Right after returning to Liam's private chamber, Mabel wasted no ti summoning a healer to tend to his injuries. She remained by the door, arms crossed, while the healer worked with precise, glowing hands.
"Apart from the broken ribs, you're in good condition. Nothing too serious beyond that," the healer announced, having finished nding the internal damage and sealing up the scattered cuts across Liam's arms and chest.
"You're all healed now, but you should rest after a warm shower. Healing magic still draws on your stamina, even if you don't feel it right away," she added, standing up with a small smile.
"Anyway, have a good day." The healer gave a polite nod and made her way to the door.
As she passed Mabel, who leaned silently against the wall, she dipped her head respectfully. Mabel returned the gesture with a simple, "Thank you," her voice soft but clear.
Her eyes followed Liam, who rose slowly from the edge of the bed and made his way to the bathroom, rolling his shoulder and testing for any lingering pain. Once he disappeared behind the door, Mabel let out a low sigh and let her head tilt slightly back.
'So it wasn't just so ntor-student bonding between him and Sir Magna,' she thought, exhaling through her nose. 'Personal protector. Right.'
Her eyes narrowed faintly.
'Two and a half years… The Queen really ant it when she said she was investing in him. And I just happen to be the pawn caught in the middle of that plan.' She crossed her arms tighter.
Left alone with only her thoughts, ti dragged. The quiet of the chamber pressed in, and still, her mind churned. She didn't like feeling manipulated, and she didn't like being placed on a path without having chosen it. Not when emotions were involved—emotions she wasn't even sure existed yet. She barely knew the kid. But sothing in the air between them kept tugging.
Eventually, the bathroom door opened. Liam stepped out, his hair damp and tousled, a towel draped over his head. His chest still bore faint lines where the healer's glow had just faded, but the damage was gone.
He walked to the wardrobe without a word, pulled out a fresh pair of dark pants and a gray shirt, dressed calmly, and then made his way to the couch. He dropped into it slowly, his body sinking back, eyes closing as his muscles settled into stillness.
Mabel watched him from her place near the door, still silent. Her gaze lingered.
'Sothing's bothering him…' she thought, narrowing her eyes slightly. 'He looks calm, but it's too quiet. Is he still thinking about what Lucy said? About being assigned to him? I'm thinking about it too… but I've learned to shut those thoughts out. He, on the other hand—no matter how cold he acts—he's still fifteen. A kid. Maybe I should say sothing. Distract him a little. Help him reset his mind.'
She bit her lip behind the mask and hesitated, unsure for a mont. Then, finally, she pushed herself off the wall and took a step forward.
"Hey, Liam…"
"Hey, Mabel…"
They spoke at the sa ti.
Both paused, surprised, catching each other off guard. Liam opened his eyes, still leaning back in the chair, and looked at her.
Mabel blinked and stared at him, her hazel-brown eyes locking with his crimson gaze, searching for any sign of what he might've ant to say.
"…What?" she asked after a beat, her voice quieter than before.
"I had sothing I wanted to ask, but it sounded like you were about to say sothing first," Liam said, his tone even.
"No, forget it. It wasn't important. Ask your question," Mabel replied, her face unreadable behind her mask.
Liam sat forward just slightly, resting his arms on his knees.
"Well, since you insist," he said casually. "In terms of security—which kingdom is stronger? Tempest… or Crescent?"
Mabel furrowed her brow at the unexpected question. Of all the things he could've asked, that one seed oddly specific—and yet strangely vague.
"I'd say Tempest has the edge," she said after a mont. "But Crescent's no pushover. Their defenses are well organized. Why do you ask?"
"No particular reason," Liam replied, voice quiet as his gaze drifted to the floor. "Just thinking about sothing."
He sat silently, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular, thoughts swirling behind his calm exterior.
'Queen Lucy and the other monarchs of Solara and Crescent have likely made the public announcent by now. The lockdown's probably already in effect.
That ans the Crescent Kingdom must've sent guards to escort Sheila back to her holand. Security should be airtight. So why… why do I still feel like sothing's wrong?'
His jaw tightened ever so slightly.
'Normally, I wouldn't care what happens to Sheila. She's not my problem. But ever since I learned she's tied to what Sylvathar needs—sothing about that truth has been gnawing at . Constantly.
It's hitting a nerve I didn't know I had.'
Across the room, Mabel watched him quietly, her brow slightly furrowed. Liam hadn't moved for a while. His eyes looked focused, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
'What's going on in that head of his? That's not the sa cold expression from earlier,' she thought, shifting her weight slightly. 'No, this isn't about Queen Lucy anymore. Sothing else is eating at him.'
"Li—"
Her voice was cut short as a portal suddenly burst open in the room with a soft rush of wind. From its shimring depths stepped Queen Lucy, elegant as ever, and Mystica, her violet eyes calm and unreadable.
"Looks like you've finally managed to clean yourself up," Lucy said, casting a casual glance toward Liam.
Liam blinked, the fog in his mind lifting as he raised his head and t her gaze.
"Galen inford us you've got a General-class hybrid in your shadow," Lucy continued, her tone still smooth. "We'd like to question him now—assuming you don't mind releasing him."
"Yeah, sure," Liam replied with a shrug. "Actually, can I just give you all of them? Having that many things crawling around in my shadow's more annoying than useful."
Mystica gave a small smile. "Of course. Follow us."
Without another word, Liam rose from the couch and moved to stand beside them. As the portal shimred in place, Lucy glanced back over her shoulder.
"Mabel, co with us as well."
The Royal Corps agent gave a small nod and fell in step behind Liam without hesitation.
They passed through the portal together and erged into a wide underground dungeon. The air was cool and still, and the stone walls were lined with floating orbs that pulsed with a gentle blue light, illuminating the vast space.
"You can release them here," Mystica said, turning to Liam.
Without a word, Liam stepped forward. His shadow stretched outward across the dungeon floor like an ink spill, shifting and thickening as it began to rise. One by one, the hybrids Liam had stored within it began to erge—lifeless bodies collapsing in heaps as the Void Storage released them. Their corpses bore the marks of decay, twisted and ruined from prolonged exposure to the abyssal space.
Mabel took a small step back, watching the scene unfold with a frown. The sll of rot and the lifeless thud of each body hitting the ground filled the chamber.
Lucy narrowed her eyes slightly, her arms crossed as the pile of corpses grew.
'They decayed completely…' Mabel thought. 'Guess the void of a dark magic user is completely different from a spatial magic user.'
Finally, the last figure erged from the darkness—Mourne, the hybrid general. His body hit the floor harder than the others, and with a ragged gasp, he inhaled a sharp breath like a man pulled back from drowning. His once-handso features were now warped with rot and injury. The burn Galen had carved across his skull remained—a blackened, twisted ruin. His limbs twitched feebly.
"Still alive," Mystica observed, stepping forward slowly.
"Barely," Mabel muttered, her voice low.
"If he'd stayed in that shadow prison any longer…" Lucy murmured, eyeing Mourne's withered form, "he wouldn't have made it.
"That's the general hybrid," Liam said flatly, stepping closer to the mutilated creature lying on the dungeon floor. Mourne's breaths were ragged, his regeneration stuttering, barely knitting flesh fast enough to keep his ruined form intact.
As Liam's shadow fell over him, Mourne's bloodshot eye rolled up to et the gaze of the boy responsible for his condition. Panic twisted across his broken face.
"You... you did this to !" he scread, his voice raw, spewing dark green blood from his cracked lips. "I'm going to kil—"
Before the words could leave his mouth, Liam summoned his longsword in a cold shimr of shadowed steel. In one smooth motion, he slashed across Mourne's ruined face, severing what remained of his eye.
"AHHHHHHHH!"
The hybrid shrieked, writhing in fresh agony.
"Why did you do that?" Mystica asked evenly, her expression unreadable as she watched Liam dismiss the weapon.
"Just because," Liam replied coolly. "And I hate his eyes."
A long silence followed, broken only by Mourne's pained groans.
"I see," Mystica murmured with a slight smirk.
"Well, thank you," Lucy said, turning her eyes to Liam. "It seems the kingdom owes you another debt."
Liam barely acknowledged the comnt. "Can I ask a question?"
"Of course."
"This lockdown the monarchs announced… what's it really about?" Liam asked, his voice deliberate. "Because I know the academies across Amthar aren't weak in defense."
Lucy gave a small smile. "And what do you think it's about?"
"A cover story. To stop civilians from panicking?"
"Exactly," she said. "We can't let news of the hybrids reach the public. If people knew, they would make rooting them out nearly impossible. Not to ntion—it would tip the hybrids off, and we lose the elent of controlled awareness."
"But last night changed things. The hybrids didn't just show up in Zone 8—they surfaced in Zone 9 too. That tells they're starting to act boldly, maybe even attempting to stir fear or provoke chaos. If that trend continues, we'll be dealing with a full-scale panic soon enough."
"I see," Liam said quietly, his eyes flicking back to Mourne's twitching, blood-drenched form.
"Any reason for asking?" Lucy pressed.
"I..." Liam paused, dragging a hand through his hair, a rare flicker of unease showing on his face. "No. Not really."
All three won—Lucy, Mystica, and Mabel—watched him closely.
Then Liam shifted slightly. "Can I stay while you interrogate him?"
Mystica arched a brow, then gave a small nod. "Sure. You're the reason we have him, after all. Just keep your distance."
Liam took a step back, coming to stand beside Mabel. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
'There's sothing different about him today...' she thought. 'He's quieter, more distant. Almost like he's… conflicted.'
Mystica stepped forward and raised her hand, lifting Mourne's body telekinetically off the blood-streaked floor. The hybrid groaned weakly as chains of shimring runes wrapped around his limbs and torso. A suppression sigil flared to life over his chest, quelling whatever energy he had left.
Once secured, Mourne was suspended mid-air, his decayed, disfigured body exposed to the room. Skin peeled in patches, limbs distorted from partial regeneration. The reek of rotting blood filled the air.
"You look worse than I imagined," Mystica said, stepping closer with narrowed eyes.
"Get away from … you animal," Mourne rasped. "Once I regenerate, you're all dood. Especially you, boy." His head turned toward Liam's direction, though he could no longer see. "You'll beg for—"
"Speak again and I'll end your miserable existence myself," Mystica interrupted, her voice still calm but lined with finality.
"Now listen carefully. We can pull everything from your mind if we want—every plan, every secret. It will kill you, but at this point, you probably wouldn't survive the process anyway."
She tilted her head, her tone turning frost-edged.
"Or… you can cooperate. Speak. And maybe we'll let you die with so semblance of dignity."
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