Dimitri

The majestic castle was shrouded in the twilight of the red moon. The castle hall had towering pillars on both sides, stretching up to a high ceiling adorned with intricate grey-silver engravings. A grand chandelier hung from the roof, casting a pale, ethereal glow that enhanced the brilliance of the hall.

At the center of the vast chamber, within a ritual circle, lay a black stone bed carved with enigmatic golden engravings. The four corners bore inscriptions in an ancient, exotic language, their fluid strokes mesmerizing to the eye.

Yet, the most captivating sight was the man resting upon the stone bed. His features bore a striking resemblance—five points similar—to the man who had entered and shattered Cordelia's dream world. If she were here, even with her hazy memories, she would recognize him. The slight differences in his appearance did not lessen his perfection; rather, they added to his allure. With his eyes closed, his face exuded a tranquility that could ensnare the gaze of any onlooker for eternity.

Two tall figures stood near the ritual circle, their expressions tense with concern as they watched over the sleeping man.

"Why isn't the Lord awake yet? Old hag, did you not say the dream realm was destroyed? Then what is still binding him?" The man in a white military uniform, his sharp features marred by frustration, couldn't contain his anxiety.

The woman he addressed, however, remained undeterred, continuing to chant within the ritual circle. Without pausing in her task, a pleasant yet cool voice responded, "It is Adrasteia, Sir Nibrus, if you may. And I am certainly not ancient enough to be called an old hag—especially not by someone as weathered as yourself. Now, if you would kindly remain silent."

By name, she was the same witch who had met Cordelia during her college trip. Yet, the old woman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, in her place stood a young lady garbed in a deep purple dress, draped in a flowing black robe.

Zephyr's irritation flared further. His concern for his Lord was already testing his patience, and the last thing he needed was to deal with this infuriating witch. He clenched his fists, his divine aura fluctuating.

"You expect me to remain quiet? After what you did? And to me of all people?"

"I did nothing wrong," Adrasteia replied through telepathy, unbothered by his anger.

Zephyr scowled. "Witches are detested by nearly all races, and that includes divinities like us. This one isn't even here for him."

"You are threatening me!"

Veins throbbed at his temple. If not for the risk of disrupting the ritual, he would have stormed into the circle. This old witch knew exactly how to provoke him. He turned sharply to the man standing beside him, clad in a brown military uniform. "Sir Orestes! Aren't you concerned at all? Or are you truly entrusting our Lord's safety to her?"

A mocking hum came from within the ritual circle.

"Oh my! How dare I, the one currently holding Nyx Aeternus' life in her hands, be so careless?"

Zephyr's aura surged dangerously. The castle doors rattled under the force of his divine energy—only to be abruptly stilled. A denser, more condensed spiritual force coiled around his own, suppressing it with ease. The moment he felt it, his expression stiffened, and he turned toward its source.

"You—she's doing this on purpose!" Zephyr fumed, pointing at the witch. He turned once more to Orestes, exasperated. "Sir Orestes, look at her! She's acting as though our Lord's safety is some trivial matter! And why did you stop my attack?!"

"Silence, Zephyr!"

The rebuke was sharp, carrying an undercurrent of warning. Orestes' monochromatic gaze bore into him, his patience wearing thin. "Your recklessness could have jeopardized the ritual. Stand down."

Adrasteia, despite her focus on the ritual, noted everything unfolding around her. She had no desire to argue with these divinities. She was here for one purpose only—to ensure his awakening.

"Thank you, Sir Orestes," she murmured in his mind, "though I would have appreciated your intervention sooner."

The final chant left her lips. A pulse of ancient magic rippled through the chamber.

Zephyr opened his mouth to retort again, but before he could speak—

A sharp inhale echoed through the hall.

"Zephyr, stand down."

The voice was deep, smooth, yet laced with an unmistakable weight.

A faint frown creased Dimitri's brows as he slowly sat up, fingers pressing against his forehead. Though his body had awakened, his mind remained fixated on something distant—on an unfocused, unreadable gaze.

Zephyr's breath hitched.

"Who dares—!"

But the moment his golden eyes met the ones now open before him, his anger dissolved into stunned relief. "Lord! Finally, you have awakened!"

He rushed forward, only to halt at the ritual's boundary, the sharp gaze of the witch preventing him from stepping closer. Even so, he couldn't keep his worries from spilling out.

"My Lord... did I not warn you against taking that contract? Nothing good has come of it!"

Disregarding Zephyr's words, Orestes instead bent on one knee, placing his right hand over his heart. His voice was steady, respectful. "Welcome back, Nyx Aeternus."

Dimitri hummed in reply before asking, "Have you found anything regarding that intruder?"

Even with his eyes closed, he could still recall that small, impassive face, looking at him with an unreadable coldness.

Orestes hesitated for only a breath before responding. "The trace led to Praexorus—the Timeless Reach."

Silence fell.

A silence so deep, so absolute, that the very air in the chamber grew heavier.

Even Zephyr, who moments ago had been ranting, felt a chill crawl down his spine. For once, he had nothing to say.

Dimitri exhaled, leaning back slightly, before letting out a husky laugh. It was soft—almost amused—but his golden eyes, cold as the void, carried no mirth.

"The Timeless Reach, hmm? You'll have to wait just a little longer for your destruction."

Adrasteia: "…" I just heard something I wasn't meant to. Will I be silenced?

Zephyr: "…" Lord, your aura is getting very, very terrifying.

Orestes: "…"

Breaking out of her stupor, Adrasteia hurriedly retrieved a crystal vial and held it out to him. "Divine Lord, please take this concoction. It will help replenish your strength more quickly."

In her haste, she addressed him with his forbidden title. The moment the words left her lips, she wished she could swallow them back. Would she be punished?

But the reaction she expected never came.

Dimitri merely turned his gaze to her and stated coolly, "Do not call me by that title. And I have no need for the concoction. Prepare a teleportation gate leading to a specific world."

Adrasteia blinked, momentarily thrown off.

Zephyr, however, immediately latched onto the problem. "Lord, you just destroyed a separate realm, and now you're planning to enter another? Shouldn't you at least avoid demolishing other people's homes for a while—?"

Dimitri shifted his attention toward his talkative subordinate, his lips curving into something resembling a smile.

Yet his golden eyes remained utterly devoid of warmth.

"You're worried about a realm more than me?"

Orestes sighed and, before Zephyr could dig his grave further, grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back. "My Lord, the materials will be prepared. Lady Adrasteia will oversee the ritual."

Adrasteia paled slightly. "This will take considerable magic. I may need time to study the ritual first—"

"You have until tomorrow." Dimitri's voice was unyielding. "She carries my Tracer. It should be easy to find her."

Zephyr: "…Tracer?"

Even Orestes was momentarily stunned.

A Tracer… on her?

Just what was their Lord planning?