For a moment, even the air seemed to freeze.
Everyone stared dumbly as the little cub, hugging his ghost bear, fiercely gnawed on Amos’s halo.
Wait, you’ve evolved—is this how evolution works????
Amos’s halo had been quite healthy; don’t go and gnaw it to bits!
“Hey, hey, hey!!”
“Let go, let go!”
“Amos!”
Chaos erupted.
Amos himself was stiff, feeling Little Chu Zao’s tiny, sharp teeth biting-biting-biting into his crown—biting hard.
The biting made Amos’s scalp tingle—a truly physical shiver.
Very good. Not even an entire beast legion had ever given Amos this feeling. Little Chu Zao had managed it.
By the time the adults managed, amid the chaos, to “pry” the cub off Amos’s halo, several minutes had passed.
They all stared at Amos’s crown halo.
Examining it closely—
Leaning in too close, Amos grew uncomfortable and tried to draw his halo back, only for Anya to speak up.
“Big Brother, did you see that?”
Frey: “Ah… I think so.”
Amos paused: “What?”
“If we’re not seeing things, brother, I think your halo… has two tiny tooth marks on it.”
Amos: ?
“Yes, but the silvery-black crown, unless you get really close, it’s actually hard to notice—Amos, do you feel any discomfort?”
Amos: …
“The way you’re describing it is making me uncomfortable, but otherwise, no.”
Amos really didn’t feel any discomfort, but the thought of tooth marks on his halo made his own teeth ache. He looked at the cub.
The little cub, compared to these Crown Clan adults over two meters tall, was just tiny, and slower to develop than most—an absolute baby. With Amos’s jacket made into a ghost bear, hugging it almost hid him entirely.
Still wearing a fever patch, the cub looked dazed and lost, and after biting someone’s “brain,” was even a little aggrieved: “…Zao Zao, Zao Zao can’t bite through…”
Good thing too! Imagine if you could!
Amos almost felt confused—surely he was the victim here?
How, after all this, did it seem like his halo had bullied the cub?
Three strapping Crown Clan members stared down at the child.
This cub really subverted their understanding every time.
“Is he hungry?” Anya asked hesitantly.
Amos thought, turned his wrist, and slowly formed a sword in his palm—one of his spirit weapons conjured from mental strength.
He looked at the sharp-edged spirit sword, and gingerly extended the hilt toward the cub’s mouth.
Little Chu Zao, lightning-fast, didn’t even give them time to react—just opened up and chomped.
Crunch—
A crisp crack. The men all shuddered in unison.
Anya scooted back a few meters, bouncing in place, “Half my body’s gone numb! I’m not kidding!”
The befuddled, aggrieved cub seemed a bit satisfied after that bite.
It was still uncertain what, if any, effect eating a spirit weapon had, or if too much would be dangerous. Amos didn’t dare let him bite any more.
He just looked down at his spirit sword.
A neat bite-mark now marred the hilt.
Hiss—
Those little teeth, pretty powerful.
Meanwhile, in Little Chu Zao’s view, a jumble of colored “threads” floated in the air. Dazed, uncomfortable but not unbearably so, and with Amos’s halo looking so delicious—he just couldn’t help it and bit down, and after another bite of a spirit weapon, those “threads” stood out all the more clearly.
But the cub didn’t care about them, so much so that several dim “threads” clung to his own halo, and he was none the wiser.
After finishing with Amos’s weapon, he sluggishly turned to look at Frey and Anya—
Their halos were still visible.
The little one wrinkled his nose, sniffed hard, eyes lighting up—
“Yummy!”
The still-sick cub struggled up, toddling resolutely toward those two unbitten halos.
Frey and Anya: …
Both took a defensive step back.
Adorable, and apparently harmless, but letting Zao Zao bite their “brain” was still… a bit much for now.
So, the Dwight mansion’s main hall presented a bizarre scene:
A tiny cub, hugging a ghost bear almost as big as himself, wobbling through the sofas, while two tall men hid behind the furniture, not daring to move too fast for fear the sick cub might topple.
He was utterly fixated on their halos.
To the Crown Clan, this was terrifying—he could not only touch your halo, but dared to *bite*. The first he tried was Amos’s.
Is that reasonable? It’s not reasonable!
Anya snatched an apple from a nearby bowl and offered it.
The cub stared blankly, eyes glazed from fever, straightened his cute little face, sniffed the fruit, then turned his head with a look of utter disdain.
—No thanks.
Not until Amos scooped the cub back up, halos withdrawn, and stuffed the pacifier back in his mouth, did the cub submit again, still clutching his bear, sucking milk obediently.
He never noticed that his little halo kept twanging the “string.”
Somewhere in the royal palace—
Behind layers of mechanical defense, a man sat by a giant window—long, sleek hair, gentle features, but with an overall chilly aura.
He sat quietly at the window.
Hel was like so many Crown Clan before him, watching the snow outside Holy Cas.
A strange, calm madness.
Hel closed his eyes.
He seemed obsessed, seeking out all the restless, chaotic voices.
Those voices told him—stop struggling, just give up, you’ve lost so much: friends, students—what is left?
Only this terribly incomplete, aging body.
Nothing could be more fitting than surrender now.
Yes, someone urged him—let it go, surrender…
Meanwhile, on the other side, the little cub, milk finished, smacked his lips, snuggled his bear, and hid in Amos’s arms. Finally, Amos couldn’t help himself and passed him the sword hilt again, allowing only one more bite. The cub, silly as ever, was thrilled: “Yummy, eat!”
His flashing halo twitched the “thread,” and yesterday’s new branching bud waggled with vitality.
In a dark corner, Hel’s depression was suddenly pierced by a childish voice, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yummy, eat—crunch, crunch, crunch—”
Hel: …?
He didn’t know why, but shivered instinctively, and then the voice vanished without a trace.
Hel stared blankly, totally derailed: Was he hearing things?
*
At that moment, in the contaminated zone.
The Holy Cas team had come here several times.
But the Crown Clan twins Job and Joshua had always refused contact.
Worst of all—their sightings of Job and Joshua together stalled, and soon Joshua vanished altogether.
The daily reports made it up the chain; the Empire was considering recalling Job and Joshua.
Because, after all, the decline of this last Crown Clan generation—was happening far too fast.
“Don’t come back here again—”
Job stood atop the barren, wasted planet, in the contamination’s outer sector.
Around him, countless lizard-beast corpses lay scattered. Job’s mental strength coiled like bone-whips, surrounding him, and his crown looked decent, silvery-black shining, only the edge branches falling away.
“We’ve been gone from Holy Cas Empire a long time.”
“Your Highness—your situation is dire; can’t we at least withdraw from the contamination area?”
The vanguard didn’t dare approach, standing a short way off.
Generally, any Crown Clan venturing into the contamination zone was already deeply unwell.
They couldn’t judge, only acted per the Emperor’s orders, attempting contact.
“Lord Job, we mean you absolutely no harm.”
“Whatever—”
Job looked at them icily.
“Do as you please.”
The bony whips faded; his crimson eyes froze over. He turned away.
“Lord Job—where is Joshua? Isn’t Lord Joshua with you?”
Someone tried to follow.
Job halted, glancing over.
That look chilled the blood, terrifying.
Holy Cas citizens rarely saw the elegant, gentlemanly Crown Clan act like this toward them.
Everyone ground to a halt.
“Listen. I told you: I know you got our pictures from Amos and tracked us here, but I no longer belong to Holy Cas Empire. If you keep following, don’t blame me for what happens—”
He spoke, and—
The team leader was flung aside, crashing down into a heap of beast remains.
“I dislike you. Neither I nor Joshua understood why we ought to protect you weaklings; we just offered a bit of shelter. Why should you become our responsibility? I don’t like it. Understand? We… are not like the Crown Clan you revere.”
He finished, turned away, and strode off.
“As for Joshua… he’s dead. He lost all sense of purpose. He begged me, his brother, to end it; I… gave him what he wanted.”
Job’s eyes were dark as the grave, lightless as he spoke those words.
This was the difference with the new generation of Crown Clan.
They hadn’t reached the total collapse of their crown, but their minds had already fractured.
The team froze; by the time they moved, Job was gone.
The signals still showed both Job and Joshua here.
The stunned soldiers yanked the captain from the wreckage.
He coughed and spluttered.
The reek of blood made him gag.
“Report up the chain fast—the Emperor and princes must know Joshua isn’t dead, but Job is out of our league.”
And as for Joshua—they had no idea what was happening. Killed by his own brother…? The first time this had ever happened with the Crown Clan.
“Yes, sir!”
“Sir, Lord Job…?”
These scouts were all young Holy Cas officers.
They’d seen a Crown Clan before—those still active, like Amos or the Crown Clan living in Holy Cas, never anyone like Job, brimming with malice.
The team leader was much older; he wiped a hand over his face, sighing.
“You kids don’t get it—if Lord Job didn’t want us to find him, we’d never see him. And if you think that beast swarm was easy, think again. If you escape with only a scratch, count yourself lucky.”
And now?
Apart from the stink, did any of them get hurt?
Job only scared them—didn’t smash anyone into the rocks, only lobbed the captain into the gore.
“The princes are suffering…”
The captain muttered as he got to his feet.
“Let’s hurry back—wait for new orders from His Majesty.”
*
A high-level Holy Cas meeting was underway.
Highly confidential.
Only a few officials and military commanders attending.
The situation with Job and Joshua was dire.
If even one truly fell, it would be a massive blow to the Crown Clan—it was rare indeed that any Crown Clan could subdue and retrieve them.
The fourth prince, Feiman Dwight, was en route, but far away; other Crown Clan’s crowns were all in poor shape, and the contamination zone was dangerous.
Finally, Amos decided to go himself.
Previously, Amos would never have tried, his mental strength in disarray—he’d needed somewhere to go vent and stabilize.
But thanks to Little Chu Zao, Amos had never felt his crown so calm, not even a hint of breakage.
The meeting ended.
Everyone left through the main entrance.
Anya and Frey looked to Amos, still in the center seat.
“During the meeting, his aura was at the door the whole time.”
“Mhm.”
Amos rose and pushed open the back door. He paused a moment.
The lounge beyond was newly carpeted with soft, cream shag, comfortable even to sit on directly.
The door pushed open; the cub, leaning against it, swayed a little. Amos stepped forward, letting him lean into his leg.
The cub looked up, eyes wide.
Wearing a white plush sleeper, a hat with little pointy ears sewn on—the ears of the Crown Clan’s original form, fuzzy and so cute on his little pink, rosy face. This past week, he’d had a constant fever but hated the cold.
So here he was—bundled up, yet still with a fever patch stuck to his forehead.
He clung to Amos’s ghost bear, which, after two nights, was even scuffier and more wrinkled. Uglier, but the little one adored it, refusing to let go.
With the fever, and still in a daze, he was slow and soft, his mind unclear.
The good news: he’d slowly sorted out his memories and could recognize people again.
“Papa—”
The little cub crawled up, still clutching the bear, stretching one soft hand in a plea for a hug.
“His Highness has waited quite a while,” Mori said at the door, smiling.
Amos crouched and scooped up the warm cub, heading outside.
“Should we repair that bear? Looks near collapse,” Frey said.
“Don’t mess with it… the little one’s a tough customer right now,” Anya whispered.
“One wrong move and he’ll be in tears.”
The fever made him so sensitive, his tolerance much lower than before, and he was easy to upset.
The last time they’d realized Chu Zao wasn’t some conspiracy’s product, but an unknown Crown Clan child, they’d felt a twinge of pain for him—that feeling only grew.
There were still many unknowns, so much research to finish. But one thing was clear: this cub was the Dwight family’s, no doubt.
“Slept well?”
The little cub, bear in arms, tugged Amos’s wild hair and stared at him blankly before nodding.
“Zao Zao is awake, Baba…”
The hat’s little ears wobbled as the cub hugged the ugly bear.
“Bear-bear is awake, too.”
The little one was weirdly attached to this shoddy bear.
He took it everywhere.
Mori had tried to swap it out, tidy it up, fearing it would fall apart, but the cub refused.
Even Amos was troubled by the ugly bear he’d made.
Especially since the jacket he’d used for it was rough—he hadn’t thought the cub would hold it so many days straight. Each morning, the cub’s soft white cheek was left a bit red, and with the way the cub treasured it… Amos thought it all very odd.
By now, he’d carried the cub down to the first floor.
This was a private area for the Crown Clan.
He asked in a low voice, “Zao Zao, why must you always hug that thing? Can’t Daddy give you a new one? Doesn’t your face hurt in the morning?”
Refuses to let go at meals, can’t peel his eyes away.
Why… keep hugging it?
The cub, holding the bear, blinked.
“Because if you can’t see it… it will break.”
The little voice was hesitant, then he grew sad and lowered his gaze.
“If Zao Zao doesn’t keep watch, it will break. The others aren’t the same.”
Zao Zao had too little. He’d been through this.
He’d always lived alone, in a world that didn’t welcome him, among aloof angels, living in a hastily built nest, and if any natural disaster or magic struck, everything was gone.
One careless moment, and it was all gone.
“All right, Daddy will fix it up for you soon, okay?”
Amos cut off the dark thoughts.
The cub still feverish and unwell, but all vital signs tending to stable, which was why Amos would personally fetch Job and Joshua—he would bring Chu Zao, who couldn’t be left behind anyway… or, more truthfully, Amos in his anxious state couldn’t leave the cub now, either.
“You watch from the side.”
The cub, thoughts interrupted, didn’t answer, just nestled closer in Amos’s arms—not clear if he agreed or not. The little one was cantankerous these days, always wanting to chew on their spirit, too.
Now, from another big room came the sound of arguing.
“Old man, your body’s still tough—can even tinker with these weird machines.”
“Of course, back when you were in a coma, if I’d shot you, you wouldn’t have felt a thing.”
It was Meilun and Kaman. As they talked, there was a lot of clanking.
Kaman’s situation was complicated.
Once, he claimed to have betrayed Holy Cas, now here again, but not yet restored in status; Amos had left Meilun to handle him, and Meilun gleefully made things awkward.
Now, Kaman had nothing official to do, so had to report here daily.
Knowing Meilun resented him, Kaman simply moved in; after so long gone, he knew no one in the palace.
Except for Amos feeding him on schedule, everything else bored Kaman had to do himself. He’d even dug up an ancient washing machine from somewhere, fussed with it, tipped in laundry.
What an antique!
Meilun could hardly look; Kaman thought it magnificent.
Where had he even found it?
Meilun snorted, “With all the modern facilities and cleaning bots, you really are nuts.”
Unemployed Kaman: “Do it yourself and you’re never without—shows I’m useful, right? Stuck in here all day, not bad, right?”
Besides, you know nothing—this thing is useful!
Meilun, exasperated, kicked the madman.
Kaman dodged, laughed—“Hey, you’re so hotheaded; neither of us has much to do, how about a spar? Been ages, let’s cut loose!”
He conjured his spirit weapon.
This guy was recovering fast.
Meilun nearly rolled his eyes.
Amos came by with the cub.
That washing machine looked like a true pre-interstellar relic, clunking as it churned.
The little cub hugged his bear, staring dumbfounded.
“Papa… what is that?”
Amos stopped.
Noting the cub’s curiosity, he set him down to take a look.
Holding his bear, the cub toddled closer, head cocked for a better look.
As he did, Meilun and Kaman froze, eyes locked on him.
Kaman did all this partly to get the cub’s attention.
He’d heard the little one hadn’t seen any of these things.
He’d gotten tips on what other cubs liked and found it worked—old tech, machines, guns—he’d show them off and dazzle the little one.
Even more confidence.
He explained: “A washing machine, people used these a long time ago—”
The cub was fascinated, coming even closer at first.
Once near, though, he eyed the spirit javelin in Kaman’s hand.
Kaman still slouched in his lazy posture, but with his voice raised several pitches, resting the weapon in one hand, looking casual.
Amos realized: “You’d better get that weapon away from him.”
Kaman looked at Amos. “What?”
He found out soon enough.
Because the cub lost all interest in the machine—
Crunch—
“…Huh?”
Kaman looked down slowly; the cub had toddled over and, trying it out, took a bite—crunch. He even chewed.
The sharp sound made Kaman’s skull tingle—what? Nothing there, but…hahaha? There’s no way a cub could bite a Crown Clan’s spiritual weapon, right?!
Kaman, not yet shocked by the “eating brains” moment, gingerly raised his javelin, staring at the bite mark—eyes going wide—??? He stumbled, somehow hitting a button, and suddenly the washing machine started whirring wildly.
Then, to Kaman’s horror, it began to creep across the floor.
The cub stared for two seconds, then hurried back, clutched Amos’s pants, and pointed—“Papa, that—that… the washing machine’s moving.”
Anya, rubbing his chin: “What model is that? Goes that fast? How old is it? Where’d you get it, Uncle Kaman?”
Kaman: ??? Wait, forget the washing machine—that’s not the point!
He brandished the javelin with its bite, staring at his expressionless kin, soul-searching: “Ah?”