The missions continued for weeks.
The purge of monsters became routine—a routine stained with blood and silent tension. The heroes advanced through devastated territories while the Duchy's troops guarded the flanks and nearby villages. And amid all of it, small frictions began to grow… some ridiculous, others dangerous.
Thunder grazed peacefully in a clearing, his coat flashing with silver sparks. Each breath from the warhorse sent a faint electrical vibration through the air, as if the sky itself were attentive to his mood.
Leonardo watched the beast from a distance, his brow furrowed.
That steed… that divine creature… someone like Lusian does not deserve it.
"It should be mine…" he murmured.
With steady steps, he approached. He knew Thunder was proud; he also knew the magical beast had once belonged to Sofía before Lusian… and still, if he could make the creature recognize him—
He carried the blessing of the god of lightning.They shared the same element.He was one of the chosen.
"Come now, beautiful…" he whispered, extending his hand. "You and I are the same. You'll recognize me."
Thunder barely lifted his head. His blue eyes crackled like twin storms… and in the blink of an eye, his hind leg moved with a speed even Leonardo couldn't anticipate.
BOOM.
The impact sounded like thunder.
Leonardo was launched through the air and landed flat on his back ten meters away, swallowing dust.
"Ugh!" he coughed, writhing.
Thunder snorted, a small electric discharge running through his mane like mockery.
Leonardo spat blood—and a curse.
"Damn… damn beast… that horse is a demon! Damn Lusian!"
Thunder simply turned his head with elegant indifference, ignoring the foolish human.
Elsewhere in the camp, Alejandro witnessed something he had never seen before.
Albert, the elderly escort commander, was practicing with his sword. Each cut of steel released controlled bursts of fire; every movement was precise, every step a declaration of absolute discipline.
It was like watching a storm trapped inside the body of an old man… and yet nothing about him felt weakened.
Alejandro approached, impressed.
"I've never seen anyone handle fire with such precision," he admitted. "You're… incredible, old man."
Albert stopped his motion and regarded him with gray eyes—cold, yet respectful.
"I do what must be done," he replied simply.
Alejandro swallowed.
That man radiated authority.An aura that commanded more respect than many heroes.
"Albert…" he began. "I've been thinking. If you came with me to the Temple of Ignivar, the god of fire could bless you. Your affinity would grow… your power would multiply. And you would no longer serve a mere mortal… but a god."
It was a powerful offer.
Almost forbidden.
Albert did not blink.
Then he let out a dry laugh, almost sorrowful.
"Serve a god…" he repeated. "That is not my path."
Alejandro frowned.
Albert closed his eyes, letting the memories return—warm and heavy like red-hot steel.
He remembered the days of his youth, when he served the young Sofía in the House of Mondring.
When she was a child, Sofía ran through the halls with laughter that rang like bells. I was there, always at her side. Not out of obedience… but loyalty. Not only to her family, but to her destiny.
Memory and duty intertwined.
He escorted her when, through marriage to the Douglas family, she left her home to begin another life.
He knew every tremor in her hands, every doubt hidden behind her noble composure.
And then Lusian was born.
Albert had seen him enter the world.
I remember his first cry, his fragile breath. Sofía looked at me with a determination that needed no words and said: "Protect him." That command weighed more than any royal oath. I promised to be his bodyguard… his teacher. His second father.
From that moment on, every watch, every wound, every sacrifice was not for the Duchy.
It was for Sofía.
For the boy who grew under his shadow, who fell and rose again, who now carried the title of duke.
Albert drove his sword into the ground, firm and solemn.
"That boy grew under my watch," he said. "I trained him. I saw him cry, laugh, bleed, rise again… I watched him become a duke."
He stepped toward Alejandro.
"My sword does not belong to a god.It does not belong to the Kingdom.It does not belong to the Heralds."
He lifted his weapon and rested it on his shoulder.
"My sword belongs to Lusian Douglas of Mondring.And when I die… it will die with him."
A chill ran through Alejandro.
He had never witnessed such absolute conviction.
Albert turned back to his training, giving him his back.
"Find another candidate, boy," he concluded. "You won't tear me away from my duty."
With a perfect motion, his blade traced an arc of fire that illuminated the camp.
Alejandro clenched his fist.
What he felt was not hatred.
It was respect.
Respect… and fear.