56 - Home
The decision was not made lightly. It could not be.
Inside the highest chamber of the Magic Tower, the five Archmages sat in silence once more. But this time, the weight in the air was different. Heavier. Final.
“… we cannot keep her hidden any longer.” the silver-haired Archmage said at last, her voice calm but resolute.
The old Archmage tapped his staff once against the stone floor. “The moment we announced her existence, secrecy ceased to be an option.”
The tattooed Archmage frowned. “Then what you’re suggesting is—”
“To make it official,” she finished. “we present her to the world.”
Kael let out a low whistle. “You mean parade her around like a trophy?”
“No.” Her gaze sharpened. “We establish authority.”
Silence followed. Because they all understood what that meant. Not just protection. Control. Position. Power.
The old Archmage nodded slowly. “… if she is recognized as the sixth Archmage, no ordinary faction will dare act against her lightly.”
“And the extraordinary ones?” Kael asked lazily.
“Will reveal themselves.”
That shut him up—for once.
The tattooed Archmage exhaled. “… you’re turning her into bait.”
The silver-haired woman did not deny it. “… we are giving her a shield.”
Kael smirked faintly. “Same thing.”
---
Meanwhile—
Mariana stood in the training chamber, completely unaware of the political storm forming above her.
Her focus was elsewhere. “… again.” Mana gathered.
But this time, she didn’t follow a book. She didn’t mimic a spell. She created. “… if I imagine it like folding space…”
Her brows furrowed slightly as she extended her hand. The air shimmered faintly. Warped. Twisted. Not violently. But unnaturally.
“… then…” The space in front of her bent. Collapsed. And for a brief moment—it opened. Mariana blinked. “… huh?” Then, she stepped forward. And vanished.
---
Back in the observatory chamber—
“…then it’s settled,” the silver-haired Archmage concluded. “We will formally present her as the sixth—”
“Wait.” Kael sat up straight. For the first time in a while. “… do you feel that?”
The room stilled. The old Archmage’s eyes snapped open. “Her mana…”
The tattooed Archmage turned toward the observatory sphere. “… it just—”
Gone. Silence. Absolute.
“… what?” The silver-haired Archmage moved instantly to the sphere, her hand pressing against its surface. Threads of mana spread rapidly, searching, scanning—nothing. “… impossible.”
Kael stood slowly. “No,” he muttered. His lips curled. “She didn’t disappear...” A pause. “… she left.”
---
At the borders of Forebros—
The wind howled softly across the open plains. Rows of armored knights stood stationed along the perimeter, their presence tense, alert. The lockdown had turned the entire territory into a fortress. No one entered. No one left.
Until the air distorted. A ripple. Subtle. Then, a figure appeared, cloaked. Silent. Standing just beyond the line of knights.
“Intruder!” Steel rang out instantly. Swords drawn. Dozens of blades pointed toward the lone figure. “Identify yourself!”
No response. The figure remained still. The cloak fluttered slightly in the wind. And for a moment, no one moved.
Because something about that presence felt wrong. Not hostile. Not aggressive. But heavy. Then, a voice cut through the tension. “… stand down.”
All movement froze. The knights turned. “Grand Prince!”
He was already moving. Fast. Too fast. Eirwen pushed past the line of soldiers, his crimson eyes locked onto the cloaked figure.
“… wait—!” one knight called out, but it was too late.
He was already there. Standing face to face with the stranger. Silence. Then, “… Mariana.” The name fell softly. But it hit like thunder.
The cloaked figure stiffened. Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her hands. And pulled back the hood. Golden hair spilled into the light. Familiar. Unmistakable. “… Brother.”
Eirwen didn’t wait another second. He pulled her into a tight embrace. “…you idiot—!” His voice broke slightly. “Do you have any idea—” His grip tightened. “… how worried I was?”
Mariana froze at first. Then slowly, her hands lifted. And she hugged him back. “… sorry...” A quiet word. Small. But real.
Eirwen exhaled sharply, his forehead resting briefly against hers. "Don’t disappear like that again.”
“… I didn’t mean to...”
“That doesn’t matter.”
Behind them, the knights lowered their swords, stunned into silence. Because the missing Grand Princess had just returned.
Not far away, a figure stood watching. Unnoticed. Silent. Sir Leonhard. His sharp gaze assessed the situation in an instant.
Mariana. Alive. Unharmed. And different. The mana around her was unmistakable. Denser. Sharper. Dangerous.
“… so it’s true.” he murmured quietly. Then, without a word, he disappeared.
---
Far to the south—
Another battlefield burned. Steel clashed. Men screamed.
And at the center of it all, Crown Prince Zafiel stood amidst the chaos. Another estate. Another rebel lord. Another purge.
His blade cut through resistance effortlessly, his movements calm despite the bloodshed surrounding him.
Then, he stopped just for a moment. “… hm.” The shift in the air was subtle. But he felt it. A familiar presence. Far away. His lips curved slightly. “… you’re back.”
Behind him, a knight rushed forward. “Your Imperial Highness—!”
Zafiel didn’t turn. “… it can wait.”
Because for the first time in days, something far more interesting had just happened.
---
Back in Forebros—
Eirwen finally pulled away, though his hands still rested firmly on Mariana’s shoulders as if confirming she was real.
“… you’re coming home.” It wasn’t a question.
Mariana hesitated, just slightly. Then, “… okay.”
But her gaze drifted just for a second, back toward the horizon. Where the world felt… bigger now. Different. Because she had changed.
And somewhere, something was still waiting. Watching.