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He was just as baffled as she was. Why was he being addressed as ’Lordship’?

It had already been confusing when he was called ’Young Master’ during the Tower of Speed challenge.

And now, a completely new title?

Just what was the real background of this body?

Baffled, he gestured for Aevara and her grandmother to rise. The two remained kneeling, their foreheads pressed against the ground in unwavering reverence.

"Stand up. You must have mistaken me for someone else. I’m not the Lordship you believe me to be."

’He’s not a noble?’ Aevara thought, turning to her grandmother, Tayma, who refused to rise.

"No, My Lord. I would never mistake your presence for another’s," Tayma declared, her voice firm despite its frailty.

"Granny…" Aevara murmured in disbelief. She had never seen her grandmother act like this. Even when they were cast out by the villagers, Tayma remained fierce, never bowing to anyone—even when a noble attempted to buy her as a slave.

Vincent’s frown deepened.

Since Tayma refused to be convinced, he decided to play along. "Then, as your Lord, I command you to stand."

"As you wish, My Lord." Tayma obeyed, rising to her feet with Aevara.

Vincent, however, felt uneasy under the old woman’s intense, almost fanatical gaze. It was unsettling, even for someone as composed as him. Even if she were a Phantolisk—or more accurately, a Chronolisk—it was still unusual.

Aevara, on the other hand, looked confused but not fearful. She simply wondered what fate awaited them now.

Silence stretched between them. Earlier, Vincent had used his Heaven Eyes to scan Tayma and confirmed that they all belonged to the Chronolisk race. However, one discovery stood out.

Tayma Feyth — Peak Tier 4 (Weakened State)

Title: Umbral Devotee

Race: Chronolisk

Aevara’s grandmother was actually a peak Tier 4 Origin Warrior, though currently in a weakened state.

But what caught Vincent’s attention most was her title—Umbral Devotee. His gaze hardened.

He had just formed a guild, and now he encountered someone with a title suspiciously similar to its name. This couldn’t be a mere coincidence.

’Is this just a coincidence?’ he mused. But the odds were too slim for that. There was something more at play here, something he hadn’t yet uncovered.

Questions swirled in his mind. "I have some questions. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

Tayma bowed her head. "It would be my honor to answer, My Lord."

"In that case, tell me about the Chronolisk."

Before Tayma could respond, a loud grumble interrupted them.

Everyone turned toward the source. Aevara, the young Phantolisk, blinked in confusion.

She wasn’t embarrassed—she simply found it natural to be starving. To her, hunger was a normal part of survival.

Tayma looked at her with softness and pity. Aevara was only seven, yet she had already tasted the cruelty of the world. It pained her grandmother deeply to see her suffer this way.

Ara stepped forward. "Can we continue this later?" She glanced at Vincent. Though she, too, was curious about his background, she had made a promise to Aevara—to provide her with food, and she intended to keep it.

Vincent gave a simple nod.

"Thank you for your understanding, My Lord." Tayma didn’t forget to express her gratitude.

After Ara prepared a meal from the supplies she brought, she watched as Aevara and Tayma enjoyed their first real meal in a long time.

A faint smile formed beneath Ara’s mask as she watched Aevara eat with childlike delight, her small hands gripping the food eagerly.

During the meal, they exchanged introductions, learning a little more about one another.

Later, Vincent and Ara sat on a wooden sofa while Aevara and Tayma remained standing.

"Why aren’t you sitting?" Vincent asked, his gaze shifting between them.

"We do not dare to sit in your presence, My Lord," Tayma replied with utmost respect.

Vincent shook his head. "Aevara, get your grandmother a chair."

Once Tayma and Aevara were seated, Vincent resumed their earlier conversation.

"So, tell me about the Chronolisk."

Ara, sitting beside him, gave him a confused look. She had no idea what he was referring to, and this was the first time she had ever heard the term.

Tayma took a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, before she began speaking slowly. "The Chronolisks… are our ancestors."

Ara narrowed her eyes beneath her mask.

Vincent also narrowed his eyes, but for a different reason. The way Tayma spoke, it seemed as if she didn’t consider herself a Chronolisk. That detail unsettled him.

’Why?’ he wondered but chose to remain silent, waiting for Tayma to continue.

"Legend has it that Chronolisks were born from the Ethereal Flow, the very current of time itself. Our home—Aeternis, the Timeless World—is a place where rivers run backward and the skies shimmer with eternity, untouched by the natural decay of time.

"They were tall and slender, their scales reflecting the light of a thousand stars. Their eyes saw the past and future as clearly as the present.

"Time bends to their will—they can slow it, speed it, or even reverse it. They weave illusions so real that they become truth. They were the guardians of time, the keepers of secrets. To them, the concept of mortality was nothing but a fleeting shadow in an endless cycle.

"That is all I know about the Chronolisks, My Lord." Tayma concluded carefully.

Ara’s curiosity deepened. Aevara, however, tilted her head, utterly lost. She had no idea what her grandmother was talking about.

Vincent, on the other hand, only grew more confused. "In that case, what is your race? Are you not a Chronolisk?"

Ara raised an eyebrow, as if he had asked an obvious question.

Aevara’s eyes widened. My Granny is a Chronolisk?

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But Tayma let out a soft, almost embarrassed chuckle. "Haha, you’re too kind, My Lord. As much as I would love to be one of them, I was born a Phantolisk. I do not possess the abilities of my ancestors."

Vincent did not relax his expression. Instead, he promptly asked, "Do you realize that you’re already dead?"

His words made Ara frown while Aevara’s face twisted with displeasure.

"Are you cursing my Granny?!" Aevara snapped, her small fists clenching, her vibrant eyes filled with anger and disbelief.