Everyone in the great hall dropped to their knees the moment they heard the voice, bowing their heads low.
“Long live the King!”
The shout echoed in perfect unison.
Falu Xiel slowly turned her head.
The beaded curtain leading from the side hall to the royal chambers was lifted by two maids.
King Duraniel was walking slowly from the direction of his lavish, golden bedchamber.
He wore a robe of extravagant purple, and his bloated body made him look like a swollen ball of flesh.
He looked at Falu Xiel, his gaze high and cold.
His eyes lingered for a moment on the blood-stained yet still striking curves of Falu Xiel’s body, then finally settled on the longsword resting against Count Bato’s neck.
“I’ll ask you one more time, Godsworn,”
Duraniel’s voice was slow and heavy.
“You’re holding a sword against my Minister of Finance—are you planning a rebellion?”
Falu Xiel took a deep breath, her chest rising with emotion.
She slowly withdrew the Frost Snowblade from Bato’s throat, inch by inch.
The moment the sword left his skin, Bato collapsed as if his bones had been pulled out, scrambling behind the king.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, you must do me justice! This madwoman—she’s trying to kill me!”
Falu Xiel ignored his cries.
She sheathed her sword and performed a standard knight’s salute to King Duraniel, devoid of any respect.
“Your Majesty,”
Her voice had regained its usual composure.
“I never intended rebellion. I am fulfilling my duty as Godsworn, purging the kingdom’s parasites.”
She stared directly into Duraniel’s clouded eyes, speaking each word with clarity.
“Minister of Logistics, Count Bato, is suspected of embezzling frontline military supplies and funds, causing heavy losses during our operations. In the name of Godsworn, I request Your Majesty to investigate this matter immediately and execute Bato for treason!”
The hall was so silent that a pin drop could be heard.
Duraniel’s lazy smile faded from his face.
He squinted at Falu Xiel, as if looking at a child making an unreasonable demand.
“Execute my minister?”
He let out a small laugh.
“Falu Xiel, on what grounds? Just your word alone?”
“I have witnesses!”
Falu Xiel raised her voice.
“All surviving magic girls under my command can testify! Every supply point we inspected was empty!”
“Oh? Is that so?”
Duraniel played with the massive green gem ring on his thumb, not even bothering to lift his eyelids.
“That might only prove your bad luck, that the supplies at the places you visited happened to be missing. Does that prove Bato embezzled them? Where’s your evidence? Where’s the stolen money? Do you have it?”
Falu Xiel pressed her lips into a hard, thin line.
Of course she didn’t.
Bato had managed the logistics department for years, with cronies everywhere and flawless accounts.
How could a general constantly fighting on the front lines produce solid proof to nail him in such a short time?
Duraniel watched her silence and smiled in satisfaction.
“No evidence means false accusation.”
He dismissed the matter lightly.
“Falu Xiel, in recognition of your service in this expedition, I will overlook your crime of threatening a minister with a sword. This matter ends here. Stand down.”
“Your Majesty!”
Falu Xiel clenched her fists, nails digging deep into her palm.
“Bato must be punished! Otherwise, how can the soldiers at the front fight for the kingdom with peace of mind?!”
“Peace of mind?”
Duraniel acted as if he’d heard the most absurd joke in the world.
He paced over to Falu Xiel, the stench of wine and women wafting from him.
“Their duty is to fight, to take the kingdom’s pay, to die for the kingdom. That’s only right. What does peace of mind have to do with it?”
His words cut at Falu Xiel’s battered heart like a dull knife.
Falu Xiel fought the urge to draw her sword.
She knew reasoning with this foolish king was pointless.
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, all emotion was gone, leaving only the calm of a commander.
“Fine.”
She squeezed the word from between her teeth.
“I won’t speak further of this. I have a second matter to report.”
“This time, while venturing into the Forbidden Swamp of the Demon Domain, we discovered high-level monsters such as the Moth King already appearing at the outer edges. I judge that a major invasion from the Demon Domain is imminent. I request Your Majesty to immediately increase military funds and replenish troops and equipment to prepare for the coming war!”
But after hearing her, Duraniel only looked more impatient.
“War? Invasion?”
He waved a hand as if shooing a buzzing fly.
“Falu Xiel, have you been in the swamps so long your brain’s turned to mush like those monsters? I’ve heard enough of this nonsense.”
He turned, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
“Why should I increase military funds? Don’t we now have a group of… better, cheaper soldiers?”
Falu Xiel’s heart sank.
“You mean… the players?”
“Exactly!”
Duraniel snapped his fingers, looking pleased.
“Those foreigners! I heard it myself—they helped you break the siege the other day, didn’t they? See, they’re so useful! They don’t need pay, don’t need pensions, and they don’t even truly die!”
“They…”
Falu Xiel tried to argue.
“They act on their own, unruly and undisciplined. We can’t command them! They fight for their own interests and entertainment. The safety of the kingdom can’t depend on a group of foreigners!”
“So what?”
Duraniel sneered.
“As long as they kill monsters, that’s enough, right? Send them to clear out the demons and the kingdom’s regular army doesn’t even need to leave the city. Isn’t that the perfect solution?”
Falu Xiel’s heart went cold.
She finally understood that, to this king, nothing was more important than his own pleasure.
He was no king at all.
Just a greedy, selfish fool sitting on the throne.
The hall fell into a terrible deadlock.
Falu Xiel stood straight as an unyielding ice sculpture.
Duraniel wore an indifferent expression, already impatiently signaling a maid to bring him wine.
Bato and the other ministers cowered behind the king, gloating at the scene.
Just before the stalemate could break, an old, hoarse voice echoed from the shadows of the hall.
“His Majesty is not without reason.”
Everyone turned.
A tall, thin figure in a black priest’s robe embroidered with silver moons and stars stood there, unnoticed until now.
His face was hidden in the hood’s shadow, unreadable, but his eyes glimmered with a cold, abyssal light.
It was the Pope of the Lishen Church, Feyinke.
At the sight of the Pope, even the previously arrogant King Duraniel unconsciously became more reserved.
“Oh, Your Holiness. What brings you here?”
Feyinke didn’t answer, but slowly walked to the center of the hall.
“Those foreigners are indeed a force that can be utilized.”
The Pope’s voice was not loud, but it reached every ear clearly.
“They crave battle, and they crave wealth. Give them the right bait, and they will become the sharpest sword of the kingdom.”
Duraniel nodded vigorously.
“Exactly, exactly! That’s what I thought!”
“However,”
The Pope changed tone.
“Even wielding a sword has its price.”
“There is no such thing as a free lunch. Without sufficient reward, they will never fight willingly.”
“That…”
Duraniel hesitated.
“But the treasury… is empty.”
“The treasury may be empty, but the glory of Lishen is inexhaustible.”
“God is merciful. He cannot bear to see his followers live under the shadow of demons.”
Feyinke turned to Falu Xiel, a faint, nearly invisible curve at the edge of his lips beneath the hood.
“Falu Xiel, my dear child. I understand your worries. God sees your loyalty and courage as well.”
“Therefore, I have decided. The Church will provide funding to establish a commission at Lin Xing Tower. The money will recruit those foreigners and, in the name of the Church and the kingdom, issue long-term extermination tasks against monsters.”
“In this way, we solve the shortage of military funds, make use of the foreigners, and guide them under the Church to fight for the glory of our Lord.”
The Pope’s voice carried an undeniable power.
As it did not touch his private wealth, Duraniel had no reason to object.
Falu Xiel looked at Feyinke, feeling an even deeper chill within her.
She was sure the Pope’s motives were not truly for the kingdom.
Those eyes, hidden in shadow, seemed to be playing a much larger game.
But she had no choice.
It was the only way to secure resources to fight the monsters for now.
She closed her eyes, hiding all resentment within, and finally bowed her head deeply to the Pope.
“…Yes. I understand.”
“All shall be as Your Holiness commands.”
—
The heavy gilded doors of the palace closed behind her with a dull “boom,” as if sealing off two worlds.
Outside was the blood-red dusk; inside, the rotten abyss of power.
Falu Xiel stood atop the wide white stone steps, gazing over the outline of the royal capital.
The afterglow of the setting sun stretched her shadow, long and lonely.
A deep sense of powerlessness gripped her.
This was her limit.
She had struggled against a foolish royal court and a cunning Pope, only to end up with this result.
But it was no different from putting a bunch of children in charge of a crumbling treasury.
Perhaps they would drive off thieves, but they might also, out of curiosity, burn it all to the ground.
Was this broken, crisis-ridden kingdom truly what Lishen favored?
At that moment, a timid, childish voice broke her thoughts.
“Godsworn… big sister?”
Falu Xiel turned, her gaze drifting down from the grand view of the capital to a small figure at the foot of the steps.
It was a little girl of about seven or eight, wearing a blue dress and with two adorable pigtails.
She was looking up, her small face turned upward, her clear, innocent eyes meeting Falu Xiel’s.
Falu Xiel remembered this child.
When the carriage had passed through the city, the little girl had caught her gaze on the street for a brief moment.
At that time, she had been scorched by the pure worship in the child’s eyes.
The little girl’s hands were tightly clutching something.
She seemed to hesitate for a long time, then gathered her courage and climbed the steps, one small step at a time.
Falu Xiel didn’t move, only watched quietly.
Finally, the girl reached her, her face red with nerves.
She held out both hands, offering what she had been holding all this time.
It was a small bear doll, roughly sewn from scraps of cloth, with button eyes and a clumsy, endearing look.
The little girl knew nothing.
She only sensed the deep sorrow on the face of the legendary, powerful Godsworn.
So she offered her most precious treasure.
“Godsworn… big sister,”
The girl’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it reached Falu Xiel’s ears with clarity.
“Please don’t be sad.”
Falu Xiel’s breath caught.
She looked at the girl’s clear eyes, at the bear doll held out before her, and her vision blurred with heat.
Slowly, she knelt on one knee, lowering herself to meet the girl’s gaze.
Her hands, more used to the cold grip of a sword, trembled as she carefully took the little bear doll.
“Thank you.”
Her voice was no longer the iron tone of the battlefield, but hoarse and gentle.
The girl, seeing her gift accepted, broke into a brilliant smile, then turned and ran down the steps, vanishing around the corner of the street.
Falu Xiel remained kneeling for a long time.
She looked down at the little bear in her hands.
The rough fabric warmed her palm with a reality that her Frost Snowblade and the crown of Godsworn could never match.
It reminded her of why she fought.