This statement left Rodrika utterly bewildered. What? I’m the Holy Maiden?

Then what is Silphiel?

“…I don’t believe it. I’ve never heard any divine revelation.”

The High Priestess narrowed her eyes slightly and smiled. “I merely relayed your father’s words. If you doubt them, visit this address. You’ll find your answers there.”

She tossed a prepared envelope to Rodrika, who caught it and scanned the contents. Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

Rodrika murmured under her breath, “…This place…”

“Good. You remember it,” the High Priestess said warmly. “Your father has always loved you deeply.”

Rodrika said nothing. She silently crushed the envelope to dust in her fist.

The High Priestess turned to Gao Ying with deference. “Does this fulfill our agreement?”

Gao Ying glanced at Rodrika, then nodded. Though he hadn’t gained intel on Silphiel, he’d uncovered a vital lead. If things progressed smoothly, he might not even need that.

His question had truly been for Rodrika’s sake. Her father’s apostasy weighed on her heart like a stone.

To make her his willing agent, he had to offer something in return.

“The secret passage out of the city lies in the third tomb—the mausoleum of Augustus—in the Noble District’s Royal Cemetery. Light all four torches at the first floor’s corners to open it. It’s a one-way route: out only.”

Gao Ying spoke low. Only the Pope knew this escape route from the Holy Capital’s fall. Even Silphiel shouldn’t know it.

“All the Church’s forces are scouring the city for you. Defenses there are paper-thin. Easy to breach.”

Shirley’s genuine smile returned. She bowed deeply to Gao Ying. “Your aid means everything to me and my comrades!”

As she turned to leave, Gao Ying’s voice stopped her. “…Remember. Flee only. Harm no innocents.”

Passing him, Shirley replied, “Our enemy is Gregory and his lackeys alone. We haven’t forgotten the Goddess’s teachings. Why would we slaughter the blameless?”

“What about the Lindbergs?”

Shirley snorted. “Traitors. Every last one.”

Gao Ying had wanted to ask why they’d kill the Hero—a divine messenger meant to save the world from the Demon Race. But the question was too sharp. It might expose him. He held his tongue.

Shirley paused briefly. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “…Perhaps we were wrong. You’re kind. Unlike the others. This… is our punishment.”

Gao Ying’s pupils contracted. He spun around. The heretic High Priestess glanced back, winked, and flashed a faint smile. Silver hair swayed in the wind.

*Damn it. I thought I’d fooled her. She saw through me from the start.*

In his past life, Gao Ying had clashed with the Shadow Sect. After nearly dying by their hands early on, his first impression was hatred. Under Silphiel’s urging, he’d embraced the Chairman’s policy: purge them bloodily.

Back then, Silphiel and Lelia stood beside him.

He’d sometimes doubted whether the Sect was truly evil. Each time, Silphiel would wrap her arms around him from behind, tears glistening. *“Gao Ying, don’t be deceived. Yes, innocents get caught in their web. But with the Demon Race at our gates, can humanity afford division? If mercy now brings total defeat… how will the dead ever rest?”*

Lelia would echo her: *“Don’t overthink it!”*

If he recalled correctly… the Grand Bishop he’d slain in the Shadow Sect’s courtyard—the one who’d transformed into an “angel”—was Rodrika’s father.

After Gao Ying defeated him, the Inquisitor General Grace handled the city’s “cleansing.” Later, he heard the entire place burned to ash. Vanished from maps.

Silphiel told him demons had overrun it. No survivors.

Blinded by her lies then, he’d poured his rage onto the Demon Race. Now, cold dread seeped into his bones.

“Rodrika. Let’s return. The battle there should be ending soon.”

—

Time snapped back to the present.

Silphiel wielded Blood Magic. Even after draining Lelia’s life force, hunger gnawed at her. One person’s vitality wasn’t nearly enough!

Her earlier wound was severe. Divine Art could seal the flesh, but her drained stamina wouldn’t recover so fast. She was dangerously weak.

Yet she was picky. The Knights’ young men? Unappetizing.

Spotting Rodrika’s return, Silphiel’s eyes gleamed with a wicked idea.

*Rodrika. Small. Fragrant. Tender. One bite, and she’d burst with juice.*

Silphiel dispelled her transformation. Wild black strands melted back into soft gold. The blood-red faded from her eyes. The beloved Holy Maiden of the Church stood restored.

Footsteps descended the stairs. Undeniably Rodrika.

Silphiel studied her: armor unscathed, hair perfectly neat.

“You didn’t catch her?”

Rodrika stiffened, bowing deeply. “My deepest apologies, Holy Maiden. That heretic was slippery. She lost me quickly.”

Silphiel sighed, shaking her head. “I expected nothing less.”

Shirley was Silphiel’s former instructor. Though not vastly stronger than Rodrika, her combat experience was leagues beyond. Failure was predictable.

Silphiel wasn’t worried. The Holy Capital was a net now. Exposed heretics were like grasshoppers after autumn—doomed to hop their last.

As long as they remained in the city, capture was inevitable.

Rodrika’s eyes dimmed. “I’ve failed you, Holy Maiden.”

Silphiel’s gaze lingered on Rodrika. She swallowed hard. *This girl’s blood must taste exquisite.*

This was the Shadow Sect’s Holy Capital stronghold. An “accident” here would raise no suspicion.

“Holy Maiden… where is Lady Lelia?”

“Killed by heretic sorcery.” Silphiel gestured to Lelia’s withered corpse. Rodrika flinched at the horror.

“Is… is this the backlash of their dark arts?”

Silphiel nodded gravely. “Their rituals grant fleeting power. But the cost…” She let the words hang.

Rodrika’s fists clenched. “Those heretics deserve death!”

“Yes. Death. They even dared target the Hero. His life holds the continent’s fate.” Silphiel’s tone turned stern. She studied Rodrika. “You’re careless, Knight Rodrika.”

“How so?”

“Don’t you realize? A heretic priestess cursed you without your notice. Stand still. I’ll lift it.”

“A curse?!” Rodrika gasped, then froze trustingly at Silphiel’s firm nod. She turned her back, motionless.

Silphiel approached from behind. Her bangs shadowed her face. A cold smirk curled her lips. *Such a gullible child.*

*Her innocence probably makes her blood taste like sweet, clear fruit.*

Her hand reached out. Black strands began creeping through her golden hair—

Agony ripped through Silphiel’s abdomen. She looked down. A Holy Sword, blazing gold, pierced her gut.

Blood trickled from her lips. She stared in shock at Rodrika, who turned her head. Gone was the naive smile.

Rodrika’s eyes were ashen. Her voice was ice. “Holy Maiden… what exactly were you about to do to me?”

“Rodrika, don’t misunderstand! This ritual is necessary to break the curse!” Silphiel stammered. Rodrika’s expression remained unreadable.

Only now did Silphiel grasp her mistake. She’d underestimated her.

Memories crashed back: from the moment they entered the dungeon together, Rodrika had been playing her.

*Rodrika… you scheming bitch!*

But Silphiel wasn’t afraid. The Witch’s Potion in her veins would kill Rodrika in seconds.

“Die, Rodrika!”

*Warm blood will do. The taste might be slightly off.*

As she staggered back, magic flared in Silphiel’s eyes. She saw Rodrika pale—and smirked inwardly. *Fool. You struck but didn’t finish me. That’s your mistake.*

But Rodrika didn’t writhe or collapse. Her pallor vanished instantly. Before Silphiel could process it, holy light erupted. Rodrika charged.

*Why didn’t the potion work?!*

No time to wonder. Fighting as the Holy Maiden meant death. She had to transform—now—even if it damaged her body. She’d need extra nourishment later.

“You forced my hand, Rodrika!”

Crimson light flared in Silphiel’s eyes. She began shifting forms—

Rodrika was already upon her. The Holy Sword smashed toward her face.

Silphiel’s blood ran cold. *No honor! No waiting for the second phase?! Liars!*

The sword’s radiance struck true. A shrill scream tore from Silphiel’s throat.

She crumpled. Through fading vision, she saw Rodrika sheathe her sword. From the shadows behind her, a familiar silhouette slowly emerged.