Gunmage
Chapter 135: Curtains rise on Pyrellis

Chapter 135: Chapter 135: Curtains rise on Pyrellis

Lugh let out a slow hum, the paper in his hand crinkling under the slight pressure of his fingers. It turned out human magic society wasn’t as dark and solemn as he had expected.

...

A massive storm raged outside, the sky an endless churn of black and violet. Visibility was reduced to almost nothing. The only source of light was the dull glow of a three-pronged magic circle, etched into the stone beneath them like a burning brand.

Lugh stood with one leg braced against a glowing point, Lyra clinging to another, her long auburn hair whipping about in the shrieking wind.

"Aldric, what are you doing?! Come on!"

Her voice tore through the roar.

"I’m sorry"

Aldric shouted back, his voice ragged, his robe snapping violently around him,

"But I’m not leaving this place!"

"What?!"

Lugh could feel it now, his mana was draining at an insane speed, his limbs slowly grew heavy and sluggish.

Aldric’s voice echoed faintly, struggling against the storm that threatened to strip the very clothes from their backs.

"There’s nothing left for me outside. I’m staying. You should stay too!"

Of course

Lugh thought grimly. He should have seen this coming. Aldric had never intended to leave.

Now what?

Just then, a figure in white sliced through the roaring storm like a knife through silk. It was the priestess. Herr small feet landed on the final vacant point of the circle.

Instantly, the storm stilled. The world brightened, the howling silence pressing into Lugh’s ears.

He felt it, a jolt of weightlessness, as if the very ground had fallen away beneath him.

The world before him shattered into nothingness, colors bleeding into black.

And from that blackness, countless hands clawed up at him, translucent and cold.

They grabbed and dragged him downward, thousands of them, muttering curses, regrets, and broken sobs. Their fingers clamped onto his skin, refusing to let go.

Lugh’s lips parted instinctively.

"Collapse"

He woke with a start, sunlight slicing through the half-drawn curtains and spilling onto the wooden floorboards. The distant chirping of birds floated through the morning air, light and careless.

Slowly, he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The coolness of the air brushed against his skin, causing a shiver to run up his spine, even as a sheen of sweat clung to him.

He wiped his face with a discarded shirt, his mind racing.

"Well, that was unexpected"

He muttered.

This was the first time he had fallen asleep since the collapse of Drakensmar. He couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a warning.

The beast crowned in glass.

He repeated the phrase under his breath. It was ominous. Cryptic. And troubling.

Perhaps he needed to pay a visit to the church.

But that was a risk.

He didn’t know their intentions, and walking into their domain unprepared could mean the end of him.

Assuming they did have answers meant assuming they could also crush him if necessary.

Lugh was confident in his abilities, but he was not arrogant.

There was another option.

Selaphiel, the elf who had proclaimed herself his grandmother.

The secret chamber beneath the manor... the forbidden books within...

She had to know about them.

Yet her answers would not come cheap.

Questions about the Mawglass, the island, its nature and location, he couldn’t reveal them. Not because he didn’t want to but because he couldn’t.

He was bound by oath to Xhi.

And then there was the matter of the Canines.

From the memories he had scanned, he learned that the beastkin was the one who had stolen the letter he wrote to Isolde. The one with his real name.

They had circulated it amongst their group, and were now actively searching for "Lugh," which they assumed to be a codename.

Ordinarily, that wouldn’t have mattered. But the group’s surprising composition of multiple beastkin members, all disciplined, made them a serious threat.

He couldn’t afford to draw attention, not until he was ready.

It was why he still obediently followed Isolde’s directives and made no plans to attend the grand ball Selaphiel was hosting.

As for Isolde herself... her sudden shift in behavior had once concerned him.

Now, he simply didn’t care.

He chalked it up to her being mentally unstable. That was explanation enough. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Lyra’s duel was only a few days away.

He had to attend, regardless of danger. Returning her sword before the duel was non-negotiable.

He had lost both his daggers in the collapse, but at least he still had the Ring of Nyx. It was a small consolation.

And after that...

The Selection.

He thought back to the odd newspaper article he had read, the one that put it in the headlines.

So many tasks. So little time.

The world didn’t revolve around him.

No one was going to wait politely for him to finish dealing with one problem before bringing up a new one.

Ah, how troubling.

The window creaked open slightly, and a second Lugh slipped into the room.

This one had wild, mud-brown hair and was caked in dirt and grime.

A sharp stench of filth clung to him like a second skin.

It was his clone, the one he had been using to dig up the small graves hidden beyond the manor gardens.

He had no idea what happened to it when he blacked out.

Considering that they shared one mind, it must have simply collapsed in the forest, alongside the countless birds and animals Lugh was also puppeteering.

That was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Losing such a valuable asset through negligence was foolish.

He moved to his usual routine with methodical precision.

Bathing, dressing, it was strange, using another body to wash and clothe himself.

It was like being both master and servant ...Simultaneously.

Efficient, yet very unsettling once he thought about it too long.

Once done, he slipped an invisibility spell over himself and cracked the door open just enough to slip through.

Four eyes watched as the manor buzzed with frantic activity.

Servants, butlers, and maids scurried like ants across the polished floors, hanging shimmering drapes, arranging towering floral displays.

A band of musicians was ushered into the grand ballroom, carefully setting up their gleaming instruments.

Silver platters and goblets of gold were laid out like offerings to some unseen god.

The air itself seemed taut, straining under the weight of anticipation.

Lugh already knew the reason, of course.

Tonight was the night of the Grand Ball.