Chapter 103 The Lost Boy

"Cyra, I know you were probably being controlled by the God of Light, but I still want to say - he sure has a very special taste!" 

When we stood in that familiar square again, Judith summoned her giant stone statue and finally made a remark different from before.

Could this Saint Angel Cyra and the Pope be the same person? Their bodies were both made of pure light elements, the only difference being the wings on their backs.

Looking at her identical faces to Cysper's, I couldn't help falling into contemplation. Recalling the high-level threat Cysper was defined as in the trial space's records, a thought suddenly popped into my mind. 

But their voices and physiques were completely different, as if something was off. Did I overlook some detail...?

Also, where was the real-world Saint Angel? Edenmere still had some records of her, which meant that after the God of Light was destroyed, Cyra didn't die but mysteriously disappeared. 

The battle resumed. Since we had experience defeating the enemy before, plus Mike had his indestructible armor on, we didn't lose a single member this time. It didn't take long for us to triumph over the opponent.

"Why were you able to perfectly dodge every single one of my moves!"

Stunned by our "super pro" moves, Cyra disregarded my arrow aimed at her neck and asked in disbelief.

"Well...you don't need to know that!" 

I stepped forward and without another word, stabbed her throat, finishing her off. Since I already knew the plot that would unfold, the Saint Angel Cyra had no value to interrogate anymore. Keeping her around would only bring harm to our later battles.

"You just killed her like that?" Mike asked, dumbfounded while seeing the angel's body dissipating into light particles. He lacked those memories, so he didn't understand my intentions.

"It's better this way. Everyone, start following the plan!"

Adrian nodded, then looked up at the sky with a grave expression. With Cyra's death, the light above us instantly amplified several times brighter. 

"Feliciana, fly away quickly!" 

Unexpectedly, after killing Cyra, the God of Light arrived faster than anticipated. Adrian urged me to flee the battlefield in a hurried voice.

"You killed my wife!" 

The God of Light Beluto's voice reverberated in the sky, clearly angrier than our last encounter.

"Then I'll take my leave first. Good luck to you all!" 

Seeing this, there was no way I'd stay any longer. Having learned my lesson, I knew what would happen next, so I quickly spread my wings and flew away.

"Oh no!"

However, I found my airborne body suddenly immobilized. Even flapping my wings took tremendous effort, and I soon plummeted back to the ground.

"Beluto, don't forget we're still here!" 

Seeing this, Adrian swiftly grabbed his bow and fired an arrow with all his might towards the "face" in the sky.

But his all-out attempt had no desired effect. Soon after I fell to the ground, my vision went black as I lost consciousness. 

"Feliciana, don't forget what I said. Trust me!" 

In my final lucid moment, I seemed to hear Adrian's urgent cry...

*Crash!*

The shattering sound of a plate hitting the floor jolted me out of my daze. Looking at the shattered pieces on the ground, I felt confused, unable to make sense of why I shouldn't be standing there. 

But where else should I be if not washing the dishes after a meal? Was I just dozing off while standing? 

It was ridiculous, but I vaguely remembered having an extremely long dream where I was desperately fighting a huge boss. The difficulty was immense - I almost got instantly killed... 

I must have stayed up way too late studying these past few days to actually dream about a game I've never even played before.

Suddenly, the room door swung open. My father entered with a gloomy expression, likely due to some unpleasant occurrence at work that typically put him in such a mood - a sign I needed to tread carefully.

But most inconveniently, I had just dropped and shattered a plate at this very moment, doing something wrong before I could even clean up! My mother rushed over after hearing the commotion. 

"You're grown up now but still so clumsy!" 

Mom scolded me, pointing at the mess on the floor.

"Don't you have hands? Or are you just senile?" 

Without a second word, Dad charged over and slapped me hard across the face.

"It's just a plate!"

I held my stinging cheek, feeling wronged. The slap was so forceful I almost toppled over.

"So what! You're my child, how dare I not hit you? Besides, you messed up first!" 

Dad said self-assuredly, as if I were his personal possession, not a human being. 

"Well done! You're over ten years old and can't even hold a plate steady. People would laugh at us if word got out! How will you make a living in the future? Expect us to keep supporting you?" 

Mom chimed in approvingly, then grabbed my hand and suggested to Dad, "Quick, get the 'family discipline' tool. We'll beat his hands until he learns his lesson. We can't afford to waste plates like this!"

Hearing the words "family discipline", I was instantly gripped by dread. I struggled free from Mom's grasp and bolted out the door, running for my life.

"Running away again!" 

Dad's furious voice trailed behind me. Likely due to frustrations at work, he'd reached his limit and gave chase, unwilling to let me escape.

"I'll break your legs today so you can never run away again!" 

Hearing that threat, I didn't dare slow down, sprinting forward - down the stairs, out of the residential area...

But Dad kept relentlessly pursuing, never falling behind. His stamina was incredible - how could an office worker move so fast?

It all felt surreal, but overwhelmed by fear, I couldn't think too deeply. I just had to keep running and hiding!

When I was about to collapse from exhaustion, I turned a corner and suddenly noticed a brown-haired teenager walking aimlessly by the roadside, seemingly deep in thought.

"Whoa, watch out!"

We narrowly avoided crashing into each other. As we brushed past, I stole a glance at his face. 

Was that his natural hair color...?

In this country dominated by black hair, his shade was extremely rare, especially for a male. Yet for some reason, his face felt strangely familiar, as if we'd known each other for ages. 

Before I could ponder further, my dwindling strength gave way. Unable to keep running, I had to find another way. Conveniently, there was an abandoned large cabinet lying by the roadside garbage collection. Without a second thought, I climbed in and shut the doors, leaving a crack to peek outside.

"Did you see a boy run past here just now?" 

Dad soon turned the corner, and upon losing sight of me, asked the brown-haired teen for information. 

"Huh?"

The teen seemed stunned by the question, likely too absorbed in thought to notice his surroundings. He looked up, unsure how to respond.

"Oh, I think he ran that way..."

As I anxiously wondered if he would give me away, the brown-haired teen paused briefly, then pointed down another road behind him.

However, his gaze, whether intentionally or not, briefly glanced my way.

"You little brat, I'll break your legs today if you don't come home!"

Watching my father's retreating back, I finally heaved a huge sigh of relief. I closed the cabinet door and slumped down inside. A strange illusion arose in my heart - this tiny cabinet space may be the safest place in the entire world. If I never left, would those terrifying things that happen after going home never occur again?

Unfortunately, reality did not allow me to linger long. Suddenly, a blinding ray of light assaulted me - the cabinet door had been opened from the outside.

"Was that your father just now?"

It was the brown-haired teenager who opened the door. He stood at the entrance, smiling as he asked me.

"Uh, you don't need to worry about that!"

Although grateful he had concealed my whereabouts, I still felt a bit embarrassed. After all, having my own father chase me through the streets was not something worth broadcasting. If word reached my classmates, I'd definitely become a laughingstock.

However, this guy's features seemed to bear some foreign influences, suggesting he was likely local. His clothes also differed from ordinary casual wear.

"If it's convenient, could you tell me what place this is?"

Seeing my urgency to leave, the brown-haired teen quickly reached out to stop me, then politely inquired.