CHAPTER 71……………….
A little earlier.
‘Her Highness is nearby.’
Asterios pressed his brow with his fingers, his eyes flashing sharply.
The source of the presence wasn’t too far, though there was still some distance.
As the faint traces of her mana resonated inside Asterios, he realized this was no time to idly let himself be toyed with by illusions.
So, knowing it would strain him, he instantly drew up his mana and tore apart the “phantasm” before his eyes.
But what came flying at him as he broke free of the hallucination was the backlash of power.
“!”
Perhaps someone nearby, startled by his sudden attack, had reflexively triggered a defensive spell. Yet when the illusion dissolved, there was nothing around. The darkness of night was so heavy that even the magic torches could not illuminate the distance clearly.
‘Must have been one of the contestants.’
Asterios instinctively dodged the rebounding force and caught his breath, focusing on Roziana’s presence. Behind him, the mountainside had been reduced to rubble.
‘I must find Her Highness as quickly as possible.’
Wearing the choke, he couldn’t wield his full strength. Nor could he maintain his power for long in this state.
Asterios moved swiftly in the direction of her presence.
But before long, a sharp pain pierced near his heart.
“Kh…!”
Blood welled up and spilled from his lips, his brows contorting in agony.
“Haa…”
Yet after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and taking a single breath, he forced himself to move again. Roziana’s mana was unmistakably close.
‘She must be safe…’
Though she possessed strong holy power, this Secret Fog was unlike the hallucinatory mountain he had once traversed. The illusions had grown stronger, layered upon themselves, making escape difficult. He could not be certain she was safe.
Could Roziana and Izev evade the ever-deepening fog of illusions?
Her being here already placed her in danger, but if she were caught in an illusion—or worse, ran into another contestant—the situation would become disastrously worse.
Grit.
He clenched his teeth against the searing pain stabbing through his chest.
The sharp pang near his heart persisted, but he pressed forward regardless.
That part of him had always been left incomplete, ever since the days of the plan to have Erica reborn as Roziana.
Perhaps the reason the throbbing pain felt especially deep was that “the time” was drawing near.
“!”
Then, from a distance, came the sound of sobbing.
“…No, no… it can’t be!”
The voice was wet, sorrowful, ragged with despair.
Asterios instantly recognized it as Roziana’s voice.
“Your Highness!”
Her crying was so heartrending that his own chest felt as though it were being torn apart.
“Princess Roziana!”
But there was no reply, as if she could not hear him.
A black, dark forest. From deep within the thick fog ahead, her voice clearly flowed, yet her figure was nowhere to be seen.
‘Is she trapped in an illusion somewhere within the mist…?’
Her broken voice, heavy with grief and despair, stabbed at him like a weight.
What could she be seeing within that hallucination, to make her cry so bitterly?
“No… As… I… too many… there are also…”
“!”
Ah. She was calling his name.
What mistake had he made in her illusion this time?
What torment had he forced her into, to make her cry so sorrowfully?
Hearing his name on her lips made his chest burn with desperation.
Just listening felt like his heart was being consumed in flames.
Her voice—like the world crumbling and her soul vanishing—crying his name, burned through his entire being. Asterios spread his dry fist and clutched at his chest.
‘She’s definitely nearby.’
His brows twitched with pain. He could hear her voice, sense her presence, yet not see her form.
‘Could I have fallen into an illusion again?’
But her mana still resonated within him. Instinct told him she was truly close.
As he wavered between doubt and instinct, Asterios suddenly recalled the invisible cloak he had once given her for emergencies.
‘Ah. If Her Highness is wearing that cloak within the Secret Fog…’
Then this situation—where only her sobs were audible but her figure unseen—would make perfect sense.
If he entered the mist as well and found her, pulling down the hood of that cloak would reveal her form.
“Princess Roziana! Your Highness!”
He shouted into the fog thickening before him, but nothing changed.
‘So, I too must enter the mist.’
Though he had only just broken free from hallucination, Asterios stepped toward the fog without hesitation.
If not for the bond of mana between them, he could not have been certain she was truly there. He was grateful for their master–servant link, and followed the faint trail of mana he sensed within himself.
As he advanced, the fog descended upon him from above as if waiting, swallowing him whole.
Inside the trap-like mist, he finally saw Roziana’s back—clutching something in her arms, sobbing in anguish.
Her frail shoulders trembled violently as she cried.
Though she hadn’t removed her hood, her figure was visible. Asterios sharpened his senses.
“Please… open your eyes… As!”
Her desperate cries for his name rang out again.
Was this Roziana real, or an illusion?
Her mana still resonated within him, proving she was truly here.
She must have climbed the mountain, risking everything for him.
“Roziana… Your Highness.”
At his call, her body flinched.
Even as she tried to swallow her sobs, they broke out again with choked cries, stabbing at his heart.
Just as he stepped closer—
“?!”
Something appeared beside her—beside the weeping Roziana clutching a tattered form.
Another Roziana, lowering the hood from her head.
‘Two of Her Highness?’
One, weeping.
One, just arrived.
His pupils trembled violently at the unexpected sight.
Her resonating mana still told him she was truly here.
‘Then one of them must be an illusion, and the other the real her!’
The hoodless Roziana looked around frantically, then turned back to the large stone on the ground, crying anew.
“You can’t grow cold like this! You can’t die yet! As! I’ll… I’ll bring…!”
“You can’t just leave me behind!”
Both Rozianas cried at once. Their voices, filled with despair and grief, ripped at his heart.
‘Could it be… she thinks that stone is me?’
The sight of two princesses sobbing and clinging to a rock as though it were a shredded corpse made Asterios’ pupils quiver. His heart plummeted.
He could no longer bear to watch her suffer.
Instinctively, Asterios reached out to one of the two Rozianas.
Roziana steadied herself.
Now was not the time to cry. To scout her surroundings, she risked removing her hood. She knew her face and figure would be exposed, but that no longer mattered.
Asterios’ body was growing colder. His torn, muscular frame was stiffening in places. Roziana felt as if the blood were draining from her own body.
She wiped her tear-stained face.
‘No time to cry. Gregorian… yes, I must find the Holy Saint…’
Every time she looked at him, sobs broke uncontrollably, so she squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head back toward the sky.
“If only this were an illusion! If only the sisters I saw before were real—and this, what’s before me now, were false!”
Like unending rain, tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks again.
Roziana clenched her teeth, fists trembling. Even if it meant forfeiting the competition, she would find the Saint and save As.
But then—
Strong arms suddenly seized her waist from behind.
“Ah!”
Her body was pulled around, and hot lips pressed against hers.
“Mm?! Mm!”
Startled, she resisted, but she was enveloped in a tight embrace, unable to move at all.
“Mmph!”
And then, a hot, thick tongue forced its way between her lips, pushing deep inside without hesitation. It all happened so suddenly, she had no chance to think.
