Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats-Chapter 132: Kidnapped [PART 2]

Both combatants turned toward the unexpected intrusion, momentarily united in their surprise. Before either could react, the masked figure vanished from the breach—only to materialize directly between them. His movements defied normal perception, beyond even their enhanced reflexes.

With economical precision, he delivered a single punch to each of them. The impacts were deceptively gentle, almost dismissive, yet both Minghua and the princess immediately collapsed to the floor, consciousness fleeing like shadows before dawn.

The rat-masked figure stood motionless for a moment, seemingly contemplating his handiwork before beginning a casual exploration of the chamber. His attention quickly settled on Ambrose's unconscious form near the bed.

"It's really just as Sir Dragon had predicted," he remarked to the empty room, approaching the fallen Rothschild heir with measured steps.

As he reached down to touch Ambrose, he paused abruptly. "A charm technique?" he wondered aloud, his masked head tilting with momentary curiosity. After a brief consideration, he dismissed whatever sensation had given him pause, grasping Ambrose and slinging the slender youth across one shoulder with casual ease.

Turning back to survey the room once more, he approached the princess's unconscious form. Her bestial features had already begun to recede, the transformation failing without conscious will to maintain it. He hoisted her onto his other shoulder with the same effortless motion, despite his relatively small stature.

Finally, his masked visage turned toward Minghua's crumpled form. He stood in contemplation, appearing to weigh some internal debate regarding her fate. After several moments of consideration, he simply shrugged.

"Well, this has nothing to do with the mission," he concluded, dismissing her as irrelevant to his objectives.

Without further hesitation, he turned and leapt through the gaping hole he had created in the wall. Despite bearing the weight of two bodies, he soared into the afternoon sky with impossible grace, vanishing from sight within seconds.

…

"This place?" Aurora asked, her golden eyes glowing slightly. "How do I put it... this place is the top edge of the world, also known as the Source of Creation."

Her melodic voice resonated through the ethereal chamber as chains clinked softly with her gestures. "This is a point where all laws converge as they sprout from the World Seed," she explained, her hands tracing elegant patterns in the air as if mapping cosmic architecture. "Here, reality itself is born."

Ambrose nodded thoughtfully, his analytical mind cataloging each piece of information. The concept aligned with certain theoretical models he had studied, though none had suggested such a realm might be physically accessible.

"How does one get here?" he asked, eyes scanning the endless white expanse surrounding them.

"After breaking through the God Stage, you can access the Source of Creation," she explained with the casual certainty of someone describing a familiar neighborhood.

"The God Stage?" Ambrose wondered. This terminology was entirely new to him. Based on the hierarchical power classification he knew—from F through Transcendent—he assumed this God Stage must represent some threshold beyond even Transcendent.

"But I've met people in here that are dead," he said, recalling his encounter with the War Goddess. "I even saw a young Rothschild."

Aurora nodded, seemingly unsurprised. "As the Source of Creation, many laws converge here, including time," she clarified. "It's not weird to meet dead people here." Her brow furrowed slightly. "But being able to interact with them... that's strange."

She studied him with renewed interest, a subtle calculation playing behind her luminous eyes. Coming to think of it, he hadn't even reached the Transcendent Stage, yet here he stood in a realm supposedly accessible only to those who had transcended godhood itself. She dismissed the thought with an almost imperceptible shake of her head—there was no point trying to understand "HIM."

Ambrose held his chin in contemplation, connecting threads of information with his extraordinary mental capabilities. After processing several parallel lines of reasoning, he looked up.

"Is there another realm that looks just like this that is dark?" he asked.

Aurora's expression flashed with genuine surprise before she quickly composed herself. Ambrose noted this reaction, filing it away as significant.

"This is the Source of Creation where everything converges as creation starts," she replied, her voice taking on a more cautious tone. "But located at the bottom edge of the world is the End of Creation where everything spreads out until there are no laws available to form anything, and there's just... nothing."

Her fingers traced a pattern that suggested dissolution, particles scattering into oblivion.

"If you ever find such a place," she warned, golden eyes intense, "it's advisable to not go anywhere near it. Not even a God-level being can survive the End of Creation."

Ambrose nodded impassively, his expression revealing nothing of his internal deliberations. Could the dark expanse he'd encountered be this End of Creation she described? He acknowledged that the murky void did possess qualities of ending and devouring—a fundamental emptiness that seemed to consume rather than create.

Yet he had never felt in danger there, despite Aurora's dire warning. The only concern had been his tendency to appear deeper within the expanse with each visit—a problem he'd already solved by developing limited control over that environment.

Still, he hadn't expected these two expanses to have such cosmic significance: one the origin of all existence, the other its ultimate dissolution. How was he able to access such fundamental planes of reality? Was the system deliberately guiding him? That would explain why the system kept knocking him unconscious, deposited in these realms as if being directed toward some discovery.

But what could be so important that it required him to explore the very foundations of creation and destruction? What secrets lay within these primordial spaces that might prove essential to his journey? For now, he had no idea, he wondered if the system would give him a hint.

[Ding!...]

…

Adelaide stood motionless in the narrow street, her eyes fixed on the figure whose back was turned to her. The familiar silhouette and stance ignited a spark of recognition that overrode all caution.

"Dad, is that you?" she called out, her voice wavering with uncertainty as she took tentative steps forward.

"I think you have the wrong person, kid," came the reply, a deep baritone that neither confirmed nor denied her suspicion.

Adelaide shook her head, conviction strengthening her resolve. "There is no way I could be mistaken. It's definitely you, right?"

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She replayed the memory in her mind with perfect clarity – the archer under the hood, the momentary glimpse of his face when he'd loosed the arrow that had saved her life. She'd stake her merchant's reputation on that identification. Yet questions cascaded through her thoughts. What was her father doing in the middle of the capital during an attack? Since when had the mild-mannered merchant developed such formidable archery skills? The Maximilian Brightwell she knew dealt in ledgers and contracts, not bows and arrows.

As she closed the distance between them, the figure suddenly turned around to face her. Adelaide froze, shock widening her eyes. Instead of her father's familiar features, a complete stranger's face stared back at her – unfamiliar eyes, different nose, nothing that resembled Maximilian Brightwell.

"I don't know who your dad is," the man stated flatly, "but I'm sure he wouldn't like it if you went acknowledging random strangers as your dad." Before Adelaide could formulate a response, he added dismissively, "Now if you'll excuse me."

What happened next shocked her, black wings – actual wings – unfurled from the man's back, extending to an impressive span before beating powerfully against the air. With several powerful strokes, he ascended skyward, leaving Adelaide staring openmouthed at his retreating form.

She remained rooted in place, confusion etching itself across her features. How was this possible? She had definitely seen her father's face. Her merchant's mind, trained to detect counterfeit goods and dishonest traders, couldn't be so easily deceived. Was he using some skill to disguise his appearance? But her father didn't have any talent? A magical artifact perhaps? But how come he had wings, she could explain him having exceptional archery skills, maybe he had trained in sacred, but a talent? Had he been hiding his abilities all this time?

"Adelaide!"

The shout broke through her bewildered rumination. Turning, she spotted Marcus and Meihua rushing toward her, concern evident in their expressions.

"What were you thinking?" Meihua demanded, doubling over as she struggled to catch her breath. "How could you move on your own when there is so much going on? We were so worried!"

A small, apologetic smile crossed Adelaide's face. "I'm sorry," she offered simply. "I just thought I saw someone familiar."

Behind them, a black-cloaked attacker emerged from a side alley, weapon raised. Marcus reacted with practiced efficiency, drawing his blade in a fluid arc that intercepted the assailant mid-charge. The attacker crumpled instantly, threat neutralized.

With casual precision, Marcus flicked his sword to remove the blood before returning it to its sheath in one smooth motion. "We should get moving if we want to catch up with the young master and the rest," he stated practically, already scanning their surroundings for the most efficient route.

Adelaide nodded, casting one final glance at the empty sky before following her companions. The mystery of the winged man – and whether he truly was her father – would have to wait for another time.