Herrom, the Imperial Capital.
The glow of its sprawling architectural complexes held up the heavy twilight of this fortress city-state of the Protos Empire.
The colossal city felt isolated from the rest of the world. Viewed from afar, its towering, sturdy defensive barriers seemed to fuse into sky and ground alike, while the peripheral architecture of hard stone and cold metal lent the metropolis a deep, accumulated weight of ages.
At the magic train station on the city's perimeter, even at ten o'clock at night, passengers still streamed through the concourse level, traversing the wide passages between platforms and station halls.
In the distance, a train pulled into the station. The shrill screech of wheels grinding against rails echoed across the open tracks, and interior lights poured through the windows onto the moonlit platform.
It was a train of classical decor, bearing abundant traces of modern retrofits as well. Subtle runes covered its exterior, pulsing with light as it drew near the station and resonating with the station's protective barrier.
Inside the carriage.
"Have we finally arrived at the Imperial Capital?"
Zestira and Lanqi waited briefly near the doors.
Even before the doors opened, music echoing across the platform level could be heard.
"Not this dreadful thing again..."
Zestira murmured, her brow furrowing slightly.
Standing beside her, Lanqi could hear it clearly too.
It seemed like the ambient background score of Herrom itself. To showcase Herrom's storied history and the noble lineage of its magnates, the theme took the form of a grand symphony—majestic brass instruments and strings steeped in religious solemnity, grave and mystical yet cool and aloof. Perhaps owing to the northern geography and climate, modulations gave rise to fierce, tense passages, where pipe organs and ever-ascending trebles evoked an urgency suggesting war would never cease.
When descending, the melody quickened, only to slow as it rose once more. French horns and trombones layered atop each other; at the treble's softest, the bass surged to its peak. Cycled endlessly, it tricked the brain into the illusion of pitch rising infinitely, never knowing when it might plunge into the abyss.
Yet what it utterly lacked was hope and relief.
It was as though the heavy history of the Holy War against the demon race had been etched into the very marrow of their bones, never once giving way to gentle melodies or harmonious chords.
Even now, its very essence carried a deep-seated rejection of demons.
"I think I understand why you find this music so distasteful."
Lanqi gazed out through the glass doors, thoughtful.
"..."
Zestira said nothing.
She knew Lanqi was a magic craft scholar, so he might well have studied things like crafting artistic magic items or melody magic.
The musical dissonance unsettled her slightly, but that was not the root of it. A human raised in the peaceful Southern Continent could never truly empathize.
The train came to a complete halt, and the doors slid open. A faint, clear mist drifted out from the carriage as the residual heat released by the operating stabilizers dissipated.
Amidst the music echoing through the station, Lanqi stepped out behind Zestira. A transparent mirror screen caught his eye first; it captured the expressions of arriving passengers, holding them for several seconds before dissolving away.
"It's a station tradition—used to log and inspect the identity of every passenger arriving at the Imperial Capital,"
Zestira murmured from his side, reassuring him not to worry.
Had anyone been using disguise magic, their true form would have been exposed on the screen, followed by immediate arrest by the Imperial Capital's constables.
"What's this beneath our feet?"
The two walked along the platform of grey flagstones. The path lit up intermittently, radiating an azure sheen that rippled beneath their footsteps as if they were treading upon the surface of the sea.
Lanqi had only stepped forward after determining it wasn't an offensive spell.
"Without valid imperial documents, you wouldn't be able to take a single step here,"
Zestira explained.
Though she rarely spoke to anyone unless necessary, she had grown accustomed to answering Lanqi's questions patiently.
Because this naive, fragile young man needed her.
Passing through a complex sequence of security checks and checkpoints, the two made their way through the station and entered within the Imperial Capital's fortress barrier.
Along Herrom's skyline, brightly lit skyscrapers, ancient cathedrals, and ethereal floating structures coexisted. The night sky was not merely deep blue; at times, golden sparks drifted like fireflies, turning the firmament into a mirror that reflected the city beneath.
This was a city teeming with magical wonders. The catastrophic fallout of the Holy War a century ago had left Herrom with profound anomalies that went beyond the physical realm, extending into its culture, society, and laws.
In the city of Herrom, humans and mixed-bloods of every sort lived packed together in an atmosphere ripe with unpredictability. One might glimpse a floating botanical garden nestled between towering skyscrapers, run into a berserk alchemical beast breaking loose along subterranean mana rails, or browse shops stocked with everything from ancient-recipe elixirs to cutting-edge magical devices.
While certain districts of the city-state—dominated by magnates and imperial powerhouses—were known as realms of absolute order, areas far from their gaze frequently lapsed into chaos, crime, and violence.
"Staying with me means hostile glares will be your everyday routine,"
Zestira said to Lanqi as they walked along the street leading toward Protos Royal Academy.
The academy was not far from the station and could be reached on foot.
"Speaking of which, once we reach the academy, will there be people who come looking for trouble with you?"
In truth, Lanqi had already noticed the stinging gazes directed at them along the way. Not just from ordinary residents, but even from the guards, hardly any bore goodwill. Zestira looked far too much like a pureblood demon.
"Such as?"
"Say, you're minding your own business reading a book on campus, when some young marquess strutting by suddenly throws a couple of sneering insults your way."
Lanqi drew on personal experience to offer an Ikerite-style example.
"Then I'd slap him across the face."
Zestira looked up at Lanqi and answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Good girl,"
Lanqi praised approvingly.
By Demon Realm standards, that was practically exemplary etiquette.
Since she wished to be a demon, she shouldn't be judged by human standards; Lanqi had always been a teacher who respected his students' individuality.
"Still, things like that probably won't happen. Anyone in that academy who truly wants your life will barely say a word to you—they might even try their best to become your dependable ally first,"
Zestira said.
Although she hadn't expected Lanqi's approval, the sort of noble Lanqi described sounded far too quaint and tame.
"For example?"
Lanqi asked for an example in return.
"For example, during the preparatory students' major assessment at the end of this month, and the Shadow World challenge early next month, most of those eager to team up with me harbor ill intentions,"
Zestira replied indifferently.
"Zestira, how do you know what other people's intentions are?"
Lanqi didn't think Zestira suffered from paranoia; her tone was too certain.
"To a certain extent, I can sense hostility and goodwill. You're quite special—as pure and simple as a blank sheet of paper,"
she said, looking at Lanqi once more.
Chapter 258