Thinking of Sophia, Dorothy brushed her smooth right hand, a storm of emotions crossing her face.
Beneath the skin lay an intricate Demonic Mark—a hidden emblem of her past as the Demon Race’s Queen. Every glimpse of it dragged her back to those five nightmare years.
Back then, she’d forgotten her duty as a Hero. Forgotten human pride. She’d willingly sunk into darkness as a demon, even fallen for Demon Queen Sophia… and borne her child.
For Sophia, she couldn’t untangle love from hate. But now? She wanted no ties. Only to protect her child.
Shifting focus from Aul, she turned back to the training ground.
The demon-infused sub-dragon was far deadlier now. Even blinded, it sensed Celia’s trio with uncanny precision.
Each swipe of its claws tore the air. Celia, shielded by dual magic enchantments, barely touched a claw before numbness shot up her arms, forcing her stumbling backward.
The obsidian tail slammed down. Celia barely dodged—thanks to Aurora’s magic—leaving a crater where she’d stood.
The beast didn’t pause. It lunged again.
Their teamwork meant little against such overwhelming power.
Isa was swatted into the dirt, her rosy cheeks caked in mud, clothes filthy.
Aurora scrambled to evade searing dragon breath, sweat beading on her pale forehead as her mana drained.
Celia fared no better. Her arms trembled after blocking claw strikes. Before she could steady herself—*whoosh!*—the tail whipped toward her!
***CRACK!***
Scales met steel in a deafening clash. Celia flew backward, slamming into the arena’s magic barrier.
She crumpled, spitting blood. Her body felt shattered. Limbs numb. Vision blurring.
Around her, Heroes shook their heads with sighs.
Celia’s team had fought perfectly. But their foe? A frenzied sub-dragon.
"Enough," Aul declared flatly, rising with his cane. He nodded to Sharin to end the trial.
Sharin glanced helplessly at Dorothy—until a voice cut through the arena.
"Not yet…"
Somehow, Celia had forced herself up, leaning on her sword.
The mindless beast fixated on Aurora’s magic blasts, buying Celia precious seconds. She channeled a sliver of healing mana, then charged again.
Predictably, she was flung aside.
She rose once more. Hair tangled. Face smeared with grime. Every trace of the noble lady’s grace was gone.
Her emerald eyes locked only on the raging beast.
Sword raised, she gasped for breath, mind racing for a weakness.
"Give up," someone murmured from the stands. Weak echoes followed.
Celia’s grip tightened on her hilt, blue veins standing out on her hands.
*Surrender?* After breaking free from the Fiona Clan? After finding people who loved her—
Gluttonous Isa. Quarrelsome Aurora. Kind landlord. Elder Silverflower…
Just picturing them made her lips twitch upward. She’d *never* return to that icy mansion, living like a puppet.
And Silverbloom had promised to stay by their side. How could she fail her?
She *would* become a legendary Hero. Make her absent parents hear her name. Make them regret abandoning her.
Staring at the dragon’s roaring maw, she recalled Silverbloom’s words:
*All magical beasts have a weakness. Exploit it.*
Her gaze swept the creature. *How does it track us without eyes?*
Smell? Sound? Or… the mana currents in the air?
Calm now, Celia whispered a spell. Mana threads glowed before her eyes—a web centered on the beast. Every spell they cast sent vibrations through it, revealing their positions.
She signaled Aurora. The mage retreated, weaving her mana into the web, scrambling the beast’s senses.
Instantly, its attacks grew sluggish. It snapped at empty air, confused.
Seizing the opening, Celia enchanted her blade and charged.
Aurora’s fingers flickered. The mana web trembled, steering the beast to expose its back.
Celia struck!
***CLANG!***
Sparks flew as steel met scale. The impact nearly tore the sword from her grip.
Still, the hide held.
The dragon whirled, jaws clamping on her blade. *Crack.* Fissures spiderwebbed across the steel.
Light flared in its throat—a point-blank dragon breath building.
"ISA!"
Defying all instinct, Celia held fast. Blood streamed down her leg from a claw wound, but her grip never loosened.
Across the arena, Isa’s Ring Blade erupted in crimson light. It blurred toward the dragon’s neck—aiming to sever its head!
Sensing death, the beast tried to twist away. But Celia trapped its forelimbs with desperate magic, ignoring the searing glow in its maw.
The dragon opened its jaws—
—but Isa’s Ring Blade, rivaling the Holy Sword Megaphis, was faster.
*Slice.*
The head tumbled free.
The massive body crashed down. Blood geysered from the stump, drenching Celia in a coppery stench.
