Chapter 193 : Chapter 193

Time passed, little by little.

The hall gradually fell silent again. Parker Hewitt leaned against that stone pillar with his eyes closed, tapping the hilt of his sword one beat at a time. The sound was light, but in the stillness it was especially distinct, like some kind of countdown. Hayden sat at his feet, his swollen hand resting on his knee, head lowered, no one knowing what he was thinking.

Vera leaned against another stone pillar with her eyes closed, as though asleep. But the hand pressed over the wound on her calf never loosened. Perhaps that was her way of proving to herself that she was still alive.

Eleanor stood in the very center, holding that sword and staring at the door. She was like a spear planted there, unmoving from beginning to end. In the dim gray light, her blade gave off a cold gleam, much like her eyes.

The ordinary explorers were scattered all over the hall. Some leaned against the walls in a daze, some sat on the floor hugging their knees, and some had curled up into themselves. No one spoke.

Only the two gemstones at the sides of the door continued to flash.

Their dark yellow light flickered like two struggling fireflies, desperately trying to shine in the dark.

Ryan kept his eyes on those two gemstones for a long time.

They were still flickering.

Bright, dim, bright, dim.

Still alive.

At least, for now, they were still alive.

As long as they were alive, there was hope. That hope was like a single thread, suspending the hearts of everyone in the hall.

There was suddenly some movement near the entrance.

Several people emerged from different doors.

The first was a man in a gray robe with harsh, angular features, high cheekbones, and a faint scar across his brow. Behind him came a burly red-haired man in dark brown clothes, muscles straining against the fabric.

Marcus and Olaf, both of Marquis Wilier’s people.

Both of them were injured, though not badly. Marcus merely had a torn sleeve, exposing a shallow cut along his arm. Olaf’s clothes were ripped in several places across his back, but they all looked like surface wounds.

The two of them were in better shape than most of the people already gathered in the hall.

Then two more people came out of another door.

One was a red-haired woman with a tall, striking figure, bright features, and healthy wheat-colored skin. She wore leather armor suited for movement, and a small pouch hung at her waist, stuffed full of unknown items. Her movements were light and steady. When she landed, she made almost no sound.

Shiloya.

The Flame Duke’s chief occultist and a scholar who specialized in ancient runes.

Behind her came a man in a dark fitted outfit, stern-faced and straight-backed, like a spear. One hand remained on the hilt of his sword the whole time, his gaze sweeping across everyone in the hall as if measuring threats.

Kallen, the Flame Duke’s captain of guards, the man who had gone to war at sixteen and killed seventeen beastmen.

Shiloya and Kallen were both injured too, but again, not badly. Shiloya’s left hand was wrapped in bandages stained with blood, yet she moved without difficulty. Kallen had only a single cut across his face, as though something had grazed him.

The newcomers joined the silent crowd in the hall. Marcus swept one glance over the massive door, then over the two flickering gemstones at its sides. Without saying a word, he found a pillar to lean against. Olaf stood at his side like a statue.

Shiloya’s gaze lingered on the door for a moment before shifting to the ordinary explorers. She frowned, but said nothing. After learning the situation, she and Kallen found a corner and sat down.

Ryan withdrew his gaze and closed his eyes again to rest.

Then he felt something standing before him.

A shadow fell across him, blocking the dim gray light.

Ryan opened his eyes.

A mane of flame-red hair hung before him.

Eleanor.

She stood directly in front of him, looking down at him from above. In the dim light, her eyes burned bright, like two coals heated white-hot, or like some fire that had been suppressed for far too long and had finally found a way out.

Ryan lifted his head and looked at her.

Not far away, Lillian’s fingers suddenly tightened around the hem of her clothes.

She had seen who it was.

That hair was far too striking, red like living flame. There was only one person in the entire hall with hair like that. Eleanor Astrea. The Sword Duke’s daughter. One of the brightest geniuses of the Empire’s younger generation.

Lillian had seen her many times at the academy. Every time, it had only been from afar, watching that person walk down the corridor while everyone around her automatically moved aside and gave way. She had never imagined that one day she would stand this close to the very person she admired.

Her heartbeat quickened.

Some people lived for the sole purpose of becoming someone else’s light, and when you finally stood near that light, it was almost painful to look at.

“Do you need something?” Ryan asked, his voice as flat as ever. “Miss Astrea.”

“You are not thinking of inviting me to another fight in a place like this, are you?”

Ryan arched a brow.

“Here?” he said. “At a time like this?”

Lillian froze for a second.

Fight? Here? With Eleanor?

Her gaze moved back and forth between Ryan and Eleanor, and suddenly she remembered that rumor. Eleanor had supposedly sought Ryan out more than once, only to lose to him every time. She had always thought it was nonsense, just idle gossip invented by bored people looking for something to laugh about. But now, looking at the air between the two of them, she suddenly felt it might be true.

Eleanor’s brow furrowed.

Only slightly. Only for a moment.

“Not now,” she said, her gaze sweeping over the giant door, over the flickering gemstones at its sides, and over all the injured people in the hall. “Right now, all of us are valuable strength for breaking through this secret realm. There is no need to waste ourselves fighting each other here.”

She withdrew her gaze and looked at Ryan again.

“Once we get out, I will find you and fight you properly.”

That battle intent was still there in her eyes.

Lillian stared into them and suddenly felt a little dazed.

So this was what it felt like to be looked at by Eleanor.

It was like having a sword pointed directly between your brows, and at the same time like having something very important inside you caught and held by those eyes.

“So, Ryan Velt.”

When she spoke his name, she bit down hard on every syllable.

“Remember this. You are the rival of Eleanor Astrea. You are the person I am destined to defeat.”

Lillian’s heartbeat sped up again.

Coming from Eleanor, those words carried far too much weight. That was not a word she would use for just anyone. It was a word reserved for someone worth chasing for an entire lifetime.

Without thinking, Lillian parted her lips, wanting to say something.

But nothing came out.

Because after Eleanor said that, she added one more sentence.

“So don’t you dare die in there.”

Then she turned and left.

Just like that. She walked away, sat down beside a stone pillar not far from Ryan, and closed her eyes. Her red hair fell forward, veiling half her face.