Volume 2

Chapter 22 : The Remarkable Hitana

Miss Hitana jolted awake in bed.

The moment she woke, yesterday’s memories flooded her mind and she instantly flipped over, burying her face in the soft pillow.

This is… this is… argh, go die, Anselm!

Too much!

Just recalling it briefly, Hitana couldn’t help but roll around in bed, clutching the blanket.

“Bad thing… Anselm, you bad thing.”

The girl muttered these oft-repeated criticisms, yet couldn’t suppress a silly smile.

Who in the world could resist such unrestrained passion from their beloved?

—If only that guy could be a bit, just a bit, more normal…

Oh well, after yesterday’s stunt, she’ll never lift her head in front of me again.

Let’s see her keep that annoying deadpan face, hmph!

Whether the current Mingfuluo or the one Hitana saw in Anselm’s memories, she didn’t like her. Her way of speaking, her tone, her outward demeanor—all so irritating.

So, Hitana wholeheartedly supported Anselm’s efforts to tame Mingfuluo, though she hoped he’d stop using such vile methods—deal with her if you must, but why drag me into it?!

“…If this keeps up, I’ll turn into an idiot.”

Hitana gently touched the collar around her neck, murmuring with both happiness and frustration: “Ever since we got to the Imperial Capital, Anselm hasn’t had me do anything. It makes me feel so useless.”

The only proper task was catching that Ether Academy spy in Babel Tower, but they were so weak it gave Hitana no sense of accomplishment. What beast feels pride catching a rat?

Meanwhile, the nightly exertions never stopped… Though Hitana enjoyed that too, she didn’t follow Anselm just for that!

Hydra had little influence in the Imperial Capital.

Anselm’s reputation and authority here were built through years of careful cultivation.

Otherwise, most would only fear Hydra’s terror, not adore Anselm as they do now, eager to offer him convenience in all matters.

Her beloved’s excellence and power left the sweet girl from a border village in a mix of joy and worry.

“Sigh… better get to morning training.”

Hitana sighed, tossing off the blanket, searching the scattered clothes on the floor for her underwear, and slipping them on neatly.

Click—

The bedroom door opened without warning.

Hitana froze, turning to see Anselm leaning against the frame, smiling warmly at her.

“…What, what’re you looking at?!”

Transformed by the Head of Strength, the now taller, more athletic girl shrank slightly, then grabbed Anselm’s shirt to cover herself, blushing but puffing out her chest: “Close the door!”

“No one’s coming… Sleep well?”

Anselm closed the door casually, his sea-blue eyes reflecting her body—clothed but still captivating—sparking a faint, heated glint.

His burning gaze made Hitana’s skin flush again, her voice turning sweet: “I’m saying this now… I’ve got morning training, so no fooling around!”

“Just looking, Hitana. Why’d you jump around fooling around?”

Anselm laughed, dumbfounded: “Don’t I look at you like this all the time?”

“…Who, who knows with you? You never make sense, just do whatever you want.”

Hitana huffed twice: “Come on, help me find my coat. You’re wasting my time.”

“Sit on the bed. No need to look.”

Anselm walked to her side, sitting beside her, his hand reaching for her.

“No way!” Hitana grabbed his hand, glaring with no real menace: “I said no…”

“What’re you thinking?”

The young Hydra chuckled, placing his other hand on her shoulder.

Fine fabric materialized, sliding over her body, perfectly contouring her figure.

Hitana squirmed, blushing, trying to shift focus: “Anselm, how… how do you seem to know everything?”

“Hm?”

“I mean… magic. You use fire, ice and create things from nothing. Doesn’t a transcendent’s power depend on their elements? How do you master so many? Is it… ugh! Related to Hydra’s power?”

Anselm chuckled, finishing her fitted leather pants: “That’s my secret.”

“…You even keep secrets from me?”

The girl pouted, leaning softly into his arms.

“Because it makes me happy when you actively try to understand me.”

Miss Wolf squinted comfortably, nuzzling his chin: “Always saying weird stuff.”

Before Anselm could respond, she kissed his cheek, beaming: “But I don’t mind at all, hehe.”

Dressed, Hitana stood, stretched, and put her hands on her hips, brimming with energy: “I’ll wash my face, then head to training. Anselm, coming with me?”

“You’re coming with me.”

Anselm picked up a black coat from the bed, handing it to her, his playful gaze fixed on the vibrant girl:

“All the Contract Heads in the Imperial Capital are here. As a junior…”

Watching Hitana’s expression turn panicked, the young Hydra’s smile grew: “You’d better greet them properly.”

***

Flamel Hydra.

A philosopher beyond his era, a sage holding truth, the uncrowned king of alchemists… His titles were so dazzling they long overshadowed the terror of the name Hydra.

Had he not, in his final days, committed horrific slaughters under the Empress’s orders, he might’ve been as beloved as Anselm.

Of course, Flamel didn’t care about his reputation.

To him, few things in life were precious, and the world’s gaze wasn’t among them.

“Laurence.”

In a lush, verdant courtyard, the man at the tea table sighed deeply: “Do you think Anselm might feel a bit pressured?”

His neatly styled, medium-length black hair and sharp features—high nose, deep-set eyes—leaned more toward handsome than beautiful, but Anselm bore a striking resemblance to him.

Dressed in a red-black suit, Flamel looked troubled: “It’s been a while since he’s wanted to meet me and you all so formally.”

“You’re overthinking, boss.”

A plump, gray-black rat with a thin tail stood on the table, arms crossed: “No way the young master feels pressured. Impossible. If anyone’s pressured, it’s Tyr.”

The rat, Laurence Calamity, speaking in a boyish voice, cackled: “The young master’s Contract Head, that girl, bears two Contract Head powers, with Strength as primary. As her senior… you’d better guide her well, or if you slip up…”

Its rat face grinned mischievously: “I’ll mock you till I croak.”

“The young master’s Contract Head.”

Behind Flamel, a three-meter-tall, muscular man with a scarred torso, wrists, and ankles bound by heavy shackles, spoke in a voice like rolling thunder:

[Zenith Colossus] Tyr Bistidos, Flamel’s Head of Strength, said:

“I saw the recording. Immense potential, but too young.”

Laurence snorted: “Don’t talk about her youth and then get slapped in the face… Tornado, what’s your take?”

“Me?” A young man in a white robe behind Flamel shrugged: “What’s it to me? I’m not Tyr or Peregrine. Let the young master find his Head of Magic first.”

Laurence rolled its eyes: “You don’t care about this, don’t care about that. Why’d you come to the capital? Hiding? Scared the Essence Grand Duke will find out who blew up his element tower?”

“Hmph, you think I’m afraid of him? I just don’t waste time on trash.”

[Great Mage] Tornado Serenel, Flamel’s Head of Magic, sneered disdainfully.

“Tch, you and Tyr—one boasts he’s invincible outright, the other seems honest but still implies it. No objectivity.”

Laurence scurried onto Saville’s shoulder, who was pouring tea for Flamel: “It’s gotta be you, old Sav. What do you think of that Hitana girl?”

“Remarkable,” Saville replied with a smile.

“Huh?!”

Laurence stared at Saville, puzzled.

Even the other two Contract Heads, exuding terrifying auras, cast surprised glances.

Saville’s evaluations were always measured, even diplomatic, never overstated.

For him to call someone “remarkable,” this girl bearing two Contract Head powers…

“This ‘remarkable’ isn’t about strength, for now,” Saville said calmly. “Of course, I believe Miss Hitana has that potential, but what I value more… is her impact on the young master.”

Flamel showed no surprise, clearly having discussed this with Saville, but the other three Contract Heads were clueless. Laurence, especially, squeaked frantically on Saville’s shoulder.

“What impact? What impact? Can someone change the young master? In what way? Old Sav, are you serious?”

The golem-like Tyr lowered his head slightly and Tornado looked intrigued, clearly curious about Saville’s meaning.

But the old butler only smiled, saying no more.

“Old Sav, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Hyping it up but not explaining, driving a rat nuts!”

Laurence bounced on Saville’s shoulder: “What’s that girl got that can change… huh?”

It stopped bouncing, turning toward the courtyard entrance: “Uh, they’re here already. Let’s stop gossiping about the little lady.”

A blond youth leaning on a cane stepped calmly into the courtyard.

Behind him, a girl four or five centimeters taller struggled to appear natural and composed, but her stiffness and nerves were obvious.

“Good morning, Father.”

Anselm bowed to Flamel from a distance.

Hitana hurriedly mimicked him, bending quickly: “G-Good morning, Mr. Flamel.”

Flamel had arrived in the Imperial Capital days ago and Hitana had met him several times, but she couldn’t shake her nervousness around him.

It wasn’t because of Flamel’s strength, greatness, or Hydra status—just that he was Anselm’s father.

Like how she often felt flustered by Anselm’s mother’s enthusiasm, Hitana was always dizzy and at a loss in front of her beloved’s parents.

“Come sit.”

Flamel waved cheerfully to Anselm: “Since I returned, we haven’t had a proper chat. Are you that busy?”

Anselm sat across from Flamel, with Hitana trailing closely, standing behind him like Flamel’s Contract Heads.

She couldn’t help sneaking glances at the three-meter-tall, muscle-bound man behind Flamel, suddenly feeling uneasy—not out of fear, but worry… she wouldn’t end up like that, would she?

She was tall enough already!

Any taller would be wrong! And all those muscles… hideous!

“I was organizing a game for Her Majesty, as you probably know,” Anselm said with a smile, sipping the wine Saville poured.

“Oh… Ephithand’s gone mad again,” Flamel nodded. “Did that mess affect you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Anselm replied calmly.

“Good.” The mature Hydra laughed heartily: “Or Tianxin City wouldn’t be enough for me to tear apart, hahaha—”

One calm and polite, the other warmly exuberant—the father-son dynamic was odd, but Hitana, seeing the other Contract Heads unfazed, stayed silent.

From the memories Anselm shared, even a “fool” like Hitana could piece together fragments.

Recalling what Anselm had endured, her heart ached.

“Ephithand won’t last long. Two years at most, six months at least, before she throws herself into the Source Flame.”

Flamel sighed: “But she doesn’t seem like someone who’d wait quietly for death. I’m worried she’ll resort to desperate measures to cling to life. The Dragon Clan’s path is only for them. If she’s truly cornered… she might dive into the Lost Sea for a chance at survival.”

“But before that—”

The man smiled: “I’ll help you kill her, Anselm. Don’t worry.”

Hitana’s mind went blank, unable to process.

Flamel caught her expression and looked at Anselm, surprised: “Anselm, you didn’t tell Hitana anything?”

“…I told her some things,” Anselm said, eyes lowering. “Hitana doesn’t need to know too much now. She just needs to be pure, not troubled by meaningless things.”

“Anselm, Anselm… Contract Heads exist to share our burdens, not the other way around.”

Flamel spun his teacup, half-smiling: “Why does it seem like you, who made her your Contract Head, are protecting her?”

The young Hydra looked up, tone flat: “It’s not protection—it’s a rational choice.”

“You didn’t ask her opinion?”

“I don’t need to.”

“Really?”

“…”

Anselm was silent for a moment, then sighed:

“Hitana, you knew your duties and responsibilities as my Contract Head the moment we bonded. But I haven’t told you about Hydra, the Flame-Feasting Royalty, or the four divine seeds, because I thought you didn’t need to worry about such distant matters.”

“But Father’s right.” He turned slightly, gazing into her dark red eyes. “I should know your thoughts. Do you want to know? About those secrets.”

“I…”

Meeting those entrancing sea-blue eyes, Hitana gritted her teeth, resolute:

“I want to know… because I’m Anselm’s Contract Head. Mr. Flamel’s right—I’m here to share your burdens, not to be protected.”

Summoning her courage under Flamel and the four Contract Heads’ gazes, she placed a hand on Anselm’s shoulder, her voice firm: “Anselm, I’ll be your strongest Contract Head, right?”

“…What am I going to do with you?”

Anselm shook his head, smiling, patting her hand: “If you say that, what choice do I have?”

“Let’s start… with the basics.”

The young Hydra sipped his wine: “There are two paths to transcendence in this world. You know that, right, Hitana?”

“Mm, the Celestial Path and… the Abyss.”

“Do you know the difference between them?”

The girl shook her head, embarrassed.

“The difference is…” Anselm raised his glass, peering through the crystal and liquid at a different world. “The Celestial Path, in tiers one and two, merges spirit and flesh for sublimation before touching elements. Those who tread the Abyss have their souls touch elements from the start.”

“…Huh?” Hitana was confused. “Then aren’t Abyss transcendents stronger?”

“Of course.” Anselm’s fingertips emitted faint black mist.

Laurence, on Saville’s shoulder, shivered, scurrying to the other side.

Tyr’s expression shifted slightly, but Tornado looked fascinated.

Anselm gazed at his fingertips, saying softly: “But the problem is, the Abyss grants power at a cost.”

“This is a blank sheet.”

Flamel conjured a piece of paper, shaking it at Hitana: “Think of it as a soul.”

A water orb formed in his other hand: “This is transcendence.”

“Treading the Abyss means immersing in this paper… directly in water.”

Anselm said: “As you absorb transcendence, it reshapes your soul. If it reaches a certain limit…”

The water-soaked, crumpled, fragile paper tore apart under Flamel’s gentle tug.

Flamel shrugged, illustrating vividly: “Transcendence destroys you entirely.”

“But… why?” Hitana asked, incredulous. “Transcendence… destroys transcendents? How? I’ve never felt that!”

“Because transcendence is, at its core… a leap, a brutally forceful leap.”

Anselm said quietly: “Understanding the world to achieve your own leap.”

Transcendents achieve leaps through understanding elements—the essence of the world.

“But how could humans, living beings, fully analyze the world?”

Flamel tapped his head: “That’s not just transcendence or power—it’s a perspective, indescribable, at another level, analyzing the world itself.”

“Imagine a flood of information, endless mysteries, constantly assaulting and tainting your soul and will—things you can’t understand, perceive, or describe, like that water orb, eroding your soul until it collapses.”

Hitana looked at Anselm, her voice trembling: “Can’t… can’t it stop?”

Anselm reached back, grasping her hand.

Though comforting, his words offered none:

“The Abyss is called the Abyss because once you’re tainted, there’s no turning back.”

“From the moment your soul touches elements, you crave more mysteries, seeking life’s leap. Even if you resist, your soul pursues it. The stronger you become, the more you perceive, until you can’t bear the increasingly complex, profound, incomprehensible mysteries. Your soul shatters, maddens and dies.”

“The Celestial Path avoids this. In tiers one and two, elements enhance the body, letting the soul reshape its vessel first, creating a hard shell to selectively filter elements, not passively absorb them.”

Flamel tossed a stone into the water orb: “Celestial Path transcendents are like this stone—imbued with transcendent power but not riddled by the world’s essence. The cost…”

“Since they can’t be fully saturated like ‘paper,’ their understanding of the world’s essence is less complete. So, the sixth tier of the Celestial Path is theoretical—no one or creature has ever reached it.”

No creature has ever reached tier six via the Celestial Path, meaning…

“All divine seeds,” Anselm whispered, rubbing Hitana’s hand,

“Are doomed to fall into madness under the world’s essence, dying in the end.”

The stronger they grow, the closer they touch the deeper elements and information of the world’s essence.

But their limits prevent them from comprehending these.

This incomprehension drives them to pursue life’s leap even more madly.

To leap… they must grow stronger, dissecting more incomprehensible elements from the world’s essence.

An unsolvable, despairing cycle.

A curse from the world, looming over every divine seed.

After becoming Anselm’s Contract Head, Hitana instinctively knew her duty—to share the chaos and madness eroding Hydra.

But she didn’t truly understand what this “chaos” or “madness” was, thinking it was just Hydra’s, the Abyss’s embodiment, inherent flaw.

“Among divine seeds, Hydra is likely the most unfortunate.”

Anselm chuckled, whether at the divine seeds’ doomed madness or his own… absurd fate.

“Because of our powers’ complexity and breadth, we suffer the worst information erosion—so severe we’re the only divine seed unable to retain wisdom. Our vast powers make us the Abyss’s embodiment.”

Here, Anselm fully revealed Hydra’s essence to Hitana.

The mad blood in this apocalyptic beast stemmed from its near-total immersion in the Abyss, drawing endless erosion that shredded even wisdom, reducing them to frenzied beasts chasing power until destruction and death.

Hitana gripped Anselm’s hand tightly.

She now understood why he hid Hydra’s truth from her, sharing only fragments of his tragic past.

This truth—this doomed, wretched end—was something Hitana couldn’t accept.

“Why are you upset?” Anselm laughed softly. “As my Contract Head, you’re fated to sink into the Abyss with me.”

“I’m not alone, Hitana, and neither are you.”

“Anselm…”

Hitana’s voice was hoarse: “Is there really no solution? I don’t believe… can’t the Empress help you?”

“That only delays, not solves.”

Anselm shook his head: “Each divine seed fights this erosion in their own way… You think the Empress helps Hydra burn its madness just to build the Empire?”

“No—it’s because the Flame-Feasting Royalty, by burning Hydra’s madness, can better understand the world’s essence. Each generation aims for the mythical seventh tier, anchoring their humanity with the Empire. That’s their way of fighting erosion.”

As the only human-born transcendent with tier-six strength, the Flame-Feasting Royalty… harbored ambitions surpassing the other three divine seeds.

They didn’t evade or endure but sought a leap in endless madness to break free of its shackles.

But the first Hydra’s erosion was too vast and terrifying and the gains of burning its madness didn’t outweigh the risks.

So, the Empire’s founding Empress had Hydra sever eight heads, leaving only the core.

“So I won’t let Ephithand slip away.”

Flamel chuckled: “If her daughter doesn’t inherit tier-six power, she can’t burn Anselm’s erosion. How could I let her… leave such a mess?”

Anselm glanced at Hitana’s grim expression, saying helplessly: “I knew you’d react like this, carrying this thorn in your heart, unable to be happy. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“But it’s so important—”

“Not now.” Anselm cut her off. “We have plenty of time, Hitana. I’m not yet at the point of being tormented by endless elements and information. That’s far off. Your worry is meaningless now, just causing you pain.”

“Ahem, I disagree.”

Flamel stood, smiling at the clenched-fisted Hitana, his voice gentle: “Anselm, Hitana is your Contract Head, not a caged canary. You should focus on how she can better help you, not how to keep her happy.”

“…On that,” the man scratched his head awkwardly, losing all noble air, “I’ve got experience. Anselm and I are too alike in this—exactly the same.”

“Don’t be too scared, little Hitana. Doesn’t Anselm’s behavior prove something?”

The young Hydra’s father winked at the girl:

“He truly loves you.”

“Father.”

“Hahaha, your big boy’s shy, little Hitana.”

Flamel ignored Anselm’s warning tone, laughing joyfully at Hitana, whose expression softened, her face reddening: “Go hug him. Tell him not to worry about you.”

“Father.”

Anselm’s voice chilled: “Enough.”

The man raised his hands innocently, signaling he’d say no more.

Hitana, standing behind Anselm, paused briefly, then bent down without hesitation, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Anselm…” The girl nuzzled his cheek.

“Like Mr. Flamel said, don’t worry about me.”

“I… I’m really scared, scared that you’ll meet that kind of end, but—”

Hitana Lansmarlos, the courageous girl who pulled Anselm from a fated deadlock, spoke with kind eyes, words only they understood:

“You’ve been working to change all this, haven’t you!”

“I believe you’ll succeed… so you have to believe in me too, that I won’t mope all day just because of what you said, okay?”

Anselm gently grasped Hitana’s arm, smiling silently.

Only then did the Contract Heads watching Anselm and Hitana understand what Saville meant by “remarkable.”

“This is…” Laurence murmured in disbelief, seeing Anselm’s calm, serene expression, “remarkable.”

“Alright, Hitana.” The young Hydra responded tenderly, “I promise you.”

Flamel looked at his son, lips curving slightly, and said loudly: “Enough serious talk—it’s time for something lighter, Tornado—”

“…It’s Tyr, my lord.”

The golem-like giant behind him rumbled.

“Oh, right, Tyr.” Flamel tapped his forehead.

“Too bad only Tyr’s here, Longjin didn’t come…”

“It’s Peregrine, boss,” Laurence interjected.

“Er, Peregrine? Oh, Peregrine! Peregrine’s the Head of Wind.”

Flamel, ever polite, eloquent, and lucid with no trace of madness, shook his head: “I’m losing track. Good thing you all remember.”

He smiled at Hitana: “Little Hitana, though Anselm says there’s plenty of time, I, like Ephithand, don’t have much left.”

“Though theoretically, if I deal with Ephithand, there’s little chance of mishaps… no amount of my effort compares to you growing stronger.”

“Bearing two Contract Head powers is unprecedented, showing your essence is extraordinarily powerful.”

Flamel rubbed his chin: “If you fell into the Abyss, you might even reach tier six.”

“No need, Father.” Anselm narrowed his eyes. “Hitana just needs to grow at her own pace.”

“Heh, true.”

Flamel, who’d been watching Hitana, suddenly chuckled, meaningfully: “If little Hitana did become tier six, it might not be good for Anselm. Er… no, I said no more serious talk.”

“Tyr,” the man tilted his head, “go on.”

Tyr nodded slightly, his massive, tank-like frame exuding terrifying presence as he moved to the courtyard’s open space, staring at… Hitana.

“Lansmarlos.”

His thunderous voice was deep and resonant: “I’ll call you Lans.”

“Uh…” Hitana blinked, then quickly responded, “Okay, Mr. Tyr.”

“Just Tyr.” Tyr looked at her calmly.

“Normally, the previous generation’s Contract Heads don’t train the next, and Peregrine has duties from the lord, so it’s just me.”

Anselm patted Hitana’s hand: “Go… it’ll be tough, but don’t be afraid.”

“…Mm.”

Strength surged in Hitana’s heart as she strode confidently to the open space, standing ten meters from Tyr.

“Typically,” Tyr said, looking down at her, “training the next generation isn’t necessary. I wasn’t trained by my predecessor, but you and the young master are different.”

“The young master has only you as his Contract Head, so you must bear more pressure and responsibility. I trust you understand.”

“Of course!” Hitana looked up at Tyr without a hint of fear. “And I can do it!”

“…Good spirit.”

Tyr nodded slightly: “But saying and doing are different. At tier three, your words lack weight.”

Hitana’s eye twitched, but she couldn’t argue.

After tier three, both the power and difficulty of advancement were incomparable to before.

To reach tier four, one needed a deep mastery of an element, grasping the “Scepter” of rules. Hitana’s strongest beast element… was hard to hone now.

In the original timeline, Hitana endured countless battles, devoured many foes, to forge the Celestial Wolf Empress’s supreme might.

Now, by Anselm’s side, she rarely faced such blood-soaked fights.

“But as long as the lord is here, the young master is sa—”

Tyr’s words halted abruptly. He paused, then continued: “In short, you must seize every chance to grow stronger, because few dare provoke Hydra. But when they do…”

“It’s another divine seed, and it’s a fight to the death, right?”

Hitana clenched her fists: “I get it… divine seeds, hmph.”

In the future she saw, she clashed with the Empress and retreated unscathed.

Without Contract Head powers, she already had strength to face a tier-six.

Now, with two Contract Head powers, she’d never let Anselm face danger again!

Even at tier three, tier four was just a matter of time.

“Good. Though the young master hasn’t told you much, your insight is sharp.” Tyr nodded. “Now, let me test your strength—don’t just use the Head of Strength’s power. Including the Head of Wind.”

“You mean… attack you?”

“Strike.”

The golem-like giant said expressionlessly: “Attack me with the most savage, ruthless, unrestrained force, aiming to crush me, to crush Hydra’s enemies.”

The weight of his words alone pressed on Hitana.

She said no more, taking a deep breath, focusing entirely on the monstrous figure before her.

The breath of wind, the flow of the world, transcendent intuition—all surged in an instant.

A glint of indigo flashed in her dark red eyes as she tried to find Tyr’s weaknesses with the Head of Wind’s power.

“…”

But half a minute passed, and the girl remained frozen.

…Nothing.

No flaws, no gaps, no weaknesses.

This towering, humanoid golem was a perfect shield crafted by a legendary alchemist, embodying “impregnable.”

“…What.” Tyr frowned slightly. “Your expression… is the Head of Wind’s power manifesting as enemy perception? Trying to find my weaknesses?”

The battle-hardened warrior saw through her ability instantly, shaking his head: “Don’t waste effort. The gap between us is too vast for the Head of Wind to bridge… unless, in the chaos of battle, you might catch a fleeting chance.”

“Come.”

He stepped forward—just one step—and Hitana felt a terrifying pressure.

Warriors weren’t fools relying solely on fists, ignorant of ether’s use.

“No result from staring,” Tyr said gravely. “Want to disappoint the young master? You don’t need to do much—just withstand this pressure and touch me to show some mastery of the Head of Strength.”

Tier three against tier five.

Not against a newborn, ignorant beast like the Red Ice Python, but a battle-hardened, unkillable war machine under Hydra, capable of crushing all.

A tier-five’s might was evident in the Black Knight’s battlefield sweep—a single swing carved a kilometer-long rift in the earth.

Yet Hitana didn’t hesitate, stepping forward against the viscous, near-solid pressure.

Crack!

A sharp snap came from her shin, but she didn’t flinch.

She locked onto Tyr’s heart—the hunter’s kill zone—her eyes blazing with long-dormant ferocity.

Devour his power, consume his strength, kill… kill!

The beast in her soul roared at this unprecedented foe, refusing to yield.

The Beast King, who’d challenge even the Empress, fueled Hitana’s hunger for power.

To seize all that could make her stronger, then devour her prey’s strength… amid this savage, greedy drive, her unreasonable Spiritual Essence began to work.

Her body straightened, faintly adapting to the pressure. Her broken shin healed rapidly, surprising the other Contract Heads.

“This isn’t right…” Laurence crossed its claws. “How’s she adapting to Tyr’s gravity so fast?”

“No spells involved.” Tornado rubbed his chin.

“Ether fluctuations aren’t strong, and it’s not purely the Head of Strength’s power. So… Spiritual Essence?”

“Spiritual Essence?” Laurence gasped. “This girl has Spiritual Essence too?!”

Tyr was mildly surprised but not shocked. To him, someone chosen by the young master, bearing two Contract Head powers, would be odd without such ability.

Boom—

A low rumble echoed in the courtyard as the ground beneath Tyr and Hitana… cracked into a web-like pattern!

“Guh!”

The crushing pressure nearly forced Hitana to her knees. She braced her hands on the shattered ground, coughing blood, gasping, her lungs shrinking under the force, unable to expand.

The beast’s adaptability was shattered, forced to start anew.

As Tyr said, the fundamental gap between Hitana and him was unbridgeable.

That her Spiritual Essence Beast King still had an effect was already absurd.

Only by achieving a leap in tier could she better wield her power.

“Cough… cough… haa…”

Hitana’s pupils constricted as blood dripped.

She felt a force stirring within, like when she faced Ivora at the Alchemical Association’s workshop, standing before Anselm—a primal urge, a qualitative shift of soul manifesting in flesh.

A leap in life.

The greedy beast, endlessly pursuing power through devouring, sought the same leap as transcendents.

She felt an indescribable discomfort at her tailbone, as if something was sprouting. But as she tried to urge it forth, she stopped herself.

…No.

What I should focus on… isn’t just myself, not only myself.

I’m… Anselm’s Contract Head. Why am I thinking only of my Spiritual Essence’s power?

He’s testing my use of the Head of Strength and Head of Wind.

Hydra’s Head of Strength amplified a Contract Head’s power, recovery and perfected their body, even summoning Hydra’s projection.

But… was that all?

As one of the apocalyptic beast’s nine heads, was the Head of Strength’s power so limited?

Hitana spat out blood.

Her body ached, the mountain-like pressure grinding her muscles, snapping her tendons, crushing her bones.

Her body broke and reformed in endless pain, the Beast King’s power stubbornly trying to consume and adapt to this pressure far beyond her tier.

Contract Head… I share Anselm’s burdens.

Hitana murmured in her heart.

Anselm gave me greater power, so I should stop here, not ask for more… right?

No, that’s not right.

The girl’s tall frame straightened amidst trembling.

“…This time,” Tornado narrowed his eyes, “it’s not about Spiritual Essence. This girl’s insight is terrifying.”

He and the other Contract Heads saw Hitana rise, a vast shadow surging behind her.

A faint yet real shadow from the Abyss, granting her power.

The Head of Strength could, with Hydra’s consent, summon Hydra’s projection—Hitana had done so before.

But… this wasn’t why she could withstand Tyr’s gravity without her Beast King.

The true reason was… she was absorbing the immense power within that shadow into her body!

She was taking in the earth-shaking power of Hydra’s colossal projection!

“Well done, Hitana.”

Anselm allowed his girl to draw power from him endlessly, smiling with satisfaction:

“As I said… until you grow, devour me to your heart’s content.”

Hitana looked up, stepping toward the nearing Tyr, her dark red eyes faintly shifting to… serpentine slits?

Yes, I’m Anselm’s Contract Head… part of him.

Why should I think sharing his burdens means I can’t take more power from him?

This is what Anselm willingly gives me—my power.

It was as if… I belonged to him too.

Hydra’s terrifying physical power endlessly amplified Hitana’s body.

Even just the infusion from its shadow threatened to burst her apart, as she hadn’t fully adapted to wielding such power—using the shadow as a medium to channel Hydra’s colossal strength.

Once she mastered it, could she skip the process and directly tap into Anselm’s full power?

When she grew stronger, could her body stack Hydra’s complete physical might atop her own… How strong would she be then?

“Huff…”

Her lungs, nearly crushed shut by gravity, exhaled scalding, steam-like breath. Hitana, her eyes now serpentine slits, stepped steadily toward Tyr.

“She’s a genius, Anselm,” Flamel praised sincerely. “Her potential is limitless.”

“I know,” Anselm replied, propping his cheek and chuckling. “That’s Hitana.”

“Hey, I said,”

Hitana, now close enough to touch Tyr and pass the test, tilted her chin up: “You didn’t just say touch you—you said attack you, right?”

Tyr raised an eyebrow: “If you’ve got strength left, go ahead and try.”

He didn’t intensify the gravity, but as a fellow Head of Strength, he knew Hitana’s body was at its limit bearing Hydra’s physical power.

Further infusion would shatter her body, unable to withstand that mountain-crushing force.

“Underestimating me has its limits too.”

Hitana, her wild side dominant, smirked: “My limits aren’t yours, big guy.”

“And even if I reach that limit, even if I burst…”

Her left hand’s fingers aligned into a blade, her snake-like pupils flashing with a mix of her own and Hydra’s savage madness!

“As long as it bursts in the right place, won’t it have a better effect?”

In that instant, her left arm warped, twisted, swelled, unleashing a terrifying force that tore through the air, shattering the pressure.

With a cunning angle, in less than a blink, her aligned fingers stabbed toward Tyr’s heart like white lightning!

Boom!

Her entire left arm exploded, blood and bone fragments splattering her face, giving her excited, joyful grin a fearsome, bewitching charm.

In that moment, she’d poured all of Hydra’s physical power into her arm, nearly losing control of the overwhelming force.

“…”

Tyr lowered his head, staring at the two fingers buried half a knuckle into his chest.

Half a knuckle wasn’t “just” but “astonishingly.”

This tier-three girl had pierced a top-tier-five warrior’s body.

The giant was silent, then said earnestly:

“Remarkable.”

“Hehe, of course! I’m Hitana, Anselm’s Contract—ah!”

As Hydra’s power left her body, Hitana went limp, collapsing like a boneless heap, but Anselm caught her in time.

“That’s enough.”

The young Hydra held her waist, exasperated: “You didn’t need to go that far.”

“I just couldn’t swallow it…”

Hitana gulped down the potion Anselm fed her, wiping her mouth and glancing at Tyr, pouting: “Felt like this big guy was looking down on me, and that’s like looking down on you too.”

Anselm chuckled: “Tyr gave you plenty of credit. That sudden increase in pressure could’ve killed a tier-four instantly. Without your Spiritual Essence, you’d have been in trouble.”

“…Oh, really?”

Hitana scratched her head: “He acted like he wasn’t even trying.”

“Not trying is not trying, but for you, it was already excessive.”

“…Sorry, young master.”

The three-meter, murderous-looking giant bowed deeply to Anselm: “It was a necessary test.”

“I know. Hitana adapted to a deeper use of the Head of Strength in one go. You did nothing wrong,” Anselm waved off.

“Don’t dwell on it.”

He carried the limp Hitana back to the tea table.

She was shy and helpless, too weak to struggle, burying her face in his shoulder like an ostrich, though her tall frame made it comically awkward, utterly adorable.

“How’s that, Laurence?” Anselm asked the gray rat on Saville’s shoulder, smiling. “Did Hitana do alright?”

“Alright?!”

Laurence’s boyish voice sang with awe: “My heavens, young master, this isn’t just alright—it’s perfect, unmatched perfection!”

It hopped off Saville’s shoulder onto the table, gazing up at Hitana with reverence: “In two or three years, I’ll be begging Miss Hitana to cover me! No, maybe not even that long.”

“Her physical control and talent are unheard of… adapting to Hydra’s core power infusion so quickly, guiding it to one part and exploding it…”

Tornado marveled: “In talent, she outstrips Tyr’s stubbornness by twenty miles, plus unknown, potent Spiritual Essence… Should I say, as expected of the young master, finding such a monster in the backwater North?”

“An-Anselm,” Hitana whispered, her flushed cheek against his ear, “can you stop them from talking like that? I… I can’t handle it.”

“Hm? Don’t you love being praised?”

“That’s different! They’re… like my seniors, or not exactly, but… it’s weird!”

“Weird, hm…”

Anselm, holding Hitana, suddenly smiled, turning to the other side of the table, another corner of the courtyard.

“What do you think of my Hitana, the remarkable Hitana?”

“Miss Mingfuluo?”

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