On the way back to the inn, Aimee strutted with confidence, humming a tune while devouring a pancake. Mio watched in surprise as she finished the whole thing, then contentedly licked her fingers. Under the setting sun, Aimee's finger-licking seemed oddly alluring, her suggestive expression utterly captivating. So the Sword Saint had this side too. Smiling, Mio handed a few copper coins to the roadside barbecue stall owner to replenish Aimee's "ammo."
Following yesterday's route, Mio spotted soldiers carrying bodies from the alley where last night's fight occurred. A crowd gathered around. Standing on tiptoe, she saw the three men Aimee had beaten—they were now corpses on straw mats. She recalled Deus's words that morning: three killed, but their souls missing, as if devoured. Combined with last night's icy chill, an ominous premonition crept into Mio's heart.
Night fell at the Migratory Bird Inn's restaurant. The scent of grilled corn filled the air. Mio settled her bill and returned to the table with food. Aimee was already eating heartily. Through these days, Mio confirmed two facts. Her gold coins, crafted from black mud, didn't vanish when out of her control—they stayed solid. The black mud perfectly replicated objects that once existed here. But submachine guns and assault rifles, foreign to this world, disappeared instantly once she lost control. Only the drone was an exception. It flew autonomously, but cutting its tactical network made it vanish quickly.
After dinner, Mio returned to her room. Moonlight streamed through the open window. The crescent moon waxed toward full. Tomorrow was her last day in Seralni. Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, she couldn't sleep.
Where to go from here?
She opened her palm. The Royal Selection Orb glowed red, reminding her of an unfinished task.
Next, head to the Imperial Capital.
Resolved, Mio closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.
Meanwhile, in a commercial district corner, Audrius Workshop hosted a gruesome scene. Slaves' corpses lay by the furnace, brutally killed but bloodless. Deep inside, Titus gripped a newly forged longsword, stepping back in fear. Before him, a girl in a tattered tunic advanced with a wavy-bladed short sword. Dark miasma coiled around her youthful frame. Faint hair peeked beneath her hem.
"Lucia!" Titus's voice trembled. "What do you want?"
"I only wish to offer sincere prayers to Lord Yao Ye," the girl said, madness gleaming in her eyes. "Father, Mother, and Brother joined my lord. You should too."
"Stop this, Lucia!" Titus realized she was insane. "After killing your mother and brother, will you kill your father?"
"Hahaha, Father." She laughed maniacally. "I'm not Lucia anymore. Lord Yao Ye granted me a new name: Hilda. Brother always hit me hard—my head, my body, even my private parts... so cruel. I endured, prayed and prayed, but no god helped. When I thought I'd die, Lord Yao Ye's priestess saved me. She had flowing silver hair and crimson eyes. She told me to pray to Yao Ye. Only she heard me. She gave me strength. So, Father... become nourishment for the Demonic Sword 'Soul Devourer'. For me, for Lord Yao Ye, praise the Fallen God!"
Titus roared, raising his sword. A blacksmith's strength was unmatched. The blade descended with crushing force—enough to split Hilda in half. But after a loud clang, only the hilt remained in his hand.
"How?!" Seeing his prized creation shattered, Titus panicked.
"Father truly loved his sword more," Hilda whispered tenderly, plunging the blade into his heart. "Goodbye, Father. Thank you for my life. I always loved you... hahaha, ahahaha, hahahahaha!"
Titus's face paled instantly. He collapsed by the furnace. Hilda stood in the firelight, gently licking the black blade, a dazed smile on her lips.
