Hyperion Arrives

Early morning two days later. In the northern region of the Protos Empire stood Box Mountain Province. Like a dazzling pearl set upon the northern plains, it was not only the most prosperous province in the north, but also a vital transportation hub where passenger and cargo traffic intersected. Mountains flanked it to the north like guardian deities, serving as a natural barrier. At the foot of the peaks, melting snow transformed into winding streams, threading like slender ribbons through the city eastward. Whenever the spring breeze arrived, the moat would silently nourish the land, imbuing the city-state with boundless vigor and vitality. Upon entering the province, one would find its architectural style deeply rooted in the ancient traditions of the Imperial Capital, Herrom. The builders showed a marked preference for natural stone and timber, crafting an aesthetic that harmonized with the lofty peaks of the distant north. Stone skins and wooden bones blended seamlessly with nature into a living, three-dimensional painting. Yet the seasons were in disarray this year, and the bitter cold was unyielding. Even the warm lands of the southern Protos Empire were blanketed in winter snow. Here in the northern province, despite it being mid-April, spring still hesitated to arrive. Capricious weather brought frequent snowstorms, scouring the city-state's face clean again and again, leaving the residents to wonder if this frozen world might linger until the next winter. In the south of Box Mountain Province, situated west of the heartland's main city, was the mana rail train station known as Rock Confluence—the central gateway to the south of the empire. As the largest mana rail train station in the entire northern empire, it was also the crowning achievement of ancient craftsmanship and magical engineering. Along the tracks, every screech of the brakes and shower of sparks thrown from iron wheels sounded like accented beats in the symphony of titanic magitech engines, echoing through the vast platform level of Rock Confluence Station. At the far end of the terminal, a mana rail train laden with the northern chill and capped with a thin layer of frost sped toward the raised platforms. Rolling imperial script on the slender crystal display along the train's flank indicated that it had originated from the station in the Milford Territory of the Northwestern Province, bound for its final stop at Rock Confluence. Inside one of the forward carriages, an elegant and comfortable compartment had been designed to resemble a luxury hotel suite. The ceiling featured hand-crafted moldings, and the walls were paneled in dark wood that gave off a faint scent of sandalwood, accented here and there by paintings in gilded frames. Beyond the spacious armchairs and bed wrapped in fine leather and suede, soft plush cushions and blankets provided extra warmth. Hyperion walked over to an armchair, sat down, and quietly gazed out the window. She had awakened before dawn broke over the horizon, washing up early and taking inventory of her luggage. She had remained exceptionally cautious throughout the journey. Ever since they had departed the Milford Territory, the empire had been steeped in an unsettling, eerie atmosphere, as though enshrouded in a perpetual dark gray fog, leaving her unable to set her mind at ease. "Sister." Before long, Mixiula, having just gotten out of bed, finished getting ready and sat down opposite Hyperion. Though she said nothing more, her gesture made it clear she was ready to depart at a moment's notice. "I heard from the attendants that the platform level at Rock Confluence Station has been overrun with Extinction clerics these past few days," Hyperion sighed, confiding in Mixiula. "They're in a terrifying state of combat readiness, as if they could strike at any second. Everyone is panicking." She had already suspected that anything capable of pulling the Northwestern Province's Extinction Branch away from their base en masse had to be monumental. But the more she pondered it, the more convinced she became that the Protos Empire was experiencing severe turmoil. As an outsider, she could not pierce the surrounding fog. Ignorance only bred deeper fear. "...Even when those bastards were scouring the Milford Territory for spies from the Church of the Goddess of Fate and the Kingdom of Asethelan, they never went so far as to lock down the train stations," Mixiula said, her tone filled with open distaste for the Resurrection cultists. "Don't worry, sister. If you stand straight, you don't fear a crooked shadow. The Extinction Branch has no reason to target members of the Milford family." Mixiula spoke with firm confidence. "...True," Hyperion nodded. "The most absurd thing is the bishop election coming up in a little over a week. Father has to travel to the Imperial Capital, Herrom, as well. He'll probably have to cast his vote for the Bishop of Extinction. After all, no northern noble dares to vote against him right now." Disgust flashed in Mixiula's eyes at the mere mention of the Resurrection Church. She loathed the Extinction Branch most of all, wishing she could drive every last one of those heretics out of the Milford Territory. If someone failed to vote for Askesan at the decisive moment and he won anyway, he might not retaliate openly right away, but he would eventually exact a ruthless purge against the northern nobles who had betrayed him. Everyone knew exactly what kind of man the Bishop of Extinction, Askesan, was. Once they stepped off the train into Rock Confluence Station—crawling with the Bishop of Extinction's hounds—Mixiula would have to conceal her true thoughts. This carriage was their final chance to speak freely. "This election has already become an inevitability for the empire," Hyperion said, shaking her head. "I only hope it ends with the lesser of three evils. Either Domination or Mourning winning would be slightly better than Extinction." Her understanding of the northern continent's Cardinals was limited. According to the Ice Snow Witch, the best possible outcome would be a victory for the Bishop of Mourning. Compared to the extreme ambition and ruthless egoism of the Bishops of Extinction and Domination, the Bishop of Mourning was relatively conservative and neutral. Yet such matters were far beyond her power to influence. Her sole objective for this journey was to rescue the great demon imprisoned beneath Herrom—the one said to be her aunt's dearest friend. Doing so would mark complete success. "Domination and Mourning are no saints either. Once we reach the Imperial Capital, Herrom, we might encounter clerics from both branches. Who knows if their hidden agents have already infiltrated the academy... In any case, no matter how friendly anyone from the Resurrection Church seems, never believe a single word they say." Mixiula was deeply worried that her sister might be deceived by the wicked cultists of the Resurrection Church. Those depraved beasts were capable of anything. If the high-ranking members of the Resurrection Church took an interest in her sister's talents and status within the Milford family, they might try to approach or bewitch her to pull the Milford family into the southeastern Cardinal's branch at this pivotal juncture for the empire. "Rest assured, Mixiula. A clear line divides us from those heretics. I will never have anything to do with the Resurrection Church." Hyperion smiled, her tone as earnest and serene as a morning prayer in the temple as she gave her promise. Hearing her sister's reassurance, Mixiula felt relieved. Seeing Hyperion's upright, gentle, and righteous demeanor, she firmly believed her sister could never possibly degenerate to the point of mingling with cultists from the Resurrection Church.