"Aaahhhhhhhh—! Aaahhhhhhhh—! Aaahhhhhhhh—! Aaahhhhhhhh—! Aaahhhhhhhh—! Aaahhhhhhhh—!”0

“... W-what the hell’s wrong with hah?” Rogerio shuddered, rubbing her arms as if she got a goosebump.0

“She’s been locked in time,” I replied, inspecting the woman’s face beneath her hood.1

Her face was frozen in a scream, eyes wide with terror, letting out an unbroken wail. The rhythm of her cries, the faint twitch of her pupils, and the creases in her skin all repeated in a constant loop. Her name tag read 963—a year before Lokralen was abolished.0

"Aaahhhhhhhh—! Aaahhhhhhhh—! Aaahhhhhhhh—!”0

"Rogerio, can you silence this wailing?"0

“Ah, ‘course.” Rogerio quickly wrapped her in a Silence spell. The sound stopped, but her horrifying expression and statue-like stance stayed the same. “To keep this goin’ long, I’m gonna need a mana stone. Anyone got one?”0

Kreto reached into his inner pocket, handed over a crystal orb, and asked, "Will this be sufficient?"0

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Rogerio replied, securing the Silence spell with the crystal orb as a medium and infusing it with a bit more of her mana. “That oughta do it. But, Deculein, ya said not to touch her. Why’s that?”0

"There’s a significant risk of being locked in time as well. She’s radiating an aura of severe contagion," I explained.0

At my words, tension spread across everyone’s faces.0

Lokralen cleared his throat and addressed the mages in the room, saying, "I apologize, everyone. Due to this unfortunate incident,...0