Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part Two]

CHAPTER 238: Royal Dominion - Reneal's Ascension

She threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. Reneal held her close, letting her cry. His eyes remained sharp, scanning the battlefield, prepared to act.

Sophia... he thought.

Just before he left the Crownspire Tower, Lumielle had told him to stay close to her childhood friend. She had said it with certainty, as though no matter what happened, no matter the circumstances, the girl would handle the rest.

And Reneal believed her.

Deep down, he knew Sophia was still out there—alive and desperately trying to make her way back. She hadn't abandoned them. She would return. All he had to do was hold on—endure the storm until their true savior arrived.

"I'll carry this burden until you get back," he murmured to himself. "I won't run away anymore."

His blade gleamed. His soul burned.

The prince had awakened.

***

Lefahne scribbled down a host of measurements in her leather-bound journal, her quill gliding quickly as her gaze flickered to the vial beside her. The liquid inside swirled with pink luminescence, casting a gentle glow across the page. She leaned forward, murmuring under her breath as she wrote.

All of a sudden, warm arms wrapped around her waist and a kiss landed at the nape of her neck.

"You're scribbling again," Zurrel teased, his voice low and fond as he nuzzled into her. "Stars above, woman—you'd document the structure of air if I let you."

Lefahne squirmed, giggling as she tried to keep her hand steady. "Zurrel, stop that—this formula isn't finished. One mistake and I'll have to start over on a new page."

"And here I thought I was the workaholic," he murmured, leaving another playful kiss just below her ear.

She hummed softly but kept her eyes on the page. "I'll be romantic after I've ensured people won't grow extra toes from attempting to replicate this."

He chuckled and slipped away without another word, fetching a bag from the cupboard in the next room. A few moments later, she heard the faint clink of glass.

Curious, she turned her head just in time to see him walk back in with a mischievous glint in his eyes and something hidden behind his back. He placed a crystal flute gently beside her notes, then revealed a dark bottle with gold-etched script gleaming across the label.

Lefahne blinked, then sniffed the air. Her nose twitched. She froze. "No..." she breathed, wide-eyed. "It can't be."

Zurrel uncorked the bottle with a flourish and poured a generous serving into her flute. "And yet—it is," he said smugly, setting the bottle down so she could see for herself. "A ten-year-old Mortelarano. Your favorite."

She snatched the bottle like it might vanish. "This... this isn't even sold in Lunarel anymore! Where did you—how did you—?"

He shrugged, lips curling into a charming smile. "Let's just say being the local miracle worker comes with a few perks. A grateful noble owed me a favor."

Lefahne arched a brow, then slowly smiled as the wine caught the light from the manalamp. "Let me rephrase the question then: what's the occasion?"

Zurrel leaned in, his voice gentle. "Because we've earned it. Sylvie's healthy. We finished the elixir to stabilize pixie crystal withdrawal. And now this—" he gestured to the potion "—is the most advanced restorative formula the realm's ever seen."

Lefahne's smile deepened. "Now that I think about it... we really have come a long way."

"Longer than most," Zurrel said, reaching for her hand. "Come. Just for a moment."

"Zurrel..." she protested softly, "I still need to transcribe the—"

He pulled her to her feet and gently guided her with a sway, then another, until her body relaxed into his rhythm. "You can do that later. Right now... dance with me."

She let out a breathless laugh, her hands resting on his shoulders, eyes glassy with affection. "You always do this."

"I know," he murmured, drawing her close. "And you always forgive me."

They swayed to the quiet music of their own heartbeat, blue light tinting their bodies. Lefahne leaned her forehead against his chest, eyes closed. "I still remember when you pulled me out of that burning grove," she whispered.

"And I remember how you stitched me back together with nothing but bark paste and spit when you ran out of mana," he replied, smirking. "We've saved each other more times than I can count. But the closest call had to be with my disease."

Lefahne's smile faded into something softer. "But just like all the other adversities... we prevailed in the end."

Zurrel nodded, pressing his forehead to hers. "Once we have each other—"

BOOM!

The front door exploded inward, sending splinters flying like shrapnel. A body came crashing through, smashing into the herbal racks with bone-breaking force. It was Monk Cadane—his robes shredded, eyes rolling, mouth frothing like a rabid beast.