Chapter 95 - The Night is Not Over yet (Finale)

The ballroom had fallen silent now. The echoes of music and laughter, like the flickers of candlelight on golden walls, slowly faded into memory. Servants moved quietly, clearing the remnants of a grand evening, while nobles began to retire to their quarters or lingered in hushed conversations across velvet-draped lounges. Outside the towering windows of the Imperial Palace, the night sky stretched endlessly—blanketed in stars, silent and cold.

Luca walked alone through the wide, dimly lit corridor. The muffled echo of his boots bounced off the marble walls, only deepening the silence that followed him.

His eyes narrowed slightly, his brows furrowed.

What does the Empress want with me...?

He sighed.

Why did she call me to meet her... alone... after all that?

A faint, uncertain laugh escaped his lips, but it didn’t carry far.

There’s no point overthinking it. Just get it over with.

Soon, he found himself before a set of colossal golden doors adorned with silver dragons spiraling along its surface—clearly enchanted, pulsating faintly with ancient magic. Two guards stood at attention, their armor so polished it reflected the flames of the torches beside them.

As Luca opened his mouth to speak, one of the guards cut him off curtly.

"Are you Luca Valentine?"

He blinked in surprise but nodded. "Yes."

Without pause, the guard straightened and stepped aside. "Go in. Her Majesty is waiting."

Luca swallowed his tension, took a breath, and stepped forward.

He raised a hand and knocked once on the intricate doorframe, announcing clearly, "May I come in, Your Majesty?"

But before the echo of his voice could fade, the door opened of its own accord with a whisper, revealing the grand throne room within. A gentle breeze, tinged with a faint floral aroma and something sharper—like ozone after lightning—escaped from within.

And there she was.

Seated regally atop her obsidian and ivory throne, the Empress of Astravia—Celestia Dragonair. Draped in robes of starlight and woven fire, with a golden crown resting lightly upon her cascade of moonlit hair, she exuded not just power, but something almost divine. Her presence made the air itself feel heavier, electric.

Luca stopped in his tracks.

How... can someone be this beautiful?

Even calling her beautiful felt insufficient, like trying to contain the sky in a glass jar. There was grace in her stillness, authority in her silence.

He was still staring, wide-eyed and motionless, when her voice, cool and clear, broke the trance.

"You took your time to come, huh?"

As Luca was snapped from his trance, he instinctively lowered his head, bowing with swift grace.

"My apologies, Your Majesty."

Celestia Dragonair—resplendent and terrifyingly serene—tilted her head slightly, her piercing crimson eyes narrowing. Her voice, calm yet laced with undeniable weight, rang across the throne room.

"Hmm... Luca Valentine. Obscured visions since childhood. Even called possessed by some people. Then, without warning, asked to get enrolled in Arcadia Academy. Not just that—Getting into Class A. Next, the dungeon incident... Blood crystal uncovered, again, you at the center. Then another devil cult incident, Another anomaly. Then today—medal of honor for slaying a corrupted dragon... tactic of targeting the dragon’s soul out of nowhere."

She leaned forward ever so slightly on her throne.

"A sudden surge of achievements. Coincidence... or design? What would you think of yourself if you were in my position?"

Luca stood frozen as sweat beaded along his forehead.

His thoughts spiraled.

Fuck... She knows everything. Probably more than I do. That’s the Empress for you. The strongest being in the world... and the most dangerous. If I were in her shoes, I would even think I’m a spy. Gaining trust, gathering prestige, showing miraculous insight into soul injuries, surviving anomalies...

But before he could drown in his panic, her voice cut through again.

"I would have thought the same... if you were not a Valentine."

Luca’s head shot up, stunned.

Wait, what? She can’t possibly—

Did she read my mind just now?

and what does being a valentine have to do with it? the mystery around my family?

His thoughts tangled tighter, yet Celestia’s expression remained unreadable. Regal. Impossibly calm. Then, her next words landed like a quiet blade:

"Still, don’t you think you have some explaining to do?"

Luca exhaled. He could feel the pressure around him—like the world was holding its breath.

There’s no running now. Might as well say it.

"I... It’s related to my affinity. Time and space. I don’t fully control it, but sometimes... I see into another life. Someone else’s memories, moments. It only happens when I’m in danger—or someone I care about is."

He looked up, locking eyes with her.

"That’s how I knew about the soul injury. As for the other incidents , they are just coincidences."

Celestia’s gaze didn’t soften. Nor did she appear surprised. She simply observed—like a god passing judgment.

"Hmm."

A pause.

Then, with a subtle shift in her voice—sharp, yet almost teasing—

"Anyway... have you thought of what you wish to ask of me?"

Luca blinked.

Huh? That’s it? No interrogation? No doubt?

His heart still thudded like war drums... but all he could think was:

Just what kind of woman are you, Celestia Dragonair?

Luca took a deep breath, steadying himself. Then, lifting his eyes to the Empress, he spoke with calm determination.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I’ve thought of it."

A flicker of curiosity passed through her otherwise unreadable gaze. "Hmm... and what is it that you desire?"

He hesitated for only a moment, remembering his earlier conversation with Aira.

"You should ask for her help with the egg," Aira had insisted.

"But it’s the Empress’s favor," Luca had argued. "Wouldn’t that be a waste? We could find another energy source eventually—"

"Hmph. What do you know?" Aira scoffed. "Dragon energy is rare, almost extinct. Aside from Beastridge Mountain—which won’t open again for fifty years—you won’t find it anywhere. And that woman... even I can’t gauge her strength."

With those words echoing in his mind, Luca sighed. "Alright then," he had decided. "Let’s do this."

Now, back in the throne room, Luca drew in a long breath and reached into his beast space. A pale blue glow pulsed between his fingers as he withdrew the egg—the one the Beastridge Mountain dragon had entrusted to him.

"I want your help hatching this egg," he said firmly.

A trace of genuine surprise passed across the Empress’s face. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharpening as her eyes locked onto the egg.

"...Whose egg is this? Why... why do I feel a familiar aura from it?"

"It’s the egg that the Beastridge dragon handed over before he died," Luca explained. "It... it reacted to your aura once before, so I thought..."

The Empress stared at him for a long moment, her crimson eyes unreadable. Then she stepped down from the throne, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she approached. She stood before him now—regal, composed, powerful.

"Are you certain?" she asked, her voice low. "Do you truly want my help with this?"

A decisive light sparked in Luca’s gaze as he gave a single nod. "Yes."

Without a word, the Empress moved behind him. Her presence was overwhelming this close—warm, divine, suffocating.

"Sit," she instructed. "My energy is far too concentrated. The egg would disintegrate if I channeled it directly. I’ll transmit it through your body instead."

Luca nodded silently and sat cross-legged on the floor. The egg rested in front of him.

Then it began.

A gentle warmth flowed into his back, followed by an intense current—raw and ancient. Power like nothing he’d ever felt surged through him, flooding every meridian, burning away resistance. He gritted his teeth, trembling. His body felt like a fragile conduit for a divine torrent.

And yet—he held on.

The egg pulsed with light, resonating with the energy, responding.

Just a little more—

And then everything went white.

His vision blurred. His consciousness slipped.

****

The soft rays of the morning sun slipped past the ornate curtains, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. Luca stirred, groaning slightly as he blinked his eyes open.

"...Ugh... my body... it aches..."

He pushed himself up slightly, taking in his surroundings. The familiar ceiling, the luxurious sheets, the subtle scent of pine and parchment—it was unmistakably the Valentine estate.

"My room? What the... how did I get here?" he mumbled, his brows furrowed in confusion.

But before he could think further, he felt a small weight on his stomach.

"...Huh?"

He slowly turned his head—and froze.

There, curled up against him like a tiny kitten, was a little girl. Barely three or four years old, her golden hair glistened in the sunlight. Her tiny hands clung to his robe, her cheek resting against his side.

Luca’s eyes widened in disbelief. "W-What the—AaaaAAAAH!"

His sudden shout jolted the girl awake. She blinked, confused at first, then let out a soft, sleepy yawn. Her big eyes—eerily familiar, yet innocent and warm—looked up at him.

Then she smiled.

"Papa!"

Luca’s mind went blank.

What. The. Hell.