Chapter 106: A Plan
"Oh Goddess…" Lucia muttered, pushing herself up from the ground she was on. "What the fuck-"
"AHHHHHHH! EVERYWHERE HURTS! OWOWOWOWOWOW!"
Startled, Lucia's head turned towards the source of the noise - none other than Asta himself, sat next to Yuno, who had his usual emotionless expression on his face, and Mimosa, who was looking at the scene, evidently quite confused. She looked down, and Cara was next to her, still unconscious. She turned her head back towards them, and saw the Eye of the Midnight Sun's dungeon floating in the air. A rush of memories hit her.
"Lars…" she muttered, casting her gaze to the ground.
"We lost a lot of people," Kian muttered somberly, sitting next to her, "including Lars. Do you remember anything?"
"Yeah," Lucia said, looking up to face Kian. "I remember that we were fighting the guys who had taken over Lars and Frida's bodies, and then Frida just… one shot us."
"Move, Voss," Nozel said, causing Lucia's head once again to turn towards the Silver Eagles captain. Kian, with no witty remarks or anything to say, got up and made space for Nozel to do his work.
"Magic Item: Eilia's Booth."
A green dome-shaped structure enveloped the people in Lucia's vicinity, and slowly, their wounds began to fade.
"It's an item that will speed up your healing process," Nozel said, walking away.
"Oh…uh…thank you!" Lucia replied, not expecting the proud Silver Eagles captain to do something like that.
"Letting us use such a high power magic item…" Cara said, pulling her legs closer to her chest. "I guess he's not such a bad guy after all."
Noelle's Sea Dragon's Cradle, sized down to fit her, Kirsch and Maddy without consuming too much mana, flew over the trees towards them. "Thank goodness you're safe!" she cried, as they landed.
"Noelle!" Asta said.
"Maddy!" Lucia cried, standing up. She placed her hands on the barrier of Eilia's Booth, and Maddy walked over to her, limping quite visibly.
"They got Dana, Lucia…" Maddy croaked, tears falling down her face, "and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't do anything…"
Lucia had a weird feeling in her chest. She had never seen Madeleine cry before, and seeing her like this unsettled her, made her skin crawl, but also made her want to hug her.
Kirsch flopped into the Eilia's Booth. "Even when Injured gravely, I am still beautiful," he declared.
"Pull yourself together!" Cara said, her voice uncharacteristically harsh. "We can still save her. We'll find a way. The most important thing now… is making sure everyone who wasn't possessed stays alive."
There was silence for a moment. Then, out of the trees emerged Theresa, Cade, and Yul, carrying a gravely injured Myla. The two guys set her down, and Theresa's grimoire snapped open, its pages flipping.
"Plant Magic: Elysian Herbcraft," she whispered, and plants began to grow in a silhouette around Myla, glowing green with mana as they worked on healing their wounds.
"How'd you retrieve her without being spotted?" Zora said, tilting his head to the side.
"While Asta and Yuno were fighting that elf leader guy, I used Omni Vine Sense to find the last traces of her Mana Zone," Theresa said
"We would have gotten here sooner if the old hag's body didn't subconsciously resist being moved," Cade muttered. "She must have really been attached to her opponent."
There was suddenly a buzzing sound that came from both Nozel and Myla. Out of Nozel's pocket, a communications device was produced, and he pressed a button on it.
"Captain! Captain! Can you hear me?"
"What's the problem, Soren?"
"A number of our squad members, including Erin and Nils, have gone berserk! They keep saying bizarre things like "we're elves", and their mana has gone through the roof! We're trying to hold them off, but to no avail! Apparently, similar incidents are happening with all the squads-"
His communication with Soren was cut off abruptly, and there was only static.
"What is it? Come in," Nozel said, trying yet failing to get Soren back on line.
"Things like that are happening all over the kingdom?" Asta said.
"I've figured something out, Captain Nozel," Vivianne said, her voice drawing everyone's attention. "It seems that this is commonly happening to those with noble blood, though not limited to them."
"Now that you mention it, she's onto something," Kian muttered.
"Well, this sucks ass," Zora declared.
Nozel was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of authority. "We are Magic Knights. We must save the Clover Kingdom, no matter what happens, and no matter who we have to kill to do it."
And even if we die.
"The good news is, there seems to be some resistance from their hosts," Noelle said. "Luck's attacks didn't hit me, even though he was attacking me. I think that his soul was fighting back."
"So what's the plan?" Cara said.
"Get back to the Royal Capital and prevent as much damage as we can," Nozel said. "Our primary objective is to protect the civilians until we find a way to turn them back."
…
The Eye of the Midnight Sun's base was moving now, courtesy of the elf that had possessed Shiren, but to be honest, Lukos didn't care.
He was so, so tired.
While Alya's healing had helped heal his wounds, it also took up a lot of his mana, and the resistance from Lars's soul hadn't helped.
So he had found a good resting place, and now, as he lay down on the stone floor, slumped up against a wall, and dreamed.
Dream he did…
…
The Martens' home stood at the edge of a sprawling valley, nestled between towering cliffs that loomed like ancient sentinels. The house itself was unexpectedly modest—constructed of smooth, dark stone, its structure was simple but sturdy, built to endure the passage of time rather than impress visitors. A path of polished emerald crystal, no doubt conjured by Alric himself, led from the front gate to the entrance, glowing faintly in the dim evening light.
Lukos took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship, running his fingers along the smooth crystalline railing as they entered. Freja, however, was far less interested in architecture.
"Alright, we're here," she said impatiently. "So where's your-"
The door opened, and Freja stopped mid-sentence.
Towering in the doorway was a woman who could have been mistaken for a goddess of war. She stood at least a head and a half taller than Lukos, her frame sculpted from pure muscle, her presence nothing short of breathtaking. Long, silken brown hair cascaded down her back, and despite the simple white dress she wore, it was impossible not to notice the sheer strength in every inch of her form.
And yet, she was hiding.
Everything about her posture, from the way she slightly curled inward to the way her fingers fidgeted against the fabric of her dress, screamed timidity. Her blue eyes, striking, clear, and bright, darted between them with barely concealed anxiety, her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to speak but wasn't sure if she should.
"…Hello," she murmured, voice soft, almost uncertain.
Lukos, for the first time in a while, found himself momentarily speechless.
A perfect match, he thought, glancing at Alric, then back at the woman. The timid scholar and the timid warrior. A hilarious contradiction wrapped into one household.
Freja, on the other hand, had no such hesitations. She inhaled sharply, her expression lighting up in something akin to awe.
"She's the cutest woman I've ever seen," she declared, stepping forward with newfound excitement.
The woman blinked, shrinking back ever so slightly.
"Um…"
Freja clasped her hands together, nodding sagely. "What's your training regimen?"
"…My what?"
"Your training regimen!" Freja repeated, already looking her up and down with something close to reverence. "You're built like a warlord. Do you lift boulders? Do you wrestle direwolves? Do you kill for sport?"
The woman's expression turned panicked. "N-No, I… I don't… I don't train…"
Freja's entire body went rigid.
Then, without warning, she swayed.
And collapsed.
Lukos didn't even flinch.
"She does this sometimes," he said, watching as Freja lay motionless on the floor, her soul temporarily leaving her body. "Give her a minute."
Alric's wife clutched her hands together, deeply concerned. "I'm sorry, did I…?"
"No, no, she's just dramatic," Lukos assured. "By the way, I never caught your name."
The woman hesitated. Then, softly…
"…Saria."
"Saria Martens," Lukos repeated, testing the name on his tongue. He gave a slight nod of approval. "Nice to meet you."
At that moment, a blur of energy came barreling around the corner.
A child - perhaps six or seven years old - skidded to a stop beside Saria, his brown hair a wild mess and his piercing blue eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement.
"Is she dead?" he asked, staring unabashedly at Freja's unmoving form.
Saria immediately paled. "Theo!"
The boy, Theo, grinned, entirely unfazed. "It's fine, I saw her breathing." He turned to Lukos, looking him up and down with an expression far too calculating for a child his age. "You're the elf, huh? You look kinda weird. What's with those ears?."
Lukos raised a brow. "Me? Weird?"
Theo nodded sagely. "But don't worry, I think weird is cool." He then turned to Freja, poking her in the cheek. "Hey, wake up. I wanna see if you can actually fight Mom."
Freja immediately sat up, her eyes gleaming with new purpose. "I like this kid."
Saria looked vaguely horrified.
Meanwhile, inside the house, Lukos had found himself in Alric's study - a pristine, meticulously organized lab filled with shelves of notes, enchanted crystal samples, and mana-infused tools. He practically salivated.
"Oh, this is beautiful," he whispered, running his fingers along the perfectly stacked papers.
Alric, looking mildly amused, watched as Lukos sorted through his research with the enthusiasm of a child in a sweets shop.
"I take it you approve," he said dryly.
"Approve?" Lukos let out a breathy laugh, flipping through a section on emerald resonance theory. "This is the best-kept lab I've seen in years. You could rival the royal archives with this level of documentation."
Alric's lips quirked slightly. "Good. Then you'll understand why I asked you here."
Lukos glanced up.
Alric folded his arms. "I want to study my magic. And you want to study yours." He paused. "So let's form a partnership."
The elf grinned. "Done, done, and done."
For the next several days, Lukos and Freja lived in the Martens household, assisting Alric in various magical tests.
Lukos was particularly interested in the spiritual properties of Emerald Magic - its resonance, its adaptability, the way it influenced living mana. It was different from Freja's Amethyst Magic, which carried a regal, almost divine energy. Emerald Magic, by contrast, was alive. It pulsed with an organic, almost restless nature, shifting and evolving in ways Lukos had never quite seen before.
To test its properties, Alric introduced one of his finest spells - a near-perfect emerald clone, designed to replicate human anatomy with startling accuracy. It wasn't just a mimicry of shape; it functioned as if it were alive, with simulated organs, veins, and even a circulatory mana system.
Lukos was fascinated.
"I could tear this thing apart all day," he muttered, watching the clone shift under the effects of various magical stimuli.
Alric, jotting down notes at a breakneck pace, barely looked up. "Please don't actually tear it apart."
Freja, meanwhile, had fully integrated herself into Saria's life, much to the latter's dismay.
"You don't train," Freja said for the fourth time that morning, watching as Saria nervously prepared breakfast.
Saria, already exhausted, nodded meekly.
"You have the potential to be a living weapon," Freja insisted.
Saria let out a small whimper.
Theo, seated beside her, looked thoughtful. "You do break doors a lot," he offered helpfully.
Saria groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Please stop."
By the time their stay came to an end, Lukos and Alric had gathered an abundance of data. Lukos now understood how Emerald Magic infused itself into constructs, how it adapted to external forces, how it functioned as both a stabilizing and disruptive force. Alric, in turn, had gained deeper insights into the effects of Mind Magic - particularly its ability to channel mind energy beyond the standard properties of mana.
As they left the valley behind, Lukos glanced at Freja. "Humans, huh?"
Freja exhaled through her nose. "Humans are strange."
Lukos nodded. "They are."
"They're fragile, too. And yet…"
Lukos tilted his head, waiting.
Freja glanced at him. "Alric and Saria. Even Tetia. They're all different, but they…" She frowned. "They don't feel weak."
Lukos grinned. "They're not."
Freja was silent for a moment. Then, finally, she muttered, "I still think Lina is the cutest woman alive."
Lukos laughed. "I'll be sure to tell her that next time."
Freja narrowed her eyes. "If you embarrass her, I will kill you."
Lukos merely smirked, hands behind his head as they walked off home.
…
Lukos drifted in and out of consciousness, his mind swimming through memories that felt more like dreams than reality. The past clung to him like wet silk, whispering half-forgotten truths, unraveling his thoughts before he could fully grasp them.
"Licht said to put this on."
A voice, sharp and imperious, cut through the fog of his mind.
Lukos exhaled, long and slow, eyes flickering open. Above him, framed by the dim glow of the moving base, stood Xilhanna - proud, radiant, and wholly insufferable. She held out a robe, pure white and immaculate, its fabric almost luminescent in the dark. Her golden hair shimmered in the soft light, her posture straight-backed and regal, as if she were offering him a divine garment rather than a simple change of clothes.
She looked at him like one might look at a stray cat in the rain - equal parts pity and irritation.
Lukos did not move.
Instead, he stared at the robe, then at Xilhanna, then at the robe again, as if it were an alien thing. For a brief moment, the world around him blurred, and his mind, ever eager to wander, spiraled into thought.
Why? Why was it always like this?
He had spent his entire life navigating the endless labyrinth of conflict between humans and elves, through the bitter weight of history, through the suffocating air of resentment that clung to both races like an incurable plague.
And for what?
For the same endless cycle to continue?
Hatred had been sown into the bones of society long before he was born. It had been cultivated, watered, and left to rot in the depths of their souls until it festered into something permanent. Unmovable. Humans feared elves because they were different. Because they were stronger. Because they were unknown.
But wasn't that the nature of all things?
Weren't all creatures driven to fear the unfamiliar?
Lukos had seen it before, in the quiet moments between war, in the scholars who studied magic, in the ordinary people who only wanted to live. He had seen it in Alric Martens, a man who should have been everything human society despised - brilliant, ambitious, unshackled by the limits of tradition - and yet, he had been respected. He had been loved.
For a moment, just a moment, Lukos had thought that perhaps things could be different.
Perhaps coexistence wasn't impossible. Perhaps the endless river of time didn't have to flow in only one direction.
But that was before.
Before he learned the truth.
Before he had seen Alric's body, broken, bloody and lifeless.
Before he saw his wife and child, cowering in fear, calling out for their husband, their father.
Before he had felt the raw, festering betrayal of a world that refused to change.
And suddenly, all of those thoughts - all of those hopeful, foolish dreams - felt so distant. So laughably naïve.
The past had proven one thing, over and over again, without fail:
Humans would never change. Because change required logic. Change required evolution. Change required strength.
And humans, by nature, were weak.
Lukos let out a quiet breath, tilting his head up to meet Xilhanna's gaze. There was something hollow in his eyes now, something deep and unknowable, like the empty space between the stars. Slowly, with a sharp, almost bitter smile, he took the robe from her hands.
"You know," he murmured, "I used to think humans could be better."
He turned the fabric over in his fingers, feeling the smoothness of the cloth, the stark contrast between the white of the robe and the darkness creeping at the edges of his mind. "But it's not logical to expect a lesser species to evolve beyond their nature." He let the words settle between them, cold and final.
Then, with the ease of someone brushing aside a fleeting thought, he concluded.
"After all, humans are inferior."
Xilhanna rolled her eyes. "Way to waste my time telling me something that a fledgeling could've. Hurry up."
"Yeah, yeah," Lukos said, stretching. "I'm getting up."
A/N: hi!
so i've been gone on a "quick hiatus" for quite a long time, but I'm back (with this short ass chapter)
hopefully we can get this arc finished by may - but NO PROMISES. i have a lot of exams and not a lot of time
this was interesting to write. particularly with lukos's reflection - i pulled out all the stops for that one (proud smirk)
hope you enjoyed reading! next chapter thursday