Lady Isavel doesn’t care whether they live or die, does she?
This question flashed through Meilin’s mind, but before she could ponder it further, Leanna and the others surrounded her and led her to a safe place.
Isavel’s fingertips brushed along the edge of her longsword, a faint killing intent flickering in her eyes.
The monster before her had been trapped in the Golden Dungeon’s tenth floor for years, deeply corrupted by Abyssal Magic, gradually transforming into a form resembling an Abyssal Demon.
Its magic level had reached 85.
At such a level, if it managed to break free from the Golden Dungeon, it would spell disaster for the entire Aos Empire.
But unfortunately for the beast, it had met her.
Raising her longsword, Isavel took a deep breath. A Power Storm began to swirl on the tenth floor of the Golden Dungeon, and at the storm’s core was the blade of her longsword.
Sensing a deadly crisis, the monster backed away two steps in terror.
Yet at that moment, the blade descended.
Contrary to what Leanna and the others had imagined, the sword fell silently; no roar, no clash, only a suffocating stillness enveloped the surroundings.
Within that silence, the monster was cleaved in two from top to bottom.
Without any struggle, it lost its life in an instant.
“Move forward. There are no more such monsters on this tenth floor.”
Leaving those words behind, Isavel vanished from sight.
She had come swiftly, and left just as quickly, like a gust of wind.
Leanna did not relax the moment Isavel claimed she had slain the monster.
Cautiously, she approached the bisected creature and only allowed herself to breathe out once she confirmed it was truly dead.
Soon after, she was left in awe of Isavel’s power.
Following the cut along the monster’s body, she saw a thin crack spreading across the ground.
The terrifying part was, even with her flashlight raised, she couldn’t see where the fissure ended.
Could the Saintess really have cleaved open this entire tenth floor with a single strike?
The absurd thought flashed through her mind, and a faint longing appeared in her eyes.
When would she be able to reach the Saintess’s level?
On the other side, Meilin was silent.
In her heart, the figure protecting her before kept shifting—one moment it was Isavel, the next it was Selis—before they merged into one again.
Though her rational mind told her Isavel could not be Selis, she couldn’t help but wonder.
What if? What if they really were the same person?
……
In the Divine Oracle Hall, Queen Flandre was growing anxious.
The time had already passed the second segment of the Bouquet of the Hundred Flowers ceremony and was now due for the third.
Yet strangely, Saintess Isavel, who was supposed to appear by now, had still not arrived.
Not only her, but also Duchess Nola, who was escorting the bouquet, was nowhere to be seen.
“Your Majesty, do you think something has happened to the Saintess?”
“Don’t worry, she will come.”
Flandre soothed the restless nobles while sending her maid to find Saintess Isavel’s maid, Renia, to inquire about Isavel’s whereabouts.
To her surprise, Renia was not in the Oracle Hall either.
A marquis’s wife, elegantly dressed, half-covered her face with a fan as she whispered to a count beside her, “Is our time not precious? Isavel… her attitude is far too arrogant.”
A young viscount chuckled and chimed in, “With both Saintesses absent, could there be internal strife?”
“Not impossible. Otherwise, Saintess Selis wouldn’t have left in such a hurry.”
“Likely so. If I were Isavel, I wouldn’t want another new Saintess in the Oracle Hall competing for power either.”
Isavel’s delay had worn down the nobles’ patience, and soon they began whispering nonsense and even slandering her behind her back.
In the past, Saintesses of the Oracle Hall appeared pure but were often intertwined with noble interests, frequently granting favors to them behind the scenes.
But the current Saintess Isavel was different.
She desired nothing, and throughout the empire, only Queen Flandre was familiar with her.
This infuriated the nobles connected to the Oracle Hall, who eagerly wished for Isavel’s immediate downfall to install a more compliant Saintess.
Unbeknownst to them, as they spewed their insults, Queen Flandre narrowed her eyes, committing each of their faces to memory.
Then she smiled.
“It seems that long years of peace and comfortable living have sharpened your tongues to the skill of market gossips, while your knees and hearts have stiffened, forgetting how to show reverence.”
“You complain about waiting? You can’t endure waiting a little longer for the goddess’s envoy? Is this the refinement befitting nobility?”
“As I recall, at the empire’s founding, nobles were noble because they were graceful, kind, and benevolent—not arrogant, spoiled, and foolish.”
“If any among you cannot even maintain the most basic silence and patience, I would gladly help remove your Crown of Nobility, strip you of the Divine Protection of the Hall of Oracles, and send you to live as refugees in foreign lands, tasting that so-called ‘freedom.’”
The entire hall fell into a deathly silence.
The marquis’s wife who had complained turned pale and nearly faltered in her stance, while the viscount bowed his head deeply, avoiding the queen’s gaze.
Only when all the nobles had lowered their heads did Flandre nod in satisfaction and take her seat once more.
Yet those who had mocked Isavel were now firmly placed on her list.
As queen, some decisions were necessary to set examples.
These nobles would be at the top of that list.
“Thank you for waiting.”
Not long after, Isavel’s voice echoed at the door of the Oracle Hall, easing Flandre’s worries.
But soon, new concerns surfaced.
“Viel… the bouquet…”
As far as she knew, the Bouquet of the Hundred Flowers was still with Duchess Nola, who had yet to arrive.
Clearly something had gone wrong.
Without the bouquet, what could Viel offer the goddess?
She regretted having agreed to let Viel entrust the bouquet to Nola for escort.
These outsiders—none of them had good intentions!
“It’s alright. I have a new one.”
Just as Flandre’s worry deepened, Isavel chuckled softly.
With a flick of her hand, a new Bouquet of the Hundred Flowers appeared in her palm.
The faint floral scent brightened Flandre’s eyes as she loosened her grip on Viel’s sleeve in relief, understanding the situation at once.
Turning with a hint of mock anger, she said, “So, you had prepared this all along!”
Viel wrapped her arm around the queen’s waist and leaned close to her ear with a soft laugh, “Of course. When have I ever disappointed you?”
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