Albert clutched the wooden boat with one hand while gripping Percy tightly with the other.

Raging waves crashed over him repeatedly, relentless and fierce. Yet through the storm, Albert could already see distant lights—kerosene lamps clustered together as guiding beacons. His contacts waited ashore for his return.

This plan had taken years to prepare. Every detail, even this storm-tested boat, had been meticulously arranged.

But the cost... was staggering. Nearly all his companions who entered the capital with him remained trapped there, their fates unknown. And his sister—she might have paid the ultimate price.

*The Black Knight.*

Could Trena defeat that man? Albion’s legendary hero? If she survived, Albert knew she had the strength to escape the capital alone.

Albert gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus. *This isn’t the time.* He understood Trena. She’d rather hang than abandon the vengeance that had consumed her since the day her mother’s blood rained down upon her. Hatred had hollowed her out—more desperate, more fevered than anyone he knew.

In Albert’s grasp lay signed confessions from key figures behind the plague scheme. With Percy beside him, those documents could shatter Albion’s centuries-old regime overnight once read aloud in foreign courts.

Something felt wrong. Though battered by the storm, Albert knew Albion’s summer gales always blew predictably. He’d spotted the shore lights long ago—yet the distance never closed.

A massive wave slammed over him.

Caught off guard, he lost his grip on Percy underwater. Only his death grip on the boat saved him; its buoyancy dragged him back to the surface.

*Cursed luck!* Albert scanned the churning darkness, eyes stinging from saltwater. He couldn’t dive in—not here. Only frantic searching from the surface.

Nothing but black waves answered him.

A sudden, unnatural cold pierced his bones. Rain still fell, but this was midsummer—why did his breath fog in the air? Why did frost seem to seep through every pore?

When he blinked, even the shore lights had vanished.

...

A figure walked on the sea. A small silhouette approached him steadily across the waves.

*Hallucination?* Albert rubbed his eyes hard.

She moved as if on solid ground, untouched by the surging water.

Only when she stood before him did reality sink in.

Golden hair whipped wildly by the storm. A threadbare dress patched with faded cloth.

"You..." Albert choked on the word.

"Hello, Albert," Aisha said flatly.

He finally saw it: thick ice spread beneath her feet, tracing her path across the waves.

"Looking for him?" She tilted her head.

Albert’s gaze snapped to where she pointed. Percy Pendragon lay motionless on a slab of ice.

"The waves were too loud," Aisha remarked, her tone edged with familiar arrogance. "They bothered my hearing."

Her lips began moving rapidly—silent, ancient words. Pale blue light flared in her pupils. A glowing sigil materialized above her head.

*Old Tongue chanting...*

The sea stilled. A sharp *crackling* filled the air.

Within moments, the entire ocean froze. Towering waves solidified into jagged ice spires.

*A mage? This child?*

"N-no. Impossible!" Albert stared, numb. "You’re too young to wield power like this!"

"Hmm?" Aisha tilted her head. "High-level calculations *are* beyond my current capacity. But—"

Albert forced slow breaths into his lungs.

"This sea was warded long ago," Aisha continued, rainwater dripping from her tangled bangs. "I merely borrowed its magic."

*Absurd!* Albert had traveled kingdoms. He knew破解 another’s sigil magic required theoretical mastery he’d never achieved—not when his own magic could barely summon a palm-sized flame. This... this was cataclysm.

"Trena is dead," Aisha added casually.

"What—" Albert’s face drained of color.

"You’re the last one."

*Dead?* His sister. Trena.

His lips trembled. Grief, despair, terror—all twisted together in an instant.

Then, staring at Aisha, true horror dawned.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"You... I remember now." Albert slumped onto the ice, defeated. "How foolish. I saw you years ago. In Nellos."

"I see."

"Golden hair. A face that never ages." He paused. "I never imagined you’d side with Boka."

"I came for him," Aisha said evenly. "I don’t meddle otherwise."

"Everyone believes you’re dead."

"Almost was."

"Will you kill me?"

Aisha studied him silently.

"No," she said finally. "He doesn’t wish for more bloodshed."

"Then—"

"But I can’t let you go."

...

Blue light flared in her eyes again. Ancient words rose above the storm’s roar.

Beneath Albert, the ice cracked open. Black water surged upward, swallowing his legs, his waist—freezing solid around him.

"The prophesied princess..." he gasped.

"A trench lies beneath these waters," Aisha said. "Deep enough to hold you."

Frozen waves converged, compressing around Albert, sealing him inside a massive ice block as it sank.

"I have nothing to protect," she murmured. "But if he does... then I suppose I do too."

The sea closed over the ice.

Alone on the frozen waves, a small figure stood unmoved by the storm.