Fresh from her reward, the Deceiver felt power surge like a spring tide, and she kept thanking Lucimia.

She didn’t ask why Lucimia could grant such force; gifts from the Dark Deity were always wine-dark and potent.

Lucimia went on, “Soon, a swarm of rats will reach the Royal Capital…”

“I get it. I’ll stop the swarm!” Her eagerness flared like a torch in dusk.

Lucimia grew urgent, words spilling like a quick stream. “No. Help the swarm slip into the city. The Royal Capital’s got walls and defensive Magic Arrays. Break those systems so the rats can enter easily, got it?”

Before the other could respond, Lucimia added, “The energy’s stored in the octopus statue, right? Once the rats are inside, have them eat the statue.”

“Uh…” The Deceiver hesitated, and doubt drifted like evening mist.

The first part she understood. Nirael and Ment were at odds, so letting rats in would brew chaos. But making the rats devour her own energy felt like swallowing her own fire.

Could this be Elyssus’s plan? If the rats ate Elyssus’s energy, would they become His instruments, ink running into their veins?

Yes—like a seal stamped into wet clay.

Elyssus planned for Nirael to kill Ment first, then for Himself to seize Nirael, two knives moving in one hand—an elegant stratagem.

Dark Deity indeed; let two rivals clash while the fisherman profits, a net cast over both tides.

Relief settled like warm tea; the Deceiver nodded hard. “I understand.”

“Good. One more question: what’s Ment and Nirael’s status?” Lucimia waved lazily, like reeds in a breeze, and shifted topics.

“Report, my Lady: both are quiet, like stones under snow.”

“Fine. If Ment moves against Nirael, you help Nirael first. Throw a shield before the storm, understand?”

“Understood.” Her voice was crisp, like frost snapping on glass.

With plans set, Lucimia severed the link to her follower, snipping a silver thread in the dark.

She kept thinking, circling Ment’s other possible moves like a hawk tracing warm currents.

Most likely, Ment would cut off Nirael’s energy, damming her river and stopping her absorption.

Before Lucimia arrived, he’d net Nirael.

When Lucimia appeared, he’d force a two‑on‑one, an ambush waiting behind hedges.

But Ment didn’t know Lucimia brought a helper, and the Deceiver had already sown countermeasures like seeds before winter.

Bevi’s sacrifice and Elyssus’s power both patched the missing strength, moonlight mending a torn sail—facts Ment couldn’t see.

In theory, Ment stood at a disadvantage, a candle trembling in the wind.

Still, fear pooled in Lucimia, cold water soaking into bone.

She dreaded a reversal, afraid he kept a killing move under silk, blade hidden in the sleeve.

Maybe it was her own paranoia; even with victory in hand, her heart fluttered like a moth against a lantern.

Could he choose mutual destruction, snow pressing two branches till both snap?

If he wanted that, he’d have done it in the valley, when the wind favored him.

Would he backtrack now and choose ruin for both?

It felt unlikely, a bird turning from open sky.

She thought and thought, yet no path appeared for Ment to beat her, like searching for a bridge in fog.

Either he becomes a hound to Purification, or he pulls a deus ex machina; otherwise he can’t touch Lucimia, grasping at lightning with bare hands.

“Forget it. Stop overthinking. I’ve prepared what I can. Next, one step at a time.” Her temples throbbed like drumbeats; she rubbed them and sighed, heavy as rain.

She turned her gaze to the nearby girl with pale green hair, dewdrops glinting like willow leaves.

Rexi cradled her mage’s tome and read carefully, nodding now and then, the motion like sparrows pecking grain.

Seeing her so focused, Lucimia didn’t interrupt.

She propped her head and stared at the distant sky, mind drifting like a cloud.

“…After the Empire is handled, I’ll find the Time Ability User… and ask where the village was when Yuna was kidnapped.” Her words drifted like smoke into the air.

Royal Capital Luo.

Though New Year was near, the royal city lay lifeless, a pond under ice, no lanterns strung for joy.

Maybe the northern realm was always like that; snow whirled like a legion of white feathers, a world where bright banners couldn’t take root.

Anyway, with Rexi at her side, Lucimia cast invisibility, ready to use the Fuzzy Orb’s shadow trait to pass the walls—when Rexi grabbed her arm, a slender vine catching a sleeve.

“What?” Lucimia turned, confusion rising like morning mist.

“You going in like that?” Rexi asked, her voice light as rain on stone.

“Yeah. How else?” Lucimia’s plan unfolded like a map.

“We go invisible, slip past, and look for Nirael.

If we can’t find her, we hide and let the rats storm the city.

Once they absorb the energy, Nirael might show.”

Her eyes narrowed, a hunter’s gaze under low clouds.

“I think Ment will try to block the swarm—this is his home ground.

With me here, he won’t stop it easily, even if he planted curses ahead like thorns.”

“No, no—what I mean is, don’t you want to play in the city?” Rexi stood by her like a lover scolding gently, warmth bright as a lantern.

“You’re pressing yourself too hard.

You rush straight to business.

It’s bad for your mind.

You need to learn to relax and have fun, okay?”

…

Lucimia stared at Rexi in silence; time sifted like sand through fingers.

“You’re not wrong.

But most people inside probably carry puppet marks, black threads binding their will.

They’re fake—what’s fun about that?

And if we stroll in brazenly, we’ll expose ourselves, a flame in the night.”

Rexi scratched her hair, thinking, fingers combing tangles like weeds after rain.

“Fake is fine.

They still have some awareness; their memories are mostly the same as before.

As for exposure, don’t worry—I’ve got a way!”

“You have a way?” Surprise flickered in Lucimia’s eyes like a spark on water. “Your ability?”

“Mhmm.” Rexi lifted her chin and thumped her chest, confidence rising like the sun. “Leave it to me.”

She took Lucimia’s hand and walked toward the gate, leading her like crossing a shallow brook.

Curiosity bloomed like tea leaves unfurling; Lucimia didn’t resist. She wanted to see Rexi’s true ability.

Hand in hand, they reached the towering gate, stone shouldering the sky like cliffs.

The gate of Royal Capital Luo differed from other cities, iron bones humming beneath its face.

Other cities used huge push-pull doors.

Here, the gate was a lift, chains and gears meshing like a steel jaw.

When people came, the wall rose; when they left, it fell—tide and rock trading places.

The material looked like stone at first, but it wasn’t simple rock, special veins running through it like night threads.

Imperial motifs were carved across the walls like dragon scales.

High above, two watchposts jutted like nests, soldiers standing within, eyes cold as icicles.

The sentries noticed the two girls approaching and used an amplification Magic Array to call down, voices spilling like bronze bells.

“This is Royal Capital Luo. Please present identification.”

His voice boomed like winter thunder across the snow.

“What’s this? You even forgot who I am?” Rexi said, and she snapped her fingers, flint striking a spark.

“You are…” The guards looked at each other, scratched their heads, then slapped their foreheads—fog lifting from a river.

“Oh—so it’s the esteemed Commander Rexi Ewinny Eloise and Deputy Commander Lucimia Lancelot. Our apologies, our apologies. We actually forgot you both. We’ll reflect on it ourselves.”

They barked orders as they spoke, opening the gate for the two girls, chains clattering like rain on iron.

Watching the wall rise, Lucimia felt shock swell, a tidal wave lifting stone from its bed.