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Fashion and appearance were never major concerns for Alexander, but as someone of noble descent, they became unavoidable expectations. Curiously, boys and young men in his world were held to higher standards, often wearing make-up, dressing elegantly, and paying greater attention to their appearance than girls or young women. This societal norm stemmed from boys, at least in his generation, pursuing administrative roles that required frequent societal interactions. At the same time, girls gravitated toward combative paths where practical skills and physical strength were prioritized over social decorum.

"You little bastard," Baldur Lavafist growled, his eyes alight with a blend of hostility and wry amusement. "Do you truly think I wouldn't dare to melt your bones into a cup?"

As Alexander's ambitions solidified, so did his focus on appearance, reflecting his evolving priorities. He came to understand that clothing was not just attire but a means to shape perceptions—a subtle yet potent tool for commanding and influencing others. A striking example was the leader of the Eros Alliance, whose armor gleamed with a deep red hue, shimmering like molten lava. At the same time, enchantments flickered across its surface with an almost volcanic intensity, about to explode any moment.

"How barbaric," Alexander quipped with a cheeky smile, though he struggled to stay conscious as Lavafist's aura intensified, filling the throne room with oppressive heat. "Might I inquire why Majesty Lavafist harbors such fury toward a humble Knight's and mere Druid's son?"

The young noble's fashion choices were understated, especially for someone his age. He wore a simple suit paired with a subtly colorful tie, a hint of reddish eye shadow, and light brown Chelsea boots that added a touch of boldness to the ensemble. The outfit exuded an air of modesty, aligning with the moniker he had adopted—a saint draped in humility yet subtly reflecting the sophistication of his noble heritage.

"I see." Lavafist's smile twisted into something even more menacing as the oppressive heat in the throne room intensified, fueled by the literal river of lava that roared behind him. "Don't feign ignorance, boy. Tell me where you got those earrings."

Barry walked beside Alexander, but he pressed on, merely gesturing for them not to intervene—a move that, if it really would come to any fight, at best, could buy him some time. 'Dad seriously underestimated that monster,' he mused anxiously, his thoughts spiraling as the relentless heat rose. 'A monster? No, this is something far beyond that.'

Baldur Lavafist's aura was an oppressive force, untamed and volatile, like a volcano on the cusp of eruption. The searing heat radiating from him turned the throne room's pristine white tiles and pillars dangerously red. With a single motion—just a lean forward—he unleashed a wave of heat so intense it shattered Lili's invisibility, leaving her soaked in sweat, her fur clinging to her frame. Alexander strained every ounce of his skills to withstand the onslaught, narrowly avoiding being seared alive. Yet, it was evident that Lavafist's control was impeccable; this was no loss of temper but a deliberate test—one false move, and he could instantly evaporate Alexander.

"Do you mean this?" Alexander tilted his head slightly, sweat trickling down his face as he caressed his new earrings with a cocky and undeniably teasing demeanor, despite the apparent disparity in power. "I wasn't aware that Majesty Lavafist had such disdain for the colorful accessories of your people."

On his left canine ear, Alexander wore three earrings, each colorful and seemingly cheap, as though crafted from salvaged scraps. All three were fashioned from slightly rusted metal, their surfaces painted and heated to shimmer in vibrant hues. Each earring bore a unique charm: a colorful, ruffled feather of a bird, a metal dice, and an intricate sigil of his household, painstakingly created by a famished jeweler using rusty metal.

Lavafist leaned further forward, his massive hands cracking the throne while clenching in controlled fury. "Be careful," he hissed through his teeth. "I will not be threatened!"

Suddenly, Alexander heard a sharp squeak and saw Lili pressed to the ground while Barry stood, though barely. His eyes narrowed at the searing, sun-like figure before them, radiating an overwhelming pressure that caused some of the pillars to crack and made the soles of Alexander's boots dangerously hot, sizzling in heat.

Yet, Alexander maintained his composure, executing his plan flawlessly and anticipating such a reaction. Despite this, his limits were nearing; his stamina was rapidly depleting, and his mana had dropped below 30%, leaving him with barely enough to cast a spell capable of somewhat deflecting the intense heat as he nervously arranged the mana construct for it to become as efficient as possible.

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"I think this is a misunderstanding, Majesty Lavafist." Alexander forced a smile, sweat soaking through his fur as the heat became nearly unbearable. "No," he continued, shaking his head, a glimmer of arrogance surfacing despite his struggle against the intense heat. "You're simply too sensitive."

Lavafist's aura erupted like a volcanic storm, its sheer intensity causing Lili to whimper before losing consciousness while Barry fell to his knees, clinging desperately to his awareness. Alexander, however, took a deliberate step forward, enduring a sensation of searing fire that coursed through him as though his entire body was standing before the unrelenting blaze of the sun.

"I am on your people's side," Alexander whispered, his voice barely audible, yet his gaze remained fixed on Lavafist. Something within him shifted, shedding the cold, calculative politician to reveal his buried sense of superiority. "Simply trust me," a statement of utter arrogance—no explanation needed.

An eerie silence filled the throne room as the heat intensified. Cracking sounds echoed through the space; even the ornate weapons began to melt, their molten forms sliding down the walls like tears. "Explain," Lavafist demanded, his oppressive pressure momentarily subsiding as he exhaled a sulfuric cloud. "Explain," he repeated, narrowing his eyes, his voice sharp and laced with molten steel. "Or this will not take a kind end."

Alexander tilted his head, his expression betraying an arrogance seemingly misplaced for someone standing before a blazing giant. "Do you think I need to justify myself?" he asked, his tone laced with defiance. He shrugged off his sweat-soaked blazer, letting it fall to the floor, where it evaporated instantly. "You have two choices: turn my skull into a charming wine cup or simply trust that I have your people's best interest in mind."

Seconds stretched into eternity as their gazes locked, the tension thick in the air. Finally, Lavafist let his aura dissipate, and the oppressive heat in the room ebbed away, bringing a sudden, almost jarring coolness. "Fine," he said, leaning back and resting his chin on his fist. "Not because of you, but because I know the kind of man your father is."

Alexander nodded slightly, opting for a respectful gesture rather than a bow. "For an eternal friendship, Majesty Lavafist." With a snap of his fingers, he gently levitated Lili, her burns evident but manageable. Just as he prepared to move, he felt his sole suddenly adhere to the floor. "Very funny," he sighed, arching an eyebrow at Lavafist, his tone laced with dry amusement.

However, Lavafist remained silent, his narrowed eyes fixed intently on Alexander, who chose to ignore the glare. With a swift wave of his hand, Alexander separated the melted portion of his soles and, with another gesture, disintegrated them into blackish flakes. "If you'll excuse me, I will be in my room, Your Majesty," he said, his tone calm but edged with subtle defiance.

Barry beside him barely straightened and nodded at Lavafist almost casually as if they knew each other. "Come," Alexander walked forward. "Let's see how Ipe is doing."

Alexander's [Mana Sense] expanded as he exited the throne room, prompting him to click his tongue inwardly as his suspicions were confirmed. 'Knew it,' he thought bitterly, his mind already racing with the implications.

As they walked back to his room, Alexander remained deep in thought, his senses attuned to the signatures trailing him like shadows throughout the building. The constant surveillance forced him to act with the utmost caution, speaking in implications rather than direct admissions. This political landscape was far more treacherous than anything he had experienced in Moorgrel—a truth he pieced together through Lila's accounts of wagers, betrayals, bribery, and pervasive blackmail.

Every step Alexander took reverberated through the pristine halls of Ash City, a monumental structure that served as both the governance building and the leader's residence. It was a place of undeniable power and grandeur, yet paradoxically cold and devoid of warmth despite the literal river of lava coursing through its core. Every painting, every statue, and every servant exuded an unsettling aura, their presence almost otherworldly, as if the entire environment had been meticulously crafted to contain and monitor the formidable being that was the leader of the Eros Alliance.

"Fascinating," Alexander murmured aloud, his steps slowing as his gaze lingered on the paintings of previous leaders. "Indeed majestic," he added, his voice echoing faintly with feigned awe. Inwardly, however, he felt a pang of sorrow; the figures depicted seemed more like collared beasts—tamed and constrained by their people, as though they feared for the day they might rise against their own.

After a few more minutes, he approached his room, where servants stood waiting, their expressions betraying no surprise at Lili or Barry's presence and appearance. "We will dine here today," he said, his casual tone imbued with warmth and authority. "And please, kindly inform our dryad friend that we are here and await his arrival."

The servants bowed and departed, reminding them that someone would always be nearby to attend to their needs. "Let's relax and maybe have something cool. Do you think they have ice cream?" Alexander asked Barry, flashing an innocently puppyish smile. "It's really hot here, right? Do you want strawberry or peach?"

As the door clicked shut, Alexander's [Mana Sense] picked up the abrupt absence of all nearby presences—shadows that followed them. "Those little sons of bitches," he muttered, collapsing to his knees as he gently placed Lili on the bed. "I'm exhausted," he murmured, his eyes slowly closing. "And I was serious about the ice cream—strawberry." With that, Alexander slumped to the floor, the sheer intensity of the audience draining every last ounce of his energy.

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