Chapter 340

Chapter 340. Youth

Logaris ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍understood.

He ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍understood the unconcealed, almost willful invitation in her eyes.

He ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍raised his right hand, and his index finger drew a perfect and precise arc through the air with effortless ease.

A ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍dim-blue Spatial Rift quietly tore open before him, forming a gap just wide enough for two people to pass through. On the other side of the rift was an aura both familiar and distant—it was Saint Arcadia Academy, on the outskirts of the Royal Capital, bathed in moonlight.

“Please.” ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍He turned slightly and made an inviting gesture.

Sylvia ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍did not hesitate in the slightest and stepped into the light.

Logaris followed closely behind her.

The Spatial Rift silently closed behind them.

...

Saint Arcadia under the moonlight.

The ivory-white marble school gate still radiated a holy glow in the night.

Magitech streetlamps stretched into the distance along the tree-lined path, scattering warm and tranquil orange spots of light over the stone road covered in golden fallen leaves.

To celebrate the coronation of the new monarch, the academy had likewise been filled with decorative lights. Countless small golden light orbs were wrapped in strings around the old oak trees lining the road, decorating the entire tree-lined path into a starlit tunnel leading deep into memory.

The late-autumn night breeze carried the fresh scent of fallen leaves and soil, along with a faint trace of the unique smell of old books drifting from the library in the distance.

They had smelled this scent for six full years.

There were no guards, no Shadow Guards, and no court officials.

There was not even a single instructor on night patrol.

There were only two young people wearing old school uniforms from ten years ago, walking side by side on the empty path.

Their feet stepped on the thick fallen leaves, producing soft “rustle, rustle” sounds, the only accompaniment between heaven and earth at this moment.

After they had walked for a while, the surrounding stillness seemed to give Sylvia a certain kind of courage.

She suddenly turned her head slightly. In the dim light, her silver-gray eyes looked straight at Logaris beside her.

Then she reached out her hand.

Five fair and slender fingers opened before his eyes, carrying a trace of undeniable force as they accurately and firmly slipped between Logaris’s cool fingers.

Their fingers interlocked.

Logaris lowered his head and looked at their clasped hands.

He did not pull away.

The warmth of her palm passed through their skin. It was not hot, but it was very real.

“Let’s go.” Sylvia raised her chin, her gaze looking forward. Hidden in her voice was an extremely faint tremor that only he could distinguish. “Take me to the Magic Forest.”

At the end of the tree-lined path was an ancient forest still shrouded in hazy moonlight.

Ten years ago, a filthy boy and a bristling little girl had fought side by side there for the first time.

Logaris tightened his hold on her hand.

“All right.”

The two figures disappeared at the end of the small path where starlight and tree shadows crossed. Behind them, the golden light orbs swayed gently in the night wind.

Tomorrow, she would be queen.

But tonight, she was only Sylvia.

A romantic escape on the eve of the coronation, belonging only to the two of them, had just begun.

The Magic Forest at night was no different from ten years ago.

Moonlight could not pierce the dense canopy. Only some glowing fungi and flying fireflies cast mottled points of light through the forest.

The air was filled with the mixed smell of damp soil and rotting fallen leaves, just like the day they first met.

Sylvia did not speak. She simply held Logaris’s hand and walked very slowly.

Their interlocked fingers did not grip tightly, yet there was a meaning in it that allowed no escape. The warmth passing through their palms dispelled the last trace of chill from the late-autumn night.

Memories were like fireflies in the forest, lighting up one by one.

Those past arguments, bickering, and mutual disdain, beneath the quiet moonlight tonight, were somehow all dyed with a filter called warmth.

“I remember that back then, you even said I would never find a man willing to marry me in this life,” Sylvia suddenly said, her voice especially clear in the empty forest.

“Facts have proven that my level of prophecy was higher than my mentor expected,” Logaris replied without changing expression.

Sylvia’s footsteps stopped. She turned her head, her silver-gray eyes staring at him in the darkness with a somewhat dangerous air.

Logaris remained unmoved and continued in his unique, serious tone.

“After all, you are going to be crowned monarch tomorrow. According to Chapter Three, Article Seven of the 《Astrelia Kingdom Succession Law》, as well as the supplementary explanation in the 《Royal Code》, the title of a monarch’s spouse is ‘Prince Consort’ or ‘Queen Consort.’ There is no acting subject for the verb ‘to take as wife.’”

“So from both a legal and practical perspective, a person who can ‘take you as a wife’ indeed does not exist. My prophecy was logically rigorous and without flaw.”

Sylvia fell silent for two seconds. Then the corner of her lips uncontrollably curved upward in an extremely faint arc.

This bastard was still so good at angering people.

She did not continue the topic. She merely tightened her hold on his hand and pulled him onward.

After passing through the Magic Forest, Logaris activated a spatial spellwork once more.

Dim-blue light flashed and vanished.

In the next second, the two of them did not appear in a warm interior. What greeted them was a familiar cold, hard smell of metal.

The soil beneath their feet had become hard obsidian floor tiles. This was Saint Arcadia Academy’s Second Outdoor Combat Training Ground.

“Why did we come here?” Sylvia looked around, and a trace of nostalgia flashed through her silver-gray eyes.

“Because I suddenly remembered that a certain Her Majesty the Queen, who is about to be crowned, was beaten into a rather sorry state by me right here when she was thirteen.” The corner of Logaris’s mouth curved into a refined scoundrel’s wicked smile.

Sylvia’s eyes narrowed slightly.

When they were thirteen, they had only recently entered the academy. At that time, their relationship absolutely could not be called harmonious. It could even be said to be they clashed at every turn.

Although the two of them could sometimes play together, in the end, they could always become entangled over some trivial matter.

For example, today, the two of them might have what seemed to be a peaceful discussion about some popular unofficial historical novel from the streets.

But often, before three sentences had passed, they would express completely different views on some issue.

The next day, they might again argue endlessly over “the combat strength rankings of historical figures”—for example, whether Mad King Maxim or Hero King Rolandain was better in a fight.

When the topic extended all the way to the strongest knight and strongest mage in the current kingdom—that is, whether Court Swordsmanship Grandmaster Elena or Academy Dean Barnabas was superior—the argument would completely heat up.

This continuous escalation of conflicts in ideas and words eventually turned into a private arranged fight on the Second Training Ground.

That was also the first formal confrontation of their lives.

At that time, thirteen-year-old Sylvia had come into contact with the transcendent early, and her talent was outstanding. Naturally, she was not someone Logaris, who had only entered the academy a year earlier, could compare to.

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