The grin on Azriel’s face widened at Lioren’s words.

"Quite a night?" Azriel chuckled. "I can certainly relate."

Using his ice affinity, Azriel shaped a cup from frost and poured the liquid from his flask into it until it was nearly full. Then he looked at Lioren and offered it to him.

Lioren stared at him.

Then at the cup.

He hesitated for a few seconds, his aloof expression unreadable, before finally taking it. He brought the cup closer and took a small sip.

Azriel watched, amused, as Lioren’s face subtly contorted while his taste buds tried to understand what he had just drunk.

"...Lemon," Lioren whispered.

Then his brows faintly furrowed.

"But... it is intoxicating?"

"Alcohol," Azriel answered.

"Can it make me drunk?"

"Depends on whether you’re a lightweight," Azriel said with a shrug before taking another sip from his flask.

At this point, he was definitely going to get drunk.

And, well, the last time he had come close to getting drunk, he had stolen poison from the Plague, almost killed the directors of an orphanage, almost blown up an entire village, and lost his fight against Corven.

Maybe that last part had not been because of the alcohol.

But who knew?

Perhaps his words triggered something in Lioren, because Azriel swore he saw a brief glimmer of competitiveness flash through Lioren’s eyes.

Only for a moment.

Then Lioren raised the cold cup to his lips and drank the rest in one go.

Azriel stared at him in surprise.

Then he let out a single laugh.

He turned his gaze back toward the ocean, listening to the cries of the birds and the sound of the wind, smelling the salt of the sea despite being so high above it.

"...Mana core syndrome, huh."

Lioren said it while looking ahead as well.

Azriel’s smile softened. He hummed in acknowledgment.

"I had a brother once," Lioren said. "He was afflicted with mana core syndrome. He was six years old and did not live to see eight. The very mana in the air became toxic to him. His body started working against itself, and his insides tore apart more each day."

Azriel’s smile slowly disappeared.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

"Your nose is bleeding, Azriel," Lioren pointed out without looking at him.

Azriel did not bother wiping the blood away anymore.

"I imagine you have been coughing up blood as well," Lioren continued. "And every time you use mana..."

He paused.

"No. Even when you simply breathe, you notice the cracks across your body spreading, don’t you?"

"..."

"You have the early symptoms of the final stage."

Azriel could not help but close his eyes at Lioren’s words.

He knew about that brother of his.

From the books.

The Dusk Clan. The Dusk King. The mother of that child.

Surprisingly, the Dusk King had held some affection for him. The Dusk Clan had poured countless resources into studying the illness and trying to create a cure.

Unfortunately, before they had made even half the progress they needed, the boy had already died.

But the information the Dusk Clan gathered, and the progress they did make, had been vital for Lumine. It was one of the most important and challenging moments in the book, forcing him to obtain that research from Lioren himself in order to complete the cure.

And yet, despite knowing how hopeless it was, Azriel still found himself asking,

"...Did you ever manage to create a cure?"

"...No," Lioren said. "And even if we had, yours has already spread too far for it to have any effect."

Azriel opened his eyes.

He smiled.

Though the smile was tinged with sadness.

"I see..."

Then, chuckling softly, Azriel recalled a memory.

"Do you remember how Aunty used to threaten both of us by saying she’d erase our memories if we didn’t visit her every Sunday? Then one day, you forgot, and she erased your memories for an entire day. You fell into a pond and just floated there while two frogs kept jumping on your body until she finally decided to give your memories back."

Saying it out loud, Azriel could not help but crack up.

Back then, he had been so terrified of her that he had sworn never to end up in Lioren’s position.

Lioren did not react. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

At least, he tried not to.

But Azriel saw the faint shadow pass over his face as the corners of his lips curled downward.

For someone like him, even that memory still haunted him.

"For someone with death pressing against his back and standing before him, you are in quite the humorous mood, Azriel."

Lioren looked at him.

Azriel looked back and laughed even harder.

"Well, after everything I’ve gone through, and given the situation I’m in right now, the absurdity of it all just becomes funny."

He said it lightly.

"Ah, your face was the best when you realized she had recorded the whole thing."

"...For the queen of the Frost Clan, she is far too immature."

Azriel snickered.

"Can’t argue with that."

Looking up toward the sky, Azriel fell deeper into reminiscence.

"Still, no one would have ever imagined the three of us being so close, huh?"

"Had they found out, it would have been too chaotic," Lioren said plainly.

Azriel hummed in agreement.

Then the mood between them grew a little heavier.

"...So what happened to you?" Azriel asked, turning his head toward Lioren as he leaned back on his hands.

Lioren seemed to hesitate.

When he spoke, his voice was quieter.

"It seems Caleus duped me by working together with both the King of Ismyr and the Supreme Leader."

"Khk...!"

Azriel looked away.

His shoulders shook.

Lioren looked at him, his eyes narrowing slightly when he realized Azriel was trying to hold back his laughter.

"Y-you..."

Azriel wheezed.

"You trusted Caleus—"

"I never trusted him," Lioren said coldly. "But although our interests aligned, it seems he had his own plans to save his skin and eliminate not only the competition within this scenario, but also potential future threats—namely me—after we returned."

"Except Jasmine, of course," Azriel said, still trying not to laugh.

As disturbing as it was that Caleus was not merely a double agent, but apparently a quadruple agent, Azriel could not find it all that surprising.

"I had already sensed them at the border of the kingdom," Lioren continued, ignoring him, "and went to greet them. It seems the kings in this world also prefer to greet others by spilling blood. After fighting both of them at once, I narrowly managed to strike a deal and promised to meet them at the summit."

"I... I see."

Azriel smiled widely at Lioren’s suffering.

Perhaps that was a little sadistic of him.

But it was Lioren, so it was fine.

"And what did you negotiate about?"

"I would not smile so much if I were you, Azriel."

Azriel’s eyes narrowed at once.

His smile disappeared when he noticed the faintest curve lifting the corner of Lioren’s lips.

"It seems the two brothers share a mutual hatred for you."

"...Oh."

"Oh, indeed. What was her name? Mio, right? It seems you—"

"Killed the love of both their lives after she begged me to, and now I have two obsessive, sociopathic brothers who are also both grandmasters wanting my head. Yeah, yeah. I get it."

Azriel waved his hand a few times.

He was not even that surprised.

Having seen Mio’s memories, he had known that at least one of the brothers would eventually come for him.

If it was both, then it was both.

There was not much he could do about that now.

Perhaps the knowledge that the gods wanted him dead, along with how broken he already felt, had dulled the shock he should have felt.

"And let me guess," Azriel said. "You promised to deliver me to them at the summit, right?"

"It was a temporary solution to get myself out of that situation. After that, I returned to the estate and saw how kindly you had treated my two brothers before your servant, Nol, found me, and we headed toward the group you had assembled. I then killed the masters Sir Felix and the others were fighting before coming to you immediately."

"How did you find me?"

"...I put a blood tracker on you."

"Without my consent?"

"I did not think I needed it."

"Well, you did."

"I see."

"...You’re shameless, Lioren."

Then Lioren looked at him.

Azriel noticed the seriousness in his expression immediately.

"Azriel."

The wind moved between them.

"What do you plan to do now?"