For a long while, no one spoke.

The revelation hung in the air like a blade suspended by a single thread—too heavy to ignore, too sharp to grasp carelessly. Leaves rustled faintly against the living walls, but inside the wooden house, time itself seemed to hesitate.

Lyra stared at Selene, though her mind was elsewhere.

Evethra stood unnaturally still, crimson eyes dimmed with thought.

Even Kael, usually so quick to respond, said nothing.

Only Faelor and Sylvaen remained composed—not because they were unaffected, but because they had already known.

They knew almost everything that Eiravel had told them or was going to say to them.

A normal citizen probably didn't know everything, but here, in the central city, everyone was aware of the history that humans had tried to bury.

Finally, it was Alenia who broke the silence.

Her voice was calm, but there was some doubt beneath it.

"I was certain dragons were… untouchable," she said slowly. "Legends always made them sound absolute. Stronger than anything else. Too strong for anyone to truly stand against."

She lifted her gaze to Eiravel. "So how did humans even manage it?"

For a heartbeat, Eiravel merely looked at her, looking into the woman for the first time.

Then her eyes narrowed.

"You," Eiravel said, her voice cool and sharp, "are a Noctyrr."

The word fell like a curse.

Alenia stiffened—not in fear, but recognition.

"A rare one," Eiravel continued, studying her with ancient, measuring eyes. "A ruthless race. Dream-hunters. Enslavers of the mind. You stalk victims in their sleep, hollow them out, and wear their will like a borrowed cloak."

The room went very still.

"How curious," Eiravel added mildly, "to see one still walking the world. Even rarer—one sane enough to converse."

Faelor's eyes widened.

Sylvaen's breath caught.

Demons and elves were opposites by existence itself—nightmares and nature, corruption and balance. They should not have been able to share the same air without violence.

Noctyrrs in particular were some of the most annoying demons, and right now, one of them was before them.

They had known from the start that Alenia was a demon—they had sensed it.

But being a demon and being a Noctyrr were different.

It was told to everyone in the city to kill any Noctyrr they come across.

And yet… their mother hadn't raised a hand, so they didn't make a move.

Eiravel, on the other hand, tilted her head, then shrugged.

"I suppose it's because you never crossed the threshold," she said to Alenia. "You never enslaved anyone."

Her gaze hardened, just slightly.

"Once a Noctyrr truly begins enslaving, there is no return."

As those words fell, the atmosphere turned… awkward.

Lyra and Evethra already knew Alenia was a demon. She had never hidden that. She had even warned them.

'A bad race,' she'd said.

But knowing something and hearing it named by a primordial being were very different things.

No one recoiled.

No one reached for a weapon.

They simply… didn't know how to react.

Kael, however, remained unmoved. After all, he knew exactly what Alenia was, but as Eiravel had said, she hadn't become a true Noctyrr.

And even if she did become one, Kael would merely spank her back to normal.

So, he didn't really care.

Now, before the awkwardness could deepen, Eiravel spoke again.

"Back to your question," she said, returning her gaze to Alenia. "Dragons were never invincible."

That earned several sharp looks, and their attention returned to the topic.

"They were powerful—yes. Terrifyingly so. But not unmatched." She gestured vaguely, as if pointing to distant horizons. "There are beings who could stand on equal ground with them."

She counted calmly.

"The Elf Empress."

"The Demon Lord."

"The Spirit Kings, each ruling their own dominion."

"And the Demon Kings, who serve directly beneath their lord."

Lyra's eyes widened.

Evethra frowned slightly, absorbing every word.

"That is why the fall of the dragons required coordination," Eiravel said quietly. "Betrayal layered upon betrayal."

Kael's brow furrowed.

"Elf Empress?" he repeated.

The question was simple—but it hid another question behind it.

Eiravel smiled faintly, understanding him immediately.

"You wondered why you didn't see her," she said. "Even when the World Tree is speaking to you."

Kael didn't deny it.

"She is in training," Eiravel replied. "Constantly. The Elf Empress has never stopped seeking greater strength. She believes stagnation is death—which, to some extent, is true."

That… explained less than Kael liked, but he didn't interrupt her.

"As for the Spirit Kings," she added, "they govern their own regions. They do not interfere unless balance itself is threatened."

She paused.

Then her tone shifted.

"However, do not be mistaken thinking that the ones I just mentioned were the only ones who could rival the dragons in power," Eiravel said, eyes sharpening once more.

Everyone leaned in, instinctively.

"There were also those named by dragons."

The word echoed strangely.

"Named?" Lyra asked, tilting her head. "If that's the case… wouldn't there be many such people?"

Eiravel chuckled softly.

"No. It does not work that way."

She raised one finger.

"One dragon can name only one individual."

Her voice grew solemn. "Because, to name someone is to cut away a part of one's own talent—one's destiny—and grant it to another."

The room stilled.

"That person may rise to a level capable of threatening dragons," she continued. "But there is an absolute rule."

Her gaze swept the room.

"They can never harm the dragon who named them."

Silence.

Then—

Alenia turned her head.

So did Lyra.

So did Evethra.

Their movements were mechanical. Perfectly synchronized.

All three looked at Kael.

Darian remained seated in the corner, eyes lowered, fully aware that this conversation was far beyond him.

After all, he was relatively new to the group, and he still didn't know many things. So, for now, he decided to listen because he felt honored just being part of this conversation.

Eiravel, however, noticed the girls'—Lyra, Alenia, and Evethra—expressions.

She tilted her head, intrigued.

"…What is that look?" She asked lightly. "Did I say something amusing?"

Alenia swallowed.

Then, in a low voice—almost reluctant—she spoke.

"Kael," she said, not looking away from Eiravel, "has already named more than two hundred people."

The world stopped.

Even the living wood seemed to hold its breath.

Eiravel froze.

For the first time since her arrival… she didn't smile.

Her ancient eyes widened—just slightly.

"…Excuse me?" She said.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing because even from a dragon's standard, it was an impossible thing.

Yet, Alenia wasn't lying.

Kael, after teaching his breathing technique to the first two hundred or so people of his village, had also named them, wanting them to remain loyal to him.

No one had questioned him because being named made them stronger, and no one hated that, but now, hearing Eiravel's words, the girls couldn't help but be shocked.

There must be some mistake.

This was what the girls thought.

And so did Eiravel.

The only difference was that the former thought that Eiravel didn't remember correctly, while the latter believed that the girls didn't know what naming was.

So, after staring at Alenia for a long second longer, Eiravel laughed.

A light, almost amused chuckle escaped her lips as she waved a hand dismissively.

"You must not understand what naming truly is," she said gently. "It is not something one can repeat carelessly. Perhaps you are confusing it with a contract."

Before Alenia could answer, Lyra inhaled sharply.

"No," she said, lifting her head. Her voice was soft but steady. "We were all named, so we know what happened."

Everyone's attention shifted to her.

"When Kael did it," Lyra continued, fingers unconsciously tightening atop Selene's blanket, "Our powers vanished for a day. When it returned, everything had changed. My mana capacity expanded. My growth… changed. It was as if my limits were redrawn."

She hesitated. "Even my race evolved. I could feel it. Not metaphorically. Literally."

Eiravel's smile faltered.

Lyra turned her gaze toward Alenia and Evethra. "They were named at the same time, and they felt the same."

Alenia nodded once, expression grave.

Evethra followed, crimson eyes lowering in confirmation.

Silence slammed into the room.

Eiravel froze.

Slowly, she turned her head toward Kael.

He shrugged.

Just… shrugged—as if this were a mildly inconvenient misunderstanding rather than a cosmic impossibility.

Something in Eiravel snapped.

She lifted both hands and grabbed her head, fingers threading through her hair as she bent forward slightly.

"You—" she muttered, breath sharp. "You careless, impossible—"

Seeing that, Faelor stiffened, and even Sylvaen's eyes widened.

They had never seen their mother frustrated.

"You've destroyed it," Eiravel said under her breath. "The balance. The last hope this world had. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Kael tilted his head, genuinely confused. "Why are you acting like this?"

He straightened slightly. "I never felt my talent decrease. Not even a little. If naming was supposed to take something from me, then it didn't."

Eiravel exhaled slowly, long and tired.

"You wouldn't feel it," she said. "It doesn't hurt. It doesn't leave a hole. It simply… happens. Like erosion. Like time."

Kael frowned. "No. I'd notice."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

Their gazes locked—ancient forest against unyielding gold.

Kael shook his head. "I'm sure of it."

For a long moment, Eiravel merely studied him.

Then she straightened.

"Fine," she said, voice calm again—but colder now. "If you won't believe me, then I'll show you."

She stepped forward, power shifting subtly with her movement, the air responding as if bracing itself.

"I will prove it to you," Eiravel said. "Right here. Right now."

And the forest itself seemed to listen.

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