A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 486 - 474: Next step

[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Galadriel]

[Capital City]

("Which is which?")

The question lingered heavily in Mirabella’s mind, persistent and demanding a resolution. Her brows drew together into a deeper furrow as she folded her gauntleted arms tightly across her chest, the small creak of metal underscoring her irritation.

She shot Victoria an openly annoyed look, one that carried more than simple impatience. It held fatigue, born from too many half-answers in a world that no longer allowed for uncertainty. The older girl had a habit of circling around her conclusions, of building tension before delivering anything concrete, and right now that habit grated against her nerves.

"Are you going to actually say what your theory is," she pressed, her voice sharper and more insistent, "or are you just going to keep circling it like you always do?"

"Impatience doesn’t suit a young lady nearly as well as you seem to think," Victoria replied lightly, though there was a knowing tone beneath the jest. A small smile curved at her lips as she leaned forward just slightly in her chair, her posture still relaxed. "Though I suppose, given the circumstances, I can afford to be a little more direct." Her gaze shifted briefly to the diagrams before returning to them. "I do have an inkling—a working conclusion, if you will—as to which is which."

She extended a finger toward the page marked by the thinner, more fragile-looking strands of mana.

"These," she began, her tone settling into one that was much more focused and analytical, "the tears connected by weaker mana threads, I believe these are the ones primarily responsible for generating the Abyssal Creatures themselves. Not in isolation, of course. There must be a central source—something acting as a wellspring of energy, continuously producing these beings." Her eyes narrowed slightly as she spoke, the pieces aligning in her mind as she gave them voice. "Individually, the creatures are weak. That much we’ve all observed. Which means the real burden isn’t strength—it’s quantity. The sheer number of them. That’s where the mana threads come in." She tapped lightly against the page. "They distribute the load. Make the process more efficient. Sustain the output without requiring overwhelming energy at each individual point."

Lucinda let out a quiet hum of understanding, her red eyes drifting toward the second page—the one marked by thicker, more aggressive connections. Her gaze lingered there before she spoke. "If the Abyss truly functions as a separate realm, as you’ve suggested, then maintaining a stable connection to it wouldn’t be simple," she said. "Keeping even a single tear open between two realms would require a considerable amount of energy, let alone multiple."

Victoria’s expression shifted slightly, an acknowledgment of the point.

"If that’s the case," Agatha interjected, her voice cutting cleanly through the discussion, "then why are we only seeing these specific Abyssal Creatures? If the tears are truly connected to the Abyss, then stronger entities should be able to pass through as well. Yet they haven’t."

Victoria exhaled softly through her nose, as if she had anticipated the question.

"If I had to hazard a guess," she replied, her tone thoughtful, "it’s because whatever this ’source’ is, it’s selective. It’s directing what comes through. More powerful demons would likely require significantly more effort, energy, and stability, perhaps even more precise control. Sending through weaker, formless creatures is more sustainable. It creates pressure without exhausting whatever is orchestrating this."

"Sounds to me like you’re stacking assumptions on top of each other," Mirabella muttered, clearly unconvinced, flicking a loose strand of hair away from her face with a sharp motion. "We don’t even know for sure that there is a ’source’ in the first place. For all we know, this could just be something else entirely."

"This level of coordination is too precise to be dismissed as something akin to a natural disaster," Agatha replied immediately, her emerald gaze shifting toward Mirabella.

"I know that," Mirabella shot back, though her voice carried more frustration than defiance. Her scowl deepened as she looked away, her arms tightening across her chest. "That’s exactly what makes it so irritating. We keep getting pieces, but never the full picture. Every answer just leads to more questions." She exhaled sharply. "Let’s say there is a source—fine. Then what is it? A person? Something else? And where is it? That hag Guinevere didn’t exactly give us anything useful to work with."

Lucinda’s gaze shifted toward Mirabella, her expression softening slightly. The frustration wasn’t misplaced; if anything, it was shared.

The First Calamity. The lost girl.

That was the name Guinevere had given them. A title more than an explanation. Something that sounded significant, yet offered nothing tangible.

Was this ’lost girl’ truly the source behind everything unfolding around them? Or was the name merely symbolic—another fragment of truth buried beneath layers of implication? Every path of thought seemed to branch into more uncertainty, each conclusion incomplete.

And that uncertainty weighed on all of them.

"Well," Victoria spoke again, drawing their attention back, "I was planning on studying the tears more directly once Fiona returns from her current objective. There’s only so much we can deduce from a distance."

"Right," Lucinda nodded, recalling the detail as her attention shifted back fully. "She was with General Mai, heading toward Verdantis. Some form of negotiation, or perhaps a request for reinforcements... something mutually beneficial, at the very least."

The three largest nations were not openly at war, but neither were they truly at peace. Tension still lingered beneath the surface.

("...Especially now,") Lucinda thought, her expression shifting almost imperceptibly.

Especially after it had been revealed that another spawn of Octavia existed within Galadriel.

Her hand curled into a fist at her side, the small tightening of her gauntlet betraying the tension beneath her otherwise composed exterior. For a brief moment, her gaze lowered, her thoughts drifting dangerously close to something she did not wish to confront here.

Then she exhaled softly and gave a small shake of her head, as if physically pushing the thought away.

"I can accompany you,"

Lucinda offered after a brief pause, her red eyes lingering on the scattered diagrams before returning to Victoria. "My Chthonia struggles when it comes to dissecting anything tied directly to the Abyss. It’s not something it handles cleanly. But if I can get closer, then I may be able to glean something useful. Even fragments would be better than nothing."

"You’re the best, Lucinda, dear," Victoria replied with an easy wink, though the praise held a layer of genuine relief beneath it. "Truly, I don’t say that lightly. Having you there changes the margin of error considerably." She leaned back slightly before straightening again. "Then I suppose we can begin preparing for a little journey. Nothing too reckless at least, that’s the intention." Her gaze slid toward the other two. "You two should take a rest while you can. You’ll need it more than you think."

"Well, I’ve got something to take care of anyway," Mirabella shrugged, though the motion felt a touch forced, as if she were brushing aside lingering frustration. She cast a brief glance toward Agatha, her brow lifting slightly. "I’m guessing you’ll be going to see that brother of yours, right? The one who doesn’t know when to stop worrying?"

"William has a habit of nagging when I’m away for too long," Agatha replied evenly, her expression as composed as ever, though there was a small softness buried beneath the neutrality. "So perhaps it would be simpler to see him rather than endure the inevitable complaints later." She inclined her head slightly. "Then we shall be off."

There was no lingering after that, or any drawn-out farewell. Both girls turned on their heels almost in unison, their footsteps echoed briefly on the marble as they exited the room without pause, the sound fading quickly into the corridors beyond.

Lucinda watched them go, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary before drifting back toward Victoria.

The older girl had not moved much, her hands now resting lightly against the table, fingers loosely interlaced. Her expression had shifted—barely, but enough. It wasn’t unreadable so much as it was restrained, like she was holding something back, weighing whether or not to speak it aloud.

She listened to the diminishing sound of footsteps, waiting until they were fully gone, before her attention returned to Lucinda.

"So..." Victoria began, her voice quieter, stripped of its earlier lightness. Her blue eyes met Lucinda’s directly, and there was an intensity there that hadn’t been present moments ago. "Any luck so far?"

Lucinda’s expression changed almost immediately, the shift small but clear enough. Her gaze turned away for a second, as if the answer carried something she didn’t quite want to face. "None," she admitted after a breath. "I haven’t been able to summon Harbinger, not even once and not even a partial manifestation."

"Damn..." Victoria muttered under her breath, the word slipping out with more frustration than she usually allowed herself to show. She leaned back into her chair, one hand rising to her mouth as she idly bit at the nail of her thumb—a rare, unguarded habit. "Still nothing, after all this time." Her brows knit together slightly. "Are the Gods playing some elaborate joke on us, or is this just on purpose?"

"More like just Octavia," Lucinda replied with a quiet sigh, though there was no bitterness in her tone—only a tired acceptance. She hesitated then, her words faltering just slightly. "I haven’t been able to summon Harbinger, not even once and not even a partial manifestation."

"Damn..." Victoria muttered under her breath, the word slipping out with more frustration than she usually allowed herself to show. She leaned back into her chair, one hand rising to her mouth as she idly bit at the nail of her thumb—a rare, unguarded habit. "Still nothing, after all this time." Her brows knit together slightly. "Are the Gods playing some elaborate joke on us, or is this just on purpose?"

"More like just Octavia," Lucinda replied with a quiet sigh, though there was no bitterness in her tone—only a tired acceptance. She hesitated then, her words faltering just slightly. "But I suppose there have never..." Her brows furrowed as she tried to finish the thought. "There have never been two spawn of Octavia in the same era before. Not that we know of, anyway."

Victoria’s gaze sharpened slightly at that pause, noting it, but she didn’t press it. Instead, she nodded slowly. "Harbinger of Fate is a sentient Divine Artifact," she said, her voice slipping back into that analytical cadence she defaulted to when thinking things through. "Which means wherever Mikoto is, it likely prefers to remain with him. That would be a bond that isn’t easily overridden." She exhaled through her nose, a small breath that stirred the strands of her bangs. "It’s almost comedic, when you think about it. If it weren’t so inconvenient or outright ridiculous."

"But why?" Lucinda asked, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing—not in anger, but in genuine confusion. "If it’s meant to serve the spawn of Octavia, then why refuse me entirely?"

Victoria tilted her head slightly, considering. "Maybe it just finds Mikoto prettier," she offered lightly, the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

Lucinda gave her a flat, unimpressed look.

Victoria raised both hands in mild surrender. "Alright, alright—bad joke. But the point stands, even if the reasoning doesn’t." Her expression sobered again. "It could just as easily be a restriction placed on you specifically. Think about it—if you paired that mana technique of yours with Harbinger, you could theoretically maintain its manifestation indefinitely. That’s not something a Divine construct would allow without limitations."

"I’d wager Octavia would simply impose additional restrictions on the blade itself to prevent that outcome," Lucinda murmured thoughtfully. "Not remove my access entirely." Her gaze lowered slightly. "And even if I could summon it... would it actually change anything in our current situation?"

Victoria didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes drifted off to the side as she mulled it over, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of her chair.

"The Divine Blade of the Goddess of War and Magic..." she began slowly, choosing her words with care. "Anything its light touches can be altered. Reality itself can be reshaped—rewritten, even. And when you factor in its ability to influence fate and destiny..." She exhaled quietly. "It becomes something far beyond a simple weapon."

Lucinda listened, her expression steady.

"But," Victoria continued, her tone shifting slightly, "those aspects—fate, destiny—they aren’t absolute. There are limits and boundaries we don’t fully understand." She looked back at Lucinda. "At best, we might have been able to tilt things in our favor. Push events toward a guaranteed victory." A pause. "But that raises another issue entirely on how that victory would manifest."

Lucinda nodded slowly. "Yeah, it wouldn’t be simple. Not even close." Her voice softened slightly, more to herself than to Victoria. "Nothing about this is."

For a brief moment, silence settled between them.

Then Lucinda exhaled and shook her head lightly, as if pulling herself back into the present. "I’d rather not dwell on something that’s currently out of my reach," she said, more firmly now. "We can’t rely on what we don’t have. Shall we go?"

"Mighty eager," Victoria mused, a small smile returning as she pushed herself up from her seat, smoothing out her blouse absentmindedly. "Though I can’t say I blame you. Standing still doesn’t suit you." She glanced toward the door. "Give me a moment to gather a few things, then we’ll be off."

And just like that, the conversation shifted—away from what they lacked, and toward what they could still do.