This world is called Hestdral—a realm said to have been forged by the gods in the Mythic Age.

No one truly knows if that’s true.

Yet occasional discoveries of ancient Arcane Artifacts within ruins and labyrinths—technology far beyond current capabilities—lend strong credibility to the legend.

For this reason, nations tirelessly explore these ancient sites,

hoping to seize overwhelming power in one stroke and surpass all rivals.

The Delkas Empire is a prime example.

As one of humanity’s most formidable states, it places military might above all else.

Might makes right.

Even imperial succession is decided through brutal combat—a brutally simple method.

Bloodlust seeps through every corner of the nation.

And caught in this bloody farce is Princess Lisdel Delkas:

merely ten years old, thirteenth in line for the throne.

One of the empire’s rare souls who rejects raw power—and born with innate magic rated at the Lower Tier.

Through years of training, she reached High Tier strength before adulthood.

If her path remains smooth, she may ascend to the Divine Tier and become the empire’s next ruler.

From commoners to the current emperor, all have silently anointed her heir apparent.

However…

“Who in their right mind would want to lead such a thick-headed, brain-dead nation? Are they all idiots?”

Princess Lisdel—violet waves cascading down her shoulders, exploring this newly uncovered site (ruin? labyrinth?)—was that very unwilling pawn.

Yes.

Regardless of others’ hopes, Her Highness did not wish to rule.

Not *that* nation.

A land obsessed with violence and steeped in racial prejudice.

To her—a sane person—it was pure poison. She longed to escape the moment she came of age, to marry into a gentler kingdom.

But such dreams were fragile.

Few nations would ally with the empire due to its reputation.

Royal marriages stayed strictly within domestic nobility.

And every royal her age was forced to venture forth, seeking relics to empower their faction.

Faced with this, what could one say?

“Sigh… If only a handsome prince from the Mosiri Kingdom would propose. A land without discrimination, where all races coexist in harmony—that is my dream.”

The Mosiri Kingdom, legend says, was founded by the First Sage.

Its culture and civic virtue far surpass the empire’s.

Though slightly weaker in raw power, it stands nearly equal.

To be born into—or marry into—such a realm? She’d wake from dreams laughing.

Alas…

“Sigh…”

“That kingdom despises the empire’s discriminatory ways. Hoping for an alliance? Might as well wait for the next life!”

Lost in thought, she sighed again and again.

Lisdel was utterly exasperated.

“Your Highness,” a familiar, wearying voice cut through her daydream, “a lady must not sigh so often. It tarnishes your image.”

“Tch. I know.”

She clicked her tongue impatiently, shooting Ende—a middle-aged knight who’d guarded her since childhood—a resentful glance.

Personally appointed by the king, Ende stood at the peak of the High Tier, tasked with protecting the empire’s most promising heir.

“Your Highness! Do not click your tongue! Your etiquette instructor just emphasized this!”

Tutor? Guard?

Ende was both: bodyguard and disciplinarian.

How could an heir lacking imperial dignity command respect?

All for the empire!

“Yes, yes, I know,” Lisdel muttered, irritation sharpening her tone. “Why so rigid, Ende? No one’s watching.”

“Even unseen, you must embody imperial dignity at all times. You are the empire’s future!”

*There it is again.*

Hearing that phrase endlessly, her ears felt calloused.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be careful. Happy?”

“One ‘yes’ is sufficient!”

“Yes!”

Suppressing her frustration, she straightened her posture.

Silent, she truly carried herself like a princess:

elegant stance, a face delicate as porcelain, yet already hinting at subtle charm.

In ten years? A beauty capable of captivating nations.

Add the title of Empress? The ultimate life winner.

Countless would fall under her spell—even now, at ten.

“Hey… If Her Highness becomes empress, d’you think she’d create a male consort position? One taste of her favor? *Tsk*… I’d skip all other women for life!”

“You? Hah! Dream on. Even if it existed, a sorry sight like you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Exactly. Looks first. With that mug? Next life, maybe!”

…

Baffling what twisted train of thought led them there.

Whispering privately was one thing.

But shouting it? As if *wanting* her to hear.

Lisdel’s face flushed crimson with fury.

*Male consorts?* she seethed inwardly. *If I ever become empress, first order: remove your… certain parts. Learn to think with your heads!*

“Your Highness…”

“What?! Can’t I even *think*?! Hmph!”

She huffed, turning her head away.

Ende, who’d raised her since infancy, easily guessed her thoughts.

He knew her dreams well.

“Think what you will,” he said gently, “but do not speak it. Many eyes and ears surround us—and these soldiers were lent by the Fourth Prince. If they learned…”

He let his gaze finish the warning.

“Yes, I know. I have self-control.”

Despite her complaints, she listened.

Ende was among the empire’s few who shared her beliefs—and her most loyal servant.

His family’s creed: once life is pledged, betrayal is unthinkable.

He cherished her as a granddaughter, served her as his sworn master.

Strict yet devoted, he was the one person Lisdel truly trusted.

She pouted sometimes, but knew it was for her good.

So she held back.

Just harmless venting.

Such was their bond.

This master-servant pair stood out during the expedition—

partly due to status, partly because few soldiers truly aligned with her ideals.

Only because she was the sole royal whose duty remained incomplete—and the emperor held her to high standards—would she accept outside help.

At the thought, another sigh threatened.

“Oh, right. I heard Prince Zhu Bajie is exploring nearby. Could he be after this ruin too?”

“Your Highness… even if the Eighth Prince is deep in debt and… plump as a pig, please refrain. He is, after all, your elder brother.”

“Half-brother!”

…

Ende fell silent, shaking his head wearily at his willful princess.

“Hmph. He *is* a pig! Truth isn’t wrong,” Lisdel grumbled. “Just answer: yes or no.”

“Yes. His Highness the Eighth Prince is indeed here,” Ende sighed. His eyes flickered. “And he apparently plans to challenge the Dragonkin Queen—to boost his reputation.”

“No way~. Is that pig serious?” Lisdel’s eyes widened. “Does he have any idea how powerful the Silverfrost Dragon Queen is? Who gave him this courage?”

“Unclear. Rumor says he acquired two Arcane Cannons. I suppose… that’s his ‘courage’.”

“Huh~. Arcane Cannons? How? There are only three in the entire empire!”

Mild curiosity flickered—but ending this tedious exploration came first.

She rose, brushing dust from her short skirt.

“Never mind. Let’s join. Even if they’re Fourth Brother’s troops, it’s unseemly to leave all work to others.”

Among siblings, the Fourth Prince was relatively amicable—a brother she respectfully called “Fourth Brother.”

Those she disliked, like Prince Zhu Bajie, earned colorful nicknames.

“As you command, Your Highness.”

Ende rose and followed.

The moment they stepped forward, commotion erupted ahead.

“Halt! This is the resting place of Her Highness, the Thirteenth Princess of the great Delkas Empire! One more step, and you will be expelled!”

Who’s there?

Lisdel hurried forward with Ende—and froze.

“A child? Why is there a child here?”