The Princess’s Bodyguard Can’t Say No

Asthia slumped against him, delicate and slender in his arms.

Then a bell tolled in his mind.

[Skill Evolution Triggered]

[Threat Perception → Threat Instinct Lv. 1]

Reth hardly glanced at it. He did not care. Not now. His mind was only on the two girls breathing in his arms.

The world became hazy.

And then—

Morning.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the Red Hill forest. Last night's smoke and rubble had vanished, giving way to the soft wind in the trees.

They'd constructed a hasty hut of wood and rock. Within it, Asthia reclined on a mat, silver hair spread, clean bandages covering her injuries. Her chest lifted and fell.

Next to her, Elenya fared worse. Head to foot she was bound with strips of cloth, and only her white face was visible, gentle in sleep.

Two old men sat outside the hut. Van rested on his staff, black robes spread around him. Opposite him, the satchel man crouched low, toying with something. Their voices drifted through—half quarrel, half amusement.

Reth did not come with them. His shoulder was wrapped in a bandage, but not as heavily as the girls. It did not ache during combat during night, but now each pain slashed deeper. He sat beneath a tree, leaning against its bark, attempting to breathe regularly.

Seris leaned against another tree, her arms crossed. She disregarded her throbbing shoulder and watched him. Reth sat by himself, head down, bandaged arm wrapped around his chest. He was tired, gaunt.

Idiot, she thought. Still bound to that princess. All the fighting, all the close calls, and he sat there like a faithful dog—waiting for her to wake up.

She examined him again, more slowly. His features were fixed, but the concern in his eyes betrayed him. Concern for Asthia. Always her.

How do I break him out of this? she asked herself. Just tell him to his face—she's manipulating you, Reth. The sigil, the deceptions, the venomous words—it's all manipulation. Walk away from her now, while you still have a chance.

But he wouldn't listen. She'd have to be patient., piece by piece. Show him the cracks until he saw for himself what Asthia was doing.

Seris sighed and pushed off the tree.

"I'll fix him," she muttered under her breath.

Reth leaned back, the bark digging into his shoulders. Pain pulsed in his arm, but he barely noticed. His mind raced, sharp and restless.

Gotta get stronger.

That fight last night replayed in his mind—the black fog, the Silence Witch, that voice crushing his eardrums like it burrowed into his bones, if not for Van hadn't arrived on time, they'd have been all dead.

Not again. Never again.

He tightened his fist, wincing against the pain. He would not lose Asthia or Elenya. He would not die. The System was his only advantage—[Corrupted Intent], [Refined Sword Technique], now [Threat Instinct]. But it was not enough.

The mana crystals, the smuggling, the abominations—all of that was pointing to something larger. And the Godspires? Those towering walls confining the empire. He'd seen them described in the archives, but half the pages had been blank, censored. That was no accident.

There was something out there. Something the Empire wanted concealed.

Perhaps the rebels weren't as crazy as he'd thought. Perhaps they had seen what he was realizing now.

He needed to train harder. Get stronger. Find out what the crystals did, who "No. 6" was, what the Freedom Church was up to. If he could figure that out, he'd have power.

Chase down the Godspires. Discover the truth. Destroy anything in their path.

Reth straightened, wiping dirt from his pants. A jolt of pain ran through his shoulder, but he pushed it away.

Time to go. Time to grow stronger.

---

Van crouched beside the edge of the Red Hill woods, close to the little hut where Asthia and Elenya slept.

His frayed black robes swept the ground as he plucked silver leaves from a bush and inhaled them. His staff leaned against a tree, its twisted wood catching wisps of sunlight.

Across from him, Varric Solthane dug through his satchel, pulling out a half-crushed root and muttering under his breath as bottles clinked inside.

"Still carrying junk, Varric?" Van's voice was low and rough, but there was warmth in it. He glanced up with a grin. "Thought you'd grown out of that after the academy."

Varric snorted, wiping soot from his beard. "Says the fellow weeding like loot. That moonmint? Worth nothing more than to break a fever."

Van laughed and stashed the leaves in a pouch. "More than your mushy apples. Did find you, though. Thought you were dead after you made a run for it from the academy."

Varric grinned with laughter, but he continued digging. "Had to get out of there. Recall Kael's expression when I destroyed his lab? No chance I could remain after that." He threw a small vial over. "Glowvine sap. works best on burns. The women in there will require it.

Van caught the vial quickly and spun it in his hand. "Still hiding, under all that commotion. Didn't expect to find you here. Working with these children now? Or just blundering into trouble like you always do?"

"A little of both," Varric replied, digging out another root. "That kid, Reth—he's got potential. Obstinate as all getout, though. Reminds me of you back when you thought you could outwit a mana storm."

Van chuckled, the sound grating but genuine. "And you're still dodging actual fights. Noticed you froze when that witch appeared. Serapha, indeed? Never thought to see one of her kind again.

Van stuffed the moonmint into his pouch, his hands firm through the pain in his bones. Red Hill forest was too still, the sort of silence that concealed knives. He eyed Varric, who was prodding a root as if it owed him money. "You always this useless, Solthane, or is it just nostalgia?" Van's tone was rough, but a smile clung to his lips.

Varric chuckled, tossing a glowvine vial. "Says the mage who can't brew without burning his beard. These kids need this for their burns, not your lectures."

Van caught the vial, smirking. "Still the same idiot who blew up Kael's lab. Thought you'd learned stealth by now."