Two witches led Tiyi to a corner of the cathedral. Before them, the roots of a massive tree—several meters thick—had burst through the walls, snaking across the cracked stone floor.

“Are we truly underground?” Tiyi gazed beyond the collapsed stone wall, where raw earth and rock were exposed by the tree’s intrusion.

“Mm. Above ground, there are few places left to hide,” Yoreya replied.

Tiyi couldn’t fathom how light filtered through the rows of rose windows—perhaps magic. Her eyes settled on one stained-glass panel: a winged she-demon, arms outstretched as if tempting mortals.

*Selys… has she truly left?* Tiyi sensed no trace of the archdemon’s presence here. Nothing haunted her like Selys’s allure and the shame she’d branded into Tiyi’s soul.

Most likely, she’d been forced to depart.

But perhaps that demon—whose desires defied mortal comprehension—still lurked unseen, watching. Watching the Empire’s once-proud Holy Temple Knight reduced to a fugitive witch, scorned by the world, abandoned by her god, hunted by the very people she’d sworn to protect. *Would that spectacle be Selys’s ultimate revenge?*

*Whether she’s gone or not, I must act. I have to take this gamble.* Resolve hardened within Tiyi.

Fleeing? She could have escaped right after the ritual. But where would she go? Pathetically, this underground sanctuary was her safest refuge. Besides, she needed the Nightshade Ring. She couldn’t let Qingruo face the witches’ vengeance unprepared.

If Selys had set a trap here, it made no sense. Why not simply turn her into a knight again and throw her back into this den? Or kill her outright.

*You spare me to savor my humiliation deeper? You’ll regret it.*

“Miss Tiyi? Tiyi? Are you alright?” Qina leaned closer, noticing Tiyi’s distant gaze. *What horrors did she face in that dungeon?*

“Huh? I’m fine…” Tiyi shook her head, a faint flush on her cheeks—not from shame this time, but fury and obsession.

“This way, please.”

Qina and Yoreya guided Tiyi around the tree roots to the cathedral’s dim northwest corner. A rectangular space was cordoned off by stone chalices and dark orange wooden railings. Bloodstained parchment talismans clung to the barriers. At one end lay a circular, crumbling stone magic circle.

A witch approached—deep purple robes, violet hair, a single gold-rimmed monocle perched over one eye.

“Sister Yiseci, Lady Dilovei sent us with Miss Tiyi for swordsmanship evaluation,” Qina said respectfully.

“Mm. I heard. I’d planned to practice water magic—selection trials are months away—but I’ll assist first.” Yiseci’s tone carried quiet authority, her status clearly higher than the girls’.

“Thank you.” The two bowed slightly.

“What tier of test?” Yiseci studied Tiyi. “Since Lady Dilovei isn’t overseeing it personally, it’ll be basic. I’ll summon Lusha and Philini to assess.”

“I’ll fetch them,” Yoreya offered quickly.

“How does the test work?” Tiyi eyed the magic circle warily. Ancient instincts flared at the sight of runes and ritual spaces.

Yiseci pointed to the circle. “I’ll summon a demon there. You’ll fight it using only swordsmanship. We’ll evaluate your skill.” She added firmly, “Nothing too strong. We’ll monitor your safety. *Only* swordsmanship—if you use magic, the test is void. Call for help if you’re in danger.”

“…Understood.” Tiyi nodded. Magic was beyond her anyway.

Yoreya returned with two witches in practical tops and short skirts—fronts cropped high, backs trailing long panels reminiscent of Tiyi’s own attire. Their poised strides screamed combat training.

But they weren’t alone. Hooded witches in long robes had gathered, drawn by rumors of a sword test. Dozens of eyes fixed on Tiyi. The weight of their stares made her skin prickle.

“Choose your weapon first, Miss Tiyi.” Qina led her to a rack of swords leaning against the railing—rapiers, longswords, even massive greatswords.

“Miss Tiyi?” Qina frowned. Tiyi stood motionless before the blades, fingers hovering over steel. Her eyes closed. A slight tremor ran through her.

*This… this feeling.* It anchored her. A peace she hadn’t known since the abyss.

“Tiyi, pick a blade,” Qina coaxed gently. “You have prior training, right? Choose one familiar. It’s just a test. No need to tense up.”

*Tense?* Without a sword in hand, she felt utterly adrift.

*Familiar?* Yedi had wielded everything—daggers, greatswords, war axes. Steel had been his solace when desire couldn’t be sated. A man’s passions needed outlets.

Indecision gripped her. Then her gaze locked onto a dark red two-handed greatsword. She grasped its hilt.

“Miss Tiyi—!” Qina’s eyes widened. Tiyi’s slender arms looked incapable of lifting such a beast. “That’s for training against enemy knights. No woman here can swing it properly…”

*Clang.*

Tiyi hefted the greatsword one-handed, effortlessly.

“Ah?!” Qina gasped. She was strong for a witch, yet lifting that sword strained her. How could those delicate, jade-like hands wield such weight?

“…” Tiyi held the blade aloft, testing its balance. Her eyes dimmed. *Has my strength truly waned this much…?*

She stepped into the testing ground, the greatsword resting lightly on her shoulder.

Silence fell over the watching witches. Many had fled here or been rescued, enduring similar trials. Most felt a pang of worry for the newcomer.

Witches rarely sought violence. Many feared bloodshed, haunted by the question: *What crime condemned us to burning?* Yet none shrank from training. Every elder witch knew—they had nowhere left to run.

This was their fate.

Philini, one assessor, murmured to Yoreya before turning to Tiyi. “Miss Tiyi. For your safety, we must caution you: lifting a greatsword is one thing. Wielding it against a demon is another. We don’t know what will be summoned.”

“Are you certain about this weapon?” asked Lusha, the other assessor, her blue hair cropped short. Any trained warrior knew greatswords demanded precision, not just brute force—unlike warhammers or polearms. A woman might lift one, but fluid combat required tenfold strength.

“Certain.”

Tiyi tightened her grip on the thick hilt. The pressure grounded her. It was the only thing steadying her now—her body clad in a slit gown, black lace clinging to her hollow frame beneath.

The crowd watched, tense. No one wanted the beautiful newcomer injured on her first day.

“Tiyi…” Yoreya bit her lip, fists clenched.

“Ready?” Yiseci handed her ancient grimoire to Yoreya. “Remember: summoned demons target only those inside the circle. They attack relentlessly. Stay sharp.”

“What kind of demon, Sister Yiseci?” Yoreya whispered anxiously.

“A standard contract. Likely a low-tier demon. The exact type? Unpredictable.” Yiseci shrugged.

“Ah…” Yoreya’s breath hitched. “Miss Tiyi…”

Tiyi drew a slow, deep breath. Not from nerves. The feel of steel in her palm after so long—facing a demon again, even as a witch—stirred something deep.

“I’m ready.”