Chapter 73 : Even Knowing She Can’t Win

“Stacy, it’s time to end this.”

Stacy remained seated at the head of the long table, still twirling the silver goblet in her hand. “Oh? Is that so?”

She set down the goblet, her gaze falling on the longsword in Milly’s hand, the one she called Broken.

“Let me think, Little Milly. What should I call you? Brave? Or foolish?”

A mocking glint flashed in her crimson eyes. She had already shown her the difference in their power back at Tifna’s house. And now, she dared to draw her sword again? Had the little one been through so much that her brain had finally snapped?

She stared at the longsword. It looked familiar. She had shattered it the last time it was summoned, so she hadn’t gotten a good look. But now, seeing it clearly, it was definitely the one that little Sword Saint had been holding. No, she had seen it many times before.

What was the word? Legacy. Yes.

That’s what it was. A legacy passed down from generation to generation. Whenever the wielder grew a little stronger, they would appear before her, challenging her, and then be mercilessly killed by her. Then the sword would find a new heir, and the cycle would repeat.

Was it the people who sought her out, or was it the sword, trying to prove that it was strong, but its wielders were not?

She had gotten off track.

Milly’s blade struck her throat, only to be deflected by an invisible barrier.

A little progress, but not much. Still a long way from her original body’s level. A little more training, and she might get there.

But even at that level, with this broken sword, the only way Milly could hurt her was if she let her.

Seeing the little one steady herself for another attack, Stacy’s figure vanished.

“Gone?”

“Now, Little Milly, if you want to make a scene, don’t do it here. Master went to a lot of trouble to prepare this meal for you. If you destroy it, I’ll be very sad.”

A ghostly figure appeared behind Milly, a hand on her shoulder, the pressure nearly forcing her to her knees.

That should do it.

But the little one swung her sword back again, only to be deflected by the barrier once more.

She knew she couldn’t break through, but she kept trying? Oh, Little Milly.

“Didn’t you hear me? If you want to make a scene, don’t do it here.”

Stacy’s voice was tinged with annoyance. She didn’t want a fight here.

Was she concerned about something?

Her gaze fell on the platters on the table. Compared to her previous dark cuisine, this was a true feast. Had she prepared this to show that she was better than those humans, to make her feel grateful and stay by her side?

Disgusting…

She tried to pull away, but the pressure on her shoulder intensified. Milly stumbled, nearly collapsing. But she gritted her teeth and held on.

A little more progress there, too. Last time, she hadn’t even lasted half as long. What would happen if she increased the pressure? She’d probably collapse.

But that would be boring. She released her grip and lifted Milly’s chin.

“Seeing as you’re doing so well, I’ll give you a chance. Come.”

With a snap of her fingers, space warped. A moment of disorientation, and she found herself in the throne hall.

Stacy was sitting on her high throne, looking down at her, like a demon king waiting for the hero’s challenge.

The Fell God Stacy. Calling her a demon king wasn’t wrong. A final boss. But she was no hero.

“You know, Little Milly,”

She looked around. The throne hall, once destroyed, was now restored, without a single trace of damage.

“In the countless years past, there have always been little mice who weren’t afraid to die, who would rush in here and challenge me. Do you know what happened to them?”

The brave warriors slept here forever. The rotting forest outside held their bones. And she still sat on her throne, waiting for the next crusade.

Milly didn’t respond. The first thing she had seen after transmigrating was this very place, this very person. Back then, she hadn’t even had a chance to fight back.

Now, she was back where she started, facing her first enemy. In the stories she had read, this would be the final battle.

The hero returns to where it all began, defeats the final enemy, and goes home.

So, she just had to defeat Stacy. If she could kill her, she could go home. To her real home. Even though she knew, right now, she was no match for her.

Gripping Broken, Milly charged.

“You know you can’t win, yet you still come at me? Oh, Little Milly.”

A mocking smile on Stacy’s lips. She raised her hand, and several thick tentacles erupted from the floor.

They were a nightmare, writhing, trying to awaken her past terrors.

Milly’s expression didn’t change. She just charged, and with a flash of white light, the tentacles were severed.

The severed pieces writhed on the floor, trying to reach her, then dissolved into black smoke.

“A little progress.”

Stacy smiled, watching her charge. She moved her fingers, and more tentacles shot up, blocking her path.

Too many of them. But so what?

Milly’s feet flew, her sword a silver arc. With each swing, tentacles dissolved into smoke. With each swing, she unleashed her pent-up frustration and hatred.

“Stacy!”

The path was clear. She was close. She accelerated, a blur of motion.

Broken gleamed with a deadly light. Without hesitation, she put all her strength into one final thrust.

The blade hit the barrier with a dull thud. This time, she wasn’t thrown back.

She pushed harder. Sensing her determination, Broken let out a clear ring, and the blade erupted in a blinding light.

Stacy instinctively shielded her eyes. In that moment of hesitation, a cracking sound echoed.