[Leif's POV—ThorenVald Estate, Night Still Burning]
The words hung in the air long after the light faded.
"...That's you, Master."
For a full ten seconds, I didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
Then I laughed—too loudly, too fast, the kind of laugh people make when they've just been told they're secretly a god and are trying very hard not to pass out.
"Ha. Funny. Very funny. You must've gotten your divine circuits crossed, shiny. I'm not a—what was it?—'bearer of the Seraph King.' I'm barely the bearer of my own sanity."
Luminael pulsed once. A slow, unimpressed glow. "You jest, but denial will not change truth, Master."
"Yeah, and dramatic lighting won't make your voice less terrifying," I shot back, rubbing my temples. "So let's just agree I'm not divine royalty and call it a night."
I glanced at Alvar, expecting his usual smirk, the teasing remark that'd pull me back from whatever nonsense this was.
But he wasn't smiling.
