Cameraman Never Dies

Judge was having the nap of his life.

The kind of nap clad around him like a warm embrace, where time seemed to melt away, and for once, he wasn't burdened by the weight of being himself. No chaos, no sudden disasters, no terrifying mentors, no overly concerned mother—just blissful, uninterrupted rest.

There was nobody to bother him this time. No Lediya hovering over him with disapproving glares. No Hawthorne bursting in with some new problem. No Amber knocking on his door. No Clio speaking in riddles.

Even his own subconscious, which had a nasty habit of replaying memories of his past self and a random dragon of yore he didn't want to remember, it had finally decided to shut up and let him be.

Tomorrow, there would be a party. A proper send-off for Amber before she embarked on her own journey, it was;t much of a journey when the destination was school, but he was happy for her misfortune.

The party was supposed to be a cheerful occasion—food, music, laughter. A rare moment where the Drakonis family could enjoy themselves without the looming shadow of responsibility.

And then, after that, Judge would be setting off with his master, his mother, and his brother to find his master's daughter. For once, everything was in order.

A plan. A clear path. No unexpected disasters were in sight.

He exhaled deeply in his sleep, a slow, content sigh. Maybe, just maybe, life was finally going his way.

…But, of course, it wasn't.

Because everything always went wrong.

Now here this—Judge was dreaming of something truly marvelous—something that, in hindsight, should have tipped him off that disaster was approaching. Because in what world did he ever get to experience true, uninterrupted happiness?

He was floating on a cloud, the kind that was just firm enough to nap on but soft enough to sink into like the world's most luxurious mattress. There was no one nagging him, no responsibilities looming overhead, and most importantly, no dramatic life-threatening battles to worry about. Just him, the fluffy embrace of his dream world, and the sweet, sweet silence of peace.

Then, the cloud spoke.

"Wake up, you oversized paperweight!"

Judge twitched but remained firmly nestled in his perfect little paradise. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. Maybe, just maybe—

"I swear on all things holy and unholy, if you do not wake up in the next five seconds, I will set your coat on fire."

His eyes snapped open.

"Oh, good, you're awake. Now, MOVE. Something's happened to your master."

Solarae, his ever-graceful, ever-majestic, ever-persistent spirit, hovered over him with the urgency of a doomsday prophet. His radiant form flickered impatiently as he glared down at him.

"Define 'something,'" Judge mumbled, his brain still sluggish from sleep. "Because last time, remembering 'something' meant you knew nothing useful."

Solarae gave him a deadpan look. "Your master's husband is dead."

Judge blinked. Then blinked again. "…What?"

"Oh, so you did hear me. Great. NOW MOVE!"

In an instant, the haze of sleep was gone, replaced by the sharp, gut-churning realization that Solarae was never one to exaggerate. If he was yelling at him like this, then things were bad—really bad.

Judge practically fell out of bed, scrambling to throw on his coat and hat while barely managing to stuff his feet into his boots. If anyone had seen him in that moment, they'd have assumed he was either preparing for battle or engaging in some kind of frantic interpretive dance.

Moments later, he was out the door, dashing through the halls with the urgency of a man who had just remembered he left the stove on.1

When he arrived, the room was steeped in heavy silence.

His mother stood with the same icy composure she always carried in times of crisis, but he could see it—the faint flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. And then there was Seraphis.

She sat still, unnervingly so, her face unreadable, her hands folded in her lap. For a woman who could reduce mountains to dust and rearrange the laws of reality with her ethercraft, she looked oddly… small.

Judge swallowed thickly, his voice careful. "What happened?"

His mother turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Corwin Everleigh has passed."

Judge let the words sink in. His mind raced through every possible way this could have happened. Corwin wasn't just strong—he was absurdly, painstakingly strong. He had not personally experienced it, but he had heard way too much about his strength from his master.

It was the kind of 'strong' that made most people reconsider their options before picking a fight with him. He was the kind of warrior who had earned his place in the world through sheer effort and willpower alone.

And yet, he was dead.

Judge looked at Seraphis. "Was it a battle?"

She shook her head, her voice calm but distant. "The first damage sign I received was of his death. No struggle, no fight. Just… gone."

That meant he had been killed instantly.

Judge exhaled slowly, trying to wrap his head around it. "I thought phoenixes could resurrect? I remember reading about it somewhere."

Seraphis let out a dry, mirthless chuckle. "A rare ability. Even among the phoenixes. It can only resurrect a person once. Corwin… had no such talent. He was bad at everything, with no rare or inherent abilities. He climbed his way to his strength with nothing but his own stubbornness."

There was something bitter in her tone. Something that made Judge feel oddly hollow. He wasn't sure what to say to that. But his mind screamed one thing, Wait, wait, wait. You're telling me this man, who had no rare abilities, no cheat skills, no divine blessings, still became this strong? What kind of main character nonsense is that?

His mother, as always, filled the silence for him. "Seraphis and I will go alone. You and Liam will stay here, attend Amber's party, and take the next cloud weaver back to Tiérmere."

Judge, despite his grief, reacted exactly as one would expect.

"What? Absolutely not. I'm coming. I promised..."

Eleyn's gaze turned sharp. "No, you are not."

"I am," Judge insisted. "I refuse to sit around and sip tea while my master hunts down whoever did this."

"You will do as I say."

"I will not."

"You will."

"I will not."

"You will, or so help me, I will drag you back to Tiérmere myself."

Judge opened his mouth, then promptly shut it. His mother was terrifying on an average day, but when she was serious, she made warlords look like mildly irritated kittens. He had no delusions of winning this argument. Not in this lifetime, or any other.

But that didn't mean he was giving up.

He forced a polite smile. "Fine. I'll stay."

His mother narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing him. Seraphis, for her part, looked as if she was barely paying attention, still lost in thought.

Judge, meanwhile, was already making alternative plans in his mind. He had no intention of staying behind. He just had to be… subtle.

As soon as he left, he reached out telepathically.

"Satan, I need you to watch over Eleyn Drakonis and Seraphis Everleigh, our lord's current mother and mentor. Don't let them notice you."

A deep startle resonated through his mind. "As you wish my lord, are there anything else I should do beside recording?"

"No, only record their travel and return the recording to me once I ask."

There was no response, but Judge could feel the presence of agreement before the connection faded.

Okay, let's see. He thought to himself. I went to sleep, I woke up, my master's husband is dead, and now I'm being told to stay behind. This all feels like a really bad dream, except I can't wake up by falling off a cliff. Life really doesn't give you a warning before hitting you with the worst side quest imaginable.

Meanwhile, Eleyn had turned to Amber, explaining the situation in the calm, collected way only she could. Amber looked sad that her mother was leaving without attending her farewell party, her eyes wide, but she nodded, her expression quickly hardening with resolve.

"Wait, so you're leaving me here with Judge?" she asked, as if they had just told her she had to live in a haunted house.

Their mother gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before turning back to Seraphis.

Hey, what does that mean? Judge cannot help but feel like the problem child of the family.

"We leave now." Eleyn spoke, and Seraphis nodded.

With that, they departed, disappearing into the air with the grace and finality of a storm on the horizon.

Judge exhaled, rubbing his temples.

He had a party to attend, a plan to make, and an inevitable chase to prepare for. Because there was no way he was staying put.

Everything always went wrong, and this time, he was making sure he was there when it did.

Am I using these "Stoves" a bit too much?