Language update (1)

The woman quickly hid behind the tree trunk covering her mouth with her hand. But it was too late, she had already been discovered. Her mind spun at full speed in search of an escape route as she felt one of the strange energies behind her approaching.

The group that had been preoccupied with the idea of ​​securing the scepter was startled by a faint chuckle. Their gazes strayed to where the sound came from, but they could only make out a few green strands of hair.

The two men exchanged glances.

{I'll go have a look,} Zagan told Duman through telepathy. {Your Eminence… Please, Sister Mara needs urgent treatment. I leave her in your hands,} he added in a pleading voice.

The paladin set Mara down before cautiously approaching a specific tree. Unlike the nearly indestructible banyan trees that filled the Milbong rainforest, the island's trees were much smaller, both in terms of width and height. The canopies were covered with huge greenish leaves, larger than a grown man's forearm, and the bark of the trees showed signs of damage caused by the creatures that dwelled on the island or by natural erosion such as rain or wind.

Duman debated whether to guard Elisha or the scepter but ultimately decided to protect the Saintess. She still had her uses and he couldn't afford to lose such a valuable card, besides, if his deduction was correct, the scepter could not be moved by just anyone. The problem was that they needed to take it with them without question.

Meanwhile, a pink magic circle with orange spots appeared on top of Mara, who was lying unconscious on the ground. The black cloak that covered her had been removed by Elisha, exposing the wounds scattered all over her body.

Seeing the severe condition she was in, Elisha blanched and averted her gaze to the ground, trying not to think of anything but healing her handmaiden. A faint feeling of guilt welled up in her head now that she was in front of her, but her face darkened as she remembered that she was also the very reason her escort had neglected her.

The wounds began to regenerate at a speed visible to the human eye, and the maiden's face, twisted in pain, gradually relaxed. Yet, there was something that only Elisha had noticed.

The speed of the healing spell, compared to previous years, was much slower. She realized that every time she used her healing powers, the speed rate decreased.

At first, the difference was not evident, but over the years and with repeated use, it became clearer.

Furthermore, her distinctive pink magic circle —which only showed up when she used her healing powers—, was gradually reverting back to its original orange color. Her eyes were also going through the same changes, and these circumstances only made her feel more uncertain and anxious as time went on.

If she lost her powers and her position as the Saintess of the Holy Creed, then only Elisha Lezabel would remain, a young woman of low birth whose family was ranked among the humblest within the jarlar, and she, after tasting the difference between having power and not, refused to hit rock bottom again.

Elisha's pink eyes sparkled with shrewdness.

The reason she had reluctantly agreed to heal her handmaiden rather than let her suffer a bit more as punishment was because both men would be focused on the scepter and the intruder, creating the perfect opportunity to use her powers without the others noticing her suspicious behavior.

Elisha peered at the men with their backs to her and continued to pour aether into her spell to heal Mara in the shortest possible time. She was aware that sooner or later they were bound to notice it, but the later the better.

As the paladin positioned himself in front of the tree trunk that was about four meters in diameter, several purple runes were drawn on the ground around it. In a second, the runes blazed and dozens of aether blades slashed at the tree, scarring its entire surface with long, deep gashes.

Zagan seized the moment and hurried around the tree trunk to prevent whoever was watching them from escaping.

But behind it, only the severed vines swayed briskly, almost as if mocking him.

The paladin, perplexed, stepped forward warily and held the vines, examining them closely.

For a moment he thought that they had seen wrong, something that was to be expected after the barrage of attacks they had suffered in a few hours, to the extent they had already suffered two casualties: Mara was unconscious and he was also pretty sure that Samael would not be in better condition if he managed to survive the lezaalis.

Deep down, Zagan wished he had been mistaken, but one thing he prided himself on was his keen eyesight. Even among the paladins, he was one of the best at long-range casting, and because of this, he could guarantee that the dark green vines and strands of hair he saw from afar were not the same. The shade was much lighter.

This implied that there was another person with green hair apart from the Great Rig and the second hilmir, and consequently, another legitimate contender to the throne.

If Duman saw as much as he did, then that person would certainly not leave this place alive.

The paladin sighed in anguish, eager to avoid sacrificing an innocent soul at all costs, and decided to continue investigating the surroundings in search of the intruder. If his assumption turned out to be true, then he would do everything in his power to prevent the worst.

That is, as long as the other person did not attempt against their lives.