Chapter 236

Chapter 236: A Place One Cannot Linger

Calix ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍saw the nature of humanity on the open road.

"It ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍is divine punishment!"

"We ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍must purify ourselves!"

"Kill ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍those who have sinned!"

The ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍people cried out as if their mouths had been rehearsed. Adults and children, the elderly—all swept together in one current. Yet beneath those words lay a common thread.

The ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍fact that food was scarce.

The grain stores were empty, and winter was drawing ever closer. The number of children had dwindled, while the sick had multiplied. And so, someone had to be chosen. A target to pin the blame on, a reason that made removal acceptable.

Justification always came second.

Calix understood.

‘Humans become cruel in order to survive. The heart behind it may look complex, but the root is simple.’

Nilo was no different.

"I control mana through knowledge."

The old man muttered, slumped on the dirt floor. His hands trembled violently, yet his eyes gleamed with desire—still startlingly clear.

"Unlike those who rely on instinct. I calculate, control, and can prove it. Only I know the method."

He didn't spare the dried fruit so much as a glance. His bruised face turned toward the air, hands sweeping as though grasping at something unseen. What followed was, in essence, a monologue.

"That is the pinnacle of magic. Not power—understanding. Yelayen can no longer ignore me now. He would not dare."

When he uttered the mage's name, the old man's voice briefly rose. Anger, expectation, and a long-festering sense of inferiority were all tangled together in it.

Calix knew he wanted recognition.

It was not simply a desire to become a mage. The talk of controlling mana, the cry about the pinnacle of knowledge—all of it pointed toward the same place. The desire to be special.

Yet that obsession had not lifted him upward. Instead, it had ravaged body and mind alike. It had shattered his human emotions, and in the end, it had dragged him here—to this back alley.

Nilo continued without pause.

"You'd be surprised if you knew. How unstable the early-model was at the start. But you survived. Look—I did it. I proved it! As long as I have you……!"

He gazed up at Calix. He did not recognize him as his son. There was only the look of a researcher checking the results of an experiment.

Calix gave no answer.

He reached into his robe once more, retrieved another piece of soft fruit, and slid it toward the old man. That was all. Immediately after, he turned his back.

"W-wait!"

The old man reached out a hand.

"Hey! My words aren't finished—"

His fingertips cut through empty air. Calix did not stop walking. Nilo's voice rang out again from behind—whether it was a curse or a call, he could not tell. He did not look back, not once.

Father and son had met where fate permitted.

And they parted by his choice.

There were no words of reunion, no questions about the years that had passed. Neither forgiveness nor anger was necessary. Because neither held enough worth to warrant it.

‘What is life?’

Calix thought as he emerged from the alley. Blood had connected them, but meaning had not. They had begun from one, but branched into different paths.

There was no going back.

Even if one wished to walk the same road—they were already standing in different places. That alone was the only truth.

***

Calix continued northward.

Whether the Mountain Rabbits were on the move, or when passing through city gates, he always kept to the tail end of the group. His robe was pulled down deep, and for gazes that asked his name, a lowered head was all the answer he offered. There was no need to prove his identity, no reason to reveal it.

The road leading to the Niboria Empire was dangerous, yet there was not a single moment of obstruction.

The Mountain Rabbits' renown still held its weight. The tales of heroes that had shaken the continent were gradually fading, yet even their lingering echo was enough to clear the way. And upon that name, the existence called Volga became entangled.

"It has been a long time, Volga."

The northernmost reaches of Astria. A border fortress.

A young man greeted him with a familiar voice. His identity was Luma Critang—a former member of the Astria resistance, who had once fought alongside the Mountain Rabbits.

"Ahh, are you holding up alright? Your face looks rough."

"We're managing, given that it's the border region."

There was no checkpoint inspection. The other party knew Volga's capabilities well. Even if they tried to block him, it would only cause a scene—and they would not be able to hold him.

"Are you headed to Niboria?"

"That's only a brief stop."

"……So you're going to Elvra in the end. It's a fine choice, though I can't help feeling a twinge of regret. It won't be easy to meet again."

Volga snorted and replied.

"Were we ever that close?"

"Regret doesn't grow in proportion to time spent together. What matters is the kind of time you shared."

A single moment from the past existed between the two. Before the war against the beasts—there had been a time they joined hands against the Niboria Empire.

Immediately after, Luma Critang spoke as if in passing.

"The child is growing well."

"A child……?"

"The newborn that Sir Calix saved. You held on to the end against Sir Imran Akran to protect her. They named her Kali."

Volga forcibly held back his head, which had begun to turn toward the rear. The other man had not spoken knowing of Calix's presence.

But Calix remembered.

From the fragments of memory, the image of a child cradled in a bundle of cloth resurfaced. It was a faint recollection, yet the passage of time was felt with unmistakable clarity. The world had continued flowing since that day, and people were living on in their own ways.

Kali, too, was proof of that.

Calix fell into deep silence. He did nothing but listen to what his heart was saying. That place was his final stop in Astria.

The moment he crossed the border into Niboria, everything changed.

The roads were maintained, and the walls still served their purpose. It was not without disorder, but at the very least, a minimum of public order had been established. Yet the center was empty.

The Mountain Rabbits learned of the empire's internal situation from those passing through the surrounding area.

The imperial throne had been vacant for several years. With that empty seat as its prize, the great noble houses were tightening their grip around each other's throats.

An all-out war had not yet been fought, but military movements, blockades, and deaths of unknown cause continued to occur. In the Niborian way of things, a fierce battle beneath the surface was unfolding.

They pressed deep into the empire's southwest.

The atmosphere was similar from city to city. Markets were open but lacked vitality, and in the taverns, the same name kept surfacing. In the low voices of mercenaries, there was a fear that could not be concealed.

"House Ashapel has swallowed the entire south."

"Even the great Count Bermak ended up bowing his knee."

"Having devoured half the empire—it's practically the same as ascending the throne!"

Every time that name was spoken, the surroundings fell quiet.

House Ashapel.

The family that had commanded the greatest military force even before the emperor's death. They held the southern empire's granaries and iron mines, and now they were flaunting that power without restraint. In opposition, the nobles of the central and northern regions had rallied together, and word was that a decisive battle was not far off.

"Brazen of them."

At Volga's words, Romance replied.

"Even so, they haven't taken the throne yet. They'll need to build justification too, and they'll have to win the war as well. There are still a couple of hurdles left to clear."

"But that lot doesn't exactly care much about justification, do they?"

While keeping an ear to the conversation inside the tavern, Calix fixed his gaze through the window. The banners were still those of the empire, but the soldiers passing beneath them were pledging their loyalty elsewhere. Rather than order collapsing, the master was changing.

‘Ashapel.’

Within that name lay his own roots.

All at once, Marquis Ashapel came to mind. The one who had grasped the vacuum of power before anyone else—a man who knew how to turn chaos into opportunity. In the past as well, he had made such choices. And Calix already knew where that end was headed.

Yet the reason his heart trembled was something else entirely.

"Calix."

Volga spoke, meeting his gaze face-to-face.

"Are you ready?"

"……"

"I heard she has been staying in the Pentan Viscounty."

Calix had not come to meet Marquis Ashapel—

"Let's go meet your mother."

Elnora Ashapel. He had come to meet his own mother.

***

Entering the Pentan Viscounty was not particularly difficult. House Ashapel was gathering military strength. Forces that had marched north from the imperial south had seized the roads, and mercenary companies from every direction were riding that current. The smell of war was thick, yet paradoxically, movement itself had grown simpler.

Volga wedged into that opening.

The mercenary company's reputation and Ashapel's standing. Those two things alone were enough to move freely to other regions. No one pried deeply. In these times, the more fighting hands, the better.

At the Mountain Rabbits' arrival, the Viscount of Pentan invited them inside the castle. And Calix slipped away into the castle's interior along the way.

The interior of the castle was not large.

There were many torches, yet there were also many places where the light did not reach. The air, rigid with tension, filled the space between the walls and the streets. He melted between the shadows, within the whinnying of warhorses echoing from the stables. The hem of his robe swayed in the night air, but his footsteps grew ever quieter.

The scenery changed the further inward he went.

The patterns on the stone floor were neat and orderly, and in the garden, trimmed trees stood in a line. Leaves on the eve of winter brushed against the wind. The moment he heard that sound, Calix came to a sudden stop.

He did not know why.

And yet, he knew.

That it was here.

Memory remained silent, but his body responded first. Where his gaze had fallen—there was a low stone wall, and within it, a single detached wing. The light was small. A faint lamp illuminated the window.

Calix slowly made himself visible.

"……"

The woman was seated in a rocking chair. She had tilted her head, resting her eyes for a moment, then opened them at the presence she sensed. It took longer than that for her head to turn.

And then—

The woman's eyes widened.

It was unmistakably surprise.

Yet there was no scream, no stepping backward. She rose from her seat and looked directly at Calix. As if she had been preparing for that moment long ago.

"……You were alive."

Her voice was low, and the trembling was almost absent. Only, she needed a moment to steady her breath before that one phrase could be released.

Elnora Ashapel moved toward her son.

Her gaze was firm, while her fingertips trembled ever so slightly. It was something one would only notice if their hands had been clasped together. It was the manner of a person for whom strength had become second nature.

The first question she finally managed to let out was the same.

"Who knows…… That you're here?"

Calix did not answer immediately. Because he knew what that question meant. What came before gladness was wariness. The gaze of a noblewoman who feared her own child might be swept up in war once again.

Understanding that sentiment well enough, he shook his head and replied.

"No. No one."

Only then did the corners of Elnora's eyes redden.

"Calix, my son."

"……Mother."

No tears fell, but the trace of emotion having touched them was unmistakable. She stepped one pace closer and stroked her child's cheek—but nothing more followed. Rather than an embrace or the calling of his name, what came instead was a short warning.

"This place may be soaked in blood."

Her voice was composed.

"Now that Ashapel has moved, the other houses won't sit by and watch. This castle is not safe."

Calix gazed at her face in silence. There were more lines than he remembered. More worry had accumulated, and things she had never shown before were now surfacing.

The woman had grown weaker. Yet that weakness was of one who had something to protect.

Whether it was because of time's passage, or because she did not wish to lose her child again—he could not say. But what was certain was—

"So…… Don't think of staying long, dear."

She was making a plea. It was her best form of protection. She was trying to offer love in the only way she knew how. It did not matter what kind of being Calix was, or what power he possessed.

To that, he obediently nodded.

"Yes. I won't stay long."

At that reply, Elnora smiled. For just a brief instant, the face of the mother from long ago shone through. It was the same as she had looked back then—reading books to him in the middle of the night.