Mirac revealed everything to Carmen!

  He told her every detail of his versation with Michelle, describing the uling feeling that tormented his sister day and night, and the suspi that behind it all might be the very person they had been searg for years!

  Iy, there were two people they had always been looking for: the mastermind behind the assassination attempt on the Prihe one who had hired the fake Professor Shirkenn to kill him—and the mysterious individual who, on the trary, had saved his life by handing Mirac a sword to face Krk without ever revealing.

  Although Mirac wasly sure how Carmen had obtained suformation, he was certain that Krk’s employer resided in the castle. And he could not ighis truth!

  Carmen, for her part, had opped searg for clues about the culprit’s identity sihe day she made her promise to the Prince. Yet, despite her relentless iigations, she had still not mao obtain even a single crete lead on who had hired Krk.

  And if even she—a woman shrouded in mystery, likely part of a great secret anization—had not found an answer, it was no surprise that Mirac, too, remained in the dark.

  So, in the meantime, instead of sitting idly by, Mirac had formuted several personal theories over the years, mentally noting a list of possible suspects.

  Among the first hat came to mihose of his stepmothers!

  Strangely enough, they still lived in the castle, and Mirac didn’t know if his father had avoided div them to maintain good retions with their iial families or if, deep dowill harbored some feelings for each of them. Evehree twin sisters had often wohe same thing, and although Queen Ginevra did not show it, it was evident that she barely tolerated the situation.

  them every day, especially during meals, Mirac always sensed a clear, tent hostility in their expressions—like invisible bdes of ice directed at him. Their rese seemed deeply rooted, almost instinctive, and he knew well that they had more than one reason to despise him: first and foremost, the succession to the throne!

  Mirac was more than aware that if he had never been born, the King would have likely tinued his desperate search for a male heir: a process that could have sted decades, if not forever! After all, he seemed destio have only daughters.

  Iy, King Arthur could have easily entrusted the throo one of his daughters, as no w prohibited female succession. However, he was categorically opposed to the idea. Stubborn and inflexible, he had always rejected any alternative: he wanted a male heir at all costs!

  But as the King grew older, he would iably fall uhe pressure of the Papal cil of the Sacred Region, which would force him to abdicate and relinquish power to someone else. At that point, the stepmothers would see a crete opportunity to elevate one of their daughters to the throne or, at the very least, secure her a position of great influehin the kingdom, thereby helping their noble families increase their wealth and power.

  Therefore, acc to Mirac’s reasoning, they were still vihat, over time, old age would wear down King Arthur’s resistance, ultimately f him to accept—against his will—the succession of one of his daughters.

  So, for all these reasons, Mirac found it more than pusible that it had been his stepmothers who had mastermihe pn to get rid of him by hiring Krk.

  But his stepmothers were not the only ones on the suspect list…

  In fact, Mirac also sidered the possibility that a royal guard might have been involved!

  After all, it was true that Krk had altered his appearah the Deceptive Gsses, but upon further thought, that day the security “had been fooled” too easily—a detail that had always made Mirac suspicious. Therefore, as far as he knew, it was also possible that one or muards assigo watch the main gate had helped the assassin infiltrate more easily.

  However, among the hundred guards serving the pace, Mirac had no idea who had been assigo watch the entran the day Krk arrived, nor did he io ask. Raising the issue would cast doubts oegrity of the royal guards, tarnishing the reputation of the swordsmen of the glorious Kingdom of Ardorya and suggesting that their strict training could be easily bought. For this reason, even to this day, Mirac had no clue who had been guarding the gate that day.

  After much refle, however, he came to another clusion: if a guard had been involved, it was more likely they had acted on someone else’s behalf rather than on their own initiative.

  A well-hidden puppeteer…

  This thought led him to his third lead: the administrative staff!

  For Mirac, this represehe st group of suspects, includiaries, atants, archivists, and other officials essential for managing the pad the royal family’s affairs.

  Uhe royal guards, however, it was more pusible that among them there was someoh the financial resources and the work of taecessary to hire a feared assassin like Krk.

  The tter, in fact, before eveing out to elimihe Prince, had disappeared for several years without leaving any trace of himself. But this was because, as Carmen had told him one day, he had joihe Last Storm—a secret anization of which Mirac still only khe name.

  Therefore, whoever had orchestrated the pn must have had a vast work of informants to get in touch with the Last Storm. This narrowed down the search to only the most powerful, wealthy, and iial figures, hose at the top of the administrative staff.

  And just like in the case of his stepmothers, eliminating the Prince could have paved the way for their ambitious goals.

  However, the administrative staff was numerous, made up of around forty individuals. Since Mirac didn’t personally know any of them, he couldn’t form a clear idea of who the culprit might be.

  But whoever it was, Mirac realized that, sihe i, the alleged mastermind seemed to have abandoned any attempt to eliminate him. No other murder plot had been carried out in all those years.

  Perhaps, Mirac thought one day, this was because the right opportunity had never arisen.

  Poisoning, for example, could never have worked, si had always been Carmen who meticulously hahe preparation of the Prince’s meals, eliminating any possible risks. Even during the numerous birthday parties and royal receptions, both the guards and Carmen paid particur attention to surveilnce, monit every individual within a 10-meter radius.

  Another factor that had likely prevehe hiring of a new undercover assassin was the security system implemented after the i with Krk.

  Professor Keh Warnock, for instance, wheered the pace, was subjected to thh checks by the royal guards. This, of course, was to prevent a potential assassin, or someoly in possession of unauthorized Artifacts, from infiltrating the castle.

  Thanks to the new and strict security regime at the gates of the walls, anyone who entered or exited the royal pace was subjected to careful iions: from the humblest servants to the most distinguished visitors.

  No one was exempt!

  Despite all the efforts, however, aside from the identity of the assassin, the iigators had not mao gather much more information on the case. After two years of fruitless searches, the iigation was officially closed, leaving a palpable bitterness within the castle walls.

  Or rather, it was closed for everyone, except Mirad Carmen: they were the only ones who khe truth of the matter and who had not yet given up on disc who wao get rid of the Prince!

  * * *

  “I see…” Carmen murmured after Miraished telling her about his sister and the uling feeling that haunted her.

  “What do you think, Carmen?” he asked, looking at her ily. “Don’t you find it rather ambiguous? I mean, why would anyone spy on my sister?”

  Carmen, however, didn’t answer right away.

  She stared bnkly ahead, her fingers barely grazing her lips, as though she were immersed in a thought too deep to be interrupted.

  The two were sitting on the edge of the red velvet bed, the rge arched window in front of them letting in the warm afternoon light.

  Mirac watched her for a moment, the sileween them growing almost palpable.

  “Carmen?” he finally called, breaking the silehat seemed to stret forever.

  “Oh!” The red-haired maid jolted slightly, as if suddenly awakened from a dream. “Five me, young Prince. I was thinking about something…”

  “About what?” Mirac asked, almost immediately.

  Carmeated.

  A brief moment of uainty crossed her face before she slightly shook her head and replied in a light tone:

  “No, nothing. Nothing important…”

  Mirac stared at her, narrowing his eyes slightly.

  ‘You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?’ he thought, but chose not to say it.

  Instead, he crossed his arms and decred firmly:

  “We o act as soon as possible. I don’t want this person to torment my sister for even one more day! So, how about setting a trap for them tonight?”

  Carmen turht, fixing her gaze on him, surprised.

  “Tonight?” she repeated, as if to make sure she had uood correctly.

  “Exactly!” Miraodded fidently. “Michelle said she feels watched even at night. So, I think that’s the perfect time to catch the spy. And whoever it is, I’m pretty sure they’ll never expect it!”

  Carmen fell silent.

  Her fingers pyed with the hem of her apron, while her gaze lowered, lost in thought.

  The sileretched for a moment, almost suspended in the air.

  Then, with a soft sigh, the maid raised her gaze and nodded decisively.

  “Alright,” she finally responded, her voice more resolute, as if she had dispelled any worry or hesitation. “We’ll do as you suggested. I’ll e here to you at midnight sharp, and we’ll move when everyone is asleep.”

  “Great!” Mirac excimed, relieved. “Thank you, Carmen.”

  “You’re wele, young Prince…”

  That said, Carmen gracefully rose from the bed, the soft rustling of her clothes apanying eaent.

  With silent steps, she headed towards the door, but before crossing it, she turned o time toward the Prince.

  “Young Prince… Prepare properly for tonight. You must be ready for anything… Uood?”

  Mirac stood still for a moment, taken aback by those words.

  What did she mealy?

  ‘Heh, I get it! She’s worried about me…’

  At that thought, a smile—one he hoped was reassuring—curved his lips.

  “Don’t worry,” Mirac said. “I’m no longer a helpless child.”

  Carmen watched him for a moment, as if imprinting that expression in her memory.

  Then, she offered a small smile iurn.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” she murmured, apanying her words with a slight bow. “Alright then. I’ll take my leave.”

  Without saying anything more, the red-haired maid turned ahe room.

  But as soon as she closed the doors behind her, her smile pletely vanished.

  ‘I have no other choice…’ she thought, g her fists at her sides as she walked down the long marble hallway.

  * * *

  Mirac rested for a few hours in his bed, letting the quiet of the room lull him.

  When his stomach rumbled slightly in protest, he shook off the drowsiness and, without hesitatio his gaze on the apple resting on the small table o the bed.

  The red fruit, shiny and inviting, seemed to almost glow in the dim light.

  ‘One won’t be enough…’ Mirac thought, sidering the situation with a mouthwatering feeling.

  So, he decided to use his “Multiplicative Touch” ability to triple the apple.

  ‘Multiply by three…’ he thought, as he gently touched the apple with a finger.

  Immediately, the vision of the starry sky materialized, and among the steltions, a floatiion appeared: a simple calcution that Mirac solved with ease, almost as if it were a game.

  As soon as the operation was pleted, the vision withdrew, and the apple began to vibrate slightly, as if it were animated by an invisible energy.

  Then, in an instant, it multiplied: from one apple, three identical ones appeared.

  Mirac grabbed the first apple and, without a sed thought, begaing. The sweet and juicy taste immediately delighted him.

  “Delicious!” he excimed softly, smiliween bites.

  Before he k, he had devoured all three apples.

  After finishing his meal, Mirac closed his eyes and summohe vision of the starry sky, apanied by the “Immaterial Clock,” the ethereal clock that floated among the stars.

  The white hands moved with millimetric precision, indig the exact time.

  “It’s about 4 PM,” he murmured, the dial closely. “I’d better head to the training field.”

  With that in mind, Mirac opened his eyes to dismiss the vision, rose from the bed with a fluid motion, ahe room.

  * * *

  The sun domihe blue sky, while wandering clouds cast soft shadows on the ground.

  As every afternoon, Grand Knight Leonard followed the path that led him to the training area.

  With a determiep, he turned left and, from a distance, spotted a familiar figure standing in front of the training field entrance.

  “I ’t believe it!” Leonard excimed, in a low voice.

  But he had no doubt: it was him!

  At first, Leonard stood surprised, unsure how to react.

  However, that momentary hesitation quickly vanished, repced by a wave of enthusiasm and nostalgia.

  “Master!” Leonard called out loudly, his voice full of emotion as he quied his pace, almost running towards him.

  The man turned around, and a warm smile appeared on his face.

  “Oh! Here you are, Leonard!” he replied, his voice warm and slightly hoarse.

  Even from that distance, Leonard had reized him immediately: he was the man he had once admired and followed with respect.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. But what are you doing here, Master?” Leonard asked, as he reached him.

  The elderly man smiled, a nostalgic expression that seemed to carry both of them ba time.

  “Nothing special. I just wao e say hello and see how much you’ve grown.”

  Leonard returhe smile, a mix of gratitude and mencholy in his eyes.

  “You did well, Master,” he replied, his tone full of resped affe.

  However, before they could add anything else, the elderly man’s expression suddenly stiffened.

  “Hmm?!”

  A sudden shiver ran through him from head to toe.

  Instinctively, he turned quickly behind him.

  ‘Where is all this Mana ing from?!’ he thought, feeling a powerful magical energy approag.

  His gaze nded on a young boy walking towards them.

  He looked no older than fifteen, but his height and muscur build were impressive for his age.

  However, what struck the elderly man the most wasn’t his physical appearance, or the fact that he was missing an arm, but rather the amount of Mana flowing through that young body.

  ‘Incredible!’ he thought, almost with his mouth agape. ‘He has more than double the Mana of an average person. And at his age? This is absurd!’

  Leonard, reizing the boy approag, broke the silence:

  “Oh, young Prince!” he excimed, bowing respectfully. “As always, you’re right on time.”

  The man widened his eyes slightly.

  ‘Young Prince? So, it’s him? The Prind future ruler of Ardorya?’

  Without hesitation, the man bowed as well as Mirac approached.

  When the boy reached them, he raised a hand in a simple but firm gesture, inviting them to rise.

  “Good afternoon, Master,” said Mirac, addressing Leonard with a measured and respectful tone.

  Then his gaze shifted slightly to the left, lingering on the mao him.

  The elderly man’s physique was surprisingly robust for his advanced age, which Mirac’s “Instant Knowledge of Age” ability revealed to be 82 years.

  He had snow-white hair and dark eyes, as deep as ink wells. A short white beard framed his time-worn face, yet it cked the typical deep wrinkles of old age. His skin, though weathered, didn’t appear worn-out but instead smooth, honed by years of discipline and rigor.

  He wore a uniform simir to Leonard’s, bd red, although it was less decorated and cked many of the golden medals that adorhe Grand Knight’s chest.

  Despite the years, the man still exuded an aura of strength and wisdom—a presence Mirac had noticed even from afar, before reag them, as if the very air bent around his figure.

  “Good afternoon to you as well, uhm…” Mirac begaating for a moment.

  Without wasting any time, the man took the initiative and introduced himself with a slight bow, his gesture fluid and precise:

  “Good afternoon, young Prince. My name is Gee Rassing. It is an honor to meet you.”

  “Oh!” Mirac started, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Gee Rassing, you said? The author of ‘The Art of War and the Ethics of Peace’, am I right?”

  Actually, he didn’t need firmation.

  Mirac was more thaain that the man before him was the renowned author of numerous treatises on war and the philosophy of bat—texts he had studied passionately since childhood uhe guidance of the fake Professor Shirkenn.

  “Yes, exactly,” Gee replied, nodding with a proud smile, his dark eyes shining with deep satisfa. “Knowing that the young Prince is familiar with my name fills my heart with joy.”

  At this point, Leonard joihe versation, eager to further praise the man:

  “Perhaps you don’t know this, young Prince, but General Rassing was also my swordsmanship master when I was still a child! Just as he was for your father!”

  “R-Really?” Mirac asked in surprise, his gaze boung betweewo men.

  In fact, he knew Gee Rassing only as the general of King Arthur’s Third Army—a military legend. But he had never expected that he had also been the former swordsmanship instructor of the current third and sed stro swordsmen in the world!

  “Well, sort of,” Gee crified modestly, shrugging slightly. “Grand Knight Leonard already had a natural talent for the sword. I merely taught him the basics, just as I did with His Majesty the King. Nothing more.”

  Mirac was fasated by this revetion.

  “Incredible!” he excimed, uo hide the admiration in his voice.

  Gee, however, did not seem ined to let the versation remain focused on him.

  After a small cough, he ged the subject:

  “Ahem, ahem! Anyway, I came to greet the Great Knight Leonard. I was told that his lesson with the young Prince would soon begin, so I was directed here.”

  He paused briefly, then added in a tohat carried a hint of curiosity:

  “If that’s the case, may I ask to stay and observe your training?”

  Leonard did not hesitate.

  “Of course! You’re wele to stay as long as you like. I don’t think there’s any problem with that. Am I right, young Prince?”

  Miraodded firmly, feeling almost honored by the request.

  “No problem,” he firmed.

  “Thank you,” Gee said, another small smile as his eyes rested on Mirac, as if trying to see beyond appearances.

  Without saying anything else, Leonard and Mirac headed toward the ter of the training field, while Gee positioned himself at the er of the wooden fence, ready to observe.

  As the master and the student began warming up their muscles with a series of stretg exercises, King Arthur—just as he did on the first day of every month—made his entrance.

  He advanced with a fident stride, his cloak billowing behind him, the weight of the imperceptible on his proud brow.

  Without paying any mind to the tere preparing, he walked naturally tee.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you, General Rassing,” said Arthur, shaking his hand—with what seemed to be a smile!

  King Arthur?

  Smiling?

  Mirac was taken aback.

  Sihe moment he had embraced his father, he hadn’t seen him smile again. For a moment, he stopped and simply watched from a distance as the king approached Gee.

  “The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty,” the general replied with a respectful nod.

  After exging pleasahe two began versing with the ease of men who had known each other for a long time.

  Meanwhile, Leonard and Miratiheir warm-up, their movements synized with steady breaths and the faint ch of gravel beh their feet.

  After a moment, Gee lowered his void spoke to the king in a thoughtful tone:

  “What do you think, my King?”

  Arthur raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question.

  “What are you referring to?”

  “Well, to Prince Mirac.” Gee’s tone was measured, almost cautious. “The amount of Mana he emits is nothing short of incredible, especially for someone his age!”

  For a brief moment, King Arthur did not respond.

  His gaze fell upon Mirac, meeting the intense green eyes of his son.

  The two locked eyes for several seds, a silence heavy with meaning passiween them.

  An unreadable expression flickered across the king’s face before he slowly closed his eyes, as if finishing a deep ption.

  “It is not enough…” he finally said, his voice so cold that it seemed to freeze the air around them.

  Gee stood frozen, almost shocked.

  He had never expected such a response.

  “I see…” he murmured at st, accepting the sn’s judgment without daring to tradict him.

  Meanwhile, Miraeeling to stretch his leg muscles, turned his gaze fain after the intense exge of gnces with his father had ended.

  He could still feel the weight of those eyes on him: cold, severe, as always.

  But he refused to let it break him.

  “I will not disappoint you, Father,” he whispered to himself, a determination burning in his chest.

  When he felt ready, he stood up calmly and walked towards the long wooden fence, where several oed ly in their rack.

  With a steady motion, Mirac selected a sword. The metal bde gleamed uhe sunlight as he returo his pce.

  Suddenly, an almost unreal silence fell over the training grounds.

  Only the wind dared to move, lifting light swirls of dust and brushing through the hair of those present.

  King Arthur and General Rassing were standing still in a er of the regur perimeter of the fence.

  The King, with his cloak gently swaying uhe breeze, had his arms crossed over his chest and a pierg gaze. The general, at his side, observed the se with a critical eye, ready to catch every detail.

  Mirad Leonard, oher hand, were at opposite sides of the field, distant from each other but united by an atmosphere thick with tension. Their bodies were rexed, yet ready t into a at any moment.

  The leaves of the nearby trees danced in the air, carried gently by the wind.

  Suddenly, one of them detached from the highest branch, swirling slowly before nding precisely between Mirad Leonard.

  It was a signal only the two of them could reize.

  Without a word, their hands tightened firmly around the hilts of their swords, fingers molding perfectly to the grip.

  Their eyes met.

  And in that instant, the battle began!

  AnnouSorry for this long chapter… :,)

  Of course, I hope it wasn’t a problem for any of you, and I hope you’ve ehe story so far!

  But if you’ve felt “bored” i feters, don’t worry: Peak Fi is ing, I promise!

  So please, if you’d like, support me by following the story and leaving a ent. It truly motivates me to write and improve!

  Thank you!! :D