“So? You’re not hurt anywhere?”

After the situation had finally calmed, Athanasia turned to Clay and asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Can’t tell if you’re just saying that.”

She glanced over at Naiad, who had just emerged from Syltanaro.

“Naiad, you’re the Spirit King of Water, right? You must have some healing ability. Check on Clay, will you?”

“Hmph, I was going to check on him even if you didn’t tell me to.”

Naiad grumbled as she examined Clay’s condition.

“Looks like there aren’t any serious injuries. Considering how hard you two fought, that’s a relief.”

It was a good outcome, but Athanasia let out a small groan at her words.

‘They held back.’

Had they fought with full force, someone might’ve suffered a fatal injury in that brief exchange. But that hadn’t happened.

‘Tia, the Saintess—fine. But Clay?’

Compared to Tia, Clay had no reason not to go all out. Maybe he held back to conserve his strength, but if he were thinking rationally, he wouldn’t have fought in the first place.

‘Unless it’s a difference in power…’

Athanasia swallowed dryly. If the Saintess was stronger than the Hero had been, Clay going head-to-head with her was dangerous.

‘But how can she be stronger than the Hero?’

It couldn’t be just because she’d modified the Holy Sword. If both Saintess and Hero received divine power from Elhaen, the difference was inexplicable.

The Hero was supposed to fulfill the combat role. Naturally, he should’ve been granted more power accordingly.

And yet Tia—the Saintess—was overwhelmingly strong.

‘Could it really be that their divine power comes from different gods?’

If what Tia said was true, it would explain some things. But if that was the case, why was Elhaen still trying to contact the Saintess?

As her questions piled up, Athanasia suddenly felt a chill run down her spine.

‘Then… does that mean there’s another foreign god besides Elhaen?’

Elhaen alone had been enough to split the ancient gods apart. The possibility of another outsider existing left Athanasia breathless.

“Athanasia.”

“…”

“Athanasia, are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh—!”

She snapped out of it when Clay called her.

“Check if you’re hurt too.”

“I’m fine.”

She waved it off quickly.

“More importantly, what do you plan to do next?”

“Next?”

“The Saintess just told you her plan.”

She had said she would strike Krata.

“So shouldn’t we be moving too?”

Regardless of what they thought of the Saintess, it was still an opportunity. If handled well, it could bring Krata down swiftly.

“…I don’t know.”

Clay’s response was lukewarm. But Athanasia knew it wasn’t because he really didn’t know.

“If you don’t want to take the lead, just leave it to the Demon King’s army. I’m here, I can support too.”

“Athanasia, don’t go into battle. Focus on expanding your church’s influence.”

“You’re telling me not to fight?”

“Lutan may have unsealed the ancient gods because he had countermeasures prepared. It’s safer to gather more strength in case.”

He wasn’t wrong. If Lutan—who hadn’t left Krata, where he wielded the most power—had released the seals on the ancient gods, it was hard to believe he had no plans to deal with them.

“Fine.”

Athanasia agreed, for now.

“But when the opportunity comes, we need to act. We can’t let emotion cloud everything.”

“Yeah.”

Clay lowered his gaze and nodded.

“I was being pathetic.”

He let out a long sigh.

“To be honest, it was hard to stay calm.”

“Didn’t need to say it. It showed all over you.” Athanasia let out a hollow laugh, “I get where you’re coming from, but don’t forget—you have a lot of people following you now. Every decision you make twists a lot of things.”

“Sorry.” Clay spoke quietly, “I’ve made a decision.”

“A decision?”

“I’ll put my personal grudges aside—for now.”

The most dangerous enemy now was in Krata. And even defeating Lutan might not be the end.

Yelena had pointed to Elhaen as the one behind it all. If gods were involved, there was no room for revenge-driven decisions.

“I’ll use what I can.”

“You going to let the Saintess know that too?”

“There’s no need.” Clay looked at Athanasia, “If what she said was true, she’ll let herself be used no matter what I’m thinking.”

“Fair.” Athanasia shrugged, “Judging by how she acted, that does seem to be the case. Still, if she was going to help you, she should’ve just stepped in as the Saintess from the start. Was there some kind of restriction?”

“Restriction?”

“Using that kind of power might have consequences. Like a curse—or maybe she loses something each time.”

Clay frowned. Athanasia quickly waved her hands.

“I’m not trying to stir anything. Just saying—maybe it wasn’t that she wanted you to die and held back. Objectively speaking.”

“Thanks for the info. Not something I particularly want to think about, though.”

Clay turned his eyes aside.

“Naiad, how was it syncing with Syltanaro?”

“It felt easier than before, probably because I’ve done it once already. Since both you and Syltanaro are using magia now, the only thing I can really do is repair the weapon—but still.”

“That’s more than enough. Your presence allows Syltanaro to handle greater power.”

“My Lord.”

Syltanaro, now in human form, spoke up.

“Are you alright not reclaiming the Holy Sword?”

“Excalbren no longer acknowledges me. And I have you now. There’s no need to retrieve it.”

“It seemed to be under the Saintess’s control.”

“Probably. She likely asked it to help stop me, but things didn’t go as planned.”

Excalbren viewed demons as pure evil. It gave only two options: rehabilitation or elimination. Its stance was absolute.

By its nature, the moment Tia said she came to negotiate, Excalbren should’ve refused to be used.

“If I could use it again, that would be good—but unlike Tia, I have no way to dominate it.”

“Pardon?”

“To dominate it, you have to resonate with it first. If Excalbren refuses from the start, there’s no way to get a foot in. And now that it’s been fooled once by Tia, next time it won’t fall for it again.”

“I… I see.”

Syltanaro looked regretful but accepted it.

“If we could’ve at least separated it from the Saintess, maybe we could’ve balanced the power better.”

“If you’re blaming yourself—don’t. Tia was simply stronger than I expected.”

At that, Clay’s eyes turned toward the distance. The others followed his gaze.

Neville stood there.

“Mind if I join in?”

He approached, looking reluctant. Clay addressed him.

“Sorry for dragging you into this. I lost my composure.”

“No. I completely understand.”

“But that’s not the only thing I should apologize for.”

“Lord?”

Neville looked puzzled. Clay spoke in a heavy tone.

“I think I’ll need your help, Neville.”

“My help…?”

“Yes. It was always part of the plan, but I had second thoughts. Now I’m reconsidering again—because of today.”

Neville, son of Emperor Lutan of Krata.

In Krata, Lutan was almost untouchable. Clay couldn’t easily bring him down. Until now, he’d believed that increasing the Demon King’s army’s power might be enough.

But that belief shattered the moment he faced Tia.

She was far stronger than he’d anticipated.

To the world, the Saintess and Hero were believed to possess similar levels of power.

But that wasn’t the truth.

Tia had overwhelmed Clay—even when he was in a fully amplified state of magia.

That realization brought with it a sense of danger.

And so, Clay decided to finally use the contingency he had been holding in reserve.

“Neville.”

He turned to the prince, who stood stiffly with tension on his face.

“I need your blood.”

The blood that flowed through the direct line of Krata’s royal family.

“My blood…?”

“Yes. It’s the key to bringing down Lutan.”

Clay’s red eyes bore into Neville like they could see through him.

“I hope I can count on your cooperation.”

♧

“Your Majesty Lutan… I have no excuse.”

At that moment, Valruel was kneeling before Lutan.

“We should have acted before Yelena appeared. But we failed.”

“It’s fine.”

Lutan responded as if unbothered.

“I already anticipated the possibility of her appearing. After all, she had a branch of the World Tree.”

He even chuckled.

“I’ve been idle for too long. Perhaps I should be grateful that she came looking for me. It helped loosen me up a bit.”

“Still, to ensure no further mistakes, I will bolster our defenses even more thoroughly.”

“Defenses…” Lutan’s expression suddenly darkened, “Come to think of it, are the Guardian Knights all fulfilling their roles properly?”

“Myself and the First and Second Seats are by your side, and the others are currently pursuing Yuru, the Blue Tower Master.”

“Yuru?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Yuru had ravaged Marfane, stirred up chaos across Yaphenon, and then vanished once more.

“We judged that leaving her unchecked would bring more trouble to Your Majesty.”

“And have you found any leads?”

“Not yet.”

“I see.”

Lutan nodded slightly for a moment.

“Valruel.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Have all the sacred weapons been recovered?”

Valruel flinched slightly.

“I asked if all the relics in the sanctum have been retrieved.”

“…Yes.”

Valruel brought the sacred weapons out from where he had fused them into his skin.

“I’ve gathered them all.”

His body glowed with a golden light. Lutan watched with satisfaction.

“Then that’s good enough. Even if Yuru keeps running around, there’s nothing left for her to get from us. It’s only a matter of time before she crosses our path again—there’s no need to rush.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“More importantly… it seems the Saintess and the Demon King are about to come charging at us. Even if they’re not exactly friendly.”

“!”

“Valruel, we need to prevent them from forming a strategic alliance. I trust you understand what I mean.”

Lutan approached the now tense Valruel and brought his face close.

“Bring me news that one of them has been severed.”

His face was brimming with killing intent.

“Unless you want your fame to end here.”

(End of Chapter)

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