“How far has the evacuation of the audience progressed?”
Max, the soldier in charge of the Craft High Merchant’s troops and delegated with on-site command by his lord, asked a guard member.
“The evacuation is complete. Some students are showing signs of poisoning, but as planned, the Alchemy Department is already treating them.”
“Your lord’s foresight is indeed shining.”
He hadn’t expected such a radical and reckless approach, but it felt rewarding to have prepared for the cult’s gas attack.
Max gripped the railing of the airship and looked down at the ground.
The tournament building, in the shape of a circular duel arena, was completely filled with purple, billowing gas.
The gas enveloped the arena, flooding the spectator area like poison bubbling in a pot.
The circular building acted like a sealed chamber, and the purple gas, heavier than air, filled the space without easily escaping.
In fact, even if it were to be expelled immediately, it would still be a problem. Stalls were lined up around the building, so they needed to resolve the evacuation outside to prevent further damage.
So ironically, they were using wind magic at every entrance to stop the gas from escaping.
“According to the professors of the Alchemy Department, the gas vapor pressure is low, and even after finishing the evacuation around the perimeter, it will take about 20 minutes to expel the gas. Only after that can we properly suppress it.”
“Foolish radical bastards. Do they want to carry out a suicide attack?”
It’s routine to bring an airship here. It was within the realm of expectation to hover an airship above the arena and bomb the gas.
But that wasn’t the case. They accelerated the airship recklessly, getting hit by anti-airfire, crashing straight into the magical barriers above, and plummeting into the middle of the arena.
Naturally, the crashing airship was smashed to bits, but instead of a controlled descent, the explosive release of the gas from the collision spread in an instant.
“Still, one of the terror scenarios you prepared has avoided major damage.”
Though the reckless airship crash was unexpected, the lord had prepared for an invasion of the arena. After all, Lady Elshire was a target for assassination. There’s no easier way to execute a kill than to interrupt a tournament duel.
Thus, as the airship crashed, the barrier’s magic circle activated, temporarily separating the arena from the spectators and preventing the gas from spilling over. Thanks to evacuating the audience in the meantime, damages were minimized.
“But…”
It was still difficult to rescue student Melissa and student Elshire, who were trapped in the gas-filled training ground.
“Is it really going to take 20 minutes to release the gas? Don’t just consider the wizards; find a way to cut down the time!”
“Yes!”
Max clenched the railing of the airship tightly. The arena was shrouded in gas, and he could not see what was happening.
The surviving demon terrorists from the airship crash were firing their weapons amidst the gas. They were likely trying to assassinate Elshire, as per the cult’s request.
Since the knight order wasn’t showing up, they could do whatever they wanted.
One soldier pointed to the other side.
“Your lord has returned!”
Turning his head, a girl with pink hair riding a white broomstick flew in.
She flew to the railing of the airship and stopped in front of Max. As she brushed her hair back, she looked down at the tournament arena.
“What’s the situation?”
Her voice was icy, distinct from her usual lively tone.
The lord would likely discern from the visual spectacle alone that their friends, who had been in the match, were in danger, yet she maintained her composure. It was a rational stance, starkly different from her usual softheartedness tied to her friends.
Max was reassured once more that Craft was merely acting naive as a facade.
Though the newspaper club was ordered to publish a bizarre explanation suggesting that Craft was just swept up in a coup led by Max, it had to be a media manipulation tactic.
Max conveyed the situation.
“Regardless of the professors’ assessments that gas processing will take about 20 minutes, we plan to bombard the outer walls with the airship to cut down on that time.”
“So, the evacuation of the audience is done?”
“Yes.”
Upon hearing his answer, the girl relaxed her expression, as if realizing she didn’t need to be bound to her control tower duties any longer.
“Then, Max, focus on the outer evacuation and prevent casualties.”
The girl glowered at the arena.
“I’m going to rescue them.”
“Excuse me?”
The white broom swiftly accelerated. Wind swirled around as her pink hair trailed like a tail.
“Your lord?!”
Max leaned over the railing to watch her.
“It’s dangerous! The rescue operation should wait until the gas clears…”
Then he hesitated.
Watching the lord plunge unhesitatingly into the billowing purple gas brought an odd thought to mind.
It seemed as if that action was fueled by an urgency to rush to her friend’s aid, unable to contain her impulsiveness.
But Max knew. Craft wasn’t that kind of person.
Rumors regarding the knight order flashed through his mind.
Hadn’t it been said that when the lord caught the Demon Mercenary Leader, they remarked, “A tool with no more use shall be disposed of”?
If that was the case…
What remained was…
It had to be either the known poison gas or one that the lord herself had concocted, thus she was unbothered by it.
No way.
Is it true that the lord orchestrated the terror to strengthen her power, and now she seeks to dispose of the terrorists herself?
Or perhaps, not receiving proper credit for her recently performed innocent facade, she wants to show a side of sacrifice for her friend?
If she could rescue just two students trapped in the arena, it would neatly wrap up the situation without resorting to major disasters like the airship crash. Almost as if it had been planned from the start.
Soon, the lord vanished into the purple gas.
Max cut off his train of thought.
Wondering whether it was true or not was pointless.
After all, Craft had always been this way.
Melissa leaned against the outer wall of the arena, catching her breath. The magic wand in her hand created a gust, pushing the surrounding gas away.
She broke into a fit of coughs.
She covered her mouth with a handkerchief, which soon bore a red stain.
“Mother, I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t able to adhere to your teachings of always being cautious and vigilant.”
Focusing too much on the match against Bellamont, she failed to respond swiftly; there were no excuses.
“I’m sorry.”
“More and more, I’m failing to uphold your teachings.”
“Can I truly lead Camelot well like this?”
“Such thoughts have been creeping into my mind lately.”
“Good-hearted Pastel… well… she’s been suspicious lately, but she’s still good at her core. She’s getting her hands dirty to save our family, engaging in things like smuggling or taking control of the administrative rights of the Sky Island.”
“Although those actions lack dignity and culture and are filled with greed, as the only surviving head of the Craft family, is it not her duty?”
“Doing horrible things for the fallen family members, willing to get her hands dirty and endure criticism, is a dreadful task.”
“It’s a journey that binds you to the past and throws you into the future, whether you want it or not.”
“If it were me…
If I were to…”
“I don’t think I could do it.”
“Honestly, it’s disgraceful.”
“To decide my future bearing the shame of being unrecognized and only receiving insults—it’s something I can’t allow myself to endure.”
“Such thoughts have been lingering in my mind lately, as well.”
“Could it be that my mother’s teachings aren’t wrong? Not entirely, at least.”
“When I reflect on what’s transpired during the second semester, Pastel would definitely be someone I should avoid according to my mother’s teachings.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“As the dignified heir of Camelot, I can’t betray the responsible lord of Craft.”
“Because that’s not how nobles ought to act.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“From the start of the second semester, I disregarded the teachings and ended up following Pastel to Bellamont’s dormitory. Even from a distant table, I enjoyed a tea party with them.”
“Even if the vulgar Bellamont raised a stink and caused a scene, I have no regrets.”
“Because the cookies we shared were delicious.”
“Could this be the betrayal guilt Pastel mentioned?”
“I’ve become a rebel.”
Melissa wiped her mouth with the bloodied handkerchief.
“But perhaps my mother was right.”
“If I had ignored Bellamont from the very beginning, I wouldn’t have neglected my caution while focusing on the match.”
“Indeed.”
“If I had disregarded Pastel from the outset, not being drawn into that baseless declaration of friendship, avoiding friendships altogether…”
“Would this situation have happened?”
“Mother.
My esteemed mother.”
“But still.”
“I have no regrets.”
“The cookies were delicious, and the girl in front of me is beautiful.”
“Melissa!”
Pastel, who had shrieked softly, brought her broom to a halt. She vigilantly observed the gas-shrouded surroundings before getting off the broom.
“Are you spitting up blood?!”
“It’s just a simple cough.”
Melissa calmly replied, wiping the blood from her lips and folding her handkerchief.
“What happened to the audience? I saw the gas spread to the spectator area. Was everyone evacuated?”
“Is this really the time for you to worry about that?!”
Gah!
Pastel let out a silent scream and fidgeted, yet her hands began to logically pull out the antidote. It was impressive.
“Well, that makes sense.”
Melissa smiled.
“You probably resolved it, right?”
Pastel frowned slightly.
“Quit smiling and drink it already!”
“I will.”
The antidote tasted like candy.
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