Her voice grew fainter, her logic sowhat muddled. "Alison said... said you ca here, that the situation was very dangerous... I... I wanted to..."
’What did she want to say?’
’She wanted to co see for herself?’
’To make sure he was safe?’
For a Royal Princess, especially one rely twelve years old, such words were difficult to voice and seed rather inappropriate.
Her small face flushed, as much from running as from sheer awkwardness.
’She couldn’t just co right out and say she’d been so worried about him that she’d run over despite the known danger, could she?’
’Especially since he’d just survived such a world-shaking battle completely unscathed. Her concern now seed rather redundant and childish.’
Alison, watching the Princess’s awkwardness from behind, had a flicker of resignation in her eyes but remained silent.
Quentin and the three Archbishops paused their conversation. They glanced with so surprise at the sudden appearance of Her Highness the Princess, then over to Murphy, seeming to sense the unusual atmosphere.
Murphy watched Elizabeth stamr, her face beet-red, and didn’t press the issue.
He could, of course, deduce the gist of the situation and see her undisguised concern.
Though in his eyes, that concern was likely driven by the impulsiveness and recklessness typical of soone her age.
"The battlefield isn’t secure, and danger remains." His gaze shifted to Alison. "Knight Alison, escort Her Highness the Princess back to the Inner Castle and see that she is settled safely. This is no place to linger."
Hearing him command Alison directly, with no trace of bla in his voice, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. Yet at the sa ti, she felt an inexplicable pang of disappointnt.
She opened her mouth as if to say more, but under Murphy’s placid gaze and the stares of Quentin and the others, she swallowed her words. Instead, she just gave a small nod and whispered, "Yes... You... please be careful."
Alison imdiately stepped forward, bowed, and said, "As you command, Lord lfield."
Then she turned to Elizabeth and said softly, "Your Highness, we should be going."
Elizabeth gave Murphy one last look, her gaze lingering for a mont on his impassive face. Then, at Alison’s prompting, she turned reluctantly. She walked back the way she ca, down a path the soldiers had cleared, heading toward the Inner Castle.
Only, her steps seed heavier than they had on her way here. Every so often, she would glance back at the deep blue figure standing beside the giant insect’s carcass.
"Quentin, how are your injuries?" Murphy paid Elizabeth no mind, his gaze sweeping over Quentin’s deathly pale face and trembling hands.
The Legendary Knight had clearly reached his limit. If not for sheer willpower, he would have collapsed long ago.
"Not dead yet." Quentin managed a tired but resolute smile. He tried to stand straighter, but his body betrayed him, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I just won’t be able to fight for a while, I’m afraid. You, on the other hand, my lord..."
His gaze toward Murphy was filled with amazent. "That last sword strike... powerful as Thunder, yet lethally precise... My lord, to have just entered the Legendary Realm and already wield such power is astounding. How did you..."
He didn’t finish, but his aning was clear.
As far as Quentin could recall, the Northern Governor had definitely not set foot into the Legendary Realm before entering the Deep Red Wilderness.
To break through in just ten days and display such astonishing combat prowess was sothing Quentin had rarely witnessed in his long career as a warrior.
Murphy said simply, "A fortunate turn of events. I had an epiphany in the Deep Red Wilderness and was lucky enough to break through."
He did not elaborate.
’In truth, in terms of sheer physical strength, my Essence has reached 3.1, putting at the threshold of a Legendary Knight. However, there is still likely a gap between and a veteran Legendary Knight like Quentin.’
’The key to my Attack Power, which rivals that of a Legendary Knight, is the Flying Sword.’
Of course, there was no need to explain this to Quentin.
"A breakthrough in the Deep Red Wilderness..." Quentin repeated softly. The amazent in his eyes deepened, now mingled with an unnaable, complex emotion.
’To break through in that environnt and return alive is a testant to one’s strength. It requires both imnse willpower and incredible luck.’
"I’m impressed." He finally offered the two words, not probing any further.
"The situation is stable for now, but the passage remains open. The monsters have retreated, but they haven’t gone far." Murphy raised a hand, pointing toward Eagle’s Beak Peak. "Our priority is to assess our remaining defenses, reorganize the line, and prepare for the next assault. Furthermore..."
He paused. "There should be Great Knights returning from the Deep Red Wilderness over at Eagle’s Beak Peak. They closed the Plane Passage—an invaluable contribution—but they are likely spent, perhaps even seriously wounded. They need extraction."
At his words, the three Archbishops’ expressions also turned grave.
The white-haired Archbishop coughed twice, his voice frail yet clear. "Lord lfield is correct. The three of us... will need at least a full day to recover even a fraction of our strength. The other two Archbishops on the other fronts will certainly need to rest as well. The Barrier can no longer be maintained. Sir Quentin’s injuries require convalescence and treatnt. And the fortress’s reserves of Holy Radiance Stones have likely been depleted..."
Another Archbishop added, "The common soldiers have suffered heavy casualties, and we’ve lost more than half our elite forces. The outer walls are severely damaged in multiple sections and can’t be quickly repaired. If the monsters mount another large-scale offensive..."
He glanced at Murphy, then hesitated. "As for extracting those Great Knights... I’m afraid that with the fortress’s current manpower and condition, it would be difficult to imdiately assemble a force strong enough for a long-range rescue mission."
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