Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!

The state of Unawareness—aka Oblivion.

I turned toward Isolde, narrowing my eyes at the sword in Lucian’s hand. "That’s not just a weapon, is it? That... that’s his element. Oblivion."

She gave a quiet nod, her gaze locked on the distant figure of her husband. "Yes. Just like your element is Lightning and mine is Illusion, Lucian’s is Oblivion."

I kept my eyes on the battlefield, watching the grotesque contrast between the dragon’s blinding beams and Lucian’s sword—a sword that shimmered like the distorted edge of a half-remembered dream, one that rejected attention, as if the very world struggled to render its form.

Each time I looked at it too long, my head ached like it was being cleaved apart from the inside.

The White Dragon of Grief roared, releasing yet another condensed beam of pure mana, obliterating everything it touched. Mountains were sliced into nothing, the air cracked and screamed, and the very sky rippled as if afraid to watch.

I let out a breath, more like a laugh. "They could actually destroy Mythria at this rate."

Isolde chuckled, far too casually for someone watching a continent-threatening battle unfold. "Yes. A lot of people will die today. But, well, that’s what our family specializes in. Mass destruction, a side effect of our talents."

I snorted. "I just hope Miss Celia has enough braincells to evacuate before this whole shitshow nukes the map."

I turned my head, just slightly—half in thought, half in guilt. ’Should I go check on her? If something happened to Mia because of me...’

Before I could decide, Isolde gently lifted her head off my lap and stared into my eyes, her gaze unusually soft. "I know you’re worried about Mia. That’s understandable. But trust me—Celia is no fool. And Mia is smarter than you think. If you try to go now, it won’t just be reckless. It’ll be suicide. Stay put. Sometimes, the only thing you can do is trust."