The crackling campfire banished the spring night’s chill. A lightweight two-wheeled wagon stood beside it, its gray draft horse happily munching carrots. Three young girls sat around the flames. Nearby, a sleeping bag held a cat-eared toddler, breathing steadily in slumber. The pot of stew released an intoxicating aroma, yet a heavy gloom hung over the firelight.

Mio leaned against her travel pack, the orange flames dancing in her crimson eyes. Their warmth couldn’t melt the ice deep within her gaze. Across the fire, Aimee slurped soup and stuffed hard bread into her mouth, watching Mio’s shadowed expression. The third girl—the dog-eared Beastkin priestess Talasha—bore the brunt of the suffocating pressure radiating from the flames.

"Mio," Aimee stood abruptly, "spar with me."

Mio lifted her head. A trace of confusion flickered in her red eyes. But Aimee was already stretching, rolling her shoulders, then drawing the longsword at her waist. The blade gleamed coldly. From the moment it cleared the scabbard, Aimee’s aura shifted—sharp killing intent, the sword aura only those who pursued ultimate mastery possessed. Mio realized she was serious.

"If possible," Mio said, "I’d rather rest early."

"Just one spar," Aimee grinned. "It’s still early."

Mio sighed and rose. She shed her warm cloak and unhooked the Simulated Holy Sword from her belt. *Whirr.* Liquid metal coalesced along the blade, wrapped in a crackling blue Destructive Force Field. Talasha gasped softly at the sight of this high-tech weapon from another world.

"An enchanted blade…"

*Not exactly,* Mio thought, but explaining felt pointless. This world’s low tech level meant Talasha could never grasp its mechanics. Seeing the pale blue field, Aimee’s fearless smile widened. She settled into a stance, grip tightening on her sword. To avoid shattering Aimee’s blade, Mio deactivated the force field.

"Hey, Mio," Aimee called, "no holding back."

"I’m just sparing myself the trouble of replacing your sword. We might not find one this quality in the next town—and I’d be paying for it."

"Fair enough," Aimee’s grin sharpened. "Here I come!"

She vanished from Mio’s sight. Mio sidestepped left, swinging her sword backward. *Clang!* Steel met simulated steel, sparks flying in the dark forest. That strike carried lethal intent—any slower, and Mio’s head would have parted from her shoulders.

"Aimee, you—"

"This is real combat," Aimee pressed forward, sword flashing. "Slack off, and you die!"

The heavy impact jolted up Mio’s arm. She gritted her teeth, deflecting the blow. The sheer weight behind Aimee’s strikes felt impossible for a girl her size. Unpredictable sword paths overwhelmed Mio. A cold gleam flashed—warm liquid welled on her cheek.

A merciless slash. The blade had split her cheek down to the cheekbone. Aimee hadn’t held back at all.

"Keep fighting!" Aimee barked. "War God Balder watches us! Mio, kill me with everything you have! Slaughter me!"

"Aimee, what’s gotten into you tonight?" Mio blocked another crushing blow. "Just so you know—I’m in a terrible mood too!"

"Then let it out!" Aimee’s eyes blazed. "Fight me with everything!"

Swords blurred. Steel rang. The two girls clashed fiercely by the fire. Talasha huddled by the flames, ears drooping, on the verge of tears. Even as a priestess, she knew this wasn’t sparring. Both fought with the intent to kill. Ever since leaving that ruin, Mio had changed—distant, muttering to herself, her smile gone forever. Talasha wanted to ask what happened; after all, Mio had successfully purified the ruined temple. But the chilling aura around her silenced the timid priestess.

And now this.

Both fought to kill. One might not survive. Talasha covered her head, ears flattening, wishing to escape—but reality offered no refuge.

"Stop…" she whispered. "Please… stop…"

Her timid voice drowned under clashing steel. Mio and Aimee moved faster than the eye could follow. As minutes passed, wounds accumulated on Mio’s body. Exhaustion crept in. She wiped blood from her brow with her sleeve. Silver hair, now crimson-streaked, clung uncomfortably to her skin—but she kept fighting. Deep inside, something *craved* this slaughter. To her shock, she found herself lost in the violence. Gritting her teeth, Mio parried Aimee’s sword, then exploited a split-second opening as Aimee retreated. She spun, driving a kick into Aimee’s waist.

Aimee grunted, stumbling back before thrusting her sword forward. Mio pivoted on the spot, dodging the blade by a hair’s breadth. She reversed her grip and slammed the sword’s pommel toward Aimee’s face—but *crack!* Aimee caught the blade between her teeth.

*She can do that?! Are Sword Saints all monsters?!*

That moment’s hesitation cost Mio. Aimee swept her sword low, striking the Punisher revolver holstered at Mio’s waist. The cold metal blocked the blade but not the force. Mio flew backward, crashing into a tree trunk. Pain flared in her ribs—two or three were surely broken.

"Feeling better?" Aimee sauntered over, sword resting on her shoulder. "Bottling things up hurts. I’m just an illiterate brute—probably a terrible listener. But if you need to vent by fighting? I’m your perfect opponent. Anytime you’re upset, Mio, just pick a fight with me!"

"I’ll pass," Mio rolled onto her side, gasping. "Next time, I might actually die."

"Get stronger, and you won’t die."

"Fighting a sword idiot like you? Even strength won’t save me."

Aimee offered her hand and pulled Mio up. Mio panted heavily as her body regenerated at terrifying speed—cuts on her forehead, cheek, and body sealing shut, leaving only dried bloodstains. She pressed a hand to her broken ribs and sat by the fire. Her gaze swept to Talasha, who instantly shrank into a ball. Aimee burst out laughing. Mio managed a wry smile. The darkness in her eyes had faded.

"Talasha!" Aimee thrust her bowl forward. "More stew! All that exercise made me starving. Ugh."

"Eating this much at night," Mio wiped blood from her brow, "you’ll get fat."

"Then you can just spar with me again to burn it off."

"Find someone else for that."

"Aww, Mio’s so cold~" Aimee pouted.

"Cute tricks won’t work. I have limits. Before I kill Yao Ye, I won’t be trying any fancy suicide methods."

Aimee lunged to hug her. Mio shoved her chin away firmly. Talasha watched the two girls bicker, unable to reconcile this warmth with the life-or-death duel minutes ago. Their noise stirred Amber, the cat-eared child, who rolled over in her sleep. Mio and Aimee instantly fell silent.

***

Dawn broke bright and clear. The group packed up and resumed their journey by wagon. They’d left the western Sader Province, entering the Imperial heartland. This central region, ruled directly by the Emperor since ancient times, formed the Empire’s original territory. Centuries of expansion had transformed it from a small plains republic into a superpower. Even now, "true Imperial citizens" referred only to those born of pure blood in this central zone.

The wide Imperial Highway stretched straight to the Imperial Capital. Thirty meters broad, its packed-earth surface allowed swift travel. Though Mio spared the gray horse’s stamina, their pace far exceeded the western forest trails. Heavy wagons rumbled past, hauling the Empire’s signature cargo—slaves locked in massive iron cages. Diverse captives were transported to the capital, their lives and freedom the foundation of Imperial prosperity. Centuries of conquest had forged a ruthless, efficient slave system: *Conquer! Enslave! Conquer again! Enslave again!* The Empire fed on this endless cycle, growing ever richer.

Mio held the reins on the driver’s seat. Eight hundred meters overhead, a gray stealth drone circled silently. Its optical pod monitored the surroundings, feeding data to Mio via tactical network. Though her body bore no cybernetic implants, conceptual extraction allowed full system functionality. A notification popped into her vision: the drone detected approaching cavalry.

Iron-armored riders in crimson cloaks soon appeared ahead—standard Imperial Army gear. One hundred strong. The standard-bearer behind their captain displayed a banner marking them as the First Legion: the Imperial Capital’s elite guard.

Mio halted the wagon. The cavalry fanned out ahead, their towering warhorses dwarfing the gray draft horse. Fire solutions locked onto the formation. One command from Mio would unleash air-to-ground missiles.

"We come by order of the Senate," the captain presented a document, "to escort the Third Throne Candidate. Follow us to the Imperial Capital, honored lady."

"What does this mean?" Mio stared at him.

"Accompany us," the captain cleared his throat. "We’ll ensure your safety."

Mio took the document, scanning its contents—a mandate assigning this centurion, Carlinno, as her protector.

"Understood," Mio returned the paper. "Centurion Carlinno."

The captain blinked in surprise. Literacy was rare in the Empire; most only recognized the Senate seal. This beautiful girl not only read Imperial script but knew his name.

"I shall serve with my life," Carlinno saluted sharply. "Form up! Move out!"

A hundred cavalrymen encircled the wagon. Talasha peeked out—and let out a despairing whimper at the sight of armored riders draped in blood-red cloaks. Two soldiers fixed icy glares on her. Talasha yelped and scrambled back inside.

"What’s happening?" Aimee leaned out.

"The Senate sent us an escort," Mio said. "Centurion Carlinno commands them. They’ll guard our path to the Imperial Capital."

"The Senate being *nice*?" Aimee snorted. "I always thought those old men were rotten to the core."

"Maybe." Mio’s fearless smile returned. "Doesn’t matter. I never planned to be Emperor anyway."

The wagon rolled forward with its armored escort. On the distant horizon, where two rivers converged, a magnificent city rose under the afternoon sun.