In Search of Helena 02

At the broken bridge, Tilis and several elders gazed at the strange disturbance in the center of the royal palace, their eyes filled with astonishment.

"The magic has returned—our power is back!" Elder Roens exclaimed excitedly.

"It's not just magic..." Sir Fred also sensed the resurgence of strength.

His darkened muscles strained against his clothes, black fur sprouting wildly across his body. Sir Fred clenched the massive black greatsword in his grip, lifting it effortlessly before swinging it a few times with ease.

Seeing the exhilaration on everyone's faces, Chief Raymond, who had followed them, finally let out a sigh of relief.

"It's good that it's back, it's good... Now I won't be afraid anymore..."

"Could you be any more cowardly?" Monica shot him a disdainful look.

"How is this my fault?" Chief Raymond muttered. "All of you are so capable, but me? Before this, I was just a small police chief from the Eastern District..."

"Chief Inspector," Officer Leon corrected.

In the young assistant's heart, Chief Raymond still held a towering image.

"Shut up, shut up," Chief Raymond glared at him.

"Where's Helena?" Tilis frowned as she surveyed the devastated land.

According to the original plan, they were supposed to rendezvous with Helena here. She couldn't possibly hold her own against the full might of the city's garrison alone, which was why Tilis had brought so many people—to rescue her.

But when everyone looked toward the battlefield ruins before the palace bridge, Helena's figure was nowhere to be seen.

"The steam mech is a huge target—it should be easy to spot..." Tilis slowly levitated, scanning the ruins for any sign of Helena. "Expand your search. If you encounter any remaining hostile forces, eliminate them."

"Yes!" the members of the Arcane Covenant responded.

Before long, Tilis, flying high above, locked onto the most gruesome part of the battlefield.

The ruins were littered with severed limbs, the air thick with the nauseating stench of blood and gunpowder.

Her gaze caught on scattered fragments of the steam mech, and she quickly descended.

"Helena? Helena!!"

Tilis called out urgently, but there was no response.

She immediately invoked dark magic, using the scattered debris to piece together Helena's path through sensory perception.

Finally...

Tilis found half of the giant machine beneath a partially collapsed building.

Half might have been an overstatement—the steam mech was reduced to little more than an intact cockpit. Its battered, ruined metal frame had guns overheated and barrels exploded, only one arm remaining, with internal components strewn everywhere.

"Helena!"

Tilis swiftly cast a spell, sweeping away the rubble pressing down on the machine before forcing the cockpit open.

A thick, acrid smoke billowed out.

"I'll kill you! Kill all of you! Aaaaaah!!"

Several withered black tentacles suddenly lashed out, startling Tilis into conjuring a magical shield.

But after the initial shock, she sighed in relief.

As the smoke cleared, Tilis saw Helena curled up inside the cockpit.

Her consciousness was nearly gone, her small body wrapped tightly in black tendrils—the earlier attack had been pure instinct.

Seeing the girl like this, Tilis felt a pang in her heart. She gently reached in and lifted Helena out.

"It's alright, Helena, it's alright..."

Tilis softly stroked Helena's forehead. She was covered in wounds, likely from the violent impact, and showed signs of minor fractures.

"Miss Witch...?" Helena's large, azure eyes fluttered open as she hazily looked up at the woman holding her.

"Bear with it a little longer. I'll heal your injuries," Tilis said.

Helena jolted awake, but her first question was, "The city garrison—their artillery!"

"The artillery has already been destroyed by you," Tilis teased, glancing around. "Impressive, Helena. Did you do all this alone?"

"Mhm..." Helena nodded weakly. "When I was piloting the machine, I wasn't afraid of the soldiers at all—just the shells fired from far away. So after escorting my brother into the palace, I charged straight toward the artillery..."

"You didn't just destroy the artillery..." Tilis surveyed the vast wreckage around them. By the time they arrived, barely any survivors were left—Helena had practically wiped out the entire garrison single-handedly...

"As long as I helped my brother..." Helena struggled to look around. "Miss Witch, I'm sorry the steam mech you worked so hard on ended up like this... It's all my fault..."

"Your safety is what matters. No machine, no matter how precious, compares to that," Tilis shook her head.

Her eyes suddenly lit up as she studied Helena's tentacles. "Wait—Helena, you're a natural-born pilot! When my second prototype is ready, you'll have to be my test driver again!"

"Okay..." Helena wasn't really interested. Instead, she asked, "How is my brother doing?"

"Don't worry, he's fine," Tilis called out to the Arcane Covenant mages, preparing to lead them into the palace to deal with the remnants of the battle.

With the anti-magic field lifted, the outcome was already decided. Even if the nearest First Legion rushed over now, Tilis wouldn't fear them in the slightest.

Once everyone regrouped at the broken bridge, Elder Margery dragged over a bloodied man.

"Tilis, what should we do with him?"

Margery tossed the severely wounded man onto the ground. Tilis studied his face, puzzled.

Covered in blood, it took her a few seconds to recognize him—Prince William.

"You can't kill me... You can't..."

William struggled to lift his head, trying to stand, only to collapse pathetically again.

Several bloody holes riddled his body, likely from Helena's shrapnel, and he was losing blood fast, his face growing paler by the second.

"Look at you now," Tilis sneered, crouching down to yank his hair. "Weren't you so mighty earlier, ordering the garrison to bombard us without mercy?"

"P-Pestilence Witch—no! Lady Witch!" William, in this desperate moment, abandoned all pretense of noble dignity. "Please, spare me! I've lost—I pose no threat to you! On the contrary, I can be useful, very useful!"

"Oh? How so?" Tilis propped her chin on her hand, grinning mischievously. "Go on. If you entertain me, I might just let you go."

William hurriedly said, "My father—Carlton—he isn't that simple! You can't break this anti-magic field, but I know a royal mage close to him! I can help you!!"

"But the anti-magic field is already gone," Tilis blinked, "What's the point of telling me this now?"

"What? How!" William had never imagined his father could be defeated. Panicked, he stammered, "Then—then listen, you're Ophelia's people, right? You must want to help her claim the throne. I swear to you, I’ll withdraw from the succession immediately! Ophelia lacks legitimacy! You need my support—my connections in the military!"

"But..." Tilis tapped her chin, feigning contemplation, "You’re a traitor who secretly colluded with an enemy prince, plotting to bring foreign troops into the kingdom and seize the throne. What legitimacy do you have? No one in the military would back you."

"What are you saying?!" William’s face twisted in shock. "That’s impossible! How could—"

Then, as he stared at Tilis’s knowing smile, his expression froze.

"It was you... It was all of you... Magic... Mages..."

"Me," Monica sighed, kicking him impatiently. "Can’t even die with a clue. Pathetic."

William looked at Tilis’s amused grin, at the crowd surrounding him like spectators at a farce, and felt utter despair.

"You—" he snarled, "You’ll never succeed! I curse—"

"Now I’m in a bad mood," Tilis said cheerfully.

A flash of crimson—Monica severed William’s head in an instant, his furious, unyielding expression forever etched on his lifeless face.

After the second prince’s death, the group turned as one toward the direction of Haiglitze Palace.

Tilis, holding the unsteady Helena by the hand, also gazed at the royal palace.

"Come on," she said. "Let’s go find your brother."