"Ah, you're back, Oren."

After Oren returned to the restaurant, Dysaia looked at him and murmured softly. Hearing her words, Oren gave an awkward smile and slowly sat down in his chair. At that moment, he noticed the main course already served on the table—a plate of Alliance-style crispy roast meat. The tender, fatty cuts were golden-brown and crisp, glistening with rich juices under the candlelight, their savory aroma wafting through the air.

"Please sit, Lord Oren," Rohana said politely. Oren nodded slightly to her and took the seat opposite. Just then, a waiter brought out a bottle of red wine. After filling everyone's glasses, Rohana slowly raised her glass with a smile.

"Though there was an unexpected incident, I still welcome all of you." She swirled her glass gently. "To our health."

"To our health."

After the toast, everyone lightly clinked their glasses in the air. Oren finished his wine, then picked up his knife and fork to slowly cut into the beef on his plate. Dysaia elegantly set her glass down and turned to Rohana. "So, Your Highness. May I ask why you wish to join our team for the Mage Tournament?"

"Ah, yes..." Rohana thoughtfully moved her utensils after hearing Dysaia. After a pause, she looked at Dysaia and spoke softly. "Actually, Miss Dysaia, I know about my father's plan."

"Mm, of course."

*We were also ordered to protect you,* Oren thought inwardly as he swallowed a bite of meat. But right after that thought, Rohana gave an awkward smile, set her utensils aside, and murmured, "I know you've been tasked with protecting me. But from my perspective, I want to contribute to my father's plan too."

"Mm... may I ask what kind of contribution Your Highness intends to make for the Duke?"

"It's nothing major." As she spoke, Rohana's expression grew solemn. Just as Oren sensed something was off, she added quietly, "I just don't want to burden my father. If I go to the Alliance like this, they'll treat me as a mere hostage. When my father starts his plan, I'll become a stumbling block—and trouble for all of you."

Oren frowned after hearing her words. The situation truly wasn't ideal; her tone suggested she might do something reckless. But before he could dwell on it, Rohana continued, "So I believe I need to go to the Alliance at least as a contestant. That way, I won't trouble my father. Staying with all of you saves your energy, and when things begin, I can support my father alongside you."

*Though we weren't assigned an assassination mission,* Oren muttered silently in his mind. Living with Dysaia so long, he now saw himself as strictly neutral in this war between the Alliance and the Duchy. Dysaia then spoke softly, "We'll do our best, but we must consider our position."

"Mm, I understand perfectly." Rohana chewed over Dysaia's words quietly. Whether she grasped the meaning but ignored it, or simply didn't understand, she picked up her utensils again and said slowly, "We'll all do our best. I believe this trip to the Alliance will end successfully."

"Mm, I believe so too." Dysaia smiled, raised her glass, and gently clinked it with Rohana's. They then chatted casually about the Duchy and the Alliance.

Oren, Yamwen, and Lontan, however, said little. Their social skills were lacking—Lontan included. The three quietly discussed classroom matters below, and the meal ended quickly.

"Once we finalize the departure date, we'll inform Your Highness. We're honored to fight alongside you," Dysaia said softly at the door after dinner. Rohana bowed slightly to her with a smile. "The honor is mine, Princess Silver Dragon. And I'm truly glad you agreed to my selfish request."

After Rohana finished speaking, Oren saw Ellen slowly approach them—she seemed ready to escort the princess. Spotting Ellen, Rohana waved to Oren and smiled. "I'll take my leave now. We'll meet again soon, I think."

"Mm." Oren bowed slightly to her. Rohana then left the restaurant's main entrance under Ellen's escort. Watching her go, Oren took a deep breath and turned to Dysaia. "Looks like we've snagged another troublesome matter."

"Well, don't put it that way," Dysaia replied with a bitter smile after hearing him. "But as she said, if she travels with us, it'll be convenient for us too." She then turned to Yamwen beside her, looking awkward. "If this displeases you and Yamwen, I sincerely apologize."

Yamwen said nothing. She slowly raised her hand, and a red, teardrop-shaped magic rune appeared on her palm. Oren was puzzled, but Dysaia frowned. "What is that?"

Seeing their serious expressions, Oren glanced at Lontan beside him. Lontan stared at Yamwen's rune and murmured, "It's a distress rune used among Kante Elves. It means a nearby elf is in mortal danger."

*Seriously? What timing.* As Oren's嘴角 twitched with that thought, Yamwen suddenly pointed to a left alleyway and whispered urgently.

She sprinted into the alley. Oren, Dysaia, and the others quickly followed. Inside, Oren saw a hooded figure in black, covered in blood, crouched on the ground. The same teardrop rune glowed on their hand.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Yamwen rushed to the injured person. As she helped them up, Oren saw their face—a stunningly beautiful one by Elvenfolk standards, though he couldn't tell if they were male or female. Before Oren could ponder further, Yamwen whispered, "You're... Hilwen Sunrest."

*Hilwen?* Oren recalled Yamwen mentioning the second prince of the Kante Elves. But at that moment, Hilwen lunged forward, gripping Yamwen's arm fiercely.

"Leave this place, kin!" The voice was raw and desperate, as if they cared nothing for their own life—only to deliver this warning.

"The Hammer of Humanity is here!"