"Wu wu... wu."

The cute girl cried in the corner.

Merka sat beside her, a palm's width away, feeling a bit lost.

"Merka... Elizabeth is dead, Elizabeth is dead..."

"It's all because of me..."

Merka awkwardly touched the girl's shoulder, bringing her forehead close and gently massaging it.

"Don't cry... don't cry."

"I'll always be with you."

"I love you. Forever love you."

The girl sobbed, threw herself into Merka's arms, holding onto Merka's waist, staining Merka's clothes with tears.

"Really...?"

"But I'm a jinx..."

"Anyone close to me will be jinxed."

"Can you promise me not to die first?"

"Promise me, at the very least, to die after me, can you?"

Merka looked at the snot and tears smeared on Turing's face and clothes, feeling a bit desolate inside.

He gently caressed Turing's cheek, giving a firm peck on the girl's soft cheek.

"That I cannot guarantee..."

"At most, I can promise to love you with all my heart and soul before I die."

Merka smiled faintly, as if the discussion was not about his own death, but someone else's.

He lowered his eyelids, the rich watery light gathering in his dark eyes, as if brewing some profound confession.

But in the end, he didn't say anything more. Instead, he gently shook his head and pecked Turing's forehead again.

"Wu wu."

Not hearing the assurance she wanted, the girl started crying again.

————————————————————————

"Wu... wu."

Don't cry... Turing.

My heart hurts so much...

The faint weeping, like raindrops, woke Merka from his stupor.

A wave of dizziness and pain surged through Merka's head, and he shook his heavy head, squeezing out the last remnants of magic in his body, looking towards the source of the crying.

Instead of Turing, Merka saw the Grand Princess of Montecristo, Scarlett.

She wore an iron collar around her neck with spikes extending from it, piercing through her shoulder blades.

Usually, in times of peace like Scarlett, it was difficult for mages to use magic under such pain. This device was an ancient suppressor that inhibited mages from casting spells.

She sat on a large rock, tearfully, looking worn out.

Surrounding her were several sharp-dressed pagans, their faces hidden beneath hoods.

Merka glanced further and noticed several pagans reporting to Mira, who sat atop a bloodeyed dragon outside.

"All remaining forces have been prepared and are assembling towards the Fort of Solitude."

"Most of Maria's rebel forces and surviving refugees have also withdrawn there. I estimate they have only around a thousand military mages left."

Upon hearing the report from his subordinate, Mira disdainfully waved her hand and jumped down from the dragon's back.

"Forget the numbers, useless."

"The task of the fort's troops is for Her Majesty of the Sky. Our job is to kill those outside the fort or drive them in."

After her words, she casually scanned around, locking eyes with the just-awakened Merka.

Merka awkwardly shifted towards Scarlett, discreetly scanning left and right, trying to locate Bordeaux, who acted as one of the pagans.

"Good, he's awake."

"You go, use a gun to escort him, don't let him escape."

"When we get to base, we'll interrogate these two. Don't give Maria's guerrillas a chance to ambush."

"Understood."

One of the pagans softly responded to Scarlett's command, walking towards Merka.

Merka looked up and stared at the approaching pagan, confirming that it was indeed Bordeaux.

"Let's go."

Bordeaux unsheathed the gun's barrel and ruthlessly jabbed Merka's spine. Merka jumped up as if shocked.

"Be gentle... ugh."

With Bordeaux holding his wrist and a gun against him, they slowly made their way forward.

Looking quite disheveled.

Shortly after, Mira's entire group also slowly moved.

After several intense battles, many of them had already exhausted their magical flying abilities.

They lined up in a circular formation, each at a distance, encircling Bordeaux, Merka, and Scarlett escorted by a few pagans in the center.

This inadvertently gave Merka and Bordeaux a chance to exchange whispers.

"Where's Dunkirk? Wasn't she supposed to be with you?"

"Dead?"

Bordeaux leaned in close to Merka's ear, speaking softly.

Her tone was obviously desolate. Not long ago, she had also experienced the departure of several colleagues, but she no longer had the energy to grieve.

"No... not sure. I got separated from Dunkirk."

Merka sighed lightly and spoke slowly.

"Oh, I see."

"That's good then..."