Ravena took a few more steps forward—then stopped.

At the edge of the field, not far from the sparring area, Liona was sitting and watching the training session, clearly amazed that a dirty hoe could be used so effectively in combat.

Ravena narrowed her eyes, then turned to Mae.

"…That maid," she said coldly. "Does she belong to the Young Master?"

Mae followed her gaze and gave a small nod.

Ravena clicked her tongue softly.

"Fine. We'll speak with her."

Without waiting for consent, Ravena headed toward Liona, pulling Mae along with her.

Meanwhile—

CLANG—

The hoe and the claymore collided violently.

Lucas stepped back half a step, bracing against the vibration running up his arms. His breathing was slightly heavy, but his eyes remained sharp.

Silvara rolled her wrist and gave a crooked smile.

"Hm… it seems the Baroness's talent truly flows within the body you now inhabit."

Lucas let out a short laugh.

"Talent?" he said, lifting the hoe again. "What talent?"

Silvara raised her claymore, her stance turning serious.

"Focus," she said flatly. "I'm attacking now. You defend."

Lucas nodded without hesitation.

"Understood."

The next moment—

WHAM—

Silvara lunged.

Her attack was fast and direct, heavy with pressure. Lucas blocked by angling the blade of the hoe forward, his feet digging into the ground. The impact forced his body back, his arms dragged upward by the force as he gripped the hoe tightly.

By reflex, he reset his stance.

The claymore came again.

CLANG—

CLANG—

Lucas held his ground, defending against each strike in turn, his jaw tightening under the strain.

From the side of the field—

Liona stopped when she noticed the two women approaching. The moment she recognized Mae, she immediately stood up.

"Miss Mae, and…" she greeted politely, bowing neatly.

"Ravena."

Ravena looked at her without preamble.

"Do you work in this field?"

"Ah— I don't work in the field. I was only ordered to accompany the Young Master for today," Liona replied shortly.

Not far from them—

CLANG—

WHAM—

Lucas staggered back a step, but remained standing.

Silvara grinned in satisfaction.

"Good," she said. "You haven't collapsed yet."

Silvara suddenly halted her attack.

Her claymore did not come down—instead, it stopped midair.

Her eyes narrowed, her focus shifting past Lucas.

"…Huh?"

Lucas frowned.

"What is it?" he asked, still on guard. "Are you tired?"

Silvara did not answer immediately.

Her sharp gaze fixed on Ravena—more precisely, on the necklace hanging at the woman's neck. A distinctive symbol, subtle yet impossible to mistake.

Silvara clicked her tongue softly.

"What? A Central Cathedral—mid-to-high hierarchy?"

Lucas cast a brief glance in the same direction.

"Hm? Why?" he said. "Is there a problem?"

Silvara lowered her claymore slightly, her expression turning wary.

"No," she replied curtly.

She turned back to Lucas.

"It seems we have a guest."

Silvara drew a short breath, then loosened her grip.

A dim light flowed along the claymore—and in the next instant, the weapon faded, vanishing completely.

Lucas blinked, then relaxed his stance as well. He spun the Great Hoe once before lowering it. The weapon slowly dissolved into particles of light, disappearing entirely.

He turned to Silvara.

"So… should we receive her?"

Silvara let out a quiet breath, her tone cool and realistic.

"The Central Cathedral would not send a healer wearing that kind of necklace for something trivial."

Silvara's gaze returned to Ravena.

"If she's here," she continued, "then there's something they consider important enough to intervene personally."

Lucas and Silvara began walking closer.

When they were near enough, Silvara stopped one step ahead of Lucas. Her posture was perfectly upright, shoulders straight, her expression neatly locked in place—stiff, yet authoritative.

With a firm, gallant aristocratic accent, she opened the conversation.

"May I ask," she said formally, "what business brings Your Excellency here?"

Lucas glanced sideways.

Silvara's face… was stiff.

Hm.

When was the last time I saw an expression this tense on her face?

Ravena stopped directly in front of them. Her gaze swept over them quickly, then she straightened her back slightly—her official demeanor rising at once.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she said calmly.

"I am High Luminary Adept Ravena, a mid-to-high–rank representative of the Central Cathedral."

Lucas blinked once.

…Oh.

That explains it.

But in the next moment, Ravena softened her expression instead. The corner of her lips lifted slightly, her demeanor turning far more amiable.

"Oh, there's no need to be so tense," she continued lightly. "I didn't come on official business."

Silvara remained silent, alert.

Ravena turned to Lucas.

"I was merely… taking a walk," she said casually, "and happened to notice something interesting."

Lucas frowned.

"…Interesting?"

Ravena smiled wider—too smooth, almost sycophantic.

"This powerless servant of the Light," she said in a deliberately humble tone,

"was deeply impressed by the tomatoes you've grown, Young Master."

Tomatoes?

Lucas paused for a moment.

Something… was off.

Her manner was too sweet. Too affected. And she was from the Central Cathedral, no less.

In that case… might as well play Lucian, he thought, an itch rising as if eager to throw out some rage bait.

Lucas lifted his chin slightly, a thin, arrogant smile forming on his face.

"Of course," he said lightly. "My tomatoes are indeed exceptional."

Then his tone shifted—sharper, more insolent.

"But come on," he added casually. "An old woman like you shouldn't pretend to be so innocent."

Silence fell instantly.

Lucas stared straight into Ravena's eyes.

"What do you want in Voss territory?"

For a fraction of a second—

Ravena's eyebrow twitched.

That gentle smile nearly cracked.

Behind her composed expression, emotions churned.

That gentle healer—had almost been rage-baited by a mouth already infamous for its filth.

Ravena let out a long breath.

Slowly, she relaxed her expression again, a thin, controlled smile appearing on her face—clearly forced.

She laughed gracefully, friendly and distinctly feminine, gentle like an idol under the gaze of hundreds of cameras focused on her delicate features.

"Oh my… you're quite sharp-tongued, Young Master," she said softly.

Lucas, however, appeared even more at ease.

"Sharp?" he raised an eyebrow. "No, I'm not."

He looked straight at Ravena's face, then added without the slightest restraint,

"You really are old."

Ravena's hand clenched.

Her fingernails pressed into her palm, faint veins standing out on the back of her hand. Her calm aura cracked—subtly, but unmistakably.

Beside them—

Silvara blinked once.

Mae froze, her mouth slightly open.

Liona blinked, completely at a loss for words.

Mae swallowed. He really does have a sharp mouth, she thought.

Meanwhile, Liona and Silvara stared at Lucas's face.

This man isn't pretending this time, they thought in unison.

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