Chapter 64

Just when Odelliana began to question whether mythical beasts of such scale could truly exist, a glance at Matthias chilled her doubts.

A divine beast—disguised perfectly as a man—stood before her, as real as breath and blood. If he could exist, walking among them cloaked in flesh and calm, then perhaps the legendary serpent Vanagand wasn’t such a far-fetched tale after all.

Her thoughts spun wildly, reason slipping like sand through her fingers. She pressed a hand to her forehead, struggling to steady herself, then forced her gaze away from Matthias and turned to Malena.

“Are you certain it’s really Vanagand?” she asked, her voice tight.

“They say a colossal serpent appeared and smashed through the outer wall,” Malena replied, still pale and breathless. “A snake so massive it could coil around a mountain—its scales blue like sapphire, and its tail… it’s made of some kind of opaque liquid. That’s exactly how the old texts describe Vanagand! Even if it’s not the Vanagand, any creature of that size would still be a high-tier beast!”

The words struck like stones. Odelliana reeled. Her knees buckled slightly, and the world tilted.

Before she could fall, Matthias moved—smooth and silent. He stepped in and caught her with effortless ease, one arm circling her waist, steadying her as though it were nothing.

She stared up at him, heart pounding. His face was composed, utterly unreadable. As if the world weren’t on the verge of disaster.

A high-tier beast appearing anywhere near a populated area was an immediate state of emergency. But Vanagand? That name came from the oldest records—a mythic serpent said to have swallowed river valleys whole and drowned entire civilizations. It was said to have triggered a flood that washed away a third of the southern continent in a single week.

If that creature was truly here…

“There’s no need to worry,” Matthias said quietly, his tone like still water. “Nothing will happen.”

His calm in the face of such peril was too complete. Too unnatural.

Odelliana’s stomach tightened. His return, timed to the second with the creature’s appearance. His unflinching serenity. It wasn’t a coincidence.

He knew something. Perhaps more than she dared to imagine.

She took a slow breath. “Malena,” she said, turning with sudden resolve. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

“But, my lady—there’s no time! You must evacuate—”

“I will. With Matthias.” Her tone sharpened. “You go on ahead.”

Malena hesitated, clearly torn between duty and fear, but eventually bowed and hurried off down the corridor.

As soon as the door shut, Odelliana turned—and shoved Matthias hard in the chest. Though much smaller than him, her force caught him off guard, and he leaned back against the wall with an amused smile.

Malena hesitated, then reluctantly exited. The instant she disappeared, Odelliana shut the door and shoved Matthias toward the wall. Though much smaller than him, her force caught him off guard, and he leaned back against the wall with an amused smile.

“How bold of you.”

His grin was playful, teasing—but Odelliana wasn’t in the mood. Her gaze cut through the air between them, sharp as a drawn blade.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she said, voice low and level.

Matthias tilted his head innocently. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You vanished without warning,” she snapped. “And now you return hand-in-hand with a creature out of legend. A high-tier cryptid appears the very moment you walk through that door, and you stand there as if none of it concerns you. Don’t insult me, Matthias. You know how I feel about lies.”

His smile didn’t fade, but his eyes softened. Gently, he drew her closer, wrapping one arm around her waist as if to steady her—as if to tether her to him.

“How could a student ever deceive their master?” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. “Just as you suspected—this is my doing.”

The calm in his confession was more jarring than a shout. For a moment, Odelliana could only stare at him, thoughts racing.

He didn’t elaborate. Instead, his gaze locked onto hers—steady, unreadable—and then he asked, quietly:

“Are you afraid?”

Not of the Vanagand. That wasn’t what he meant.

He was asking if he frightened her.

Her breath caught. Then, softly: “No. I just want to understand.”

At her answer, his grip shifted. Tighter—protective, almost possessive. As if he feared she might slip away if he let go.

“Beasts—divine ones especially—aren’t as simple as the records claim,” Matthias said, his voice slowing, becoming more deliberate. “They come in many forms. Their temperaments vary. Their motives, too.”

She watched him, alert. “Then why?”

“Because perhaps it didn’t bring as much destruction as people assume,” he said. “Maybe it avoided humans altogether. Maybe it feared them. A divine beast of that level—one that’s self-aware, sentient—it understands what humans are capable of. And it would know that provoking them… would be unwise.”

“But the Vanagand I’ve heard of caused catastrophic flooding—entire cities swallowed by water. It’s infamous. Even children know its name from lullabies and street songs.”

Matthias tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And what if it was the humans who first trespassed into its domain?”

The words struck her like a stone through glass. The realization crystallized in her mind: Matthias was not human.

The arm around her waist—so warm, so familiar—now felt like the coiled grip of a predator, deceptively gentle but inescapable. A chill swept through her, but she didn’t flinch.

“Unlike lesser beasts,” he continued, voice quiet but precise, “those of higher order can slip into human society undetected. They learn to mimic us. Shape themselves. Think like us. Speak like us. Dress like us.”

Odelliana’s voice was flat. “Just like you.”

“Yes,” Matthias said softly, “just like me.”

He offered no apology. No explanation. Only the truth—laid bare and unashamed.

She stared at him, searching his expression for some shred of regret, some flicker of doubt. There was none.

“Why aren’t you surprised I figured it out?” she asked.

He tilted his head slightly. “Should I be?”

“Don’t you even want to know how I found out?”

Matthias’s gaze softened, almost fond. “What does it matter? You see me for what I am, and still—you remain. That’s what counts.”

She frowned. “This is your secret.”

“It is,” he said with a smile—one too wide, too sharp. Just beneath the charm, his teeth gleamed slightly too long. Not quite human.

“And now,” he murmured, “it’s our secret.”

The way he said it sent a ripple down her spine. There was no fear in his voice. Only satisfaction. Possessiveness. Delight.

She realized she would gain nothing by dwelling on the revelation. He didn’t fear exposure. He welcomed it—because now they were bound by knowledge.

So she did what she always did when cornered: she changed the subject.

“…How did you manage to bring a high-tier divine beast here?”

“Half persuasion, half threat?” he replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Odelliana’s breath caught. He threatened a high-tier divine beast? Her vision swam with disbelief.

And yet, Matthias—this boy who had orchestrated the unthinkable—stood there perfectly calm, not a shred of doubt in his eyes.

“There won’t be any casualties,” he said smoothly. “All it did was break the wall. By now, it’s likely hidden itself again.”

She could barely follow. “Why?” she whispered. “Why would you do something like this?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if the answer were obvious. “If you want to start repairs on a wall, isn’t it simpler to tear the whole thing down first? Then there’s no room for excuses. They’ll have no choice but to rebuild.”

“What?”

The logic hit her like cold water—so simple, so clean, and so utterly brutal.

He went on, tone almost bored. “Besides, an attack by a legendary high-tier beast poses a major threat to the security of the entire Schaller Duchy. Do you really think the Duke will sit back while his territory faces a crisis of this scale?”

Odelliana said nothing. Her silence was disbelief wrapped in dawning understanding.

“This gives him the perfect justification to send humanitarian aid to Eisenwald,” Matthias continued. “The Duchy can step in with supplies, builders, coin—whatever is needed. All under the guise of emergency support.”

She stared at him. There was a chill precision in his every word, a terrifying clarity behind his plan.

“With news of Vanagand’s appearance, mercenaries will flood in from every corner of the realm, eager to earn glory by slaying a myth. And where mercenaries go, merchants follow. Scholars, adventurers, tradesmen, nobles looking to stake claims—Eisenwald will become the eye of the storm.”

“…You planned all this?”

He didn’t bother to answer. He only smiled, as if that too was obvious.

“The pheromones left by a high-tier beast will attract lesser cryptids. The outerlands will swarm with them, but that’s not a downside—it’s an opportunity. Their carcasses can be sold. Byproducts can be auctioned off. Hunters will arrive in droves. Coin will pour in.”

The method was simple. The consequences, anything but.

It was ruthless—yet disturbingly effective. Could one brutal act really untangle so many of Eisenwald’s problems in a single stroke?

Only because it was Matthias.

No one else would even consider threatening a divine beast.

“It’s also a great way to instill urgency,” he said, casual as ever. “A high-tier cryptid just shattered the outer wall—they’ll panic, as if war has broken out. That fear will force them to acknowledge the need for real defenses.”

“But fear can also drive people away,” Odelliana said quietly. “Eisenwald has too few young people as it is.”

“People don’t abandon their homes so easily,” Matthias replied. “And even if they do try to leave, most have nowhere else to go. Inside the walls, they still feel the safest. That won’t change overnight.”

She knew he was right. The world beyond Eisenwald’s borders was merciless, especially to the poor and landless. Relocation was a luxury. Leaving meant becoming a wandering refugee, vulnerable to theft, illness, or worse.

“Now it’s up to the lord to direct the mood,” Matthias continued. “If the young master proves he’ll stand and protect his people, they’ll rally around him instead of fleeing. Fear can unify just as well as divide.”

Odelliana was silent for a moment, weighing his words. The logic was sound—terrifyingly so.

“I understand your reasoning,” she said slowly. “But… did you really have to summon another creature? You could have destroyed the wall yourself.”

For the first time, Matthias hesitated. The ease in his expression faltered, his brow tightening with something like discomfort.

“…Because I can’t shed my human form right now.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

He gave a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s a secret.”

She could have pressed. But something in his tone warned her not to.

So instead, she nodded, and the tension in her spine began to unravel. Her limbs slackened. She hadn’t even realized how tightly she’d been holding herself together.

Without another word, Matthias leaned down and swept her into his arms.

“Matthias—” she began, startled.

But he only carried her gently across the room and laid her down on the bed with surprising care, as if she were made of porcelain.

“Your face is far too weary,” he murmured. “It worries me.”

There was affection in his voice. But something darker, too—possessiveness threaded through the softness like velvet drawn over a blade.

“For the sake of your devoted student, might I suggest a little rest?”

It wasn’t really a suggestion. Not the way he said it.

His hand came to her face, warm and steady, his palm shielding her eyes. She tried to protest, but the exhaustion she’d been holding at bay crashed over her all at once.

She hadn’t slept a moment the night before, poring over ledgers until dawn.

And now, in the hush that followed his chaos, she surrendered.

With Matthias watching, Odelliana let herself slip into sleep.