The smooth, gold-trimmed surface of the status card felt heavy in my right hand, its cold metallic edges catching the ambient light filtering through the high arched windows of Chief Roman's office. I adjusted my posture beneath my flame-resistant crimson trench coat, my single jade-green eye scanning the magically etched characters that gleamed against the dark finish.
The baseline matrix of my identity remained stubbornly unchanged, a stark, clinical ledger of the violent, hyper-accelerated evolution I had undergone since escaping the shackles of my childhood archive. Yet, as my gaze traveled down to the lowest line of text, my breath caught slightly in my throat. For months, I had been passing this card through countless inner-district tolls, security checkpoints, and automated guild scanners with a mechanical, detached indifference… never once pausing to analyze the specific administrative fine print.
Now, the reality stared back at me in precise, unforgiving strokes:
Status Card
Name: Bounty Hunter
Rank: Gold
Magic Power: S-rank
Magic Mastery: S-rank
Swordsmanship: A-rank
Marksmanship: A-rank
Battle IQ: D-rank
Job Occupation: Bounty Hunter (S-rank) / Luminous Knight (S-rank: 7th Place)
Affiliation: LKBA (Branch 1)
A faint, bitter ripple of irony parsed through my mind. My Battle IQ remained hard-capped at a deceptively abysmal D-ranka deliberate, statistical anomaly born from the fact that I didn't utilize standard Andromeda tactical theory, instead relying on raw Earth-based Kendo kinetics, illicit firearm modifications, and crude MMORPG cheesing mechanics that the Bureau's automated appraisal matrix simply couldn't comprehend. To the system, I was a blunt instrument.
But it was the bottom line that truly held my attention. LKBA (Branch 1). I had been formally integrated into the elite Luminous Knight Bureau Association hierarchy without even realizing the geographical weight of my placement.
Beside me, Evelyn leaned over, her sharp amber eyes catching the glow of the text. The bioluminescent blue-green tips of her cascading hair gave a low, steady pulse, her internal "lie detector" finally settling down as the conversation shifted from my secret romantic date with Tae-man back to cold military strategy.
"Well, look at that, big sister, It looks like we're being split up. I'm officially assigned to Branch 3. I'll be staying right here to protect the core infrastructure of Caria City from whatever fallout occurs." Evelyn murmured, her smooth voice carrying a rare undertone of professional sobriety.
She straightened her spine, the pristine white and scarlet plating of her Luminous Knight armor shifting with a crisp, metallic click. Chronologically, she was a six-year-old slime hybrid, but within the strict martial ranking of the capital's divine vanguard, she stood at an incredible 3rd Place… a testament to her volatile, hyper-evolving biology that physically surpassed my own 7th Place standing.
Chief Roman Calico leaned forward, his heavy, scarred hands locking together over the pristine surface of his new mahogany desk. His stern, unyielding gaze locked onto my hooded silhouette with the absolute gravity of a commander deploying his ultimate asset.
"Then the layout is decided, since your card dictates Branch 1, Eirene, you will be deployed immediately to the frozen permafrost of the northern borders. That is the literal scar tissue that separates the Andromeda continent from the heretical wastes of the Triangulum continent. If the fallen angel attempts to breach our territory through the northern valleys, your directive is absolute: hunt it down, dismantle its core, and bring its head back to this bureau. You are a remarkably strong woman, Bounty Hunter. Do not let the kingdom fall."
Standing strictly beside his desk, White Flower adjusted her silver-framed spectacles. Her sharp, analytical eyes held a profound, quiet understanding behind the lenses as she cross-referenced my status card with the glowing parchment of her executive ledger, officially logging my deployment papers into the Bureau's highest security tier.
"The staging ground for Branch 1 is located directly within the reinforced plaza nearby the Grand Cathedral of the 8th District, The iron-carriage transports are scheduled to depart exactly at twilight. The shadows are lengthening quickly, Eirene. Get your equipment prepared." White stated smoothly, her voice a flawless mask of professional efficiency.
I stood up from the leather chair, the heavy folds of my crimson trench coat swaying around my boots. My mouth remained firmly closed over the dark cavity where my tongue used to be, keeping my gratitude entirely silent, but I offered Chief Roman and White a disciplined, respectful tilt of my head. Turning on my heel, the Level 8 Mana Pool and Level 6 Magic Enhancement rings on my fingers humming with a cold, predatory readiness, I strode out of the executive office… leaving the bureaucratic heart of the capital behind as I prepared to march toward the frozen edge of the world.
The noon sun beat down upon the immaculate, white-tiled grand plaza of the 8th District, but the radiant heat failed to penetrate the deep, freezing void of my psyche. The moment the heavy mahogany doors of Chief Roman's executive office clicked shut behind me, the serene, unreadable mask I had maintained in front of White and Evelyn fractured into a jagged streak of pitch-black cynicism.
I paused in the shadowed alcove of the Bureau's grand marble colonnade, away from the bustling traffic of clerks and high-tier vanguards. Moving with deliberate, mechanical precision, I reached into my spatial purse with my single pale right hand. My fingers, glittering with the heavy, intricate bands of my Level 8 Mana Pool, Level 6 Magic Enhancement, and Level 5 Healing rings, brushed past the cold, metallic weight of my ten specialized tear gas flasks 23.8 kg / 25 kg before latching onto the calcified bone of my Leech's Hollow Mask.
With a practiced twist of my wrist, I secured the mask over my face. The dark, pitch-black void of the eyehole swallowed my single jade-green eye, instantly burying the blushing, vulnerable girl who had shared a milkshake with Na Tae-man beneath the terrifying, unblinking visage of an executioner. I pulled the heavy canvas hood of my flame-resistant crimson trench coat deep over my silhouette, ensuring the compressed, blood-sucking wings folded tightly against my spine were completely invisible to the patrolling guards.
To the world, I was no longer Roxy, the former vice-leader, or "Little Ren," the frail archivist tool. I was a Gold-ranked vanguard, a phantom walking in the broad daylight of the capital.
With my spatial purse slung securely over my shoulder, the empty, scarred stump of my severed left arm hidden beneath the tailored folds of my crimson coat, I hurried through the porcelain-paved avenues toward the grand cathedral sector. My mind, sharp and hyper-analytical, raced through the tactical data. Branch 1. The northern borders. The thin line of defense separating Andromeda from the heretical, apocalyptic wastes of the Triangulum continent.
And then, there was the memory that haunted the background of my thoughts like a ticking clock… the summoning circle hidden deep within the high-security administrative vaults.
Three months.
The fanatical priests and mages were bleeding their resources dry, sacrificing millions of mana points to yank an unsuspecting, heavily weaponized sacrificial pawn from Earth to slaughter the "demon menace." The dramatic irony was a suffocating weight. They were praying for a holy hero to purge the wicked, entirely blind to the fact that a sixth-evolution, tongue-less demonic phantom carrying an astronomical gold bounty was currently marching under their own banners as a 7th-place Luminous Knight. If that hero ever opened their eyes in Andromeda, I would be the first target on their automated quest log.
The towering, needle-like Gothic spires of the Grand Cathedral loomed ahead, cutting into the bright sky like ancient stone teeth. The plaza outside the holy structure was already teeming with the elite, armored ranks of Branch 1… vanguards, paladins, and high-tier spellcasters preparing their logistics for the twilight departure.
But as I approached the massive, silver-gilded entrance archway, a figure emerged from the shadow of the cathedral doors that made my magical energy instinctively drop into a defensive, low-frequency hum.
It was Pope Corneas.
The supreme spiritual authority of the capital stood clad in his immaculate, flowing pontifical robes, the golden threads of his vestments catching the harsh midday sun. I hadn't crossed paths with him in months, not since the early reconnaissance phases before my hunt for Cameron Gal. His face looked visibly weathered, the immense strain of managing the kingdom's internal corruption and secret extra-dimensional projects casting deep shadows beneath his eyes. Yet, the moment his gaze drifted across the plaza and locked onto my heavily hooded, crimson silhouette, his expression shifted into a look of profound, solemn recognition.
"Sister Eirene, You are here. And... if my eyes do not deceive the ledgers, you have been formally assigned to Branch 1?" Pope Corneas called out, his deep, resonant voice carrying the absolute weight of his holy office as he stepped down the marble stairs toward me.
I kept my body perfectly rigid, refusing to let my posture betray the sudden spike of adrenaline freezing my veins. I didn't reach for my purse to write a response. I simply offered his holiness a slow, disciplined nod of my head.
"The heavens work in mysterious, unyielding cycles, The northern border is a treacherous, godless frontier, Sister. The corruptive influence of the Triangulum wastes bleeds into the very soil. Allow me to grant you the standard protective grace of the church before you march into the twilight." the Pope murmured, letting out a heavy, weary sigh that seemed to carry the exhaustion of the entire continent. He reached into the folds of his silk sash, retrieving a small, crystalline vial filled with highly concentrated, blessed holy water.
Before my analytical mind could calculate a evasive trajectory, Pope Corneas raised his hand and lightly flicked a few droplets of the consecrated liquid directly toward my exposed right cheek and the edge of my canvas hood.
Tssssssss…
The instant the holy water made contact with my exceptionally pale, demonic flesh, a sharp, microscopic hiss echoed in the space between us. A tiny, localized wisp of white steam curled into the air as the high-tier celestial purification elements violently clashed with the raw, volatile blood-curse biology anchoring my sixth-evolution strain. It felt like a sudden, localized needle-prick of pure heat burning straight through my nerve endings.
Behind the absolute psychic barrier of my mask, my jaw clenched tightly over the empty space where my tongue used to be, my fangs scraping against my lower lip as I manually forced my Level 5 Healing ring to suppress the cellular rejection. I didn't flinch. I didn't twitch a single muscle. To the Pope, the tiny reaction was likely nothing more than the standard atmospheric vapor of blessed moisture evaporating off a cold, enchanted vanguard uniform.
Pope Corneas tucked the vial away, entirely oblivious to the fact that he had just micro-burned the skin of an apex demon standing right in front of his grand cathedral. He turned his gaze back toward the massive, arched doors of the sanctuary, gesturing with a heavy, gold-ringed hand.
"Well, It seems our paths are aligned for the afternoon, Sister Eirene. I am also heading directly into the central nave of the cathedral to oversee the final blessings for the Branch 1 vanguard commanders. Walk with me. Let us see what strength we can offer to the kingdom before the dark settles over Caria." the Pope said smoothly, his posture regaining its rigid, commanding authority.
I adjusted the strap of my spatial purse with my remaining hand, the Level 8 Mana Pool ring on my finger humming with a quiet, dangerous resonance as I stepped into stride beside the supreme ruler of the church, marching straight into the hollow, echoing depths of the holy sanctuary.
The massive, vaulted stone corridors of the Grand Cathedral swallowed the ambient noise of the outer plaza, replacing it with a heavy, echoing silence. Our boots clicked rhythmically against the cold marble floor as I walked half a step behind Pope Corneas, my crimson trench coat casting a long, dark shadow against the carved stone pillars.
"Well, Sister Eirene It seems we have no choice but to officially delay the summoning ritual. The dimensional barrier between our world and Earth is simply too powerful to pierce with our current constraints. We must let the Goddess Elpis decide our faith for now." the Pope began, his voice dropping into a low, weary murmur that was meant only for my ears. He shook his head, the golden embroidery of his vestments catching the dim candlelight.
He let out a heavy, defeated sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly beneath the weight of his high office.
"Just this morning, several of our highest-tier master mages completely passed out due to acute mana exhaustion. Trying to fill a ten-million mana meter is a monumental, back-breaking labor. We have officially drained every holy artifact, every high-grade magic stone, and every reservoir we possessed, and yet the circle refuses to ignite. We are forced to delay the ritual for at least a year, Eirene. I know this means our destined hero back on Earth will have a lot of extra time to live their life or prepare... but looking at you, I feel a shred of comfort. With your legendary strength guarding our ranks, even without a summoned hero, we can still keep this capital city safe from the demon menace."
Behind the absolute psychic barrier of my Leech's Hollow Mask, a profound, freezing wave of dark satisfaction washed over me.
A one-year delay.
The ticking clock that had been hanging over my head like a guillotine had just been shattered. The fanatical priests had completely broken their own spellcasters trying to force the system, entirely unaware that the very "demon menace" they feared was standing right next to them, listening to their structural failures. This delay bought me the one thing money couldn't buy: time. Time to let the heretical life in my womb grow safely, time to map out the northern borders, and time to ensure that if a hero ever did drop from the sky in twelve months, I would be far too powerful for them to handle.
I didn't utter a sound, keeping my mouth firmly closed over my missing tongue, but I offered the Pope a slow, disciplined nod of my hooded head to acknowledge his words.
We turned a final corner, passing through a heavily fortified iron archway that led directly into the eastern wing of the cathedral complex. The holy atmosphere immediately dissolved, replaced by the rigid, sterile tension of a high-tier military staging ground.
We had officially arrived at the Branch 1 Command Hub.
The sprawling plaza was a sea of elite, heavy-duty vanguard armor, sharp halberds, and reinforced iron-supply carriages built to withstand the freezing permafrost of the northern border. Hundreds of top-ranking Capital Knights and Luminous Knights were moving in synchronized formation, checking their gear and locking down their tactical positions. The air was thick with the scent of weapon grease, cold steel, and the low, intense chatter of veterans preparing for the twilight march.
I adjusted the heavy strap of my spatial purse with my remaining right hand, my Level 8 Mana Pool and Level 6 Magic Enhancement rings humming with a cold, predatory readiness against my fingers. The administrative phase was officially over.