A bloody half-elf and the heir to the mysterious Blood Tree. 

Branded a fugitive in order to protect the world’s balance, order, and mysticism, she stood with pride despite the false accusations.

In the deep of night, veiled by shadows, she quietly gazed upon the young prince. His silver-blond hair flowed gracefully, and his long lashes rested delicately over his closed eyes. A fragile beauty.

Was he not afraid?

If she chose not to intervene, the prince would surely die. Yet not once did he falter. 

He was full of conviction, as if everything were natural, as if the world itself bent to his will.

‘Is this what it means to have royal blood?’

As a half-elf, one who shared the perspectives of both elves and humans, she could understand, at least a little, the prince’s confidence, bordering on arrogance.

The chosen blood.

While some claimed all races and people were equal, the ancient mystic arts drew clear lines, lines of blood, of heritage.

She recalled the moment she met the prince aboard the train. Her original plan had been to kill him then and there.

‘Madness, tyranny, devastation, death.’

Even through her faint glimpses of the future, the prince appeared as nothing short of a calamity. While Aziel saw blood and trees in her, Bloody saw fire and ruin in him.

Could a person truly resemble a disaster?

It was astounding.

Before she could kill the calamity destined to bring chaos to the world, they exchanged a few words.

“You said you can see the future. What do you see in mine?”

“Death. Despair. Tyranny. Catastrophe.”

To her definitive prophecy, the prince merely smiled, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Interesting. Very interesting.”

“Interesting? I’m thinking of killing you. You still find this fun?”

“I told you, didn’t I? You can’t kill me.”

“What’s that confidence supposed to be? You think I’d hesitate just because you’re royalty? What could a fugitive possibly fear?”

“Oh, there’s fear. A future that can’t be changed. You see the future, but you don’t have the power to twist mysticism.”

“······.”

Bloody’s lips stiffened. Aziel’s gaze glistened with madness as he stared at her.

Finally satisfied they could now have a real conversation, he continued, a pleased smile on his face.

“Let me make you a proposal. In the unnamed fortress of the northeast, the one you’re searching for will come to me.” 

“How would you know who I’m looking for?”

“The traitor. The one who stole mysticism. The one sowing chaos.”

“···How do you know that? You weren’t in my future.”

“Exactly. That’s why you should check. See if I can change the future. See how the future you saw differs from the one I create.”

Through the silence that followed, the rhythmic pounding of the train and its blaring horn filled the space between them. Steam billowed outside the window, casting shadows that stretched across the cabin. And within that spreading gloom, the prince smiled, a crimson smile.

Faced with it, Bloody also raised her red lips in a grin.

“Fine. I’ll fall for the prince’s little trick, just this once.”

And so, Bloody decided to let the prince live. From that day until now, she had watched him, and realized the prince hadn’t shown arrogance, but certainty.

According to her visions of the future, the eastern front would fall under a wave of assassinations. The fortresses would crumble, scattered survivors would be hunted down and wiped out.

Amid the chaos, a nation hostile to the empire would rise.

A wolfish country born from vengeance and resentment, one that would bite and tear at the empire’s flesh until the end. This fragmented vision of a tragic future… At its center stood the traitor she pursued.

But the prince had changed everything, alone.

Had the future ever changed this drastically before?

Even more shocking, Aziel, whom she had once labeled a disaster, had defied every one of her expectations. To the enemy, he was indeed a calamity, but to allies, a blessing.

‘Noble blood, daring madness, wise cruelty.’

She had originally planned to let the assassin kill the prince and then handle the traitor afterward.

“Hmm, best not to interfere.Rodrigo. ”

But she couldn’t simply watch the prince die.

The shifting future intrigued her, his beauty amused her, and the scent of his blood was intoxicating. Her personal preferences had certainly played a part.

But in the end, he wasn’t the one who would bring chaos, so her choice aligned with the greater cause.

“Bloody!”

Rodrigo, the fugitive who had appeared on the eastern front, assassinating key figures while wandering fortress to fortress. He froze in horror at the sight of spilled blood.

He had thought the prince was alone!

Seeing the smirk playing at Aziel’s lips, Rodrigo attempted to escape the spreading pool of blood.

But …

“Who gave you permission?”

Before he knew it, Bloody summoned Blood Tree, it had entangled him.

“Step aside before I kill you too.”

“Kill me? You dare?”

Bloody laughed, a loud, echoing laugh.

“Try me, you traitorous bastard.”

“Die, you pathetic elf.”

And in the silence, their battle erupted. Bloody was no mere fugitive. She was a high-ranking mage. The mystic Blood Tree surged with her magic, while Rodrigo countered with his own mystic power and martial skill. As the tree scattered blood and advanced, intangible forces slashed and split it apart. Dodging spells, seizing openings, resisting, both held back somewhat to avoid drawing attention.

But every attack was laced with killing intent. Eventually, Bloody blood-rooted tree restrained Rodrigo’s limbs.

“See? You can’t win against me.” 

“Kill me, bitch.”

“Ooh, fiery. Should I drain your blood dry? Maybe then you’ll stop with that foul mouth.”

Yet even with his limbs bound, Rodrigo’s mysticism protected him from being torn apart. Magic could’ve finished him, but his blazing eyes seemed to be waiting for a chance to escape, making her hesitate.

How long had they been locked in a standoff?

They couldn’t keep going until both were drained of energy.

Their mystic levels were too close, neither could easily overpower the other.

“Hey, prince. You just gonna sit there? Wanna pick up a sword and stab him for me? That might help turn the tide.”

“If you come near, I’ll kill you.”

Right when Bloody, exhausted and frustrated, turned to the infuriating prince who had been sitting idly the entire time.

“Fwoooosh.” A sun rose in the middle of the night.

“Ah.”

“Huh?”

The heat and red glow flaring from behind made Bloody forget about her enemy and turn her head. There sat the prince, still indifferent, but now ablaze like a living sun.

Rodrigo was stunned too, eyes wide, locked on Aziel’s transformation.

And then, 

“Mysticism?”

They both realized it at once. That overwhelming fire was another form of mysticism.

“Thud, thud, thud.” The sound reverberated ominously.

The moment they faced the flame, sweat trickled from their temples, their bodies. Instinctively, they understood that the mysticism Aziel held was superior to theirs. Even one-on-one, Rodrigo might’ve been able to even the gap with martial prowess and strategy.

But, 

“Let me go! Damn it, let me go! Bloody, get this thing off me!”

Bound by the Blood Tree, Rodrigo was utterly exposed.

Could it be…?

“You … this too?” Bloody asked, stunned.

She hadn’t foreseen the extent of Aziel’s mysticism. 

Could even this entire battle have been part of the young prince’s plan?

A cold bead of sweat trailed down Bloody’s back as she stared at him. 

Aziel slowly stood, running his hand through his flaming hair.

“Elven girl, tear his mysticism apart, make it as thin as possible.”                             He gave a command.

Under normal circumstances, Bloody would’ve bristled at the arrogance of being ordered around. But whether it was the overwhelming class of his mysticism, his decadent beauty, or simply the force of his will … She obeyed almost unconsciously, beginning to rip Rodrigo’s mystic field to shreds.

“Bloody! Bloody! It’s me … Rodrigo! I’m your comrade!”

“Don’t make me laugh. A traitor is no comrade.”

“Bloody!”

Despite his cries, Bloody’s Blood Tree didn’t stop.

And when the aura protecting his body had faded …

“Crawl. Beg. Perhaps then I’ll spare your limbs.”

Aziel returned Rodrigo’s earlier threats with a cruel grin. Still seated, he raised a single finger.

Bloodshot rage filled Rodrigo’s eyes …

“You … !”

Before he could finish … A concentrated spark of fire gathered at Aziel’s fingertip, condensed to a point, and fired. The flame pierced Rodrigo’s weakened aura, searing through his chest. Surrounded by flames and blood, the prince sat in silence, gazing down at the smoldering ruin before him.