Chapter 87: No Distinction Between You and Me

“Robert, sir!”

No matter how the maid called out, Robert was lying on the ground, unconscious.

“All right, stop yelling. It’s giving me a headache.”

The Demon wore a mocking, cat-playing-with-mouse smile, and waved its hand, saying, “Hurry up, get on with it. Kill this Queen, and you’ll be the hero who brought the Demon’s reign upon mankind!”

At its command, the Fire Ring trapping Franndo suddenly shrank, a scorching wave of heat rushing toward her, while behind her the monster let out a deafening roar, raising its Claw and slowly advancing on Franndo.

“Your Majesty!”

The personal maid’s sword hand trembled violently. Faced with such desperate odds, her courage was draining from her eyes—but even so, at this moment, she still stood in front of Franndo.

But in the next second, the monster swung its arm casually, swatting the maid away. She crashed into the ruins to the side, her fate unknown.

Facing the oncoming monster, Franndo clenched her fists tightly, forcing herself not to show any sign of fear.

Then, she closed her eyes and bowed her proud head ever so slightly.

It was not surrender—she simply refused to let the enemy see her last moment of weakness.

In her mind flashed the Empire’s Territory, her unfinished Ideal, and… that cold, frosty face that haunted her thoughts.

Isavel…

Silently repeating that name in her heart, Franndo sensed the change in the air currents around her. The monster approaching her raised its Claw, about to tear her to pieces.

The Demon turned its back, not bothering to watch. This was its habit—showing its back to an enemy on the brink of despair always gave it the greatest thrill.

But just as it expected this to go as smoothly as usual, it waited and waited—yet did not catch the scent of Queen Flandre’s blood in the air.

Cold.

“What’s going on? Why hasn’t she been killed yet?”

Speaking, it turned around—and the instant it saw what had happened, a chill swept over its entire body.

There was an indescribably holy Divine Light Shield enveloping Queen Flandre. No matter how the monster attacked, it did not waver in the slightest.

“What is this?”

While the Demon was still pondering, time itself seemed to freeze. A pitch-black longsword, brimming with terrifying Magic, descended from the night sky like a spear of judgment—without warning!

It struck true, piercing through the monster that had raised its Claw.

No scream. No struggle.

In that utter, absolute darkness, the monster’s huge body began to collapse from the Claw, scattering into countless sparkling motes of light, utterly annihilated, leaving not a trace of ash behind.

The General Robert who had been dragged by the monster, and the maid in the ruins, were gently lifted by a soft power and placed safely in a corner.

This sudden miracle froze the Demon’s mocking smile on its face, replacing it with utter terror and disbelief.

Its neck stiff, it forced itself to look up.

There, atop the ruined walls of the fortress, a black-clad figure stood silently in the whistling night wind.

Her black hair danced wildly in the killing wind, and her long black dress snapped and fluttered. Isavel hovered in mid-air, surrounded by visible vortexes of Magic.

Her gaze was slightly lowered, looking down upon the Demon.

The eyes that were always so deep and unfathomable were now icy cold, swirling with such killing intent that even the air seemed to freeze.

“Oracle Hall… the S-Saintess?!”

The Demon’s voice, warped by fear, rose to a shrill pitch. The Abyssal aura on its body fluctuated wildly under this pure Magic oppression, as if encountering its nemesis.

It had previously disguised itself as the Empire official Pless, so it knew all too well how terrifying the Oracle Maiden was.

It had acted now, betting that the Saintess could not possibly arrive in time…

But—what was this?

Isavel had no interest in the Demon’s inner thoughts. She simply raised her right hand, her fingertip pointing at the Demon.

“Demon, die.”

Her voice was calm and emotionless, yet carried the absolute authority of fate itself.

A beam of pure black light shot from her fingertip—so fast it defied the limits of sight—devouring the moonlight.

The Demon didn’t even have time to react. Just as it tried to summon the Abyss’ power to flee, the silver light had already pierced its brow.

But it should be fine—its regeneration was powerful. It couldn’t possibly die so easily…

That’s what it thought, yet terror twisted its expression even further.

Because under the power of that beam, its dark red body began to disintegrate like stardust, and the rebirth granted by the Abyss mysteriously fell silent.

“Impossible… impossible…”

Only gods, and those Blessed by the Goddess, could truly kill them!

Why? Why could the Saintess of the Oracle Hall do this too?!

Could she also be… one Blessed by the Goddess?!

That was the last thought it had. As the night wind swept in, its body completely turned to starlight and disappeared forever into the darkness.

From the Saintess’ descent to the Demon’s annihilation, only two or three breaths had passed. The desperate scene from before had been completely overturned.

The Fire Ring trapping Franndo had collapsed the moment the Saintess arrived. She stood there, staring dazedly up at the figure in the sky—like a Night Goddess descending.

Her heart, after a brief stop, began to pound madly in her chest, sending waves of numbness and emotion through her.

The enormous shock of survival left her head spinning, almost unable to stand.

She never imagined that, in her most desperate moment, Isavel would come to her rescue once again—like a goddess descending from above.

And not only that, but that indescribable Divine Light Shield…

She instinctively touched her back. When the shield appeared, she had felt a burning heat there, as if a vast Magic was surging from her back.

It was Isavel—she had left a life-saving Magic upon her.

Isavel’s figure slowly descended from the sky, landing lightly before Franndo.

Her black robes brushed across the bloodstained ground, yet remained spotless.

Her gaze swept over Franndo’s slightly pale face and those eyes that, at this moment, reflected nothing but herself.

Shock, confusion, gratitude… Isavel could read all those emotions in Franndo’s eyes, and beneath them, she glimpsed a deep, hidden longing and love.

“Seems I arrived just in time.”

She spoke lightly, breaking the silence. Her tone gave away neither joy nor anger, but carried a barely noticeable hint of teasing.

Franndo opened her mouth but found her throat too dry to speak.

All her forced composure, all her pride—before this woman, they melted into nothing.

She could only look at her deeply, swallowing down all the shock, gratitude, and the even deeper, more turbulent emotions within her heart.

She was the Queen of the Aos Empire. Before the shattered fortress, she could not reveal any weakness.

Yet tears still trickled from the corners of her eyes.

“It’s all right now.”

Isavel’s voice was as calm as ever, but in the roaring night wind, it entered Franndo’s ears with clarity, completely unraveling the Queenly composure she had tried so hard to maintain.

“Weil…”

Franndo choked out her name, and then, unable to contain the flood of emotion from her narrow escape, she lunged forward, throwing her arms around Isavel.

At the same time, she buried her tear-stained face deep in the other woman’s pale, soft, lavender-scented neck.

At this moment, she was no longer the Queen of the Aos Empire, no longer the once-powerful Empire Princess—just a woman rescued from despair.

Her shoulders trembled, arms holding tight, like a drowning person clinging to the only piece of driftwood.

Isavel’s body stiffened for a moment.

Accustomed to dominance and distance, she was not used to such direct and passionate contact—especially with Franndo’s warm tears wetting her skin, bringing a strange and unfamiliar sensation.

In a daze, she recalled the days when Franndo was still the Empire Princess.

Isavel, striving to become the Oracle Maiden, had tirelessly practiced the rituals and Magic of the Saintess, while Franndo, forced to struggle for power by her elder brother’s schemes, fought desperately for her position.

It was because of that she had saved Franndo several times. Each time she did, Franndo had liked to cling to her—always a little crybaby.

Who would have thought, after all these years, even after becoming Queen, she still hadn’t changed this habit.

Isavel was silent for a moment, then, feeling the trembling form in her arms, finally raised her hand and, as before, gently patted Franndo’s back.

The movement wasn’t exactly gentle, but it brought a deep sense of comfort.

After a long while, Franndo’s emotions finally began to calm.

Embarrassed, she released her hold, her cheeks flushed, yet she couldn’t bear to move too far away.

She only lowered her head, gripping the hem of her dress, at a loss for what to do.

Isavel’s gaze drifted past her, toward the fortress, where monsters still rampaged against the defenders, and beyond, where the entrance to the Caesar Dungeon still radiated surging Magic.

“I’ll handle the rest.”

She stepped forward, her body rising into the air once more. This time, the aura surrounding her was no longer a focused killing intent, but a vast, goddess-like pressure enveloping the entire battlefield!

She didn’t even chant a lengthy incantation. She simply stretched out her right hand toward the entrance of the Caesar Dungeon and gripped the air.

“Seal.”

Her words became law.

In an instant, a soul-freezing cold spread from the dungeon entrance!

Earth, air, burning flames, charging monsters—everything in sight was instantly covered in thick, dark blue ice!

The ice spread out from the Caesar Dungeon, all the way to the Third Fortress.

The ferocious monsters, caught mid-roar, froze into ice sculptures, their life completely extinguished. The surging power of the Abyss was cut off at the source—silenced in a breath.

The once-chaotic battlefield fell silent, transformed in a few seconds into a frozen world.

The Empire’s soldiers stood there in stunned disbelief, finding themselves unscathed—the ice that could kill monsters brought them only a biting cold.

Then they looked up at the black-skirted figure floating in the air, their eyes filled with awe and shock.

A miracle!

In their eyes, it was nothing short of a miracle!

Isavel slowly descended, saying to Franndo, “The Caesar Dungeon has been sealed for now. Most of the remaining monsters have been purged. The cleanup and reinforcement of the seal is up to you now.”

Franndo nodded obediently, gazing at the battlefield that had changed so dramatically, her heart filled with indescribable emotion.

Isavel’s strength had once again far surpassed her expectations.

……

Late at night, the attacked Kaisa Third Fortress had temporarily returned to peace.

In the quiet room assigned to Isavel, she lay on the edge of the soft bed in her nightgown, seemingly asleep.

The door creaked open, and a slender figure slipped in, bathed in moonlight.

Franndo wore only a thin silk nightdress, barefoot, moving like a Cat in the night, soundless as she crept to the bedside.

“I… I feel a little cold.”

She whispered, her voice especially clear in the silence.

Isavel didn’t reply, but Franndo keenly noticed the subtle change in her breathing.

Was that tacit permission?

Thinking so, she cautiously moved closer, her fingertips brushing Isavel’s loose black hair on the pillow.

The silky, cool touch made her heart tremble.

“Isavel…”

She called softly, tentatively, but her hands did the opposite. Lifting the Saintess’s skirt, her hand slid onto her skin.

The touch made Isavel’s slender body tense for a moment.

She slowly turned, and under the moonlight, their eyes met—those always unfathomable eyes now moist with emotion, reflecting the night scene outside the window, and Franndo’s own face.

“Do you know what this means?”

Isavel asked, her fingertip curling a lock of Franndo’s golden hair.

Meeting her gaze, Franndo bit her lip and closed the final distance.

“I know. It means tonight, there is no Queen, and no Saintess,” she murmured, her lips brushing lightly against the corner of Isavel’s mouth like a dragonfly’s touch, “only you and me.”

The briefer the touch, the deeper the feeling.

Isavel gazed at the face so close to hers, finally raising her hand to caress the back of Franndo’s neck, pulling her beneath her, turning passivity into initiative.

The response made Franndo shudder, letting out a soft moan, her arms wrapping around Isavel’s neck.

The moonlight grew deeper, the thin nightdress slipping silently to the bed.

“Are you cold?”

“You’re too hot…”

Soft cries were swallowed by the darkness, wherever Isavel’s slender fingers landed, ripples spread like a lake, mingled with the faint sound of rustling fabric.

The once-mighty Queen of the Aos Empire was, in this moment, left with nothing but confusion and longing.

Night wind brushed the window curtains, breaking up everything overflowing in the room.

In the lamplight, on the wall, a Swan stretched its neck, flapping its wings on the lake, letting itself sink into the vortex of water, unable to escape.

When the last ripple stilled, the Swan sank beneath the water, vanished.

In her embrace, Isavel gently stroked Franndo’s back, marked with strawberries, as if soothing a Cat with its Claws retracted.

“And now?” Her voice was lazy with afterglow. “Are you still cold?”

Franndo looked up, gazing at the face she had fallen for.

She reached out, caressing her cheek, her own cheeks flushed as she softly said:

“If I say I’m still cold… what will you do?”

Her answer was a dizzying reversal.

Moonlight quietly shifted, hiding their entwined forms in the shadows.

The candle in the room flickered all night, the two souls drawing closer for warmth, merging into one, no longer telling one from the other.