...

Moulin didn't really know if the wax petals would work, or if they could be ingested. All he cared about was saving this man who was overly loyal to his lover. Although he knew of the man's hatred of him and that Moulin found Rowan detestable as well, he did not want to face Hadrian with the dying words of his subordinate. All his doubts and worries vanished instantly the moment he saw the black veins on Rowan's arm disappear in less than half an hour. The blackening of the man's eyes was gone and color returned to the man's face.

With relieved breaths, he watched as the people strived to help him distribute the wax petals to the dying men. Their fearful but worried gazes made him sigh in relief as he felt satisfied with their courage to help the men in need.

Black liquid splashed as numerous feet stepped on the puddles of the puppet's remains. Their helping hands were trembling and stained with filth and blood. The sight of the dead before them didn't stop them from helping.

Kneeling on the damp ground, Moulin felt his arms sag.

"You..." Rowan's eyes lifted slowly to meet the youth's wearied silver eyes. His brows furrowed as he held on Moulin's arm. His large frame leaning on Moulin's hold. "... The candles...how did you know it would work?..."

Moulin shot him an uninterested glance. "I didn't. It just felt like a good idea to shove anything down your throat if it keeps you from dying..." He slowly helped Rowan to walk towards a near wall and aided the man to lean his back on the cold stoned wall.

"..."

Rowan silently lowered his gaze on the slender fingers holding his arm and shoulder. Complicated emotions stirred inside him as he watched the bite wound on his arm expel fresh red blood. His fingers twitched as he recalled their loud argument earlier.

So it had seemed that Moulin had sensed his hatred of him for a long time. Originally, Rowan disliked the lord's attachment to Moulin. Although he could agree that Moulin was indeed considerate, ruthlessly strong, and a beautiful partner any noble would dream of, Moulin was still a part of the Grand Family of the opposite court. It was no denying that he would need to choose his family over his lover. The young master of a grand noble household has to be filial.

However...

Rowan's cerulean eyes glanced at the serious profile of the silver-eyed youth. He watched Moulin tend to his wounds silently with a hint of disinterest in his beauteous features.

Minutes later, when every soul within the room had the time to breathe, to calm themselves, the elves proceeded to work on removing the metal bars on the doors while the other elven warriors concentrated on keeping the barrier of the wall if roots. The sentinels had calmed the crowd while keeping their guards up. The dreadful situation earlier was unexpected, who knows what would come next if they weren't prepared. Leaning on the walls were the injured people, slowly recovering.

"The doors..." Moulin muttered when he finally finished wrapping up Rowan's arm. He tiresomely leaned on the wall beside Rowan. His head slightly knocked on the stone as he closed his eyes, "What's wrong with it?"

Rowan winced as he held his forearm, curiously gazing on his bandages. He narrowed his eyes, "It's stuck... There should be no problem opening it."

"If that is the case then, it should have opened long ago... The barrier probably won't last..."

Rowan glanced at Moulin in the corner of his eyes. Guessing what the youth was implying.

"Sir Rowan..."

A faint voice entered their ears as the princess of Thundralln stood in front of them, her guards standing emotionlessly behind her. Her silver eyes carried a bit of exhaustion and worry as she scanned both men's forms. She clenched her fists, "There is something wrong with the doors... They would not budge even if the bars were removed... my people could not detect the type of magical barrier enclosing the room... it seems we are locked inside... "

...

A smirk appeared on Moulin's weary face. He lets out a breath as he spoke, "So they were trying to lock us in here and be devoured by those vicious creatures they created... A trap..."

The man beside him gnashed his teeth. Fury burned inside him as he stood up. "Murderous bastards!"

Moulin knew he was referring to the malefics. Their trap was truly well-made. First, the barrier and then the lizard monsters in the lake surround the island. They also placed a restriction spell on the safest part of the fortress and even planted their disgusting puppets beneath the fortress's stoned grounds. Moulin wondered if the same thing was happening outside the room. Are they going to be mauled alive?

The room shook once again. The puddles on the stoned floor, rippling. The elves struggling to maintain the strength of the barrier was sweating dreadfully.

Crack!

The magical translucent wall of purple suddenly cracked. Panic drove into every person's chest.

"It's hopeless!"

"What are we going to do?!"

"Waaa, I don't want to die yet!!"

Rowan clenched his jaw as the people's cries filled the room. He yelled out loud, "Silence!"

At the sound of the authoritative command, the silence was forcefully brought into the air. Rowan with glowering eyes walked towards the elves standing before the doors. He called over two earth wielding and fire wielding maeruthans to work the door open. Moulin silently watched the man's form as he ordered with a calm expression. Probably to ease the crowd with his calmness during the situation.

"Moulin are you alright?" Eilhara asked worriedly. She could not help but crouch down to assess the young man's being herself.

Moulin shook his head and furrowed his brows, "I'm alright, your highness... I just need some rest..."

"I see..." She didn't say another word as she stood and sat beside him. Her uneasy eyes gazing at the doors and the wall of roots strengthened by the purple barrier. Her fingers fidgeted anxiously.

Silver eyes detected her nervousness and Moulin could not bear to see such a frightened pure-hearted woman trembled beside him. He smiled faintly as he spoke with a soft voice. "Don't worry... It'll be alright. We will escape..."

She stopped her movements with a pounding heart. Her eyes lowered to her fingers as she nodded.

'It will be fine...' Moulin thought as he tilted his head back with closed eyes and heavy breaths.

He will come... He always has...

BANG!

Everyone stilled as something pounded on the other side of the doors.

It would loud as if a massive metal hammer knocked on the door with full strength. Even Moulin flinched of the sudden noise. His eyes were abruptly open.

Taking a step back, Rowan cautiously observed the doors. He stretched out his hand to the side to keep the people back. Because of the barrier that enclosed the whole room, he could not detect anything from beyond the door. He could not know if what was behind the doors a foe or ally.

He could only let the elves and sentinels surround the people.

BANG!

Releasing a sigh, Moulin forced himself to stand up. He can't be resting like the dead when something even worst would possibly happen. Eilhara stood with him. Her guards positioning at each side of her protectively.

Moulin glanced at the cracking barrier and the pounding door. Indeed, they were trapped. Moulin walked through the crowd as the pounding became even louder and louder. He finally stood before Rowan and the rest of the warriors, ready to face whatever was trying to get through the doors.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

A chilly breath escaped Moulin's mouth as he narrowed his glowing silver eyes. Their only way out was the door.

Crack!

Rowan glanced behind him. The cracks on the barrier were getting bigger.

BANG!

BANG!

Suddenly, Moulin felt something unusual. His instincts were urging him to step away from the doors. The feeling was bothering him. There were times when he had doubted himself, however, this time, he truly felt that he should follow what his senses were telling him.

"Move..." He muttered.

Rowan caught his words. Confusion etched his face, "What?"

Moulin gnashed his teeth. If he was wrong they were finished. "MOVE! MAKE A PATH!"

Raising his voice, he eyes the people coldly.

Hesitantly, Rowan conceded. He ordered the others to make way as the pounding on the became louder and unbearable. The noise sharply pricked on one's eardrums. It was as if the door would explode at any moment. Moulin hurriedly stepped to the side along with the others. Not long after...

The barrier shattered and a black hand burst through the wall of roots.

BOOOOOOOOOM!!!!

The door exploded and an intense golden bright light blinded everyone within the room. As the people unconsciously pressed their backs harder on the wall, they could feel the heat of the light beaming in front of them. Golden electric sparks pricked their skin and the heat was scorching.

The beam struck the wall of roots instantly exploding it and anything beyond it. It dug through the mass of puppets, scorching them. It powerfully drove through the wall and dug through the earth beyond it. Until it pierced through the side of the island and clashed on the red barrier surrounding the fortress. It was powerful and ruthless.

Even stones were scorched black and puddles were evaporated. No one opened their eyes and even if they tried to, they would be cruelly blinded.

...

It last no longer than ten seconds...

What came after it was a deathly silence...

...

No one dared to move a muscle. Frightened by the sudden beam of death. One could feel their hair rising in fright.

...

Moulin felt an ache in his head as he tried to open his eyes. His lashes trembled like his fingers. His knees felt weak as the strong wave of mana washed through him. His knees wobbled as he kept his balance. He hardened his legs as he inhaled sharply. His fingers curling tightly to the strap of his satchel.

The sound of falling rocks and the rain of dust.

The sound of water.

The touch of cool air.

The glowing orbs that had previously illuminated the room had vanished. There was a hole through the wall of roots

What met Moulin's eyes was the tall masculine figure, irradiating ruthlessness and power. Golden hair, remorseless glowing eyes of gold. That mercilessly cold expression. Golden sparks surrounded his body and the black longsword within his cruel grasp. He stood in the room bathed with the red filtered light beyond the hole on the wall.

The faint breeze swept the golden strands on his forehead.

Smoke swirled around him.

Like a vengeful God...

...

His silver eyes flickered with dizziness... Moulin released a breath...

He came...