“Erich!”
The young princess threw herself onto the spot where Erich had just been, but touched only empty air. She collapsed weakly to her knees, her voice crying out with a sob, sharp and broken. It echoed through the empty room for a moment, but no one responded.
“Erich! Erich!”
She wanted to call out again, but it felt as if something was blocking her throat. Her mana was completely drained, and her physical strength had long hit rock bottom. She had only been holding on by a thread, and now that thread had vanished along with Erich. She didn't even have the strength to stand.
Heavy, ragged breathing caught Leonora's attention.
She snapped her head up. Not far away, the second black-clad figure whom Erich had knocked down was actually staggering back to his feet.
How... how is he still able to stand?
Erich had indeed knocked him unconscious earlier, but the magical fluctuations from the activation of the teleportation array seemed to have jolted the black-clad figure awake. The man stumbled, steadied himself, and once again gathered a mass of dark mana in his staff.
The young princess instinctively tried to raise her staff, but her hands were trembling so violently that it nearly slipped from her fingers.
The black-clad figure closed in on her. One step, two steps.
The young princess gripped her staff tightly. She knew she couldn't rely on anyone else to save her; there wouldn't be another Erich falling from the sky to rescue her.
Oddly enough, she didn't feel afraid at this moment. The near-death terror from earlier had been replaced by another emotion—an uneasy anger. She remembered the expression on his face when he used his palm to block the blade for her.
Why? Why did he have to sacrifice himself for her?
And so, Leonora began to chant. However, she did not speak in the Common Tongue. Her voice was deep and ancient, like an echo originating from some distant era, every syllable carrying a heavy pressure.
“Assassin, be stripped of your power.”
The black-clad figure froze.
He stood there dazed. The mana gathering in his hand instantly dispersed. His body swayed before he collapsed to the ground, completely motionless.
This was the Royal Pronouncement, a secret technique passed down through the imperial family. This secret magic, preserved for hundreds of years, could only be activated by those of royal descent with a sufficiently high bloodline concentration. Since childhood, Leonora had been tested and found to have a thin bloodline. The mages in the palace and the instructors at the academy had all assumed she was destined to never master this secret magic. Even she had never imagined that one day she would be able to speak these words.
Commotion drifted in from outside. The purple barrier that had tightly enveloped the combat training building silently dissolved like melting thin ice.
Downstairs, a flood of footsteps and shouting grew louder. The teachers on duty, who had been waiting outside the building but unable to break through the barrier, quickly poured in and began to take control of the situation.
The door to the top-floor room was pushed open, and Lorraine and several others entered.
“Leonora!”
Lorraine and Irene ran at the forefront. They supported the nearly exhausted young princess from both sides, barely keeping her from collapsing again.
Several other classmates dragged the two completely unconscious black-clad figures out of the room, binding them tightly with magical chains.
Leaning against Lorraine's shoulder, the young princess could finally hold it in no longer, and large tears began to stream down her face.
“Lorraine... Erich, Erich, he...”
Lorraine patted her back. “Don't worry. Let me take a look.”
She squatted down and walked over to the spot where Erich had disappeared. A faint trace remained on the floor. She placed her hand over it, carefully using her mana to sense the residual fluctuations.
Her space magic was not advanced; her superficial understanding of Blink didn't even count as basic mastery. But she felt she could at least determine the nature of a trace. She had to know where exactly Erich had been sent, and if there was any chance he could return.
As her mana seeped through her palm into the residual trace, Lorraine frowned. The trace was like a mirror coated in oil; her mana slipped right off, unable to cling to anything or read a single thing.
Her expression gradually darkened.
“Judging by your expression, it looks like you didn't find anything.”
The voice came from above. Lorraine snapped her head up and saw Isabella standing at the edge of the crack Erich had made. She was looking down at everything in the room before lightly leaping down inside.
First, she walked over to the young princess, squatted down, and reached out to wipe the tears from her face.
“Why are you crying? If your eyes get all swollen, you won't look pretty anymore.”
The young princess sobbed, staring at her blankly.
Then Isabella stood up, slowly strolled over to Lorraine, tilted her head to study her grim expression, and smiled. “It's just a simple triggered spatial teleportation. Erich won't die. He's just been teleported to some corner of the world.”
Lorraine was both shocked and suspicious, wanting to demand how Isabella knew this.
But Isabella moved faster than Lorraine. She extended her index finger, gently pressing it against Lorraine's lips, making a shushing gesture.
“Prying into other people's secrets is very impolite, Miss Lorraine.”
Lorraine stared at Isabella in astonishment. At that moment, she had indeed instinctively used her mind-reading ability, but Isabella had actually sensed it. She knew precisely that Lorraine was prying, and even knew what she was planning to ask.
A chill ran down Lorraine's spine. Her mind-reading had never been so easily detected before.
Except by Erich.
Yet Isabella had already withdrawn her hand. Walking toward the door as if nothing had happened, her red hair swayed gently behind her. Her steps were leisurely, as though everything that had transpired this afternoon had nothing to do with her. As she reached the door, she left behind a sentence: “He will return.”
The door closed behind her.
Lorraine stood in place, her expression shifting repeatedly. She had countless questions she needed Isabella to answer, but the girl had already left, leaving her with a mind full of doubts trapped in her chest, unable to ask them.
“Lorraine?” Irene's voice pulled her back.
Lorraine suppressed her doubts and refocused her attention. Right now, there were three urgent matters at hand: giving a full report to the teachers, sending the young princess—who had overdrawn her mana—for treatment, and finding Erich.
Isabella made it sound simple, but Lorraine knew very well that before breaking through the barrier, Erich had already fought a grueling battle against the two black-clad figures. His mana was nearly depleted. Even if the teleportation spell wouldn't take his life, where had he been sent? If he landed in some city, it would be fine. But what if he fell into the wilderness, a ruin, or some dangerous place teeming with magical beasts? How could an injured person with exhausted mana survive for even a few hours?
The rescue team had arrived. Medical instructors brought in a stretcher, carefully placing the young princess onto it. Her consciousness was already fading, but her eyes remained fixed on the corner where Erich had vanished.
Lorraine stood by the window. The moon, which had risen at some point, illuminated the entire room. In the hallway, teachers were questioning the captured black-clad figures, and the distant chatter of students drifted over. Everything seemed to be returning to normal, yet everything had changed.
The world outside the window was quiet and vast.
But Lorraine's expression remained grim.
She didn't know how far the triggered teleportation would send someone, nor did she know if Erich had enough strength to hold out until someone found him. The faint residual trace of the magic circle on the floor was gradually fading, as if the last clue to his whereabouts was dispersing with it.
Lorraine suddenly realized that she actually still owed him a word of thanks—thanks for keeping her secret, and thanks for saving Leonora.
Footsteps echoed from the stairs. An instructor ran up, shouting something into the room. Lorraine turned around as the restored mana lights illuminated her face, reflecting the undeniable gravity in her eyes.
The rescue team had arrived, but the matter was far from over.
She turned and walked toward the door. The trace on the floor had finally vanished completely.
Rate on N.U.
