Hera stood still, her blade resting loosely in her hand. She did not respond to the man's question.

When his figure stepped fully into view, I noticed the radiance immediately. Gold seemed to paint every part of his body, not as armor, but as something closer to a blessing etched directly into his flesh.

A short sword, white as freshly fallen snow, rested in his right hand. In his left hand, he held a small sphere no larger than a fist, almost translucent, with a faint, murky white core slowly swirling inside.

His golden eyes swept over me.

The moment they landed, they ignited with confusion, then sharpened into unmistakable hatred. I could feel it pressing against my skin, raw and intense, as if he already wanted to tear me apart where I stood.

At least buy me dinner first, I joked silently, the thought dry and reflexive, more habit than humor.

He looked young. Far younger than I expected for someone standing at the head of this many Holy Knights. And yet the hatred he carried toward demons was ancient, heavy, and deeply rooted. It clung to him the way faith clings to zealots, unquestioned and absolute.

Of course. This was their commander. Sir Lucien.

"Beatrice? That's Beatrice, right? How is that possible? She's a… demon?"

The familiar feminine voice reached me before I fully registered the movement. My gaze fell on Lucy as she stepped out from the shadows of the forest.

One by one, the others followed, emerging into the clearing with wide eyes locked onto me. I knew they would recognize me. We had not spent much time together, but it had been enough. Enough to laugh. Enough to drink. Enough to matter.

Too bad...

I was exposed now. A demon standing where a human friend had been. To them, I could no longer be both. No matter what expressions they wore at this moment, no matter how conflicted or stunned they looked, I was still the blood enemy they had been raised to crave and kill.

I offered them an awkward smile and stepped closer to Hera, our shoulders brushing lightly as I settled beside her.

"She tricked us… all this time…" Northern Wolf's voice cut deeper than any blade. His eyes searched me, not with rage, but with something worse. Confusion. He could not understand why I was what I was, or why I had traveled with them at all. As for the others, the ones who had never cared for me to begin with, their gazes hardened quickly, hatred rising so sharply that I could feel it prickle against my skin.

I did not reply.

There was no point trying to explain any of this. Today, I had to choose between friendship and survival. If I did not kill, I would be killed. It was that simple.

All thanks to Hera.

I let out a quiet sigh and leaned in just enough to whisper, "What's your plan now?"

This felt less like a battle and more like a slow march toward suicide. Her head turned toward me. She smiled. It was a soft, almost gentle smile. And I hated it.

"We fight," she replied calmly, as if she were suggesting a casual walk rather than condemning us both to bloodshed.

"Fight?" The woman in priestess robes laughed aloud. I looked at her and recognized her immediately. Sister Ilyana. "Hera, are you insane? You commit the grave sin of stealing the one relic only the Emperor may wield, then you stand here beside a demon and talk about fighting?" She shook her head, amusement dripping from her voice. "Fight who? Us? Just the two of you?"

Her mockery drew a few laughs, though even more faces remained frozen in disbelief. The heroine of the Holy Empire. A demon from the enemy forces. Standing side by side. Even I would never have imagined such a situation.

"Explain yourself, Sun of the Holy Empire," Sir Lucien roared, fury tearing through his voice as the radiance around him flared brighter. "What is the reason for this treachery?"

As his words echoed through the clearing, the mercenaries continued to gather, spilling out from between the trees until their numbers hovered around thirty or so. Many were missing. Many had already died.

The survivors looked worn, bloodied, and sharp-eyed, glaring at the Holy Knights with barely restrained hostility. Both sides were exhausted, breaths heavy, armor dented, weapons stained. They had all been in the middle of battles where life and death were decided in heartbeats.

And now they were faced with just two of us.

Scar's gaze settled on me, unreadable as ever. There was no surprise there, no shock, only calculation, as if he were already rearranging the situation in his mind, weighing outcomes and sacrifices.

Beside him stood Rovan. Unlike the others, he did not look stunned at all, which sent an uneasy chill down my spine. Had he already figured it out? Or was he simply too careful to show his hand?

His eyes kept shifting, scanning the clearing, lingering on the shadows beyond us. He was searching for someone. Likely for Elira and Beelzebub.

The realization settled quietly in my chest. He must be wondering why they were not here, why they had not appeared alongside me like before. But today, they would not be dragged into this madness. Even if they could have come, I would never have allowed it.

"What is there even to explain?" Hera said calmly. "I used this to draw all of you here for a single reason."

Her gaze swept across the clearing, across Holy Knights and mercenaries alike, and for the first time, there was no hesitation in it. No doubt.

"To kill every single one of you," she continued evenly. "No matter what. Nobody leaves today."

The moment the words settled, her aura detonated.

Golden light surged outward like a rising sun, washing over the forest in a violent wave. Trees groaned under the pressure, their bark cracking as if scorched by divinity itself. The ground beneath her feet glowed faintly, ancient symbols flickering into existence before shattering under the sheer weight of her presence. Holy energy poured from her in suffocating abundance, radiant and absolute, the kind that made mortals bow without realizing they had done so.

So this is her real strength.

My breath caught. I had never seen her like this before. Not even close. Every clash we had shared, every moment I thought I understood the distance between us, suddenly felt like a lie. She had been holding back against me.

Compared to her now, I was nothing.

Even if she was a transmigrator like me, even if we shared the same curse, she had grown at a terrifying pace. Of course she had. She wore the body of the main character. The world bent for her. Fate fed her power whether she wanted it or not.

But then—

Something's wrong...

My skin prickled, every instinct screaming at once. Within that overwhelming golden brilliance, I felt it. A second presence. Familiar. Cold. Wrong in a way that felt painfully close to home. Darkness.

Threads of shadow began to seep through the gold, slow at first, almost hesitant, like ink bleeding into sunlight. They did not clash. They did not repel each other. Instead, they intertwined. Gold and darkness folding together, spiraling in unnatural harmony, creating a balance that should not exist.

The forest reacted instantly. Shadows deepened where light should have erased them. Radiance dimmed where darkness should have been consumed. The world itself seemed to hesitate, unsure which rules it was supposed to follow anymore.

My heart slammed against my ribs. "She couldn't have…" I whispered. This was not an accident. Lyssandra… why would you give her your power? Is this how you plan to claim this world for yourself?

The realization hit like a blade to the chest. Whatever deal had been made, whatever line had been crossed, it was something unthinkable. Holy and dark, not opposing, not devouring each other, but coexisting inside a single being.

Hera stood at the center of it all, her expression unchanged, her presence now something that neither heaven nor abyss could fully claim.

And in that moment, I understood. Whatever she had become, she was no longer bound by the rules of this world. And neither side was ready for what that meant.

Hera's gaze lifted, sweeping over them one last time. Holy Knights. Mercenaries. Men who had killed for gold, for faith, for pride. Her smile was thin, almost tired.

"Go on," she said softly, spreading her arms as golden light and shadow churned behind her like a broken halo. "You came here seeking power, glory, salvation. Take it." Her eyes sharpened, burning with something merciless.

"Thirty of you. Forty. It doesn't matter." She turned slightly, standing beside me, our auras brushing in a way that made the air scream. "Come," Hera whispered. "Show me how righteous your blades really are." The forest held its breath. And then, she moved...

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