Later, during another audience with the Empress, Lusian was direct: no one would touch Elizabeth. The Empress supported him without hesitation and granted him formal authority over her. The Heralds did not take long to react.
—She must be handed over now —they insisted—. Her condition is not stable. Leaving her with a single person is a risk.
—Imperial and Church protocol cannot be ignored —another cut in—. This is not a personal decision.
Lusian did not move.
—You will not take her —he said—. As long as I am standing, she is not going anywhere.
The air shifted.
—Then we will have to remove you —one of the Heralds replied.
Lusian tightened his hand on his sword.
—Try it… and you will have to kill me first.
The room tensed immediately. The Heralds prepared to act. Lusian did not step back even once. The Empress did not speak, but she did not stop them yet either.
The Empress looked at Lusian in silence, holding his gaze a second longer than normal, as if reminding him of the agreement she had already offered him before. Then she spoke calmly, cutting through the tension in the room:
—Very well. Elizabeth will remain under Lusian's responsibility.
The Heralds reacted immediately, but the Empress raised a hand to stop them before they could argue. Her gaze hardened slightly.
—However, if any incident occurs under his care… the princess will be transferred to the Heralds without exception.
The message was clear. It was not a total victory, but it was a closed decision. Lusian did not yield, and the room accepted the new rule under a tension that still had not fully dissipated.
When leaving the audience, the training field air was tinted by the reddish light of sunset, and dark mana vibrated in every corner. Lusian stopped, resting a hand on Dainslein's hilt. In front of him was Deidara.
She had already been waiting.
Her expression was cold, but tense. This was not just a casual encounter.
—Duke Lusian Douglas —Deidara said in a controlled voice—. I want a practice duel.
Lusian looked at her in silence for a second. He already knew why she was there. He already knew what had happened with Elizabeth. And that kept his anger there, contained.
—A practice duel… nothing more —he replied.
Deidara watched him for another moment, as if measuring something in him.
It was not curiosity.
It was annoyance.
—Do you accept? —she finally asked—. But let it be clear… without your magical beasts, this is a guaranteed victory for me.
The sentence did not sound like a condition of the duel.
It sounded like a direct provocation.
As if it reduced everything Lusian had lost —including Umber— to an advantage he no longer had.
Lusian slightly tightened his grip on Dainslein's hilt, containing the anger in his gaze.
—Accepted.
When the duel began, Deidara released dark mana in a sharp burst. The darkness solidified around her like spears and floating fragments that fell in multiple directions at the same time.
Lusian advanced between them with cold precision, anticipating movements before they formed. The attacks sometimes hit him, but the impact dissipated in his own affinity with darkness. Still, he did not stop. He kept advancing, step by step, eyes fixed on her.
—Interesting —Deidara muttered, surprised—. It is as if… you already know where every attack will land.
Lusian did not respond.
The darkness condensed again, this time into thorns rising from the ground and air at the same time. The field closed in black structures blocking every route.
But Lusian was already inside.
He moved between them as if the space had gaps only he could see, without breaking them, without forcing them.
One step.One turn.And he was already in front of her.
Deidara raised both hands. Dark mana spun beneath her feet, forming columns that crashed down like successive impacts across the terrain.
Lusian did not stop.
He slipped between the attacks with minimal movements, as if he was not avoiding blows, but choosing the spaces where they did not yet exist. When a column fell too close, he had already changed position before the impact.
In one of those gaps, he entered.
A short, direct strike.
His fist hit Deidara's stomach.
She bent backward.
Before she could recover, Lusian was already on top of her.
He grabbed her head and slammed her into the ground with brutal force. The impact shook the terrain.
Silence.
—Deidara —he said, in a low, firm voice—. The next time you come near Elizabeth… you will die. Consider this a warning.
The silence became heavy.
Deidara slowly stood up, breathing heavily. Blood on her forehead. Burning eyes.
Frustration. Rage. And something harder to accept.
Understanding.
Because she had felt it.
She was fighting someone who mastered darkness better than her, even without the Goddess's blessing that she had.
Lusian sheathed his sword. Dark mana still vibrated around him.
The message was clear: no one stood between him and Elizabeth.
The field fell silent. Only the wind moved the dust and the shadows of both warriors over the cracked terrain, marking a brief but decisive confrontation.
Deidara remained standing, breathing heavily, eyes fixed on him. She had been defeated in that exchange, but she had also confirmed exactly what kind of opponent stood in front of her: someone who did not hesitate, did not yield, and did not retreat once a decision was made.
Days passed since the demon mana explosion, but the palace did not return to normal. The corridors remained in tense silence, interrupted only by the hurried steps of servants avoiding the princess's room.
Every appearance of Elizabeth caused the same reaction: immediate averted gazes and spreading whispers among the servants.
—They say she was possessed… —a maid whispered while folding clothes, not daring to look at the door.—I am not going near that —another replied—. Not again.
Even the Heralds had changed their attitude. There was no formal respect or closeness anymore, only distance and vigilance. They did not openly reject her, but treated her as a latent risk, as if any moment could repeat the explosion that shook the palace.
Elizabeth walked alone through the corridors, aware of the gazes that avoided her. Her laughter had lost lightness, and her steps felt heavier, as if the very environment rejected her.
Lusian walked near her, maintaining himself as a constant presence at her side, without leaving space for her to be isolated completely.
—How can someone stay calm after what we saw? —a servant whispered.—I don't know… but it's better not to get close —another replied.
When Elizabeth walked through the corridors, the effect was immediate: conversations stopped, footsteps changed direction, and gazes dropped to the ground before meeting hers. The servants did not question or challenge her; they simply reduced their presence to a minimum, as if being near her implied a risk no one wanted to experience again.
Elizabeth noticed it.
But she did not stop.
Her posture remained firm, her expression controlled, her pride intact. She did not ask for space, she did not seek approval. She simply walked as she always had, even if the world around her had changed how it looked at her.
Lusian remained near her at all times.
Lusian, however, was irritated. He understood the fear others had toward Elizabeth, but understanding it did not make it acceptable. That silent rejection annoyed him more than he wanted to admit.
That night he could not sleep.
He sat in silence, leaning his back against the wall and staring into the darkness of the room. The palace was quiet, but his mind was not. The "game" memories returned without order, fragmented pieces of impossible situations, pressure decisions, moments where problems were not solved with strength, but with another kind of thinking.
He was searching for a solution. Something real. Something that would break the cycle in the palace.
Then he remembered it.
In the heart of the forest, under the protection of the Mother Tree, there was a fruit capable of purifying any corruption. In the game it was almost impossible to obtain; reaching its core meant crossing a territory that even the most experienced heroes had failed to pass without multiple attempts.
But here there would be no second chances.
Still, if there was even the smallest possibility, Lusian would take it. He did not care about the risk.
Because if the world rejected Elizabeth… he would not.
The night camp was tense, filled with silence. The wind carried the smell of iron and wet leaves when Lusian entered the command tent. Albert was standing, without a cape, with the serious expression of someone who already understood the decision before hearing it.
—You are going to the forest —he said, not asking.
—Yes.
Albert clenched his fists behind his back.
—With a minimal detachment… it is suicide. Let me go with you. I know your limits better than anyone.
Lusian held his gaze without hesitation.
—That is exactly why you cannot come. The forest detects human presence. A large group would not pass the first zone.
He paused briefly.
—I am going alone. With Elizabeth and Thunder. No one else.
Albert frowned, trying to contain his concern.
—Allow me to accompany you, my lord.
—No. I need you to stay in command of the army and represent me while I am gone.
The silence became heavier.
Albert lowered his head slightly.
—I cannot let you go… if something happens…
Lusian stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, firm but calming.
—I will be fine. I will move only at night. Thunder will be with me. And if it is too dangerous… I will retreat.
Albert closed his eyes for a moment, defeated by the decision rather than the argument.
—So be it, my lord… please be careful.