Chapter 149: The cracks

Thank you [UpUpDowndown] For your gift - A Magic Castle

(Bonus Chapter: 2)

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Beneath the rocky gap, Erik was still carrying Elowen toward the path they had just been shown. Whenever the ground became uneven, he slightly tilted his body so her injured shoulder would not rub against the wall.

Elowen held around his neck, her silver hair falling like a ribbon of light amid the black mist. She leaned close to his ear to remind him to be careful, while Erik merely gave a quiet reply and continued forward with steady steps.

On the collapsed wall, the translucent girl watched the two of them for a while longer before floating upward. Her small figure swayed among the treetops like a golden leaf carried from its branch by the wind. Her chestnut-brown hair, glimmering with copper, drifted through the air without catching on a single leaf.

"That’s right, just follow that path!" she giggled, giving Erik a thumbs-up. But when she raised her head, her mischievous smile gradually vanished.

Above the forest, the sky dome looked like a vast sheet of glass being clawed apart by invisible talons. White-gold cracks ran in jagged lines all the way to the clouds, while Dark Mist continuously poured down from the other side in dark streams.

Farther away, the mountain slopes continued to collapse, carrying earth, rock, and tree trunks away like a gray waterfall. Amid that scene, the alarm sirens at the outpost sounded strangely small.

The chestnut-haired girl raised her translucent hand before her eyes. Through her five fingers, she could still see the treetops below with perfect clarity, clear enough that she felt she could count every leaf. How long had it been since she could touch them?

She could no longer remember. The living passed through her like wind passing through a curtain, yet the man from earlier had truly been able to see her. He had even seriously asked for her name. Remembering Erik’s wary expression, she unconsciously pouted.

"That’s really unfair." She puffed out her cheeks and muttered as if complaining to an old friend. "When I want a hug, no one can see me. When those awful things come looking for us, I’m the only one left standing here."

She looked down at the medical station. Through a gap in the mist that the wind had just torn open, she saw two female soldiers helping their injured comrade onto a stretcher.

One of them slipped, and the other immediately knelt to support her, even though her own arm was bleeding. The girl’s playful gaze softened. Beneath her chestnut hair, her amber eyes were as clear as two gems holding onto the last sunlight of the season.

"Fine. I’ll help a little more."

The translucent girl reached toward an ancient symbol hidden within the mana network. As always, her fingers passed through the air, but when they reached the golden engraving, they unexpectedly stopped.

A tiny mote of light crawled onto the back of her hand, flickering like a firefly about to go out. Earth, stone, trees, and even living people could not touch her, yet the remnants left behind by the Sentinels seemed to still recognize a comrade the world had forgotten.

"You still recognize me?"

No answer came. Only the mana lines in the protective dome trembled softly like the strings of an instrument. She smiled, then pressed both hands against the cracked area. Light began flowing from her body in thin strands, slipping into the gaps to keep the two edges of the dome from spreading farther apart.

Pain struck the moment she exerted herself. She curled up, feeling as though the threads that made up her soul were being pulled out to stitch the sky back together. The light from her hair, the hem of her dress, and her fingertips stretched into the cracks one after another.

Her once-plump face turned pale. She bit her lip until she trembled, but her hands never left the violently shaking mana lines.

"This really hurts..." The girl gritted her teeth, forcing out a crooked smile. "Someone had better buy me cake this time."

The cracks did not disappear, but the two edges of the dome finally stopped splitting farther apart. The stream of Dark Mist pouring down from that area gradually thinned.

The girl let out a breath and watched the old mana lines light up section by section like lamps in an abandoned row of houses. The light did not stop at the outpost. It ran all the way toward Silver Moon, where she had once thought no one remembered her anymore.

The girl raised her head, astonishment appearing in her amber eyes.

"Wait... someone can still hear me?"

...

In Silver Moon, many Succubi still did not know that the northern protective dome had cracked. What unsettled them first was the paid livestream, "Erik’s Daily Life," suddenly going black.

The last image only managed to capture Erik holding his spear amid the military ranks before the Dark Mist rolled in, swallowing everything on the screen like a vat of ink spilled over a lake.

In a private tea room on the upper floor of an estate, four women sat around a table covered in a white lace cloth. All of them had verified female accounts and could afford the program’s far-from-cheap fee.

One was a merchant association manager, another was of noble birth, and another had spent a lifetime building a fortune of her own. Under normal circumstances, their time alone was worth more than the items laid out on the table.

Yet now, no one remembered that the tea had gone cold. All four stared at the dark screen, as if Erik might step out of the darkness and smile at them if they waited just a little longer.

"Still no signal?" Mirielle asked softly. She was the owner of the tea room, a beautiful red-brown-haired woman with sharp eyes and an elegant bearing. The ring on her finger tapped against the teacup with a soft clink, betraying the calmness she was trying to maintain.

"Not yet." Lysandra, a young Succubus dressed in purple velvet, disappointedly put down her device. "I only saved a few pictures before the mist rolled in. I should have turned on the recording function sooner."

"Let me see." Mirielle held out her hand so quickly that Lysandra flinched slightly.

The image appeared, somewhat blurry because the person holding the device had captured it in a hurry. Erik stood in profile beside the female captain, his black hair tousled by the wind, one hand holding his spear.

Behind him, the female warriors still had their hands on their chests in salute. He was not wearing ceremonial attire, nor did he have any jewelry symbolizing a man’s privileges. Looking closely, there was even a crease in his collar. Mirielle studied the image for a long time before sighing softly.

"He really is handsome."

"It’s only a side profile." Lysandra narrowed her eyes, trying to see what Mirielle was praising.

"That’s why it’s such a shame." Mirielle looked at her with strange seriousness. "Front view, left profile, right profile, smiling, raising an eyebrow, holding a spear... I want to see every angle of Erik. Only keeping a few pictures of a man like him is like buying an entire garden but only being willing to look at one flower."

Lysandra’s mouth fell open. "Madam... what are you planning to do with so many pictures?"

"Print them."

"...Print them?"

"As clearly as possible. This one goes on my desk. The one of him smiling while cooking goes in the tea room. As for the other footage, have my people contact the production team to purchase the rights to the publicly released images." Mirielle rested her chin on her hand, her eyes practically sparkling. "I want a complete collection. Preferably including the moment he turns around to listen to Elowen speak."

The elderly housekeeper sitting beside her coughed, nearly knocking over her teacup. "Madam, do you plan to let your husband see that collection?"

"Of course." Mirielle replied without a hint of embarrassment. "I’ll tell him to look at it very carefully. Just because someone is a man, does that mean he can’t learn how to smile gently at the woman beside him?"

Lysandra hugged her stomach and laughed, but her eyes never left the picture. "I want someone like that too. Look at his hand holding the spear shaft. His knuckles are so beautiful. And those shoulders... when he stood beside Elowen, all I could think about was what it would feel like to lean against them."

She blushed and pulled a pillow over half her face. "If he hugged me once, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be willing to let go. I want him to look at me too, to kiss me the way he kisses the women he loves. Don’t we women have the right to desire such things?"

"Because for Erik, perhaps that is simply normal." The old housekeeper slowly set down her cup. "I served a noble family for more than fifteen years. All it took was a report of monsters in the outskirts for my former master to make every maid kneel and beg him to go into the basement. Then he would still blame us for making him afraid. Erik nearly died before that giant spider, yet he still returned to the outpost."

"Don’t say that he stands behind Meira, so he isn’t in danger," Mirielle interrupted, even though no one had been about to say it. "Look at his eyes when he holds a spear. I only want to pull him away from the battlefield, wipe the blood from his cheek with my own hands, and ask him if he is hurt."

She looked at the image, regret curling her lips. "Lysandra, do you think you’re the only one who wants to be held by that man? Sometimes I look at him smiling and forget where I am. The men I have met only like watching women kneel before them, but Erik makes me want to lift my head and see his face clearly."

"I think you are all far too easily charmed." A detached voice came from by the window.

Dahlia, a black-haired beauty in a high-collared silk dress, set down her teacup. The gems on her wrist gleamed brightly, yet she kept pulling down her sleeve to hide them. "He holds a spear and the entire city praises him. Meanwhile, all of you want to print his pictures throughout your homes. I think a man like that has no dignity left at all. Men are born to be cherished, not to do things to please Succubi."

Mirielle glanced at Dahlia, the enthusiasm in her eyes slowly fading. "Last month, you came here with a bruise on your cheek. Last week, you missed the merchant association meeting. Did your husband hit you again?"

"I fell!" Dahlia replied too quickly.

The old housekeeper silently moved the hot teapot farther away so Dahlia would not need to reach for it. When Dahlia’s sleeve shifted, a dark bruise was clearly visible beneath her jade bracelet. Dahlia hurriedly covered it, her face turning red as everyone saw.

"Don’t look at me like that." She lifted her chin, trying to preserve her pride. "My husband is just a little hot-tempered. No matter what, he is still a man. I don’t need your pity."

"No one is laughing at you," Mirielle said. She poured more tea and pushed the cup toward Dahlia. "But respecting someone does not mean letting them hurt you however they wish."

Lysandra was no longer laughing. "Dahlia, you have endured so much. Does that mean you want every other Succubus to suffer just like you? Erik treating Elowen well does not take anything away from your husband."

"You think I want to suffer?" Dahlia snapped back. Her hand trembled so badly that her jade bracelet struck the side of the cup. "If men can be gentle like him... then what have I spent all these years enduring for?"