The train was nearing Rock Confluence Station. Sitting in the armchair, one could feel it visibly decelerating, though it would still take a moment to pull fully onto the platform and come to a halt.
The small table between them was covered in an exquisite tablecloth, set with gold-rimmed porcelain, gleaming silverware, and several bottles of fruit wine brewed in the Milford Territory. Beneath the table was a small ice-magic wine cooler stocked with an assortment of drinks and pastries.
Their luggage had already been checked through; it would be transferred directly onto the next train and eventually delivered to the Protos Royal Academy via the dedicated courier service at Herrom Central Station. When they got off, the two of them would only need to carry their identification papers and personal essentials.
"If you treat the Imperial Capital of Herrom as a travel destination, it's actually quite a nice city," Mixiula remarked, gazing out the glass window where the scenery was gradually slowing down. "After all, in Herrom, there are plenty of sights just around the school—like the Herrom Zoo, the Endless Library, the Starry Sky Theater, and that mesmerizing moat flowing with natural magic currents. If only the coursework at Protos Royal Magic Academy weren't so suffocating."
Hyperion nodded.
Lanqi had told her from the start that after finishing their project in the Northern Continent, they should definitely take their time and enjoy sightseeing without any distractions. But she now shouldered a momentous mission and had no way to carry out that plan with him—or rather, the situation had long since made it impossible for them to relax and treat the Protos Empire as a vacation spot.
As for their original plan to study the [Original Slate - Seal], the empire's current situation was far too perilous, leaving no hope of seeing it through.
Still, no matter how drastically this trip to the Northern Continent—granted with a two-month extension by Loren—deviated from their original assignment and expectations, if things went smoothly, Lanqi could at least return with her to the Kingdom of Asethelan to study her teacher's [Original Slate - Healing]. That way, they would have something to show for it when they returned to Ikerite Academy.
Resting her cheek pensively against her hand, she quietly gazed out the window, her supple hair cascading over her shoulder.
"Sister, are you thinking about that man named Luoqi again?" Mixiula's sudden question broke Hyperion's train of thought.
"Is it that obvious?" Taken aback, Hyperion lowered her hand and looked at Mixiula.
Back at the temple in the Kingdom of Asethelan, the Ice Snow Witch had seen right through her every single time. And now, even here in the Protos Empire, Mixiula said the same thing whenever she caught her daydreaming.
"Not very obvious, but very easy to guess," Mixiula replied. She had grown increasingly curious about what kind of man could linger constantly in the thoughts of someone as exceptional as her sister.
"I just hope he's doing well," Hyperion sighed gently.
"What kind of person is he, really?" Mixiula asked curiously.
"I just hope he can live a quiet, peaceful life," Hyperion said after some thought, at a loss for how to summarize Lanqi.
"..."
Mixiula's brow furrowed. Were her sister's standards really that low?
Could this guy named Luoqi be a freeloader who fooled around all day and wanted to live off her sister?
Looking at her sister, she almost seemed willing to support him so he wouldn't have to work.
No way. A man like that had to be trouble; he had probably wrapped her sister around his little finger.
"When we find him, I'm going to size him up for you," Mixiula said, clenching her fist with an earnest look.
"Mixiula, have you misunderstood something? He's actually a wonderful person who's always looking out for me. It's just that sometimes his entrances are a bit too unhinged, enough to give anyone a heart attack. And whenever he gets serious about something... it fills you with dread over what his talents can do."
Hyperion looked into Mixiula's eyes, trying to explain what Lanqi was truly like. Yet as she spoke, she couldn't help shaking her head wryly. No matter how much positive karma she accumulated, Lanqi burned through it faster than she could earn it.
Mixiula frowned in confusion. She couldn't tell whether her sister was telling the truth or was simply blinded by infatuation like any other deceived girl.
"Then I'd really like to see what he's capable of to be so formidable in your eyes."
Mixiula felt her sister's lovesick rose-tinted glasses were entirely out of hand.
As the train smoothly traversed the final deceleration strip, both Mixiula and Hyperion realized they had arrived at Rock Confluence Station. The hum of mana machinery softened, and the train slowed to a halt.
The grand panorama of Rock Confluence Station steadily slid into view. Outside the window loomed a colossal structure where history intertwined with the future. The platform was vast and airy, crowned by a vaulted ceiling composed of crystalline glass panels. Soft light filtered through, dusting the hall like scattered stardust.
The closer she traveled toward Herrom, the more Hyperion felt she was drawing near to Lanqi. Back in the Kingdom of Asethelan, she had always imagined him being on the southern coast or arriving in the Imperial Capital. But as the train came to a stop, Hyperion understood that to reach Herrom, she first had to get past the heavy blockade in Box Mountain Province. Here, far from both the Kingdom of Asethelan and the Milford Territory, she had to rely entirely on herself. No one was coming to help her.
Hyperion and Mixiula rose from their armchairs, picked up their leather bags, walked down the corridor of their carriage, and stepped out into the vast station concourse.
Colossal stone pillars supported the expanse above each platform. These pillars had witnessed countless trains traveling north and south, stitching together the empire's periphery and its heart. Today, arrivals had grown far sparser than before, casting a somber veil over what had once been a bustling terminus.
On the platforms, armed imperial soldiers stood motionless like dark statues, radiating an imposing severity.
Many imperial travelers on the platform level wore nervous expressions, as though sensing the taut tension in the air.
The passengers moved away from the platform toward the station hall with cautious steps, doing their utmost to avoid making direct eye contact with those rigid, stone-like figures.
Two clearly marked passageways directed the flow of travelers: one led toward transfers, while the other led straight to the exit.
Most passengers undoubtedly chose the latter, entering Box Mountain Province.
For trains arriving from the empire's northwest, transferring meant either heading north toward Snowfield Province or south to leave the northern containment zone.
Very few travelers ever headed toward Snowfield Province—a long journey further north would bring one close to the frontlines in Northern Border Province—while anyone wishing to travel south faced stringent inspections.
These past few days, the rumors were ominous.
The Extinction Branch had turned back most people attempting to leave the northern containment zone, and a select few had vanished without a trace.
They claimed that "individuals suspected of endangering the empire" were taken to the Temple of the Knights of Extinction for further observation and investigation. Yet no one knew what the Extinction clerics would do to those detained once inside, or if there was any hope of ever walking out.
Naturally, this effectively intimidated many residents who wished to flee the north, while vastly reducing the screening workload for the Extinction henchmen.
In the transfer corridor, Hyperion and Mixiula's footsteps echoed against the stone pavers.
As they neared the checkpoint, imperial soldiers and Extinction clerics along the way watched them closely.
Manning the checkpoint was no longer an imperial military unit, but a high cleric of the Extinction Branch flanked by a cohort of heavily armored Extinction elites.
The high cleric standing before the inspection counter radiated a powerful aura of magic. The purple Holy Sigil on his left chest gleamed under the lights, practically radiating the glory of authority. His gaze was like the scales of an arbiter—precise, sharp, and measuring every passerby.
Hyperion and Mixiula kept their expressions composed and did not slow their pace, taking their place in line at the checkpoint.
Although there weren't many people ahead of them, each screening clearly took a long time.
After more than ten minutes, the two of them finally reached the front.
The high cleric fixed them with an owl-like, piercing gaze.
The two stepped forward and presented all the documentation required to pass through the checkpoint.
Upon noting their identities, the high cleric's gaze softened considerably, though he did not let down his guard. He flipped through the documents and materials while looking up to observe them.
"Ah, the daughters of Count Milford."
The two young ladies of the Milford Territory were not ordinary imperial citizens; treating them harshly could affect Count Milford's vote in late April's bishop election, so there was no need to make things difficult for them.
That was until the high cleric saw Hyperion's admission letter to the Protos Royal Magic Academy, and his brows furrowed at last.
He decisively handed Mixiula's papers back to her, then turned his gaze toward Hyperion.
"Lady Mixiula may proceed. Lady Milian Milford, you will need to submit to our investigation."
The high cleric's words cut like wind on a winter night, sharp and forceful.
At the same time, the elite clerics behind him shifted into a combat-ready stance.
The air before the checkpoint instantly froze, turning from calm conversation to a razor-sharp standoff.
Hyperion's refined, gentle expression tautened, a flicker of surprise and deep bewilderment flashing through her eyes.
Even as she drew on her usual acting skills to present the most natural reaction, her heartbeat couldn't help but accelerate.
The high cleric's gaze struck her like an arrow, fierce and brooking no argument, caring not in the least how she looked or whether she was innocent.
Behind him, rows of heavily armored Extinction knights tightened their grips on their weapons, their plate armor clanking dully. Every movement was exceptionally cautious, as if strung on high alert, ready to unleash tremendous force the moment an order was given.
The passengers waiting behind in line also felt the stifling tension, many instinctively stepping back without making a sound.
In the brief silence, an indefinable charge crackled through the air, where even the faintest noise might spark an explosion.
"May I ask why?" Hyperion inquired, sounding troubled and bewildered.
For the life of her, she couldn't understand.
She hadn't done anything suspicious, nor should there be any flaw in her admission letter.
Being detained without cause—this baffling unknown made her feel intensely endangered.
"My apologies, that cannot be disclosed. We hope you will come with us willingly and not force our hand," the high cleric replied politely, though his demeanor was chillingly cold.
Previously, their duty in the Northwestern Province had been to ferret out remnants of the Church of the Goddess of Fate.
Now, however, they had a far more vital mission.
Compared to their current assignment, their past searches were mere child's play.
Their primary duty in arriving at this city-state was to intercept and capture two enemies. According to intelligence released by the Holy Son of Extinction, one was definitely female, while the other's true identity remained unknown. Any female target was extraordinarily suspect.
The danger level of this mission was so extreme that they would rather mistakenly arrest than let anyone slip through; if they made an oversight, the fate awaiting everyone involved was unthinkable.
The admission documents for Protos Royal Magic Academy showed that Lady Milian Milford was at the fifth tier.
A tall woman whose currently usable strength was roughly around the fifth tier.
Everything fit the profile of the woman the Holy Son of Extinction was hunting.
Although imperial inspections had detected no disguising magic on her, rogue and artistic vocational paths could still achieve a degree of disguise that magic detection could not uncover.
The only discrepancy was that no distinct sealing magic could be felt from her.
Whether she was truly the person the Bishop sought...
Only the Holy Son of Extinction could probably tell.
The high cleric glanced toward the clock in the checkpoint hall.
Judging by the time, Anello should be returning soon.
Chapter 359