Emilia remained in the manor’s grand library, the dim candlelight casting flickering shadows across the towering shelves. Her glasses glinted as she turned the worn book cover, scanning the pages with calculated focus or so it seemed. She let her head drop onto the desk, groaning against the cool wood before snapping back up and slapping her cheeks lightly, forcing the sleep from her eyes.

“Alright!” she declared, clenching her fist. “A few more hours, then I’ll call it a night.”

Her fingers traced the delicate ink on the parchment, though her thoughts remained tangled with a single, inescapable subject—the Lords.

The Lords of the Realm were the most influential figures in the world.

They were known as titans of power, ruling vast nations with unwavering authority. It had been years since she first made her vow to challenge them, yet its weight only grew heavier with time.

She had devoted herself to mastering everything—arts, culture, etiquette, battle formations, the politics of the realms. Knowledge had been drilled into her like steel into a blade. Even Pasta, as mischievous as he was, had taken it upon himself to train her in swordplay. And despite his recklessness, he was a surprisingly decent teacher.

Her eyes flickered toward the window just in time to catch a familiar sight—Pasta plummeting from the roof, limbs flailing, with Puck swooping after him. Emilia chuckled softly and turned back to her book.

Then she sighed, resting her chin on her folded arms.

“Taking down the Lords feels impossible,” she murmured. “These are rulers with armies at their beck and call, entire nations under their command. Simply killing them won’t change anything—it would just throw the realms into chaos. And then there’s the war with the hunters…”

At that thought, her ear twitched.

Hunters.

An idea ignited in her mind as a slow smile spread across her face. She sprang to her feet, dashing through the library, her fingers skimming the spines of books until—

“Got you.”

She yanked a thick, dust-coated tome from the shelf, blowing away the layers of neglect before immediately coughing at the cloud it left behind. But even though her wheezing, her grin remained.

“If the Lords and that swordsman plan to use criminals to tighten their grip on the realm…” she said, flipping through the pages as her eyes gleamed. “Then I’ll just have to find some guardians.”

*

Emilia pushed the door open, revealing a vast, shadowed chamber. A long table stretched before her, where four men sat cloaked in shadow, their arms folded in silence.

The hunters—towering figures with menacing glares—turned to her, shifting their weapons.

"You made it," a voice drawled, smooth yet dripping with malice. General Neil emerged from the darkness, stretching his arms wide. "And of your own volition, no less. Splendid." He turned to the lords seated before him, his voice adopting a reverent tone. "Oh, great Lords of our realm, our enforcer has finally arrived. The plan can now proceed."

Emilia clenched her fists at her sides. "W-well..." Her words faltered as she bit her lip, forcing her gaze downward. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to speak—but she stood frozen. Here they were, the very ones who had betrayed the Nine Realms. A chance to finally end this.

The years of preparation, the trials, the sacrifices—they would not go to waste. She lifted her gaze, determination burning anew, and parted her lips to speak—

"The girl is sharp," Lord Richard of the First interrupted, his golden hair glinting as the dim light. "She must have seen through the other lords' scheme to use her. Perhaps she’s come to side with us instead."

A raucous laugh split the air as another lord hurled a white rose to the ground, crushing it beneath his heel. "Yes! The time has come!" Kabi of the Ninth roared. "With the enforcer by our side, we shall conquer the realms!"

Timbody of the Fifth rose from his seat, lifting his goblet in a toast. "Indeed. We should celebrate—after our men dispose of the intruders, of course."

Laughter rang out, echoing through the chamber—until a single sound silenced it.

A bootstep. Slow. Deliberate.

From the shadows, a man stirred, his gaze sharp as a blade as he fixed Emilia with a piercing stare.

"Fools," he said, his voice heavy with disdain. "This girl has no intention of joining us. She’s here to challenge us. Her eyes and silence say it all."

Emilia’s breath hitched as recognition struck her like a blow to the chest. The final traitor among them—

"Lord Dvalin..." she whispered. "Why? Why would you ally yourself with the hunters? Why hand your realm over to them?"

Dvalin exhaled, folding his arms. "I may have once been a dear friend to the Seventh and Eighth, and even had fleeting alliances with the Second… but I bow to no one." His gaze hardened. "I simply saw an opportunity and seized it." His voice darkened. "And you—what do you hope to achieve, standing against us? Will you kill us, perhaps?"

The lords burst into laughter, raising their goblets in mockery.

"Kill us? This girl?" Kabi sneered, taking another drink.

Neil chuckled as he stepped toward Emilia—and struck her, sending her sprawling to the cold floor. Her bag tumbled open, its contents spilling across the floor.

Neil ran a hand through his hair, grinning as he towered over her. "How dare you even entertain such a thought!" he barked. "The lords have granted you a position by their side, and you dare reject it?"

Timbody swirled his wine, a condescending smile tugging at his lips. "I heard she wished to be an adventurer of some sort," he said, sipping from his goblet before tossing it to the floor. The glass shattered beside her, staining the ground in crimson. "A prestigious noble of the Nine Realms, choosing to sully her hands like the common rabble. What a disgrace."

His tone turned saccharine, almost mocking. "You were chosen as an enforcer, Emilia. The world itself selected you to uphold the customs of this land. That is your destiny. Take pride in it."

Neil crouched, plucking a journal from her scattered belongings. Emilia’s breath hitched as he flipped through its pages.

"Would you look at this," he mused, skimming the entries. "Fighting Mushkins… First time camping out…"

Emilia’s nails dug into the marble. "Stop," she whispered.

"Oh, this is good," he continued, his lips curling into a cruel grin. "Ah—'Pyrovile’s heat is going to kill me'?" He laughed mockingly, turning the book toward her. "This? This is what you'd rather do? Live like a common adventurer instead of ruling?" His voice dropped."You were never meant to be an enforcer after all."

Then, he began to tear out the pages.

"No!" Emilia's scream ripped through the chamber as she lunged forward, reaching out to stop him.

*

Emilia stirred in her sleep, turning over in her bed. A flickering glow danced across her face, making her eyelids twitch. As she slowly blinked awake, her vision adjusted to see Pasta and Puck peering down at her, a candle held between them, their faces eerily illuminated by the flame.

Pasta grinned. “Hey.”

A shriek tore from Emilia’s throat as she jolted upright, kicking her brother off the bed. She pointed a trembling finger at him. “What is wrong with you?!”

Pasta chuckled as he clambered to his feet, brushing himself off. Puck, perched on his head, fluffed her feathers, her form noticeably larger than that of an ordinary bird.

“Well,” Pasta said, scratching the back of his head, “I thought you were awake.”

Emilia, her hair a tangled mess and her eyelids heavy with drowsiness gave him a deadpan stare. “Do I look awake?” With an exasperated sigh, she collapsed back onto her bed. “Tomorrow is a big day. We’re heading to the Seventh Realm, so hurry up and get some sleep.”

A soft voice whispered from the doorway. “Emilia.”

She flinched, turning toward the entrance. Mireille stood there, draped in a silver nightdress, her figure bathed in the dim light. “Good work, Pasta. You woke her.”

Before Emilia could question her, the room brightened as the lamps were lit, making her squint at the sudden burst of light.

Mireille crossed the room and sat beside her daughter, running gentle fingers through Emilia’s hair. “You and your brother leave for the Seventh Realm tomorrow,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I… I can’t sleep, dear.”

Emilia’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up at her mother. Tears welled in Mireille’s eyes, yet her lips curved into a radiant smile. “Your dream is about to come true,” she whispered, pulling Emilia into a tight embrace. “You’re finally going to be an adventurer.”

Emilia wrapped her arms around her mother, pressing her face against her chest. Nearby, Pasta and Puck watched, both letting out a quiet yawn.

Mireille chuckled softly, pulling away and wiping her eyes. “I have a present for you.” She winked at Pasta, who quickly dashed out of the room, returning moments later with two boxes—one large, the other smaller.

Emilia opened the larger box first, her eyes widening as she pulled out a carefully crafted outfit. Mireille’s smile deepened as she traced the fabric with her fingertips. “I made it myself,” she said proudly. “I know you’d rather look like an average adventurer than a noble.”

The outfit was both practical and stylish—reinforced leather strategically placed for protection, yet flexible enough for battle. Emilia hugged the garment close to her chest. “Thank you.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Mireille raised a finger. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”

Emilia picked up the smaller box and carefully lifted the lid. Inside lay a book, its cover adorned with intricate engravings of otherworldly creatures and unknown structures. Excitement bubbled within her as she flipped it open—only to find blank pages. Her smile faltered. “There’s… nothing in here.”

Mireille placed a hand on her daughter’s head, her voice as soft as a drifting petal. “You’re going to see so much out there,” she whispered, gently clasping Emilia’s hands. “I want to hear every detail, every adventure, every new world you discover.” She smiled warmly. “So promise me this—you’ll write everything down. Even the times when Pasta does something ridiculous.”

Emilia pressed her fingers to her lips, chuckling. “That alone will fill the whole book.”

Pasta scowled. “Hey!”

The ladies laughed together as they hugged again to be interrupted by a knock from the door.

The ladies laughed together, embracing once more, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

Nathan lingered at the doorway, his face calm despite the curious stares directed at him. "May I come in?" he asked.

Mireille yawned, waving a dismissive hand. "No, go away. This is girls’ talk."

Nathan kept his smile steady, though a faint red tinged his cheeks. "She’s my daughter too, you know," he said, stepping into the room with his hands clasped behind his back. "I have a right to be here, after all."

The ladies chuckled, sharing a look between them. Nathan stood awkwardly, glancing between them. “What’s so funny?” he muttered.

Pasta strolled over to his father, patting him on the shoulder, shaking his head solemnly. "It’s not worth asking, Father. Trust me."

Emilia rose from her seat, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Father," she began, her voice trembling. "I… I’ll make you and Mum proud. After this journey, I’ll become the best enforcer—"

Nathan raised a brow, cutting her off with a sidelong glance at Pasta. "Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?"

Pasta let out a loud yawn, rubbing his eyes. "Beats me. I’m so tired I’m seeing two of you right now."

Nathan sighed before stepping closer to Emilia, resting his hands on her shoulders. “When have your mother and I ever not been proud?” His voice softened as he pulled her into a firm embrace. “You’ve always made me proud, dear,” he murmured. “You push yourself day and night, dedicating everything to a path that was placed upon you without your say. You’re strong, Emilia. More courageous than you realize.”

Pasta clutched his chest in disbelief. "And me?"

Nathan chuckled, releasing Emilia to ruffle Pasta’s hair. "You too, you annoying brat. Somehow."

Pasta groaned but couldn’t stop the small grin from forming.

Nathan tilted Emilia’s chin upward, meeting her gaze. "But listen, it’s not about being the best enforcer or anything else. All I want is for you to be happy, understand?"

Before Emilia could respond, Nathan turned to Mireille, who was absentmindedly clicking her fingers. "And you," he said, folding his arms. "Are you still upset with me?"

Mireille met his eyes with an arched brow. "I don’t know. Can I go to the city tomorrow to get some cake? Yes or no?"

Emilia and Pasta exchanged wide-eyed glances, watching as their parents squared off.

Nathan sighed. "The men can bring it for you."

"But I want to go myself."

"Why? It’s easier to let them handle it."

"I haven’t been out much. Even Puck’s had more fresh air than me."

Puck chirped loudly in agreement, fluffing her feathers.

Nathan groaned, rubbing his temples as his entire family fixed him with expectant stares. "Fine," he relented, throwing up his hands. "You can go."

Mireille beamed, leaning over to give him a kiss. Emilia quickly covered Pasta’s eyes, and Pasta mirrored the action, covering hers, while Puck buried her face beneath her wings.

"Alright," Mireille said, pulling a photo album from a nearby shelf and returned to the bed. "Let’s spend the night reliving some memories before my babies leave."

Her voice wavered as she patted the bed.

Emilia and Pasta eagerly settled beside their mother, their eyes immediately drawn to the worn pages of the photo book. Mireille glanced at Nathan who joined them, his usual stern expression melting into a warm smile.

Laughter filled the room as they flipped through the album, their voices overlapping with fond recollections of moments past.

Emilia took it all in—the warmth, the love, the joy—and silently promised herself that no matter where her adventures took her, she would return with stories to fill the pages of her own book.

*

Neil tore out the pages of the journal as Emilia clung to his hand.

"Stop it!" she cried, but he shoved her back down. Her locket slipped, clattering to the floor and flipping open—revealing the picture of her family from that last peaceful night.

He tossed the book aside and glared at her. "You should have brought that pathetic swordsman of yours," he said, his voice carrying through the hall. "Or better yet, your idiotic brother."

Kabi and Timbody laughed out, downing their drinks.

"Just look at you," Neil continued, his smirk widening. "Helpless without your little bodyguards."

Emilia clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms until blood dripped onto the cold stone floor.

Why am I like this? she thought bitterly. Sometimes I have control, but other times… this fear, this anger…How dare him insult my friends?

Neil chuckled, turning to the lords. "The capital is currently a warzone," he said. "You should have seen the carnage. Simply splendid. The adventurers scrambled to contain the mess, but it was futile. We had the numbers—by now, they should all be dead."

He turned back to Emilia, his smirk deepening. "Perhaps we should throw in a few civilian deaths, just to drive the fear deeper. Strike at the hearts of the people. Let the other lords know what happens when they resist."

"They were your friends, weren’t they?" Neil whispered. "They should have abandoned you when they had the chance. Not like they were ever worthy of you in the first place."

Emilia closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. The noise of the world faded into silence as she reached out with her senses, feeling the faint lifeforce of every presence in the room—and beyond. The sensation was foreign. She had always struggled to perceive those she wasn’t familiar with, and even after her training as an enforcer, her ability to sense others remained weak. Mr. Swordsman had scolded her for this disability. Yet now, in this moment, she could feel them all.

Thunder rumbled overhead, the air thickening with an ominous weight. Neil scoffed, his eyes falling upon the locket beside her.

Intrigued, he bent down to retrieve it.

In an instant, Emilia’s blade sliced clean through his wrist.

A scream tore through the chamber as Neil stumbled back, clutching the bleeding stump where his hand had once been.

The severed limb hit the floor with a dull thud, the lords and hunters around them gasping in shock.

Emilia rose to her feet, brushing the dust from her dress. Her gaze turned to Neil, dark and unreadable. The air around her rippled as her life force surged, an overwhelming pressure swallowing the room. It wasn’t just power—it was the very will of the Nine Realms. Their customs, their history, their spirit.

She whispered something under her breath. The energy lashed out in an invisible wave, blasting across the space. Neil’s body crumpled, unconscious before he hit the ground. Several hunters who had stood guard were sent flying, crashing into the walls.

The lords trembled where they sat as Kabi slammed a fist against the table, his voice sharp with command. “Falcrest! What are you hunters waiting for? Attack her!”

The three hunters locked eyes with her, their towering forms radiating force as they stepped forward. The lords leaned in, eager to witness the slaughter.

“Enforcer or not, we don’t need you.”

“You’ll die here, Falcrest.”

Only Lord Richard remained still, arms crossed. “She’s far too dangerous,” he muttered. "We need to dispose of her quickly"

Blood dripped from Emilia’s blade, but she paid no mind to the advancing hunters. Instead, she bent down, calmly gathering the scattered pages of her book as the first hunter lunged, a massive sword at her.

“Took you long enough to intervene,” she said, grinning. "Ryunosuke"

The hunter froze mid-strike.

Ice spread from his feet, creeping up his legs before piercing through his body. His eyes widened in horror as his body crystallized, frozen from within.

The air shifted, taking out the few torches in the room.

Four figures emerged, shrouded in shadow, standing behind Emilia.

A second hunter roared, metal-clad fists igniting with energy as he swung forward. But before his attack could land, a star flared in the air. A brilliant light shot forth, consuming him in an instant. He vanished without a trace.

The last hunter staggered, his breath shallow as he turned to the huge figure in the darkness and the massive beast that stood at its side. His breath came in ragged gasps before he turned and bolted, diving through a window in a desperate escape.

Emilia rose, sliding the book and its pages into her bag. “Surprised to see you here too,” she whispered, turning back with a frown. “Darius.”

The shadows peeled away, revealing the four figures standing behind her.

Ryunosuke—the leader of the disciples. Mercury—an upper member of their ranks. Thorne—the beast-man. And lastly, the strongest man in the world—Darius.

Ryunosuke tilted his wide-brimmed hat, his silver rod resting against his shoulder as he sat cross-legged on a swirling storm cloud, dragons coiling beneath him. “I thought you were a terrible actress,” he said, his face hidden.

Emilia chuckled. “Well, thank you. Much appreciated.”

Mercury stepped forward, her silver dress flowing, a sheer veil draped over her hat. “We received your letter,” she said, turning toward Darius. “But our paths crossed with him. He heard the story and decided to lend his help.”

Kabi slammed his fist on the table. “What are you doing here, Darius?!” he bellowed. “How dare you return against us after our agreement? Are you so dishonourable?”

Darius remained silent, his gaze unwavering as he studied Kabi. Then, at last, he spoke.

“I came in search of a fallen celestial,” he said, his voice calm yet absolute. “And I am here to witness that.” His gaze shifted briefly to Emilia before returning to Kabi, “But out of respect for the leader of disciple strength, I offered my aid and my presence in this turn of events. That is my honour.”

Emilia strode forward, each step echoing through the room. “Ever since I first heard of the disciples, I’ve been researching them—what made them go into hiding, and why the ‘Walk’?” Her voice was sharp, a fire behind every word. “I was just as surprised to see them in Pyrovile, but I’ve always kept contact. They refused to aid this nation, not as long as it’s ruled by the Supreme Being and the people of the white rose.”

She chuckled, darkly, her dress flowing along the floor as her four guardians followed her like shadows, silent but ever-present. “But that’s about to change now.” She stopped, her gaze falling on the blood-soaked blade in her hand. Without turning away from it, she said. “The Nine Realms are about to fall under new management.”

The room erupted in chaos. The Lords threw gestures of defiance, shouting and screaming. But Richard’s voice cut through the madness, booming with incredulity. “You mean… you want to fight against the entire Nine Realms?”

Emilia blinked, her gaze unfaltering as she stepped closer to him. “It would be a shame if I killed the Lords of the Nine Realms right?” She asked, her voice low and chilling.

She leaned closer as Richard’s gaze wavered, and she relished in the power she commanded of the air. “Adorable,” she whispered, her tone laced with venom. Her once bright eyes now glowed with a darkness fuelled by hatred. “Perhaps you have a problem with me ruling?”

The room fell deathly quiet as her sinister force spread across the room, suffocating as the lords struggled to stay conscious.

Emilia’s smile was soft, but there was nothing gentle about it. Her fingers brushed Richard’s trembling face, wiping the sweat from his brow. “If you have a problem,” she whispered, leaning in closer with a wicked chuckle, “speak now… or forever be silent.”

Kabi couldn't stand this anymore. He stood, fury burning in his eyes, and threw a bottle to the ground. “You dare listen to her? We’re lords, damn it! We should put this brat in her place!” He yelled, stepping to Emilia as her companions stayed quiet.

Emilia’s eyes darkened even further as she glared at him.

Kabi returned her stare and turned back to the lords. "Yes she may have the disciples on her side but we-"

His eyes widened as the words hung in his mouth, he reached for his throat where a sword struck out.

Emilia sighed, pulling her blade as Kabi knelt on the floor. She gently pushed him with her heels as he collapsed.

The remaining lords were frozen in fear, their eyes glued to the floor, unable to speak or move.

"How very rude of him. Can't he see I wasn't done talking," Emilia said, turning back to Richard, her smile almost gentle. “You see, I disliked him the most,” she whispered, her voice laced with dark amusement. “Always so noisy, so arrogant. And he was the one who killed my older sister as well.” She chuckled to herself, eyes glinting with malice. “I had planned something far more gruesome for him, but this will do for now.”

Richard swallowed hard, nodding hastily. “Y-Yes…”

Emilia’s gaze flicked to the others in the room before she tapped Richard’s shoulder, sending him scrambling from his seat in haste. He quickly took Kabi’s place, not daring to protest.

Emilia sat down slowly, crossing her legs with deliberate grace. Her four guardians stood behind her, statuesque and silent.

“So, gentlemen,” Emilia’s voice rang out, soft but commanding, her brown eyes glowing ominously in the darkness as she flashed a devilish grin. “Let’s talk about peace, shall we?”