"Alice comes from an extraordinary background," Barbara said. "Though she is also from the Plantagenet Kingdom, she is destined to soar like a phoenix. You must have sensed it—her talent is unparalleled, far beyond what this small kingdom can offer."
Pride flickered in Barbara's eyes as she spoke.
"So, you're telling me to give up and stop associating with Alice?" Alan asked, quickly grasping her meaning.
Barbara nodded seriously.
"It's for your own good—and hers. While you may have some unique qualities, you are insignificant compared to Miss Alice and the powers backing her."
"If you nurture unrealistic ambitions, you'll only exhaust yourself emotionally and physically. The gap between you is unimaginable. Even Miss Alice herself could be dragged down by you."
Alan didn't respond. He knew that without absolute strength, anything he said would be weak and meaningless.
Strength!
His own strength was still far too lacking.
Barbara, seeing Alan remain silent, activated a magical light array beneath her feet. The space rippled, and she disappeared using a teleportation formation.
A teleportation formation?!
Alan stared in surprise at the spot where Barbara had vanished.
In his memory, only a mage of at least tier-platinum could casually use a teleportation light array.
The hierarchy of mage tiers was clear: tier-iron, tier-bronze, tier-gold, tier-platinum, tier-diamond, and beyond.
Each tier represented a massive chasm of strength, an almost insurmountable gap.
In the Plantagenet Kingdom, a tier-gold mage was already considered a regional powerhouse. But tier-platinum mages? They were exceedingly rare.
This protector of Alice was clearly at least tier-platinum.
And yet, before Alice, she was so humble.
This spoke volumes about Alice's standing and talent in Barbara's eyes.
"Do you now understand the difference in strength and background?" a black-robed woman suddenly asked.
Alan took a deep breath and nodded.
"You don't need to think too far ahead," the woman continued. "The road is right beneath your feet. Walk it steadily, step by step, and you'll catch up to her—and surpass all the prodigies."
Alan nodded again, then began contemplating his current situation.
His sister, Isabella, could only hold out for another month with the spirit of fire within her. Without a suitable replacement, her mental state might collapse again.
Her situation was precarious.
Additionally, the monsters of the Second Layer of Hell were nearing awakening.
Without the sealing artifact the black-robed woman had mentioned, Alan was certain to die.
Everything depended on strength.
Strength!
Resolving himself, Alan hurried back to the valley.
As Alan approached Isabella's room, he suddenly heard crying coming from the main hall—a familiar voice.
Isabella!
Panic surged within him as he gripped his staff-like sword tightly and rushed into the hall.
Inside, Francis stood before Isabella, saying something that made her cry even harder.
Fury flared in Alan's chest. Without hesitation, he unleashed his most powerful Light Sword Spell.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Piercing sounds filled the air as brilliant light swords, each the length of an arm, shot toward Francis with unimaginable speed.
The smile on Francis' face froze as a chill of danger crept up his spine.
The intensity of the deathly threat made his body involuntarily tremble.
Unstoppable!
The thought flashed through his mind.
Black light surged around Francis, making his body as light as a feather. He narrowly dodged to the side.
The light swords struck the granite floor where he had been standing, piercing it as easily as if it were soft tofu.
The thought of those swords hitting him made Francis' scalp tingle.
He whipped his head toward the source of the attack.
Alan!
"What the hell, man?! Do you have to go so hard? We're classmates!" Francis shouted, his mouth twitching in disbelief.
But before he could finish, Alan charged at him again, faster and deadlier than before.
"You made my sister cry. You're dead!" Alan roared, his eyes cold and full of killing intent.
What?!
Francis was baffled. He'd only been joking—was this really necessary?
Fleeing frantically, he shouted, "I was just teasing her! Is that worth killing me over?"
Alan ignored him. His sister's tears demanded retribution.
Meanwhile, Isabella, still in the hall, watched Alan and Francis chase each other. Worry crept into her heart.
"If this keeps up, what if my brother gets hurt?"
She hurried off to find Gayle, but he was nowhere to be found.
With no other options, she rushed to Blanche's room.
"Sister, my brother is fighting with the new guy! Can you go check on them?"
Blanche glanced at Isabella.
"Do you and your brother know how to barbecue?"
Isabella nodded.
"A little."
"Perfect. I'm hungry."
Alan chased Francis out of the valley and into the surrounding mountains.
Francis fled desperately, with Alan close behind, radiating murderous intent.
The black glow around Francis grew brighter, making him seem weightless. Even the gentlest breeze seemed to propel him forward, enhancing his speed in a mystical way.
Alan, wielding his staff-like sword, let his Blade Spirit guide his strikes. Grass, trees, and even towering trunks were left slashed and broken in his wake.
"Damn it! When have I, Francis, ever been chased like this?!"
Anger bubbled in Francis' chest as he ran.
Finally, he stopped running. Pulling the spear from his back, he turned sharply and lunged at Alan's throat, aiming for a surprise counterattack.
But as the spear thrust forward, Alan's Blade Spirit flared brilliantly, resonating with his Light Sword Spell.
In an instant, the spear's tip was cleaved in two.
"Are you kidding me?!" Francis cursed, realizing just how terrifying Alan's combat prowess was when enraged.
Abandoning his attack, Francis threw away the broken spear and resumed running.
The chase continued for an entire day and night.
Eventually, Francis, panting and exhausted, staggered back into the valley. His legs wobbled beneath him, barely able to support his weight.
Alan followed close behind, ready to strike again. But just as he raised his weapon, Isabella's voice rang out.
"Brother!"
Alan turned to see Isabella running toward him. She threw herself into his arms, her face full of concern.
"Brother, are you okay?"
Francis, collapsed on the ground, nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.
I'm the one who's been chased all day and night, not him!
Alan's expression softened as he looked at Isabella.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Brother!" she replied quickly.
Finally, Alan turned to Francis, who flinched and stammered,
"What do you want now? I've told you countless times—I didn't bully your sister! Ask her yourself!"
Alan looked at Isabella.
"What did he say to you? Why were you crying?"
Isabella hesitated, her blue eyes shimmering. Alan gently patted her head, and only then did she speak.
"It wasn't anything serious. I just remembered how you always came back injured in the past, and now you're still running around for my sake. I… I couldn't help it…"
Her voice broke, and tears welled up again.
"That's all in the past," Alan said gently. "Things will get better from now on."
He pulled Isabella into a comforting hug.
"We'll never have to suffer like that again."
Isabella nodded firmly, eventually drifting into a peaceful sleep in Alan's arms.