Talia's Story

No leaves were pressed against the windowpanes. Rain trickled down the glass, grinding the morning light into a murky, grayish white. The entire room was filled with a damp, moldy odor, mingled with the sickly sweet scent of something rotting away in a corner. A chilly breeze blew in from the courtyard through a gap in the window frame where a corner had cracked off at some unknown point, carrying fine droplets of rain. A sudden shiver ran through him. Lanqi's consciousness felt like a piece of cotton cloth soaking in icy water, slowly and heavily being wrung out. "Hmm?" He blinked. To be precise, he only blinked his left eye. A layer of gauze covered his right eye. It had been crudely taped around his eye socket with cheap medical adhesive. The mixed scent of medicinal liquid and dried scabs was far too close to his nostrils. Subconsciously, he tried to reach up and touch it. The moment his right arm moved, a sharp, stinging pain shot from his wrist to his elbow. Lanqi sat up in bewilderment. Only then did he see what was going on. Bandages peeked out from his cuff, the white fabric wrapping all the way from his wrist to the crook of his elbow, faintly stained with several brownish traces of medicine. He also felt something lightly constricting his neck. Reaching under his collar, he discovered more bandages wrapped beneath it, running past his collarbone and winding who knew how far down. "What is this...?" He murmured. Compared to his usual voice, his tone was hoarse, as if his mouth were full of sand. He lifted his head. Not far away stood a mirror. Yet a diagonal crack ran across its surface, spreading from the top-left corner straight down to the bottom right, cleaving the reflection of his face into two uneven halves. To the left of the crack, the exposed emerald-green eye was filled with confused drowsiness, along with an unfamiliar murkiness—as if it had been hollowed out and then filled back up with something else. To the right of the crack, there was only gauze. It was still him; of that, there was no doubt. But what had happened to this bedroom? He recognized the room. Just yesterday, he had taken the long mana rail train back from the royal capital of Ikerite to his home in the South Vantina Territory. He had listened to his father tell stories for a long while, taken Sigrid out for a stroll nearby, taken a bath after dinner, changed into clean clothes, bid Sigrid goodnight, and collapsed drowsily into bed amid the warm aroma of tea handed to him by Hans. Yet everything before his eyes told him that even if the Creti Empire had attacked again, a room could not possibly have ended up so war-torn in a single day. The uneven creases in the bedsheets clearly had not been tended to in a very long time. Strangest of all, empty wine bottles were strewn at the foot of the bed. He had not touched alcohol in two years. *Did I really drink last night and black out again?* Lanqi could not help but wonder in a daze. And yet. There was no calendar or clock on the nightstand—only a few dog-eared books, an overturned empty medicine bottle, and a small fragment of plaster fallen from who knew where. He turned his head to look outside the window. Morning in the South Vantina frontier territory was supposed to feature cobblestone streets bathed in soft light, rustic and tranquil; the warm aroma of yeast and butter drifting from the corner café in the distance; and flags flapping briskly in the wind atop the roofs of the park towers farther off. Today, there was only rain outside the window. A steady, pitter-pattering drizzle. Through the broken corner of the window, Lanqi could see the view of the courtyard. The plants in the flowerbeds leaned haphazardly in disarray, left untended for a long time. Once-neat shrubs had grown wild and unruly, their branches poking against the ground-floor windows. Stone bricks had fallen from several sections of the perimeter wall, exposing the grayish-brown old soil beneath. Rainwater ran down those breaches, pooling with gravel into filthy little streams. Farther away, the stone-paved path through the park—a route he had walked countless times—stood empty, devoid of any pedestrians. Lanqi blinked with the only eye he could use. He braced his right hand against the edge of the bed. The moment he exerted force, a dull, throbbing pain shot through the wounds beneath the bandages, reminding him that this body had undergone things he knew absolutely nothing about. He stood up anyway, planting his bare feet on the floor. The wooden floor was cold and somewhat sticky. He looked down. Fortunately, it was not blood. It was merely a thin, sticky film formed by dust and moisture on the wooden surface after being left uncleaned for an extended period. Who knew how long it had been since someone last wiped it down? He was now starting to wonder if he had teased Talia so ruthlessly that she had beaten him into amnesia. This clearly went beyond what ordinary hard liquor could cause. The layout of the furniture was roughly as he remembered: the wardrobe on the left, the desk beside the window. That cracked mirror should not have had any cracks, but everything looked as though it had soaked in time for far too long, coated in a layer of dark rust. Lanqi walked over and opened the wardrobe. Inside hung everyday garments made of dark, rather coarse fabrics. Not a single gray coat was in sight. He picked up a coat at random and shook it. A tightly folded slip of paper fell from its pocket. He picked it up and unfolded it. [▇▇▇▇▇▇▇] A line of messy handwriting was scrawled across it. It looked like his own, yet it was messier and pressed harder than his usual hand, as if the writer's fingers had been trembling before crossing it out completely with heavy ink. He could not make out what it said. Lanqi slipped the paper into his pocket. Then he walked out of the bedroom. Not even the sconces remained in the corridor. The morning light around seven or eight o'clock in the South Vantina Territory during autumn, even under an overcast sky, should have been enough to illuminate most of the hallway. Yet the paintings lining the walls were gone, leaving behind only faint rectangular outlines and protruding nails. Everything was quiet. So quiet it felt like a haunted mansion abandoned for a long time, only for someone to reluctantly move back in. Lanqi walked along the corridor toward the dining room. His footsteps echoed through the empty hallway. The resonance reminded him of walking alone through a Church Shadow World late at night. When he passed the corner on the second floor leading to the study, he stopped. The study door stood ajar. Inside, there was only the irregular rhythm of raindrops striking the window and sill. He reached out and pushed the door gently. The hinges gave a dry, creaking squeak. The state of the study was even more desolate than the bedroom. A layer of dust coated the desk, atop which sat a long-dried ink bottle, a hard black crust formed at its bottom. Old Man Noe did not seem to have used the study in a very long time. "Where on earth is this?" Lanqi was already certain this was not the Wilfort family home where he had gone to sleep last night. Yet it did not feel like an illusion either. For one thing, his resistance to illusions was extremely high. Furthermore, as someone who frequently fell victim to Caliera's innate magic, Lanqi could essentially tell whether he was trapped in an illusion. Among all the illusion arts that had appeared since the Divine Era, though there were certainly Tier 9 spells more potent than Caliera's, none could vastly surpass Falling Gentle Land. Her magic stood near the pinnacle of illusion arts. He drew a finger across the dust on the desk. A fine powder clung to his fingertip. Beneath it lay a discarded newspaper. It was the *Hutton Times*. The paper had yellowed and turned brittle, with several torn edges. His father had loved reading newspapers from the Hutton Kingdom. Whenever he finished his work and found a bit of spare time, he would read bizarre news items from the papers for amusement. Until... Once Lanqi cleared the dust and read the print on the paper, his eye focused and locked onto it. [THE WILFORT TRAGEDY] The bold headline was pressed so heavily it looked as though the printing press had tried to embed it into the paper. Beneath the headline was a black-and-white photograph of a building he knew all too well. The Wilfort residence. Only in the photograph, the building's doors and windows were thrown wide open, as if hollowed out from within, and elongated shapes covered in white sheets lay scattered haphazardly across the front steps. Lanqi read on word by word. [SPECIAL REPORT: Late last month, the Wilfort Chamber of Commerce—a cross-border trading enterprise operating between the southern border of the Hutton Kingdom and Glen Waverley of the Creti Empire—was discovered to have completely ceased operations. Its commercial headquarters in Ferredenburg of the Creti Empire, the family estate in the South Vantina frontier territory of the Hutton Kingdom, and numerous branch offices were subjected to severe coordinated attacks.] [The incident occurred suddenly. According to preliminary disclosures by Hutton investigative authorities, Mr. Noe Wilfort, Chairman of the Wilfort Chamber of Commerce, was found dead inside his office in Ferredenburg, Creti Empire. The cause of death has not been announced. The chamber's core management and multiple commercial representatives and business partners directly affiliated with the Wilfort family were murdered or went missing during the same timeframe, involving at least twelve individuals.] "What is going on...?" Lanqi's fingertips tightened. [The Hutton Security Forces stationed in the South Vantina frontier territory responded to reports of anomalies and rushed to the Wilfort residence, finding the mansion ransacked and showing signs of arson. The South Vantina Security Department has classified this incident as a Special-Grade Criminal Case and requested judicial assistance from the royal capital, Ikerite.] [The Wilfort Chamber of Commerce had long controlled one of the most vital trade corridors between the Hutton Kingdom and the Creti Empire. Its sudden collapse has sparked widespread commercial panic across the South Vantina frontier territory. Multiple business figures from the Hutton Kingdom, speaking on condition of anonymity, informed this paper that political and commercial power struggles within the empire might be behind the incident, while other voices point to several illicit organizations operating covertly in the Northern Continent in recent years.] [More than four weeks have elapsed since the incident, and the perpetrators' identities and motives remain unclear. This paper will continue to follow developments in the case.] [—Reported by Ludwigshir, staff reporter.] Lanqi set the newspaper down on the windowsill. The Wilfort Tragedy. That belonged to the "bad worldline." The path he had spent all his time avoiding ever since his awakening. In his own story, this event had never occurred. Therefore, there should not have been a tragedy for the Wilfort family. Unless— Lanqi slowly raised his head, gazing out the window at the gloomy curtain of rain where no horizon was visible. Unless this was not his world. Lanqi closed his eye, sinking his consciousness inward. He sensed his soul space. The mana of a Tier 7 quasi-transcendent should have resembled a deep, vast river, virtually inexhaustible for him at his current stage. Yet all Lanqi could sense right now was a tiny trickle. Roughly equivalent to a Tier 2 level. Inside his soul space, his magic cards had all gone dark. Both Melodious Note and Nuclear Fusion Wolf hovered silently in the soul space, their surfaces coated in a slate-like dull gray. Except for one. [Black Sun Tyrant: Eternal Punishment Decree]. Amidst the dead, dusty gray, that card alone retained its inherent color—an intense, dazzling crimson. Lanqi hesitated for an instant. Then he activated the Eternal Punishment Decree. At the same moment, a familiar, scorching spell formula spread from the depths of his soul. Black patterns began climbing up the side of his neck. The brand traced the line of his jaw upward like living vines, creeping across his cheek before halting at the edge of his gauze-covered right eye. Lanqi turned around, facing the window. The rain-washed glass served as a dim mirror. In that blurry reflection, he saw his face, its right side covered in pitch-black brand markings—like an ancient curse etched into his skin, or a mark left by an authority uniquely his, hailing from beyond this world. This was how he looked upon entering the Black Sun Tyrant state. The immunity effect was active as well. Yet after holding it for barely a few breaths, Lanqi felt his mana draining at a frantic pace. Activating the Eternal Punishment Decree with the total mana pool of a Tier 2—at this rate of consumption, his mana would be bone-dry in no time. Lanqi immediately deactivated the state. The black brands faded from his face, leaving behind a faint burning sensation on his skin. He braced himself against the desk, catching his breath. It had been a very long time since he last felt the dizziness of depleted mana. Still, those few seconds were enough for him to confirm several things. [Black Sun Tyrant: Eternal Punishment Decree] could indeed still be used. It had not turned gray like the other cards, which meant that no matter where he was, this card remained unaffected. Only, using it felt somewhat off. The wrongness was difficult to put into words. It was as if the world itself were rejecting the card's existence. Like forcefully jamming a puzzle piece into a gap where it did not belong. Though it stuck and the shape matched crudely, all neighboring pieces warped and deformed as a result, the entire puzzle groaning in silent protest. [Black Sun Tyrant: Eternal Punishment Decree] could be used not because this world permitted it, but because the card itself transcended the rules. Just now, it was solely Lanqi's will that had forcibly torn an opening in a place where it was unwelcome, directly defying the rules. This partially verified Lanqi's suspicion. This was not his original world. According to what Professor Polao had taught him, if every Epic card was unique, able to anchor a world and pierce through history... Then in this world, the Epic cards he had crafted had never existed, nor was there any history tied to them. Naturally, they could not be used. Only a Red Legendary card stood above all else. Lanqi straightened up, resting his gaze back on the newspaper atop the desk. He wanted to see if there was any other information on it. The paper was so brittle he barely dared to turn the page. The edges had even begun to blacken; left like this, it would not be long before it completely rotted into pulp. "Lanqi, you're up?" A soft gasp came from behind him. Lanqi turned around. A woman stood at the doorway of the study. She wore a dark blue cotton dress washed out to a pale shade, topped with a coat that was clearly ill-fitting. She held a cloth tote bag, from which poked a few wilted vegetables and items wrapped in paper sacks. Her eyes were wide and round, her lips parted slightly, as if surprised that Lanqi would wake up so early and come to the study. It was Francine. The Wilfort family maid. Her hair had grown longer. Setting down the cloth bag, she stepped briskly into the study, her gaze sweeping anxiously over Lanqi as if checking his mental state. "Are you all right? Why are you staring at me without saying anything—" Her words broke off halfway. Because she saw the newspaper spread open on the desk in front of Lanqi. Francine's expression shifted. A very brief flicker—something flitted across her face before she swiftly concealed it. She reached out to take the newspaper away, her movements much faster than usual. "This newspaper should have been thrown out. It was careless of me. Let me clean it up—" "Francine." Lanqi stopped her. His voice was not loud, his tone calm—almost identical to the gentle greeting he had given her when walking out of the bedroom on the morning he first woke up in this life. Francine's hand froze midair. "The current year is 1799 of the Solar Calendar, autumn. Correct?" Lanqi confirmed with her. "...Yes." Francine's voice grew even softer. As if terrified of provoking him. "I knew it." Lanqi looked around the dilapidated study. He finally understood. He had not returned to the past. The time here was also autumn of 1799 of the Solar Calendar. The date was synchronized with his own timeline, right down to the day of the week. Two years had passed since he hunted Talia's homing pigeon. "In this mansion, only the two of us remain now, right?" Lanqi asked again. Francine lowered her head. She remained silent for several seconds. The wilted vegetables in the cloth bag lay quietly on the floor, raindrops still clinging to their leaves. "Master Noe, Mr. Hans..." When she spoke, there was a tightly restrained tremor in her voice. "And yet, I survived." Lanqi looked at her, stating the fact and cutting off the words she could not bring herself to say. Outside the window, the rain had lessened somewhat at some point, though the sky showed no sign of clearing. Francine froze. The rims of her eyes quickly reddened. "Yes... It was a blessing in disguise. You stayed in the rehabilitation center for a long time... and escaped the disaster. Because I was tasked with looking after you at the center, I survived as well..." A dim, gray light shone in behind Francine. Lanqi listened quietly as Francine recounted the past. Here, there had only been the Lanqi who drank heavily and recklessly provoked Talia. And before leaving the South Vantina frontier territory, Talia had indeed come knocking. Lanqi had cockily mocked her, declaring he would roast the rest of her familiars together and throw her a fantastic barbecue party. After that, Lanqi had been beaten so badly he was sent to the hospital. Before he was discharged, the Wilfort Tragedy occurred. Noe died at his own chamber of commerce. The enterprise collapsed overnight, and even the servants at the residence were slaughtered. After the annihilation of the Wilfort household, the thoroughly useless Lanqi had survived, blessed by misfortune. Only Francine, who had also survived, stayed by his side through thick and thin, continuing to care for him. Judging by Francine's attitude and account, after the tragedy, Lanqi had not changed much at all. He had continued his heavy drinking, slept until noon every day, and never pulled himself together. Lanqi actually understood this very well. He knew himself too well. After his family suffered such a tragedy, he would not have known if the enemies were still watching him. To stay alive, playing dumb was practically the best choice. *"Remember, Lanqi, your every move is being watched by enemies."* Those were the words his mother had spoken when teaching him history and chess during his childhood. So in this timeline, even if he were just as sharp and had awakened during the crisis, he might still have feigned being a good-for-nothing waiting around to die. "Was the Hymn of Compassion taken by a young lady?" Lanqi asked Francine. To be honest, if even the Hymn of Compassion was gone, he had virtually zero tangible chips left in hand. "Yes... but why does it feel like your manner of speaking has become so much more gentlemanly?" Francine stared at him, puzzled. "To me right now, shouldn't she be considered my savior?" Lanqi spread his hands. In the promotional animated sequence for *The Rise of Talia* that he had once seen, the wealthy young master Lanqi had been sent flying in an exaggeratedly comedic shot, followed by a chibi version of him puking his soul out half-dead. In reality, it had amounted to several months in the hospital and a year in a rehabilitation center. "Um, really?" Francine tilted her head. "It feels like your whole demeanor is different. Have you finally decided to pull yourself together?" She asked tentatively in a small voice. "Francine, do you still have any money on hand?" Lanqi countered. Staying in South Vantina was out of the question. Not only was it dangerous—battles from the Creti Empire could spill over at any moment—but he could accomplish virtually nothing here. Perhaps the most important thing was to locate a key figure in Hutton. Such as Loren, the strongest transcendent ranker in Hutton. Even if the Loren here did not know him, there should be a way to make Loren trust him quickly. Furthermore, to untangle the mystery of the worldline, it would be best to consult high-ranking clergy of the Church of the Goddess of Fate. The most reliable person he could reach nearby was Loren. Although the possibility that the Ice Witch might randomly appear in the Southern Continent could not be ruled out, her intelligence had never been accurate. Hearing her speak now, Lanqi would suspect the exact opposite was true. "You..." Francine's expression, which had just begun to relax, suddenly froze upon hearing Lanqi ask about money. "You can't buy any more wine. Even if I have money, I won't give it to you." Her tone was slightly sterner than usual. "It's not for wine." Lanqi shook his head. He could deduce that Francine had actually been indulging him. Even though the Wilfort family no longer paid her wages, she had been using her salary from the Aransal family to look after him. "I want to go to Ikerite," Lanqi said. Francine parted her lips, looking as though she had a thousand things to say but did not know where to start. Only after a long while did she finally speak. "Maybe we could... but ticket prices to the royal capital are very expensive right now." She began calculating earnestly, the look on her face just as meticulous as when she had worked in the Wilfort residence in the past. "And everything is expensive in Ikerite. The cost of living is several times higher than in the South Vantina Territory. If we go there, we might live even more frugally." She lifted her eyes to look at Lanqi, asking with a touch of hesitation: "Besides, what are you going to Ikerite for? We don't know a soul there..." Lanqi almost laughed. When Francine said they didn't know Ikerite, her matter-of-fact tone was as if this young woman trained by a ducal house had genuinely never set foot in the heart of the Hutton Kingdom. Yet the him of this timeline certainly would not know she was an operative planted in the Wilfort family by Duke Aransal's household. So there was no need to expose her. "I want to go there to look for work." Lanqi leaned against the desk, folding his arms affirmatively. Francine stared at him for a long time. Her eyes searched back and forth across Lanqi's face. She was likely trying to discern how much of what he said today was genuine, and how much was a passing whim. And could Lanqi really find a job? In the end, however, a spark lit up in Francine's eyes. "If it can help you get back on your feet—" Francine took a deep breath, speaking in a tone meant to bolster her own courage, "Then even if it's a gamble, I'll take you to Ikerite!" "Don't worry." Lanqi looked at her earnest expression. He suddenly realized something. On this timeline, Lanqi had always been that willful young master who gave everyone around him a headache. Even so, Francine was still willing to care for him and believe in him. "Francine." Lanqi's voice suddenly softened. "Let me ask you something." "Hm?" "If—and I mean if—none of the turmoil in the Southern Continent outside Hutton had happened, and the Wilfort family were still just as it was before..." He paused. "Do you have any wish?" Francine was caught off guard by the question. She looked down, thought for a moment, and then laughed. A laugh completely out of place in this derelict mansion. "It would be great if I could get a raise! Working for the Wilfort family is very easy and the pay is high, but I never complain about having too many gold pounds, hahaha." Lanqi watched the smile blooming across her face and fell silent for a beat. He hadn't expected Francine to have a fondness for money. He had never noticed it before. Assuming he was merely making casual conversation, Francine added cheerfully: "If I had a little more money, we wouldn't have to live so frugally right now." She glanced back at the vegetables and paper bags by the door. "..." Lanqi was not the type of person to lose control of his expressions easily. Yet the moment he heard Francine's words, an indescribable emotion surged into his chest, like a biting winter wind catching someone who had stepped out in flimsy clothing, unaware that the cold season had arrived. "I promise you," Lanqi answered firmly. "If another world exists, I'll give you three times as much. No, five times." Francine was stunned for a moment. Then she smiled. Different from the smile just before. This time, it was gentler, the curve of her lips carrying a trace of pity—the kind Lanqi had only ever seen on the faces of adults humoring a child. "People really do daydream when they're down on their luck," Francine chuckled softly. "Still, even if it's an empty check, I'm glad you have the thought." "What if it can actually be cashed?" Lanqi didn't say much more. He merely smiled along with her. The sort of smile that made the best of a bad situation. He sincerely hoped that even in this terrible worldline, Francine could have a good ending. ... Over the next hour, he packed what little luggage he had. In truth, there was barely anything to pack. Most of the belongings in this mansion that belonged to him were already gone, and few of the remaining items were worth taking. From the wardrobe, he dug out a black coat barely presentable enough to wear outside, tucked the slip of paper from its pocket into his coat, and found a badly worn antique pocket watch in the desk drawer. Francine's movements were far nimbler. Lanqi could tell just from Francine's expression. In these wartime days, prices had nearly spiraled out of control. Buying two third-class tickets to the capital would deplete their funds rapidly once they arrived. "Let's go." Francine dusted her hands, her tone brisk. "There should be an afternoon train heading toward Ikerite. If we can catch it, we can leave today." They walked out the front doors of the Wilfort residence. The bronze doorknocker was encrusted with verdigris, and one half of it had broken off at some unknown point. Unidentified weeds sprouted from the cracks between the stone steps, swaying in the chilly autumn wind. Standing on the steps, Lanqi glanced back at the old mansion where he had been born and raised—though not destroyed and rebuilt, it had turned utterly desolate. Then he followed Francine away from what was now South Vantina's renowned haunted house. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained gray. The streets of the South Vantina frontier city were exceedingly bleak. Shops hung "Closed" signs. Pedestrians hurried past, their faces mostly wearing a dull indifference worn smooth by daily exhaustion. By the time they reached the South Vantina frontier city's mana rail station, it was already afternoon. The first time he stood on this platform, Hans the butler had been smiling as he handed over the suitcases, Francine had been nagging in his ear not to return too soon lest Noe discover he had stolen the family heirloom, and Talia had stood behind him in fresh attire with a cool aura. That was the scene belonging to this station in his timeline. Now, it was far quieter. Barely a dozen passengers waited scattered across the platform, most of them silent. Francine returned from the ticket window with two third-class tickets, handing one to Lanqi. "The 3:15 train this afternoon. It'll take a little over a day to reach Ikerite." Lanqi took the ticket. The destination printed on it: Ikerite Central Station. At the far end of the tracks, a vague silhouette emerged alongside a low whistle. ... ... The scenery flitting past the window as the train decelerated made Lanqi frown slightly. A day seemed to have passed, yet it also felt like only a moment. He had merely dozed for a while, and already he could sense they were approaching Ikerite. In his memory, Ikerite Central Station featured ochre-red brickwork on its roof, and the towering spires at both ends gave the entire structure a solemn, magnificent presence. The interior was lavishly decorated with marble pillars, murals, and stained-glass windows. Now, those ochre-red bricks remained, as did the towers, but a massive conscription notice hung before the murals in the concourse. Dark blue with gold lettering, it bore the national emblem of Hutton and a line of bold slogans that obscured more than half the mural. The marble pillars were still clean, but several uniformed guards stood beside them, keeping a watchful eye on incoming and outgoing travelers. When Lanqi and Francine stepped out of the carriage, the air on the platform hung with an indescribable heaviness. The first time he came to this city, afternoon sunlight had bathed the carriage, tulips and calla lilies crowded together in the Royal Botanical Gardens, hoofbeats echoed across the ancient cobblestone streets, and grand buildings with brick-red walls, pointed eaves, and intricate carvings lined the way. A gentle breeze brushed over the winding canal, rippling the water and reflecting the willows sweeping gently across its surface. Back then, Ikerite had been a city favored by the sun. Yet in this worldline... He had recuperated for over a year on this timeline. Everything had changed. Even Ikerite had become completely different. Along the road, Lanqi saw more wartime notices calling on citizens of eligible age to head to the front line, warning residents about blackouts and suspicious individuals, as well as the latest resolutions from the Southern Continent Alliance of Nations regarding the defensive war. The war on the Southern Continent had fully erupted. There were plenty of pedestrians on the streets, but none were strolling casually. Occasionally, one or two military vehicles drove down the street, loaded with supplies tightly covered in magical engineering cloth, their wheels rumbling heavily against the pavement. Francine walked beside Lanqi, remaining quiet for most of the way. Hailing from the Aransal Ducal Mansion and having received training there since childhood, she made for a fairly decent bodyguard in these turbulent times. Perhaps possessing the combat capability of a Tier 3 or Tier 4 hunter. Though she claimed to be unfamiliar with Ikerite, her pace in navigating the streets was not slow in the least. It was quite reassuring. They boarded a public horse carriage, passed through commercial and residential districts, and headed in the direction of Ikerite Academy. As the carriage crossed that ancient stone bridge, Lanqi glanced out the window. The bridge was still the same bridge, its mottled beige stone bricks bearing witness to the vicissitudes of time. In the distance, the silhouette of the red-brick clock tower finally appeared at the edge of his vision. Ikerite Academy still stood in the center of the capital. However, a temporary visitor registration desk had been added. Lanqi filled in his name and purpose of visit in the registry, receiving a temporary visitor badge. Since Francine had no reason to visit, Lanqi had her wait in the public resting area on the school's perimeter. "I'll be right back." "All right, I'll wait for your return." Francine sat down on a bench, resting the cloth bag on her knees. Lanqi turned and walked toward the main building of the School of Sages. Reaching that building he knew so well, he subconsciously started toward the dean's office. Only after being denied passage did he remember that here, he was not the acting dean. Loren's nationality was still Hutton as well. Yet when Lanqi gave his purpose—wishing to contact Loren Clantel—at the reception desk of the School of Sages, the answer he received brought him to a halt. "Dean Loren is currently on the battlefield," the administrative staff member, a middle-aged woman, said. "The dean hasn't returned to the academy for a very long time. His movements are a state secret, so there's no way for us to know either." "I understand. Thank you." Lanqi did not press further. Loren wasn't here. Then he would have to look for Professor Polao. In the past at Ikerite Academy, he had encountered a few situations where Dean Loren could not be found, and Professor Polao had approved several permit documents for him. Even though Professor Polao's temper might not be as easygoing as Loren's upon a first meeting, Lanqi had ways to make Professor Polao believe him. Professor Polao might even genuinely believe he was a visitor from another timeline. Lanqi turned to leave the main building. A figure walking out of the corridor made him stop in his tracks. The person clutched a thick stack of documents, walking briskly. Her hair was casually tied back, a few loose strands falling past her temples, and her face bore an exhaustion that left no room for managing expressions. Lanqi recognized her at a glance. Teacher Teresa. Still the same gentle countenance, carrying a friendly aura that could not be concealed no matter how busy she was. "Excuse me, Teacher," Lanqi spoke as she passed. Teresa stopped and looked at the young man with gauze covering his eye and bandages wrapping his body, her expression shifting to confusion. "You are...?" "My name is Lanqi Wilfort. I'm from the South Vantina frontier territory, an old friend of Loren's. There are a few things I'd like to ask you." "A friend of Loren's?" Teresa's brow furrowed slightly. She quickly tucked away that subtle reaction, offering a polite, professional smile. "I'm actually quite busy right now—" "It will only take a few minutes." Lanqi knew how to speak with Teacher Teresa. He had dealt with this healing mage numerous times. He knew Teresa was a very easy person to talk to. "Teresa, I'd like to ask you to pass a message to Dean Loren, if you have a channel to reach him." "I'm not sure I can contact the dean anytime soon..." Teresa said hesitantly. Perhaps because of Lanqi's authoritative tone, she couldn't help but wonder if Lanqi was truly a mysterious figure on the same level as Loren. Once someone stepped into transcendence, one could not judge them by appearance or age; perhaps Lanqi only looked younger than her, but was actually far older. "It doesn't matter. Whenever is fine," Lanqi said with certainty. Teresa looked at him, clutching the documents. In the end, she nodded. "Go ahead." "Please tell him: 'Heavenly Aegis Retribution.' He'll understand when he hears it." Lanqi knew Loren almost never used his innate magic because Heavenly Aegis Retribution was too destructive and could easily sweep up friendly forces. Before mastering the spell completely, he would only use it when backed into a corner. Therefore, anyone who knew the secret of [Heavenly Aegis Retribution] could not fail to catch Loren's attention. "?" Teresa did not respond immediately. It was a very peculiar confusion, as if she were striving to understand Lanqi's words but could not make sense of them no matter how hard she tried. "Did you catch what I said? Teresa." Lanqi checked with her. "Huh." Teresa let out a very faint sound. "What is it?" Lanqi asked. Teacher Teresa stood in the middle of the hallway clutching the stack of documents with one arm, raising the other to gesture, seemingly trying desperately to find the words to describe what she had just experienced. In the end, she gave up on a verbal description. "Wait a moment." She pulled a blank sheet of paper from the stack in her arms, retrieved a pen from her pocket, swiftly jotted down a few lines, and held it out for Lanqi to see. Lanqi looked down at the paper. Written upon it was: [Please tell him: '▇▇▇▇.' He'll understand when he hears it.] "That phrase you just said," Teacher Teresa's voice took on the earnestness of a scholar, "a portion of your voice was replaced by static. It was an indescribable noise, unlike anything I've ever heard... I'm certain you were speaking, and your lip movements were identical to normal speech, but why...?" Lanqi looked at the slip of paper, pondering for a moment. Then he looked up. "Teresa, listen again. Askson, Original Slate: Seal. Can you hear that?" he asked. That had been the lesson that left the deepest impression on him during Teacher Teresa's classes. "You said Askson, Original Slate: Seal. I can hear that." Teresa nodded. "Third Progenitor Rasheal?" Lanqi ventured again. After saying the words, he watched Teresa's expression. Teacher Teresa's brow furrowed. The exact same confusion as before. She shook her head, looking down at the paper to write a new line— [▇▇▇▇▇▇▇] "How strange. The noise appeared again," she said. Lanqi rubbed his chin. He began to piece together his deduction. Heavenly Aegis Retribution failed; Rasheal failed; yet Askson and Original Slate: Seal worked. "Askson" and "Original Slate: Seal" were concepts the Lanqi of this timeline could possibly know. The Original Slates were public knowledge, and Askson as a person's name was hardly classified information. Teacher Teresa could even speak openly about his possession of the Sealing Slate during class. However, "Heavenly Aegis Retribution" was intelligence he had acquired in his own timeline through experiences far beyond the reach of this world's Lanqi. The same applied to "Third Progenitor Rasheal." The him of this timeline had no way of knowing the true identities of those behind the Wilfort Tragedy and the Creti Empire. Therefore, it was highly likely he could only speak of things the original Lanqi Wilfort of this worldline could know. Once information exceeded the cognitive boundaries of "this worldline's Lanqi Wilfort," he could not convey it. Just like the dissonance he felt when attempting to use [Black Sun Tyrant: Eternal Punishment Decree]. This world possessed its own set of rules, and those rules were demanding that he play the role he was supposed to have on this timeline. A Lanqi Wilfort who knew nothing of the future. A severely wounded young man of Tier 2. "Mr. Wilfort, although I'd love to study this fascinating phenomenon with you further," Teacher Teresa's voice pulled him back. She stood clutching her documents, the urgency of her errands completely overtaking the curiosity in her expression. "I really have work to attend to right now. I'm truly sorry. I'll make a note of your wish to see Dean Loren, but I must take my leave." "It's fine." Lanqi bowed his head slightly to her. "Thank you, Teresa." "Mm." Teresa nodded to him, hurrying toward the end of the corridor with her stack of documents. Lanqi stood alone in the hallway of the School of Sages' main building. The path of contacting Loren was likely closed for the foreseeable future. The same would probably apply to Professor Polao. If he could not convey a single critical phrase that would make the professor believe him, Professor Polao would at most be curious about the phenomenon of the inaudible voice itself. Lanqi retraced his steps. First, find a place to rest. And slowly sort through the current intelligence. He walked out of Ikerite Academy. Francine still sat on the bench, the cloth bag resting obediently on her knees. Seeing him come out, she stood up immediately. "How did it go?" "Some progress. Let's go," Lanqi said. "First, let's find a cheap place to stay." They walked out of Ikerite Academy. The autumn sky was gradually darkening, the lead-gray clouds hanging even lower, and the distant spire of St. Brian Cathedral seemed almost ready to pierce into the clouds. Lanqi walked through this city he once knew so well, accompanied by a loyal maid who would not reveal her true identity to him. Since everything pointed toward him needing to play the part of this worldline's Lanqi... He might as well think along the lines of this worldline's Lanqi: what should he do? "With a start like this, trying to investigate the link between the Wilfort Tragedy and the Creti Empire's vampires is harder than ascending to heaven. Even I might be completely at a loss," Lanqi sighed. At the very least, he needed an opportunity. And it had to be an opportunity that could be called a miracle. ... Unwittingly, his footsteps carried him east of Ikerite Academy, toward the commercial district two streets over. By early afternoon, quite a few shops had already hung out their closing signs. Lanqi turned a street corner along a route he had walked countless times in memory, then came to a halt. A familiar wooden building stood there. However, there was little wind today, and the door chimes hung silently. The sign above the entrance still bore those same words: *Boss Cat Restaurant.* Lanqi stared at the sign, the corners of his mouth twitching upward involuntarily. Thank goodness Boss Cat was still here. "This place..." Francine stood beside him, looking up to assess the wooden building with an uncertain expression. She began calculating the cost of staying here. "The rent is very cheap," Lanqi answered in advance. "The owner of this restaurant has no business sense... I mean, you can tell at a glance they don't know how to run a business; patronage is clearly terrible. If there are vacant rooms, the price should be very low." "Really?" Francine glanced at him dubiously. She was likely wondering how a young master from the South Vantina Territory could accurately deduce the business condition of a corner restaurant. Lanqi pushed open the restaurant door. *Ding-dong~ Ding-dong.* The wind-chime-like doorbell rang twice in the empty restaurant before fading away. The entire restaurant was deserted. There wasn't even a clerk. In Lanqi's memory, even outside peak dining hours, a part-time clerk would be on duty behind the counter. Now, there was only a small black cat lounging on the counter. If any other customer walked in, their first impression would likely be that the owner was away, with only the shop's pet cat left on the counter, and they would turn and leave for another establishment with staff present. Lanqi walked up to the counter and bent down, bringing his eye level with the little black cat. "I'd like to stay here. Do you have any vacant rooms?" he asked. Standing behind him, Francine tugged at the hem of Lanqi's coat, the expression on her face practically shouting: *You're talking to a cat.* "Yes, yes, meow!" The little black cat's ears pricked up. Its voice was crisp and eager, the ending syllable curling upward. Francine's mouth fell open. Lanqi didn't turn back to look at her expression, but he could easily imagine it. "Then show me to the rooms, please." "Follow me, meow." The little black cat immediately circled out from behind the counter, swishing its tail as it trotted toward the stairs leading to the second floor. Lanqi and Francine followed Boss Cat up the creaking wooden staircase to the second floor. Boss Cat stopped in the middle of the hallway, turned around, and flicked its tail gently. "The vacant rooms are all on the second floor, meow." Lanqi walked down the corridor. At the far end of the second floor, the room on the right at the very back. "I want that one," Lanqi pointed toward it and asked Boss Cat. Talia's room. The room he was most familiar with. He had often spent most of the day inside, researching card crafting with Talia or being stared down by her cold gaze as he worked on magical engineering assignments. "Meow, a guest arrived two days ago and took that one," Boss Cat shook its head, its round eyes blinking twice. "Except for that one, all the others are empty, meow! If you're not satisfied, I can give you a discount, meow!" It spoke hurriedly, as if terrified Lanqi might leave. Lanqi pulled his hand back. He stared at the tightly shut door for a couple of seconds before shifting his gaze. "Then I'll pick another." He turned around, glancing at the other rooms across the hall. The other rooms weren't bad either. For instance, the three rooms where Pranay and the others had stayed. On this timeline, they were probably still locked up in the dungeons of Herrom. "Francine, you choose first." "Uh," Francine spoke up. "I have a way to find lodging. You just look after yourself." "?" Lanqi gave her a look. "You aren't planning to pick the lock of some vacant noble mansion and crash in their spare rooms, are you?" he asked Francine. Francine's expression shifted. "No! It's not... picking." Her denial landed precisely on the verb, not the noun. Which meant she had a more elegant way of getting inside. Looking at her slightly guilty expression, Lanqi understood completely. She wanted to go see the Aransal Ducal Mansion. With Francine's status as a maid of the ducal house, the barrier on the estate would not repel her, and she likely possessed the means to open the mansion. It seemed that normally, the proper way to unlock the ducal mansion before rescuing the duke was through Francine, a survivor of the Aransal household, rather than heading to the Northern Continent to rescue Antanas and Synora and then forcibly smashing the barrier. "Go on, Francine. Stay safe; your safety comes before anything else." Lanqi didn't press her further. "Mm, then I'll come find you tomorrow morning." A flicker of gratitude and a hint of surprise crossed Francine's eyes. She quickly regained her crisp, capable demeanor and gave Lanqi a slight bow. "All right." "Oh, right, little cat boss." She had already reached the top of the stairs, but paused and looked back. "Meow?" "Don't let him drink wine. I'm counting on you." "Don't worry, we don't serve alcohol here, meow!" Francine's figure vanished around the corner of the stairs. The doorbell chimed once. The first floor fell silent again. Boss Cat crouched on the windowsill in the hallway, bringing its round eyes close to look at Lanqi. "So you're sure you want to stay?" "Yes." "Then follow me to sign the agreement, meow." The little black cat hopped down from the sill and pattered down the stairs. Lanqi followed behind. He signed a brief tenancy agreement by the first-floor counter. The rent was indeed very cheap. Boss Cat genuinely had no business sense, and never advertised the shop. Apart from someone like Talia whose mental perception could map building structures, who would ever think the upper floors were for rent? After signing the agreement, paying the rent with the money Francine had left him, and receiving the key... Lanqi returned to the second floor and picked a room not far from the stairs. It wasn't as good as Talia's. The ceiling was too high, and there was no balcony or skylight to gaze at the stars, but it was fairly clean and comfortable. Looking out the window, one could see the afternoon scenery toward Ikerite Academy. Streetlamps glowed like faint dots in the mist, and the spire of St. Brian Cathedral had completely vanished into the cluster of buildings. Lanqi sat down at the table. From an inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out a stack of papers. They were newspapers he had taken from the periodical rack in the main hall of the School of Sages before leaving Ikerite Academy. Free periodicals, accessible to academy faculty, students, and visitors alike. There weren't many kinds, but they contained plenty of information. There were recent issues of the *Hutton Times*, the monthly gazette of the Southern Continent Shadow World Management Association, and an internal newsletter published by Ikerite Academy itself. Lanqi laid them out in a row, flipping through them one by one. The sky outside was thoroughly overtaken by the hues of dusk. The hallway on the second floor of Boss Cat Restaurant was dead silent. Occasionally, a faint rustle could be heard from downstairs as the little black cat rummaged through something. Lanqi needed to understand what this world looked like right now. Embracing a mindset of taking things as they came, what mattered most was the situation at hand. [Bloodbath at Viscount Malcolm's Estate: Heinous Murders in Royal Capital Ikerite, Multiple Family Members Slain] Lanqi's finger paused on the newspaper. Viscount Malcolm. Of course he recognized the name. It was a murder that had occurred in the capital just two days ago. The nobleman from whom he and Minier had won a large sum of money at the Crown Casino had been killed outright on this side. Thinking about it that way, Lanqi no longer felt Viscount Malcolm was pitiable for losing his money. At least on the other side, Viscount Malcolm was still alive, only occasionally having to pay a settlement fee to the ducal mansion on account of "terrible luck." Lanqi read the report from beginning to end. Under the public security standards of the Ikerite he knew, such an event was simply inconceivable. In the urban areas of Hutton, especially in a core city like Ikerite, an extremely tight barrier network was maintained. The barrier covered the entire city; the moment a high-offense spell was cast within city limits, the barrier formulas would pinpoint the caster's location in an instant, exerting suppression and pursuit. Even High Priest Loren, had he deployed excessive combat power in a vital zone, would have been visited by the Royal Knight Order, followed by a full procedure of fines, questioning, and documentation. Loren had actually been fined in the past. Yet for a culprit to slaughter a viscount's household without triggering the barrier meant the killer possessed formidable methods, perhaps defying conventional understanding. Whichever the case... It indicated that this Ikerite was far more dangerous than he had imagined. The tone here was completely different. Lanqi set this paper down. It wasn't just Ikerite. The entire situation across the Southern Continent had deteriorated to an extreme degree. The upheaval in the Creti Empire had been the fuse, followed immediately by an all-out declaration of war against the nations of the Southern Continent. The Hutton Kingdom, the Kingdom of Aloran, and several other central and southern countries bordering the Creti Empire had formed a united first line of defense, but judging from the details revealed in the papers, the war effort was far from optimistic. Worse yet, demons and unidentified creatures had begun running rampant across the Southern Continent. The Bosen Kingdom was the source of part of the calamity. Palieu, the City of Flowers—the city that in his memory had weathered the Flower Capital Incident and ultimately regained stability—had fallen in a successful coup a year ago on this worldline. Lanqi could roughly imagine the aftermath. Perlman and Beelzebub had bathed the Flower Capital in blood, turning it into a demon stronghold. And tracing the developmental logic of *The Rise of Talia*, Talia's eventual rise to Demon King had likely come from slaying Perlman and Beelzebub with her own hands after they occupied Palieu, claiming the city, uniting the remaining demon factions, and officially taking the throne as the new generation's Demon King. On his timeline, this was something that would never happen. Talia had not taken the path of the Demon King, the Flower Capital had not fallen, and the fates of Perlman and Beelzebub were entirely different. Yet here— Everything had reverted to "how it was originally supposed to be." Lanqi finished skimming all the newspapers. Then he leaned back against the chair. He stared blankly at the wooden rafters of the ceiling for a while. This could no longer be summarized simply as a butterfly effect. This world was almost entirely different from the one he belonged to. Given the trajectory here, chaos in the Southern Continent would only intensify. The Northern Continent would gradually intervene as well, and all the threats he had preemptively curbed on his timeline had arrived right on schedule here. Setting aside the Outer Continents and the Calamitous Wasteland, considering only the Inner Continents—even excluding the variable of the Northern Continent and looking solely at the turmoil unfolding first in the Southern Continent: the Creti Empire, the vampires, the demons, the military forces of various nations, and the Resurrection Church lurking in the shadows... all factions would ultimately mix into a boiling stew, battering every existing rule and order into splinters. "Truly terrible," Lanqi murmured. With his experience, even landing in a chaotic era and dropping to Tier 2 wasn't that big a deal. He just didn't know how long he would have to stay. This wasn't a Shadow World; a Shadow World would not demote his tier. Nor was it an illusion; an illusion couldn't hold him for this long, as he had plenty of ways to overload an illusion until it collapsed. Which meant the only possibility: This was a state akin to a dream intertwined with a Shadow World. He recalled something he had heard before. Sigrid had once mentioned having a dream that linked into a Shadow World—something that was both a Shadow World and a dream. Everything in the dream had been outrageously real; all the laws matched reality, and even the flow of mana could be felt, save for the fact that the timeline had drifted. Perhaps the place he currently occupied was a fork in the road. A branch that should have snapped and withered the moment he changed his fate, never to grow. And right now, he was peering into the phantom of that dead branch. While Lanqi was lost in thought staring at the ceiling, his stomach let out an unseemly rumble. Lanqi looked down at his abdomen. Indeed, thinking consumed a great deal of energy. He truly was hungry. From his departure in South Vantina until now, he seemed to have eaten only half a piece of rye bread that Francine had shared with him on the train. Lanqi stood up, opened the door, and walked out of the room. He walked along the wooden floor toward the stairs, intending to head down and ask Boss Cat for something to eat. Just as he reached the head of the stairs— The chime sounded from the first floor. *Ding-dong~* Someone was walking out the main doors of Boss Cat Restaurant. Lanqi looked down from the corner of the staircase. The moment before the door shut, the sunset from the street corner shone in, outlining that person's silhouette. Long gray hair reaching down to the waist. A tall, slender figure, her steps steady, neither fast nor slow, carrying a self-contained cadence completely detached from everything around her. The door closed. *Ding-dong.* The bell rang once more before settling into silence. Lanqi stood on the stairs, his right hand gripping the banister. His heart beat slightly faster than before. It was impossible for him not to recognize that figure. Talia. At this moment, he finally understood what it felt like to encounter an old acquaintance in a foreign land. Dinner could wait. Lanqi hurried down the stairs, cutting across the empty first-floor hall. He paid no mind to where the little black cat had gone. He hastily shoved open the front doors of Boss Cat Restaurant. The chilly autumn wind hit him in the face. The street was flooded with sunset glow, blindingly bright, yet he still caught sight of that figure at the far end of the street. She walked at an unhurried pace, yet she had already put a considerable distance between them. Lanqi followed. He knew doing this carried risks—that it could even be called extremely dangerous. Yet Lanqi went after her anyway. He believed doing so had its own logic. The Lanqi Wilfort of this timeline—the Lanqi who had lost his father and his family, who had nothing left—truly had nothing to fear. A person with almost nothing left to lose did not fear death. And Lanqi adhered to that logic. Perhaps this was how he could find a way out of this place. Besides, there was no way he could see Talia and not seek her out. Even knowing she was a cup of poison, he could not rest until he drank it down. He tried to close the distance to catch that gray silhouette, but she would occasionally vanish around street corners. Crossing two quiet streets, passing a shuttered church, and turning into an even narrower, darker alley, he still couldn't catch up to Talia. The dusk over Ikerite was far dimmer than he remembered. Relying on his memory of the city to orient himself, Lanqi knew this path led toward a section of southeastern Ikerite where an extension of the Royal Botanical Gardens lay. Talia's direction seemed to be heading right there. After clearing the alley, the view abruptly opened up. A botanical park emerged in the twilight. By day, it was a beautiful place, with tall arbor trees aligned in rows, neatly trimmed shrubs, and gravel paths winding across the lawns. At this hour, everything was steeped in the glow of the setting sun. The tree canopy formed an impenetrable vault overhead, with only sparse rays of dusk leaking through gaps in the clouds, scattering a few wine-red fragments across the stone path. Deep within the park lay a cemetery. Without realizing it, Lanqi had stepped into this silent zone. He looked around. The gray figure was gone. Lanqi turned in place. The gravel paths branched in several directions, each leading deeper into the heart of the graveyard. It was impossible to discern which path bore fresh footprints. Just then... His body seized up. A gentle yet irresistible sensation of rigidity spread from within. Every joint in his body received an instruction that did not belong to him at the exact same instant. A mental-type spell. And an absurdly forceful brand of mind control. The only things Lanqi could still do were breathe, blink, and think. A faint rustle of footsteps came from behind him to the right. From behind a large tree barely a few paces away. A slender figure stepped slowly to Lanqi's side. The moment moonlight leaked through a gap in the clouds, it illuminated her face. She was different from the one in his memory. Her gaze was colder than anything he had ever seen, and her frame was noticeably leaner. Her golden pupils scrutinized this young man whose eye was covered in gauze. Slender, icy fingers clamped around Lanqi's neck. The pressure of her fingertips locked precisely over both of his carotid arteries. Enough to make Lanqi acutely aware that with just a fraction more force, she could cut off his breath entirely. "Obey my command. Speak: why are you following me?" The pressure of the mind-control magic intensified abruptly at the same moment. The command to halt transformed into an even more specific, coercive mandate. The setting sun fell over the two of them. The cemetery remained wrapped in total silence.