Chapter 140: Light Stick

The beams crisscrossed in the air above Seraphina’s head, weaving together like a canopy of spectral ribbons.

"Go Mushroom Go!" Sir Boris bellowed, his voice echoing over the display.

The Fire Mages manipulated their magic, and the glowing ribbons of light actively formed massive, floating, fiery letters in the air above the arena.

YOU ARE DOING GREAT, LADY SERAPHINA!

Tiny, harmless, magical fireworks began to pop and sizzle in the air, bursts of sparkling silver and soft purple that rained down like harmless glitter, fading before they touched the ground.

A group of mages synchronized their magic, creating a glowing, floating image of a tiny, incredibly cute fire-dragon that did a backflip in the air and blew a heart-shaped puff of smoke.

Seraphina stood in the center of the spectacle, her balsa-wood sword hanging forgotten at her side. Her jaw dropped.

Her mind, previously amused by their coddling, was genuinely touched. These terrifying, battle-hardened veterans, men who lived in a world of constant death and war, were using their lethal magic to put on a laser-light show just to make her smile.

"It’s beautiful," Seraphina whispered, her dark eyes reflecting the brilliant, shifting colors of the pyrotechnics.

"Give her a cheer, men!" Pyros roared, waving his arms like a manic conductor.

The fearsome Fire Mages of the Obsidian Gate, the most lethal destructive force in the Southern Empire, genuinely began to chant.

"Ser-a-phi-na! Ser-a-phi-na! Queen of the North! Master of the Paws!"

Sir Gallahan was crying again, waving a glowing sparkler he had procured from a mage. Sir Lucas was nodding rhythmically to the chant, shedding his assassin persona.

Sir Boris was literally lifting two Fire Mages onto his massive shoulders so they could shoot their glowing pink light-beams higher into the air.

It was a scene of an unmitigated, chaotic, deeply heartwarming absurdity.

And it was at this exact climactic moment of complete military degradation that the heavy, iron doors of the Crucible began to slowly, loudly groan open.

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Duke Kaelus von Nacht was exhausted.

The joint-council meeting with Leonidas had been a grueling, three-hour marathon of political shouting, map-drawing, and aggressive negotiations.

They had finally managed to halt the excavation in the Ashen Forest, but securing the perimeter and analyzing the ancient wards required immense tactical planning.

Kaelus had marched out of the war room, his mind heavy with the impending threat of the subterranean anomaly.

But beneath the political stress, a deep, gnawing anxiety had been eating away at his fatherly heart.

’She is in the Crucible,’ Kaelus thought as he marched swiftly down the obsidian corridors toward the training grounds. ’She has been enduring the volcanic heat for hours. Pyros is a brute. I ordered them not to coddle her. I told them to forge her.’

Guilt, sharp and cold, twisted in his gut.

He pictured his tiny, six-year-old daughter. He pictured her covered in soot, exhausted, her small chest heaving as she was forced to run lap after agonizing lap across the burning ash.

He pictured her swinging a heavy wooden sword, her hands blistered, her dark eyes welling with unshed tears because she was trying to be brave for him.

’I am a monster,’ Kaelus realized, his pace quickening into a near-sprint. ’She is still just a child. A child who was traumatized two days ago. And I threw her into a volcanic meat grinder because of my own paranoia. I must stop the training immediately. I will carry her back to the room and procure an ice-bath and all the pastries in the city.’

He reached the heavy iron doors of the Crucible. He didn’t wait for the guards to open them. He threw his shoulder against the metal, shoving the doors open with a thunderous CLANG.

"Halt the training!" Kaelus’s voice boomed, a roar of desperate, protective fury ready to tear the instructors apart for harming his daughter.

He stepped into the arena, his violet eyes flashing, fully prepared to freeze the entire volcanic basin to save his exhausted, sobbing child.

Kaelus froze.

The terrifying, world-ending aura of the Reaper of the North completely, instantly evaporated. His jaw slackened as his glowing violet eyes widened to comical proportions.

He stared at the scene before him.

He did not see a soot-covered, weeping child, or a brutal military gauntlet.

He saw a high-budget, magical pop-concert.

The sky above the arena was filled with massive, floating, neon-pink letters spelling out "YOU CAN DO IT!" Tiny, harmless fireworks were popping in the air, raining glittering silver dust.

In the center of the arena, completely untouched by soot or sweat, sitting comfortably in a circle of glowing, temperature-controlled ice-crystals, was Seraphina.

She was sipping chilled, imported fruit juice from a crystal goblet. She was holding a tiny, ridiculous, perfectly sanded piece of balsa wood that loosely resembled a sword.

And surrounding her, chanting her name like a cult of fanatical worshippers, were the most lethal warriors on the continent.

Sir Boris was giving two grown Fire Mages a piggyback ride. Sir Gallahan was waving a glowing light-stick. Captain Pyros, the terrifying drill sergeant, was on his knees, fanning her with a giant palm frond.

"Ser-a-phi-na! Ser-a-phi-na!" the chant echoed, accompanied by the rhythmic popping of magical fireworks.

Duke Kaelus von Nacht stood in the doorway, his brain completely failing to process the visual data.

’What...’ Kaelus’s internal monologue whispered, a sound of profound, utter stupefaction. ’What in the name of the Abyss am I looking at?’

He had expected a meat grinder. He had found a day-care operated by heavily armed sycophants.

Sir Lucas, who was standing near the edge of the light show, finally noticed the frozen, entirely dumbfounded Archduke standing in the doorway.

The chanting died instantly. The Fire Mages, realizing the terrifying Lord of the North had returned, abruptly cut off their magic. The floating pink letters fizzled out as the magical fireworks vanished.

The Crucible plunged into sudden, awkward terrifying silence.

Captain Pyros dropped the palm frond. Sir Boris carefully lowered the two Fire Mages to the ground.