Chapter 15: She Calls Me Master (Part 2)

I stared in silence as Lilith chirped out her fifth request for food, a fork still hanging limply from my fingers. I didn't know which was worse—how naturally she'd made herself at home, or how the maid didn't even flinch anymore.

"Another plate, please!" Lilith said sweetly, resting her chin on her hands and kicking her feet beneath the table like she hadn't just devoured enough to shame a noble's banquet.

The poor maid bowed with a nervous smile and vanished again into the kitchen. I briefly considered apologizing on Lilith's behalf, but that would've required taking responsibility for her, and I wasn't ready for that kind of relationship.

Ever since she'd shown up with all the confidence of a childhood friend from a past life I apparently just forgot, she'd stuck to me like a leech. Which she probably also ate, judging by the pace she was demolishing the bread basket.

Not that anyone had stopped her.

Apparently the emperor himself had approved her "staying close to her Master," and at this point I was seriously beginning to question whether Radames would just nod along if a demon declared war on the furniture. As long as they asked nicely.

We sat in the grand dining room now, all of us together for once. Arden, Sora, Lysandra, Lilith, and me. A rare moment, considering we were technically supposed to be a team. You wouldn't have guessed it, though.

Arden and Sora had been doing their own thing. Old habit, I guessed. They functioned like two halves of a silent, synchronised unit. Meanwhile, I'd been busy flailing through training and trying to claw my way out of the "dead weight" category.

Lysandra had been monopolized by Veyran and Thalia, the two of them clearly getting some kind of sick joy out of baiting her into trying every magi-weapon under the sun. All they had to do was phrase it as a challenge, and her devil pride would practically equip the gear herself.

Lilith. Still chewing, humming, smiling. Like this was all perfectly normal.

Lysandra finally snapped.

She jabbed a finger across the table, her crimson eyes gleaming with irritation. "Who do you even think you are, waltzing in like you're one of us?"

Lilith didn't even blink. She licked a bit of sauce off her thumb, blinked slowly, then turned and smiled. "Her Master's beloved companion, of course."

I shrank a little in my chair.

Lysandra turned toward Arden, fuming. "You're fine with this?"

He didn't look up. In fact, he was halfway through slicing a bit of roast with the kind of intense focus normally reserved for surgery.

Sora nudged him gently with her elbow, leaned in, and whispered something. Arden blinked, looked up at Lysandra like he'd just noticed she was in the room, and said, "Hm? Oh. I see no problem with having more hands."

Then he went right back to cutting.

Lysandra's mouth opened, then shut again. She turned back toward Lilith with fire building in her eyes.

Lilith stuck out her tongue. "Jealous much?"

"Jealous?" Lysandra crossed her arms. "Please. Someone as refined as myself has no reason to be envious of… of commoners. Let alone lower life-forms."

I didn't catch what Lilith muttered next, but I felt the temperature shift by a few degrees.

While the two of them descended into what I could only describe as a well-articulated catfight, I sat there, quietly resigned to the new chaos that had taken up permanent residence at my side.

It was a strange life.

But I didn't mind.

For the first time… ever, really… I had something that vaguely resembled friends. People who would bicker, banter, and maybe accidentally kill each other with sarcasm—but friends all the same.

Not that I'd ever say that out loud. I had enough problems already.

Lilith still hadn't explained where she came from. Every time I asked, she'd just pout and say there was no point telling me anything if I couldn't even remember our contract.

Which was, admittedly, annoying.

Even Veyran hadn't been able to identify her species. When we asked, he got that gleam in his eye he always got when he found something "fun." He even asked to take a few samples—blood, hair, maybe a mana reading.

Lilith made it very clear that wasn't happening.

I don't think I've ever seen a grown man backpedal that fast.

And honestly… I was sort of impressed.

I stared at the empty space where Arden had been just moments ago.

The broken golden ring in Sora's palms shimmered faintly, the last trace of him vanishing like heat off stone. After a moment of silence, I found myself blurting out the question I'd been holding back:

"Do you… know where he went?"

Sora blinked, as if she'd just remembered I existed. She looked down at the ring again, tilting her head slightly.

"If he left this suddenly, it's probably because a new high-level dungeon was discovered."

That… was not the answer I expected.

"A high-level what?"

She turned to me, cradling the ring like it might whisper the next line to her. "High-level dungeon. It's the only thing that would make him move this fast."

I frowned. I'd heard of dungeons, sure—every half-decent bard in every bad tavern sang about them. But high-level ones?

"Wait," I said, slowly, "aren't those the ones that are basically suicide? The kind even veterans avoid unless they're drunk or desperate?"

Sora nodded.

"Then why would he—?"

"Yeah," Lysandra cut in, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, "how would he even know one appeared? And what's the rush? It's not like they grow legs and walk off."

Sora seemed to shrink a little at the attention. Her fingers curled tighter around the broken ring.

"Do you know what a Relic is?" she asked, hesitating like she was still unsure this counted as casual breakfast talk.

I tried to think. The first image that popped into my head was of old dusty artifacts hidden in collapsed temples, probably cursed, probably deadly. Probably hoarded by dragons.

"Uh. Ancient stuff…?" I guessed.

Sora nodded. "That's one way to look at it. But more specifically, they're artifacts imbued with Lost Magic."

Lysandra clicked her tongue. "I've heard of that. Supposedly, Lost Magic can't be recreated anymore. The only way to use it is through those relics."

Sora's expression brightened a little, encouraged by the response. "Exactly. Each one contains a unique form of magic that no one can cast today. They're like… fragments of a time before everything changed."

"But that still doesn't explain," Lysandra said, waving her fork like a noblewoman gesturing toward a battlefield, "why Arden would bolt like that. Relics are rare even in high-level dungeons. Almost impossible to find."

Sora nodded again, as if she'd expected the question. "For most people, yeah. But for Arden…" She tapped the broken ring gently. "He has a relic that lets him sense the appearance of dungeons with extremely high mana density."

Lysandra blinked. I blinked.

Sora continued, "All the jewelry he wears—his rings, the chain around his neck—they're all relics. Each of them with their own purpose."

Of course they were. Of course his accessories had ancient magical powers. Meanwhile, I was wearing a shirt I had to stitch back together two weeks ago.

"Okay," I said, dragging my thoughts back into something resembling focus, "but why? Why does he want to find them?"

Sora hesitated. She glanced around like she was checking for someone who might scold her if she said it out loud.

Then, with a voice just barely above a whisper, she muttered:

"…It's his hobby."

I stared at her.

"…His hobby?"

She nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to laugh or not. "He… really likes collecting them. Apparently, it's one of the few things that interest him. Said something about it reminding him of 'games' from his homeland."

For a second, no one said anything.

Then, surprisingly, it was Lilith who broke the silence—her voice quieter than usual, more thoughtful.

"What do his relics do?"

The question felt strangely normal coming from her, despite everything about her being anything but. It caught Sora off guard too, but she gave a small nod and answered.

"His rings are all resurrection relics. Each one lets him come back to life once if he dies. But they break after being used."

That pulled a stunned silence out of me.

Resurrection magic. Actual resurrection magic.

I glanced at her hands and then down at my own, absurdly mortal-looking fingers. He had at least three rings on each hand—maybe more. That meant…

So not only did he go into suicide dungeons, he did it with extra lives stacked on every finger like accessories. He was basically unkillable. And the part that stuck with me more than it should've?

The fact that he'd actually found all of those. Found them. As if that kind of magic wasn't supposed to be mythical.

Sora held up the broken ring she'd been cradling, the one left behind when Arden disappeared. Its jagged edge shimmered faintly in the light.

"This one was a teleportation ring," she said. "It lets him transport himself anywhere instantly. Even if he's never been there before. But like the others—it can only be used once. That's why it shattered."

I watched the light play off the fractured gold and swallowed hard.

A ring that breaks the rules of space. Jewelry that lets him dodge death like it's just an inconvenience. A man who could sense rifts in reality and disappear without a word, only to come back like nothing happened.

Lysandra scoffed softly. "What about the others?" she asked, gesturing vaguely toward the now-vacant seat Arden had left behind. "He wears more than just rings."

Sora nodded. "Ah, right. The necklace he wears is also a relic. It's supposed to… increase his luck."

"His luck?" I echoed.

"Mm," she hummed. "He already had really high luck to begin with, apparently. The relic just pushes it further."

I leaned back in my chair, trying to process the casually absurd information dump I'd just sat through. Arden had resurrection rings. A necklace that made him stupidly lucky. A teleportation ring he apparently kept on hand for casual getaways. And all of it was just… his hobby.

I was still wondering whether I should feel envious or terrified when the heavy double doors to the dining hall creaked open.

Albrecht stepped inside, clad in his immaculate military coat, silver pauldrons gleaming faintly in the dining light. His boots clicked softly against the polished marble floor as he approached, a crisp bow offered to the table.

"Apologies for the interruption," he said, his voice as clipped and composed as ever. "But His Imperial Majesty, Radames Antoun, has requested your presence. All of you."

My stomach fluttered. Whether it was nerves or excitement, I couldn't tell.

Lilith stopped mid-bite.

Lysandra narrowed her eyes.

Sora quietly placed the broken ring down on the table.

I sighed.

Of course. Just when things were starting to feel normal.