Everyone who had never seen a camera before was stunned by the photo that developed in Fenric’s hand.
Lord Shen’s first reaction was pure superstition. "Has... has this thing taken our souls?"
"!!"
The room stiffened. In an age where charms and omens carried real weight—and where most of them had just watched Fenric produce items from thin air—no one could entirely dismiss the idea.
Fenric laughed and quickly defused it. "Relax. Your souls are still where they belong. This isn’t a magic weapon—it’s called a camera. A technology from my homeland. It captures a likeness so people can remember a moment. When you grow old, you can look back and recall those days. Isn’t that good?"
Lord Shen, still rattled, pressed, "Truly not a soul‑stealing artifact?"
"Of course not." Fenric grinned. "Do you feel dizzy? Weak? Missing memories?"
The envoy blinked, then patted his chest and checked himself. "No..."
"There you go," Fenric said. "If your soul had been hooked, could you stand there calmly arguing with me?"
"That... is reasonable," General Shaw said gravely, lending weight. He trusted Fenric; a man who’d risked his life to slay the Beast Queen wouldn’t harm allies.
Seeing lingering doubt, Fenric simply handed the device to Lord Shen. "Here. This part is the lens; this button takes the picture. Point it at something and press."
Under his guidance, the envoy fumbled, aimed out toward the courtyard, and clicked.
Whssht—
A second photo slid out. Lord Shen watched the image develop, then compared it to the very scene beyond the doorway. Identical.
"This... this truly is a divine tool!" he breathed.
Fenric chuckled. "If Lord Shen likes it, keep it."
Gasps. Even for someone who believed Fenric a "celestial visitor," giving away such a treasure was no small gesture.
"I cannot accept—no merit, no reward," Lord Shen protested weakly while tucking the camera into his sleeve with both hands. "It’s... too precious."
Fenric’s smile thinned just a hair. "Then I’ll trouble Lord Shen for a favor. When you report back, please speak kindly to His Majesty. Ask that the court not make things difficult for the Nameless Order."
That landed. General Shaw and Strategist Lau exchanged a look of deep approval.
"Certainly! Certainly!" Lord Shen bobbed his head. "I will report truthfully."
"One more thing," Fenric added helpfully. "The camera’s use is limited. That roll of paper inside holds ten images total. You’ve already taken two. Use the remaining eight wisely."
(He’d brought an instant Polaroid—snap, develop, done. Replaceable film, yes, but Fenric didn’t bother explaining refills. Let rarity raise value.)
"Understood! Thank you for the warning!" Lord Shen bowed again. His belief that Fenric hailed from the celestial realm only grew firmer. Otherwise, how could he possess so many wondrous artifacts?
Bootsteps echoed. Commander Lin Mei hurried in, breath slightly uneven from running.
The moment she spotted Fenric, her heartbeat steadied—and sweet warmth rose behind her stern exterior.
"Subordinate Lin Mei greets the General!"
General Shaw looked at her—the proud warrior who’d grown under his command, now pink‑eared and uncertain as a maiden—and sighed inwardly. A daughter raised is a daughter married. Outwardly, he smiled. "Commander Lin, we called you because Sir Fenric wishes to propose. What do you say?"
Straight. Direct. Steel‑plated. That was General Shaw.
"Ah?"
Lin Mei’s face went scarlet. For a heartbeat she froze, then clenched her fists, lifted her chin, and forced the words out:
"I... am willing."
She finished and immediately hung her head like a soldier awaiting punishment.
Fenric burst into open laughter—full, delighted, utterly unrestrained.
Lord Shen seized the cue. "A perfect match! Talented gentleman, heroic beauty—truly Heaven’s pairing!"
He paused, inspiration striking. "Sir Fenric, Commander Lin—if your wedding date isn’t fixed, allow me to return to Bianport and submit a memorial. His Majesty can order the Imperial Astronomers to select an auspicious day—and even bestow the marriage!"
In this era, an imperial marriage decree was the highest honor. For Fenric, it was even more practical: once the court publicly recognized the union, no one would dare slight Lin Mei.
"Then I’ll trouble Lord Shen," Fenric said at once.
"No trouble! No trouble at all!" The envoy laughed, basking in reflected glory. "To aid in Sir Fenric’s marriage is my good fortune!"
Laughter rippled through the hall. Lin Mei still couldn’t lift her head, neck red to the collar—but happiness shone through every line of her posture.
An engagement banquet followed. Lord Shen remained to drink the first celebratory cups before setting off back to Bianport with gifts, reports, and the camera for His Majesty.
By night’s end, the betrothal was sealed. From that moment forward, Commander Lin Mei was formally Fenric’s fiancée.
What followed was almost domestic.
Days in the real world: Fenric attended classes, played along with school life, kept his cover.
Nights: he slipped into his personal world to meet Lin Mei beneath the torchlit walls, walk the ramparts, share stolen conversation. Their feelings deepened at a frightening pace. If not for proper distance between men and unmarried women, they might already have crossed that final line.
So the days blurred—and at last, the Samsara Tower cooldown ended.
Fenric could finally return to the Samsara Tower and challenge the second‑floor dungeon.
He had a fiancée waiting in an ancient world, a father to support in reality, enemies sharpening blades in Samsara Space—and an SSS reputation to defend.
Time to keep climbing.