You Are No Longer of the Imperial Family
Night always blanketed the dormitory in silence. On the top floor of the Imperial Academy's girls' dorm, faint moonlight filtered through the window onto a small desk by the sill. The candle had burned down halfway, and beyond the glass, a gentle night breeze barely rustled the curtain's edge.
Serennia sat on the edge of her bed, hands clasped quietly in her lap. Sleep eluded her. It had for days now.
Kainar Iskara von Solaríos. The name resurfaced in her mind, and each time, her breath grew shallow without her realizing it. She was afraid. This fear had lingered for so long.
At first, it had been mere discomfort. Back when they'd crossed paths a few times in the capital's social circles, he was a beautiful, cold, untouchable presence. His appearance captivated every gaze, his aura froze people in place, and his overwhelming pressure deterred any approach. It was enough to make even Serennia fall for him.
But once his eyes lingered on her, everything changed. She thought it coincidence at first. Then it turned to displeasure. And soon, terror followed.
Kainar acted as if Serennia were already his. It wasn't his words so much as his stares and demeanor—blatant and possessive. Who she spoke to, who she danced with, what marriage proposals floated her way. An invisible curse seemed to touch them all. Suitors suddenly vanished, men who drew near pulled back one by one, and those who'd shown interest began keeping a careful distance.
No one said it outright, but Serennia knew. It was the crown prince. He might have called it love, but to her, it wasn't. It was a blatant threat, obsession wielded through power, a noose tightening with every refusal.
Serennia slowly closed her eyes. Memories of faces from long ago surfaced.
The Imperial Academy wasn't just for the empire's nobles. As the world's premier institution, it drew students from great powers and small kingdoms alike. Back then, the academy buzzed with more life, embracing a broader world. Holy clerics from the Gaia Holy Kingdom, knightly youths from the Acreasia Alliance, even princes and heirs from minor realms. Some showed interest in Serennia—courteous, kind, cautious. They knew how to respect her space, listen to her words, even notice the expressions she made when she smiled. It was a far cry from Kainar's brand of attention. Ordinary, warm, human kindness.
But that was three years ago. As the crown prince plunged into frequent wars, foreign nations recalled their nobles one by one. Too dangerous, they said. Who knew what fate awaited their scions in the heart of an enemy empire?
Thus, the academy gradually became a haven solely for imperial nobles.
Serennia lowered her gaze. The academy spanned five years, with classes growing ever more rigorous and intricate by the grade: politics, magic theory, geography and strategy, history, noble law, international diplomacy. She was sharp in her studies, which had carried her safely to the fourth year.
And she possessed one special gift: spirits.
Serennia was innately close to them—no, more than close. Four presences always lingered by her side. The Spirit King of Fire, Ifrit. The Spirit King of Water, Elquines. The Spirit King of Earth, Gnome. The Spirit King of Wind, Ariel. Beings no one could easily encounter in a lifetime—the four great Spirit Kings—watched over her from beyond the boundary of the antimatter realm.
They were semidivine entities, the roots of the world itself. Untouchable by human power, embodiments of living nature. They existed because the world did, and the world because they did.
Normally, such beings wouldn't fear a single human. But Kainar was the exception.
Serennia had sensed it many times. Whenever he drew near, the Spirit Kings fell eerily silent. No playful gusts, no warm flickers of flame. They shrank back instinctively, stifling their presence.
She hadn't understood at first. But time forced her to accept it: even the Spirit Kings deemed the crown prince beyond them.
Kainar Iskara von Solaríos. A monster who'd reached Sword Master at just eighteen. And now, five years later, he was surely stronger.
Before a being who made even the four Spirit Kings feel like dust, Serennia always felt utterly alone. The helplessness of having no protector—that tormented her most.
Yet for days now, the crown prince had vanished from sight. The rumors, though, were bizarre.
He'd changed. The savage, tyrannical wastrel was now purging corruption and imposing even harsher tyranny under the banner of imperial stability.
Official missives from the palace kept arriving at the academy. Children of purged nobles and officials were dragged away for implication in crimes or punished on-site. What had once been hushed corruption now seemed the empire's gravest sin.
It was good. Surely, it was good.
The crown prince finally focusing on state affairs over his obsessions should have thrilled Serennia. If he turned his gaze elsewhere, she'd finally breathe free.
And it seemed so. Rumors said his relationship with Aurelia was mending. She still crossed paths with Aurelia in A-Class, but the overt glares and harassment from her entourage had dwindled.
Everything was improving. Peaceful academy life was returning.
So why?
Serennia clutched her chest. Why did her heart feel so constricted?
She'd never felt this from the foreign men who'd treated her kindly. They were gentler, better people. Yet those partings had only left regret and loneliness—not this suffocating tightness.
She couldn't name the feeling.
Serennia lay back on the bed, then sat up again. Sleep wouldn't come. Unbeknownst to her, she'd been staring not at the window, but into empty space for ages.
§§§
Beyond the Imperial Palace, deep underground in a hidden chamber. Amid enveloping darkness, a single glowing blue crystal orb hovered faintly. Black mist churned within, from which a rasping voice intermittently emerged.
Lucian stood before it. The mild daytime mask was gone. Bathed in golden candlelight, his face was anxious, pale—and twisted in rage.
"Everything's going to hell."
He ground his teeth. "The crown prince...! That wastrel bastard's changed out of nowhere. Most of the noble faction's core is sliced away, and the palace is getting cleaned up. At this rate, my position—!"
The shadow in the orb quivered mockingly. "So?"
Lucian's brow twitched. "Lend me your power. You need me to survive too!"
"You're mad."
The blunt reply left Lucian speechless. The Necrovan Necromancy Kingdom's voice was ice-cold and direct.
"You want us to touch a Sword Master right now?"
"Don't you get it? We have to move before he notices everything!"
"That's proof you're a fool, Second Prince."
Lucian's face flushed crimson. "What?"
"We're not suicidal."
The Necrovan leadership was ruthlessly pragmatic. They knew well what provoking a Sword Master meant. What Kainar had wrought on battlefields—armies of tens, hundreds of thousands swept away by a single swing—was known to every leader across the continent, not just Necrovan.
The empire was stronger now than in Emperor Taegwang's era. That was Necrovan's miscalculation. They'd backed the ambitious Second Prince to weaken it, but the result fortified the empire instead.
Overwhelming Aura Masters, high mages, two sages, two absolutes. Provoke that empire now, at its most razor-edged moment? Insanity.
"We're better off erasing traces."
Lucian's eyes widened in shock. "What bullshit is this, you damned—!!"
"If you fall, your secrets lose value. We'll cut ties first."
"You fucking—!!"
Lucian clenched his fist and lunged toward the orb, eyes bulging with bloodshot fury.
"You dare abandon me? Who enabled all our collusion so far?!"
"We'll ask you something."
The Necrovan voice sank colder. "How can someone breathing right under a Sword Master's nose be so stupid?"
Lucian fell silent.
"You've evaded detection not through cunning. He simply ignored you."
The words stabbed deep.
"But if his attention turns your way now, we'll wash our hands of you."
Lucian spat curses through gritted teeth. Necrovan seemed done persuading.
And then—
Kwaaaang!!!
The massive glass window shattered inward. Something burst in amid shards and icy night wind. Curtains whipped like torn sails; candles flickered wildly.
Darkness hid all but a silhouette at first. But...
Lucian froze, face drained of color. The orb's voice rose in alarm.
"Second Prince! What happened? He hasn't found you, has he?!"
Lucian couldn't respond. His legs trembled. Eyes bulged; lips quivered.
"H-how... are you... here..."
At the end of his gaze stood a man soaked in blood. Visible even in the gloom: the type of blood. It splattered his pure white hair, dripped plip, plip from his sword to the floor.
His face half-shadowed, but those blood-red eyes gleamed vivid.
Kainar Iskara von Solaríos. Crown prince. Sword Emperor. The Sword Master Lucian feared most.
He stepped inside, slowly flicking blood from his blade.
"What shall I do with you?"
The low words chilled the air. Lucian collapsed.
The orb fell silent too—a silence that said everything.
Lucian swallowed ragged breaths, eyes darting to the door. He scrambled backward on shaking legs.
"G-guards!"
His voice cracked. "Anyone! Protect me now! Shield me from that wastrel bastard!!"
He screamed near-hysterically. No one came. No sound beyond the door.
Kainar smiled slowly. His eyes didn't, but his lips curved—making it eerier.
"No one will come."
Step. Step. Blood pattered as he advanced.
"Whose blood do you suppose stains me?"
Lucian's face went ashen.
Kainar approached, blade lowered sideways, eyes crinkling in what resembled amusement—but more like a beast toying with prey.
"Tsk, tsk."
He clicked his tongue. "An imperial prince, selling out the empire as a traitor, colluding with tumor-like scum."
Kwajik!
The sword plunged vertically, cleaving the orb dead center. It shattered in a flash; the link to Necrovan severed.
Kainar raised his head, fixing Lucian with his gaze.
"Did you do that to His Majesty the Emperor?"
Lucian's eyes shook wildly. "D-don't spout madness!"
He wailed. "Me, a prince—do something like that?! Impossible!!"
Kainar showed no reaction. No anger, shock, disappointment. Just cold, emotionless eyes looking down.
That terrified more.
"Time will reveal it."
His voice low, Kainar recited charges like a verdict.
"Second Prince Lucian Theodor von Solaríos."
Lucian's shoulders jerked.
"Secret contact with hostile forces. Illegal collusion with the Necrovan Necromancy Kingdom. Undermining imperial authority. Disrupting imperial order. And grave suspicion regarding His Majesty's condition."
Each word bound him like chains. Propped on trembling legs, he stared at his brother—no, the blood-drenched figure with crimson eyes flashing in shadow resembled calamity itself.
Kainar took one final step. His voice was ice.
"You are no longer of the imperial family."
Lucian's pupils quaked.
"As a criminal of the empire, you will face rightful punishment."
With those words, the room's air seemed to crumble. Lucian gaped mutely. No escape, no aid, no excuses.
Only then did he truly realize: this might be the end.
And Kainar Iskara von Solaríos looked down without a shred of mercy.