Third Person's POV

Rina finally finished her message in one smooth breath, and she not only relayed Altheria's orders but also added subtle clarifications of her own.

She had long served at the Blood Duchess's side and knew instinctively what her lady wished conveyed, even when not spoken aloud.

Once her duty was complete, she fixed her crimson eyes on Ethan, eager to gauge his reaction.

However, to her mild surprise, she was met not with immediate compliance or questions about the command but with silence as he regarded her with a strange, unreadable expression.

His gaze was calm yet seemed to be probing at the same time, as though he were weighing her very essence rather than her words.

The silence stretched until, at last, he broke it with something wholly unexpected words that made her blink in genuine astonishment.

"Who are you, miss?"

The way he addressed her was so ordinary, yet so direct that it struck her harder than she anticipated.

'Miss'

The word sounded almost youthful, respectful, even warm, but she knew that she was no young maiden.

Rina had lived for over a century, a life long enough that few dared to address her so familiarly anymore.

It had been decades, perhaps longer, since she had been called that.

For a fleeting moment, she felt the echo of a forgotten identity, and it unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

She quickly smoothed her expression, forcing down the ripple of emotion with the practiced discipline of one who had endured far more unsettling things.

Clearing her tiny throat once more, she assumed a loftier tone that was brisk and clipped to conceal her awkwardness.

"You need not trouble yourself with my identity," she replied, voice airy with practiced detachment.

"It is enough for you to know that Lady Altheria herself ordered me to deliver this message personally and that it was given mere moments ago."

Without waiting for his response, Rina spread her wings and took flight as her small body disappeared swiftly into the bloody night.

In truth, she left more quickly than etiquette demanded, for she dreaded what he might ask next.

The young man's quiet, penetrating gaze had already unsettled her more than she wished to admit, and remaining longer risked further awkwardness, and she might also reveal some secrets unknowingly, which she absolutely didn't want to risk.

That's why she fled.

Ethan stood at the window and watched as her dark silhouette grew smaller against the red moonlight until it vanished altogether.

All this while, his expression remained calm, but his thoughts churned beneath the surface.

Her message had been strange, yes, but he did not doubt its authenticity as very few knew of his bond with Altheria—hardly anyone, in fact.

Aside from his closest companions, none even suspected that he had crossed paths with the reclusive Blood Duchess, let alone that she might show him personal favor.

So, the likelihood of an impostor mimicking such a truth was close to none.

With that certainty, he nodded to himself and his lips curled into a faint, shadowed smile.

The weight of her words settled in his mind, and alongside them rose the undeniable stirrings of the need that still burned within his body.

This—this order of hers was effectively a free pass, a shield allowing him to move as he pleased tonight.

What he had planned to do days later could now be enacted without hesitation.

Perhaps, in truth, this moment was even better suited than the one he had envisioned.

His smile deepened, and his eyes glinted faintly in the crimson wash of the Blood Moon as he turned away from the window.

In the dark, hushed corridors of the night, contrary to what most would have expected, the so-called group of three red robed enforcers were not keeping vigilant watch but instead indulging themselves in revelry.

On the topmost level of the spire, hidden above the visible floors, they occupied a lavish chamber built of secret wooden beams.

It was an ancient, concealed floor known only to a chosen few, and certainly not to the general residents of the Sanctum.

And these three were certainly no ordinary guards but senior deacons of the Enforcement Team, and direct assistants of the infamous Enforcement Elder himself.

It was precisely because of their position that they understood his most recent decree was not to be taken at face value.

If the Elder had meant it as an order of true severity, he would have delivered it with his usual iron-fisted formality.

Yet this time, he had seemed hurried, even distracted, and though his demeanor had piqued their curiosity, they were wise enough not to probe deeper into matters that might invite his wrath.

For now, they sat comfortably in their hidden hall, while drinking rich crimson wine from carved black chalices as the bloody moonlight streaking through the window seemed to melt into it and made it look like a glob of thick dark red blood.

Their laughter and idle talk filled the chamber as they discussed their aspirations of one day climbing the higher floors of the dreaded Kill Tower and imagining the glory and recognition they would win for themselves, alongside the opportunities to increase their strength.

And while they did this, none of them actually spared even a fragment of thought for the spiraling floors below, as they were convinced that no newcomer would dare flout the direct warning of the Enforcement Elder of the Abyssal Sanctum.

As his reputation alone was a deterrent enough.

This Elder was not merely a figure of the Sanctum but a man whose name carried echoes of fear across the whole continent and the other places beyond.

Once a proud scion of the Lavos family, one of the three supreme families ruling the Empire of Infernal Sovereignty, his heritage was etched into the bloodline of giants.

The Lavos were infamous for their massive frames, their coal-red, flaming eyes, and their devastating talent in the rare hybrid element of lava, born of the fire and earth elements respectively in a volatile union.