It was a story from a long, long time ago.
"Mother! Mother!"
Seeing the sorrowful look on the woman's face, the little girl hurried over and clung tightly to her dress.
"Did they bully you again?"
"No, it's nothing, my child."
At the girl's question, the woman gave a reassuring smile, knelt down gently, and stroked her hair.
"It's just a little accident, nothing to worry about."
"But… but…"
The girl's face flushed with anger, her cheeks puffing out as she complained indignantly.
"But I saw it! They did it on purpose! They spilled the wine on the floor on purpose, but…"
She tightened her grip on the woman's skirt and shook it vigorously.
"Mother, if you hate it here, let's leave! Let's go somewhere no one can find us, where no one will bully us, and live a quiet life. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"That wouldn't be nice at all, my child."
The woman's smile was calm and serene, the earlier sadness and heaviness melting away like sunlight dispersing mist. She continued stroking the girl's hair, shaking her head with a soft smile.
"You're not like me. You belong here. This is where you're meant to stay…"
"I'm sorry, Mother."
The girl's face fell at these words, and she hung her head, her fingers twisting the ends of her braids as her small body trembled slightly.
"If it weren't for this awful hair of mine… you wouldn't have to put up with this. If I didn't look like this, we wouldn't be stuck here. It's all my fault. I'm the one who's making you suffer… If only I'd never been born, if only I'd never existed…!"
"That's not true!"
The woman's voice turned sharp suddenly, startling the girl, who looked up at her mother with wide, frightened eyes. But in the next moment, she felt the warmth of her mother's embrace—she was swept into the woman's arms.
"That's not true, my child. I have never resented you. On the contrary, I am happy. Perhaps this is my fate—the destiny I must accept. It may bring pain, but in the end, it has brought me nothing but happiness and joy. I love you, my child. I have never once thought of resenting you. You are not a burden to me. Do you understand? My child?"
The woman lifted the girl's chin, gazing into her wide, tear-filled eyes.
"The name Ophelia… in our language, it means *blessed with happiness*. You are my happiness. As long as you are by my side, I will be perfectly content."
"But… I can't be happy."
The girl shook her head dejectedly, listening to her mother's words.
"When I see you being bullied, I can't be happy. I can't feel any joy at all… Wait!"
Suddenly, the girl seemed to remember something. She waved her arms excitedly and looked up.
"I'll work hard! I'll become someone respected and loved by everyone! Then no one will dare bully you anymore. If they respect me, they'll have to respect you too. Mother, I promise you—I will definitely become that kind of person! I'll make sure no one ever bullies or looks down on you again! I'll make everyone adore you, like you, respect you! I swear I will!"
"I don't really care about any of that, Ophelia… Remember this—the most important thing is that as long as *you* are happy, that is enough for me…"
"Mother…"
"Mother…"
A soft, warm touch brushed her cheek, just like the way her mother had gently wiped away her tears back then. But now…
Ophelia opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a snow-white ceiling, glowing with a soft, gentle light.
"Where… am I?"
"A guest room in the Mage's Guild."
Blake's voice came from beside her, and his face came into view.
"It seems you didn't have a very pleasant dream."
Looking at Ophelia's pale face, Blake shrugged his shoulders as he spoke. After she had fainted, he had excused himself from Lariboide, borrowed a guest room, and brought her here. Clearly, the news about her mother had dealt her a devastating blow. Her expression had been filled with agony the entire way here; she had muttered to herself constantly, and tears had streamed down her face without stopping. The once-confident, strong-willed young woman had been completely shattered by the revelation. To keep an eye on Ophelia—and to ensure her Wraith Soul magic did not spiral out of control again—Blake had stayed by her side. As for the problem with the Church of the Divine Light, Lariboide had assured him he would handle it. As for the king… there would be no trouble from that quarter for the time being. Though before Blake left, Lariboide had offered a small warning.
"It's clear the king does not hold you in high regard. What's more, I don't think he fully grasps the gravity of the situation. The conflict between you and the Church of the Divine Light earlier—chances are, it was instigated by the king himself. Otherwise, no matter how bold the church is, they would never dare openly challenge the royal family's authority."
Of course, this was not something Blake cared about. He had no interest in whatever schemes the king was hatching. No matter what the king tried to do to him, the outcome would inevitably be failure. So why bother worrying about it?
"I…"
Ophelia sat up, staring blankly at Blake for a moment before lowering her head with a sigh.
"I'm sorry, Lord Blake. I lost my composure."
"It's nothing. No need to apologize to me—I didn't suffer any losses," Blake waved a hand, signaling she should not dwell on it.
"But…"
Ophelia tried to turn her neck, wincing at the dull ache at the base of her skull.
"Lord Blake… couldn't you have used a gentler method?"
"I had no choice—it was an emergency. Don't you remember? If I'd hesitated a moment longer, your Wraith Soul magic would have fully erupted, and this entire tower would have been reduced to rubble. Though… the fact that you still have the energy to complain means you're doing better than I thought."
"…"
Ophelia forced a faint smile. In truth, her mind was a complete mess, a blank void. She had no idea what to do. Terrified of her own vulnerability, she had struggled to face Blake with her usual demeanor, hoping at the very least to appear calm on the surface.
"Well, you've been asleep for a full day. You must be hungry. I'll go get something to eat," Blake said, standing up and walking to the door. He waved at Ophelia over his shoulder.
"Oh, and don't eat any of the mages' food—it's probably not safe. I'll go check outside instead… See you later, Lady Ophelia."
Before Ophelia could reply, Blake closed the door behind him.
Ophelia stared at the door for a long time, then slowly lowered her head.
"Thank you… Lord Blake."
And then she burst into tears.
"Tch… What a hassle."
Leaving the mage tower behind, Blake wandered casually along the clean, tidy streets, admiring the night view. Of course, getting food for Ophelia had been nothing more than an excuse. Blake could tell the former princess's emotions had stabilized somewhat. He also knew that what Ophelia needed right now was not comfort, but an outlet for her grief. Though they had spent quite a bit of time together, it was clear Ophelia did not see him as someone she could confide in freely. Otherwise, she would have cried the moment she woke up, instead of forcing a brave face in front of him. So Blake had decided to leave, giving the princess some time to sort out her feelings—in a way, Blake and Ophelia were kindred spirits. Neither of them was good at showing their true selves to others; they preferred to release their stress by being alone.
Now, what to do?
The night was deep. In most places, the world would be wrapped in the darkness of sleep. But here, it was different. Ever since humans had harnessed certain powers, they had never been willing to submit to nature's rhythms. In the world Blake had once lived in, people had used their civilization to recklessly invert day and night, continuing their activities long after all other creatures had rested. It was the same here. Arcane technology powered by mana ensured a steady supply of light and heat, so even at night, the royal capital was bustling with activity. But as the night wore on, certain transactions that preferred to stay hidden from the sunlight also began to take place. Blake had no interest in participating in any of them, though. After thinking for a moment, he looked up and gazed in the direction opposite the mage tower.
Though Lariboide had assured him he would handle the church situation, many years had passed since they last met. The boy Lariboide had once been might have changed beyond recognition. Besides, even back then, his methods had never exactly aligned with Blake's way of doing things.
"Might as well drop by. Collecting some compensation for mental distress would make this trip worthwhile."
Muttering to himself, Blake turned and headed toward his destination.
At that very moment, inside the grand, sacred hall of the Church of the Divine Light, the atmosphere was heavy with tension.
"This is an act of open defiance, Your Eminence!!"
A man dressed in a scarlet robe clenched his fists tightly, his face flushed with rage.
"He dared to mock our holy judgment and commit such a heinous act of violence! Your Eminence, you must issue an order! Deploy the Divine Light Knights! Capture this damned murderer! He must be punished under the gaze of the Holy Mana!"
"You have disobeyed my orders," an elderly voice said calmly.
The old man stood in the center of the hall, clad in a holy white robe. He was very old—his face resembled weathered bark, his features barely recognizable beneath the deep lines. The archbishop stood there, indifferent and unshaken.
"I commanded you not to provoke him. Have you all forgotten my words?"
"But…"
The cardinal frowned, stepping forward to argue his case.
"But he has defiled the glory of the Holy Mana! What's more, our brothers were cruelly slaughtered—we must avenge them! Besides, King Wester V himself…"
"That's enough. There is no need for further discussion," the archbishop cut him off sharply.
"I have my reasons for this decision, and it is all for the good of the church. Your actions will only bring disaster upon us. I am old, but I am still the archbishop here. It is my duty to safeguard the interests of the Church of the Divine Light. But you fail to understand this. Now, I only wish this matter could be resolved peacefully, not…"
The archbishop's words were cut short as the hall's massive doors were thrown open with a resounding crash. A guard stumbled in, his face ashen, and rushed forward in front of the stunned assembly. He did not even pause to bow to the archbishop before gasping out his report.
"Y-Y-Your Eminence! Urgent news! A-a man just entered the church! He… he demands to see you! And he says you must apologize to him for your mistake!"
What?
Everyone froze in shock. The archbishop's eyes flew open, his expression a complex mix of emotions. He thought for a long moment, then let out a deep, weary sigh.
"Then let us go see him."
Led by the archbishop, several cardinals followed him out of the hall and into the church courtyard. There, they were met with a sight that made their brows furrow in anger.
The courtyard was normally a place for believers to pray and meditate. Even in the evening, devout worshippers would gather here for services. It had always been a place of peace and serenity. But now, the worshippers were huddled in the corners, trembling with fear, staring at a young nobleman standing in the center of the courtyard. He looked to be no more than twenty years old, with black hair and black eyes, wearing the elegant smile common to many nobles. But the scene before him was anything but peaceful—two church guards lay dead at his feet, their bodies pooling in blood, silent and motionless. There was no doubt they were beyond saving.
The sight filled the bishops with fury. Whoever this man was, to dare barge into the sacred grounds of the church and commit murder—this was an unforgivable sin of blasphemy!!
"Who are you?! How dare you trespass into this holy sanctuary and commit such a terrible crime!"
"I'm truly astonished," Blake said, lifting his head at the cardinal's roar. He glanced at them lazily, one eye half-lidded.
"You issued an order to arrest me for a so-called 'holy judgment' without even knowing who I am. I would think a noble archbishop would not make such a reckless decision on a whim."
"You're that criminal!!"
Upon hearing Blake's reply, the same cardinal who had raged earlier became even more incensed, his face reddening with righteous fury.
"You cruel, evil madman! We were about to come for you, and yet you have the audacity to deliver yourself to our doorstep! Now you shall learn the terrible wrath of the Holy Mana!"
As he spoke, the cardinal raised his hand and made a gesture. A deep, resonant horn blast echoed through the air. The church's main gates swung open abruptly, and two horsemen emerged, clad head to toe in gleaming armor. But Blake remained standing there leisurely, his eyes sweeping over the two riders as he let out a cold laugh.
"I never thought the church was so fond of putting on a show."
"Your empty boasts mean nothing now, criminal," the cardinal said, his confidence restored at the sight of their reinforcements.
"These are the Divine Light Knights, the guardians of the church! Your very existence is an abomination that defiles the Holy Mana! You shall be purified!"
"By the Divine Light! It's the Divine Light Knights!"
"Blessed be the Mana! Blessed be the Mana!"
Upon hearing the cardinal's words, Blake showed no reaction—but the worshippers nearby erupted into cries of joy. They had been filled with anger at Blake's actions earlier, but after he had killed two church guards, they had quickly realized they were no match for him. Charging forward would be nothing more than suicide. Though devout in their faith, they were not willing to sacrifice their lives for it. So they had prayed, begging the Holy Mana for protection. But even they had never imagined they would witness two Divine Light Knights appearing here!
Blake lowered his eyes, seemingly uninterested in the proceedings. But that did not mean his opponents would hold back.
"Go forth, sacred guardians! Use your blades to smite this evil fiend!"
At the cardinal's command, the two Divine Light Knights roared in unison, urging their horses forward and charging toward Blake at full speed.
The church courtyard was spacious—large enough to accommodate a thousand worshippers for a gathering. It was more than ample space for the knights to launch their charge. In the blink of an eye, the two Divine Light Knights were upon Blake. They shouted prayers for the Mana's protection, then raised their longswords, which blazed with holy light.
And at that exact moment, Blake's right hand closed around the hilt of his sword.
A flash of black light. The blade slid out of its sheath.
Almost simultaneously, the two Divine Light Knights sensed the black light streaking toward them. Their horses immediately reared up, out of control. But these knights were seasoned veterans—they did not lose their composure. Roaring in unison, they leaped into the air, their longswords still aimed at their target, their momentum undiminished.
But at the same time, the sweeping black light seemed to hit an invisible obstacle and bounced upward, curving into a diagonal slash that streaked toward the chest of one of the knights.
So fast!
Caught off guard by the sudden change in direction, both knights felt a sinking feeling in their hearts. The knight under attack quickly reversed his blade, switching from offense to defense, trying to block the strike. The other knight maintained his attacking stance—after all, with two against one, there was no way Blake could possibly defend against them both.
The black light collided with the holy sword, producing a sharp, ringing clang. But the moment they made contact, the streaking black light changed direction once again, slicing diagonally through the air before slamming downward to the right with tremendous force!
This was Blake's signature swordsmanship—*Threefold Sheath Flash*!
"GAAH!!"
The sacred barrier of light failed to block Blake's attack. The black light pierced through, striking the unlucky knight's shoulder. He let out a scream of agony, then went flying backward. But at that exact moment, the other knight's sword stabbed forward, piercing straight toward Blake's chest!
The sharp blade cut through the air with a whistling sound, blazing with holy light, and plunged into the black-cloaked figure without any resistance—but in the next instant, the figure twisted and distorted, vanishing into thin air.
Accelerated Charge.
Blake himself had transformed into a streak of light, dodging the attack. The black sword in his hand maintained its momentum, arcing through a perfect semicircle before sliding back into the sheath at his waist with a soft click.
*Clink!*
The black light faded, then erupted once more.
Flash Draw.
Unleashed again, boosted by the force of the dodge, the Sheath Flash was far more powerful and faster than before. In truth, the entire sequence—Blake activating Accelerated Charge to dodge, then unleashing the Flash Draw—had happened in the blink of an eye. The second Divine Light Knight had not even landed on the ground yet when the Flash Draw strike reversed direction, stabbing straight toward his back.
"Oh no!!"
Sensing the whistling wind and icy chill behind him, the second knight's heart skipped a beat. He frantically twisted his body, swinging his sword sideways in a desperate attempt to dodge. But in the end, he was not fast enough—the black light pierced through his defenses, stabbing straight into his chest.
Blood splattered everywhere.
*THUD!!*
With a heavy, sickening thud, the poor knight collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his wound and staining the white stone floor.
The sight left everyone gasping in horror. Only now did they fully realize just how terrifying Blake truly was.
By the Divine Light—these were no ordinary guards! They were *Divine Light Knights*!! And yet, in the face of this young man, they had been completely unable to display even the slightest hint of their strength. They had not even managed to engage him in a proper fight—one single strike had rendered them completely helpless. This meant that the young man's power was far beyond theirs—so far beyond that it was impossible to measure!!
*CRUNCH!!*
While everyone stood frozen in stunned silence, Blake lifted his foot and pressed it down hard on the fallen knight's chest. His expression was cold and indifferent as he glanced around at the terrified onlookers, then reversed his grip on his sword. The pitch-black blade pierced through the knight's heavy helmet without the slightest resistance, driving straight into his skull.
"It seems my compensation for mental distress just went up," Blake said, a smile playing on his lips.