Chapter 210: Chapter 203: Contemplation
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The wind howled over the cliffside, whipping at Victoria’s elegant armor as she stood, arms crossed, overlooking the vast, chaotic battlefield below. Her usual expression was replaced by a deep, contemplative frown.
Before her, suspended in the air through a mixture of magic and her Familial Arts, was a massive, glowing projection—a map unlike any crude, parchnt-bound replica. This was a three-dinsional, living depiction of the landscape, shifting and responding to even the most minor disturbances across the terrain. Every crag, every hidden ravine, every fissure that marred the land below pulsed with a green light. The tiny, flickering blips scattered across it marked the positions of combatants—her allies, her enemies.
Her eyes imdiately flicked to a cluster of blips converging on a single point.
"Tch, Mai’s team is engaging already? Damn it." Victoria’s lips twisted into a scowl as her fingers clenched into a tight fist.
Fiona, standing just beside her, barely reacted at first, but her brows knitted together at the uncharacteristic display of frustration. Victoria was rarely shaken—arrogant, yes, unbearably so, but shaken? Almost never. Fiona had been watching her closely since Mikoto’s... shift.
Victoria had always been one to revel in her own cleverness, to play the part of an orchestrator, but now, there was sothing else beneath her irritation. Sothing deeper.
("Mikoto... seems you’re affecting more than just a few people. Hell even the first princess?") Fiona thought to herself, her fingers tightening against the alloy of her gauntlets, alloy scraping with an audible clink.
Victoria’s voice rang out, cutting through the wind with the authority of soone who was used to being listened to. A simple telepathic spell, but the weight of her words made it clear she expected imdiate action.
"Lucinda and Mirabella, you’re about to run into opponents—an Inheritor and an Ancestor. They’re already locked in battle. Do not engage. Move west and evade for now."
Lucinda’s voice crackled through the telepathic link. ["Alright!"]
Mirabella, predictably, snorted, at least she had her fire back. ["Like we’d let those bastards take us out. Fine, fine. We’ll move west."]
Victoria didn’t linger, imdiately shifting her attention to the next group.
"Adrian, Agatha, Cor’nella—head to General Mai’s position. She’s engaging with Grimm and that girl, Mallory Verdoom. Assist and be on high alert—these Descendants have more than raw strength. They possess... oddities. Unnatural abilities, beyond magic as I’ve said."
A brief silence followed before Agatha’s voice responded, ["Could you be more cryptic?"]
"Not cryptic, Agatha. Wise." Victoria snapped, her patience thinning. "Get there and support them."
The ground beneath their feet rumbled violently, tremors sending pebbles cascading down the cliffside. Mana erupted in torrents across the wasteland, distant battles igniting the sky with flares of power. This wasn’t just a contest—it was a warzone, and the combatants were throwing everything they had at one another.
Her gaze returned to the map, scanning for key figures.
And there it was.
A single blip, unmoving.
Victoria narrowed her eyes.
("Which one is that?") She bit the inside of her cheek. She could sense the Inheritors and Ancestors through their mana, but for Descendants, she was forced to rely on heat signatures—a flawed thod, but the best she had.
Mai had reported that she was engaging Grimm and Mallory.
That left... the siblings.
Two heat signatures were moving north, two remained eerily still.
("Botherso. If I could just differentiate between them...")
She sighed, rubbing her temples.
And then her eyes landed on another cluster.
Dante.
His mana signature blazed like wildfire, but he was surrounded.
("Three Ancestors. Two others. And those two...") Her pupils dilated slightly. ("Their mana... it’s so pure.")
Like a dam on the verge of breaking.
("He’s outnumbered. But... this is good. It keeps a large chunk of Vel’ryr’s forces preoccupied.")
A gamble, but one she would have to accept.
Her voice rang out again.
"Agatha, upon reaching Mai’s group, focus on escape. Grimm is an unknown variable. Three Inheritors are heading towards Lucinda’s location—if possible, lead them into battle there. Regroup afterward."
It was a risky maneuver, but they had no choice.
Hiding their mana was pointless when the Descendants could sniff them out anyway. So she would use that against them, force engagents, control where the battles happened rather than react to them.
Still, it was far from a flawless plan.
Victoria exhaled, dragging a gauntleted hand down her face.
Her frustration, however, did not go unnoticed.
Fiona tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
"...Say, Fiona dear, you’ve been awfully quiet," Victoria finally said, side-eyeing her.
Fiona’s arms were still crossed, gauntlets scraping against themselves. "I have nothing to say, so why talk?"
Victoria smirked.
"Ohhh, nothing at all? Not even about our dear friend’s... sudden attitude shift?"
Fiona stiffened. Her lips pressed together tightly.
"I..." She hesitated. "...Mikoto has problems of his own. You all seem to forget he is still young. And as such... impulsive. We should let him be."
Victoria chuckled. "But why is that, I wonder? Hm? Just yesterday we were all exchanging banter—Mikoto even complinted us." She closed her eyes in faux nostalgia. "And now he spits venom. Vulgar insults, biting remarks. Why the sudden change, I wonder?"
Fiona sighed, rolling her eyes. "I know you already have a theory, Victoria. Spit it out."
A devious grin stretched across Victoria’s face.
"You know
so well, darling." She tapped her temple. "I’ve been sitting on a certain theory. You see, back when those demons attacked the Academy, I used my Familial Arts to create a magic object to analyze the residual mana of that enormous attack."
She turned, staring directly into Fiona’s eyes.
"I found sothing."
Fiona’s heart skipped a beat.
Victoria’s voice lowered, it was dangerously firm. "Tell , Fiona. Is Mikoto... a spawn of Octavia as well?"
A tense silence followed.
Fiona inhaled sharply. "...That is not for
to say."
Victoria watched her. A slow smirk curved her lips.
"Is that so? Well... a second spawn of Octavia..." She clapped her hands together as if her conclusion was fool proof. "Oh! That reminds ! He still owes
a favor. Hm, I have it! Once he turns seventeen, I’ll have him grant
plenty of favors as paynt for being such a prick!"
Fiona stared.
"...That’s what you’re worried about!?"
"But of course." Victoria wagged her finger. A mischievous glint entered her eyes. "Also... I do wonder... I bet he’s quite cute, hm?"
Fiona blanched.
"H-HE’S A CHILD, YOU HARLOT!"
Victoria shrugged. "He’ll grow."
"P-PERVERT!"
"Tut, tut~."
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The air was thick with the residual mana of distant battles, a tangible pressure that pressed against their skin. The sound of magic clashing in the far distance echoed through the wasteland, mingling with the wind. The force of it sent tremors rippling through the earth.
Mirabella scoffed, shifting her weight onto one leg as she crossed her arms over her chest, her blue eyes fixed on the ongoing clash in the vast distance. The scale of destruction was... absurd.
"Damn. That guy in black was crazy powerful..." she muttered, cupping her chin as if she were judging a sparring match rather than a battle that could wipe out entire cities.
Lucinda, walking beside her, barely reacted at first. Her eyes traced the movents of the fight unfolding far away. The wind tugged at her white hair, strands lifting and shifting, but she remained stone-faced.
"We saw him before. Back in Galadriel." Mirabella continued, narrowing her eyes. "When that scumbag Ancestor showed up."
Lucinda exhaled through her nose, finally speaking. "Aerinon." Her voice was calm but beneath that composure, there was a sharp edge—the weight of that mory. That Death.
The na hung in the air like a curse.
Mirabella clicked her tongue. Ancestors. Just thinking about them made her stomach twist.
Lucinda’s gaze flickered back to the shifting mana signatures on the horizon, her expression darkening. "We have to prepare. The three are approaching."
Her sentence cut off sharply—her eyes narrowing.
"No..." she murmured, stopping in her tracks. "Now it’s only two."
Mirabella blinked, her lips parting slightly in confusion.
"One of the approaching Inheritor’s mana signatures just... disappeared." Lucinda’s frown deepened.
Mirabella’s brows furrowed. Disappeared? That wasn’t normal.
Her fingers twitched instinctively, but despite the impending battle, her thoughts drifted elsewhere. She wasn’t fully present.
Lucinda noticed.
Mirabella’s usually sharp, borderline brash deanor had dulled, her expression distant. Even now, with enemies closing in, her mind was elsewhere.
Lucinda hesitated. This wasn’t the place for such conversations. The battlefield was no place for emotions—hesitation could an Death. But... she couldn’t ignore it.
Her voice was softer this ti. "You’re still thinking about Mikoto."
Mirabella stiffened. Her lips twitched downward, her jaw clenching for a mont before she scoffed, tilting her head back slightly. "Tch. Damn it... I should hate him for the crap he’s been saying." Her voice wavered—just slightly. Too honest.
A weak scowl pulled at her features, but it lacked the usual bite.
She ran a hand through her blue locks, exhaling sharply. "That damn idiot... He’s helped
so much. Hell, I still don’t even know why he bothered."
Lucinda remained silent, letting her talk.
Mirabella’s lips curled into a bitter smile.
"Teaching
the basics of magic, way better than the worthless instructors my old man hires." She let out a dry chuckle. "He guided
through every damn step. Always had sothing to say—even when I didn’t want to hear it. Of course, there was that annoying blondie too, I guess.". She waved it off, acting nonchalant, but the truth was etched into every word. Then, almost imperceptibly, her voice dropped. "...And he’s a friend. Maybe more than that." She said it quietly, almost as if she wasn’t sure she should.
Lucinda’s sharp ears caught every syllable, she offered sothing—a genuine, understanding smile.
"I understand. Honestly, I do."
Lucinda’s voice was steady, but there was sothing vulnerable beneath it.
"Mikoto was soone I could actually talk to normally. Soone who understood ." Her hand drifted to her chest, fingers tensing slightly. "His words resonated with
so many tis, and I was glad to call him a friend."
She paused.
"Which is why it hurts so much."
The words carried emotion, more than Mirabella expected.
Lucinda knew sothing. She wasn’t just talking about his shift in attitude. She was talking about sothing deeper.
Mirabella stared at her. "...What do you think it is?"
Lucinda closed her eyes briefly. "I..I don’t know. But this... this feels different, familiar."
A silence settled between them.
It wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t awkward.
It was the silence of two people trying to make sense of sothing that shouldn’t be happening.
Then, suddenly—
Mirabella grinned.
Not her usual cocky, overconfident smirk. Not her arrogant, self-assured sneer, a real smile. One full of resolve.
"Then I ain’t giving up on that damn idiot."
Lucinda’s eyes widened slightly.
Mirabella huffed, rolling her shoulders.
"I’ll make him tell
what his damn problem is."
Her voice burned with determination.
"We can’t be the only ones laying our problems onto him, right?"
Lucinda blinked—then, slowly, her lips curved into a smile.
A small, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped her. "Right."
It was rare to see Mirabella this serious about sothing other than battle.
Lucinda found herself relieved.
Then suddenly there was a shift, a change in the air. The temperature dropped.
Lucinda’s eyes snapped to the side.
Mirabella imdiately noticed, her grin vanishing as she straightened, her body shifting into a combat stance.
Lucinda’s fingers twitched.
"The siblings."
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