Felix returned to his villa at dusk.
In the garden, standing like an intrusion carved from authority itself, was the royal coach of Elanador. Gold-trimmed wood reflected the fading light, its crest unmistakable. The air felt heavier, tighter, as if the villa itself was holding its breath.
Felix frowned and stepped forward.
Before he could reach the entrance, armored guards blocked his path. Their spears crossed with a sharp clang.
"Hey, kid. You can't go inside."
Felix blinked. "It's my house."
One of the guards laughed harshly, eyes dragging over Felix from head to toe. His clothes were torn, dust-stained, smeared with dried blood and ash from the mission.
"Don't joke around," the guard sneered. "This is a villa. And you?" He scoffed. "You look like a beggar."
Felix clenched his fists.
He tried to step past them.
A rough shove sent him stumbling backward, his shoulder slamming into the stone path.
Something snapped.
"You're getting on my nerves," Felix said quietly.
The air screamed.
"Wind Gale."
A violent burst of pressure detonated outward, hurling one guard straight through the entrance doors.
Felix raised his hand, eyes cold.
"Wind Impact. Earth Bullet."
Compressed air struck like a hammer. A shard of stone ripped from the ground and followed it. Another guard was launched backward, crashing into the courtyard wall with a bone-rattling thud.
Steel rang as more guards rushed in, surrounding him.
"Intruder!" someone shouted. "Intruder!"
Felix laughed once, sharp and humorless.
"Who are you calling an intruder," he said, voice trembling with restrained fury, "in my own house?"
One guard backed away slightly. "Call the former captain."
"He's on his way," another said, gripping his spear tighter. "Kid, last warning. Our former leader is merciless. If you don't leave now, you'll regret it."
Felix's heart began to pound.
Too fast.
Too loud.
His vision blurred.
Fragments flooded his mind—steel soaked in blood, burning skies, a woman's scream, a name he couldn't forget.
Not again…
His soul screamed.
Then—
Thud.
Heavy boots struck stone.
The pressure in the air changed instantly.
Felix looked up.
Arven stood there.
Straight-backed. Broad-shouldered. His presence alone silenced the guards. The former leader of the White Tiger Regime. A paladin knight whose name once ended wars.
Behind him stood Rose.
And beside her—
The Queen of Elanador.
Her daughter clutched her hand, eyes wide as she stared at Felix.
The guards went pale.
One by one, they dropped to their knees.
Felix stood frozen, breath ragged, magic still humming faintly around his fingers.
The villa was silent.
And every eye was on him.
Arven's gaze fell on his child.
Felix lay unconscious on the stone path, magic still faintly flickering around his body. Rose rushed to his side at once, kneeling and pulling him into her arms, her hands trembling as she checked his breathing.
The Queen's eyes widened.
She recognized him.
Her expression hardened instantly, fury flashing across her face as she turned toward the guards.
"Do you know who he is?" she shouted. "That child is the one who brought down the bandits while all of you were unconscious on the battlefield!"
The guards stiffened. Color drained from their faces.
Arven stepped forward, his voice calm—but heavy enough to crush steel.
"This is my child, Your Highness," he said. "And the reason I refused to return to my position as a knight… is exactly this."
He gestured toward Felix's bruised body, his torn clothes, the dirt and blood still clinging to him.
"Look at what they did to him," Arven continued. "They didn't know who he was. They didn't ask. They judged him by his appearance alone."
His hand tightened into a fist.
"They saw a child in rags and treated him like trash. That is why I resigned."
The courtyard was silent.
Arven's eyes burned, not with rage—but with bitter disappointment.
"A knight's duty is to protect," he said quietly. "Not to judge. Not to abuse power. If this is what knighthood has become, then I want no part of it."
Rose clutched Felix closer, tears silently falling onto his hair.
The Queen looked at the unconscious boy again—at the child who had saved lives, fought bandits, and still been thrown aside at his own home.
Her voice dropped, cold and absolute.
"This will not go unanswered."
The guards lowered their heads, fear finally sinking in.
Too late.
An hour later, Felix stirred.
His lashes fluttered as his vision slowly returned, the world coming into focus piece by piece. The first thing he felt was warmth—Rose's arms around him, steady and familiar.
"…Mom?" he murmured.
Rose exhaled sharply, relief breaking through her worry. "You're awake."
Felix pushed himself up, head still aching. He noticed the guards first—standing stiffly in a line, helmets removed, heads bowed.
One of them stepped forward and knelt.
"We apologize," the guard said, voice tight with shame. "We were wrong. Please forgive us."
Felix blinked, surprised.
Then he smiled faintly.
"It's fine," he said. "You didn't know."
The guards froze.
They hadn't expected that.
Felix looked around, confused. "Dad… why are they here?"
Arven met his gaze. For a moment, the past weighed heavy in his eyes.
"I was once their commander," Arven said calmly. "The former leader of the White Tiger Regime—the paladins you see before you."
Felix's eyes widened.
"Really?"
Arven nodded. "But that life is behind me now."
Felix looked back at the guards, then up at his father again.
"…Then they're strong."
"They were," Arven corrected softly. "Strength without judgment is nothing but cruelty."
The guards lowered their heads further.
Felix didn't fully understand the weight of those words yet—but something settled quietly in his chest.
"So… Your Highness is staying here?" Felix asked.
"Yes," the Queen replied calmly. "We will remain for the night."
Rose immediately turned to Felix, worry written all over her face.
"Felix, are you alright? You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"
"No, Mom," Felix said, shaking his head. "I'm fine. Just tired."
He hesitated, then added quietly, "The day was rough. A lot happened."
The Queen turned her attention to Arven.
"So," she asked, "he is your child?"
Arven nodded. "Yes. He is."
The Queen studied Felix for a moment longer.
"He is quite strong. You do know that, don't you?"
Arven frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"So you don't know," the Queen said.
"Earlier, I mentioned that someone helped us—when the guards were nearly killed."
Arven's eyes sharpened. "The bandit incident?"
"Yes," the Queen replied. She raised her hand and pointed toward Felix.
"He was the one who saved us."
Arven and Rose both froze.
"But he's just—" Rose began.
"I was surprised as well," the Queen interrupted calmly. "But he used both magic and the sword. Skillfully."
She looked at Arven.
"I cannot turn a blind eye to talent like that. And we never had the chance to thank him properly."
The Queen stepped forward slightly.
"Felix Roswal," she said formally,
"thank you for saving us from the bandits."
Rose turned sharply to Felix.
"…Is it true? You fought bandits?"
Felix nodded. "Yes, Mom."
Rose's hands tightened. "And you're really not hurt?"
"No," Felix said again. "Just exhausted. Mana depletion."
The Queen spoke before Rose could respond.
"Did you succeed in finding the bandits' hideout?"
"Yes," Felix answered. "We found it. You don't need to worry—we dealt with them."
The Queen nodded slowly.
"If this had occurred within Elenador proper, we would have granted you a reward. Perhaps even a title."
She paused, then reached into her sleeve.
"But since it did not," she continued, "I will give you this instead."
She revealed a small emblem—silver and gold, etched with authority.
"The crest of the Imperial Family of Elenador."
The air shifted slightly.
"And," she added, placing a hand gently on the girl beside her,
"this is my daughter. Her name is Celestina."
Felix inclined his head politely.
After a moment, he spoke quietly.
"Mom… I'm going to my room."
Rose nodded. "Alright. But come down for dinner."
"Okay," Felix said. "I'll be back."
He turned and walked upstairs.
Felix closed the door to his room behind him.
He approached the corner where the phoenix egg rested, faint warmth radiating from its surface. Kneeling, he fed it a controlled thread of fire, watching the glow deepen slightly.
Then his thoughts surfaced.
That vision…
What I saw earlier—it wasn't normal.
It hadn't felt like a dream.
It could have been imagination, he told himself.
But it felt too real. Too vivid.
Something stirred uneasily in his chest.
Then—
Knock. Knock.