The rebellion in Chernost City—never even launched—ended abruptly with Lord Angus’s death.

During the days Sylvia recuperated at a manor on the city’s outskirts, she sensed no further psychic disturbances linked to the Abyss.

Still, this didn’t mean moles no longer lurked within Chernost City—only that the threat had significantly diminished.

General Gene wasn’t held at the city lord’s manor. On the very night Angus died, the Imperial Legion located him, and Sylvia personally revived him.

Curiously, he’d been hidden in an underground chamber beneath the estate of Chernost’s most powerful family. Had young master Toma not returned to the city that day, the Legion would’ve struggled to find him.

Upon waking and learning all that had transpired over the past month, General Gene fell into prolonged silence.

He personally prepared his younger brother’s remains for burial—no one knew where he laid Lord Angus to rest.

He made no move to clear Angus’s name or distance himself. Instead, to everyone’s shock, he prepared to bind himself and journey to the Holy City to atone before the Imperial Court.

Sylvia truly witnessed an old general’s stubborn resolve—even Kroso, his devoted disciple, failed to sway him with earnest pleas.

With matters settled, Sylvia ceased opposition after two fruitless attempts and granted his request.

News reached the Holy City. The Imperial Court and The Church erupted in fury. The ancient monsters within The Church immediately issued bounties on every surviving member of Lord Angus’s family.

Yet Angus’s sole remaining relative was General Gene. With the Crown Prince’s staunch protection and Sylvia’s written mediation, the Church Elders could only swallow their rage.

Still, the incident drew their scrutiny toward Sylvia’s condition. A royal ceremonial airship from the Holy City, escorted by three massive guard airships, raced through the night across countless miles to retrieve the Archangel with utmost haste.

Now, seated in the noble manor arranged by General Omas, Sylvia held the Elders’ Council edict, her brow furrowed slightly.

She would inevitably confront those ancient monsters of The Church.

Recalling Lord Angus’s serene, smiling face at his passing, Sylvia’s heart twisted with complex emotion.

If her days since transmigration had felt unreal, witnessing an old lord willingly embrace death for his beliefs forced her to reevaluate this world entirely.

This was no longer a game. The people around her weren’t emotionless NPCs.

They wept. They laughed. They surprised her.

Realizing she’d soon face the full Church Elders’ Council, nervousness flickered within her.

With the timeline altered, their moves were utterly unpredictable.

At her current strength, even the weakest elder would crush her instantly—plunging her into unspeakable plotlines, reducing her to an indescribable entity.

*What should I do?*

Relying solely on the Hero’s protection after returning to the Holy City was impossible.

Though the Blink Rune let her summon him anytime, who knew what trump cards those ancient monsters still held?

If any possessed abilities or artifacts like the Abyssal Elder God’s “Spiritual Essence”—blocking and draining her magic—she’d be helpless.

Restoring her power remained the most urgent priority.

However…

“Archangel! General Kroso requests an urgent audience!”

Just as the Hero’s image surfaced in her mind, the head maid’s sweet voice called from beyond the door.

“Let him in.”

Hearing it was the Hero, Sylvia’s expression turned peculiar.

Chernost had been bustling lately due to General Omas’s mole hunt. Kroso, temporarily reinstated to duty, had been occupied—granting Sylvia rare peace.

But as order stabilized, he’d resumed visiting under flimsy pretexts.

She longed to refuse, yet faced with his genuine concern, her heart softened.

After all… he’d saved her life multiple times.

But then—how could she possibly execute her plan to lower the Hero’s affection level?

“This lowly general, Kroso, pays respects to the Archangel!”

He entered with composed strides, subconsciously smoothing his uniform.

Lately, he’d grown meticulous about his appearance and words before the Archangel—yet maintained his usual demeanor around others to hide his feelings.

He hadn’t planned to come today. Frequent visits over trivial matters would raise suspicion.

But he had no choice. At the legion meeting, he’d confirmed: the royal airship retrieving the Archangel would arrive tomorrow.

General Gene, temporarily relieved of duty, would accompany her. Kroso, still under Church investigation for the alleged theft of a sacred artifact, would travel with them.

Which was precisely why he worried for her safety.

After all… the toxin levels within the young lady’s body…

If those old fogies in The Church harbored ill intent, the Archangel’s innocence would lead her straight into disaster.

“Hero, no need for formalities. Sit. What is it?”

Watching Kroso’s eyes—brimming with unmistakable worry—Sylvia felt utterly torn.

Because of the “Fallen Hero Arc,” she couldn’t let the Hero fall completely for her. Yet to regain her strength, she needed closeness with him.

Two utterly contradictory demands. How could she possibly balance them?

Was she supposed to summon him to a desolate wilderness on a silent night, knock him out, and… take matters into her own hands?

Amused by the absurd thought, Sylvia almost laughed.

But…

Wait. *This method…*

A perfect alternative suddenly dawned on her.

Sylvia’s expression shifted—vivid, calculating, alight with possibility.