Chapter 79

Zab had absolutely no desire to attend any public event that day.

The collapse of the Ewik Estate—news that had spread rapidly within just two days—had placed Adeye Rue and Borhumi at the very center of the continent’s rumors.

Why had the Captain of Borhumi’s guards kidnapped Adeye Rue?

Speculation ran wild everywhere.

The last thing Zab wanted was to show his face and give the public even more to gossip about.

Yet unfortunately, the one event he could never skip was scheduled for that very day:

A prayer ceremony dedicated to the Divine Beast, held at the altar within the old imperial palace at the very heart of the capital.

It was ridiculous—hosting an annual prayer ceremony inside a palace with no owner. But the Temple had slowly wormed its way in with the excuse of “maintenance,” and now openly used the palace grounds to summon crowds.

After all, the altar of the old palace stood upon the sacred stone floor where the first Divine Beast had descended.

While the Divine Beast families warred among themselves, the Temple seized the chance to use the palace however it pleased. At this rate, the Temple was on the verge of taking over the entire palace.

But no one had the authority or justification to reclaim it.

So for now, all anyone could do was watch the Temple parade around inside the imperial grounds as if they owned it.

“Grand Duke Montaine has already arrived.”

As Zab stepped down from his carriage, one of his attendants reported to him. Zab clenched his teeth—out of habit. He needed to act unfazed.

“What of Tyroc?”

“We’ve received word that the Grand Duke of Koon has not come.”

Of course he wouldn’t. But had Zab not been caught off guard at the Club of the Thirteenth Month recently? Tyroc was always capable of brazenly showing up when least expected.

“The Temple said the preparations are complete. Once Your Grace arrives, they intend to begin the ritual immediately.”

The ritual referred to the moment in the ceremony where the Divine Beast’s power was displayed before the attendees—a symbolic declaration that the Divine Beast still protected Tuvine.

“The heads of all five great merchant houses are present as well.”

The attendant added one more line, and Zab froze mid-step at the next name that followed.

“Even Adeye’s House Head, who usually sends a representative, has come in person.”

…What?

“Adeye Lantua is here?”

Lantua had been frail and bedridden for the past year, unable to attend any event.

Why would she appear now—of all times?

Because of him?

To pressure him?

The expression Zab had worked so hard to maintain shattered instantly.

Right before leaving his estate, one of his closest aides had delivered an urgent report: suddenly, multiple lenders were demanding repayment of his debts—simultaneously.

For years, Zab had poured enormous sums into restraining other Divine Beast families, borrowing from several sources without hesitation. He had never once been pressed for repayment.

On the contrary, money was always given to him readily, almost respectfully—so naturally Zab spent as if the lenders’ purses were merely extensions of his own.

Now that debt had grown far beyond what even his wealthy maternal relatives could cover—yet Zab had never once viewed it as a problem.

I am the Grand Duke of Borhumi. The future Emperor.

To him, the money was not debt but tribute.

So why had a sudden demand for repayment appeared?

All the lenders’ names were different, but behind every debt stood the same person:

Adeye Lantua.

A lowly merchant dared to challenge him—the Grand Duke?

Grinding his teeth, Zab marched toward the altar… only for all his bravado to evaporate at the entrance.

Every group of people who had been quietly conversing turned to stare at him—all at once.

And those looks were anything but pleasant.

Zab felt like a clown in a circus.

Why?

What had been said while he was absent?

Then he noticed the mocking gaze directed at him—open and unhidden.

It belonged to his greatest rival: Grand Duchess Shula of Montaine.

Her hair was a striking, blood-red color, making her impossible to miss even in a crowd.

But as Zab drew closer, something even more eye-catching drew his attention:

Her left eye—vivid red.

The right was brown, like other Montaines, but the left gleamed with the family’s symbolic color.

Zab always felt a sting of inferiority when looking at her.

And today was no exception.

His jealous glare shifted—and only then did he notice the person beside her.

Speaking warmly with Shula as if they were close family stood Adeye Lantua.

Zab’s eyebrow twitched.

That fox…

She was deliberately flaunting her alliance with his enemy—to rattle him.

“My condolences for the loss of your guard captain, Your Grace of Borhumi.”

Someone murmured the polite greeting, but Zab barely acknowledged it.

He strode directly toward the two women.

Those two must never join hands. Not ever.

“Grand Duke of Borhumi.”

Shula greeted him first. Zab returned her greeting curtly, then fixed his attention on Lantua.

She looked identical to Adeye Rue—but her gaze was nothing like the foolish man’s.

Lantua’s eyes were calm, ancient, sharp—like a seasoned swordsman.

“Your Grace,” she said, bowing her head.

Zab’s lip curled as he deliberately looked her up and down.

She was dressed in her usual pantsuit, but unlike before—when she despised ornamentation—she wore a large brooch over her chest.

A sword and shield.

A declaration of war?

Zab’s stare hardened.

“It has been a while, House Head of Adeye. I heard you collapsed from shock after your brother went missing, yet you seem in excellent health.”

Zab struck first by mentioning Rue.

She had shown up here—Rue would inevitably be a topic, so he needed to assert dominance early.

But unlike the Lantua who had turned the entire continent upside down searching for her brother, this one appeared remarkably composed.

“Thank you for your concern. I still worry greatly for my brother, but I was able to rise thanks to good news.”

“Good news?”

At Zab’s question, Lantua cast her eyes aside as if hesitating—though Shula cut in first.

“House Head, it is excellent news for all of Tuvine. Go on and tell the Grand Duke.”

“Yes,” Lantua replied politely, turning back to Zab.

“We have located the entrance to the Crimson Tides Forest.”

What?

Zab’s eyes shot open.

“W-Where? Was it at the Ewik estate?”

“How did you know? Ah—did you perhaps hear it from the late Ottmar?”

Only then did Zab realize he had slipped.

But unlike at the Club of the Thirteenth Month, he couldn’t simply crush the mistake with authority—because he needed information from Lantua.

“Well, I can’t recall where I heard it. So? It was the Ewik estate?”

“Yes. We cannot recklessly investigate an entrance to an inhuman being’s domain, so we were just about to request Grand Duchess Montaine’s assistance.”

At once, Shula burst into a pleased smile.

“Such assistance is easy to provide. And you require permission to search for your brother? I will issue a permit—feel free to move anywhere within Montaine territory.”

“Thank you. Once the debris is fully cleared, I will notify you immediately.”

Their exchange made Zab’s insides twist.

That place should have belonged to him.

It was like digging tirelessly on his own land, only for a well to erupt on the neighbor’s property.

But he would never say “include me.”

He knew exactly what Lantua wanted:

Help us search for my brother.

Give her permission, and Adeye would run wild through Borhumi.

Damn fox.

Zab glared after Lantua as she turned away.

At that moment, a priest nearby announced the beginning of the prayer ceremony.

“Indomitable Montaine, who burns evil without end—

Just Borhumi, who purifies darkness with green—

We ask the two Grand Dukes to demonstrate the Divine Beast’s blessing upon Tuvine.”

—

Hff, hff, hff—

I sprinted across the dry ground once filled with water—now nothing but rotting corpses and blood-soaked soil.

My foot landed on a corpse, then slipped over wet earth where the blood hadn’t dried.

The lakebed was vast; I had to run for over ten minutes straight.

Finally, I reached the small pool I had seen from afar.

From the distance, it had shone a vivid blue—but up close, it was nothing like that.

Small, murky, heavily polluted—clay-colored. Barely two meters across.

At first, I wondered if I had come to the wrong place.

But this was the only pool.

“This is the place…”

Honestly, I’d run here relying entirely on that flash of blue.

If sticks and insects could become keys, then perhaps water could as well.

If not, then I’d simply have to search again until I found it.

Kneeling, I placed my hand into the pool.

“Key.”

Nothing happened.

Damn it. Was it a waste of time?

I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching my hand in the water—

And then.

The water inside my palm quivered—thickened—gathered—

And in an instant, the entire pool surged inward, rushing into my grasp as though being condensed to a single point.

I knew immediately, instinctively.

It was the key.