(3rd Person POV)
Just as Saza knelt to begin the calibration, her Hellphone rang.
She paused, pulled it from her robes, and checked the screen.
Arthur exchanged a glance with Firfel. The sight of a two-thousand-year-old elf casually carrying a Hellphone was something he hadn't expected. She was keeping up with the times.
"Hello, Profellie? Why are you calling?" Saza answered with the tone of someone interrupted mid-surgery.
She listened, humming occasionally. A minute passed. The casual ease drained from her expression, replaced by something more measured. She turned toward Arthur.
"Alright. I'll tell him."
She lowered the phone.
Apollonia leaned forward. "What is it?"
"The princess of Nordsturn." Saza's eyes settled on Arthur. "Ilseveire Kaltstein. It seems she's here specifically for you."
"For me?" Arthur's voice stayed level. "What does a princess of this kingdom need with me?"
He wasn't surprised. He'd introduced electricity to the city, lit up the night sky, put Hellphones in people's hands, and built a tower that powered it all. It would have been stranger if no one in the capital had come knocking.
"Profellie says she's taken an interest in your ventures. The Electricity Tower in particular." Saza's expression shifted — a deeper smile, knowing. "Though I doubt that's all it is. A princess doesn't ride a dragon across the kingdom to inspect a tower."
"She's here to secure you," Saza continued. "To bring you under her banner. A man who invents artifacts the kingdom has never seen before is too valuable to leave unclaimed."
Sylwen's eyes narrowed. She knew this pattern well. "Political."
"Exactly." Saza chuckled. "This world may not be as advanced as yours, but politics here are every bit as tangled. There are figures in the capital more powerful than me, and every one of them treats the kingdom's power structure like a game board. Ilsevere is one of the most aggressive players."
Apollonia said nothing, but her jaw tightened. As a princess herself, she understood the mechanics intimately — the maneuvering, the positioning, the quiet wars fought through alliances and leverage. She'd simply never been the one waging them.
That had always been Lucy, her older sister, the one with the appetite for politics and the instinct to match.
"It seems we'll need to delay our return for a while." Arthur smiled, and the amusement in his eyes was genuine.
Firfel looked at him. She didn't need to ask. She already knew — her husband had no intention of avoiding this. He intended to use it.
"I need to warn you about her, Arthur." Saza's tone shifted, the amusement giving way to something careful. "Ilseveire is not as simple as you might think. She carries the blessing of the Goddess of Night — one of the Five Heavenly Pillars."
Arthur's expression didn't change, but his attention sharpened.
"Whatever that blessing is," Saza continued, "it's made her one of the most gifted mages this kingdom has ever produced. A prodigy since childhood, and not the kind people exaggerate about. The real thing. Don't underestimate what the backing of a major deity means in this world."
"Oh?" Arthur turned the ring on his finger, unbothered.
He'd been living in this world for months. He knew the hierarchy by now.
The Five Heavenly Pillars — the five major deities who dominated the faith of every kingdom on this continent. Beneath them, the Ten Angels — minor deities, some neutral, some sworn to one Pillar or another.
For thousands of years, this structure had governed the divine landscape of this world. Wars had been fought over it. Kingdoms had risen and fallen along the fault lines of which Pillar they served.
"Let me ask you something," Arthur said. The casualness in his voice didn't match the weight of the question. "You've seen my Divine Kingdom. If I were to conquer this world — defeat the Five Heavenly Pillars — what would you put my chances at?"
The room went still.
Firfel stiffened beside him. Sylwen's eyes widened a fraction. Apollonia's breath caught.
Saza, to her credit, recovered quickly. She regarded him for a long moment, her ancient eyes unreadable.
"Honestly?" She tilted her head. "About half."
Arthur waited.
"And that's not me underestimating you," she added. "It's me not underestimating them. The deities of this world have held their positions for millennia. They didn't survive this long by being careless." The amusement returned to her expression, faint but sharp. "In fact, Solarus — a major deity in your world — has attempted to conquer this one multiple times throughout history."
"Every attempt ended in failure. The Five Heavenly Pillars and the Ten Angels turned him back each time. And even beyond them, this world's Origin is powerful enough to repel a deity of Solarus's caliber on its own." She paused. "Though almost no one here worships it. The Origin is neutral — it doesn't answer prayers or grant blessings. So people worship the Five Pillars instead. The Origin's church is practically a relic. Most treat it as legend. Eisen City is actually rare in having a few thousand followers."
"And that's just the divine side of things," Saza continued. "On the mortal level, there's the Demon King. The line of Demon Kings in this world has been powerful enough to repel invading forces without the deities needing to lift a finger. Whatever Solarus sent through — armies, champions, blessed soldiers — the Demon King's forces crushed them on the ground before it ever escalated to a war between gods."
Arthur filed all of it away without comment, but behind his calm expression, the gears were already turning.
---
Ilsevere walked through the city streets at an unhurried pace, and the people dropped to their knees as she passed. She waved a hand without breaking stride, and they rose hesitantly behind her, watching the procession move on.
Her eyes, however, were not on them.
She spotted one of the Electricity Towers mounted along the roadside — compact, unassuming, closer in size to a small tree than any piece of grand infrastructure. It didn't look like anything that should warrant the talk it had generated in the capital.
She extended her mana toward it, probing its nature, expecting to find some form of enchantment or runic framework beneath the surface.
Nothing. No magical energy at all.
What she found instead was something else — faint, crackling wisps that reminded her of lightning. Not mana. Not any school of magic she recognized. Something entirely different powering the structure from within.
'What kind of magic is this?'
As they moved deeper into the city, she noticed more oddities. Citizens holding slim, rectangular devices — Hellphones, she'd been briefed. Devices capable of long-distance communication without a single spell circle involved.
She'd even watched Profellie use one just moments ago, contacting the principal of Eisenturm Academy.
And through that call, she'd learned exactly where the man she was looking for could be found.
Arthur Pendragon. At the academy. With Principal Saza.
'Two birds. One visit.'
Ilsevere's expression betrayed nothing, but the calculation behind her red eyes was already running.
A man capable of inventing artifacts beyond anything the kingdom possessed, and an ancient High-Elf powerful enough to make even the court mages uncomfortable. If she could bring both under her banner, her position in the succession would shift from competitive to unassailable.
They arrived at Eisenturm Academy, and the students froze mid-step at the sight of the royal procession. One by one they dropped to their knees, heads bowed, not daring to make a sound. The knights flanking Ilsevere radiated enough pressure to make the silence feel enforced rather than voluntary.
Ilsevere walked through them without expression, her gaze fixed ahead until they reached the Principal's Office.
Profellie stepped forward to open the door.
Saza's voice came from inside, flat and unhurried. "Only Princess Ilsevere may enter."
Profellie's hand stopped on the handle. He exchanged a glance with Oswin. Neither spoke.
The knight on Ilsevere's left — Ragna, broad-shouldered and iron-jawed — stepped forward, fury breaking across his face. "What is the meaning of this? You think being a High-Elf gives you the right to disrespect Her Royal Highness?"
Hagen, the second knight, drew half a step closer to the door. "This is unacceptable—"
"Ragna. Hagen." Ilsevere's voice cut through cleanly. Calm. Final. "Stop making a scene. I'll enter alone, as the principal requests."
"B-but Your Highness—" Ragna's jaw worked. Hagen looked no more willing.
Ilsevere glanced back at them with the faintest trace of amusement. "Do you think I can't take care of myself?"
She didn't elaborate. She didn't need to. The implication hung in the air plainly enough — that she, alone, considered herself at least capable of holding her own against a two-thousand-year-old elf.
She pushed the door open and stepped through. "Guard the door for me."
It closed behind her.
The knights obeyed. They had no other choice.
---
Inside, Ilsevere took in the room at a glance.
Saza sat behind the desk, composed and unhurried. Beside her — a dark-haired man she didn't recognize, flanked by two elven women and a younger girl who looked human. All of them were seated. None of them stood when she entered. None of them so much as shifted in acknowledgment.
She was the only one on her feet. It felt, absurdly, like walking into an interview where she hadn't been told she was the applicant.
She smiled anyway.
"It has been a while."
Saza regarded her evenly. "You've grown up. When I last visited the castle, you were six or seven. And now? Twenty-seven?"
"That's right." Ilsevere's smile warmed, just slightly. "A long time for me. For you, probably just a blink."
Saza said nothing to that, but her silence carried agreement. After a moment, she spoke again. "I know you've grown up enough to compete with your brothers for the throne. And I know people in your position are usually too busy for social calls. So what brings you all the way out to our humble city?"
Ilsevere's gaze drifted to the man sitting beside Saza and the others.
"This city has been gaining quite a reputation lately," she said. "And I believe the person responsible for that is in this room."
"You might be talking about me." Arthur's voice was level. Easy. Entirely without deference.
"Arthur Pendragon?" Ilsevere's smile sharpened to something finer. "Yes. It is you. I've been very interested in learning about you."
"Mutual. I'm rather interested in you as well."
"Is that so?" Ilsevere tilted her head, studying him openly. There was no bow. No honorific. No acknowledgment of rank. From Saza, she could tolerate it — a High-Elf of two thousand years had earned the right to dispense with court etiquette. But this man was something else.
Her expression cooled.
"I can accept an ancient elf choosing not to observe royal courtesy," she said. "But I find it harder to overlook when someone with a handful of modest achievements behaves as though he's my equal."
Her red eyes darkened — shifting from their natural crimson to something deeper. A bloody, unnatural light gathered behind them, casting faint shadows across her own cheekbones.
«Divine Blessing: Night Terror».
One of the blessings granted by the Goddess of Night. As its name declared, it imposed genuine, absolute terror on its target — not the fear born from danger or instinct, but something purer and worse.
A fear with no source, no logic, no handle to grip. Victims trembled, destabilized, broke apart from the inside. Even warriors who had never known fear in their lives crumbled under it without understanding why.
The blessing struck Arthur full force.
His heart rate climbed — just slightly. A faint pulse of something warm spread through his chest, quick and electric.
"Hm?" He blinked once. "What's this?"
He felt his pulse quicken, felt a tiny, inexplicable spark of excitement threading through his veins. He recognized that Ilsevere had cast something — the shift in her eyes, the pressure in the air, the timing was obvious.
But in his current state, sealed down to mortal capacity, he couldn't identify what it was.
Whatever it had been, it hadn't produced fear. It had produced something closer to a thrill.