After the initial thrill of seeing Fiore faded, Lilithia calmed down. Fiore was the sun. His very existence held special meaning for this world.

Demon King. Hero.

This world truly had a Demon King.

Lilithia couldn’t forget the man who first taught her forging in this world—her body’s original father—who died because of the Demonfolk.

Honestly, she held no prejudice against them. If anything, every edgy teen had once fantasized about being some abyss-dwelling Demon King…

But different stances remained different stances. Different races stayed different races.

Most people could muster courage to kill poultry or beasts. Few could bring themselves to kill their own kind.

Though by this world’s rules, the Demon King was probably some tragic, beautiful girl needing rescue.

Undeniably, Fiore’s sun-like radiance was exactly what could save this world. If anyone could stop the war between humans and Demonfolk, it was Fiore alone.

He had his duty. His mission.

When are men most handsome?

When paying bills? That was just women’s trickery—gold-diggers equating wallet depth with worth, training men like pets.

Lilithia had suffered that pain before.

But ask men when *one specific man* shines brightest? He might joke:

*"When that stone guy ults and wipes five enemies. Total badass."*

Push deeper, force a serious answer—he might recall late-night study sessions under a lamp, surviving two weeks of instant noodles for his girlfriend’s gift, or snatching heavy bags from your arms without hesitation—

Handsome in countless ways.

At least to Lilithia, a man striving for his mission—his necessary duty—glowed with a brilliance that shamed her.

Because she could never do the same.

Fiore, focused like a laser. Fiore, gentle yet blinding. Fiore, flawless and radiant in every way.

So anyone could stand in Fiore’s way—except her.

Only men understood men’s hearts. Only Lilithia knew Fiore’s. She wanted to watch him shine, just as she’d written in her letter:

*Shine like the sun. Let me bathe in your warmth, wherever I am in this world.*

Fiore left.

A pang of loneliness hit Lilithia. She’d wanted to say more, but feared sinking deeper. Dealing with the protagonist drained you—you couldn’t let his radiance sway your heart. Or you’d be throwing yourself at him in seconds.

Spoiling a bro was fine. Becoming a harem prop? Not ready for that.

She’d already smashed two dummies. Logically, she’d passed the test. Since her "combat suit (starter edition)" worked, it was time for advanced training.

*How about cat ears?*

Silver-haired girls suited cats. But her personality clashed—cats were aloof…

*Decision made. High-cold persona activated!*

Watching an icy girl melt into a soft kitty would shatter sheltered guys like Fiore instantly.

Then, when he cracked—*cackle mercilessly!*

*Heh heh~*

Her mood lifted. She forced her face back into frosty neutrality.

*High-cold. High-cold!*

The silver-haired girl strode past dummies, sword flashing. Heads tumbled. She pocketed them without a word.

*"My god! Did you see that girl?! So cool! That icy glare—I’m pierced through! Please stomp on my face!"*

*The hell you into?!*

Lilithia subtly dodged creatures spouting weird lines.

The Tulip Empire valued women highly—its Empress ruled supreme. Naturally, many obsessed over her domineering queenly aura. Hence, the nation had extra masochists.

Deeper into the forest she went, until no human presence lingered. Lilithia stopped.

Chasing Fiore normally was pointless.

She didn’t know if "evil paths" or "demonic arts" existed here—but she’d walk them. If she became a monster later…

*Let Fiore execute me.*

He was that strong. When the time came, she’d call his name—he’d appear.

She banished the thought. Her gaze locked onto a snake coiled in a tree. It stared back.

*Who’s the prey?*

**"Blood Transmutation!"**

Not her blood forming blades—but pale blue fluid drawn from the snake. It writhed in agony, then stilled.

*"Hmm… traces of monster blood? Will rejection kill me?"* Lilithia studied the faintly glowing liquid.

*No time to worry!*

If her magic theory was right, this spell partially converted the target’s blood.

A slit opened on her arm—no blood flowed out. A drop of pale blue seeped into her veins.

*"No effect? Dump it all in."*

The entire mass flooded her body.

Lilithia collapsed.

When she woke, she searched for changes. None seemed obvious—she sighed in relief. Her mana pool had grown, but her body ached. A heavy toll.

*Can’t overuse this.*

*What snake traits do I have now?*

She attempted a split.

*"!"*

*Almost lost my maidenhood. Fiore would notice something’s off when he— NO! What am I thinking?! Lilithia, snap out of it! No crossing lines. He’s got a harem. One slip and I’m dead.*

Unseen, her crimson pupils had narrowed into terrifying vertical slits—like a serpent’s. They faded seconds later.

*"Hmm… observe for a while. If no issues, I’ll absorb other bloods. Then my alias will be ‘Bloodmonger’!"*

She liked the name.

But… no plot trigger? Protagonists in exams always stumbled on conspiracies or ambushes.

*Nothing happened?*

As if summoned by the thought—

A sword flash.

It tore through the sky, splitting clouds.

**"All candidates return immediately! Sword Saint Fiore detected Demonfolk infiltrators!"** Lisanna’s giant projection blared across the heavens.

Lilithia mused: *"That woman’s at least a D-cup… terrifying."* She glanced down. *Eleven years old—I’ll catch up. Past blood loss stunted me. Now I drain others. But surpassing *that*? Tough."*

Reality crashed back.

*Am I in deep trouble?*

*Side characters always get screwed when plots hit. Standard procedure is…*

Lilithia slashed her arm with Blood Magic, controlling the bleed. She collapsed, playing dead.

*Running is idiotic. How many died mid-escape?*

Thank gods for Blood Magic. Anemia was old news to her.

*Wait for Fiore to clean up, then rise.*

As predicted, Fiore clashed mid-air with a monstrous foe.

**"Sword Saint Fiore! Newly crowned, yet formidable. My goal today is achieved. We’ll meet again."**

The enemy vanished after that taunt.

*Probably one of the Demon King’s Army’s Four Heavenly Kings.*

*Where the protagonist goes, chaos follows. Alone for ten thousand years—nothing. He shows up—boom, disaster.*

Her wound healed fast, but blood loss left her weak.

Then—a frantic, disheveled candidate lunged at her. Black mist coiled around him.

*Worst-case scenario. Cliché Demonfolk corruption?*

He pinned her. She didn’t resist. As he loomed, her sword pierced his chest.

She shoved his corpse aside and slumped against a tree.

*"Fiore…"*

Unavoidably, inevitably—she’d killed a person. For the first time in this world.

The girl whispered Fiore’s name.