After passing through the bustling streets, they arrived in the northern district, where a mansion taller than all the surrounding buildings came into view.
Several towers overlapped one another, guarding the central spire. Its bronze-purple exterior looked like a blaze frozen into stone.
And atop the tallest central tower flew a jester's banner—the emblem of the Loki Familia, declaring the estate's owner to all who saw it.
"So this is Twilight Manor."
At some point, Loki had sidled up beside his ear again, unable to hide the pride in her voice.
"Well? More impressive than that patch of forest you call home, isn't it?"
Isis did not answer.
But his eyes had already said everything.
The guards at the gate immediately bowed respectfully when they saw Loki and Riveria returning.
At the same time, they noticed Isis standing beside them, and surprise flashed across their faces.
After all, word had already spread that Lady Riveria's nephew would soon be arriving in Orario to join the Familia.
And now that they saw him in person, he really was unmistakably her nephew. His brows and features carried more than a faint resemblance to his aunt.
Considering that even the gods were said to envy Riveria's beauty, one could easily imagine how striking Isis's appearance must be.
Once inside the courtyard, Isis saw members of the Loki Familia sparring on the training grounds, and he could not help quietly studying their fights.
His gaze clung to the scene—two sword-wielding adventurers trading blows, sparks bursting where their blades collided, making his eyes shine slightly.
"Seen enough?"
Loki's voice drifted over from the side, teasing, like an adult catching a child gawking at a marketplace spectacle.
She leaned against a pillar in the corridor, arms folded, her crimson eyes half-narrowed as she sized him up.
"Going by experience, someone born from elven royalty and related by blood to Riveria is about eighty percent likely to be cut out for magic."
She paused, the corner of her mouth quirking.
The God of Trickery's eyes gleamed with curiosity as she looked over the delicate-looking elven boy in front of her.
This was Riveria's nephew, after all—and elven royalty on top of that. He was destined to be extraordinary from the start.
Though every race in this world could receive a god's blessing equally, some things were simply decided from birth.
Riveria's Elf Ring was the clearest proof of that.
It allowed her to convert the magic power released by other elves into Mind and absorb it for herself, a perfect embodiment of what it meant to be "royalty."
So as Riveria's nephew, Loki naturally assumed the boy before her would also become an exceptionally gifted mage.
"Like Auntie?"
Isis blinked and turned to Riveria when he heard that.
A mage, huh? That actually sounded pretty cool. Being a spellcaster didn't seem bad at all.
Almost instinctively, Isis began imagining himself bombarding everything in sight with magic. A certain phrase surfaced in his mind:
All fear comes from insufficient firepower.
"Don't let Loki jump to conclusions. We'll wait until your Falna is revealed before deciding anything."
Riveria shot Loki an exasperated glance before answering Isis in a gentle voice.
If Isis really did turn out to be a mage, that would be wonderful. She would be able to guide his training personally, and in doing so better fulfill her role as his aunt.
Just as the group approached the central tower, two figures in the courtyard were drawn by their presence and came over to greet them.
"Lady Riveria, you've returned."
Two elves approached from the other end of the courtyard, but their temperaments could not have been more different.
The elf on the left had long golden hair, vivid and bright like blooming kerria flowers. Even more radiant than her hair was the girl's face. A faint smile always lingered on her cheeks, and she possessed a warmth and openness rarely seen among elves.
Her eyes flickered with curiosity as she sneaked glances at Isis.
The one on the right had orange-gold hair. Unlike the younger elf girl, she carried herself with elegant poise, perfectly matching the image most people had of elves.
Graceful and beautiful, she walked with a composed chill that gave off an almost untouchable air of distance.
A gentle curve rested at her lips, and the slight wave at the ends of her hair lent her a more mature charm.
And of course, what was hardest to ignore was her exceptionally full, womanly figure—beautifully curved, balanced, and refined, giving her the unmistakable aura of an older sister.
"Yes, we've just returned."
"And this is… Isis?"
The orange-haired elf looked toward him, a trace of curiosity and scrutiny surfacing in her cool eyes.
"Yes. My nephew, Isis."
Riveria answered with a smile.
"Greetings, senpais."
Isis inclined his head slightly.
Before the orange-haired elf could respond, the blonde girl beside her practically jumped.
"S-Senpai?!"
Lefiya's face turned red at a speed visible to the naked eye, the blush racing from the tips of her ears all the way across her cheeks, creating a startling contrast with her golden hair.
She waved both hands frantically, nearly smacking Alicia beside her in the process.
"I'm not a senpai! I only joined a month ago, and I think I'm about the same age as you, Isis!"
She blurted out all three sentences in one breath, as though afraid that if she delayed for even a second, the title of "senpai" would become an established fact.
Alicia quietly shifted half a step to the side to avoid Lefiya's flailing arms, the smile at her lips never changing.
"Lefiya Viridis. Thirteen years old."
Riveria filled in the introduction for the still-flustered Lefiya, a faint hint of amusement in her tone.
"She joined a month ago. Just like you, she's new."
"Then I'm a year younger than Lefiya."
Isis blinked.
"Eh?! You're only twelve?!"
Lefiya's eyes widened as she looked back and forth between Isis and herself. They were about the same height, but his calm composure made him seem nothing like someone even younger than she was.
"Alicia Forestlight."
A cool, clear voice cut in at just the right moment, interrupting Lefiya's cry of surprise.
Alicia extended her left hand—not her right, which was covered by a black sleeve, but her bare left.
Her posture was exquisitely graceful.
Isis shook her hand. Her skin felt faintly cool, and just before she let go, he noticed her gaze flick quickly from his eyes, to the tips of his ears, and finally to the back of his hand.
As though confirming something.
That gaze vanished as quickly as it had come. Alicia's expression did not change in the slightest.
"Welcome to the Loki Familia, Isis."
Her tone was gentle, but Isis's elven instincts told him that what this older-sister type had been observing just now was far more than a mere polite glance.
"Well, if you want to chat, do it later. I'm taking this brat to receive his Falna first."
Loki shot Isis a strangely "guarded" look, then immediately dragged him off toward the divine chamber.
It seemed very necessary to make sure all the pretty girls in the Familia kept their guard up around him. This kid was simply too good-looking.
At only twelve, he was already the kind of beauty that could charm both men and women alike.
If he grew up, who knew how ridiculous it would get?
Watching this unfold, Riveria could only shake her head helplessly, having no idea what Loki was up to this time.
Still…
She really was looking forward to it.
Had this child inherited the magical talent of both herself and her sister?
Would the Falna awakened within him center around the path of a mage?