Gunmage-Chapter 269: Names carved into stone

The aftermath of the Cross family duel was a subject destined to trend for months, and not without reason. For far more than one even.

The most prominent among them was the emergence of the prodigy Lyra Cross—a girl whose awakening, when paired with Lugh’s, marked the sudden appearance of two awakened humans at the same time.

The significance of that could not be overstated. It sent ripples through every institution, every council chamber, every shadowed corner of power.

That both of them had survived the voyage to the Devil Sea only served to stoke the conspiracy theories until they burned with fevered intensity.

But even that wasn’t the only tenebrous thread tying them together. Both Lugh and Lyra were survivors of Drakensmar—a city once revered, now whispered of with dread.

A place so saturated with corrupted energy that seeing mutations in its survivors was hardly an oddity. It had become a running truth that one did not emerge from Drakensmar unchanged.

The capital was pushed into a frenzy—a feverish, clawing scramble for control—as the high houses began scouring every record, every report, every neglected corner of society, seeking to acquire other survivors.

Perhaps, they hoped, some of them would have awakened similar powers.

In the process, they discovered something disturbing. A significant portion of the Drakensmar survivors—at least the civilian ones—had vanished.

Spirited away by some shadowy underground organization. That discovery lit a fuse. A full-scale, furious investigation was launched.

Arrests, interrogations, purges—chaos rippled through the capital’s magical society. And once more, it found itself shuddering under the weight of internal upheaval.

But before all of this began—before the council chambers filled with screams and secrets, before newspapers printed names they would later regret—back at the Cross Manor, only a few hours after the heart-pounding duel, Lugh was seated in a secluded room.

It was a high-vaulted space with wide, open windows that allowed the midday sun to pour in like molten gold.

Light caught the dust in the air, creating lazy motes that drifted through the stillness like fireflies.

The quiet was thick, reverent. Somewhere nearby, water gurgled in a distant fountain.

The patriarch of the Cross family lay unconscious on the nearby bed, his body still.

He had been drawn out of his comatose state, and colour was slowly beginning to return to his pale, withered skin.

Lugh had done everything he could for the man. But even with all his skill, he hadn’t been able to completely mitigate the myriad side effects of the patriarch’s own self-destructive spell.

The man would recover—eventually—but the road ahead would be slow. A long crawl back to vitality.

Lugh hadn’t healed him for free. Of course not. He had traded the service for leverage—significant leverage. Leverage regarding Lyra’s freedom, and, more importantly, a singular request that both elves would be bound to fulfil.

That particular card was one he had no intention of wasting. He was confident it could be used to keep Lyra from being pulled out of the military. But for now, he held on to it.

It wasn’t every day one was promised the combined aid of two high-ranking elves. Especially when said elves had far-seeing ambitions he might need to thwart. freeweɓnovel-cøm

Meanwhile, Lyra remained in the bath. After receiving complete healing from Lugh—a feat he had only managed by using the Ring of Nyx, as his reserves were dangerously depleted—she had set to work scrubbing every drop of blood and grime from her skin.

Lugh’s eyes drifted toward the balcony. From his seat, he could see wind-tousled blades of grass bending in waves and the gravestones that dotted the vast field beyond.

Names carved into stone. Memories left for the sky to read. His gaze lingered. His mind wandered. Until—without a word—he felt a presence take the seat across from him.

He turned. Selaphiel. The elf. The one who had called herself his grandmother.

He pressed his lips into a line.

"I used magic,"

He said quietly.

"I’m aware,"

She responded, patient as ever.

Lugh was quiet for a moment. Then he asked,

"What do we do now? Is the plan a bust?"

Their intention had always been to create a persona. To make it appear as though Lugh was merely pretending to be the real Lugh.

The goal was to act arrogant, performative—someone portraying a figure far larger than life. Not actually being him.

Their enemies didn’t need to know the truth. They needed to be confused. But confusion wouldn’t work unless the arrogance remained unsupported.

The persona had to lack the skills and power to back it up. That was the entire plan.

He’d done the first part perfectly. He’d played his role to the letter. Arrogant. Insufferable.

He’d even provoked the Prince into attacking him. But the second part was where he had failed.

When Lyra had fallen, he hadn’t thought. He hadn’t reasoned. He had simply moved. He had used the strongest spell available to him in terms of raw destructive force—a spell plundered from the fragmented memories of the deceased elf Emrys.

The very person who allowed such a monster onto the battlefield hadn’t even tried to stop it.

Perhaps they’d hoped the priestess, Xhi, would intervene. And if she did, it would be a convenient excuse to disqualify Lyra.

But the plan backfired. Xhi didn’t interfere.

Lugh did.

And in doing so, he had exposed himself, revealing power that could no longer be explained away or dismissed. No illusions. No stageplay. The world now knew. He was real. He was powerful. And every scrap of their deception had gone up in smoke.

Now, they might never flush out their hidden enemies. The entire web they’d spun lay torn apart. It was the worst-case scenario.

"Sorry for messing up the plan,"

Be muttered.

"I just... couldn’t sit and watch."

"I know,"

Selaphiel replied, her voice calm. Unfazed.

Lugh blinked. Confused.

"Why are you so calm about this?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?"

"..."

"...Cause I messed up the plan?"

Selaphiel exhaled deeply, slowly. A maidservant entered the room then, bearing a polished tray with neatly arranged confectioneries and a steaming pot of tea.

She placed them on the table and slipped out just as quietly.

More elves entered. Now there were three of them.

Selaphiel finally spoke.

"You didn’t mess up the plan. Well, you did. But the situation is not beyond being salvaged."

"...How?"

Lugh asked, just in time to hear Zhou’s sharp voice cut in.

"How much do you know about the magic you just used?"

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