Neither Violette nor Richard had any experience with weddings. Richard was used to handling everything himself—even matters concerning Violette.

Over time, Violette had grown accustomed to leaving all decisions to him.

The Church delegation arrived first. Celine stared at her elder sister, her expression unreadable.

"Long time no see, Celine," Violette greeted cheerfully.

"Long time no see, Sister," Celine sighed. Her sister seemed unchanged—unchanged since before she’d met Richard Jetri. It was as if she were looking at the Violette from fifteen years ago. The sister she’d once idolized. *He must have taken good care of her*, Celine thought.

"You just left a letter and ran off…" Celine’s playful scolding followed her greeting. "Do you have any idea how messy things got after you left?"

Violette hadn’t left chaos behind, but the alliances and factions she’d built required careful maintenance. Celine Gloria—who’d never imagined becoming Holy Maiden—had been overwhelmed.

"You handled it beautifully, my dear Celine," Violette replied, still smiling.

Celine sighed again.

Violette opened her arms and pulled her sister into a warm embrace.

"At least you remembered to invite me to your wedding…" Celine buried her face in her sister’s shoulder, just like she had fifteen years ago, her voice hitching slightly.

Richard gave the sisters space. Truth be told, he felt uneasy around Violette’s family. Though he hadn’t exactly *eloped* with her… he couldn’t shake the feeling of being that reckless wild kid who’d spirited away some noble’s precious daughter.

He handled the rest of the Church guests. Honestly, he hadn’t expected such a grand turnout—not even with his entire team present.

*How did my wedding become this…*

He watched the Church’s holy knights file in and sighed inwardly.

The truth was, the Church felt just as awkward around him. After all, the whole continent knew it was the Holy Maiden who’d dragged the Sage away. The sole eyewitness—a former guard turned wildly popular bard—still sang of how she’d yanked the Sage through the city gates, then swept him into her arms and fled. That very bard had come with the delegation today.

"You’re…" Richard frowned at the familiar young man. "Where have we met?"

"Sage, I was the guard who opened the city gates for you two that night," the young man grinned.

"Ah! You!" Richard’s eyes lit up. "Thank you—I owe you one. Name your price."

"Just doing my duty, Sage," the bard said modestly, though pride flickered in his eyes. *He actually remembered me.* The Sage was every bit as kind as the rumors claimed. After a brief chat, the bard bowed politely and stepped inside.

Thankfully, Richard wasn’t short on funds. The venue he’d rented could hold thousands—more than enough for the Church’s hundred-odd guests.

"Sage."

A soft voice called to him. Richard turned to see a middle-aged female bishop. His palms grew clammy.

"My daughter… thank you for looking after her," she said, her tone laced with quiet apology.

"Eh?" Richard blinked. "You’re… Vivi’s mother?"

"Yes. Her father came too, but…" She gestured faintly. Only then did Richard notice her striking resemblance to Violette.

"He said he’d feel awkward facing you," the bishop explained with a small sigh. "So he won’t be greeting you personally."

"Oh! Please, no formal titles—I don’t deserve that!" Richard stammered.

"Why not? As the Hero of Humanity, you command the Church’s deepest respect." Her smile was gentle.

"Y-You’re absolutely right…" Richard forced a chuckle, utterly out of his depth with mothers-in-law.

"I only wanted to say: don’t fuss over us. Just enjoy your day." Sensing his discomfort, she excused herself gracefully.

"*Phew*," Richard wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. He’d braced for an angry interrogation about stealing her daughter. What could he even say? The truth would make him seem spineless, and smooth lies felt impossible under Violette’s mother’s gaze.

Just as he relaxed, another unfamiliar voice spoke:

"Sage."

Richard plastered on a smile. "Hello! How can I help?"

"I’m Deputy Commander of the Glorious Delan Mage Corps, here with Her Highness Princess Victoria to offer congratulations." The young man bowed crisply, his eyes shining with hero-worship.

"Ah…" Richard nodded slowly. "And you…?"

"Forgive my boldness, but… may I have one of your wedding invitations? As a keepsake."

"You don’t need one to attend," Richard said, puzzled, but handed him an invitation from his ring anyway.

"I know. I just… wanted to preserve it." The deputy commander flushed.

"Sure, no problem." Richard shrugged, though the man’s adoration made his skin crawl. "Anything else?"

"No—well, if you have time after the wedding… might you share your insights with us? Your tactics during the Demon King campaign, and…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "How you cast spells without chants or staves."

"*That*? I can teach you," Richard said casually.

"*Really?!*" The deputy commander’s face lit up—but Richard sensed his excitement wasn’t about spellcasting.

"Stay after the ceremony. I’ll write you a manual and train you personally."

"Absolutely!!" The man nearly vibrated with joy.

Richard ushered him inside, bemused. *He’s just thrilled his idol’s generous.*

If the Mage Corps was here…

"Richard."

*Right.*

Richard exhaled. "Your Highness. Long time no see." His smile was stiffly formal.

"Long time no see," Victoria returned, equally polite.

Silence stretched between them.

"I wish you happiness," the Delan princess murmured.

"Thank you."

After she passed, Richard’s brow furrowed. He’d expected her—but why come at all? *Whatever. Violette wanted it.*

"Richard… long time… no see." A half-elf hesitated nearby.

"Head inside. The ceremony starts soon," Richard replied flatly.

"Okay." She ducked her head and slipped past him.

Finally, the Aelons Kingdom delegation arrived. Richard squinted at the golden carriage gleaming under the sun. The Lion of Gold descended—not like a wedding guest, but a warrior marching to battle.

"Vya. Long time no see," Richard said, offering no extra deference for her crown.

"Indeed it has been," Vya replied, equally informal. Her emerald eyes held an unreadable glint.

She felt unfamiliar—but years apart would do that.

"Go on in."

"Very well."

Vya showed no flicker of emotion. Richard relaxed slightly.

The ceremony proceeded flawlessly. Not a single disruption.

"Richard Jetri," the priest intoned solemnly, "do you take Violette Gloria as your wife? To live with her according to Scripture, bound as one before God? To love, comfort, honor, and protect her—as you love yourself—in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, faithful until death?"

Before their gathered loved ones, Richard gazed at Violette in her gown, his eyes soft as still water.

"I do." His voice was calm, unwavering.

"Violette Gloria, do you take Richard Jetri as your husband? To live with him according to Scripture, bound as one before God? To love, comfort, honor, and protect him—as you love yourself—in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, faithful until death?"

Violette beamed at her tender-eyed groom.

"I *do*!" Her cry bubbled with girlish delight, drowning in sweetness. Her father smiled genuinely; her mother dabbed happy tears.

"I object."

Vya’s voice—regal yet teasing—cut through the hall like a blade. Every head snapped toward her. Clad in gleaming armor, she strode to the altar.

Richard’s expression turned icy. He didn’t know her game, but no one would ruin this day for Violette. Before his bride could speak, he stepped forward, voice glacial: "If you have a problem with *me*, name the time and place. Interrupt this wedding, and I’ll kill you here."

Violette, ready to unleash fury, blinked and stayed silent at her husband’s defense.

"I have no quarrel with you," Vya smiled, her gaze locking onto the bride. "My issue is with *her*."

She drew Untarnished Lake Light from her waist, its tip aimed straight at Violette’s nose.

Jetri stepped coldly in front of Violette, a magic circle already swirling in his palm.

Only then did the guests snap out of their daze.

Violette’s furious parents tried to rush forward but were blocked by Aelons Kingdom’s Lion Guards.

Just as chaos threatened to erupt below, Vya spoke with a faint, mocking smile. “What? Brave enough to steal a man but too scared to fight?”

“Or do you only know how to hide behind men?”

“I’ll crush that pretty face of yours, you two-faced bitch. Who even are you to bark here?”

Violette gently, sweetly pulled Jetri aside.

Her words made her parents stare up in disbelief at their daughter in her wedding gown.

“Darling, wait just a moment,” Violette cooed over her shoulder to Jetri. “Let me kill this trash first, then we’ll continue our wedding~”

“No—” Jetri started, but Violette had already pulled a warhammer from her wedding ring.

She clashed with Vya in a blur of motion, leaving Jetri wide-eyed.

Only now did the Sage realize both women were already level 100+.

His expression shifted rapidly. “Esteemed guests, my deepest apologies. This… was unforeseen. Please leave safely and orderly.”

As he spoke, he expanded a barrier of magic.

The moment his voice faded, Violette crashed down beside him.

His pupils dilated.

But before his fury could strike, Violette blocked him.

The bride smiled up at her groom, then dropped words that made the crowd gasp and nearly felled her parents on the spot:

“You there—the Half Elf and the Crown Princess. Help me win against this bitch, and I’ll let you be my consorts.”

The Glorious Delan Mage Corps erupted in outrage.

The Half Elf delegation did too.

But their shock deepened as their own Crown Princess and the Elf Prince eagerly stepped forward.

“Your word on it,” the Half Elf said coldly.

“Will Chad agree…?” the Crown Princess hesitated.

Yet both stood beside Violette.

Jetri felt numb.

The guests below were numb. How could he not be?

He scanned the crowd, lost and helpless.

His mouth opened.

He wished for a hole to swallow him whole.

The four combatants quickly tangled in battle.

The Sage turned pale-faced to the guests.

They stared back at him.

Words failed him. He could only sigh in despair.

*What in the world is happening?!*

Crumpling to the ground, the Sage numbly gazed up at the human gods locked in chaotic combat.