Weapon seller in the world of magic

At around three in the morning, while the city slept under dim lantern light and distant patrol routes, Noah slipped out of the Imperial City, his movements precise, silent, blending into shadows, avoiding watchful eyes, bypassing guarded paths, moving with a purpose that did not allow hesitation.

His destination was the Desmont Mountains.

His mission was simple in words.

Complicated in execution.

Deliver part of the order.

Train them.

Prepare them.

At the edge of the forest, where the trees grew thick and the air carried the scent of damp soil and wild growth, a guide waited, his posture tense, his eyes alert, because even though Icarus had strengthened his connection with Kiara, trust did not come easily in their world, and the guide had clear instructions not to reveal the main hideout where families resided.

Instead, Noah was led to a secondary location, a hidden area where only a few teams stayed, chosen specifically for training, where the terrain allowed movement of heavy equipment like Panzers, where mistakes would not immediately expose them, where learning could happen under controlled risk.

*

Back at the store, the day began as usual.

Seven in the morning.

Doors opened.

Light streamed in.

But the balance inside had shifted.

Zion was absent, engaged in a sparring session with Lucian Storm while Noah remained in the mountains, and Alucard, unexpectedly, was on leave, despite his usual eagerness to work even on rest days.

That left Kiara alone.

Not entirely.

But enough.

The assistant robots handled customers efficiently, their voices steady, their responses precise, their presence both fascinating and unsettling to new visitors, who circled them, questioned them, tested their limits, trying to break through the illusion of intelligence only to find structured boundaries they could not cross.

Some asked if they could purchase one.

Others tried to guess their origin.

All were refused.

Politely.

Firmly.

And no one dared to push further.

Kiara’s reputation had grown.

Enough to make people cautious.

Enough to make them obey.

*

By the time the clock approached ten in the morning, the street outside had grown lively, filled with food stalls, voices, movement, and the scent of cooked meals drifting through the air. Suddenly, a luxurious carriage entered the narrow path, its two pure white horses stepping with controlled grace, while nearly twenty soldiers surrounded it, their armor gleaming, their formation tight.

The phoenix crest.

Clear.

Undeniable.

Not a minister.

Not an official.

It’s royalty.

The carriage stopped.

The door opened.

And Queen Consort Callista Frost stepped down, her presence composed, elegant, controlled, followed by her daughter, Princess Serestia Phoenix, whose expression revealed discomfort the moment her feet touched the ground, her gaze shifting, her posture stiff, as if she did not belong here.

”Is this really necessary?” Serestia asked quietly, her voice carrying restrained frustration as she looked at her mother. ”You are undermining your daughter’s talent.”

Callista’s expression hardened slightly.

”Do as you are told,” she replied, her tone firm, leaving no room for argument. ”If you cause trouble again, I will send you back to the academy.”

The words struck.

Serestia fell silent, her lips pressing together, her thoughts clearly resisting, but her body obeying. Because she knew the weight behind that warning, she knew that her earlier decision to lead soldiers into the dungeon and return alone had crossed a line even her father’s affection could not fully shield.

Callista, beneath her calm exterior, carried worry that did not fade easily, especially after hearing about the conflict between Kiara and House Drake, because from her perspective, Kiara did not know the truth about their blood relation. And if that was the case, then nothing restrained her actions, nothing softened her decisions, and that made her dangerous.

A danger a mother could not ignore.

And so, she came.

*

The moment they stepped inside the store, the atmosphere shifted.

Conversations slowed.

Eyes turned.

Even the assistant units paused briefly before resuming their programmed flow.

Kiara, standing behind the counter, noticed them instantly.

Her expression tightened for a fraction of a second.

”Why are they here...” she murmured under her breath, her thoughts moving quickly, searching for reasons, for intentions, for patterns that could explain their presence without the Emperor accompanying them.

Weapons?

Unlikely.

Testing?

Possible.

Or something else.

She could not tell.

But she did what she always did.

She controlled herself.

She put up her business smile.

”Welcome to Nexus Weapon Store,” she greeted, her tone smooth, neutral, professional. ”What are you looking for, Queen Consort Callista?”

Callista did not answer immediately.

Instead, she turned slightly toward her daughter.

”You must have met before,” she said. ”This is Serestia.”

”I know,” Kiara replied, nodding once, her gaze briefly resting on the girl. ”It is unusual to see an ice attribute in a family known for fire.”

”I inherited the ancient bloodline of Frost Dragon,” Serestia answered, her voice sharp, her discomfort blending with irritation, especially as the invisible pressure in the store suppressed her ether, making her feel constrained, weakened, out of place.

Kiara did not react.

She had expected worse.

But Callista did not ignore it.

Her hand moved swiftly, tapping lightly against Serestia’s head.

”Is this how you speak?” she said, her tone stern.

Serestia winced slightly, rubbing the spot, her expression turning into a small pout. ”Why does it hurt when you are just a mortal...” she muttered.

”Serestia.”

The warning was enough.

She straightened.

Turned to Kiara.

And then bowed slightly.

”I apologize.”

Kiara paused.

A brief, unexpected discomfort flickered across her face, as if she was not used to receiving apologies from people like her, as if something in that moment did not align with the image she had built in her mind.

”Ah... yes,” she replied, her voice quieter than before.

Then—

Something shifted.

A thought.

A doubt.

A small crack.

She activated her Sage Eyes.

Her gaze sharpened.

Focused.

And then—

She froze.

There was nothing.

No details.

No structure.

No readable information.

Only question marks.

[Ding! Please upgrade the system to improve Sage Eyes.]

Kiara’s expression changed slightly, her eyes narrowing just a fraction as the notification echoed in her mind.

Callista Frost

Race: ???

Rank: ???

Spirit Path: ???

Attribute: ???

Her gaze lingered on Queen Consort Callista Frost for a moment longer than necessary, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as the system’s limitation echoed faintly in her mind, refusing to give her even the smallest piece of concrete information.

Her thoughts moved quickly, piecing together fragments, discarding assumptions, testing possibilities, because if the system could not read someone, then either the system was weak or the person standing before her was not as simple as she appeared, and neither option brought comfort.

”Hidden strength...” Kiara thought quietly, her fingers resting lightly against the counter, her nails tapping once, a soft sound that barely reached the ears, yet it helped her anchor herself back into the present moment.

But the logic resisted.

If Callista truly held such overwhelming power, then why had she allowed the Emperor to kneel before another in the past? Why had she remained silent? Why had she sacrificed so much without showing resistance? Because strength, especially that kind of strength, rarely stayed hidden without reason.

”No...” Kiara dismissed the thought slowly, her expression smoothing out again. ”More likely... an artifact.”

A treasure.

Something rare.

Something designed to conceal.

That explanation fits better.

That explanation felt safer.