A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 483 - 471: Is it pointless

[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Galadriel]

[Capital City]

Cities were among the only kinds of civilizations that still stood. The rest—towns, villages, and smaller settlements—had either been abandoned or reduced to something unrecognizable. Cities had better defenses, stronger walls, and layered protections, both physical and magical, so it made sense that they endured where others could not.

It was why most people had been evacuated, forced to leave behind whatever remained of their homes and gather in places large enough to sustain them. Places like this.

Even so, inside the city walls, things were not exactly any better.

The capital city still stood as it always had—at least on the surface. It remained vast, sprawling outward and upward, buildings and various structures extending high into the skyline as if trying to defy what loomed above. An enormous wall encompassed it all, thick and unyielding, a barrier that separated what little safety remained from everything beyond it.

Cobblestone paths wove between districts in familiar patterns, streets that once bustled now carrying a different kind of movement. Some smaller buildings still stood intact, their doors open with their purpose unchanged. Shops still operated, their owners going through the motions out of necessity rather than comfort. Market stalls remained as well, goods laid out as they always had been.

Most businesses were still running.

People still had needs—even in the middle of a calamity that threatened to swallow everything whole. Hunger did not wait. Life, in its most basic sense, did not stop.

But the people themselves were anything but fine.

Even within the supposed safety of the walls, Lucinda could see it clearly—the tension in their movements, the stiffness in the way they carried themselves, the fear they tried and failed to hide. It lingered in their eyes, in the way they glanced upward more often than they should, toward the ominous skies that loomed beyond the city’s reach.

Those looks told her everything she needed to know.

The only reason they weren’t descending into complete panic—into something far worse—was because of the wards placed around the city. Layers of protection carefully implanted into its foundation.

And because of her.

And because of Guinevere.

That knowledge sat with her, heavier than it should have.

It was why she often made a point to walk through the city whenever she had the time, even when she didn’t feel like it. Even when she would have rather been anywhere else.

Because she saw what it did.

The way people eased, even if only slightly, when they caught sight of her. The way their shoulders lowered just a fraction, the way their breathing seemed to steady. They looked at her and remembered—something is still here to protect us.

They probably did not even know her name.

Only the title.

The spawn of Octavia.

But if that alone was enough to give them even a moment of relief, then she could not complain. She did not have the right to.

Even so, she did not like the atmosphere.

The heaviness of it. The way hope and fear existed side by side, neither fully winning over the other.

But it was merely one of those things you needed to get used to. Or at least learn to endure.

"Hey, Lucinda!"

A familiar voice cut through her thoughts, sharp enough to draw her attention immediately. She perked up slightly and turned on her heel.

Two familiar figures approached, their presence standing out even among the tension of the crowd. One had long, wild dark blue hair, while the other had golden blonde hair—both clad in armor and carrying themselves differently than the unease around them.

"Agatha? Mirabella?" Lucinda turned fully toward the younger girls, her expression softening just slightly at the sight of them. "You’re already done patrolling?"

"Yes."

Agatha answered first, ever composed, her tone even and her expression as stone-faced as usual. She gave a small, curt nod as they came to a stop a few paces away, her posture straight.

Mirabella, on the other hand, let out an audible huff, her irritation far less restrained. "It’s called ’patrolling,’ but the way they send us out, you’d think we were nothing more than weapons to be pointed wherever things get bad." She folded her arms tightly, her frustration clear in both her voice and stance.

Agatha’s gaze shifted slightly toward her, one brow raising just enough to signal her disapproval. "Should a princess really be complaining about protecting her own kingdom? Especially at a time like this?"

"Oh, don’t start with that," Mirabella shot back immediately, turning her head with a sharp motion. "And don’t act like you don’t see it too. That hag Guinevere keeps piling work on us while she does... what, exactly? No one ever seems to know." She let out another huff, her arms tightening across her chest.

"Just say you are lazy and be done with it," Agatha replied calmly, giving a slight shake of her head as if the conclusion was obvious.

"I ain’t lazy!" Mirabella snapped back, her voice rising just enough to draw a few glances from nearby passersby.

Agatha, unsurprisingly, did not look convinced in the slightest.

Lucinda had to hold back a small snort at the exchange, the sound nearly escaping before she caught herself. ("They bicker so quickly...") she thought, a small trace of amusement surfacing despite everything.

It was grounding.

Strangely so.

In the middle of everything happening, moments like this—small, almost trivial—felt important. Like something that reminded her the world hadn’t completely lost itself yet.

"It is a lot of work," Lucinda said gently, stepping in before the two could spiral further. Both of their gazes turned toward her almost immediately. "And I understand why it feels that way, especially now."

She paused briefly, choosing her words more carefully.

"But as Galadriel’s Inheritors, we do have a responsibility. Not just because we’re told to—but because we can. We have the power to help, so we should use it where it matters most."

"I get that..." Mirabella mumbled, though her voice lacked its earlier bite. She trailed off, her gaze drifting to the side as if something else had caught her attention—or perhaps as if she simply didn’t want to meet Lucinda’s eyes directly.

People passing by were casting glances their way, small but noticeable. Some curious, some hopeful.

But Mirabella didn’t seem focused on them.

Her attention lingered instead on the atmosphere around them, on the heaviness that pressed in from all sides.

"But I’m getting tired of this," Mirabella murmured, though it came out heavier than a simple complaint, her voice losing that usual sharp edge she carried so easily. Her arms loosened slightly from where they had been tightly folded, fingers shifting as if she didn’t quite know what to do with them anymore. "I just kill and kill. That’s all it feels like lately—just moving from one place to another, cutting things down without even thinking about it."

She hesitated, her gaze lowering for a moment before lifting again, uncertain.

"Is that really all I—" she paused, correcting herself with a small grimace, "—all we’re good for?" she questioned, quieter this time, as if the words themselves didn’t sit right with her once they were said aloud.

Lucinda watched her carefully, noting the shift—not just in her tone but in the way she carried herself.

"It’s volatile," Lucinda said after a moment, choosing her words with care, her voice calm but not dismissive. "None of this is stable, and none of it feels right. But when we succeed—even if it doesn’t feel like enough—we still save lives. That part doesn’t change, even if everything else does."

She understood Mirabella’s distaste more than she let on. It wasn’t just about the act of fighting—it was what it reduced things to.

"Yeah, but us actually succeeding..." Mirabella trailed off, her brows knitting together as frustration crept back in, though it lacked its earlier heat. "It feels like it’s getting rarer and rarer. Like no matter what we do, it barely matters in the end." She let out a quiet breath through her nose, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"All we end up doing is killing those Abyss things," she continued, her tone flattening slightly, "and then more just come anyway. It doesn’t stop. It doesn’t even slow down. So what’s the point of it?"

The question lingered in the air longer than it should have.

Agatha spoke before it could settle too deeply.

"Victoria is no fool," she interjected, her voice still calm, though there was a firmness beneath it that made it clear she wasn’t simply stating an opinion. Her emerald eyes shifted toward Mirabella. "She’s not dispatching us randomly, nor is she acting without reason. Every movement we make, every place we’re sent—it serves a purpose, even if that purpose isn’t immediately obvious to us."

She took a small step forward, her posture remaining composed.

"When we can, we save people and direct them here. That alone justifies the effort," she continued, her tone unwavering. "And beyond that, she gathers data—patterns, behavior, and fluctuations in the threat itself. That information matters more than you’re giving it credit for."

Mirabella let out a small, annoyed sound, though it lacked conviction.

"Ugh, I just don’t like relying on her," she muttered, glancing away. "She’s as pompous as Guinevere, acting like she’s got everything figured out all the time."

Still, she didn’t argue further.

She couldn’t deny what Agatha had said.

"Well, confidence isn’t the worst thing to have right now," Lucinda added gently, stepping in before the tension could rise again. Her red eyes shifted briefly between the two of them. "If not for Victoria, we’d probably be moving without direction—just reacting to whatever appears next. That would only make things worse."

Her gaze lingered for a moment before something else caught her attention—a small absence she hadn’t noticed immediately.

"Hm, but Agatha," Lucinda tilted her head slightly, her tone softening with curiosity, "where’s Cor’nella? She’s usually by your side, isn’t she?"

"The dumb fairy said she’d do some recon for us," Mirabella answered before Agatha could, her tone returning to something more familiar, though still subdued compared to earlier. "She’s been pretty desperate to help out lately. More than usual."

There was a small pause after that, as if even Mirabella recognized something in that.

"I would not worry about her," Agatha said calmly, picking up from there. "Cor’nella is capable. More than capable, in fact." She exhaled quietly, though there was a trace of something begrudging in her voice. "She can use Creation without needing to mimic it through magic. That alone places her at an advantage."

Her gaze shifted slightly, almost reluctantly.

"She’s... annoyingly more proficient at it than I am."

Mirabella snorted lightly at that, though she didn’t comment further.

"Ah, that’s good, then," Lucinda murmured, a small sense of relief settling in her expression. At the very least, it meant one less thing to worry about—one less unknown in an already overwhelming situation.

She allowed a brief pause before speaking again, her tone returning to something more purposeful.

"Then shall we head back to Victoria for now?" she suggested, glancing between the two of them. "If we’re regrouping, it’s better we do it sooner rather than later."

"That is fine with me," Agatha replied without hesitation, giving a small nod.

"Sure," Mirabella added with a slight shrug, though there was still a trace of fatigue in her voice. "Beats walking around like an idiot with nothing to do but think about all this." She paused briefly before adding, almost as an afterthought, "But I’ve got someone to see afterward."

Lucinda gave a small nod at that, not pressing further.

"Alright," she said quietly, turning to lead them forward, her steps steady even if her thoughts were not.