Chapter 370: Chapter 370: After the Hunt
The tent did not empty immediately after Lord Edric’s announcement. Instead, whispers filled the air, spreading like fire across dry grass.
"Noel Thorne... first place?" one matriarch murmured, her jeweled fan snapping shut. "Impossible. He was disqualified in the last Hunt. Dead last."
Another lord leaned forward, brows furrowed. "Not just disqualified. He barely kept up last time. To climb from that to this—something doesn’t add up."
At the edge of the gathering, Mirelle’s voice cut sharp. "I said it before, and I’ll say it again—this cannot be natural. Twenty-four hours without rest? No boy his age has that kind of endurance."
Serina echoed her, arms crossed tight. "It’s a farce. A staged spectacle."
But their words fell flat against the silence of the rest. Everyone in the tent had seen the same thing—the endless streams from the drones circling above the mountains. Noel fighting through wave after wave, never yielding, never stopping.
A patriarch from House Nivaria shook his head. "You call it unnatural? I call it terrifying. He carved his way to the top in a single day."
Another from House Lestaria murmured under his breath, "If he can climb this fast, what will he be in another year?"
The murmurs grew darker, sharper, until Albrecht Thorne finally stirred. He didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t need to.
"Enough."
Albrecht Thorne’s words struck like a hammer, silencing the tent. His gaze swept across the gathered nobles, cold and unyielding. "You all saw it. Every strike. Every kill. He was watched the entire time."
Lord Edric de Nivaria stepped beside him, his own presence equally unshakable. "Indeed. A mana drone shadowed him for twenty-four hours. If there had been trickery, every one of us would have seen it. Do you dare call all the houses blind?"
The protests died. No one answered. The images from the drones still burned in their minds—Noel tearing through beast after beast, bloodied but never stopping.
Albrecht’s tone sharpened. "This is not a discussion. This is fact."
Mirelle and Serina lowered their eyes, chastened but not convinced. Still, no one dared to speak further.
The tent settled into uneasy silence. Noel Thorne had shattered every expectation, and no denial could erase it.
The night air outside the tent was cooler, quieter, though the weight of murmurs still clung to the camp. Noel stepped out, Revenant Fang hanging loosely at his side, his shoulders aching from hours of battle.
"Elena."
She was already there, waiting for him. Without hesitation, she closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him, relief softening her usual poise. When she pulled back, her cyan eyes searched his face carefully.
"You did it," she said, her voice warm but edged with disbelief. "First place. The last time, you pushed me to first... but this time, you’re the one who stood on top."
Noel’s lips curved faintly, though exhaustion dulled the expression. "You’re not on the podium this time."
Elena shook her head, her smile calm, almost playful. "I told you already. Since my father became patriarch, the pressure isn’t the same. I don’t need to chase rankings anymore." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Besides... you’re the man in this relationship, aren’t you? It’s your job to protect me."
Noel blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. Then, unexpectedly, a quiet chuckle escaped him. "That’s convenient."
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. "Convenient or not, I mean it."
Noel studied her for a moment, his gaze softer than he intended. Elena had never been the type to ask for help—yet here she was, giving him a reason to carry her burden without shame.
’Protect her, huh? With everything else hanging over me... that much, at least, I can do.’
He reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "Then I’ll protect you. That’s a promise."
Elena’s smile widened, tinged with both pride and something gentler. She squeezed his hand once before stepping back, her eyes shining with quiet trust.
Noel had barely let Elena’s hand slip from his when another presence drew near. Steps deliberate, posture straight, eyes steady—Selene.
She stopped a few paces away, her wand still strapped to her side, her hair catching the dim firelight. For once, she didn’t bother with pleasantries.
"We need to talk," she said, her tone cold as always, but the faint tremor beneath betrayed urgency. Her gaze shifted briefly toward Elena, then back to Noel. "The three of us."
Elena blinked, her brows lifting. "...Talk?"
Selene gave a single nod. "You know what about."
The silence stretched for a heartbeat, heavy and sharp. Elena’s expression softened with sudden clarity. She turned to Noel, her eyes narrowing, not with anger, but with the weight of unspoken realization.
"Noel," she murmured, her voice quiet but cutting, "you know what this is about, don’t you?"
A chill ran down his spine. He kept his face calm, but the weight of her stare felt heavier than the wounds on his body.
Elena held his gaze, patient, waiting—not for words, but for acknowledgment. Behind her, Selene’s steady presence lingered like a shadow pressing closer.
For the first time since the Hunt had ended, Noel felt a tension he couldn’t cut down with a blade.
He drew in a slow breath, steadying himself. "...Yes," he admitted softly.
Elena’s lips pressed together, her hand curling loosely at her side.
Selene’s eyes flickered, unreadable in the firelight, but her silence carried more weight than any demand.
The noise of the camp faded behind them as the three slipped away, finding a quiet spot near the treeline where the torches didn’t reach. The air was cooler here, calmer—yet far heavier.
Elena crossed her arms lightly, tilting her head as she looked at Selene. "So... what did you want to talk about?"
Her tone was polite, but inside, her thoughts whirled. ’Strange. Selene never sought out others. She is always distant. For her to ask for a talk... it must be serious.’
Noel stood a step behind, his fingers tightening faintly on Revenant Fang’s hilt. He didn’t need to ask. He already knew. ’So it’s happening.’
Selene’s cyan eyes flicked from Elena to Noel, steady, unflinching. Her expression was calm, but the silence before her words stretched unbearably long.
Finally, she spoke, her voice cutting through the night like frost.
"I like Noel."