I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

Gerald's breath hitched, and the metallic taste rising from deep in his throat made him frown slightly.

Before the sweet, metallic taste had even fully dissipated in his mouth, he had already looked down at the jewelry in his palm.

Crimson blood spilled from his mouth, dripping onto the surface of the blood-red gemstone, slowly seeping in as if drawn by an invisible force, and was instantly devoured by the gemstone.

The gemstone, which originally retained four-fifths of its color, suddenly underwent a change.

The remaining four-fifths shrank abruptly the moment the blood seeped into the gem, like a piece of rice paper soaked in ink, its excess color absorbed by some unknown force. Its original depth was no longer complete; a portion of its color was forcibly stripped away, reducing it to three-fifths of its original size.

In that instant, Gerald felt a subtle vibration in his fingertips, as slight as ripples on a lake, yet he could keenly perceive it—

The essence of this thing is finally beginning to change.

The evidence is that, in the instant before his consciousness completely plunged into darkness, the last thing he caught in his peripheral vision was the floor suddenly standing upright.

Gravity had overcome his will, dragging his mind into the abyss along with it.

……

eggshell.

He suddenly saw two eggshells, one transparent, with details visible on it, and the other dark, like an unopened package.

The transparent eggshell revealed the shape of the valley. He didn't know what his body looked like, but he tried to move his limbs to get his head closer to the eggshell.

He saw the dawn breaking through the valley, and the sirens singing together. Ramalien, dressed in elaborate and gorgeous clothes, stood at the forefront of the sirens. He saw his own reflection in the image, and the pegasus in the scene stood beside the great sirens, gently taking her wrist, and they walked forward together.

He moved closer and poked the eggshell with the tip of his nose, letting his consciousness easily merge into it.

However, a second before he went inside, he saw what the other eggshell looked like.

The pitch-black sky and sea shrouded that world, blurry outlines swallowed by the churning waters, only to reappear. There was no color between heaven and earth, only suffocating blackness, and the fleeting moments when lightning tore through the night. At the eye of the storm, something seemed to be rising and falling; it appeared to be a white-haired figure.

What does this mean?

He had no room to think; his consciousness simply dissipated, coalesced, and finally returned to his body.

……

But he still couldn't move.

My body was tightly bound by something, as if swallowed by a heavy tide, or as if firmly entangled by some kind of tough yet soft tentacles.

His consciousness suddenly cleared, and his golden eyes snapped open, revealing a landscape that was both strange and familiar.

That was the ceiling of the hidden room in the Banshee's Courtyard.

A faint fragrance filled the air, mingled with the calming scent of ancient wood, just like the places he had briefly stayed in several times before. But more than the familiarity of the environment, what alarmed Gerald now was the disappearance of his clothes and the strange sensation clinging to his body.

His body felt as if it were tightly wrapped by a giant octopus. Those "tentacles" were flexible and elastic, with a unique warmth and moist touch, wrapping around his waist, arms, and even his legs were firmly fixed in place.

well.

Next, he needs to figure out why he was locked up by two people using similar chokeholds within a single day.

And how exactly did things get to this point?

Chapter 73 Some things changed in the unseen realm (4K)

"Lamaren."

"Ok?"

Why are you in this bed?

The person in his arms responded softly, her body not loosening its grip but tightening even more. Strands of her hair brushed against Gerald's bare shoulders, causing a slight tickling sensation. Then, she naturally buried her head deeper into his chest, her posture as natural as if this were her final resting place.

A moment later, she realized what had happened and suddenly turned over to look into Gerald's eyes.

"you're awake?"

"Did I sleep for a long time again?" Gerald subconsciously began to survey his surroundings. Since obtaining the Dream Essence, he hadn't returned to the dream world even once... Heaven knows what unexpected things might happen in the wilderness. In comparison, wearing the necklace at Saria's house was a much less risky choice.

As it turned out, this choice was wrong. He shouldn't have given up the opportunity to improve himself for a little risk; otherwise, he wouldn't have been pinned down on the sofa by that Vyvan.

However, when the scene from several days ago was replayed in his mind, the details in the dream seemed to be exactly the same. Judging from the way he hung his clothes and the scent brought by the wind, it was indeed only one night that had passed, without any difference.

This stands in stark contrast to the approximately three months of coma he had previously endured.

"But...you look very tired...you were like that when we were sparring at the Tower of Words..."

After stammering for a while, Ramalyn seemed unsure how to explain what had happened, and finally chose to hide her face. "I don't know. I'm also very tired, so I came straight to my room to rest after finishing my work. You can understand, right?"

What about her curse?

Why didn't he remind her what happened before he woke up?

It clearly worked before; last time, when she was by Gerald's side healing his wounds, she hurriedly took a minute to escape her affairs at the royal court to rush to his room and wait for him to wake up. Why didn't it work this time?

“It’s alright, I don’t mind that.” Gerald straightened himself up, carefully tucking the Banshee Queen’s loose hair behind him as he sat up in bed. “I’m just not used to having someone sleep next to me. Putting aside the last time, that was a long time ago, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to control my movements subconsciously.”

Are you sure you want to tell me this?

Lamarle blinked, pointed to herself with her slender finger, and then, an incantation instantly enveloped the bed. The air seemed to be imbued with an invisible rhythm, and her body levitated slightly, hovering gracefully in the air for a second. Her loose hair flowed and swayed in the weightlessness, intertwining and swirling like flowing silk.

The next second, she landed lightly on the ground, the metal ornaments clinking softly, and the attire of the Queen instantly appeared, clinging to her skin.

"Hmm, that's good." She adjusted her cuffs with satisfaction, raised her fingers, and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Then, she turned her gaze to Gerald, who was still standing by the bed. Her expression was clearly much more cheerful because of Gerald's words, and even her smile was gentler: "Do you still think you might lose control and hurt me?"

"We can test it."

The shirts, jackets, and accessories on the hanger vibrated silently for a moment, then detached from their fixed positions and spun lightly in the wind. The shirt collars spread out over his shoulders, the cuffs slid naturally into his arms, the jackets followed closely behind, the buttons fastened steadily under the control of the wind, and the belt was tightened by the invisible airflow, the metal buckle making a soft "click".

Then, the wind gathered in Pegasus's palm, and the incantation surrounded the banshee's body.

Lamarle looked helplessly at Gerald, whose eyes were brimming with excitement, and recalled the afternoon when she had personally asked him to spar with her.

On the bright side, as long as I'm strong enough, his gaze will always be on the banshee, right?

--------

Valley, afternoon, inside the Tower of Words.

"Through rhythms passed down for thousands of years, we can hear the footsteps of our ancestors as they journeyed far and wide, the roar of Kazdel's repeated migrations, the soft calls of withered trees sprouting new branches, and the low growls of wild beasts maturing. This is the banshee's ability to communicate with nature, the origin of all incantations..."

The elderly succubus on the podium continued to tirelessly lecture on basic theories, making the students below drowsy.

The already dull classroom atmosphere was amplified by the elderly succubus's slow, deliberate tone, which had a hypnotic effect. Most of the young succubi in the audience leaned back in their chairs, struggling to keep their eyelids open. Occasionally, a few mischievous ones would secretly take out materials beyond the curriculum from their clothes to read, completely ignoring the lessons being taught.

Sunlight streamed through the carved window frames into the classroom of the Word Spirit Tower, casting dappled shadows in the air. Occasionally, a gentle breeze would sweep by, causing the curtains to sway slightly, momentarily waking a few little banshees who were about to fall asleep, but they quickly sank back into a deeper drowsiness.

The elderly banshee seemed accustomed to the students' state and remained unaffected, standing steadily in place as she continued to explain in a slow and drawn-out tone: "—It originates from our blood and exists in the pulse of nature. Every breath, every whisper, is a statement about the laws of the world."

Seeing that not many people were still paying attention to the lesson, and their minds seemed to have wandered elsewhere, the elderly banshee sighed. Finally, after the last grain of sand from the hourglass formed by the incantation fell, she closed the book in her hands: "That's all for today's lesson. We'll continue tomorrow."

She leaned heavily on the cane made of incantations in her hand, slowly turned around, and hurriedly left the classroom.

The door closed slowly behind her, causing a commotion in the classroom. The little demons, who had been struggling, suddenly became lively. Some rubbed their sore necks, while others held their foreheads and complained in a low voice, "Oh my god, if you talk for another minute, my soul will leave my body."

"Can anyone tell me why the basic courses are more torturous than the training?"

One of the banshees, who tried to stretch, almost broke her fragile back with a "crack." "Ouch—it hurts... Those old fogies are always like this. If this keeps up, I'll mutate into a lich... They showed us such amazing things, but in the end, they still talked about the same old stuff in class. If only they could teach us more practical content."

"I read in a book that in the past, female demons would sing and learn at the same time, and sometimes they would stay in the herbal medicine room to marinate themselves before they could come out."

Another banshee with round lenses pushed up her glasses, even though they weren't prescription; they were just something new she'd brought from outside to make her look more knowledgeable: "Now that we've discarded the dregs of the past, why not try to understand everything in the outside world? Although the outside world generally discriminates against Sarkaz, look at the feathers on our heads—who would think we're Sarkaz? They'd only think we're Liberi!"

“I also hope to learn some knowledge about the outside world.” Another little banshee, who seemed quieter, nodded and agreed with the two of them: “But that makes sense. Even the Banshee Queen lost. Maybe the valley isn’t very safe, let alone the outside world.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the classroom fell into an eerie silence.

Although it was only a brief pause of a few seconds, the weight of that silence was immense, as if pressing down on everyone's heart.

They—the only eight young banshees in the entire banshee race—had all witnessed that awe-inspiring battle.

As storms swept through and incantations clashed, powers that should have existed only in ancient epics and legends were displayed before their eyes in the most direct way.

Once upon a time, they all harbored lofty ambitions, dreaming of one day ascending to the pinnacle of the royal court and becoming the ruler standing above countless succubi. But when the truly powerful displayed their prowess, those unrealistic fantasies shattered in an instant, turning into endless self-doubt and an indescribable sense of defeat.

Of course, there are exceptions.

In the corner, a little banshee was fast asleep, her face buried in her arms, as if the silent and solemn atmosphere had not disturbed her dreams; while Nasti, who was also hanging next to her, was still engrossed in her book, her slender fingers turning the pages, as if everything around her was irrelevant to her.

*Plop*

The sleeping little fairy was suddenly awakened by the sound of a sleep bubble being popped. She groggily raised her head and looked around: "get out of class is over, shouldn't we go eat?"

“There’s one more class.” Nasti answered her question casually, turning to the next page to re-examine the questions and answers in the textbook. “It’s still theory. The Banshee Queen just adjusted the schedule, moving tomorrow’s class to today.”

"Could it be that the Queen of the Banshees herself is coming?!" The little banshee's face was suddenly filled with terror. "Does that mean I can't sleep?"

"...What made you think you could sleep in the last class?"

If this guy hadn't developed resistance to spells, and could still sleep in the sky after being bound, the elderly banshee wouldn't have noticed her turning the pages during class and punished both of them.

Nasti finally sighed: "Anyway, we'll be hanging here again for the next class. Hopefully, it won't be the Banshee Queen herself teaching... otherwise, we'll probably leave her with a pretty bad impression."

Even after being personally sent into the sky by those two, Nasti didn't feel particularly special. Rather, she quickly realized that the Banshee Queen's expectation of her lay in her potential to attempt to solve problems after posing them.

However, the results were often worse than she expected.

The classroom door was pushed open, and the little banshees' eyes were immediately drawn to the doorway. A figure walked in, but unlike what they had imagined, it was indeed a banshee's clothing—only it was a man's.

A silver Pegasus walked in.

His face and hands were covered in bloodstains, which seemed to have healed considerably under the influence of the incantation, but the fact that he was injured could not be concealed.

But to the little banshees, this was more terrifying than anything else. So much so that, except for Nasti, everyone stopped breathing for a moment.

Gerald glanced at the classroom, where no one dared to breathe, blinked, and said subtly, "I suggest you think back to when we first met. I don't think I did anything to you, did I? So why are you all afraid of me now?"

There was silence.

The silence lasted for about a minute. Gerald leaned gently against the wall behind him, quietly waiting for someone in the crowd to perhaps answer his question.

Until one little witch raised her hand—the one who had initially hoped for more practical experience.

"Please say."

The little banshee took a deep breath and slowly said, "Because you can kill us, and we can't fight back. Even the banshee queen might not be able to keep you here."

“That’s right.” Gerald casually pointed to the air, and the wind carried Nasti and the other little banshee back to their original seats. The spell used to bind them was completely shattered without even having the strength to resist.

"But you can rest assured, the Banshee Queen has her own way of judging people, which she has developed through war and experience. Otherwise, she wouldn't be so willing to entrust your lives to me. Perhaps I am surrounded by traps made of spells right now, which will be automatically triggered as soon as you have an evil thought."

Gerald walked to the center of the classroom. The room in the Tower of Words basically continued its ancient characteristics, with stone walls and wooden desks, and the light source made of incantations. It was obviously far from being considered comfortable, but it was perfect for teaching.

He continued, “I was entrusted by her to introduce you to some knowledge about the outside world, so that you can better adapt to a possible life of isolation in the future. But you must be tired of the theory, so I think some practical content will be easier for you to understand.”

"For example, you're walking through the alleys of a big city, trying to avoid being seen, when suddenly you're ambushed and have to use a bone pen and a spell to fight back..."

Amidst the puzzled gazes of the crowd, some inconspicuous iron ore quietly drifted into the classroom from where he had entered. At first, it floated slowly in mid-air, and then, as if attracted by something, it collided, pieced together, and adjusted its angle, gradually assembling like a jigsaw puzzle. Then, it uglyly assembled into the shape of the power armor he remembered from the post station.

The wind, as the filling of will, was put into this "body".

Gerald channeled the potential energy of the gale into the right hand of his power armor, the dark cannons aimed at the banshees staring at each other, expressing the awe they felt.

And then the power armor took off.

"Then this is what you might encounter."

Tenma nodded seriously and continued what he hadn't finished saying earlier: "It's okay. Today, let's see how you all react to this thing. Next time, I'll teach you how to disassemble this machine and how to break down the opponent's attack step by step. These techniques can naturally be applied to other enemies. We have plenty of time, so let's learn step by step."

"But you must remember this well: this is the enemy you will face when you rest in the valley."

His gaze met Nasti's surprised eyes, then he looked away and emphasized to all the little banshees:

"As the foundation of foundations."

--------

the other side.

While Gerald was busy torturing the little banshee, Lamaren was naturally not idle either.

She was busy receiving an unexpected guest... Although the other party did have the authority to enter the valley at will, such a sudden visit still caught her somewhat off guard.

Especially when the other person showed a smile that was both unexpected and expected the moment they saw her.

“I’m not wrong, Lamaren, he really is a trustworthy person, isn’t he?”

The Demon King gently accepted the tea offered by the incantation and said this to the Queen of the Banshees.

Chapter 74 Hello, Theresa