A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

[Banquet]

A few silent seconds passed after Mikoto’s declaration.

Nothing happened.

No movement came from the displays. No footsteps sounded from the corridor beyond the vault. Even the hum of the wards seemed to have settled into the background, leaving the silence to stretch between them.

To Gretel, it was almost suffocating.

She kept her breathing measured, refusing to let it become shallow, but the rest of her body betrayed her. Her shoulders had tightened. Her weight had shifted onto the balls of her feet, and her hand had already settled around the grip of her rapier.

She did not draw it; her fingers simply rested there, ready.

Facing a Royal Guard was one thing when it was merely an abstract possibility. Standing inside the vault with the certainty that one was actually watching them was another.

Weariness pressed against the back of her mind, urging caution.

Fear would have been understandable.

Perhaps fear would have been the more appropriate response.

But Gretel knew better than to let fear take control.

Fear could sharpen the senses, but it could just as easily cloud judgment. It could make someone rush an attack they should never have attempted, retreat from something they could have handled, or mistake a harmless movement for an opening.

She knew very well how useless fear was against a powerful opponent.

So she remained still as she watched.

And beside her, Mikoto remained composed.

There was no visible fear in his delicate features. No tightening of his jaw or nervous shift of his feet. Along with that, there was no glance toward the entrance or even a change in his breathing.

He simply stood there.

Gretel couldn’t help but envy that calm, but at the same time, she understood why he could afford it.

She had only seen Mikoto fight properly once, but that single encounter had been enough to leave an impression. Whatever else he was, he possessed strength that made even a Mortifer cautious.

Gretel could not pretend to understand the full extent of it; she did not know what he was capable of. But she knew enough to understand that his lack of concern was not necessarily arrogance.

He simply had considerably more reason than she did to believe he could handle whatever came next.

Still, neither of them moved.

Another few seconds passed.

"I suppose this old man isn’t nearly as sneaky as he likes to believe," a familiar voice remarked from behind them.

Gretel’s entire body reacted before her mind had even finished processing the words.

She whirled around; her rapier came partially free of its sheath with a sharp metallic sound, her stance dropping instinctively as she faced the unexpected presence.

Mikoto turned more slowly.

There he stood, Hermes Trismegistus.

The Royal Guard.

There had been no footsteps or shift in the air that Gretel had noticed. No magical flare or the sound of armor or clothing.

There had been nothing.

He simply stood there as though he had always been part of the room and they had merely failed to notice him until now.

His posture was relaxed. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, and there was no visible hostility in his body language despite the fact that he was standing before two intruders inside the Duke’s private vault.

Gretel’s grip tightened around her rapier.

Trismegistus’s attention settled on Mikoto.

"You have quite the sharp eye, young lady," the Royal Guard observed calmly. "To notice me despite my efforts to remain concealed is rather impressive."

"I’m a guy," Mikoto corrected without hesitation.

His red eyes settled on Hermes with a flat stare.

"And I didn’t need my eyes to know you were watching." His voice remained the same. "It was too obvious."

For a moment, Hermes simply regarded him, then the smallest hum of amusement left him.

"I suppose it was," he conceded. "Though I must admit, I hadn’t expected my night to end with a run-in with some of the Heart Kingdom’s most wanted."

Gretel’s expression shifted, her eyes narrowed.

"When did you notice?"

Hermes’s gaze shifted toward her.

"When I first laid eyes upon you." His answer was immediate, though there was no accusation in his tone. If anything, the matter-of-fact way he delivered it made it more unsettling. "Blonde hair. Young. Wields a rapier. A Nil possessing a blood-manipulating Null Schema."

Gretel’s expression gradually stiffened as he continued.

"Your current development places you, by my estimation, somewhere around the Vociferari stage of Nil evolution."

He had listed everything with such casualness that Gretel almost felt as though he were reading from a file that had been prepared specifically for her.

Her fingers tightened around her weapon.

("Right.") She felt a small wince coming on and suppressed it. ("I suppose I really didn’t put much effort into hiding my identity.")

There was little point denying it now.

Hermes already knew.

And judging from the calmness with which he had identified her, he had probably known for considerably longer than she wanted to think about.

The Royal Guard’s attention then shifted.

Slowly, his gaze moved from Gretel to Mikoto; he studied the smaller figure for several moments.

The contrast was strange to the man. Mikoto’s petite frame and beautiful features hardly seemed suited to the weight of his dark armor, and yet there was nothing fragile about the way he stood. His red eyes remained fixed on Hermes without the slightest hint of unease.

Hermes’s posture changed subtly.

"And, of course..." He paused for a moment as his gaze remained on Mikoto. "The Angel."

It was difficult to discern what Trismegistus was thinking behind the polished golden mask. The expression beneath it remained completely concealed, leaving only the tilt of his head and the direction of his attention to betray anything at all.

But one thing was certain.

His interest had been piqued.

Not merely by the theft, nor by finding two wanted individuals standing inside the Duke’s vault, but by Mikoto himself. The Royal Guard’s attention lingered on the petite figure before him, taking in the beauty and danger without making any effort to hide his curiosity.

"The Retorta Guild classified you as an S-class special threat," Trismegistus finally said. His voice remained almost academic. "That designation is not handed out casually. In fact, rankings of that severity are ordinarily reserved for the Deseruit Beast Progenitors. Nidhogg. Tiamat. The Mother of Monsters. The Leviathans, and others of comparable standing."

He paused briefly.

"Monstrous beings capable of sundering the world as we know it."

Gretel’s expression settled slightly as she listened.

Mikoto, however, barely reacted.

"You’re putting me in the same category as things like that?" he scoffed. His red eyes remained fixed on the masked Royal Guard. "They must really underestimate me, then."

There was no laughter in his voice or any attempt to make the statement sound impressive.

Trismegistus gave a small nod.

"Perhaps they do," he replied. "Though I would hesitate to call their judgment entirely unreasonable. Their records identify you as a Seraphim." His head tilted slightly. "But perhaps even that classification is insufficient."

"Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t," Mikoto answered.

His beautiful features remained composed. There was no smug smile or satisfaction at being recognized as something potentially greater than a Seraphim.

"But you seem pretty well versed in all kinds of knowledge." His gaze narrowed ever so slightly. "So you must know what even the weakest Angel is capable of."

Trismegistus did not immediately answer.

Then he gave another nod.

"Indeed. You are warriors of God." His tone still carried interest. "Fascinating and powerful beings, from what little reliable information exists. Beings that must weaken themselves merely to exist comfortably upon the third-dimensional planes."

Gretel’s attention sharpened as Trismegistus continued.

"To the average Angel, your true form would reside within the eleventh dimension, merely one level beneath the Plain of Elysium."

Mikoto listened without interrupting.

The Royal Guard’s explanation seemed to interest him only enough to confirm what he already knew.

"Then you also know what happens if I stop bothering to restrain myself." Mikoto’s voice remained flat. "If I ascend properly, I can turn your brain into mush simply by forcing you to perceive what you aren’t equipped to perceive."

The words were blunt, but there was no theatrical threat behind them.

He was simply stating what he believed to be a fact.

And, in truth, the process would have been remarkably simple. All he would need to do was refrain from creating a physical shell when invoking Arcane Ascendance. The moment Trismegistus perceived his true form directly, the consequences would be inevitable.

Gretel remained silent, her hand still close to her rapier.

Mikoto’s gaze never left Hermes.

"Granted, that’s unnecessary." His tone remained conversational. "Even if we reduced this to nothing more than a battle of magic, I could beat you."

There was no change in his expression.

His beautiful features remained as calm as before, making the certainty behind his words more believable.

Trismegistus appeared to consider the statement for a moment.

"Perhaps." The Royal Guard’s answer was quiet. "But whether I can defeat you or not is not the only matter that concerns me." His posture shifted.

Slowly Trismegistus brought one hand out from behind his back.

"As a Royal Guard, I have a duty."

His hand began to rise.

Mikoto watched him without moving as Gretel’s fingers tightened around the hilt of her rapier.

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