Lylia's hands turned into fists, and her whole body shook with anger. Every rude thing Agatha said about the Royal Knights and every dismissive word she said about the people who had given their lives to protect others built up into a white-hot rage that needed to be let out.

However, beneath the anger lay a deeper and more agonizing force. Agatha's words hit home with surgical precision, not because they were entirely true, but because they echoed the doubts that had haunted Lylia in her darkest moments.

The nights when she couldn't sleep because she was worried about whether she had made the right choice. There were times when she wondered if healing through food was just a fancy way to say she wasn't good enough to be a knight.

"Shut up," Lylia said in a low, threatening voice. "Shut your fucking mouth...!"

Agatha raised an eyebrow, as if she found it funny. "Oh? Did I touch a nerve?"

"What a surprise... The failed royal knight was protecting an institution that threw her away..."

The word "failed" hit her like a punch. Lylia's chest felt tight, and she couldn't breathe.

Memories came rushing back without her asking. The heavy armor always felt excessively burdensome, the sword never seemed to move as gracefully in her hands as it did in others', and she recalled the disappointed looks from Rosalia, who had hoped for more.

She had worked twice as hard as anyone else, pushed herself to the limit and beyond, and it had never been enough. "You fucking...!"

"They didn't throw me away!" Lylia snapped, but even to her own ears, the words sounded defensive and unsure. "I left because I found a new way to help!"

"All this time I learnt that not everyone needs to fight to make a difference, but I bet you don't get that, do you?!"

"All you can see is violence, and what's worse, even destruction!"

"Not at all," Agatha said, leaning on her staff. "I get it completely."

"You ran away, girl..."

"You couldn't handle the stress of being a Royal Knight..."

"You couldn't handle the weight of what it meant to be one, so you ran away to a small village and told yourself that cooking meals was just as important as saving lives."

The words hurt more than any knife. A part of Lylia, the part she'd tried so hard to hide, wondered if Agatha was right.

Was she really doing something good, or was she just taking the easy way out?

Was she really making a difference, or was she simply hiding from her problems?

The anger that had been building turned into something more desperate and raw. She was angry not only at Agatha but also at herself, the world, and every time she had doubted herself.

It was the anger of someone who had built a new life on shaky ground, only to have that ground shaken by someone who could see through all of her carefully built defences. Her sight got smaller. Her hands shook not only with anger but also with a near-panic, driven by a primal need to prove Agatha wrong and silence the mocking voice that resembled her own doubts too closely.

Lylia lost it. Years of doubt and months of second-guessing her decisions turned into pure, righteous anger. She didn't think before she moved, and in three quick steps she was closer to Agatha.

Her fist swung toward the old woman's face with all the force she could muster, technique and training from her Royal Knight days flowing back as if she'd never left, but Agatha already predicted what was going to happen next.

The staff came up, intercepting the punch with a sharp crack of wood against bone. "I see through your eyes... full of regrets and rage..."

"What a foolish girl you are," Agatha said, and suddenly the staff transformed. Metal erupted from the wood, forming a wickedly sharp blade that sliced toward Lylia's throat.

"Lylia!" Greg's shield slammed into position between them, deflecting the blade at the last second. The impact drove him backward, his feet scraping across stone, but he held firm.

"Everyone, defensive formation!" Greg commanded, and the team moved with practiced coordination despite the surprise.

Elwen positioned herself to Lylia's left and Hilda's to her right, each of them activating whatever defenses they had. Even Hammy seemed to understand the danger, expanding slightly on Elwen's shoulder in preparation for whatever was coming.

Agatha laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the confined space. "Oh, how wonderful..."

"The little Brotherhood of Peace thinks they can fight me..."

"You have no idea what you're facing, do you?"

She slammed her staff against the floor, and Greg felt the entire room respond. The desk shuddered, its wood grain shifting and moving like living tissue. The bookshelves rattled, volumes tumbling down as the shelves themselves began to reshape.

"I am a master craftsman with a touch of magic mastery," Agatha declared, her voice taking on a resonance that made the air vibrate. "Every tool, every piece of furniture, every crafted object in this room answers to me."

"And unlike your precious peaceful philosophy, I understand that craft and combat are inseparable...!"

The fallen books didn't just hit the floor. They opened in mid-fall, their pages tearing free and hardening into razor-sharp projectiles that launched toward the group like a swarm of paper daggers.

"Is she some kind of wizard blacksmith or some shit..." Greg thought while his shield caught most of them, but several got through, forcing Elwen to erect an emergency plant barrier and Hilda to deflect with her pickaxe.

"She's controlling crafted items with her magic," Greg said, thinking that Seraphine would have found this fascinating if she were here.

Greg had to think tactically without her analytical mind. "Anything that's been made by hand, she can manipulate!"

"What an excellent analysis you have in mind," Agatha said, and the desk exploded into motion.

Its legs extended and sharpened, transforming it into a spider-like construct that scuttled toward them with horrifying speed. The maps and papers on their surfaces hardened into armour plating, while the drawers became snapping jaws lined with what looked like metal teeth.

Greg met the desk construct head-on, his shield absorbing the impact of its initial charge. The force was tremendous, driving him back several feet, but he used his Guardian's Oath to redirect the kinetic energy. A shockwave erupted from the shield, stunning the construct momentarily.

"Now!" Greg shouted, and Lylia moved.

She'd retrieved a fallen piece of shelf wood, wielding it like an impromptu staff. Her Royal Knight training showed in every movement as she struck the desk construct's legs, aiming for joints and weak points with practiced precision. One leg shattered under her assault, causing the construct to list sideways.

But Agatha was already adapting. The bookshelves transformed next, their wood flowing like water as they reshaped into humanoid figures. Four of them, each seven feet tall and armed with shelf pieces that had become swords and spears.

"Heh... hehehe...!" Agatha starts to laugh.

"Hahahahahaha!!!"

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