Alan felt like he was on the verge of death pinned beneath Sia. Blessed with unnatural strength, Sia shattered any magic with sheer force. Even if Alan were a Super S Rank Mage instead of merely S Rank, he’d still be as fragile as glass before Sia’s full-speed charge—one collision would kill him.

*Cough… cough…* “Sia… could you… get off me? If you keep lying on me like this, next year today you’ll be bringing flowers to my grave.”

“Oops! I forgot Alan-bro’s made of glass!” Sia chirped, sticking out her tongue playfully before hopping off him.

The moment Sia moved away, milky-white light flared from Alan’s palms—Holy Healing Magic: Divine Blessing. Two healing spells washed over him. *Crack… crack… crack…* The sound of mending bones filled the air. Minutes later, Alan stood up fully restored.

*Damn that guild,* Alan seethed inwardly. *They knew Sia was coming. Not even a warning?* He’d been lucky she’d tackled him first. If she’d charged at Emma instead… well, Emma wouldn’t have survived the impact.

Downstairs in the guild hall, Haina and Medi stood unusually united, both staring at the servant behind Sia.

Alan recognized him—the steward of Dema Count’s household. “Influential” barely described this man. Dressed in a crisp tailcoat, the steward gave a slight bow. “Young Master Alan, I apologize for Miss Sia’s recklessness.”

“Uncle Lock, no need for formalities,” Alan replied. “What brings you and Sia here today? Doesn’t Count Dema need you at the estate?”

Lock—the steward’s name—was a legendary figure, equally skilled in magic and martial arts. His true age was unknown; he maintained the appearance of a middle-aged man, so Alan had taken to calling him “Uncle.” With a chiseled jaw, bronzed skin, slicked-back hair, and an air of quiet elegance, Lock radiated mature charm.

“Count Dema has urgent matters in the royal capital,” Lock explained smoothly. “He’s asked if Miss Sia might stay at your guild for a while.”

“As long as Sia agrees, she’s welcome here,” Alan said. “But why not take her to the capital? Is it… inconvenient?”

A faint smile touched Lock’s stern lips. “The princes and princesses in the royal palace aren’t as sturdy as you, Young Master. If Sia accidentally injured one…” He left the implication hanging.

Alan nodded in agreement. *True. One playful shove from Sia could send a royal flying.* Wait—*sturdy*? Did Lock just imply he was… *built like a tank*?

“Is this about war?” Alan pressed. “An invasion? National crisis?”

Lock chuckled. “Nothing so dramatic. The ambassador from the Kelo Empire requested an audience with the Count.”

“The Kelo Empire?” Alan frowned. One of the Six Great Empires, it guarded the Western Icefield, suppressing the Barbarians. To the north, the Northern Plateau housed the Beastmen—both regions kept in check by imperial forces.

Empires stood above kingdoms. Any kingdom on the Central Continent must answer the Six Great Empires’ call to arms without question.

These empires had ruled for over five millennia. Their founding Emperors were legends who’d ended entire eras.

Before humanity’s reign, two ages had risen and fallen. First came the Era of Giant Dragons, when dragons devoured or enslaved all other races. Then, overnight, they vanished.

Next, the Elves claimed the Mystic Origin Continent for 80,000 years—until six human heroes rose. After a millennium of war, they shattered elven dominance. Those six became the founding Emperors, abolishing the elven calendar and establishing the Year One of the Origin Era.

*Founding Emperors who toppled an age…* Alan thought, respect swelling in his chest. *They’d make legendary heroes look like apprentices.*

“You seemed lost in thought, Young Master?” Lock prompted.

“I was wondering,” Alan mused, stroking his chin, “is Count Dema secretly Kelo royalty? Is that why their ambassador—”

Lock’s eye twitched. *The Count is nearly fifty. A princess? Preposterous.* He swallowed the urge to slap some sense into the boy.

“Just kidding, Uncle Lock!” Alan grinned. “Don’t worry—I’ll protect Sia with my life. Tell the Count she’s safe here.” He turned to Sia—then froze.

Sia was cheerfully offering her golden hammer to Emma.

“SIA! KEEP THAT THING TO YOURSELF! DON’T GIVE IT TO EMMA!” Alan yelled.

***CRASH!***

The guild floor shuddered. The hammer plunged a meter deep into the stone tiles. Emma stood at the crater’s edge, staring blankly at the buried weapon. *Is this… really a hammer?* Her lower lip trembled. *I’m done for.*