Failure

Fed up with waiting, the hilmir had pulled out his necklace to check how far they were from their goal when he suddenly discovered an anomaly.

For the last half hour, they had not budged from their spot, yet the golden liquid now almost completely filled the sphere and the drop-shaped frame was pointing in the direction that the maiden and the paladin had disappeared.

Duman then became aware of the stillness and silence of his surroundings, and a strong hunch struck him, his olive-green eyes radiating ambition and determination.

"Elisha…" In a soft, honeyed voice, the hilmir called out to the girl who sat hugging her knees in the center of the barrier.

Frustration wrinkled his countenance for a few seconds when she didn't respond, engrossed in her thoughts.

Duman dropped to one knee and took Elisha's hand, who snapped out of her reverie at the sudden touch.

Unlike Samael's rough, calloused hands from years of arduous training, the hands of the tanned man in front of her were soft and warm.

"Elisha, listen to me, we have to get out of here," Duman declared.

"W-what? N-"

Seeing her face contort with fear, he went on to reassure her before she refused.

"The scepter is close," he revealed, nervousness evident in his voice. "The faster we get it, the faster we can get out of here. Trust me, after all, we are surrounded by plants. I will protect you at all times."

To give weight to his words, the plants around him stirred with the help of his powers.

Duman's enthusiasm for the scepter, in the eyes of the terrified Saintess, was mistaken for his eagerness to protect her.

When Elisha nodded, Duman smiled mellowly and helped her up from the ground. Just in case, he kept his powers active within a five-meter radius, keeping the plants on their toes in case of the unexpected.

At first, they walked cautiously but then noticed that nothing happened.

As the orb glowed brighter, Duman's steps became more agitated and quicker, and before he knew it, he had begun to run, dragging Elisha by the hand.

When Duman caught sight of the paladin standing in front of what looked like a staff embedded in the ground, his heart pounded with excitement and his breathing deepened.

It was hard to control his impulses, and he nearly let go of Elisha's hand and ran the last few meters on his own. But at last, he was able to restrain himself and they both arrived in front of the paladin.

Duman immediately released their clasped hands and stepped forward, completely ignoring the maiden's condition.

On the other side, as Elisha tried to catch her breath, Zagan quickly set up another defensive barrier around them, including the scepter.

Complicated feelings arose within the paladin upon seeing the blue-haired girl gasping in front of him, but, even knowing that he would receive severe punishment upon returning to the Creed's temple for abandoning the saintess, he did not regret his decision.

He never thought he could avoid punishment, partly because of his honest and righteous character, and partly because he had a feeling that the saintess would not let it pass either.

The veiled woman, meanwhile, felt a kind of thin membrane passing through her body.

It was a strange sensation, but apart from the initial discomfort, nothing else happened.

Instead, the insects that inhabited the treetops retreated completely and then disappeared without a trace.

The man with teal hair and khaki uniform strode briskly towards the scepter as though it were an old friend he missed after years apart.

Even with the aether pressing on his body, Duman drew closer, reaching out and gripping the staff firmly.

Feeling the smooth surface of the handle made the hairs on his body stand on end and goosebumps erupt on his skin.

The aether flowing from the scepter was immeasurable and overwhelming, perhaps even for the Great Rig.

He really couldn't believe his eyes. He made it. Not his brother, not his sister, not his father; he himself obtained one of the mythical Legacies of the Eloah.

A proof of their existence and, more importantly, with it the guarantee that his right to the throne would be undisputed.

Duman exerted force with his arm, revealing the defined muscles outside the sleeve that was rolled up to his elbow, and tugged at the scepter in an attempt to pluck it from the ground.

'What's the meaning of this?', he thought in bewilderment.

The scepter hadn't moved an inch.

Duman put in more effort, to the point that the veins in his hands bulged as if they would burst, and pulled again.

But nothing happened.

The second hilmir had seldom felt humiliated and dumbfounded, and this occasion was one of them. On the verge of bursting in outrage, Duman stepped back and exhaled sharply.

The man, still not giving up, called out to the blue-haired girl and encouraged her to pick the scepter, but the outcome remained the same.

The sequence was repeated several times, but the scepter did not budge.

In the meantime, the turquoise-haired woman couldn't help but gloat at the hilarious scene.

'They look like the avengers trying to lift Thor's hammer', she snickered.

Suddenly, several pairs of eyes turned in her direction.

'...Shit.'