After a long journey.
The white city walls of Dawn City finally appeared on the horizon.
Sylvia lay against the Crystal Window, gazing at the towering white metropolis in the distance, her emotions tangled and intense.
“We’ve finally arrived.”
Sylvia sighed softly.
She knew this city all too well.
As the former cannon-fodder knight Ignatius of the Holy Radiance Alliance, she had lived here for a full eight years.
Those familiar towers.
The familiar walls.
Even the holy light atop the distant Cathedral of Light filled her with an inexplicable sense of warmth.
But now, everything was different.
She was no longer an unknown cannon-fodder knight.
She was the Little Princess of the Blood Empire.
What made it worse was the entire Alliance regarded her as some sacred “Holy Vessel.”
“Sis, you look really nervous.”
Avira bounced over.
“I’m not nervous,”
Sylvia denied, though her voice clearly trembled.
“Haha, your hands are shaking.”
Avira pointed at the fingers gripping the windowsill.
Sylvia looked down.
Sure enough, her fingertips were trembling slightly.
“I’m just… a little cold.”
“>Cold?”
Avira blinked.
“Well, then I’ll just kill all those humans outside so they don’t dare desecrate you with their gaze.”
“No!”
Sylvia jumped in alarm.
“Sister, calm down!”
Ophelia emerged from the depths of the palace.
Today, she wore an even more solemn black royal gown.
“Get ready to go down.”
She glanced out the window.
“They’ve been waiting a long time.”
Sylvia followed her mother’s gaze and nearly fainted on the spot.
The square outside Dawn City was packed with people.
It was the complete opposite of the silent road they had traveled.
Pope Uther VII stood at the front, dressed in a magnificent platinum holy robe, wearing the Papal Crown, holding the Scepter.
The kings of the Five Kingdoms stood flanking him.
Each wore their most formal attire.
The seven Grand Sanctum Knight Orders’ captains stood in perfect formation.
Behind them were thousands of nobles, knights, priests, and commoners.
All of them looked up to the skeletal palace descending slowly from the sky.
Their expressions were solemn, their eyes complex—filled with both fear and a kind of fanatical expectation.
To them, this was the “Holy Vessel’s Return.”
Sylvia’s legs went weak.
“So many people…”
Her voice was barely a whisper.
“What’s there to be afraid of?”
Avira patted her shoulder.
“With me here, if anyone disrespects you, I’ll cut them down.”
Rather than comforting Sylvia, this only made her more nervous.
Her sister’s way of protection was too brutal!
***
The skeletal palace began its slow descent.
Its enormous bulk cast a huge shadow, blanketing the entire square in darkness.
The twelve skull dragons roared low and deep.
A palpable aura of death swept over the crowd.
The masses stirred uneasily.
The knights of the Sanctum Orders gripped their sword hilts tightly.
Some weaker commoners even started to back away.
But no one left.
Everyone awaited the appearance of the legendary “Holy Vessel.”
“I don’t want to go down.”
Sylvia clung to Avira’s arm.
“Let’s go home.”
“Already at the gate and you still want to run?”
Avira gave a wry smile.
“Sis, how can you be so timid?”
“I’m socially anxious.”
“What kind of anxious?”
“Fear of socializing,”
Sylvia explained.
“If so many people stare at me, I’ll die.”
Ophelia came over, gently stroking her hair.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Ophelia’s voice was unusually tender.
“Mother will protect you.”
“But…”
“And besides, think about it, this outing—once it’s over, you can lie quietly in bed for a long time.”
Sylvia’s eyes brightened.
That’s right!
Once she got through this, she could just rest!
“All right.”
Sylvia took a deep breath.
“Let’s finish this quickly.”
The skeletal palace landed steadily in the center of the square.
Its massive bone frame crushed the ground with a dull thud.
The crowd instinctively stepped back, clearing a wide space.
The palace doors slowly opened.
The first to step out was Ophelia.
Her quasi-godly aura instantly burst forth.
The surrounding holy light dimmed.
The air grew heavy.
Temperatures plummeted.
Everyone felt the absolute suppression emanating from the Laws of Power.
Uther VII gripped the Scepter tightly.
Cold sweat beaded his forehead.
But he forced himself to stand firm.
Ophelia scanned the gathered human dignitaries.
Her blood-red eyes were devoid of any emotion.
Next came Avira.
She drew her sword, “Dirge,” and stepped forward.
Her face wore clear impatience and murderous intent.
She glanced over the densely packed crowd, licked her lips.
“So many people… should I clear them out?”
Her voice was low, but every ear caught the words clearly.
The captains of the Sanctum Knight Orders immediately tensed.
Bartolomew, Captain of the Sword of Judgment Order, already had his hand on his sword hilt.
But no one dared act rashly.
They had all heard of Avira’s terrifying reputation.
The legend of the “Bloodthorn Maze” haunted every knight’s heart.
The tension was palpable.
All awaited the appearance of the final figure: the legendary “Holy Vessel,” Sylvia.
Supported by two maids, Sylvia slowly stepped out of the palace.
The moment she appeared, the scene fell silent.
Every gaze fixed upon her.
Over ten thousand eyes locked onto her.
Sylvia felt her mind go blank.
Her face caught the eye of Uther VII.
A wild zeal flared in his eyes.
So it was true!
This was the “Holy Vessel” corrupted by dark power!
“Holy Vessel…”
His voice trembled.
“You have finally returned.”
Hearing the title, Sylvia’s legs weakened even more.
She barely kept her balance, stumbling with one unsteady step.
She almost collapsed to the ground.
Thankfully, the maids caught her in time.
But this small falter was interpreted differently by everyone.
Uther VII thought: The Holy Vessel is moved upon seeing us!
The Five Kings thought: The Holy Vessel is weak, bound by darkness!
The Sanctum captains thought: The Holy Vessel longs for freedom!
Ophelia immediately steadied Sylvia.
Her icy gaze swept over Uther VII.
Her eyes clearly said: Your foul presence has sullied my daughter.
But Uther VII understood it as: Darkness tries to keep the Holy Vessel from approaching the light!
His pity and resolve intensified.
In his heart he cried out: Please endure! We will save you!
Uther VII stepped forward.
He took a deep breath, striving to keep his voice solemn.
“Welcome to Dawn City, Royal Family of the Eternal Night Empire.”
social anxiety is really bad…😞