A Moment's Peace
Returning to Avalon felt like stepping out of a storm and into the calm, though the weight of my choices and experiences in the East still lingered. The war had been grueling, a crucible for growth, but I needed a reprieve—to recalibrate, to focus on reaching Ascendant-rank before throwing myself back into the fray.
If I were honest with myself, there was another reason for my departure, one that gnawed at the edges of my thoughts: Alyssara Velcroix.
That woman terrified me in ways I couldn't fully articulate. Her strength was beyond anything I could comprehend, and her obsession with me was as dangerous as it was incomprehensible. She was tethered to the Red Chalice Cult and, by extension, the East, which provided a degree of safety in my absence.
The unsettling truth was that her fixation on me might very well be keeping the world intact. Alyssara had the power to destroy everything, yet she refrained, perhaps because of me. To be the anchor of someone so volatile was a reality I despised. It was a chain I had no choice but to bear, at least until Magnus Draykar or I gained the strength to end her reign.
But that was a goal years away.
Back in Avalon, I had a brief reprieve from the chaos of the East. I visited my parents and Count Chase shortly after my return from isolation training and before heading to Mythos Academy. It had only been a month and a half since I'd last seen them, yet it felt longer, as though the war had aged me in ways time could not measure.
It was March 21st, 2045. The exams and graduation from Mythos Academy's lower years loomed ahead, along with the birthday banquets of the three princesses. Those banquets carried promises I had made—promises that weighed heavily on my mind.
Shaking off those thoughts, I entered my childhood home and greeted my parents. My mother, Alice Nightingale, enveloped me in a tight hug, her warmth a stark contrast to the battles I had faced. My father, steadfast as ever, extended his hand for a firm shake.
"Do you have any idea how worried we were?" my mother exclaimed, pulling back just enough to scold me properly. Her eyes searched mine, a mixture of relief and exasperation. "What were you thinking, volunteering for student conscription?"
"I wanted to help Seraphina, Mother," I explained, keeping my voice steady. "And… I wanted to grow stronger."
"But still," she said, her frustration apparent, though my father placed a calming hand on her shoulder.
"Alice, relax," he said gently. "Our son did exceptionally well. You've seen the news articles, haven't you? Arthur, they're calling you the future Paragon of humanity now."
I nodded, the weight of that title settling heavily on my shoulders.
The future Paragon of humanity. A title steeped in reverence, reserved for those who held the Rank 1 position for a decade—a symbol of their era's unparalleled strength. It was rare, granted only in generations where Radiant-rankers emerged, and even then, not always. The generation before the Martial King hadn't produced a Paragon, though one existed two generations prior. Radiant-rankers didn't come often.
But now, my generation was poised to change that.
And with each step I took, I inched closer to that pinnacle.
"Is Uncle Chase not here?" I asked, glancing around the room, noting the absence of his usual commanding presence.
My father shook his head. "He had to head east for business."
That made sense. The eastern regions of the empire bordered the war-torn Eastern Continent, a volatile area where the land was opened up under Duke Blazespout's stewardship. War had a way of bleeding into trade routes and disrupting everything in its wake. There was no doubt Uncle Chase had his hands full managing the fallout.
"How long are you planning to stay?" my mother asked, her warm hand gently gripping mine, though her eyes held a hint of concern.
"For quite a while," I replied, offering a faint smile. "At least until I scale the Wall."
"And how long will that take?" she pressed, her gaze narrowing slightly.
I mulled over her question, weighing my response. "Nine months or so," I finally said, though it came out more like an estimate than a firm commitment.
My father, ever practical, leaned forward. "Will you not use the Chamber of Shadows?" he asked, his tone measured.
"I don't need it," I shook my head. "I'd rather save it for more arduous breakthroughs. Forming my Sword Heart to reach Ascendant-rank doesn't require it."
The truth was, the Chamber of Shadows could expedite the process, but I wasn't keen on relying on it unnecessarily. Beyond that, I wanted this time—time to stay here, to be with them. It felt like a fleeting gift, something I wouldn't have much of in the years to come.
Dinner that evening was warm and filled with laughter. We shared stories and memories late into the night, the world outside our home feeling, for once, distant and manageable. For a few precious hours, I wasn't the future Paragon of humanity or a rising star of Mythos Academy—I was simply their son.
When we finally retired for the evening, the house was quiet, save for the comforting hum of familiarity. It was a peace I rarely felt these days, and one I intended to hold onto for as long as I could.
Of course, meeting up with Cecilia was inevitable. She had made the effort to come all the way to my estate once again.
I stood outside, waiting for her after she texted to say she was close. A luxurious white car, the kind that could easily cost as much as an extravagant house, finally pulled up the drive.
The door swung open, and Cecilia stepped out, her crimson eyes shining as she spotted me.
"Greetings, Your–"
Plop!
My father and mother had started their formal greeting, but Cecilia didn't even give them the chance to finish. She darted straight toward me, and before I could react, she crashed into me with the force of a small hurricane.
I managed to stay upright as she threw her arms around my neck, her face buried in my chest.
"I missed you so much, Arthur," she murmured, her voice muffled against me.
I patted her head as she clung tightly, rubbing her cheek against my chest with a contented hum. "Is she a cat?" I muttered under my breath, more to myself than anyone else, as she continued to purr softly, her grip unyielding.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught my parents exchanging looks, a mixture of surprise and thinly veiled amusement crossing their faces.
I sighed lightly. 'Luna,' I thought, summoning the ever-faithful support of space mana. A subtle burst of energy enveloped us both, and in an instant, we were no longer outside.
The familiar surroundings of my bedroom greeted us as the teleportation concluded. It was quieter here, a reprieve from the awkward glances and formalities. For now, I could focus on calming the whirlwind of crimson eyes and affectionate chaos clinging to me.
Cecilia was different from before.
She'd always been possessive, but now she seemed downright clingy, and it threw me off balance.
Did I mind having a beautiful princess—who I also happened to love—cling to me? Of course not. But it was still surprising, and, if I was honest, a little concerning.
"Ceci," I began cautiously.
"Shh, I'm filling up my Art-o-meter," she replied, her voice muffled as she buried her face against me. "You smell so good."
I blinked, utterly baffled. 'Filling up her what now?'
"Okay, done with the cuddly clingy stuff," she announced suddenly, pulling back. Relief began to creep in, but it was short-lived. In a swift movement, a burst of mana knocked me onto the bed, and before I could react, she was straddling me. Her crimson eyes sparkled with playful mischief as she leaned in closer.
"I'm hungry for you now," she whispered, her words dripping with a sultry edge.
I had to admit, the way she said it—and the position she was in—was utterly disarming. She kissed me, her hands tugging at my collar as her intensity caught me completely off guard.
"Cecilia," I managed to say as she began tracing her lips across my jawline. "I told you. Birthday."
She paused, raising an elegant brow, though the playful glint in her eyes remained. "Really?" she asked, her tone laced with faux innocence, her hands toying with the hem of her crop top.
"Yes," I replied, my voice firmer this time as I tried to steady myself.
She tilted her head, studying me as though trying to gauge my resolve. "It does work, right?" she asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"Of course it does," I said, shaking my head and sighing. Dealing with Cecilia was an experience unto itself—one part exhilarating, one part exhausting, and entirely unforgettable.
"Good, because after my birthday, I better not be able to walk," Cecilia said with a mischievous wag of her tongue, her crimson eyes gleaming with both challenge and playfulness.
'And I thought Rachel was suggestive,' I mused. Cecilia, however, played on an entirely different level. It was her charm—enticing and electric—but also a touch concerning. She was a stark contrast to Seraphina, whose quiet demeanor often grounded the chaos around her.
"You missed me too, didn't you?" Cecilia asked, tilting her head slightly, her voice dripping with a mixture of confidence and curiosity.
"Of course I did, Ceci," I replied without hesitation.
"Well, unlike you, I don't have two others by my side," she said, a trace of envy slipping into her words.
"Cecilia," I said, gripping her waist and pulling her closer, my hands resting against her warm skin. "I could never not miss you."
Her eyes softened briefly before she leaned in to whisper in my ear, her voice low and teasing. "Good, because you'd better not block me after my birthday."
"Experience?" I teased back, smirking.
She rolled her eyes, tossing her hair with exaggerated drama. "As if any man other than you is worthy of this perfection," she said, gesturing to herself with regal flair.
"Fair point. I am a lucky man," I chuckled.
"Good, so you know," she replied, her tone as imperious as ever but with a glimmer of satisfaction that made me smile.
"I missed you a lot, Cecilia," I admitted, pulling her into another hug. My hand instinctively found its way to her hair, fingers weaving through the golden strands as I patted her head. She leaned into me, her warmth pressing against mine, and I could feel her breath hitch slightly.
"You aren't fair, Arthur Nightingale," she murmured, her cheeks warming as her body relaxed into my embrace.
"How am I not fair?" I asked, releasing her just enough to meet her gaze. Her face was so close to mine that our noses nearly touched. Her crimson eyes sparkled with mischief and frustration.
"You make me want to devour you, and then you won't let me," she replied, her voice tinged with mock indignation. "It's like crafting the perfect cake, putting it right in front of me, and then saying, 'No! No eating!'"
I couldn't help but chuckle. "What an entertaining metaphor," I said, amused.
She tilted her head, her smirk turning sly. "You love touching me there, don't you?" she teased.
"Does it make you want to devour me more when I do?" I countered, raising an eyebrow.
"Kinda," she admitted with a playful bite of her lower lip. "But I'd devour you if you touched me higher or lower, too." Her honesty was as disarming as ever, a blend of boldness and vulnerability that was so uniquely hers.
My fingers brushed her stomach, giving it a gentle squeeze as I mirrored her expression. Her lips parted slightly, her breath quickening.
"If you don't want to break the promise you forced me into," she said softly, her voice dropping to a whisper, "we'd better change positions."
Her hands pressed against my chest as she pushed herself back, creating just enough distance to let the tension ebb. I nodded, my hands falling away from her, though the lingering warmth of her touch stayed with me.
Cecilia was a paradox—seductive and sincere, playful and intense—and she always left me feeling like I was standing on the edge of something exhilarating and dangerous all at once.