Tension hung thick in the concourse of Rock Confluence Station, fragile as a sheet of cracking ice.
Behind the queuing passengers, the sudden voice fell like a heavy stone onto the brittle ice, sending echoes rippling through the hall!
A newly arrived squad of Extinction knights dispersed the crowd. As the travelers backed away, all eyes turned toward the source of the voice.
Through the path cleared among the crowd, a young man clad in a dark gray suit slowly emerged. Tall and slightly slender, he had a straight bridge to his nose and thin, tightly pressed lips. Under the lamplight, his sharply defined features looked all the more cold and quiet, yet latent with an unpredictable tempest.
The only perplexing detail was the handcuff locked around his left wrist, while the other cuff bound a light-haired woman who offered no resistance at all. Her violet eyes were dull and lifeless, her head drooping slightly, much like a dangerous convict being escorted by a prosecutor.
Before long, without any need for the Extinction knights to clear the way, the onlookers instinctively sensed danger from his presence and parted on their own, hardly understanding why they did so.
The gray-clad man's pace seemed unhurried, yet with every step he subtly altered the station's atmosphere; under the quiet guidance of his stride, tension and chaos gradually yielded to order.
As he finally reached the front of the crowd and stopped before the two young noble ladies and the clerics, both the girls and the Extinction clerics around them tensed up involuntarily.
Compared to commoners, the clerics of the Extinction Branch feared the Holy Son of Extinction far more.
Or rather, they knew all too well what kind of person the Holy Son of Extinction was.
The calm yet lethal aura he exuded was no illusion. A single misplaced word before him could trigger unforeseen consequences.
"Why such a mess?"
The young man's voice rang out again, clearer than before and even harder to fathom.
"Lord Anello."
The high cleric hurriedly bowed to the gray-suited young man. Compared to the two young noble ladies they had just detained, paying respects and reporting to the Holy Son of Extinction—the foremost dangerous figure before him—was clearly of paramount importance.
"We found a suspect who appears to be the high-profile fugitive you are pursuing. We wished to take her to the Temple of the Knights of Extinction to await your investigation, and it took quite some time to persuade them."
His tone carried a distinct hint of claiming credit.
Hearing the high cleric address the young man as Anello, Hyperion felt her heart leap into her throat.
Though the light-gray-haired youth appeared refined—even giving off an indescribable sense of security—the sheer terror the Extinction Branch clerics displayed toward him made it plain just how dangerous a figure he truly was.
Her luck was truly dreadful. Not only had she been inexplicably stopped by the Extinction Branch today, but she had also crossed paths so quickly with the enemy she least wanted to meet.
She could not help suspecting whether there was a mole within the Church of the Goddess of Fate. Yet if there were a traitor, something still did not add up; the Holy Son of Extinction should have found a way to seize her back in the Northwestern Province instead of going to all the trouble of luring her to Box Mountain Province.
She could only fix her gaze on the Holy Son of Extinction, terrified of missing any detail that might signal a crucial shift, yet she dared not meet his eyes, afraid that this dangerous enemy would read through her under the circumstances.
The young man's gaze swept over Hyperion and Mixiula, calm yet profound, imbued with an authority that brooked neither prying nor disregard.
During that brief moment under the scrutiny of the Holy Son of Extinction, Hyperion could feel cold sweat slicking her palms. Even though she strained to control her breathing so it seemed calm and steady, her heart thumped like a war drum, and she fought with all her might to quell the panic surging within her at this worst of moments.
"Let them go,"
the young man said indifferently, his voice devoid of any tremor.
He glanced at the documents in the high cleric's hand.
Clearly, the two of them were students bound for the Protos Royal Magic Academy, and the taller one seemed to have been mistaken by the high cleric for the fugitive Sigrid, prompting him to detain them.
The high cleric froze.
Not just him—even Hyperion and Mixiula showed looks of utter shock.
Never in their wildest dreams had they expected that upon appearing, this far more dangerous figure's very first act would be to decisively let them pass.
"She is my quarry. You have the wrong person."
The gray-suited youth raised his left hand, and along with the handcuff, the limp wrist of the girl beside him was lifted into view.
Astonishment filled the high cleric's eyes. Then, grasping the situation, he found himself caught in a dilemma.
"But..."
The high cleric's eyes pleaded for the Holy Son of Extinction to understand the reality here—
He had already offended these daughters of an earl. Rather than letting them leave, it would be better to carry things through to the end and ensure Count Milford would not cast his vote against them!
"Rather than standing here enumerating the farce born of your incompetence, you would do better to hurry and carry out your next task to make up for your mistake. Lord Askesan's grand ambition cannot afford the slightest slip on your account."
A faint trace of displeasure showed on the gray-suited young man's face, but his impatience stemmed not from ignorance of the situation, but from absolute control over it.
His gaze seemed sharp enough to pierce through anything—not just physical barriers, but mental defenses as well.
"Yes, my lord."
Under that piercing gaze, the high cleric finally realized his own fragility and stepped aside.
"Are you the young ladies of the Milford family?"
After a moment, the gray-suited youth took half a step toward Hyperion and Mixiula. Those simple two paces felt like a boulder dropped into Hyperion's heart, stirring wave after wave of turmoil.
She did not lower her guard because of what he had just said; instead, the bewildering series of encounters and upheavals today filled her with an even deeper sense of confusion and dread.
"We are," Hyperion answered with an impassive nod.
"Pardon me for frightening you. Once you reach the Imperial Capital, study diligently and forget these unpleasant matters," the gray-suited youth said, his tone softening considerably as he looked at the two noble ladies.
Then, turning back toward the high cleric who had intercepted them earlier, he commanded, "Apologize to the young ladies. If Lord Askesan loses the election because Count Milford withholds his pivotal vote, how will you answer for it?"
"..."
Hearing this, the high cleric lowered his head and gritted his teeth, the veins on his forehead throbbing slightly. No matter how much malice he harbored toward these two haughty young ladies, he dared not let a hint of his thoughts show on his face.
Finally, taking a deep breath, he resumed his initial deferential posture and bowed deeply to Hyperion and Mixiula.
"My apologies to you both. I ask for your magnanimity—for Lord Anello's sake, please do not hold this misunderstanding against us."
"..."
Neither Hyperion nor Mixiula offered a reply, nor did they thank the Holy Son of Extinction.
Once he opened the way for them, they merely spared him a glance and hurried past the checkpoint.
Passing through flights of stairs and corridors until they reached the new Platform 3 level, Hyperion finally let down the heart in her throat once she confirmed no Extinction Branch clerics were tailing them.
This area was already under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Army, meaning they had effectively cleared the northern blockade and were free to head south; even clerics of the Extinction Branch had no authority to bypass the Protos Defense Department and arrest people here.
It was the exhilarating, relieving sensation of surviving a plunge through the sky.
"Sister, why would the Holy Son of Extinction help us?"
Mixiula pursed her lips tightly. She could not comprehend why the most terrifying figure in the Northwestern Province would let them off so easily.
Hyperion shook her head and sat down on a wide bench on the platform level with an exceedingly conflicted look in her eyes, waiting for the train that would not arrive until midday.
There were already far too many things she could not make sense of.
She certainly felt no gratitude toward the legendary, notorious Holy Son of Extinction Anello for helping them, yet there seemed to be an indescribable sense of familiarity about him, as if she had met him somewhere before.
It was precisely this that made Hyperion feel true danger and turmoil, to the point where she could not understand herself for having the illusion of being unable to tell friend from foe.
Seeing her sister's deep misgivings, Mixiula refrained from asking further questions and sat quietly beside her, waiting together for the train that had yet to arrive.
Chapter 361