"I accept the challenge... Little Phoenix."
The voice seemed to resonate from the very air itself, a profound rumble that reverberated through the bones of every living soul on the mountain.
For a brief moment, a shiver of fear gripped the hearts of the Phoenix Kin.
It was a primal dread.
Whether due to instinct or the deep-seated trauma from a millennium of captivity, the imposing presence of the Dragon King made the crowd falter. Some stepped back. Others felt the urge to flee. A few wanted to collapse onto the cobblestones, seeking forgiveness from the ground beneath them.
Libinea, however, remained unyielding.
She hovered in the night sky, a solitary figure dominating the darkness she had mastered. Her mana burned fiercely. The Fire Crystals in the thousands of floating lanterns did not flicker, nor did she descend a single inch.
She withstood the might of a Demigod's voice and remained unwavering.
That strength resonated within everyone present.
"If our Queen stands firm," a male Phoenix shouted, clutching his farming hoe as if it were a spear, "then why should we kneel?!"
"Look!" a mother exclaimed, shielding her child from the spiritual pressure while pointing upward. "That is the Phoenix Queen's courage! Always remember this moment!"
The child nodded, eyes fixed on the sky, as Libinea's voice began to resonate through the village, cutting through the remnants of the Dragon King's roar.
"The Dragon King wants us to live in fear!" Libinea declared, her voice amplified by her mana, reaching every corner of the five peaks. "He wants to sow doubt in our hearts! He wants us to believe we belong in the shadows! But I say... tonight, we show him how brightly we can burn!"
She snapped her fan shut.
"Cycle."
She incanted, transforming the sky.
The sun behind her blurred to the left, becoming a streak of white light. A moment later, the moon swept in from the right, reclaiming its place in the night sky.
This wasn't merely a spectacle; it was Time Magic.
She had manually rotated the celestial cycle back to its rightful state in an instant.
The sudden return of night caused the floating lanterns to glow with greater intensity, combined with Libinea's Azure Flames flickering under the moonlight, even Raiking, who typically showed little reaction, couldn't suppress a slight smile.
On the rooftop, Ezmelral observed the change in her master's demeanor.
"She is stunning, isn't she?" Ezmelral teased, gently rocking the sleeping Faye.
Raiking didn't respond, but his eyes, fixed intently on Libinea, betrayed his silence.
Above them, the lanterns began to drift slowly back down to the village, reattaching themselves to the strings on the buildings with careful precision.
Libinea descended.
Her robes fluttered as she landed on the Shrine's grounds. The azure flames around her faded, revealing a woman who no longer trembled.
The Elders and the four Tribe Leaders quickly gathered around her. The shock on their faces had transformed into something they hadn't experienced in centuries: Pride.
"Well done," Elder Wenya whispered, stepping forward with tears in her eyes. "You stood against the Voice of the Earth... and made him listen."
Libinea offered her a smile, but just then, a voice echoed from the shrine's front entrance.
"Our Queen moves with the grace of the celestial bodies themselves. One could gaze upon such a vision for an eternity."
The voice was smooth, practiced, and rich with courtly charm.
It belonged to Illino, the Border Patrol Lieutenant. Mere days ago, at the mountain's base, this very man had fallen to his knees, trembling in terror when he met Raiking's gaze.
Tonight, however, he exuded neither fear nor anxiety. Instead, he appeared confident, almost arrogant.
He stepped beside Venae, the Golden Feather Chieftain, who let out a hearty, booming laugh.
"My son, you are here."
Illino gave him a respectful nod, sweeping his golden cloak back. "Father."
"Come," Venae said, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Let me introduce you to the Queen properly. Now that she has ascended, she will need... capable consorts."
They both moved closer to Libinea, executing a perfect Eshaku bow—respectful yet implying a certain level of intimacy.
Libinea did not immediately respond to their gesture.
Instead, her golden eyes drifted past them, locking onto Raiking. He was still sitting on the edge of the roof, staring at her with that same unreadable, void-like intensity. He appeared completely indifferent to the courtship unfolding beneath him. Libinea felt a surge of frustration.
Does he not understand what is happening? she thought.
She had just showcased her limitless potential to the entire tribe. She was the Savior, a True Divinity powerhouse, and, importantly, she was unmarried.
Any family with a male heir would be foolish not to seek a connection. The Golden Feather Tribe, known for their greed and opportunism, was simply the first to make a move.
Libinea recalled the gossip Ezmelral had shared earlier—that Raiking had recently turned his emotions back on. If that was true, then surely...
She decided to take a gamble.
With a practiced, radiant smile, she turned her attention back to the father and son.
"Thank you, young Illino," she said, her voice soft and welcoming. "Your words are as polished as your armor."
Illino beamed, puffing out his chest. "You honor me, Your Majesty. I only speak the truth."
As they began to converse about the beauty of the festival and the bravery of the patrol, Raiking's eyes never left her. He ignored Illino entirely, looking through him rather than at him.
"How can you not be jealous?"
The whisper came from his left. Ezmelral leaned in, rocking the sleeping Faye, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Raiking didn't blink.
"Who would be jealous of a dead man?" he replied flatly.
Ezmelral paused, a slight giggle escaping her lips. "Oh? So you are saying... if he weren't about to die, then you would feel threatened?"
Raiking's void-black eyes finally met Ezmelral's.
"I don't have time for your childish games," he said coldly as he transformed into a streak of darkness and slipped into the Queen's Shrine.
Once he was gone, the tension evaporated.
Ezmelral and Libinea exchanged a subtle look. A silent communication passed between them, followed by a barely perceptible nod from Ezmelral.
Signal confirmed: Operation 'One Last Hurdle' is a go.
"So, my Queen," Illino continued, taking a step closer, encouraged by her earlier smile. "Will you join us for a private toast at the Golden Pavilion? My father has a vintage—"
He didn't manage to finish his sentence.
WHOOSH.
Libinea interrupted him by bursting into a streak of Azure Flames. She offered no excuse, no goodbye. She simply launched herself after Raiking's trajectory, leaving a trail of blue fire in her wake.
Illino stood there, his mouth half-open, staring at the empty space where the Queen had just been.
Venae sighed, patting his son on the shoulder. "Well... at least she didn't say no."
---
[Location - The Queen's Shrine Inner Courtyard]
The courtyard was enveloped in silence, broken only by the gentle rustling of cherry blossom leaves swaying in the night breeze.
Raiking stood next to the weapon rack, an old, weathered structure that held not divine relics or ethereal weapons, but merely simple, worn wooden swords.
He picked one up.
It felt light in his hand. The grip was smooth from years of use, stained by sweat and the passage of time. His thumb traced a deep notch in the wood—a mark left by a young, solitary girl who had practiced with it countless times, pretending to battle monsters she had never encountered.
"You ran away."
Raiking didn't turn around. He recognized the footsteps.
"I did not run," Raiking responded calmly, assessing the balance of the wooden blade. "I simply stepped away from a conversation that held no significance for me."
"Is that so?"
Libinea stepped into the moonlight and selected the second sword — the one she had favored as a fledgling. She gave it a lazy twirl, the motion graceful and familiar.
"Remember when we trained in the void?" Her voice softened, intimate. "Just the two of us. No eyes watching. No expectations. It's been... a long time. Why don't we spar? For old times' sake."
Raiking finally turned to face her. His expression remained unreadable, but his grip on the sword subtly tightened. Ever since their conversation at the Stargazing Tower, he had known they would eventually come to this moment. The student was done being instructed; she was ready to challenge.
"The same rules as usual?" he inquired, his voice barely above a whisper.
She gave a slight, knowing nod.
Slowly and deliberately, she reached for the clasp of her ceremonial outer robe. With a gentle swoosh, the fabric cascaded to the ground, leaving her in a loose-fitting tunic dress.
The outfit was modest, yet on her, it felt entirely different than it had centuries earlier.
She reached up, removed the feathers from her hair, allowing the red curls to tumble down her neck, and then took off her earrings, placing them carefully on a stone lantern.
Raiking observed her every move.
He had seen her clad in flames and adorned in regal attire. But witnessing her like this—stripped of titles, politics, and the weight of the crown—hit him with an unexpected intensity.
The moonlight didn't illuminate a warrior or a queen. Instead, it highlighted the curve of her neck, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and the challenge blazing in her golden eyes.
The gap between 'Master' and 'Student' dissolved, replaced by the overwhelming tension of a man standing before a woman who knew precisely what she wanted.
He was no longer looking at the Phoenix Queen.
He was looking at Libinea.