Lyselle felt the Matriarch was being a bit extreme.

Or rather, the Matriarch she imagined was a bit extreme.

Those taken were living Elves—not gears, not parts.

Even if someone hired her to take out Shall, she’d say, "He’s my dearest friend, my brother from another mother—you’ll have to pay extra." But if the Matriarch really had taken those missing Elves to destroy them…

Lyselle suddenly realized she and Shall had misunderstood Governor Fawena, who’d hired them to kill the Matriarch.

As Fawena said, the Matriarch was indeed mad.

Of course, it might not be the Matriarch’s doing at all. But if not her, then who?

Lyselle turned to Shall.

"What now?" she asked.

Shall didn’t reply. He simply bent down, picked up the pocket watch and lantern from the ground.

He tucked the pocket watch close to his body, then handed the lantern to Lyselle.

"Huh?"

Lyselle paused, not reaching for it.

What did this mean?

Everyone knew normal humans only had two hands. Sorceresses weren’t exactly normal, but they still only had two.

One hand for her magic wand, one hand for holding Shall’s sleeve—

Where would a third hand come from to carry the lantern?

Did Shall plan to stop letting her hold his sleeve?

Lyselle was annoyed, but couldn’t argue.

Quickly, she hatched a plan.

Who said the lantern had to be held by hand? Or even by a real third hand.

After all, there was a spell called "Mage Hand."

A pale blue third hand materialized beside Lyselle. It obeyed her command, lifting Mula’s lantern and hovering quietly at her side.

Her free hand stayed firmly gripping Shall’s sleeve.

Shall blinked in surprise but said nothing.

He seemed fine with it.

Lyselle felt a flicker of smugness.

Hmph. Trying to shake her off? Not that easy!

Shall didn’t seem to care whether she held his sleeve or not.

He just looked up, his gaze piercing the endless fog as if locking onto some unseen culprit.

Then he turned to Lyselle.

"I want to go up and check."

Lyselle was stunned.

She almost asked if he’d gone mad, but stopped herself. She understood why he suggested it.

Mula was supposed to guide them to Fawena. Now Mula was gone. Without a guide, they’d wander like headless flies in the fog. Luck might lead them to Fawena quickly—or she might be captured before they found her.

Relying on luck was pointless. Better to use their time wisely.

Like checking the fog’s boundary, or seeing if the captured Elves really hung from the sky.

It sounded absurd, but made sense when she thought it through.

Lyselle clicked her tongue.

This wasn’t careful planning. It was pure Champion-style recklessness.

But reckless it was. They had no better options.

Lyselle agreed.

But how would they get up there?

She had an idea.

First, she let go of Shall’s sleeve and snapped, "Turn off your Magic Nullification!"

Shall hesitated, then understood. He deactivated the spell obediently.

Satisfied he’d cooperated, Lyselle waved her wand. She cast a Flight spell on herself and Shall.

Their bodies rose slowly.

Lyselle handled it easily—she used Flight often. Shall struggled with the sudden weightlessness, wobbling like a deflating balloon.

Remembering he’d let her hold his sleeve all this way, Lyselle extended her wand.

"Hold tight," she instructed.

After a brief pause, Shall gripped the wand.

His balance steadied.

Lyselle huffed, ignoring him. She ordered the Mage Hand holding the lantern to follow.

Under the lanterns’ glow, the Champion and Sorceress shot through the churning fog, chasing Mula’s trail.

The fog seemed endless. Moving through it risked losing direction, even time and space.

Lyselle adjusted their speed, silently calculating the distance flown.

After about five hundred meters upward, hazy sunlight filtered through the fog.

Lyselle braced herself for the sight of Elves hanging from the dome. She sped up, bursting through the mist with Shall.

Sunlight flooded their eyes.

The sky was blue. Clouds lay below them. Part of the giant tree’s crown broke through the fog, its branches stretching peacefully in the high air.

No eerie scene greeted Lyselle.

No Mula. No missing Elves. No unseen horrors.

The view was almost serene. That made Lyselle’s skin crawl.

She tightened her grip on her wand and turned sharply to Shall.

"Why is there… nothing here?"

Shall, scanning the area, gave a soft "Hmm."

"Are you certain you saw Mula pulled skyward by invisible threads?"

"Of course!" Lyselle insisted. "My Tracking spell never lies!"

Then she realized:

"Unless… unless Mula wasn’t brought here. She was moved elsewhere in the fog!"

Lyselle recalled her earlier nightmare—

An unseen giant drifting through the mist, silent. Long, soft tentacles slipping through rooftops like an anteater licking ants, snatching Elves from their homes.

Could that be the Elven Matron?

Was the Elven Matron such a thing?

Only the Matriarch had the motive and power to make Elves vanish silently in the fog.

Lyselle exhaled slowly.

Another possibility: Lundeheim’s current chaos might stem from outside forces.

Could outsiders have infiltrated Lundeheim, responsible for the disappearances?

But that sounded paranoid. Lundeheim wasn’t easy to breach.

Its entrance illusions and cognitive wards were masterful, blocking most intruders. Lyselle and Shall had entered easily only because they weren’t ordinary.

She set that thought aside.

With too little information, wild guesses would only obscure the truth.

She bit her lip, staring at Shall.

"So Mula and the missing Elves are still somewhere in Lundeheim…"

*Of course, they might already be destroyed.*

She’d prepared for the worst but didn’t voice it.

"Where next?" she asked quietly. "Back to Lundeheim? Search for Mula and the Elves? Or try to meet Governor Fawena first?"

Could Fawena, who hired them to kill the Matriarch, escape the unseen predator?

Shall’s reply surprised her.

"Be patient a little longer," he said softly. "We won’t need to find Governor Fawena. She may come to us."

Lyselle frowned.

Impossible. Fawena couldn’t know…

Wait. Fawena might know exactly where they were.

Shall continued:

"First, we froze another Lundeheim in stasis. Second, real-world Lundeheim keeps losing Elves to disappearances."

"If Governor Fawena is truly competent, she’ll notice both events. She’ll connect them to us, investigating the anomalies—"

"To seek help, she’ll come to us herself."

Lyselle filled in the rest.

Fawena would check the cabin she’d assigned them. Finding it empty, she’d use other methods.

Plus… Fawena had let them roam the fog without worry. She must have a way to track them.

Lyselle’s eyes darted to the bronze lantern held by the Mage Hand.

*This lantern?* she wondered. *Can Fawena locate it?*

As the thought formed, the nearby fog churned violently.

Just as Shall predicted, Governor Fawena of Lundeheim burst through the mist, appearing before them.