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nIn the study of Ansel, numerous maidservants were diligently packing his luggage.

n“Saville.” Ansel, having reviewed the final document of the day, stretched his weary limbs. “How are the two Barons?”

n“It is precisely that which I wished to report, young lord.”

nSaville offered a slight bow. “The Baron of Iceberg and the Baron of Howling Wind, they both display a certain level of anxiety, especially the Baron of Iceberg, who fears he might not be able to await your arrival.”

n“…Indeed?”

nAnsel leaned back against his chair, gently tapping his desk with his forefinger. “When did this happen?”

n“Half an hour ago, it was conveyed through your private communication channel.”

nThe elder spoke softly: “You were dealing with the affairs of the Red Frost territory at the time, so I responded on your behalf.”

n“Unable to await my arrival…” Ansel repeated Saville’s words in a soft murmur, unable to suppress a chuckle. “The world is truly absurd, isn’t it, Saville?”

n“While they dread death at the hands of others, they yearn for the one I bring.”

n“Because you are merciful,” Saville replied calmly, his voice firm.

nAs if the notion of a “merciful death” was a perfectly logical idea in his perspective.

n“If that’s the case,” Ansel gripped his snake-headed scepter and rose, heading towards the balcony.

nThe young noble, whose reputation in the Red Frost territory had ascended to a baffling height, chuckled lightly, “Well, I can’t keep them waiting. Failing to keep one’s promises is a grave dishonor for the House of Hydral.”

n.

nStanding on the balcony, Ansel surveyed the orderly piles of gifts from the commoners of Red Frost City in the courtyard.

nEvery day, commoners would bring items from their homes, and Ansel would randomly select a few to accept, returning equally valued trinkets a few days later. If the gifts were innocent offerings from children, he would take them all and make a thoughtful response.

nSince he was seven, Ansel had been practicing this ritual in the lands of Hydral, happily allowing the commoners with limited access to information to perceive Ansel of Hydral as a kind and benevolent person. Whether it was for show or to garner public affection, he had been consistent for nine years, without any pretense.

nThe young Hydral not only reveled in the fear and awe he inspired in others, but also warmly welcomed fervent and sincere admiration. As he had once told the Count of Red Frost: a villain who can’t even earn affection is hardly worthy of being called a villain.

n“Meli, inform Seraphina to prepare for departure… Oh, and summon Marlina for me.”

n“As you command, Master.”

nThe maidservant in the study offered a slight bow and gracefully set off to fulfill Ansel’s orders.

nDuring this brief waiting period, Ansel, stroking his snake-headed scepter, was lost in thought.

nHe did not possess Seraphina’s terrifyingly uncanny intuition, but his vast memory library offered him a wealth of knowledge from another world, far ahead of this era – knowledge in various fields.

nThis accumulation of “experience” proved far more reliable and useful than Seraphina’s yet immature intuition.

n“Death… is it? Are you genuinely revealing your fear to me, or are you attempting to cover your tracks as you plan your escape, Baron of Iceberg?”

nThe mere thought of the intricate plots behind this journey brought a slow smile to Ansel’s lips.

nTo him, these conspiracies were like poorly wound balls of yarn in a child’s hands. The technique was clumsy, and the material of the threads was inferior. Unraveling them required little thought, just a simple tear, nothing simpler.

nBut… for his Seraphina, chaos was the most nourishing of meals. He hadn’t expected the opportunity for her first growth spurt to arrive so swiftly.

nAnsel had no interest in a spoon-feeded Sky Wolf Emperor. If he was to feed Seraphina up, why would he go through all the trouble of trying to tame the restless young wolf?

n“How fares our Miss Seraphina, Saville?” inquired Ansel.

n“…She…” Saville, typically resolute and decisive, showed an uncharacteristic hesitation.

n“Her circumstances are somewhat peculiar, young lord. I have never seen a Crystal Staircase like hers.” 𝘪𝘳.𝒸𝘰𝑚

nThe extraordinary beings who tread the Heavenly Road lack the ability to independently absorb transcendental elements before reaching the throne of the third stage.

nThe Keystone of the first stage and the Crystal Staircase of the second stage require specialized rituals and an array of tools to utilize and absorb transcendental materials.

nPrecisely because of this, the hierarchy of the empire is as stable as an unmelting iceberg at the pole.

nOf course, the Heavenly Road isn’t the only path to transcendence. Otherwise, the empire wouldn’t harbor so many rebels, both overt and covert. It’s just that the other path may come at a greater cost.

nAs for Seraphina’s Crystal Staircase…

n“She withdrew from the Frost Tower at the age of twelve, and four years have passed since then.”

nSaville furrowed his brow.

n“In these four years, Miss Seraphina has not absorbed any transcendental elements. She should have fallen from the Crystal Staircase to the Keystone long ago, but from my observations over the past few days… the reality is quite the opposite.”

n“Not only has she not fallen to the Keystone, the solidity of her Crystal Staircase is unheard of.” Saville turned to Ansel, who was smiling.

nKnowing that his master was not surprised, he had no further doubts about Seraphina’s oddity. “Although her physical specialization is ordinary, no… one can’t say ordinary for such extreme physical specialization. But speaking only in terms of the Crystal Staircase, she indeed merits the title of a prodigy.”

nTo someone of Saville’s caliber, a “prodigy” was not merely someone with so-called “exceptional” abilities. It referred to an individual with a quality so extraordinary and suffocating that it trivialized concepts like “effort,” “sweat,” and “dreams,” reducing them to meaningless dust.

nThe prodigy he spoke of was an undeniable, absolute prodigy.

nAnsel merely chuckled at this, not saying much. If battle prowess was the sole criterion, Seraphina was undoubtedly the strongest among the four heroes. Her talent on the path to transcendence was merely one of the countless glories awaiting her in the future.

nThe more he thought about it, the more elated Ansel became.

n.

n“Master,” a knock on the door was followed by Mel’s voice from outside the room. “Miss Marlina and Miss Seraphina have arrived.”

n“Come in.”

nAnsel did not return to his desk but sat directly on the balcony, watching the sisters approach, each with their own grace—one reserved and deferential, the other nonchalant and carefree.

nMarlina was dressed in clothing chosen by Seraphina—or more accurately, Eula Leclerc. She wore a simple and elegant pale blue dress, layered with a wool vest. This outfit added a touch of fashionable flair to the lovely country girl while preserving her innocent sweetness.

nThe girl with her snowy hair braided into a large twist curtsied to Ansel, lifting her dress. With Meli’s guidance, Marlina’s etiquette had become very standard, a model of ladylike decorum compared to her sister.

n“Lord Hydral, what might you require of me?”

nMarlina’s voice was soft, her demeanor dignified, and her expression calm.

nYet beneath her composed exterior was a heart that could hardly contain its excitement.

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