“Senior Jennet.”
Faruxiel immediately straightened her posture and bowed slightly.
The title carried a heartfelt respect.
Zhao Yingyue also put away her playful expression, clasped her fists formally, and bowed.
“Honored One Jennet.”
Jennet walked over to them, her gaze passing over the railing to look at the dazzling nightscape beyond.
She didn’t immediately respond to their greetings, only let out a soft sigh.
“I thought I’d long grown tired of these occasions,” she spoke slowly, her voice tinged with self-mockery, “tired of false smiles, tired of insincere flattery. But when I heard you had returned, I couldn’t help but want to see for myself.”
Her eyes finally shifted from the night view to Faruxiel, gentle and complex, carrying the care of a senior for a junior, and a kind of understanding and sympathy shared only among those of the same kind.
“I heard. Thank you… for bringing Vanessa home.”
Vanessa.
When the name escaped from Jennet’s lips, Faruxiel felt as if an invisible hand gently clenched her heart.
The person Senior spoke of was the very same magical girl who had been controlled by spores in the Mycomother’s cavern.
She reached out, gently grasping Faruxiel’s gloved hand.
Her palm was warm and soft, yet trembled slightly.
“Thank you, Faruxiel.”
Jennet’s voice could no longer hide the weight of gratitude.
“Thank you for not leaving her alone in that cold, dark place.
Vanessa… she was most afraid of the dark.”
“What you brought back wasn’t just a body.
You brought back her dignity, her final honor as an Arslan warrior, and for those of us still alive… our last comfort.”
“She deserved that.”
Faruxiel was silent for a moment, then answered softly, almost like a vow.
“She is a hero.
She should rest in the Sanctuary Mausoleum of the kingdom, not as a puppet for monsters in that filthy soil.”
“Kingdom?”
Jennet repeated the word, a self-deprecating curve appearing at the corner of her lips.
“The kingdom you speak of is indulging itself in revelry inside.”
She raised a hand, pointing toward the brightly lit hall.
There, the obese King Duraniel was pouring fine wine directly onto the ample chest of a laughing noblewoman, provoking uproarious laughter from the surrounding crowd.
Treasury Minister Bartos was shoulder to shoulder with a group of corpulent merchants, discussing unknown promises of profit.
As for the rest of the nobles, they swarmed around power and beauty like flies around honey, indifferent to the battles on the front lines.
“Look at them,” Jennet’s voice was as cold as ice.
“You, me, girls like Vanessa—we bled and fought in the Forbidden Swamp of the Demon Domain to protect such a pack of maggots?
Faruxiel, tell me, is a kingdom this rotten at its core… truly worth defending?”
The air instantly became heavy.
Zhao Yingyue frowned, but didn’t speak.
She knew this was a conversation that belonged solely to the old and new generations of the God’s Favored.
Faruxiel remained silent.
She didn’t look at the debauchery inside the hall, but gazed instead at the endless, quiet lights beneath the royal city.
That was the dwelling place of ordinary people, the true foundation of the nation.
“It’s not them I protect.”
At last, she spoke, her voice calm yet resolutely firm.
“I protect the baker in the east who lights his oven first every morning.
The tailor in the west who always gives an extra half inch of fabric.
The children in the south who chase their ball down the street.
The farmers in the north who toil in the fields, hoping for a good harvest.
They are Arslan.
As long as they exist, as long as there is a single innocent person on this land who needs my protection, this kingdom is worth laying down my life to defend.”
“As for those maggots…”
Her voice suddenly chilled.
“I’ll carve them out of this nation, along with their rotting flesh.”
Jennet looked at her—the stubborn, youthful face—almost as if seeing her own self from many years ago.
The mockery in her eyes gradually faded, replaced by a long, helpless sigh.
“I once… was exactly like you.”
She said softly, as if whispering to herself.
“I too believed that as long as I was strong and steadfast enough, I could sever all darkness and revive this country.
But later I realized, darkness can never be slain entirely.
You carve out one nest of maggots, but more are born from their decaying corpses.
It’s an endless cycle—”
“Then should we give up?”
Faruxiel, uncharacteristically rude, interrupted Jennet.
“Should we let this country fall because it’s difficult, because we might fail, and let the innocent be devoured by monsters and filth alike?
That’s not the teaching I received, nor the choice Senior Vanessa would make!”
Faced with Faruxiel’s challenging gaze, Jennet fell silent.
“…That stubbornness of yours hasn’t changed at all.”
In the end, Jennet shook her head, an expression somewhere between a bitter smile and relief on her face.
She no longer tried to change Faruxiel’s beliefs.
She understood that very stubbornness was the true source of a God’s Favored’s strength.
She stepped forward, reaching out to straighten the ruffled tailcoat on Faruxiel, smoothed by agitation.
“If you’ve chosen the hardest path, then I’ll leave you with one piece of advice.”
Jennet lowered her voice so only the three of them could hear.
“This is a lesson I bought with my best years, and the blood of countless companions.
Remember it.”
Faruxiel and Zhao Yingyue both listened intently.
“On this filthy chessboard,”
Jennet looked into Faruxiel’s eyes, speaking slowly and clearly.
“Everyone is your enemy.
The king, those fat nobles, Fyenke, even players of unknown origin.
Each one has their own desires and schemes, all running counter to your ideals.”
Her words were like a cold blade, slicing away all warmth.
Faruxiel’s pupils shrank slightly, but she did not retort.
“But,”
Jennet’s tone shifted, deeper and heavier.
“Some enemies can be used.”
“Don’t try to fight everyone.
Not even gods can do that.
What you must learn is not to battle, but to balance.”
“Use the king’s wariness of Fyenke to restrain the expansion of the church.
Use the greed of nobles for wealth to force them to fund the army.
Use Fyenke’s ambition towards players to make him control the unruly Otherworlders.
Use your own strength and reputation to draw strong players to your side, turning them into your sharpest blades.”
“This last, you’ve already begun to do.”
“When your enemies fight among themselves for their own interests, you create a fragile but precious balance.
Only on that balance point do you have the room to act as you wish, to protect who you wish.”
After finishing, Jennet looked deeply at Faruxiel, as if wanting to brand this final advice onto her soul.
Then, without another word, she turned, straightened her elegant back, and calmly rejoined the noisy, dazzling world behind her.
—
Jennet’s figure melted into the sea of crystal lights, silk, and false smiles, disappearing without a sound.
Yet her cold, cruel advice remained like an invisible thorn, lodged deep within Faruxiel’s heart.
“Everyone is an enemy… but some enemies can be used… learn to balance, not just to oppose.”
The words echoed in her mind, colliding with the garish splendor before her in violent absurdity.
She and Zhao Yingyue stood silently on the terrace for a long while, letting the cold night wind brush their cheeks, hoping it would sweep away the chill inside.
In the end, Zhao Yingyue spoke first, her voice lower than usual.
“Let’s go.Staying here any longer just draws more attention.”
Faruxiel nodded.
They schooled their expressions, hiding all thoughts and caution behind calm masks, and turned back to the suffocating banquet hall.
At some point, the dance music had grown even more lively and energetic.
Noble men and women spun and crossed, skirts swirling and laughter bubbling.
Their return attracted little notice, only a few subtle glances flickering by.
Just as Faruxiel prepared to find an inconspicuous corner to endure the long, dull banquet, a figure pushed through the swirling crowd and approached her directly.
It was [Sage of Jingwei].
He still wore his impeccable scholar’s attire, a polite smile on his face, and the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose reflected the chandelier’s glimmer, making his always-probing eyes seem even deeper.
He stopped before Faruxiel and gave a slight, noble bow.
“Commander Faruxiel,”
His voice was clear and steady, without any unnecessary emotion.
“May I have the honor of a dance?”
Faruxiel’s brows knit ever so slightly.
She did not believe this calculating player would invite her out of mere social courtesy.
“Apologies,” She replied coldly, a hint of caution in her tone.
“I am not skilled at the female step.
At the military academy, I only practiced the male lead.”
It was both a fact and a polite refusal.
Within Arslan’s social norms, especially for women with military status or special standing, such a reason was not considered rude.
No one could object.
However, [Sage of Jingwei] seemed to have anticipated this.
His smile didn’t waver; in fact, it deepened a little.
“Then that’s perfect,” He responded smoothly.
“If you’ll forgive my presumption, I am passably versed in both steps.
Let me take the female lead, and you guide me—how about it?”
Before Faruxiel could refuse again, he stepped closer, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear.
“We have urgent business to discuss, Commander.
A matter… that could alter the course of the Forbidden Swamp war.”
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