---
Regulus Nihil
Level 1
Strength: H-129 → G-247
Endurance: I-92 → F-315
Dexterity: H-118 → F-302
Agility: H-104 → G-256
Magic: H-101 → G-233
Skills:
[Numquam Itineris] – You know what to do
Magic:
[As I've Written]
---
Nyx's fingers trailed over the freshly updated Falna script on Regulus' bare back, the divine ink still faintly glowing. "Oh, my diligent little moth," she cooed, her voice rich with amusement. "Endurance and Dexterity at F-rank already? Even Bell Cranel would blush at this pace."
The only response was the slow, steady rise and fall of Regulus' breathing.
He lay sprawled face-down on his bed, still in his training clothes, a pillow smashed over his head. Every muscle ached. Every joint screamed. The phantom sting of poison-tipped needles (courtesy of today's "tea service" drill) still prickled along his arms.
Nyx poked his shoulder. "No witty retort? No smug remark about surpassing your limits?"
The pillow muffled a groan.
"Ah. I see." Nyx draped herself across his back like a living shadow, her chin propped on his shoulder. "The great dragon-tamer, felled by paperwork and needlepoint."
Regulus' muffled voice emerged, hollow and broken: "...1,235 maids..."
Nyx's laughter echoed through the manor.
Regulus groaned as he flipped onto his back, wincing when his sore muscles protested. "Even with all this torture," he muttered, staring at the ceiling, "my growth is slowing down." He lifted his arm weakly, as if the Falna stats might have changed in the last five minutes. "I was gaining ranks faster before."
Nyx rolled her eyes. "You've trained for half a month, little moth. And you haven't even completed one percent of what Hebe's Familia has planned." She leaned over him, her shadow blotting out the lamplight. "Honestly, you should be grateful your numbers moved at all."
Regulus dragged the pillow back over his face with a strangled noise. "Just tell me how many maids have acknowledged me already," came his muffled plea. "Fifteenth time asking. Fifteenth."
Nyx's grin widened. "Oh, but where's the fun in that?" She plucked the pillow away, ignoring his squint against the light. "You can't just count acknowledgments like coins. It's not about numbers—it's about knowing."
Regulus stared at her, unimpressed. "That's the most useless cryptic nonsense you've ever said."
"Is it?" Nyx tapped his forehead. "When you stand before a maid who truly sees your worth, you won't need me to tell you." Her nails trailed down to his still-glowing Falna script. "Though I will say... Sonia hasn't looked at you with outright disgust in at least three days."
Regulus exhaled sharply. "That's it. I'm dying here."
Nyx laughed as he yanked the pillow back over his face. "Oh, don't worry. Only 1,222 maids left to impress!"
His scream was muffled, but heartfelt.
---
The Sidelfi sisters sat in the Hebe Familia's eastern gardens, where the scent of night-blooming jasmine mixed with steel polish. Sitri sharpened her daggers while Sonia reviewed ledgers, their silence comfortable—until Sonia spoke without looking up.
"You've been watching him more than necessary."
Sitri's whetstone paused. "He's an anomaly. You said so yourself."
"A useful one." Sonia turned a page. "Lady Hebe's orders."
Sitri scoffed. "Since when do you follow orders blindly?"
The ledger snapped shut. "Since he stopped flinching during poison drills." A rare, almost imperceptible smile. "You should've seen him yesterday. Drank a cup of wolfsbane-laced tea, noted the aftertaste, then collapsed."
Sitri's blade glinted as she tilted it toward the moonlight. "...I'll acknowledge him when he stops groaning about it afterward. And besides, don't think I'm unaware of your plans for him sister."
---
Hebe's private study was a symphony of order—every quill, every ledger, every weapon in its place. Head Maid Laylah, a woman whose age even the gods debated, stood rigid as Hebe traced Regulus' updated status sheet.
"F-rank endurance," Laylah noted. "That's faster than her record, my lady."
Hebe's veil fluttered with her exhale. "His skill troubles me. 'You know what to do'—not 'you learn,' not 'you adapt.' Know. As if..."
"As if he remembers what he shouldn't," Laylah finished. She tapped the Numquam Itineris line. "Athena Familia will dissect him for this."
Hebe's teacup froze mid-sip. "Not while he wears my crest."
---
Fillian Hellis knelt in a chamber of humming glass and shuddering brass, where Hephina the Mad tinkered with a device that wept liquid shadow. The spymaster's mismatched eyes—one gold, one blue—didn't look up as Fillian spoke.
"The Rosewind Guild thrives," Fillian reported. "Babelonian merchants trust me. Even Cornelius' spies don't suspect."
Hephina giggled, adjusting a gear that screamed like a dying bird. "And him? The anomaly?"
Fillian laid Regulus' stolen status sheet on the floor. "He's being trained by Hebe's maids now. His growth is... unnatural."
"Oho!" Hephina snatched the paper, her grin widening. "But this skill—" A mirror shattered behind her. Then another. "Numquam Itineris." Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"My greatest weapon was never fire or steel. It is the pursuit of the unknown.
Show me Apocalypse."
Fillian's breath caught as Hephina's device began to laugh.
---
The Duke of Vespera's rings clicked against his wineglass as he studied the Founder's latest decree. "You're staking everything on this... prognostication," he said carefully. "What if the boy fails?"
Cornelius Babelonia didn't look up from his chessboard, where a carved obsidian dragon faced a lone silver knight. "We have eighty years before the Black Dragon wakes." He moved the knight. "An entire lifetime to forge a hero."
The duke's laugh was strained. "By throwing him at Hebe's wolves? Half the court thinks you're trying to kill him."
"Half the court lacks vision." Cornelius finally met his gaze. "A sword tempered too quickly shatters. But steel folded a thousand times..." He flicked the knight, toppling the dragon. "...can cut through anything."
Outside, thunder rumbled—unnatural for the season. Neither man remarked on it.