The Beginning After The End novel Chapter 143

Chapter 143

Chapter 143: Numbers Behind Age

TESSIA ERALITH’S POV:

I stepped out of the teleportation gate and onto a platform, feeling weary and frustrated. I could’ve helped back there, but they wouldn’t let me. The soldiers that stayed behind to fight all echoed the same words—that I needed to go and my safety was priority.

What the hell was the point of training so damn hard if everyone treated me like some glass sculpture?

I let out a deep breath, hoping to expel the frustration out of my system, but all it did was remind my body how thirsty I was. Looking around at the crowd of soldiers, guards and nurses, I sought out looking for anyone holding a glass of water to quench my parched throat. Then I caught the sight of my teammates.

Stannard and Darvus were asleep against the wall while Caria was sitting up, speaking to someone, when she pointed at me.

The man she had been talking to maintained his crouching position as he turned his head.

My chest tightened as he stood up. His furrowed brows and sharp gaze that regarded his surroundings instantly relaxed as he locked eyes with me.

It was Art. _{freeweɓnovēl.coɱ}

I couldn’t help but mindlessly stare as he walked towards me. The first time I had seen him in two years, he was covered in blood and grime, looking somewhat like a monster himself. However, the Art that was approaching me now was completely different. Dressed in a sharp white tunic lined luxuriously with gold and a long black mantle that seemed to shroud him in mystery, he exuded a sort of grand aura that belittled every royal family in Dicathen. His long hair was bound up, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw while locks of auburn bangs fell messily over his forehead and past his azure eyes that crinkled from his breathtaking smile.

He was almost upon me when I snapped out of my daze. There were soldiers and guards nearby that I had to keep my composure around. It had barely been a day since the last time I’d seen Art and judging by his demeanor from the last time we had met in public, I’m sure he disliked emotional reunions.

Letting out a hoarse cough, I tried to stand taller, puffing myself up to muster as much poise and dignity that I could despite my unkempt appearance.

I stuck out my hand for him to shake, keeping my expression stoic. “Good to see you so soon, Arth—”

My gesture was ignored as a powerful hand wove underneath my arm, landing firmly on my back as he pulled me toward him. I stumbled forward by the sudden force and my face pressed against the thin tunic, bathing me in his warmth.

I’d been approached, pursued, and courted by almost every man brave enough to look past my lineage but the only thing I felt for them was either pity or annoyance. However, at this moment, my body felt as if it had been both frozen and melted at the same time as I remained motionless in his embrace.

Whether the entire room had fallen silent or my sense of hearing had just disappeared, I couldn’t tell, but my other senses had become overwhelmed. From inside the safe haven of his sturdy arms, a faint hint of oak and a crisp ocean breeze filled my nose as I felt the side of his face bury into my neck.

My limbs remained frozen but my empty stomach continued to flutter uncontrollably while Art’s arm squeezed just a fraction tighter.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Art finally spoke. His warm breath blew against my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

My arms twitched, instinctively wanting to hug him back, but the piercing stares of everyone around us made me stop.

“O-Of course I’m okay,” I said, barely mustering up the strength to push him away despite how every fiber in my body wanted me to pull him closer. I could feel blood rushing up my neck to the very top of my head as I stared at Art, his face just inches away from my own.

I could see his eyes moving, tracing every feature of my face as he studied me. He let out deep breath, as if a large weight had been lifted, and looked at me with a gentle smile. “Come on. I’ll take you to your grandfather.”

It felt as though I was swimming in some sort of thick, viscous liquid in my head. The world blurred by with muffled conversations and shadows of people I couldn’t quite make out. My body seemed to move on its own, acting and responding on instinct as my mind kept recalling my arrival back inside the castle. Now that I was just remembering it, my mind started analyzing every action and inaction of the scene, trying to put meaning into every thing Art did at that moment—the firmness yet tenderness of his hug, the desperation and relief that poured out of him when his eyes locked onto me.

I replayed the scene over and over again in my head, nitpicking every little detail. However, the conclusion that I had reached every time was the same. I hated how composed he was every time we met. And, after all of this time, I hated how I still felt weak and helpless in front of him.

I wasn’t able to see much of Art after our initial meeting at the castle. I was swept away by a team of nurses as soon as my grandfather had released me from his embrace, and escorted to my room. After checking to make sure my teammates had been tended to, I plopped gingerly into my bed, finding comfort in the fact that my simply furnished room was exactly as I had left it.

As the nurses removed my armor and wiped me down with scented towels, I felt my body sinking deeper and deeper into the sheets until the world faded to darkness.

“—should tell her, Virion.” Art’s familiar voice pulled me out of my slumber. Rubbing my eyes, I squinted at the morning sun just barely peeking above the layer of clouds below us.

It took my brain a second to assess the situation before a frightening thought struck me. I immediately peeked underneath my covers, letting out a sigh of relief to find myself clothed.

“She’s going to find out eventually. You can’t hide something like this from her; it’s impossible.” Art’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. He talked in a hushed tone but his words rang clearly in my ears.

“It’s fine if she finds out later, but she’s not ready for this. Now shush! What if she hears?” my grandfather whispered back.

“She’ll listen to you if you respect her enough to tell her. If she finds out from anyone else, what do you think she’s going to do?” Art argued back, his voice growing sharper.

“Damn you, boy. What if she decides to go? Then what?”

“We’ll figure it out after hearing her response. Virion, you and I both know what your granddaughter is capable of once she puts her mind to something.”

“I know,” my grandfather snapped back. “I just can’t... with Cynthia dying by the hands of those Vritra bastards right here in this castle. What if...”

I couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation as my heart began beating louder and louder. Master Cynthia is dead? That’s impossible, right?

Master Cynthia had always been leagues above anyone I knew in terms of magical abilities. Her expertise in mana manipulation was on par with—maybe even above—Grandpa’s. She had taught me everything from basic control to advanced execution of spells while sword fighting.

There is no way she would be killed so easily. I tried convincing myself, but my hands trembled as I held on tightly to my blanket.

I sat up on my bed, wiping away a stray tear that had managed to escape from my eye, and waited for the two of them to come in.

“Come in,” I answered immediately after they knocked on the door.

Art, dressed simply in a grey tunic and black pants with his hair tied up into a knot, came in first, followed by my grandfather who was wearing the same black robe he had been wearing yesterday.

Art took one glance at me and let out a sigh as he closed his eyes. “How much did you hear?”