Volume 2

Chapter 17: The Devil’s Companion (1)

This meeting was an utter disaster.

Though Hendrik called it to assess Babel Tower’s situation, there was also a hope of boosting morale.

But now… forget morale—whether they could finish their weapons before the war was uncertain.

Their only reliance seemed to be the micro-alchemical weapon Anselm and Mingfuluo created, named [Nidhogg].

Without it, Babel Tower’s scholars might already be preparing for the end.

Using Mingfuluo’s base model, Hendrik and three of Babel Tower’s best alchemists produced a remarkably effective product.

The current Nidhogg could corrode most alchemical items.

In normal times, this would be a groundbreaking invention, but against the sixty-meter steel knight, it seemed pitifully inadequate.

Most Babel Tower leaders weren’t optimistic about Nidhogg.

Based on data collected when the Black Knight descended on the plaza, the terrifying weapon seemed flawless.

The Material Armament’s principle was simple and brutal: beyond essential design and structure, the key was stacking materials.

Undoubtedly, with the Empress’s limitless resources, the Ether Academy’s scholars had created a suffocating monster.

Fifth-tier Crown—this was the despairing conclusion Babel Tower’s scholars reached.

Material Armament: Black Knight was equivalent to a fifth-tier extraordinary being.

The world had no shortage of powerful “divine artifacts,” like treasures left from the Celestial Conquest Dynasty’s fall, unknown items from the Zero Point Labyrinth, or weapons crafted by peak alchemists like Flamel.

But such weapons always came with strict conditions, limitations, or costs. Lesser extraordinary beings would be consumed by stronger ones.

Mechanized armor, however, had no such demands.

Even a third-tier like Conrad could wield it freely—that was its most terrifying aspect.

Anselm’s status meant he interacted with top-tier fourth- and fifth-tier extraordinary beings, but their numbers were few.

With the third tier as a dividing line, each tier’s advancement was an exaggerated leap, and their numbers dwindled sharply.

Across the continent, including lands beyond the Tianlu Mountain Range, fifth-tier extraordinary beings numbered fewer than a hundred.

A weapon with fifth-tier combat power in a war between two domains… it was a one-sided massacre.

“…Lord Anselm.”

In Hydra’s mansion, Hendrik’s face was etched with exhaustion.

Propping his forehead, he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. Even with your help, we’re likely still…”

“No confidence in Mingfuluo’s and my work?” Anselm smiled, offering him a glass of wine.

“No, it’s not that…”

The man opened his mouth, his expression bitter.

“You and Mingfuluo have done your best, but the Ether Academy, backed by Her Majesty… is simply unbeatable.”

“It’s not about your or Mingfuluo’s abilities. It’s just…”

It’s just that the capricious, tyrannical Empress was an unsolvable problem.

This game was never meant to be fair.

Ephithand only wanted to crush her ambitious, rebellious daughter, showing who truly ruled the Empire… Fairness?

Who could demand fairness from her?

The Material Armament: Black Knight was unmatched, but its construction cost was astronomical.

Without the Empress’s intervention, the Ether Academy would have taken years to build such a steel monster.

From the start, Babel Tower had no chance, only clinging to fleeting illusions due to their ignorance of mechanized armor.

Leaning back on the sofa, Anselm crossed his legs, gazing at Hendrik, his fingers interlocked, tapping slowly.

“It seems,” he said suddenly, “Mr. Lundell has already mentally prepared himself?”

“…Yes.”

No one could know the pain, despair, and… unwillingness in that single word.

Hendrik lowered his head slightly, the wine in his glass rippling faintly, his voice sour and hoarse. “I’ve prepared for the Babel Tower’s collapse.”

“A sad thing,” Anselm sighed.

“…It’s not your fault. You’ve been more than generous to us.”

He looked up, forcing a strained smile. “Whether it’s mediating to buy us opportunities or secretly aiding us… that a great figure like you would show us such mercy, all of Babel Tower is grateful.”

The young, kind Hydra looked at the pitiful man, resting his cheek on one hand, hiding a slight smirk.

In the original timeline, Hendrik would have achieved feats ten, a hundred times greater.

Babel Tower would collapse under the Ether Academy’s pressure, but the Academy wouldn’t be ruthless enough to exterminate its members—or rather, without Anselm’s covert support, Babel Tower lacked the value to warrant such cruelty.

So, Hendrik and most Babel Tower scholars, though losing resources and a place to nurture their ideals, survived.

Though it was tough… they could still pursue their goals.

Many later joined the Revolutionary Army, Hendrik among them, shining brightly alongside Mingfuluo as pillars of that new era.

But now… to sustain Babel Tower, he had to bow to the Grand Princess’s terror, engaging in factional struggles he neither understood nor liked.

He had to curry favor with powerful nobles or extraordinary factions, providing weapons or bizarre alchemical devices to ensure Babel Tower’s survival under the Ether Academy’s threat when Ivora ignored them.

So… pitiful.

“Since Mr. Lundell feels this way, I’ll be blunt.”

Anselm shifted his posture, leaning forward slightly, his tone serious.

“The purpose of inviting you to my mansion.”

His earnest demeanor made Hendrik nervous.

Babel Tower’s pitiful leader sat upright.

“Please, go on.”

“For all of Babel Tower.”

The wicked serpent looked at Hendrik with utmost sincerity, speaking heavily and firmly:

“Mr. Lundell, please choose to surrender and admit defeat.”

"…"

Hendrik froze.

He thought he’d misheard, but seeing Anselm’s reluctant yet earnest gaze, he began to carefully consider the words.

"Surrender… voluntarily?" the man murmured softly.

"Yes, voluntary surrender."

Anselm explained gently, "Surrendering proactively can prevent this meaningless war from happening and keep your defeat from being paraded publicly. That way, Her Highness won’t slaughter you in a fit of rage."

"Though I want to secure fairness for you, this is an inherently unfair contest, a tool for Her Majesty to quell Princess Ivora’s ambitions. Her Majesty doesn’t care about the war itself… she only wants Her Highness to bow and admit defeat."

"But—" Hendrik was almost convinced, seeing a path of least cost in this overwhelming despair, "what about Her Highness? She’ll never agree! She’d bleed Babel Tower dry before bowing to Her Majesty. Unless undeniable facts are laid bare, I—"

"I’ll take responsibility for convincing her, Mr. Lundell."

Anselm said softly, "I can’t save Babel Tower, but I can certainly save you, save the lives of those precious talents."

"In the name of Hydra, I guarantee it."

This young noble, renowned in the Imperial Capital and across the Empire, spoke with a gentle, benevolent voice filled with strength.

Tales of his deeds in Chishuang Territory had spread through the capital’s streets.

Some praised his integrity and greatness, others condemned his hypocrisy and venom, but the latter were often attacked—typically by those from Hydra’s lands or who had lived there.

Hendrik had always been cautious and skeptical of Anselm’s reputation and character.

No longer a naive scholar, his dealings with nobles had taught him not to believe in truly benevolent aristocrats.

But in this moment, as the young man solemnly declared, “In the name of Hydra, I guarantee it,” Hendrik—a senior, a scholar, a fifth-tier sorcerer, a man—felt his eyes sting.

He could act recklessly, like the Grand Princess, with the confidence and authority to dominate everything, even without reaching the sixth tier.

Yet he didn’t.

He respected himself, his companions, and… their ideals and abilities.

A divine being born at the sixth tier, not treating this as a game, genuinely seeking to preserve their lives out of recognition.

He even wanted to stop this meaningless war, to prevent more innocents from dying due to the tyrant’s madness.

The beast feared by the world, a creature of the abyss, was offering them pure, selfless salvation.

“L-Lord Anselm, I…”

The man, worn out by constant pressure, half-covered his eyes. “Sorry, I… I lost my composure.”

Anselm smiled, comforting him gently.

“I understand the pressure you’re under, Mr. Lundell. You don’t need to answer now. Before the war comes, I’ll do my best to ease tensions between Her Majesty and Princess Ivora. When the time is set, I’ll notify you. Just make your choice before then.”

"Fighting to the death for ideals and glory is admirable; retreating for survival and the future is no shame."

The young Hydra stood, patting Hendrik’s shoulder sincerely. “After all, I have no right to choose for you.”

Those words solidified Hendrik’s resolve.

“…No, Lord Anselm, no need to wait.”

He looked up, meeting Anselm’s gaze with firm determination.

“We… choose to surrender. Even if Babel Tower collapses, even if we can never rebuild under the Ether Academy’s oppression, as long as those young ones, my friends, my companions, can live, then everything is acceptable.”

“Are you sure?” Anselm asked gravely. “No need to discuss with the other Babel Tower members?”

“No, they’ll agree.”

Hendrik smiled, a mix of bitterness and relief.

“These years… have been tough. Perhaps the Grand Princess’s ferocity and Her Majesty’s game are fate telling us… Babel Tower shouldn’t have existed. We were just fools chasing illusions.”

“One failure doesn’t diminish your ideals, Mr. Lundell.”

“…You’re right.” Hendrik’s mood steadied. “Even if it’s an illusion, I’ll keep chasing it.”

He stood, bowing deeply to Anselm. “I, and all of Babel Tower, will remember your kindness, Lord Anselm. Though we’ll soon be displaced, if you ever need anything… Even if I can’t speak for others, I’ll give my all for you.”

Anselm laughed heartily.

“No need, Mr. Lundell. Use your intellect and abilities to bring more change to the Empire, to the world—that’s the best repayment.”

“…Yes!”

The man, about to lose his haven of ideals, clenched his fist—not in anger or sorrow, but in excitement and joy. “Hendrik Lundell will never forget.”

After Hendrik left the mansion, Anselm sank into the sofa, stretching with a soft hum.

“Well, this little game is nearing its end, but…”

Hydra picked up his wine glass, swirling it, smiling at the crystalline, dreamlike liquid. “How could I let it end so blandly?”

“Master Anselm.”

A gentle, composed, yet cheerful female voice sounded behind him.

A pair of hands rested on his shoulders, kneading gently. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

“You just finished with Chishuang Territory’s affairs. Assigning you tasks right after arriving in the capital feels a bit unfair, doesn’t it?”

Anselm chuckled, not turning around.

“But you called me to the capital because you need me to do something, right?”

The girl’s voice carried a hint of playfulness and excitement.

“Hmm… sounds like I’m some heartless noble exploiting my subordinates.”

“How could that be, Master Anselm?”

Marina Lansmarlos leaned down, whispering blissfully in his ear.

“This just proves my value to you. Please, use me to your heart’s content.”

Anselm gently caressed Marina’s cheek, saying warmly, “Then deliver a letter to Ivora for me. Hurry back—Hitana misses you.”

“I will, Master Anselm.”

The girl in a black dress stood upright, leaving the lounge efficiently.

Anselm sipped his wine, sighing softly with satisfaction. “As for the other side… Saville.”

“I’m here, Young Master.”

The old butler, nearly inseparable from Anselm in Chishuang Territory, appeared like a phantom.

“Have you reviewed the detailed intelligence on those two territories?”

“Yes, I’ve fully understood it.”

“Send a small gift to Count Watson, then inform the Grand Lord of Mirror Lake Territory…”

“…” Saville raised an eyebrow after hearing Anselm’s instructions. “Are you certain, Young Master?”

The question wasn’t doubting Anselm’s decision, merely an expression of surprise.

“Of course.” Anselm smiled. “Make sure Count Mirror Lake keeps it confidential.”

“Yes.”

The old man bowed slightly, then paused before adding, “Young Master, the Master will arrive in the capital in three days.”

Anselm’s smile stiffened slightly.

He took a silent sip of wine, waving dismissively.

“Noted. Go on, Saville.”

But this time, Saville uncharacteristically didn’t obey, remaining in place, bending lower, his aged voice tinged with… pleading.

“Young Master, I can feel the Master’s time… is running short.”

“…”

“This may be the last time the Master, you, and the Lady—”

“Saville.”

The lounge began to faintly swirl with black mist.

The young Hydra, holding his wine glass, said calmly, “Do what you’re supposed to do.”

The old man sighed silently, his figure vanishing from the lounge.

The swirling black mist dissipated.

Anselm, seated on the sofa, stared at the cracked wine glass, silent.

“Future.”

He suddenly laughed.

“…Future.”

***

Mingfuluo was still in the alchemy workshop, studying the alchemical weapon Anselm designed, named “Nidhogg.”

The more she studied, the more certain she was that Anselm was hiding something.

Based on his Ether circuits and design principles, this thing… wasn’t originally meant for combat.

“Carrying elements with such minimal Ether requires immense alchemical skill, but if everyone needs a master alchemist to craft, it loses Nidhogg’s greatest strength—mass-producibility… or rather, this thing’s value lies in large-scale production.”

In the vast alchemy workshop, the woman dissected a finished Nidhogg made by Babel Tower’s top alchemists, muttering to herself.

“Material composition? No, multiple elements can already achieve that; it’s redundant. But it seems to have some other purpose…”

“Nidhogg, Nidhogg… Logically, it shouldn’t pierce the Black Knight’s armor. The Ether would be dispersed before penetrating the circuits. Hydra couldn’t not know this… Does he want me to fail? No, he wouldn’t. If he wanted me to fail, he wouldn’t bother with this. He wouldn’t create something meaningless to hinder me.”

“But how do we make Nidhogg work? He didn’t tell me outright. Is this a test? If I fail, he could step in, pin all the blame on me… That’s a strong possibility.”

As Mingfuluo immersed herself in studying Nidhogg, the workshop’s door suddenly opened. Unaware, she continued pondering: “Insects… why insects, not something else? Is it a hint?”

“Mass production, mass production… If they could be truly mass-produced, and if there’s a way to link their elements… like bees swarming from a hive… enabling them to connect, to build…”

“…Mingfuluo?”

“Like a true… insect swarm.”

“Got it… That’s it!”

As her thoughts expanded, Mingfuluo’s eyes grew brighter.

After days of relentless research, she glimpsed the vision behind Nidhogg’s creation.

If this was truly that monster’s concept, these metal insects called Nidhogg would be a construct no less than—perhaps greater than—mechanized armor!

“Mingfuluo!”

Hendrik’s shout interrupted her thoughts, turning her bright gaze instantly dark.

She looked up, staring at him, enunciating each word. “You’d better have a good reason for that.”

“…Her Highness the Grand Princess is here.” Hendrik sighed. “She’s come to inspect our results.”

“So soon… no, not really.”

Five days had passed since the meeting, meaning the Ether Academy, having completed the Black Knight, gave them seven days.

For Ivora, this was already an unbearable humiliation.

If not for her determination to defeat Ephithand, she’d have burned Babel Tower to ashes by now.

“The others?”

Mingfuluo asked, “Are their weapons ready?”

“No.” Hendrik shook his head. “Even Warren, the most efficient, needs at least ten more days.”

“Then Nidhogg is all we have to show.”

With a thought, the tiny metal insect on the workbench flew to Mingfuluo’s shoulder.

Looking at her creation, despite the dire situation, her heart remained unshaken.

“Let’s go, Hendrik.”

Mingfuluo strode forward without hesitation. “Let that arrogant Grand Princess see our results.”

“…” Hendrik froze for a moment, then hurried after her, his tone uneasy. “Mingfuluo, are you that confident?”

“It’s not confidence—it’s fact.”

The woman said calmly, “I’ve figured it out… Nidhogg’s true purpose. We may not lose this war.”

Good… I was so close.

If I’d thought the finished product was enough or focused on upgrading Nidhogg, I might not have realized its true value.

You used the pressure and time constraints of this game to make me miss the chance to calmly understand and recognize it, leading to defeat in the war.

Then you’d reveal its true power, letting this crushing failure destroy me mentally and practically… reducing me to dust.

Alternating between favor and suppression to deepen my admiration and fear of you, increasing my self-doubt and confusion, to dominate my will and heart… Always the same tricks.

Hydra, are you running out of moves?

Mingfuluo’s lips twitched into a slight smirk, her mood briefly buoyant, though she quickly restrained it.

Hendrik hesitated for a long time, choosing not to clarify things with Mingfuluo now, knowing she might cause a scene.

In front of Ivora, this girl, always adept at weighing pros and cons, wouldn’t say or do anything irrational.

They soon arrived at the meeting room, where the ferocious Grand Princess sat at the head, her expressionless gaze sweeping over everyone.

The silent, terrifying pressure she exuded was enough to make most present sweat profusely.

Unlike Anselm, who didn’t focus on increasing his strength, Ivora was a solid fifth-tier—yet even without effort, she’d ascend to sixth-tier upon Ephithand’s death.

Still, since she came of age, she had relentlessly honed her power day after day.

The gap between fifth and sixth tiers, without relying on inheritance, demanded too much time and resources.

Thus, craving power, Ivora grew increasingly eager for her mother’s swift demise.

“The Ether Academy gave you seven extra days and waited seven days for you.”

Ivora’s finger lightly tapped the table.

Her tone was calm, but the rising temperature in the room betrayed her true mood.

“So.” She propped her chin on one hand, expressionless. “Where are your results?”

As everyone’s hearts pounded with unease, Mingfuluo spoke without hesitation. “Your High—”

“Your Highness.”

Hendrik’s voice drowned hers out.

He stepped forward from the crowd, bowing respectfully to Ivora. “I have… a proposal.”

“…Hm?” Ivora frowned slightly. “I’m here to see your results, not hear some nonsense proposal.”

A faint sense of foreboding grew in Mingfuluo’s heart, but it wasn’t the right moment to speak, so she remained silent.

Hendrik paused, then looked up, speaking candidly. “Your Highness, we… have no results.”

In the dead silence, he met Ivora’s gaze unflinchingly. “Or rather, we cannot produce results that can rival the Black Knight.”

“With the Ether Academy’s resources, backed by Her Majesty’s limitless support, no matter what we make, we have no chance of defeating them. This is an unfair contest, Your Highness.”

“So?”

Ivora’s eyes narrowed, and everyone felt the room’s temperature surge by at least thirty degrees in an instant, the scorching heat searing their skin.

The source of the heat spoke in an icy voice. “So, you’re admitting your incompetence?”

“No, Your Highness.”

Sweat beaded on Hendrik’s forehead as he bowed deeply again. “We simply cannot change this reality, cannot alter Her Majesty’s weight in this unfair contest. We… can only surrender.”

…Surrender.

Mingfuluo, enduring the scorching sensation, froze.

Surrender? Hendrik was choosing to surrender?

To the Ether Academy, to those chaining this world, to the creation she and Anselm made… surrender?

Even if it meant Babel Tower’s destruction, surrender?

Everyone was stunned, staring blankly at Hendrik, unable to comprehend what he was saying.

Failure meant destruction—so how could surrender be any better?

Impossible!

That brutal princess despised weakness; surrendering would only lead to a worse fate than defeat!

Hearts raced, fear unquelled by the searing heat spread through every soul.

Some began to tremble, even closing their eyes, awaiting annihilation.

Yet…

“Ha, hahaha… hahahahaha!”

They weren’t incinerated by raging flames. Instead, they heard… Ivora’s laughter?

“So that’s it… No wonder Anselm pleaded for you and made a bet with me.”

Seemingly amused, Ivora’s mood lightened slightly.

She tilted her head.

“He bet you’d surrender voluntarily. If you did, I’d spare all your lives.”

“—Because I didn’t think you’d have the guts to surrender. Looks like I underestimated you.”

Hendrik, outwardly calm but inwardly tense, let out a breath of relief.

Lord Anselm, you truly…

This outcome sent the other Babel Tower leaders into brief confusion, then uncontainable joy.

They knew this war was unwinnable, their efforts merely a futile struggle, the difference only between dying gracefully or pathetically.

But now… a path to survival lay before them!

Not just for them, but for the countless lives in the two innocent territories!

“He gave me plenty of reasoning… I must say, that guy’s quite persuasive. I was somewhat swayed.”

Ivora said boredly.

“Though your death as atonement for failure is only natural, it would complicate things after my ascension. I aim to be a great empress, not let you stains become bigger blemishes.”

Her words, treating Babel Tower’s members as less than human, stirred no reaction.

They were long accustomed to such treatment, to being trampled by this future deity.

“So, I considered his proposal and made a bet with him.”

Hope flared in Hendrik’s eyes. “So you…”

“I’m not a dishonorable wretch.” The Grand Princess waved a hand. “Besides, Anselm’s right—Mother’s gone too far. It’s normal for me to lose.”

Her words implied acceptance of Anselm’s proposal: Babel Tower’s members would live, the meaningless war avoided, at the cost of the tower’s dissolution.

“But—”

The cold turn made everyone’s hearts skip.

“But I hate losing, so I added an extra condition to the bet.”

“I want weapons, not Babel Tower. That means… I’ll listen to the opinion of the one who made the weapon, not all of you. That’s meaningless to me.”

“Who among you made a finished product? If she chooses to surrender, I’ll let you rats scurry to whatever gutter you like, as long as you don’t return to the capital. I won’t pursue you.”

“But if she chooses to fight with courage and glory…”

A cruel, excited smile spread across Ivora’s face. “Then this war will continue.”

“…”

The meeting room fell silent.

All eyes turned to one person in the crowd, the most rational yet most fanatical idealist in Babel Tower.

Mingfuluo Zege.

If it was Mingfuluo… if it was her, everything would be fine.

She seemed cold, but she knew how to weigh the pros and cons.

In this situation, anyone could see the best choice.

Under everyone’s expectant gazes, Mingfuluo stepped forward, saying calmly, “I’m the only one who produced a finished product, Your Highness.”

“Hm, so?” Ivora looked at her with interest. “What’s your answer?”

“War.”

No silence, no hesitation, no pause.

Mingfuluo gave her answer, stunning, enraging, and despairing everyone present.

“Mingful—”

Boom!

A fireball exploded against Hendrik’s chest, slamming him into the meeting room wall.

Ivora waved a hand, saying coldly, “Who permitted you to speak? You, continue.”

“My answer is war,” Mingfuluo said, meeting Ivora’s gaze. “I choose not to surrender.”

“Hmph, hmph… I admire your courage.”

Ivora laughed delightedly.

“So, where does your courage come from? Can you defeat that giant?”

“Yes.”

The woman’s response was concise and firm. “I will win… no, Your Highness, you will win.”

“Hahaha! Good, I’ll remember that!”

The Grand Princess’s laughter rang out freely.

“If you win, you can make any request—even killing one of the Ether Academy’s old fossils!”

“But if you lose…” Her smile vanished. “What then?”

“I hope you’ll still spare the other Babel Tower members. The consequences of failure will be mine alone.”

Mingfuluo’s response was steady and reasonable. “Since you only need the weapon’s creator, I believe it’s fair that I bear the outcome, win or lose.”

This wasn’t just rational consideration.

Mingfuluo knew the woman before her was the second most unreasonable wretch in the world.

Expecting reason from her was impossible.

She dared make this choice because Ivora was in a good mood, delighted by the dramatic twist of her defiance amidst surrender.

As expected, Ivora laughed heartily again. “A cold, rational scholar, embracing heroism for her ideals and honor—quite the dramatic tale. I’m entertained. Approved.”

“Thank you for your leniency, Your Highness.”

This was the best choice.

Even if she failed, only she would pay the price—and she absolutely wouldn’t fail.

As for… the war.

Mingfuluo didn’t see their deaths as inevitable, but she wouldn’t let the resolve to face death become a burden.

Ignoring the cold, distant, angry, sorrowful gazes of her elders and comrades, Mingfuluo repeated to herself in her heart.

This was the best choice.

“Three days from now, in the Southern Territory, Mirror Lake Territory will receive the steel giant’s aid, while you’ll support Watson Territory. This war will end with one side’s total defeat. Mingfuluo Zege… heh, prepare well. I look forward to your performance.”

With that, Ivora’s figure dissolved into flame, vanishing from the meeting room.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

After a few seconds of silence, Babel Tower’s leaders swarmed Mingfuluo, surrounding her.

“Mingfuluo, do you know what you’ve done!”

“Zege, you’re insane! You nearly got us all killed!”

“You… Mr. Zege would never have a granddaughter like you. If he were here, he’d never do something like this!”

The cacophony of noise engulfed Mingfuluo—anger, disappointment, sorrow… countless emotions mixed, trying to crush the lone boat amidst the waves.

Yet this environment, which would have broken Hitana, the endless doubt and blame from friends and elders, had no effect on Mingfuluo.

She merely adjusted her glasses, slightly askew from the pushing, and said expressionlessly, “Had enough? If so, I’m going back to enhance Nidhogg. Hendrik, find twenty of the best alchemists. Three days is enough.”

“…Mingfuluo, Mingfuluo!”

Hendrik had never roared at her, but now he couldn’t control himself.

“Do you realize what you’ve done? You ruined our best chance! A chance for all of us to survive, even if Babel Tower fell.”

“Did I?” Mingfuluo countered. “Even if I fail, only I die, don’t I?”

“You!”

Hendrik’s voice faltered, but he soon roared again.

“How dare you gamble that she’d agree to your request? What if she refused?”

“Then why did you gamble that she’d accept our surrender?” Mingfuluo said expressionlessly.

“No, you didn’t gamble on that. It seems… you consulted with Hydra first, made this decision with him. You gambled that Hydra would help you.”

“Isn’t that gambling?”

“That’s not gambling! Lord Anselm, he—”

“What about him? Do you know him well? How many times have you met? With just a few words, you’re so convinced he’d help you without any ulterior motives or schemes?”

Under this pressure, Mingfuluo became the interrogator, staring into Hendrik’s eyes, enunciating each word.

“Tell me, if that’s not gambling, what is?”

“…”

Hendrik couldn’t refute her. He gritted his teeth, his gaze toward Mingfuluo growing more pained. “Even so… Mingfuluo, we had already succeeded. Her Highness agreed. If you’d surrendered, it would’ve ended—no meaningless war. Why, why did you choose to reignite it?”

“Why? Is it hard to understand?”

Mingfuluo’s brows furrowed slightly.

“Because the purpose of Babel Tower’s existence outweighs the deaths caused by this war. That’s all.”

Her tone wasn’t deliberately cold, but the mindset of weighing millions of lives against an abstract “ideal” without seeing any issue chilled everyone deeply.

Babel Tower differed from the Ether Academy in many ways, one being that most of its members lacked family or mentor legacies, coming from humble origins and struggling with resource scarcity.

Though extraordinary beings rarely cared for ordinary folk, these humble-born sorcerers understood their hardships and were loath to bring calamity to countless lives.

Moreover, under the Empress’s rule, the Empire, despite occasional chaos, had avoided large-scale wars.

This strange “peace” made most recoil from such massive killing fields.

But Mingfuluo… She didn’t care.

Or rather, she didn’t let her mind or emotions dwell on guilt over lives lost because of her.

She felt guilt, but she would… erase it if it hindered her progress.

When, exactly when, had this woman, whose talents awed everyone, become such a… monster?

Hendrik’s heart ached with sorrow.

He even wondered if, had Mingfuluo not developed the firearm, had Babel Tower collapsed earlier, this girl—his mentor’s granddaughter, whom he saw as his own—wouldn’t have become so ruthless.

“…Mingfuluo.”

He spoke with difficulty, his voice bitter, making a final, futile question.

“Even so, even if you’ve become this cruel, how can you be certain you’ll win? Are you seeking death just to uphold Babel Tower’s ideals and honor?”

Then… Hendrik met her indifferent gaze.

A gaze not only indifferent but distant, even tinged with faint disappointment.

Not just him—all of Babel Tower’s leaders felt this gaze.

—The look Mingfuluo gave to mediocrities.

She scanned the room, finding no objections, and suddenly felt an indescribable loneliness.

A loneliness of seeming to have companions yet always being apart from them.

“You all.”

The woman said softly.

“Even you are the same.”

“Too far… from him.”

Without another word, Mingfuluo pushed through the crowd and left the meeting room alone.

The closer she followed Anselm’s footsteps, the less she could tolerate her surroundings.

Her rationality told her this might be another of Anselm’s schemes, another plan.

The cold truth also told her—

Keep going, and the only one by your side will be the devil.

So, would Mingfuluo Zege stop?

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