Cecilia and I exchanged looks, both of us caught in the same moment of realization.
Then the alarm blared again, shrill and urgent, cutting through the tension like a blade.
"The hell?" Cecilia cursed, already moving. A pulse of crimson mana wrapped around her in an instant, her nightgown vanishing as her battle attire materialized—an elegant yet practical ensemble of enchanted fabric, woven with defensive spells. The transformation was seamless, practiced. She'd clearly done this before.
Meanwhile, I was still in my sleepwear. Less battle-ready. More 'just woke up from a complicated romantic entanglement.'
"Is the Tower under attack?" I asked, scanning the hall outside. No immediate signs of destruction, no explosions, no robed figures chanting ominous incantations—yet. But the tension in the air was thick, heavy with an undercurrent of something… wrong.
Cecilia's eyes narrowed, glowing faintly as she expanded her mana sense. Then—
'I can feel it.'
