"…It's been a long time since we've received a reward this immense," Helen murmured, her tone carrying both exhaustion and disbelief.

"That's perfectly natural, my lady," Serafina replied as she continued removing her armor piece by piece, stacking them neatly into the spatial ring with military precision. Strangely, she was already wearing her usual combat suit beneath it. "After all, we're not officially bound to them. We take on missions only when it suits us, when you decide you feel like it. Honestly, it's a miracle they still trust us enough to hand us work at all. I wouldn't blame them in the slightest if they decided to stop tomorrow."

She gave a playful smile as she fastened the ring shut. "But you were magnificent today, my lady—truly breathtaking. The mission was simple on paper: drive out three Nexus users from the enemy encampment for a ten-million Pearl bounty. But you didn't just chase them away…" Serafina's grin widened, voice dripping with mischief. "You captured one alive! No one else would've even dared to try."

"…I waited for you for so long," Helen said after a pause, her voice soft but heavy. "Did you manage to deliver him safely? What did they say? Did they actually pay the full reward?"

"I delivered him straight to the headquarters of the Centennial Cradle Empire, of course—how could I possibly fail?" Serafina nodded quickly, as if reaffirming her own triumph, before taking out a small pouch. She shook it gleefully in front of her mistress's crimson eyes. "And look here~"

Whoosh! Helen extended her hand, pulling the pouch toward her with a flick of energy. Her red eyes widened instantly. "Fifty rings…?"

As expected from the Cradle Empire, their payment method was as extravagant as their pride. Each high-grade space ring held exactly one million Energy Pearls.

Every one knew that they treated these rings like royal coins, a display of both efficiency and arrogance.

It had been more than twenty years since Helen had held such wealth in her hands. Her breath caught for an instant, the familiar glitter of fortune reflecting in her eyes.

"Yes!" Serafina nodded enthusiastically, her tone almost singing. "Once they verified the Nexus user's identity, they immediately transferred fifty million Pearls—that was the confirmed kill reward! And they said that if they manage to heal him and enslave his soul instead of letting him die, they'll send us an additional twenty to fifty million Pearls!" She clapped her hands, eyes sparkling. "You've completely surpassed yourself this time, my lady—this is your greatest victory yet!"

"…Then I only hope my hand wasn't too heavy," Helen muttered, her tone distant. She placed the final piece of her black-and-gold artifact armor into the ring and began walking toward her balcony, each step slow and measured.

The view had changed. The place that once reeked of burnt dust and metallic smoke had been transformed into a proper garden—a serene green space under the endless dark sky. Her private regiment was no longer stationed beneath the balcony, waiting to depart in an old rusted cruiser. Instead, they were now positioned beside a shimmering space gate, ready to move at a moment's notice. The empire had evolved beyond recognition over the last two decades.

Helen stood there for a while, watching the faint lights flicker across her world. "…," she exhaled, taking one last look at the pouch of rings before slipping them away.

She could no longer bring herself to face her reflection. The contradiction in her heart had grown too heavy. Ever since the day she had left the Destra family, she had sworn she would never depend on anyone—that she would forge her own path, carve her own destiny, just as her elder brother once did.

But now… what was she truly doing? Was this wealth a reflection of her independence, proof that she had built everything with her own power? Or was it merely the price she was being paid to serve someone else's will?

Whatever the truth, she told herself it didn't matter. There was no harm in continuing this delicate game—as long as she remained untethered, as long as her choices were still her own.

And most importantly… as long as no one ever discovered who she truly was.

---------------------

Headquarters of the Centennial Cradle Empire —

Rrrrch!

The sound of pen on parchment sliced through the heavy silence of the chamber. Seated behind a vast, midnight-black desk of obsidian and gold, Caesar methodically signed his name across a glowing document. As his quill left the paper, a faint pulse of soul force rippled outward — his soul imprint embedding itself into the signature. It wasn't just ink anymore; it was a seal of authority, proof that this document bore the will of a Sovereign himself.

He rolled the parchment slowly, with the composure of someone used to commanding worlds, and passed it to one of the officers standing at attention.

There were dozens gathered in the chamber — men and women clad in radiant uniforms representing the might and order of the Centennial Cradle Empire. They were the pillars of the Empire: generals, ministers, strategists, and envoys. Each had come bearing plans, petitions, or proposals, hoping that today their words would be blessed by Caesar's mark.

The atmosphere was thick with reverence. Every breath was cautious. In this hall, even whispers felt heavy.

Caesar reached for the next scroll and unfolded it with slow precision. His gaze scanned the lines — a petition for conquest, requesting authorization to attack a minor world belonging to a rival faction. The world was said to be abandoned by its main defense forces, ripe for the taking. The author of the proposal: Lieutenant-Commander Ardin Burton, a proud son of House Burton.

He requested ten thousand soldiers and half a fleet — a modest demand, yet bold enough to show ambition.

"Interesting," Caesar murmured with faint amusement. His voice, though calm, carried a weight that drew every ear. He signed the document, again letting a subtle trace of his soul force signature flow into the ink. "Approved."

He gestured to one of the attendants to take it away — but just as his hand lifted for the next document, he paused mid-motion. His eyes flickered, as if he remembered something.

"Ah… speaking of which," he said softly, "what became of the mission we assigned to Helen, the Destruction Pit Empress?"

At once, murmurs rippled through the officials until one of them stood and bowed deeply. "She annihilated the enemy outpost entirely, Your Highness — reduced it to ashes."

"Captured one of the Nexus users alive," another added quickly. "Her servant delivered the captive directly to our headquarters. He's now under the supervision of His Highness Peon and envoys from Sky Opening City."

A third officer chimed in, "Reports indicate that the other two Nexus users sustained serious injuries as well."

"And she wiped out several World Calaclysms during the operation," said another with a grin. "Even though that wasn't part of the assignment! Hahaha!"

The room broke into hushed laughter and proud chatter.

Dozens of senior officials shared knowing smiles, their pride glowing as brightly as their medallions.

Half the room carried the sigils of House Burton, the Royal Family. The other half, however, were veterans — those who had stood on that infamous day: the Coronation Apocalypse, when Helen had descended from the skies like divine punishment, intent on slaughtering them all.

They could still remember it — the trembling ground, the sky burning red, the certainty of death. Many of them had felt their souls leave their bodies that day. To be alive now, to sit in this very chamber under Caesar's leadership, felt almost surreal — like survivors granted an afterlife in service.

A few years ago, during a session much like this, Caesar had spoken almost casually — that the same woman who once tried to obliterate them now worked under his command.

That single, offhand remark had spread like wildfire through the upper ranks.

It was supposed to be a secret, of course — but no secret burns silently forever. Within days, the news had was heard by every official.

No one could tell whether Caesar had revealed it by accident or as part of some deeper strategy — but it didn't matter. What mattered was the result.

From that day forward, every commander and noble of the Cradle Empire walked taller. Their pride flared like banners in the wind, as though the heavens themselves now recognized their supremacy.

Even in the faraway courts of the Empire of the Grave and the True Beginning Empire, whispers began to spread — whispers that the Empire of the Cradle had managed to tame the beast of the Destruction Pit.

"Oh? She's quite diligent then," Caesar finally said, exhaling a soft laugh as he skimmed another scroll. The golden quill danced once more in his hand. "Assign her better missions the next time she returns… and pay her more generously as well."

A wave of uneasy silence swept through the officers. They glanced at one another before one finally dared to speak.

"Your Highness," the man said carefully, "is that truly wise? She's still… the same Empress of the Destruction Pit."

Caesar gave a calm smile. His eyes glimmered with a predatory amusement, his smile curving into something neither kind nor cruel but both at once.

"I don't care," he said softly. "I want her to keep coming back for more."

He leaned back in his chair, the shadows stretching around him, he gloated with a small laugh of twisted satisfaction, "Heh~"

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