I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

Wearing a standard Rhodes Island uniform, with jet-black ear feathers falling beside her ears, and her long gray hair mostly obscured by thorns on her head, leaving a few strands falling over her shoulders.

The young man's face showed confusion and hesitation. His reasons for standing there were not firm, and he never thought that after using the physical examination as a tool to verify his ideas, he would be punished with community service for violating the rules.

The red in those eyes was similar to her mother's, but with a softer quality, and a similar emotion that he had seen in the past.

Pegasus has excellent eyesight; he can clearly see everything, including the other person's emotions, movements, details of their clothing, the bone flute around their neck, and the bone pen in their hand.

Gerald then slowly blew the wind, covering the surveillance cameras in the corner outside his fluids, controlling the sound within this area so that not a single sound was leaked.

Such a move was clearly interpreted as hostility by the other party.

Therefore, the banshee began her actions in the next second.

"My delineation is my correction."

"In the eyes of the enemy, a rain of arrows falls."

The incantation then fell like a shooting star.

The young king had mastered all knowledge of incantations at a young age, from the simplest books in the library to the classics that only a handful of people had truly studied over the centuries. His talent was so great that even in her deepest sorrow, the sorceress queen of that time still remembered to offer him the ever-shimmering stream as a gift to celebrate his excellence.

At this moment, the banshee didn't even need to follow the brief incantation—she was already able to manipulate the weaving of spells at will, filling the courtyard with thorns that belonged to her.

Despite his exceptional skill, even surpassing that of the previous King of the Royal Court in terms of spell usage alone, he still made a fatal mistake when he first met Gerald, as a King of the Royal Court with only a little over ten years of combat experience.

Before the young banshee's astonished gaze, all his incantations vanished into nothingness in an instant.

The wind gathered in Pegasus's hand, and following the familiar patterns in his consciousness, it slashed into the center of the incantation, the source of its power.

The young banshee, who had never anticipated this move, hadn't even realized that her attack had been neutralized so easily. In the next instant, Pegasus's face appeared before her.

The explosive sonic boom left a devastating crater where Pegasus had just stood, and the unobstructed gap in the middle allowed him to grab his opponent's neck with his right hand, securing victory in the battle without any effort.

Until his body collided with a familiar touch.

He ran into the wind.

The wind, in order to protect the other party, first showed hostility towards him.

"Uh!"

Gerald's body twisted into an angle that almost defied physiological limits in an instant. The wind trembled violently between his limbs, pulling at his body and forcing him to avoid the oncoming wind blades.

However, the wind blades did not stop when their attacks missed; instead, they were like hunting dogs that had smelled blood, relentlessly pursuing their prey once they locked onto it.

Familiar and unfamiliar.

He had used the wind in his hands countless times to crush enemy defenses on the battlefield and break through all visible obstacles, but this was the first time he had truly faced an opponent who used the same technique.

Moreover, the trajectory, force, and even the angle of the wind blades all revealed a fact he could not ignore: these moves were exactly the same as those he used himself.

But he had no time to think further; the storm was already upon him.

Gerald didn't intend to use Originium Arts to directly eliminate this part of the wind. Instead, he waved his hand, causing the wind to condense between his fingers and transform it into an invisible blade, directly meeting the incoming sharpness.

Wind blade against wind blade, skill against skill.

He could clearly sense that the other person's skill in manipulating the wind was in no way inferior to his own, and perhaps even...

Why is it so much more accurate than his?

Pegasus's arm twitched slightly, and the sword's stance changed accordingly. The wind's direction adjusted accordingly, but the oncoming wind blade also adjusted its angle at the same instant, precisely meeting his attack and neutralizing each other's power.

Just as he was about to continue testing his ideas, he was met head-on by the wind blade once more—

"Stop the war."

The next moment, the banshee's curse arrived before him.

An invisible law suddenly descended, forcibly severing all fluids on the battlefield and bringing everything to a standstill in an instant.

Gerald did not try to resist the force, but instead leaped back, landing several meters away, thus avoiding the oppressive curse.

His peripheral vision swept into the distance, and he saw that the banshee who controlled the wind blades did not continue her attack, but instead slowly walked forward a few steps and came to stand in front of him.

"You still have not answered my question."

The current ruler of the Banshee Royal Court, the new master of the valley, Aifanir calmly addressed the pegasus before her:

"who are you?"

……

Who is he?

Gerald silently recalled the wind he had just encountered, its more precise technique, its strength almost on par with Ramalen's—and most importantly, the connection passed down through blood.

An answer was slowly forming in his mind.

Even if he wasn't ready to accept the answer.

“I’ve never seen a banshee who can manipulate the wind.” Pegasus didn’t answer the question directly, but simply paced around the arena, his right hand resting on the sword at his waist. “That feeling must be quite unique, right?”

"Your question is very interesting. Almost everyone who has some knowledge of the Court of Deathstroke would find the existence of a male banshee more astonishing."

Aifanier held the bone pen in his hand and tilted his head: "It's as if you already knew my identity."

Before arriving at the training ground, Aifanier believed that the person he saw in the resume was the offspring of his father and other lovers.

The outcome of the battle convinced him that not only did the Originium Arts master wind manipulation, but the opponent's strength was almost as formidable as his mother had described, and the fact that they had fought to this point was not beyond his expectations.

The blood connection further confirmed this conjecture for Aphrodite.

But the obvious aura of a female demon on the other party, and even the protection personally imprinted by his mother... Did this half-brother of his find his mother while he was away from the valley?

"……Um."

Tianma remained silent for a moment.

He realized that he was neither able nor willing to answer the question at that moment.

So he could only smile gently, try to change the subject, and try to find other topics to form a conversation: "You... well, as a banshee, what does it feel like to manipulate the wind? This is the first time I've seen anyone else who can use something similar to Originium Arts."

"Moreover, the traditional witchcraft of female demons usually leans more towards incantations and dirges, right?"

Faced with the other party's questions, the young succubus queen could only swallow her doubts for the time being, but she couldn't help but tell the other party about her past experiences.

It was as if, deep in his subconscious, he was meant to do this right now.

"Perhaps you have some misunderstandings. I cannot actively control the direction of the wind. At most, I can only transform the wind into protection through incantations."

"...Protection?"

Gerald paused, then repeated the other person's words.

This attitude clearly piqued Aifanier's curiosity even more. After a brief silence, he slowly said, "Yes, on the day I climbed to the top of the Tower of Words, it rained in the valley, which was unusual. A strong wind swept through the trees and leaves, driving away the camel beasts in the forest."

"Even incantations couldn't work their magic in such terrible weather. That torrential rain should have eroded the bone pen, shattered the ear feathers, and made the bone flute damp... but none of that happened in the end."

Gerald suddenly stopped and looked into those bright red eyes: "Is it because you used a spell to stop the rain in the air?"

Aifanier shook his head: "It's because the wind kept the storm out of its veil, sheltering me when I was young."

Upon hearing this, Pegasus's eyes widened slightly.

But the next sentence plunged his mood into despair.

"Although I viewed this as a humiliation at the time. This innate blessing did not require me to master any incantations or skills. As long as I quietly hid in a corner, the wind would keep all dangers out of my body—which would make my efforts a joke, a meaningless thing."

Afanier spoke these words with unusual calmness.

"..."

Gerald lowered his eyes, focusing his gaze on the rough ground, and slowly said, "Indeed, I would think the same way if I were in the same situation. Excellent warriors cannot be cultivated in a mild environment, and excessive protection will only make people complacent."

“You don’t need to sympathize with me. Right now, I feel fortunate to receive such a blessing.”

Aifanir gripped the bone pen in his hand. He looked at the Pegasus before him, who seemed lost in thought, and said with a resolute tone, "To possess gifts without recognizing one's good fortune is a kind of affectation."

"Instead of hating this natural blessing like a fool, I should use it to save more of my fellow countrymen."

"Whether it's blocking Drak's flames, stopping the ice crystals that condense in the air, or clearing the muddy battlefield."

"The wind guided me to Kazdel, enabling me to better shoulder the future of the tribe and protect those I cherish."

At this point, Aifanier fell silent, murmuring softly, "It's a responsibility. I believe that whoever entrusted me with this protection must have felt the same way."

"That's definitely not what he was thinking."

Pegasus suddenly said.

A few seconds of silence fell over the air, and the bone pen in the banshee's hand stopped moving.

He raised his head, silently looked at Gerald, who seemed to be about his age, and asked, "Why?"

This question was not answered immediately.

Because at this very moment, the incantation imprinted on Gerald's body is burning hot.

The sword hanging at his waist gradually began to melt, dripping from its scabbard like ink onto the ground. It transformed into the banshee's words and script, coiling around Gerald's palm, where, in the very center, she slowly wrote, stroke by stroke, a name composed of Sarkaz.

Ai, Fa, Ni, Er.

Pegasus opened his mouth.

At that moment, his thoughts seemed to be frozen by the cold winter wind, so sluggish that even the simplest words became incredibly difficult to utter.

Even the most decisive and resolute actions of his time would be temporarily blocked in his throat at this moment, turning into the hardest shackles, preventing him from making any sound.

This was unlike any situation I had ever encountered before; it did not stem from the instinct to fight, nor from a crisis of survival, but from a deep-seated panic within my soul.

He wasn't ready.

He didn't yet know whether the succubus in front of him would accept his existence.

But those words still slowly came out of his mouth.

Because no matter how unprepared he may be... he still has to be responsible for his child.

He cannot back down.

"Because I am your father."

Gerald slowly but firmly uttered the nickname: "Aifanil".

The moment the words left his mouth, Pegasus leaned slightly, and the surrounding wind, as if guided, silently surged toward Aifanil.

Almost at the same moment, the power from the banshee quietly burst forth from his body. That wind, without any source, instinctively responded to the approaching storm without the need for incantations or words, transforming into a similar flowing trajectory.

But in that instant, the wind surrounding Aphrodite suddenly stopped.

The manipulation from the spellcaster made it realize something was amiss—or rather, it finally "understood" something.

This sudden breeze was neither the blade of an invader nor some unknown threat.

They originally belonged to one entity.

With the same essence and the same rhythm, in the instant they intertwined, the wind protecting Aifanir already knew its destiny.

Since its original owner is here, the person it is meant to protect will certainly not be in any danger.

So the wind stopped resisting.

It gradually dissipated in the air, as if none of this had ever happened, and all the fluctuations returned to calm.

Only the lingering scent in the air proves that the fluids had just converged here.

……

The space fell silent at that moment.

Gerald stood there quietly, his gaze fixed on Aifanil, awaiting his reaction.

The young succubus queen, however, seemed struck by this sudden truth, frozen in place, not even moving the bone pen in her hand.

Everything his mother had hidden from him in the past, all his previous questions, and his unspoken confusion and bewilderment all seemed to finally have an answer at this moment.

But the answer was even more absurd and unacceptable than he could have imagined.

Only after a long while did Aifanir finally speak, her eyelashes trembling slightly:

"……Father."

Chapter 93: No need to think about it now, they're both going to die anyway. (5K6)

Aifanier looked up blankly, gazing at the traces of the wind dissipating in the air, before finally turning his gaze back to Gerald. "So, all along, you've been by my side?"