Chapter 26: The Guidance of Light.

The carriage came to a slow halt after a slight jolt.

Outside, there was no clamor of voices—not even birdsong or the whisper of wind. Only a deathly silence pressed against the eardrums, thick and suffocating.

“Are we here?”

Hill fully snapped awake from her drowsy haze and instinctively reached to pull back the curtain.

“Don’t rush, Hill.”

Phyllis’s hand gently pressed hers down. She then unfolded a neatly folded thick wool shawl and draped it over Hill with practiced ease.

She even carefully drew the collar tight, ensuring not a single thread of cold air could slip inside.

“This is the heart of the swamp—the dampness here is extreme. Catching a cold or fever at a time like this would ruin your chance to swing that sword stylishly, you know.”

While speaking, Phyllis smoothed the silver strands that had been mussed against Hill’s shoulder, her eyes brimming with tenderness.

Only after confirming Hill was wrapped up like a perfectly sealed white rice dumpling did she nod in satisfaction.

“Alright. Let’s get down.”

Hill obediently followed Phyllis out of the carriage.

The moment her boot touched ground, the sole registered that unmistakable slick, yielding sensation of treading on rotten mud.

The air was icy and viscous; each inhale carried the rancid stench of decaying vegetation and stagnant water.

But the most oppressive thing was the fog—so dense it felt alive.

Pale white mist roiled like something with a pulse. Visibility dropped to less than five meters.

Hill tried channeling mana to her eyes, yet her vision remained obstructed as though staring through thick frosted glass.

“What incredible fog…”

Hill frowned and placed her hand on her sword hilt.

In an environment like this, the reaction window for an ambush would be compressed to almost nothing.

“Indeed, a dreadful place.”

Marius stepped down, holding a magical lantern that cast a faint cyan glow.

Yet the light illuminated only a tiny circle around him before being devoured by the surrounding white.

The scholar adjusted his monocle; his tone grew grave.

“Everyone, be careful. This appears to be the lingering illusion fog of an ancient maze formation. Once separated, not only will finding the way become impossible—you could be trapped forever inside your own hallucinations.”

From ahead came the uneasy snorts of horses.

“This fog feels downright sinister.”

Elisa emerged from the mist ahead, leading her warhorse. Tiny beads of condensation clung to her polished armor.

Even this fearless knight’s voice carried a trace of tension.

Nia huddled directly behind her, tail clamped tight—clearly the cat’s instincts screamed danger here.

“In that case, for safety’s sake…”

Phyllis’s voice rang out through the fog.

Clear. Steady.

Reassuringly calm.

She raised her staff; the tip bloomed with soft, warm golden light.

“Let’s connect ourselves with Light Tether. Even if we can’t see each other, the mana circuit will guide the way.”

“Excellent idea.”

Hill nodded in agreement.

“Vice-Captain really thinks of everything.”

In a place where opening your eyes was as useless as being blind, a physical link was indeed the safest method.

Phyllis smiled and gave her staff a light wave.

Several golden streams shot from the tip, transforming into slender cords of light.

“Elisa, you’ll bring up the rear. Tie this end around your waist.”

One light cord coiled around the female knight’s waist, leaving roughly three meters of slack for shield work and movement.

“Nia, you take point for scouting. This one goes around your wrist.”

Another cord fastened to the catgirl’s wrist, this one longer—about five meters.

“Mr. Marius, you’ll walk in the middle. Here’s yours.”

A cord was passed to the scholar.

The assignments were orderly, textbook-perfect marching formation.

Hill watched everyone secure their tethers, then extended her own left hand, waiting for Phyllis to attach hers.

But Phyllis did not simply loop a cord around Hill’s wrist or waist as she had for the others.

She stowed her staff and stepped closer.

The distance between them shrank until their breaths mingled.

In this pallid, freezing world, the faint citrus fragrance clinging to Phyllis became the only vivid color in Hill’s senses.

“Hill.”

Phyllis called softly.

She did not tie a cord to Hill’s waist, nor to her wrist.

Instead she extended her right hand, palm open, offering it to Hill.

“…?”

Hill was puzzled but instinctively placed her left hand in it.

The next instant—

Phyllis’s fingers closed, sliding between Hill’s, interlocking tightly.

Ten fingers clasped together.

Immediately after, a stream of golden light flowed down Phyllis’s arm like molten gold, wrapping directly around their joined hands.

The radiance gradually solidified into a short chain—barely ten centimeters long—that looked half like a manacle, half like a vow ring.

Hill froze.

She tried to flex her fingers; they wouldn’t budge.

Their hands were locked immovably together by the magical chain.

Skin pressed to skin, no gap at all.

“Phyllis… isn’t this a little too close?”

Hill asked in a small, awkward voice.

“It’ll be hard for me to swing my sword like this.”

“There’s no helping it, Hill.”

Phyllis blinked; her water-blue eyes overflowed with sincere worry.

“You’re the captain, and I’m your personal support. Our positions should be right next to each other anyway.”

She lifted their joined hands slightly; the golden chain glimmered faintly in the fog.

“Besides… you heard what was said earlier, right? This mist can induce hallucinations. If we were even a rope’s length apart, I’d be terrified that whatever was on the other end of that rope… might no longer be the real Hill.”

At those words, Phyllis’s voice even trembled faintly.

“If I lost you… I truly wouldn’t know what to do.”

Hearing that near-tearful tone, the last trace of Hill’s discomfort evaporated.

Right—this was an unknown death zone.

Phyllis was doing this purely because she cared so deeply about Hill’s safety.

As a fragile support mage who needed protection, wanting to cling tightly to her dependable captain—what was wrong with that?

“Sorry. I was thinking too simply.”

Hill softened.

She actively returned the squeeze to Phyllis’s fingers, even though the chain made it a little tight.

“Let’s do it this way then. Don’t worry—even this close, I can still protect you one-handed.”

Phyllis bloomed into a smile as radiant as sunlight after rain.

“Mm! I believe in Hill.”

“Everyone ready?”

Marius had watched the exchange in silence for a while before speaking up.

“The fog is thickening. We need to locate the ruin’s entrance quickly.”

The party began advancing through the mire.

Visibility plummeted further—almost to the point where one couldn’t see their own hand.

The surroundings were monotonously identical: twisted dead trees and gray-black pools of mud.

Hill walked half a step ahead and to Phyllis’s left.

Her world had been stripped down to two things.

One was the endless white void to her left and front—cold, unknowable.

The other was the warmth coming from her right hand.

Phyllis’s hand.

Soft. Delicate.

Yet gripping with fierce strength right now.

Whenever Hill slipped on the mud or froze at some distant monstrous sound, that hand transmitted a steady, unrelenting force.

As if saying…

I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere.

Because the chain was so short, every step Hill took let her feel the brush of Phyllis’s white cloak against her thigh.

They moved like a pair of wing-linked birds, trudging through a world that contained only each other.

“…Is that a tree on the left?”

Hill narrowed her eyes at a clawing black silhouette in the fog.

“Don’t mind it.”

Phyllis’s voice came from impossibly close.

Because they were pressed so near, she didn’t even need to raise her volume; that sweet, gentle timbre slipped straight into Hill’s ear.

“It’s just the shadow of dead wood. Watch your footing. Follow my lead.”

Hill nodded and withdrew her gaze from the darkness.

For some reason, as time passed, she grew increasingly reluctant to try distinguishing things in the fog.

Trying to make sense of them was exhausting—and she kept getting it wrong.

False, hallucinatory, terrifying.

Only the Phyllis on her right was real.

Following her would definitely be fine.

Such baseless, innocent conviction rose unbidden in her heart.

“Tired? Want some water?”

After a while, Phyllis stopped.

With one hand locked, it was inconvenient for Hill to reach her own waterskin.

So Phyllis naturally picked it up and held it to Hill’s lips, letting her drink.

The motion was so smooth, so practiced—as though this was simply how they had always existed.

Hill remained completely unaware of the complicated look Marius directed toward them.

In the scholar’s eyes…

That so-called “Light Tether” spell… no matter how one looked at it, did not seem designed for guidance.

The way the mana flowed, the form of that tight, binding wrap…

It resembled far more the type of magic used for restraint than for navigation.

But in this environment, he dared not speak out.

After all, Phyllis was currently the party’s sole light source and core.

Offending the only beacon in the swamp could easily cost one’s life.

“Ahead… there seems to be something.”

Nia’s voice floated back from the far end of her tether, trembling noticeably.

“A door… a really, really big door, nyaa…”

Hill’s spirits lifted.

“We’re here?”

“Looks like we got lucky.”

Phyllis murmured softly.

She tightened her grip on Hill’s hand—not loosening in the slightest, but instead using Hill’s forward momentum to press her body even closer against Hill’s arm.

“No matter what lies behind that door,”

Phyllis smiled, rubbing her cheek lightly against Hill’s shoulder.

“We’re already locked together anyway. Even if we fall into hell side by side, it’s fine, isn’t it, Hill?”

Hill did not catch the hidden madness lurking beneath those words.

She gazed at the vague outline of massive stone emerging from the fog ahead and gripped her sword tighter.

“Don’t talk nonsense. We’ll go in alive, and we’ll come out alive.”

Dragging the warm chain that bound her, she stepped fearlessly into the even deeper darkness.