The night was exceptionally long.

Compared to the desolate surroundings, the relatively luxurious building had a long-abandoned fireplace that had now been cleaned out. Logs of firewood, prepared beforehand, burned within, and the flickering flames drove back the chill of the night.

But Sevier didn’t feel any warmth at all.

Setting aside the nauseating stench that seemed to rise from nowhere, a stench so revolting it felt like it could make her vomit out the remnants of last night’s dinner—it was the monster that truly chilled her to the bone.

Just nearby.

The hulking monster seemed to be made entirely of pure, twisted muscle. Its flayed, skinless body lay exposed, drenched in blood. Several arms, long and sinuous like giant serpents, acted as appendages for mobility, while other grotesquely deformed limbs flailed about, clutching rusty weapons encrusted with black blood.

Its form was indescribably horrifying, like a coiled serpent, yet covered with limbs so unnaturally stout that they provoked an immediate sense of revulsion. At the top of the monster’s form were two unnaturally elongated necks, each topped with a demonic head. The heads bore blissful smiles, swaying side to side and looking in opposite directions.

Sevier knew very well how powerful this monster was. She had already been fighting it for over ten minutes.

And yet...

She looked down at her slightly trembling hand and the magic sword stained with blood.

In the past ten minutes, she had inflicted no fewer than a hundred wounds on the monster. But now, it looked as though it hadn’t been harmed at all. Its gaze, predatory and unwavering, remained fixed on her.

The wounds it sustained healed at a pace that was visible to the naked eye.

The magic imbued within her sword was entirely useless.

And to make matters worse…

Sevier exhaled a long breath, channeling the magic and battle aura within her body.

A cold, malignant energy nestled inside her was continuously corroding her from within. If she didn’t concentrate on resisting it, she feared she might transform into something utterly unacceptable—something monstrous.

Altogether, danger loomed on every side.

"But now isn’t the time to despair."

After a brief moment of rest, Sevier propped herself back upright with her sword, forcing her body to stand tall.

No, it wasn’t over yet. She wasn't fighting alone. She still had—

“So hungry…”

“Hehehe… so hungry…”

“I want to eat…”

The monster unexpectedly mumbled in its guttural, maddening voice. This time, however, its tone carried a disturbing hint of genuine glee.

A tendril of pulsating flesh, protruding from the ruined floorboards, suddenly snapped back. At its end hung a human figure.

Alive.

Sevier's eyes widened in shock, her trembling pupils reflecting the image of the figure.

She knew that person.

Of course, she knew them.

Because that was the very same ally who had been hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to launch a sneak attack…

Her last remaining ally.

"Sorry, Sevier," the man coughed up mouthfuls of blood, glanced at his impaled body, and then raised his head to meet Sevier’s gaze with a bitter smile.

"You’re on your own now."

A small magical scroll slipped from his body, lighting up with a faint glow before the man vanished on the spot.

Simultaneously, another magic burst forth, crashing into one of the monster’s heads and tearing it into a mess of shredded flesh.

"Bastard!"

Sevier’s eyes burned red with fury.

She hadn't expected her usually reliable ally to go down so easily.

“And you had the nerve to say you’d confess your feelings to me if we performed well this time... What kind of man gets eliminated this fast?!”

“You keep hiding your feelings like I wouldn’t notice! Coward!”

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

After cursing several times in a row, Sevier could no longer afford the luxury of dwelling on such thoughts.

The monster’s destroyed head regenerated almost instantly. It looked at the now-empty tendril hanging loose and initially seemed perplexed. Then its expression twisted into pure unbridled rage.

“Hungry…”

“So hungry!”

The monster's roar echoed through the air. Far from slowing it down, the man’s magic attack had only enraged it further, driving it into a frenzy!

Its grotesque limbs flailed wildly, bulging with muscle, while the rusted weapons it wielded seemed straight out of a torture chamber. They carried an unrelenting aura of cold malice and stench as they surged toward Sevier like an unholy storm.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

Steel clashed against steel.

Sevier fought desperately, holding out like a small, fragile boat in the midst of a violent tempest, barely weathering the monster’s assault.

What now?

The thought of despair crossed her mind briefly.

On her own, defeating this monster was impossible.

As for aid…

No. Perhaps there was still room for hope.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sevier glanced into the distance in another direction.

There, another fierce battle was taking place. However, compared to her current situation, the group in the distance appeared to be faring slightly better. They still had some energy to spare.

Should she call for their help?

No, impossible.

Because those people… were her enemies.

Sevier thought bitterly.

As students of the Saint Pedro Kingdom’s National Magic Academy, it was unthinkable for them to be in such a dire situation, even against this terrifying monster.

But earlier, they had been engaged in a skirmish with students from Leopard Empire’s Santa Maria College—their nation’s longtime rivals.

It was during that very battle that the group was ambushed by monsters like this one, catching everyone off guard and causing devastating losses on both sides. Now, they were all in this catastrophic predicament.

“Damn it, is this fate?”

Saint Pedro and Leopard were neighboring nations that clashed frequently along their shared border.

But with Leopold’s greater strength, Saint Pedro often found itself at a disadvantage in various international arenas.

The rivalry between the two countries extended to their respective academies, which had a long-standing academic feud. When Sevier first heard that Leopard’s representatives this time weren’t as capable as expected, she thought it would finally be an opportunity for her side to shine. Yet now...

“So be it.”

In her moment of despair, Sevier’s magic sword began radiating an intense light as she prepared to unleash every ounce of her remaining strength in a final attack.

Lifting her head high with pride, she managed a bittersweet smile.

"At the very least, I'll fight until the last moment. If I fall without being saved by an enemy, I won't have disgraced my academy or my kingdom..."

Boom—

Before her words could even finish, a deafening explosion shook the air, drowning out the monster’s roars.

Both Sevier and the monster froze in their tracks, turning their bewildered gazes toward the source of the sound.

The ceiling had been blasted open.

Moonlight poured in, cold and desolate.

A golden-haired man descended, his short hair tousled by the night wind. Against the backdrop of the high-hanging moon, he stood, encased in its pale glow, exuding an aura of aloofness and power.

His profile alone, with its perfect contours, seemed as if it had been meticulously crafted by the goddess herself. In that moment, even Sevier—her heart pounding from the intense battle—found herself momentarily stunned.

"So handsome."

Caught in that fleeting daze, she saw the man land atop the monster’s head.

He lowered his gaze to glance at the grotesque creature beneath him. His expression was calm as he softly murmured,

“The ninth one.”

With that, the twin pure-white blades in his hands traced arcs through the air, more elegant than the moon itself. The monster’s two grotesque heads fell instantly to the ground.

"Roar—!"

The creature finally reacted, its severed heads continuing to howl in agony. Their expressions paradoxically retained their blissful smiles, but their eyes burned with fury.

Its serpentine muscles convulsed violently, and its thick limbs gripped their weapons tightly, coiling back like spring-loaded traps, ready to strike without regard for self-damage.

"Watch out!"

Sevier instinctively cried out, her voice betraying her concern. In her eyes, the man—Moen—was like a helpless mouse dropped into a snake’s den, moments away from being torn apart and devoured.

But Moen merely glanced at her, his expression unchanging, his gaze still tranquil.

He opened his mouth and spoke a single word—as if it were a phrase he had uttered countless times before—with practiced gentleness:

“Lea.”

The moonlight dimmed once more, as if shrouded by a vast shadow.

A girl with delicate, flawless features stepped into the moon’s glow.

The night breeze played with her skirt, and despite the fact that she wore villainous black leggings underneath, her figure was so flawless that even this small detail couldn’t detract from its perfection.

She raised her hand and pointed downward.

Black metallic sheets fell onto the monster’s writhing limbs.

Then, they instantly compressed.

Countless points of light, sparkling like tiny stars, appeared on the surface of those metallic sheets, coalescing into intricate, mysterious patterns within moments.

"Is that… a magic array?"

Sevier’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets in disbelief.

A multi-layered magic matrix, commonly referred to as a magic array.

As the name implied, it was a structure that combined multiple spells into a unified framework, achieving effects far beyond the capability of any single spell.

Such arrays were typically used for setting up barriers, conducting rituals, enhancing equipment, or creating traps.

But in actual combat, they were incredibly rare.

Due to their complexity, constructing such an array took far longer than casting ordinary spells.

Yet at this moment, Sevier felt as though everything she had been taught about magic was a lie.

The extraordinarily intricate magic array coalesced instantly. And within it flowed a power that was not simply magic—

It was holy light.

"Ahhh—AHHH!"

The monster’s anguished roars turned into pained screams.

Its massive limbs were pinned firmly to the ground, unable to move an inch, as the sizzling sound of burning flesh resonated from its body. Every inch of its blood-soaked flesh convulsed in agony—its torment unimaginable.

Golden-haired Moen stepped onto one of the creature’s newly-regenerated heads, silencing its screams as if annoyed by the infernal noise.

Then, gripping his twin ivory blades, he began cutting.

Slash.

Slash.

Slash.

In that moment, Sevier completely lost count of how many strikes the man delivered.

All she could see was the monster’s flesh being endlessly ravaged by those blindingly sharp blades—ripped apart before it could even begin to regenerate.

The blood that sprayed from the creature’s body couldn’t so much as graze the man’s flawless features or even his expensive clothing, as though repelled by the impenetrable web of radiant sword light surrounding him.

Another round of the moon rose high above.

This time, it was a crimson moon… A blood-drenched moon carved by blades and gore.

...

“Rest in peace,” Moen murmured softly.

Beneath the radiant glow of sacred particles, another broken, tormented soul found purification. Within Lea’s crystal, an additional wisp of delicate light was absorbed.

Sevier could only stare blankly at the scene before her. Then, slowly, she turned toward the man who had been guarding her all along.

After the soul-shaking display she had just witnessed, her mind finally calmed, and she managed to recognize the man’s identity.

Leopard Empire, Duke Campbell’s son—Moen Campbell!

It was him!

The so-called “pushover,” the sheepish weakling from the intelligence reports!

As a citizen of Saint Pedro, she had always been privy to more detailed information about Leopard than most people…

She knew who this person was. She also knew everything about his experiences.

It was precisely because of this that she found it unbelievable.

Among the younger generation of Kingdom, there was always someone seen by everyone as a rival, yet simultaneously as an unreachable existence that filled them with despair.

That person was none other than the Ice Snow Witch of the Empire, the third princess, with exceptional talent, near perfection, and the favor of the divine.

But that princess happened to have a less-than-stellar fiancé—someone who had consistently been the source of their consolation, perhaps even their quiet ridicule and relief.

And now, she realized that this so-called “mediocre” fiancé was actually just as... powerful?

A little lamb?

Have you ever seen a “little lamb” that could casually slaughter a lion in passing?

Was this really the same playboy reported in the papers, someone with a foot on who-knows-how-many boats, even allegedly muddling relationships with his own teacher, and seemingly always just one step away from being stabbed to death by the princess?

Those tabloid headlines totally misled me!

Servile took a deep breath.

Although she glimpsed seen him in that hall not long ago, she still felt the need to confirm things for herself cautiously.

She brushed the dust off her dress, smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt, and then took out a little mirror to tidy up her hair.

Though she had been rescued by him, he was, after all, an enemy in terms of national allegiance. No matter how strong, talented, or handsome he might be—even if his appearance was strikingly attractive, ridiculously handsome—

She absolutely could not lose in terms of bearing!

“Uh, well...”

Servile put away her little mirror, looked toward Moen, her cheeks flushing, and asked,

“Hello, and thank you for rescuing me. Just in case, may I ask your name and... and your voice transmission stone frequency? So I can repay you...”

“Lea Angel.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Lea Angel.”

As if she had teleported, Lea suddenly appeared right in front of Servile. She extended her hand and smiled, asking:

“What about you?”

“S-Servile...”

“Ah, Miss Servile, what a lovely name.”

Lea took hold of Servile’s hand, shaking it firmly, her expression warm and gentle:

“But you don’t need to thank me. As a saintess candidate, helping others is something I should be doing. Even my knight would be happy about it, so you can rest assured.”

“... Oh, okay. I feel very reassured.”

Servile's lips twitched slightly.

It vaguely felt like the meaning behind this saintess candidate’s words wasn’t reassurance, but resignation.

A little bit frightening.

...

“You two keep chatting; I’ll go assist Senior Sister Fannie over there.”

Watching Lea in such an endearing, cheerful demeanor, Moen couldn’t help but feel slightly amused.

But now was not the time to dwell on how cute the girl was. Since earlier, he had been keeping an eye on the situation on the other side. He hadn’t gone over only because he was worried about Lea, who had been purifying souls.

The battle over there, though relatively stable, still had Fannie-senpai slightly dominating the upper hand. But...

“Senior Sister Fannie, why are there only the two of you?”

A few minutes later, Moen flicked the blood off his blade and asked with a heavy expression as he looked toward Fannie, her slightly disheveled hair not making her seem overly distressed.

Behind her stood the daughter of the Merchant Guild’s president, a pale-skinned girl named Vicky. She still seemed entirely unadjusted to this horrifying scene.

The blood and stench were nothing short of a nightmare for someone like her, who had always lived in sheltered luxury.

As for Marshall and Aaron, who were supposed to be accompanying Fannie, Moen hadn’t seen even a shadow of them.

“Marshall and Aaron were eliminated.”

Fannie’s expression turned somber, and she smiled bitterly:

“We were ambushed. Those two didn’t even have time to react before being severely injured, triggering magical scroll protections, and were teleported out.”

“At least their lives shouldn’t be in danger.”

“An ambush...”

Moen recalled earlier when they had first encountered the monsters.

At that moment, if not for his own quick reaction, Lea might have ended up being ambushed too.

After all, no one could have imagined, before encountering these monsters, that the so-called Golden Nation would turn out to be such a hellish place.

Damn church—they sure dug a big enough pit.

Moen closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

“Even if it was an ambush, it shouldn't have resulted in both of them being taken out simultaneously. What else happened?”

“We were in the middle of combat with them when the ambush occurred.”

Fannie tilted her chin, motioning for Moen to look at Servile.

“They were attacked too—it was much worse for them, leaving only two survivors... well, just one now.”

“Fighting under such circumstances? That’s unlike you, Senior Sister. You usually act with more restraint.”

“We had no choice.”

Fannie continued with a bitter smile,

“We entered this town earlier than most and had time to scout around. We discovered this building—a lavish structure that stood out from everywhere else. We thought it might belong to someone significant, perhaps equivalent to the town’s mayor or head figure, or maybe someone wealthy.”

“Could be a rich tycoon?”

“In a place where they don’t even need to farm, who’d be a tycoon in any normal sense?” Fannie shook her head.

“Fair point.”

“While we were searching the area, we happened to run into them, and then the fight broke out.”

“So...”

Moen’s expression grew stern.

“What did you find?”

“Yeah.”

Fannie pointed at Servile.

“She’s the one carrying it.”