Pride of a Spellcaster

Translator: CinderTL

Although the Mysterious Woman spoke softly, in this strange space, it seemed that voices could not be concealed. Her words clearly reached everyone's ears.

"What do you mean? It sounds like the two of you are... one person?"

Paul Grayman exclaimed with astonishment, his hands repeatedly clasping together and then separating.

He temporarily gave up on pondering whether this was some kind of Subspace, deciding to let it be.

The woman turned to Paul, revealing a mischievous smile.

"Paul Grayman, you guessed correctly. You and I have 'known' each other for a long time!"

Paul's heart skipped a beat. Her words suggested that she was very familiar with him, yet he knew nothing about her—except for her appearance, which was identical to Ladia's but with a vastly different demeanor.

This was somewhat unsettling. Wait, horns on her head? "I saw her, and you would never guess, Her Majesty the Queen looks exactly like someone by your side."

"Lady Ladia Setia Gerald."

"Facial features, eyes, hair color... every detail that could be noticed was indistinguishable. Oh... except for the horns on the Queen's head."

Back in Crystal City, Paul had hosted Captain Gran, the legendary explorer who led the fleet that discovered the New World and completed the first circumnavigation of the globe. At that time, he had just returned from his second exploration of the New World to Aldor and had brought back his companions who had been detained by the natives during the first expedition.

This explorer had described to Paul an incredible discovery he made on the New World: the native Serdan people were a horned humanoid race, and their Queen looked exactly like Ladia.

Now it seemed this was no coincidence. The Mysterious Woman before him matched Gran's description perfectly.

His gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds before he tentatively asked, "Serdan?"

"Haha, you guessed it!" The Mysterious Woman, or rather, the Serdan Queen, looked quite pleased.

Both Catherine and Eileen were startled. They were also aware of the New World and the Serdan people. As those close to Paul, they naturally knew about the Serdan Queen and had even joked about it with Ladia.

Ladia, however, fell into silence.

"What exactly is going on? Why were we transported here? Was it because of you?" Paul urgently inquired, then added, "Of course, I am deeply grateful to you, Your Majesty. Regardless, you saved Ladia, and if it was you who transported us here, you saved all of us."

He had initially intended to perform a local noble gesture he had learned from Gran's knowledge of the New World, but considering the awkward state of undress they were both in, he decided against it.

The Serdan Queen smiled, "Please allow me to maintain some mystery for now. All I can say is—this is a form of protection, a mechanism triggered when 'I' face life-threatening danger. As for the specifics... I have a feeling we will meet in reality soon, and we can discuss it then. Of course, strictly speaking, because of another 'me'." She pointed at Ladia, "We have already met in reality."

Since the other party had spoken thus, Paul decided not to press further and simply asked, "How do we return to the real world?"

The Serdan Queen wore an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, uh... I forgot."

"You forgot?" Everyone was startled. Were they supposed to stay in this state in this place indefinitely?

The Queen furrowed her brows. "Do you think I'm not surprised myself? I always thought this protective mechanism was just a legend! Then, just as I was about to retire for the night, it suddenly happened."

"I don't want this!" Eileen crouched on the ground, crying bitterly.

"We'll definitely find a way back," Catherine remained calm as ever.

Paul wasn't sure whether to feel sad or happy—sad because they might be trapped here forever, but happy because he was trapped here with so many beautiful women.

Oh no... He quickly turned his back to the group. The thought had almost caused him to embarrass himself.

The Serdan Queen crossed her arms and snorted coldly. "Now, there's one more important matter—I want revenge!"

Her gaze fell upon the White-haired Witch, Coleridge.

Coleridge broke free from Catherine's restraint.

She slowly straightened up, her ice-blue eyes burning with a resolute, cold flame. The White-haired Witch no longer concealed her naked body, the frost-like magical patterns on her pale skin faintly visible, like cracks winding across a snowy plain.

"Kill me if you must," her voice was as crisp and cold as shattering ice. "From the day His Majesty Antonio took charge of the Arcane Order, I vowed to burn myself out for His Majesty and our kin." Her fingertips condensed the last trace of coldness, drawing the emblem of the Gabella Empire's crown in the air—a gesture that made Paul suddenly realize it wasn't just a symbol of the empire but possibly a signal for the Arcane Order.

She raised her head, her silver-white hair billowing like a battle flag in the Mental Space. "Since ancient times, we have been burned at the stake, executed in the Iron Maiden, and even children were branded on their foreheads." Her icy gaze swept over the group. "What you're about to do today is merely one of countless acts of retribution."

Coleridge then turned her gaze to Ladia.

"You're a Spellcaster too, aren't you? Hmph, I didn't notice before I acted. Paul Grayman had a witch hidden by his side!"

Her ice-blue eyes churned with biting sarcasm, a cold smile curling at the corner of her lips.

"How pitiful," her voice, like shattering ice, carried undisguised disdain. "A Spellcaster with such power, willingly groveling at the feet of a mortal who can't even recite the most basic Incantation?"

Ladia's fingers tightened slightly, but before she could speak, Coleridge continued her mockery. "His Majesty Antonio leads the Arcane Order, fighting for the dignity and freedom of all Spellcasters, while you—" she sneered, glancing at Paul, "choose to be a lapdog for a mere mortal lord."

The temperature in the space plummeted, Ladia's green hair stirred without wind, and the magical patterns on her bare skin burned brightly.

But Coleridge showed no fear. Instead, she lifted her chin, the frost-like marks on her pale skin spreading like battle scars.

"At least I still remember the pride of a Spellcaster," she sneered. "But you, Ladia, have long forgotten who you are."

Ladia's pupils contracted, her knuckles turning white from gripping too tightly. But in the end, she simply took a deep breath and spoke in a low, clear voice: "My pride has never been defined by others—and certainly not by you."

(End of the Chapter)

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