CHAPTER 110

  A BURSTING BUBBLE

  Theodred was running late to the training grounds.

  Unforgivable by Reina’s standards.

  And by the time he arrived, the morning sun had already passed the eastern walls. Knights were halfway through their drills. Young ones were grumbling in exhausted harmony. But Reina stood there like a statue—motionless, silent, one brow twitching dangerously.

  “Slept well?” she asked without turning around.

  Her tone made Theodred winced. His aura was already betraying him—scattered, unfocused. He walked across the field, trying to hide the deep bags under his eyes and the faint pink still dusting his cheeks.

  “Had trouble sleeping,” he said casually.

  Reina turned. Her arms crossed and gaze sharp.

  “You never have trouble sleeping.”

  “I’m evolving,” he offered with a forced smile. “Maybe finally becoming a normal person.”

  Reina narrowed her eyes. “You look like you got run over by a mana beast and then emotionally gaslit by a spirit.”

  Theodred blinked. “That... is oddly specific.”

  “It’s based on a real incident. Don’t deflect.”

  “I’m not—”

  Reina’s fingers twitched. A flick of aura cracked the air beside his head.

  “Try again.”

  Theodred sighed, shoulders sagging. “It’s... nothing serious.”

  “Oh, really?” Reina stepped closer, voice dropping to that terrifyingly calm tone that she used right before wrecking someone's career. “Because I read your reports, and they were flawless. Not a single misstep in execution. Meaning—whatever this funk is, it’s not from your mission.”

  He looked away. “It’s personal.”

  “That’s even worse.” She leaned in, staring up at him with eyes like honed blades. “Since when do you let personal things throw you off?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Whatever it is, get over it.” Reina demanded. “You’ve been with us for four months and you’ve learned—no mastered— my three skills. How far are you from reaching grade forty?” She asked.

  “I’ll reach in a few—”

  “No. You’ve to reach it as soon as possible. Do you think fighting against Dijkstra is easy? That man is the definition of evasion. He even has the balls to tease Norwin because he’s impossible to catch.”

  She paused.

  “Your only advantage in the ranked battle is the enclosed space. Dijkstra can’t run outside the field—even if it is very large. It’s your only chance.”

  Hans never saw a compulsion in fighting the madman. He could just learn everything from her, contract a spirit and get the hell out of there.

  Not even once did he take Dijkstra’s challenge seriously. But the opportunity it had provided would kill two birds with one stone.

  Homar had asked him to earn his acknowledgement, his servitude on the condition that he’d defeat a ranked knight. Theodred and Hans, no forms mattered.

  But since Dijkstra’s sudden appearance and his challenge, Reina had been silent. Never forcing him to achieve things faster than what he was doing right now. As if she also didn’t want him to face Dijkstra.

  But now she was actively encouraging him.

  Defeating the sad death in a year or so of training would be nothing but suicide and Hans knew she understood it too.

  “You seem to be in a hurry, teacher. There are still six more months till the knight convention.”

  “Yes. I’m in a hurry, disciple.” She agreed. “You might’ve noticed. There is a significant flaw in our aura skills. You know, right?”

  “Yes. Even with Regenratio, I can hardly compete with the same grade knight in terms of endurance—the aura gets exhausted quickly because of passive skills.”

  “Yes. To counter that effect. You’ve to contract a Swan spirit, symbol of light. That will give you an immense boost to aura reserve— I, with it, ranked eight in this world and now, without, I fell to twenty-one. You understand what I’m saying, right?”

  “Yes.” Hans nodded. “A spirit plays a significant role in our aura skills.”

  “You are right. But the doors to get the Swan spirit might get close at this rate—”

  “What do you mean?” Hans came here to get a spirit; her skills were the secondary objective, and now she was saying that it could become hard to achieve.

  Reina took a pause before answering.

  “The thing is—the Shadow family controls the gateway to the spirit world. And—”

  “And your relations with them might turn sour soon, right?”

  “You grew a brain, I guess.”

  Damn, Martys. Just wait a bit, will ya? He paused, asking, “Why though?”

  “It’s not for you to worry about—what you should worry about is being hitting grade 60. As fast as you can—”

  “Teacher. As you just mentioned, I reached grade 30 in mere months. I’m already doing fast enough—”

  “It’s not fast— you need to do like your life depends on it.”

  Since that day, Hans started maintaining distance. The distraction Delimira had provided vanished as he cooped himself in aura training.

  The clock ticked, and only five months and a few days remained for the knight convention. Panting, he came to notify the queen.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Teacher. Give me the fourth skill.”

  Upon hearing those words, Reina gave up what she was doing. Increasing the workload of her office, and went away.

  In a transformed space. Now just for her and him, she began.

  “Listen. I told you as you progress. The skills became tough to master. You took your sweet time reaching Maximacre skill mastery and hitting grade 40, right?”

  Hans nodded.

  “So focus.” Reina unsheathed. Showing the laminating blade and Maximacre running on it in full swing.

  Hans used his Lumen Gaze to notice the physical change.

  Tiny sparks were emitting through the sword, like liquid aura dripping like a poison-laced weapon.

  “You are leaking aura—”

  “It’s intentional.” She explained. “With Maximacre—you can cleave almost everything, but someone can heal using mana or potions—even with aura exchange. You need to counter it.”

  Hans recalled the incident once again. He had clashed with Reina only once and almost died because even with his hyper-regeneration using photons or Paradise Garden, his dismembered hand refused to heal.

  “So this was it.” He muttered. “I have to balance Maximacre and aura discharge— have to leave some of my aura inside the wounds, right?”

  “Yes and no,” she answered. “The body can reject the foreign aura but not the one you leave. Because yours won’t be some still aura but will remain in motion for a long time—enough to fend off your enemies. The aura particles you leave will not be ejected.”

  “Let’s begin then.” Hans gestured.

  “First,” she pointed at the water in the nearby fountain, leading. “Put your sword with Maximacre running and start injecting your hyper-motion aura particles without disturbing the water.”

  “Once you succeed. Find me.”

  After saying that, she vanished. Leaving Hans with his new task that seemed impossible with every try.

  Days turned into nights and nights into days. It was hard, but he achieved—no, he mastered it.

  Yet when he tried on the dummies imbued with healing stones. None of his strikes showed the same property as Reina’s.

  “Damn it. I’m this close to understanding FESTER.” He cursed, falling on his back. He had been avoiding others, solely focusing on his skills, but focusing on a single thing for days never worked for him. He needed to cool off, yet he couldn’t find anyone.

  “Teacher, I’m not giving up, but can I skip mastering it— give me the next skill.”

  “You do know why only one skill for a decadal grade is allowed. The more you dabble in, the harder it becomes to breakthrough a warlord grade—you are not Parvian, are you? Those bastards are born with a significant advantage when it comes to mastering multiple skills in a single decadal grade—that cursed imperial bloodline and their thrumming hearts.”

  Yikes. Her love for Parv is magnanimous as always.

  He thought and asked. “So Chris can do it too—more than ten skills. I mean.”

  “Yes. But for god knows what reasons. His master, Rudolf, had forbidden it—or he might not have a way to teach him.”

  So no extra skills for me—well, I never wanted more than ten anyway, but it still sucks. He thought.

  “Focus on Fester. My skills heavily depend on mastery of the previous.” She stated. And Hans followed.

  “I understand.” He nodded and went away.

  For days, the palace—once alive with whispers and laughter whenever Theodred drifted through its halls—fell eerily quiet. Servants who had once flushed at the sight of him now kept their heads down.

  Chris, tired of guessing his location and feeling the absence of the queen at the dinner table, whispered to his father. “Where is Theodred? It’s been a while since he ate with us?”

  “Shhh!” Bernard hushed him without bothering to look up from his cup. “Our queen had arranged him a personal space, handcrafted for training. He might be there sleeping or holding his sword. He is practically a madman nowadays. Once in a while, the queen coaxes him out of there.”

  Chris frowned. “What? Isn’t she letting him climb too high onto her shoulders?”

  Bernard’s mouth curved into something dry and cutting. “He’s her prodigy, lad. She’ll yank him down when she grows tired of the game.”

  A sound cut through the halls before Chris could answer. Footsteps along with Reina’s voice—sharp, furious—echoed across the way to them. Servants paused mid-step, straining their ears.

  “How many times must I tell you? The training grounds are not a bedroom! You have a room, for gods’ sake!”

  Theodred’s voice shot back, lazy and unrepentant. “I wasn’t sleeping. A bug got in my eye. I was suffocating it.”

  Muffled laughter rippled among the servants. Reina’s jaw tightened, and before she could strike again, Theodred appeared aright at his seat, almost in an instant. His speed through aura and with four skills mastered, his movement had reached new heights. He vanished like smoke and appeared like a ghost.

  Delimira folded her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Hard to believe. The queen, once the very definition of stoic, now chasing boys like an exasperated nursemaid. Even my cousins never suffered such affection.”

  She was loud and it was intentional.

  Bernard’s hand was quick to press her shoulder, heavy. “Your cousins are heirs. Royals must be tempered by distance, not comfort. That’s why she is queen to them, not mother.”

  Delimira’s eyes narrowed. “And yet she clings to Theodred as though he is both.”

  She leaned forward, voice low and biting. “I’ll never understand her. Or my own mother. If I had children, I’d at least give them affection.”

  Bernard’s reply came measured, but sharp. “That absence carved strength in you. Strong enough to stand without her.”

  “You wouldn’t understand, Bernard.” Her voice cracked under the steel. “To reach for a mother’s hand and find nothing. Sometimes I envy Hans. Orphaned, yet he had Sierra’s arms—warm where ours were cold.”

  The name dropped like a stone in water. Bernard stilled, guilt shadowing his face, but Delimira didn’t notice.

  “I should’ve stayed in Edenberg,” she continued, muttering. “If he hadn’t vanished, I would have. And when I find him…” her teeth flashed, bitter. “He’ll regret making me crawl back to this snake’s nest.”

  “The leave. Who is stopping you?” Reina had enough of her. “You who know nothing will not understand the pain of a mother.”

  “Do you think I wouldn’t have left if I could— you who know nothing will not understand my troubles either, queen Reina.” She stood, her chair pushed and left.

  The long-awaited dinner was now cut short with silence.

  Few more days rolled over.

  Chris honed his blade, Delimira fought to rebuild her mana circles, Allynna bled sweat over the sword forms her mother had never taught, and Theodred remained absent—swallowed by some wilderness far away.

  This time Allynna snapped at the dinner table.

  “Mother. Where is Theodred?”

  “What is with you all? Can’t we just have a regular dinner?” Reina asked, and none answered.

  Yet Allynna persisted.

  Sighing, Reina gave in.

  “Culling beasts on the border.”

  “Alone?”

  “Who do you think he is?” Reina’s voice was smooth, amused.

  She summoned the royal coordinator. “What’s his progress?”

  The man bowed, his words as neat as the ink in his ledgers.

  “He reached almost grade fifty, Your Majesty. Fourth-class beasts cut down. His return is near.”

  “Does he need aid?” Reina asked, her tone flat.

  The man allowed himself a small smile. “The beasts might.”

  For the first time that evening, Reina’s lips curved. She turned to her daughter. “There. No need for concern. Attend to your own work.”

  “Then why don't you ever ask for my progress?”

  “Because I am not meant to be responsible for you.” She pointed at Bernard. “He is.”

  “Not responsible?”, Allynna’s voice finally cracked. “You are my mother.”

  “And I was raised without one. Months without a glimpse of their faces. That is Elven royalty.”

  Allynna’s eyes burned. “Then be as cold with Theodred.”

  She was holding it for a long. Trying to understand her but no matter how much she tried. No reasons came true.

  Her hand struck the table. Dishes rattled. She rose and stormed out, leaving her plate untouched. Eleanor, face pale, followed swiftly.

  This was the first time she had raised her voice against Reina, and surprisingly Reina had no idea how to respond.

  “She will grow weak,” Reina murmured. Aredhel echoed her, almost in the same breath.

  Delimira glanced between them and swallowed her words. To speak here was to waste breath on stone.

  Two days later, Hans returned. Stronger. Balanced. His aura hummed with restraint, sharpened by his hunts. Yet the forest chosen for him had been too tame; his hunger had not been sated.

  He was polishing his blade when Allynna found him. Her voice, brittle yet burning, broke the quiet.

  “Tell me, Theodred… do you ever get tired of being cared for more than her own blood?”