[The Main Hall]
"You're worrying about the wrong thing," Libinea stated, slicing through the tension with her words. "We won't be here for long."
The Elders regarded her with confused expressions.
"What do you mean by that?" Wenya questioned, leaning forward. "You just got here."
Libinea didn't respond right away. Her gaze drifted to Faye, peacefully asleep in Ezmelral's arms, and then to Raiking.
In her eyes, the God of Death was undergoing a mysterious change.
He was no longer simply the "Embodiment of Isolation"—a being that had spent countless ages in the Void, only interacting with souls when it was time to claim them. He was evolving into something else.
He was trying to humanize himself.
Libinea had pondered these recent developments. Why would the God of Death need to steal a Celestial Cow? He could have whisked the entire herd to his realm with a mere gesture. The Divine Realm couldn't have restrained him.
So, why engage in such childish antics? Why negotiate? Why adhere to the rules of a "Quest"?
The answer hit her as she watched him gazing at the sleeping child:
Adversity.
Raiking was striving to emulate the universal human experience, something Faye would eventually endure.
If you've never experienced pain, how can you truly value the fragility of life?
If you've never faced challenges to reach a goal, how can you appreciate the worth of a reward?
If he couldn't grasp fragility, how would he ever understand his daughter?
To complicate matters, Nanny Martha had provided him with a new list of items Faye needed. How far would he go to obtain them? What new realms would they explore? How many more "ordinary" struggles would he create just to connect with her?
How can I be both a Queen to my people and a companion to him? Libinea wondered, feeling the internal conflict. I can't be in two places at once.
She made her decision.
"I didn't come here just to declare our freedom," Libinea announced, placing her hand over the Royal Crest on her robes. "I'm also here... to relinquish my title."
The silence that ensued was profound.
The Elders were taken aback. Even Ezmelral paused, nearly disrupting her gentle rocking of the baby.
"Why?" Wenya asked, her voice unsteady. Her eyes darted to Raiking with suspicion. "Is it because of him? Did he force this on you?"
"There are multiple reasons for my decision," Libinea answered, shaking her head. "But to be straightforward: I don't think I can meet your expectations as Queen anymore."
Silence once again gripped the room, heavy and stifling.
Elder Mushai broke it.
"And what do you think about this, young man?"
He directed the question at Raiking.
To Mushai, Raiking was an enigma. Having helped raise Libinea, he knew her deep love for her people. This wasn't a decision the Libinea of a thousand years ago would have made. Something—or someone—had altered her.
Raiking slowly turned his head.
His pitch-black eyes locked onto Elder Mushai's sharp gaze.
SNAP.
In that instant, reality dissolved for Elder Mushai.
The Main Hall vanished. The light disappeared. The sound of the wind ceased.
Mushai found himself suspended in an endless, oppressive void. He tried to move, but his limbs were weighed down, paralyzed by a force as intense as a collapsing star.
Towering above him was a titan. A silhouette of Raiking that reached heights dwarfing the mountains of the Skyward Region.
Mushai felt insignificant. Like an ant questioning a hurricane.
The Giant's mouth moved, and the voice resonated not in his ears, but within his very soul.
"Whatever decision a member of my Guild makes... no one has the right to oppose them... not even their family."
Mushai was jolted back to reality.
He jerked forward in his throne, gasping for air as if he'd been submerged for an hour. Sweat instantly formed on his forehead.
"Mushai!" Wenya exclaimed, gripping his arm with concern. "What happened?"
"I'm... I'm okay," Mushai wheezed, his heart pounding against his ribs like a caged bird.
He placed his trembling hand over hers to reassure her, then gradually turned back to face the man in black robes. The arrogance had drained from the Elder's eyes, replaced by sheer terror.
"... Who are you?" Mushai whispered.
"Who I am doesn't matter," Raiking replied calmly.
He rose, his robes settling around him. The movement was casual, but to Mushai, it appeared as if a predator had chosen to spare its prey.
"All you need to know," Raiking continued, looking down at the Elder, "is that the Dragon King you fear so much... would hesitate before questioning my authority."
He turned and headed toward the exit.
Ezmelral stood and followed closely, holding Faye securely.
Libinea lingered for a moment. She offered the Elders a respectful eshaku bow—a final gesture from a student to her mentors.
"I apologize for his behavior," she said softly, though her eyes showed no regret. "He's not exactly a... people person."
She turned to join them.
"What about the other Chieftains?" Elder Mushai called out, his voice frail. "They're waiting to pass judgment on you."
Libinea paused at the door.
"Inform them, that I'll speak to them when I'm prepared."
The wooden doors groaned as they closed behind, sealing away the stunned silence of the Main Hall.
Outside, the wind howled, but the air felt fresher.
As they stepped onto the stone path, Libinea paused. She didn't glance back at the hall where she had just defied the Elders' expectations. Instead, she looked at the man beside her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The reason was straightforward.
The Elders didn't truly understand who Raiking was. Based on Libinea's account of his actions—healing her, saving her, protecting her for a millennium without asking for anything in return—it was only natural for them to assume he was benevolent.
Yet, in politics, benevolence is often mistaken for weakness.
If they saw him merely as a "Good Samaritan," they would eventually try to exploit his generosity. They would ask for protection, for resources, for him to fight their battles against the Dragons. They would use guilt to bind him to their cause.
But Raiking had just dismantled that possibility.
He showed them he wasn't a savior to be manipulated. He was a force of nature who had chosen kindness.
Now, the Elders had a choice to make: risk facing the wrath of a monster for their personal motives, or trust that Libinea—the daughter they raised—knew precisely what she was doing by standing beside him.
Judging by the absence of guards rushing to stop them, they had chosen to trust.
"Sometimes," Ezmelral reflected, adjusting the sleeping Faye in her arms, "a demonstration of absolute strength is the quietest path to results."
Raiking remained silent. He simply continued walking.
The group moved through the tranquil village, heading toward the significant place in the mountain.
Toward the Queen's Shrine.
To Libinea's home. To where her story began... and where she intended to conclude it.