Chapter 169: Destiny

With surprising elegance for a god with such a wild appearance, he bowed before her.

The gesture was not an exaggerated show of respect.

It was fluid, natural, almost solemn, as though he were following an ancient code of honor whose rules only he still remembered.

His gaze never left hers.

Then he extended his hand.

With infinite delicacy, he took the one that had remained free between his own. His fingers touched hers with unexpected care, as though he were handling something precious.

He gently drew her closer.

Blanche felt the warmth of his palm despite the cold that still clung to her skin.

Without the slightest hesitation, Fenrir lowered his head once more.

His lips brushed the back of her hand.

It was not a simple polite gesture.

Barely a caress.

A warm breath.

A mark of respect as old as he was, carrying a quiet tenderness that he reserved for only a very select few.

When he lifted his eyes again, his eternal crooked smile had returned.

Less cruel than moments before.

Softer.

Almost conspiratorial.

As if he wanted to silently remind her that, behind the warrior everyone feared, there was still the man who watched over her.

He released her hand reluctantly, his fingers sliding slowly against hers until the contact finally broke.

Then, without another word, he turned away.

His towering figure moved a few steps away.

And the next instant, he vanished.

All that remained was the faint scent of pine, leather, and snow that belonged uniquely to him...

And the strange sensation on the back of Blanche's hand that the warmth of his lips still lingered there.

"Sapphire, I entrust my wife to you," Aaron ordered without any further ceremony.

He had been waiting for exactly that.

Then he stepped toward Vecz, invading his personal space.

"You threw your knife at my wife's head?"

He did not wait for an answer.

Vecz became nothing more than a punching bag under the horrified gazes of those around him.

Aaron overwhelmed him effortlessly, beating him down until he was nearly dead.

But he did not kill him.

Odin had said he still had a role to play.

"He'll survive," Aaron growled.

His voice carried a deadly promise.

"The next person who touches even a single strand of her hair won't be so lucky."

The threat hung heavily in the air.

Now they knew exactly what Aaron was capable of.

They watched the strange trio leave without attempting to stop them.

Later, as they rejoined the others, Aaron suddenly stopped.

"Fenrir really said you were seventeen?"

Blanche and Sapphire burst out laughing.

Was that seriously all he had remembered?

"I didn't think you were that young..."

He looked genuinely embarrassed.

Then the quest brought Blanche back to reality.

"Argy, can you go heal Vecz?" Aaron asked after a long internal struggle.

"Fine... but you're coming with me," the silver-haired young man demanded.

After a kiss between the two men, Blanche headed back toward the barracks with Sapphire and her familiar.

Blanche took advantage of the few quiet minutes that followed to explain her plan for the Gala to Sapphire.

She told him everything, especially the initiative she had taken without consulting anyone, convinced that it was the best possible solution.

Sapphire listened without ever interrupting her.

As always.

He walked beside her, his gaze resting on her with calm attention, occasionally encouraging her to continue with a simple nod.

When she finally finished, a gentle smile illuminated his face.

A sincere smile.

Almost a proud one.

His blue eyes sparkled with amused affection.

"I recognize my Elisa in that."

She shyly shrugged.

"Is that a compliment?"

"Depends who you ask."

A soft laugh escaped him, clearly impressed by the boldness of her decision.

Then his smile became more subtle.

He slowly shook his head from side to side.

"In that case..."

His gaze lifted briefly toward the sky, as though he were already imagining the consequences of what she had just told him.

"I need to go home."

He let out a resigned sigh.

"Your grandfather must be completely losing his mind by now."

Blanche couldn't help smiling.

She could easily imagine Winter discovering certain pieces of information several hours late...

And the emotional storm that would inevitably follow.

"You think?"

Sapphire laughed softly.

"I don't think so."

He paused briefly.

"I know so."

They exchanged a knowing glance before finally arriving back at the barracks.

They walked through the corridors at an easy pace, continuing a much lighter conversation. Sapphire offered a few last-minute tips for the Gala, gently teased her about her habit of improvising three-quarters of her plans, and mocked—with all the elegance of a Drakion—her incredible talent for attracting impossible situations.

Blanche protested.

He simply kept smiling.

As always.

When they reached the door to her room, they stopped.

Sapphire turned toward her one last time.

His expression had softened.

He placed a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Take care of yourself."

Those four words, spoken with the gentle sincerity that defined him, carried far more weight than any lengthy warning.

Blanche silently nodded.

"You too."

He gave her that radiant smile he possessed, the one that seemed capable of soothing any worry.

Then he stepped back.

His silhouette blurred almost imperceptibly.

The next moment...

He had disappeared in the shower of pixels that characterized the game.

Blanche remained there for a few seconds, staring at the place where he had stood only moments earlier.

Every departure from Sapphire always left her with that strange feeling.

As though the calm itself left the room with him.

Instinctively, she changed her objective and headed to Kiyan's room.

She lay down in their bed and obtained her new spell.

Divine Power Transfer: Time.

Two uses remaining.

She inhaled Kiyan's comforting scent...

Then she dissolved as well into a shower of pixels, knowing that a new adventure awaited her very soon—

Whether she wanted it or not.