Chapter 39 : Could It Get Any More Convenient?

“…”

Let her breathe.

No—she might pass out.

Perched on her throne, watching the live feed from the eyeball vine, Stacy nearly choked on her own outrage.

Milly’s suicidal charge against the Thunderwolf? Surprising. Impressive, even.

But what came after?

She almost vomited blood.

“Little Milly… little Milly… you really are…”

The protection mechanism had triggered.

But then—nothing.

The key information she needed? Not revealed.
Had Milly even received it? Unlikely. No trigger condition had been met.

On the verge of death—Milly didn’t awaken a new power.

She reactivated the original body’s abilities.

Not “cheat” powers—inherited ones. Dormant. Suppressed. Now forcibly awakened.

And honestly? This process was already underway.

Even without near-death trauma, Milly would’ve slowly gained access.

Remember that night in the cage—the one where Milly passed out after resisting the magic?

When Stacy returned, she saw the iron bars—bent open by bare hands.

Those weren’t ordinary bars. Forged to withstand holy force.

If Milly hadn’t collapsed… she might’ve escaped that night.

Was the stimulation just not enough? Why hadn’t Milly received the information yet?

It should have happened.

When outsiders arrived, their minds either gave them direct knowledge or set conditions—tasks—to fulfill. Complete them, and the path home would be revealed.

This data came from stolen Church records—by the very forces trying to erase her. They didn’t know she’d taken it.

She massaged her temple.

She’d done everything. Pushed every limit. Given more torment than any mortal could endure.

Yet Milly’s mind remained intact. Not broken. Not shattered.

Could it be… that only mental collapse—not physical suffering—could unlock the information?

Her endurance was ridiculous. Normal people would’ve shattered under one of her torments.

And yet—this girl endured all of them—and still dared to defy her.

Last night… when she choked Milly…

Stacy scowled.

If she hadn’t held back, she would’ve killed her.

And right before death—the protection would’ve activated. The original abilities would’ve awakened.

If she’d seen that last night… she’d have died from rage first.

Because of how close she’d come to passing out, she delayed retrieving Milly until after the knight squad took her.

Now—what?

Should she just teleport there, slaughter the squad, and reclaim Milly?

No.

The others meant nothing.

But the silver-armored girl—the squad leader—looked familiar.

She couldn’t place her.

Didn’t matter.

One person would recognize her.

Even if they didn’t… she’d make sure they did.

“May the Goddess purify all corruption…”

As usual, Saintess Lillian knelt before the Goddess statue. After her daily prayer for forgiveness, she rose—only for a silence barrier to shimmer into existence.

She sighed.

“You again.”

“Dear Saintess,” Eileen—Stacy in disguise—spoke with mocking sweetness. “Do you ever get tired of this act? The Goddess must be bored listening to you every day.”

Lillian smiled, unfazed. “You didn’t come for idle talk. What do you want?”

“How straightforward.”

Stacy dropped the act. She pulled out a recording crystal, projecting its image onto the wall—Tifna cradling Milly.

“That girl… never seen her before.”

“The one holding her. Who is she?”

Stacy pointed at Tifna. She needed everything on her.

Lillian paused—then understood. “Why does the Fell God care about a common soldier?”

“Silence. I didn’t ask for commentary.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Stacy’s eyes. Lillian dropped the tease.

Stacy had changed—more volatile, less patient. Even mild resistance now sparked fury.

“The iris crest on her armor—you remember it, don’t you? Only one family in Starlight City bears the iris as their house sigil.”

“Iris…?”

Stacy searched her memory. She’d killed many intruders—many crests. Most bore the Church’s sun insignia. Holy Knights—how many had she slain? Too many to recall. But soon, more would come. She’d count then.

She’d killed someone strong recently—armor etched with an iris.

“Sword Saint Agnes led a team to your domain recently. They vanished.”

Ah. That’s right. The young Sword Saint’s armor bore the iris crest. Just days ago, one of the “mice” found a fragment of it.

Wait.

Agnes’s body had transformed into a white-haired girl—her soul replaced by a foreign entity: Milly.

And now, Milly was being carried away by a girl wearing the same crest.

Could it get any more convenient?

Stacy suddenly laughed—loud, sharp. It startled Lillian.

“Stacy, tell me—is Agnes alive or dead? By your nature, she’s likely gone… but at least give me an answer.”

“The little Sword Saint is gone, yes.”

She’d been planning how to break Milly’s mind.

Now, she didn’t need to.

Fate had delivered the perfect catalyst.

She wouldn’t even need to act.

Just wait.

Let the truth unfold.

“Little Milly… little Milly… you truly amaze me.”