Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided-Chapter 234. Distraction Required

234. Distraction Required

Lamps lined the distant street like blooming amber flowers, their light softened by the night. A cold breeze rustled the leaves, their scratching a faint whisper against the rough castle walls. From the balcony of his bedchamber, Zetius leaned on the window’s edge, his hands clasped as he gazed down, his mind wandering. He was lamenting a time long passed, a memory that felt like a lifetime ago.

His silver hair danced in the wind, brushing gently against his forehead, but the cold didn’t bother him. His allies and friends had already moved on to their respective missions, now hundreds of kilometres away. Only he remained, a prisoner of these castle walls and his own shattered mind.

There was no sound to describe heartbreak, but it could be felt in the very soul. Clouds drifted past, revealing the fractured moons hanging high above — their broken state a perfect, silent echo of his core. The cracks in his spirit grew wider and deeper, leaving a chasm, a void that he could no longer fill.

To watch hope and a dream snuffed out right before his eyes… All faded into the hazy slices of moment, corroded by time.

He had tried to reach out to her, but he failed to accept that she had already made up her mind. He failed to see it. The truth had been evident since the day she returned and carried out the execution before him. He should have known then.

You won’t find the same person, even in the same person.

The thought echoed, and echoed, and echoed.

His nails dug into his palms, and his jaw tightened. “I’m such a fool.”

It was time to give up. Not because he didn’t love her, but because he did. so much so that he had physically crawled to her on his last breath. Now, his love told him that he had to respect her decision.

He closed his eyes, pressing his eyelids together. The night had not been kind; the nightmares replayed like a relentless carousel of horror.

Death and destruction.

He would rather be awake. No matter, he thought. The dawn will soon break.

“Why is the empress keeping me here?” Zetius muttered, a bitter edge to his tone. He strode past the queen-size bed and saw a faint glow seeping from under the thick blanket. Cubie was still fast asleep, her face scrunched up as she curled into a ball.

He gently pulled the blanket over her exposed shoulder and watched her expression relax. She was still so foreign to this new form, somewhat unfamiliar to him. But it was a welcome one.

Zetius moved away, his footsteps muffled by the intricate carpet. With a soft creak, he swung the door open and exited the room. “I’m tired of it all,” he pondered audibly. “Any distraction would do.”

Soon, he entered the inner-ring hall of the rejuvenation building. The perpetual machine hummed in the background, a constant, low thrum. The leaves of Iasis illuminated the hallway, casting a soft glow that made other light sources unnecessary.

He took a deep breath before exploring further. The building didn't seem as intimidating as it had on his first visit, when his mind was skewed by assumptions about the Dreamless realm. It was actually rather relaxing, watching the leaves fall and dissipate into specks of light.

The arched hall remained empty as Zetius strode past rows of doors. After ten minutes of aimless walking, the whoosh and clank of metal emanated from a large set of double doors on his right.

Is that a training ground? He recalled Celestius Vivian’s words from their tour. Could someone be practising this early? He checked the time; it was 4:33 AM. It was indeed far too early for anyone.

Zetius decided to investigate anyway. With a soft push, the doors swung open.

To his surprise, not just anyone was there; it was Astral Empress Aurora Vere Borealis. She held a scythe, swinging it through the air. Each sweep of the blade tore vortices from the atmosphere, accompanied by a distinct, high-pitched whistle. Her feet shifted from spot to spot, her movements so light it seemed as if she were levitating. Her fluid motion was a deadly, agile dance, akin to an elegant crane striking at its prey.

He just realised it wasn’t just her signature weapon. The empress was a master of all weaponry. Zetius found himself captivated by her display of power. No one he knew could perform such a choreography that was at once beautiful and empowering.

Soon, Aurora took a break, placing the head of the scythe onto the solid ground, “I know you’re watching,” She said without looking. Sweat soaked her white shirt, clinging to her skin.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Apologies.” He bowed, watching her panting. How long had she been in this room? He studied the self-mending concrete floor; countless marks indicated she had been here all night.

“Come inside,” Aurora commanded coldly, walking over to the weapon racks to deposit the scythe. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that,” Zetius replied, approaching with caution. He didn’t realise she dressed so casually for training; he had only ever seen her in ornate attire and decorated outfits. Yet, the simple clothes did nothing to hinder her radiance at all.

“Is the bedding not to your liking? Too soft or too hard?” Aurora probed, her fingers brushing gently over a war hammer, then the hilt of the arc blades, undecided. “I can order the maids to arrange it accordingly.”

“It’s not like that, Empress,” Zetius said, raising his palms in a pacifying gesture.

“A troubled heart, then?” Aurora continued, finally glancing up to meet his gaze. Judging from his dumbfounded expression, she was correct.

“Your perception is frightening,” Zetius admitted, his voice small.

Aurora shook her head. “Spare me the credit. Anyone could see the depression written all over your face. We are at times, simpler than we thought.”

Brushing the back of his hair, Zetius could only manage a dry chuckle.

“You are currently under Lunarius Willhelm’s arcane regime, correct?” She questioned.

“Yes, Empress.”

“How is he?” Aurora asked, inspecting the gleaming spears and shields. “As a teacher, I mean.”

“Oh…” Zetius rubbed his chin, pondering for a moment before submitting his answer. “He is a talented master. His greatest attribute lies in his creativity, all while remaining highly pragmatic.”

Aurora curled her fingers to her lips and chuckled. “I’ve just never imagined him as one. That’s good to hear.”

Zetius tilted his head, mulling over her comment. What kind of person was Lunarius Willhelm when he first started? From what he had experienced, he had always been a perfect elven mage.

“It feels just like yesterday,” Aurora mumbled, her serene expression lost in a memory. “But in reality, it has been two hundred years. Willhelm was just this size when I first met him.” She gestured to her waist. “The Arden family brought him over for a celebration marking three centuries of their peaceful, glorious rule over the southern Eurian continent.”

His intrigue flared, and Zetius drifted closer, eager for another tale.

“He was bawling his eyes out when Elenore rejected him,” Aurora chuckled deeply, dwelling in the past. “It was love at first sight.”

“Hold up, Empress.” Zetius gasped, incredulous. The fact that Willhelm had been rejected at some point was astonishing. “You meant to say, Celestius Elenore?”

“Yes. She’s a charmer, wouldn’t you agree?” Aurora glanced at Zetius, a small drop of mischief in her eyes.

“I’d be lying if I said no,” Zetius admitted reluctantly.

“He said the most outrageous things, claiming he’d climb the rank of Celestius to prove his love, when he couldn’t even conjure a basic Empyrion at the time.”

That story resonated with him, a strange anchor in his own sea of despair. He wasn’t the only one. People faced rejection all the time; they just had to put one foot in front of the other and move forward.

Willhelm did just that and became the honourable and glorious mage of Ares. At the moment, he might not achieve the title of Celestius, but he was just a hairbreadth away.

“Zetius, I don’t want to strike you when you’re down…” Aurora paused, exhaling slowly. “But I do wish there was a more perfect time—”

“If I may, Empress,” Zetius interrupted firmly, “it is the perfect time.”

Aurora spared him a look of surprise before her dignified facade snapped back into place. “Excellence. Then follow me.”

They exited through another door, arriving on a circular landing with an open balcony on the opposite side. To their left, a cat Wildren maid waited patiently with a supply cart, a long, semi-translucent robe draped over her arms.

“Empress, you’ve finished your session?” she asked, bowing at the waist, her pink hair dangling. Her tail wiggled left and right, unable to contain her excitement.

“I have,” Aurora replied.

“If I may…” With permission granted, the maid, Mirai, helped Aurora put on the robe. She gently tucked her hands under Aurora’s hair, brushing it out from her neckline.

“This is Mirai, my personal maid,” Aurora introduced her.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Mirai.” Zetius studied the cat Wildren briefly. She didn’t have a slave circlet on. Is she simply employed? He wondered.

“Glad to finally make your acquaintance ~ Meow!” She purred, spun to her cart, and grabbed a rolled towel from the top compartment. She then handed it to Aurora. “Here are your cold towels, Empress.” And when she offered one to Zetius, he politely raised his hand to decline.

“I appreciate it, dear.” The empress nodded slightly, dabbing the cold cloth over her face before moving it down to her neck, cleaning the sweat from her body.

“My pleasure.“ Mirai clasped her hands over her apron and returned to her station with an overly elegant flourish.

Aurora glanced out at the balcony, where the dawn had shed its first light over the distant landscape. “I need to show Zetius something. Would you please get breakfast and wake up Terissa and Cartier?”

“With pleasure, my Empress. Meow!” she said happily.

“This way.” Aurora gestured down a narrow corridor. Ornate wall lamps cast a steady, golden glow — the only light in a passage that felt utterly sealed off from the outside world. A plush carpet muffled their footsteps, and the high walls seemed to box them in. This place was unfamiliar to Zetius, a detail missed on Vivian's earlier tour.

Eventually, they arrived at a heavy, crafted door. Zetius stopped abruptly. His first instinct screamed that something malicious was behind it, something that made his skin crawl and his gut twist.

“So you feel it too?” Aurora questioned, her expression darkening.

“Ye~yeah…” Zetius stammered. It felt so wrong. His heart began to race.

“Stick close,” Aurora warned coldly, before she twisted the knob and pushed the door open. A deep purple light spilled out, illuminating her pale visage.