After his big reveal, Anubis immediately seized the Old Demon by the scruff of his neck and vanished with him to who knows where.

The arrival of Asmodeus into the Mortal Realm was earth-shaking news in more ways than one.

Ever since the last age had ended, Demigods not born within the Mortal Realm had been forbidden from entering it. The law grew even stricter after Tiamat's rampage in the Mortal Realm, when a necromancer dared to desecrate the corpses of the mighty dragons.

Yet the greatest obstacle was not the laws placed to shackle the demigods, but the very nature of the realm itself. The Mortal Realm could no longer sustain the birth of any new demigods, nor hold those who descended from higher planes for long.

Asmodeus's arrival was no mere intrusion. It was a herald— the sign of a new age.

If he could enter, others would surely follow soon after. That very scenario was something that went beyond what Sol could accept or allow.

The Mortal Realm had become his backyard, a stage where he had few equals outside of the angels and the reincarnated gods. However, if the barrier truly shifted to allow the sustenance of the demigods, the balance would surely break.

The bitterest part was that he could not even curse aloud. The reason the Mortal Realm was healing, now allowing the sustenance of the demigods like in ancient times, was none other than he himself. His very existence paved the way for stronger beings to return.

After thanking Anubis for handling the Old Demon, Sol turned away. The thought weighed heavily in his mind, but brooding and wallowing in regret would not bring about a solution for this predicament. He could confront Asmodeus later. Or even ask Luxuria herself regarding the circumstances behind his sudden arrival.

"Is everything ready?"

He faced the mirror. His reflection looked back, clad in black and gold, a suit that seemed alive with swirling power. Milaris's craft was no mere garment— it was the embryo of a divine weapon.

Adjusting his gloves, Sol's hand drifted toward his newly styled hair. A sharp swat of Milia's hand stopped him short.

"Don't touch it." She stood like a stern mother, her gaze uncompromising. Sol could only give a bitter smile at his lover's uncompromising demeanor and obey.

"Tell me, Milia… is it normal for my heart to beat this fast?"

He avoided the warm eyes of the gathered maids. For all his power, at this moment, he felt not unlike a child— embarrassed, restless, unable to even look himself in the mirror.

It was truly a strange matter. His emotions had dulled over the months, smothered by the weight of his divinity. Strong feelings came less and less, and sometimes he feared he was becoming nothing more than an emotionless machine, only pursuing efficiency to strive towards a singular goal.

But now… now his chest burned with an ache he could not contain or even begin to understand. The closer the wedding drew, the more his composure broke down, and now, with only a few hours left, he felt like he was about to drown.

Breathing was becoming more and more difficult as the time to the grand event trickled to a close, and constant worry gnawed at his mind.

"Sol," Milia's voice softened, a rare gentleness brushing against him, "What you feel now is perfectly normal. This is the day you've waited for years. There's no shame in being happy."

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A knock sounded at the door just as the head maid's gentle consolation ended.

Lilith entered. She was draped in a flowing purple gown, its royal shade deep as twilight, trimmed with subtle glints of silver that caught the light. The gown was regal, yet warm, chosen not as queen or ruler, but as someone playing the role of a parent standing at their children's side.

It matched Sol's attire perfectly.

Lilith paused in the doorway, her presence filling the room as naturally as a shadow cast by the sun. She was at the cusp of becoming a true demigod. Only limited by her own decision.

She would never miss this day for the life of her. Not even for all the powers that could be bestowed at her feet by the world.

For all her usual allure and danger, she carried herself now with a calm gravity, as if she had shed the mask of the regent queen and the warrior she had forged herself to become over the years to stand in a role she had never played before.

Her eyes swept over Sol, lingering just long enough to make his throat tighten. She was utterly beautiful, beyond comparison. This was something he always knew, but at this moment, what touched him more than her ethereal beauty was her gaze as she took in his form.

"You look ready," she said, her voice low, steady, and far gentler than he had ever expected it to be.

Sol almost laughed. Ready? His heart was thundering, his hands restless, and his mind was a veritable storm of emotions he could neither comprehend nor control. But under her gaze, he felt… steadied.

"Do I?" he asked, a faint grin breaking through his nerves.

Lilith stepped closer, her gown gliding across the floor yet gathering no dust whatsoever. For a moment, she adjusted his collar with surprising care, the way a parent might before sending their son down the aisle.

"You do," she replied simply with a subtle wink. Throwing him the words he loved to repeat. "And even if you didn't… You would still be Sol Luxuria. That alone is more than enough."

The words carried no grandeur, no theatrical weight, yet they struck harder than any oath. Sol lowered his eyes, savoring the words.

Indeed. He could not let such a moment be tarnished by his own hesitation and fear, right?

"Thank you."

The two exchanged a look and a smile. No more words were necessary, and the fear that had been growing and gnawing in his mind, making his feet buckle under him, had vanished like a lie. With but a simple conversation, he was now feeling more than ready for the next step of his life.

Milia caught the look, her lips curling in a faint smile. It was a shame that she was not the one who managed to calm him down, but she felt no jealousy for that.

Be it now, in the past, or in the future, all that mattered to her would always be Sol's happiness. Nothing else, not even close.

The maids said nothing; they knew that this was not their place to butt in. They were simply happy to witness a moment as rare as it was fleeting.

They all knew that Lilith had mellowed greatly after becoming younger. However, it felt strange to see the stern and almost glacial queen act with such gentleness and care for their soon-to-be king.

Lilith and Sol may not be related by blood, but there was no need to explain their relationship; the depths of it ran far deeper than any that could be forged by mere blood. At this very moment, Lilith was perhaps the happiest in the entire room.

She looked at Sol with eyes filled with love. She was giving her all to not tear up and smudge the makeup that had been carefully put on her after hours of tinkering by the maids.

This was a moment she thought she would never witness. A moment she thought she had no right to witness, and yet here she was now, alive and happy, about to see Sol marry and start a new chapter of his life.

Blaze, Mars, can you see this? Your son has become an admirable man.

Lilith thought as she observed the reaction of the people in the room. Sol was loved and admired by many.

They continued to bask in the moment until the maids finished working on Sol, and all took a step back.

Watching him, basking under the light of the sun, all the women in the room felt their hearts miss a beat.

Sol had always been handsome. However, right now, the presence exuding from him was simply divine. All he needed was a halo, and they had no doubt that they would believe him to be a god.

Lilith exhaled and patted his shoulder once; her grip was firm yet colored with gentleness. "Come. It's time."

The door opened wider, and the sound of distant bells drifted in.

The world was waiting with eager anticipation.

For the wedding of the Blessed Prince and the Cursed Witch.

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