"Northwest!"
Calista's voice echoed once more in Elric's mind.
Without hesitation, Elric leapt forward, sprinting across the rooftops.
He deftly avoided collapsing buildings and billowing smoke, heading directly in the direction Calista had pointed him toward.
When the earthquake hit earlier, Calista had sensed two powerful psychic presences.
Now, as Elric drew closer, he could also feel the intense psychic energy growing stronger.
Calista had told Elric that one of these two forces was tied to something particularly important.
Elric's heart tightened.
Calista never said things like that lightly.
"Understood!"
Elric responded to Calista in his mind, increasing his speed even more.
The wind roared in his ears as the flames and smoke receded into the distance behind him.
The outline of the northwest began to emerge more clearly, and as Elric ran, a sense of familiarity crept into his mind.
Finally, he recognized the towering structure ahead.
It was Blackstone Castle—the domain of the Blackstone Duke.
The castle's imposing silhouette loomed ominously against the backdrop of swirling black smoke and the crimson glow of flames.
The distant firelight bathed the castle in a sinister red hue, making it seem more like a harbinger of disaster than a symbol of power.
Surrounding the castle was a wide moat, its surface shimmering with red reflections under the firelight.
The only way to the castle was via a bridge that spanned the moat.
Surprisingly, the castle's main gate stood wide open.
Standing on the rooftop, Elric surveyed the scene below.
A large crowd carrying torches surged toward Blackstone Castle like a serpent of fire, winding its way toward the entrance.
The flickering flames cast grotesque shadows on the walls, making the crowd appear distorted and menacing.
What drew Elric's attention even more was the makeup of this mob.
Many of them wore the armor of the Blackstone Guard.
They held their torches firmly, while the other hand grasped weapons in a trained and orderly fashion, clearly not a ragtag group.
Mixed among them were people dressed in ragged prisoner's uniforms, walking side by side with the Blackstone guards.
They marched with determination and precision.
Elric's gaze settled on a figure in the center of the group, instantly standing out from the rest.
It was a blond young man, riding calmly atop a black horse, holding a torch in one hand and gripping the reins with the other.
The young man rode at a leisurely pace.
Surrounding him were several people in prisoner's garb, along with a few Blackstone Guards.
The young man's demeanor was composed, his gaze cold, as if the chaos around him held no significance.
Elric furrowed his brow slightly.
"Interesting, very interesting,"
Calista's voice, with a hint of mockery, rang in Elric's mind, interrupting his thoughts.
"Shall we go over?"
Elric asked softly, his eyes locked on the blond young man.
Unexpectedly, Calista remained calm, her response unusually composed.
"Not yet. Let's wait."
Elric's eyes were drawn to the young man's black cloak.
As the firelight flickered, he could clearly see the emblem on the cloak—a symbol of the Blackstone family.
The discovery made Elric's eyes widen in shock, his heart pounding.
"A member of the Blackstone family?"
He silently exclaimed, realizing the situation was far more complicated than he initially thought.
The Blackstone family attacking the Blackstone family?
Not only was this blond youth leading both prisoners and Blackstone Guards to storm Blackstone Castle, but he also appeared to be part of the family himself.
The blond young man on horseback soon entered the castle.
...
The blond youth calmly removed his black cloak and casually handed it to a frightened maid at his side.
The maid's hands trembled as she took the cloak, not daring to linger.
She quickly retreated to a corner.
Without sparing her a glance, the blond youth confidently strode into the grand hall of Blackstone Castle, his footsteps steady and measured.
He raised his head slightly, locking his gaze on the blond hair middle-aged man seated at the head of the hall—the Blackstone Duke.
The Blackstone Duke sat in the shadows, illuminated only by flickering candlelight.
His face remained impassive, betraying no emotion at the blond young man's entrance.
He lowered his head, his attention focused on the documents in his hands, seemingly oblivious to the chaos and screams outside the castle.
The Blackstone Duke was a middle-aged man with blond hair, his eyes heavy with fatigue.
His beard and hair were disheveled, as though he had not taken care of himself for some time.
A deep red cloak, symbolizing the authority and legacy of the Blackstone Dukes, hung from the back of his chair.
The atmosphere in the hall was oppressive, the candle flames flickering and casting long shadows over every corner.
The air was thick with tension, making each breath feel labored.
Outside the hall, faint screams could be heard, filtering in through the sealed doors and windows.
They made the castle feel like a lifeless prison.
The blond youth stopped in the center of the hall, his gaze unwavering as he stared at the Duke, his eyes gleaming coldly.
He did not speak immediately, as if waiting for the Blackstone Duke to acknowledge his presence.
Yet the Blackstone Duke remained focused on his documents, his quill still scratching across the paper.
Occasionally, he would cough softly.
The suffocating silence stretched on, freezing time itself within the grand hall.
Just as the blond young man was about to speak, the silence was broken by the sound of hurried footsteps.
A young blond girl suddenly burst into the hall, her eyes filled with tears, her face full of urgency and fear.
Ignoring the guards at the door, she rushed straight into the hall.
"Brother, stop!"
Her voice cracked with a sob, filled with desperation and helplessness, stirring pity in anyone who heard it.
Her golden hair gleamed in the candlelight, standing out starkly against the cold presence of the blond young man in the center of the hall.
Behind her, a maid hurriedly chased after her, panic etched across her face.
The maid seemed torn, wanting to stop the girl but afraid to get too close.
Her breathing was ragged, her face anxious, but she was powerless to prevent this sudden outburst.
The guards moved quickly, attempting to escort the blond girl out of the hall.
But the young man simply spoke coldly.
"Stand down."
At his command, the guards immediately halted, unwilling to defy him.
The blond girl threw herself at the blond young man, tears streaming down her face.
She clutched his sleeve tightly, her voice trembling with desperation.
"Brother, please stop! Don't let more people get hurt..."
Her sobs echoed painfully through the empty hall, sharp and heartbreaking.
The blond young man lowered his gaze to the girl's tear-streaked face, his eyes flickering briefly with hesitation.
But soon, his composure returned, his voice icy and detached.
"Mia, this is something I must do. You wouldn't understand."
Mia's tears continued to flow as she clung to him, her eyes filled with sorrow and pleading.
She shook her head, her voice heavy with pain.
"No, brother! I don't want to see you like this! We're still family—Father wouldn't want this either!"
The blond young man fell silent for a moment, the coldness in his eyes wavering slightly. But soon, his resolve returned.
He gently raised a hand and softly stroked Mia's hair, his tone laced with complex emotions.
"Take her away."
The guards quickly moved forward, escorting Mia from the hall, leaving only the two men inside once more.