Chapter 2

Carved out over the vast course of the Underground Empire’s history, the Labyrinth Corridor was a sprawling, endless subterranean maze.

Rumor held that a complete map had been handed down through the royal family for generations, but it remained a tightly guarded state secret—a privileged birthright of the royals and a national treasure capable of serving as a devastating strategic weapon.

The Corridor had been formed through centuries of dwarven expansion: miners founded towns in pursuit of rich ore veins, only to abandon them and migrate deeper once the deposits ran dry. As this cycle played out endlessly across generations, the countless subterranean tunnels overlapped and intertwined, gradually evolving into an insurmountable labyrinth.

In time, these forsaken cities became the final refuge for outcasts driven from the surface world—including the demons, an evolved strain of monsterkind.

Long ago, seeking sanctuary from relentless persecution, they had founded the demon metropolis of Helheim within the Lost Lands.

Yet those who failed to assimilate, or who challenged the realm’s rulers and fell in defeat, were branded as the Discarded Numbers—the Antithesis—and banished into exile. And the ultimate destination where these outcasts washed ashore was none other than this very Labyrinth Corridor.

In one forgotten corner of the maze lay an abandoned city with the numeral V etched into its stone walls—Abandonment City No. 5.

Deserted hundreds of years ago, its dilapidated buildings had crumbled into decay, and the eerie shrieks of unidentified monsters were all that echoed through the derelict streets.

Deep within the heart of the settlement, however, a single chamber carved into a mining shaft had been kept unnervingly pristine.

Furnished with long tables and chairs to serve as living quarters, this room served as the secret hideout of the Discarded Numbers.

“What do we do now...?”

“Before we do anything, we’ve got to patch up those wounds,” an aged voice rasped in response.

When the hulking man seated in the chair—Discarded Number No. 1, Hajar—grunted in frustration, the elderly demon known as Discarded Number No. 2, Dovie, was quick to cut in.

Around them, subordinates possessing the Gift [Healing] bustled frantically back and forth, swapping out blood-soaked bandages one after another.

“Just what sort of wound is that?” Dovie asked, eyeing his comrade closely. “It doesn’t look like the work of magic.”

“...I was just stabbed with a dagger,” Hajar muttered darkly.

No matter how much restorative magic they poured into it, the wound in Hajar’s flank stubbornly refused to close, festering relentlessly.

The laceration wept foul pus, discolored to a sickly violet hue as though corrupted by a virulent toxin.

The unnatural state of the injury was both harrowing and profoundly unsettling to behold.

“Hardly seems like an ordinary dagger’s handiwork... Truly bizarre,” Dovie remarked with a grimace. “Still, isn’t this the first time you’ve been brought this low?”

“...Hardly,” Hajar growled. “They might call me No. 1, but I’ve tasted defeat more times than I can count.”

Dovie narrowed his eyes at the rough, suppressed irritation lacing the giant’s voice.

“Even so, to think a mere brat could back you into such a corner is a terrifying thought.”

“He called himself Ars,” Hajar spat, clenching his fists. “Look into him. I’ll make him pay this debt back in full.”

“Hmm... That said, our own losses are catastrophic. We lost far too many of our brethren. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“...I know,” Hajar admitted sullenly. “I miscalculated this time.”

At that admission, Dovie downed the wine in his glass in one gulp and let out a heavy sigh.

“There’s no use crying over spilled milk, but... seeing how thoroughly the enemy was prepared, we should have razed the town and pulled back immediately. To begin with, you were far too reckless with our precious forces, treating them like disposable pawns. If you’d used them wisely, they’d still be alive. In the end, you practically crushed them yourself.”

“Some of them were colluding with the Queen, like No. 5,” Hajar countered with a scowl. “Grinding them to dust in the crucible of battle was the cleanest way to purge them, wasn’t it?”

“Perhaps so, but there were far better ways to handle it,” Dovie retorted.

Discarded Number No. 1 was by no means a fool.

At his core, however, he was a vanguard warrior rather than a master strategist.

Though he possessed the commanding presence of a leader, he lacked the tactical finesse required to orchestrate an entire army.

As a result, he had squandered the vast majority of his fighting force.

All because he had poured everything he had into a single, singular obsession: slaughtering the Queen.

He had isolated her, driving her to the very brink where her severed head was within his grasp—up to that point, his plan had undeniably succeeded. Yet the moment she slipped through his fingers, the entire operation dissolved into ash.

There was no way to salvage the situation from that point on.

After all, he had sacrificed far too many pawns simply to corner her in the first place.

It was the direct consequence of Hajar’s blind fixation on the Queen’s demise.

And as the price for that relentless grudge, countless subordinates had been lost forever.

“We don’t even have twenty comrades left alive,” Dovie continued grimly. “No. 7 and No. 10 are missing as well. I had the scouts look for them, but there hasn’t been hide nor hair of either.”

“Those two are probably still breathing,” Hajar grunted. “They always loathed standing on the front lines. But... there’s a real chance they’ve defected to the Queen.”

“...A distinct possibility,” Dovie muttered, releasing another weary sigh. “In that case, this base may already be compromised.”

Dovie let out a long, heavy exhale at Hajar’s deduction.

If they truly had switched sides, every shred of their intelligence would already be laid bare before the enemy.

The location of this very stronghold would be no exception.

If the Queen dispatched a subjugation force based on that information, the two of them, wounded as they were, would be hard-pressed to repel them.

What few subordinates remained were mere intermediate demons; not a single high-ranking demon was left among their ranks.

“Which is precisely why we must abandon this base and relocate,” Hajar asserted.

“Hajar... do you have a destination in mind?” Dovie asked.

“Yeah. I’ve already scouted out a few potential candidates.”

“Then we shall make our move as soon as your wounds mend.”

When Dovie made the suggestion, Hajar tilted his head, giving him a suspicious glare.

“Why not move right now?”

“Even if this hideout has been exposed, the odds of an immediate raid are slim,” Dovie explained calmly. “The timing is terrible for the Queen to make a move right now. More importantly, we are both injured. Forcing ourselves to march in this state would be suicidal.”

“...How can you be so sure the Queen won’t move?”

“According to my scouts, the Earth Empire has launched an invasion into the Underground Empire. The Labyrinth Corridor is about to become a tempest of chaos. If we go wandering out there now, we’ll only get dragged into unnecessary battles.”

“I see... So that’s your angle,” Hajar murmured, crossing his arms and nodding in understanding.

Hajar crossed his arms and gave a faint nod of comprehension.

“Now that you understand, our best course is to stay put and observe. Relocating after the storm passes is the wiser choice.”

“Understood. Once the dust settles, we can decide whether to hunt down the traitors or focus on rebuilding our strength. For now, I’m going to get some rest.”

Leaving those words behind, Hajar hauled himself to his feet and exited the great hall.

Watching his massive back disappear down the corridor, Dovie let out another deep, weary sigh.

“It seems it’ll take quite some time for him to regain his full strength... That wound is far more troublesome than he lets on.”

Stripped of his former ferocity, Hajar bore none of the overpowering presence he once commanded.

Whether he would return to his former glory once healed, or whether that unyielding wound would corrode him into eternity—neither Dovie nor anyone else could say.

“Was it a cursed blade? Or perhaps some exotic venom...?” Dovie muttered to himself.

He turned his gaze toward the healer tending to the medical supplies.

“We detected no traces of [Curse] or [Poison],” the demon healer reported respectfully. “Strangely enough, however, the tissue around the wound is saturated with an unnaturally dense concentration of mana, as if it had been exposed to thick miasma for an extended period.”

“Miasma, you say? But there shouldn’t be miasma that concentrated anywhere near the demon capital...”

Dovie stroked his bearded chin in deep thought, but no plausible answer came to mind.

“...No matter. Stay by Hajar’s side in case his condition takes a sudden turn for the worse. Leaving him alone in that state is too dangerous.”

“Understood, sir.”

Once the healer had bowed and departed, Dovie sank heavily back into his chair.

“Listen well!” he commanded the remaining demons in the room. “Find out how the war between the Earth Empire and the Underground Empire unfolds. Next—investigate that youth named Ars. And do not let your guard down regarding the perimeter!”

Receiving Dovie’s orders, the intermediate demons bolted from the chamber in unison.

“...Good grief. And here I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to seize the title of No. 1 for myself,” Dovie murmured with a dry chuckle.

Had this happened before the decisive battle against the Queen, he never would have shown the enfeebled Hajar an ounce of mercy.

Instead, he would have bared his fangs at the earliest opening and usurped the giant’s throne without hesitation.

But circumstances had changed.

Their ranks had been decimated, and the mantle of Discarded Number No. 1 had been stripped of its former glory.

What Dovie desired was to reign at the pinnacle among a gathering of fierce, proud elites.

He had no interest in inheriting a battered, hollow throne, nor the slightest intention of playing the king of ashes.

“First, we must rebuild the Discarded Numbers. Once we have reclaimed our strength, that is when I shall challenge Hajar.”

Grabbing a bottle of rich red wine in his clawed hand, Dovie tilted his head back and chugged it down, a faint, sinister smirk spreading across his wine-stained lips.

＊

“What in the blazes is goin’ on out there?! That’s just ridiculous!”

A woman’s indignant screech echoed across the ruined town.

She was a voluptuous woman draped in an alluring, colorful kimono, the Roman numeral VII branded prominently across her cleavage.

Discarded Number No. 7—Gremita.

“Don’tcha agree, Number Ten?” she asked, turning around.

Standing where her gaze fell was a brawny, heavily muscled male demon.

Discarded Number No. 10, Zeld. Behind him stood a large retinue of intermediate demons.

Every one of them had become disillusioned with Discarded Number No. 1’s reckless methods and defected from his faction.

“Perhaps we should have entered the Labyrinth Corridor through our usual route after all,” Zeld rumbled sternly.

“No way in hell! If we’d gone that way, we would’ve run smack into Number One and Number Two. That’d make things ten times more complicated!”

Gremita cursed under her breath, her kimono frayed and covered in dust.

Zeld wore an equally exhausted scowl, and the demons trailing behind them all walked with slumped, dejected shoulders.

“Who could’ve guessed the Earth Empire would invade the Underground Empire out of nowhere...? There wasn’t even a whisper of a warning! Thanks to them, we got dragged right into the crossfire. What terrible bloody timing!”

On their way back, they had crossed paths with magic knights from the Earth Empire.

There was no room for negotiation with demons. Attacked without so much as a word of warning, they had fled for their lives, barely managing to scramble all the way to this haven—Abandonment City No. 58.

“Let us rest first,” Zeld urged. “Everyone is pushed to their limit.”

“Fair enough... Even those Imperial knights shouldn’t make it all the way out here, but keep your wits about ya, folks.”

Calling back to her comrades, Gremita made her way toward the largest derelict building in the city.

Boasting enough space to house hundreds of people, the massive structure served as their base of operations.

As Gremita walked on in silence, Zeld spoke to her back.

“What is our next move?”

“Ain’t it obvious? We gotta bow our heads and beg the Queen for mercy.”

“I thought as much... But will she even take us back?”

From the perspective of Helheim, the Discarded Numbers were nothing more than troublesome rabble and outcast renegades.

Though none of them here were guilty of heinous capital crimes, they were all felons and rule-breakers who had been banished for a reason.

Since none of them had parted on good terms, intense suspicion was practically guaranteed.

“Even if we had no direct hand in the assault, we are still members of the Discarded Numbers who attacked Helheim,” Zeld warned grimly. “It wouldn’t be surprising if our heads rolled the second we showed our faces.”

“The Queen ain’t that short-sighted,” Gremita reasoned. “That’s why we gotta bow down with all the sincerity we can muster. If we don’t, we ain’t gonna survive.”

What was worse, with No. 1 and No. 2 still alive, they likely already knew Gremita’s faction had survived. If they failed to rendezvous with Hajar’s group, they would undeniably be branded as traitors.

And if they were found, they would be slaughtered on the spot.

Neither Gremita nor Zeld possessed the martial might to stand against No. 1 and No. 2.

And the comrades standing with them now would inevitably share that gruesome fate.

That was the one outcome they had to avoid at all costs.

“Besides, the underground ain’t lookin’ safe no more either,” Gremita added. “The dwarves used to turn a blind eye to us, but if the Earth Empire takes over... demons like us are gonna be exterminated on sight.”

Indeed, they had just barely shaken off the Earth Empire’s magic knights only moments ago.

Yet returning to their former home under Discarded Number No. 1 was completely out of the question.

“So yeah, bowin’ down to the Queen is our only real shot.”

If they chose to eke out an existence in the Labyrinth Corridor, they would be forced to spend the rest of their days running from both Hajar’s faction and the Earth Empire.

Rather than enduring such a suffocating, hunted life, surrendering to Helheim and accepting whatever punishment came their way offered a far better guarantee of survival.

“All we gotta do is hand over the location of Hajar’s hideout. If we spill the beans on all the dirty deeds those bastards have been pullin’, she might just lighten our sentence.”

With that declared, Gremita reached out and grabbed the handle to the mansion’s front door.

Before stepping inside, however, she froze, tilting her head and glancing over her shoulder at Zeld.

She pressed an index finger to her lips, gesturing for total silence.

“...An enemy?” Zeld whispered.

“Dunno. But someone’s definitely broken in.”

Where she pointed, the lock on the heavy entrance door had been smashed to pieces.

“Number Ten, you’re with me for backup. The rest of ya, keep watch around the perimeter. We don’t know how many we’re up against, so if things go south, secure an escape route pronto.”

After issuing her orders, Gremita took a succession of steady breaths and cautiously crept into the estate.

Through the tense, suffocating silence, she advanced while probing for any signs of presence, with Zeld following closely behind, his face dark and vigilant.

“Ain’t no way... This can’t be...”

Suddenly, Gremita dropped to her knees on the floor, her face pale with shock.

“W-what is it? What happened?!” Zeld gasped, rushing to her side.

Her shoulders trembled as she held out an object in a quivering hand—an empty tin can.

“Look at this...! My canned fried tofu that I was savin’ for a rainy day...!”

It appeared the intruder had pillaged and devoured her secret emergency rations.

“I see... There is definitely an intruder, then,” Zeld noted matter-of-factly.

“Don’t gimme that nonchalant ‘I see’! That was my precious canned fried tofu!”

“I’m not taking it lightly. I consider this grave indeed. I’m simply praying the one who ate that can isn’t Hajar.”

“Not a chance. Those two would never be nimble enough to pick a lock like this. They’d just smash the whole door down or bust straight through the wall.”

Had Hajar or Dovie been the culprits, they would have left far more destructive evidence in their wake.

While that ruled out their former leaders, it was hardly cause for celebration.

There was no guarantee the culprit was merely a petty thief.

If imperial soldiers from the Earth Empire were lurking inside, there would be no room for words—only swift death.

Gremita glared resentfully at the empty can, inhaled deeply to steady her racing heart, and resumed walking forward.

“...I ain’t ever forgivin’ whoever ate my canned tofu. But consider yourself lucky—I’ll let it slide just this once.”

The very instant she muttered those words—

“Halt right where you are!”

Accompanying that sharp, ringing cry, a spear plunged straight into the floorboards at her feet.

Waves of shimmering heat radiated from its blistering spearhead, searing the air and singeing her skin.

Snapping her head upward, Gremita spotted a red-haired girl glaring down at them from the second-floor landing.

With both hands planted firmly on her hips, she tilted her chin upward in open provocation.

“...Who the hell are you?” Gremita asked, her guard raised high.

At Gremita’s undisguised hostility, the red-haired girl cocked her head and offered a cheeky, charming grin.

“I am—wait, who are you again? You’re kind of a familiar-looking demon.”

Saying so, her slender finger pointed straight at Zeld.

＊

“Ars-kun, are Karen-chan and the others really here?”

Standing beside him, Regi tilted her head and asked as she looked up at the large numeral 58 carved into the stone wall.

“Yeah, I managed to get in touch with them earlier,” Ars replied. “This should definitely be the place... or so it’s supposed to be.”

There was a good reason for his hesitant tone.

The mount that had carried Ars and the others this far was an Earth Dragon.

While fleeing from the Earth Empire’s magic knights, they had raided an imperial stable and hijacked it.

After escaping to a safe distance and finding a spot where Transmission Stones could function, they had finally arrived here—at Abandonment City No. 58.

“This is the right place, right?” Ars asked.

He turned his gaze toward Moldin, who had been steering the Earth Dragon.

“Aye, there’s no mistake,” Moldin confirmed with a nod. “Look, the wall is marked clearly with ‘58,’ isn’t it?”

“Ars, look at that,” Sigi piped up, pointing forward.

Following the line of Sigi’s finger, they spotted another Earth Dragon tethered to a stone pillar—one completely separate from the mount they had ridden in on.

“That’s probably the Earth Dragon Shion and the others rode in on,” Sigi remarked.

“Quite unusual, however,” Moldin muttered, stroking his beard. “For an Earth Dragon to remain so docile in one place on its own accord...”

“Now that you mention it, yeah,” Sigi agreed. “A beast like that could snap a flimsy chain like that like a twig.”

“Could it have been put under a [Taming] spell?” Regi wondered aloud.

“Ah... actually, that might be my fault,” Ars admitted with a sheepish rub of his neck.

Ars had a fairly good idea of what was going on.

In the past, Shion had been on the verge of death due to severe Mana Deficiency Syndrome.

Ars had saved her life by using Subordination magic to share his own vast reserves of mana with her.

Because of that residual link, it wouldn’t be surprising if Shion—harboring Ars’s mana within her—could wield Subordination or Enslavement magic on her own.

Despite her rough exterior, Shion harbored an unexpected fondness for cute creatures, often having lively discussions about plushies with Elsa.

Ars could already vividly picture Shion getting attached and demanding to keep the Earth Dragon as a pet, with Karen throwing her hands up in exasperation wondering where on earth they were supposed to keep it.

“At any rate, let’s find Karen and the others,” Ars said, picking up the pace. “They should be in the largest building in town.”

While the outskirts consisted purely of dilapidated hovels, the structures grew noticeably sturdier and more grand as they approached the city center.

This district had likely been the residential quarter for dwarven nobility and high-ranking officials in centuries past.

Before long, an exceptionally massive mansion loomed into view deep within the city.

Its imposing architecture stood in stark contrast to the surrounding ruins, proclaiming that it had once belonged to the ruler of this subterranean domain.

“Ain’t you eaten way too much of that already?! You said your name’s Shion, right? That can was somethin’ I kept locked up and treasured like gold! And it’s fried tofu, for cryin’ out loud!”

“How was I supposed to know?” Shion retorted between chews. “I found it fair and square. If it was so precious, you should’ve written your name on it. I’m not so low as to steal from someone knowingly.”

“Stop makin’ childish excuses, you little wench! If Number Ten hadn’t held me back, I’d have socked you in the jaw by now!”

As Ars rested his hand against the mansion’s front doors, the clamorous shouting match assaulted his ears.

One was a familiar voice, the other completely unknown. Yet despite the fierce insults being hurled, the exchange lacked any real malice, sounding more like casual banter between old acquaintances.

Pushing the heavy doors open, he stepped into a sprawling grand hall.

In the center stood two familiar faces—Karen and Shion—surrounded by a throng of demons.

“Good grief, aren’t you overreacting?” Shion sighed, unbothered. “I just picked up something lying on the floor.”

“And I’m tellin’ you, that was mine!” Gremita shrieked.

“Look, I’m sorry our Shion ate your food,” Karen chimed in with a sweet yet slightly condescending smile. “But you have to understand—we were ambushed by the Earth Empire and couldn’t bring any rations with us. Naturally she’d be starving, right? So let’s not be so petty, and let’s work together in peace.”

“Are you apologizin’ or pickin’ a fight? Pick a lane...” Gremita grumbled, facepalming in disbelief.

Ars walked straight toward the two girls.

The surrounding demons parted to make way, their eyes locking onto Ars with keen curiosity.

“Shion. Karen.”

Ars called out as he came to a halt in the center of the great hall.

Karen was the first to notice him.

“Ars!”

Her face lighting up, she sprang to her feet and threw her arms around him in a joyful embrace.

“Doesn’t look like you’re hurt,” Ars said, smiling gently. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I’m just glad you’re all right too!”

After squeezing him tightly, Karen pulled back, a bright smile on her face as she looked around.

“Are Regi and Sigi okay?”

“Yeah, they’re right here with me.”

Ars stepped aside, revealing the two petite dwarf princesses behind him.

“Regi! Sigi!” Karen cried.

“Karen-chan!” Regi called out happily.

“Karen!” Sigi beamed.

The three girls embraced, linking hands in a circle and bouncing up and down repeatedly to celebrate their reunion. As Ars watched the heartwarming scene, Shion strolled up beside him.

“Ars, I’m glad you made it. Are you wounded?”

“Yeah, not a scratch on me. I’m relieved to see you’re doing well too, Shion.”

“Mm.”

Shion nodded firmly, munching on another slice of fried tofu.

From behind Shion, the voluptuous demon woman approached with a suspicious, sycophantic grin plastered across her face.

“Heh-heh, so you’re Master Ars, eh? Name’s Gremita. A humble demon, at your service.”

“O-oh... Sounds like you took care of Karen and Shion. Thanks,” Ars replied, caught off guard.

“Think nothin’ of it! Now then—you’re the legendary Magic Essence Mimir everyone’s been talkin’ about, ain’t ya?”

Ars instinctively took a step back as she rubbed her hands together in blatant flattery.

He was completely overwhelmed by the intense, desperate fervor in her eyes.

“I do go around calling myself Magic Essence Mimir, but... sorry to disappoint, I’m not the real deal.”

Ars fully understood that he was not the true Magic Essence Mimir, yet he continued to claim the title regardless.

He had done so with the intention of smoking out the genuine article.

Lately, people like this demon woman had begun mistaking him for the real legend, but the person he actually sought had yet to show their face.

Whether his ploy was actually effective remained an open question.

“Huh? Is that so...? Well, puttin’ that aside for now, there’s somethin’ we need to discuss.”

Whether she believed him or not, Gremita switched gears without missing a beat.

“Couldja take us under your wing? We’ll do whatever we can to help you out in return, of course.”

“Whoa, hold on. Dropping that on me out of nowhere doesn’t make much sense... What’s going on?” Ars asked, bewildered.

“Allow me to explain,” Shion offered, stuffing another piece of tofu into her mouth.

Munching on her fried tofu, Shion plainly recounted everything that had transpired.

While exploring the abandoned city, she and Karen had stumbled upon Gremita’s hideout.

When Gremita’s group returned, they had nearly come to blows, but Discarded Number No. 10, Zeld, had stepped between them to defuse the fight.

“We have crossed paths before, after all. Had we harmed the companions of Magic Essence Mimir, we would have stepped squarely on a tiger’s tail. Halting the fight was the only wise choice.”

The one interjecting in that deep, rumbling baritone was Zeld himself.

“It’s been a while,” Ars remarked.

Zeld was still clearly etched into Ars’s memory.

He was the demon Ars had fought back at Christoph’s mansion—and the man he had chosen to spare.

Had Zeld harmed any innocent bystanders back then, Ars would have hunted him to the ends of the earth.

Seeing how he had protected Karen and Shion today, however, Ars knew with certainty that his decision that day had not been a mistake.

“As you know, we are of the Discarded Numbers,” Zeld explained. “However, we have had a falling out with Number One, Hajar. We are in dire need of a patron. Frankly, with our strength alone, surviving these turbulent times will prove nearly impossible.”

“...Do you intend to settle in the Magic City, then?” Ars asked.

“Surely that would be impossible,” Zeld replied with a grim shake of his head.

Across human territories—where humans and elves resided—anti-demon discrimination ran deep.

The Magic City was no exception.

A handful might manage to live quietly in hiding, but sheltering a crowd of this size was out of the question.

While the Magic Association ruled over what was known as a free city and would not officially reject demons, the sentiments of the citizenry were an entirely different matter.

Demon King Glynn was the prime embodiment of that hostility.

Having an old, bitter grudge against Discarded Number No. 1, Glynn harbored a deep-seated hatred for all demons.

That animosity had even led him to clash violently with Ars in the past over Shion, an artificial demon.

Though they fought on the same side now, that underlying hatred had not vanished.

And people who loathed demons just as fiercely as Glynn were hardly rare in the Magic City.

While Ars had no personal objection to taking them in, he couldn’t guarantee their safety. Inducting them into a newly formed guild crossed his mind, but currently he was merely staying with the Virte Guild and couldn’t make arbitrary decisions on his own.

“No, no, Master Ars! We ain’t that brazen,” Gremita quickly chimed in.

She cut in before Ars could overthink it.

“Master Ars, you’ve got connections with the Queen of the demon capital Helheim, don’tcha?”

With that single question, Ars understood what they were truly after.

In short, they wanted him to act as an intermediary.

Indeed, since Helheim was a demon city, it would be far more comfortable and infinitely safer for them than the human-dominated Magic City.

“So you want me to put in a good word with the Queen?” Ars asked.

“Spot on, spot on! Couldja please do that for us?” Gremita pleaded, leaning in.

“If that’s all you need, I don’t mind,” Ars replied readily.

Ars was inwardly taken aback by how surprisingly modest her request was.

Compared to the massive favor of sheltering Karen and Shion, it was almost too cheap a bargain.

They could easily ask for so much more... Ars thought, but neither Gremita nor Zeld pressed for anything further.

“And as thanks, I’ve got some top-notch intel to share with ya, Master Ars,” Gremita said with a grin.

“Are you sure? It feels like I’m the only one getting a good deal here.”

“You’re human, Master Ars, so you wouldn’t know,” Gremita said, her playful demeanor vanishing. “For demons, this world is truly a harsh, unforgivin’ place to survive.”

Her expression held nothing but dead seriousness.

It was no joke; that grim reality weighed heavily on every demon alive.

Recognizing the somber weight behind her words, Ars refrained from poking fun and simply gave a quiet nod.

“So just puttin’ in a word with the Queen makes you our lifesaver. We’ll cooperate however we can. Consider this intel part of that—so don’t be shy and take it.”

“...I see. All right, lay it on me then.”

“That’s the spirit! Now, like I said earlier, we took an alternate route through the tunnels so we wouldn’t bump into Discarded Number No. 1.”

“Yeah, Shion mentioned that.”

“Well, along that detour, we ran headfirst into the Earth Empire’s army. And among them... she was there.”

Gremita’s voice dropped low, a thick veneer of dread clinging to her features.

“The leader of the Imperial Five Swords—First Seat, Ceres Chevalier.”

The instant that name reached his ears, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of Ars’s lips.

Talk about a tangled web of fate... It seemed he could never truly sever his ties with the Earth Empire.

Nay, that went not just for Ars alone.

Ceres Chevalier.

The peerless warrior standing at the pinnacle of the Imperial Five Swords, and the very culprit who had captured Princess Julia and brought about the fall of the Virte Kingdom.

And at the same time, she was the younger sister of Albert—the man Ars had slain to rescue Julia.

＊

A massive army marched through the Labyrinth Corridor.

The rhythmic, disciplined crunch of military boots shook the cavernous tunnels, driving even subterranean monsters to cower in terror rather than show themselves.

The banners fluttering overhead bore the proud crest of the Earth Empire.

Leading at the very vanguard was an exceptionally striking female warrior astride a warhorse.

Her magenta hair was tied into a high ponytail that swayed gracefully like a horse’s tail.

Her tall, slender frame possessed the immaculate proportions of a model, and the pristine white military uniform she wore accentuated her striking figure all the more.

Her generous bust swelled against the fabric, straining against the confines of her uniform.

Yet despite the sensual aura she exuded, not a single soldier dared utter a frivolous word or cast a disrespectful glance.

For the frigid gaze radiating from her dignified, breathtaking features froze all desire and insolence dead in its tracks.

She was none other than the pinnacle of the Imperial Five Swords—First Seat, Ceres Chevalier.

Draped in her white uniform, she appeared as a war goddess descended upon the battlefield, exuding the suffocating aura of a divine commander who reigned as absolute master over her troops.

A masterclass of intoxicating beauty and terrifying dread—that was the strongest woman in the Earth Empire.

A mounted scout rode up alongside her.

“Commander Chevalier! My apologies, but we have lost track of the demons!”

“...Is that so?”

Without turning to look at him, Ceres gave a slight nod.

Undeterred by her icy demeanor, the soldier pressed on.

“We shall organize a search party at once and hunt them down!”

“Leave it,” Ceres commanded coldly. “Our objective is not the demons.”

“Are you certain, Commander? Our men have suffered casualties as well...”

Roughly an hour prior, the imperial vanguard had crossed paths with a group of demons.

Unable to avoid each other, a skirmish had broken out, but the demons were intimately familiar with the labyrinthine terrain. Skillfully outmaneuvering the imperial units, they had vanished into the shadows of the tunnels.

“The weak have only themselves to blame,” Ceres replied with frigid finality. “Their discipline was lacking. The injured shall be retrained from scratch once we return. Deliver that message to them.”

As the command was delivered in a cool, detached tone, a suffocating pressure settled over the air, brooking no dissent.

The soldier caught his breath and bowed his head without the slightest resistance.

"U-Understood, Commander...!" the messenger stammered, trembling under her gaze.

"More importantly, what is the status of the main force led by the Crown Prince?" Ceres asked.

Under normal circumstances, Ceres's own host would have served as the vanguard.

However, an unexpected delay just prior to departure had held up the Crown Prince's arrival, forcing Ceres to lead the second wave ahead of schedule while the prince prepared to rendezvous later down the line.

"Word is that His Highness's detachment has finally departed without further incident," the soldier reported with an exasperated shake of his head. "...Though truthfully, those elves have proven to be an utter nuisance."

"It cannot be helped," Ceres remarked coldly. "In any case, the days of us bowing to the elves are over."

The delay that had snagged the Crown Prince had been an unwelcome intervention by the elves—specifically, the Holy Knights Faction.

While the Earth Empire had discreetly laid the groundwork with the Elders Council, they had kept the other elven factions entirely in the dark. Consequently, formal protests had erupted over the empire's unilateral invasion of the Underground Empire.

In the past, the empire would have caved instantly, shouldering all blame and bowing in groveling submission.

But the modern Earth Empire was no longer the docile lapdog it once was. They were done bending the knee in powerless obedience.

Driven by the Emperor's audacious grand strategy and backed by an exceptionally competent royal lineage, the empire had spent generations honing its fangs, biding its time to break free from the suffocating patronship of the elves.

Even so, with the bulk of the empire's military might currently committed to the subterranean front, leaving their rear exposed to a surprise ambush was an unacceptable risk. That was precisely why the Crown Prince had personally received the envoys from the Holy Knights Faction, returning to the capital to orchestrate their formal audience before the Emperor.

"In the end, it all comes down to a race against time..." Ceres mused. "Once we have the Underground Empire firmly in our grasp, whatever complaints they lodge afterward will be utterly meaningless."

It was a precarious tightrope walk of a strategy.

Yet the reigning Emperor who had devised it possessed a reckless audacity unmatched by any of his predecessors.

"And what news from the first vanguard?" Ceres pressed.

"A dispatch has arrived from Second Prince Zelgius," the soldier replied crisply. "He reports that the complete subjugation of the imperial capital has succeeded without issue."

"Splendid news," Ceres murmured, nodding approvingly.

"His Highness also secured a substantial number of Earth Dragons and plans to dispatch a transport unit our way. He suggests allocating them for supply logistics in lieu of standard warhorses."

"Mount as many infantrymen on them as possible," Ceres ordered without hesitation. "If there is any way to hasten our marching pace, we would be fools not to seize it."

Warhorses were in critically short supply, the vast majority having been allocated to the Crown Prince's vanguard.

As a result, the second wave under Ceres's command was composed predominantly of foot soldiers.

Reinforcing their ranks with subterranean beasts would provide a tremendous logistical boon, significantly accelerating their march through the deep earth.

"Understood! Shall I relay the directive to the unit commanders immediately?"

"Yes. See to it at once," Ceres replied smoothly.

"Ma'am!"

Watching the courier wheel his mount around and gallop off, Ceres turned her gaze toward the opposite flank.

"How are you holding up, Auresia?" she inquired.

Riding alongside her, the female knight offered a faint, elegant smile in response.

Draped in the pristine white robes of the Holy Church over light armor, her dusk-toned skin complemented a sharp, noble countenance that radiated quiet dignity.

Standing noticeably taller than Ceres, she was a warrior woman whose slender frame bore the sword at her hip with natural grace.

The only feature setting her apart from humankind was the gentle taper of her ears—she was an elf.

Once renowned as the Third Apostle of the Holy Knights Faction in the Great Forest, she was the daughter of the late First Apostle, Wahed.

"I appreciate your concern, Lady Ceres," Auresia replied, her voice steady. "Truth be told, laying eyes upon the Labyrinth Corridor for the first time has my pulse racing with anticipation. I have scarcely had a moment to feel weary. Besides, the air down here is remarkably fresh—far clearer than I had imagined."

Auresia was accompanying this expedition as Ceres's guest general.

Following the assassination of her father at the hands of the Saint, Auresia had realized her own life was in immediate jeopardy and fled the Great Forest.

Accompanied by a handful of loyal retainers, she had sought sanctuary with Ceres, an old acquaintance.

Naturally, the Earth Empire had never breathed a single word of her defection back to the Great Forest.

Nor had they bothered to investigate how her disappearance was currently regarded within the elven realm; digging too deep into that hornets' nest risked stirring up unnecessary trouble.

Yet by sheltering her, the empire had acquired intelligence of immeasurable value.

With the head of First Apostle Wahed claimed by the Saint, the Holy Knights Faction had fractured right down the middle.

A bitter succession feud had erupted between Ninth Apostle Verg—known by his title Teisa—and the Second Apostle, with Verg currently holding the upper hand. Furthermore, Verg was aggressively expanding his reach into the Elders Council, sparking fierce friction and causing diplomatic relations between the two factions to rapidly deteriorate.

Embroiled in deep internal turmoil, the Great Forest had completely lost the bandwidth to meddle in the political affairs of neighboring nations.

It was precisely this invaluable intelligence that had emboldened the Earth Empire to launch its invasion of the Underground Empire.

Harboring a high-profile defector was undeniably fraught with political peril.

But the strategic dividends far outweighed the risk, making Auresia an indispensable dignitary whom the Earth Empire was bound to protect at all costs.

"Conditions here seem exceptionally hospitable for human settlement," Ceres observed, glancing at the cavernous surroundings.

Shielded beneath colossal layers of solid bedrock, this subterranean domain remained completely sealed off from the elements, the earth itself serving as an impenetrable fortress.

Thanks to masterfully engineered ventilation shafts, aqueducts, and an intricate labyrinth of interconnected corridors, the air never grew stagnant, and crystal-clear spring water flowed continuously throughout.

Luminescent ores and magic-stone lanterns bathed the immense thoroughfares in warm radiance, rivaling the brightness of the surface world above.

Free from the scorching heat of summer and the bitter frost of winter, inhabitants could enjoy a life of profound tranquility and unshakable stability.

Blessed with abundant subterranean minerals and self-sustaining agriculture, this realm would undoubtedly transform into a prosperous paradise where humans could labor in comfort and dwell in lasting peace.

"Is this part of the Earth Empire's colonization initiative?" Auresia asked.

"Yes. A member of the imperial royal family will be appointed to govern once we consolidate our hold," Ceres confirmed.

The ruling Emperor of the Underground Empire had already been captured by Prince Zelgius.

Ravaged by severe illness and utterly emaciated, the dwarf sovereign was reportedly on death's door, ready to expire at any moment.

All that remained was to force a ceremonial abdication and install a puppet monarch, smoothly folding the Underground Empire into the Earth Empire's domain.

Following that, massive waves of human settlers would be relocated underground to cement absolute dominion over the conquered realm.

The empire's methods were nothing if not ruthlessly thorough.

Potential figureheads for rebellion—starting with the dwarf crown prince—had been systematically purged, while influential nobles and generals were already placed under strict military surveillance.

While political preparations for the abdication were being orchestrated to maintain a veneer of legitimacy, any potential seeds of insurrection had already been crushed beneath the iron heel.

All that was left was to wring one final duty out of the dying dwarf emperor.

"What about you, Auresia? Would you like to carve out an elven sovereign domain down here?" Ceres suggested.

Given the monumental intelligence she had delivered, ceding a subterranean province to her would have been a well-deserved reward. In truth, Ceres was only half-joking.

Yet Auresia shook her head, a shadow of bitter resolve crossing her features.

"There is only one true home for my kind—the Great Forest," the elven knight declared grimly. "Once we have eradicated those filthy traitors, we shall reclaim our rightful lands. I have no desire to establish a mock kingdom in the dark."

"I see. That is a pity. It sounds rather entertaining to me," Ceres replied nonchalantly.

There was not a trace of sarcasm in her tone.

To her, this fantastical subterranean expanse was unlike anything on the surface.

Unfolding beyond layers of ancient bedrock, the breathtaking vistas felt like an exhilarating new frontier waiting to be mastered.

Her suggestion had been born of nothing more than innocent curiosity.

"I have neither the leisure nor the luxury for such diversions right now," Auresia responded stiffly.

"I understand. But rest assured," Ceres said reassuringly. "Once this campaign concludes, the Earth Empire will lend you its full, undivided support."

"Indeed. I fully intend to hold you to that promise," Auresia replied with a solemn nod.

The elven warrior inclined her head in silent assent.

Make no mistake—she had never surrendered herself as a vassal to the empire.

She had merely traded strategic intelligence as currency, buying the imperial military force she needed to retake the Great Forest.

And when the subterranean conquest drew to a close, the imperial spearhead would inevitably turn toward the Great Forest.

Under the righteous pretext of quelling elven civil unrest, they would install Auresia as the legitimate successor to the seat of First Apostle Wahed.

By hoisting her up as their figurehead, the Earth Empire sought to seize ultimate hegemony over the Great Forest.

On paper, the Earth Empire was still treated as a mere subordinate state sheltering beneath elven protection.

Centuries of smoldering humiliation had festered into an insatiable ambition to reverse the dynamic and become the rulers themselves.

Breaking the chains of vassalage—no, taking the first decisive step toward reigning supreme over the continent was the true objective behind this subterranean invasion.

It was a pure marriage of mutual convenience. War was never charity; it was the ruthless contest for power and spoils.

That said, their eventual quarry was the Great Forest. Subduing the elven homeland would not be as straightforward as toppling the dwarf empire; heavy casualties were inevitable.

Even so, with the Great Forest currently fractured by chaotic infighting, the high command of the Earth Empire was confident that victory was well within their grasp.

"Still, to think the Saint had grown capable enough to slay the First Apostle himself..." Ceres remarked with a cold smile. "I can hardly wait for our reunion."

At Ceres's offhand remark, Auresia's expression twisted into a fierce scowl as she snapped back.

"Do not misunderstand," Auresia hissed. "My father—nay, First Apostle Wahed—was murdered by the Saint's cowardly ambush! Struck in the back by a traitor, he was not even afforded the dignity of a battle!"

Auresia clenched her reins in burning frustration.

Her knuckles whitened with immense force, the leather creaking under the strain.

"He was denied even an honorable death! His severed head was tossed aside like slaughtered livestock...!"

Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, a crimson bead trickled down her chin.

"Saint Julia... and every single Apostle who sided with her... I will make them pay in blood!"

The murderous intent radiating from Auresia was so ferocious it practically distorted the surrounding air.

Watching her beside her, a momentary pang of guilt flickered across Ceres's chest.

In truth, Julia was supposed to have been brought into the custody of the Earth Empire.

Yet the one who had allowed her to escape was none other than Ceres's own brother, Albert.

Despite being granted ample opportunity to redeem his failure, he had degraded himself into a demonic fiend, only to be struck down by an unknown boy.

An absolute disgrace to the noble name of Chevalier.

There was a time I actually believed that failure was the greatest mage in the world.

The sheer foolishness of once taking pride in someone lauded as a prodigy now lingered as nothing more than a bitter, smoldering ache deep within her heart.

"Auresia, I promise you," Ceres said softly, her voice steady. "I will do everything within my power to ensure you claim your vengeance."

In a way, her foolish brother's blunders had plunged that girl into this tragic spiral.

That was a debt Ceres felt duty-bound to shoulder herself.

"You have my gratitude," Auresia spat with burning venom. "That wretched coward will die by my own blade."

While Auresia vented her hatred, Ceres held a vastly different perspective in private.

It was true that First Apostle Wahed had been caught off-guard and slain.

Yet that fatal blind spot was the natural consequence of his own arrogance—the bitter price of complacency that befell the strong.

If anything, Julia was the one who had fought with everything she had until the bitter end.

Branded as a coward was entirely unjust—Ceres understood that clearly, yet she had no intention of voicing it aloud here.

A woman trapped in a tempest of burning rage would never listen to reason anyway.

Offering a wry smile in response to the elf's simmering bloodlust, Ceres shifted her gaze toward the depths of the corridor.

Beyond the endless gloom that stretched ahead lay a critical trial they first had to overcome.

In truth, the Earth Empire had another secret objective in motion.

A clash far more brutal than the war against the Underground Empire—a blood-soaked nightmare where rivers of gore would flow—awaited them just beyond the horizon.

"Even so... we must keep moving forward," Ceres whispered to herself.

The gears of fate were already in motion.

There was no turning back now.

Which meant there was only one path: onward.

Bearing the weight of whatever sacrifices lay ahead, they would press relentlessly forward.

All to grasp the final ray of light waiting at the journey's end—to seize true prosperity and peace.

＊

Basking in the gentle warmth of the southern realm, a sprawling verdant kingdom known as the Great Forest stretched across the land.

It was a sacred sanctuary inhabited exclusively by the elven race.

Standing majestically in the eastern territory was the Holy Temple, governed by the High Priestess Faction.

Its patinated verdigris roofs curved in graceful arcs resembling layered foliage, draped with hanging vines that swayed gently in the breeze. Passing through the grand archway sculpted from living, intertwined tree roots revealed a tranquil sanctuary of prayer filled with cascading sunlight, soft wind, and the aromatic fragrance of sacred herbs.

Even deeper within—past layers of powerful boundary barriers at the innermost sanctum—rested the most sacred site in all the Great Forest: the Spring of Life.

Ancient legend held that when the first High Priestess offered her prayers to God at this very spot, holy water began to bubble forth from the earth for the first time.

Ever since, the spring had continuously welled with pure, crystal water—healing wounds, purging impurities, and cleansing the soul. Behind the spring, a colossal sacred tree spread its massive roots, beneath whose canopy shrine maidens known as the Divine Miko offered daily devotions.

Floating serenely upon the glassy surface of the spring was a solitary woman.

Her perfectly proportioned figure, sharp yet ethereally soft features, and translucent silk robe shimmering with the water's rippling reflections made her appear mystical and breathtaking—like a divine spirit descended from the heavens.

She was the supreme authority of the Holy Temple—the High Priestess.

As her pale arms stroked through the water, her tresses drifted as if dissolving into the holy spring, the entire pool rippling gently in resonance with her movements. Drifting along the current, she approached the water's edge, and the moment her wet fingertips touched the smooth stone rim, the very air of the sanctuary seemed to tremble in reverent awe.

The instant she rose and broke the surface of the water, the surrounding Divine Miko paused their prayers and hurried forward with large silk towels in hand.

Clad in holy water and draped in beams of descending sunlight, her emerging figure looked truly worthy of being hailed as the incarnation of a goddess.

"The divine oracle has descended," the High Priestess announced, her voice calm and absolute. "The time has come for us to make our move."

The moment her quiet words echoed through the chamber, the air froze solid.

A breathless silence fell, so profound that even drawing breath felt like a sacrilege.

One second, two seconds, three... An eternity of stunned stillness held the room captive.

A faint smile gracing her lips, the High Priestess lightly clapped her hands together once.

It was by no means a forceful strike.

Yet within the hushed stillness of the sacred sanctum, the crisp snap echoed like a clap of thunder.

"I-Is that truly so, Your Holiness?!"

The First Divine Miko was the first to snap back to her senses.

Her voice trembled with boundless ecstasy, while the three other shrine maidens clasped hands in jubilation, offering fervent prayers of gratitude before the divine statue enshrined at the roots of the sacred tree.

Watching them with a cool, detached gaze, the High Priestess voiced her next question.

"Tell me—are the preparations in order?"

Pausing her prayer, the First Divine Miko bowed respectfully before replying.

"Yes, Your Holiness. Everything has been arranged precisely according to your divine commands. We were merely awaiting the sacred word of God."

"And what of the Earth Empire?"

"Just as Your Holiness foresaw, the Underground Empire appears to have been occupied without offering any meaningful resistance."

"Splendid... That is most satisfactory. And the Elders Council—have they still not caught on?"

"Caught on, Your Holiness?" the priestess asked, tilting her head in slight confusion.

In response to her head-tilt, the High Priestess offered a gentle, knowing smile.

"To the fact that the Earth Empire's spearhead is actually pointed right at them."

"Ah, regarding that matter, the Elders remain entirely blinded by the promised spoils of the Earth Empire's conquest. Little do they know the very next sword swing will sever their own necks... It seems those decrepit old knights have truly gone senile."

"How foolish," the High Priestess chuckled softly. "When I saw through it ages ago... Or perhaps I should praise the Earth Empire for playing their hand so cleverly."

Everyone assumed the Earth Empire's invasion was solely aimed at conquering the Underground Empire.

Yet their true objective lay elsewhere—breaking free from the hegemony of the Great Forest and flipping the board to seize supreme control.

Neither the Holy Knights Faction nor the Elders Council had the slightest inkling of what was coming.

"It is only natural for simple minds to obsess over the process, but failing to perceive the true essence of things always invites disaster. I arrived at the answer from the very beginning, yet everyone else remains hopelessly ensnared along the way."

Blinded by the immediate clash before their eyes, they completely failed to see the venomous fangs lurking in the shadows.

"No matter. Let them indulge in their sweet delusions a little longer. When harsh reality finally shatters their dreams, it will present the perfect opportunity for me to extend a saving hand. When that time comes, those old fools will grovel in gratitude and slip the collar around their own necks without the slightest resistance."

"However, Your Holiness, what about the Demon Kings? We have refrained from interfering with them in any way."

"There is no need for concern; the pieces are already in motion," the High Priestess replied smoothly. "By now, four Demon Kings—led by the First Crown himself—should be gathering and marching toward the Underground Empire as we speak."

"...Truly magnificent, Your Holiness. In that case, we should have nothing to worry about," the First Divine Miko beamed in admiration.

Singing her praises, the head shrine maiden proceeded with her next report.

"Furthermore, I have one additional matter to report. A contingent of the Holy Knights Faction departed just moments ago in response to a direct summons from the Saint."

Until recently, both the Elders Council and the Holy Knights Faction had mobilized vast armies within the Great Forest.

The spark had been a rumor that the Earth Empire intended to invade the elven homeland.

Spurred by the Elders Council mustering troops, the Holy Knights Faction had grown vigilant, rallying their scattered forces to prepare for an all-out clash.

In reality, however, the Elders Council had never mobilized a single soldier against the humans; they had secretly allied themselves with the Earth Empire all along.

They had staged a deceptive charade to give the Earth Empire an opening to strike the Underground Empire unhindered, promised lucrative territorial and commercial concessions in return once the dust settled.

Having been kept in the dark about this treasonous pact, the Holy Knights Faction had erupted in furious outrage upon discovering the truth.

By all rights, that burning indignation ought to have been directed straight at the Elders Council.

Yet with no actual blood spilt or physical harm inflicted, all they possessed was the bitter sting of having been duped.

Consequently, they lacked both the justification and the mandate to draw their blades against their own kin.

Thus, redirecting their wrath toward the human empire, they had resolved to dispatch an elite contingent into the Underground Empire at Saint Julia's urgent request.

"So Julia has made her move after all..." the High Priestess mused, a faint smirk touching her lips. "I imagine she intends to settle scores with the 1st Seat."

"It is only natural that personal vengeance drives her, given that her homeland was utterly ruined by their hands..." the priestess murmured with understanding.

"Indeed. And with this, the eyes of the entire world will be riveted upon the Underground Empire."

"Was that not precisely why Your Holiness pulled the strings to arrange it?"

"Quite so. Though I must admit, not every single piece moved strictly according to my design."

"Even so, everything remains firmly aligned with Your Holiness's grand design thus far," the First Divine Miko assured her.

At the shrine maiden's words, the High Priestess let a subtle smile grace her lips.

"You are remarkably talkative today," she observed teasingly.

As if flushed with feverish excitement, the First Divine Miko's cheeks glowed a bright, impassioned crimson.

"How could I not be?! We have finally... finally come this far!"

Each word resonated with fervent intensity, her voice swelling with barely contained ecstasy.

"The long-cherished dream of our High Priestess Faction! Our God shall soon awaken!"

Behind her, the other shrine maidens were equally swept up in religious euphoria, nodding vigorously in solemn devotion.

"If I may ask, Your Holiness, how is it that you remain so composed in the face of such momentous glory?" the head priestess asked, tilting her head in wonder.

To the genuinely bewildered girl, the High Priestess returned a faint, enigmatic smirk.

"Oh? Do I truly appear so calm to you?"

In truth, the High Priestess was experiencing her own quiet exhilaration.

Her lifelong schemes were bearing fruit, her ultimate ambition on the verge of manifesting into reality.

Right here and now, she could feel the culmination of centuries within her grasp.

"Rest easy. My heart beats with the very same fervor as yours," she murmured.

With those words, the High Priestess turned and strode toward the sanctuary entrance with fluid, unwavering grace.

"Follow me."

"At once, Your Holiness!"

The Divine Miko responded in unison with resolute nods, falling into step behind their supreme leader.

"Everything is proceeding exactly as I foresaw," the High Priestess whispered to herself. "Not a single detail has escaped my notice."

The Earth Empire, the Holy Church, the Magic Association, and all the surrounding nations...

Every last one of them was captivated by the spectacle in the Underground Empire, utterly blind to what was truly unfolding here.

Even that legendary Magic Essence Mimir had narrowed his [Hearing], his senses tethered elsewhere.

"Now that we have reached this stage, all that remains is to pluck the ripe fruit from the branch."

Bathed in the shafts of heavenly light descending from the grand vault above, the High Priestess's smile widened into a dark, triumphant grin.

"Come... Let us venture outside into the world for the first time in an age."

Shattering centuries of seclusion, the High Priestess took her first step out into the wider world.

---

Toc