Chapter 107: ¹⁰⁷Return To Zenithar

​The cold air crept into the Rosenberg Fortress’s infirmary. Between the sturdy gray stone walls, only the dim flame of a candle and the faint light from a narrow window chased away the pitch-black darkness.

​On a simple wooden bed, Valera Voss lay still. Her right arm was wrapped neatly in black bandages.

​The female knight’s eyelids fluttered open slowly. Her vision was blurry, taking a few seconds before the stone ceiling above her came into clear focus. She turned her head slowly.

​Ethan Valen was there. The young man sat on a wooden chair not far from her. His back was straight, one hand propping up his chin. His dark brown eyes stared at Valera in silence.

​"Hah..." Valera exhaled, breaking the silence with a hoarse voice. "How long was I out?"

​"A full day," Ethan replied flatly, not changing his posture in the slightest.

​"Hmm, quite a while." Valera forced a faint smile on her pale lips. She could feel her right arm throbbing with a dull ache.

​Ethan stood up. His hands moved to straighten the collar of his black shirt. "We leave tonight."

​Valera raised an eyebrow. However, a second later, a faint smirk formed on her face. "Tch, don’t worry, My Lord. This wound won’t slow me down."

​Ethan’s eyes swept over Valera’s posture from top to bottom. "Make sure you don’t pass out halfway there."

​"If I fall, I’m sure you’ll catch me," Valera challenged softly.

​Ethan merely snorted, almost inaudibly. "Get ready."

​Before Valera could get up, the infirmary’s wooden door opened slowly. An old healer in a gray robe entered, carrying a tray with rolls of clean bandages and a bottle of ointment. The man paused for a moment upon realizing Valera was awake.

​"Ah, Lady Valera. You’re awake," he said in relief, though his tone remained cautious. He placed his tray on a small table, then deftly examined Valera’s wound.

​Valera stared at her own bandaged arm. "How bad is it?"

​"The wound is deep, but it didn’t hit any vital organs. You’re very lucky." The healer poured a clear liquid onto a piece of cloth, then pressed it gently against the edges of the still-reddened wound. "But you mustn’t push yourself for at least the next week."

​Valera snorted. "I don’t have a week."

​The healer fell silent for a moment. There was hesitation in his eyes as he looked at Valera, then glanced at Ethan who was still standing by the bed.

​"The Duke... left a message," he said quietly.

​Valera turned her head. "What message?"

​The healer swallowed hard. "He said... you are no longer a part of Rosenberg."

​The room suddenly fell dead silent. Only the rustling of the wind from the window cracks could be heard.

​Valera didn’t answer right away. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, then smiled faintly. "I know."

​The healer lowered his head, then continued his treatment without saying another word.

​Ethan watched it all in silence. His expression didn’t change. To him, this was merely a formal confirmation—not a meaningful emotional event.

​Once the healer was done, Valera got up from the bed. Even though her body still protested, Valera’s pride refused to look fragile in front of her new master. She stood up, adjusted her black leather armor that was torn in several places, then slung her giant Zweihander onto her back.

​Pitch-black night had swallowed the northern sky. The wind blew fiercely, carrying bone-chilling air.

​Before reaching the western gates, in a narrow, torch-lit corridor, Valera crossed paths with a familiar figure.

​Sorin Veld stood there. The knight’s body was also still wrapped in bandages around his chest, the remnants of their duel. Yet, his posture remained upright.

​Valera’s steps slowed.

​"Are you leaving tonight?" Sorin asked calmly.

​"Yes." Valera stopped, looking at her former opponent. "Guard this fortress."

​"You too... take care of yourself."

​There were no more words. Valera gave a brief nod, then continued on her way. Sorin stared at her back until it disappeared at the end of the corridor.

​They exited through the western gates of the Rosenberg Fortress. The two guards on duty hurriedly bowed deeply, not daring to look at Ethan or Valera who was walking tall behind him.

​Valera stopped right before crossing the threshold. She looked back one last time. Her eyes swept over the giant stone walls that had been her home for years.

​"Hah..." she exhaled softly.

​"You can still turn back." Ethan’s voice broke the silence.

​Valera turned to him. "No need. I’ve made my choice."

​They walked into the middle of the deserted, open expanse of snow. Ethan stopped. He closed his eyes.

​Instantly, two hot spots burned intensely on his shoulder blades. Without an explosive sound, a pair of giant wings spread wide, cleaving the darkness. Azhyrael.

​Valera snorted. She shifted her weight onto one leg. "Tch. I figured, we’re definitely flying again."

​Instead of answering, Ethan immediately stepped forward. His right arm wrapped securely around Valera’s waist, while his left hand locked around the back of the knight’s neck.

​Valera didn’t resist as she was pulled into the embrace. However, when Ethan’s cold fingers touched the skin of her left neck—right over the black spiral rose tattoo of the Lust Brand—her body jolted slightly. A faint, soothing warmth flowed beneath her nerves.

​With one powerful flap, the snow around them was swept clean. The two shot up, piercing through the night sky.

​The flight took three hours.

​Up there, the night wind felt like ice daggers. Valera squeezed her eyes shut. Inevitably, she leaned her body against Ethan’s chest, seeking the contrast of warmth amidst the freezing air.

​Occasionally, Valera ground her jaw. The air pressure and the wounds on her body made her head throb with dizziness, but she refused to complain.

​Meanwhile, Ethan focused his gaze far ahead. The balance of his wings was maintained carefully, speeding up without causing turbulence that could tear Valera’s wound open.

​The snowy forest below them shifted into a steep valley, then mountain ranges shrouded in thin mist.

​Approaching midnight, the majestic silhouettes of the Zenithar Academy’s towers finally broke into view.

​Instead of descending at the main gates, Ethan dove straight toward the Main Tower. Sin Mana blended with the air, wrapping them in an energy shroud that deflected magical fluctuations. In an instant, they pierced through the academy’s barrier without triggering the alarms. Even if a student looked up from below, their shadow would be nothing more than a passing night bat.

​Their boots landed soundlessly on the stone balcony. Azhyrael’s wings immediately folded, disappearing into Ethan’s back.

​The embrace was released. Valera took a step back, her left hand reflexively resting against the stone wall to steady her spinning head.

​Her eyes stared down at the academy buildings below. "This place... is still as annoying as I remember," she muttered hoarsely.

​Ethan opened the glass balcony door. "Come in."

​The warm air from the fireplace immediately welcomed them. The VIP Room looked pristine, with a large, white-blanketed bed in the center of the room.

​Valera dragged her feet and dropped herself onto the edge of the mattress. Her shoulders slumped in relaxation. She glanced around the room, then smiled ironically.

​"I used to sneak into this room to spy on you. Then you bedded me here. Now... this place is my resting spot."

​"You can stay here until you recover," Ethan replied flatly from near the fireplace.

​"Hmm, I won’t be long."

​Valera leaned her Zweihander against the side of the bed. With one hand, she undid the clasps of her leather armor, freeing the wound on her shoulder from the pressure. Her breath caught, holding back an ache, but her lips remained sealed tight.

​From near the window, Ethan simply watched in silence. He didn’t offer help, yet his eyes observed like a predator monitoring its territory.

​As the top half of Valera’s armor came off, Ethan broke the silence. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day for you."

​Valera looked up. "You’re not sleeping?"

​"I’m stepping out for a bit."

​Too tired to ask further, Valera laid back onto the soft mattress. However, before fully falling asleep, she stared at Ethan’s back as he stood near the balcony.

​"I never expected it would end up like this," she murmured softly.

​Ethan turned his head slightly. "Do you regret it?"

​Valera smiled faintly. "I don’t regret it. I just... didn’t expect it."

​In a matter of minutes, her breathing turned steady. She fell completely asleep under the watchful eye of the Demon King.

​The room fell silent, punctuated only by the crackling of firewood. Ethan remained perfectly still, staring at Valera’s figure. The wounds on the woman’s body were the price of her old oath that was now broken.

​Then, a voice crept into the darkest corner of Ethan’s consciousness.

​"My Lord..."

​That hoarse, wet, seductive voice echoed in his skull. Asmodeus.

​"I have waited a very long time for this moment," the entity of sin whispered. "Seeing her lying there... without any family oaths binding her anymore, without morality holding her back. She is now completely yours."

​Ethan’s expression didn’t change. He let the voice crawl through his mind.

​"Tomorrow..." Asmodeus chuckled softly, his voice like the clinking of silver chains. "You can harvest her body and soul limitlessly. Taking all of her lust."

​Silence once again blanketed the air. Ethan stared intently, his eyes radiating a bottomless coldness.

​"I am not harvesting, Asmodeus," Ethan hissed softly, yet laden with absolute firmness. "I am collecting."

​Asmodeus’s light laughter sounded satisfied, before finally fading into the corners of Ethan’s mind, leaving him alone in the dead of night.