Without a word, she used her magic to unleash a wind force around her that rivaled a storm.
Even if he fought with all his might, he might not be able to defeat the powerful necromancer in front of him.
But... perhaps at this very moment, Alphonse is also facing an equally dangerous enemy.
Alphonse knows a little bit of physical skills but has no magic at all, and his swordsmanship is far from proficient.
I have to go back and save him! Priscilla made up her mind, and the wind became even fiercer and more intense as a result.
Just before the wind curtain was completed, several dazzling rays of light, emanating from an unknown source, spread and covered the entire sea of trees, making it impossible for anyone to open their eyes.
All that could be heard was a necromancer's bloodcurdling scream.
Light magic is undoubtedly a major blow to unorthodox practitioners like necromancers.
As the light faded, the grass beneath their feet was scorched by the white light, the snowmelt evaporated completely, and even the clumps of trees that had once stood nearby were swallowed up by the radiance and disappeared without a trace. The necromancer fled in an unknown direction.
The only thing that remained were those scorching magical particles that still shone with a clear light.
The Great Magic of Light—the Great Cross of Holy Light—was a superb spell that Priscilla knew, a peer of her age.
Far behind Priscilla, the familiar sound of horses' hooves echoed, causing the earth to tremble.
And there's that unforgettable, resounding neigh of the king's warhorse.
In the past, whenever Priscilla squatted in front of her house, half-closing her eyes and dozing off, anxiously waiting for her father to return from the battlefield, the familiar sound of horses' hooves, carrying an air of dominance, would always be the first to appear.
Then, what came into view was the imposing figure of the father riding a warhorse and leading a huge procession in triumph.
Each time the king returned, there was another person who accompanied him: a light mage of the same age as Priscilla. Gifted from a young age, he became the king's right-hand man during his early school years, accompanying him on the battlefield.
He was a handsome blond boy, Priscilla's only playmate in the palace, and her childhood sweetheart with whom she had grown up since childhood.
In the past, the daughter was always the first in the family to welcome her father home.
Now, it is the father who has come to welcome back his daughter Priscilla, who ran away from home on a whim.
"Father..."
Priscilla was like a little girl who had made a mistake, calling out to her father with tears streaming down her face.
King Valentino led a procession of knights at breakneck speed.
After nearly half a month of searching, they finally met Priscilla in this sea of trees.
The king jumped off his warhorse, and his daughter threw herself into her father's broad embrace without saying a word.
"Fan's guess was right, you really are here... But Priscilla, how did you get injured?"
He had long forgotten the reprimands he had prepared earlier; now he was only concerned about his daughter's injuries.
So Priscilla, weeping, told her father everything that had happened in the capital.
"As expected, it was the assassins and thieves from another region who caused this trouble. Father is going to continue the pursuit now. Let Fan accompany you to a nearby town to treat your injuries."
Then, the king shouted to the soldiers behind him: "First warriors, listen to my command! Follow me and pursue the bandits!"
The king only learned from his subordinates half a month ago that Priscilla had left the capital to explore the mainland.
So he continued searching for his daughter along the way back.
During the journey, Wang also occasionally heard news about the group of villains from other places who had recently been active in the Kingdom of Valentino.
The father mounted his horse again, and Fan, standing beside the king, helped Priscilla, who was so badly injured she almost fainted, to her feet.
The king continued to lead his soldiers, kicking up dust as they marched away through the sand and grass.
“Van…please…” After watching her father leave, Priscilla pleaded with Van beside her with her last remaining breath;
"Quickly head to the other side of the forest... help me find a boy... he's my companion, go save him!"
Fan became puzzled by this person who was so important to Priscilla, "Who is he?"
"He was a companion I met on my journey. He knows neither swordsmanship nor any magic. Just a moment ago, I was separated from him! I'm afraid he might be in danger! So I'm begging you..."
Priscilla's concern for an ordinary boy is quite remarkable; it seems she values this friend highly. Fan thought to himself, "This is truly rare."
"Alright, you decide. Where is he? Take me there right now!"
Van helped Priscilla onto his warhorse, and they galloped off in the direction Elfons had gone.
Priscilla barely managed to maintain a semblance of consciousness. Her gaze, which raced alongside her warhorse, searched every corner that came into view, eagerly looking for the injured boy.
Alphonse's blood dripped onto the snow, sometimes a long, trailing stain, sometimes scattered spots, stretching to the end of the road, before the precipice. Sadly, Alphonse has yet to be found.
What shocked Priscilla even more was the large, still wet pool of blood in front of the cliff.
"Alphonse! Alphonse! Where are you?" Priscilla clutched her wound, calling his name in all directions, hoping to hear a response.
"Idiot—you should at least answer me! At least let me know you're still alive!" The girl's hoarse cry echoed throughout the entire forest, lingering for a long time until the migratory birds resting in the forest were startled and scattered again.
Van noticed that Priscilla was trying to run around looking for her companions, so he immediately grabbed her arms and stopped her, saying, "Hey, you're still injured, don't run around!"
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