Forget it, forget it. No more thinking about those miserable things.
Horace rubbed his temples and turned his attention to this latest spoils of war: the "Third Magic," Soul Materialization.
Dove really was efficient. Having said she would bring it, she had packaged the thing up and delivered it straight to him.
Horace stared for a long time at this so-called True Magic that led to the Root.
Honestly, he could not tell whether it would bring a net benefit or a net loss.
In theory, the Third Magic could stabilize the soul completely, freeing it from the constraints of the flesh. For beings whose souls were too powerful, this was a blessing-perhaps Hötter's problem could be resolved completely through it.
But the problem was...
Horace still felt uneasy. After some thought, he decided to leave it alone for now.
Once Hötter was a little older, once she could make her own choices, he would ask whether she wanted to use it.
At the very least, on a matter as important as his child's safety, she ought to have the right to choose.
He comforted himself this way: "There's no hurry anyway..."
Meanwhile, elsewhere beneath the moon, Miquella was fleeing for his life.
Literally running for his life.
He had run all the way out of Leyndell, through Liurnia, across the Lake Region, and south without looking back, as though he already had a destination in mind.
Trina was shouting frantically inside his head, but he ignored her completely. "Turn left! There's a tree ahead! No, right! There's a cliff on the right!"
Miquella moved with practiced ease, clearing the obstacles before Trina could warn him. As he ran over the earth, his pale, tender feet became stained black.
Trina could not help complaining: *If you were going out, why