That night, alone in his room, Daniel retrieved the demonic crystal from his pocket.

  It pulsed faintly. Wrong. Not refined like his Demonic Energy. Older. Unstable.

  He activated the system.

  Ding.

  [Item Identified

  Name: Fragmented Demonic Realm Gate Crystal

  Origin: Demonic Realm

  Classification: Restricted

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Demonic Realm.” ]

  [Function

  When supplied with sufficient demonic energy, crystal can open a temporary gate to the Demonic Realm. ]

  [Warning

  Unauthorized activation may trigger cross-realm awareness. ]

  He closed the window slowly. So the goblins hadn’t cultivated demonic energy—they had been leaking it. Something from the Demonic Realm had bled through. And he had just taken the key.

  This wasn’t random dungeon corruption. This was intrusion. Someone—or something—had planted a gate fragment inside a succession territory dungeon. That was not coincidence.

  Daniel slid the crystal into a hidden compartment within his storage ring. No one needed to know. Not yet.

  By morning, rumors had shifted again—not about fear, but engagement.

  “Silver House,” servants whispered. “Why now?”

  “Political maneuver.”

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  “Crimson trying to absorb magic lineage.”

  Daniel heard it all. He didn’t react. Instead, he walked through the courtyard and found Rika beneath the same tree where the Soul Sword Unit had been named.

  “You’re not afraid?” she asked quietly.

  “Of what?”

  “That tying yourself to us will drag you down.”

  Daniel looked at her fully. “The Silver House isn’t falling. It’s cornered. I don’t abandon cornered allies.”

  Her composure cracked again, a faint, relieved smile forming. “…You really mean that.”

  “I do.”

  Then she held out a folded parchment. Daniel blinked.

  “You forgot to give me this,” she said softly.

  He stepped forward, taking it. Their hands brushed.

  Heat shot through him. His face flushed instantly.

  Around them, Freya leaned against the doorway, suppressing a grin. His mother’s eyes widened slightly, and the servants peeked curiously. Even David tilted his head in confusion. Why is he blushing like that?

  Daniel felt his heart skip in a way that startled him. The touch wasn’t scandalous. It was fleeting. Yet… memories surged, unbidden.

  A flash of a life long gone. A woman who had loved him, quietly, truly, but whose love he could never comprehend. Whose life had been cut short by sect elders in political games. He had responded with fire and blood, eradicating all responsible.

  The weight of that memory pressed against him.

  I will never let that happen again.

  He exhaled slowly and met Rika’s gaze. “Thank you,” he said softly, voice steady, controlled.

  Rika’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement mingling with relief. She studied him carefully, as if measuring whether he meant it fully.

  Daniel glanced at the courtyard. Soul Sword Unit members, Freya, David, even his mother—all watching quietly, curious and cautious. He realized they were all thinking the same thing: Why is he blushing like that?

  He forced himself to step back slightly, regaining composure. His mind cleared.

  The engagement. The Silver House. Ronan. The weight of promises made and alliances revived. Subtle danger. Political tension. A young boy rising not just through power, but through principle.

  He straightened. “I will protect the Silver House. I will make sure Ronan White becomes a capable heir, strong and steady.”

  Rika’s eyes softened completely. “You… you really mean that.”

  “Yes,” Daniel replied. “I remember what loyalty and belief in someone feel like. I will not let them be destroyed again. Not by politics. Not by fear. Not by neglect.”

  Outside, banners shifted in the morning breeze. Somewhere in the estate, whispers began again—Crimson House observers recalculating, Silver House allies hopeful, enemies uneasy.

  Daniel Maxim stood quietly, holding the forgotten invitation, feeling the pulse of the crystal hidden safely in his storage ring.

  He didn’t need to push back. Not yet. The weight was heavy, but controlled. The stakes clear.

  Beside him, Rika smiled faintly, not daring to speak further. The hand that had touched his lingered slightly in memory, and Daniel allowed himself a brief awareness of it—not weakness, but acknowledgment.

  For the first time in years, he felt a resolve deeper than any Sword Beginner stage, stronger than the fear of Fifth Brother or the Soul Annihilation Art.

  I will never let that happen again.

  And this time, he would keep that promise.