The fog was thick as molten glass, making every step a stumble through its clinging veil.
This was already the third time Lyselle nearly tripped.
Luckily, she had Shall.
Each time she teetered, Shall’s quick hands shot out—not to hold hers, but to yank her collar like a chick by the scruff.
Lyselle thought being hauled up like this was worse than face-planting outright.
She wanted to snap at Shall to stop, but Mula, the elven guide, walked ahead. She couldn’t protest in front of him.
No matter. She had another way.
The sorceress subtly drew her magic wand, activated a voice transmission spell, and murmured telepathically:
“I don’t need you yanking me up! I can walk fine!”
The Champion ignored her completely.
“?”
Lyselle frowned.
*Is he using Magic Nullification again? Seriously, this cautious?*
She poked Shall’s arm with her wand.
He turned, eyes puzzled.
“Turn off your Magic Nullification!” she hissed under her breath.
Shall didn’t understand why, but as his master commanded, he obeyed.
With Magic Nullification off, Lyselle’s telepathic message finally reached him:
“Don’t lift me. I’ll walk myself.”
Shall blinked, then nodded.
“Okay.”
Voice transmission worked both ways. Under Mula’s nose, they whispered secretly:
“Aren’t you tired of the hassle? No one fights you in Lundeheim. Just turn off Magic Nullification. Otherwise, you toggle it every time we use a teleportation circle.”
“…I never turned it off.”
“What? Never turned it off? Then how did you pass through the elves’ teleportation device earlier?”
“I don’t know.”
“…”
*Wow. That’s actually impressive.*
Every Champion’s Magic Nullification was said to nullify all magic across the Pan Continent. Even if this generation’s Champion, Shall, was a bit embarrassing and his mastery lacking, he should’ve easily blocked most Blink Spells—including hers.
Yet somehow, he’d arrived in Lundeheim without deactivating it.
Absurd.
Lyselle almost doubted her own Blink Spell. Why would it be the exception to his nullification?
Unless… the flaw lay in the elves’ device.
She lifted her gaze, eyes narrowing slightly at Mula’s back.
*Time to dig for intel.*
Lyselle stepped past Shall, flashing an innocent smile.
“With fog this thick, you navigate perfectly, Mr. Mula. You must know this city inside out.”
Mula, unused to chatter, turned politely.
“It’s my duty, Sorceress. I’ve served as Lundeheim’s guard captain for nearly three centuries. I know every alley and leaf—even blindfolded, I’d deliver you to the Governor.”
“Three centuries!” Lyselle gasped softly. “That’s so long.”
“For us long-lived Elves, it’s but a breath,” Mula smiled. “Still, I’ve held this post since shortly after the Matriarch birthed me.”
His expression flickered, a trace of regret crossing his face.
“Though sometimes,” he added, “I feel I’d have made a better watchmaker.”
He pulled a pocket watch from his coat, opening it proudly to show the flawless dial.
“I dropped and broke this a decade ago. But I repaired it myself.”
Lyselle feigned interest. “No damage at all! You’re amazing, Mr. Mula.”
She probed gently: “If you love watchmaking so much, why not try it?”
Mula’s face twisted in confusion. “Try what?”
“Becoming a watchmaker, of course.”
“…”
After a pause, he tucked the watch away, solemn.
“I’m sorry, Sorceress. I don’t understand.”
His hand pressed the watch through his coat.
“I only know this is the Matriarch’s will—she needs me as captain.”
Lyselle was baffled. *Predestined? Just do what you want. Is Lundeheim doomed without you?*
She bit back the thought.
*Drop the savior complex. Respect others’ paths.*
She’d attack anyone equally, but since Mula insisted, she’d pry no further.
Instead, she circled for intel.
Mula stayed guarded. No matter how sweetly she talked, he revealed nothing useful.
She couldn’t even learn why Lundeheim drowned in fog now—last time she visited with the Old Sage, sunshine had bathed the streets.
Perhaps this weather was normal here. She didn’t know the city well.
But…
She’d caught Mula’s fleeting worry when she mentioned the fog.
*This isn’t just ordinary mist.*
After a long trudge, they reached their destination.
Mula halted before a wooden chapel larger and finer than its neighbors.
“Wait here,” he instructed, then knocked.
“Governor, I’ve brought the Champion.”
A gentle, melodious voice replied: “Thank you. Well done.”
Mula bowed humbly. “My duty.”
He withdrew swiftly, resuming his patrol.
Minutes passed. No one emerged. Lyselle grew impatient, poking Shall with her wand to investigate.
Just then, the door opened.
A stunning elven woman stepped out.
She wore a green gown in elven style, layered with a military-style jacket. A pure white stardust flower adorned her temple. Golden hair flowed freely, partly braided into tiny plaits. Her marble-sculpted features held emerald eyes glowing softly.
She smiled warmly at Shall.
“Champion, we meet again.”
Lyselle instantly bristled. *The weasel paying New Year’s respects to Shall the silly chicken.*
The elf noticed her, studying her face.
“Sorceress… have we met before?”
*Don’t get cozy, pal. We’re not friends.* Lyselle masked her thoughts, beaming innocently.
“You should remember me. I’m the Lord of the White Tower’s student. He brought me to Lundeheim long ago.”
“Ah,” the Governor realized. “That explains it.”
She smiled at them both.
“You’ve both seen me, but not heard my name. I’m Fawena, Governor of Lundeheim. Call me Fawena.”
Her kindness disarmed Lyselle’s hostility.
She tapped her chest with her wand.
“I’m… well, the Lord of the White Tower’s student. The DawnDusk Witch. Call me whatever.”
She gestured to Shall.
“And him? You know. This generation’s human Champion, Shall.”
Fawena nodded, her gaze settling on Shall.
“You’ve come… so you’ve laid the Priestess to rest?” Her voice softened. “My condolences, regardless.”
Shall’s eyes dimmed slightly. He gave a quiet “Mm.”
Fawena sighed.
“I apologize—it’s cruel to ask when you’re grieving. But Lundeheim may not last much longer.”
She stared into the fog swallowing the city.
“You guessed it,” she told Shall. “The coffin I sent… was a plea for help.”
Her expression hardened.
“Champion, I must ask you… to kill our mother.”
