After her hair had been cut, Victoria washed herself thoroughly, Loof tending to her back with quiet care. Once her body had been cleansed, she eased herself into the steaming bath.
The moment she sank into the water, her eyes fluttered shut. A soft breath escaped her lips as warmth enveloped her weary body. Yet it was not the heat alone that set the bath apart—beneath the soothing temperature lingered something deeper, something that seemed to seep into flesh and bone alike.
"Ah…" she exhaled softly. "I can feel my body recovering. My strength is returning. Is there something special about this water?"
"Yes," Loof replied. "Kaloka stones were placed beneath the bath. They are essential to the growth of Kaloka fields, and over time, the stones absorb part of the plant's restorative properties. Eventually, the farmers began naming the stones after the plant itself."
"Interesting…"
Victoria slowly opened her eyes, her gaze drifting toward the night sky beyond the bathhouse. No full moon watched over the heavens tonight—only a pale crescent lingering amidst the dark. Proof that the blood-soaked night of her rebirth had long since passed.
Closing her eyes once more, she slipped beneath the water, allowing its warmth to wash over her from head to toe.
After several moments, she emerged again. Though bare, the thick vapour of the bath concealed her form beneath shifting veils of mist.
"I am finished. Are there garments suited to my requests?" Victoria asked calmly.
"Of course." Loof smiled gently. "Miss Aristovelli prepared a set of attire she believed would suit you."
"As expected. Elysia, we are leaving."
"Alright!" the fairy replied cheerfully as she drifted to her mistress's side, already dressed for departure.
Unable to see Elysia, Loof remained rooted in place, visibly perplexed as she wondered to whom Victoria had been speaking.
***
Within a tavern of Corniche village, the members of the Legend and Comet Guild feasted alongside the villagers. Songs rose between bursts of laughter while boots struck against wooden floors in lively dance. Ale flowed freely, and for a fleeting moment, the scars left by recent turmoil seemed distant.
Then the tavern doors swung open without warning.
The sharp creak cut through the merriment at once, drawing every gaze toward the entrance. Silence followed swiftly as the figure crossing the threshold revealed herself.
It was the fallen princess.
Victoria stood beneath the archway with her usual emotionless stare, pale breaths escaping her lips into the cold night air behind her. Even without hostility, her mere presence weighed heavily upon the tavern, enough to smother conversation and still the music.
She wore the attire gifted to her by the Legendary Witch: the garments of a wandering adventurer, unburdened by luggage or weaponry, while a dark fur cloak rested upon her shoulders like the embrace of winter itself.
As for Elysia, the fairy had wrapped herself comfortably within Victoria's fur, delighting in its warmth.
Some villagers lowered their heads out of fear. Others remained frozen in silence. A few could not help but wonder whether the fallen princess still stood as an enemy—or whether she had become an ally worthy of trust. The uncertainty hung heavy in the tavern, thickening the air with unease.
Yet there was one person utterly unconcerned by the tension.
For Aristovelli had long since discerned which side Victoria stood upon.
"Hey, Victoria!!"
Seated at a table near the corner, Aristovelli waved enthusiastically with a bright smile. Godric and Aiden sat beside her, quietly observing the scene unfold.
Without ceremony, Victoria walked toward their table and took her seat. That simple action alone eased the tension gripping the tavern, reassuring the villagers that she bore no animosity toward them.
At Eltrish's signal, the music resumed, and gradually the feast returned to life once more.
"You're looking well, Queen Victoria. How are you feeling?" Aristovelli asked gently.
"I am back on my feet. That alone is enough. Let us not waste time. When do we move against the Triad you spoke of and claim the Ecclesiastic Key?" Victoria asked bluntly.
"Oh, you really are terrible at relaxing." Aristovelli sighed dramatically. "After proper rest and a hot bath, you should at least enjoy a good meal and a refreshing drink before rushing into another battle. Don't you think?"
"I will pass. Instead, how do you intend to help me control my powers? That will be essential if we are to defeat the Triad, will it not?" Victoria pressed calmly.
"Geez, you're way too serious. It's already getting boring." Aristovelli pouted, dropping her head onto the table in exaggerated defeat.
"That's a good idea. Let's speak about your powers. To begin with, I find them strange." Aiden said, suspicion evident in his gaze.
"What is it you wish to know? Empty your bag." Victoria replied calmly.
Aiden folded his arms before speaking.
"It pains me to admit it, but your magical power is among the most overwhelming I have ever witnessed—second only, perhaps, to our master's."
His words immediately flustered Aristovelli.
"Ai really is adorable when he praises me so highly…" she thought, blushing faintly as she played with a strand of hair, a smug smile creeping across her lips.
The sight alone made Godric sigh heavily and shake his head in resignation.
"Not only that," Aiden continued, ignoring Aristovelli entirely, "your aggression and physical prowess were monstrous. Yet something about the battle made no sense. You cast no spells. You showed no understanding of magical theory or combat discipline. You relied solely on brute force and sharpened instincts. How can someone possess power rivalling the legends, yet wield it with the inexperience of an apprentice mage?"
Victoria remained unfazed beneath their scrutiny.
"I do not know whether this will answer your question," she said evenly, "but I shall make one thing clear."
She rested her chin lightly upon her hand.
"It has only been a few days since I began using magic. Back when we fought, it was my first day ever engaging in battle."
Silence swallowed the table.
Godric and Aiden stared at her in utter disbelief, while Aristovelli remained completely absent-minded, still lingering upon Aiden's earlier compliments as though they were treasures.
"Would you stop toying with us for one moment?!" Aiden burst out, frustration finally surfacing.
"That's absurd!" Godric added at once. "How can someone display that level of power and ferocity on the very day their magic awakens? And more importantly, how did you awaken it at all? Magic is meant to be an innate gift."
"It is a long story," Victoria answered. "Believe me or not as you wish. But you are correct about one thing—I severely lack battle experience. Until now, everything I have done has felt as natural as breathing."
As she spoke, her fingers slowly curled into a fist.
"Then let us place our cards upon the table as well, since you seem so opposed to wasting time," Aristovelli interjected while pouring herself a cup of wine.
Unlike before, the playful air around her had faded.
"When I inspected the forest, it was not only the goddess's absence and the corpses that caught my attention." Her heterochromatic eyes narrowed slightly. "It was the emblem those corpses carried—the insignia of the Agape Cult. And more importantly… one among them was a Patriarch."
"A Patriarch?!" Godric and Aiden exclaimed simultaneously, shock flashing across their faces.
"Yes. Damian Rannickvol, to be precise."
Aristovelli gently swirled the wine within her cup before fixing her gaze upon the fallen princess once more.
"You call it a long story, but we are in no hurry to depart for now. So tell us, Victoria…" Her voice softened, though the gravity within it remained unmistakable.
"What exactly happened in that forest?"
"Do not worry, Master. You may tell her everything. I sense no malice from her," Elysia whispered.
Victoria gave no outward reaction. Revealing the existence of her unseen companion was not a risk she intended to take. Yet, despite herself, she chose to follow the little fairy's advice. Perhaps she had convinced herself it was the wisest course in that moment.
And so, over the minutes that followed, the fallen princess recounted the chain of events that had led her to this point—from the moment she first set foot within Utopia until now. Only the details of Helios's betrayal remained veiled beneath silence.
"I knew it," Aristovelli said with a satisfied smile. "My eyes rarely deceive me."
"So, the goddess truly resides within you?" Aiden exclaimed, unable to conceal his shock. "How is such a thing even possible?"
"It both makes sense and doesn't," Godric muttered thoughtfully. "How can an ordinary human contain the goddess's power without being torn apart?"
"Perhaps she simply chose her," Aristovelli suggested lightly.
"Far from it," Victoria corrected calmly. "Believe me when I say I earned this power."
"If you say so." Aristovelli replied, "But killing a Patriarch will bring consequences far greater than you realise. The Agape Cult will not allow such a matter to pass unanswered. Whether you understand it yet or not, your path has just become far more hellish than it was meant to be."
"I do not fear them," Victoria answered without hesitation. "I merely consider this another part of my journey. Just tell me who these lunatics truly are… and what awaits me."
"Godo."
At Aristovelli's call, Godric adjusted himself within his chair before speaking.
"The Agape Cult is a religion born after the goddess's fall. Publicly, they claim to seek her return to save the world from the Triad. Yet their actions throughout the years have always carried the stench of something darker. What you encountered recently only confirms those suspicions."
His expression hardened slightly.
"No one truly knows their ultimate ambition. However, the Patriarch you killed behaved strangely compared to the others."
"What do you mean?" Victoria asked.
"The highest authority within the Agape Cult is the High Priest. Yet Damian Rannickvol appeared to pursue his own interests. He sought the goddess's power for himself and intended to rule Utopia through it. That alone is deeply suspicious."
"Who cares?" Aiden interjected, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back lazily. "There are probably factions within the cult. It's always the same whenever power-hungry fanatics gather. Greed breeds traitors. Whatever conflicts they have among themselves is none of our concern."
"Even so," Godric continued gravely, "the death of a Patriarch never goes unnoticed… nor unanswered. The last time one fell, an entire town vanished without explanation, and countless children disappeared in various regions."
"Are you saying I will be hunted?" Victoria asked.
"Definitely," Godric replied solemnly. "The mana residues left behind in your battles is sufficient to track you. You should leave this village soon. It would be unfortunate to drag these innocent villagers into what is coming."
"Of course," Victoria answered calmly. "I understand."
"So, this is how it ends," Aiden suddenly declared, lifting his wooden cup of ale. "Each of us carries his own cross, I suppose. I don't know how you intend to deal with this mess, but I wish you luck."
He raised his cup in a toast.
No one returned the gesture.
Instead, they all stared at him.
Not with hostility—but with distinct, silent judgment.
Aristovelli looked at him with exaggerated puppy-dog eyes, like a child begging for sweets. Victoria regarded him with quiet indifference, as though questioning whether he could grow any less intelligent. Elysia sighed, shaking her head. Godric, meanwhile, watched him with weary disappointment.
"Why are you all staring at me like that?" Aiden asked, genuinely confused.
"Are you serious?" Godric exhaled. "It was obvious from the beginning that the Grand Master intended us to accompany her. I've already informed Gron—he will lead the Legend Guild in my absence."
Aristovelli turned to Aiden with a playful smile and gave him a teasing wink.
Aiden stiffened. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as understanding slowly dawned.
"N-no, wait a minute!" he protested, waving a finger. "I'm too young for this! Why should I abandon my peaceful life just to follow this gorilla disguised as a woman on a death march?!"
"There he goes again," Godric muttered with a sigh.
"Call me a gorilla again and see what happens," Victoria said as she rose from her seat, her gaze turning sharp.
"Oh? You want to fight? Good. I wasn't even at full strength the last time! This time around, I'll crash you!" Aiden shot back, standing as well and cracking his knuckles.
"What a convenient excuse," Victoria replied coolly. "I could say the same. I was barely standing when I made you bite the dust. It is only natural you would try harder this time."
The tavern fell silent as Aiden's flames flickered to life in response, while a faint surge of Victoria's mana rose in kind, ready to counter any strike.
The Comet Guild tensed immediately, preparing to support their leader.
But before the situation could escalate further—
Aristovelli burst into laughter.
Loud, unrestrained, and utterly unconcerned with the tension hanging in the air.
"You two would make a good couple! Don't you think, everyone?" Aristovelli said, wiping away a tear of laughter.
At once, the tavern fell into curious silence.
Villagers and guild members alike turned their gazes toward Victoria and Aiden, scrutinising them as though trying to determine whether such a fate was truly conceivable. Then, as realisation set in, laughter gradually spread through the room.
"Miss Aristovelli is right!"
"If they married, their children would be insanely strong!"
"But their household would be nothing short of a battlefield."
"True enough! Still… It's love!"
"Me? With this gorilla? Never!" Aiden exclaimed, pointing at himself, his face flushed.
"The master is blushing!" his guild members teased in unison.
"Shut up already!" he barked, though his voice lacked true menace.
They obeyed immediately, though suppressed laughter still shook their shoulders.
"Hmph. Impossible," Victoria said, turning her face away. "I can barely tolerate his idiocy."
"Say that again!" Aiden snapped—but she ignored him completely.
The tavern erupted into quiet amusement once more.
"Sit down already," Godric sighed. "You're embarrassing all of us."
Then he turned toward Aristovelli. "And you, Grand Master—stop pouring oil on the fire."
"Oh, Godo, I'm innocent," she replied sweetly, raising her hands in exaggerated innocence.
Godric exhaled heavily, watching the chaos unfold with exhausted resignation.
"It's like managing children…" he thought.
But just when Godric thought Aiden had finally calmed down, the latter suddenly charged back in.
"Hey, Godric! How could you abandon our promise—and your guild—for someone you've only just met?"
"Don't be selfish," Godric shot back. "This is bigger than any of us. With her power, we actually stand a chance. You know better than anyone that the Grand Master's hands are bound. This is the only real opportunity we've had since we began our adventures. Try to be reasonable for once."
Aiden gritted his teeth, refusing to accept it.
"Regardless of your personal feelings, the Triad remains the priority. And we cannot involve our guild openly in this matter—they would be branded as outlaws as well."
"I don't understand," Victoria interjected. "Why would attempting to defeat the Triad make us outlaws? Isn't that meant to be the world's priority, as you said?"
"That's not how things work," Aristovelli replied, leaning back in her seat. "The Magic Council prioritises the stability of Utopia and the survival of its people. At present, they deem themselves unready to confront the Triad directly. Moreover, the Triad has shown no open hostility since seizing power. To move against them now is considered a grave crime—one that could potentially trigger another apocalypse."
"So, what's the point of all this?" Victoria asked, still slightly confused.
"You," Aristovelli said, pointing directly at her. "You are the point of all this, the queen on the board. Our masterpiece."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"The only being who has ever stood against the Triad on equal footing was Eros—and her power now resides within you. You can repeat history… but this time, you can change its ending."
"As Godric said," she continued, "for reasons I cannot act directly. My hands are sealed. But I can guide your path. The Triad is not your only enemy—the Agape Cult is also moving in the shadows. Do not underestimate them. Damian Rannickvol was only one of six Patriarchs, each a formidable wizard in their own right. And beyond them… There is still the Magic Council and its influence."
"Seriously, Master," Aiden said, exhaling sharply. "Do you really believe the three of us can handle all of that? She's supposed to be our ace, but she can barely control the goddess's power. And even if she could—how long would it take before she truly masters it?"
"Do not worry. I have accounted for all of this," Aristovelli said calmly. "Killing a Patriarch and his subordinates and holding one's own against both of you—these are not trivial feats. She has it within her. I will teach her everything she needs to know about magic over the next three days. That will be enough for her to begin standing on her own."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"And Aiden, you are right about one thing. The three of you alone will not be enough. You will need powerful allies—those who share your cause—before you even think of challenging the Triad."
"Do you have anyone in mind?" Aiden asked.
Aristovelli smiled.
"We will begin with the most obvious choices."
Her eyes gleamed with quiet certainty.
"Find the Hero… and the Sage."
***
Somewhere within Utopia.
In a vast sanctuary of stained glass depicting ancient saints and forgotten histories, hundreds of believers dressed in white wept bitterly, rending their garments in grief and despair.
At the chancel was a man in high sanctum vestments adorned with sacred gemstones. He sat upon a golden throne, while two children of tender age stood beside him—one girl to his left, one boy to his right.
Though he wept, his face held no true expression. His eyes were green, yet pale and hollow, like a leaf long drained of life.
He was the most revered figure of the Agape Cult.
The High Priest—Beltharion Innocent, Fifth of His Name.
Above the bottom step of the stairs leading to the throne, six candles hovered. Five burned with steady green flames. But the last one was black and extinguished.
Below these candles knelt five figures in black cloaks, bowed in reverence. They remained motionless like statues, even as the hall echoed with the cries of hundreds.
Then the High Priest spoke.
The mere opening of his mouth was enough to drain the hall of sound; even breath seemed to falter in his presence. One by one, all lowered their heads in submission. Not even a whisper remained.
"A star has fallen—one of ours," he said softly. "And not the least among them… a Patriarch. Such an unforgivable act."
His voice remained calm, almost gentle.
"Come forth… You who were born to avenge our fallen brothers and sisters."
At his words, one of the five cloaked figures rose.
He was a man of towering stature, well over six feet tall, his presence both imposing and restrained. Yet each of his movements carried a controlled grace that belied his massive frame.
He ascended the steps toward the golden throne without haste until he stood before the High Priest. Then, with solemn devotion, he kissed the priest's hand.
"Find those responsible for this sacrilege," the High Priest commanded, his tone still calm as a lullaby. "And bring them before me. Be merciless, as always. For the goddess's glory."
Though he served humbly before the throne, he was no ordinary man.
He was the first to be appointed within the Agape Cult's patriarchal order, from the moment of its founding.
The Saint of Execution—Patriarch Isidro Golshifteh.
"For the goddess's glory," the Saint replied, bowing deeply. His dark eyes remained lowered, yet within them burned a contained, insatiable bloodlust.