood sprayed from his lips, dripping down his chin and staining his white shirt crimson.
The cup shattered beneath his elbow as he stumbled, shards cutting into his arm, but he didn't stop.
He reached out—fingers trembling uncontrollably.
"Rob…ert…"
His voice was barely audible, strangled by blood.
Robert's eyes blinked half-open, trembling as he sensed Kael's touch on his wrist.
"Master… Kael… don't…"
His voice cracked, and tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
His chest throbbed violently beneath Kael's hand; he could barely breathe.
"…no… not… you…"
His consciousness flickered like a dying flame.
Kael inhaled shakily and pressed his palm to Robert's chest.
His lips parted—forcing out the chant Robert had taught him.
Words tangled with blood spilling down his chin.
A faint, broken glow flickered between his fingers.
Kael's head throbbed violently—memories crashing into him like waves.
Two young boys—golden hair, emerald eyes—laughing as they ran across a palace garden.
Little Robert's hand tugging on Kael's sleeve.
"Brother Kael!! Look at this!"
His smile bright, innocent.
The memory vanished as another cough tore Kael's throat raw.
His vision warped.
He forced the spell through despite the agony. Robert's breathing steadied—just enough. The pain in his chest lessened, even if only slightly.
Then—
A soft footstep.
Kael's weakened eyes lifted, focusing on the small figure now standing beside him.
A boy.
Five—maybe six years old.
Black hair falling messily around a face too still.
Eyes—unnatural gold—with vertical pupils that gleamed like a predator's.
His presence radiated coldness that did not belong to any human child.
The child tilted his head, studying Kael.
"…What is this?"
A disappointed sigh.
"The Blood of Eternity… this weak?"
Kael's throat tightened. He tried to speak—only blood came out.
The boy knelt slightly, face too close.
A soft smile curved his lips. It wasn't warm.
It wasn't human.
"Are you really the one they talk about…?"
He whispered as if Kael were a curiosity, not a person.
Kael's hand didn't let go of Robert's wrist.
He could barely lift his other arm, yet he forced his shaking body forward, trying to shield Robert.
Footsteps sounded from outside the room.
The strange child stepped back, eyes still locked onto Kael.
"Whatever."
His smile grew, sharp and eerie.
"Let's see how you survive this."
Kael's heartbeat roared in his ears.
"Don't worry," the boy purred.
"Both of you will live."
His smile widened unnaturally.
"So I can take your blood myself later."
Darkness rose like smoke around him. The shadows swallowed his small body until he vanished completely.
And then—
The door burst open.
Reinhardt was the first inside.
His eyes widened in horror.
"KAEL!!"
Kael turned his head weakly—blood dripping from his chin.
"…Rein…hardt…"
His voice cracked, trembling, reaching toward him—
Then he collapsed completely, body falling limp onto the floor.
Reinhardt rushed forward and seized him before his head hit the marble, cradling him tightly in his arms.
"Kael!? KAEL—!!"
His voice broke—rage mixing with desperation.
Elric, Iris, and Teodore rushed in behind him.
Elric's breath froze the moment she saw them.
Robert, unconscious and pale as death.
Kael in Reinhardt's arms, coughing out more blood—heavy, dark, almost black.
"KAEL!!"
Elric fell to her knees beside him, hands trembling as she touched his cheek.
"What happened!? Kael—answer me!"
Kael's eyes struggled to open—barely slits.
His breathing ragged.
He looked at Robert again, even now.
His lips parted.
"…Save… him…"
He lifted a shaking finger toward Robert—
Then his arm fell, strength gone.
He fainted, blood trailing from his mouth onto Reinhardt's sleeve.
Reinhardt's voice dropped to a whisper—dangerous, icy.
"…Someone poisoned them."
The air darkened with his killing intent.
Elric's tears dripped onto Kael's sleeve.
Iris covered her mouth in shock.
Teodore's expression sharpened, cold and calculating.
Reinhardt lifted Kael in his arms, holding him close.
"Call every healer in the palace."
His voice was low, trembling with suppressed fury.
"And lock down the entire capital."
His eyes burned with murderous wrath.
"I will find who did this."
The room shook with the force of his anger.
-----------------------------------------
The palace roared with chaos.
Trumpets blared, bells clanged, and the massive golden gates slammed shut with an echo that shook the capital streets. Guards doubled their patrols. Archers lined the ramparts. Nobody was allowed in or out—the order sealed by Reinhardt's blood-stained hand.
Reinhardt's breath came out in harsh bursts as he sprinted across the long corridors.
Kael's limp body hung in his arms, white hair matted with blood, skin cold against Reinhardt's burning grip. Every few seconds Kael's body jolted from another violent cough—dark, thick blood spilling from his lips across Reinhardt's uniform.
He didn't stop.
Not even when his legs shook.
Teodore followed behind with Robert in his arms. Robert's face was pale, lips blue, his chest rising with uneven, shallow breaths.
The doors of the royal infirmary burst open as they arrived.
"MAKE WAY!" Reinhardt's voice cracked with urgency.
He laid Kael on the nearest bed, hands shaking, jaw clenched tight enough to draw blood.
Physicians rushed forward. Healers placed glowing palms over Kael and Robert.
Another violent cough wrenched Kael's body upward—blood splattering the sheets.
"He's bleeding internally—faster than we can stabilize!" one healer panicked.
"His veins are turning black—this poison is spreading too fast!"
Reinhardt's heart dropped.
His fingers twitched, wanting to reach Kael again, but Jaesper pushed past the healers with urgency.
"Move."
His voice was cold, sharp.
Jaesper approached Kael first—because Kael was worse.
Much worse.
Meanwhile, Robert's condition stabilized slightly as healers worked frantically on him. His heartbeat staggered and stuttered, threatening collapse, but the poison was faint—barely in his system.
Reinhardt's eyes darted between them.
Both of them… I almost lost both of them.
His hands curled until his nails drew blood.
Teodore's wore the same grim expression—his front still stained with Robert's blood. He glanced at Reinhardt, almost surprised to see genuine fear on the emperor's face.
"It seems we need immediate investigation," Teodore muttered.
"This poison… its composition is lethal. Too complex for any common assassin."
Iris' expression darkened.
"Agreed. Start with the guest chamber. Check the cups, the water jug, anything served to Kael."
Her steps were firm as she barked orders to the guards.
"And lock down the servants on duty. No one leaves."
Elric, meanwhile, couldn't stay still.
She paced the waiting room like a trapped beast—hands gripping her sleeves, nails biting into her palms, blue eyes darting toward Kael's room every second.
"Why today… why now…"
Her breaths trembled.
"If someone can poison him inside the palace, what will stop them from doing it again!? We need to find them—NOW!"
Suddenly the door to Robert's recovery room opened with a loud bang.
A healer rushed out, breathless.
"Your Majesty—good news. We have removed the poison from Lord Dandelian."
Reinhardt whipped his head toward him.
Elric stopped pacing.
The healer continued, "It was fortunate he only consumed a small amount. And… Lord Kael appears to have used healing magic on him before collapsing. It slowed the poison's effect, which made it easier for us to neutralize."
Robert's heart monitor beeped softly from the room behind him.
The healer's expression darkened.
"However… the strain on Lord Dandelian's heart was severe. He nearly went into cardiac arrest. His heart is weakened. He will need weeks—perhaps months—to fully recover."
Reinhardt closed his eyes, breathing shakily.
Then Elric stepped forward, voice tight.
"And Kael? What about Kael?"
The healer's face fell.
"Lord Jaesper is still attending to him," he said, voice low.
"Lord Kael's condition remains critical. The poison spread too quickly in his system. His internal bleeding hasn't stopped."
Reinhardt's jaw tightened.
Elric's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a sob.
Iris closed her eyes, her calm façade finally cracking.
Teodore turned toward the hallway, face grim, as if already preparing for bloodshed.
The healer bowed deeply.
"We are doing everything we can, but… Lord Kael is fighting for his life."
The waiting room fell into heavy, suffocating silence.
-----------------------------------------
Teodore pushed open the doors to Kael's guest chamber, and the guards immediately straightened, saluting him with stiff backs and unsettled expressions. The air inside the room was thick—almost suffocating.
A faint metallic scent still clung to the walls.
Blood.
Not yet dried.
Teodore's sharp eyes swept the room. The scattered cups, the overturned chair, the broken glass on the floor, the splattered stain of deep red across the polished marble. But what drew his attention the most was the pot that once held Kael's afternoon coffee.
It was empty.
Completely empty.
The guards approached him with evident unease.
"My lord," the head guard said, his voice strained. "The liquid inside both the cup and the pot has… disappeared."
Teodore's brow twitched. "Disappeared? You mean someone took it?"
"No, my lord!" the guard quickly clarified. "Nobody has entered the chamber since the incident. The doors were guarded at all times. We only allowed Lord Jaesper and His Majesty inside."
Teodore stepped closer, hovering over the pot. He touched its outer surface.
Warm.
So the disappearance was recent.
"This is not normal magic," he muttered. "Not something a palace servant could do."
Another guard stepped forward. "We searched the balcony, the windows, even the corridor. There was no sign of anyone entering or leaving."
The guards looked terrified. Assassinating the Archduke inside the palace itself meant one thing—someone extremely powerful was involved.
Teodore clicked his tongue.
"Check the roasted beans Robert used," he ordered.
"And the food delivered today. Everything. If the poison was mixed into anything prepared in the palace, we'll find traces."
"Yes, my lord!"
"And interrogate the palace maids who brought the hot water. Every single one. They may not be involved—but any gap is suspicious now."
The guards bowed and hurried off.
Teodore finally crouched next to the blood-stained floor, fingertips hovering over the dark red patch. His expression darkened.
Kael's blood… it looks thicker. Too dark.
He stood again, gaze sharp.
He didn't care personally whether Kael lived or died. But appearances mattered. If Teodore did nothing while Kael was poisoned under Reinhardt's roof, Reinhardt would turn his suspicion toward him.
And Reinhardt's suspicion was a death sentence.
But more than that, Teodore wasn't stupid.
Saving Kael now meant gaining leverage later.
If Kael lived, he would owe Teodore.
If Kael died… chaos would swallow the palace.
The perfect moment for someone like him—who still kept loyalty to the old monarchy—to act.
He roamed the room again, footsteps slow, calculating.
The nobles? No… they hate Kael, but not enough to slaughter him in the palace. They fear Reinhardt too much.
Then something clicked in his mind.
Disappearing evidence.
Magic unfamiliar to the palace.
A strike so clean it left no traces.
Demon Cult.
His jaw tightened.
"They used this method before…" he muttered. "Vanishing bodies. Erasing blood. Appearing and disappearing without a trace."
Yes.
The same pattern happened before when the cult invaded the borders of the East and North. They left nothing behind—not even ash—like ghosts wiping away their footprints.
This poisoning was identical.
Teodore lifted the empty pot again, smelling it closely.
Nothing. Not even residue.
A shiver crawled down his spine.
Not fear.
But certainty.
"This isn't a mere political assassination," he whispered.
He looked toward the direction of the royal infirmary.
The cult is after Kael.
And if they succeeded, Reinhardt wouldn't be the only one whose world collapsed—the entire empire would.
Shoving the pot aside, Teodore straightened.
"Guards!" he barked.
They rushed back into the room.
"Seal off this chamber. Not even a mouse goes in."
"Yes, my lord!"
Teodore stepped past them.
If the cult had returned, this wasn't merely the Empire's crisis.
It was the beginning of something far, far worse.
And Kael—barely clinging to life—was at the center of it.