The raging soul of the bull, cleansed by the queen’s divine purification, ultimately met its fate as ingredients for a steaming beef hotpot.

Of course, considering the sheer volume of the several tons of meat, even if Leon’s family of five ate to their hearts’ content, they could never finish it all.

Leon initially suggested that Roswitha transform into her dragon form to devour it all—a solution that would surely work.

He was promptly silenced with a flick of the queen’s tail.

In the end, they decided to invite the maids and some guards to join in the feast and savor this unexpected delicacy together.

Everyone gathered in the courtyard, eating hotpot, singing songs, lighting a bonfire, and rhythmically clapping their hands.

Roswitha, having expended significant energy during the afternoon’s training, refrained from drinking much alcohol during the feast. After eating a bit, she found a grassy spot to sit down and rest.

The cool evening breeze tousled the silvery fringe of her hair, revealing her smooth, jade-like forehead.

Her exquisitely beautiful face resembled a meticulously carved work of art, her lashes distinct and long, her petite nose refined, and her slightly drooping eyes carrying a trace of fatigue.

It was precisely this aura of weariness that enhanced her allure, radiating a mature and languid charm.

Steady footsteps approached and eventually stopped by her side.

Leon glanced at the glass of orange juice in her hand and remarked, "Your Majesty seems rather disinterested tonight."

"Hm? Why do you say that?"

"You haven’t had any alcohol."

Roswitha paused, then chuckled faintly. "I’m tired. I don’t feel like drinking."

Leon bent down and took a seat beside her.

Of course, she would be tired.

Ever since retrieving the martial manuscript *Soul Judgment* from Leon's mentor, Roswitha had been training tirelessly and relentlessly.

Leon understood the reason for her urgent drive to grow stronger.

Having endured so many unexpected trials and dangers, Roswitha had come to realize the shifting tides of the world. Without immediate action, it was only a matter of time before they were consumed by the torrents of change.

Overtraining had left her physically drained. But Leon knew this wasn’t the only reason for her current lack of vitality.

There was something else on her mind...

"Still thinking about what happened this afternoon?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your first use of *Soul Judgment* didn’t seem as effective on that moronic bull—or, to put it more precisely, didn’t seem effective on the surface."

Roswitha pouted, leaning sideways to gently bump Leon’s shoulder. "If you know that, why say it out loud? I’m still your nominal wife, you know. Can’t you save my face?"

Leon chuckled but quickly grew serious. "Whether it saves face or not isn’t the point. Think carefully about what I just said."

Roswitha raised her elegantly shaped eyebrows, replaying Leon’s words in her mind.

After a moment, she said, "You mentioned... it didn’t seem effective on the surface. Why emphasize the surface?"

"Because during the afternoon’s test with the angry bull, I caught a glimpse of how *Soul Judgment* actually functions," Leon explained.

"It’s fundamentally different from the magic we’re used to. Its effects are... somewhat ambiguous."

"Ambiguous?"

"Yes."

Leon continued, "Let me give you a simple example. Imagine your *Dragon Flame* deals 100 damage, and my *Void Shadow* blocks 90 of that damage. When you attack me with your *Dragon Flame,* the result would be 10 damage. But—"

"Wait a moment," Roswitha interrupted, raising a hand.

"What is it?"

Leon assumed she had stopped him because she had deduced where he was going.

But just as General Leon prepared to bask in her understanding with a gratified expression, Roswitha retorted:

"Why would my attack only deal 10 damage to you? What am I doing? Giving you a little scratch?"

"...It’s just an example, no need to be so literal."

Leon muttered under his breath, "If we’re being literal, your attack wouldn’t even deal 10—Hey, don’t pinch me! I surrender!"

Roswitha released his waist, squinting her eyes with a dangerous glint. "Remember this, Casmode. Beyond magic, I have plenty of ways to inflict physical damage far exceeding 10 on you."

"Mm-hmm, Your Majesty is mighty, the mightiest of all. Let’s get back to the point."

Roswitha nodded, turning her focus back to the discussion.

"Simply put, the magic we’re familiar with—whether offensive or defensive—can generally be explained using basic numerical values. Of course, real combat scenarios are far more complex, but that’s outside our current topic."

Leon said, "Primordial Magic, however, specifically *Soul Judgment,* doesn’t adhere to those straightforward explanations. The book mentions that the efficacy of *Soul Judgment* is tied to the intensity of the target’s emotions."

"That bull accidentally wandered into your territory, then got captured by me and tied to a post—it must’ve been seething with rage."

"You saw it yourself. Initially, it was yelling and roaring at you insolently, but after you used *Soul Judgment* on it for the first time, its anger visibly diminished."

Roswitha’s eyes flickered with thought before she added, "True... But then it started mocking me."

Leon snorted. "That’s an afterthought. Didn’t you later scare it into submission in your dragon form?"

"Hm... You briefly explained this to me earlier today. I wasn’t paying much attention," Roswitha admitted. "So... would you say its shift in behavior wasn’t caused by me scaring it?"

"I’m sure of it. Its emotions had already begun to shift before you transformed."

Leon shrugged. "So your training was effective. It’s just that you need to evaluate the results through the framework of *Primordial Magic,* not through the lens of ordinary spells."

After Roswitha hearing Leon’s analysis, her mood noticeably brightened.

She was convinced that Leon wasn’t merely trying to cheer her up by spinning a convenient theory. When it came to magic, Leon was a serious scholar—never the type to joke or make things up.

He certainly wouldn’t fabricate something so elaborate just to please his wife.

After all, he understood extremely well that on the continent of Samael, survival depended on magic—on power.

And in matters of power, there was no room for half-heartedness.

When teaching Noa magic, Leon had been this steadfast.

When serving as Roswitha’s sparring partner now, he was even more so.

"Alright, I get it."

Her tone now carried a distinct note of cheerfulness.

Leon felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"Happier now?" he asked.

"Not particularly," Roswitha replied, though her suppressed smile betrayed her sentiment as she gazed at the bonfire in the courtyard.

"If you’re in a better mood, shouldn’t you reward me a little?"

"Hm, maybe I’ll prepare you a freshly drawn basin of foot-washing water later tonight."

"...That’s definitely not the reward I had in mind."

Roswitha turned ever so slightly, a playful smile curving her lips. "Then... what kind of reward do you have in mind?"

The couple’s gazes locked: his dark eyes meeting her silvery ones.

The crackle of burning logs punctuated the intimate quiet, tiny sparks occasionally leaping into the air. Their eyes dueled silently in the firelight, neither willing to look away.

The night breeze, like a tipsy spirit, intoxicated them.

Slowly, they leaned toward each other’s lips. Her breath carried the faint, refreshing aroma of orange soda.

“Mom! Dad!”

A child’s innocent voice shattered the tender atmosphere.

Roswitha flinched slightly, pulling away hastily.

Leon, too, paused.

But then the realization struck him:

Wait a minute!

Why is it that every single time we reach a critical moment, something interrupts us?

No.

Not this time.

As if channeling the resolve of a general, Leon lunged forward, placing a hand on Roswitha’s neck and catching her lips in a deep kiss.

Roswitha was utterly caught off guard. It wasn’t until their lips met that she finally registered what had happened.

Their lips pressed firmly together, and despite the risk of their daughters walking in on the scene, they relished the thrilling, heart-pounding moment.

Luckily, the couple managed to part just before the children arrived.

Embarrassed, Roswitha turned red as she wiped the corner of her mouth and threw Leon a glance, whispering, "You’ve got some nerve."

"As the saying goes, fortune favors the bold. Look, even queens get maternity leave."

"Shut up!"

"Dad! Mom!"

Muen and Aurora eagerly dove into their father’s and mother’s arms respectively.

Noa, ever the composed elder sister, sat obediently between her parents, crossing her legs like a little grown-up.

The family of five sat together on the grass, enjoying a rare weekend together.

Muen excitedly recounted all the new knowledge and magic she had learned over the week,

while Aurora eagerly shared all the funny and interesting things she had come across.

When it was Noa’s turn, she surprised them with her announcement—though they probably should have expected it:

"The Hatchling Academy is organizing a play competition, and I signed up!"

Leon nodded encouragingly. "That’s great. Is it an original script or something else?"

"Of course it’s an original!" Noa said with pride. "The script was written by Helena, and I’m in charge of casting the actors."

Leon blinked in surprise.

He glanced at Muen, as well as Aurora in Roswitha's arms. Judging by their calm expressions, it was clear that they’d already been “pre-cast” by Noa.

"Muen and Aurora are joining, but we still need two more actors."

Noa’s adorable eyes sparkled as she gazed up at them. "Daddy, Mommy, won’t you join us?"

Leon pressed his lips together, momentarily speechless, before looking over at Roswitha.

Roswitha seemed equally hesitant.

Truth be told, the couple had a small traumatic history with theater.

They still remembered their very first date in Sky City, one of the activities being a play.

By the end of the performance, the mischievous host had somehow singled them out, dragging them onstage to reenact an iconic marriage proposal scene.

It had been utterly mortifying for both Leon and Roswitha.

They thought they’d never have to endure anything like that again. But fate, relentless as the turning wheel of a cart, had other plans in store!

"Ah..."

In order not to dampen his daughter's enthusiasm, Leon decided to ask first what kind of script it was. "What's the general plot like?"

"Oh, oh, it's like this."

Noa began reciting very seriously,

"A brave and battle-hardened knight is betrayed by a villain and falls into the enemy's camp. However, by chance, he encounters the princess of the enemy faction, and they fall in love at first sight—"

"Alright, I get it. You don't need to say more." Leon covered his face with his hand.

Noa tilted her head. "This is an original script we made, Dad. You already know how the story continues?"

Oh, sweetheart, if you hadn’t said it was your original script, Dad might’ve thought you were writing his autobiography!

"In the end, the princess of the enemy faction falls into a coma, and the knight revives her with a kiss of true love!"

Muen chimed in to complete her sister's description.

The corner of Leon's eyes twitched slightly. "There's even... a kissing scene?"

"Of course~ Muen thinks the two roles are perfect for you and Mom~ Right, Aurora?"

Aurora: ✪ω✪!

Of course, Big Sis!

Why do you think I agreed to take part in this play in the first place?

Isn't it all so I could enjoy the spectacle of watching this up close on stage!?

Leon scratched his temple, looking a bit uncertain.

Roswitha looked equally hesitant.

The embarrassment from the last graduation ceremony still lingered like a shadow. And now here was another play...

Are we just going to show our love right in the middle of the academy?

Noticing her parents' reactions, Noa seemed to realize something.

She blinked and collected her smile, lowering her voice. "If you and Mom are unwilling, that's okay. I’ll find someone else."

"Noa..."

"Eh, it was hard enough convincing Aunt Claudia to agree to join..."

Leon & Roswitha: ?

The couple exchanged glances.

At that moment, one phrase simultaneously echoed across their shared "team chat":

"Well, now there’s no way to turn this down, is there?"