Deia Solaryn I

After Valentine's Day concluded, it was time to make my own moves. The threads of my plans had to start weaving into something tangible.

To do that, I needed to find Deia Solaryn, the princess of this palace and a key to understanding the Red Sun. If anyone could confirm my suspicions about the legendary artifact, it was her.

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of gold and rose, I pushed myself out of bed. Training came first, as always. My body needed to be sharp, my mind clearer still. Afterward, I would seek her out, just before the day's investigation resumed.

This time, I decided to head to a different training ground, one less populated than the others. Quiet. Isolated. The kind of place that allowed focus.

And there, amidst the crisp morning air, I saw her.

The sharp whistle of steel cutting through the silence caught my attention. A rapier, its blade slicing with deliberate precision, danced in the light. Its wielder moved with a blend of fluidity and determination.

Deia Solaryn.

Her movements were impeccable, each step precise, each swing carrying purpose. Yet something about it struck me as odd.

She's strong, I noted as I studied her. Not as strong as Lucifer or even Seol-ah, but formidable in her own right. Her mana control was refined, her footwork disciplined. But beneath that discipline, I sensed... something else.

Desperation.

Her strikes, though measured, carried an edge of urgency that didn't belong. It was subtle but unmistakable, a slight misstep here, an overextension there.

Why? I thought, tilting my head slightly as I observed. Why would someone like her, a princess of this isolated palace—second only to her father in authority—carry such desperation in her movements?

She had no rival here, no clear threat to her position. On the surface, her life should have been as secure as the walls of the Southern Sea Sun Palace itself.

And yet, her blade trembled as it withdrew from a thrust, her stance faltering ever so slightly.

"Who's there?" she asked abruptly, halting mid-motion, her voice sharp as her blade. Her crimson eyes swept the training ground, narrowing with suspicion.

I stepped forward, the faint crunch of gravel beneath my feet betraying my presence. "Just an observer," I said, offering a faint smile, though my mind was still racing with questions.

Deia lowered her blade slightly, though her grip remained firm. "Most observers don't skulk in the shadows."

"Most swordsmen don't swing their blades like they're trying to fight something invisible," I countered lightly.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The morning air seemed to thicken with unspoken tension.

Finally, she broke the silence. "What do you want?"

I shrugged, gesturing vaguely. "Answers, mostly. But watching you train wasn't part of the plan. That was... a bonus."

Deia's eyes flickered, a hint of something—amusement? irritation?—crossing her features before she quickly masked it. "And what answers do you think I can provide, outsider?"

I stepped closer, though not enough to invade her space. "About the Red Sun. About the artifact at the heart of this palace and what it truly means to your family. To this island."

Her grip on the rapier tightened, and I noticed the slight twitch of her jaw. "Why would I tell you anything about that?"

"Because you know as well as I do that something isn't right here," I said, my voice soft but firm. "You're swinging that blade like it's the only thing keeping you grounded. Like you're fighting something no one else can see. So maybe, just maybe, you need someone to talk to about it."

Deia's gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, I wondered if she might raise her blade again. But then, with a sigh that seemed to drain the tension from her shoulders, she lowered the rapier completely.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" she muttered, though there was no real bite to her words.

"I think I'm persistent," I replied with a small grin.

Deia shook her head, her crimson hair catching the light as the morning sun climbed higher. "Persistent is just another word for annoying."

"That's fair," I admitted, shrugging slightly, "but it's worked for me so far."

Deia gave a soft laugh, though it seemed to escape her before she could pull it back, a momentary crack in her guarded demeanor. The sound was brief but genuine, and for a moment, the tension between us seemed to ease.

"I don't know what you expect me to tell you," she said, her tone shifting to something more serious. "But the Red Sun isn't as mysterious as you might think. It has three abilities. One, an extrasensory boost. Two, the power of red divine flames. And three..." She hesitated, as if weighing the gravity of her next words. "Rejuvenation."

My heart thudded in my chest. I had known about the red divine flames—most people who knew anything about the Southern Sea Sun Palace had heard of them. But rejuvenation? That was new. My mind raced, trying to connect the dots.

"Rejuvenation?" I asked, my voice steady, though my thoughts were anything but.

"Yes," Deia confirmed, meeting my gaze. "The ability to heal... anything. Wounds, sickness, even certain curses. It's why the Red Sun is considered the lifeblood of the palace. It sustains us."

I barely registered her words as my thoughts spiraled inward. Rejuvenation. The power to heal anything.

"Luna," I called out silently, my consciousness reaching for her. "Could it heal existential injuries? Damage inflicted on a Radiant-rank being by another Radiant-rank?"

Her voice, calm and measured, echoed in my mind. "It's a Legendary-grade artifact, Arthur. Such artifacts can bend the rules of reality itself. So yes, it's possible."

And just like that, the pieces clicked into place. The picture they formed was as horrifying as it was clear. The Red Chalice Cult, in alliance with the vampires, wasn't simply manipulating the Southern Sea Sun Palace for its resources or political advantage.

They were using the Red Sun to heal the Vampire Monarch.