I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

Chains appeared out of thin air around her, just as they had this morning, and sped toward the young banshees in the distance.

Then, amidst their cries of "Again?!", they were carried one by one to the front of the black tower and made to stand in rows, crammed together.

Nasti was among them. The instant she was bound by chains, she was actually only a kilometer away from the tower. She could see the two figures talking about something at the foot of the tower just by looking out.

So she's confused now, because Ramalyn's current actions conflict with her original judgment... Or is it that none of them have passed her test?

The ruler of the royal court also noticed this confusion.

"Remember everything that happened today, keep every detail and every action firmly in your minds, young succubi."

The gentle voice was no longer as loving and tender as it had been this morning; instead, it sounded more like the ice of the Sami tundra, which only forms amidst desolation and never melts.

The Lord of the Royal Court delivered these words calmly to the ears of the female demons, who were previously preoccupied with their own thoughts.

Their movements quickly froze and stopped due to these chilling words; even the thought of moving their bodies was frozen in place.

This must be the river valley, their home.

Is this...is this really a river valley?

Is it that battlefield in Kazdel, which can only be recalled in dreams?

------

Pushing open the gates of the Tower of Words, the Queen of the Royal Court walked at the head of the procession, with a silver pegasus beside her. The banshees quietly formed a line in order and followed behind them.

As they ascended the spiral staircase to the tower, the steps moved beneath their feet with the power of the words. Some of the little banshees nearly slipped and fell, but were quickly lifted up by a gentle breeze.

The ruler of the royal court did not stop or pause for even a moment.

As they stepped onto the last step, the exquisitely carved gate slowly opened before them. The older banshees, having received a message from Lamaren earlier, had been waiting there for some time.

"Welcome, Banshee, friend of the Sarkaz, the Unrecorded—"

The leading banshee expressed her boundless respect, but when she raised her head to look straight ahead, all the banshees' words were trapped in their throats, as if they had even forgotten how to speak.

Doubts swirled among the banshees, their gazes quickly settling on the floor. For a moment, apart from the leading banshee, none of them could meet the eyes of the King of the Royal Court walking ahead.

After a long wait, the leading succubus finally asked tremblingly:

"Ramalen, our sister, why have you become like this? The valley's defenses weren't triggered; it's the enemy who invaded our homeland!"

The king of the royal court focused his gaze on the female demon who had lowered her head before him, and then closed his eyes.

"There are no enemies in the valley, and our home remains the same."

“But I have found my future, the future that the Cyclops could not foresee, the future that will allow the Banshee to continue and prosper.”

"Now, my sisters, please open the door to the upper level."

"Protect the young banshees, shield them from the pain of the curse. Protect the ancient tower, shelter this place from the ravages of storms."

As expected, no banshee questioned it, nor did any banshee hesitate.

……

The door leading to the upper level conceals the place of trial.

This was a vast circular arena, surrounded by towering walls constructed of dark gray stone, their surfaces carved with intricate patterns and incantations. In the center of the arena lay an open space, the rock's texture marked with mottled traces—some cracks left from battle, others scorched marks seemingly from the heat.

The surrounding high platforms are arranged in a ring, rising layer by layer along the steep walls like a giant staircase. Although there is no one here now, the wind seems to still carry the shouts of the past.

The top of the arena is an open canopy, the highest level of the Word Tower, where the young banshee has her first chance to touch the dome.

What symbolizes the transformation of a female demon from youth to adulthood is not her age, but rather the knowledge, skills, and intellect she possesses.

So before embarking on the path of separation, the elders gather the still-immature children together to witness the birth of a mature soul.

Today, the place of trial will not witness the immaturity we saw in the past.

The silver Pegasus walked to a corner of the arena.

The ruler of the royal court walked towards the opposite side.

The elder banshee led a group of still-immature souls toward the surrounding high platforms.

……

"I saw corpses piled up like mountains, and blood congealed into rivers."

The Lord of the Royal Court spoke softly.

"I have found a place of peace, I have found a valley."

"I hope for an end to war, I hope for lasting peace."

Her voice gradually rose from a murmur throughout the venue, soaring into the sky with the wind blowing from the dome.

"Here, I see the future has arrived."

She gripped the bone pen tightly in her hand, and countless incantations wrapped around her body, instantly covering the entire area.

"My name is Ramalen Ducanfaris, Lord of the Court of Deathstroke, one of the six heroes of the Sarkaz."

"Here I challenge my friends, my hopes, and my future."

……

"Call me Gerald."

"It's silver Pegasus," the horse said softly.

He drew his sword from its sheath, the ring on his hand and the cloth on his shoulder both swirling with a certain obscurity, the wind above the dome lifting his body and suspending him in the air.

The silver light on the sword's blade stopped the incantation in front of him, preventing it from advancing any further.

"My enemy, my friend."

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Seizing the Wind's Wings

"Vertical" or "vertical".

The incantation disappeared into the surrounding air, passing through the compressed wind shield protecting Gerald without hindrance, only to be dodged by Pegasus at the last second.

On the battlefield, she only needs to let the last note fall, and the incantation will transform into a spear that reaches the enemy and pierces their skull.

But she is no longer facing the ordinary soldiers who challenge her with artillery fire and magic on the battlefield.

The silver Pegasus was faster, stronger, and more fearless than them.

His shoulder-length silver hair was scattered by the rushing incantation, and in the next moment, the strands of hair that were floating in the air appeared directly next to Lamaren, along with the sword in his hand, and slashed towards the banshee's head.

"Guard."

From the endless incantations spreading across the ground a deep black shield was born, the flowing runes intertwined and cleaved in two the instant they clashed with the sword.

The sword's momentum was slightly blocked, but the shield, which had been cut in half, reformed in mid-air and, having tasted its power, rammed itself into the location of the sword blade.

Stop, turn around, and use your sword to strike the two separated shields—in close combat, the side with the weapon is always the greatest threat, while exposing the vulnerable side to the opponent is the greatest taboo.

But Lamarle is not General Felin.

She can use words to construct everything in her imagination; all the words she has written by hand since birth will become her strength, paving the way for her to move forward.

But the speed was never fast enough. The spells that gathered like a tidal wave could only gradually erode the winds carried by Gerald. They could only rush towards their target like a tail, and then be blocked by the gale that Gerald had used to block them.

His death will not come until his strength is exhausted and his Originium Arts can no longer be sustained.

Everything before that should be under his control.

Gerald was transformed by his 109 duels with General Felin.

The sensation of the monster's sharp claws piercing his body remained in his soul, lingering for a long time.

Just like the monster's sharp claws, although the incantation cannot be severed, it can still be considered part of Originium Arts, and both can be blocked by the wind.

If the clash of ordinary Originium Arts would bring annihilation, then now his wind and Ramalen's incantation are blended together like water and oil.

The layers are distinct, yet so different.

As expected, this weakness was exploited by Lamaren. She lightly traced the bone pen in the air, pointing it towards Pegasus, and then clearly and unimpededly uttered the next incantation.

"Wither."

To dodge this incredibly close-range, instantaneous curse, which could be fatal, Gerald had to contort his body into an inhuman shape and take another step closer to Ramalyn, maximizing his close-combat advantage—

"Cut it off."

So the succubus murmured softly.

……

There will always be misunderstandings.

They believed that the banshee, who only carried a bone pen on the battlefield, had no ability to fight back after close contact.

Once their long-range incantations are dodged, if they take just one more step closer, swords will sever their bodies, and they will no longer be able to sing any more laments.

But have you ever wondered why a banshee would use spells?

Just as the thunder that splits the sky in two is likened to a divine spear, the raindrops falling from the clouds are seen as the tears of immortals.

Thus, all things are tied to thoughts and words, which together construct everything in this world.

Incantations give life and soul to concepts, bringing them back to reality.

The sorceress who wields the power of incantations is able to reconstruct the laws within her courtyard, subjugate all things to her decrees, and unleash eternal wailing and torment upon any enemy who dares to intrude.

Lamaren had already anticipated that after the opponent dodged, the only space left would be an inescapable blind spot.

Hiss.

That was the sound of skin and flesh being cut open.

The slash traversed Gerald's body from his shoulder to one side of his chest. If it hadn't struck something hard when it hit his right arm, his entire arm would probably have been severed along with it.

Blood gushed uncontrollably from the wound, cascading across the ground like a waterfall. The thorns surrounding the platform seemed to sense the pain, their dark color deepening.

—That was Gerald's blood, and Ramalen's blood.

Pegasus's smile momentarily stunned Ramallen.

By the time Ramalyn realized that the source of this dizziness was not a mental influence but her body, her shoulder had already been pierced by a sword.

But the sword that should have been on the other side, the one that had pried open the two shields and dissolved them into the incantation, had clearly fallen to the ground with her strike.

……

Lamarle is not General Felin.

Gerald's rigid yet masterful swordsmanship left him little chance to make a mistake. During their first meeting, he could only manage to stop the sword that had pierced his body by moving his body, despite his best efforts.

But Lamaren was different.

His compatibility with his opponent was indeed extremely poor, because the Banshee Queen's incantations were almost endless, while his Originium Arts were always finite. He simply couldn't hold out until his opponent's stamina was exhausted. The incantations that were constantly chasing him would tear his body apart and send him plummeting to hell.

No matter how many souls the banshee claimed in her courtyard, her invincible skills on the battlefield were always slightly inferior to those of General Felin in a one-on-one duel.

The countdown, symbolizing the end, is still ticking, but now, at least like him, Ramalyn is injured and bleeding.

My right hand is broken, but it's okay.

The sword is gone, it's alright.

He also has a left hand, and the wind will transform back into a longsword that falls into his palm and fights alongside him.

He still has limbs; he still has his whole body.

As long as the wind keeps blowing, he won't fall.

The distance between him and Lamaren widened, and guided by the wind, he stepped into the sky. The unrecited incantation seemed to transform into his wings at this moment, circling around him, yet hindered by the wind and unable to advance even an inch.

Only incantations chanted by the Queen of the Sorceress have the right to touch him.

------

On the high platform, the older banshees had already closed their eyes; they could not bear to watch what was about to happen.

In their memory, Ramalyn was rarely injured.

The Lord of Carrion can turn the dead into his own life, the Lich will hide his life knot, and the Banshee can only heal herself through incantations after battle, so she must always be aware of the changes on the field.

Even knowing that Pegasus was probably nearing his limit and that Lamaren would eventually stop—they were still afraid of what was about to happen.

They feared that in these peaceful times, those they cared about would lose their lives.