A week later.
As night fell, the distant lights of towns flickered to life one by one, echoing the first stars emerging in the evening sky.
Through the tranquil night, the magic train hurtled along the tracks at high speed, sweeping past majestic mountain ranges, dense forests, and serene lakes.
Inside the carriages, the warm illumination cast a glow across dark brown hardwood floors and bronzed ironwork. The elegant lacquered walls seemed timeless, whispering of the passing years.
Passengers stood or sat, murmuring about all manner of topics. Ladies in formal attire held glasses of wine whose deep red gleamed like gemstones as they conversed in hushed whispers with their companions. In a corner of the carriage, a cluster of young people debated passionately, their eyes shining with longing and excitement for the Protos Imperial Capital.
Conductors in neat, dark uniforms passed through on their routine patrols, occasionally stopping with polite smiles to inquire after the passengers' needs.
Inside a first-class private compartment near the front of the train, a young man and a young woman sat by the window.
The young man's attire was a blend of vintage and elegance: a white long-sleeved shirt with black piping along the collar and cuffs, complemented by a fitted beige vest patterned with deep brown stripes forming a diamond checkerboard. Hanging on the wall beside him was a long, dark gray coat with broad lapels and angled pockets, exuding an air of understated, mysterious poise.
This was an authentic Northern Continent outfit tailored specifically for Lanqi by the elderly tailor in Lilom City who made Viscount Francis's clothes.
At the moment, Lanqi was sitting quietly in the compartment, reading a book.
Opposite him, Zestira had already changed into the standard uniform of the Protos Royal Magic Academy.
Although donning a hat to obscure her demonic features would have spared her many strange looks throughout the journey, she refused to hide them.
She saw nothing wrong with her demon heritage.
The Protos Empire also possessed a network of magic railways, though reaching the Imperial Capital from a remote backwater like Lilom City required first traveling to the main city of the Southwestern Province before boarding this train.
Most of the time, the two of them remained absorbed in their respective books.
Unfamiliar landscapes and points of light drifted into view against the backdrop of the night, only to flash past in an instant.
Zestira closed her book and set it down beside her. She did not pick up another, simply because she had run out of reading material.
She had little interest in scholarly treatises, preferring spellbooks.
However, spellbooks were restricted items that required a tedious, complicated security inspection, so she had not brought any with her.
A casual glance at the cover of the book in Lanqi's hands told her immediately what he was reading.
*Chronicles of the Holy War*, published by the Imperial Royal Magic Academy Press and authored by Sido Arendelle. It chronicled the war that had engulfed both the Northern and Southern Continents a century ago, along with the rise and fall of the demon race.
Although the author had filled in certain gaps with wild imagination and theatrical dramatization, many of the true secrets of that Holy War remained murky and unexplained to this day.
"You really are from the Southern Continent," Zestira remarked.
She had long been convinced of his origins, yet seeing him pore over a history book widely available across the Northern Continent was more persuasive than any proof.
Hearing her voice, Lanqi smiled, lowered the book, and looked across the table.
"Information about the Northern Continent back south is a jumble of truth and falsehood. After so long in isolation, the only way to know what's real is to see it for myself."
He had borrowed the book from Viscount Francis.
He had not expected Zestira to have read it, as he knew she was not particularly fond of history.
Back then, the Southern Continent had merely been grazed by the peripheral flames of war; it had never been deeply involved in the Holy War's origins, progression, or resolution. Southern books on Northern history were heavily romanticized—nine parts fiction to one part fact.
Nor was it clear how much of the Protos Empire's official history was accurate. History, after all, was always tailored with selective emphasis, so Lanqi took it with a grain of salt.
Zestira nodded.
She had heard numerous versions of rumors regarding the Southern Continent, but most were blatantly false given how wildly they contradicted one another.
"Are there any allusions you don't understand?"
Having grown accustomed to teaching Lanqi, she instinctively worried whenever she thought he might be struggling.
"Not really. I have a rough grasp of things."
Lanqi actually already knew a bit about the background of the Northern Continent, though the source texts were always exasperatingly cryptic.
Combining that baseline knowledge with the book made it reasonably easy to follow.
"That's good. If there's anything you don't understand, just ask."
"All right," Lanqi replied with a smile.
He gave it a thought; opportunities to chat with Zestira were rare.
He marked his place with the silk ribbon attached to the spine and laid the book by the edge of the table.
"Do you have any favorite historical figures?" he asked.
When discussing history, starting with historical figures was always best. It allowed one to deduce the other party's stance and avoid saying anything that might spoil the mood or cause offense.
Zestira considered the question for a moment.
"A few demon generals, I suppose. But my favorite would have to be Talia."
"...?"
Lanqi froze for a second before quickly regaining his composure.
He had not expected to hear that familiar name here out of nowhere.
He even opened *Chronicles of the Holy War* again and flipped backward, and sure enough, his eyes caught the name Talia.
So her name actually featured in Northern history. As expected of an antique hundreds of years old.
"What was so special about this ancient woman?" Lanqi asked curiously. Aside from being beautiful, powerful, and immortal, he had no idea what other charms she possessed.
"She was resilient, powerful, and exceptionally talented, possessing a rational heart beneath a cold exterior. She is the kind of woman I aspire to become most. And... if the demon race can ever restore their nation one day, I believe she will be the one to achieve it."
As Zestira spoke of Talia, her usually flat tone carried a rare note of yearning.
"Why?" Lanqi grew even more bewildered.
He honestly felt there was no way Talia could ever rebuild an empire. She was already living a blissful retirement in Ikerite.
Never mind restoring a fallen nation; at this point, she probably wouldn't even agree to leave the Hutton Kingdom.
"She never let herself become lost in her own power due to desire, unlike other demons. There is an ancient proverb in the Demon Realm: if a demon free of all desire ever walks the world, they will undoubtedly be the most terrifying and mighty of all. Perhaps it was precisely because of this that Talia did not perish alongside the rest of our kind, and instead became the princess of the last remnants."
Zestira delivered her assessment with utmost earnestness.
Chapter 256