In front of the Great Temple, within the Central Temple District of the Ancient Royal City, lay a wide and shattered square.

The Hero's riddle game involving the Key Changing was suddenly interrupted by an uninvited guest.

Listening to their conversation, the Hero's eyes narrowed slightly, her Emerald Eyes watched vigilantly at the man blocking the temple gate.

'Is that the Clan Leader of the Winged Race?'

He was a well-built man, his upper body bare, muscles swelling like a vast gray boulder, with intricate and refined battle tattoos adorning his skin.

Both his hair and eye color presented a hazy murky appearance, his hair tangled like twisted hemp ropes, resembling a polluted river stream, but upon closer inspection, he was not actually dirty. His crimson pupils emitted an unstoppable wildness, the whites of his eyes filled with blood vessels, seemingly immersed in hatred and anger all day long.

If not for the massive, almost pitch-black wings behind him, rather than the descendant of an Angel, he would be more like a depraved humanoid magic creature.

Even the Barbarian Berserkers the Hero had seen at the border did not possess such an air of near-hatred ferocity.

But even those black wings were not completely pure, amid the darkness, were feathers of impure color mixed chaotically, like flawed rejects.

In a Kingdom where purity and beauty were valued, even slaves before the abolition of slavery would not have such murky and impure colors.

However, despite his appearance being contrary to the Kingdom's aesthetics, the powerful and violent magic power within him was undeniably real.

After failing to utilize the Key Changing, the Winged Clan Leader cast a snake-like gaze towards the Hero, a strong malice pouring into her spirit.

"Humankind..." his raspy voice sounded like grinding iron and stone, causing a slight frown on the Hero's face.

"Hello..." suppressing her discomfort, the Hero attempted to say something, but the other did not give her the chance.

"Traitors, it's because of you—"

Her hair black as ink, Emerald Eyes like jade, skin white as snow, as if a solitary and independent flower in the world.

In the ruins stood a young girl, so delicate and pitiful, stirring the heart.

Even thugs from the Black Gate appearing here would likely feign decency in front of her.

Yet, the scarlet eyes that mirrored this beautiful girl did not hold the slightest emotion, instead burning with even fiercer rage.

How many years has it been?

How many years have their kin been languishing in this Far West, drifting in the Dead Sea filled with filthy magic elements?

The once noble and graceful angels have fallen to "Mixed Feathered Birdman" who survive only by plundering, the wings once white as snow now entirely stained with dirt and filth.

They have not only lost their glory, beauty, and power but even the glorious history deep in their memory has become fragmented.

Even the mightiest among them can't cleanse the colorful blotches from their wings.

Why is this so?

Why can these humans, saved by their ancestors, these humble lambs once only deserving to follow them, now bask in glorious sunlight, owning fertile lands, while they must struggle hopelessly in desolate wastelands?

Why?

They should have been completely extinct; it was the angels who saved them!

Look at this young human girl in front of him.

Her hair flowing like a waterfall, eyes clear enough to reflect heavenly light, a flawless face and skin... every inch seems a divine gift, perfect to the point of being detestable.

In what nurturing environment did she grow, how much care did she receive, to possess such immaculate beauty, even capable of peacefully coexisting with junk with a pure spirit?

Can that compare?

If, from all new generations in the tribe, taking the cleanest, purest parts from every child, piecing these fragments into a painting.

Could this painting's beauty rival a tenth of the girl before us?

Before the negative answer surfaces, infinite rage, hatred, and jealousy had already consumed this tall winged man's mind.

"—Die! You cursed blood of traitors!"

The pitch-black wings abruptly spread, the sound of their flapping like thunder, the Winged Clan Leader's figure vanished in an instant, reappearing before the Hero the next.

The dark heavy sword was raised high, brutally swung down as if to shatter this beauty!

[Winged Clan Leader activates the skill: Barbarian Divine Power, Destructive Sword]

3d443+198=(276)+(112)+(152)+198=738

[Hero activates the skill: Immobility, Grudge (Intelligence D120, minimum +50)]

D120+50+292=d120(8)+342=350

Note: Armor damaged, the Hero's total armor is 73, with Enchanted Claw +73, Immobility *2=292

[The Hero took 402 damage from 738-336=402, Beast Spirit Magic Power: 7620-402-270=6948]

Facing the roaring attack from the Winged Clan Leader, the Hero was startled, swiftly bringing her arms together, a steely gray whirlwind whirled up, forming a solid fortress tightly protecting her within.

But the black heavy sword wielded by the winged man, like a siege hammer in a giant's hand, its massive weight crashing down, crushed the steel fortress in an instant.

Accompanied by the sound of exploding thunder, the impact tore through the atmosphere, the ground sunk and collapsed, debris shot out in all directions like a rain of arrows.

The temple square, unfazed by ages, collapsed under this strike, cracks spreading across the earth.

A small figure was swept away by the blast, her body hitting the ground and bouncing multiple times, like a skipping stone across water, finally crashing with a thud into a towering stone pillar.

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