Silva’s slender, fair calf shot upward in a flash, unleashing raw power. With lightning speed and unstoppable force, she delivered a devastating groin kick straight at David.

David was still reeling from shock—*How did “Silva” wake up after the sleeping pills?*—when searing pain exploded below. Confusion, panic, existential dread flooded his mind; his life flashed before his eyes. Clutching his groin, he collapsed onto the bed, face shifting from pale to ashen, cold sweat beading on his brow. Even as a Grand Sage at magic’s pinnacle, a titan among humans, the agony crippled thought. No spell came. Strength felt violently drained. He forced his eyes open toward “Silva,” but knife-like spasms in his gut rolled his eyes back, a choked groan escaping his lips. His ragged cries sounded like a constipated man’s desperate strain fused with a soul-deep scream of despair.

“You… you…!” David glared with hatred, words choked by pain drowning his consciousness.

Beside them, Blanch furrowed her delicate brows—*Ouch, that looked painful.* Yet relief washed over her. *Good. Scum like David deserves it.* Still… something felt off. Though this was her daughter’s face, her presence… almost *manly*?

Roland struck a JoJo pose, finger pointed confidently at the hunched David. “Your next line: *Why are you awake?*”

“Wh-why… are you awake…?” David rasped, eyes bloodshot.

“Hmph.” Roland let out a flippant laugh. “Your acting’s clumsy. I saw through you. I used *Matter Separation* on the water—check the cup, you’d find the powder.”

“D-damn… No! You’re not Silva! Who *are* you?!” David’s eyes burned crimson.

Roland laughed, voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just a—"

BOOM!!!

The bedroom wall exploded inward. Thick vines shot from the smoke like pythons, snatching David away.

“Damn! I set a soundproof barrier!” Roland blinked, stunned. Crimson patterns flared across his right arm. Flames erupted, tongues dancing wildly. He channeled fire into his fist and slammed forward. Inferno surged like a ruptured dam, coalescing into a roaring dragon of flame that shot toward the hole. Where it passed, molten lava carved a straight path. Heat waves rolled. Blinding crimson consumed sight. The palace shuddered violently.

Ultimate Technique—Dragon Abyss Flame Fist!

Roland knew: this strike would erase David—and the mage who tried to flee with him. With a flick, he dispelled the wood magic “Vine Bind” restraining Blanch.

“Who *are* you?” Blanch asked warily.

“Uh—” Roland began, but another blast shook the room. Smoke flooded in. “No time! Take this!” He reached into his collar, rummaging inside his bra.

Blanch’s eyes widened. *What is my daughter DOING?!* Such shameless, indecent behavior?!

Roland’s coat was a shape-shifting divine artifact—currently styled as… a white lace bra. Under Blanch’s utterly shocked, disbelieving, soul-questioning stare, “Silva” pulled out a massive silver armor set and a gleaming broadsword—from *inside the bra*.

*How?!* Blanch narrowed her eyes. Same face. Same aura. Even more beautiful. But the posture, the swagger… no noble princess. Not even feminine. And that spatial retrieval? A near-mythical skill. The truth clicked.

“You’re Roland.”

“Yep, yep.” Roland didn’t deny it. “Suit up and fight out. Royal Guard’s waiting. Both are divine artifacts—ordinary wearers can go head-to-head with tier-ten beasts.”

Knowing she’d be a burden, Blanch swiftly donned the armor. It auto-adjusted, fitting perfectly. Power surged through her—a sensation utterly foreign to an ordinary woman. She lifted the heavy broadsword with effortless ease.

“If it fits, go. Royal Guard’s outside.” Roland dashed toward the hole.

Blanch gave a slight nod. *Definitely making him my son-in-law.* She shattered the window, leaped down, landed smoothly—and sprinted straight for the underground dungeon, bypassing the courtyard entirely.

…

“Forbidden Art: Search and Scry.”

Roland stood over David’s charred corpse. David’s death wasn’t surprising. What stunned him: *every traitor in the main palace was dead.* Corpses laid beside David’s, mutilated beyond recognition—yet not a single drop of blood spilled. He remembered them minutes ago: lively, powerful. Several Sages. Even Grand Sages. Their deaths should’ve shaken the halls. Silence. Nothing. Eerie. Terrifying.

And while scanning the ruins… Roland found something.