Very soon, Pavela's mind quieted down.
The system stopped speaking.
It had fallen silent.
But it was not dormant.
It was more like... a busy silence.
It was racing against ti, taking advantage of the resonance stone still sharing the load to build as many defensive lines for her psyche as possible.
It had to prevent her from dying of pain the mont the connection was severed.
Pavela sighed.
She leaned back in the pilot's seat, looking out through the ch.
The night sky was dark.
The stars were bright.
The ruins were quiet.
She thought about the battle that had just taken place.
She thought about the woman in the green dress, the giant, and the spear that had pierced through everything.
Then she asked herself: Do I regret it?
Do I regret fully unleashing the power of the Path of the Tower during the fight?
Well, she did not even need to think about that for a second.
No regrets.
Because it was a battle.
A fight to the death.
That woman wanted to kill Victoria.
She wanted to kill her, she wanted to kill everyone.
And she was an extrely troubleso high-sequence Wayfarer, too.
So, she had ensured the other party's complete destruction at any cost.
That was what battle was like.
Either win or die; there was no third option.
And as for the so-called price, that was a fruit only the victor had the qualifications to taste.
However.
Not regretting it did not an she did not care about what the system had just said.
After all, that was real, excruciating pain!
For her, although she was not objectively afraid of pain, she was subjectively afraid of it.
Tsk.
Pavela closed her eyes.
Forget it.
Thinking about this was useless.
If it hurts, it hurts.
It was not the first ti, anyway.
The most urgent task was to call for reinforcents—her sister, Eleanor.
She opened her eyes, pulled a piece of paper and a pen from her clothes, and looked at the pigeon on her shoulder.
The pigeon was perched there, watching her with its round, beady eyes.
"Do a favor," Pavela said.
Her voice was a little lower than usual, tinged with fatigue.
"Help write a note to Eleanor."
The pigeon tilted its head.
"Coo?"
Pavela continued, "Just, have her co pick up."
"And clean up the aftermath, and take Victoria and the others away, too."
The pigeon blinked, silent for a mont.
Then, it silently raised a claw and displayed it in front of Pavela.
It was a bird's claw, with thin toe bones, sharp tips, and covered in fine scales.
The pigeon looked at Pavela.
"Coo-coo?" it said, its tone carrying a sense of helplessness.
You an for to write with this?
Pavela looked at the claw, then back at the pigeon.
She nodded.
"Yes," she said.
Then, feeling a bit embarrassed, she added, "Well, there is no other way; I have not fully learned how to write yet."
The pigeon stared at her for about three seconds, then sighed.
A pigeon, emitting a very human-like sigh.
"Coo—"
It hopped onto the console, held the paper down with its claw, picked up the pen with its beak, and began to write.
Its movents were skillful.
The nib glided across the paper, leaving behind neat lines of writing.
This handwriting was far better than Pavela's.
About a minute later, the pigeon finished.
It picked up the note and handed it to Pavela.
Pavela took it and glanced at it.
Then, she froze.
"My favorite sister Eleanor: I am at the Rosenthal Manor. The ch's fuel is exhausted, and I cannot move for the mont. Victoria, Charlotte, Frederick, and Reinhardt are all safe but need to be evacuated. There are also several unconscious prisoners who need dical attention. Please co quickly to pick us up. Miss you. — Your favorite sister, Pavela."
Pavela stared at those two lines.
"My favorite sister Eleanor."
"Your favorite sister Pavela."
And that phrase—"Miss you."
Her brain stuttered.
Wait.
This form of address.
This signature.
And that "Miss you"—she slowly raised her head and looked at the pigeon.
The pigeon was tilting its head, looking at her.
Its round eyes were full of innocence.
"Coo?" it said, as if asking: Is there a problem?
Pavela stared at it for about five seconds.
Then she realized.
This guy—she was doing it on purpose.
She was teasing her about her relationship with Eleanor.
Pavela's face suddenly felt hot.
She felt the tips of her ears heating up.
The pigeon tilted its head, watching her with sparkling eyes.
"Coo," it said, its tone carrying a sense of triumphant delight.
Pavela's face turned even redder.
She wanted to say sothing, but she did not know what to say.
She looked at the note, then at the pigeon.
"I..." she started, her voice small.
"I did not..."
"Eleanor and I are not..."
The pigeon let out a "coo."
It sounded like it was laughing.
Pavela's face grew even hotter.
She rolled up the note with a bit of force.
Then she reached out and gently poked the pigeon's head.
"Chatterbox..." she said, her voice tinged with bashful annoyance.
But she was not truly angry.
She kept her head down and stuffed the note into the copper tube on the pigeon's leg.
Her movents were a bit clumsy because her face was still burning, and the tips of her ears were red enough to drip blood.
"Go on, quickly," she said, opening the cockpit.
"Be careful."
The pigeon flapped its wings and took off.
Before flying away, it let out another "coo."
It sounded like it was laughing.
No, it was clearly laughing.
Pavela watched it disappear into the night sky, then sighed and buried her face in her hands.
"Favorite sister..." she whispered, repeating the words.
Her voice was muffled.
"What the hell is this..."
But the corners of her mouth could not help but curl up.
But actually—actually, it was not wrong.
Eleanor was indeed her sister.
And she did, indeed... miss her a little.
Pavela's face turned even redder.
She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes.
Her ears were still burning.
Forget it, forget it.
Anyway, when Sister Eleanor sees this note, she will probably laugh too.
That kind of teasing laugh.
Then she will rub her head and say sothing like "Good girl" or "So cute."
Pavela thought of that scene, and her face grew redder still.
Ahhh.
Stop thinking about it.
The more she thought, the more embarrassed she felt.
User Comments
0 comments from readers