Your Royal Highness

The winter bear found him and attacked. Eiran repeated his previous maneuver, escaping again to its blind spot.

Ruin ground came into view, and Eiran readied his protection techniques: Waning Crescent: Phantom Pulse halt the chaotic vibrations in him and went into New Moon: Silent Edge and ready for Waxing Crescent: Lunar Fang

He waited, but no attack came. This should have baffled him, but he kept his mind focused. Breaking his concentration from the New Moon would invite attacks.

He had come to understand that whatever he was facing here, in the ruin hall, could sense his dangerous intent—his readiness to strike. That's why they stopped attacking him as long as he maintained this defensive stance.

Sand came into view. Eiran felt trepidation but kept his calm, maintaining his lunar techniques. Phantom Pulse brought stillness to disorder when a blade came at him, he added Waxing Gibbous: Rebound Redirection and was sent flying backward as he wanted.

Embracing Full Moon: Moonlight Waltz as he dances between the two warriors who had positioned him at their center.

One wielded a claymore, the other a spear. He danced at hair's breadth from their attacks, his scorched face shifting with emotional turmoil as he focused entirely on avoiding their strikes, or clashing his sword with their weapons but maintaining subtle strikes at their body that he mostly missed.

He went for Waning Crescent: Last Veil to escape their encirclement, slipping to the side of the blade warrior that struck fast but Waxing Gibbous: Rebound Redirection sent him further away from them.

But a spear came flying toward him. Eiran met it with First Quarter: Judging Blade. His hand shook and his body was pushed back, dragged across the sand by the powerful throw, creating even more distance between them.

The spear fell into the sand.

Facing the incoming warriors, Eiran with deep breath went with Full Moon: Moonlight Waltz and positioned himself above the fallen weapon, preventing the warriors from reclaiming it.

Understanding his strategy, the blade warrior charged directly at him, bashing him from a distance away.

Phantom Pulse made Eiran go still before moving with unpredictability—bending, dodging—while attacking as he faced the claymore wilder alone, trying to cause damage before the other warrior grabbed his spear.

Eiran unleashed First Quarter: Judging Blade with both hands when he saw an opening but he sensed an attack from behind.

Deploying Waning Crescent: Last Veil saved him from being cut in half.

"Damn it!" Eiran cursed, his eyes red as heat blasted his face. His face oozes with burning liquid, breathing the scorching air with difficulty but he still uses Waxing Crescent: Phantom Pulse to calm his chaotic disorientation before embracing Full Moon: Moonlight Waltz very fast.

He began dancing around the burning warrior, but a torrent of flames crashed into him—another hound, or perhaps the same one returning.

The warrior lunged forward, driving his burning blade into Eiran.

'Stab.'

The Royal Uniform held for a moment before the blade sank through, burning his skin and piercing his bones, scorching his internal organs.

"Ahhh!" He screamed, tongue exposed to burning heat steam, then smoked.

However, his scream made the warriors stagger back as he pulled the blade free, but regaining composure fast they struck down again.

Crimson blood dropped onto the icy ground, turning ice crystals in moments as the bear attacked him.

Eiran still forced Waning Gibbous: Phantom Pulse and then Waxing Gibbous: Rebound Redirection to launch himself away.

Eirans hand pressed on his wound, his mouth strange as his burnt, shriveled tongue was now icy numb.

The bleeding had already stopped—healing was taking place. But the winter warrior was still attacking.

'Roar.'

The beast's roar shook him, and the pain disrupted his coordination. He barely dodged as the beast rammed its head into him, sending him rolling.

He stood as he slid back on his boots, but an ice blade was at his face. Waxing Gibbous: Rebound Redirection was last second.

He parried by moving backward. The bear attacked from the side, trying to clamp him.

Waning Crescent: Last Veil let him escape the bite, but the ice blade caught him anyway, grazing his back and cutting through both uniform and skin.

The ice entered his body, spread on his back making him stiffen as the bear came at him again.

Wind began to blow through the ruins, but Eiran was faster: deploying Waning Gibbous: Phantom Pulse to halt the sudden shift, then New Moon: Silent Edge and readying Waxing Crescent: Lunar Fang

The wind stopped, and he breathed. The pain was distracting, and the wind shifted but he focused and the wind stopped.

After two minutes. Eiran was barely ready—his voice was effective, and he would use it, but that would further destroy his mouth.

The scenery changed. He was about to scream when he stopped himself.

---

"YOUR HIGHNESS!" Nyara shouted in horror at what she saw—her nightmare had come true.

Eiran's body was cold, but his face was scorched red. His hair was burnt away, his eyes blood-red and about to burst from their sockets.

His Royal Uniform was burnt beyond recognition. There was no cape, the pauldrons were broken and dented, and his boots were covered in ice with many cuts, revealing burned feet beneath.

His coat and trousers were also covered in cuts, and the skin underneath was blistered and broken open.

A stab wound had gone through his chest, and a burnt scent of flesh filled the courtroom. An ice cut had frozen his back and was now trying to freeze his blood, making him stagger.

Eiran recognized safety and relaxed, but then the pain his mind had been suppressing became overwhelming.

"Waaaa!"

"Waaas!"

He began to cry like a baby.

"I'm imm pain! Waaaa!"

"Zey zied ku kimme! Waaaa!"

Tears rolled down from his bulging, nearly bursting eyes. Nyara almost staggered as he saw the inside of his mouth. It was charcoal.

She vanished and returned with a vial, pouring it into his mouth.

He drank greedily, then continued: "Waaa!"

She carefully began removing his uniform. Tears fell as she peeled away the inner shirt—his skin came with it.

"Damn it. Why didn't you wait for me?" she complained but continued working until he was naked before her. Using powder from her supplies, she dusted his body, causing him to shiver.

With great dexterity, she attended to the deeper wounds. She wasn't shocked to see that the organs inside were already healing and pushing out dead blood. All she needed to do was sew the exterior wounds.

---

Eiran remained standing—his body was too damaged to sit comfortably. No place on him was untouched, not even his private areas.

Thankfully, the powder was doing its job well.

'He's not circumcised,' Nyara thought absently before making him eat for the third time within an hour.

The food facilitated healing and body recovery, which indirectly helped with Talent Energy recovery.

Eiran had stopped himself from using Celestial Blood Essence to heal because doing so would put him in deeper danger.

The whole experience had been both terrible and educational. He had come close to death—his mind told him the illusions were real—but he had also discovered ways to survive.

What kept haunting him was when he was a wrinkled, ugly baby.

He might not have died, but he would have reverted to that state, making him powerless to a significant degree.

He had kept telling himself he would die to encourage more focus and creative thinking for escape.

But there was something uniquely dangerous about that location—the attacks had prevented instant healing.

"How do you feel?" Nyara asked.

"I want to sleep," he said. His mouth had healed.

"You can. Lie here on the bed I made for you."

"No. Waaaa!"

He began crying again.

"Why does Dr... want to kill me? Waaa! I don't want to be here!"

Nyara could only calm him down by feeding him something sweet.

---

Several hours later, his skin was smooth and back to normal, the wounds had disappeared, and his hair had returned, though not to its full length.

He sat on the stool, naked, holding a large can filled with golden liquid—honey, as Nyara called it.

She returned with more weapons from outside and dumped them down. "Please wear something."

He glanced at the half-destroyed uniform and ignored her, his eyes returning to the wall as it displayed changing information.

She sighed and left again.

Eiran's face was smeared with honey, his hands covered with it. He kept dipping back into the can for more.

His attention was focused on replaying his fights. It turned out the battle wasn't meant to be to the death, nor was he supposed to defeat his opponents.

He was supposed to fight until he could no longer move—which was essentially what had happened.

The minimum passing duration was ten minutes. Eiran had survived for thirty-two minutes, which was more than triple the requirement.

Though there were no additional rewards beyond the 1,000 Ethio he had earned, he now bore a mark indicating his first True Trial and its duration.

---

Nyara returned and sighed. Her prince was making an even bigger mess as he consumed the honey, most of it dripping down his body. Now he was reaching for another can.

She dropped her supplies, blurred to his location, snatched him up, and carried him to the bathroom. "Your Highness, please wash yourself. You'll feel better."

"Waaaaa!"

"Waaaaa!"

Eiran's mental faculties were at an all-time low, not matching his physical age.

Nyara sighed, closed her eyes, went inside, and scrubbed him clean. She gave him a towel and settled him on the air mattress she had prepared.

He enjoyed the cleanliness and closed his eyes to rest.

---

Five Days Later

It took five days before he returned to normal. During this short time, he had consumed over 56 Ethio on food alone, which aided his recovery.

One Ethio was enough to buy four cans of honey, each containing about a liter. Honey was one of the more expensive foodstuffs.

Thanks to Nyara, she carefully regulated his purchases, even when he became slightly angry with her. Nonetheless, he recognized her good intentions.

He sat on the stool as usual, wearing only shorts, while crimson glyphs decorated his body. They were deep and vivid, forming visible patterns from a distance.

His eyes closed, he moved his hand, feeling the strength coursing through his body—three times stronger than before.

"Stage 2!" he muttered. One more slot had opened in his blood art. "Why do I find this art lackluster compared to the moon art?"

He didn't hesitate and chose his next brand skills. Their importance was reflected in the fact that when he was drained, he drew talent energy from the Brand Skills.

Brand Skill: Nameless Blood Art

- Blood Art: Heart — Impulse, Raging Blood

- Blood Art: Haste — Instant Shift, Acceleration

- Blood Art: Vein — Strength Glyph, Harden Glyph

- Blood Art: Bone — Bonefilm, Boneforce

- Blood Art: Growth — Adaptation, Advanced Recovery

---

Eiran smirked while setting these abilities, then examined the Strength Glyph on his body. It formed a pattern that was both beautiful and eerie.

It also made his body rigid without reducing his movement. His actions would be purposeful and fast, which meant he needed to retrain his precision.

Eiran didn't train immediately and turned it off, returning his gaze to the wall displaying information about the settlement he had left behind.

Brownore, it was called. Eiran could directly contact them or even influence their growth, but he wasn't doing so for one reason: they had once again devolved into scheming.

No fighting, no killing, but they had placed multiple people in cages, claiming they were dangerous to development.

Misfortune Teller was one of those imprisoned, as well as Rolrend and his wife.

Vael was doing well, but he was torn between three factions, each vying for his support and approval.

One faction was the Sacred Glyph believers, who thought everything they did should be toward summoning their savior—the Blessed One. Him.

The other faction consisted of older people who had lived under the previous lord. They firmly believed that with their recovered memories, they should take charge and rebuild the entire settlement.

Since they knew more than others, they were both respected and feared. They used their knowledge of crafts as incentives to sway people's minds.

The last faction was the Warriors. They positioned themselves between the other factions, but their core value was that might make right.

All other professions and settlement activities should align with building strength and maintaining an army. They wanted a martial society to be the default, as the Blessed One had established.

Then there was Vael and his neutral faction. The only reason he still mattered was because he was considered the right-hand man of the Blessed One.

Eiran had no idea whether they were right or wrong, but he didn't feel the need to help them.

Nyara turned and stretched as she woke from sleep. Now that his mental faculties matched his physical size, he could see what was wrong with her.

"You need to recover," he said.

She blinked and stared at him, then beamed. "You're back to normal. Good."

She stood and bowed. "Greetings, Your Highness!"

"Ugh. Could you drop that? Make me some food."

"Yes!" She turned to leave, but Eiran called out.

"Nyara. Recover back to normal."

"Yes," she said again.

In no time, she prepared a hearty meal. She served him first, then found a corner to eat her own portion. Eiran's intense gaze drew her attention to him.

"Nyara. Help yourself and recover back to your prime!"

She froze under his intense gaze and commanding voice.

"Yes, my Prince!" She dropped her food and spent over 250 Ethio to procure many ingredients, then began preparing an elaborate meal.

Eiran nodded and returned to his observations.

One thing he had learned from Brownore was that you need different approaches to rule people—even those loyal to you and those that are not.

In the settlement, he had healed Mol and the others, and they had immediately turned on him.

He then healed Salon and his people, and they too had turned on him.

At that moment, Vael had been watching from a window. Eiran proceeded to heal him but threatened that his heart would explode if he didn't spread Eiran's word.

Vael at first didn't act out of obedience, but fear. He would gain power if he obeyed, but face death if he disobeyed.

It was only after witnessing Mol and Dol's great cruelty that Vael truly understood that the alien had threatened him to save them all.

He later grasped that Eiran could have fought back—he could have harmed them all with his words alone—but chose not to. The alien boy had wanted the people to desire him willingly before he made a move.

___

Nyara was at his height now, skinny, and vastly weaker than her previous self due to the complete regeneration she had undergone after being torn to pieces.

However, her recovery was revealing how terrifying she had became.