Hatsune y on the cou Krion’s room, listening as the soft sounds of the s’s breathing filled the space. The faint light of the moon spilled through the window, casting long shadows across the sparsely furnished room. Despite the quiet, her mind was far from peaceful. The whirlwind of the day, her ued ge in circumstances, and the lingering sting of ret events weighed heavily ohoughts.

  She adjusted her position on the couch, fingers reag down to trace the worn hilt of the long sword that rested beside the couch. It was a serviceable on — funal, and sharp enough for most purposes — but it wasn’t hers. It wasn’t the sword that had been at her side for years, a gift from her mother, fed by the fi smiths of her homeworld. The memory of how it felt in her hand, how it practically sang as she moved it through her forms, was as sharp in her mind as the bde itself had been. She grasped the hilt beside her. It was in a pletely different style, but she would have to get used to it. Her old on was lost to her now.

  Only weeks ago, her life had beeirely different. She had been far from the oppressive grandeur of the Imperial Academy, ba her homeworld, Hanashobu. She had been visiting a vilge on the frontier of her family’s nds, a small settlemeled against the base of a mountain. It ce of quiet resilience, one she enjoyed visiting, where the people fought daily against the encroag wilderness and the ever-present threat of marauders. But it had been free of the court politics she so despised. So she seized every ce she could to go there.

  Hatsune’s escort, a small but petent group of guards assigo her by her family, had been deyed by other duties. Against their judgment, she had insisted on going ahead, eager to get to the vilge and catch up with the people who lived there. She had arrived without i, and the headman, a wiry old Leporih a spark of mischief lingering from younger days, had led her around the vilge showing off ret improvements that had been structed as a result of a prosperous year.

  Hatsune had ehe visit even more than she had expected. The simplicity of their lives, and their determination to thrive in the harsh enviro he base of the mountain, had been refreshing after so long being paraded around court for potential suitors. Men who cared far more about the ties to her family than her as a woman.

  The hilt of the sword began to creak under her grip, so she released it, not wanting to wake Krion.

  She remembered the children darting arouheir ughter eg through the air as they pyed games in the muddy streets. Mothers, thankful for all that her family did for them, here out on the frontier, offered her small gifts — freshly baked bread, a woven bracelet, a basket of herbs. She had taken it all, as was expected, but the thanks she had voiced in respoo each thing she was handed had been genuine.

  She remembered the headman showihe vilge’s improved defenses, modest but well-crafted. New wooden palisades had been structed around the settlement, and watchtowers had beeo overlook the surrounding approaches to the vilge gates, all in respoo the ret troubles in the region. She had been standing at the base of one of those watchtowers wheack came.

  She rolled on her side, pulling the b in tighter.

  The first warning had been a sharp whistle, the sound of an arrow slig through the air. It struck the ground at her feet. Chaos erupted in an instant. Vilgers screamed, scrambling for cover as more arrows began to fall. The headman had grabbed her, seeking to rush her to safety, but she had shrugged off his grip. She had drawn her sword without hesitation, the familiar weight of it steadying her amidst the panic.

  She had cut down the first attacker to make it through the gate. He had been a Caprine dressed in the colors of one of the mountain bandit s, his cloven hooves kig up the mud behind him as he tossed his horned head back to bay a warcry. Despite his rge size, it had taken only a single ssh to remove his head from his shoulders. The sed Caprine had fallen just as quickly. She could still remember the brief resistance as her thrust took him through the chest.

  But there had been too many.

  The Caprine had moved with brutal efficy, overwhelming the vilge’s defenses in minutes. Hatsune had fought desperately, her bde fshing iightening blows to protect those few vilgers who had gathered in the headman’s house behind her. After the seventh Carpine’s lifeless body colpsed at her feet, a group of five had disarmed her. A swift strike to her wrist had sent her sword into the muck at her feet, and before she could even attempt to retrieve it, strong hands had wrenched her arms behind her back. She could still feel the ropes they had bound her with. She could still hear how they had called her a pretty prize.

  Hatsune ched her jaw at the memory, her fingers gripping the fabric of the bhat covered her.

  They had taken her, along with dozens of vilgers, loading them into crude wagons. They had bragged about the svers’ markets and how much mohey would make. The humiliation of being paraded as chattel still made her stomach turn. Most of the vilgers captured alongside her had been sold off at a Caprine au within days. She remembered watg, helpless, as families had been split apart, their cries of protest silenced with cruel efficy. The majority had been simple folk: farmers, borers, and a few untrained members of the militia who had survived the attack. To the svers, they were odities to be sold quickly to anyone who could afford them — merts, pntation owners, or nobles looking for expendable servants.

  But her fate had been different.

  The sver in charge, a broad-shouldered Caprih two massive, bck curved horns, had used some orb that she suspected held some sort of iion entment. She hadn’t known what to make of it at the time, but the result soon became clear. Uhe others, who were shoved onto ptforms and sold in groups, she had bee aside as some exotic prize. Eventually, she was sold to an Imperial — a stout man in fiailored robes who had an air of disihe eime she had been in his presehe transa had been quick, the Caprine practically throwi the man once he handed over a rge pouch of s. The Imperial had barely aowledged her before leadio another set of wagons.

  He had sold her again within days.

  After that, time lost all meaning. Days blurred into nights as she was shuffled from one pce to another, her surroundings ging too often and too abruptly for her to anchor herself. Sometimes she was kept in cramped, dimly lit rooms, her meals sparse and her sleep restless. Later, she was transported in a wooden carriage with barred windows, the outside world visible only iing glimpses of forests and unfamiliar towns.

  The faces of her captors ged as often as the sery. Some spoke in harsh, clipped tones, while others avoided addressing her altogether, treating her as nothing more than a odity to be delivered. She stopped ting the transas, eae redug her further in her own eyes. How many times had she had ged hands? It became a question without an answer.

  When she finally arrived at what she ter learned was the Imperial Academy, she was too draio make sense of her new surroundings. The grandeur of the pce was starkly at odds with the jourhat had brought her there, but she had been too tired, too scared to care.

  Soon after her arrival, she had been ushered into the Hall of Bonds. It was there that the reality of her situation had been id out, and surprisingly enough, it had involved her making a choice. The first option was the Mark of Bonds, binding her as a bodyguard to one of the Academy’s ss. It had beeed as a position of honor, her skills making her a potentially valuable asset. The alternative was the Arena — a brutal proving ground where fighters battled for survival. The Arena carried the promise of glory for the victors ah for those unprepared.

  It was a false choice. Without a css, she knew she would have been little more than fodder in the Arena. So she chose the bond over the sands, survival over spectacle. Yet, as the days passed, the decisio more like a reprieve. The first ss that had e in search of potential bodyguards had been ambitious and cruel.

  She could still picture Chadwick’s sneering face, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he had evaluated her. He and his fellow s had stood so close to her cell in the Hall of Bonds, arms crossed, postures exuding zy fidehat filled her with unease. Chadwick’s gaze had lingered on her like a predator stalking prey. He had regarded her not as a person but as an object. The sadistic delight she sensed as he looked at her had made her stomach lurch. It was a look she reized — primal, predatory, like the wild monsters her father had hunted on their nd so long ago. Only this time, she was the one hunted, and there was not one who would e to save her. fronted with a human that embodied the same twisted cruelty, she had felt powerless.

  But then Krion appeared.

  While the two ss had stood near her cell, their ughter sharp and cruel, she had seen him approach. Chadwick had spoken of her as though she was a odity, making vile jokes about “breaking” her or keeping her as a pything. Yet, it wasn’t their words that lingered most but Krion’s response. She remembered how he strode toward them, his fists ched and his stance heavy with restrained fury. Uhe other ss, Krion hadn’t joined in their mockery. Instead, he had frohem, his anding presence f them to retreat without ever drawing his bde. Theuro her. How thold eyes of his had caused the rest of the world to fall away. Though his questions had been direct, he hadn’t treated her as a tool or object.

  He didn’t fit the mold of what she expected ss to be — there was an earo him, a siy that caught her off guard. He had treated her with ued kindness, her food and shelter without the sneering dession she had e to expect from Imperial ss. The scars on his arms, the quiet way he carried himself — it all hi a past far removed from the privileged life of a noble. But that only made him more of an enigma, and Hatsune did not like mysteries.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft rustling of the b he had draped over himself as he shifted in his sleep. Her eyes darted to his sleeping form. She couldn’t help but notice how his face softened in sleep, the tension that was usually in his posture and expression gone for the moment. It was hard to recile the Kiron she had met — the one who intervened on her behalf at the Hall of Bonds — with the one who was now so… vulnerable in sleep.

  Her father’s voice echoed in her head. “Not all who offer help are friends. Beware the shadow wyrms disguised as silver griffins.”

  She stared at the sleeping s. The steady rise and fall of his chest in the dim light gave him an almost serene appearahe way his dark hair fell over his forehead making him look youhan he did when he was awake. No, Krion didn’t feel like a shadow wyrm. If anything, he felt like a man trying to find his p a world that didn’t quite fit him.

  Hatsuill wasn’t sure what to make of him, especially after the strangeness of his behavior after he had brought her to the Banor. Cooking for her? Speaking to her as though she were an equal? her a pce to rest without the thinly veiled threats or leers she had e to expect from those in his position? It was fusing, disarming even.

  Her ears twitched as she tore her eyes from Krion to look around the room. The dusty furnishings, the ck of servants, the sparse decorations — it didn’t fit the image of a privileged s. Krion didn’t fit the image of a privileged s. There was more to him thahe eye, and while that made him intriguing, it also made him uable.

  Hatsuhoughts slowly drifted away, but still, despite the soft pull of slumber, one ear stayed fixed on Krion’s form.

  Up is another interlude from someone you might (ht not) be expeg, and then back to Krion and some litrpg elements.

  Also, a small annou. Starting tomorrow, I will be on a two-week break from work, with little to do around the house, so chapters will start building up more sistently here and on Patreon. As such, the pn (assuming nothing es up) is to finish book one before I have to get back to work. Fingers crossed, but I'm excited for how fast the hits are going to start ing. Stay tuned!

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  he Royal Road Writatholy ended, and I am currently w oing back up to 10+ additional chapters for those who wish to read ahead (will happen prior to the end of December). In addition, you will eventually gain access to exclusive short stories tered on characters from the main story that provide additional insight about the Multiverse (which will only be on Patreon), as well as fun articles that will reveal more of the worldbuilding (also only on Patreon).