Seeing Satania looking so indignant, ready to fight for her, Letia felt like she had a thousand complaints bottled up inside, but in the end, she held them back.
“Anyway!”
Satania grabbed Letia’s hand.
“We have to unite and bring down that White Church nun Litt, so your innocence can be restored and justice served.”
Letia’s lips twitched.
This kid isn’t very smart, but she sure loves drama.
But even so, Letia just coughed lightly twice and spoke to Satania.
“You believe now that I’m a priest of Dawnblade, right? So there’s no problem giving the potion directly to me.”
As she spoke, Letia extended her hand, signaling for Satania to hand over the potion.
However, after thinking for a moment, Satania looked at Letia and said,
“Letia, you probably don’t know how scary Litt is, so let me tell you…”
“Such a thick rope, but in front of that woman, it’s like a noodle—one gentle tug, and it snaps into several pieces. That monstrous strength… she’s basically a monster.”
“And her scheming is unfathomable! She pretended to be hypnotized by me, lured me into an empty warehouse, and even called in two vicious, thug-like men… a demon, even scarier than a demon!”
Letia’s mouth twitched again.
The first part—well, she could accept.
But what did the rest have to do with her?!
“So, Letia, you must understand now, right?”
Satania earnestly gripped her hand.
“With such a fearsome enemy, we have to unite if we want to stand a chance.”
Seeing Satania’s expression, Letia couldn’t help but let a delighted smile bloom on her face.
Forget it, just let her be.
As long as it’s fun.
“In that case, let’s go to Dawnblade’s base.”
“Alright!”
***
At the same time, within the Dawnblade stronghold.
Liz set down the sword in her hand and let out a long sigh.
“Cousin, what are you sighing about?”
Monica sat on the training ground steps, cradling her chin in both hands.
Even faced with such tedious training, she could sit and watch the whole day.
“It’s nothing.”
Liz walked over to Monica and plopped down next to her.
“It’s just… I miss the old days a little.”
“If Red isn’t around, you’re much more honest, cousin.”
“I am not!”
Liz instinctively retorted, then hurriedly blocked Monica, who tried to lick her face.
“I—I’m not…”
“Really?”
Monica tilted her head, looking puzzled.
“But before, when you saw Litt and Red heading home together, your face didn’t look like this.”
“And speaking of which, after Red left Dawnblade, he’s obviously gotten more popular with the ladies, right? Not just Litt, actually, there are plenty of girls close to him if you look carefully. Even Letia from your own party seems pretty close to him.”
“Ugh…”
Liz was left speechless.
After a long silence, she finally spoke slowly.
“Letia… if she can bring Red back, that’s a good thing, I guess.”
But when she said that, her expression was far from happy—she even looked a little gloomy.
“In my eyes, Red looks pretty good—just his face alone could win over lots of girls.”
“You’ve always been on guard, haven’t you?”
“Not letting Red attend banquets was to keep him from getting involved with girls.”
“When Letia joined the party, you treated her like a thief, worried something would happen between them.”
“To be honest… how could you not know Red’s preferences?”
Monica’s string of comments left Liz completely unable to retort.
The scariest thing about an airhead is when she offhandedly says the very thing you most fear to face.
If anyone else had been present, Liz would have already rushed to cover Monica’s mouth, but since it was just the two of them at the training ground, she merely stayed silent… and kept on staying silent.
“…You and Mason,”
Liz’s voice carried a barely detectable hoarseness, finally breaking the silence.
She switched topics abruptly, almost forcibly.
“Traveling all the way from the Imperial Capital to this borderland—your real goal… was to win Red over, right?”
This wasn’t a question, more like confirming a well-known fact.
“Mm? Yes, of course.”
Monica nodded without a moment’s hesitation, that innocent smile never leaving her face, as if her calm analysis a moment ago had never happened.
“Otherwise, why else would my brother and I come to a place like this?”
Then, as if she remembered something, she added sheepishly,
“But as for how to actually win him over, Brother says that’s his job. I don’t really get it.”
Looking at Monica’s expression, Liz truly couldn’t tell if this cousin of hers was truly naive or just pretending.
“If, and I mean if, you had the chance to win Red over, what kind of conditions would you offer? How much is he really worth, that you’d try to recruit him?”
Faced with Liz’s question, Monica tilted her head and answered.
“Liz, do you know about the First Magic Revolution?”
The First Magic Revolution.
A name that commanded respect from anyone familiar with magical history.
In that dark era, spellcasters were bound by the weighty, complexly inscribed Magic Arrays on sheepskin scrolls.
Each spell meant costly materials, lengthy preparations, and immense inconvenience.
Magic was a luxury for the few, and a burden on the battlefield.
Until the comet-like rise of that Legendary Mage, Gandalf.
With awe-inspiring wisdom, he innovatively proposed the idea of the Paperless Magic Array, completely overturning the very foundations of magic.
That revolution, like a wildfire, swept the continent.
The heavy Spell Scrolls were rapidly swept into the dust of history, and mages finally embraced their new title—Mobile Artillery.
And after the First Magic Revolution, the mage named Gandalf ascended to the heavens, becoming a god revered by all.
To this day, his statue is still enshrined at the Magic Academy in the Imperial Capital.
Liz pulled herself from her thoughts and asked Monica,
“…I know. Why?”
“To this day, the secret of how Master Gandalf ascended to godhood is still shrouded in mystery, but Father said… Red’s techniques are enough to trigger a Second Magic Revolution. That revolutionary, minimalistic core Magic Array technology—if the Empire were to fully analyze and master it… then every mage’s casting speed and efficiency would rise to a level where all current defensive systems would be rendered utterly meaningless, a level that would plunge the world into despair.”
Monica leaned forward slightly.
Her words, like a cold sentence, held none of her usual ditziness.
“That would usher in an era of absolute mage supremacy. By then… all other classes would become mere appendages.”
At this, Liz’s pupils contracted.
She could hardly believe Monica was saying such things.
Monica placed her hand over her heart, meeting Liz’s gaze with deadly seriousness.
“That’s why Father said, if necessary, I, Monica Augustus… am also a price that can be paid.”
Liz felt as if an icy lump of iron had lodged in her throat.
She bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting the faint tang of blood before forcing out a stubborn rebuttal through her teeth.
“What if… all this is just wishful thinking on your part? What if Red… isn’t as… great as you all imagine?”
“Even then, we’d still try to win him over. Talented people… the Empire never finds them too many.”
Liz’s face turned a little pale.
She clenched her fists, and no one knew what was on her mind.
But Monica knew.
Returning to her ditzy self, she leaned closer and said to Liz,
“Cousin, that means if you don’t work hard, I’ll have to work hard myself… You wouldn’t want to see your cousin in a wedding dress, marrying your former teammate, right?”
Hearing this, Liz jumped to her feet.
She turned to Monica beside her and gritted her teeth,
“I… I can’t accept that.”
“Then, cousin, you’ll have to work hard to bring him back to Dawnblade. If he gets snatched by other forces… for you, it’s just losing a teammate, but for the Empire, the loss is much greater. At the very least, it’s a loss of talent; but at worst… we’ll miss our chance at the Second Magic Revolution…”
“And falling behind means getting beaten.”
At this moment, Liz’s face kept flushing red and turning pale, creating a very lively scene.
“So, cousin,” Monica spoke again, her tone calm as a lake, but as sharp as a needle, piercing Liz’s most vulnerable spot:
“Are you ready to apologize to Red?”
Faced with Monica’s question, Liz’s hands clenched into fists so tight that her knuckles cracked, nails digging deep into her palms, sending a sharp pain shooting through.
But in the end, she let her hands fall weakly like a deflated sack.
Her shoulders slumped, and she appeared exhausted beyond anything she’d ever shown before.
“Sorry, I… I can’t do it.”
The pride of a noble is carved into the bones.
Thinking back, Red had always followed behind her, always looking up to her.
If she bowed her head to him, wouldn’t that mean throwing away her years of pride, trampling it beneath her feet?
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