Inside the Saintess’s Bedchamber, after their alluring dalliance had concluded, a rosy glow bathed Flandre’s lovely face, and a series of strawberry marks adorned her snow-white skin.
Her delicate hand gently brushed across her lower abdomen.
Lying on the Saintess’s bed, she seemed to have already begun considering the next generation.
After all, compared to being the Empress of the Empire, she actually preferred being the Saintess’s wife.
However… she was somewhat hesitant.
Becoming the Empress of the Empire was certainly grand, but it was also a shackle.
She did not enjoy being the Empress, so would her child?
Was it really right to press the Empire’s heavy responsibilities onto her so early?
In the middle of the night, Flandre frowned, beginning to ponder the future.
But soon, she rubbed her temples and gave up on her thoughts.
With a beauty at her side, contemplating the future felt like a waste of the current moment.
Silence returned to the Bedchamber, broken only by their light, shallow breathing.
Moonlight spilled over the disheveled sheets, tracing the soft curves of her and Isavel’s bodies.
Flandre lay on her side, her fingers idly twining around the ends of Isavel’s hair.
Her earlier laziness was gradually replaced by a hint of seriousness.
She spoke softly, breaking the stillness.
“The weapons forged using the Pure Heart have been completed.”
Isavel’s half-closed eyes slowly opened.
She looked at Flandre, a flash of surprise in her gaze. “So soon?”
“Yes.”
Flandre nodded and propped herself up.
“This time, I commissioned the Imperial Senate to forge them. The smiths chosen are the most powerful in the entire Empire, and the Senate has promised to assist us with all their might.”
Isavel sat up as well, the quilt sliding down to her waist. She keenly caught the key point.
“The requirement?”
How could the Imperial Senate help her enhance the strength of the Rose Knights without conditions?
She knew the nature of those old fools very well.
In their eyes, saving the world was important, but their own interests were equally significant.
Flandre’s fingertips traced mindless patterns on the covers.
Then, she moved closer to Isavel, resting her head on the other woman’s shoulder.
Simultaneously, her fingers slid beneath the quilt and onto Isavel’s waist.
“They said they need to test the capabilities of the Rose Knights.”
Hearing this, a mocking curve formed at the corner of Isavel’s mouth, and her gaze sharpened.
“Oh? It seems they don’t quite believe the Rose Knights have the strength to save the world.”
“Are they only pinning their hopes on them because of the Goddess’s Oracle?”
With a soft hum, Isavel’s delicate body trembled.
She then reached out with her left hand, cupping Flandre’s cheek and pushing the Empress back onto the bed once more.
“Then let them test us. The capabilities of the Rose Knights are far beyond their imagination.”
Outside, the night was deep. Isavel’s voice carried an unquestionable confidence.
Meanwhile, with a slight movement of her fingers, Flandre blushed and was forced to arch her back.
Within the cold Saintess’s Bedchamber, alluring sounds echoed once again.
As the Empress of the Empire, Flandre did not actually know exactly how capable the Rose Knights were, but she knew the capabilities of the Oracle Maiden from head to toe.
……
After multiple dalliances with Flandre, Isavel eventually closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep. However, this time, she had a dream.
Her surroundings in the dream were an endless darkness, where light and sound seemed nonexistent.
She was not standing on solid ground, but on a “water surface” that was eerily calm.
Every faint breath she took sent out circles of nearly invisible ripples beneath her feet.
‘This place is…’
Following her voice, a profound silhouette emerged faintly in the distant darkness. Its appearance brought the only beam of light into this black void.
As time passed, the figure drifted slowly toward her, carrying an ancient desolation and an ineffable pressure.
Even Isavel, who had reached the peak of the Demigod rank, felt her own insignificance when facing it.
The figure finally spoke, its voice ethereal and misty, echoing directly in the depths of her consciousness with an inexplicable feeling.
“Viel… Viel…”
Isavel watched the approaching figure warily, her body tensing as she instinctively took a defensive stance within the darkness.
“Who are you?”
The figure stopped not far in front of her. Suddenly, a light breeze blew through the darkness.
With the swaying of the figure’s hair and dress, Isavel realized its gender.
The ethereal voice rang out again, possessing a power that soothed the heart yet felt strangely distant. “The world calls me the Goddess.”
“Goddess?”
Isavel’s pupils contracted slightly, her face reflecting a mix of surprise and awe.
Even as the Saintess of the Oracle Hall, the Goddess was still a legendary existence to her.
After all, for successive Saintesses, the only way to communicate with the Goddess was almost exclusively through Oracles.
Isavel was experiencing this type of dream-like Oracle for the first time.
Of course, she could not rule out the possibility that the figure before her was not the Goddess, but a Demon in disguise.
Isavel relaxed her posture slightly, but the confusion in her eyes did not vanish.
She bowed slightly in salute and said, “Do you need something from me?”
The outline of the figure seemed to fluctuate, and its voice took on a hint of urgency. The lingering pity in its tone grew heavier.
“The Abyssal Dragon is nearly fully awakened. You must sever the roots it left in the Abyssal Ancient Battlefield before it fully revives. Otherwise, once it truly awakens, the mortal world will cease to exist…”
Before the voice could fade, Isavel suddenly felt a sharp bout of dizziness, as if a needle had pierced her brain, stirring her memories!
Simultaneously, an incredibly terrifying image surfaced uncontrollably before her eyes—
A land of blood. A massive, blood-colored dragon shadow, large enough to blot out the firmament, flashed across the sky.
Wherever it passed, scorching lava poured from the heavens like blood. The aura of destruction surged toward her!
In the blink of an eye, the mortal world had transformed into a literal purgatory.
Isavel groaned, instinctively clutching her forehead as her face turned pale.
The vision vanished in an instant, but the tremor brought by that dragon shadow was deeply branded into her mind.
She looked up, her dark eyes filled with depth, her voice tinged with confusion.
“Where is the Abyssal Ancient Battlefield?!”
However, the figure had already begun to turn thin, as if it would merge into the surrounding darkness at any moment.
Her voice grew faint, drifting away with a sense of fated helplessness.
“Someone will tell you…”
*Plink— *
Like a drop of water falling into a lake, the figure vanished completely.
The endless darkness dissolved. When Isavel woke again, she found herself still lying in her bedchamber, holding the Empress, Flandre, who was fast asleep.
‘The Abyssal Ancient Battlefield?’
Frowning slightly, Isavel fell into deep thought.
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