CHAPTER 375: HOUSE DELMIRE’S PLIGHT

’She could not conjure spears,’ the text said, ’but her wards never failed. Villages sheltered under a "Dawn Canopy," a hemispherical lattice that filtered demonic miasma to dust.’

’She burned no demons outright; she unmade the filth that birthed them, and in the clean air, human steel did the rest.’ When the book showed a sketch of farmers laughing as a field’s blight turned to dew, Orion felt his chest loosen. Light’s truest violence was mercy.

[She sounds amazing,]

Lumi breathed a sigh of respect.

"She knew where to cut," he agreed softly. "At the root."

The text did not shy from warnings. Light was not an element just anyone could bear. Light misaligned to pride would scour the self first, stripping nuance until the world became a theater of villains.

Orion committed the margin notes to memory as carefully as the spells he engraved in his SoC.

And then, the prize he’d hoped for: the Affinity Rune of Light.

A complicated blend of mana circuits and runic inscriptions it was.

[Do you want me to project a map of this?]

Lumi offered, trying to be helpful and adorable at once.

"No need for that." He traced in the air, not daring to try it on a parchment yet, letting muscle memory learn the ratios.

Hours passed; his mental slate filled with repetition, failure, correction. The Light Affinity Rune proved to be much harder than the rest he had learned.

He laughed under his breath and read on.

He read until the moon dragged itself across the window and hid behind the walls, until the mana lamps seemed to dim down.

He read until the shape of Light felt less like a stranger at his table and more like a principled guest he knew for quite a bit.

When the last pane of the crystal dimmed, he sat back, closed his eyes, and breathed out everything he’d taken in.

For an hour, he let Basic Mana Breathing rake through the fatigue, smoothing thought and muscle both.

The knock came just after dawn.

"Master?" Rina’s voice, soft but bright through the field’s glamour. "Are you up yet or not? It’s morning already."

He stood up and went towards the cube before deactivating it. He also deactivated the Limitless Ascension Field and went to open the door.

Rina’s blond hair was braided with blooms; Fiora’s eyes were keen, looking at Orion with the same adorable gaze as always.

They both smiled toward Orion.

"Morning," he said with a warm smile. "You two really come at the right time always."

Fiora blushed a little at his compliment while Rina smirked, "Then let us refresh you from your night’s tiredness."

Orion smiled and nodded as the two of them picked up towels from his room and got him to the bathroom.

***

The luxurious obsidian carriage rolled on the polished roads of the royal capital.

"Back to Magi already, Young Master?" Edgar asked once they were past the second ring and into the third, curiosity filling his usual calm face.

"Yes," Orion said, looking back at him. "There are some things I want to discuss with him, and increase his work a little as well. Maybe this will keep him from drinking too much alcohol."

Edgar nodded his head thoughtfully. The wheels hummed over cobbles, the city’s layers peeling by, from the second ring’s quiet environment to the market’s loud heart.

When they reached the shopping district, Lucan drew up; Orion and Edgar stepped down, and Lucan produced, as predicted, a reason to remain.

Orion waved him away with a muttered, "Dream responsibly," and took the street.

Limitless Heaven’s façade cut clean and dark against the bustle, its carved sign swaying like a satisfied cat’s tail. They headed directly for the shop.

***

At another part of the second ring, House Delmire’s great hall had lost its music. Where minstrels once sat, dust had settled.

The banners at the walls hung heavy, their grandeur somehow smaller than yesterday. At the far end, in the high-backed chair that had been carved for men who made decisions, the Old Patriarch of Delmire leaned forward, knuckles white on lion-headed armrests.

"What did you do." His voice was low and cold, worse than a shout. "How did every heir of our house die while I was away?"

The current Marquess, successor of the old man in front of him, could not meet the old man’s eyes.

His hands shook a little, then steadied by force. "F-Father, it’s because of those damn Helstorms. They killed our blood."

"That is impossible." The old man’s gaze was as still as an old well. "That old wolf does not move without cause. Tell me what. You. Did."

Silence held for three heartbeats. Then the Marquess swallowed hard. "We... found out a secret," he said, each word worse than the last. "One of the Helstorm maids is a— a draconian."

"How?" The patriarch’s voice snapped like a whip. "How did you discover what they shelter in their own house?" He paused. "And do not tell me ’rumor.’"

The Marquess drew from his sleeve a mirror no larger than a man’s palm. Its surface was not quite silver, not quite glass; it bent the candlelight around itself.

"I took this from an old ruin," he said, shame making his voice small. "It shows true face. My son... took it out to play, used it in the market. He glimpsed the Helstorm maid there. The mirror showed the true face of her."

The old man’s nostrils flared. "And then?"

"We sold the information," the Marquess whispered. "The Insanity Creed paid well. We thought—"

"You did not think." The patriarch’s hand slammed the armrest. The lions’ heads shattered upon impact. "You handed a viper to lunatics who poison wells because they can. You gave them a thread to pull." His eyes cut like knives.

"Do you know what House Duskvale does when given order?"

The younger man’s mouth opened, then shut. There was no answer that would save him.

"I need to fix this mess," the old man said at last, rising with a stiffness that was not age so much as grief hardened into iron.

He turned away. For a long moment, the hall heard only the slow step of a man walking toward a war of his own house’s making. The mirror lay on the table like an accusation, as if all of this was its fault.

***

Orion’s hand slid on the stairway to the third floor, polished to silk by months of traffic. The scent up here held the same feel as before, polished wood, old paint, and the smell of old treasures that came and went away.

Lumi drifted beside his shoulder, tiny window bright. [Do you want me to bet on how many ledgers are stacked on his desk today? My guess is: Yes.]

’Too many to count. Exactly my number, and they will also be increasing today,’ Orion murmured, lips quirking.

Edgar paced slightly behind, giving him the space that meant I’m here if you need me, not if you don’t.

Below, the murmur of the first floor, buyers "just looking" at bait treasures, the soft hum of coins as buyers made their decisions, rose like a tide that knew which shore it wanted.

Above, at the end of the hall, the door to Magi’s office was ajar. Light from the window lay across the threshold in a clean bar. Inside, a rabbit’s ear flicked.

Orion came to the gates and knocked twice while saying, "Magi?"

"Boss?" Magi called, voice muffled and amused. "If you’ve come for protection fees again, then just kill me."

"Tempting," Orion said, stepping in with a grin. "But today I came for different work."