Hours later, Acacia collapsed onto a park bench as dusk approached, exhaustion finally catching up to him. The morning's rush combined with hours of urban exploration had drained his reserves. He'd investigated local shops, downtown areas, the riverside, and residential districts, building a mental map of Windsor's layout. Nothing particularly noteworthy had occurred—save for accidentally barging in on an young couple, much to his mortification—but he'd managed to survey roughly sixty percent of the city. The more significant landmarks like the Windmill Valleys and outskirts remained unexplored, deemed too time-consuming for a single day's reconnaissance.

  The northeastern accent of Orion—Windsor's province—had proven surprisingly simple to emulate, perhaps because it represented the "neutral" dialect favored by popular media and official functions, sharing this status with Solaria's slight southern drawl. Orion's impressive expanse, encompassing over 50 cities, made its accent nearly ubiquitous. To the west lay Pendragon, the Central Province housing the Royal Capital, where speech patterns took on a more pompous, regal quality. While equally prestigious, the Pendragon accent demanded perfect execution as a single slip could spell social catastrophe.

  I suppose Windsor isn't so terrible after all, Acacia mused, drinking in the riverside park's serene beauty. A gentle breeze carried the promise of evening as he basked in the sunset's warm orange glow.

  He checked his SST Mark I: 7:42 PM displayed in aesthetic digits.

  "Should head back soon," he murmured, stretching in preparation to rise from the bench. Suddenly, orange light flashed across his vision, vanishing before his mind could process it. A second flash followed, more intense than the first, then a third until the color consumed his sight entirely.

  The sound registered a heartbeat later, nearly rupturing his eardrums.

  He knew this rhythm.

  The distinctive percussion of rapid-fire [Fiammas]—Thaumaturgy’s answer to conventional artillery.

  Acacia leapt from the bench. His heart hammered against his ribs, but he swallowed the urge to cry out. Drawing attention now would only alert whatever—or whoever—had unleashed that devastating barrage. If this wasn't merely an angry subject’s outburst, the consequences of discovery could prove fatal.

  When he looked up, half the park lay in ruins. Charred trees smoldered in their craters while impact zones the size of carriages replaced the once-pristine grass fields along the riverside.

  Oh crap…

  Crap. Crap. Crap.

  What the hell?!

  "Stop running, Elias!" An unfamiliar voice thundered through the destruction, its owner audibly winded. Despite the name not belonging to him, Acacia turned back. His eyes widened at the sight of a young man in rich attire, curly blue hair immaculate despite the chaos, his face contorting with barely contained fury. Though he appeared close to Acacia's age, he paid the Irregular no attention. Instead, his gaze fixed on the debris field he'd created, waiting for the dust to settle.

  Was this person talking to him? Did he know him? Who was Elias? Acacia looked at the young man, unblinking and speechless.

  "Where are you hiding, you worm?!" The blue-haired youth stomped the ground, scanning his surroundings like a predator as he ignored Acacia's presence entirely.

  "For the Emperor's sake, it's been over an hour!" A figure emerged from the settling debris, revealing choppy brown hair and an expression of profound irritation. "Can't you just accept reality and move on? Your mommy and daddy wouldn't approve of you demolishing public parks, would they, Alaric?!"

  "You—!" The blue-haired boy's rage faltered, replaced by genuine shock. "H-How do you know my name?!"

  "How do I know your name?!" The brown-haired boy—Elias—gaped in disbelief. "Maybe because you and your two stooges terrorize the city every other day?! Did that possibly cross your mind?! Speaking of those idiots, have you finally ditched them? I'd love to beat some sense into you one-on-one!"

  "Heh, as if those fools were ever useful," Alaric sneered. "I gave them purpose! Without me, they'd be as worthless as Irregulars! Or have you forgotten the power of the House of Ptolemy?!"

  The atmosphere shifted like a detonating bomb. After whispering a brief incantation, Elias's prana erupted, raw power distorting the air around him. In the space of a heartbeat, he crossed the five-meter gap between them. Before Alaric could blink, Elias's hand locked around his throat, the other fist cocked back and crackling with barely contained energy.

  "Shut your mouth, clown!" Elias roared, fingers digging into Alaric's windpipe.

  “Stop!”

  Acacia's own voice shocked him as it echoed across the ruined park. He couldn't believe what he'd just done.

  Why did I interfere?!

  No, he knew exactly why he'd intervened. Pandora's words echoed in his mind (a bastardization of such, but nevertheless), not everything required violence. Some situations could be resolved without brutality and Thaumaturgy, even if peaceful intervention risked backfiring spectacularly. His interruption had achieved its goal; both combatants had frozen in place. Their shock at his sudden appearance, having seemingly materialized from nowhere, gave him the opening he needed.

  "I recorded everything," Acacia stated, his voice steady as he held up his cellphone. Each word carried deliberate weight as he continued, "I don't understand what's happening here, but if this doesn't end now, I'm contacting authorities. Would you like to test whether I'm bluffing?"

  Alaric remained silent, struggling against Elias's iron grip. The reality of Acacia's threat visibly unsettled him. Though Elias's hold loosened unconsciously, he maintained his advantage.

  "Who do you think you are?! I am Alaric Ptolemy, first in line to lead the House of Ptolemy!" Alaric finally managed, gasping for air.

  "Very well, Ptolemy." Acacia's gaze hardened. "Then let me be absolutely clear: either this stops now, or this recording reaches both the local IPA and your family. Based on your earlier confessions, I imagine the rumors would spread quickly through Windsor and Orion. Property destruction and gang activity carry serious sentences. Would you risk tarnishing the Ptolemy name over this?"

  Acacia was confident. The recording gave him leverage, and even someone as hot-headed as Alaric couldn't ignore such concrete evidence. His previous bravado wavered. He exchanged a long look with Elias, some silent communication passing between them before Elias released his grip. Alaric then collapsed, coughing violently as he fought to breathe through the smoke and aftermath of near-strangulation.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "Cunning rat..." Alaric wheezed as he struggled to his feet. "Don't think this ends here! My father will hear of this! You'll regret making an enemy of Alaric Ptolemy!" He attempted to storm off with dignity, though his dramatic exit suffered somewhat from his continued coughing.

  He's just like Gio... Acacia thought wearily, wondering how he'd managed to encounter what seemed to be his former tormentor's spiritual successor.

  He and Elias shared a brief look before shrugging in mutual resignation.

  "Thanks for playing along," Acacia offered.

  "No need for thanks. He's no friend of mine, and I certainly didn't help you for his sake!" Elias's brilliant smile seemed incongruous after such intensity as if the previous violence had never occurred.

  Acacia stared blankly at him, uncertain whether Elias had suffered a concussion or if this was simply his natural demeanor.

  "Right... I'll remember that..."

  Elias chuckled at his response, but Acacia's attention remained fixed on the direction Alaric had taken. The noble's parting threat echoed in his mind. Just how much influence did the Ptolemy family wield? Had he made the worst possible enemy? He cursed himself in a foreign tongue for getting involved, even as he recognized the futility of second-guessing his choices now.

  "Hey," Elias's voice cut through his ruminations. "Why did you stop me? I could have handled it."

  "I don't doubt your capabilities now, but letting him destroy public property serves no purpose. I'm rather fond of this place." Acacia raised an eyebrow. "Besides, I doubt he has enough funds to repair the park every time he decides to throw a tantrum."

  "You're new here, aren't you?"

  "What gave it away?"

  "The fact you'd dare to record a Ptolemy was my first clue." Elias's expression shifted as he absently rubbed his neck. "No one typically risks antagonizing that family. They're wealthy, powerful, and their influence runs deep in these parts. Lesser Nobility, technically, but there are whispers they might be considered for promotion if certain pieces fall into place..."

  Acacia's expression went blank as the full weight of Pandora's earlier warning crashed over him. He'd done exactly what she'd cautioned against.

  "Ah… then why engage him in combat?" he sweatdropped.

  "Because I won't stand by while they act like they're above the law. Alaric and his cronies are just spoiled brats with too much time and power at their disposal." Elias shook his head before suddenly straightening. "Wait, where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself properly!" He pressed a hand to his chest in an almost military gesture as he stepped forward.

  "I'm Elias Scryer—son of the Scryer family. We're not nobles, but we manage well enough." He extended his hand, which Acacia accepted after a moment's hesitation.

  This guy... Acacia found himself studying the young man more carefully. Even from an objective standpoint, Elias cut an impressive figure. Brown hair framed mint green eyes that sparked with life, his tall frame carrying an athlete's build. His face could have graced magazine covers, unmarred by any imperfection. The overall effect was almost unsettling in its perfection.

  Had he really just spent several seconds admiring another man's appearance?

  "I'm an aspiring knight of the Imperial Legion, and despite my commoner status, I'll be attending Vanguard this fall!" Pride radiated from every word, his confidence so genuine that Acacia almost missed the way his forearm muscles tensed beneath his sleeve.

  "Vanguard University? You're attending the most prestigious school in the Empire—no scratch that—in the world?!"

  "Of course! I've worked myself to the bone for this opportunity. Like I said, my dream is to become a knight!"

  "Is that why Alaric attacked you? Because you earned acceptance while he didn't?" Acacia's mind quickly clicked the pieces into place. "His father being the family patriarch, was he trying to prove himself worthy of inheritance by defeating you?"

  "Wait, no, no! I mean..." Elias quickly explained. "He tried to steal my spot! He came up to me and was like, 'You won't enjoy it there because you're not noble and rich like me!' He also threatened to make my family's life a living hell if I don't give up my spot. That really pissed me off, so I told him to screw off. Then it resulted in this wild goose chase…”

  Elias pointed to the half-destroyed park and smoldering trees. "He even brought his two head honcho knuckleheads! He was really trying to kill me, I’m telling you!"

  Acacia marveled at how casually Elias discussed attempted murder over school enrollment. He'd heard Vanguard represented one of the Tachyon Empire's crowning achievements in education and prestige, but was it truly worth killing someone over?

  "Did they manage to hurt you?" Acacia sighed, scanning Elias's form again. He expected to find bruises and lacerations, but the other young man's skin remained unmarked. If anything, his muscles appeared more pronounced than before, as if combat itself enhanced some inherent trait of the Scryer bloodline.

  I wonder what his sister looks like. A demented thought came to Irregular’s head before he squashed it immediately.

  "Not a scratch. See, Alaric has natural talent, but he never trains. He forgets proper Arias and Integration Sequences in the heat of moment. His technique is sloppy and inefficient. That's the problem with most nobles—they have the knowledge and talent but zero discipline and battle sense. His backup dancers had slightly more training but even less talent. That's why I prevailed."

  "Interesting," Acacia exhaled. "Strange to see a Thaumaturge who doesn't rely solely on Thaumaturgy. Is that unusual?"

  Elias scratched his neck, gaze drifting away. "Yeah... Most people are Thaumaturges, so they default to spells with maybe a few desperate punches thrown in. That's the norm. I'm probably the weird one for focusing on hand-to-hand combat."

  Acacia chuckled at the irony, though it didn't lift his mood.

  Pandora never mentioned this aspect. Must not have seemed relevant in her mind. Just perfect...

  "I see..." He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache building.

  "Wait! Who are you?!" Elias suddenly exclaimed before catching himself. "I mean—my apologies! I never caught your name!"

  "Acacia Belmont. As mentioned, I'm new here, originally from the Wallachian Empire." He met Elias's gaze steadily. "A pleasure to meet you, Elias Scryer."

  "Yeah, great to meet you too, Acacia!" Elias's grin widened as they shook hands again with matching firmness. "I've never met anyone from Wallachia before! I've been especially curious since—" His expression fell, enthusiasm dimming.

  Ah, right. I'm supposed to be traumatized by the Annerose Incident. Acacia quickly recalled his fabricated past, adapting his response.

  "Since what happened there." He manufactured a sad smile to mask his actual emotional detachment. It wasn't that he felt nothing about the massacre—rather, he maintained distance from a tragedy that wasn't truly his. After all, he felt undeserving of mourning for those he didn’t even know the names of.

  Elias, however, interpreted the expression exactly as intended.

  "Hey, we're friends now, so we can create better memories together!" Elias declared, his smile blazing like a star.

  "When exactly did I agree to friendship?" Acacia smirked as a slight blush colored the aspiring knight's cheeks.

  "T-That's not important! We're going to be good friends!" Elias insisted before collecting himself. "Well, you better be. We'll see plenty of each other before I leave for Magnolia, and getting to know someone from Wallachia would be incredible, right?"

  Acacia offered a blank nod.

  "I should head out though. Got to help my mom and the others with the park's reconstruction tomorrow. She's an environmental scientist... she'll be furious about this." He sweatdropped before quickly sharing contact information and dashing away. "See you around, Acacia!" His voice carried back as he vanished into the growing darkness.

  Something in Elias's final words caught Acacia's attention.

  Why did you just lie? He wondered. The deception had been clear in Elias's eyes and expression—whatever he'd said about his mother was completely fabricated. Still, Acacia dismissed the observation. He had no right to probe another family's private matters.

  "Well... at least I have somewhere to be..." Acacia murmured. His gaze drifted to where Alaric and his thugs had been, but the noble had long since departed along with Elias. He checked his phone again.

  8:17 PM.

  Crap…

  He could only pray that Pandora was a merciful woman.

  barely survived Ocarina, but trouble clearly has no problem finding him again.

  Yeah, this "quiet summer" in Windsor isn't staying quiet for long.

  definitely ready to scold him.

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