Chapter 46: The Escort

"No, you're fucking kidding me," Lars said, his gaze incredulous as he looked at Theresa. "A mission with Zoe? Again? Are you serious?"

"I'm deadly serious," the small girl nodded, a grave look on his face, which was not how she was feeling inwardly. "The Zoe Halcourt herself, 2nd Class Senior Magic Knight, is going on another mission with you."

The mind mage sank to his knees in despair. Compared to his stellar weekend, this week had been horrible so far. He'd had nothing to do at all for the first two days except be a punching bag for Ximena, who he couldn't put up a fight against because of her rough, fast and unrefined, yet so powerful fighting style, and he had taken refuge in the library for the third day, because something in his mind told him to research the celestials again.

Now Theresa, with a cheeky grin on her face, had waltzed up to him while his mind was racing with thoughts and handed him a piece of paper - the mission brief. Upon immediately checking the list of collaborators, wary of his mistake from last time, the name written in Julius's neat handwriting immediately set off his alarm bells.

He sighed, massaging his temples as he read the letter again.

Mission Brief

From the Desk of the Wizard King, Julius Novachrono

To: Lars Mertens

Objective: Escort Lord Cedric Kira to the Royal Capital over a two day journey from his country manor in -. Your job is to keep him safe, as due to some deals that he made, he has a bounty on his head.

Collaborators: Zoe Halcourt, Fani Granvorka, Theresa Day

"A noble with a bounty on his head?" Lars mused, leaning back in his chair. "And Kira means he's a royal, no less. Sounds like bad news…"

"At least you get to go on a mission with me for the first time since you got here!" Theresa smiled, pointing at herself with a thumb, a proud grin on her face.

Lars managed a tired smile at Theresa. "Maybe it won't be all bad with your energy around…"

He looked at the mission brief once again. "Granvorka? That's the surname of the Purple Orcas captain, right? You know who they are?"

"Beats me," the plant mage said, shrugging.

"I see you've received the details of your new mission," Captain Dorothy said, appearing out of nowhere. Lars, however, who would have normally flinched at this, had grown accustomed to Dorothy's habit of coming out of nowhere, and instead raised a hand in greeting.

"Evening, captain. What brings you here?" Lars said, an eyebrow raised.

"Usually you'd have a greater reaction to me appearing out of nowhere," Dorothy said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I've become accustomed to your habits, Captain," Lars said, turning his chair round to face him. "I assume your little visit is about the mission?"

"So you know," the Coral Peacocks captain said, her face suddenly turning serious. "This mission is of the utmost importance. Intelligence reports have been going around that Lord Cedric has a bounty of 40 million yul on his head, and he's requested some magic knights to accompany him to the Royal Capital just because of security reasons."

"So why choose us?" Lars pondered, twirling a quill round in his hand absentmindedly. "Surely there are magic knights better equipped for this task than us, like Lilian for example."

"I'm going to be honest," the captain replied, "I have no idea."

"And why couldn't we just teleport him to the royal capital?" Theresa added, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity and anticipation.

"Two reasons," the captain said, holding up two fingers. "One: increased security around the Royal Capital means that they're not allowing anyone to teleport through spatial magic, especially because of what happened last time. And two: Lord Cedric believes that walking through the countryside will help him release some of the stress of royal duties before he returns to his post after a leave of absence."

"Sounds good, Captain," Lars said, giving a thumbs up. Theresa also nodded.

"The king Augustus Kira Clover himself has promised a reward of 10 stars to each member of a squad that takes part in this escort," Dorothy yawned, tiredness starting to take over. "The journey will take around two to three days, so make sure to pack accordingly. One more thing. It would be useful if you told the squad I was going into "hibernation" for a few months. I'll still be present at events and things, just asleep…"

Dorothy then closed her eyes and began to snore.

"Classic Captain," Theresa sighed, taking her by the hand. "Let's get you to your office."

…

As Lars and Theresa arrived at the vantage point, they didn't really know what to expect. The first thing Lars noticed was that Zoe was wearing a different outfit than usual, completely revamped, and already had a darker scowl than usual on her face (if that was even possible).

Zoe's new look was nothing short of commanding—a sharp deviation from her usual understated style. Draped over her shoulders was a heavy, black coat adorned with a fur-lined hood that framed her face, lending an air of formidable elegance. The emblem of the Blue Roses was meticulously embroidered in silver thread on the back, catching the light with every precise movement she made. Beneath the coat, a fitted navy-blue tunic with polished silver buttons hugged her frame, exuding a professional yet intimidating aura. She completed the look with high, glossy black boots that gleamed with perfection and a black military-style cap perched atop her head. Her ink-black hair spilled from beneath the cap, flowing freely in sharp contrast to her pale skin, while her piercing grey eyes seemed to see straight into a person's soul.

Her presence radiated authority, and even the most confident individuals would hesitate before meeting her gaze. Lars, however, was not one of them.

"If you're done gawking like an idiot," Zoe snapped, adjusting her coat with a flourish, "we have work to do. We're waiting on the last member of our merry little band to arrive, and then we're off to meet Lord Cedric at his manor."

Lars scoffed, leaning casually against his naginata. "Who died and made you queen?"

Zoe's eyes narrowed to icy slits, and her lips curled into a razor-sharp smile. "Since I'm the most senior Magic Knight here, I'm in charge of this mission. Unless, of course, you think you'd do a better job leading."

Lars straightened, his grin defiant. "Oh, I don't just think it—I know I could do a better job."

"Could not."

"Could too!"

"Could not."

"Totally could!"

Their voices rose in tandem, drawing attention from everyone else in the group. Theresa sighed audibly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "They're like kids," she muttered, shaking her head in exasperation.

Before their argument could escalate further, a small voice interrupted, so soft it was almost drowned out. "Um… e-excuse me… I-I think… I was actually put in charge of this mission…"

Both Lars and Zoe froze mid-retort, their heads snapping toward the source of the voice. Standing there was Fani Granvorka, her petite frame practically hidden beneath her oversized cloak. Her face was flushed crimson, and she gripped the edge of her cloak with trembling hands.

Lars' face lit up in recognition. "Hey! Gambling girl!" he shouted enthusiastically, jogging over to her with a wide grin.

Fani's eyes widened, and her blush deepened as she stammered, "W-what? I-I'm n-not—"

"You are!" Lars interrupted, his tone cheerful and booming. "I remember you from the casino! How've you been? Win anything big lately?"

"I-I… um…" Fani stuttered, her voice growing quieter with each word.

Zoe, on the other hand, was less amused. She crossed her arms, her sharp gaze pinning Fani in place like a needle through a butterfly. "Wait a second," she said icily, her tone dripping with scepticism. "Are you seriously telling me that you're in charge of this mission?"

Fani swallowed hard, her fingers twisting the fabric of her cloak as she nodded. "Y-yes… The Wizard King… he personally assigned me as the leader…"

Zoe raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk that was anything but kind. "Oh, did he now? And what, pray tell, qualifies you to lead us? Because as far as I can see, you're barely holding it together just standing here."

Fani flinched visibly at the words, her shoulders hunching as if she were trying to make herself smaller. Her hands trembled more noticeably now, and her eyes darted nervously between Zoe and the others.

"That's enough, Zoe," Lars said sharply, stepping between them. His tone was uncharacteristically firm, and the usual humour in his eyes was replaced by a steely resolve. "You're not the authority here—she is. The Wizard King doesn't make decisions lightly, so show some respect."

Zoe's expression darkened, her eyes narrowing as she took a step closer to Lars. "Respect is earned," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "And I don't see anything here worth respecting."

"Then maybe you need to open your eyes," Lars shot back, his voice rising.

Theresa stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Fani's shoulder. "Don't let them get to you," she said softly, her tone soothing. "You'll do fine, miss. We're all here to help, and you don't have to do this alone."

Fani looked up at Theresa, her wide pink eyes shimmering with a mix of fear and gratitude. "T-thank you… I-I'll do my best…"

Lars shot Zoe a final glare before turning back to Fani with a reassuring grin. "You've got this, Gambling Girl. Just tell us what to do."

"Her name is Fani," Zoe muttered, though her tone was less biting than before.

Fani took a shaky breath, visibly trying to steady herself. Her hands stopped trembling as she straightened her back and looked at the group. "W-we need to move out soon," she said, her voice still soft but gaining a hint of confidence. "Lord Cedric is expecting us, and… and it's important we get there before sunset."

Zoe crossed her arms but said nothing, her sharp gaze assessing Fani silently.

Theresa smiled warmly. "Lead the way, Fani."

As the group began to prepare for their journey, Fani felt a flicker of warmth in her chest. Despite Zoe's harsh words and her own self-doubt, she realised she wasn't entirely alone.

The group set off, arriving shortly at Lord Cedric Kira's sprawling country manor, a grand estate with marble columns and sprawling gardens. Standing at the top of the front steps was Lord Cedric himself, a young man in his late twenties with neatly combed light brown hair, sharp hazel eyes, and an elaborate velvet suit that screamed excessive wealth.

"You're late," Cedric said curtly, his voice clipped and his expression set in a permanent scowl. "And this is the team they've sent to escort me? A child, a nervous wreck, and two bickering mages? I should've requested the Golden Dawn."

Zoe's jaw tightened, her grip on her paintbrush twitching slightly. "We are more than capable, Lord Cedric," she said through gritted teeth, her tone like ice.

Cedric waved a dismissive hand. "We'll see about that. I expect complete obedience. I do not tolerate insubordination, lateness, or distractions. Do I make myself clear?"

Lars raised an eyebrow, already regretting signing up for this mission. "Crystal," he muttered under his breath.

Cedric's eyes flicked to him, narrowing. "Speak up when you address me, boy."

"Boy?" Lars muttered, his irritation bubbling. But before he could retort, Theresa elbowed him lightly in the ribs and shot him a warning look.

Zoe, however, wasn't as restrained. "You do realise," she said coldly, stepping forward, "that we're here to protect you, not act as your personal servants? You might want to adjust your attitude, Lord Cedric, before you find yourself without an escort."

Cedric's hazel eyes narrowed dangerously, but for a moment, he said nothing. Instead, he huffed and turned on his heel. "Fine," he said shortly. "Just don't fall behind. We leave in ten minutes."

As he disappeared inside to finalise his preparations, Lars gave Zoe a smirk. "You're really great with people, you know that?"

Zoe glared at him, brushing past. "Don't start, Mertens."

…

February 9, 3:55 PM

"Mind Magic: Infinite Thought Shield," Lars sighed, casting the invisible shimmering barrier around them. Lord Cedric had for some reason insisted on travelling in a palanquin, and now his servants carried him, their muscles straining under his weight, while he reclined, eating grapes. Lars decided to lighten the servants' load using telekinetic power, as he felt sorry for the servants after experiencing only one percent of Lord Cedric's bitchiness, to those who experienced it every single day from morning to evening.

In terms of formation, Zoe led the procession through the countryside, while Theresa and Lars were on both sides of the palanquin, and Fani flanked it, her pink eyes darting around nervously at the prospect of any attackers. No one had said a word throughout the whole journey.

In the trees, a group of bandits, around 10 or 20, surrounded the palanquin and the escort party. Their leader directed them silently.

Lars, sensing the mind energy of many hostile figures, sighed. "So many weaklings," Lars said loudly, hoping to spark a reaction. "And not even doing a good job of concealing themselves either. Their mind energy is pouring off of them like waves… What should we do, Fransisca?"

"Um, our t-top priority is t-to protect Lord Cedric, s-so if they don't l-lead an a-aggression, t-then it shouldn't be a p-problem…" the "fearless leader" said, not feeling like a leader at all. Zoe scowled and muttered a string of words unheard by anyone except Fani (who had really good ears) who blushed and hid her face, feeling kind of down.

"Get them, boys!" the leader yelled, and many hooded figures leaped out from the trees around the country road.

Fani, quickly grasping the urgency of the situation at hand, locked in.

The bandits emerged from the dense foliage, their mismatched armour clanking as they fanned out around the palanquin. There were about twenty of them, each wielding crude weapons that looked like they were pieced together from scrap. Their leader—a wiry man with a crooked nose, a hunched back, and a malicious grin—stepped forward, raising a rusted blade high.

"Hand over the noble, and we might let you walk away alive!" he sneered, his voice carrying an unearned bravado.

Inside the shimmering barrier of Fani's Hair Magic: Tangle Barrier, Lars leaned lazily against his naginata, yawning as if the scene bored him. "Wow, this is what we get? I was hoping for at least one competent opponent."

Theresa glanced at him with a wry smile. "Don't scare them too much, Lars. They might faint before we even get started."

Zoe stood beside Fani, her sharp grey eyes scanning the bandits coldly. "Fani, they're surrounding us. What's the plan, oh fearless leader?" Her tone was laced with sarcasm, but Fani didn't falter this time.

The petite mage straightened, her trembling replaced by an unusual calm. Her pink eyes gleamed with determination as her voice cut through the tension. "Zoe and I will hold the barrier and manage the defence. Lars, Theresa—neutralise them. Don't let any of them get near Lord Cedric."

Zoe arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You're telling me to stand back while they have all the fun?"

"I'm telling you to follow orders," Fani said, her voice firm. "You wanted a leader—now let me lead."

There was a tense pause as Zoe glared at her, but Fani didn't waver. Finally, Zoe muttered something under her breath and nodded. "Fine. Just don't mess this up."

The bandit leader sneered, mistaking their exchange for hesitation. "Get them, boys!" he barked, waving his blade.

The bandits charged.

Lars straightened, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Finally." His naginata glowed faintly with the light pink sheen of Mana Coating as he stepped forward. With one fluid motion, he swung the weapon in a wide arc, releasing a burst of shimmering energy that struck the nearest attackers.

"Mind Magic: Telekinetic Sweep."

A pulse of pink energy rippled outward, and several bandits were swept away by the burst of power Lars released from his naginata.

Theresa stepped up beside him, her calm demeanour a stark contrast to Lars' showmanship. She raised her hands gracefully, and the earth beneath her seemed to come alive.

"Plant Magic: Omni Vine."

Massive, twisting vines erupted from the ground, coiling and writhing like living creatures. They snaked toward the bandits, wrapping around their legs and arms, lifting them off the ground, and slamming them down with precise force.

The remaining bandits hesitated, their bravado faltering. One of them lunged at Theresa with a dagger, but a vine shot out, coiling around his wrist and yanking him backward.

Lars chuckled, spinning his naginata with one hand. "You might want to run now," he called to the rest of the bandits, his tone mocking. "Or don't. I could use the exercise."

Two bandits charged at him, swords raised. Lars sighed, stepping aside with almost lazy movements. "Mind Magic: Splitting Headache," he said, his free hand glowing faintly.

A sharp burst of energy struck the attackers, and they dropped their weapons, collapsing to the ground and writhing in pain.

"Too easy," Lars muttered, twirling his naginata like a baton.

Theresa, meanwhile, used her vines to create a protective barrier around the palanquin. When a group of bandits tried to flank them, she directed the vines to sweep across the ground, knocking them off their feet and pinning them down.

"You're making this look too easy, Theresa," Lars called, smirking as he disarmed another attacker with a flick of his weapon.

"Some of us prefer efficiency over theatrics," Theresa replied, her voice light with amusement.

Zoe, still standing beside Fani, growled in frustration. "If they don't need us on defence, let me join the fight already!"

"No," Fani said firmly. Her hair glowed faintly as she reinforced the barrier. "We're staying here. Lars and Theresa have it under control."

Zoe scowled but didn't argue.

The bandit leader, watching his men fall one by one, snarled in frustration. "Useless idiots! Fine, I'll handle this myself!" He charged forward, his rusted blade raised high.

Lars raised an eyebrow, stepping into his path. "You're seriously going to try that? Bold of you."

The leader swung wildly, but Lars sidestepped effortlessly, his movements fluid and almost nonchalant. He leaned in close with a clear shot at his back, his voice a low murmur. "Mind Magic: Resonant Concussion."

A concentrated pulse of energy struck the leader, sending him flying backward. He crashed into a tree and slumped to the ground, groaning in pain.

The remaining bandits froze, their courage completely shattered. Without waiting for orders, they dropped their weapons and fled into the forest, leaving their defeated leader behind.

Fani lowered her barrier, her hair falling back into place as she let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. "W-we did it," she said softly, her voice tinged with relief.

Zoe crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. "Not bad," she muttered, though there was a grudging respect in her tone.

Theresa dusted herself off, her vines retreating into the ground. "Well, that was productive. What's next, Captain Fani?"

Fani blinked, surprised by the title, but quickly regained her composure. "We keep moving. Lord Cedric's safety is still our top priority."

Lars slung his naginata over his shoulder, grinning. "You're starting to sound like a real leader, Fani. Keep it up."

Fani blushed but nodded, her confidence bolstered by the success.

As the group regrouped and prepared to continue their journey, Lord Cedric peeked out of the palanquin, his face pale. "About time," he muttered. "Let's not dawdle any longer."

Lars glanced at Theresa and muttered under his breath, "Can we let the bandits have him next time?"

Theresa chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Let's go, Lars."

As Lars motioned to leave, he heard rustling. He looked back, but no one was there.

"My mind's playing tricks on me," he mused to himself, turning and walking towards the palanquin, his Coral Peacocks robe fluttering in the wind

…

"Ellion's boy, sir… he's guarding Lord Cedric's palanquin. And as the report suggested, he has Mind Magic. A different one to his reported Ruby Magic that Ellion stated. In other words, exactly as you expected." In a darkened room, two men were gathered, the one who seemed to be the underling wearing freshly ironed red robes and a black mask that covered the top of his face. He was kneeling as he addressed the other man, who was nearly invisible in the shadows except for the hem of his deep crimson robe with streaks of white.

"And how did the bandits do?" the man asked, his voice gravelly.

"Like moths to a flame, sir," the underling smirked. "As expected, they were defeated easily by the Mertens boy, after being drawn in by the bounty on Lord Cedric's head. The money that Mr Poizot allocated to us helped us set it after his… unfortunate exposition as an informant of the Eye meant that we have a supply of money that will not soon run out. 38 hours remain until the timer is up."

"How much?" the man said.

"40 million yul, sir, a fine amou-"

"Raise it."

"Excuse me?" the lackey said.

"Raise. The bounty," the man said, turning round to face the lackey.

The man in the shadows stepped forward, his silhouette becoming more defined as he moved into the dim, flickering light of the room. His crimson robe billowed like smoke, the fabric glistening with faint white streaks, resembling the tendrils of some ethereal force reaching through the seams. The hem of his robe seemed to shift unnaturally, curling and writhing as if it had a life of its own. His sleeves were long and fitted, intricately embroidered with symbols that seemed to pulse faintly, and the edges of the cloak shimmered as though they were adorned with stardust.

His face, however, was obscured by a black iron mask. It covered only the upper half of his face, leaving his lower jaw exposed, revealing sharp, angular features. His eyes glowed faintly through the mask, two slivers of molten amber, cold and calculating. Around his neck hung an ornate necklace with a single black gemstone that seemed to absorb the light, drawing attention to its uncanny lustre.

A cruel smile twisted on his lips as he approached his lackey, who continued kneeling before him, unaware of the impending fate. The underling shifted nervously, awaiting his orders, but the man's presence was overwhelming—every movement, every breath, seemed to slow in his wake.

"Raise it," the man repeated, his voice low and dripping with disdain. "Raise it further, boy. If you want to set a trap for a Mertens, you'll need more than petty coin. Make it irresistible for those who would kill Cedric. Make Ellion's son despair."

The underling hesitated. He knew better than to argue with the man, but there was something about his cold command, the unnatural way his robe fluttered in the air, that unsettled him. He stammered, "But sir, with this bounty, we've already…"

"Do you question me?" the man interrupted, his voice now laced with icy venom. He extended a gloved hand, the fingers long and unnervingly graceful. His gesture was casual, almost dismissive. But the air around him thickened, as though reality itself was bending to his will. The underling's breath caught in his throat as something invisible wrapped around him.

"You failed in understanding," the man continued, the cruel smile never leaving his lips. "I do not seek your counsel. I do not care for your opinion. I care only for the sweet sound of suffering."

With that, the man's fingers curled into a fist, and the world seemed to warp around them. The air pulsed, vibrating with a sickening resonance. The underling's body stiffened, his veins beginning to bulge unnaturally, pulsing with an inhuman rhythm. His eyes widened in terror as he looked up at his master, his mouth opening in a silent scream.

"Your failure has cost you," the man whispered, leaning in close, his amber eyes burning into the underling's soul. "But it's not the failure that interests me. It's the despair."

A soft, sharp click echoed from the mask as the man whispered an incantation, his voice so low it was almost imperceptible. The underling's body began to convulse, his muscles contorting as if they were being twisted from within. With a chilling, unnatural crack, his bones began to stretch and snap. The man's magic was visceral, palpable—the kind that reached inside a person and restructured them from the inside out.

"Blood Magic: Essence Shatter," the man purred. "You were never meant to live past this moment. I delight in watching you dissolve into pain."

The lackey's screams rang out, but they were hollow—his throat was no longer capable of producing a sound as his body shattered inward, the flesh stretching and tearing at the seams. The air was filled with the sickening sound of cracking and splintering. His very essence was being torn apart, reshaped, and fractured under the cruel magic of the man in front of him.

"You see, boy," the man continued, his tone as smooth as a serpent's hiss, "when Ellion betrayed me, he thought he could escape the curse of his own bloodline. But that's what people like him—people like you—don't understand." His voice grew darker, a cold rage seeping through the cracks. "Generational feuds are not something you can simply run from. They seep into the very bones of your descendants, until they too are bound by it. His legacy is mine to crush, piece by piece."

He turned away, walking slowly around the dying lackey, watching with cruel amusement as the last of the underling's form collapsed into an incoherent, broken mass. "But it's Ellion's son I want," the man hissed, his eyes narrowing with a dark, sadistic satisfaction. "His precious boy… so full of pride, so full of ambition. It's almost too easy. A Mertens is nothing more than an illusion, a fragile thing made of smoke and mirrors. His father will feel his pain. I will make him watch his son writhe in torment. I will destroy everything he worked for. His greatest project... will be torn from him. His legacy will become his curse."

The man paused, his voice now venomous and bitter, "Ellion was foolish enough to think he could escape the past. But his son will not. Lars Mertens will fall under the weight of what his father wrought, and I will be there to watch, as everything he has built crumbles away. And then I'll come for Frida Mertens, the oh-so-proud Silver Eagles Vice-Captain. That will certainly crumble morale within the Clover Kingdom."

With a satisfied flick of his wrist, he turned away, leaving the broken body of his lackey in the shadows as a twisted reminder of his power and cruelty. "Now, let me raise that bounty. It's time for the Mertens to face the consequences of their legacy. Ellion should have performed that surgery when he had the chance."

A/N: I don't mean to toot my own horn

but on soul this arc about to be so peak