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  Moorgrel was a peculiar piece of land—part of the empire Mal-Gil and seemingly despised from the same. Was there a reason for this disdain? The presence of nobility solely canine-kin made it a unique challenge for interactions and socialization.

  For those unfamiliar with the history, canine kin weren't seen as little more than loyal pets—slaves destined to serve without question. This perception elevated their worth and bound them with unimaginable restrictions, creating a paradox where loyalty simultaneously became their crown and chain.

  This widespread notion didn't arise by chance. Canine-kin were loyal to a fault—once they found their master or mistress, they would willingly sacrifice everything. Even among other beast kin, they were seen as natural servants, eager to please their owners with unwavering devotion. It wasn't until the creation of Mal-Gil that this perception began to face scrutiny, revealing the complexities behind those seemingly tail-waggling fools.

  Their loyalty stemmed not from submission but from their profound sense of family and belonging, which many exploited to secure unwavering followers. Most were torn from their parents at a young age and conditioned to see their new masters as parental figures and their fellow servants as siblings—a vile manipulation.

  This system persisted until Moorgrel emerged—a carbuncle-kin who withstood societal norms. Generally disregarded and underestimated, this household climbed the ranks over centuries to become a Count of Mal-Gil. Many disapproved of his ascent, for he was openly critical of slavery and disgusted by the aristocracy's treatment of the less desirable populace. These individuals were often sold into servitude or discarded altogether, while he, as canine kin, treated them as distant family.

  Moorgrel's dissent led to a forced military expedition east of his lands, accompanied by three Royal Knights who shared his ideals. The empire did not anticipate his survival—not only surviving but thriving. Moorgrel became a haven for outcast beast-kin, offering refuge to those deemed unworthy elsewhere. Over time, the Moorgrelian nobility became infamously loyal to one another, embodying the traits that made canine-kin challenging to subjugate. Their societal structure was intricate and equitable, with knights and titles steeped in historical, cultural, and familial significance.

  Following these historical events, every new Count or Countess had three handpicked personal guards—trusted like siblings, protectors of unimaginable strength, and members of Moorgrel's extended family. They embodied the bond that tied the nobility together and mirrored the loyalty of the Knightages who guarded the borders—a family you could count on, reflecting the intricate ties that bound their society together.

  This was a practice Zafiro greatly admired, seeking similar traits in his future companions—one already chosen. 'Alex, you flea-infested mutt,' awakening abruptly, his anger surged as he realized that Sarah, a substandard trainee knight, had momentarily hypnotized him, catching him off-guard. Hanging over her shoulder, he glanced around, his expression increasingly darkening with irritation.

  "Let young Master go, or I will behead you, lil' girl," commanded a mare-kin, Zafiro's guard. She held a halberd aloft, its blade shimmering purple with [Energy] that surged and crackled in the air, the pressure so immense it caused cracks to spiderweb across the ground beneath her feet.

  Before Sarah stood Lili, a hound Zafiro knew all too well. "Nice to meet you too, Vio," Lili spat, her form swelling as she grew to an intimidating size, her muscles bulging with terrifying intensity. Her teeth were bared, gleaming in the dim light. "Mr. Alexander mentioned that he found an assassin. Until that's cleared up, Mr. Zafiro stays with me."

  Despite the almost absurd sight of her tongue lolling out occasionally, the aura Lili exuded was anything but playful—it was a palpable, oppressive force that could freeze even the bravest in their tracks.

  'They all left,' Zafiro sighed in relief, eyes scanning the empty scene. The commoners had fled, leaving behind an eerie stillness. His relief was short-lived as his gaze fell upon the destruction surrounding the spot where his sister had stood. The devastation was unmistakable—Alexander's handiwork.

  "Vio," Sarah said, standing tall despite the oppressive auras pressing down on her, causing her knees to tremble slightly. "Why are you ignoring what Lili said? Does that mean you know something about the person Alex called an assassin? The other guard?"

  Amid the rubble, the mare-kin narrowed her eyes, avoiding any mention that the guard Alexander had attacked was, in fact, his disguised sister—Esmeralda. The entire ordeal, meant to test his personal guards, now seemed utterly futile in light of the destruction.

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  'Enough lazin' around,' Zafiro thought to himself, amused by the casual tone of such a sentence—something he would never utter aloud. His body was already his own again, no longer under Sarah's control. His formidable [Spirit] rendered him highly resistant to [Mystic Skills] designed to muddle the mind.

  "First, I need to get down," Zafiro muttered. With a precise application of [Energy] and a [Mystic Skill], he touched Sarah's back, causing her movements to become disoriented, as though she had lost all sense of up and down.

  "Weh… aga… ko?!" Sarah stammered, her voice trembling with panic as a stream of incoherent words spilled out. Disoriented, she stumbled and fell to the ground, releasing Zafiro in the process.

  "Hup!" Zafiro landed landed gracefully, brushing off his attire. "Do not bother, dear," he said, his tone dismissive. "In an hour, you may collect your future husband… if there's anything left of him." His grin turned worrying as he walked past her, briefly throwing another [Mystic Skill] toward her, making her movements substantially slower.

  As Zafiro walked to the sounds of where the battle raged, binding his lengthy ears behind his head with an old linen cord, he also walked past Lili, who glared but dared not move against him. "Good girl," he sneered. "If you dare, I will make your mistress' life miserable."

  As Zafiro's guard attempted to follow, Lili blocked her path, slithering like a mist and appearing right between them. "I may not touch him," Lili growled, her teeth bared, "but it doesn't mean I can't tear this filth apart."

  Vio bristled, her muscles flexing. "Say that again," she challenged.

  While the two squared off and Sarah struggled to regain her balance, Zafiro advanced toward Alexander, analyzing the chaos. The square, once a vibrant hub of activity, now bore the scars of destruction. At its center stood a fountain, formerly adorned with a simple stone sculpture of a loving commoner family, now desecrated, their heads severed and water spilling erratically from cracks in its base. The unsettling sight seemed like an ominous omen of the chaos yet to unfold.

  Zafiro paused momentarily as he stepped onto a wooden board littered with squished vegetables and fruits. "Fascinating," he murmured, his voice tinged with dry amusement. "Vegeteblees... fur sail."

  Something caught in his throat as he raised his head, taking in the extent of the destruction his plan had wrought. The square was a graveyard of shattered stands and ruined shops, their goods scattered and spoiled, reduced to fodder for farm beasts at best. "I destroyed lives," he said quietly, his voice steady but weighted with regret. He acknowledged the consequences of his actions.

  Zafiro's teeth gnashed together as he walked on, frustration mounting with each step. The way events had unfolded left him unable to defend his position—Alexander had acted with the precision and decisiveness expected of a faithful noble. To the little monster, it was evident that the wolfkin guard was an imposter, and he had responded consequently—traits that only heightened his value in Zafiro's eyes.

  And yet, Zafiro couldn't shake the bitter taste of disappointment. He had envisioned Alexander not just as a personal guard but as a confidant, an ally, and perhaps even a friend—someone who shared his vision of a better Moorgrel. Every action Alexander took spoke of a desire to protect not just his family or their small territory but everyone who chose to live here, regardless of race. It was an extreme notion, perhaps, but it mirrored the ideals of the first Count who had shaped this land.

  'I hope she didn't punish him too much,' he mused bitterly, his thoughts trailing as he followed the path of destruction left in their wake. 'Maybe he'll forgive me?' The worst-case scenario loomed large in his mind—Alexander, battered and half-dead, deciding to limit their relationship to the bare minimum of necessary interactions. This prospect left an unexpected heaviness in Zafiro's chest.

  While Zafiro was impressed with Alexander's ability to face Freya—a rough diamond in her own right—he couldn't ignore his sister's formidable [Mystic Skills] arsenal. Despite her lack of combat inclination, these skills could utterly humiliate even the most proud and arrogant opponent. 'At least it's over,' Zafiro thought as he strolled casually, his steps deliberate, attempting to delay the inevitable confrontation. He knew the clash had likely reached its conclusion by now.

  As Zafiro inhaled, bracing himself for the worst, about to turn toward the epicenter of the fight, an enraged scream shattered the air. "You wanna mess with me, bitch?!"

  Zafiro immediately stepped backward as a blur burst through the house walls before him. His sister, Esmeralda, barely shielded herself from what appeared to be a mist of glistening metallic shavings—the same material Alexander had once used to represent the train. The force hurled her violently through the square, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake. Walls crumbled, and stalls splintered as the shavings swirled like a swarm of furious wasps, relentlessly assaulting her.

  "You think you're cute? You think you're untouchable?" Alexander stepped forward, his golden eyes tinged with an ominous reddish hue. "You will not harm my people! I'll make sure there's nothing left of you!"

  Zafiro paused, his eyes widening. 'She actually… lost?!'

  "You little bastard!" Esmeralda's scream pierced the air as she activated an artifact, a radiant dome of heat erupting around her and incinerating the metallic shavings instantly. "I'll make sure to—"

  She was abruptly silenced as Alexander surged forward, his fury palpable. "You touched my subjects," he snarled, his voice dripping with menace. "Now you will die."

  Zafiro's gaze shifted to two distressed youths huddled nearby, tears streaming as they clung to each other. One of them had lost a leg—a clean, surgical cut. 'Esmeralda… only she wields a blade with such precision,' Zafiro noted with a click of his tongue. Yet, as he rummaged in his spatial pouch for a potent healing potion, an involuntary smile crept onto his lips. 'I like him even more.'

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