A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 482 - 470: Ruin all around

[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Galadriel]

[Outskirts]

Lucinda could not help but let out a heavy sigh, one that lingered in her chest a moment longer than it should have, as if even her breath resisted leaving in a place like this.

Her red eyes moved slowly across the ruin all around her, taking it in piece by piece whether she wanted to or not. Broken structures leaned at unnatural angles, some half-collapsed and others completely reduced to scattered stone and splintered beams. The ground was cratered, torn open in places where something violent had struck, and everywhere—everywhere—there was blood staining it in dark patches that had already begun to dry.

It was a depressing sight, one that pressed down on the mind the longer one looked at it. It was not something that became easier to see with time.

And she hated that she found herself used to sights like these.

That along with the scent of blood lingering thick in the air, clinging to the back of her throat, and the looks of despair across so many faces, it created something suffocating that no amount of strength could simply brush aside.

Her eyes continued to scan the area, slower than before. She had healed all who were injured—every single one she could reach. Whether it had been deep, life-threatening wounds or limbs that had been completely severed, she had restored them all with relative ease, her power flowing without resistance.

For a brief moment—only a fleeting one—there had been hope in their eyes. A fragile kind of relief, like something that dared to exist despite everything.

But it had been just as quickly snuffed out, crushed beneath the weight of reality. Their current situation was still hell. Healing did not undo that.

She could see it in their eyes now as their gazes lingered on her. Some were filled with gratitude, strong and sincere. Others were empty, hollowed out by what they had seen. And a few, a few held something closer to resentment or anger.

It would have confused most. It would have unsettled someone who did not understand.

But Lucinda understood those gazes well enough that she did not react to them outwardly.

("They’re wondering why they have to fight when someone like me exists, why they have to suffer when I can simply fix it.") Lucinda deduced, her expression shifting just slightly. It was an easy conclusion to reach, one she had come to many times before.

She could not blame them for thinking that way.

But she also knew, with a strong certainty that never left her, that she could not be everywhere at once. No matter how much she tried, no matter how fast she moved, there would always be a place she arrived too late to.

She let that line of thinking halt before it could spiral further, her thoughts cut short as she felt a familiar sting in her head.

At the next moment, a small circular spiked red glyph materialized near her ear, its small glow pulsing steadily.

("Victoria?") She mentally called out, her attention sharpening.

["I assume you have already dealt with the Abyssal Creatures that have gathered to the west of the capital?"] The familiar voice of the older girl echoed in her mind, steady and composed, carrying that same calm tone it always did.

("Yeah,") Lucinda confirmed, folding her gauntleted arms as a small frown settled onto her face. Her eyes drifted back over the ruined town once more as she spoke, unable to ignore it even while communicating. ("But there was a town I couldn’t get to in time. Galadriel soldiers were stationed here, but they were nearly all wiped out before I arrived. I didn’t... I didn’t make it soon enough.")

There was a brief pause, it felt heavier than silence should.

["One group out of many,"] Lucinda heard her sigh through the link, quieter, though no less firm. ["Most of the outside troops have been spread thin. I told the king how useless it would be to send soldiers out like that, especially in their current state, but that man seems much too paranoid to listen to reason."]

("Well, who can blame him?") Lucinda thought, her gaze lowering slightly. ("According to Lady Guinevere, this is basically the end of the world as we know it. If he’s wrong, people die. If he does nothing, people still die.")

["It shall only be the end if we’re stupid about it."] Victoria replied without hesitation, her tone sharpening just enough to cut through that uncertainty.

Lucinda found herself smiling faintly at that, a small, tired expression that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Despite everything, it was reassuring to hear that same unwavering certainty.

("But is there anything else that needs doing?") Lucinda asked after a moment, her voice steadier. ("Unlike the others, I don’t get tired. And it’s not like my reserves deplete anymore, I can keep going. It feels wrong if this was all I did—if I just stopped now.")

["You’re far too eager, Lucinda."] There was a small shift in Victoria’s tone, something almost resembling a restrained smile. Lucinda could practically picture it. ["And while your body may not tire, your mind is not invincible. You’ve been out there for the past few days now without proper rest. Whether you acknowledge it or not, that takes a toll. Come back."]

("But—") Lucinda started, instinctively pushing back, only to be immediately cut off.

["No ’buts.’"] Victoria’s voice came firmer now, leaving no room for argument. ["You, along with Lady Guinevere, are our strongest assets. We cannot afford to have you worn down—not physically or mentally—when the actual threats arrive. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: we need to be smart about this, not reckless. So for now, you return. That’s an order and a request."]

Lucinda’s brows knit together slightly, a flicker of frustration passing through her before it faded just as quickly. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like leaving when there was still something she could do.

But she understood.

("Right...") she conceded after a moment, her shoulders lowering just a fraction. ("Then I’ll at least teleport these soldiers back to the capital before I go. I’m not leaving them here.")

["That’s fine."] Victoria replied, her tone easing again. ["See you later, Lucinda."]

The connection severed in the next instant, the red glyph flickering once before disappearing entirely, leaving only silence in its wake.

"What a mess..." Lucinda murmured under her breath, the words barely louder than the wind as they left her.

Her eyes slowly lifted toward the sky.

They were dark—unnaturally so—not the soft darkness of night, but something hollow and wrong. Numerous violet tears hung across the expanse above, as if the sky had been wounded and split open. From each tear, a thick black substance spilled downward in slow, continuous streams, pooling and spreading wherever it touched.

It was a haunting sight.

The kind of thing people told themselves they would get used to, eventually.

One many had already started to accept.

But Lucinda never did.

She tore her gaze away from the sky with reluctance, as if pulling herself free from something that demanded to be watched no matter how much it unsettled her. The violet tears remained there regardless, unmoving in their slow bleeding of darkness, but she forced her focus back down—to what she could still act upon.

Her attention settled on the somewhat scattered soldiers, their formation broken, as if whatever structure they once had had been stripped away along with everything else.

"Can you all please gather?" she called out, her voice gentle but carrying enough to cut through the lingering silence. "I’m going to transport you back to the capital with teleportation magic. It’ll be safer there, and you won’t have to remain here any longer than necessary." She paused only briefly before continuing, softening her words just slightly. "A journey with the world in this state isn’t the best idea. Not like this, not when everything outside is still unstable."

She waited for but a second, though it felt longer as she watched them process her words.

Then, slowly—almost reluctantly—the Galadriel soldiers began to move. Not with urgency or with purpose, but with a kind of hollow compliance. Their steps were uneven, some dragging slightly and others too quick as if they wanted to be done with it.

Those empty looks on their faces did not fade. If anything, they seemed fixed there, like something that had settled too deeply to be shaken off so easily. It was as though they were puppets merely strung along, bodies moving because they were told to, not because they truly willed it.

Gods knew what they had seen.

Gods knew what they had lost.

Lucinda could not even begin to imagine the full extent of it, no matter how much she tried to place herself in their position. She had seen enough to understand despair—but not enough to feel it in quite the same way they did.

It wasn’t long until they were all gathered before her, forming something closer to a group again, even if it lacked cohesion.

She gave a small nod, more to herself than to them.

"This will only take a second," she murmured, her voice lowering, almost apologetic in its softness.

In the next instant, a large circular red glyph ignited beneath them, its lines flaring into existence with intensity. Some soldiers flinched at the sudden appearance, their bodies reacting instinctively, while others remained still—too exhausted or too distant to even respond outwardly anymore.

The light followed immediately after, blooming outward in a bright, encompassing glow that swallowed their forms whole.

And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.

The light died down, and the glyph faded.

And the space where they had stood was left empty.

"One of many..." Lucinda murmured under her breath, the words barely audible as they left her. There was no satisfaction in it or any sense of completion.

Her gaze lingered on the now vacant ground for a moment longer before she raised an armored hand, letting it hover in front of her face.

The metal caught what little light remained.

"Those with power have an obligation to protect those without..." she spoke quietly, the words distant, as if she were repeating something she had once been told rather than something she had fully made her own.

She let the hand lower slightly, her fingers curling just a fraction.

She did not like this.

Not the constant fighting. Not the violence that seemed to follow no matter where one went. Not the despair that lingered in every place left behind.

Having to see death no matter where you were, having to witness those faceless creatures tear through lives, through homes, through everything that once mattered—it wore something down, piece by piece. Not all at once, but persistently.

It was the kind of thing that took everything out of someone, even if they pretended otherwise.

("But I can’t afford to get tired,") she told herself firmly, the thought cutting through the weight of everything else.

Her red eyes lifted once more, returning to the vast, darkened sky above.

("As a spawn of Octavia, I should use this power to help as much as I can. That’s what it’s for. That’s what it has to be for.")

Her gaze lingered there, less certain than before.

("I wonder...") The thought came slower, less forceful and almost hesitant. ("...if he ever had to question what to use his power for.")