But Aurex was prepared.
He marched with a massive army of battle-hardened swordsmen and elite mages. His golden armor was said to gleam like the sun itself.
The fierce, ancient, and feared dragons fell one after another beneath his blade. His magic shattered elven formations, and his authority alone was said to bring despair to the enemy ranks.
The elves were driven back, and the dragons scattered.
In the wake of victory, Aurex did not raze Syvalis. He offered peace—on his terms.
The East was forced into a non-aggression pact and trade agreement. Though technically independent, they bent to Valoriam's influence from that day forward.
With the West fully united, the South assimilated, and the East subdued, Aurex Solmirae's empire called the Central Continent, reigned supreme.
He did not age. He did not fade.
Thus, he became The Eternal Emperor, a being above kings and gods alike.
For the past 162 years, the Central Continent has been under his rule, unmatched by anyone else.
At least, that's what the book claimed. To Albrecht, it read like a blend of propaganda and half-truths—glorified myth mixed with historical fact.
Still, one thing kept gnawing at him: "Is this "Eternal Emperor" actually still alive?"
Depending on how old Aurex Solmirae was when he unified the Central Continent, he could be over 200 years old by now. At the very least, he would be close to it.
Thinking about it, it just sounded like an absurd number, even with powerful magic.
He slid the book back onto the shelf and continued browsing the library for a few more hours. By the time Albrecht left, he felt satisfied with what he'd learned.
Rather than diving into books on magic or swordsmanship, he had chosen to focus on history, culture, law, and geography.
If he ever found himself in a situation where he actually needed to fight, no amount of reading would help—no book could prepare him to beat a trained swordsman or practiced mage.
So, he decided to gain the kind of knowledge that would help him avoid dangerous situations altogether. Something he had failed miserably so far.
'If only I'd found the library before that damned marketplace,' he thought bitterly. But it was pointless. The past couldn't be changed—only learned from.
As Albrecht stepped out of the library, he was greeted by the warm hues of the setting sun
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The sky had shifted into a canvas of orange and deep violet, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. Lanterns were being lit one by one, their soft glow beginning to chase away the creeping dusk.
Albrecht moved swiftly through the thinning crowd, making his way back toward the clothing shop where Isla had promised his training outfit would be ready by afternoon.
"Hey! That's him!" a deep voice bellowed from behind.
Albrecht turned his head slightly and saw a broad-shouldered man pointing straight at him. The man was clad in thick, plated armor, a massive greatsword slung over one shoulder.
Beside him, another figure—leaner but just as imposing—gripped a heavy mace in both hands, his armor darker, almost military in design.
Both men had noticeably darker skin than most of the people Albrecht had seen in Vaelmont. It could have been a coincidence or a hint that they weren't from around here.
The already small crowd instinctively parted, giving the two armored men a clear path.
Albrecht's instincts screamed. He quickened his pace, trying to blend in with the passersby, hoping he could slip away before they caught up.
No such luck.
The smaller one struggled under the weight of his armor, but the bigger man moved with frightening speed. His heavy boots pounded against the stone with each stride as he closed the distance rapidly.
Albrecht broke into a full sprint.
"Wait!" he called over his shoulder, desperate to stall them.
"There's been a mistake!"
But there was no hesitation in the man's movements.
The greatsword came swinging in a deadly arc.
Albrecht barely turned in time to raise his arm, bracing for the blow. Metal met flesh with a dull, sickening thud—and stopped.
Blood didn't spill, and bone didn't shatter.
Albrecht had activated Mirrorbound in time, transferring the damage elsewhere, but the impact still echoed through every nerve in his body. His knees buckled, and he hit the ground hard.
Before he could recover, the sword was already rising again—this time aimed directly at his chest.
Albrecht's heart seized. He couldn't keep this up forever.
Then—steel rang against steel.
A blade, small but solid, caught the strike mid-air, sparks flashing where they clashed.
Albrecht blinked up through the haze of panic and pain—and recognized the man immediately.
Thereon Snowstride.
Calm, precise, and utterly unshaken.
Golden etchings shimmered along his blade as he pushed the attacker back with a single, deliberate motion. The force of the parry knocked the greatsword aside, and the bulky man stumbled half a step.
"My potential disciple's already managed to get himself in trouble, huh?" Thereon said with a dry chuckle, sarcasm lacing his voice.
"Thank you," Albrecht said, deactivating Mirrorbound before getting up.
Using that ability not only strained his mind but also gave him a bad feeling. He just couldn't really understand why. It felt like he was missing something.
"Don't flatter yourself, princess. It's not like I can let you die before I've taught you anything," Thereon said calmly, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.
By now, the smaller man had caught up, his mace resting heavily in both hands. He and his companion stood a few paces away, eyes fixed on Thereon—not with fear, but with measured caution, like seasoned fighters sizing up a dangerous beast.
Thereon didn't seem fazed in the slightest. In fact, he looked bored.
Then, to Albrecht's surprise, he turned his back on them—on both enemies—and glanced down at him with an amused glint in his eye.
"If you want me to teach you," he said casually, "then land a hit on either of them."
His smile widened.
"Think you can manage that, princess?"
