Under the cover of night, a small reconnaissance drone soared through the sky. Its dark gray, low-visibility paint made it nearly vanish into the darkness. Below, the sensor pod scanned the vast metropolis. Mio linked to the drone via a high-speed data feed, feeling as if she hovered over the Imperial Capital herself.

What a colossal city it was. Nestled where two rivers met, it had three concentric walls and an oval shape. Near the water, a bustling port teemed with docks. Sails of all sizes bobbed beside stone wharves, where slaves hauled cargo day and night. Farther in, near the second wall, lay a massive slave market. Inside that wall stood a circular arena. Its elegant buildings exuded grace and solemn beauty. Yet compared to the Imperial Palace within the third wall, they paled instantly.

The third wall loomed tall and unyielding, guarding the empire’s heart—the Imperial Palace. There resided the emperor and the Senate, the empire’s administrative core. If provinces were limbs and organs, this was the brain commanding all. The late emperor had passed, leaving the throne empty. The palace felt quiet, but the Senate building blazed with lights. White-robed senators hurried in and out.

Mio withdrew her consciousness and slowly opened her eyes. A tidy room greeted her—part of an inn within the second wall. She and her companions stayed here temporarily. Each had a room, including Talasha. For safety, the four shared one large space. If trouble struck, they could watch each other’s backs. Amber slept on a small bed nearby. The cat-eared girl breathed softly. Every time Mio saw her sleeping face, her heart felt soothed.

Silver-armored soldiers of the First Legion stood guard at the inn’s entrance and stairs. Red cloaks draped over their armor. Their stern faces showed no slack. The inn was locked down tight. Other guests had been asked to leave. Only a bare minimum of slaves remained, all tense. Only one ugly gray horse munched feed lazily in the courtyard.

Mio flopped onto her back with a sigh. Her hood slipped off, revealing silver hair. She lightly touched the slightly raised scar on her chest. Thick stitches sealed a terrible wound, showing no sign of healing. Like a holy stigmata, it refused to close.

"Just ignore it if it doesn’t get infected," she muttered. A deep sigh escaped her. Inside her chest, silence reigned. Her heart had turned to cold, lifeless flesh. No heartbeat, yet she moved normally. Was she dead? Alive? Or something in between?

"Yao Ye…" she whispered the name. Darkness churned wildly in her heart. That fallen goddess had made her this way.

"We’re back!"

The door slammed open. Energetic voices filled the room. Mio sat up and smiled at the returning shoppers. Aimee carried two bulging bags of food. Talasha hugged an even larger sack. Strange fruits peeked out from the top, looking delicious.

"Welcome back," Mio said, stroking Amber’s hair. "Did you have fun?"

"This city’s amazing!" Aimee dumped the bags on the table. "Southern fruits, northern smoked fish, eastern beef, western pastries—you name it! Mio, let’s stay longer! I’ve decided: we’ll eat every delicacy in the Imperial Capital!"

"You’ll get fat," Mio teased. "A chubby Sword Saint isn’t funny."

"No worries! I’ll burn it off." Aimee whooshed her sword out. "Post-meal workout time!"

"Later," Mio chuckled weakly. "I’m exhausted."

"Mio-sama," Talasha offered a clay jar, "try this! It’s super tasty!"

Mio took the jar, curious. She uncorked it. Rich wine fragrance filled the air—a boozy drink that smelled divine. One sip spread sweet fruitiness across her tongue. She’d never tasted anything so good.

"Do you like it, Mio-sama?"

"Mm, delicious." She took another big gulp. "I didn’t expect to drink again."

"Great!" Talasha wagged her tail happily. Beastkin shared dog-like traits—even their joy showed the same way.

Pity I never owned a big dog back home, Mio thought. If I return, I’ll seriously consider getting one.

The scent roused Amber. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, droopy cat ears adorably askew. Aimee handed her a juicy fruit. Amber’s eyes lit up. She bit in, juice dripping everywhere. Mio sighed and wiped her clean with a towel.

"Tomorrow’s the ceremony," Aimee said. "Any plans, Mio?"

"Ceremony?" Mio blinked. "I’ll just return the orb and leave ASAP."

"Not that simple," Aimee grimaced. "I know you’re eager. I worry too. But the Succession Contest follows strict protocols. Leaving abruptly insults the empire. That’s a grave crime. I don’t want Imperial Army troops and bounty hunters chasing you."

"Understood," Mio nodded. "What’s tomorrow’s agenda?"

"Just a public appearance." Aimee pulled out a parchment scroll. "Day one of the Succession Contest. Details are here… but I can’t read. Haha!"

Mio took the scroll and read. Talasha watched curiously but couldn’t decipher Imperial script.

"I get the procedure," Mio said, rolling up the scroll. "The contest lasts seven days. Day one is speeches and self-assessments. I must prepare a speech—even if I quit. It’s mandatory free speaking… Hmm, what to say."

"What’ll you talk about?" Aimee asked eagerly.

"Not decided yet," Mio mused. "You’ll see tomorrow." She shifted tone. "But besides the speech, we need proper attire. Clothes make the person."

"Easy for me!" Aimee gathered mana. "Attire: Holy Armor of Silver Light!"

Pure Holy Light swirled around her, solidifying into gleaming silver armor. War-god-granted Holy Armor—the Sword Saint’s standard gear. More exquisite than any local armor, perfect for ceremonies.

"Perfect," Mio approved. "Talasha and Amber stay here tomorrow."

"Understood," Talasha nodded.

"Let’s be clear," Mio fixed Talasha with a stare. "If you sneak off with Amber, I’ll order my drone to bomb your comrades hiding outside the city. I’ll wipe them out. Got it?"

"Eh? Eep!" Talasha whimpered, tail tucking in. "Mio-sama, I’d never betray you! I’ve sworn oaths to my patron god. Breaking them loses divine favor. I’d end up just breeding stock… Please spare my kin!"

"Fine. I trust you." Mio nodded. "Remember the consequences."

"Crystal clear!"

Aimee smiled wryly nearby. Mio still distrusted gods. But in this world, oath-breaking meant losing divine grace—survival became near-impossible. As a priestess, Talasha couldn’t risk it.

"Mio, stop bullying Talasha." Aimee hugged her from behind, nuzzling her silver hair. "She won’t betray us. I guarantee it. Trust her!"

"Just a reminder," Mio gently held Aimee’s neck. "Sorry, Talasha."

"No problem," Talasha bowed deeply. "If Mio-sama trusts me, I’d happily roll over and show my belly!"

*Show your belly? Are you a dog?* Mio bit back the thought. She walked to the table, poured mana into the brass lamp holder, and lit the Magic Stone Lamp. Time to draft that speech.

Outside, hoofbeats thundered on the road. A cavalry unit charged through the night. Dust-caked riders wore battered armor—veteran scars marked their gear. Their banner bore the Imperial Army’s insignia: Sixth Legion "Red Dragon."

A young knight in silver armor led them. First Legion guards at the gate spotted their colors and hurriedly opened the portcullis. Soldiers snapped to attention, saluting the knight.

"Welcome, Marshal Murat!"

The knight removed his helmet. Short golden hair framed a face too beautiful for his rugged armor—a painting come to life.

"When does the Succession Contest start?" he asked.

"Tomorrow morning, sir," the gate captain replied. "The Senate prepared your quarters. Honor me by letting me guide you."

"Lead on."

"With pleasure, sir!"

Under the captain’s escort, the riders crossed the second wall. They stopped at a white inn. Soldiers were directed to a nearby barracks. Marshal Murat entered the main building with two aides. In the stable, the ugly gray horse caught his eye.

"Whose mount is that?" he inquired.

"Third Succession Candidate Theresa Lundbell’s, sir," a soldier answered. "Apologies for its ugliness. We’ll move it out of sight immediately."

The gray horse glared and snorted.

"No. Let it stay." Murat smiled. "It’s a fine horse."

The soldier gaped but obeyed, standing rigid as the marshal entered.

"*Fine horse?*" he muttered, eyeing the beast again. It only looked uglier.

The horse stared back, chewing feed. After five seconds, the soldier surrendered. He scratched his head and returned to duty.