"Could it be... you truly are the guardian of the Undercity? The legendary Kuroti?! What... what is your true form?! How dare you deceive everyone by taking the shape of a girl!" The bishop jabbed a finger at me, spittle flying.

"True form? Hmph. This *is* my true form." I spun lightly, my skirt fluttering around my slender, porcelain-white legs.

The terrified bishop turned ashen. His thick fingers trembled as he shrieked, "Rumors say Kuroti is a ten-meter-tall demon with massive curved horns, wreathed in flames, molten lava dripping from its jaws!"

"And rumors also called the Church of the Radiant God a symbol of justice," I remarked casually, stepping closer.

"You—you dare question the holy Church?! Don’t you fear divine punishment?!"

"Did Esther, who saved villagers from plague, receive divine protection? Did Leona, who fought to defend her land, find the gods’ favor?" I advanced steadily.

Both the bishop and the Redfang Lord stumbled backward. The lord drew his sword; the bishop fumbled a golden cross-star amulet from his robes. "They’re witches! Filthy whores defiling divine will! Only death by holy judgment proves loyalty to the gods! Only death! Death!"

"Shut up, worm." My voice turned icy. A flick of my fingers sent an eerie ripple through the air. "*Silence*."

"Dea—*mmph*—!" The bishop choked, mouth flapping soundlessly like a dying fish. His fat fingers jabbed at me, shaking violently, but not a whisper escaped.

I hadn’t expected the mage-silencing spell to work on priests too. Clever of me. Thought you could hide behind words when you couldn’t win with strength? Not happening.

Gasping from the strain of his futile shouts, the bishop clutched his chest and collapsed to his knees.

I loomed over him, my cold gaze boring down. "Speak. Where’s your god now? Did he protect *you*?"

He glared up, mute with fury.

"Hah! So-called Radiant Bishop—you sanctimonious hypocrite, small and vile beneath that false kindness. You bully the weak in the gods’ name. Goblins may be ugly and short, but they dare charge armored warriors. You? You only torment defenseless women! If your soul weren’t so rotten it makes me sick to kill you, you’d already be ash beneath my dark flames! Crawl on, you wretched maggot. The world needs filth like you—just as sewers need rats. Your purpose? To be the pathetic pathogen that builds this world’s immunity to evil and filth! Grovel! Flatter! Crawl through your wretched existence! You worthless worm of the Radiant Church—you don’t even deserve death!!!"

"*Hrk... hk...*" The bishop’s bloated fingers turned bone-white. He strained to curse, to preach, to pray—but his voice was gone. Fanatical devotion had long blinded him, yet now his twisted dogma couldn’t shield him. Not even a plea to his god could pass his lips.

His face purpled. Eyes bulged. Features twisted in rage.

"*PUH—!!!*"

Black blood sprayed from his mouth. He crashed onto the ground, pupils wide and bloodshot with fury, his fat body twitching uncontrollably.

"Cardinal Richelieu! B-bishop!" The Redfang Lord stared in disbelief at the half-paralyzed prelate.

"Witch! You dare insult the gods’ chosen!" As a noble lord, he’d never endured such humiliation. Rage blinded him to the power gap as he roared at me.

"I suggest you stay back. Not all witches are toys for your violence. I won’t warn you twice." I didn’t even glance at him.

"Filthy bitch!!! I’ll carve you up for your insolence!!!" The maddened lord bellowed, beard bristling, sword raised high as he charged.

Above, black clouds churned. Thunder growled.

***KRA-KOOM—!!!***

A lightning bolt thicker than an ancient oak ripped from the storm clouds—striking the Redfang Lord mere steps from me. In an instant, he became a charred human silhouette.

Silence swallowed the square. Surviving soldiers slumped, wounded and broken. Villagers stood numb, minds shattered by the impossible.

I stood atop the judgment platform, boot planted on a chair. "I am Kuroti Lombein Aryan the Sixteenth! The Dark Princess of the Undercity!" My voice cut through the stillness. "I could have rescued Esther and Leona unseen. But the girl’s words woke me. For centuries, you’ve persecuted witches—blaming the innocent for your own misery simply because they’re *different*! Because a girl loves her sister, you stone her to death! Your prejudice! Your jealousy! Your ignorance! If I hid my identity here, wouldn’t that mean accepting their ‘crime’? No! Esther! Leona! You are *innocent*! I, Kuroti, Dark Princess of the Undercity, will not only save your lives—I will cleanse your names before the world! Love between girls—is *innocent*!"

"Kuroti-sama..." Esther and Leona clung to each other, tears streaming down their faces.

I gazed at the storm-choked sky, where serpentine lightning writhed within the clouds. "Level Eight Magic—*Thunderstorm Wrath*—is already cast. In minutes, this village will be ash. Punishment for your cruel, selfish ignorance. Flee now, all of you! Run far! MWAHAHAHAHA!"

My wild laughter echoed through the thunderclaps.

Soldiers dragged away the twitching bishop and the charred lord. Even the massive Baron Balrog was hauled off, roped to two oxen. Villagers scattered like frightened birds and beasts—bullies and numb mobs alike proving surprisingly swift when fleeing for their lives.

Minutes later, lightning flashed, bleaching the gloomy world.

***BOOM-BOOM-BOOM—!!!***

A thousand bolts rained down, reducing the rotten village of Beirut to a scorched wasteland.

Amid thunder, lightning, and lashing rain, I strode away from the burning village, black cloak billowing. My twin black ponytails whipped in the wind, catching the electric glow. Behind me walked Feyn Senior in her dark robes—and Esther and Leona, leaning on each other, stepping into the storm.