Four days later—
Asuma woke to silence.
His body felt heavy.
Stiff.
Wrapped.
He blinked slowly, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling carved with ornate lion insignias. Sunlight streamed through tall windows framed in polished oak. Silk curtains. Marble flooring. A faint scent of incense in the air.
This was no ruin.
No battlefield infirmary.
No Talagra.
He tried to move but pain lanced through his limbs.
Bandages covered most of his torso and arms.
He forced himself upright.
The room was luxurious—similar in scale to Salmai's estate—but every wall bore engraved lion crests.
And then he felt it.
A barrier.
Subtle.
Refined.
Encasing the room.
Most mages would never notice it.
But the moment he woke—
He sensed it.
Like pressure in the air.
Watching him.
Containing him.
"...So I'm a prisoner," he muttered softly.
The door suddenly burst open.
Amira stood there.
She froze.
He sat upright on the bed staring at her.
For a moment she didn't move.
Then her eyes filled.
"Asuma!!"
She rushed forward and threw her arms around him.
Pain shot through his ribs.
"Hey—wait—!" he winced as she squeezed him.
Five minutes later, she sat beside him, wiping her face.
"I'm sorry."
He gave a faint smile. "Nah... I'm glad to see you energetic."
"Where's Leon?" he asked.
"He's training with the knights."
"...The knights?" He glanced around again. "Where are we?"
Amira inhaled slowly.
"You probably don't know what's going on."
"You fainted after losing too much blood and aura. The Lion Division brought us here."
She gestured vaguely around them.
"This is Captain Serria's estate. We're about a day away from Talagra."
Serria.
The memory hit him instantly.
The golden blade.
The impact.
His hand shot to his chest.
No hole.
Just tight bandages.
"You were healed by the princess," Amira said softly.
His eyes widened.
"Latriys—where is she?!"
"She's okay," Amira replied quickly. "She's in another room. Being monitored by medics."
He exhaled slowly.
Relief washed through him deeper than any pain.
"I'm glad she's okay," he said quietly.
Then he looked at Amira.
"Are you okay?"
She hesitated.
"You should worry more about yourself."
Her tone shifted.
Serious.
"There's something I need to tell you."
"What is it?"
"...They're considering executing you."
Silence filled the room.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't shout.
Didn't protest.
He simply looked toward the window.
Outside, knights trained in the courtyard below
"Will there be a trial?" he asked calmly.
"Yes. They're debating it right now."
"I see."
The Blood Primordial's aura.
Camellia's curse.
He had relied on it too much.
And the empire did not tolerate Monarch-tainted individuals, individuals who were apostles.
He had expected this day eventually.
"Don't worry. We'll fight this. I promised you."
He gave her a small, tired smile.
Before he could respond—
The door opened again.
"Ah. You're awake."
Princess Urillia stepped inside.
Behind her stood Denias.
Alive.
Uninjured.
Asuma's brows furrowed.
Denias met his gaze with a faint nod.
In truth, Denias had been sealed away temporarily by Tamina during their clash. When the Noctyrix was resealed, the shadow bindings collapsed, freeing him. Tamina had vanished before Serria's forces arrived.
Kulmar's body had also disappeared.
Which meant—
He might not be dead.
Urillia stepped closer to the bed.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked evenly.
"Yeah," Asuma replied dryly. "Until I found out I might be executed."
She did not deny it.
"You might," she said honestly.
Amira stiffened beside him.
"But," Urillia continued, "you have a choice."
Asuma looked up at her.
"A choice?"
"Yes."
Denias remained silent behind her.
The princess' golden eyes locked onto his.
"You can stand trial as a Monarch-tainted threat to the empire..."
"Or," she said carefully,
"You can swear yourself to the Azel Royal House."
The room went still.
Amira's eyes widened.
Urillia's voice remained composed.
"If you bind yourself under royal authority, your execution will be suspended. You will become a controlled asset under direct crown supervision."
She did not sugarcoat it.
"You would be watched."
"Restricted."
"Used when necessary."
"But you would live."
Denias finally spoke.
"It is the only option Captain Serria will tolerate."
Asuma stared at Urillia.
He understood immediately.
This was not mercy.
This was politics.
A dangerous weapon is not destroyed—
It is claimed.
"And if I refuse?" he asked quietly.
Urillia met his gaze without hesitation.
"Then the Lioness will personally finish what she started."
The barrier around the room hummed faintly.
Life.
Or chains.
Execution.
Or servitude.
Urillia stepped closer.
"Choose carefully, Asuma."
"Because this decision will determine whether you stand beside the empire..."
"Or die as its enemy."