Seralni drowned in song and laughter.

A grand parade filled the streets. Floats crept down the central avenue as lithe dancers twirled and sang. Pure maidens tossed flower petals into the sky. The Hamodia Swordsmen, cloaked in red and blue, marched in perfect formation through the petal-strewn road. Behind them followed the garrison’s military ranks. Joy of survival glowed on every face lining the streets—they had just escaped the Fallen God Yaoye’s Abyssal Magic last night.

The procession halted in the square before the Governor’s mansion. At its center, a makeshift wooden scaffold held a black iron meat hook. From it hung the naked corpse of a young girl, exposed under the sun. The severed neck and a horrific gash running from her right shoulder to her abdomen were starkly visible. Seralni’s citizens hurled vicious curses at the body, spitting and throwing trash. The roaring crowd fell silent the moment Governor Ludendorff appeared on the mansion balcony.

Ludendorff began his speech. Thunderous applause erupted across the square at intervals. The people’s emotions swelled, climbing toward a fever pitch.

Aimee frowned slightly and shut the window, blocking out the cheers and noise. She sighed, turning toward the large bed behind her. It was incredibly soft, its white sheets spotless. A girl lay sleeping there—pale skin almost translucent, silver hair spilled across the pillow. Her gaunt face resembled a patient on death’s door. Colorless lips parted with faint, shallow breaths.

The door opened. Gildrays entered, his red-and-blue cloak draped over his shoulders, a longsword at his waist.

“How is Mio?” he asked.

“Still asleep,” Aimee said. “She’s terribly weak. She could slip away any moment. Even the Priestess and clerics from the temple are powerless—including the High Priest himself, blessed strongly by the God of Light, Seu. His healing magic did nothing. I’ve run out of ideas.”

“I’ll find another way,” Gildrays nodded. “No matter what… she saved all our lives. I *will* pull her back from the Reaper’s grasp.”

*Knock knock knock.* A rap sounded at the door.

“Who is it?” Aimee called.

“Is now a convenient time?” Rasputin’s voice came from outside.

Aimee and Gildrays exchanged glances. Gildrays said gravely, “Enter.”

The door opened. The black-robed mage stepped in, gripping his long staff, his bald head shadowed by his hood. He radiated deep suspicion.

“As the Governor’s advisor, shouldn’t you be at the celebration?” Gildrays challenged.

“Hmph. Though employed by the Governor, I remain a mage first,” Rasputin replied with a faint smile. “Mages seek the world’s truths. I see little truth in that farce outside. But tell me—shouldn’t the Grand Captain of the Hamodia Swordsmen attend the festivities?”

“It’s fine,” Gildrays said. “Teris can handle it. He loves the spotlight anyway.”

They shared a look that held no warmth, only stiff awkwardness.

“If you’ve come to visit the sick, you’re welcome,” Aimee said bluntly.

“Much appreciated,” Rasputin bowed slightly. “Your candor is refreshing, Sword Saint.”

“You can just say I’m thick-headed,” Aimee shrugged. “I won’t be mad.”

“I’d never dare,” Rasputin forced a smile. “Truly.”

“Enough small talk,” Gildrays cut in. “Let’s discuss a serious matter: the disposal of that Death Servant’s corpse.”

“I’ve preserved the head in a preservative solution inside a glass jar,” Rasputin said. “The Governor intends to present it as a coronation gift to the new Emperor in the Imperial Capital.”

“And the body?” Gildrays glanced out the window at the scaffold. The filth-smeared corpse hung exposed under the sun. “The one outside isn’t the real thing, is it?”

“Sharp as ever, Grand Captain,” Rasputin said. “That’s merely a slave girl’s body. Her age and build were close enough. The Governor ordered her killed, then had wounds carved to match, hanging her there for the crowd.”

“Killed?” Aimee gasped. “How can you kill a child!”

“She was just a slave, Sword Saint,” Rasputin said flatly. “Slaves die daily in Seralni. Imperial law doesn’t consider them human.”

Aimee bit her lip, fingers tightening on her sword hilt.

“What will happen to the real body?” Gildrays pressed.

“Likely sent to the Imperial Arcanum for study,” Rasputin said. “A Death Servant’s corpse is rare material. Those vultures there will leap for joy.”

“Using the head to please the new Emperor while gifting the body to the Arcanum…” Gildrays sighed. “I underestimated the Governor. He’s ruthlessly pragmatic. He curries favor with an Emperor not yet crowned *and* owes the Arcanum a major debt. Truly killing two birds with one stone.”

“He’s exactly that kind of man,” Rasputin said. “Competent. Clever. But utterly ruthless. An excellent bureaucrat—just insatiably greedy.”

Just then, a soft groan drifted from the bed.

All three turned. Mio was struggling to sit up. She still looked frail, yet fierce will burned in her crimson eyes.

“Did I miss something?” she asked weakly. “Rare to see you all here together.”

“Mio!” Aimee lunged first, leaping onto the bed and throwing her arms around Mio—only to jab her hard in the stomach with her sword’s pommel.

Gildrays strode over and plucked the Sword Saint up like a kitten.

“Aimee, are you trying to kill her?”

“Sorry! Got carried away…”

Rasputin watched, chuckling darkly. *Kukuku.*

“Who just laughed?”

“That creepy laugh…”

Gildrays shot Rasputin a look of pure pity.

“I don’t mind,” Rasputin said magnanimously.

But the two girls—Aimee and Mio—clasped their fingers together, bodies leaning close, eyes narrowed in wary unison. Gildrays felt Rasputin’s loneliness deepen.

“Ahem. What are your plans next?” Rasputin asked.

“I’ll lead my troops back to Hamodia,” Gildrays said. “We lost many good men—all elite First Company soldiers. Recruitment and replacements will keep me busy.”

“Mio and I will keep traveling,” Aimee hugged Mio close. “We’re heading to the Imperial Capital.”

“The Imperial Capital?” Rasputin nodded. “I can offer little help to the Grand Captain, but for you two bound for the Capital—please accept my token of gratitude.”

He placed a ring in Aimee’s palm.

“What is this?” Aimee examined it. “I feel magic.”

“Think of it as a letter of introduction,” Rasputin said. “But addressed to the Mage Association. They’ll arrange lodging and offer certain… assistance.”

“This is wonderful! Thank you!” Aimee beamed openly.

“A small gesture,” Rasputin bowed. “I owe my life to your valor against the Abyssal Magic. Though merely honorary, I *am* an Association Councilor. This is the least I can do.”

While Aimee glowed, Mio’s eyes widened in surprise. This suspicious mage was actually a major figure?

“Farewell.” Rasputin bowed again and left.

“When you return from the Capital, visit Hamodia,” Gildrays instructed. “The Grandmaster’s vanished again—probably off gallivanting—but I can process Mio’s enlistment.”

“Got it,” Aimee nodded.

“Then I take my leave.” Gildrays exited, closing the door softly behind him.

Only the two girls remained.

“Mio~~~~~” Aimee pounced, wrapping her in a fierce hug. “I was so worried! Why did you collapse like that? Last night—you were amazing! That super-cool attack magic! Show me again sometime, okay?”

“Sorry,” Mio stroked her golden hair. “I worried everyone.”

“Heard you defeated Iduchi?”

“Defeated? No.” Mio sighed. “I only delayed him. He never used his martial arts. Had he gone all out from the start… I’d be in pieces.”

“That’s still incredible!” Aimee insisted. “Even holding back his skills, I doubt I could’ve driven him off. Iduchi was chief warrior of a desert kingdom that fell three centuries ago. He’s slaughtered countless masters over those years, honing his combat to perfection. I may be called Sword Saint, but it’s an empty title. Against true power, I’d lose.”

Mio raised a finger and flicked Aimee’s forehead.

“Ow! That hurt!”

“Aimee, you’re strong,” Mio met her eyes. “In skill and spirit. I envy you—living freely, sweating and shining with youth. Unlike me… chained by shadows of the past, unable to move forward.”

“Aimee lifted her own finger and flicked Mio’s temple. “Silly. Believe in yourself! You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, my princess!”

But Mio’s smile faded. She sat up straight on the bed, bowed deeply to Aimee, silver hair slipping strand by strand over her shoulders.

“There’s something I must confess,” she said, lifting her head to meet Aimee’s gaze. “First—accept my apology. Theresa Lundbell is dead. I’m merely a stranger wearing her shell. I hold all her memories. I remember you. Our childhood. But I’m not Theresa. Not your princess. Her father sacrificed her, forcing a summoning ritual that pulled me from another world. But Yaoye’s interference corrupted it. My soul is trapped in Theresa’s body… while hers was exchanged into my world. I’m sorry I never told you. Every time I saw your happy smile, I couldn’t bear to shatter it. But dreams end. Lies unravel. Now… it’s time to tear down this false truth.”

Silence thickened the room. The girls sat face to face on the bed. Mio waited, braced for Aimee’s fury to crash over her. Even if friendship died here, she owed this confession. It was her duty. Her original sin. Her burden to bear.

“Mio…” Aimee pulled her into a gentle embrace. “What was your world like?”

“Far more advanced,” Mio whispered. “Hunger and poverty were solved. Strong social welfare cared for orphans and elders. Theresa… she’d be happier there. No one would ever sacrifice her on an altar again. But humans and gods were bitter enemies there. Their war has raged for millennia. Humans develop technology to exterminate gods. Gods rain divine punishment, sending apostles to scourge the earth.”

“Godslayer…” Aimee sighed.

“I don’t know much about Godslayers,” Mio shook her head. “In that world, I was a Night Watch soldier—a vanguard fighting gods. Every skill I have was forged to kill gods and their apostles. I slew many apostles. Even a minor god. In the end… I don’t remember.”

Yao Ye cursed me, stripping me of my name. I can’t remember who I am… but I still remember how to fight the gods.”

“It must be hard,” Aimee held Mio close. “In this world, gods and humans coexist peacefully. You don’t have to fight anymore, Mio. Just live as an ordinary person.”

“No. I will keep fighting,” Mio said firmly. “Until I shatter Yao Ye’s Divine Core, I won’t stop.”

“Do you hate her that much?”

“Yao Ye stole what mattered most to me.” Mio’s shoulders trembled uncontrollably with rage and grief. “She took my daughter. She… damn it, I can’t remember!”

“It’s alright!” Aimee hugged her again. “You’re Mio. I realized that night in the forest. Theresa could never fight like you—she was a gentle princess, timid and delicate as a snow hare. May her soul find peace in the other world. But you, Mio, must live well here in Theresa’s place. Someday, you’ll reclaim what you’ve lost. And until then… I’ll stay by your side.”

“Thank you.” Mio rested her head on Aimee’s shoulder, tears spilling silently.

Seralni’s celebration would last seven days. At dawn the next morning, the Hamodia Swordsmen departed under the rising sun. By noon, a two-wheeled cart rolled out the western gate. A scrawny gray horse pulled it, driven by two girls. The cart traveled the wide highway toward the Imperial Capital.

Nighttime festivities still glowed in the streets. Festive lanterns lit the way as street performers juggled in the square. An eastern bard strummed a lute, singing of ancient heroes. Children perched on the fountain’s stone rim, cupping clear water in their hands. Inside the Governor’s mansion, Ludendorff sprawled on a plush sofa, his fat body sinking into the cushions. Beside him on a table sat a glass container. Inside floated a horrifying sight: a girl’s severed head submerged in pale green preservative fluid. The solution had restored a faint flush to her skin; her lowered eyelids made her seem asleep.

“Heh heh… so beautiful!” The Governor licked his lips. He lifted the container with pudgy hands, his tongue sliding over the glass, leaving a slimy trail.

Seralni’s Governor had revolting tastes—he craved young girls, especially black-haired, black-eyed Forbidden Children. This jar held the head of the Death Servant slain days ago.

Dark miasma coalesced silently, forming a shadowy woman. The Fallen God Yao Ye stepped into the room, unseen.

“How utterly grotesque,” Yao Ye sneered.

“Who’s there?!” Ludendorff whirled around, clutching the jar. His legs buckled when he met Yao Ye’s gaze. “Lord Yao Ye! I’ve done everything you asked! Why haven’t you left?”

“Oh? Are you chasing me away?” Yao Ye’s smile turned icy. “Look what you’ve done to my sweet Hilda. Disgusting. As a god, I’ll never understand humans. Ugly. So ugly, Governor. Shall I grant you divine punishment? Such a death might be too grand for you.”

“Eeek!” Ludendorff whimpered, wetting himself uncontrollably.

The door burst open. Rasputin charged in with guards.

“Yao Ye!” Rasputin gasped.

“Your detection wards are sharp, mage,” Yao Ye turned to him. “But mere human tricks. Care to glimpse the world’s truth from my side?”

“I’ll pass,” Rasputin said dryly.

“I thought mages were truth-hounds, drooling at the first scent of meat.” Yao Ye’s smile turned dazzling. “You’re different. I admire that.”

She raised her right hand. Crimson magic circles flared, engulfing the room.

“Abyssal Magic!” Rasputin shouted.

“For my beloved daughter,” Yao Ye’s playful mask vanished, “you shall be offerings.”

Reality tore open. Countless red eyes peered through the rift. Tentacles lashed out.

“Run!” A guard beside Rasputin was shredded—flesh and blood sprayed. At the last second, Rasputin crushed an amulet at his chest. Spatial magic flared, teleporting him to a preset coordinate.

Yao Ye watched the mage vanish, unsurprised. Mages always had escape routes. The world’s most cunning creatures. She strolled toward the shuddering, urine-soaked Governor and lifted Hilda’s jar.

“Awaken, my child,” she chanted, revival magic pulsing. “Return from death’s abyss!”

The head in the fluid snapped open its eyes. Ludendorff fainted instantly—spared the horror of watching his own body tear apart.

Volume 1 (End)