A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 485 - 473: The cause

[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Galadriel]

[Capital City]

Victoria’s shift in demeanor did not go unnoticed.

It wasn’t just that her smile had faded—it was as though whatever she was about to say carried enough importance to press down on everything else. The three girls felt it immediately, that tension in the air, and instinctively straightened, their attention sharpening without needing to be told.

"The reason it’s confidential..." Agatha was the first to speak, stepping further into the room with slow steps, her gaze trailing across the scattered drawings as if trying to piece together the conclusion before it was spoken. She came to a stop near the table, her posture straight. "...is because what you have is not a solution yet. It’s a theory. One with merit, but still incomplete."

"Sharp as ever, dear," Victoria replied, sounding genuinely pleased as she moved back and rather unceremoniously dropped into her plush chair, the casualness of the movement went against the seriousness in her eyes. She leaned back slightly, one leg crossing over the other, though there was nothing relaxed about her gaze.

"So it ain’t anything big?" Mirabella asked, her earlier eagerness faltering into a small frown. Her shoulders dipped just a fraction, disappointment creeping into her voice despite her attempt to keep it steady.

"As adorable as you look right now, disappointment doesn’t actually help the situation," Victoria said lightly, lifting a finger and wagging it once in a mock-scolding gesture. There was a hint of teasing there, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Mirabella scowled immediately, turning her head away with a small huff, her irritation resurfacing in a more subdued form.

"But it’s something that’s been sitting in my mind for quite some time now," Victoria continued, her tone shifting back into something more serious. "Ever since General Mai first told us more about these creatures—what they are, where they originate, and more importantly, what doesn’t make sense about them."

"Creatures of the Abyss," Lucinda said softly, stepping closer as her eyes drifted over one of the pinned sketches—an incomplete rendering of a writhing, formless shape. "They’re supposed to exist in the deeper layers of the Abyss, alongside the far stronger demons that inhabit those plains." Her voice carried a hint of unease beneath it.

Victoria gave a small, wordless nod in response, a low hum escaping her as she leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow against the arm of her chair. "Looking into the Abyss is not a simple endeavor," she said after a moment. "It’s tedious, unstable, and for most, entirely inaccessible. You may as well consider it a separate realm altogether. The best a Sorcerer can manage is limited access to the upper layers—where demons and Chaosmaw’s reside. Anything beyond that becomes increasingly uncertain."

"I never really understood why these things would be down there in the first place," Mirabella added, her earlier annoyance easing as she re-engaged with the discussion. She folded her arms, her brows knitting together as she thought it through. "They’re not exactly impressive. Weak, compared to everything else we’ve been told exists down there."

"That was my initial reaction as well," Victoria admitted, inclining her head slightly. "At first glance, it doesn’t add up. But..." She paused briefly, her eyes turning toward one of the diagrams depicting the black substance pouring from the tears in the sky. "The foreign substance they’re formed from may play a role in that discrepancy. Though, that’s a separate discussion—one we can revisit later when we have more clarity." She waved a hand dismissively, as if shelving the thought for another time, before her focus sharpened again.

"The black substance that pours from those tears," she continued, her voice lowering just slightly, "it continuously generates these creatures across the entire world. Endlessly. Without pause or variation. The question was never whether it was happening—we’ve all seen that much. The real question was always how."

She let that sit for a moment, watching them, making sure they were following.

"There were two primary theories," she went on.

"One being that something—some entity or force—is actively creating them," Agatha interjected smoothly, picking up the thread without hesitation. Her arms folded neatly across her chest, her emerald eyes narrowing as she spoke. "But to sustain that on a global scale..." She paused, her gaze shifting briefly toward Lucinda. "You would require an absurd amount of energy. At the very least, comparable to Lucinda’s mana reserves—and even then, it likely wouldn’t be sufficient to maintain that level of output indefinitely."

Lucinda didn’t respond to that, but her expression shifted slightly, acknowledging the implication without interrupting.

"The second theory," Agatha continued, her tone still steady, "was that those tears are directly connected to the Abyss itself. That they act as openings, allowing the creatures to spill through into our world." Her eyes turned upward instinctively, as if she could see those fractures even through the castle ceiling. "But that theory has its own flaw. If that were the case, we wouldn’t just be seeing these weaker, formless entities. Stronger demons should be appearing as well. But they aren’t."

Victoria nodded again, clearly satisfied with how cleanly Agatha had laid it out. "Exactly," she said.

"Then which one is it?" Mirabella pressed, impatience creeping back into her voice, though this time it was tempered by genuine concern rather than irritation. "Because it can’t be both, can it?"

Victoria’s gaze settled on her.

"Well," she said quietly, the smallest trace of something unreadable passing through her expression, "that’s where things become... inconvenient." She let the pause sit for only a moment. "Because it is both."

"Both?" Agatha questioned, her brows drawing together more tightly, the small crease between them deepening as she tried to reconcile what she had just heard. Her voice was on the verge of sounding disbelieving. "But how does that even work? Those two explanations contradict each other at their core. One requires an external force, the other assumes a natural overflow, so how can both be true at once?"

"It’s not a perfect conclusion," Victoria admitted, her tone almost careful, as though she were aware of how fragile the logic might sound if mishandled. She raised a pale hand, extending a single finger outward in a small gesture.

At that motion, one of the pages pinned to the far wall tore free cleanly, as if the air had decided to release it. It drifted forward, suspended for a moment before gliding across the room, settling atop the table before her. A second page followed soon after, peeling away and joining the first.

Lucinda instinctively leaned in, her gaze drawn to the movement before settling on the drawings themselves. The others followed without needing prompting, their attention narrowing as they studied what had been placed before them.

The sketches were crude in places but perfect where it mattered. Several tears were drawn across each page—six on one, each varying slightly in size and shape. On the first page, thin lines connected them, faint enough that one might miss them at a glance. On the second, those same connections were drawn thicker, zigzagging in uneven paths that made the entire diagram feel more aggressive.

"On an outing with Fiona, I noticed it," Victoria continued, her voice drawing their focus back to her. She leaned back into her chair, folding her hands together loosely as her gaze turned between them and the diagrams. "About two weeks ago. It wasn’t obvious at first—honestly, it was easy to overlook if you weren’t actively searching for inconsistencies."

She paused briefly, as if recalling the moment in detail.

"The tears themselves don’t emit mana in any conventional sense," she went on. "What pours from them is that Abyssal substance. That malevolent energy we’ve all seen. It masks everything else, drowns it out. So naturally, detecting anything beneath that becomes difficult." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "But there were threads—thin, nearly imperceptible strands of mana connecting them. Subtle enough that I almost dismissed them entirely."

"So that’s what those lines are meant to show?" Mirabella asked, leaning closer over the table, one hand braced against its edge as she studied the drawings more carefully. Her earlier impatience had been replaced by a focus, her eyes tracing the connections from one tear to another.

"But they’re not drawn the same way," Agatha added quietly, her gaze shifting between the two pages. "There’s a distinction being made here intentionally, I gather."

"Exactly," Victoria said, a small note of approval in her voice. "The thinner strands—those are connected to the tears that produce the least amount of Abyssal Creatures. Minimal output, with minimal flow. The thicker strands..." She tapped lightly against the second page. "Those correspond to the tears that produce them in far greater numbers."

Lucinda’s eyes widened slightly as something clicked into place, her focus locking onto the diagrams with renewed intensity. "I’ve seen this before," she said, her voice low but certain. "Not exactly like this, but the principle is the same."

The others glanced at her, and she continued without hesitation.

"More experienced Sorcerers use a similar method when constructing complex spells," she explained, her gaze still fixed on the pages. "Instead of concentrating all the mana into a single point, they distribute it—link multiple points of origin together using threads of mana. It creates a chain of cause and effect." She lifted her hand slightly, as if tracing the invisible pattern in the air. "The idea is to minimize the initial cost. You invest a set amount of mana, then spread it across multiple points so the result multiplies without requiring proportional input. It’s efficient. Almost perfect in its design."

She exhaled softly, the realization settling the longer she looked.

"Shared mana," she finished quietly.

"I had a feeling you’d understand it immediately," Victoria said, offering a small smile. "You’ve always been quicker than most when it comes to these things."

Lucinda didn’t respond, her attention still on the diagrams, but the tension in her expression made it clear she understood the implication.

Victoria’s smile faded as she leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting against the arms of her chair.

"But that brings us to the real problem," she said, her tone lowering, her gaze moving between the three of them, ensuring none of them missed what she was saying. "Which is which."