Kiran Kingdom. Royal Capital. The Prime Minister’s Estate.
Inside the opulently lit palace, a grand ball was in full swing. Crystal chandeliers, brilliant as diamonds, turned the midnight sky into day. To the rhythm of elegant music, gentlemen and ladies in exquisite attire glided across the dance floor.
On the second-floor balcony, a middle-aged man in a formal suit, wearing a thick mithril chain around his neck, swirled a glass of wine while looking down at the crowd. This was the current Prime Minister and Prince Regent, Duke Montague.
“Prime Minister,” a tall, thin attendant whispered, approaching him. “Our mole in Abundance City has an urgent report.”
The Duke squinted and drained his glass in one gulp. “Did they finally drag that man Green down?” He took the communication crystal, pressing it with a smirk. “Stubborn fool. Back in the capital, he actually dared to reject my olive branch. He was nothing but a fallen country noble anyway…”
BEEP—
The sharp, piercing screech of the crystal cut off his thoughts. Montague frowned. “Well? Is Green—”
“Commander Green is dead, but that’s not the point! Your Grace, it’s a disaster!” A panicked voice screamed from the other end. “The monster… the witch! She’s heading for the capital! She’s coming for your estate!”
“Even Archbishop Lawrence was no match for her!” The voice grew shrill. “Your Highness, prepare for the worst! That lunatic has broken past the limits of mortality!”
Lawrence defeated? Broken the limits?
Montague was a man of cold logic. He immediately synthesized the keywords. “Green’s goddaughter?” As the actual ruler of the kingdom, he knew Green’s circle intimately. In fact, if not for Lawrence’s constant interference, Green would have died a thousand times over.
“That girl Alice… she fell and joined the Withered Cult?” Montague set his glass down calmly and loosened his collar. “Is the Envoy I sent still alive?”
“Uh… technically,” the mole stammered. “But death would be a mercy. Anyway, My Lord—”
“I’ll take care of his family. As for you, from this moment on, you are my personal representative in Abundance City.”
“Yes! Thank you, Your Grace!”
Click. The Prime Minister hung up and rubbed his chin. “Stop the ball immediately,” he ordered the attendant with chilling precision. “And notify those lords to gather at the estate at once.”
“Does that include the Grand Marshal?”
“Naturally.” Montague looked out at the starlit sky. “Tell them a powder keg acting as a vessel for an Evil God is coming to shatter our peace. For honor and justice, we must eradicate all evil.” The ruler of the kingdom traced a cross over his chest with mock piety. “Even if it requires… a certain amount of sacrifice.”
BOOM!!!
Beneath the endless night, a streak of light tore through the atmosphere toward the capital. The figure was wrapped in a shroud of darkness, radiating an ominous aura so potent the surrounding space began to crack and dissolve.
“Montague… Prime Minister…” Alice’s voice sounded hollow, like someone caught in a dream they couldn’t wake from. “Kill you. Kill you. Kill you.”
She stopped. In just a few hours, she had traversed the kingdom. Looking down at the sprawling, wealthy metropolis, Alice felt nothing.
Godfather is dead. What does the beauty of this world have to do with me?
With absolute indifference, she raised her hand. “You all… shall die.”
She plummeted toward the most affluent district of the capital—the Prime Minister’s Palace. The gargantuan mana that would have burned any other vessel felt natural to her now. As she descended, a terrifying chill saturated the estate, dragging the mansion into a separate, withered dimension of her making.
CRASH!!!
The reinforced steel gates shattered into millions of shards as she simply waved her hand. She walked through the magnificent corridors, her eyes fixed on her goal. She didn’t need a map. Her soul, now ascended to a higher dimension, “knew” exactly where her enemy was.
She saw him.
“Every person who hurt my Godfather must die,” Alice declared quietly, as if stating a universal truth.
“Is that so?”
On the high dais, a figure was leisurely adding ice to a fresh glass of wine. Clink. Duke Montague looked at her with amusement. “Lords,” he projected his voice into the seemingly empty hall, “you see now what kind of monster Green—that trusted subordinate of Archbishop Lawrence—has raised.”
“You are all pillars of this kingdom, renowned throughout the human world. Faced with a monster created by a cult, shouldn’t we act for the peace of mankind?”
His question was met with a heavy sigh.
“Sigh.” A white-haired old man carrying a plain wooden sword stepped out of the shadows. He looked at Alice with a pained expression. “So you’re that fool Green’s goddaughter? It’s a tragedy… I suppose, technically, I am your grand-master.”
The old man opened his eyes, and two bolts of lightning-like intent locked onto Alice. For the first time since gaining her power, Alice felt a genuine threat.
The Sword Saint. Peak Legend.
“You are the Chief Paladin of the Capital’s Temple,” Alice said, her voice echoing from another realm.
Whoosh— Another figure appeared. A man in heavy plate armor, wielding a massive spear and draped in a dragon-skin cloak. The Grand Marshal. Peak Legend.
“Your Graces,” Montague bowed slightly. “Please, witness the result of Lawrence’s ‘oversight.'”
“Evil God,” the Grand Marshal’s voice boomed. “The human world does not allow your desecration!”
Desecration? Alice laughed.
“You can’t save him!” she hissed, glaring at Montague.
She threw her arms wide, and the power of the Abyss flooded the hall, bypassing all magical defenses. Screams erupted from the side chambers as Montague’s staff and family were systematically extinguished by the withered energy. Yet, even as he heard the cries of his own kin, Montague remained expressionless. He even let out a weird, unsettling smile.
“She has lost her humanity, hasn’t she, Lord Sword Saint?” Montague asked.
“Forgive me, Green,” the old Sword Saint muttered, his posture sharpening. “But I cannot risk the descent of a God.”
BOOM— The Sword Saint moved. Simultaneously, the Grand Marshal lunged with his spear. Two suffocating forces closed in on Alice.
But Alice was faster.
In a blur of shadow, she bypassed the two legends and appeared directly in front of Montague. “Die!”
Her hand, wreathed in the power of the Withered Cult, thrust toward the Duke’s chest. The space around her cracked like glass.
One second. Two seconds. Five seconds.
Duke Montague stood perfectly still. Unharmed.
“My dear ‘Goddess,'” the Prime Minister said lightly, “what made you think I was a helpless mortal?”
KABOOM!!!
A surge of power equal to the two Peak Legends erupted from the Duke.
Grand Magus. Peak Legend.
Alice was now trapped between three Peak Legends. However, facing the most powerful trio in the kingdom, her expression didn’t waver. Instead, a sickly, blissful smile touched her lips.
“Good. Very good.” Alice looked up, her eyes burning with a terrifying light. “Godfather… it seems I will be with you again very, very soon.”