What now? Frustration knotted in Lucimia’s chest like a tightening snare. If she used Authority Power, she’d step into their trap and bleed energy. If she didn’t, escape turned into brambles.

She could fly alone like a startled bird; Desty couldn’t. She had to reach her and hold on, like grasping a lifeline in floodwater.

But Nat fenced her out with arrows, a hedgerow of iron wind.

Option then: Instant Movement, Devouring to swallow the incoming teleported arrows, then slip away through Lev’s opening with a teleport. Thread a needle between storms.

Fine. Do that. It was the last clean line on a frayed map.

As she slid past another arrow and Nat drew his bow, she triggered Instant Movement, a fish flicking into shadow.

Her figure vanished, then snapped into being behind Desty. Nat’s heart twanged like a bowstring, but he reset fast. He sighted on the swapped Lucimia and loosed a Purification arrow.

Lev raised his greatsword, took a bounding step, and swung down like the sky cracking open.

Under the pincer, Lucimia kept a cold heart, ice over deep water. She called the Fuzzy Orb to meet the Purification arrow. Then she flicked a small hand at Lev, and a hard gale slammed him.

Lev, caught midair, couldn’t fight the wind; it booted him from the sky like a hawk kicked by a mountain gust.

Done, Lucimia said coldly, “We go.” Teleportation Magic flared; white light blinked like sun on snow, and they vanished.

Watching the two girls slip away, Nat didn’t bristle. He drifted down grinning, a leaf on a quiet current, and looked at Lev pushing off the ground.

“Heh, wanna bet where they’ll teleport? I say the hill country. Twisted ground, easy to hide. My people already set things up. She teleports, I follow.”

Lev cut him a look and sneered. “I say the water. I laid lightning magic ahead of time. They teleport and they’ll suffer. In a pinch, she’ll use the Devouring Authority again to avoid injury.”

He chuckled, thunder under his breath. “That burns her energy again.”

“Oh? The riverbed? Will she have time to set anything up, from splashdown to guessing we’ll strike with lightning?” Nat didn’t know Lucimia well.

“She will. She always does,” Lev said, certain as iron. “I’ve crossed her a few times. The girl’s wary to the bone. She keeps a retreat everywhere. Wherever she walks, she plants a Teleportation Array. Underwater’s no exception.”

“Hahaha, then if she ports back to the riverbed, we’ve got a show.”

They laughed open and loud, crows on a winter branch.

Just as Lev said, Lucimia teleported to the riverbed. Not by choice, but because every other path was a sealed gate.

She had three Teleportation Arrays laid in the valley: one in the hills, one in the deep woods, one under the water, like three last matches in a storm.

Of the three, the riverbed was best, a cold cradle under the world.

The deep woods were worst. The ground lay too flat to hide. Even with Invisibility Magic, the red-haired man and Lev’s Magic Eye would pluck her out like hawks spotting a hare.

Besides, woods and hills both crawled with rat swarms, a gray tide. Invisibility Magic could dodge their marks, but then she couldn’t move; step on them and they’d squeal the alarm.

Once noticed, she’d need Devouring again, another bite out of her flame.

Last came the soldiers. She didn’t know their posts. One bad jump and she could land in a camp, eyes wide at eyes wide.

A shout would fly, the red-haired man would teleport in, and the fight would churn again like a mill in flood.

In short, it was a tangle of thorns. The riverbed was best: the rats wouldn’t swarm down fast, and no soldiers kept watch in that cold dark.

She knew now they were tailoring snares for her, so she couldn’t think simple. This was chess on a deck in storm rain.

What she could foresee, they could too. She’d already guessed Lev might feed lightning magic into the water. She judged there might still be a trap humming below.

So, to avoid getting shocked the instant she arrived, she raised a magic barrier in advance, a glass shell around two beating hearts.

But she’d underestimated their resolve. The moment she arrived at the riverbed, current tore through them like storm rain, waking every nerve like struck bells.

They stuck in place like pinned moths. Pain shook them; their bodies refused; river water forced past their lips in bitter gulps.

“Dev…ouring…” Lucimia dragged her will like hauling a net in squall.

Authority Power triggered. All the misery blew away like smoke, and Lucimia seized the beat to use the Disguise Power, turning them into tiny fish, quick silver in silt.

“Lu-Lucimia…” Desty breathed, a soul hauled from the brink. “I thought I was dead.”

“Me too… I didn’t expect they’d lace the lightning with Authority Power, so the magic barrier couldn’t fully block it… Is that part of their plan too? Looks like they’re serious now, not stingy with energy.”

Lucimia’s whole body ached, bruises blooming like ink in water. Forced to use Authority Power again, her energy ran thinner.

Worse, every clash was against Purification Power, a grindstone that ate her reserves, nothing like their old skirmishes.

“Tch… they’ve blocked every road,” Lucimia muttered, head pounding like drums. It made sense. They weren’t fools. Power, resources, manpower—tight net, near perfect mesh.

No way out at all? Just get drained alive, candle by candle?

Bitter heat rose, and she refused to die here like a leaf in a culvert.

But she hadn’t even found the Cross. The smoke barrier still drank a steady feed of Purification Power. What could she do beneath that lid?

She was out of plays, truly empty. This time, she didn’t know what to do, a compass spinning under lightning.

Beside her, Desty saw Lucimia silent and still, two fish hiding in silt, and she felt the knife-edge of the moment.

“Sorry… I’m too weak,” Desty forced out, shame like a stone in her throat.

“No… that’s not it,” Lucimia said softly. “Even if you had Authority Power, this fight would still be bad.”

“Is it…?” Desty lowered her head, shadow falling like dusk. She knew Lucimia was comforting her. Even if it held truth, her lack of strength was fact.

If she were strong enough, even a bad fight wouldn’t look this desperate. Maybe there’d be a sliver of life in the reeds.

They lingered where they were, neither making the next move, time pooling around them like cold water.

After a long while, Lucimia breathed, “Let’s… keep looking for the Cross.” Her voice carried fatigue like wet cloth on the shoulders.