Echoes of the Phoenix
(chapters 4 -7)
Chapter 4: An Unfamiliar Sky
Hours bled into evening. The lush green forests of Lugunica thinned, replaced by steep, jagged cliffs. Reinhard ran until the roar of rushing water dominated the horizon.
The Great Waterfall. The physical edge of the map.
With the capital's forces hunting him from behind and the endless abyss ahead, he had run out of world.
"Alas... is this the threshold where my journey must reach its end?" Reinhard murmured, walking slowly toward the sheer, terrifying drop.
Without the weight of the Dragon Sword Reid at his waistâwhich had always anchored him with its divine purpose before the capital confiscated itâhe felt strangely unburdened, yet utterly untethered.
But as he approached the edge, his sensesâsharp enough to feel the shift of a leaf miles awayâscreamed.
The wind died instantly. The roar of the waterfall didn't just fade; it vanished, as if some unseen entity had snuffed out the very breath of the world. The birdsong stopped. The air grew transitionally thick, pressing against his chest with a heavy pressure that felt less like gravity and more like a folding of reality itself.
He closed his eyes, bracing for an attack. When he opened them, the cliffs were gone.
He was standing on a flat, gray surface.
The sky above was no longer the brilliant, clean blue of Lugunica, but a pale, hazy expanse crisscrossed by strange white vapor trails. Massive structures of glass and dark stone stretched so high they seemed to pierce the heavens. Unbelievable metallic carriages, moving entirely without earth-dragons or horses, roared past on wide, painted black roads.
Peopleâhundreds of themâswarmed the pathways. None wore armor. None carried weapons. They wore strange, tight-fitting clothes, their eyes glued to small, glowing glass bricks in their hands.
"What strange, magicless realm is this...?" Reinhard whispered to himself.
He felt a sudden, hollow ache in his chest. As he reached out to steady himself, he realized: the air was completely empty. There was no mana. No spirits. The world was utterly quiet, operating on a frequency he had never felt before. Desperate for a familiar anchor, he approached an elderly man walking by.
"Forgive the intrusion, good sir," Reinhard said, offering a perfect, respectful bow and speaking in the formal common tongue of Lugunica. "I am a traveler seeking guidance. Might you possess the kindness to tell me what land I have stumbled upon?"
The man stopped, blinked at Reinhard's elaborate white uniformâand the completely empty leather sword belt at his hipâand offered a tight, nervous smile before hurrying away. Even without a weapon, Reinhard's posture was intimidatingly regal.
Reinhard tried a young woman next. "Pardon my boldness, fair maiden, but do you recognize the crest adorned upon this uniform? I pray you, point me toward the nearest garrison."
She flinched, shook her head quickly, and muttered something in a sharp, fast-paced language he had never heard. "Entschuldigung, ich habe es eilig," she said, quickly walking past.
He tried three more times, but the result was always the same. People either ignored him, gave him wide berths because of the way he was dressed, or looked at him with utter incomprehension. The weight of his isolation settled heavily over him. He was not just exiled from his kingdom; he was exiled from his very reality.
The voice was quiet, hesitant, but it cut through the din of the strange city like a bell. Reinhard turned. Standing a few paces away was a young woman with dark hair, wearing a simple jacket and holding a shoulder bag. She was looking at him with a mix of curiosity and caution.
And she had spoken in the distinct language Subaru and the rest of the people from Lugunica used.
"Are you... lost?" she asked.
Reinhardâs breath caught in his throat. "You... you speak a tongue I can comprehend. Truly, my lady, your voice is a blessing to my weary ears."
The young woman let out a small, relieved sigh. "Yes. I was honestly about to keep walking, but you've been speaking Japanese to everyone on the street. People here are going to think you're either a lost tourist or a very dedicated cosplayer."
Reinhard tilted his head, his brow furrowing in polite confusion. "Japanese? Pray tell, is that the name of this language?"
She stared at him, taking in his pristine, foreign white uniform and the gloved hands resting naturally on his belt, right next to a visibly empty weapon frog. "You really aren't from around here, are you?"
"No, my lady," Reinhard said softly. "I set foot in this place but a few moments prior. If I may be so bold as to inquire, what kingdom is this? Does it lie under the domain of the Kararagi City?"
The woman blinked, a look of profound realization slowly dawning on her face. "Kararagi? No... you're on Earth," she said gently. "And if we're being specific, you are standing in the middle of Munich. Germany."
Reinhard fell silent. The names meant absolutely nothing to him.
"That explains why no one answered you," she continued, pointing to the bustling crowd. "Hardly anyone here speaks Japanese. Most people in this city speak German. Without a translator, you're going to find it very hard to get by." She offered a small, sympathetic smile. "My name is Y/N L/N, by the way."
Reinhard looked up at the towering glass buildings, the strange, roaring carriages, and the unfamiliar sky. He was a knight without a country, a hero without a cause, standing in a world that had never once heard the name of the Sword Saint, stripped of the legendary Dragon Sword Reid that once defined his lineage.
But looking at you, he offered a deep, formal bow, pressing his hand over his heart. "It is a supreme honor to make your acquaintance, Lady Y/N. I am Reinhard van Astrea, of the Kingdom of Lugunica. I fear... I must humbly throw myself upon your mercy and beg for your gracious assistance."
Chapter 5: Steel and Shadows
The city of Munich never seemed to sleep.
Even as the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long, dramatic shadows across the pavement, the streets remained crowded. People carrying shopping bags, riding bicycles, or hurrying toward destinations Reinhard could only guess the purpose of pushed past them. Strange metal carriages rolled past in neat, orderly rows while glowing signs flickered to life above storefronts, casting vibrant hues of neon red and blue onto the concrete.
For a knight who had arrived in this realm less than an hour prior, every sight was another profound mystery.
"If I may inquire, Lady Y/N..." Reinhard spoke, his voice low and rich with courtly curiosity as he gestured toward a tall metal pole on the street corner. "What is the purpose of those three glowing spheres? They appear to command the movements of both the people and these horseless carriages."
You smiled faintly, adjusting the strap of your bag. "Theyâre called traffic lights. Red means stop, green means go. They tell everyone when it's safe to move."
"Remarkable," Reinhard murmured, genuinely impressed. "A silent sentinel that maintains perfect order without the need for guards or royal decree. This world possesses a quiet, admirable discipline."
You looked up at him, caught off guard by how poetic he made a standard traffic light sound. "I suppose it does."
Reinhard paused, stepping out of the flow of pedestrian traffic to offer a deep, flawless bow. "I am Reinhard van Astrea. It is a supreme privilege to make your acquaintance, Lady Y/N."
"Reinhard..." you repeated the name quietly, tasting the syllables. "Well, thatâs a German name. But 'van Astrea' definitely isn't."
"No, I guess it is not, my lady," Reinhard replied, a gentle, melancholic smile touching his lips. "It is a name born of a faraway land. I fear my presence here must seem incredibly bizarre to you."
"A little," you admitted, walking again. "But you're surprisingly polite. Most people dressed like you would be demanding to know where the nearest fantasy convention is. And you've even got the empty sword belt on your waist. Come on, let's get you somewhere safe."
"Your charity toward a stranger is a rare and beautiful thing, Lady Y/N. I am deeply in your debt."
Before you could reply, a heavy, rough hand clamped down on your shoulder, halting you in your tracks. "Well, now," a coarse voice sneered from behind. "What do we have here?"
The warm, curious atmosphere evaporated in an instant. Three men stepped out from a narrow, shadowed alleyway directly into your path, while another two casually closed the gap from behind. You were surrounded.
The leaderâa large, bald man with a snake tattoo crawling up his neckâtightened his grip on your shoulder, a filthy grin spreading across his face. "Pretty girls shouldn't be walking around with such nice bags," he hissed, his eyes shifting to Reinhard's white uniform and the completely empty weapon sheath at his waist. "And whatâs with the theatrical getup, pal? Halloween isn't for months. Left your fake sword at home?"
Reinhardâs posture shifted instantly. The gentle traveler vanished, replaced by a wall of absolute steel. He speaks in Japanese, saying, "Get your hand off the lady's shoulder," he said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet calm. "I pray you, do not tempt a conflict you cannot hope to win."
The thug laughed, as he could not comprehend his speech, but before he could speak, you twisted your shoulder out of his grip, stepping back. "Take your hands off me," you snapped.
"Or what?" the leader sneered, holding out his palm. "Hand over the wallet. The phone. And whatever else you're hiding in those fancy pockets."
"No," you said, your expression hardening.
"I wasn't asking, sweetie."
"I know," you replied coldly. "And I was refusing."
As the thug lunged forward to grab you again, you moved. You caught his wrist, pivoted sharply, and threw his massive frame cleanly over your shoulder. He hit the pavement with a bone-shattering THUD!
Reinhardâs sapphire eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise. "By the dragon... truly magnificent form, my lady."
There was no time to celebrate. A second attacker lunged. You ducked beneath his wild swing, drove your elbow hard into his ribs, and swept your leg behind his knee, sending him crashing down. A third swung at your face; you blocked the punch, struck his jaw with the heel of your palm, and kicked him back into the alleyway.
Three attackers, three decisive counters.
Reinhard looked at you, his chest swelling with chivalric admiration. "Lady Y/N, you fight with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior! Your martial prowess is exemplary."
"I took self-defense classes," you panted, trying to keep your breathing steady. "I guess they paid off."
"Indeed. They were worth every coin, if I may say so."
The remaining thugs hesitated, their bravado shattered. The bald leader crawled to his feet, nursing his bruised shoulder. His face twisted into a mask of pure rage. "You useless idiots! What are you waiting for?! Kill them!"
The fallen men scrambled up, but this time, the leader reached beneath his leather jacket. A sharp, metallic glint caught the fading sunlight.
Your breath caught in your throat. Against empty hands, your training worked. Against a blade, the math changed entirely. You instinctively took a step back.
"Still feeling brave?" the thug sneered, flicking the knife.
Reinhard quietly stepped in front of you, shielding you completely. Even weaponless, his presence was overwhelming. "The lady has shown you mercy," he said in Japanese, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "Yield now, sheath your steel, and walk away. I shall not warn you a second time."
Chapter 6: The Silent Blood
The thug scoffed, his eyes flashing with desperate anger. He replied in German, ("Verpiss dich, SchĂśnling")"Get lost, pretty boy!" He lunged, driving the blade straight toward Reinhard's chest.
To Reinhard, the movement was laughably slow. He sidestepped the thrust effortlessly, his hand moving like a blur. With a single, precise tap to the man's wrist, the knife flew into the air. Before the leader could even realize he had been disarmed, Reinhard delivered a light palm strike to his sternum, followed by a swift tap to his shoulder.
The man collapsed onto the pavement, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
The remaining thugs shouted in panic, rushing Reinhard all at once.
It was like watching water flow. Reinhard ducked, parried, and swept his hands in gentle, sweeping arcs. He did not have his legendary bladeânor did he have a basic steel sword like the one he had picked up during the ambush in Lugunicaâbut his martial arts alone were flawless. Within three heartbeats, every single attacker was flat on their back, groaning in agony or completely knocked out.
You stared at him, your jaw slightly slack. "You... I didn't even see you move."
Reinhard turned back to you, his expression immediately softening into his usual polite demeanor. "Are you unharmed, Lady Y/N? I must humbly apologize for allowing such unsavory elements to disrupt our stroll."
"Unharmed? I'm fine, but you..."
Before you could finish, your eyes caught a sudden, desperate movement on the ground.
One of the thugs had only been feigning unconsciousness. He lay perfectly still, his hand silently wrapping around the fallen knife. With a wild, bloodthirsty roar, he exploded upward, thrusting the blade directly toward your exposed side. ("Stirb, du Schlampe!") "Die, you bitch!"
You turned, but your reflexes were too slow. The cold steel was inches from your chest.
Reinhardâs body reacted before thought could follow. He threw himself forward, shoving you forcefully out of the path of the blade.
The sharp, metallic sting tore through the air. The knife missed your heart, but it sliced violently across Reinhardâs left forearm. Bright, hot blood immediately bloomed, soaking through the pristine white sleeve of his uniform.
You tumbled to the ground, looking up in horror.
The thug raised the knife to strike again, but the wail of a siren suddenly cut through the alleyway.
"Polizei! Waffe fallen lassen!"
A police car screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley. Two officers rushed forward with their weapons drawn. One tackled the remaining thug to the ground, pinning him instantly, while the other kicked the knife away.
The danger was over. The criminals were being handcuffed. But you barely noticed.
Your eyes were locked onto Reinhard's arm. Dark, crimson blood was dripping steadily from his sleeve, pooling onto the cold gray concrete.
"No..." your voice trembled as you scrambled to your feet. "You're... you're bleeding. Because of me."
Reinhard didn't even look at his arm. Instead, he reached out his uninjured hand to help you up. "Lady Y/N, please, do not distress yourself on my account. Pray tell, are you injured? Did the blade graze you?"
"What?" you stared at him in disbelief, tears welling in your eyes. "Am I okay? Reinhard, look at your arm! You got stabbed!"
"It is but a minor scratch," Reinhard said, offering a reassuring, gentle smile. "I assure you, I have endured far worse in the service of the Royal Crown. There is no cause for alarm, my lady."
"No, it's not a scratch!" you cried, your voice cracking. "You're bleeding through your clothes!"
To appease you, Reinhard finally looked down at his forearm. The cut was clean, but deep. Blood was flowing freely, staining his white fabric.
Reinhard stared at it. He waited. One heartbeat. Two. Three.
Usually, a wound of this caliber would have vanished before his eyes. Even without the Dragon Sword Reid, his Divine Protection of Healing should have instantly knit the flesh back together, leaving nothing but a faint silver scar that would fade in minutes. But the bleeding did not stop. The flesh remained parted.
A sudden, icy hand of dread gripped Reinhard's chest. He reached inward, searching for the brilliant, warmth-filled reservoir of power that had resided in his soul since he was young little boy.
Divine Protection of the Sword Saint.
Divine Protection of Wind.
Divine Protection of Healing.
He reached again, desperately clawing at the void inside his soul. Every single one of his countless blessingsâthe divine favors of the world that made him an untouchable godâwas gone. The world was deaf to him. The sky did not answer.
His breath hitched. His sapphire eyes dilated in genuine, raw terror.
"Reinhard?" you asked, noticing the sudden, pale horror on his face. "What's wrong? Is it poison?"
He slowly raised his bloodstained hand, staring at his own trembling fingers. For the first time in his life, he felt the heavy, exhausting weight of gravity. He felt the cold sting of the wind. He felt pain that did not fade.
"They are... gone," he whispered, his voice trembling with a vulnerability you had never heard from him before. "The heavens have closed their ears to my plea. My Divine Protections... I have been stripped of them all."
Beneath the unfamiliar sky of Munich, the legendary Sword Saint stood as nothing moreâand nothing lessâthan a mortal man.
Here is your updated chapter with a detailed, immersive scene where the attending nurse stitches Reinhardâs wound added into the medical clinic portion.
Chapter 7: A Place to Stay
The alleyway was a chaotic blur of flashing blue lights and German chatter.
An officer was speaking rapidly, pointing toward Reinhard's bleeding arm and then toward an ambulance that had just pulled up.
"He's not refusing treatment," you quickly explained to the officer in German. "He just doesn't understand the language. He's a tourist."
The officer looked at Reinhard's elaborate, blood-soaked uniform, then back to you. "Ein Tourist? In diesem Outfit?"
"Yes, he's... a very dedicated performer," you lied smoothly. "I'll take him to a private clinic nearby. I live just around the corner. We don't need the hospital."
Seeing that Reinhard was fully conscious and the wound was stable, the officer let out a sigh and nodded, allowing you to lead him away.
You turned to Reinhard, your heart aching at the sight of his pale face. "Can you walk?"
Reinhard flexed his blood-slicked fingers, staring at the physical effort it took just to move his joints. "Indeed, Lady Y/N. I can walk. Pray, do not worry on my account. A knight of Lugunica does not falter from a mere flesh wound."
But as he followed you down the street, his arm throbbed with a persistent, nagging heat. It was an entirely foreign sensation. In Lugunica, pain was a passing whisper. Here, it was a loud, constant ache.
You led him into a small, quiet medical clinic nestled between a bakery and a pharmacy. The overhead bell chimed softly as you pushed the door open. Reinhard looked around, his senses overwhelmed by the sterile, clean scent of antiseptic. There were no magical herbs, no glowing spirits, no alchemical mixtures. Just white walls, bright electric lights, and complex metal machines that hummed quietly.
You spoke to the receptionist, and within minutes, a nurse guided Reinhard into a small examination room. The nurse gently peeled back the makeshift cloth you had wrapped around his arm and winced. "Das ist ein sehr tiefer Schnitt," she said, looking closely at the clean, deep laceration. "Wir mßssen das desinfizieren und nähen."
"She says it's a very deep cut," you translated gently. "She needs to disinfect it and give you stitches."
Reinhard tilted his head slightly. "Stitches? Ah... closing the flesh with thread. A method used by field medics in distant provinces." His expression remained stoic, though his brow furrowed as he watched her prepare her tray. "I shall bear whatever treatment is deemed necessary, my lady."
The nurse pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and picked up a cotton swab soaked in dark iodine. "Das wird jetzt brennen," she warned softly before pressing it directly into the open wound.
The sharp, burning sting made Reinhardâs eyebrow twitch, his body tensing instinctively. The sensation felt like molten iron laid against his skin.
You leaned in close. "Does it hurt?"
"A mere trifle," Reinhard insisted, though his knuckles were white as he gripped the chrome edge of the examination table. "A knight of the Royal Guard is trained to endure much worseâ"
"You don't have to play the hero for me, Reinhard," you interrupted softly, a small smile breaking through your worry. "It's okay to admit that disinfectant stings."
Reinhard paused, looking at you. A rare, sheepish smile crossed his face. "Then, in the interest of absolute truth... it possesses a most unpleasant, biting sting."
You laughed softly, and the tension in the room finally began to thaw.
The nurse wiped away the excess iodine, then reached for a small, curved needle threaded with fine, dark suture thread. She picked up a pair of metal forceps, securing the needle with a metallic click.
"Ruhig halten," the nurse murmured, leaning over his arm.
She pierced the edge of the open flesh. Without local anesthesiaâor the instant numbing effect of high-level healing magicâthe entry of the needle was sharp and precise. Reinhardâs chest rose in a slow, controlled breath. He kept his arm completely immobile, his martial discipline showing through as the nurse pulled the thread through his skin and tied a firm, neat knot.
Reinhard stared at the process with a fascination that outweighed the pain. He watched as the curved steel entered one side of his skin and exited the other, pulling the edges of his flesh together millimeter by millimeter.
"Remarkable," Reinhard whispered under his breath, his voice laced with genuine awe. "To manually weave the flesh back together with needle and thread... It requires immense dexterity and patience."
"Usually they numb the area first," you murmured, watching the nurse pull the fourth knot tight. "Are you really okay?"
"It is a fascinating sensation," Reinhard replied smoothly, though a light bead of sweat glistened near his temple. "In Lugunica, a healing spirit or divine protection would simply knit the cells in an instant. But this... this is pure human craft. There is a profound dignity in it."
The nurse placed the sixth and final stitch, snip-snapping the thread with her scissors. She wiped away the stray droplets of blood, applied an antibacterial ointment, and quickly bound his arm in a clean, tight wrap of white gauze.
"Fertig," she said, offering a small, reassuring smile as she threw away her gloves. She then turned to you, giving a long list of instructions in German about keeping the stitches dry, changing the outer bandages, and coming back in ten days to have the threads removed. You nodded diligently, memorizing every word.
Once you stepped back out onto the street, the sun had fully set. The streetlights cast a warm, golden glow over the quiet sidewalk.
Reinhard looked down at his neatly wrapped, stitched arm. "Truly, the wonders of your world are vast. To mend the flesh so precisely without a single spark of magic... it is a testament to the sheer brilliance of your people."
"We do what we can with what we have," you said, stopping at the corner. "Reinhard... you're coming with me."
He blinked, turning to you in surprise. "Pardon my ears, Lady Y/N? I fear I did not fully comprehend your meaning."
"You're staying at my apartment."
Reinhard immediately shook his head, his face pulling into a frown of polite protest. "No, my lady, I cannot permit such a thing! To impose upon your hospitality after you have already saved my life and tended to my wounds... it would violate every sacred tenet of chivalry. I shall seek lodging elsewhere."
You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? And where, exactly, is 'elsewhere'?"
"I shall... find a suitable tavern." He paused, looking down at his empty belt where the kingdom's ultimate blade once sat. "Though I have no weapon to pledge, I could perhaps offer my physical labor to the local guard in exchange for a bed."
"Reinhard," you sighed, holding up a finger. "First: you don't have any money. Our taverns require cash."
Reinhard opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. "A fair and undeniable point."
"Second," you raised another finger, "you don't speak a word of German. You can't ask for a job."
He winced slightly. "An obstacle, admittedly."
"Third: you don't know anyone in this entire world except for me. And fourth..." you gestured to his bandaged arm, "you are injured, and you just lost whatever magic powers you used to have."
Silence fell between you. Reinhard stared at the pavement, the harsh reality of his situation finally sinking in. He had no country. No family. No title. No divine strength, and no legendary sword. He was completely, utterly powerless.
You stepped closer, your voice softening. "I'm not offering this out of pity, Reinhard. I'm offering because it's the right thing to do. If I were lost in your world, I'd hope someone like you would keep me safe."
Reinhard looked at you, his sapphire eyes shining with a deep, quiet gratitude. He stepped back, pressed his right hand firmly over his heart, and bowed deeply.
"Then, with a humble heart, I accept your boundless grace, Lady Y/N. I swear upon my honor as a knight of Lugunica to repay your kindness tenfold."
You smiled, turning down a quiet residential street. "Let's start by getting you some clothes that don't have blood on them."
It was 7:30 pm and before heading to your building, you stopped by a department store a few blocks away. Leaving Reinhard waiting nervously just inside the entranceâwhere his sweeping, archaic uniform drew curious stares from some night shoppersâyou quickly navigated the aisles. You picked out a soft gray hoodie, a plain black cotton t-shirt, some men's underwear, and some comfortable dark sweatpants, guessing his sizes as best as you could based on his tall, broad-shouldered frame.
After paying, you handed him the plastic shopping bag, and he held it against his chest as if it were a rare treasure, entirely bewildered by the different design of clothing.
Thirty minutes later, you unlocked the door to your modest apartment. It wasn't largeâjust a cozy living room, a small kitchen, and a bedroomâbut it was warm, filled with books and potted plants.
Reinhard stepped inside, carefully mimicking you as you slipped off your shoes. He looked around the quiet space, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "Your sanctuary is incredibly peaceful, Lady Y/N. It possesses a warmth that reminds me of..." He trailed off, his eyes growing distant as he looked toward the coat rack where an empty, useless sword belt would soon hang.
"First things first," you said, handing him the shopping bag. "Let me help you get out of that uniform so you don't strain those fresh stitches. The bathroom is just through that door."
Reinhard offered a grateful nod, taking the bag with his uninjured hand. "Thank you, my lady. I shall return shortly."
A few minutes passed before the bathroom door clicked open. When Reinhard stepped back into the living room, the transformation was jarring. Gone was the imposing, pristine imagery of the Royal Guard. Instead, he stood before you in the oversized black t-shirt and dark sweatpants. The soft gray hoodie hung loosely over his broad shoulders, left unzipped so he wouldn't disturb his fresh bandages.
He was tugging lightly at the sleeve, looking entirely out of his element. The modern streetwear made him look less like a legendary, untouchable warrior and more like an ordinary, remarkably handsome young man.
"The fabric is exceptionally soft," Reinhard remarked, looking down at his new attire with a mixture of awe and mild confusion. "It lacks the weight and rigid structure of my uniform, yet... it is profoundly comfortable. I am deeply in your debt once more."
"It suits you," you said with a smile, handing him a tall glass of cold water. "Sit down."
He took it with both hands, taking a slow, grateful sip. You sat across from him at the small dining table, folding your arms.
"Alright, before we get into the heavy stuff, we need to establish some ground rules," you said, leaning forward. "Rule number one: you need to stop speaking to me so formally. No more 'Lady Y/N,' no more 'pray tell,' and no more treating me like I'm royalty. I'm letting you stay at my apartment, which means we're equals here. It's just Y/N. Okay?"
Reinhard blinked, looking genuinely caught off guard by the request. He opened his mouth, closed it, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his deeply ingrained etiquette visibly warring with your demand.
"I... I fear that is a remarkably difficult request to fulfill, Lâ" He caught himself just in time, clearing his throat softly. "Old habits and decades of training do not unravel easily, and it feels entirely improper to address my savior so casually. I cannot promise that I can abandon my speech entirely... but I swear to you, I will try."
You offered a small, encouraging nod. "Fair enough. Trying is all I ask."
The easygoing demeanor you had carried outside slowly faded, replaced by a quiet, serious intensity.
"Now, Reinhard," you said, meeting his gaze. "I've helped you. I've patched you up, and I've invited a complete stranger into my home. I think I've earned your trust."
Reinhard set the glass down, his expression turning solemn. "You have earned my absolute trust, and my eternal loyalty, my lady."
You gave him a pointed, amused look, raising an eyebrow.
Reinhard winced slightly, a sheepish flush coloring his cheeks. "Forgive me. My loyalty... Y/N."
"Then it's your turn," you said. "I want the truth. No half-stories. Who are you? Where did you come from? What are those 'Divine Protections' you talked about?"
Reinhard stayed silent for a long moment, looking out the window at the distant, glittering lights of Munich. When he processed your words, his mind flashed back to the grand spires of the capital, the heavy decree of the Council of Wise Giants, and the bitter moment he had surrendered his family's ultimate legacy without a fight.
When he finally looked back at you, his sapphire eyes held a profound, ancient sorrow.
"If you are willing to believe the tale of a fallen knight... then I shall tell you of Lugunica, the kingdom of the dragonâand of the day it stripped away my heritage, confiscated the blade of my ancestors, and declared its Sword Saint to be its greatest enemy."
