The Ordinary Daily Life Before the Storm

Moonlight bathed his face—Black took a deep breath—blending into the surrounding darkness.
Back in his room—he locked the door—slid down against it, sitting on the floor.

Tense nerves finally relaxed—he exhaled deeply—removed his mask, tossing it aside.

“Huff…”

Heart still racing—but at least he survived.

Miscalculation…

Black never expected to meet White Dragon. If exposed—it’d be ten deaths with no escape.

Not even Flow State could save him.

White Dragon was a true Level 65 Top-Tier Assassin—completely incomparable to Level 10 Seth.

In his hands—Flow State? Just a faster fly.

Luckily—Black knew Council secrets too well.

Besides Purple Dragon himself—probably only Black understood him best.

Or rather—not just Purple Dragon—all Council members.

As a player—God’s perspective.

So—he dared infiltrate the cargo hold twice.

But no third time.

After this—the Council, even if stupid, would realize:
The one who stole the Dragonfang Blade and killed Yellow Dragon—wasn’t internal.
Was an outsider in disguise!

Fine by Black—his two goals were achieved—no need to repeat tricks.

“Who will they target first?”

Black frowned tightly—White Dragon’s words earlier heightened his crisis sense.

These young geniuses on the fleet—regardless of plot importance or combat power—

Just from conscience—if his actions led to Krystin, Alice, etc., being killed by the Council—

Black couldn’t accept it.

Except Seth.

But these Council members—elusive, disguised, hiding on the Hodir.

They could assassinate anyone—Black couldn’t predict.

Now—only hope these geniuses had many life-saving trump cards.

Setting that aside—another more important matter neared.

“It’s time to tighten nerves.”

Black stood—gazed through the window at the endless sea.

When moonlight was obscured by clouds—the sea turned pitch black—deep, terrifying.

Occasionally—unusual currents surged from distant darkness.

Maybe large whales moving.

Or perhaps… hiding some monstrous Sea Dragon.

They might already be watching the Royal Fleet from the dark.

Black felt inexplicably oppressed.

“Counting days—Caribbean Sea isn’t far.”
“Jörmungandr… I hope everything goes smoothly.”

With heavy thoughts—Black fell asleep.

****

Afterward—Black continued as royal guard.

But compared to before—his relationship with Alice improved greatly.

Not intimate—yet moved from master-servant toward friends.

During this—Black occasionally guided Alice’s swordsmanship.

Alice didn’t disappoint her teacher.

Lacking talent—compensated with diligence.

Perhaps seeing a path to growth—she practiced extremely hard.

Beyond forgetting meals and sleep—almost burning her life.

Black admired her.

Compared to “genius girls”—he preferred clumsy but hardworking ones.

With such diligent practice—Alice’s spirit energy use constantly improved—her strikes increasingly sharp.

Spirit energy overflow nearly vanished.

Power increased by over 20%.

For such hardcore students—often just wrong methods.
Show them the right path—they grow fast.

Alice was a classic example.

Noon—Hodir training ground.

Whoosh!

Usual sword sounds.

Alice’s face glistened with sweat—drops falling to the ground.

She didn’t feel tired—eyes bright—focused on marks on the dummy.

These days—marks on the dummy grew deeper.

Progress excited Alice.

“Haah.”

Black yawned—leaning against the wall—dark circles under eyes—boredly watching the girl.

Does this villainess have infinite energy?

Black truly admired her.

This morning at 4 AM—this princess, ignoring gender norms—came to his room.
Woke him—sleeping like a dead pig—saying she hit a swordsmanship bottleneck—insisted he guide her.

After Black guiding her—

Alice practiced from 4 AM to noon—except for drinking water, changing swords—Black never saw her stop.

A true sword maniac.

“Haah.”

The Imperial Winged Dragon on his shoulder mimicked his yawn.

“Hey—you little goldie—what’re you yawning for? You slept till sun hits your butt—no yawning allowed!”

Black grabbed the hatchling’s tail—tugged.

“Goldie” was Black’s nickname—from its golden-shining scales.

But the little one clearly disliked it.

From spirit link emotions—Black felt it thought the name was too cheap.
Didn’t suit its majestic emperor looks or most noble Winged Dragon status.

But Black didn’t care—who else has an emperor dragon pooping on a beauty’s head?

Insist on calling you Goldie.

“Chirp chirp!”

The hatchling flapped wings—protested with “chirps”, tail swinging—like objecting to this down-to-earth name.

Feeling their noise—Alice stopped her sword—amusedly watching.

Lips involuntarily curved—faint smile.

Though just ordinary daily life—it strangely softened her heart.

She couldn’t describe the feeling.

Only felt—after walking alone in snowstorm for years—a boy suddenly appeared, holding a warm lantern—smiling, asking: “Can we walk together?”

Loneliness of ten years remained—but no longer heavy.

Goldie sensed her gaze—tilted head—golden pupils blinking.

Suddenly broke free—flapped wings toward her.

“Hey! Ungrateful little thing!”

Black shouted behind.

Alice instinctively reached out—the hatchling landed lightly on her palm—affectionately nuzzling her fingers.

Warm.

She suddenly realized—she hadn’t been so relaxed in a long time.

Before—her world only held sword, duty, and that back always out of reach.

But now…