"Why are you up so early… Snow White?" G6 asked, her face a mask of neutral indifference as Prince Dio fell into step beside her on the path.
"I had a feeling you would be attempting to sneak out again at this hour," Dio replied, his voice calm as he matched her pace.
G6 simply observed him from the corner of her eye, her expression unreadable.
"And need I remind you," he added, his tone dropping to a near whisper meant only for her, "that sword comes at a price. Our agreement stands."
"Whatever," G6 dismissed, quickening her stride. Dio easily kept pace, and they walked in a silence so profound it was its own form of conversation.
This walking bag of premium cement is freaking annoying. What's his game? - G6's internal monologue was as blunt as ever.
She is remarkably at ease, walking alone with a man at this hour. No pretense, no simpering act. Just… silence. - Dio's thoughts, by contrast, were a whirlwind of analysis and fascination.
Neither spoke another word until the shimmering barrier of the Royal Collegium passed over them.
The grand entrance to the Bastion greeted them with a deep groan as Dio pushed the heavy door open, the sound echoing through the cavernous, empty hall.
"Does no one ever pull an all-nighter here?" G6 remarked, her voice cutting through the silence. "This place is always a tomb. Not a trace of life."
"On rare occasions," Dio acknowledged, leading the way inside. "This is primarily a training ground for offensive and defensive drills. The real, ceaseless work happens elsewhere—in the laboratories of the Sanctum and the archives of the Omnia."
"Ah. Company slaves," G6 muttered under her breath as they turned down a right hallway, their footsteps the only sound.
Upon reaching the training arena, G6 shrugged off her black outer coat, shivering slightly. Fuck, it's cold in here.
The motion finally gave Dio an unobstructed view of her attire. His gaze, usually so controlled, swept over her with open curiosity.
She wore a form-fitting, long-sleeved top with a high collar, and pants of a sturdy, flexible material, dotted with practical pockets. Her boots were laced with military precision, and a sleek harness-style belt accentuated her surprisingly petite yet powerful frame.
The ensemble was utterly devoid of color or ornamentation, designed to blend into shadows rather than attract attention. It was the antithesis of noble fashion, and yet, he found it impossible to look away. There was a severe, lethal elegance to it that was uniquely and compellingly her.
"Careful. You might strain your eyes," G6 said without even looking at him, already beginning a series of warm-up stretches.
Dio cleared his throat, slightly chastised for being so obvious. "My apologies. I was merely… assessing your gear. It is… unconventional."
"It's functional," she corrected, her tone leaving no room for argument. "That's all that matters."
"I don't care what you do this early. Just stay out of my way," G6 stated bluntly before beginning her precise laps around the training arena's perimeter.
Dio merely settled onto the bench, crossing his arms and legs, becoming a silent observer of his bizarre fiancée.
Her rhythm is familiar, he noted, his analytical mind engaging. Not a sprint, not a jog. It is a measured, precise pace for endurance. I know this pattern; it is how the Royal Knights drill for stamina. I ran these same laps throughout my own schooling.
His eyes tracked her effortlessly. Six laps. Her breathing hasn't even hitched. Her form remains flawless.
Hmm. That freaky Snow White, G6 mused as she ran, her thoughts a silent counterpoint to his. He's just sitting there like a statue. A ghost in this pre-dawn light. If anyone saw him, they'd think he was some mournful white lady haunting the place. Why is he even here? Tch. He's getting on my nerves.
The irritation was a persistent buzz. Ah, let's use that.
<< Perfect Assassin Form: Activated >>
< Silence >
On her next pass, she fixed him with a sharp, mocking smirk. "You look stupidly arrogant, like you bathed in a sack of flour," she said, her voice not carrying an inch beyond the sphere of her skill. She didn't break her stride.
That's right. This is quite fun for insulting purposes.
Dio's composed observation shattered into pure confusion. What was that smirk for? He leaned forward slightly. And her footsteps… they've gone completely silent. I can no longer track her by sound.
He watched, even more intently now, until she finished her twentieth lap.
I cannot believe she just completed twenty laps at that pace with just a heavy breathing, he mused, genuinely impressed.
Okay, I need to wipe my eyes. This sweat is stinging. She began walking toward the bench where her coat—and her handkerchief—lay beside him.
But G6 had forgotten one critical thing in her mischievous focus: she hadn't deactivated her skill.
She was five steps away when the form automatically shut down, her body's self-preservation triggering a forced shutdown as it reached its limit.
<< Perfect Assassin Form: Deactivated >>
A wave of debilitating cold and exhaustion washed over her, sapping all strength from her muscles.
"Fuck," was the only word she could gasp before her legs gave way, sending her collapsing face-first toward the hard-packed earth.
"Reise!" The word was a sharp crack in the silent arena. Dio moved before the echo had faded, crossing the distance between them in a heartbeat.
Dio was at her side in an instant. Dropping to one knee, he swiftly slid an arm beneath her shoulders, supporting her back and lifting her torso from the ground. Cradling her upper body against his knee, he kept her from collapsing back onto the cold sand.
"Get your hands off me," G6 demanded, though the command was rendered pathetic by the violent tremor in her voice and her complete inability to move.
"This is not the time for your obstinance," Dio replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. He shifted his grip, lifting her fully into his arms in a bridal carry.
This is so annoying. I swear, I've never been manhandled like this in my entire life, she fumed internally, utterly powerless to stop it.
He carried her the short distance to the bench and carefully set her down on the ground, her back leaning against the solid wooden foot of the backless bench.
"Do not push yourself. Just breathe for a moment," Dio instructed. He reached for her trembling hands.
G6 tried to summon the strength to pull away, but her body refused to obey. "Don't… move me," Dio said, his voice dropping to a firm whisper. The silver signet ring on his finger began to glow with the same soft, cool blue light as Earl's had the day before.
G6 glanced at his ring, recognizing it the same as Earl's. Huh? I don't recall him wearing it yesterday.
After a moment, the glow faded. "It will only calm the nerve fatigue. The physical exhaustion will remain. You must rest now," he stated, releasing her now-steady hands.
"Get lost," was her cold, predictable response.
Dio didn't react with anger or annoyance. He simply looked at her—a long, quiet stare that was neither cold nor contemptuous, but deeply, unreadably thoughtful. Without another word, he rose and returned to his seat on the bench, granting her the space she demanded while keeping his vigil.
Time Check: 6:35 A.M.
The sun had risen, casting a warm, golden light across the training grounds, yet a heavy silence persisted between the two figures. Fifteen minutes had passed since G6's collapse, the quiet punctuated only by the sound of their breathing.
Dio's gaze, which had been fixed in the middle distance, drifted to her. He noticed then the fine grains of sand dusting her cheek and temple, a gritty testament to her fall. The sight was… bothersome.
Acting on an impulse he didn't fully understand, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and retrieved a pristine, monogrammed handkerchief. He rose from the bench and knelt before her on one knee.
G6 watched him, her grey eyes wide with open confusion and wariness. She remained perfectly still, a predator assessing an unpredictable new variable. What is he trying to pull now? Her thoughts were a whirlwind of tactical calculations, all of which screeched to a halt when he reached out.
His touch was unexpectedly gentle. With a careful, almost reverent motion, he used the soft linen to wipe the sand from her face. The gesture was so at odds with his usual cold demeanor that it left her momentarily stunned.
"What are you doing?" The question left her lips in a whisper, devoid of its usual sharp edge. For a fleeting second, her expression was unguarded, the look in her eyes not that of a lethal Reaper, but of a flustered young woman completely disarmed by an unexpected act of tenderness.
"Oh! Prince Dio is already here!"
Lilia's cheerful voice, ringing out from the entrance, shattered the fragile moment like glass.
G6's senses snapped back into focus with the force of a triggered trap. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by instant, scalding embarrassment. She recoiled as if burned, shoving his hand away from her face. "Don't touch me," she hissed, scrambling to her feet with a surge of adrenaline that momentarily overpowered her fatigue.
Dio stood as well, his own composure returning like a mask falling into place, though a faint flush tinged his ears. He subtly tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.
Tina, Edmund, and Lilia approached, their expressions a mixture of polite neutrality and poorly concealed curiosity. The scene they had stumbled upon was one of intimate, romantic cliché: a prince on his knee, tenderly caressing a lady's face.
"Good morning, Your Highness. Good morning, Lady Reise," Tina and Edmund greeted in practiced unison, offering deep, respectful bows. Lilia followed suit, her eyes darting between them with barely contained excitement.
As she bowed, G6 felt a sudden, sharp burning sensation behind her right ear where her chain-rose tattoo was hidden. It was brief, like a needle prick, then gone.
What was that? she thought, her hand twitching as she fought the urge to touch the spot. A reaction to stress? Or something else?
"We brought your breakfast, Lady Reise!" Lilia chirped, expertly breaking the tension. She hurried forward and gently took G6's arm, guiding her back to sit on the bench. "You must be hungry after all that running!"
"It's too early for me to eat," G6 muttered, her voice regaining its familiar gravelly tone, though it lacked its usual force.
Dio retook his seat on the opposite end of the bench, with Lilia now planted firmly between them like a small, cheerful buffer. Edmund unfolded a portable table while Tina began unpacking the baskets.
"Then, please drink this first," Tina instructed, presenting the now-familiar bottle of murky green liquid. "Alistair insists he has improved the taste."
"Ah," Dio said, a note of unexpected nostalgia in his voice. "I remember that. That is what he used to give me during my own combat training as a boy.
You're just 20 for god's sake, you speak like you're already retired. G6's thoughts.
"Indeed, Your Highness," Edmund affirmed, setting a porcelain teapot and cups on the table. "It is remarkably effective for muscular fatigue and mana depletion." He poured the steaming amber tea with a graceful flourish, first for Dio, then for G6.
"Please," he said, gesturing to the cups. "It should help restore your energy."
G6 downed the tea in one swift, practiced gulp. Ah. The heat is actually refreshing.
"Listen, I'm doing one set of three exercises, then I'll eat," she announced, standing up with renewed, if weary, determination.
She returned to the center of the arena and began to stretch. What she did next made Dio's teacup pause halfway to his lips.
She dropped into a perfect push-up, her body forming a rigid, straight line from head to heel, her descent and ascent controlled and powerful.
One hundred. How can she perform them with such flawless, military precision? Dio's thoughts raced, his knightly training recognizing a master's form. Without rest, she transitioned seamlessly into a rapid set of bicycle crunches, her core muscles flexing with a strength that defied her noble upbringing.
"What manner of physical training is this?" Dio asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and disbelief as he finally took a sip of his now-cooling tea.
"We are not entirely certain, Your Highness," Edmund admitted. "It appears to be a foreign regimen. It is… profoundly difficult for a novice."
"But Lady Reise does it like an expert!" Lilia chirped, her voice full of awe.
Dio fell silent, his analytical mind fully engaged in observing this bizarre and efficient routine. She finished her crunches and moved to the final exercise: sit-ups.
"Ah, I know that one. I rather despised it during my own knight training," Edmund commented with a wry smile.
"Indeed. But it is effective for building core strength," Dio replied, his tone indicating he was well-acquainted with the benefits of a defined abdomen.
"Lady Reise is amazing!" Lilia exclaimed again, her pure admiration pulling Dio's gaze from G6 to her.
She shows no fear, he observed, watching the young maid. Not a hint of having been mistreated or bullied. Her adoration seems genuine… She must be truly, deeply fond of this new version of Reise.
A few minutes later, G6 was done. She sat on the ground, hands on her knees, head bowed as she caught her breath. This is getting better. It's like the body's starting to accept the strain. The hardware is finally syncing with the software.
Once her breathing steadied, she pushed herself up and walked back to the bench. "Lady Reise!" Lilia called happily.
G6 sank onto her spot and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from her brow. "Let's eat," she declared.
Tina presented a plate with a sandwich. "Ah, the tea has gone cold," Edmund noted with a slight frown.
"Give it to me," Dio said, his voice calm.
Edmund passed him the porcelain teapot. Dio held his hands a few inches from its surface, palms facing the cool ceramic. A faint, controlled aura of heat shimmered from his hands, and within moments, a gentle wisp of steam rose from the spout.
"Oh, look at that. You're a walking furnace," G6 remarked, her tone laced with her characteristic mocking amusement.
Dio ignored the jab, ceasing the flow of heat the moment the tea was perfectly reheated. "Thank you, Your Highness," Edmund said, pouring fresh, warm cups for everyone.
"Why aren't you guys eating?" G6 asked around a bite of her sandwich. "I doubt the three of you have eaten either." Then it dawned on her; they were adhering to strict protocol because of the prince's presence.
Taking matters into her own hands, she reached into the basket, pulled out several sandwiches, and unceremoniously placed one each in front of Lilia, Tina, and Edmund. Then, in a move that shocked the entire group, she slid the final one directly in front of Prince Dio.
"Oy, Snow White. My personal staff always eats with me," she stated, as if it were the most obvious rule in the world. "If you're going to loiter here, you eat the same way we do." She then took another large bite of her own food.
Dio was utterly stunned, first by the sheer audacity, and then by the unexpected, casual generosity. He stared at the sandwich on the plate before him—a simple meal offered without ceremony or agenda. A smile, so faint it was nearly imperceptible, touched his lips before he schooled his features. He reached out and picked it up. "Let us eat, then. Please, do not stand on ceremony on my account," he said, and took a bite.
Lilia was the first to eagerly pick up her sandwich, followed by a more hesitant but grateful Tina and Edmund.
Dio observed the dynamic of G6's little group. The three servants were clearly mindful of her unpredictable nature, yet he sensed no hostility or fear from them, only a weary sort of devotion.
It is… odd, he mused, the rigid formality of his station feeling distant in this moment. This is profoundly undignified… and yet, I find it strangely peaceful. With them, the weight of social class simply… vanishes.
"REISE! WHY ARE YOU SITTING WITH DIO!" A voice, dripping with theatrical whining, cut through the peaceful morning air.
Keith and Earl had arrived. "Good morning, Sir Keith, Sir Earl," the three servants chorused politely.
"Good morning," Earl responded with a curt nod, his eyes immediately scanning the unusual breakfast scene. Keith, however, zeroed in on the prince.
"Hey, Prince! What are you doing here so early?" Keith demanded, striding over. His eyes widened in mock betrayal. "And you're eating! You always refuse to eat in public!"
"Must you be so incessantly loud?" Dio said, not even deigning to look at him. He took a deliberate bite of his sandwich. "How could I possibly refuse a meal offered directly by my fiancée?" he added, layering his tone with a teasing superiority aimed solely at irritating Keith.
Keith circled the bench like a shark, coming to loom over G6. "Get away, or I'll introduce your face to my boots," G6 stated flatly, not bothering to glance up.
"Give me one, too!" Keith pleaded, adopting his best pitiful puppy-dog eyes.
"This isn't a cafeteria. Get your own," G6 retorted.
While Keith pestered her, Edmund gracefully offered his seat to Earl, who accepted with a quiet "Thank you, Edmund," and accepted a freshly poured cup of tea.
"Reisee! Please, just a little—" Keith's plea was abruptly cut off as G6 shoved the remainder of her sandwich into his open mouth.
"Shut. Up. You're annoying me," she growled.
Keith's eyes lit up. "Thank you, Reise!" he mumbled happily around the mouthful of bread.
Dio shot him a sharp, warning glare, which Keith answered with a triumphant, cheek-stuffing grin. Earl could only sigh and shake his head at the childish display.
"Speaking of, Reise," Earl began, steering the conversation back to business. "I was unable to locate a single-jewel mana-restraining artifact. The only suitable piece is an earring, but it requires a twin-piercing setup—two holes in one ear."
"So? What's the issue?" G6 asked.
"I believe I was clear. It requires two piercings in one ear," Earl repeated slowly, as if explaining to a child.
Ah, right. Old Reise only has the standard noble piercings, one on each lobe. Not the configuration I need.
"Show it to me," G6 commanded. Earl retrieved a small velvet box from his pocket and handed it to her. Inside sat an elegant, silver earring designed with two closely set posts.
Hmm. Okay. This body is going to learn pain tolerance today, too.
"Oy, Snow White. Heat the tips of this," G6 said, tossing the earring to Dio.
Though confused, Dio caught it. A faint blue flame licked from his fingertips, carefully heating the metal points until they glowed faintly red. He handed it back, handle-first.
"Tina. Mirror," G6 ordered.
Tina hurriedly retrieved a small, hand-held mirror from the etiquette kit in the basket. "Hold it. Keep it steady," G6 instructed, positioning the mirror.
What she did next froze everyone in place. With the chilling precision of a field medic, she pressed the superheated tips of the earring directly through the cartilage of her upper ear, not once, but twice, in rapid succession. The faint sizzle of flesh was audible in the stunned silence.
"LADY REISE!" Tina cried out, her hand flying to her mouth in horror.
"Stop moving," G6 chided, her voice utterly calm. "Ah, there. It's attached." She casually plucked a clean handkerchief from the basket and dabbed away the two tiny beads of blood welling from the new piercings.
"Lady Reise… does it not hurt?" Lilia whispered, her eyes wide.
G6 looked at the young girl and offered a small, grim smile. "This doesn't hurt a bit compared to being stabbed."
Stabbed? The thought echoed simultaneously in the minds of Earl, Keith, and Dio, their eyes locking in shared, silent alarm.
"Whoa. Now I'm in love with you, Reise. You are really something else," Keith breathed, breaking the tension. "When I got mine, I nearly punched Earl in the face."
"That's because you're a whiny little baby," G6 shot back without missing a beat.
"That was… rather savage, Reise," Dio remarked, a new layer of respect in his tone.
"And here I thought I had already witnessed the full extent of your oddities," Earl said, recovering his composure. He then produced a ring from another pocket and offered it to her. It was sleek, black, and etched with subtle, geometric patterns.
"Are you proposing to me?" G6 teased, taking it.
"I shall await your answer with bated breath," Earl played along, a faint smirk on his lips.
"I'm still here," Dio interjected, his voice dry.
"Oh. I thought you were a particularly statuesque sack of flour," G6 deadpanned.
Keith burst out laughing. "Dio's a pretty boy! He needs delicate handling!"
"Silence, you waterlogged fool," Dio snapped back.
G6 slid the ring onto her finger. It hummed with the same soothing energy as the others. "This feels different," she noted.
"I told you I would find something that suits you. Besides, the design Dio acquired last night is… rather common," Earl said, a clear, pointed barb implying he Dio acquired it with a hidden reason.
Ah, so that explains its sudden appearance in his hand, G6 thought, shooting a glance at Dio's hand.
"Shall we begin with your mana control now?" Earl suggested. "I've cleared my schedule for the day."
"Right. I'll be spending the rest of my morning with you, then," G6 agreed.
"What about me?" Keith wailed. "This is why I didn't want you here, Earl! You're stealing my Reise!"
"You are unbearably noisy. Be silent," Earl said.
"Yeah, his voice is giving me a headache," G6 added.
"You're both so mean! Reise, you promised you'd spar with me for sword practice!" Keith insisted, clinging to a shred of hope.
"Calm down. I'm not letting my first get away," G6 said, her voice dripping with playful condescension.
"First?" Earl and Dio repeated in unison, their attention fully captured.
"My first pet," G6 clarified, her grin widening into a wicked slash as she mocked them all completely.
The implication hung in the air: if Keith was the first pet, then Earl and Dio were undoubtedly the second and third.
"She's become infinitely more wicked than she ever was before," Keith whispered in awe, a statement that was both a complaint and a compliment.
"Shall we begin, Earl?" G6 said, the name feeling foreign on her tongue as she consciously avoided her usual 'geek'.
"Very well," Earl responded, standing and adjusting his glasses with an air of academic focus.
They walked to the center of the arena. "First, activate the mana restraint," he instructed. "Channel a minuscule amount of your energy into your hand and direct it toward the earring."
G6 did as told, focusing a trickle of power. The twin silver posts in her ear glowed with a faint, shimmering white light, and she felt an immediate, subtle dampening effect, like a regulator had been placed on a powerful engine.
"Good. It will now limit your output, acting as a controller," Earl explained. "But remember, this is a crutch. You must not become reliant on it. I expect it back once your control is mastered."
He's right. I can't operate with a permanent handicap. This is just training wheels.
"Okay, Sir," G6 replied, layering the title with mocking deference.
"Let us begin again with a simple Wind Blade," Earl directed. "This time, focus. Visualize the mana not as a torrent, but as a calm, deliberate river flowing from your core. Control the release."
Fine. I should probably chant it this time. Keep the dogs from getting too suspicious.
G6 gave a curt nod, taking a deliberate breath. "Wind Blade," she intoned. With a sharp slash of her hand, a blade of compressed air shot forth. It struck the remaining targets from yesterday, shredding them completely but with a focused, contained force that didn't so much as scratch the wall behind them.
"Hmm. Acceptable. The dampener is functioning," Earl noted, a hint of approval in his voice. "Now, please attempt the Tornado Wind."
Tornado? What's that
"Ha?" G6 asked, genuinely confused.
"The Tornado Wind. A foundational defensive spell of your House," Earl clarified, as if she'd forgotten her own ABCs. "It is meant to create a controlled vortex to deflect projectiles and disorient attackers."
Eh, whatever. A tornado's a tornado, right? How hard can it be?
G6 stared blankly ahead, her mind not on some piddling defensive trick, but on the most iconic, violent tornado she could recall from her old world—the raw, destructive force from that ancient movie Twister.
She remained perfectly still, offering no hand gestures or somatic components. "Tornado Wind," she whispered.
The effect was instantaneous and catastrophic.
The ambient mana in the entire arena—and the vast quantities drawn from the surrounding gardens—roared to life, violently converging at the center. What formed was not a manageable defensive vortex. It was a massive, roaring column of air that tore sand from the ground, shaking the very foundations of the Bastion. This was not defense; it was an act of pure, unadulterated atmospheric violence.
"REISE! WHAT IS THAT? THAT IS NOT THE SPELL!" Earl yelled, his voice nearly swallowed by the deafening howl of the wind.
What is he yelling about? This is exactly what I imagined. A classic F5. Tch.
"By the gods, what is happening?" Dio demanded, rising to his feet.
"It's going to tear the arena apart!" Keith shouted, bracing himself against the bench.
"Reise, this is a defensive spell, not an apocalyptic event! Contain it!" Earl screamed, fighting to keep his glasses on his face as the gale threatened to lift him off his feet.
Oh. Okay, maybe that was a bit much. But how the hell do I cancel it? 'Back to the sky'? 'Return to the wind'? Shit. This must be a spell that hasn't been invented yet in the Worthon arsenal. Earl's going to have a full-blown academic meltdown.
"Make it stop before it reduces the entire Collegium to rubble!" Earl yelled again, desperation clear in his voice as he ducked behind her for scant protection.
Tch. He's rushing me! This annoying, panicking geek!
Pressed and irritated, a single word of absolute command left her lips, fueled by a skill she unconsciously activated.
<< Aura of Finality: Activated >>
"Settle. Down."
Her voice did not shout. It was a low, cold, imperious tone that cut through the chaos not with volume, but with undeniable, absolute authority. It was the voice of an executioner pronouncing a sentence.
And the tornado… obeyed.
It didn't dissipate slowly. It didn't fade. It simply vanished. In the space of a single, silent blink, the cataclysmic vortex was gone. The sand it had held aloft pattered to the ground like rain, and an eerie, deafening silence fell over the arena.
The sudden stillness was more shocking than the storm itself. Everyone stood frozen, staring at the woman in the center. Taming a spell of that magnitude usually required a complex counterspell or minutes of focused effort. G6 had done it with two words and a look.
The only sound was the gentle pat-pat-pat of falling sand and Earl's shaky, relieved exhale.
And in the profound silence that followed, the only thing louder than the fallen sand was the deafening question hanging in the air: what,exactly, had they just witnessed?
— To be continued… —