Chapter 366: Chapter 366: Questions Without Answers
The wind at the ridge shifted as two figures emerged from the mist.
Vaelora von Iskandar walked at the front, her silver hair streaked with darker strands, the sharp ice-blue of her eyes cutting through the haze. Even here, high among the mountains, she carried herself like a commander striding across a battlefield—every step measured, her presence enough to silence the air around her. Her reputation had not been built on warmth. It had been forged on respect, cold and unyielding.
Behind her loomed Albrecht Thorne, implacable, towering in silence. His figure radiated authority, the kind that bent others without a word. He was not a man who bowed, nor one who softened.
Selene straightened as her mother approached, her posture disciplined but her gaze flat, tinged with disgust she did not bother to hide. Vaelora’s eyes flickered briefly over her daughter, lingering, softening for only a heartbeat before her tone struck with practiced control.
"You survived," she said simply, the words carrying neither surprise nor warmth—just an observation.
Selene’s lips tightened. "Clearly."
Noel shifted slightly beside her, Revenant Fang resting against his shoulder, watching the exchange with silent tension.
Albrecht’s eyes found his son immediately. He didn’t greet him. Didn’t ask if he was hurt. His voice came low, firm, and sharp as steel drawn from its sheath.
"How did you survive?"
Noel met the gaze without flinching, jaw tightening. It wasn’t concern behind that question—it was suspicion.
Selene’s fingers curled around her wand, her expression cold as ever. Vaelora took a slow step closer, her eyes narrowing, the weight of her presence pressing down like frost on the ridge.
The interrogation had begun.
Vaelora’s gaze lingered on Selene, sharp as a blade. "The collapse should have buried you alive. Yet here you stand. Explain."
Selene kept her stance rigid, her voice clipped. "We managed. We didn’t starve."
Vaelora’s eyes narrowed, the faintest crease appearing at the corner of her brow. She had expected defiance—she always did—but the cold indifference in her daughter’s tone hit harder than any shouted rebellion.
Meanwhile, Albrecht stepped forward, the weight of his presence shifting the air. His shadow seemed to stretch across the stone until it pressed directly over Noel.
"And you," he demanded, his voice cutting through the wind like iron. "How?"
Noel kept his voice flat, steady. "I had supplies. My Dimensional Pouch carried enough food and water to last."
Albrecht’s eyes narrowed. "Convenient." His tone dripped with skepticism. "Too convenient."
Noel’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t break his gaze. "Believe what you want. We survived. That’s the truth."
For a long moment, silence stretched across the ridge. Only the distant cry of a hawk pierced the tension.
Vaelora’s expression softened by a hair, her voice lower but no less sharp. "And what of the days beneath? What did you see?"
Selene looked past her mother, refusing to meet her eyes. "Darkness. Tunnels. Enough to keep us moving."
Albrecht’s stare didn’t waver from Noel, as though trying to tear through whatever shield his son held in place. "You’re hiding something."
Noel exhaled through his nose, the faintest smirk touching his lips. "Maybe. Or maybe you just don’t like that I came back alive."
The air grew heavier at that. Vaelora’s eyes hardened again, Albrecht’s silence deepening into something more dangerous.
Albrecht’s silence broke at last, his voice cutting like a blade through the mountain air. "No. I don’t believe it. Demonstrate how you survived the fall."
Noel’s smirk twitched, more bitter than amused. "Alright." He turned to Selene, his tone even. "Ready?"
She gave a small nod, already anticipating what he meant.
Without hesitation, Noel stepped forward and swept Selene into his arms, holding her in a firm princess carry. Her eyes widened for a heartbeat, but she didn’t resist as shadows coiled beneath their feet.
"Shadow Step."
The two vanished into darkness, reappearing an instant later high in the branches of a tree jutting from the cliffside. For the briefest moment, gravity took them, pulling them down.
Selene lifted her wand, her voice calm despite the rush of wind around them. "Gravitational Hold."
The crushing pull of the fall shifted in an instant. Their descent slowed, as if invisible hands had caught them midair. Together, they floated downward, Noel still carrying her effortlessly, before landing softly on the rocky ridge.
Noel set her down carefully, adjusting Revenant Fang against his shoulder as if nothing unusual had happened. "That’s how."
For the first time, Vaelora’s expression shifted. Her ice-blue gaze softened, the harsh edge giving way to something rarer. She inclined her head slightly toward Noel. "You saved her."
Noel blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. Before he could respond, Vaelora added firmly, "Then you have my thanks."
Selene’s lips tightened, turning her head away. Gratitude or not, it didn’t erase what had been.
Albrecht, meanwhile, remained unmoved—his eyes fixed on Noel, measuring, weighing, not as a son but as a weapon.
The tension lingered after the demonstration, the mountain wind carrying the silence like a blade pressed too close.
Vaelora was the one to break it. Her ice-blue eyes softened ever so slightly as she looked at Selene, then at Noel. "Enough. It’s over. You’re safe now." She turned to Albrecht, her tone edged but calm. "Relax. They survived. That should be enough."
Albrecht gave no answer, only the faint grunt of a man who remained unconvinced.
Vaelora stepped closer, folding her arms behind her back. "You still have one day left in this hunt. If you wish to continue, the choice is yours." Her gaze flicked upward, toward the faint hum above.
Hovering against the clouds, the mana drone watched silently, its crimson eye glowing. Vaelora’s voice hardened. "But understand this—every patriarch, every matriarch has their eyes on you now. Whatever you do from here on will be judged."
Albrecht finally spoke, his tone carrying weight like stone striking iron. "Marcus remains in first place. Sylvette..." His eyes lingered briefly on Noel, sharp, assessing. "...your sister is second."
The words cut sharper than any blade. Noel’s chest tightened, though his face betrayed nothing. Selene’s eyes shifted toward him, noticing the tension, but he only adjusted Revenant Fang against his shoulder.
Vaelora inclined her head slightly. "So decide carefully. Do you continue, or do you rest?"