The sky had already brightened fully, yet Iver had still not returned.
Isabel had been busy all day yesterday. As soon as she ended her possession, she had fallen into a deep sleep. After waking today and finishing her meal, she used the Puppet Mask Grimoire to possess the Grand Guardian once more.
Only then did she hear from the Grand Guardian and Ligeia about the meteorite that had struck the giant tree last night. She also learned that Iver had lost contact.
This left Isabel feeling somewhat heavyhearted.
It was not that she was worried Iver had fled in the face of battle or encountered danger—she had absolute faith in him. Isabel believed that, at most, Iver had simply been delayed by something.
The young and resolute Queen was merely worrying about whether she could complete her own mission successfully.
...After all, she was not the real Iver.
Although a Fifth-Level artist could imitate the Path Power of a Fifth Level... that was all she was. It could not solve the problem at all. Whether dealing with the Demon Legion or fighting the Fallen Angel, she was afraid she would fail at both.
If something went wrong... those soldiers were all innocent lives.
The lives of all these people now rested on her shoulders. Her intense sense of responsibility made Isabel feel exceptionally weighed down.
Yet she did not reveal this unease outwardly.
After making some brief adjustments, "Iver" walked out with her head held high and a smile on her face.
Her eyes shone with radiance—the ghostly green light of the Path of Beauty. But after passing through the filter of the illusion, it appeared to others as the same golden-red color as Iver's.
"—My soldiers, can you see that giant tree on the horizon?" she proclaimed loudly.