chapter 83 – The Storm Beyond the Night
The world had learned their names.
Leonhardt Valerian Everhart—the traitor prince, the fallen heir, the one who abandoned his empire for a woman.
Aetheria Nyx Lunaris Solis—the Night's Queen, the Daughter of the Sun God, the future goddess, the woman for whom a man who could have ruled the world had given up everything.
But the world had not learned to accept them.
Not yet.
The Empire's Throne Room
A tense silence filled the grand hall of the Everhart Imperial Palace. The nobles stood rigid, their faces a mix of shock, disbelief, and barely concealed rage.
At the far end of the room, seated upon his golden throne, Emperor Aldric Everhart stared down at the reports laid before him.
His son—his greatest weapon, the heir he had once believed to be the future of the empire—had abandoned everything.
And now, the woman for whom he had thrown away his name, his title, his duty—had declared him hers.
The empire's greatest genius, the boy who had risen higher than any before him, had chosen love over power.
"This cannot stand," one noble finally dared to say, his voice trembling with the weight of the room's tension.
The emperor lifted his gaze slowly. His piercing golden eyes silenced the noble instantly.
"Tell me," Aldric's voice was calm, but it carried the weight of thunder. "What would you have me do?"
The noble swallowed. "We must bring him back. He belongs to the empire, Your Majesty. He—"
"Belongs?" The emperor's voice was cold. "He chose to leave. I will not beg a traitor to return."
The room fell into silence.
Duke Reinhardt Everhart, Leonhardt's father, stood at the side of the throne, his expression unreadable.
The emperor turned to him. "What do you think, Duke Everhart?"
For a long moment, Reinhardt said nothing. Then—
"My son is gone."
His voice held no hesitation, no doubt. It was a declaration.
"He is no longer the heir of the Everhart Duchy. I will name another."
The nobles stirred. Some exchanged uneasy glances, while others nodded in grim approval.
"And what of the Night's Queen?" another noble asked. "She is too powerful. She is—"
"A goddess in the making," the emperor finished, his fingers tightening slightly on the armrest of his throne. "And she has claimed the traitor as hers."
"Your Majesty," an elder noble stepped forward hesitantly. "The empire has never bowed to any woman before. If we do nothing—"
"We do nothing," the emperor said sharply. "For now."
"For now?"
Aldric's golden eyes glowed faintly, a dangerous gleam of calculation within them. "We wait. We watch. And when the time comes…"
He did not finish the sentence. He did not need to.
The meaning was clear.
Leonhardt had abandoned the empire.
But the empire had not abandoned its claim on him.
Not yet.
In the Kingdom of Aurion
While the empire burned with anger, the Kingdom of Aurion stood in a stunned silence.
Their once-struggling kingdom had changed overnight.
Aetheria had claimed the throne—not through war, not through bloodshed, but through power alone.
She had bowed no knee to the king.
Instead, he had bowed to her.
Every noble, every knight, every soldier—every citizen of Aurion—had bowed to her.
Not because they wanted to.
Because they had no choice.
The moment she had spoken, the moment her voice had echoed through the land, her power had forced them to their knees.
The world now knew her name.
The goddess of the future.
The ruler of the night.
The woman who had claimed the traitor prince as hers.
And in the days that followed, new whispers spread.
Leonhardt Valerian Everhart…
Had reached the peak of magic.
He was now a 9th-class magician—standing at the very top, beside the greatest sorcerers in history.
He was stronger than his father.
And soon—he would be stronger than the emperor himself.
And if that was not terrifying enough—there were rumors.
Rumors that he was on the verge of reaching the impossible.
A Grandswordmaster.
A title no human had ever achieved.
A title that would place him above even the greatest warriors of the empire.
If that were true—
Then the world had just lost its greatest warrior to a woman who ruled the night.
And no empire, no king, no god—would ever be able to reclaim him again.