"Why are you moving so slowly?" The command was punctuated by a shove, not the first one Khaelryn had received on their short trek up the stairs.

  Again and again, he lowered his head and quickened his pace. Unease coiled in his chest with every step that took him farther from the life he had come to know. This was not part of his plan, not part of his careful strategy.

  Everything he had worked toward over the past weeks had gone up in smoke the moment that young guard recognized him.

  All because of his wife.

  "What are you hesitating for? Move!"

  This time, it was more than a shove. Khaelryn felt an armored fist drive into his side, a liver strike meant not as a warning but to inflict real pain.

  He barely felt it.

  The dark, menacing armor and the weapons at their sides gave the guards an aura of immense power and authority. Khaelryn had never questioned that impression. But now that he actually felt their strikes, it became clear that these two, even the captain, were far weaker than he was.

  Their punches barely tickled his skin, and even the blow to his liver caused only a moment of discomfort.

  He had once assumed their armor restricted Mana flow, preventing him from sensing their Cores. Now, however, he was beginning to suspect that the absence of Mana was not due to concealment at all, but because these two men were simply that weak.

  As they marched him through yet another corridor, Khaelryn reflected on the guard's earlier words.

  He had been just a farmer, the man had said. Did that not imply that they lacked the breath of Yggdrasil? That they were the unloved children of the tree?

  A flicker of dissatisfaction rose in Khaelryn's chest, an almost forgotten shard of pride stirring awake. Since when had he allowed others to treat him so rudely? And by a mere Unloved, no less.

  His dissatisfaction turned to anger when he felt another shove. It seemed these two were making a game of it. His pace was already brisk; there was no reason for the constant pushing. They were simply trying to humiliate him.

  He would not allow this to contin—

  Before he could even finish the thought, the corridor opened into a large hall. Dozens of guards filled the space, eating, drinking, laughing.

  The spark of rebellion died instantly in Khaelryn's chest. Dissatisfaction melted as reality asserted itself. Did strength even matter here?

  In this place, they were guards, and he... he was a Maggot.

  "Who's that, captain?" one of the guards called out. "New Aspirant?"

  "No," the captain replied curtly. "We are bringing him to the master."

  That drew the attention of several nearby guards. Khaelryn felt their eyes on him, scanning his face and body as if searching for some hidden meaning.

  "...What for?"

  The captain did not slow, continuing to push him forward. It seemed he had no intention of entertaining their curiosity. Only when they were nearly across the hall did he call a response over his shoulder.

  "...He is Irisen's husband."

  The words sent a sharp sting through his chest. It felt like an old wound being torn open, a pain he had nearly forgotten resurfacing without mercy.

  Irisen's husband.

  The moniker did not sound offensive on its own, yet to him it was a slur. A pointed insult aimed directly at the most vulnerable corner of his pride.

  He was given no time to dwell on it, as the guards pushed him onward. From the large hall, they entered a completely different section of the underground network.

  Was this where his isolation chamber had been located?

  He could not quite remember. The pain and relief of that day made it difficult to recall anything that had happened immediately after his release.

  But as they continued past row after row of cells, he became more certain of his suspicion. From the outside, the cells looked nothing like he had imagined. Next to each door was a shifting image, displaying a figure huddled in the dark. No. Not a picture. A real-time projection of the cell's inhabitants.

  Even now, most of these cells were occupied.

  Khaelryn's eyes locked onto one of the projected images as they walked past. Or, more accurately, onto the prisoner's ears. Their long, tipped, beautiful ears.

  His hand rose to his own, stunted ear.

  A strange emotion washed over him. Sadness. Shame. Regret.

  But the feelings vanished as quickly as they came, swallowed by anger and disdain.

  How foolish these creatures were to remain in the darkness for such a trivial reason. Soon enough, they would give in as well. By then, he might already be a guard. Then they would realize the folly of their resistance, just as he had.

  They would wish they had surrendered sooner.

  The thought filled him with eager satisfaction. Yet at the same time, something strange was happening to his body. Khaelryn's vision blurred, and he felt wetness on his cheeks.

  The reaction only made him angrier. It felt as if his own flesh was betraying him.

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  With an angry swipe, he wiped the tears away. Only the anger remained.

  Khaelryn began to speculate about his wife's fate. Was she among these poor souls, stubbornly clinging to a pointless resistance?

  Irisen had always been proud. Too proud. She was the type who would cling to a futile struggle simply for the sake of defiance.

  Even when his father had tried to arrange the marriage, she had initially rejected it.

  Contrary to his thoughts, the guards did not take him to one of the cells. Instead, they continued down the corridor, moving past the isolation room.

  Khaelryn's steps slowed as he felt the presence of Mana in the air. Not Nature, not Life, but something far more rare among their people, something even he knew only because of his father's status.

  It was a sensation unmistakable to anyone who had ever experienced it, like the moment of twilight before nightfall. The feeling of change.

  The presence of Time.

  That was strange. His wife did not have a Time affinity. Had they taken him to the wrong place? Or was this a different woman entirely? A different Irisen? The thought filled him with hope.

  Not because it meant his real wife might be safe, but because a buried part of him dreaded meeting her. A part of himself he had only just now become aware of.

  And now that he had noticed it, he could not push it away.

  He truly did not want to meet his wife.

  "Move!"

  Another shove forced him forward. No matter what he felt, he was in no position to protest.

  The trio soon reached a large gate. Now, Khaelryn could feel it clearly. An enormous amount of Mana pulsed on the other side of the door. More than he himself could summon. And the fact that it was Time Mana made it all the more shocking.

  "Go in."

  Reluctantly, Khaelryn opened the door.

  Eight figures knelt on the ground, their hands bound to a massive metal apparatus. They seemed to be fueling some sort of ritual. This was where the immense amount of Time Mana came from.

  Not far away stood the person he had come to know during his isolation. Long, flowing blond hair and cool blue eyes...

  Khaelryn flinched. He did not dare look directly at those eyes. Even now, when the person was not facing him, he still did not dare.

  The guards pushed him inside, though far more gently than before. It seemed even they did not dare behave so crudely here.

  "Master..." the captain called out softly. "We have found someone who might be of use to you."

  The blond figure did not turn, his gaze fixed on something attached to the large metal structure.

  "What have you brought me?" the figure asked, his voice as gentle as Khaelryn remembered. Fond memories stirred at the sound. There was no doubt. This was the person who had saved him from the darkness. His benefactor.

  "...This is her husband."

  Strangely, the captain nodded toward the metal apparatus as he said the word "her."

  "Ohh?"

  The figure finally looked away from the device, and Khaelryn felt their eyes on him. The gaze was uncomfortable. It felt as if they were seeing deeper than his skin, tearing at the very fabric of his mind.

  "Curious," they said after a moment. "Bring him here."

  Without waiting for the guards, Khaelryn stepped forward, walking around the device.

  Before he reached his destination, the front of the apparatus came into view. And with it, the spot his benefactor had been staring at.

  Khaelryn's feet froze.

  There was an image projected on the device, just like the displays outside the cells.

  Purple eyes, purple hair, skin as fair as snow.

  A flood of memories surged through him at the sight.

  A frown that could chill any room. A temper as fierce as a dragon's. A talent that redefined the meaning of genius.

  It was a picture of his wife.

  Irisen, the Flower of the East.

  Even now, trapped within this strange device, her haughty expression remained unchanged. She did not huddle in a corner, did not cry, did not rage. She simply sat there, perfectly at ease. Her expression was one of absolute serenity, as if she were immune to the very concept of fear or loneliness.

  "Impressive woman, your wife," the figure said. "She is holding out longer than I ever imagined..."

  The words stung, cutting through his reverie. "A few days longer than me," he murmured weakly. But the figure clearly heard him.

  "A few days?" they echoed, amusement coloring their tone. "You might want to take another look."

  Confused, Khaelryn focused once more on the image of his wife. On second glance, he noticed several inconsistencies with his memories. The Irisen he remembered always kept her hair short. But the woman in the image had long hair, incredibly so. It reached past her shoulders, past her waist, pooling on the floor beside her kneeling form.

  Khaelryn's eyes widened as realization dawned. His gaze shifted from the image to the strange apparatus.

  The overwhelming presence of Time Mana...

  His benefactor's earlier words...

  "How... how long has she been... in there?" he asked, already dreading the answer.

  The figure paused, as if calculating. "About seven years," they replied. "Two years since I last spoke to her."

  Khaelryn's heart sank. Seven years. That stubborn woman had endured seven years. Two years without speaking to anyone. Compared to that... he...

  His eyes drifted to her ears, uncut and unmarred. Their very existence seemed to mock him. They seemed to whisper that he would never measure up. He was just...

  Irisen's husband.

  Irisen's unworthy husband.

  Irisen's pathetic, unworthy husband.

  Irisen's pathetic, unworthy, cowardly husband.

  His teeth clenched so hard he heard them grind.

  How long would he have to endure this? Even here, in this new world, he could not escape her shadow. Even now, he was still nothing more than Irisen's husband.

  Khaelryn felt a hand settle on his shoulder.

  "Say, Khaelryn. How would you like to see her fall?"

  Sweet words, dripping like honey into his ears.

  The image of Irisen, that haughty woman, toppling from her pedestal and crawling in the dirt with the rest of them... The thought alone washed away his bitterness.

  "What... should I do?" he asked before he could stop himself.

  "Not much," the figure whispered. "I only need an opening, something that will let me crack that impenetrable shell. Do you have any idea?"

  At those words, a face rose in Khaelryn's mind. An adorable girl, lively and kind. Irisen's sister. Irisen's weakness...

  Before he could speak, the figure behind him murmured, "...A sister? Where is she?"

  Khaelryn knew exactly where. His wife had entrusted him with her sister's evacuation before leaving for the war. He was one of the few who knew the girl's location. It was a secret he had once sworn to keep, even under threat of death.

  "A hideout? Tell me where it is."

  Khaelryn hesitated. Even now, after everything that had happened, he knew this was a line he could never return from. Revealing the location would be a betrayal worthy of death.

  This was not just the bending of his pride.

  If he spoke, it would mean abandoning the last piece of his humanity.

  "Tell me, and I will immediately promote you to an honorary citizen of the empire," the voice whispered. "All the guards will be yours to command. All the Maggots yours to do with as you please." The figure paused. "Even your wife..."

  A dam inside him broke at those last words. The thought of finally besting his wife, rising above her, was too much to bear. If he had to sell his humanity for it, then he would do so gladly.

  He let his thoughts wander to the place where he had hidden them. The voice behind him picked up on it as if he had spoken aloud.

  "...An old grotto to the northeast, close to the great forest? The beast of the forest watches over them and hides their presence?"

  Khaelryn nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and shame.

  The voice spoke again, as if sensing his wavering thoughts. "You have done well. I will not forget your contribution to our cause. I will immediately dispatch the Legion to—"

  The voice stopped mid-sentence.

  "Strange..." they murmured, in a tone Khaelryn had never heard before. There seemed to be real concern in it.

  "...Why can I not reach anybody?"

  A cold weight settled in Khaelryn's stomach. The unease in his benefactor's voice seeped into him. The air itself felt heavier. No… that was not just his imagination. A faint, yet crushing presence saturated the Mana around them. He could feel it with every breath.

  Khaelryn knew what this was. It was the sign of a siege. Space had been locked.

  As if on cue, the entire room began to shake, and screams echoed from beyond the chamber walls.

  Khaelryn's blood ran cold.