Chapter 1: The Uneasy Spoils of War

A blood-red sky stretched overhead, and the evening sun held no warmth.

On a desolate road, a carriage trundled slowly forward.

As it drew closer to Demon King City, the crimson in the sky deepened.

Ellen, the part-time coachman, gripped the reins and yawned, still lazily urging the horses on.

He reached out to rub his arm, goosebumps prickling his skin.

“Damn it, there’s not even any wind.”

He had always been an optimist, but for some reason, ever since entering the domain of Demon King City, a deep unease had settled in his heart.

It made no sense.

They were the strongest party, forged through countless battles and trials.

Everything proved it—they were the chosen ones destined to end the Demon King.

And inside the unremarkable carriage behind him sat three people who were now the brightest stars on the continent.

The Princess of Taya Empire, whose veins flowed with the Lion King Bloodline, the Supreme Swordsman bearing the Holy Sword ‘Judgement’—Her Highness Belinda von Taya.

The Saintess of the Time Temple, designated heir of the High Pontiff, earthly agent of the Goddess of Time, and master of Saintlight Magic—Her Eminence Reina Saintglow.

And finally… cough cough… the Elf Assassin from Moonshadow Forest, a young Elf girl who had grown rapidly under his guidance as a Philosopher Mage—Hestia Shadowsong.

Thinking of the three powerful presences inside the carriage, Ellen’s mood finally improved a little, and the unease in his chest was pushed back.

Not because he was arrogant or blindly trusted them, but because over three years and more than a thousand days and nights spent together through trials of fire and blade, he had witnessed firsthand how three young girls matured into “walking calamities.”

Each of their paths to power was soaked in his sweat (mostly from getting beaten up during training), his wisdom (mostly from cleaning up their messes), and… well, a small amount of guidance (which they often chose to ignore).

And the Demon King’s strength—Ellen already knew through intelligence—compared to them, there was no possibility of defeat.

Thinking of this, Ellen suppressed his unease and couldn’t help but imagine a peaceful retirement after defeating the Demon King.

According to the old mage’s notes, once the Demon King was defeated, the border barrier would vanish. At that time, as long as he found the right Key Node, he could go home.

Of course, before that, he planned to enjoy a carefree hero’s retirement.

He was engaged to Belinda. Years ago, on the Empire’s border, she was ambushed and gravely wounded by a high-level Demon General while leading troops against a Demon Lair.

He had saved her—at the time, just a novice Mage—by piecing together an Eight Trigram Core Magic Array to defeat the Demon General.

A classic tale of hero saving the beauty.

Admittedly, the process was messy, but the result was romantic.

That proud, lion-like Princess insisted on adventuring with him as repayment for saving her life.

At the time, he was searching for the friend who had crossed worlds with him, while Belinda sought a way to rekindle the Lion King’s Flame.

Thus, the two set out together, met new companions, and their bond deepened through repeated adventures, until one day after a dungeon crawl.

Belinda, before the other four party members, placed the Silver Key into Ellen’s hand.

“This is the most important royal token of the Taya Empire. Ellen, you helped me reignite the Lion King’s Flame. From now on, you will be my Prince Consort.”

By the campfire, his friend Jocelyn wore heavy armor, always hiding within and calling herself Barbaros.

Sadly, two years ago, she stayed behind to cover the party’s retreat, forever remaining in Sigh Canyon.

Though only her eyes showed from the armor then, she still whistled in excitement.

Reina, at the time a fallen Saintess stripped of her divine status, sat quietly in the corner, her ice-blue eyes flickering in the firelight.

Hestia hung upside down from a tree branch, Elf ears twitching, a blade of grass in her mouth, her emerald eyes twinkling with mischief.

Looking back, his own expression then must have been quite something.

To be Belinda’s Prince Consort—was that a blessing or a shackle?

But faced with Belinda’s uncompromising gaze, he had no doubt that if he dared refuse, Judgement would be at his throat in an instant.

What else could he do?

With a smile, Ellen accepted the heavy “Silver Key” amidst Jocelyn’s heckling and Hestia’s laughter.

Perhaps being a Prince Consort wasn’t such a bad deal after all?

He mused, drawing the silver key from his mage’s sleeve and examining it again.

Belinda’s features were dignified and striking.

Her fiery red hair made her resemble a burning rose, just as fierce as her temper.

Three years together had dulled her thorns somewhat.

Still, Her Highness could be a bit overbearing at times… hard to resist.

And Reina?

This noble Saintess had once promised to make him her exclusive Saintlight Knight.

Hahaha, though at that time she was still a fallen Saintess, even stripped of her divine status.

He still remembered when Belinda questioned her inability to use Holy Light Healing, the Saintess hiked up her skirt and stammered in protest: “Because the weather is terrible! In such bad weather, this Saintess doesn’t want to use any spells!”

That awkward stubbornness contrasted sharply with the merciful, radiant Saintess she was now.

Exclusive Saintlight Knight?

Sounded like a fancy bodyguard? But… serving by the Saintess’ side did have a certain prestige.

And Hestia—the true twenty-three-year-old Elf girl, his beloved disciple, respectful and filial to her teacher.

She had long vowed to repay him, to bring him to the legendary Elf tribe in the forest.

It was said that visitors to the tribe had a chance of receiving the blessing of Elf immortality?

Even aside from all that, as a proud Philosopher Mage, wasn’t this vast world his to roam?

Visiting Professor at the Magic Academy of the Empire?

Chief Advisor to a wealthy Principality?

Or find a scenic lakeside, open an Alchemy Workshop, and study interesting things?

He could search for the way home at his own pace.

The more Ellen thought, the happier he became, and he couldn’t help but hum a tune, convinced his retirement would be bright and full of flowers.

At night, after stopping the carriage beside a collapsed outpost, Ellen realized everyone had grown strangely quiet—perhaps because their journey’s end was near.

Belinda would return to the Taya Empire to formally become Crown Princess, her long-held wish; Reina would go to the Saint Palace to fulfill her Saintess duties.

Hestia?

She likely wouldn’t return to Moonshadow Forest, instead traveling the continent—her love of freedom made that clear.

As Ellen pondered, he unloaded their supplies.

Hestia broke up the outpost’s remaining wood for a campfire, the flames driving back the darkness.

She brought out an iron pot and kettle to boil well water they’d refilled at a town.

Since she was on night watch, she needed to stock up on boiled water early.

Belinda and Reina set up three tents together, working so smoothly they didn’t need words.

That night, the four sat around the campfire in unusual silence—even the normally talkative Hestia only nibbled hard bread, distracted.

Reina sat apart from the fire, cross-legged on a clean stone.

The Saintess rested her hands on her knees, eyes closed in meditation.

Her white robe radiated sacredness, isolating her from the unclean world.

Belinda clutched her Judgement sword, mechanically polishing it with a cloth, face unreadable.

Ellen’s gaze was drawn to the blue gem set in Judgement’s guard—a trophy from three years ago when they defeated the wounded Wrath of Flame, Samael. It was a powerful time artifact: the Timeheart!

He remembered clearly—when first taken, the gem glowed blue, surface flawless, with a swirling nebula at its core.

Now, though, its surface was webbed with cracks!

“When did it become like this?”

Ellen hurried over, channeling magic into his palm to try a repair spell. But his power vanished inside the gem, like a stone sinking into the sea, without a ripple.

“Don’t get so worked up. The cracks started a long time ago. Sometimes one or two would appear.”

Belinda frowned, annoyed.

“But ever since entering Demon King City’s domain, it suddenly turned into this.”

“Does that mean… we failed? That in Demon King City, something happened.

Are we inside a Time Reversal?”

Ellen forced out his guess under crushing pressure.

He was nearly panicking.

The beautiful future he’d just imagined seemed to shatter before it began!

The unshakeable unease and the cracks in the Timeheart forced him to question:

Can we really win?

Or rather, did we… ever win?

The air in the camp grew thick with silence.

Reina opened her eyes and gazed at the fire.

Hestia looked away, packed up her hard bread, and began whittling wood with her knife, as if making a whistle.

“Maybe the previous owner, that fool demon Samael, activated the Timeheart’s power in his last moments, trying to escape death. Over and over, but ultimately couldn’t get away.”

Belinda casually plunged Judgement into the stone beside her, blocking Ellen’s view, and continued her explanation.

“Time’s ripples are slow. Only recently did they catch up, revealing the Timeheart’s true form.”

A wound caused by a previous owner?

The explanation sounded plausible, but could it really account for all those cracks?

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Ellen bit his lip.

“What would it change?”

Belinda crunched her hard bread, swallowing.

“It’s just a broken stone. It can’t decide anything.”

“Teacher, are you afraid of something?”

Hestia couldn’t help but ask.

Her whistle attempt failed, and she tossed the wood into the fire, where it sizzled.

“No.”

Ellen felt the strange atmosphere growing.

The unease in his heart thickened.

Why did everyone ignore such an obvious warning? Was he just paranoid?

At some point, Reina had stood and approached to comfort him.

“Rest assured. The Goddess of Time has not yet written our ending.”

Compassion filled the Saintess’ ice-blue eyes, and her melodious voice had a special rhythm—a habit from years in the choir.

So, it really might be that Samael used the Timeheart?

Let it be Samael. Let it not be them.

“What kind of ending will the Goddess of Time give us?”

Ellen couldn’t help but ask.

Reina’s expression turned solemn, hands folded at her waist, silver hair draping her shoulders as she prepared to deliver the Goddess’s Mandate.

“Ellen, come here a moment.”

Belinda suddenly stood, interrupting, and walked to the far side of the outpost.

Ellen had no choice but to follow. They went far enough that the campfire shrank to a trembling dot.

Belinda stopped abruptly and turned, so Ellen almost crashed into her tall frame.

“My dear little mage, stop scaring yourself.”

In the moonlight, the girl’s sharp features looked impossibly beautiful, crimson eyes locked on the boy in her arms.

“The edge of Judgement can cut through any illusion. Tomorrow’s victory will be ours.”

Her forehead pressed to his, their noses almost touching.

“But you, Ellen…”

The scent of roses surrounded him, and her tone shifted, low and dangerous.

“Do you remember our promise?”

Her Highness kindly reminded him.

“The flame you reignited for me… and the Silver Key you accepted with your own hand.”

Raw possessiveness burned in her eyes, like a Lion King eager to claim its territory.

“Become my Prince Consort, Ellen.”

Her voice was soft but held undeniable power.

“That is your vow to me.

And your oath to the entire Taya Empire.”

“Don’t tell me…”

Her hand gripped his shoulder, pain shooting through him.

“You’ve forgotten?”

“Of course I remember.”

Ellen tried to break free, annoyed.

Seeing the irritation on his northern face, her manner softened instantly, loosening her hold in a gesture of surrender.

“You’ve gotten too close to that Saintlight woman.”

She grumbled like a lion resting on its companion.

“She keeps pestering you with talk of paradoxes, time, and philosophy, but she doesn’t care about any of that. She just wants your time. She wants to claim you.”

Belinda licked Ellen’s ear, making him squirm away, but she slid to his side and hugged him from behind, rubbing her cheek against his like a cub.

“But you should know, Saintesses can’t marry or have children.”

For a moment, Ellen was at a loss for words.

A surge of anxiety—or rather, a deep-seated fear—rose in Belinda’s heart. Ellen did not belong here…

She had checked his background—no birth record, no High Pontiff’s certificate.

He was a sudden presence, black-haired, black-eyed, with the face of a northern boy, who saved her at her darkest hour and inspired trust from the very start.

But such trust was not mutual!

She trusted him, liked him, would give everything for him—but what about him?

He was always evasive, secretly plotting things with his friend Barbaros, who had appeared from nowhere.

Belinda saw clearly—he would leave.

He had tried to leave.

He could vanish at any moment, as inexplicably as he had arrived.

As if he had never existed.

Her body trembled, fear of that possibility choking her.

Ellen, who always took care of her, who could solve any magic, who accompanied her even after losing the flame.

She had grown up privileged, but after losing her status, she tasted both kindness and cruelty.

Only one person had helped her, not knowing who she really was.

She couldn’t lose him!

Absolutely not.

She would not allow such a thing to happen.

So, she leaned close to Ellen’s ear.

“Besides, she’d never wear that thing you prepared.”

“What thing?”

Ellen froze.

“Silk stockings. The black ones.”

Belinda’s voice was completely unrestrained.

Ellen’s face went red.

That was a product of his nylon experiments in the lab, and he had tried hard to get them to wear it, but was rejected every time.

Even the usually obedient Hestia refused!

God, in retrospect, what an unspeakable black mark in his history.

Ellen turned away in embarrassment.

“You’re spouting nonsense.”

“If you become my Prince Consort, I’ll not only wear them for you.

At my coronation, I can… wear them too.”

Belinda grabbed his face and made the promise directly.

What?!

Ellen couldn’t help picturing the scene—Belinda in royal attire and the Imperial Crown, at the grand ceremony, with black silk wrapped around her long legs beneath her elaborate robes…

Foul! Foul!

Ahem ahem… He clamped his hands over his face.

“That made you shy?”

Belinda was clearly pleased and hugged him tightly.

The future Empress, at this moment, acted more like a love-struck girl, eager to declare her feelings.

“My dear little mage, my future Prince Consort.

I will always love you, care for you, and never betray you.

So don’t worry.

The Judgement in my hand is a blade that severs all despair!”

She leaned forward, the overwhelming force of iron and roses making resistance impossible.

The boy in her gaze seemed flustered and shy, his delicate face flushed.

Belinda’s face was so close, her hot breath brushing his ear, each word sharp as a blade.

“Just remember one thing, my future Prince Consort—trust me unconditionally and entrust your future to me. Don’t even think of doing anything foolish, and above all…”

Her fingers slid dangerously over Ellen’s throat.

“Don’t… betray our promise. Understand?”

The fingertip at his throat carried an unspoken threat.

“O…OK.”

Ellen stammered.

He still kept some habits from before he crossed worlds. After three years together, his party members understood his strange language well enough.

Satisfied by his answer, Belinda finally smiled, like a girl who had gotten her favorite toy—her expression full of delight.

She withdrew her hand and released him, her movements smooth and graceful, as if the threatening scene had never happened.

“Good.”

She nodded, pleased, as if rewarding him.

They returned to the campfire, and after a few words about tomorrow’s route, silence fell once more.

No one seemed in the mood for idle talk. Each returned quietly to their own tent.

Hestia stood, watching the three retreating figures.

The emerald in her eyes had lost its carefree light, replaced by gravity.

She had begun to remember things—since leaving the town, fragments of memories had been surfacing in her mind.

She sat slowly, cut another piece of wood, and continued carving her whistle.