In the main room of the House of Aat-Tjehent, Verena sits with her head lowered.
The chamber is vast, decorated with polished stone pillars and panels of carved crystal that reflect the dim golden glow of steam lamps placed around the walls. The wealth of the house is visible everywhere—rare alchemical materials displayed in glass cases, intricate arrays carved into the floor, and banners bearing the crest of their house.
Yet despite the richness of the room, the atmosphere is heavy.
Verena sits quietly near the centre table.
Her hands rest on her lap.
Her head remains bowed.
Across from her, her mother and aunt argue about her future.
Her mother speaks first, her voice calm but firm.
"I think Horuk is the best choice to marry Verena."
Her aunt immediately shakes her head.
"Horuk is only supported by the rabble of the School Alliance," she says sharply. "They look strong, but they are not an opponent of the House of Akhekh-Nesret and its allies."
Her uncle, who has remained silent until now, leans forward slightly and whispers cautiously.
"But the House of Akhekh-Nesret and its allies are already going after the Golden Houses. If Verena marries Maelak, we will be dragged too deeply into that conflict."
Her aunt's voice rises.
"But if she marries Horuk, we will also gain enemies!"
She gestures toward the table.
"The neutral noble houses do not want to see the rise of a civilian. If Horuk gains power through our family, they will see us as traitors to the noble order."
Silence spreads through the room.
Everyone falls quiet.
Verena's hands tighten.
Her fingers grip the fabric of her dress.
The small movement reveals that she is far from calm despite her composed appearance.
Her grandmother finally breaks the silence.
The old woman sits at the head of the table, her expression thoughtful.
"Perhaps," she says slowly, "we should ask whom Verena herself wishes to marry."
Verena lifts her head slightly.
She looks toward her grandmother.
Then she notices something.
Her aunt is quietly mouthing a single word.
"Maelak."
Verena's father sees it too.
He frowns sharply at his sister.
Then he turns toward Verena.
His voice becomes gentle.
"Daughter," he says softly, "you can say what is truly in your heart."
Verena breathes slowly.
Her chest rises and falls.
She gathers her courage.
"Grandmother," she says quietly, "I do not want to marry either of them."
The room stiffens.
Then she continues.
"But… if I must choose… I like Horuk more."
Her aunt slams her hand against the table.
"Verena!"
"What do you mean you don't want to marry?"
Her voice sharpens with anger.
"Do you not understand the situation of our family? We need powerful allies to protect ourselves!
Verena lowers her eyes again.
Her mother immediately hisses toward the aunt.
"Solin…"
The warning in her voice is clear.
Before the argument can escalate further, another voice echoes through the room.
"I do not need my granddaughter to sacrifice her happiness to protect the family."
Everyone turns toward the staircase.
Verena looks up.
Her grandfather slowly walks down the steps from the upper floor.
His presence immediately silences the room.
He is the founder of the House of Aat-Tjehent.
The man who brought Steam Alchemy to the Sand Continent.
Her grandmother stands quickly and walks toward him.
"You are out already?" she asks with hope shining in her eyes.
"Did you finish your research on Diamond Skin?"
If he had completed the research, it could have allowed him to advance toward the Title Alchemist stage.
That advancement would solve many of their family's problems.
Her grandfather shakes his head.
"No."
"I came out because the Pope summoned me."
Then he adds calmly.
"He also asked for Verena."
The entire family freezes.
"What?"
"Why?"
Shock spreads across their faces.
Verena's father steps forward.
"Father, I understand why the Pope would call for you," he says carefully. "But why must Verena go as well?"
Her grandfather looks just as puzzled.
"I don't know."
He turns toward Verena.
"Verena, come."
"We cannot keep the Pope waiting."
Verena rises slowly from her chair.
Her heart beats faster.
She has no idea why the Pope would summon her.
But she does not question the order.
Together, she and her grandfather walk toward the entrance of the mansion.
Behind them, the rest of the family watches with anxious expressions.
The heavy doors of the mansion open.
Verena and her grandfather step outside and leave the estate.
----
Clive stands beside the narrow window of his room, peering through a small gap between the wooden shutters.
Night blankets the town.
The streets outside lie in dim shadow beneath a cloudy sky, broken only by occasional lanterns flickering weakly along the roads.
What he sees below makes his grip tighten on the window frame.
People wander through the streets like rabid animals.
Their movements are jerky and violent.
Their eyes burn with a wild, mindless hunger.
Whenever they find someone still alive, they leap forward with ferocious speed, biting, clawing, and tearing.
Moments later, the victim rises again.
Changed.
Another rabid figure joins the roaming pack.
Hours earlier, Clive had heard screams echo through the town.
Chaos.
Running footsteps.
Shattered doors.
Now everything is strangely silent.
Only the occasional growl or shriek echoes through the night.
Clive had not gone outside to help or investigate.
Not because he didn't want to.
Because he couldn't.
For some unknown reason, the spiritual energy within the entire town has frozen.
It refuses to move.
Without spiritual energy, his spells cannot activate.
He is forced to rely only on his sword.
One enemy is manageable.
Ten enemies are dangerous.
But hundreds?
That would be suicide.
Clive slowly looks toward the yard outside his house.
More rabid figures gather around the walls.
Their numbers increase.
Soon, the house will no longer remain unnoticed.
He exhales quietly.
"So I don't have a choice."
Clive grabs his sword.
He moves toward the back window.
With a quick motion, he opens it and jumps out.
His boots land softly in the back garden.
Without pausing, he climbs the wall separating the yard from the rear street.
The moment he drops down onto the stone road—
A rabid man lunges toward him.
Clive reacts instantly.
His sword flashes.
The blade slices cleanly through the man's neck.
The head falls to the ground.
The body collapses.
He already knows the only way to kill them.
The head must be separated from the body.
More figures rush toward him.
Clive swings again.
Steel flashes in the dark.
Two more heads fall.
He pushes forward into the street.
Hours pass.
Clive fights without stopping.
Blood stains his clothes.
The streets become a maze of bodies.
Eventually, he retreats into a wooded area near the outer road.
He climbs onto a thick tree branch and sits there breathing heavily.
His chest rises and falls.
For the first time since leaving the house, he rests.
He had fought without pause since escaping.
After several minutes, his breathing begins to calm.
Then suddenly—
Clive snaps his head upward.
The sound reaches him clearly.
Screams.
The clash of weapons.
Fighting.
He does not hesitate.
Clive leaps from the branch.
He runs toward the sound.
He does not go to help out of kindness.
He goes because of survival.
The more people the rabid ones infect, the greater the chance he will eventually be surrounded.
And there is nowhere to escape.
Earlier, he had already tried leaving the town.
A thick black fog surrounds the settlement.
The moment he stepped inside the fog, he found himself instantly returned to the base of the wooden wall surrounding the town.
Something is trapping everyone inside.
Soon, Clive reaches the source of the noise.
Five knights stand in a defensive circle.
They protect three civilians behind them.
An old man.
Two young women.
Rabid townspeople swarm toward them.
Clive rushes forward.
His sword swings immediately.
A rabid attacker lunging toward one knight loses its head instantly.
The knights glance toward him briefly.
Clive steps beside them and continues fighting.
The rabid people possess terrifying strength.
Even ordinary villagers now move with the power of Knight Apprentices.
Their bodies crash forward like beasts.
But Clive remains calm.
His blade moves with ruthless precision.
He does not waste energy.
One swing.
One head.
Another swing.
Another kill.
The battle lasts several minutes.
Finally, the last rabid attacker collapses.
The street becomes quiet again.
Clive wipes his blade once before lowering it.
The old man steps forward slowly.
"Thank you, gentleman, for helping us."
Clive nods briefly.
"It doesn't matter."
Then he asks immediately.
"Sir, do you know Captain Rosalyn and General Elodie?"
The old man glances around nervously before answering.
"Yes… I know them."
Clive steps closer.
"Do you know where they went?"
The man nods.
"They went to rescue several nobles."
"Nobles who possess Official Knight cultivation or higher."
"Masked people captured them and took them toward the mine."
Clive's eyes sharpen.
"Thank you."
He does not waste another moment.
Turning away, he begins running toward the mine.