Kaiser strode into the ruined parlor like a storm barely contained behind a facade of calm, his eyes scanning every shadow, every ripple in the air. The floor creaked beneath his boots, dust swirling in his wake as if the world itself sensed the magnitude of his presence. He moved with that subtle caution of a hunter, shoulders squared but every movement calculated.

Zilean did not rise from where he stood, nor did he shift position. He simply observed, silent as a mountain, letting the Sol recoil from his presence. Yet beneath the metal, his mind worked like clockwork. He measured Kaiser with the same care he'd once reserved for Titans and monsters alike.

There was no mistaking it. This was the man Celestine's new Tale had revolved around, the anomaly whispered about by his spies, that rarest sort of beast, clueless in his understanding of this world's depths, but bearing Sol in an utterly obscene abundance. Zilean couldn't sense Sol, not as others did, but his tools fed him enough data. Even now, the gadget floating near Elsie's painting hummed with fresh scans, relaying everything it could glean.

For a Liberator with a blue core, Kaiser's raw Sol was frankly absurd. The readings exceeded anything Zilean had witnessed at this tier—enough to match, perhaps even surpass, most of the Saint-level Liberators that haunted the world's deadlier corners. It was as if an ocean was trapped inside a teapot, waiting for the right moment to shatter the shell and flood everything in its path.

And yet, for all that, Kaiser's Sol was still blue. Still unrefined. Still young.

The inconsistency gnawed at Zilean. He had seen geniuses and monsters, Saints and Angels and even a handful of the Titans and Hopes themselves, and always, the progression was the same: a steady climb, a slow deepening of color. But Kaiser, if the data could be believed, had leapt across that gulf through sheer will or cosmic chance, gathering power that should have been years, even decades, out of reach.

For a moment, Zilean wondered what it would take for this boy to breach that last threshold. He didn't doubt that Kaiser could, perhaps even soon. And if he did… well, there was only a handful of people in the world that Zilean would rather face as allies than enemies. Fewer still he'd trust near Celestine.

No. Fewer still he'd trust near the throne itself.

But for now, Zilean's respect for his niece overrode his instinct to seize opportunity. He would not force anything upon Kaiser. The risk was too great, the variables too unknown. Besides, such a show of predatory ambition would not escape Celestine's notice, and the last thing Zilean wished was for his little rose to think of him as another schemer, another old vulture circling for scraps.

'Let him speak first,' Zilean thought, watching as Kaiser's gaze flickered briefly over the portrait, then over the silent runes dancing in the air, before settling on Zilean himself.

For a breath, nothing was said—, ust the two of them, caught in the gray silence of a dying house.

Kaiser's eyes finally met his, and in that moment, the weight of all his focus was undeniable. "You're not what I expected," Kaiser said at last, his voice a low, amused rumble. "But I suppose nothing here is."

Zilean's lips almost twitched behind his helmet. "Expectation is a tool of the lazy," he replied. "And this world is unkind to the lazy, wouldn't you agree?"

Kaiser's mouth quirked upward, but there was no warmth in the smile. "I do."

A moment's pause, then Zilean let his curiosity slip through. "So why are you here, Kaiser Dios? You made a plan. By all logic, you should be following it, not returning to a battlefield already cleared." The question was pointed, sharp as a dagger, and yet not openly hostile.

Kaiser considered the query for a moment, letting the question hang. His eyes slid over Elsie's painting, and for a brief, unguarded second, a flicker of something softer passed over his features, a hint of guilt, perhaps, or the barest pang of responsibility.

But when he turned back to Zilean, it was gone. "Sometimes," Kaiser answered, "The plan changes. Sometimes you realize there's more to learn in the aftermath than in the next step forward." He glanced at Zilean's floating artifact, at the way the runes flickered over the inked portrait. "You said you couldn't break the curse. But you didn't say you couldn't understand it."

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Zilean's gaze sharpened. "Curiosity, then?"

Kaiser shrugged, the motion effortless. "Curiosity... Call it what you want. I don't like leaving things unsolved. Especially when they're this dangerous."

For the first time, Zilean felt a true kinship with this foreigner—this wolf from another world. "Dangerous things make the best teachers. Provided you survive the lesson."

A grim chuckle. "That's always the rub, isn't it?"

A sudden stillness stole over the room. Zilean's device finished its scan, its orb of light flickering out as it withdrew back into his palm. He pocketed it with ease, never breaking eye contact with Kaiser.

"You know," Zilean said quietly, "There are only three people I have ever met with your potential. People who could, in time, become one of the Ten Hopes. Most waste that gift. Some burn out, or are broken, or simply run from what they can become."

Kaiser's jaw tightened, and for a heartbeat, Zilean thought he saw a shadow of something old and wounded in the young man's gaze. "And the rest?" Kaiser asked.

Zilean's visor glinted, his tone heavy. "The rest become monsters. Devoured by their own strength, or twisted by the world until nothing human remains."

Kaiser didn't flinch. "And which do you think I'll become?" His words were not a question, but more like a challange.

The armored lord regarded him for a long moment, and then spoke. "That isn't for me to decide. I don't mold such people. I simply hope, when the time comes, you stand beside my niece, and not because you're pointed like a weapon, but because you chose so yourself."

Kaiser's eyes lingered on the armored royal, the flicker of challenge now almost playful at the edge of his sharp mouth. "And what time would that be, exactly?" His tone was smooth as cut glass, but there was confidance beneath it, the subtle music of a man who refused to be a piece on anyone else's board.

To his credit, Zilean didn't blink or change posture. Instead, he motioned toward a battered wooden chair across from him, the legs stained dark by the ink. "Sit. There's more to speak of than you realize, and I've found that true answers require patience. And sometimes a seat."

Kaiser slid into the chair, posture loose but wary. But before Zilean could say more, Kaiser's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, curiosity slicing through his wariness.

"You're not the first person to mention my name after that little scuffle with the Right Fist," Kaiser said, almost conversational, but his eyes glittered dangerously. "Honestly, I thought the world would have bigger concerns than a nobody raising hell at the edge of the world. How many eyes are watching me, exactly? And why?"

A shadow of amusement passed through Zilean's gaze. "Normally? None at all. There are more important tasks, more urgent threats. But someone fighting a Kingsguard is an event, like a ripple felt in every pond, even out here. Even more so when it happens in public, with an eager witness to spread the tale." He leaned forward, metal creaking. "There was a man, Glunko, if I recall, who knew you by name and made sure the tale was told far and wide. He even testified to the whole event in detail."

Kaiser's entire bearing changed. For a heartbeat, the air around him seemed to sharpen, his presence growing colder, his lips compressing into a blade's edge. Fury twisted through his thoughts. 'I'll have that loose-tongued merchant's head for this. One day, I'll peel the secrets from his skin and let his bones rot forgotten.'

But the anger was a flash, nothing more. He mastered it, crushing the impulse with ruthlessness. No, this was his fault, and he knew it. Only a fool trusted a merchant's discretion, especially when his own story was more valuable than gold. Next time, he would be more careful. Or better: perhaps he could turn the indiscretion to his advantage. Information spread fast in this world; with the right nudge, it could become a weapon.

He let only the faintest flicker of disdain cross his features, masking the calculation behind his gaze.

"Glunko," Kaiser murmured, like a curse. "Of course. The world can never shut up long enough to let a man breathe."

Zilean's lips curled in a wry, knowing smile, but he let the subject fall away, allowing a brief silence to settle between them. In that hush, the room seemed to tense, as if even the ruined paintings lining the walls were holding their breath.

The old lord settled his massive frame into a chair opposite Kaiser, the floor groaning quietly beneath his armored weight. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter, but it cut with purpose. "Tell me, are you not concerned for the villagers? Some of them may have only hours left before their Sol is bled dry. Before they become something neither dead nor living."

The words landed softly but carried a probing edge, searching for cracks in the liberators composure.

Kaiser smirked, almost dismissive, and waved a hand as if shooing away smoke. "You can drop the theater, Lord Zilean. I noticed it as soon as I walked back in, the Sol in the paintings, those pearls, the lingering threads in the air. I compared them to the ones I'd seen earlier and tracked their fading… If anything, the change is glacial. Some barely shift at all. It takes days. Weeks, perhaps, for a painting to become a beast. Not hours."

The old lord's visor dipped, the gesture oddly approving. "Very observant. You see more than most. Most would rush around, burning themselves out to save every lost soul. Most wouldn't survive a single night here."

Kaiser's expression was the faintest shadow of a grin, as if he'd just won a round in a game. "I appreciate the compliment, Lord Zilean, but let's keep on the note of being oh-so-observant. There's a question burning in me, and I'd be grateful if you would answer plainly …" He leaned forward, crimson eyes catching the dying light. "How are you still alive?"

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