In this world, aside from the Beastkin and Dragonkin—each confined to a single territory—only humanity boasts multiple nations. The Delkas Empire and Mosiri Kingdom stand as undisputed leaders among them, the most powerful human states.

Take the Delkas Empire: though it currently lacks a Divine Tier powerhouse, its near-monopoly on relics unearthed from ruins and labyrinths, coupled with numerous Peaks of Transcendent Rank residing within its borders, secures its position as the strongest human nation.

The Mosiri Kingdom, however, presents a stark contrast.

While it does not prioritize excavating ancient heritage, it carries the unique bloodline of the Sages—originally summoned from another world. This lineage has ensured an unbroken succession of Divine Tier powerhouses. At one point, three stood guard simultaneously, making the Mosiri Kingdom the world’s focal point for a time.

Today, one of the world’s five remaining Divine Tier powerhouses resides there.

Frederick MoXili—bearer of the world-renowned title *Sword Saint*, a name that strikes fear into every villain’s heart—is not only among the strongest beings alive but also the reigning monarch of the Mosiri Kingdom. His strength and renown far surpass the Delkas Emperor’s.

Even the prowess of his four—no, three—children eclipses that of their peers. Truly, the MoXili family stands in unparalleled glory.

Without the empire’s opposition, one might even say world peace and racial harmony would not have been mere fantasy.

Yet where there is glory, sorrow lingers…

“So… Shaya… that child… in the end…” *sigh*…

Inside the palace, the burly, black-haired middle-aged man clad in ornate armor—Frederick himself—shed tears unbecoming of his years.

“Father, I’m sorry. If only I’d arrived sooner to stop my younger brother… he wouldn’t have…”

Beside him, Crown Prince Yujia MoXili—the golden-haired sixteen-year-old eldest son of Frederick and elder brother to Third Prince Shaya—clenched his jaw in anguish. With a choked sob, he slammed his fist into the floor, knuckles splitting, blood blooming like bitter tears.

“No, this isn’t your fault,” Frederick said, wiping his tears and shaking his head. He gestured for Yujia to rise. “My arrogance… letting him and Lia venture out at such a time. They wouldn’t have faced danger… nor would he have been forced to inherit the Imitation Holy Sword’s power. I knew it was incomplete… yet I still…”

“Father…”

Seeing his father’s grief and self-blame, Yujia’s heart ached deeper. His gaze fell upon the Imitation Holy Sword—a relic he himself had only inherited at fourteen. *I should have stopped him. He was only ten…*

To be precise, the Holy Sword is an Arcane Artifact imbued with the goddess’s magic, wielded by the Sages summoned to this world. Though the original, held by the First Saint—the ancestor of Frederick’s line—was reclaimed by the Church long ago, three simplified Imitation Holy Swords crafted by the First Saint himself remain national treasures. Passed down through generations as secret heirlooms of the bloodline, they lack the original’s full might but still empower wielders to break through their limits.

With innate talent and this legacy, Prince Shaya was the most likely to inherit Frederick’s mantle and ascend to Divine Tier… yet fate intervened.

…

News of Prince Shaya’s passing remained known to only a select few. In truth, his very existence had been concealed from the public since birth. Possessing talent rivaling the Delkas Empire’s Thirteenth Princess, revealing him early would have made him a target for assassination by those who resent the Mosiri Kingdom—such as the empire itself. As one of few human nations championing racial equality, the kingdom has long been a thorn in their side. History records multiple princes assassinated in childhood. Everyone knew the culprit, but without proof, they endured—and instituted a rule: a prince’s existence would only be announced after age ten.

Yet now…

“…We must treat Shaya’s existence as if it never was,” Frederick murmured, sighing heavily. Shaya’s public reveal was imminent—until tragedy struck.

Shaking off sorrow, Frederick rose, walked to Yujia, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Handle Shaya’s farewell.”

“Understood, Father. I will,” Yujia replied, swallowing his grief. Though a public funeral was impossible, he vowed to honor his beloved brother properly—with only himself and his two remaining brothers.

“By the way… how is Mia?”

“Mia… he’s stable,” Yujia said, worry deepening. “No immediate danger, but after forcibly absorbing the Imitation Holy Sword’s rampaging power to save Shaya, he’ll need long to awaken. As for Lia…”

His voice trailed off. He bowed his head, unable to continue.

Frederick sighed. “I’ll speak with her later.”

“Thank you, Father…”

Lia MoXili, the Mosiri Kingdom’s sole princess and Shaya’s younger sister of the same age, had only recently been announced to the public. *(Note: Princesses were traditionally revealed slightly earlier than princes.)* Among all siblings, Shaya and Lia shared the closest bond. After witnessing her beloved brother’s death, she locked herself in her room—refusing food, drink, weeping endlessly. A heart-wrenching sight.

“I’ve failed as an elder brother,” Yujia whispered. Leaving Frederick, he headed toward his siblings’ chambers. Useless when it mattered most, frustration burned within him. *I’ll protect the rest. No more harm.* He pushed the door open.

“B-Big Brother! Lia… Lia’s gone!”

Second Prince Mia MoXili—pale, drenched in cold sweat, body trembling—stumbled out, seizing Yujia’s shoulders. His face mirrored Yujia’s own features, twisted with panic.

“Gone? Wasn’t she in her room?” Yujia’s brow furrowed.

“I… I don’t know…” Mia gasped, clutching his chest. “Woke up… found this by my bed… went to Lia’s room… she was gone…”

Yujia read the note Mia handed him. His face drained of color. A feral rage contorted his features.

“Damn you, Bloodnight Cult! Stealing our mother and Shaya wasn’t enough?!” he roared. “Guards! Kingdom-wide manhunt! Spare no cost—rescue Lia!”

As Prince Yujia bellowed, the ransom note—demanding the Imitation Holy Sword as collateral—fluttered to the ground.

This was the Princess Abduction incident… occurring one week before Cang Xiaoxi and Jikuhir arrived at the Mosiri Kingdom.

…

Time shifts to the present. Deep in a forest cave, a barefoot girl stood clad in a qipao-Western fusion dress, her jet-black hair cascading like a waterfall. Dirt smudged her petite face; bruises marked her skin—yet none dimmed her serene, Yamato Nadeshiko-like grace.

The pitiful girl was none other than Princess Lia MoXili, abducted a week prior. She wasn’t crying now. Her tears had long dried—spent mourning her beloved brother. Her hollow, dry cerulean eyes stared at the lightless ceiling. *Someone… please save me.* But reason whispered: impossible. If they breached the palace unseen, rescue was near hopeless.

“If only I’d been useful…” Sobbing softly, she touched the magic-sealing collar locked around her neck. Her fingers trembled weaker.

“Again… it’s happening again… I held them back. If I hadn’t begged Brother Shaya to go out… the Bloodnight Cult would never have learned his identity.” Recalling that day over a week ago—encountering Sadom, one of the Cult’s three vice leaders—forcing Shaya to recklessly unleash the Imitation Holy Sword’s power to save her… costing him his life. Fresh tears traced silent paths down her cheeks.

Clutching the collar, she remembered the past week’s humiliation: brutal interrogations, demands for her family’s secrets. A nameless flame ignited within Princess Lia.

“Brother died because of you… Mother too… Even if I die, I’ll never reveal a single secret.” Wiping tears from her temples, she glanced at the lone Bloodnight Cult disciple—left behind after the forest’s mysterious artillery blast. Slowly, she rose. Fixing her gaze on the dozing figure, she channeled her family’s ancient martial arts to suppress her presence and crept forward.

“Huh?! You—”

Her breathing hitched. Just as she moved to strike—he woke.

“Damn.” No time to adjust stance. She whipped her heel toward his cheek.

*Thud!*

Struck squarely, the cultist crumpled, dazed and still.

“Is the key on him…?” Ignoring the swelling on her heel, Lia searched his robes.

But—

“Tch. Thought the kingdom found us. False alarm.”

*!*

At that familiar voice, Lia abandoned the search and bolted.