And then Dila spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need… umm, Sir Zib," she said, hesitating slightly, "I need an herb. Something strong. I need to craft some potions..."

She paused, her fingers tightening around her own arm.

"…Because the one I have to fight... is King Albedo."

Her eyes drifted to the side again, as if avoiding the weight of her own words. Her gaze lowered, her expression dimming, her voice almost trembling now—like he was just too powerful, like it hurt just to say it.

Zib froze.

He was already facing Dila now, his back straightened in disbelief. His hand, which had been adjusting a microscope knob earlier, now hung limp at his side.

"…Wait, wait, wait," he stammered, eyes wide with shock. "You mean—your father?"

Dila didn't answer. She just stood there, her shoulders stiff, her jaw tight. Not a word came from her lips.

Zib took a shaky step forward, his voice cracking. "Why…? Your father—he's been sick and worried, losing his mind ever since you disappeared! And now you're telling me… you want to fight him?!"

His tone wasn't angry—it was raw. Confused. It sounded like a plea, as if he was trying to reach a version of her that hadn't changed.

But Dila didn't move. She didn't flinch. Her face stayed still, calm even—but her eyes… her eyes flickered, faintly. Like a candle struggling against the wind.

Then Zeon stood up.

"Stop it already, Zib," he said, firm and sharp.

Gone was the smirk. Gone was the playfulness. His voice carried weight now—real, grounded.

"She's heard enough."

Zib opened his mouth again, but the words caught in his throat. He looked at Dila—really looked—and then lowered his gaze in silence.

The room fell into stillness. Only the low hum of the sterile crystal lights echoed softly... and the quiet, rhythmic tapping of Fran's foot broke the silence.

Meanwhile, Fran was watching from the side, her usual shyly cheerfulness dimmed by the heavy atmosphere. Her tail flicked once, uncertainly, and her ears twitched as her eyes shifted between the three of them. The tension in the room pressed down like a thick blanket, and her smile faltered.

She rubbed the back of her neck and gave an awkward little laugh.

"Ahh… hahaha… n-nice table you got there," she said nervously, her voice rising an octave as she glanced at the sterile metal table nearby.

Zeon didn't even turn to look at her. His expression was firm, eyes still locked on Zib.

"Stop it, Fran. It's not the time to joke around," he said in a low, serious tone—completely unlike his usual playful self.

Fran's ears instantly drooped, her shoulders sinking as if someone had pressed a hand down on her back. Her tail stilled, and she mumbled, "Sorry…"

She lowered her head a little, taking a tiny step back, her usual spark now replaced by guilt.

Zeon didn't move. He kept his gaze on Zib, jaw clenched.

But then Dila's voice cut through the quiet.

"Don't scold my Fran."

Her tone was calm, but there was a note of firmness in it. She didn't raise her voice, yet the weight behind her words was enough to make Zeon pause.

Zeon blinked, then slowly turned his head toward Dila. His expression softened just a little.

"Ohh, I'm sorry, Princess," he said with a light mock in his tone—not insulting, but exaggerated enough to play along. He gave a small bow, one hand extended theatrically, as if performing for a crowd. "Forgive this humble knight hero for his harshness."

Fran peeked up from under her bangs, ears twitching once more as she saw Zeon's little act. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, faint—but grateful.

Dila didn't respond right away, only giving a faint look to Zeon as if to say: Don't push it.

The moment passed in silence, the weight in the room still lingering… but slightly eased by the shift.

And then Zib finally gave in with an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright, I yield," he said, raising both hands in the air and flailing them slightly in playful defeat. His voice was tired, but a small smile tugged at his lips.

He turned back toward Dila, his expression softening. "Since you need some plants, herbs, and materials, right?"

He gave a small nod, then motioned with a tilt of his head. "Follow me."

He smiled–genuinely this time–and began walking toward the door at the far end of the lab.

Without a word, Dila stepped forward, followed closely by Fran and Zeon. The atmosphere shifted slightly—still serious, but lighter, like something fragile had just been accepted between them.

As they entered the next room, the sight that greeted them was something out of a dream.

It was a chamber bathed in soft, shifting lights. Rows upon rows of herbs lined the walls—each glowing faintly in their own color. But what made it surreal was how they were stored. Each herb was sealed inside a crystal-clear glass capsule, and inside each capsule, a miniature ecosystem bloomed. Rain drizzled within one. Mist floated inside another. Tiny sparks of magical light danced through their own little skies, nourishing the plants like they were worlds unto themselves.

Each one felt alive.

Fran gasped audibly, her eyes sparkling like stars. "Wow… this is more amazing than I thought…" she whispered in awe, turning slowly in place, her tail gently swaying as she took it all in.

Zeon, just behind her, grinned ear to ear. "Heh… now this is what I missed," he said, his eyes gleaming with genuine happiness.

Zib kept walking, leading them deeper into what was clearly his second, more advanced lab. "This place… I only show this to people I trust. Every capsule in here holds a rare species. Some of them don't even exist outside this room anymore."

He guided them to a massive table in the center—polished steel, rimmed with glowing lines of light, and embedded with high-tech instruments that hummed faintly. The equipment was like something out of a future age—arcane meters, floating alchemical lenses, vial sorters, and even auto-crafting arms that shimmered with enchantments.

Dila's steps slowed as she reached the table. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat.

In her mind, she whispered:

"Wow… will you look at that…"

Her fingers hovered just above the edge of the table, almost afraid to touch it. Not out of fear but reverence. She had never seen tools like this before. The world she came from was already advanced in magic, but this… this was something beyond. Something that felt like it was meant for a different kind of alchemist. One that still dared to dream.

In that moment, even with the weight of the coming duel pressing on her chest, Dila felt something she hadn't in a long time.

Hope for actually winning this time.

And then, as Dila stood silently before the magnificent alchemist's table, surrounded by glowing herbs, humming tools, and a faint shimmer of sterile magic, something gentle stirred in her mind.

☆ This Is it, Master!! ☆

Nari's soft, delicate voice echoed within her thoughts, like a breeze brushing across still water.

☆ The one you've been waiting for… the alchemist smithing you've always dreamed of so you can win on the fight!! ☆

Dila's lips parted just slightly, her eyes still fixed on the table before her. The hum of the lab faded around her as the warmth of Nari's voice lingered in her heart. She hadn't realized it until now—but the longing, the quiet hunger for a space like this… it had been there for the time as she can remember. Maybe longer when she was still playing this game world from the past but now it becomes a reality.

In her mind, she smiled—softly, genuinely.

"Yeah…"

Her voice within was calm, full of something rare.

"This is it."

Not just a lab. Not just tools.

But a place that made her feel like herself in the moment again.

And then, suddenly, just as Dila stood quietly in awe, her heart still full from Nari's gentle voice. Fran burst into her thoughts like a cat leaping onto a sacred altar.

"Oh, oh, oh! Sister!" Fran shouted, bouncing beside her with a bright grin, her ears flicking with excitement. "Don't forget to make some power-ups for me too! I'm gonna fight that geezer with you after all, y'know!"

She winked, puffing out her chest proudly like a tiny warrior ready to take on the world.

Dila blinked, caught off guard—then let out a soft laugh. She turned to Fran, her smile warm now, and gave her a quiet thumbs up without saying a word.

Fran beamed like she'd just won the jackpot.

But Zib, who had just placed a glowing blue capsule into a sorter tray, nearly dropped it.

"H-How indecent!" he sputtered, looking absolutely offended. "Calling my king a geezer? He's still young, you know! A thousand years is nothing for us elves!"

Zeon nearly choked on his own breath from holding back laughter. He covered his mouth, trying and failing to hide a grin.

"Oh, come on," he muttered between snickers. "You actually said that with a straight face?"

Zib straightened, flustered, clearly trying to defend King Albedo's youthful status. "Well...well it's true! He's strong! His hair's still there!"

But even he couldn't hold it anymore. Despite himself, Zib cracked a grin. Then, suddenly—he laughed. A loud, brief, and entirely unexpected laugh.

"Oh well," Zib said, throwing his hands in the air. "If the Princess is happy making fun of her father, I'll laugh too. Besides, he can't hear us here, right?"

He glanced around the lab a little too quickly, as if half expecting a crystal orb to light up with Albedo's furious voice.

Zeon burst into full laughter now, leaning against the edge of the table. "How on earth do you not know if he can hear us or not? This is your lab!"

Zib blinked. "Right…?"

Zeon slapped the table, still laughing. "You built this place! If he is listening, then congratulations, you just called him old and bald on a live feed!"

Fran laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach, nearly tipping over into a stack of vials. "You're all gonna die before the duel even starts!"

Dila, standing in the middle of it all, just smiled quietly.. her heart lighter than it had been in days.