Within the gray fog, an image surfaced.
Audrey Hall, dressed in an elegant gown, stood in a quiet corner of Duke Nigen's estate, her hands folded as she offered a silent prayer to the one she knew as The Fool.
Rowan received the message through Miles Reed a moment later.
He replied calmly.
Tell her not to worry. I'm already inside the estate. If the pirate general makes a move, I can end him at any time.
Rowan abandoned his research.
Instead, he invoked a newly converted spell.
An invisible presence unfolded across the night sky.
A translucent eye opened high above the manor, gazing downward without blinking.
Everything inside Duke Nigen's estate flowed into Rowan's awareness.
If Zilingus intended to act here, Rowan would take his life and trade the remains to the Church of the Night Goddess for what he needed.
Inside a small prayer chamber, Audrey read the forwarded reply.
Her brows knitted slightly.
Mr. Strength is here?
From the moment the ball began, she had been carefully observing every guest. It was both habit and necessity. Observation sharpened her mind and stabilized her abilities.
That was how she had noticed Baron Gramir's abnormalities.
Yet no one she recalled resembled the figure she associated with Mr. Strength.
The contradiction unsettled her.
Ten minutes later, a violent gust of wind tore through the grand hall.
Every candle on the chandeliers went dark at once.
The world plunged into black.
A heartbeat later, crystal shattered.
Glass rained onto marble.
Guests screamed as shards cut skin.
Panic spread like fire in dry grass.
People collided. Chairs overturned. Noble composure collapsed into raw survival instinct.
And within that chaos, a shadow lunged toward Duke Nigen.
Rowan watched from above, one thread of attention anchored to his parents, ensuring they were not trampled.
So the target is the duke.
Zilingus had hoped confusion would create an opening.
But Duke Nigen was no ordinary noble.
He was a high-ranking Judge of the Arbiter Path, with trained bodyguards from the Church of Storms and advance warning thanks to Count Hall.
Even with a powerful artifact that allowed him to fight far above his normal weight, Zilingus was quickly pushed back.
He chose to flee.
Unfortunately for him, Rowan had already positioned himself along the escape route.
Watching the royal response, Rowan felt a quiet stir of admiration.
The Augustine royal family truly was no shallow dynasty.
An ancient bloodline tied to the Arbiter Path.
A lineage that predated the modern kingdoms.
A family that still possessed hidden monsters strong enough to guard the throne.
Rowan's focus sharpened.
He's coming.
Zilingus smashed through a window and caught the air, using wind to glide toward the estate's outer perimeter.
If he escaped the grounds, changed his appearance, and vanished into the city, tracking him would become nearly impossible.
Then he saw it.
A baby floating in midair.
Zilingus froze for half a second.
A half-second too long.
A baby?
Instinct screamed that nothing about this was normal.
But hesitation meant death.
Anyone blocking his path had to be removed.
"Wind Blade!"
A crescent of green pressure surged forward, sharp enough to cleave steel.
Rowan exhaled softly.
The blade unraveled.
It didn't explode.
It didn't deflect.
It simply ceased to exist.
Zilingus's pupils contracted.
Even a Sequence Five shouldn't be able to erase his attack so casually.
Cold fear wrapped around his spine.
He activated another power through his artifact.
"Fall asleep."
Invisible pressure surged toward Rowan, attempting to drag his consciousness into a dreamscape.
It failed.
The effect vanished like mist in sunlight.
Zilingus finally understood.
He wasn't facing a guarded noble.
He was facing something far worse.
"You can die now," Rowan said.
He appeared beside Zilingus.
A small palm came down.
Zilingus felt death descend like the collapsing sky.
He tried to dodge.
His body refused.
He tried to think.
His thoughts shattered.
He became a streak of light, slammed into the ground, and went dark forever.
Silence returned.
Rowan hovered in the air, studying the black glove on the corpse's hand.
"Hm. Interesting."
He collected the wind-aligned remnant and examined the glove.
Its true value to him wasn't combat.
It contained the essence he needed to complete his next transformation.
And beyond that, it offered something even more useful.
A perfect explanation.
From now on, whenever Rowan displayed strange abilities, he could attribute them to the souls bound within the glove.
Light magic.
Wind.
Lightning.
Water.
All had convenient "sources."
No awkward questions.
No impossible inconsistencies.
Rowan drifted back toward the nursery.
The ball below continued in fractured, fearful silence.
The assassin was dead.
And no one would ever know a baby had killed him with a single blow.