"Aelar's disciple..." Eldrin muttered, voice thinned by awe and disbelief. His eyes flickered with life again—hope blooming in the wreckage of certainty.
Near the edge of the golden teleportation circle, Icariel stood with his hand outstretched. A second spear of flame blazed into being, crackling like a phoenix in chains. His stance coiled tight—legs anchored, breath controlled. His White Sense carved through the fog of war like a divine scalpel. He could see it all.
Through stone. Through smoke. Through the battlefield.
That's why his first strike had landed like a viper in the throat.
"Damn it... why does it always have to be so difficult and complicated?" he muttered, voice trembling with frustration—a quiet quake beneath the storm.
He loosed the second flaming spear.
FOOM—
It sliced the sky like a red comet, a shrieking phantom of fire arcing above elven rooftops before crashing into Grinis.
"AHHHH!" she shrieked, her charred form reigniting, flesh catching like oil-soaked parchment.
"Who is it?! WHO IS IT?!" she bellowed, twisting in raw agony.
Eldrin stumbled back, his breath caught in his lungs. His gaze followed the heavenly strike, mouth parting as if to drink the impossible.
"That magic… that throw… I'm sure of it. The one attacking from range..."
His eyes narrowed. A sliver of breath held still.
"...It's Icariel. Aelar's disciple. But... what is he doing here?"
Behind the stone homes, Icariel summoned three more flame spears. Mana roared around him in a vortex, a storm answering its master.
"Icariel!" Elif's voice rang sharp, "What are you attacking?!"
He gripped one of the spears tighter. His fingers curled like claws over its heat. "Tch... how did this spiral so fast?"
His teeth ground together.
A short while earlier—
Right after the voice whispered its warning, Icariel made his decision.
"We go east," he told Elif and Elena.
They nodded, and sprinted—feet slamming against the winding stone paths of the capital. Narrow alleys blurred past them. With each stride, the battlefield grew closer.
"I can see them now," Icariel thought, eyes alight with mana. "Their mana... their movement... just a few blocks away."
He glanced at the others. "We're close. Keep going."
Relief flickered on both faces.
Then—
WOOP.
A massive golden circle—100 meters wide—blazed beneath their feet.
Void Swap.
Grinis's trap had caught them too. They were inside its throat.
"What is this?!" Elif gasped.
Icariel froze mid-step, heart slamming against his ribs. "What is this, Voice?!"
The voice responded with ice-calm precision.
"A teleportation skill. Massive range. Everyone within it will be shifted to a place chosen by the caster."
"What?!" he nearly shouted. "Shit—I should run out of its range!"
"You can't." The voice turned sharp. "It's an energy barrier. Sealed. You're locked in."
"Can I break it?!"
"You can try. But unless you overpower her entire mana pool, it will regenerate. You lack the time."
"Shit... shit...!" he hissed, fists trembling. "What do I do?! Will we be separated?! Where are we going?!"
"The skill doesn't split groups. You'll stay together—just displaced somewhere else. Still with elves. Just... elsewhere."
"How long before it activates?!"
"Not long."
Icariel's mind howled. "I could go now. Help him. Two against one—we might stop her."
"But—"
"If I go... and fail... Elif and Elena will be defenseless."
"Damn it!" he screamed inside. "What was that elf even doing?! Why didn't he stop her?! And why am I—me—caught in this?!"
Then—
"Why not attack from here?" the voice said.
Icariel's thoughts halted.
"From here?"
"Yes," it continued, calm as thunder before the quake. "You can still detect mana beyond normal range. Focus. Strike. Your new body can hurl spears farther than before. Now act."
Icariel didn't hesitate.
Flame Spear.
A second fiery spear burst into existence—its heat cracking the air. Elif and Elena recoiled from its intensity.
"Icariel—what are you doing?!" Elif cried.
But he didn't answer.
His gaze pierced the stone homes—pierced the war.
"I know her mana signature," he muttered. "Twisted. Unnatural. Easy to track."
His White Sense had evolved through the Superhuman Awakening, dramatically amplifying both his mana detection and enhanced vision. Ultimately, it was his newly strengthened body that made this possible—a weaker vessel could never withstand the constant flood of such vast sensory data. Where the ability had once adapted to his limits to protect him, now that was no longer the case.
FOOM!
Icariel exhaled.
"One shot. One breath. One kill. Miss, and it's over. Like the stag. Cold morning. Steady hands."
The mountain returned.
Snow under his knees. Fingers raw from the cold. A spear too heavy in a boy's arms.
"Don't watch the world," Galien had said, crouching beside him, eyes on the distant elk. "Watch the mark. Air is nothing. Distance is nothing. Only the kill matters."
He'd loosed the spear. The stag had fallen.
Now—years later—the memory ended in flame.
The spear roared across the rooftops—cutting the sky in two.
Impact.
The scream came instantly—Grinis, impaled and ablaze.
Her flesh folded like wax before a flame.
Icariel didn't flinch.
"Yes," he whispered. Bullseye.
Present—
Icariel caught another flame spear from his conjured trio. His grip tightened.
"Tch... Why isn't that damn royal captain finishing her?! I've hit her twice! He should've ended it by now!"
He glared at the battlefield. Grinis writhed, her skin a map of agony, her beauty devoured.
Eldrin stood there, spear trembling in hand.
"He really did it," Eldrin thought. "That kid actually struck her. Twice. From that far."
His knuckles whitened.
"If I don't act now..."
He lowered his stance. "It may not be honorable... but honor dies with kingdoms."
A faint smile.
"I finally got that one-thrust opening I needed."
He lunged. His spear blazed with green aura—flaring with the wrath of elven pride.
FOOOP—
The weapon punched through Grinis like sunlight through fog—straight into her gut.
Her body split open. Blood sprayed the stone. Flames licked the wound like hungry dogs.
The golden teleportation circle beneath her flickered.
Then—
Vanished.
But a shimmer pulsed faintly beneath her skin. Not flame. Not blood. Something colder.
"We… we did it," Eldrin breathed, collapsing. His eyes locked on the scorched remains.
"I owe that kid my life. Aelar's disciple... I'll thank him properly."
Meanwhile—
The circle beneath Icariel vanished too.
He exhaled. A smile ghosted across his lips.
"He finished her off. Good work, Royal Elf."
He turned to Elif and Elena.
"That teleportation could've killed us. I saw where the enemy was. So I acted. The royal captain was already fighting her—I just helped him end it."
He paused.
"We need to move. Now."
They began to run.
But Elif shot him a sidelong glance.
"How did you know where they were? Your SpiritZone has limits. That distance... it was too far. Unless—unless you see like..."
She shook her head. "Never mind. You fooled our lie detectors before. No point asking."
Icariel met her gaze, calm and distant.
"I'll answer later," he said. "Let's save our heads first."
"Who cares how he did it?" Elena said. "I trust him. Completely."
Her voice was low, but resolute.
"None of this makes sense. Maybe it never will. But I saw the moment he chose to protect us. No hesitation. That's what matters."
She looked at Elif.
"And I trust your father. He left us with Icariel for a reason."
Elif's eyes widened.
"Yes, Mother... I was just curious."
Icariel blinked, caught off guard by the warmth in Elena's voice. She was too understanding—far too understanding.
He was doing things that should've raised countless questions, countless doubts... but she brushed them all aside.
And chose to trust him.
"Let's run," he said, facing forward. "Soon... we'll be safe."
Back with Eldrin—
He sat in silence, the world spinning around him.
"I should rest a moment," he said. "Then regroup."
Grinis's body lay broken—skin like blackened paper, hair gone, blood soaking stone.
Then—
A voice, raspy as grave wind:
"You sure are thinking about your future, idiot... when I'm still right here."
Grinis.
Eldrin's blood turned to ice.
He turned—and saw her.
Burned. Bleeding. Barely upright.
Alive.
His body moved before his thoughts did.
"She survived?!"
[End of Chapter 55]