What the princess offered wasn't mercy.
It was strategy.
Asuma understood that the moment she spoke.
Urillia had seen everything—his fight against the Noctyrix, the Blood Primordial's power, the way he stood against a Seven-Star when even seasoned warriors would falter.
To her, he wasn't just a survivor.
He was a weapon.
A dangerous one.
And like all dangerous weapons in the empire—
He had to be controlled.
Asuma leaned back slightly, eyes lowered.
If he accepted, he lived.
But he would be bound.
Watched.
Used.
Just like Amira.
And worse—
He would lose time.
Time he needed to find his sister.
Time he couldn't afford to give to the empire's internal conflicts.
But refusing outright?
That wasn't an option either.
Fighting the empire now... was suicide.
He needed something else.
A third path.
Freedom—
Without becoming their enemy.
"It seems you won't decide," Urillia said, studying him carefully. "Are you more concerned with your freedom than your life?"
Before he could answer—
"All due respect, Your Highness," Amira cut in, stepping forward, "but Asuma just woke up. Can he have time to think before making a decision?"
Urillia's gaze shifted to her.
Cold.
Evaluating.
"Time does not wait on anyone," she said.
Then, after a pause—
"But you have saved my life more than once."
She turned back to Asuma.
"I will give you a few days."
The weight of that statement lingered.
Then she left.
Denias followed silently behind her.
The door closed.
Amira exhaled sharply.
"That was intense..."
She turned to him quickly.
"What are we going to do? Should we escape?"
Asuma gave a small, tired smile.
"Escaping from a Black Knight division is practically impossible."
Amira frowned.
"But you don't plan on serving the crown."
"I don't," he said plainly.
He looked toward the window again, watching the knights move below like a well-oiled machine.
"I don't know what game the princess is playing," he continued, "but after Talagra... she's trying to pull me into something bigger. Something inside the empire."
Amira crossed her arms, thinking.
"Then... what about Lady Salmai? Maybe she can help."
"We could try," Asuma said, "but I doubt they'll let us contact her."
Amira sighed.
"So we're basically trapped here until you decide."
Asuma's eyes drifted to the faint shimmer of the barrier.
"A bird stuck in a cage," he muttered.
But even a caged bird—
Could still look for cracks.
Later That Day
The halls of Serria's estate were quiet.
Too quiet.
Every step was watched.
Every corridor guarded.
When Asuma arrived at Latriys' room, the presence of the Black Knights was unmistakable.
Two stood at the door.
Inside—
Multiple layered barriers.
Seals etched into the walls.
This wasn't just protection.
It was containment.
In case the Noctyrix returned.
Latriys lay in the center of the room.
Sleeping.
But different.
Older.
Fionalla's magic—whatever it had been—was gone.
Time had caught up to her.
Her body had matured into that of a young woman.
Her once straight hair now curled softly, cascading down her back.
Her features had sharpened.
More defined.
But still—
Peaceful.
Asuma walked to her side and sat down quietly.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Just watched her breathe.
Alive.
That alone felt like a miracle.
"I'm sorry..." he murmured softly.
"I couldn't save her."
Fionalla's face flickered in his mind.
Her smile.
Her final moments.
His hand clenched slightly.
"I told myself I'd protect the people around me," he continued quietly, "but every time... someone dies."
Talagra.
Bagon.
The village.
The deeper he went—
The worse it became.
It felt like everything around him was collapsing.
Like he was dragging death with him.
He looked down at his hands.
Hands that had held blood.
Hands that now carried something far worse.
"...What am I even doing?"
The room remained silent.
But for a brief moment—
Latriys' fingers twitched.
Just slightly.
Almost as if she heard him.