2-85 - How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?

Volume Two: Chapter 85 - "Didn't You Say I Owe You Many Favors?" "Ha, ha, ha!!" Seizing Aesphyra, Nine Snow laughed maniacally as she unleashed magical attacks on her. The assault was devoid of any technical flair or spectacle; it was a primitive brawl where she fused various advanced elemental spells with sheer brute strength in her clawed onslaught. A far cry from the visually captivating exchanges of magic before, it was a primal melee. Nine Snow pinned Aesphyra to the ground, her sock-clad foot, adorned with wooden sandals, pressed heavily on the holy sword, thwarting Aesphyra’s attempts to stand or concentrate her magic. Despite Aesphyra's efforts to wield magic in defense, the convulsions of the magical energy took their toll—her clothing torn, her hair in disarray, and a trickle of blood staining her lips. With victory seemingly within her grasp, Nine Snow's excitement intensified, her attacks becoming ever more frenzied. Yet, just as she was poised to deliver a final, thunderous and icy-laden strike, Aesphyra abruptly slipped from under her, executing a short-range teleportation to safety. Crackling shards of resistance scrolls spilled from her skirt, with several shattered enchanted gems glistening with dim magical light before dulling as they hit the ground. Alchemical potions in abandoned hues lay littered—blue potions fizzled with lightning, while red ones smoldered with heat, bursting violently upon impact. These were Aesphyra’s cherished ‘life-savers’—disposable elemental resistance scrolls, element-absorbing alchemical potions, and various elemental resistance gems. Tools meant to allow for errors in combat. Though rarely used in previous battles where no enemy could lay a finger on her, they now proved vital. Her precaution paid off, for without them, Nine Snow’s brutal magical onslaught could have ended her life in an instant. The Galatus family heavily guarded Aesphyra against harm, supplying alchemical implements and magic scrolls of at least intermediate level. In typical circumstances, these would protect her from anything more than minor injuries and damaged attire. Yet Nine Snow’s viciousness left most of Aesphyra’s defenses exhausted and her body gravely wounded. Had the timing of her spatial shift been off, she might already have met her end. “Ah~ As I suspected," Nine Snow remarked, unconciliated by Aesphyra’s escape. Her lips curled into a sly smile as if she had foreseen everything. "Miss Galatus, your lineage must indeed be extraordinary, for your backing seems to prize you greatly, lavishing so many priceless tools upon you, much more than one would expect, even for a hero." "Intrigued, are you?" retorted Aesphyra, flippantly, clasping her holy sword and cradling her injured arm, the large black butterfly ribbon once securing her hair now absconded, silver tresses flowing freely and streaked with blood. Despite her ravaged state, she exuded a composed air, as if all was within her calculations, her voice light with teasing mockery toward Nine Snow. "No, Miss Galatus, curiosity doesn’t equate to need. Carry your secrets to the grave," Nine Snow enunciated coldly, unmoved by Aesphyra’s scorn, discerning the forceful veneer barely masking her exhaustion. Alas, circumstance forced her hand; had she not been a hero, she might’ve already joined the retreat with that blue-haired companion. "Reality accepts no 'what ifs.' Miss Galatus, though I know not the true secret of your birth, perhaps, from the outset, you were ensconced in the glory of your lineage and 'hero' title. But have you pondered, that one day these same titles might precipitate your demise?" "I see no regret?" mused Aesphyra, a smile softening her features. "Regret is a stranger in my vocabulary, Fox Maiden. I stride boldly on my self-chosen path with my identity, strength, and will. Every choice is personal. Why regret?" “An oversight on my part,” Nine Snow conceded with a wry smile. “Your colleague escaped swiftly. When leaving you behind, was there perhaps a moment of disappointment?” “Go figure, who told you I was always alone?” chuckled Aesphyra. “Miss Galatus, you are intriguing, I must admit. In some ways, we are alike," Nine Snow acknowledged, her elegant hand summoning a powerful wave of magic. "I might have enjoyed our camaraderie." A magical necrosis emerged, black voids entwining Aesphyra’s limbs, wounded and unable to evade. “Your peculiar teleportation isn’t ready for reuse, is it?” Nine Snow deduced. "Calculating your recharge time when you stalled with earth walls... and it seems now is not yet." “What a wonder; this teleportation carries no dark element signature, nor is it swift enough akin to light element magic. Could it be your 'Saint Blessing'? Beyond a hero, you belong to a 'sage' lineage?" ventured Nine Snow. “No matter. Uncovering secrets bores me, Hero Miss, farewell." With that, Nine Snow's tail transformed into a giant ice sword, poised to impale the captive Aesphyra. Unprotected by magic, the human body is frail. Mere spells suffice for destruction, and Nine Snow's unleashed ice elemental magic held lethal promise. Indisputably, being impaled by this colossal ice blade meant certain death for Aesphyra, her arsenal depleted. Were it not for depleting every last ‘regal emblem,’ Aesphyra might have had leverage against Nine Snow—escape might have been feasible. Even as a reborn, unforeseen events and the chaotic trajectory of the world caught her unprepared, leaving no avenue of retreat. Thus this time mirrors her prior helpless retreat—is this, again, her undoing? It was over. This was the prevailing thought among the onlooking fox demons and succubi—and indeed, in Nine Snow's own mind. In truth, that Aesphyra managed to counterattack and nearly turn the tide against Nine Snow was unexpected for everyone. To think, a mere novice spirit mage could hold her own against the mightiest demon lord of the present era for so long, and that too even as a hero—truly a bewildering feat. Pondering Nine Snow’s innate talent and illustrious lineage, coupled with her experience in surviving numerous life-and-death battles over nearly a century, revealed the terrifying pace of Aesphyra's growth. No wonder their queen was bent on killing the hero, even at the risk of igniting a war with humanity. Allowing Aesphyra to fully realize her potential would spell disaster for the future of demonkind. With her efforts futile against the magical assault, Aesphyra struggled to free herself from the vines binding her—a losing battle given she lacked the 'Emperor's Seal', essential to harnessing the full capabilities of her Carriliman bloodline’s 'Saint Blessing.' Unfortunately, she had expended her supply during the investigation and indictment of Priest Farkas. Without the 'Emperor's Seal', invoking the 'Saint Blessing' would extract a heavy toll. Yet more critically, without it, she faced a lengthy spell cast initiation period, a gap Nine Snow would not fail to exploit, the undertaking, tantamount to courting death in front of Nine Snow. As the massive ice sword was about to strike, a childhood sense of helplessness washed over Aesphyra—a familiar feeling, still acutely discomforting. Would there be another chance, another life? In the crucial moment, just as the arrow of her childhood was set to pierce Aesphyra, a stalwart figure intervened, accompanied by a youthful shout. “Ice! Skin! Technique!” Aesphyra recognized the voice instantly, her eyes wide with astonishment, witnessing a fully armored figure crouched defensively in front of her. The armored entity wore a mantle of frost as the oncoming ice sword collided with it. The ensuing explosion of shattering ice was as shrill as glass being rent, a cacophony, particularly to Aesphyra’s ears. ‘Virtue +500.’ ‘Current Virtue: 7954.’ Amidst the spray of ice shards, the bloodied figure was cast back, landing on top of Aesphyra just as the vines binding her lost their grip. Aesphyra was propelled away by the force, and upon landing, she saw the blood-drenched, teetering blue-haired youth sprawled across her lap. “…..” Her mouth opened, yet no words emerged. Overwhelmed by unsaid questions, unsure of where to begin, leaving nothing but a lump in her throat—or perhaps, words simply failed her. “Why did you come back?” she finally enquired, her tone as serene as ever. The blue-haired youth, clearly too weakened to utter a sound, lay unmoving across her stocking-clad thighs, casting a fragile glance at her. “Didn’t you always say I owed you a ton of favors?” He had arrived late, deliberating a plan and whether it could succeed, finding Aesphyra’s duel with Nine Snow already at its zenith, giving him no opening to intervene. Yet observing the ever-poised Aesphyra now so battered, he knew he had no time left to ponder. “I don’t like owing people. Consider this repaid. Don’t cry; you look terrible when you cry.” “Be confident, stand tall, like you always do. The Aesphyra I know is ever confident, radiant, and never destitute.” Having said his piece, the battered Wenny’s head slumped forward. “…” Was she crying? Aesphyra didn’t know and cared little for the answer. She merely lowered her head, remaining silent. ‘Virtue +300.’ ‘Current Virtue: 8254.’ “…” Nine Snow, startled at Wenny’s return, sighed contemplatively, shaking her head. “Foolish. Why return?” “This was never your affair.” ‘Virtue +100.’ ‘Current Virtue: 8354.’ The fox demons and succubi were shocked by Wenny's return as well, a few succubus barons expressed disappointment. This young man had moxie, they reluctantly acknowledged, adhering to their standards for worthy prey. A shame. After a pregnant pause, silence enveloping the scene, Aesphyra, with shaking injured limbs, retrieved a venerable bottle containing a faintly glowing pink alchemical potion. This elixir, exuding a soothing pink luminescence, promised revitalization to those exposed. This singular relic, preserved with ancient technology, hailed from Aesphyra’s family lineage, secured generations ago from a Saintess of Fading Radiance. Crafted by the Saintess herself, infused with her magic and blood, it functioned as a lifesaver. So long as death hadn’t firmly taken its hold, it could snatch one back from the brink. Yet, a single precious vial was all the family possessed—its value incalculable. The Galatus family had trusted this rare potion with Aesphyra, echoing their historic selflessness in protecting royalty. And without hesitation, Aesphyra poured this elixir into the critically injured Wenny laying before her. Her petite hands unsteadily unscrewed the cap, breaking the preservation magic sealing the bottle, then tilted it to pour the liquid into Wenny’s mouth. Given Wenny’s prone position and Aesphyra’s fervor, she failed to notice the soft pink holy light emanating from the youth's heart. Under usual circumstances, Wenny’s dire state would spur his bloodline to activate the Fasyris blood for self-healing. But with Aesphyra’s intervention and the soul-saving potion abating any mortal peril, the Fasyris blood ceased its interference. Aesphyra poured without pause, fearful of interruption, though Nine Snow made no move to intervene, nor did her subordinates dare speak or act. “...cough!” Amidst repeated attempts, Wenny finally reacted, sputtering on the potion before reflexively coughing. His head jerked upright, the violent coughs racking his battered frame.