The princess, the dragon, and the prince.

At last, all the main characters of this fairy tale had gathered. Their enemy was a monster that should never have existed in this world:

The Mad Sovereign.

It coiled at the very heart of all shadows and darkness, stealing the sweet dreams of the Fairy Tale Kingdom’s citizens with silken threads, then chewing and devouring them to strengthen itself and stabilize its form.

“So… is *that* the mastermind behind everything?” the prince couldn’t help but ask.

“Who knows?” the Wicked Woman replied nonchalantly, reshaping his severed limb. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“…Why say that?”

“Because even now, the clues we have can’t piece together the full truth. I’ve guessed the cause and effect—but I’m not entirely sure.”

The prince fell silent for a moment, shook his head, then glanced at the Mad Sovereign feasting nearby and said softly:

“No matter what… if we defeat It, we’ll find the truth, right?”

“There’s a chance,” she said.

“Then let’s kill It.”

He stood, slightly flexed his newly regenerated left hand, and lifted the Sword of Virtue.

Beside him, the dragon stood motionless, gaze fixed on the distant Mad Sovereign.

“My instincts say It’s dangerous. Hard to kill. And even if we do… things might get worse.”

“But we can’t just stand by while It devours the dreams of Fairy City’s people.”

“That’s a human problem. Not my dragon kin’s concern,” the dragon said flatly.

Then, as if sensing something, it turned—and saw the little princess smiling at it.

“…I suppose I could lend a hand,” it added.

The prince fell into an eerie silence.

He looked from the princess to the dragon. He *knew* his teacher now inhabited her body… yet somehow, he faintly felt a hand pat his shoulder—urging him to be strong.

The Wicked Woman stepped between them, squinting at the Mad Sovereign. “Is it truly mindless? As long as we stay outside its warning zone, it won’t notice or attack?”

The prince glanced at the patch of light beneath their feet—untouched by the Sovereign’s spreading shadows—and nodded. “Seems so.”

“Then can we prep long-range support magic here first? Unleash saturation bombardment once the fight starts?”

“But won’t that hit us too?”

“You have *me*,” she said with a grin, raising her hand.

A flash of light—radiant power capable of regrowing limbs, healing entire dragons.

“With me, you’ve got a mobile healing spring. *If* you can endure your bodies crumbling and rebuilding over and over.”

Prince and dragon exchanged a glance. Nodded.

“I can endure it,” the prince said.

“I’ll handle the long-range array,” the dragon added. “Dragon tongue magic is the most destructive force on the Fairy Tale Continent. No contest.”

“The civilians near the monster? I’ll pull them into another dimension,” the Wicked Woman said, clapping her hands. “Let’s begin.”

Preparations surged into motion.

The prince layered protective and buff spells over himself. The dragon wove delayed-trigger strategic magic aimed at the Mad Sovereign. Behind them, the little princess watched—the prince and dragon, who’d just tried to kill each other, now fighting side by side.

A strange warmth stirred in her chest. She smiled softly.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” they replied in unison.

“Then… I begin,” the Wicked Woman murmured, clenching her fist toward the fallen crowd on King’s Avenue.

*Taking space by surprise*, she stole them all away.

The shadow-bound citizens vanished.

The Mad Sovereign froze mid-feast—then a shrill screech tore through half the city, drowned instantly by the prince’s roar.

*Forbidden Spell: Purification. Forbidden Spell: Baptism. Forbidden Spell: Decay. Forbidden Spell: Collapse…*

Dozens of ultimate spells erupted at once, raining down like a meteor storm. Magic constants twisted into chaos.

The Sovereign wove a silken cocoon—but the prince was already there, Sword of Virtue raised.

His flesh crumbled.

Mortal bodies couldn’t survive this chaos. Light and heat seared him: skin carbonized, flesh turned to dust.

Yet rebirth followed death.

For every speck vaporized, new tissue struggled to regrow.

His body cycled—collapse, regrow, collapse—making him look more monstrous than the beast he fought.

None of it mattered.

Bathed in blinding radiance, face impassive, he swung the Sword of Virtue and severed one of the Sovereign’s forelimbs.

A shriek.

The monster’s body frayed under the spellstorm. Legs snapped off one by one—but no blood flowed. Only thick darkness oozed from the wounds.

The dragon’s pre-set spells expired. Unfazed, it hovered high and cast fresh Forbidden Spells manually.

Silent, relentless, the prince cleaved the last leg away.

*Support. Mage. Warrior.*

A perfect trio. Cornering the king-turned-monster into despair.

Legless, carapace shattered, the Sovereign’s core of pure darkness lay exposed.

The prince struck—cleaving its head open.

*Exactly then—chaos.*

Light beneath the Wicked Woman dimmed. Dark tentacles erupted from the ground, coiling silently around her. They fused into an unbreakable cage.

From the shadows beside her, a shrunken Mad Sovereign emerged—six eyes gleaming with cunning.

*The fairy tale world is fair*, It reasoned with its new intellect. *Power sacrifices wisdom… but I chose cunning.*

*The core isn’t the sword-wielder. Nor the dragon. It’s the frail princess empowering them.*

*She is my chance.*

A twisted smile spread across Its king-like face. A forelimb morphed into a blade—thrust straight for the princess’s heart.

*This ends now*, It thought.

But the limb met no flesh.

It was seized. Twisted. Snapped.

*Crack—*

Disbelief flashed in Its eyes.

The little princess held the broken limb, tilting her head with innocent curiosity:

“Why assume the *support* is the weakest?”

“After all… studying medicine won’t save the fairy tale world.”

Frail fingers gripped the dark cage’s bars. A slight tug. *Hmm, should bend.*

*Snap.* She slipped through the gap.

*Taking space by surprise*, she stood before the Sovereign.

Seized two more forelimbs.

Like cracking a crab—gentle twist, perfect angle. Two more legs gone.

Fear bloomed on the monster’s face. It tried to flee. Useless.

Wherever space blinked, she appeared.

It nearly screamed for help.

No use. She pursued, dislocating all six remaining legs.

Reduced again to head and torso—writhing, desperate—it still tried to escape.

Failed.

The Wicked Woman smoothed her skirt, knelt, and pressed a hand to its body.

“Killing you just shrinks you. Not permanent… Wait. Got it.”

She propped her cheek on her palm, voice light:

“I think I can *truly* kill you.”

As if stating fact, she slowly clenched her fist.

In an infinitesimal instant, the unkillable was slain countless times.

When her hand opened—nothing remained.

It was gone.

[To be continued]

—