CHAPTER 318: CHAPTER 318: IGNORANCE BURNS BEST

His mind churned, thoughts tangling into a chaotic, suffocating mess. People had died—but was it truly his fault?

Was he really capable of destroying an ancient city, one that sprawled across more than thirty square kilometers?

Was the event engineered?

Was the Mawglass truly that powerful? Or had the spell he’d come to rely on—the one he had used so many times before—always contained such devastating flaws?

He pushed that last thought aside immediately. No, spells by nature were tools—conduits of intent and will. They could only produce results in proportion to the strength and control of the caster.

So what then? Did that mean the issue lay with his right eye?

Of course, Lugh had always known it was problematic. He didn’t even know its exact origin.

But why? For what purpose? By whom? Actually that last part was obvious.

The more he tried to trace the answers, the more questions emerged like weeds, choking out every attempt at logic.

It felt like stumbling endlessly in a maze—each step forward collapsing into three more questions, five more doubts, ten more traps.

Progress was a lie. Every answer simply dragged him deeper into a murkier unknown.

He felt sick.

Looking at his conflicted expression, Lyra pursed her lips. Then, she spoke.

"This is what you get for cutting a deal with entities beyond your comprehension."

Lugh exhaled, a slow breath of stale, turbid air. Then he met her gaze—just briefly—and reached into his coat pocket.

He fished around for a while, fingers brushing across various items until he finally found what he was looking for: a plain, tarnished silver ring.

No gem. No engravings. Just metal dulled by time.

He handed it to her.

"This is for you."

She blinked, clearly caught off guard.

"Y-You’re giving me a ring? What for?"

Normally, an action like this could easily be misunderstood. But with how ragged and unimpressive the item looked, any other implication was instantly dismissed.

She held it up against the light, squinting curiously as the dull silver glinted weakly.

"Haven’t I seen this before?"

She mumbled to herself.

Then it clicked.

"Wait... Isn’t this the ring you found on that... corpse?"

Lugh nodded once.

"I did some asking around,"

He said.

"Turns out, it’s a legendary item. Called the Ring of Nyx."

He paused. Then added with dry detachment,

"Although now that I think about it, it might not be that legendary."

Lyra repeated the name slowly, eyeing the item with renewed caution.

"The Ring of Nyx... What does it do?"

Lugh replied calmly, his tone more matter-of-fact than reverent.

"It constantly gathers ambient mana from the atmosphere and stores it—like a mage does—but its storage capacity is multiple times larger than ours. So large it feels... almost bottomless."

Her eyes widened, lips parting in wonder.

"Really?"

He nodded again.

"Yes,"

He confirmed—then thought to himself, it was at least valuable enough that Lance had coveted it trying to take it away from it.

But apparently, not valuable enough that neither Emrys, nor Selaphiel, had bothered with the wielder.

He spoke again.

"I want to give this to you."

Lyra frowned.

"What are you talking about, Lugh? It’s yours. And you probably need it more than I do."

He shook his head in firm refusal.

"No. I don’t need it."

He met her gaze.

"I’m stronger than you."

She tilted her head slightly, puzzled.

"Are you sure about that?"

Lugh was silent for a long time.

Eventually, he muttered,

"No, actually. I’m not sure at all. But still... nothing must happen to you."

She sighed, shoving the ring back into his hand.

"I don’t need it. You’re not my mother."

"Lyra, please."

That gave her pause. Something in his voice made her freeze. She looked at him again, more carefully this time.

"What happened?"

She asked quietly.

"I had a dream,"

He said.

"Bad things happened in that dream. I don’t want anything to happen to you."

She didn’t ask for details. She simply watched him. Although she didn’t understand, she could see the sincerity. And that was rare.

Especially from him. Whatever he had seen, had rattled him more than he wanted to admit.

She exhaled, then reluctantly accepted the ring back from his hand.

Still watching him, she added softly,

"Lugh, I don’t want you to forget. You’re no longer in this alone."

He gave a faint nod, saying nothing. The silence between them lingered, a quiet pause thick with everything they couldn’t say.

Eventually, she broke it.

"So uh... mind telling me about that dream?"

He gave her an exasperated look, then said plainly,

"The city was burning."

"This city?"

She asked, brows rising.

"Yes. Pyrellis. There was blood in the streets. Smoke everywhere. Buildings crumbling. A fire spreading out of control. It was... haunting. I’ve had the same dream twice now. That’s why I can’t ignore it."

She listened closely, digesting every word. When he was done, she nodded thoughtfully.

"The setting sounds like a warzone."

"It was,"

Lugh replied. Then, without pausing, he added,

"Do you think it’s possible? That the magical civilizations might make a move?"

Lyra frowned.

"That’s highly unlikely. A military expedition gives them no real benefits. We don’t have anything they want."

She continued.

"We do have resources. Just not the kind they’re usually interested in."

"You mean mystical ones—like magical beasts and rare plants?"

Lugh asked.

She nodded

"And a lot more. But yeah, that’s basically it."

Then she tapped her chin, thoughtful.

"The only thing they might actually be interested in... are human lives."

Lugh froze.

"What?"

She spoke, quieter this time.

"For experiments. For slavery. According to them, that’s the only resource we produce that holds consistent value."

Lugh brought a hand to his forehead, brow furrowing.

"So things are really that bad..."

Then he looked at her.

"Wait—how do you even know all this?"

"Well,"

She said,

"The elf in our family—Madam Zhou, like your grandmother keeps calling her—she’s basically a walking encyclopedia. She’s the one who told me."

"Really?"

"Yeah,"

Lyra replied, visibly amused.

"And unlike Xhi, she doesn’t charge for her insights."

Lugh hummed in approval.

"Hmm..."

Then he asked,

"So, does this mean the magical civilizations aren’t going to attack?"

She didn’t answer immediately. Her brow furrowed in thought.

He added.

"Perhaps something will go wrong with the selection this time. Maybe they’ll find out about the true extent of our kingdom’s secret magical circles."

Her voice lowered. She nodded.

"It’s a possibility."

"A possibility?"

She nodded again, more slowly.

"But honestly? I’m leaning in a different direction."

Lugh looked at her carefully.

"And that is?"

She folded her arms.

"Don’t forget. Our country is still practically at war."

Lugh went still. His body, his thoughts—everything froze. How could he have overlooked something so simple?

He had fallen into the same trap he always criticized others for—underestimating the destructive potential of human weapons.

He spoke in a near whisper.

"You think Heieg could reach the capital?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"You think they won’t?"

Lugh had no answer.

With the catastrophic casualties at Drakensmar, he had assumed they’d need time to recover before pushing forward.

But when combined with what he’d previously learned—that the war had never truly begun in earnest—and that more than a year had passed since that fateful battle, a chilling possibility began to form in his mind.

Lyra pressed on.

"You’ve seen how they react to guns and explosives. If a real battle breaks out, the price of ignorance will be exactly like your dream—if not worse. We need to prepare them."

Then her frustration bubbled to the surface.

"But how do we prepare people who don’t want to be prepared? Who refuse to acknowledge the threat?"

Lugh could see it clearly—she had walked the same path of reasoning, reached the same dead end.

It was rare to find members of major noble houses, especially those not from House D’Aramitz, willingly joining the Ophris military—the Ashborn Corps.

And those who did... those who survived... came back like this. Shaken. Changed. Desperately trying to get their families to understand the modern battlefield.

Lyra continued, her voice bitter.

"What we need now is serious awareness. Something they can’t ignore. But I don’t know how to achieve that. They’re all so damn stubborn, acting like nothing can touch them. Just because they have money and mana."

She lifted her hand, the Ring of Nyx catching the light as it turned on her finger.

"Just look at the last owner of this ring. I didn’t get his name. I don’t even know what he looked like.

But try telling that to anyone else and they treat it like a story. Like a child’s tale. It’s too far removed from their reality. They can’t imagine the scenario."

Her voice lowered.

"What we need... is a rude awakening."

Lugh was silent—but for once, he wasn’t alone in his thoughts. Apart from Cassius, Lyra was the only other person he had found on the same page.

He felt good, oddly comforted.

And yet, he still said,

"About that... I think I might have an idea."