Standing under the blinding bright light of the sun, Moulin didn't feel the heat at all. Instead, what made him uncomfortable was the two gazes of the two people with him within the area. Admittedly, he felt the anticipated heat of their eyes, but he remained unfazed by the situation.

"Remove the marks..." Moulin peered at the elven oracle, Laphora, while he muttered. "Can it be done?" His words were directed to the man standing by his side. Moulin felt Hadrian's eyes upon his face, reading his expression.

"The power if those marks are unknowable. However, I trust that if it can be cast, then it can be removed." He slowly spoke as if to give Moulin the time to process his words carefully. The sunlight made his golden hair shine gloriously, making Moulin sneak a couple of glances at Hadrian.

"They can easily track you through the mana that man had placed upon you. Removing it as soon as possible heightens your safety." His golden eyes gazed deeply into those uncertain silver pupils.

With a soft look in his eyes, Hadrian whispers. "Trust me..."

Moulin trusts him. No one knew more about his situation than Hadrian. After a couple of seconds, the youth slowly nods his head. His eyes glanced at the oracle briefly. Although he was suspicious of the elven prophet, Moulin knew nothing would happen to him as long as Hadrian is here to accompany him.

Laphora sighs in relief. His actions don't escape Moulin's analyzing gaze.

Walking forward, Laphora requested Moulin to lift the sleeves of his left arm. With a dull expression, the youth slowly followed the elf's request and exposed the dark red marks staining his pale skin. It appeared as though it was moving, rolling like clouds on his pale flesh.

It was an ominous and strange sight.

"Corrupted mana..." Laphora gasped in alarm. There was a slight tremble on his fingers as he slowly touched the youth's skin. He felt it.

The marks were the work of a demon. There was no mistake. However, Demons have gone extinct for millennia. It was impossible. Perhaps the work of those demonic worshippers? But Laphora had never seen such a strange method of tracking and chaining someone like this.

"What is it?" Moulin asked when he noticed the fingers on his skin. There was something wrong with Laphora's expression.

"Tell me, what sort of person place this curse on you?" The oracle asked as he continued to trace the marks on the youth's skin with his fingertips as though he was drawing on it.

"He... "

Blood red eyes flashed inside Moulin's mind for a brief second, making him grimace. His voice became soft. "He had red eyes, a large horn at the center of his forehead. His skin was a deep gray, and he is quite a skillful fighter. Gave me a lot of trouble when he was chasing me..." Moulin furrowed his eyebrows while he recalled the scene back in the woods of Skilis.

"... A horn?" Laphora stopped. His mana copied his actions as well, stopping the transfer when its master paused. A crease appeared between his brows.

Moulin deciphered his expression secretly. Did he think it was a demon too? A creature with a horn, manipulating corrupted mana, would easily be identified as a demon as what the others would think. However, it couldn't be. Only high-ranking demons possessed a humanoid body, and they ultimately perished way before the Red War. Since then, no one had caught sight of these demons.

But the assumption was possible... What if some had survived?

"Finish it quickly."

Hadrian narrowed his eyes on Laphora while he stroked Moulin's back. The oracle lowered his head with an uncertain smile. The hand on Moulin's back was gentle and distracting, accomplishing the task of yanking Moulin out from his thoughts.

"When will the situation of the kingdom stabilize?" Moulin glanced at Hadrian.

"It already did. A cure was made from the materials you brought, and the princess is now safe within the castle." Hadrian replied."We will be departing soon..."

"What?" Moulin knitted his eyebrows. "That soon? How about the case of the poisoned river? And the malefics attack?"

Hadrian finally met Moulin's gaze. "The kingdom's warriors can handle the future attacks. Don't underestimate their strengths. Out aid is no longer needed."

'I was underestimating no one!' Moulin frowned. "I see..."

"Are you reluctant to leave the kingdom?" Hadrian questioned with a smile in his eyes.

Moulin faintly smiled. He shook his head and replied. "No. Although, unfortunately, I wasn't able to personally see the beauty of Meian, I cannot stay any longer. I have a family waiting for me back home..."

"How admirable..." Hadrian smiles, yet his eyes darkened. It only makes him want to expose himself in front of Moulin's family. Perhaps, they would be horrified before his presence. Hadrian was really looking forward to testing the Fraunces' power.

Moulin felt a soothing sensation in his left arm. It was warm and comfortable, making him release a sigh. The marks on his arm that were within the oracle's grasp began to fade. Simultaneously, a numbing feeling of heat began to occur from the place the marks disappeared. It was hot but not to the point of being painful.

It was a feeling he had never felt whenever healing magic touched him. How strange and unique.

"I suggest you never cross paths with that person again. Avoid him at all costs." Laphora advised when he examined that not a trace of the marks and corrupted mana was present on the youth's body. "Your life is already at risk... You must always be careful..."

Moulin stared at him for a few seconds before nodding. "I understand..."

Laphora revealed a gentle smile at the youth. "For now, he won't be able to find you..."

For now?

Suspicion clouded Moulin mind, but he chose to dismiss his skepticism. "My lord..."

"Yes, your holiness..."

Moulin grimaced at the address and continued. " I heard it was you who predicted the death of the princess. However, It seems she has just escaped the death you foretold..."

The Oracle paused at the youth's words. His eyes were wide in surprise. Moulin was indeed perceptive. "Yes... She has escaped death. And she will now grow old without any deterrent..."

"Does that mean your predictions are sometimes inaccurate?" Moulin held his arm as he spoke. His eyes gazed down at the unmarked skin at his arm.

"Hm..." Laphora lowered his head and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This is the first time my predictions have gone wrong. However, I indeed see no mishaps in the young lady's future. The life that was foretold to be sacrificed was forgone, and so another life must replace it. I heard that many of your comrades died the day the hostages and the princess were rescued. Perhaps that was the consequence of the broken prophecy..."

He lowered his head at the mention of the dead and recited a short chant under one breath

Moulin felt his veins throbbed as he listened. Oracles are a headache. Does he mean that those lives were lost because the princess didn't die?

"Thank you for your aid, Oracle," Moulin said as he narrowed his eyes.

Laphora abruptly lifted his head and smile, "It was an honor, your holi-"

Turning his head, Moulin tugged Hadrian's hand and walked away.

Honestly, if he were to hear another word from that elf's mouth, he would instantly throw Laphora off the edge of the floor!

"Where are we going?" Hadrian asked.

"Back to your room-"

"Our room."

Moulin's eyes twitched. "Our room."

Lifting a corner of his lips, Hadrian instantly pulled Moulin in his arms. The youth only frowned as Hadrian instantly teleported the both of them. Their figures disappeared immediately.

...

The elven oracle was once again left alone, standing with the fierce swirling wind around him. There was a faint smile gracing his face.

Moulin was indeed a unique soul. His character is entirely different from the other blessed people the Gods adored so much. Laphora honestly didn't want such a person to be sacrificed for the gods. This world needed a new light that does not belong here. It requires the existence of boundless difference to be healed.

He only wondered what sort of difference Moulin will place upon the world.

.............

A full week passed since Moulin had the marks on his arms eliminated. True to Hadrian's words, the poisoned river was purified, and the elven warriors were stationed everywhere, even beyond the Kingdom of Thundralln. The crown prince, Nordehl, sent a warning to neighboring kingdoms of a new organization, The Eye of Malefic, that could endanger every race. He will be holding a Royal Gathering after a month to discuss the threat this organization could bring in the future. It was a crucial matter that should immediately be resolved.

Under the midnight sky of Thundralln, the ancient elemental barrier began to loosen its branches at the center slightly. Having the mind of its own, it only answers to the royal family's bidding. Reducing the limbs would enable a significant amount of moonlight to shine down upon the kingdom. It was the night of farewell for the elves to their trusted aid, the maeruthans. They could not hold it the day before the departure, for the sentinels will be having the day all to themselves. A day to rest.

Silver eyes silently stare at the bright and beautiful full moon. A certain youth was standing on the balcony of Hadrian's room- their room.

His figure leaned slightly to the edge of the stone banister; his arms were folded, and a soft sigh escaped his lips. Between his fingers, he held a palm-sized ice crystal. Its white glaucous color filtered the moonlight magnificently, making it produce a sparkling effect.

When Moulin slightly tilted his head, the white expanse of his neck was exposed to the nightly breeze of the calm evening. He only wore a silk robe, which was poorly tied, and nothing underneath it. He paid no mind to the airy feeling of his lower body. Numerous conspicuous red marks littered on his fair skin, trailing down from the curve of his neck to his collarbone and downwards. It was all thanks to some particular lord who lured him to the bed after a nice mind-muddling bath. Admittedly, Moulin couldn't say he was naively fooled. He enjoyed their coupling quite a bit.

Twirling with the ice crystal with his fingers, Moulin sighed as his thoughts wandered.

Two more days, and they will be leaving the country. He will return to his home and be haunted by the few displeasing memories he had during this mission.

"What is bothering you?"

Strong arms circled his waist, and a hot breath caressed his ear. Moulin's expression remains unaffected, and he kept his eyes on the moon.

"Nothing significant..." Moulin replied softly. He felt Hadrian's bare torso as he leaned back with a sigh. "Do you truly believe Laphora's words?" He asked, referring to the matter of his foretold 'three deaths.'

Resting his chin on Moulin's shoulder, Hadrian calmly narrows his eyes. "If I discover that he is bluffing, then I will cleanly remove his spine. For the moment, I had doubts about him since his failed prophecy about the princess but I believe there were no lies in his words when he foretold about your deaths."

Moulin breathes. "So you do believe them... " He lowered his gaze and held the ice crystal between his fist. "I do too..."

The arms that embraced Moulin tightened. The man breathes into Moulin's scent as if it comfort the raging anxiety in his heart. "Nothing will happen to you. I will make sure of it..."

You will never be in harm's way again...

"Hm..." Moulin smiles faintly at his words and he turned his head to the side to capture the man's lips.