As we stepped inside, the facility stretched before us—a vast expanse of cold, gray walls and ceaseless motion. White-coated researchers darted back and forth, some barking orders, others rushing between workstations cluttered with half-assembled machinery and glowing mana crystals. The air was thick with an acrid, metallic scent, strong enough to make my nose scrunch.
"What is that smell, Emma?" I asked, trying not to breathe too deeply.
She waved a hand in front of her nose. "A mix of melted and refined metals. Hard to tell what's what anymore."
Before I could respond, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos. Someone was shouting orders with the force of a war general. Emma let out a groan, her lips curling into a smirk.
"Ah, the lovely voice of my master," she muttered sarcastically.
We continued through the facility, the noise and activity pressing in from all sides. Eventually, we reached a large hall, where we were greeted by an older butler with a refined posture. Emma exchanged a few words with him before we were interrupted by the arrival of Professor Gideon himself.
Hunched over, his disheveled black hair stuck out at odd angles, and deep, dark circles framed his eyes. Someone who didn't know him might assume he was recovering from a particularly rough night—but this was simply his usual state. As he skimmed through a stack of reports in his hands, he let out a tired sigh and rubbed his temple before finally acknowledging us.
His weary gaze landed on Lance Varay. "General, I submitted a formal request to the Council, but since you're here in person, I believe it would be beneficial for you to come with me."
Lance Varay gave him a firm nod. "And where exactly will we be going?"
Gideon barely looked up from his papers as he replied, "To the eastern coast, northern border of the Beast Glades."
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Here's a refined and immersive version of your scene:
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Even as we traveled, I couldn't shake the tension that clung to Professor Gideon like a second skin. His usual disheveled appearance didn't help, but there was something different this time—his movements were sharper, his silence heavier. He knew something, and whatever it was, it wasn't good.
As we reached the eastern coast, the salty sea breeze tangled in my hair, and my eyes locked onto a massive, worn-down ship resting against the dock. My breath hitched. There was only one ship I knew that size, and the name slipped from my lips like an omen.
"Dicatheous..."
But as we dismounted from our horses and approached the vessel, a sinking feeling settled in my chest. The ship was damaged, its hull barely holding together under layers of decay. It was wrong—this wasn't the Dicatheous, but it looked just like it.
Turning to Professor Gideon, I hesitated before asking, "So… it isn't the Dicatheous?"
He barely spared me a glance before muttering, "Worse." Then, without another word, he marched forward, leaving my next question hanging in the air.
Emma must've noticed the unease in my expression because she gave me a reassuring pat on the back. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out," she said, but even she didn't sound convinced.
Stepping onto the run-down deck, the wood creaked under our weight, and a heavy silence loomed over us like a storm. Professor Gideon immediately set to work, inspecting every inch of the ship with the same intensity he gave his research. Lance Varay joined him, her sharp eyes scanning every detail with a quiet, unreadable expression.
Emma and I exchanged a glance before I finally turned to Varay. "Varay, what is it?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she ran her gloved fingers along the ship's walls, pressing against the wood as if testing for something unseen. Then, in a measured tone, she spoke.
"Everything has been destroyed. Someone deliberately wiped this ship clean of any trace of its origin."
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As I stood behind the grand council gates, the muffled yet heated debate of the leaders echoed through the hall. Their words blurred together in a storm of urgency and concern, but one thing became disturbingly clear—Alacrya had the means to send battalions across the sea to Dicathen. The mere thought was terrifying, but that ship… that wretched, hollow vessel… confirmed the nightmare was real.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers subconsciously tightening around the necklace I had bought back in Etistine. The deep blue gemstone shimmered under the dim light, and for a brief moment, my thoughts drifted. Blue eyes—warm yet resolute, filled with a determination that once seemed unshakable. A small, unbidden smile tugged at my lips before I forced myself to refocus.
The heavy council doors creaked open, and Lance Varay stepped out, her usual stoic expression unreadable. I straightened, ready to follow her for our scheduled training, but before I could speak, the hurried footsteps of a soldier filled the corridor.
He came rushing toward us, his breaths ragged. "Lance Varay… haah… Expedition team… Wolf has been compromised… haah…"
Varay's sharp gaze locked onto him, her body tensing at the mention of the expedition team's code name.
The soldier struggled to regain his composure but forced out the rest. "They are requesting immediate backup… It's been classified as a Lance-level threat. You are the only one available."
Without hesitation, Varay gave a curt nod.
I stepped forward instinctively. "Can I also—"
Before I could finish, she was already gone, vanishing into the corridor like a blur of ice and steel.
I clenched my fists. Always waiting, always being told to stand aside. But for how much longer?
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