"Tonight, you won’t walk away unscathed. Steel yourself for that. Once I finish this beast, we’ll settle our score—slowly."

After drinking enough blood to fully quench the burning thirst in her throat, Alessia’s mood lifted.

Pleasant as it was, punishment for a certain disobedient child was non-negotiable.

Kanata, drained of blood for minutes, her clothes torn into disarray, leaned against a broken tombstone. Her expression was vacant, weary—like a discarded "toy" after being used. Bloody bite marks, nail scratches, and bruises dotted her shoulders, chest, and neck. Deeply humiliating. Thankfully, Nozomi wasn’t here. She couldn’t bear her little sister seeing her like this.

"Forget it… As long as Sovereign is pleased… I don’t care what happens to me…"

*This is it. I’m done for,* Kanata thought. Caught red-handed by Sovereign herself—breaking explicit orders, trespassing in a restricted zone, injured by a beast, nearly dead…

If not for Alessia’s timely arrival, she’d be nothing but scattered remains.

Just for that, Kanata felt she had no right to blame her. *I was the one who erred. Please—let Sovereign’s wrath fall on me alone. Spare the innocent.*

As long as Nozomi’s medical bills kept coming, she’d endure anything.

Meanwhile, Alessia turned fully to the werewolf. With a graceful swipe, she wiped blood from her lip, yanked the pendant from her neck, and began chanting.

As a Grade-A Ability User, her pendant was the vessel for her Armament—a specialized anti-Infected device developed decades ago.

Her Armament: a 1.5-meter narrow-bladed katana named *Hosokawa*, honoring the Fujiwara Clan’s legacy. Swordsmanship ran in their blood; all trained unless physically unable.

Though Grade-A wasn’t the peak, she was far from weak.

The drawback? Infected as she was, overusing magic risked full transformation—and a sharp spike in bloodlust.

"No wonder… she’s Fujiwara Clan…"

Under the moonlight, Alessia stood tall, dazzling. A born sovereign, meant to reign from above.

Her deep violet hair whipped in the wind. Face cold, resolute, without a hint of hesitation—she drove the blade deep into the werewolf’s chest.

She accomplished effortlessly what Kanata couldn’t: hunting Infected, covering Nozomi’s medical costs.

*Somehow… she’s just… incredible.*

Emotions churned. Admiration? Envy? Kanata felt increasingly powerless.

How could someone who needed protection ever hope to protect others?

…

Alessia dispatched the werewolf, pried out its core, and tossed it hard at Kanata’s feet.

Roughly the size of a 5x5 Rubik’s Cube, irregular, multifaceted, glowing with an eerie violet light—undeniably alluring.

High-quality. Worth around fifty thousand.

But fifty thousand? A drop in the ocean next to her father’s crushing debt and Nozomi’s endless medical bills.

She saw the deep contempt in Alessia’s eyes. That gaze—sharp as a blade—pierced her heart.

"Kanata Himemiya. You disgust me. Defying my orders… for something worth *fifty thousand*?"

Alessia crouched, fingers tightening around Kanata’s throat.

"Weren’t you unafraid of death? Fine. I’ll grant your wish."

Rage and resentment surged, clouding Alessia’s mind.

For real—she felt the urge to kill Kanata.