The final two words fell like a death sentence, cold and crushing. The entire Opera House fell silent enough to hear a pin drop; even breathing seemed to cease.
The person Fidelle had kicked to the ground was deathly pale, drenched in cold sweat, their eyes filled with terror and lingering fear. They didn't dare lift their head to meet Fidelle's gaze.
"Fi... Fidelle?"
Furina raced down from the platform, her beautiful eyes brimming with tears.
Only then did Fidelle slowly turn to face Furina, her imposing aura receding instantly.
"My apologies, Lady Furina. I went back to change clothes and arrived late. These ignorant fools have disturbed you."
Furina froze, utterly stunned.
She stared at Fidelle before her—at the lingering dampness on her clothes, at her stern yet deeply familiar profile.
The overwhelming shock, disbelief, and... the wild joy and overwhelming relief of finding her only lifeline in this desperate situation crashed through her carefully maintained composure like a tidal wave.
She even instinctively reached out, wanting to touch Fidelle, to confirm this wasn't a hallucination.
Fidelle gave Furina an unwavering look of determination.
Gazing into Fidelle's resolute eyes, Furina felt a surge of unprecedented confidence, bolstered by the reassuring aura of strength radiating from her.
She took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing the lump in her throat, and straightened her posture once more.
Though tears still clung to the corners of her eyes, her gaze was no longer wavering.
She slowly turned to face the audience, still silent and frozen in fear.
This time, her voice, though still carrying a faint rasp, held a newfound strength and confidence, drawn from Fidelle's very presence:
"Do you all see? The dissolved Fidelle has returned!"
Her voice gradually steadied, even adopting a hint of Fidelle's forceful, almost bluffing authority:
"Doubt and panic will only hasten our destruction! Only absolute trust... trust in your God, trust in Fontaine's art and the power of its soul, can guide us through the waves of the Prophecy... to find our sole path to survival!"
Furina continued Fidelle's earlier line, regaining a bit of her confidence.
The crowd below, cowed by Fidelle's icy killing intent and Furina's newly "tough" demeanor, had long lost the courage to question them.
Furina, unwilling to linger in such an oppressive atmosphere, led Fidelle out of the Opera House.
Furina strode ahead, while Fidelle trailed behind as usual.
However, with each step Fidelle took, she left a faint, watery footprint on the ground.
"Lady Furina, shall we return to Palais Mermonia?"
"No, Fidelle. I don't want to go back there right now."
After leaving the Opera House, Furina pulled Fidelle toward the mountainside to the side. Throughout their journey, Furina remained silent.
The wilderness of Fontaine was lush and beautiful, with dense meadows stretching across the landscape.
Reaching a Bulle Fruit Tree, Furina stopped. After confirming they were alone, she threw herself into Fidelle's arms:
"Waaah... Fidelle! It's really you! How... how could you...? I thought... I thought I'd never..."
Fidelle's body stiffened slightly, overwhelmed by the unexpected honor. Maintaining a respectful posture, she gently supported Furina, who was on the verge of collapsing.
Gazing into Furina's tear-reddened eyes, the corners of Fidelle's usually stern mouth twitched slightly. She murmured softly:
"Lady Furina, your stage will always require the most loyal of protectors."
Furina sniffled, pulling herself out of Fidelle's embrace. She touched her damp cheeks and looked at Fidelle with concern: "Fidelle, what happened to you?"
Fidelle replied, "The Primordial Sea dissolved my body, but my consciousness remained. With the help of a God, I was able to return."
Furina didn't doubt Fidelle's words. Lacking divine Authority herself, she naturally couldn't comprehend the capabilities of a God.
Transforming someone from an Oceanid back into a human was far from simple; otherwise, the previous Hydro Archon wouldn't have left behind the Prophecy—this messy predicament.
"Then your body..."
"It's nothing to worry about, Lady Furina. Just a minor side effect of my return. It will resolve itself in a few days."
As Fidelle spoke, it was a lie that required no further elaboration.
Seeing the tear tracks still lingering at the corners of Furina's eyes, Fidelle gently reached out with her right hand to wipe them away. However, instead of clearing the tears, she only added more moisture to Furina's face.
Furina tilted her head slightly and wiped away the wetness herself, stiffening her expression in an attempt to regain the dwindling remnants of her divine authority.
"Fidelle, you promised you'd only be gone for three days! You said you'd return as soon as I finished the little cake. But I ate it all on the second day... Tell me, what punishment do you deserve!"
"Whatever Lady Furina deems fit," Fidelle replied.
"Then I sentence you to never leave my side again! Can you do that?" Furina demanded.
Fidelle didn't answer, as if she hadn't heard Furina's words. She pointed at a Bulle Fruit Tree illustration in the book and urged Furina to look.
Furina refused to look. She tugged at Fidelle's arm, tilted her head back, and asked earnestly, "Fidelle, will you ever leave me again?"
This time, Fidelle couldn't pretend not to hear. She lowered her head slightly, met Furina's stubborn yet aggrieved gaze, and nodded firmly.
"I promise you, Lady Furina, I will never leave you again!"
"Hmm, that's more like it."
Furina felt a pang of warmth, but she immediately suppressed it, reminding herself that a God should remain unmoved even as mountains crumble before them.
She followed the direction Fidelle had pointed earlier, trying to pluck a Bulle Fruit from the lowest branch. However, her height fell short. Furina stole a quick glance at Fidelle, then hastily averted her gaze, her movements a clumsy mix of eagerness and awkwardness.
Fidelle stood half a step behind her, the sunlight catching the faint halo of steam rising from her damp clothing. As she watched Furina stretch on tiptoe, the corners of her usually stern lips curled upward imperceptibly for a fleeting moment.
Without a word, Fidelle naturally raised her hand, reaching over Furina's shoulder to effortlessly pluck the fruit.
"Lady Furina, here you go."
Furina accepted the fruit, still warm from the sun, but didn't peel it immediately. Instead, she lowered her head and gently stroked its smooth skin with her fingertips. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dancing across her slightly reddened eyes and tear-streaked lashes.
Sniffling, she suddenly turned around and pressed the fruit back into Fidelle's hand. "Ahem, you peel it."
Furina's voice was muffled, tinged with an unreasonable dependence. "You're faster at it."
Without hesitation, Fidelle's slender fingers deftly sliced through the peel, releasing a burst of crisp citrus fragrance that instantly filled the air.
She carefully peeled away the white pith, cradling the plump citrus segment whole in her palm before offering it to Furina.
As she moved, the thin calluses on her fingertips brushed against Furina's slightly cool fingertips.
Furina plucked the segment and popped it into her mouth.
The sweet-tart juice burst across her palate, carrying the warmth of sunshine and the vitality of life. She closed her eyes in satisfaction, then plucked another segment, this time offering it directly to Fidelle's lips.
"You eat too."
She gazed at Fidelle, her eyes shining like sun-dappled leaves beneath the trees. "Fidelle... welcome back."
Fidelle paused briefly, then bowed her head obediently and gently took the citrus segment from Furina's hand with her teeth.
She chewed slowly, her gaze fixed on Furina's face as she watched her contentedly lick the juice from her fingertips and saw the genuine smile bloom anew on her sun-kissed cheeks.
The beautiful Furina should never be harmed. Even if the Trial must proceed, it must be under her control.
On the grassy meadow, beneath a tree laden with oranges, bathed in the quiet sunlight, one peeled oranges while the other ate, their fingertips occasionally brushing.
The immense joy of survival was hidden in the ordinary scent of citrus and the unspoken companionship—more reassuring and warming than any words.