As we walked away from Bordon, I glanced back once.

He was watching us go, chewing happily on a skewer of grilled meat, looking entirely too relaxed for a man standing in the middle of a target zone.

'Ferry. Coaster. Food court.'

I mentally marked their locations on my internal map. They were scattered. That wasn't ideal. When the attack started, the protagonist party would be cut off from each other, unable to form their usual invincible formation.

But there was nothing I could do about it now.

"Lucien?" Ariana whispered, squeezing my hand tightly. Her palm was damp. "Is something wrong?"

I looked back at her, forcing a gentle smile to mask the tension coiling in my gut.

"Nothing. Just… thinking about what to say to my mother."

We reached the security checkpoint for the VIP area. I flashed my invitation, the gold crest gleaming in the sun, and the guards stepped aside to let us through.

Beyond the velvet ropes, the noise of the common crowd faded, replaced by the clinking of porcelain teacups and the polite, hushed murmur of high nobility.

And there, sitting at the center table with the best view of the stage, was Countess Lyriana Ashborne.

She spotted us instantly.

Her eyes lit up like she had just seen a pile of gold coins.

"Here comes the storm," I muttered under my breath.

"Mother," I said, stopping before the table.

Countess Lyriana Ashborne set down her teacup with a soft clink. She didn't look at me. Her eyes were locked entirely on the girl standing beside me.

Her gaze swept over Ariana—taking in the lavender dress, the braided silver hair, the white flower accessories, and finally, the way Ariana was unconsciously gripping my hand for support.

For a long, agonizing second, Lyriana's expression remained unreadable.

Ariana stopped breathing. She stood rigid, posture perfect, but I could feel her hand trembling against mine.

Then, Lyriana smiled.

It wasn't the polite, practiced smile of a noblewoman. It was the beaming, delighted smile of a woman who had just won the lottery.

"Oh my," she breathed, standing up gracefully. "You didn't tell me she was an angel, Lucien."

Ariana blinked, her face flushing instant red.

"I—uh—pardon?"

"Welcome, dear," Lyriana stepped forward, bypassing me completely to take Ariana's free hand. "I am Lyriana Ashborne. And you must be the brave soul who managed to tolerate my son's personality."

"M-Mother," I groaned, rubbing my forehead. "Please."

Ariana looked between us, bewildered, before remembering her etiquette. She curtseyed deeply, flawless despite her nerves.

"It is an honor to meet you, Countess Ashborne. I am Ariana Solmere."

"Solmere," Lyriana repeated, her eyes softening with recognition. "I knew your mother briefly. You have her eyes."

She squeezed Ariana's hand warmly.

"Come, sit. I've been dying to meet you."

As we sat down, the tension in Ariana's shoulders slowly evaporated under Lyriana's aggressive hospitality. My mother had a talent for making people feel special—mostly by ignoring everyone else in the room to focus solely on them.

"So," Lyriana asked, pouring tea for Ariana herself—an act that made the nearby waiters panic and rush forward, only to be waved away. "Is he treating you well? If he ever acts like his father—stubborn, brooding, and emotionally constipated—you just tell me. I'll handle him."

Ariana glanced at me. I looked away, feigning interest in the stage.

A shy, genuine smile touched her lips.

"He… he treats me very well, Countess. He saved me."

Lyriana paused. She looked at Ariana's sincere expression, heard the weight in those words, and then looked at me.

"I see," she whispered, looking pleased. "Well done, my son. Well done."

I took a sip of tea to hide my embarrassment.

"The ceremony is starting," I said, pointing toward the central stage below to change the subject.

The massive clock tower chimed.

Dong.

The orchestral music swelled to a crescendo. On the main stage, a woman stepped up to the mana-amplified podium. She was dressed in a dazzling gown of white and gold, her hair styled in an elaborate updo—the Manager of CrystalVale.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" her voice boomed across the park, clear and joyous. "Welcome to CrystalVale! A testament to the prosperity and innovation of our great Empire!"

Cheers erupted from the thousands gathered below. Confetti cannons fired, filling the air with a blizzard of glittering paper.

In the VIP section, nobles clapped politely. My mother leaned back, smiling as she watched the spectacle. Ariana looked at me, her eyes shining with happiness.

It was perfect.

And then, the sky cracked.

It wasn't a sound. It was a sensation. A heavy, static pressure that slammed down on the chest.

VMMMMMMMM.

A massive, transparent dome appeared over the entire park—shimmering with a sickly, violet hue.

It wasn't the park's safety barrier. The mana signature was wrong. It was darker. Heavier.

The cheering crowd didn't notice at first. But the mages in the VIP section did.

"What is that?" a noble muttered, standing up and spilling his wine. "That mana signature… it's locking us in."

On the stage, the announcer frowned, tapping the microphone.

"Apologies, it seems we have a technical—"

BANG.

The announcer's head exploded.

It happened in an instant. One moment she was speaking, smiling at the crowd. The next, a red mist sprayed across the golden podium.

The crowd went silent.

For one heartbeat, nobody understood what they were seeing. The confetti kept falling, landing in the pool of blood spreading on the stage.

Then, the headless body collapsed.

And the screaming began.

"KYAAAAAAAAAH!"

"SHE'S DEAD!!"

Chaos erupted. The glittering confetti suddenly looked like drops of blood.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Explosions rocked the park. Not fireworks. Real, mana-charged detonations.

The massive ferris wheel shuddered as its support pillars were blasted apart. With a groan of twisting metal, it tilted dangerously, screams echoing from the suspended carriages. Smoke billowed from the food court, turning the blue sky gray.

And from the crowd—from the shadows, from the staff entrances, from the very guests standing next to each other—figures donned crimson masks.

They drew weapons. Swords. Wands. Daggers dripping with poison.

"Purge the corrupt!" one of them screamed, his voice amplified by magic. "Infernus has arrived!"

They didn't just attack the guards. They attacked everyone.

Panic swept through the VIP deck. Nobles screamed, overturning tables, scrambling for the exit—only to find the doors blocked by masked mages casting walls of fire into the room.

"Lucien!" Ariana grabbed my arm, her face pale.

"Stay close," I said, my voice icy calm.

I kicked the heavy mahogany table over, creating a makeshift barricade.

"Mother, get behind me."

Lyriana stood up. Her face was pale, but her eyes were sharp. She didn't scream. She was the wife of a frontier Count; she knew what war looked like.

"Lucien," she said tightly, her hand going to the small defensive artifact on her necklace. "We need to reach the knights outside."

"We can't."

I reached into the empty air. A ripple of spatial magic distorted the space near my hand.

I pulled out the Benelli M4 Super 90.

The heavy, matte-black metal gleamed menacingly in the sunlight. It looked nothing like the elegant weapons of this world. It looked like a tool of slaughter.

I racked the bolt. CLACK-CLACK.

"The barrier cuts off physical passage and communication," I said, stepping in front of the two women. "We're trapped."

I raised the shotgun toward the VIP entrance where a masked mage was preparing a fireball.

***

Chaos wasn't a strong enough word.

The VIP deck had turned into a warzone. While the majority of the nobles were screaming and cowering under tables, a few—those with martial backgrounds or enchanted jewelry—were fighting back.

A Baron used a ring-artifact to blast a gust of wind at an attacker. A merchant's bodyguard, who had managed to smuggle in a knuckle-duster, was grappling with a masked cultist.

BOOM!

I fired the Benelli M4. The slug tore through the chest of a mage trying to flank us, painting the white tablecloths red.

"Boss!"

Two figures cut through the smoke and panic, moving against the tide of fleeing guests.

Alicia blasted a path with a stream of fire, incinerating a cultist instantly, while Lena moved like a phantom, her daggers flashing as she slit the throat of another who got too close.

They reached our barricade breathless but unharmed.

"You're safe!" Alicia gasped, eyeing my shotgun with relief. "We saw the barrier go up and—"

"Situation report," I cut her off, racking the bolt.

"It's bad," Lena said, her voice devoid of emotion. "They blocked the main exits. They're herding the civilians toward the center. It's a slaughter down there."

I gritted my teeth.

"Alicia, Lena. Stay here. Fortify this position."

I looked at my mother.

"Mother, don't leave this corner. Lena is better than any knight outside that barrier. She will keep you safe."

"And you?" Lyriana asked, her eyes widening.

I turned toward the exit. "I'm going out."

"No!"

She grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Lucien, look at that madness! You cannot go out there! You are a student, not a soldier!"

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