The journey to the Lycan territories was not a simple carriage ride. For the Royal Family of Érébos, travel was a display of atmospheric dominance. The Queen's obsidian carriage, pulled by six six-legged shadow stallions, tore through the sky on a road of solidified moonlight. Inside, Alexandros sat on a plush velvet cushion, staring out the window at the shifting landscape of his mother's kingdom.
Below them, the jagged, volcanic geography of the demon heartlands gave way to the Silver Forests—a vast, misty expanse of ancient pines where the leaves were as sharp as needles and glowed with a faint, bioluminescent frost. This was the domain of the Lycans, the fiercest warriors in the demon coalition and the primary guardians of the northern borders.
"Now, Lulu," Hécate said, adjusting the lace collar of his tunic for the tenth time in as many minutes. "The Lycans are a primitive, passionate people. They don't value scrolls or ancient runes like your brother Castor. They value scent, instinct, and blood-oaths. If the Alpha's daughter tries to sniff you, let her. It's a compliment."
Alexandros felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. "And if she tries to... bite me, Mother?"
"Then you bite her back to establish dominance," Hécate replied with a cheerful, terrifying smile. "It's how your father and I met. He tried to incinerate my favorite castle, and I nearly tore his wings off. It was love at first sight."
Alexandros looked toward his brothers. Araxès was sharpening a jagged axe in the corner, while Castor was deeply immersed in a manuscript. Neither offered any comfort. To them, "Lulu" was a precious jewel that needed a ferocious guard dog, and the Lycan princess was the perfect candidate.
The carriage descended, the shadow-horses' hooves striking the ground with the sound of thunder. They landed in the center of a massive stone amphitheater carved into the side of a mountain. Thousands of Lycans in their semi-human forms—tall, muscular, with ears and tails twitching in the cold wind—stood in silent rows. At the far end stood the Alpha, Fenris, a man whose presence felt like a physical weight against Alexandros's chest.
Beside Fenris stood a small girl, perhaps six years old. She had messy, silver-white hair and golden eyes that seemed to burn with an unsettling intensity. Her name was Lyca.
As the Queen stepped out, the entire Lycan tribe knelt in a wave of fur and leather.
"Fenris," Hécate greeted, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "I have brought my son, the Third Prince."
"Majesty," Fenris grunted, his voice a low growl. He looked at Alexandros. "He is... small. Very small. Like a cub born in the dead of winter."
Araxès stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his axe. "Watch your tongue, Alpha. That 'cub' has more mana in his little finger than your entire pack."
The tension was thick enough to choke on. Alexandros knew he had to act. If he stayed silent, he would be seen as a mere toy. If he acted too aggressively, he would ruin the alliance. He stepped forward, away from the protection of his mother's shadow.
He used his Silver Mana. He didn't cast a spell; he simply reached out and gently plucked at the "vibrations" of the air around Lyca. He felt her heartbeat—fast, erratic, filled with a mix of fear and curiosity.
"Hello," Alexandros said, his voice steady despite his small stature.
Lyca didn't respond with words. She lunged.
The crowd gasped. Hécate's eyes flared with purple fire, her hand rising to strike, but she stopped when she saw Alexandros's reaction.
Alexandros didn't move his feet. Instead, he tilted his head exactly two inches to the left. Lyca's claws whistled past his ear. As she overextended, he reached out and grabbed the scruff of her tunic, using her own momentum to spin her around. It was a move from his previous life—basic aikido—but enhanced by his ability to see the "vector strings" of her movement.
Lyca tumbled into the dirt, but she was back on her feet in a heartbeat. She didn't look angry. Her tail was wagging so hard it was a blur.
"You're fast," she whispered, her golden eyes fixed on him. She crept closer, leaning in until her nose was inches from his neck. She took a deep, loud sniff. "You smell like... ozone and old paper. And something else. Something cold."
"That would be my dignity," Alexandros muttered.
Lyca suddenly bared her teeth in a jagged grin and knelt before him. "I am Lyca, daughter of Fenris. My life is yours. My teeth are yours. I will follow you to the Human Academy and rip the throats out of anyone who looks at you wrong."
The Lycans erupted into a deafening howl. Fenris laughed, a sound like falling boulders. "It seems the pact is sealed! A blood-bond of the new generation!"
Hécate clapped her hands together, looking delighted. "Oh, how wonderful! She's a bit feral, but she'll do perfectly. Lulu, isn't it nice to have a friend who wants to commit violence in your name?"
Alexandros looked at Lyca, who was now standing uncomfortably close to him, already growling at a servant who tried to offer him a cup of juice. This is it, he realized. The first member of the 'harem.' She doesn't want romance; she wants to be my personal apex predator.
The rest of the day was spent in a blur of Lycan festivities—raw meat feasts, wrestling matches, and terrifyingly loud music. Alexandros sat next to Lyca, who spent the entire time watching his every move. Whenever he reached for a piece of bread, she would grab it first, check it for poison (by eating half of it), and then hand it back to him.
"You don't have to do that," Alexandros whispered.
"The humans use 'perfumed death'," Lyca said seriously. "My father says they hide poison in the sweetness. I will be your shield, Prince."
She's already thinking about the Academy, Alexandros thought. Even here, in the heart of the Demon Realm, the shadow of the human world looms over us.
Later that night, as the fires died down, Alexandros found himself alone on a balcony overlooking the Silver Forest. The moon was full, casting a ghostly glow over the world. He felt a presence behind him. It wasn't Lyca; the footsteps were too heavy, too deliberate.
He turned to see his brother, Castor.
"A successful day," Castor said, leaning on the railing. "The Lycans are fiercely loyal. With Lyca by your side, the human assassins will have a much harder time getting close to you."
"Is that all I am, Castor? A piece on a chessboard?"
Castor looked at him, his expression uncharacteristically soft. "We are all pieces on Mother's board, Alexandros. But you... you are the piece she refuses to lose. Do you know why she chose the Institute of Valerius? Why she didn't just keep you here, hidden in the dark?"
Alexandros shook his head.
"Because of the Prophecy of the Third Horn," Castor whispered. "It says that the third son of the Queen will either be the bridge between worlds... or the fire that consumes them both. Mother wants you to be the bridge. But she is training you to be the fire, just in case."
Alexandros looked down at his hands. The silver mana hummed beneath his skin, invisible to the world but vivid to him. He wasn't just a reincarnated office worker anymore. He was a variable in a cosmic equation he didn't yet understand.
"I just want to live a quiet life, Castor."
Castor let out a rare, dry chuckle. "In this family? You'd have better luck asking the moon to stop shining. Come, little brother. Tomorrow we return to the capital. Your real training begins. If you are to survive the Academy, you must learn to hide that silver light of yours. If the humans see what you truly are, the 'Peace Treaty' won't be worth the parchment it's written on."
As they walked back inside, Alexandros felt a tug on his sleeve. Lyca was there, curled up in a ball in front of his chamber door, already asleep but with one hand gripping the hem of his cloak.
He sighed, stepped over her, and went to bed. His daily life was becoming a series of high-stakes negotiations and unintended kidnappings. And he still had nine years before he even set foot in the school.