"An unforeseen variable." Luna remained perfectly composed. After hearing certain reports, she delivered her verdict: "That woman is the variable. If necessary, she must be eliminated."

Mephas snorted coldly. "Is this why you summoned us all? Such triviality? Let me be clear: removing her would trigger far greater upheaval. By then, even you couldn’t undo the damage."

Luna’s brow furrowed slightly. "So you propose we do nothing?"

"Not at all. But as the Seer, what purpose does it serve to fixate here? Shouldn’t your focus be defeating the Demon King? The clash between Hero and Demon King has nothing to do with Saints."

Mephas laid bare Luna’s identity—it was no secret. Everyone present was sharp enough to grasp the implications.

"Must you still feud with me at such a time?" Luna sighed. "I care only that the Demon King falls. But what of you two? The man you adore is being stolen away, yet you sit here like anglers waiting for bites?" Her gaze pinned Lisanna and Bernadette.

Both girls lowered their heads, silent.

"...I’m not scolding you. Look up, both of you." Luna tugged her own hair until they obeyed. "Childhood friend!" She jabbed a finger at Lisanna, who froze like a startled rabbit. "You’ve known him longest! Where’s your dignity? You threw punches at me but folded like paper against her? And you even gave her a drop of his blood? Have some self-respect!"

"Don’t you dare look down!"

Lisanna flinched, shame burning her cheeks.

Luna’s voice cracked with frustration. "I admit—I share blame. Had I not acted as I did years ago, you might have won him. But after that, you never lost courage. Why now?" She whirled toward the Holy Maiden. "And you! Stop trying to open a spatial gate to escape!"

The half-formed portal flickered and died.

"Aren’t you the legendary beauty here? Even grudgingly, none of us match your looks. Yet you came back weeping? Weeping is one thing—but clinging to me like a pillow? I’m not your stress toy!" The petite Luna seethed inwardly. These rivals kept treating her like a plush comfort object.

"Stop crying! What good does it do me? Go cry to Fiore!"

"He won’t listen to me…"

*Just burn this world down already.*

For a fleeting second, Luna considered defecting to the Demon King’s side. *What even are these people? This isn’t how fate should unfold…*

Mephas let out a derisive laugh. "I’m tired of your pointless squabbles. Use this time to strengthen yourselves instead."

"Are you giving up, Mephas? From where I stand, your chances are lower than theirs."

"Boring!"

Mephas radiated arrogance. She swept her gaze over the girls. "I love him. So I’ll conquer him. Let him adore Lilithia—I’ll conquer her too. I’ll make them both mine. None of you are worthy rivals." With that, she strode out.

Lisanna and Bernadette stared, stunned, at her retreating figure.

*Was she serious? That Lilithia…*

The demon-like girl’s words had flayed their souls bare, exposing shadows even they hadn’t acknowledged.

Mephas’s courage commanded respect. Lisanna and Bernadette exchanged glances thick with pity. Then both looked at Luna.

"I won’t be her pillow for comfort," Luna muttered. Clearly, they were psychologically shattered by Lilithia, drowning in self-doubt.

Luna rubbed her temples. "If you’re crumbling over this—" She cut herself off. "Do you still love Fiore?"

"Of course!" Lisanna declared instantly.

Bernadette flushed but held firm. "My feelings for him have never wavered since we first met—"

"Then fight for him!" Luna snapped. "Go claim your man! What are you doing here? Solve the problem! Wake up!"

"You’re so bold, Luna! Why don’t *you* go?!"

"!"

"That’s… different—"

"Exactly. Face that girl yourself. I guarantee you won’t fare better than us."

*I’ve already met her…* Luna sighed. Their encounter had been brief, but Lilithia was undeniably extraordinary. "Do as you will. I’m exhausted." She turned away alone.

Her silhouette looked small against the empty corridor.

*Fate shouldn’t twist like this. Not yet. I must wait—until the moment I reveal myself to him. You can endure this, Luna.*

…

"An anomaly has occurred."

Shadows coalesced within the Demon King’s throne room.

"Arcane King! Your magic failed. The Demon King’s blood couldn’t influence the Tulip Empire’s Holy Maiden through her. This is grave negligence."

"Impossible!" The Arcane King’s voice hissed. "My spells are flawless. If failure occurred, it lies in execution, Strategist King. Your agents bungled the task—or your strategy was flawed and exposed."

"My plan was perfect! Your magic was trash! You wasted the Demon King’s blood!"

"Only the Demon King’s mercy keeps a fool like you as Strategist King! Your brain should be tossed onto a battlefield as a human rag doll for humans to kick!"

"And you! Your magic belongs in a demon-spawning factory as a brood mother!"

Their insults spiraled into vulgarity.

"Silence! Enough!"

The chamber froze.

The Tyrant King’s roar shook the obsidian pillars. Among the Four Kings, her raw power reigned supreme. Cross her, and their crude taunts might become reality.

"One Sword Saint? I’ll crush him myself!" A streak of pitch-black light shot from the throne room toward the distant horizon.

The Arcane King and Strategist King exchanged smirks. "Heh. Knew she’d bite."

"Always in sync, aren’t we?"

A fourth shadow dissolved soundlessly. *Idiots. Only the Demon King’s glory keeps me here. Otherwise, I’d have vanished long ago.*

*Ah… glorious Demon King…*

…

Lilithia now held significant standing. Respect followed her, symbolized by the tulip-embossed insignia pinned to her chest—a military commendation. Though the honor felt unearned, she’d genuinely saved Verutan by dragging him underground first. Others hadn’t been so quick. She accepted it without guilt.

She hadn’t rushed to trade it for nobility. Instead, she’d requested advanced forging techniques—a costly choice. For the next six months, all weapons she crafted must be sold exclusively to the Tulip Empire, meeting strict quality thresholds.

But mastering higher-tier forging? Worth the price.

One problem remained: breaking through to Intermediate Mage.

Research revealed the key: elemental affinity. A fire mage who achieved fire affinity, for instance, would see their mana convert to fire element one to two times faster. Casting fire spells would also generate a protective micro-domain of fire around them.

Affinity with one element granted Intermediate rank. More affinities meant a stronger domain—and greater power.

But what *was* elemental affinity?

Lilithia puzzled over it. Her Blood Magic—what element did it align with? Life? Water? The concept felt slippery. She’d mastered practical applications through brute-force experimentation, believing herself among the world’s finest magic tacticians…

And affinity…

She lifted her skirt just enough to peek at the mark on her abdomen. Fiore’s sigil glowed faintly there. *Shouldn’t his blood—the essence of a Sword Saint—be the ultimate key to blood affinity? What more is needed?*

As she pondered, the mark flared. Golden light flooded the room from the window.

She lunged to the sill.

There, in the distant sky—a golden phantom sword clashed against a roiling darkness.

Sword Saint Fiore. For the first time since earning his title, he revealed himself to the world. His blade met the Tyrant King of the Demon King’s Army.