Episode-752
Chapter : 1503
He walked over to his heavy travel trunk. He unlocked the complex series of latches and threw the lid open. Inside, nestled in velvet and straw, were the fruits of his labor from the Ferrum manufactory.
"Flash bombs," Lloyd said, picking up a silver sphere. "Smoke grenades. Concussive charges. And the prototype explosive charges I developed with Borin."
He held up a brick of a dark, putty-like substance wrapped in oil paper.
"This," Lloyd said, "is concentrated alchemical fire. Stick it to a wall, light the fuse, and it burns through stone in seconds. We have enough here to bring down the main support pillars of the facility."
He looked at Ken. "Kasim. You are on acquisition. We need climbing gear. Black rope. Grappling hooks. And I need you to scout the perimeter. Do not get close. Do not engage. Just find the drainage tunnel. Confirm its location."
"Understood," Ken said. "I will be a shadow."
"And Jia," Lloyd said, turning to Jasmin. "You have the hardest job. You have to maintain the cover. You have to go to the market. You have to smile. You have to act like a bored assistant while your heart is breaking. Can you do that?"
Jasmin took a deep breath. She thought of Pia. She thought of Risa. She straightened her spine.
"Yes," she said. "I can do that."
"Good," Lloyd said. "Because if Cassius sees even a crack in our mask... it's over."
He pulled a long, sleek case from the bottom of the trunk. He set it on the table and opened it. Inside lay the disassembled parts of his sniper rifle, the steel gleaming in the candlelight.
"We are going to give them a distraction when the time is right," Lloyd said, his fingers tracing the cold metal barrel. "A really big, loud, fiery distraction. But until then... we sharpen our knives."
He looked up at his team. The playful doctor was gone. The sarcastic noble was gone. This was the Major General.
"Jasmin," Lloyd said. "You're with me on the infiltration team when the time comes. We're going inside. You identify Risa. I handle the locks. I handle the resistance."
"Ken," he continued. "You are overwatch. You find a high point overlooking the quarry. You cover our exit. And when we are clear... when we have the girl and we are running... you light the fuse."
"On what?" Ken asked.
"On the fuel depot," Lloyd said, pointing to another entry in the ledger he had memorized and marked on the map. "They keep a massive stockpile of alchemical fuel for the incinerators. Highly volatile. If that goes up... it will take the whole north wing of the facility with it. It will be a signal fire that the King can see from his bedroom window."
"Understood," Ken said. He picked up the rifle parts and began to assemble them with practiced, blind efficiency. Click. Snap. Slide.
"Get your gear ready," Lloyd ordered. "Black clothes. Masks. No identification. When the moment comes, Doctor Zayn retires. Tonight, and until the mission is done, the White Mask returns."
As they geared up, checking buckles and sharpening blades, the sun began to set over Saber. Long, jagged shadows stretched across the city like claw marks. The peaceful facade of the capital was melting away in the twilight, revealing the dark, beating heart beneath.
And three ghosts were preparing to cut it out, waiting in the darkness for the moment the monster blinked.
The air in the Princess's solar was stagnant, smelling of lavender and repressed hysteria. Lloyd Ferrum, wearing the guise of Doctor Zayn, stood by the window, watching the Royal Guards patrol the garden below. They moved in precise, mechanical patterns, a clockwork cage designed to keep threats out and the bird inside.
Seraphina sat on her chaise lounge, looking pale and expectant. She was waiting for the routine. The soothing words, the cool stone on her forehead, the temporary relief that was really just a pressure valve on a ticking bomb.
Lloyd turned away from the window. He looked at her. Really looked at her. He saw the potential buried under layers of fear and magical binding. He thought about the ledger he had stolen, about the incinerators and the collars. He thought about Risa.
The time for half-measures was over. The doctor was clocking out. The teacher was clocking in.
"No stone today, Highness," Lloyd said quietly.
Seraphina blinked, her hands fluttering to her lap. "But... the headache. The pressure. It is starting to build."
"Let it build," Lloyd said.
Chapter : 1504
He walked over to the door and checked the lock. He reinforced the sound-dampening ward he had placed earlier, pouring a little extra Void power into it to ensure absolute privacy. When he turned back, his face was stripped of the gentle, bedside-manner mask.
"For the past week, I have been treating your symptoms," Lloyd said, walking toward her. "I have been bailing water out of a sinking ship. It keeps you afloat, but it doesn't fix the hole in the hull."
"I don't understand," Seraphina whispered, shrinking back slightly. "You said I was healing."
"I said you were stabilizing," Lloyd corrected. "There is a difference. Stabilization is for patients who are waiting to die comfortably. Healing... healing hurts. Healing requires change."
He pulled a chair over and sat directly in front of her, invading her personal space.
"The binding on your core," Lloyd said, his voice low and intense. "It isn't a sickness. It is a dam. And your magic is the river behind it. Every time you try to use your power, the river hits the wall, and the backlash gives you a migraine. So, you stop. You suppress it. You make the river smaller."
Seraphina nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "It hurts too much."
"Pain is information," Lloyd said coldly. "It tells you something is wrong. But instead of fixing it, you have been taught to fear it. You have been taught that your own power is the enemy."
He reached out. But instead of the soothing Lilith Stone, he extended his bare hand.
"Give me your hand," he commanded.
Hesitantly, she placed her trembling hand in his.
"Close your eyes," Lloyd ordered. "Don't look for the pain. Look for the flow."
She closed her eyes.
Lloyd didn't use his healing arts. He used his mana control. He sent a sharp, invasive pulse of his own energy into her system. It wasn't an attack, but it wasn't gentle. It was a wake-up call. It surged through her arm, slamming into her core.
Seraphina gasped, her back arching. "It burns!"
"Good," Lloyd said mercilessly. "Fire burns. That is your magic, Seraphina. It isn't a delicate flower. It is a sun. And right now, it is trying to cook you alive because you won't let it shine."
"Stop it!" she cried. "Please!"
"No," Lloyd said. "Push back."
"I can't!"
"You can," Lloyd snapped. "You are the daughter of kings. You are not a victim. You are a mage. That binding? It's foreign. It's cold. It's dark. It doesn't belong to you. Your magic hates it. Use that hate."
He increased the pressure of his mana pulse. It was uncomfortable, bordering on painful. He was forcing her system into a fight-or-flight response.
"Push back!" Lloyd roared.
Inside Seraphina, something snapped. Not the binding—that was too strong to break with brute force yet—but the fear. The sheer, overwhelming sensation of Lloyd's intrusion triggered a primal instinct.
Get out.
Her core flared. It wasn't the weak, sputtering spark she usually managed. It was a surge. A golden, radiant wave of Light mana rushed up from her depths to meet Lloyd's intrusion.
It hit the binding. The black chains around her soul vibrated. The pressure in her head spiked to a blinding crescendo.
"Hold it!" Lloyd commanded, sensing the spike. "Don't let it explode. Channel it. Like water through a pipe. Don't fight the wall. Find the crack."
Seraphina gritted her teeth. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She didn't try to blast the binding. She visualized the light. She visualized it flowing around the darkness, finding the tiny gaps in the curse.
The pressure stabilized. The pain shifted from a stabbing knife to a heavy weight. It was manageable.
Lloyd withdrew his hand.
Seraphina slumped forward, gasping for air. Her skin was flushed. Her eyes snapped open. They were bright. Brighter than he had ever seen them.
"I..." she panted. "I didn't faint."
"No," Lloyd said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "You didn't. You fought. And you won the skirmish."
He looked at her with a new kind of respect. It wasn't the respect of a subject for a princess, but of a teacher for a student who finally grasped the lesson.
"That," Lloyd said, "is what it feels like to be a player, not a pawn. Now. Catch your breath. Because the physical therapy is over. Now comes the mental surgery."
He reached into his robe and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a copy of the page from the ledger he had memorized.