A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 484 - 472: Breakthrough?

[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Galadriel]

[Capital City]

There was a time when Lucinda might have slowed her steps upon entering a castle, let her gaze linger on vaulted ceilings and carved stone, and allowed herself the indulgence of awe at the sheer scale and history pressing in from every wall. Back then, she would have taken in the grand structure with something close to reverence, careful not to disturb the silence that seemed to belong to the royalty. But that time had long since passed, worn away not by familiarity alone but by everything that had come after.

She had seen this particular castle too many times when she was much younger, long before the world had begun to fracture in the way it had now. Being a spawn of Octavia had never allowed her to exist quietly; it elevated her and, in doing so, made her a constant point of interest. Nobles, scholars, soldiers—everyone had wanted to see her, speak to her, and understand her. And so she had walked these halls countless times, each visit another reminder that she was never just Lucinda. But this particular trip had nothing to do with her origin.

"Do you think blondie actually discovered anything new?" Mirabella’s voice cut through the quiet, her tone edged with impatience as she led the group through the vast castle hallways, walking squarely at the center. The royal blue carpet beneath their feet, threaded with gold patterns, stretched far ahead of them, guiding their path in a predetermined route. Stained glass windows lined one side, fractured light spilling across the floor, while the opposite wall bore the occasional portrait.

"She has a habit of losing herself in her research," Agatha replied, her pace unbroken. "And ever since the king granted us access to the western wing of the castle, she’s had far more resources at her disposal than before. That alone would encourage her to push further than usual."

"Most she does is draw gibberish, honestly," Mirabella scoffed, flicking her hair back with a sharp motion that betrayed her irritation. "Maybe she’s finally gone crazy. Wouldn’t be surprising at this point, with everything going on."

Lucinda let out a soft breath that almost turned into a laugh, the sound quiet but genuine despite the weight pressing on her chest.

"I think her pride wouldn’t allow her to go crazy before Miss Fiona," she said lightly, the attempt at humor small. Mirabella snorted at that, the sound quick, while Agatha’s expression shifted just barely—something faintly resembling amusement passing through her otherwise calm demeanor. "But she usually takes her time before telling us anything important," Lucinda continued, her tone settling into a more thoughtful one. "She likes to be certain of what she knows before she speaks. That’s just how she is."

"That just makes things more annoying," Mirabella muttered, her frustration not easing in the slightest. She brushed another strand of hair from her face, her movements more restless. "I’d rather know something, anything, instead of walking around in the dark like this. Feels like we’re reacting to everything instead of actually understanding it."

"On that, we can agree," Agatha said quietly, giving a small nod. Her emerald eyes drifted toward a nearby window as they passed, and for a moment, her attention lingered there. Beyond the glass, the sky was still wrong—too dark and marred by those violet tears that split through it like wounds. "General Mai gave us a general outline of the situation," she continued, her voice lowering slightly. "But we still do not know the true extent of this threat. Individually, these Abyssal Creatures are weak—manageable, even. A small group of trained soldiers can deal with them without much difficulty. But the rate at which they appear..." She paused, her gaze narrowing ever so slightly. "That is where the real problem lies."

Lucinda and Mirabella did not interrupt her, but they understood. It wasn’t in Agatha’s tone, because her tone rarely changed.

They climbed a set of spiraling stairs, their steps echoing softly as the conversation faded into silence.

Lucinda’s gaze drifted downward as she walked, her thoughts turning inward despite herself.

("Not everyone has a method to constantly refresh their mana reserves,") she thought, the realization sitting in her chest. It wasn’t something she could ignore, not after everything she had seen. It was a method she had developed before the festival, something born from necessity and refined through hard work—but even then, it was complex, not something easily replicated. ("With it, I can do more... I should be doing more.") Her brows furrowed, frustration building beneath her calm exterior. The idea of resting, of stepping back, felt wrong when there was still so much left undone.

They reached the upper floor soon after, stepping into a more expansive chamber where the air felt almost insulated from the rest of the castle. The walls were lined with sturdy doors crafted from thick alloy, each one engraved with floral patterns. There were dozens of them—dozens of rooms.

Mirabella was the first to notice it, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tilted her head toward one particular door that sat slightly ajar. A small crease formed between her brows as she raised an eyebrow.

"Seems like this time she’s busy with her weird drawings again," she remarked, gesturing subtly with her chin toward the partially open door.

Lucinda hummed in acknowledgment, stepping forward without hesitation, the others falling in behind her. The door gave way with little resistance despite its weight, opening just enough for her to slip through as she entered the room.

The space inside was large—larger than expected—but cluttered to a degree that made it feel almost suffocating. The floor beneath them was smooth marble, though much of it was obscured by a faded blue carpet that had seen better days. Along the walls, boards had been set up in uneven rows, each one covered in sheets of paper pinned haphazardly in place.

Sketches dominated the room. Some depicted the Abyssal Creatures—twisted, formless shapes rendered in varying degrees of detail, their grotesque forms captured from different angles as if someone had been trying to understand them piece by piece. Others focused on the sky, the violet tears mapped out with lines connecting them in ways that suggested patterns, theories, or perhaps something deeper still. And then there were the drawings of the tree—large, crooked and almost unnatural in its shape, repeated again and again as if the act of drawing it was an attempt to make sense of something that refused to be understood.

But none of that held their attention for long.

Their gazes settled instead on the single figure occupying the room.

Victoria stood near a large oak table, her posture relaxed, as though she had been standing there for quite some time. Her appearance was different from what they were used to—her golden blonde hair was no longer styled into its usual elegant ringlets, instead gathered loosely into a messy ponytail that allowed stray strands to fall freely around her face. She had discarded her ornate armor entirely, opting instead for a simple white blouse paired with black trousers and high boots. The simplicity of it should have diminished her presence, but it didn’t. If anything, it made her even more striking.

The table before her was covered in papers, each one layered over the next in an organized chaos that only she seemed capable of navigating. A plush armchair sat behind it, slightly pushed back as if abandoned mid-thought. The rest of the room was relatively bare by comparison, reinforcing the sense that this was not a place for comfort.

For a moment, Victoria’s attention was elsewhere. She stood facing the single window in the room, her gaze fixed on the darkened sky beyond the iron bars. The violet tears stretched across the horizon, stationary yet ever-present.

And then, without needing to turn fully, she noticed them.

Her head shifted slightly, just enough for her blue eyes to find them.

"Ah," she said, her voice almost pleased in a way that did not immediately make sense. "This works out rather well."

"Huh? Were you going to call for us?" Mirabella questioned, her voice rising with surprise as her eyes widened just a fraction, as though she had walked into something she hadn’t expected. She didn’t wait, of course—she never did. "Wait, did you figure something else out?" she added quickly, leaning forward, her posture filled with anticipation, as if she was already bracing for something important before it had even been said.

"I suppose you could say that," Victoria replied, giving a small, almost restrained nod, a small smile tugging at her lips as if she was both aware of the importance of what she had found and mildly amused by their eagerness.

"You did?" Lucinda stepped forward slightly, the shift immediate, her red eyes brightening with a spark of hope she hadn’t expected to feel just from stepping into this room. There was something fragile about that reaction, as though she hadn’t allowed herself to expect good news and now didn’t quite know what to do with it. "You actually found something...?" she asked again, softer this time, as if needing to hear it confirmed.

"Well then what is it?" Mirabella pressed, impatience bleeding straight through her voice as she took a few firm steps further into the room, sabatons striking the marble with more force than necessary. Her arms tensed slightly at her sides, the restraint she lacked in words carrying through her entire posture. "Don’t just stand there smiling like that—if you’ve figured something out, then just say it."

Victoria rolled her eyes at that, her expression shifting into a slightly exasperated one. "No tact once more, Mirabella dear?" she asked, lifting a brow as she turned more fully toward them. "You do realize most conversations begin with something resembling basic courtesy? A ’how do you do,’ perhaps, or even a simple acknowledgment that the other person exists beyond being a convenient source of answers." She tilted her head slightly, her tone light but pointed. "I’ve been working quite hard, straining my very precious brain to arrive at something resembling a solution, you know. It would be nice if that effort was met with at least a hint of civility."

Mirabella let out a low, frustrated sound—something between a growl and a huff—as her shoulders tensed. She clearly had something to say, but it stalled before it could fully form. The annoyance lingered, though, sitting plainly on her face.

Lucinda stepped in before that tension could stretch any further, her voice gentle as she moved slightly ahead of the others. "Then how are you, Victoria?" she asked, her tone carrying a lightness that came easily. "You always tell the rest of us not to overwork ourselves, and yet you rarely seem to take your own advice. It’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?" There was a small smile at the edge of her words, softening them, making them feel less like a reprimand and more like genuine concern.

Victoria shrugged at that, the motion almost dismissive, though there was something in her eyes that suggested she had heard the concern regardless. "Well, I’m not the one throwing myself into battle after battle," she replied. "So comparatively, I’d say I have little right to complain about being tired." She glanced at Lucinda briefly, her expression easing just a touch. "But thank you for the concern. Truly. It almost makes me feel... what’s the phrase?" She paused for a moment, feigning thoughtfulness before a small grin appeared. "Ah, yes—warm and fuzzy."

Lucinda couldn’t help the small smile that followed, brief but genuine. Moments like this felt oddly important now, like they anchored something that the rest of the world kept trying to pull apart. Victoria had always had that effect, a way of easing the atmosphere without diminishing the seriousness of it.

With everything as it was, that steadiness mattered more than it should have.

"But this breakthrough..." Agatha spoke then, her voice cutting cleanly through the lighter tone that had briefly settled. Her emerald eyes moved across the room, scanning the scattered pages, the pinned sketches, and the patterns that only Victoria seemed to fully understand. "I assume it has something to do with the source," she continued, her gaze narrowing slightly as she pieced things together. "Or at the very least, an explanation for how so many Abyssal Creatures are being produced at such a rapid rate."

Victoria’s expression changed almost immediately.

The small smile faded, replaced by a focused and grounded expression that fit with the reality they were dealing with. She folded her arms slowly, as if bracing herself as much as preparing them.

"I suppose you would be right," she said, her tone now entirely serious, the earlier ease gone without a trace. Her eyes moved between them, lingering just long enough on each to ensure their attention was fully hers. "But before I explain anything, I need you all to keep an open mind about what you’re about to hear."

There was a pause then.

"It shouldn’t leave this room," she added, her voice far more firm. It was not a suggestion, not even a warning.