Barry’s fist surged forward like a titanic wall—an unstoppable meteor wreathed in violence and ruin. Alexander’s [Mana Sense] captured the motion, only possible because he had severed all other senses, forcing himself to perceive the world in a timeless clarity.

  ‘I’m burning alive!’ The instant he triggered the ability, he was forced to cut it off again as a torrent of information seared through his skull, his mind overheating to the edge of collapse.

  BOOM

  The instant his senses snapped back, the blow landed with cataclysmic force—air ruptured outward in a shockwave that rattled the earth. The guardian lion’s visage crumpled, marble eyes bulging wide as sacred flesh gave way beneath raw mortal wrath.

  ‘What a fucking beast!’ Alexander and nearly everyone else conjured thin shields in desperation, bracing against the shockwave that ripped through the camp. Canvas tents tore skyward, crates and cookware became deadly projectiles, and the ground itself split into a crater under the sheer impact.

  The lion hurtled in a violent arc. Barry chased after it like a meteoric juggernaut—once reaching, waves of [Holy Energy] radiated from their clash, each impact detonating with brutal force and reshaping the battlefield. The island itself became a war?torn furnace of ruptured stone, shattered trees, and rolling shockwaves as the two giants carved distance and battled.

  ‘That’s… not good,’ Alexander worried, eyes tracking the widening gulf with each earth-shaking clash. The further the giants fought, the more confused he became—who in their right mind would hurl such a monster into their camp?

  Beyond the obvious suspicion of Church interference, the magnitude of it all felt staggering—no sane leader would risk sending two powerhouses into enemy territory. One glance at the priestess’s tattered attire made it clear she had fled from his mother’s clash, only to arrive here at his camp. A heavy foreboding settled over Alexander—not because he feared for his mother, most likely restrained—but because he dreaded the possibility that the true target of this maneuver was him.

  “As I was saying,” the sultry voice drifted out from the swirling dust where Barry had hurled the lion, threaded now with irritation. “Shall we strike a deal~?”

  A pulse of [Holy Energy] tore the dust apart, revealing her suspended mid?air before she drifted down with deliberate grace—untouched, unconcerned—as if the titanic struggle shaking the ground was nothing more than background noise. Her mount’s fate, the surrounding chaos—none of it seemed to matter.

  “A deal?” Alexander’s gaze narrowed, mana unfurling around her in a dome, shaping into sharp constructs and contraptions poised to strike. “My mother left you in tatters, and now you want to bargain? Here, in the heart of our camp?”

  Her face twisted with disgust at the mention of his mother, then smoothed back into a smile almost instantaneously. “Marisia? That little girl? She’s dead—”

  “Liar.” Alexander’s smug grin cut her off. “You fled, and I’d know if she died.”

  Every Moorgrelian knight bore a sacrificial strike that ignited at the moment of death. His mother’s would have drowned the island in an outer circle of nightmares. Worse still, she carried an acorn from the Twin-Acorn temple, bound to her life—if shattered, no aid, mortal or divine, could undo the ruin that followed.

  ‘She should know that, shouldn’t she?’ Alexander frowned, baffled that someone so steeped in faith would dare invade despite the obvious consequences.

  Alexander’s father had bound his life to the temple’s branch deity, a pact that guaranteed protection in exchange for lifelong service. Furthermore, Kairosos’s merits were so significant that even divinity itself would intervene if anyone hurt their family. For that reason, assassination through indirect means had always been the only plausible way to kill them. But if Alexander fell here—at the Church’s hands—the backlash across the continent would be unforeseeable, perhaps calamitous.

  “I see.” Her amusement curdled into something ominous. “Perhaps death would be a blessing once she regains consciousness—so allow me to begin again.” She pressed a hand to her chest, the strange white liquid spiraling outward into a staff blazing with holy brilliance, hovering in the air before her. “My name is Luze-Ferris.” A halo blazed above her head as three pairs of wings unfurled, wrought from [Holy Energy]. “And I am the Saint.”

  Everyone stared in confusion, but the noble youths understood—this was one of the Church’s juggernauts. What Oracles were to the Temple, a Saint was to the Church: a pillar of the Hero’s retinue. Such a presence here was beyond anyone’s expectations.

  “Ridiculous.” Nila snapped, her rapier singing free as she channeled [Wild Demonic Energy] in the Feather-Paw style—corruptive power that clung like plague and rot. “A true Saint could turn us all to dust if she wanted. You’re clearly lying.”

  Alexander raised an eyebrow in understanding. Nila had a point. Legends spoke of Saints who could cleanse entire cities, twisting souls into thralls with a single chant. Even if embellished, the parallels with Guard Household knights—who could level cities with brute might—were undeniable. The fact she had failed to kill his mother, still a relative novice among such ranks, was telling enough.

  “Ah.” Luze-Ferris turned slowly toward Nila, her smile tightening. “Quite observant—but let me refine my words. The beastkin dialect is so… crude. I am a Saint in training.”

  Silence lingered—then Yvonne, Freya, and Zaphiro broke into laughter. Luze-Ferris’s gaze slid back to Alexander, irritation flickering as the three treated her claim like a joke. Saints in training might have been common, but dismissing one outright was as reckless as underestimating an heir—foolish, and dangerous.

  “Saint in training, Luze-Ferris.” Alexander’s voice cut cold, his gaze hard. “Nice introduction. Now kindly get out of my camp before I make you.”

  They locked eyes—a shiver ran down Alexander’s spine, his tail bristling despite himself. He refused to flinch, yet behind those lifeless eyes and scarred features he sensed a darkness simmering—anger coiling, ready to erupt.

  “Alexander K. Leonandra.” Her gaze locked on him, steady and sharp. “I’m not here to fight, no matter how I despise vermin daring to call you a Saint.” Her chest lifted with pride as she swept her eyes across the camp, her voice swelling into a chilling, choir-like resonance. “My friends, I bring an offer.” She grabbed her staff and leveled at Alexander. “Give me his head, and I depart. No blood, no struggle. Fair, isn’t it?”

  The response was immediate—every gaze turned to Alexander. Nobles rolled their eyes, their unity too ironclad to be shaken. Soldiers and mage students mirrored them, loyalty and gratitude binding them to the young heir who had lifted Wolfsteeth. Only a few sellswords wavered—arrogant mercenaries unaffiliated with any major guild, their hesitation standing out like cracks in stone.

  The first to falter was Idorix, a Tier?2 bearkin team leader more suited for watch duty than war. Wearing a smug grin, he spoke with careless arrogance, oblivious to the tension thickening the air. “Maybe we should at least… hear her out—”

  Before he could finish, Nila’s rapier flashed and punched through his throat. A surge of [Energy], thick with plague and rot, flooded his veins—flesh blackened, skin sloughed away, and in moments the smug bearkin collapsed as nothing more than a crumbling corpse.

  “Worthless bastard.” Nila yanked her rapier free, [Energy] hissing as it burned the gore from the blade. “Mercenaries are nothing but treacherous cowards.” Her eyes swept the others, who instinctively recoiled from her glare. “Remember this—betrayal earns only one reward.”

  Almost all his people—students and soldiers—instinctively pulled away from the mercenaries, whether they had trusted them before, their gazes sharp with disgust and suspicion. The neat formations they had drilled fractured and scattered, discipline unraveling into a chaotic sprawl as wariness poisoned cohesion.

  ‘This fucking bitch.’ Alexander narrowed his eyes at the priestess, her wide smile making the intent plain. ‘She knows—if we stand together, she’s finished. Divide and conquer… I need to think…’

  It was exactly what Alexander and Zaphiro had debated—the strength of many against one, no matter how mighty. She could inflict terrible damage, yes, but the outcome was nearly certain: she would fall, and perhaps not even a single noble with her. Beyond Alexander and the other heirs, more than two hundred combatants surrounded her, most Tier 3, the rest at least Tier 2. Around fifty clustered with Nila at the front while the rest shielded the non-combatants. Only if she succeeded in sowing chaos would the cost rise, and casualties multiply.

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  “Fine.” His words drew startled looks—even from the priestess. He wove a spell to carry his voice across the camp, recalling too well from Earth’s history how quickly a moment like this could be turned around. “Anyone who wishes to leave—no matter who you are—may do so without consequence! This fight may well claim your life!”

  Confusion gave way to relief and even smiles from Nila and Zaphiro—anyone unwilling to fight would have been dead weight. The strategy was simple: never force loyalty in such a moment, but offer a choice to leave freely. Those who stayed would prove their resolve, reforging the bonds the priestess had tried to shatter.

  ‘Oh, look at that.’ Alexander noted with satisfaction how swiftly the camp reacted. The mercenaries shifted restlessly—some sneering, others exchanging uneasy glances as if already weighing escape. Soldiers, however, stood resolute; weapons lifted, shields locked, [Energy] thrumming as they spat curses at the priestess and swore loyalty to him. The mage students mirrored them, stiffening their stances, a few grinning nervously as they pressed closer together for courage. Whatever doubts had lingered a moment earlier were burned away by his words—yet the mercenaries remained fractured, and Alexander knew he still had to bring them back into the fold.

  “But,” Alexander continued, his frown curling into a sharp smile, “everyone who stays and fights will earn triple pay for the entire campaign. And if you fall, I—Alexander, son of Druid Kairoso Leonandra—swear to seek out your families and grant them four times your wage, with positions in our estate. They will be educated, provided for, and live well. On the name of my household, I vow it.”

  Those who had seemed ready to flee now stepped forward with forced bravado, eyes gleaming at the promise of gold and safety. They shoved past soldiers and students to claim their places, unable to resist the lure. Most had families and dependents—and the assurance that even death would leave their loved ones well?kept was enough to chain them here.

  “Do you truly believe this brat?!” Luze-Ferris snapped, her staff striking the ground as a warped [Aura] rippled outward, clawing at their thoughts. “You think this child would honor your death?!”

  Everyone paused again, but doubt was scarce. Alexander had always paid, always delivered. In markets, on streets, and in camps alike he had stood before crowds, promising the impossible—only for those promises to come true, every single time. Eccentric, mad, irresponsible—people called him many things. But when he gave his word, he kept it.

  “You may have twisted Idorix, but I’ll still see his family paid.” Mana flared around Alexander, shaping into constructs and alchemical arrays as he readied for combat. Morale surged, trust reforged, and he intended to strike while the moment was his. “Weak will is no crime, and innocents will not be punished!”

  “Hmph.” Luze-Ferris exhaled with feigned resignation, but the fury burning in her eyes betrayed her. “Don’t claim I didn’t warn you—”

  Her words cut off as two bursts of dust erupted before Alexander—Yvonne and Freya lunging in to flank the priestess. Yvonne’s frame expanded, spear whirling with deadly momentum as she drove for a piercing thrust, while Freya’s one-handed mace arced toward the priestess’s skull. The two struck in seamless harmony.

  “Insects,” Luze-Ferris muttered as her staff struck the ground, unleashing a wave of [Holy Energy] that smashed into Yvonne, hurling her back and breaking her thrust. “If death is… what—”

  While Yvonne was hurled back, Freya slipped into incorporeality, phasing cleanly through the wave of [Holy Energy]. As her body solidified, her mace came down in a ruthless arc, closing to within an inch of the priestess’s head—only for the staff to melt into white liquid and reform instantly, catching the weapon mid?swing and swallowing it with ease.

  Before Luze-Ferris’ hand, a glowing circle of sterilizing white light formed, radiating power enough to pulverize anything in its path. It shot forward, searing the air—yet Freya, dropping her weapon in sudden panic, slipped back into incorporeality. The circle passed harmlessly through her, streaking into emptiness. “Annoying—”

  Behind her, a shadow took form—Nila, posture poised and flawless, her rapier trembling with vibrating [Energy]. She lunged with sudden, brutal force, unleashing a beam of rotted scarlet that slashed forward like burning charcoal.

  Luze-Ferris merely smiled with weary disdain, flicking her hand at the strike. “Too obvious.” The liquid rose to meet it—only for the beam to fracture into a swarm of shards, streaking toward her like furious hornets on erratic paths.

  Surprise flickered across her face, but her composure held as the shards closed in—until the ground shuddered beneath her. Vines burst upward, lashing at her legs with aggressive force, denying her the chance to counter.

  While Luze-Ferris incinerated the vines to white ash, a flicker of unease touched her composure—[Divine Nature Energy], unmistakable, radiated from a follower of the Circle of Nature. Glancing aside, she spotted a little squirrel perched atop a small caninekin, eyes shut in prayer as divinity seeped into the soil. A fledgling druid, still unpolished, yet dangerous enough to disrupt her own divinity. Her next target was obvious.

  “Now!” Alexander’s voice thundered—before she could muster a counter, a sudden foreboding drove her to raise a shield, surrounding her. Instantly, arrays of spells and [Energy] blasts hammered into it from every side, drowning her in relentless force like a swarm of ants overwhelming prey. Among the barrage, she felt Alexander’s strike—radiating the same ridiculous power as the projectile she had blocked before—stoking her fury all the more.

  “Enough!” With a single word, her shield swelled outward, flickers of light coalescing into radiant circles inscribed with ancient prayers. They detonated in cascading waves, scattering mana arrays in every direction, then burst into indiscriminate lances of light that struck at everyone around her.

  BOOM

  The beams of light tore into every formation, forcing groups to throw up shields of spells and [Energy] until the radiance sputtered out. None were slain, but the strain showed—breathless faces, trembling arms, and fraying barriers testified to the toll of withstanding even a single volley.

  “Last—” She began to speak, but her words faltered as a spear screamed toward her at blinding speed, its tip searing with heat and wreathed in sapphire and emerald [Energy].

  She followed the spear’s trail and found its source—the girl Luze-Ferris had flung aside earlier, now standing behind Alexander. At her side lingered a small caninekin with shifting, chromatic eyes, his hand steady on her back as the bizarre [Energy] that had empowered the spear slowly receded from her.

  With a smirk, her staff reacted as before, materializing to intercept—but something went wrong. The forming circle snagged against a vine that lashed out, breaking its shape and leaving only a fractured arc shimmering in the air.

  “How—” Too late for defense, the spear tore past the fractured protection and bit into her shoulder, ripping through muscle and bone as blood burst forth in a violent spray.

  Before she could even attempt to mend her wound, Freya reappeared at her flank—dropping from above as if descending from the sky, the mace’s demonium head hovering a hair’s breadth from her temple.

  “Insects.” Her eyes blazed with righteous fury as the silver liquid twisted into a jagged appendage, lashing out with blistering speed toward Freya.

  No matter how cunning their tactics, Luze-Ferris still countered with flawless precision. The spike ripped through Freya’s throat—only to pass harmlessly as she phased again, never even attempting to hurt her.

  “Argh!” Luze-Ferris hissed as a sudden sting lanced into her side. “Who—” She turned and found Nila, crouched low, her breathing nearly imperceptible. The rapier was buried deep, its blade gleaming with emerald and sapphire [Energy], thorny vines writhing hungrily along its edge.

  Suddenly, from the hilt, black rot and pestilence surged into her flesh, and for the first time, panic cracked her composure. All around, the noose tightened—Freya preparing another strike, vines snapping at her legs, Yvonne charging with a spear blazing with force. Troops closed in with coordinated precision, mercenaries and soldiers moving as one while mages wove greater spells overhead, almost readied like glowing stars. She was surrounded on every side, their unity pressing in to overwhelm her. She had underestimated them.

  “I gave you the chance.” [Holy Energy] erupted from her core, surging outward in a violent wave. This time it burned, rising into a wall of holy fire that swept to scour everything—an all?consuming purge meant to cleanse the field of life itself.

  The first victim was the rapier, which turned white and dissolved as the holy fire devoured its [Energy]. Nila instantly released it, flashing backward while shouting for retreat. Next came the mace—its handle caught in the blaze, cracking apart as the flames raced up and consumed the hand that held it. Freya wrenched herself free, abandoning both weapon and flesh, her [Mystic Skill] saving her as she slipped into incorporeality and pulled back. The vines stood no chance, disintegrating into lifeless ash at the faintest touch. In an instant, her immediate surroundings were scoured clean, colors erased, everything reduced to sterile nothingness.

  Luze-Ferris was not finished—her fury only deepened as they drove her to bare her true power. Her voice rose, solemn and resonant, like a sermon delivered at an altar. “You are but servants of the divine order. Receive now the blessing that shall purge your filth and impurity!” Around the cocoon of white fire, wisps of holy flame streaked outward toward soldiers and mages. Each bolt burned like scripture made light, scourging the ground as it passed. Those caught in its path were consumed, bodies dissolving into blinding radiance and white ash, while those behind them spent everything—shields, weapons, [Energy], and mana—just to endure the cleansing storm.

  Once her assault ended, the flames unraveled into luminous wisps that drifted skyward. The cocoon opened like a lotus in bloom, revealing her restored, bathed in righteous wrath as her voice rang through the camp like a sermon carried by a choir of angels. “Animals exist only to serve those of a higher existence!”

  Soldiers and mages stared at her with horror, sweat beading as they held their lines, battered but unbroken. The nobles, fangs bared and eyes blazing, met her words not with fear but defiance, their presence a silent vow to strike her down. “No matter your striving, no matter your desires, you shall always remain beneath us—”

  BOOM

  A sudden explosion thundered as a projectile streaked toward her with blinding speed. “Argh!” It smashed through the flames, striking her with such force that, even with the flowing silver barely intercepting it, the impact rattled her bones as if they had cracked under the blow. “You little—”

  Alexander appeared—sudden, inescapable. His eyes blazed like twin golden orbs, slit and merciless, the gaze of a colossal beast peering down from the void. In that instant, the world vanished—the camp, the fire, even the air itself swallowed into nothing. Only those eyes remained, vast and unblinking, filling her vision. Silence roared in her ears, weight crushed her chest, and it felt as if some monstrous predator had bent the whole abyss over her, pressing her into stillness. Terror hollowed her heart, leaving her frozen prey beneath a beast’s gaze.

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