This was the temporary office of the Heretic Inquisition Bureau in the slums. The number of captured heretics was staggering, with Heretic Inquisitors constantly escorting prisoners past. Not far away lay the entrance to the paupers' burial ground—a site Holy Maiden Silphiel had temporarily repurposed for executing stubborn heretics, making an example of them.

Thick black smoke from the burnings drifted over, carrying the stench of charred flesh.

Silphiel stepped out of the office, greeting Gao Ying with a bright smile while pointedly ignoring Rodrika beside him.

*The accomplice with Gao Ying? That Lindeberg bitch.*

In Gao Ying’s eyes—unaware of the truth—Lelia was merely a pitiful girl whose retainer had been killed by heretics. With her family home recently burned down, visiting as a friend seemed perfectly reasonable.

Guided by that ‘compromise map,’ this raid had gone smoothly. Countless heretics were captured. Their displays of camaraderie during arrests had provided Silphiel with quite the spectacle.

She’d been staying at this temporary office for days, buried in duties. It had been a while since she last saw Gao Ying.

When the guard knights announced the Hero’s arrival, Silphiel had immediately straightened her attire and rushed over, eager.

She gave Gao Ying a slight bow. "Gao Ying, what brings you here? The slums are crawling with heretics—it’s hardly safe."

As she spoke, she noticed his eyes light up upon seeing her. The Holy Maiden couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride.

She’d changed her outfit—a silver-white armor etched with sacred golden patterns, crafted from precious mithril for its divine affinity and magical defense. Delicate white lace trimmed its edges, gently fluttering in the breeze.

Her dazzling dawn-gold hair was now parted into two playful twin tails beneath the armor’s mithril headpiece. The usually solemn Holy Maiden radiated an innocent, girl-next-door charm.

Gao Ying had to admit: this woman truly had reason to be proud. No matter the style, she wore it flawlessly.

He still remembered his first glimpse of her battle attire—the jarring cuteness had left him utterly enchanted for days. Silphiel had seized the advantage, changing costumes daily: the gentle Holy Maiden, the noble knight, the pitiable maid, the mysterious veiled dancer, even Demon Race attire.

Each day offered a new flavor of Silphiel.

Back then, the pure-hearted Gao Ying couldn’t withstand such relentless roleplay. He’d fallen completely under her spell, lost in *deep pink fantasies*.

The cruelest part? He’d never actually tasted her.

She was simply stringing him along.

*Truly despicable.*

Shaking off the memory, Gao Ying sized up Silphiel’s new look and declared earnestly, "These heretics stop at nothing to achieve their goals. They’ve harmed countless innocents. Miss Lindeberg—a victim—stands right before me. As the Hero summoned with your hopes, how could I stand idly by?"

His gaze burned with fervor as he locked eyes with Silphiel. "My Hero’s gift lets me sense evil. After days of your kindness, I want to help!"

*As if!* This was a golden chance to devour ability points and experience, leveling up fast. These heretics were walking experience packages!

This world operated on a game-like leveling system. Each level-up granted attribute boosts based on one’s talents—and as the Hero, Gao Ying’s growth was unmatched. True, combat yielded less experience than training, but his insane experience gain rate made up for it.

Silphiel, unaware of his scheming, simply thought the Hero was a hot-blooded, naive fool finally wanting to act.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "...Fine. But Gao Ying—your safety comes first."

"If you get hurt," she added with an apologetic chuckle, sticking out her pink tongue playfully, "the old man Pope might just tear me apart."

Gao Ying’s gaze went momentarily slack—a performance perfected over time.

They continued discussing the heretics. Silphiel was curious about his ability to sense them, but Myth-tier talents were unprecedented; strange effects were to be expected.

Mid-conversation, Silphiel resumed her act—masterfully portraying longing, regret at their separation. To any onlooker, they were lovers deeply entwined.

*Is it just me,* Silphiel wondered, *or is it working better today?* This idiot Hero seemed genuinely cheerful, his usual wariness toward her fading.

*How to strike while the iron’s hot?* she mused, lowering her eyes. *How to make the Hero my loyal dog?* Progress was good, but rushing would backfire.

Her gaze then flicked to Lelia, neglected nearby. A wicked idea sparked.

Turning to Lelia with honeyed sweetness, Silphiel said, "We’ve captured many heretics this morning. These stubborn souls refuse repentance. Only sacred flames can purify them—grant them true redemption."

"Miss Lindeberg... would you like to witness the burnings?"