Tilisha attempted to analyze Astrid’s Divine Right and domain with Divine Analysis. The moment she activated the ability, her scalp prickled at the dense wall of text flooding the interface.

Each elegant Elf character stabbed into her mind like silver needles, agony tearing through her.

This was far more complex than Felicia’s Divine Right—so information-heavy her current mental fortitude couldn’t even parse it. She had no choice but to abort.

Silver moonlight bloomed as the Elf maiden danced. Guided by Astrid’s blade, it arced gracefully through the air.

Lynne knew the fight had begun, whether she willed it or not. She raised her shield.

Noble lunar flames erupted across the wolf-pelt shield, splattering violently. They loomed over the leather-clad girl with arrogant dominance, scorning her futile resistance.

The wolf’s eyes on the battered shield glowed crimson. Simultaneously, a dull gray sheen spread across Lynne’s skin—a feeble defense against the moonfire.

But against the overwhelming blaze, the glow flickered uselessly.

This was a Divine Right strike. Though Lynne’s shield was also divine, the gap in bloodline and authority tier was insurmountable.

Predictably, the crescent slash sent Lynne flying. She tumbled across the dirt, kicking up clouds of dust.

Soon, the unaffiliated Divine Maiden in leather lay motionless on the ground.

Astrid lowered her blade slowly. She hadn’t used her full power—not even a fifth of her authority.

Watching the girl fall in a single move, Tilisha sighed softly from the stands.

“The victor is Astrid Oreniman—”

“W-wait…!” Just as Astrid turned to leave and the referee prepared to announce the result, a defiant voice cut through.

All eyes snapped to the girl struggling to her feet.

Lynne’s leather armor hung in charred tatters. Her domain was nearly shattered. Where injuries bled through, cracked skin revealed charred flesh—*this* was Astrid holding back.

Yet she stood. Pure, stubborn refusal fueled her.

“I’m… not done yet. Don’t you dare walk away…” Lynne’s eyes burned with raw emotion—forced resolve, unyielding spirit, confusion. But now, the shadows of insecurity and weakness had finally receded.

What dominated was *bitterness*.

The walls of bloodline and lineage had carved an uncrossable chasm for unaffiliated Divine Maidens. But she refused to accept it.

She refused to believe her sweat and sacrifice meant nothing when facing a true Divine Maiden—when she couldn’t even last one strike.

*Was effort truly pointless?*

No effort? One slash. Effort? Still one slash. Then what was she—a fool for bleeding and sweating for nothing?!

Born an unaffiliated Divine Maiden, she had nothing. Nothing but the hope that hard work could change her fate. If even *that* was denied her…

She’d have nothing left.

So she couldn’t—*wouldn’t*—fall in one blow.

Gripping sword and shield, she charged Astrid again. She might be worthless in every way, but she wouldn’t let her sweat and grit be erased too.

Roaring against fate, Lynne surged forward.

“You… you *dare* underestimate me?!”

Astrid hadn’t expected Lynne to rise.

An Elf’s empathy and sharp senses caught the suffocating weight of that defiance. Violet eyes flickered with complexity.

Seeing her opponent charge, Astrid lifted her crescent blade once more.

Lynne didn’t need pity. She needed acknowledgment. So Astrid held nothing back.

The second strike fell.

The match ended.

Lynne lost—as everyone expected. Utterly.

Yet not a single spectator mocked her.

They’d seen the terrifying will burning in her eyes. Honestly? None believed they could rise after Astrid’s first slash, let alone charge that unscalable wall.

Silence swallowed the arena.

“May the Goddess bless you,” Astrid murmured as attendants carried Lynne away.

She knew Lynne had her answer.

*See? Effort isn’t useless.* Without it, she’d never have stood after that slash.

Lynne never sought to surpass or defeat anyone. She only needed proof her struggle mattered. That was all.

Long after Lynne vanished, Astrid finally turned to leave. Moonlight shimmered on her silver hair, untouched by cheers or admirers seeking shared glory.

The match was over. She was going home.

Then the referee’s announcement froze her mid-step.

“Third match this afternoon: Aerin Kadifen versus Tilisha! Competitors, prepare! Match begins in ten minutes!”

…*Tilisha?*

Hearing that familiar name, Astrid slowly turned. Her gaze drifted to the silver moon sigil glowing faintly on her hand. With Elf-sharp senses, she found the golden-haired girl in the stands—the one she’d met once.

*Her.*

*If she’s here… where is he?*

*…Does he not want to see me?*

Unaware of Astrid’s thoughts, Tilisha shook her head and hopped down from her seat.

What must come, will come.

*Time to step up and get beaten.*

She didn’t care about whispers of “another unaffiliated Divine Maiden?” She wasn’t one anyway. Bloodline meant nothing to her.

Watching Brin and Lynne take their beatings, she’d already pictured herself in that arena.

No need to empathize—they’d soon share the same stage.

“Your Highness, are you leaving?”

“If Astrid won’t stay for the remaining matches, what’s the point?” Felicia smiled.

“True… Wait! Your Highness, look—Astrid hasn’t left! She’s sitting down!”

“You’re mistaken. Impossible…” Felicia trailed off, startled by the commotion nearby.

“Is Astrid… interested in the next match?” Glancing toward the arena staff clearing the battlefield, Felicia’s gaze sharpened.