Chapter 92 : Chapter 92

Chapter 092: Moving Forward Together

* * *

“Summoning demonic beasts with sorcery…”

Yeats muttered, his voice tinged with subtle fear.

The woman standing before him spoke.

“Scared?”

Yeats shook his head vigorously.

He lifted both corners of his mouth into a wide grin.

“No way! It’s just… impressive. But can I really pull it off?”

“I’ve already prepared everything. You just need to follow instructions. It’s simple. Even a monkey could do it.”

Yeats sniffled awkwardly. Surely I’m better than a monkey.

“Take it.”

The woman handed him a talisman.

Six yellow sheets, neatly stacked, were tied together with a red cord.

Yeats’s face flushed.

The color combination was oddly evocative.

“It feels like receiving a love letter. Hehe.”

“Cut the nonsense.”

She continued her explanation, her voice flat and emotionless.

Her lifeless, cold face somehow drew his gaze irresistibly.

Pale skin contrasted with sleek black hair; long, delicate eyelashes cast shadows beneath her eyes, where a small mole rested; a refined nose and peach-colored cheeks.

She was like a masterpiece painstakingly crafted by a skilled artist.

…Heh.

Yeats couldn’t tear his eyes away, his dry lips hanging slack.

She always wore a mask, but with him, and only him, she revealed her true face.

That fact stirred his heart more than anything else.

“I really like you, Kuhn.”

Kuhn, who had been explaining, paused.

She closed her eyes once, then opened them.

“Focus.”

“Ah, got it! Sorry!”

Of course, her words barely registered.

Being around Kuhn made some part of his mind and body feel paralyzed.

The sensation grew stronger each time.

Yeats bit his lip.

Something rummaging through his mind kept whispering, urging him to drive a wedge, to seize this moment, his only chance.

“Ahem, uh, Kuhn. Don’t you think it’s time we made our relationship clear?”

“What?”

“I’m saying… if it’s with you, I could give up everything and go to the Empire.”

It was his first confession, one he couldn’t brush off lightly.

She would understand.

She knew the weight of what he’d just said, coming from someone who’d clawed his way up from the bottom.

“…Ha.”

Kuhn let out a faint sigh.

Yeats’s eyes, half-hidden by his bangs, widened as if they might pop out.

It was a reaction he’d never seen before.

His mind eagerly interpreted it as a positive sign.

Seizing the moment, he mustered his courage, but Kuhn pressed her forehead.

“Don’t make this harder for me.”

“Huh? I… I’m making things hard for you…?”

“Bihen Benkou is already more than enough to deal with.”

Yeats swallowed hard.

It felt like a heavy stone had settled on his chest.

“Bihen… Benkou…”

“Ever since he showed up, everything’s gone to hell. The faction centered around him will soon shake the Archduke’s rear.”

Yeats’s grip tightened.

It was always Bihen Benkou.

His teeth ground together.

Throb.

Suddenly, his cheek stung.

He recalled being beaten senseless by the Archduke not long ago, fainting in front of a crowd.

The humiliation of that public disgrace burned worse than the pain.

Back then, in Easton… it was you, wasn’t it, Kuhn?

Yeats muttered the words he couldn’t say aloud.

When Four Wings had cornered Bihen Benkou, someone had intervened to save him.

The Archduke never found out who’d dared such an audacious act, but Yeats knew.

It was Kuhn.

He’d vowed to keep that secret buried in his heart forever.

Why…

He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t.

To Yeats, Kuhn was like sand in his palm—try to hold on, and it slips through the cracks.

What good would an answer do?

Yeats lowered his head, which he’d been shaking.

Tap.

Suddenly, a sweet fragrance spread, and warmth touched his cheek.

It was all Kuhn.

Cold as ice, yet her hand was so warm.

They’d never been this close before.

In that moment, the overwhelming emotion erased everything else.

“Kuhn…?”

“Stop Bihen Benkou, even just a little. I want you, and no one else, to do it.”

His heart pounded wildly.

Could the sound of swallowing be this loud?

Yeats desperately wished—if this was a dream, let it not end; if it was reality, let time freeze.

“So that’s why you…”

“No. Don’t ask me anything now. I can’t give you any answers. But when the time comes, I will.”

“When the time comes…?”

“When we find the missing Second Son and the Archduke officially becomes Conwell’s master. Then, I’ll be able to tell you everything.”

Kuhn slowly brushed back Yeats’s bangs.

Yeats awkwardly averted his gaze but soon looked at her again.

Her eyes, fixed on his empty left eye socket, held neither contempt nor pity.

They were quiet, affectionate, as if even his flaws were precious.

“I’ll make sure to kill Bihen Benkou. That bastard deserves to die.”

Kuhn responded with a smile.

That’s right.

* * *

“Love…?”

“Yeah. Honestly, my only real interest is that.”

“Uh, well…”

“What? Isn’t the great Sylphinu supposed to know everything?”

“Haha, Lady Linda. The Great Spirit doesn’t have the bad habit of peeking into human hearts. Love isn’t something gods or absolutes dictate—it’s a path you must find yourself, sometimes wandering, stumbling, or lost.”

Linda pouted.

To her, whose hobby and talent was devouring romance novels, the village chief’s words sounded old-fashioned.

“By the way, what’s taking Sir Bihen so long?”

Linda turned, shading her eyes with her hand.

The Spirit Tree was faintly visible on the horizon of the path they’d traveled.

Seeing it now, she realized they’d come quite far.

“It looks so peaceful from here, like nothing’s wrong.”

The chief spoke with a worried tone.

On their way, they’d heard explosions several times behind them, and the ground had trembled faintly beneath their feet.

The people of Sylphiroa, who’d set out on this evacuation with anxious hearts, were now resting in small groups at the edge of a wide field.

Getting this far hasn't been easy.

Some insisted on turning back to fight, while others declared they’d rather die clutching the

Spirit Tree than flee.

Each time, the chief patiently persuaded them, but when words failed, Linda stepped in.

With no one to impress, she was an absolute tyrant.

“We can’t go back. We shouldn’t.”

Linda declared firmly.

She started to put on her helmet but sniffed it and silently gagged.

“As long as the Archduke has his eyes on us, Sylphiroa’s in danger for now. That’s just how Callence is. Once he wants something, he won’t rest until it’s in his grasp. Crazy bastard.”

“Ahem!”

“Oh, sorry. Anyway, since Sir Bihen entrusted me with this, I’ll see it through and wouldn’t Sister Adeline be heartbroken if she lost you all?”

Linda stood and clapped her hands to get the villagers’ attention.

“Alright, everyone! Just a bit more effort…”

Her voice trailed off, as did her expression.

She stared at something in silence.

Whoooosh.

The wind shifted erratically, unlike before.

Then, a faint sound of something passing by came from the distance.

That brief hint sent a chill down her spine.

“…Everyone, stay still. Don’t move.”

Her voice didn’t reach everyone—there were too many people.

But she couldn’t shout.

The predatory gaze watching them from somewhere pierced her skin.

One wrong move, and something would come flying.

What should I do?

She didn’t show it, but cold sweat began to form.

She hadn’t expected an ambush.

She had to protect unarmed villagers while fighting alone.

The situation was already overwhelming and chaotic.

No tactical manual covers this.

The worst part was not knowing how many enemies there were.

…Whatever. It’ll work out somehow.

The moment she made up her mind, goosebumps rose.

It was pure instinct.

Whoosh—!

Linda leaped from her spot, kicking off the ground.

There was no time to think—her body moved first.

When she came to, she was holding a middle-aged woman in her arms.

Crash!

“Kyaaa! Lady Linda!”

An arrow from behind struck her mana barrier, its fragments scattering like transparent glass alongside the arrow.

“Argh…!”

Linda squeezed her eyes shut.

Her back stung.

The mana barrier had protected her from injury, but it couldn’t absorb the impact.

“Who’s there!”

Gritting her teeth, Linda turned toward the direction of the arrow.

Five or six lightly armed soldiers approached, each carrying a bow, an arming sword, and a buckler.

A reconnaissance unit?

As Linda narrowed her eyes, the soldiers sheathed their swords and drew their bows, knocking arrows and pulling the strings in unison, the sound chillingly resonant.

“Arghhh!”

“Run, run!”

The people of Sylphiroa scattered in panic, turning the area into chaos.

Tap!

Linda leaped forward, opposite the fleeing villagers.

Colorless ripples of energy surged behind her, scraping the dirt as if propelling her.

Clang!

She drew her sword mid-air, a blade forged by Theodore’s finest craftsman and offered as a tribute.

Its half-exposed edge gleamed with rainbow light.

Slash!

Linda swung her sword swiftly, cutting through the enemies’ bodies as if unhindered by air resistance.

“Argh!”

The screams were brief.

Five fell in the blink of an eye.

As Linda paused to catch her breath, a chill ran through her.

She’d forgotten there were six.

She whipped her head around, meeting an incoming arrow.

Crash!

She barely blocked it in time.

The mana barrier did its job again, this time on her left wrist.

“You…!”

“Eek!”

Linda closed the distance in an instant, kicking the soldier’s legs and stabbing her sword into his fallen body.

Stab!

She double-checked that the situation was under control.

Only then did she collapse, groaning, as cheers and applause erupted.

The villagers who’d fled had watched the fight.

The tension from moments ago was gone, replaced by reactions as if they’d witnessed a circus act.

“Waaa! Lady Linda!”

Linda glared at them like a sulky child. She wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.

“Don’t clap for something like this! If even one of you got hurt or died, how could I face Sir Bihen? That was dangerous!”

She approached them, hands on her hips.

“See that? If we dawdle, we’re really done for. Let’s move before they catch up.”

Perhaps because of the ambush, everyone’s steps quickened.

The group stayed orderly without needing prompting, a healthy tension in the air.

“Good.”

Satisfied, Linda checked the map.

They were nearing the point where Bihen was to rendezvous with Viscount Mosfield.

Her brother’s main force should be waiting.

I need to hurry and report the situation in Sylphiroa.

Leading the way, Linda stopped.

“Uh…”

It was far too early for dusk, but the forest ahead seemed to have already embraced evening, narrow and dark.

Tall trees on either side of the path blocked out the sky.

The atmosphere eerily recalled a demonic realm.

“This feels a bit ominous, miss.”

The chief said beside her.

Linda felt the same.

“Definitely… My instincts are screaming danger.”

Her expression grew serious. Naturally, no tactical manual covered this scenario either.

Anyone could tell there’s a demonic beast or ambush waiting.

She couldn’t send a villager as a scout, nor could she leave her post.

Checking the map again, detouring would take too long.

“Alright, I’ve decided. We push through. What’s the worst that could happen? If something does, I’ll handle it.”

·

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The moment the entire procession was swallowed by the path’s shadows, it happened.

“Kyaaaaa!”

She hadn’t meant for her words to come true.

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