Elira felt an indescribable weight settle over her as she sat on the sofa opposite the two mages. Though it felt almost physical, the pressure bore directly down on her Aetheric Core.
While knights and melee fighters relied on Regulation, circulating Aether only when needed, mages cultivated through Refinement, a method that required them to purify Aether and store it within their Aetheric Core.
This form of cultivation was why mages were feared above all others when it came to chaos and destruction. The firepower a mage could unleash was astronomical compared to that of a knight in the same realm.
Before entering the room, Elira had already discerned the nature of the runic array surrounding it.
It was a spell designed to pressurize the target's core; the more Aether they attempted to circulate, the greater the strain. Any attempt to forcibly chant a spell or invoke sorcery would reverse the flow outright, plunging the caster into Aetheric Rebound.
But everything came at a price. This spell demanded a constant supply of high-quality Aether, with the added prerequisite that those sustaining the array had to outnumber and outmatch the target.
Pushing a stack of papers aside, the man finally spoke. "Ah, please forgive us. We couldn't simply allow you to walk in without understanding your intentions. I hope you can understand."
He regarded her with an amicable smile and continued, "I'm Luther. Just someone who manages things around here. But given that you already knew our base's location, I imagine you were aware of me as well."
Glancing toward the two mages, he added, "These are my close associates: Christopher and Orien."
Elira half-expected him to introduce the mysterious woman quietly reading her book, but he remained silent.
Finally, he asked, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure? You didn't come here merely to see me, did you?"
Turning to him, Elira replied, "Since you were already aware of my visit, I imagine you already know. Don't you?"
Her innocent expression barely concealed the sarcasm threading through her tone.
Luther exhaled softly. "I do have a general idea of why you're here. Still, I'd rather hear it from you. It's not every day a noble comes to my doorstep seeking assistance, after all."
Despite maintaining a stern expression, Elira was momentarily shaken by Luther's words. Only someone exceptionally shrewd could have deduced her intentions so quickly.
'That makes things easier—for me.'
Tracing the seamless design etched into the sofa, she replied, "I'd prefer it if you thought of this as a bargain."
Elira continued, "You must already be aware of the news. The main house has sent me to investigate the matter personally. Everyone knows the Front's reach within the lower districts. I believe you're more than capable of pointing me in the right direction."
Luther simply stared at her for several seconds. Finally, Christopher parted his lips, the deep wrinkles beneath his hood tightening as he spoke.
"Young lady," he said, "you seem to have forgotten what's in it for us. You said it yourself; you came to bargain, not to beg."
Turning to Christopher, Elira replied evenly, "In return, I will personally withhold any reinforcements from the nearby counties."
Her words were simple, but they reshaped the atmosphere of the room entirely. Where they had once looked down on her, they now aimed their hostility at her openly, without any attempt to conceal it.
The generous smile Luther had worn moments ago vanished completely.
Frowning, he asked, "What exactly do you mean?"
Elira scoffed softly. "Don't tell me you didn't expect us to notice your little play. It doesn't take a genius to see that the Revolutionary Front is positioning itself to usurp this county, given Venis's current political state."
Turning back to Luther, she continued, "Ah, forgive me if I startled you. For now, I'm the only one who knows."
Silence settled over the room as gazes shifted uneasily from one person to another. Throughout it all, Elira kept her attention on the woman who had remained silent from the beginning.
Stroking his chin, Luther said, "Let's assume you somehow manage to halt reinforcements from the nearby counties. That doesn't mean the Valcrest Duchy will detach itself from this matter entirely. Sooner or later, you'll be the first to set your sights on our necks."
With his hands clasped, Orien chimed in, "We're already aware of your position, Miss. Several territories were transferred to Duke Sovran when the previous Lord of Valcrest still held power. I'm sure your people are merely waiting for us to make the first move."
Elira understood their concerns. While she was respected within her House, she wasn't the one who made final decisions; that authority belonged to the Lord and the Elders.
Elira shrugged lightly. "I'm offering what I can. What more could you possibly expect from a frail little girl like me?"
Alice couldn't help growing more nervous at Elira's promise. Despite her words, Elira alone wasn't capable of overruling a count's decisions, unless one accounted for the House that had backed her since she could barely walk.
Elira had been born into a House vassal to the Valcrest Family. By the age of four, both her parents were dead. That was when the previous Lord recognized her potential and chose to nurture her personally.
'Unfortunately, his version of nurturing had involved many forms of torture.'
"Pfft—haha!" Luther suddenly burst into laughter.
After calming down, he replied with an innocent smile. "You disappoint me, Elira. You had the brains and the guts to make a deal with us, but you failed to realize one simple thing."
As he spoke, the pressure on Elira's Aetheric Core increased exponentially. It felt as though her blood refused to flow, as if it had frozen in place. The hostility they had shown earlier sharpened into killing intent.
Luther pointed toward Christopher and Orien. "We could simply take you hostage. That would allow us to deal with the Count while keeping Valcrest on a leash. With you already here, I see no reason not to."
Immediately, the thick door creaked open. The men Elira had encountered at the entrance poured into the room and formed a tight circle around them.
Alice didn't waste a second. Her sword was already unsheathed and leveled at Luther. Despite her calm expression, she knew escaping this situation would not be easy.
Looking at the group's leader, Luther said, "Gerald, would you kindly show Miss Elira to her room?"
Gerald walked toward the sofa, a grin spreading across his face that clashed sharply with his earlier demeanor.
"Get up," he ordered. He tossed a pair of shackles onto the table. "Put them on yourself."
Elira merely glanced at the shackles resting in front of her.
'What a shame.'
Before coming here, she had hoped that a movement claiming to serve the people would at least be civil. Instead, all of her expectations had been thrown into the gutter.
Luther watched as Elira remained seated, unmoving, despite Gerald standing right beside her
'What a naïve child. I hate resorting to this, but we don't have much choice.'
Before he could react, breathing became difficult. The door was still open, yet with every passing second, the air felt heavier, as though it were slowly solidifying.
"Agh!"
Christopher suddenly screamed. Blood poured from his eyes, staining his robes a dark crimson. Orien turned toward him, his hands glowing with a deep indigo light. No matter how hard he tried, the bleeding would not stop.
Cold sweat broke out across the room. Elira still sat elegantly on the sofa, untouched, while Christopher screamed in agony.
Moments later, Christopher lost consciousness. Orien bit his lip and continued healing him without pause.
Luther turned toward the guard beside him, only to find him breathing heavily. The same scene played out across the room. Most had collapsed to the floor, and the few still standing could only grit their teeth and glare at Elira.
Turning her gaze to Orien, Elira finally broke the silence. "I'm disappointed in you instead, Luther."
She rose slowly and smoothed her dress. A captivating smile touched her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Yet the air around her grew so heavy it seemed to warp before Luther's eyes.
"It was a foolish mistake to think that two Masters would be enough to restrain me. Still, I appreciate the effort. It has been a long time since someone underestimated me so thoroughly."
The pressure on his shoulders became unbearable. Before he could react, Luther's head was slammed down against the table.
Elira stepped closer to the table and looked down at him. Luther struggled to gather himself, panting as he fought for breath.
"I pity you, Luther. The Front must have planned this rebellion for years. And yet, despite all your effort, this city will fall neatly into Valcrest's hands."
She turned, her gaze sweeping across the room. Satisfied, Elira snapped her fingers.
As the weight vanished, Luther coughed violently and barely managed to push himself upright.
Before he could fully rise, Elira had already left the room.
'Damn it…'
Only now did Luther realize what he had done and the gravity of the mistake he had made without even noticing.
Elira was known as one of the very few mages to reach the realm of Master before turning twenty. It was a feat most could not even dream of, regardless of talent or wealth.
But since she was young, Elira was often considered to be relatively weaker than most mages. The reasoning was simple: a mage needed years of refinement to expand their Aetheric Core.
Luther turned toward the woman by the window. Throughout the entire incident, she was the only one who had remained completely unaffected.
Luther slammed his fist against the table. "Did you know?"
The woman calmly turned a page. "We had our suspicions."
Luther clenched his jaw. "Then why didn't you tell me?"
The woman closed her book and walked toward the bookshelf.
"We knew that Elira Valcrest was stronger than the average mage. But possessing a core potent enough to overwhelm two far more experienced Masters was beyond our calculations."
Luther almost snapped back, then stopped himself. Exhaling deeply, he sank back into his chair and signaled the others to leave. The room slowly fell silent once more.
Christopher had stabilized, though he remained unconscious. Orien slumped against the sofa, his clothes drenched in Christopher's blood.
Luther looked at the two of them. His voice was subdued. "Two weeks."
The mysterious woman finally turned her gaze back to him.
"The plan will be set in motion in two weeks, on the night of the full moon. How you accomplish it is irrelevant. Clearing the path is your responsibility."
For a brief moment, anger flickered across her face. Then it vanished, replaced by a soft smile.
"Understood."
*****
As the moon rose over the horizon, Alice and Elira reached the safehouse. Alice shut the door behind them and leaned against it. With the adrenaline fading, the weight of what they had just escaped began to settle in.
Unlike her, Elira let her body slacken and sank to the floor. Her once-elegant dress was smeared with mud and creased beyond repair.
Wiping the blood from her nose, Elira muttered, "Remind me never to do something like that again."
Looking down, Alice replied, "Will do."
Elira wanted to call it a victory, but it was anything but. They had barely escaped a situation that had never truly been under their control.
Back in that room, Elira knew Luther had underestimated her. The two Masters were strong, but not strong enough to rival her in raw Aetheric reserves. Forcing her way through an unfamiliar runic array had caused backlash, but it remained manageable.
But the moment she released her core, she felt a presence far greater than her. Any other Master would have missed it entirely, but Elira's unusually vast core caught it, if only for a fleeting instant.
The presence was none other than that of an Ascendent.
'There weren't supposed to be any Ascendents in the city. So how?'
To the public, an Ascendent was simply a realm above a Master. In truth, it was far more than that.
To become an Ascendent was to step into a realm no longer bound by mortality. That was why Masters were respected, but Ascendents were feared. A clash between even two of them could rival a natural disaster.
Elira stared at the map spread across the table, her brow knitting tightly.
'Just what is happening in this city?'