Don’t get it wrong—Lucimia wasn’t interested in Regino.

We all knew Lucimia leaned selfish, like a cat guarding warm sunlight. Yet she was selfish, not cold; that line is a thin blade.

We also knew she loved a life of quiet pleasure, peace like still water. No work, just play and food—who wouldn’t?

When her life felt secure, kindness rose like spring wind. When it was threatened, her selfishness closed like a shell to keep it intact.

There were two kinds of threats. One came from herself—fear that her identity might be exposed. If there was no way out, she’d grab the money and run. In that flight, her family stayed safe; in her eyes, it was like people in her former world living apart from their parents.

The other came from outside forces—someone smashing her rhythm, hurting her people, rewriting the pattern of her days.

That would make Lucimia furious; anyone would. Her anger was a storm breaking over a calm sea.

So she’d strike, and erase whoever wrecked her life. Only when cornered would her selfish side… choose to run.

That’s why Lucimia saved Regino—she wanted to personally deal with the Deceivers tearing at her peace.

Back to the point.

Lucimia’s move stunned everyone present—except Alvis. In that hair‑thin instant, even the Holy Knights hadn’t reacted, but she had.

Not only that—she shaped a massive ice shield in a heartbeat. Her control over magic was a blade honed to a mirror shine.

Fake Kaeli didn’t wonder. As a Deceiver, it already had intel: Lucimia was strong. That’s why it grabbed Regino instead of the black‑haired girl.

When its attack was stopped, Fake Kaeli’s other arm turned into a tentacle. The soft limb tightened into a needle‑sharp lance, stabbing for Lucimia’s lower body.

Lucimia moved on instinct; emotion first, action like lightning. The ice shield burst apart, and countless shards hovered midair, glittering like frost stars.

She gathered a massive vortex, wind snarling green as it braided with ice. In the eye of the storm, her hair and dress lifted like ink in water.

Boom—!!

The air cracked. The windball detonated toward Fake Kaeli. Its lance didn’t land; the blast hurled it back several meters.

It skidded along the floor, tried to sprint away—and its legs wouldn’t move.

It looked down, eyes widening. Its lower body was frozen solid.

Ice riding the wind had pinned its legs, hardening by the breath, fusing with the floor like winter roots.

The gust threw tables and chairs too—along with Regino behind her.

Regino blew backward, tumbled twice, then landed flat on his back, limbs splayed like an overturned beetle.

The banquet hall descended into chaos, a flock of startled birds.

After casting, Lucimia’s long black hair rose in the leftover wind, then slowly fell like a curtain.

Regino was dazed; he hadn’t imagined Lucimia could be this overwhelming.

Her vortex was a dragon’s spiral. His own was a handheld fan. The distance was sky and earth.

And that first ice shield—she repurposed it mid‑fight, freezing the Deceiver’s legs to strip its mobility.

Power and battle wisdom like this pulled up a memory of his mentor. His mentor was a wind adept… but she might be stronger.

He recalled how confident he’d been moments ago, imagining that this beauty would be conquered by his skill. Instead, she had seen him as a clown.

Shame flushed him, hot and raw.

He realized how childish he was. She was the truly mature one—humble, no airs, steady in heart. More than that, she came from an Exorcist Family; she faced Evil Entities without fear. Compared to her, he felt undeserving.

He made up his mind. He would learn from Lucimia.

He would become a Holy Knight. (Though Lucimia wasn’t one.)

Lucimia’s figure rose tall in Regino’s heart, like a pine against snow.

She herself didn’t care about that. All her focus braided tight on the fight with the Deceiver.

Fake Kaeli saw its legs trapped and sliced them off with one tentacle. Blood sprayed like scarlet rain. In moments, its whole body shriveled, revealing its true form—an octopus, as expected.

This octopus was pitch black, not a Blue Ringed Octopus. Its tentacles had no barbs, no poison mist; it seemed an ordinary octopus.

“Guwah—aaah!” the octopus screamed, a rasp that scraped the ears.

Lucimia didn’t give it time. She wanted the octopus that replaced Kaeli dead—now.

She lifted her hand, and ground spikes of varied shapes speared upward. The octopus dodged, slipped once, and a spike was about to punch through its body.

“Wait!” an old voice rang out, gravelly as winter wood.

A band of white light wrapped the black octopus. The spike touched the glow and crumbled to stone dust.

Lucimia’s displeasure showed like stormcloud. She looked at the old man who had blocked her strike—Bazeroth.

She had been a breath away from killing the murderer. She was not in a forgiving mood.

“What are you doing? Are you its accomplice?” Lightning crackled in her palm, her stance all thorns.

The old man smiled and didn’t answer her. He turned to Alvis. “Old friend, your daughter’s truly angry. You should soothe her.”

“Heh, sorry to make you watch that.”

“Not at all. Your daughter is excellent—no worse than you in your youth.”

He and Alvis had been about to act, but Lucimia moved faster. Since she had, Alvis decided to temper his daughter in battle.

Her mother panicked at his calm and pinched a chunk of Alvis’s thigh, urging him to save people.

Luckily the fight was swift. Lucimia’s combat talent shone like steel—she subdued the black octopus in seconds.

Alvis came to Lucimia, patted her shoulder, crouched to meet her eyes. His voice was warm water. “Don’t rush, Lucimia. I know this octopus killed Kaeli. I’m furious too. But if we kill it now, we lose intel on the other Deceivers. This is the first Deceiver we’ve captured alive. Your merit is great.”

“If you’re still angry, once we’ve wrung enough information from it, you’ll finish it. How’s that?”

“Uh… mm.” Lucimia nodded.

Her father’s words cooled her temper like rain.

He was right. A live Deceiver was leverage; killing it only vented a moment’s heat, not the root problem.

Regret pinched her for a beat, and confusion followed like fog.

Her emotions were getting unstable, drifting toward a little girl’s quicksilver, part of her mind led by feeling.

The old her would’ve been calm. She was smart. She’d have thought of keeping it alive to flush out the rest. Yet just now, she hadn’t.

Was it the Dark Deity’s pull deepening? Or was she stepping away from the “him” of her past life, becoming an original child of this world—age‑true, heart‑true?

Maybe both.