13. Something Lost, Something Gained

"T… thanks," Lythari murmured under her breath, her voice as soft as a breeze brushing across dew-covered petals. Her cheeks flushed a faint rose as Dante complimented her eyes—the color of a waterfall under moonlight, calm yet endlessly deep.

Dante tilted his head slightly. "So… why were they bullying you?" he asked, a frown crossing his features as he glanced at the overturned tray on the floor—her lunch splattered, uneaten.

Lythari hesitated, twirling a lock of silvery hair between her fingers before answering. "Don't know. Maybe because I'm half dark elf," she said quietly, barely above a whisper.

Dante's eyes widened the moment he truly saw her. Her skin, pale as fresh snow, contrasted the typical image most had of dark elves. "I… don't get it," he muttered, confused.

Lythari gave a small smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Well… I'm not actually, how do you say it… dirty. Dark elves are rebellious. They're not exactly peaceful like high elves or forest elves," she explained. Her voice carried an edge, like someone who had to defend herself too often.

"Ah… I see. Judgment for what they think you'll become, huh?" Dante nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

"I guess." Her response was simple as she continued to eat from Dante's plate. Half of it was gone already—her own lunch had been kicked over by Taka and his gang, and Dante hadn't hesitated to offer his share.

"Hey," Dante said suddenly, placing his elbow on the table and grinning. "Wanna be friends?"

Lythari looked up, one eyebrow raised with a mixture of suspicion and surprise. "Why me?"

"Well…" Dante scratched the back of his head, his dark hair ruffled and wild. "You're not like them. And I'm different too. I don't exactly fit in with the Ruthwilfers, either. So… yeah. That's that."

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her long skirt, brushing invisible dust off it. Then she gave a slow nod. "I guess it's okay."

"Great!" Dante grinned wide, his eyes lighting up. "See you tomorrow? Same time, same spot after recess?"

Without a word, Lythari reached out and took the hand Dante offered. Her grip was soft but eager. "Y… yeah," she said, shyly yet with a smile that hinted at something brighter inside her.

---

Far away, in a realm suspended between clouds and firelight, Zhurong sneezed suddenly.

"Achoo!" she muttered, wiping her nose with an embroidered silk cloth. "Why do I feel like something is being taken from me… and yet, I want to share it?"

The fire dragoness sat cross-legged in her private study, the walls a swirling mirage of mystic runes and draconic carvings. The room pulsed with magical energy, dragon magic so potent it warped the air with heat shimmer. Candles floated midair, surrounding her as she meditated, practicing ancient flame-binding incantations.

She had no idea that Dante—her bonded, her chosen—had just made a new friend.

And that friend… was a half-dark elf girl.

---

Meanwhile, deep within the twisted, obsidian heart of the demon realm, Taouon's voice thundered through the stony caverns.

"FASTER! Do you want the next king to starve?!"

Demons of various ranks scurried like ants, carrying crates of raw mana crystals, severed beast limbs, and enchanted bones. The resources were meant to feed and empower the heir to the throne.

"By Lucious, must you yell that loud?" a sultry voice purred from above.

Taouon turned sharply. "Lustia," he said, surprised but not displeased, as the demoness descended from the violet skies, her long wings stretching before folding elegantly behind her.

"Aren't you supposed to be tutoring the young prince?" he asked, eyes narrowing as he turned back to monitor the supply operations.

"Oh please," she smirked. "I just finished. He's off meditating now. I figured I'd check in on you before heading back to the Matriarch's chamber."

Taouon scoffs and then reached to his pocket.

"Here, Voragor said to give you this," Taouon said, tossing her a shimmering crystal. It sparkled like a frozen flame—a visual projection crystal.

"Nice. Gotta hand it to that Sinner of Glutton. He sure knows how to deliver," Lustia said with a smirk as she activated it.

The image inside sharpened—and there he was.

Dante.

Taouon tilted his head. "What? Don't tell me you're into little boys now."

Lustia didn't respond. Her gaze was locked on the image, lips parting slightly.

"Oi… seriously? Don't tell me you've fallen that low," Taouon growled, stepping beside her.

"No," she finally muttered, snapping out of it. "It's just… this boy reminds me of someone. Someone from the past. When I was still just an apprentice. Before I… became the Sinner of Lust."

Her voice trembled, laced with memories of pain and power. She zoomed in on the crystal.

Then her eyes went wide.

"Mother of Hell," she breathed. "That's—!"

She shoved the crystal into Taouon's face.

Taouon stared, then his lips curled into a stunned grin. "No way… This could help the young prince grow five times faster."

"Pity I can't go," Lustia sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I still have to heal the Matriarch. I promised she'd live to see her son rise."

"Don't worry," Taouon said with a wicked smirk, spreading his black, angelic wings. "I know who can handle it."

"You're kidding…" Lustia's eyes narrowed. "He's awake?"

"Just a few days ago," Taouon confirmed. "He's already feeding, rebuilding his body, strengthening his mana. The Sinner of Pride is ready."

"Wait!" Lustia called out as he prepared to fly. He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"Warn him about this boy." She held out the crystal again, her expression darkening.

"Why?" he asked, his tone half serious, half mocking.

She turned away, her face stained with shame.

Realization dawned on Taouon's face from Lustia's defeat and her half disintegrated body last year.

"It was him, wasn't it?" he asked grimly. "That little runt at the Ruthwilfer castle raid? He's the one who did that to you?"

Lustia nodded, silent. Her pride refused to let her speak, her humiliation carved deep in her memory.

Without another word, Taouon took to the sky, cutting through the demon winds like a blade, the crystal in hand and a message to deliver—to the one demon who could shake the world with a smile.

The Sinner of Pride.

And he would soon know the name… Dante.

---

Chapter 13 – End.