CHAPTER 106: BLADE OF THE GODDESS

The night ended quietly after the feast.

One by one, his family dispersed, warmth lingering in the hall like the faint glow of dying embers.

"Tomorrow," Azariah had told him, slapping him on the shoulder hard enough to rattle his bones.

"You’ll rise early. We hunt at dawn."

His father’s grin had been wide, teeth flashing like a beast’s, his crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"It should have been done when you turned twelve, but you vanished. I won’t let you delay any longer. Be ready, and don’t you dare insult me by bringing those soft Empire daggers."

With that, the Patriarch had left, his heavy steps echoing down the hall like drumbeats.

Ellie had scampered after him, waving eagerly.

"See you tomorrow, big brother!"

His mother had been the last to depart.

Diana kissed his forehead, brushed back his silver hair, and whispered,

"Don’t get hurt. And if he pushes you too hard... remember, you are my son before you are his heir."

The warmth of her embrace stayed with him even after she left.

Only Anya remained by his side, her silver hair shimmering in the lamplight.

"My Prince," she said softly, dipping her head, "rest well tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll wake you. And... I’ll be there to serve you on your hunt."

Her voice carried a quiet conviction.

Azel could only nod, holding Lillia close in his arms as she tugged at his shirt sleepily.

Together, they returned to his chamber where Edna and Medusa were already lying on the wide fur bed, their breaths steady, their bodies relaxed.

...

The next morning came with a knock.

Azel groaned and rolled out of Edna’s embrace.

She muttered something incoherent in her sleep, while Medusa pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

Lillia was curled up like a kitten against his chest.

Carefully, he pried himself free and stumbled toward the door, putting on his winter clothes instantly.

He had gotten used to them, even if only a bit.

"My Prince," came Anya’s voice, polite and crisp. "The Patriarch instructed me to wake you."

Azel rubbed his eyes, then cracked the door open.

He froze.

Standing before him, Anya looked different — layered in a thick fur-lined jacket, scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, twin bone swords resting at her hips.

Her blue eyes gleamed with an icy sharpness, not the softness of a maid but the readiness of a warrior.

"...What are you wearing?" he asked, blurting it out before he could stop himself.

Color flooded her cheeks.

She straightened. "Since I am your personal attendant, I will accompany you on the hunt. My strength is yours, My Prince. I may not look the part, but I am capable."

Azel blinked at her.

’So the men have to bare their chests like beastkin cosplayers,’ he thought wryly. ’But the women? They get fur jackets and actual pants. I’d bet Kyone had something to do with that.’

[Don’t look at me, husband~] Kyone’s voice purred in his head. [But if you want me to wear less, just say the word.]

’Shameless goddess.’

Out loud, he said, "It looks good on you."

He tugged at the scarf wrapped over his bare chest.

"Let’s go."

They walked a few steps before Azel stopped and turned to her with an awkward look.

"...Uh, where exactly are we going?"

Her lips twitched.

She tried and failed to stifle a laugh. "This way, My Prince."

Anya led him through winding halls until they reached a large chamber deep within the estate.

The moment Azel stepped inside, he saw...

Bones.

The room was filled with them.

Racks upon racks of weapons carved from the bones of beasts — bows strung across the walls, lances carved with runes, other weapons etched with frost.

Azariah stood at the center, arms crossed, crimson eyes burning with pride.

"Good morning, my son." His deep voice echoed in the chamber.

With a grand sweep of his arm, he gestured around them. "This is the Rion of Bones. Every weapon you see here was forged from the remains of our ancestors’ hunts. Each carries legacy, memory, power."

Azel’s eyes darted over the arsenal.

There were hundreds.

Thousands perhaps.

Azariah’s tone hardened. "As is tradition, before you take your first hunt, you must choose your weapon. Not all are meant for you. Some will reject you. Some may even kill you. But the one that answers your spirit — you will know."

The weight of his father’s words pressed down on him.

’Choose, huh?’ Azel thought, stepping forward.

The air buzzed faintly around him as he moved between the racks.

His hand drifted over the haft of a lance, the edge of a cleaver.

Each radiated strength, but none of them... called to him.

Until he saw it.

At the far end of the chamber, on a raised pedestal, a single sword stood upright. Long and thin, carved of pale bone, runes etched like veins across its surface.

Frost mist coiled lazily around its edge, the cold so sharp it stung his skin from a distance.

His feet carried him forward before he even realized it.

"Why are you—" Azariah’s words halted midway, his voice suddenly sharp. "Boy, do not approach that blade."

Azel’s eyes locked on it.

It gave him the same feeling as Kyone.

[Oh!] Kyone’s voice suddenly rang in his head, playful and surprised. [That’s mine!]

’...What?’

[My very first sword. I thought it was lost ages ago. I must’ve left it here after the last war. How nostalgic.] Her voice softened with amusement. [Normally, even Patriarchs of this clan can’t lift it. It freezes their hands solid. But you—]

Her tone grew sultry [You’re my mate. You can touch every part of me as much as you want.]

Azel’s mouth twitched. ’You’re actually useful for once.’

[Husband, that hurt~]

Anya had rushed forward, alarm flashing in her eyes. "My Prince, that is the goddess’s blade — the Frostfang. Countless tried to wield it, but none could. It—"

Her words caught in her throat.

Because Azel had already wrapped his fingers around the hilt.

The cold bit into his palm, but instead of pain, it felt... right.

The chill sank into his veins like a missing piece of him had finally returned.

He pulled, and the sword came free with startling ease, light in his grip as if it had always belonged there.

Azel twirled it once, the frost mist trailing through the air like ribbons. "Feels okay."

The chamber went silent.

Anya’s mouth hung open, her blue eyes wide with disbelief.

Azariah’s jaw clenched.

The proud Patriarch, the unshakable beast of the clan, actually staggered a step forward, eyes bulging.

"Ehhhhh?!" His roar shook the walls. "YOU—YOU LIFTED IT?!"