Isolated from other quarters, Princess Eleonora’s chambers directly faced Nargoz’s Chiropteran Tower, with the coiling statue’s eyes staring at her glass windows. Like other castle rooms, hers maintained Nargoz’s textbook ominous atmosphere, with jet-black furniture and sanguine tapestry depicting chiropterans and bloodkins gorging themselves in blood feasts. But in a rather uncanny display, even for Nargoz, white candles burned on top of the princess’ bedside, with flickering scarlet flames from which cracking bones and heartbeats resounded.

 

Dressed in a white nightgown, Eleonora lay on top of her queen-size bed, her wrists and ankles bound by thick black chains, and her eyes tightly shut. The deafening noises of a brutal confrontation reverberated from the flickering flames, and a silent force snuffed the candle out.

 

Eleonora’s eyes opened, and while her long, spread out hair shimmered in an otherworldly purple, her eyes remained the same blood-red of the Nargozi royals. Hard, distant eyes concealing a world of blood rage.

 

“Ailith?” Eleonora called, and in a whirlwind of red clouds, a purple-haired maid appeared beside her bed and bowed in greetings.

 

“Mistress?” The maid curtsied, then stood with her head bowed, awaiting her mistress’ orders. Blood hunters and huntmasters were all born alongside their bloodkin, condensed from their Arcane Bloodline. But while at birth, Ailith possessed black hair, after her mistress’ transformation, she too took the purple shade.

 

“The puppet was crushed. The foe is at least as strong as that brother of mine, if not stronger. However, he doesn’t belong to Nargoz. Judging from his armor, he’s not using traditional empire technology. And while we’ve seen some moves of a neo Technocracy, there’s no certainty, yet. Which means that the most likely invader…is Kars,” Eleonora inferred, and her candles burst, leaving behind red mist that wrapped her form and snuck into her veins.

 

“Make an inventory of all foreign dignitaries in the last 24 hours. If Kars was in the lot, give me all the names and—” before she could finish her words, an amalgam of detached molecules passed by Eleonora’s window and landed at her bedside. Rematerializing into his human form, Kilian wiped the debris on the bedside table with one swipe, and sat beside the chained Eleonora.

 

“Hi, chained princess...or bdsm lover. Sorry for making you wait so long, horrible traffic.” The words had barely left Kilian’s lips that dozens of blood-red vortexes filled all corners of the room. Red flames surged from Ailith’s form, with her knotted ponytail swaying alongside them.

 

From each vortex, the heads of blood hunters 50% larger than the ones the fake vannorin’s snakes exsanguinated, emerged. But while a daunting spectacle, the appearance of the 48 growling beasts didn’t alarm Kilian. Most bloodkin royals were born with about 15 blood hunters, while Eleonora was legendary for her 100 feral soldiers. The maid, however, disturbed him.

 

“By becoming a Fehl Daemoness, she should have lost her huntmaster, or at least the connection between them. But obviously that is not the case. Better, they’re still scaling to her level,” Kilian reasoned.

 

Should the true Eleonora have appeared, with her bloodkin abilities enhanced by her Fehl Mutation, Kilian didn’t doubt the battle would have taken an entirely different turn. That puppet most likely didn’t contain more than 15% of her true abilities. But through his genetically enhanced retina, Kilian could see that in terms of aura and Dra Level alone, Ailith reached the top-level High Emissary standard.

 

But as Kilian rethought his previous appraisal, the growling beasts opened their maws, each condensing a human-head-sized scarlet ball of baleful dra, each aiming at him. Overwhelmed by the malevolent forces, the room temperature sank to -20 celsius. But protected by his ever-warm blood, Kilian barely felt it.

 

“Oh calm your ovaries will you? I know I’m irresistible, but pouncing on me on the first meeting is not a solution. Your mistress is watching,” Kilian chortled at the maid whose luscious curves stretched her traditional outfit, and turned to face Eleonora.

 

Though trapped in this ungainly position, Eleonora’s body emanated grace and elegance that seemed etched in her bones. And though Kilian had often heard tales of the Nargozi beauty, they paled before the figure in the flesh. Unlike the bloodkins’ typical scheming eyes, Eleonora’s were frank and direct, piercing and uncompromising—yet lost nothing of her captivating appeal. No, they only enhanced it.

 

And though her small, purple lips didn’t have the plumpness some men sought, when they parted, Kilian had to restrain the impulsion of kissing them on the spot.

 

“For someone that may die at any time, you seem oddly confident,” Eleonora started in a paradoxical voice, as oppressive as it was compelling.

 

“That’s because I know that you can’t bear harming me. Alright I’m kidding, you just can’t kill me. Across Nargoz, no one can,” Kilian replied, and while at first, she found the words conceited, recalling how Kilian passed her window through demolecularization, Eleonora no longer doubted the words.

 

“But it’s not your power and therefore must exhaust your batteries. I could just play the long game, wait for you to exhaust yourself, then tear your head off,” she countered with the smile of a divine enchantress.

 

“You could try, princess, but then we would just have to put one another’s skills to the test. And I would have to give up what I came for—a regrettable outcome.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“Your hand, of course. I want to save and marry you.” Kilian’s reply took both Eleonora and Ailith aback. While in the past, men gunning for the princess’ hand were in large supplies, after the four lethal wedding nights, the situation drastically changed.

 

“Who are you?” In today’s Arcadia’s those that dared court Eleonora’s hand were...inexistent. Which brought them all to that inevitable question. Tilting his head to the right, Kilian curled his lips into a lopsided grin, and spoke for both Eleonora and Ailith.

 

“Kilian von Karsten.”

 

Immediately, Ailith raised her left hand, closing the vortexes, and making all blood hunters retreat to their dimension. Puzzled, Eleonora squinted at Kilian.

 

“The heir of Klaus?” She said, more for herself than Kilian.

 

“Indeed. Sucks to be the son of a famous man. People no longer care about who you are, and just remember the family name and status,” Kilian sighed and stood up, crawling on the chain-laden bed to cover Eleonora with his frame.

 

“Ailith, bite off his carotid,” Eleonora ordered, and Ailith turned into a three meters tall scarlet wolf to pounce on Kilian’s neck. The Fallen Angel Armor automatically covered Kilian’s frame, and he clenched his right fist.

 

“Stasis.”

 

One word, and the fluctuation of time throughout the room came to a halt. From the most volatile forces to the least offensive of atoms, all stopped moving. Behind his visor, Kilian still stared at his future wife’s sanguine eyes, while Eleonora’s defiant stare met him without flinching.

 

In this Statis state, although Kilian could ground everything across fifteen meters to a halt, he was no exception. However, unlike the rest, he maintained his mental faculties, and as soon as the skill wore off, could react.

 

After five seconds of Stasis, Ailith’s lunge resumed, but with a duck, Kilian let her fly by, took his visor down, and lay beside Eleonora—the maid crashed in the adjacent wall.

 

“No need for violence. Alright, I forgot a tiny detail. I also want the Tear of Kalarac,” Kilian said, and again the atmosphere took a 180 turn.