The hurricane was a world of screaming winds and fractured light, its walls a spiraling prison of shadow and lightning. Every gust seemed to carry whispers—echoes of the dying, twisted into a chorus that gnawed at the mind. The air was heavy with metallic tang, as though the storm itself had been born from blood.

In the middle of that chaos, Luca found himself still clinging to Celestia, his body pressed against hers, their forms flickering faintly in and out of substance. Her arms were steady despite the tempest, her gaze almost unnervingly calm.

"Don't worry," she said, voice cutting through the storm like a clear bell. "I have the artifact ready to get us out of here. How do you think we traveled back with our bodies unharmed?"

Luca forced his eyes open against the sting of the wind, studying her with suspicion. "Okay? But then… why didn't you use it the first time?"

Her lips curved—not in amusement, but in the faintest shadow of patience thinning. "Do you think it can be used again and again?" she replied, the weight in her tone making it clear there was more cost than she was saying.

She adjusted her hold on him, leaning close so he could hear. "Continue holding onto me. I don't have my powers yet, but the artifact will carry us straight to Grandma's house."

The word "Grandma" in her mouth felt strange in this place of death, but Luca simply nodded, tightening his grip.

They shot upward, the artifact's unseen force wrapping around them. It was like being hooked by an invisible thread, drawn toward an unseen point far beyond the storm. The hurricane howled in fury, walls of black wind parting reluctantly as they ascended.

And then—Luca saw them.

Ten figures still stood in the heart of the storm, their forms corrupted beyond recognition. Twisted armor, shadow-drenched weapons, eyes glowing with unnatural hunger. Yet their stances… those stances were still familiar. Even through the darkness eating at their bodies, they held themselves like warriors who had once fought to protect.

This time, Luca felt no fear. Instead, something hard and steady took root inside him. Respect.

"Can you defeat them in your full strength?" he asked without taking his eyes off the scene.

Celestia didn't answer right away. For a moment, she seemed to weigh the truth against the moment. Finally, she said quietly, "Only one or two… not all of them."

Luca's jaw tightened. His hand curled into a fist so tight his nails bit into his skin. "I will definitely grow strong enough," he said, each word carrying the weight of a vow, "to release them from this agony."

Celestia glanced at him—something unreadable flickering in her expression—but said nothing.

Below, the corrupted army of beasts and humans seethed, snarling up at them. They tore through each other without reason, driven by the same madness. The forest vanished beneath a tide of shadow, but the artifact's pull dragged them higher, farther.

They broke free from the hurricane's walls, the oppressive darkness peeling away into the pale light of the open sky. In moments, the chaos below became a distant blur.

The next breath Luca drew was in a courtyard—quiet, stone-paved, and eerily still. The faint scent of herbs hung in the air. They had arrived at Grandma's house.

The hurricane howled around them like the wrath of a god—winds screaming, rain slicing through the air, lightning tearing open the sky. The world was nothing but chaos and cold. Then, in the space of a heartbeat, it was gone.

Their feet touched down on soft stone. The air was still.

It was so sudden, so absolute, it felt unreal—like they had stepped from the jaws of hell into a painting. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the courtyard's old maple tree. The faint scent of blooming flowers drifted in the air. Somewhere, water trickled quietly in a fountain.

Luca's mind couldn't keep up with the change. His heart was still racing, his body still tense, as though any second the storm would come crashing back.

Celestia slumped to the ground beside him, her breathing ragged.

"Are you okay?" Luca asked, kneeling next to her.

She nodded faintly, still catching her breath.

The sound of hurried footsteps came from the house. Grandma appeared in the doorway, eyes wide—then softening with relief.

"Thank the Goddess you're both alive. Come inside, come—everything is ready."

Luca tilted his head at her words, but his thoughts were too clouded, his limbs too heavy to question it. He turned to Celestia.

"Can you walk?"

Before she could answer, Grandma huffed, "What do you mean, 'can you walk'? Just carry her yourself. Hmph."

Luca didn't argue. He slid one arm under Celestia's knees, the other around her back, and lifted her. Her face flushed, a spark of protest flashing in her eyes.

"W-what are you doing? I can walk by myself!"

He didn't answer, only stepped over the threshold, the smell of warm food and the faint crackle of a hearth wrapping around them.

Inside, he set her gently on the sofa.

"Go, young man," Grandma said, her voice softer now. "Take a shower and change your clothes."

"My bag…" Luca started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know where it is now."

Grandma chuckled. "Clothes for you are already in your room."

He nodded and left.

The cold water of the shower slid down his back, washing away dirt, sweat, and the sting of the hurricane's salt. But it didn't wash away the heaviness in his chest.

Dressed in fresh casual clothes, he returned to the main hall. Celestia was seated at the round table, already changed into something comfortable. She kept her gaze on her plate, almost deliberately avoiding his eyes.

Huh…? Did something happen while I was gone?

"Come, eat," Grandma said, waving him over.

The meal passed quietly, the clink of cutlery the only sound.

By the time night fell, Luca's body felt like lead. "I'll go rest," he said, standing.

Both women nodded.

In his room, he lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep didn't come. The storm hadn't left him—it was still swirling in his mind: the soldier's blade, the cries of the wounded, the ten people who gave their lives, the suffocating presence of the Devil Emperor.

He didn't realize how long he had been lost in those thoughts until a voice cut through the silence.

"Can't sleep, huh?"

Luca flinched, his gaze snagging on Celestia's figure. Her golden hair spilled over her shoulders, catching the faint silver threads of moonlight that slipped through the window. She stood there, almost unreal in the quiet room.

He straightened from where he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ohh… Your Majesty, I forgot there was only this room."

Her lips curved in a faint, knowing smile.

"Hmph. How many times have you truly treated me with such respect in the past few days?"

Luca's mouth opened, then closed. He glanced away, heat crawling up his neck, and decided silence was safer than trying to defend himself.

"It doesn't matter," Celestia said softly. With the grace of someone entirely at ease in her own skin, she crossed the room. Her steps were unhurried, each one measured. When she reached the bed, she lowered herself to sit beside him without asking. The mattress dipped, and Luca's body tensed instinctively at the sudden closeness.

He shifted just slightly but didn't move away.

"Till when can you get your powers back?" he asked, his voice carefully even.

One elegant brow arched.

"Why? Are you in such a hurry to get away from me?"

His hands tightened in his lap.

"No, I didn't mean it like that."

"Hmph." She looked away, a lock of golden hair sliding forward as she rested one elbow casually on her knee. "I already prepared potions here in advance. I should be able to recover gradually over two weeks. We can leave tomorrow."

Luca nodded, the weight of recent events still sitting heavily in his chest.

Then she turned her gaze back to him, eyes calm but sharp, like she was peering straight into his thoughts.

"What do you make of this trip to the past, then?"

Luca's expression shifted, the faintest flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He drew in a slow breath, fingers curling against the bedsheet as he considered his answer—

And the silence stretched.