Chapter 395: No Time for Heroes

The air inside the castle seemed to hum, thick and tense. It didn’t just come from the magic in the room, it came from all of us breathing together, from the wind slipping through the cracks, from metal shifting against armor. It was a steady pressure that made people hold their breath for a moment before letting it out.

The stone walls sent footsteps echoing back. Voices overlapped, short instructions, muffled sobs. Everyone’s breathing blended together until it became a single background sound.

Luke didn’t wait for anyone to think. He moved, pointed, pulled whoever was in the way. Action before hesitation. That was how he kept control.

“Form a line! Move! Now!”

His voice cut through the chaos. It stopped arguments, silenced questions, and forced everyone to move faster. It was a command that became focus. People turned, stunned. Some were still blinking like they’d just woken up; others already understood what it meant. Luke’s tone sped up their movements and cut down hesitation.

The crowd pushed toward the portal. At first slowly, then with elbows and stumbling steps; people pressed together, makeshift carts, someone whispering a prayer under their breath. The march gathered momentum.

“It’s not going to be enough time,” Allison said. She took short breaths, calculating the distance to the portal and the pace of the crowd.

“I know.” Luke didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed fixed on the unstable tear in reality ahead.

Erza watched them with the expression of someone watching children struggle to solve an obvious riddle.

“You’re all painfully amateur. This is a mana crystal.”

She placed her hand on the throne’s translucent surface. The throne vibrated with a faint glow; it wasn’t for show, it was function. The people nearby felt the air shift and took a step back.

A glowing inscription formed across the crystal:

[Only two people may pass through the portal at a time.]

The message didn’t just appear. It resonated, vibrating in the bones.

[Only three people may pass through the portal at a time.]

The messages appeared with pauses between them, as if the system were recalculating its limits.

“Pour mana into it and the limit expands,” Erza said, as if explaining why water is wet.

She began to channel. The crystal pulsed, the light grew brighter, and the portal widened. People felt a wave of warmth, the air growing heavier where the energy gathered. It was work you could see.

The display shifted again:

[Only ten people may pass through the portal at a time.]

A collective breath moved through the room, relieved but still tense, because time was still running out.

Erza’s jaw tightened. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple.

“That’s the cap,” she said, still holding the connection. “And it’s draining me ten mana per second. I won’t last long.”

“Three minutes,” Luke murmured, doing the math fast: the line, the distance to the portal, the time it took to cross. He counted steps in his head, added the possibility of someone falling. It was a dry calculation, without any drama.

“No one gets here instantly,” Erza said. “They still have to walk to the portal.”

She glanced at Eleanor.

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“You have mana?”

“Y-yes,” Eleanor answered, voice unsteady but firm.

Erza released the crystal. Eleanor rushed forward, palms pressing against the surface. The portal steadied, its glow deepening again.

“Hurry up and line up, idiots! Leave already!” Erza shouted. It was rough, efficient. No one asked for politeness when the clock was running.

The first group stepped into the portal and vanished in a ripple. Then the next. And the next. The flow of bodies grew faster. Some shoved. Some cried. Some clutched children or makeshift bags or nothing at all. All of them carried the same thing:

Hope turned into urgency. It wasn’t optimism, it was quick calculation: survive first, think later.

“Thank you, thank you!” they called as they passed, some without even looking back.

The room felt smaller with every second. Footsteps blurred into a single, continuous rush, a river of humanity trying to outrun the end of a world.

***