CH 218

It didn’t take long for his body to begin to morph. As a portion of Eugendiph’s blood was unsealed, the first to be affected were the people directly below the building on which Estian stood.

Most of the curious onlookers who’d initially though the lights were an encore to fireworks had quickly flee in terror once they began to drop in the form of real fire. However, a few with strong curiosity had remained, though they had taken refuge in nearby stores to avoid the flames. Now, those people were witnessing a black fog explosively rising from a certain building. This time, what little survival instinct they possessed instantly spurred all of them to run without looking back. It was telling them that the black fog was far more dangerous than the rain of fire from above. Screams erupted from those stampeding down the streets.

“Move!”

“Save me!”

Estian swiftly began to act, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to use this power for long lest he lose control like he had in the dukedom of Etia. He needed to find the spell’s caster and completely destroy the spell before his consciousness was overtaken.

Soon, something that hadn’t been visible before appeared in view—an extremely thin thread of light seemed to be connected to the base of the fireballs in the sky. Upon closer inspection, Estian realized it was the language used to cast the spell which traced back to the source. He immediately set off in search of the caster, from whom the string originated.

Estian leapt from roof to roof, as if unrestricted by the laws of physics. In no time, he found the thread of light coming from a building attached to an alleyway. Deeming it a waste of time to enter through the door, he launched himself at the building and loudly smashed through a window. When he dusted himself off, he detected a characteristic chill in the air common for long abandoned spaces. In the center of the room, he found a woman lying on top of a piece of paper laid out on the floor.

He didn’t need to ask to know that the paper and the woman were the source of the magic spawning the fireballs. Meanwhile, a fireball that had been chasing Estian shot through the window like he had. Instead of deflecting the burning flames, he merely dodged it with a slight movement and watched it whizz by him and land inside the building, bursting into a violent blaze.

“Aagh!” the caster cried out in pain, as the heat from the very ball of fire she’d cast reached her.

‘She’s not a mage.’ If this woman was a mage and capable of casting magic of this level, she would’ve dispelled the fireballs before they could harm her. Estian immediately dashed over and grabbed the woman.

“Y-Your Majesty! Why is the magic aiming at you…!” the woman cried.

From that short sentence, Estian inferred that not only did the woman know him, he was also not the original target of this spell. ‘But if not me, then who?’ If the spell was not aimed at him, then the target had to be Cecile. ‘But why?’

While Estian was puzzled, the woman in his grasp asked in a shrill voice, “Is the empress dead? Finally?”

Estian tightened his grip around the woman’s throat in response and was about to demand she reveal her identity, when he paused. There was something oddly familiar about her face. “You are…” She was a woman he’d definitely seen before, but where? Disjointed memories floated to his mind: the imperial palace, the foreign delegation, and Cecile, who came barging in out of nowhere. A hellish, low growl rumbled in Estian’s throat. “Yuliana.”