“Boom!”
Another explosion rang out, but this one was not caused by the Demon King Cult, but by the two people wearing the strange masks.
The location of the explosion was no longer at the edge of the square, but precisely in the very center.
The dust kicked up by the lightning strike, combined with a sudden whirlwind, instantly swept over everyone in the square.
Dust filled the air, blocking everyone's vision. Screams and shouts echoed one after another, throwing the once-orderly square into absolute chaos.
“Protect His Majesty and His Highness! Evacuate them!”
The guards abandoned their posts and rushed toward the Emperor and the Crown Prince, shielding them as they began to retreat.
Amidst the chaotic crowd, Greg recognized the identities of the two wearing the strange masks at a single glance—it was definitely Olivia and Luna.
The commotion they were causing was undoubtedly meant to create an opportunity for him to rescue Wendy.
Without a moment's hesitation, Greg covered his face with a cloth, seized the opportunity, and dashed toward the execution platform, keeping his posture low.
Several soldiers noticed his movements and attempted to intercept him.
But Greg did not slow down in the slightest. He thrust his right hand forward, condensing a surge of blazing mana in his palm.
Earthfire Blast LV3!
The ground abruptly ruptured, sending flames and debris shooting into the sky. The soldiers were blown back, crashing heavily onto the ground, unable to get back up anytime soon.
Greg dashed through the dust, continuing his charge. At the same time, he stomped hard on the ground, channeling his mana deep into the earth.
Earth Pierce LV3!
Thick stone spikes violently erupted from the ground, shattering the flat surface of the square into uneven, jagged ruins.
This not only blocked the path of any pursuers behind him but also provided more cover and obstacles for his escape.
“Wendy!”
When Greg reached the execution platform, Wendy was tied to a wooden pillar, her head hanging low in complete despair.
Her honey-colored hair was scattered messily over her shoulders. Her once-beautiful eyes were now hollow and lifeless, as if her soul had been completely ripped away.
She did not even notice that someone had arrived in front of her.
Looking at her like this, a wave of uncontrollable rage surged in Greg's heart.
That damn bad girl Melina! How dare she turn my Wendy into this!
I will definitely settle this score with her!
After cursing her silently, he quickly set to work, unlocking the iron chains bound around Wendy's wrists and ankles.
With a loud clatter, the chains fell away. Deprived of support, Wendy's body slumped forward.
Greg caught her in his arms, pulled her close, and without hesitation, executed successive Shadow-Steps. His figure darted swiftly through the dust and stone spikes, rushing toward the outskirts of the square.
A sharp-eyed soldier noticed the commotion on the execution platform and immediately bellowed, “Oh no! The prisoner is being rescued by the Demon King Cult!”
Greg shouted angrily as he ran, “Fuck! Who are you calling the Demon King Cult?!”
Fortunately, after several months of rigorous physical conditioning in the dungeon, his body was in peak shape. Even while carrying someone, his running speed remained remarkably fast.
He dashed through the chaotic streets, weaving past collapsed structures, gradually leaving the shouts and explosions behind.
Only when the noise behind them began to fade did Wendy slowly snap out of her dazed state.
She realized she was being held in someone's arms, a familiar scent lingering around her nose.
Slowly raising her head, she saw the face she knew all too well—Greg.
Her eyes instantly welled with tears, and her voice trembled with a mixture of fear and grievance. Like a drowning person clutching onto a final piece of driftwood, she desperately tried to explain:
“No... it's not like that... Lord Bishop... I really have nothing to do with the Demon King Cult... I have no idea why they came to save me... But... but I...”
Before she could finish, Greg cut her off.
“I believe you.”
He looked down at Wendy in his arms and said, word by word:
“Because you are mine.”
“!!!”
Wendy froze.
A trace of confusion flickered in her hollow eyes, followed by shock, then unbelievable warmth. Finally, a deep crimson flush spread from her neck to her ears.
Her entire face burned hot.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but felt as though her throat were blocked, unable to make a sound.
All she could do was bury her head in Greg's chest, nodding vigorously as her hands tightly clutched his lapels, as if trying to engrave this very moment into her heart forever.
...
In the center of the square, the battle raged on.
The two wearing the smiling and crying masks hovered in midair, facing off against Roland, the Empire's Sword, and Marcus, the Prime Minister.
Dazzling lightning crackled in the hands of the one with the smiling mask, arcs of electricity snapping through the air.
Howling wind blades swirled around the one with the crying mask, currents of air rotating and surging about her, kicking up gusts of dust.
The longsword in Roland's hand gleamed with a cold light under the last rays of the setting sun.
Marcus raised a hand, a dark gray fluctuation of mana condensing in his palm—it was the gravity magic he took great pride in.
“Boom!”
Both sides moved almost simultaneously.
The one with the smiling mask waved her hand, and several bolts of lightning fell from the sky, striking directly at Roland and Marcus.
Roland's figure flashed, dodging the lightning strikes with speed akin to teleportation. Simultaneously, he swept his longsword, unleashing a sharp blade of sword aura that tore through the air toward the smiling mask.
The one with the smiling mask tilted her body to dodge, but the sword aura grazed her shoulder, slicing a tear in her sleeve.
Meanwhile, the one with the crying mask pushed both hands forward, sending a massive wind blade howling out and forcing Marcus back several steps.
Marcus stabilized his stance and pressed his hand downward. His gravity domain suddenly expanded, fracturing the surrounding ground.
The one with the crying mask sank slightly, clearly affected by the gravity magic, but she quickly adjusted her posture. Wind blades spun around her, partially neutralizing the crushing pressure.
The two sides clashed for several rounds, trading offenses and defenses, with neither side gaining an overwhelming advantage.
However, both Marcus and Roland felt a slight sense of incongruity during the fight.
They could feel that these two were indeed very powerful and highly skilled in utilizing their mana, yet throughout the entire battle, they had never displayed even an embryonic form of a Domain.
This made them realize that these two had likely only recently reached the LV70 threshold and had not yet had the time to comprehend their own Domain.
With this realization, they were completely at ease—because in a fight, having the enhancement of a Domain was an entirely different concept altogether.
Rate on N.U.
