“Heh… So you actually wanted to disfigure me? Then I’ll have to collect a little interest first.”

Kroso, who had remained utterly still until now, finally spoke. A faint lift of his brow betrayed his amusement as he watched the high-tier succubus’s expression twist into dawning horror.

“Impossible! You weren’t charmed?!”

Staring down at Kroso in disbelief—his eyes still holding those pink, heart-shaped pupils—the succubus felt her sanity fraying. She hadn’t even noticed when her wrist was severed. Not a trace of pain.

“Do all high-tier succubi pride themselves this much? See my pupils change shape and color, and instantly assume I’m under your spell?”

Kroso sneered. In the blink of an eye, his pupils snapped back to normal—no lingering anomaly.

Witnessing this impossible sight, the succubus’s face flooded with regret and terror. She instinctively tried to flee—but the moment she shifted, a bone-chilling, razor-sharp agony erupted across her entire body.

What?!

Invisible blades surrounded her? Had the space itself been sealed? Such spatial mastery was beyond any young human… Wait—could this be a high-tier *Innate Domain*?!

Her mind raced with frantic guesses. Whether spatial insight or domain power, one truth was clear: this human was far beyond her.

“Mercy—”

No hesitation. She’d accept a slave contract—anything to live another second. But before her pleading words fully formed, her vision split cleanly in two. One half spun upward; the other tumbled down.

*Crack… crack… thud!*

The crisp sounds of slicing and impact echoed. Her thoughts remained startlingly clear—until her spinning, falling sight revealed her own shattered remains. Only then did pure terror and despair detonate in her mind.

*No!*

She never even screamed. Consciousness vanished into eternal dark before she understood how she died.

“This gift should be generous enough. Will the big boss step in next?”

Kroso’s expression stayed grim as the succubus’s fragments scattered like shattered ice. He’d exposed his core *Innate Domain* ability to end her swiftly—the next fight wouldn’t be so easy.

Still, the first objective was met: provoke the Demon Lord. Now, he only needed to maintain a tight domain, masking his presence and form.

The brief clash had drained significant mana. Facing the Demon Lord weakened would be suicide. Time to recover was critical.

Decision made, Kroso glanced up at the star-strewn sky, freed from the pitch-black night. He fixed their course and sprinted on, Sylvia cradled securely.

The night was long. And he could afford no more mistakes.

---

“Mm…?”

A weak whimper escaped Sylvia’s lips. Her long lashes fluttered. Her eyes slowly opened.

Where…? Why so cold? And this rich scent swirling near her nose—sharp, yet not unpleasant. Strangely compelling. She almost wanted to inhale deeper. *Weird…*

Vision clearing, she felt her body pressed tightly against cold armor, jostling with each stride. A dreadful thought struck her. Her eyes flew wide.

*Had she already been…?*

“You’re awake? Archangel?”

A familiar voice, gentle as a whisper, reached her ear—careful not to startle.

*Who…?*

Sylvia was slightly taken aback, trying to lift her head. But even that simple motion failed. Shock washed over her. *How could she be this weak?*

She pulled up her status panel. Level: ↓5/120. A sharp pang of regret hit her—*why wake up now?*

In the original game, this level barely qualified as an underage militia recruit with a hoe. Against demons? An easy meal.

And now—her frail body drowning in unmeasurable poison. Only her healing attribute, still at ↓91/MAX, kept doubt at bay.

“Archangel? Are you alright? I’m Kroso, acting commander of the Seventh Land Legion. You’re safe. Rest if you’re tired.”

Seeing the girl’s pale, bewildered face—etched with surprise and confusion—Kroso’s chest tightened.

So young, yet she’d saved countless lives. Become a beacon of faith. If such a pure, kind Archangel fell tonight to a human traitor’s ambush… even the stars would weep.

“So it’s… really you? Young… Hero…”

Sylvia barely processed his words. Exhausted, yes—but warmth flickered in her chest. *The Hero saved me.*

At least… she might escape that tragic first defeat.

“Hero?”

Kroso blinked in genuine surprise. His inheritance of the title remained unofficial—lacking prestige, even the Imperial Court granted only a temporary general’s rank. Here, *Hero* was a singular, sacred honor—equal only to the Archangel herself.

“Yes… Young Hero… If I… survive this… I’ll repay you… truly…”

Her mind foggy, Sylvia hadn’t caught his reply. But before darkness pulled her under again, she pushed the words out.

She’d never been stingy. Unsure what reward an Archangel could offer a Hero—but promising felt right.

*So… Hero… please protect me well.*