Chapter 37 37: Shirley
"You're saying you saw the Phantoms of the Goddess and the Dragon King? Behind the Bronze Gate?" Lansseax stared at the rune Lucia had just sketched on a piece of parchment. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, her usual playful air vanished, replaced by genuine shock.
"Yes," Lucia nodded. "The combat techniques, the elemental laws—I can read them as clearly as a book. But this rune... no matter how I focus my mind, it remains a total enigma. Does it look familiar?"
After emerging from his seclusion, Lucia had recounted the inheritance process in detail, carefully omitting the existence of the Memory Battlefield.
Lansseax racked her brains, her fingers tracing the air, but eventually, she sighed and shook her head. "I have no memory of such a mark. When I breached my own Bronze Gate centuries ago, I didn't see nebulae or illusions. It was simply an ocean of raw data—a flood of knowledge that took me a hundred years to organize and master."
She looked at him then, her gaze a mix of pride and wariness. "Even the seal I faced would have crushed the soul of any average Demigod. Your seal should have been ten times stronger. I have no idea how you simply... walked through."
"Mutation, maybe?" Lucia scratched his head, offering a hollow laugh. "Being in that egg for a thousand years must have done something to the locks. It didn't feel like a fortress; it felt like an invitation."
"Hmph. Getting a bargain and acting like it was nothing," Lansseax grumbled, catching the smug twitch at the corner of his mouth. She reached out with her "devilish claws" and ruffled his silver hair—which he had spent twenty minutes combing—into a tangled bird's nest.
After her usual bout of brotherly bullying, she let out a long, relieved breath. She pinched his cheek one last time. "Regardless of how you did it, the result is what matters. You're stronger now. I can finally go back to the Temple and get some sleep."
"Going back?" Lucia asked, surprised. "I thought you were staying. I still need you to walk me through the nuances of the Dragon King's Body."
"Hey, I am a High Priestess of the Temple, not your private tutor! Protecting you for a few days was already a massive favor. I have a mountain of official duties waiting for me." She laughed at his expression, standing up and dusting off her white robes. "Practice the basics I showed you. If you get stuck on the Storm Swordsmanship, ask Elder Muriel or Aegis. If they can't help, find me at the Temple."
Lansseax spent the next few hours meticulously correcting Lucia's form for the Dragon King's Body and the Claw of Ruin. Because he had already "simulated" these moves a hundred times in his mind, he only needed fine-tuning. By the afternoon, she had briefed the guards—Aegis, Guilel, and Anastasia—and departed with a flourish of white silk.
"Did something happen at the Temple?" Lucia asked Guilel as they watched her ride away.
"I'm not sure," the guard replied, her brow furrowed. "A messenger arrived last night. The Priestess didn't seem react much, but she burned the letter immediately. She didn't share the contents."
Lucia went cold. Burned it? That meant the news was sensitive—likely something she didn't want him, or the Golden Dynasty, to overhear. He decided then that the only way to help her was to accelerate his own growth.
That evening, the usual guests arrived. Miquella and Malenia were late, delayed by the girl's health. The little fox, who had been lazily napping on a pile of Lucia's combat manuals, perked up the moment she heard the wheels of the wheelchair. She turned into a streak of white light, lunging across the courtyard and bouncing into Malenia's lap.
"Shirley!" Malenia laughed, hugging the fox as it licked her face. "I'm sorry we're late, I wasn't feeling well today."
Miquella stepped forward, his smile sincere. "Congratulations on your breakthrough, Lucia."
"Thank you," Lucia replied. He felt that familiar, uncanny sense of ease around Miquella. The boy's intelligence was so vast that Lucia never had to over-explain himself; there was a silent, mutual understanding between them.
"Malenia," Lucia said, gesturing to the fox. "Could you explain the name 'Shirley'? And why on earth did she agree to it?"
"Oh..." Malenia looked down, suddenly timid. "I'm sorry. You were busy, and I spent so much time with her... I just started calling her Shirley. If you don't like it..."
"I love it," Lucia interrupted, rubbing the girl's hair. "It's perfect. Her fur is like fresh snow; 'Shirley' fits her perfectly."
Miquella looked puzzled—he didn't speak Chinese and couldn't see the link between "Snow" and the name—but since Lucia was happy, the name was officially canon.
The three of them played with the fox for a few more minutes until Miquella caught Lucia's eye. The boy's expression turned serious. "Lucia," he whispered, "I need to discuss something with you. In private."
Lucia nodded. He called for the maids to watch over Malenia and the fox, then led Miquella into the quiet shadows of the hall.
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