Chapter 307: Chapter 307 – “You just wanted to avoid it.”

The corridor stretched long ahead of them, its stone walls breathing out slow waves of furnace-warmth. Mana lamps flickered softly, casting shifting patterns across the floor as Luca and the Tower Master walked side by side, their footsteps echoing in gentle, unhurried rhythm.

“Master… why didn’t you stay there in the infirmary?”

Her steps faltered—not enough to be called a stop, but enough for the faintest shift of her robes. She turned her face slightly, her gaze fixed straight ahead rather than at him.

“She has just recovered from Mana Dissociation.”

Her voice was steady, but there was a soft tension beneath it—like a string pulled taut.

“And seeing me immediately after what caused her to fall into it…”

Her words slowed… each syllable dropping heavier than the last.

“…I could understand her reaction.”

The final words felt like they had been pulled from somewhere deep—spoken not to Luca, but to herself. Her eyes unfocused briefly, drifting somewhere far away, as though tapping into memories she had never intended to reveal.

Luca blinked, puzzled at the strange hint in her voice.

What does she mean “after what caused her”…? I could understand the first part but the later?

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask—

—but before the question could escape, she drew a soft breath, lifted her chin, and shifted the conversation entirely.

“So… Forgeheart Crucible, huh? You continue to surprise me one way or other.”

The abrupt transition was so smooth it was almost practiced—like a queen sweeping away a burdensome thought with a single gesture.

Luca blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, I thought it would be a good experience for us. But….master you seem to know about it?”

The Tower Master let out a quiet chuckle—elegant, airy, the kind that softened the atmosphere without ever losing dignity.

“Of course. What do you take me for?”

Her eyes curved ever so slightly—amused behind her veil. “This event isn’t just dwarven heritage. Every major noble house in the Empire, Valdros Kingdom, and Holy Kingdom knows of it.”

Luca almost tripped mid-step.

So it’s that famous? I thought nobody knew about it since nobody challenged it, even I would not have known it if in my past playthroughs brother Vincent wouldn’t have challenged it.

She glanced sideways at him, sensing his bewilderment.

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I mean… I didn’t exactly plan to! I was just following the dwarves’ lead.”

Her chuckle deepened, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction—a rare sight.

“And why has nobody challenged it in past years?” Luca asked, curiosity bubbling up again.

Her gaze drifted forward, eyes tracing the runes etched along the ceiling.

“If you know about Forgeheart Crucible , you must know about what was the reason it was stopped.”

Luca nodded, thinking, according to what the young dwarf said , it was because some noble human died in trial.

“But that,” she continued, lowering her voice slightly, “was merely the excuse.”

Her fingers brushed lightly along her sleeve—thoughtful, almost nostalgic.

“The Crucible strengthened the dwarves. United them. Drew strong challengers from all nations. For humans whose politics depended on controlling alliances… that was inconvenient.”

Luca’s eyes widened.

“So it was all politics?”

“Deep politics,” she corrected softly, lifting one brow. “Ending the Crucible was as much an insult as it was a strategy.”

Luca let out a long exhale, rubbing his temple.

“So we basically… barged in and restarted their ancient pride?”

She gave a small, warm laugh—her veil shifting with the quiet breath.

“Oh, wonderfully so. This matter was serious enough it was raised before Her Majesty personally.”

Luca froze for a heartbeat.

Then all the tension left his shoulders at once—so visibly that the Tower Master’s eyes softened.

He hadn’t smiled since yesterday’s chaos… but now, a small, helpless grin crept across his face.

She tilted her head, amused.

“You suddenly don’t seem as worried.”

Luca shrugged.

“Why should I be? I don’t understand politics, I don’t care about politics, and honestly—most of it sounds like trash.”

He paused, thinking quietly.

Well, I was worried, but after knowing her majesty is involved…

The Tower Master’s eyes glimmered faintly—warm, like sunlight filtering through ice.

“Is that so?”

“Mm.” He nodded more confidently. “That’s so.”

And for the first time since they stepped into the dwarven lands, the corridor felt lighter—like the weight on their shoulders had eased just enough for them to breathe.

Their footsteps softened into shared silence…

and then, slowly, naturally—

They both laughed.

His—young and unrestrained.

Hers—soft, dignified, almost melodic.

The sound lingered against the stone walls long after they continued walking.

Their footsteps echoed softly against the stone, their earlier laughter fading into a comfortable quiet. The dwarven corridor stretched ahead, warm torches flickering along the walls, sending wavering shadows dancing over their figures.

Luca walked half a step behind her, hands in his pockets, mind heavy with thoughts he wasn’t sure he should voice. Several times, he opened his mouth—only for the words to retreat again.

Finally… he spoke.

“Master…”

She slowed very slightly, acknowledging without looking at him.

Luca hesitated—long enough that his breath unsteadied.

“I’m not sure if I have any right to say this,” he murmured. “But… apart from what you explained earlier… I think even you didn’t want to face Selena at that moment. You just wanted to avoid it.”

The Tower Master stopped.

Not dramatically—just a soft, sudden halt.

But the shift was sharp enough to cut through the quiet.

Her veil stilled mid-movement.

Her fingers froze where they had been lightly brushing the edge of her sleeve.

And beneath the layers of her robes, a faint tremor rippled through her shoulders—so small a normal person wouldn’t have noticed.

Luca did.

He swallowed, lowering his eyes.

“I—I’m sorry,” he rushed out softly. “Please ignore it if I’m wrong. Truly. I didn’t mean to disrespect you, Master.”

Silence.

Not cold—just suspended.

He forced himself to lift his gaze to her, searching her eyes behind the veil’s shadow.

“But… if there’s even a little truth in what I said…”

His voice steadied, gentle but honest.

“…then I feel like you should face whatever issue you have with her. Instead of avoiding it.”

Her lashes lowered.

Not in anger.

Not in rejection.

But in something quieter—thought, conflict, maybe even pain, though she hid it well.

Luca continued, his tone softening further.

“I’m sure it’s difficult for you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have stepped away like that.”

The Tower Master’s shoulders dipped—barely a breath’s width—as if acknowledging something she didn’t want to name.

He took another quiet breath.

“But avoiding it will only make the distance between you two grow.”

This time, her eyes rose to meet his—direct, sharp, bright, but trembling at the edges of the irises in a way that almost looked like disbelief.

He stepped a bit closer, his voice warm.

“You said she’s emotionally vulnerable right now.”

His gaze softened.

“And wouldn’t you—her mother—be the best emotional support she could have?”

Her eyes widened.

Just a fraction.

Just enough for the light to catch the slight shift in them.

A beat passed.

Then another.

And then—

She lifted her hand.

Not quickly. Not suddenly.

A slow, deliberate motion, as though she had weighed something internally and reached a quiet conclusion.

Her palm came down lightly on Luca’s head.

A single, gentle pat.

No words.

But the softness in the gesture—controlled yet sincere—said everything she did not voice.

Then she turned.

Not toward the path ahead.

But back the way they came.

Back toward the infirmary.

Her robes whispered against the stone floor as she walked, posture straight and composed once again… yet her pace had changed. Purposeful now.

Luca blinked in surprise before a warm smile spread across his face—tired, but relieved.

He hurried after her, quickening his steps to fall into place behind her once more.

“Master, wait—!” he called lightly.

She didn’t turn back.

But the slightest curve tugged at the corner of her visible eye, softening it just a touch.

And Luca followed, matching her pace, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest.

By the time Luca and the Tower Master reached the infirmary hallway, the warm glow of mana-lamps had settled into a calm, steady pulse. The air felt lighter than last night… though a subtle tension still lingered beneath it, like the aftertaste of a storm.

Sylthara stood just outside the door, leaning one shoulder against the stone wall. A small vial of shimmering blue potion rested in her hand. She straightened immediately when she saw them approach, ears twitching slightly.

Luca stepped forward.

“What happened? What did the healer say?”

Sylthara exhaled, relief softening her sharp feline gaze.

“She’s fine. No need to panic. I just went to fetch this potion for her—helps with residual mana strain.”

She lifted the vial slightly between two fingers.

The Tower Master’s posture loosened almost imperceptibly—shoulders lowering by a fraction, the tension in her hand easing. That tiny shift alone spoke volumes of how deeply she had been holding her breath.

“Give that to me,” she said softly. “I’ll give it to Selena myself.”

Sylthara nodded and placed the vial in the Tower Master’s palm with both hands—respectfully, carefully.

The Tower Master turned toward Luca then, her veil hiding her expression but her gaze carrying gentle firmness.

“Go back, Luca. You’ll need your full strength tomorrow.”

He blinked, taken aback.

“But… Master—”

She raised a hand—not forcefully, but with the calm authority she always carried.

“Go. Rest. I will contact you if anything is needed.”

Luca opened his mouth… then closed it again.

He knew.

He understood.

She wanted to face Selena alone now—mother and daughter, without anyone else’s presence muddying the difficult emotions between them.

“…Alright,” he murmured, defeated but trusting. “I’ll… go.”

He stepped back, Sylthara falling into stride beside him as they began walking down the corridor. The faint echo of their footsteps trailed behind them.

But before they turned the corner—

“Luca.”

The single word—soft, barely above a whisper—halted him instantly.

He turned.

The Tower Master stood framed by the infirmary doorway, her silhouette elegant against the dim interior light. She didn’t step out, didn’t move closer.

She only inclined her head the smallest bit.

“Thank you.”

Two words.

Simple.

Quiet.

But they carried warmth that slipped past the veil, past her composure… reaching him clearly.

A gentle smile spread across Luca’s lips—warm, understated, but genuine.

He bowed slightly in acknowledgment, then watched her disappear into the infirmary, the door closing behind her with a quiet click.

He exhaled and resumed walking with Sylthara. Neither spoke for a few steps—the hallway stretching ahead in peaceful silence.

Finally, Luca glanced sideways at her.

“So… are you ready to face your trial tomorrow?”

Sylthara huffed softly, flicking her silver hair back over her shoulder.

Her golden eyes shimmered with determination—and just a sliver of nerves she tried to hide.

“Ready?” she said, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I was born ready. But…”

A small twitch of her ears betrayed her anxiety.

“…I wouldn’t mind some luck.”

Luca chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice light but sincere. “You’ll do just fine.”

And together, they walked onward—toward whatever trials tomorrow would bring

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