"Princess, there are too many enemies. Please retreat for now."
Sir Begning’s earnest request came from outside, his voice somewhat urgent, indicating that the situation was dire - steel crossbow arrows striking the iron plates within the carriage walls, making a pinging sound - the assassins emerged from the forest in all directions. Even Princess Griffith herself did not expect that she would face the most dangerous assassination attempt since her escape within her own territory of Graf.
But the girl pressed her lips together, her pale silver eyes staring straight ahead, and replied, "No need, I will wait here for my knights to arrive."
"It’s nothing. Thank you," the girl said softly.
The sounds outside the carriage suddenly stopped. The young man turned his head, one hand on the hilt of his sword, and all that remained in his chest was endless courage.
The Half-Elf Girl, as always, wore her favorite silver-white princess gown, her hands folded on her knees. Even at this moment—her sitting posture was more impeccable than the most scrupulous noble lady. From the tiniest details of royal etiquette, the dignity of an ancient family shone through the eldest princess of Erune. Even in the eyes of the most critical nobles, she was the most dazzling gem on Erune’s crown.
In the eyes of this princess, the only heir to the throne of Erune sat directly opposite her in the carriage, looking at her with a timid expression. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚•𝕟𝕖𝕥
"Sister..." The only son of Oberg the Seventh, Haruz, called out in fear.
The girl glared coldly at her only brother.
"Haruz, pick up your sword and turn it around."
Haruz had always been obedient to his stern sister, and this time he did not dare to defy her. He overcame his trembling heart and carefully turned the longsword around—a line of extremely small words engraved on the sword scabbard:
"Call my name for Courage—"
This was the motto of the Kerkova Royal Family and also that of the Half-Elf Princess; yet for Oberg the Seventh’s only son, it became a glaring irony. The little boy grasped his sword with both hands, looking up at his sister in helplessness. The severity in her eyes and the perilous situation outside the carriage left him at a complete loss, tears welling in his eyes.
Seeing her brother , even Griffith couldn’t help but sigh. Her heart softened uncontrollably, and she said gently, "It’s okay, with me here, Sister will protect you—"
The little boy wiped his tears with his sleeve and nodded vigorously.
The carriage grew silent.
The battle outside also seemed to quiet down.
At Bastia Royal Cavalry Academy in Graf, on the playground, in the classrooms, or in the corridors, everyone couldn’t help but stand up from their seats and look up at the stunning scene outside the arched windows—
Frey stared up blankly, her eyes fixated on the silver pillar of light piercing the clouds. Under the boundless sky, the light connecting the mountains with the heavens resembled the ancient myth of the ’Tower of Heaven.’ The clouds, with the light as the center, slowly moved towards the surrounding sky for thousands of miles, forming patterns resembling fish scales in a radiating fashion. The majestic beauty of this scene surpassed any description of the mortal world, stirring the heart from within.
The girl, wearing her training gear, had one hand on her ponytail, lost in thought, her face reflecting the colors of the clouds. She stared blankly in that direction without moving—Lord Marsha, what is being revealed to the world?
The training grounds of Bastia Royal Cavalry Academy grew more crowded. People were shouting, passing along the news, as if doomsday was about to arrive the next moment—everyone looked up at the southern sky, holding their breath. The murmurs turned into a din. Even the instructors who came out to maintain order soon joined the crowd, shaking their heads in disbelief, unable to accept what they were seeing.
"This is the Resonance Reaction, isn’t it?"
"What did you say?" Seeing the girl with her hand holding her ponytail turn around, looking at him with bright brown eyes full of inquiry, the second son of Count Bekeberg’s heart skipped a beat—a rare opportunity! After all, Bastia Royal Cavalry Academy was still dominated by male students, and the few female students in each term naturally became the targets of these noble descendants’ pursuits—Frey, with her outstanding appearance and temperament and without any prominent background, was considered a delicious prey.