“Sword Saint? For real?”

“Hair like a sunset, face as pretty as a flower, and that terrifying sword force... It’s her.”

“She broke the spatial maze from the outside? Praise the Goddess! We’re saved!”

The lady’s arrival lifted the spirits of the trapped strike team.

“Oi, oi, lady, what’s the big idea!? What the hell are you doing in my show!?” Rostov -the magical projection of him- inquired with agitation.

The woman called Sword Saint sheathed her plain-looking sword and gave a scanning glance at the team while ignoring Rostov’s howling.

“...This generation is filled with colorful flowers, it seems,” Fleur said with an appreciative tone.

Viers was on edge. She was definitely a Level 5, and a powerful one at that. He’d heard of the Sword Saint before from the soul searches. He feared she might find out his secrets which were many. However, her eyes didn't pause when she looked at him. It was the same with everyone.

Guess she’s not here for me... Hang on, why am I assuming such a self-important outlook? Did I secretly hope for a special reaction to brush my ego? Damnit, Viers! Be more humble.

“Woman! I’m talking to you!” The Level 5 with three hair colors from the Harkelan Empire stood up and pointed his finger at Fleur because she ignored him. A man of his position didn't often get ignored like he didn't matter.

Fleur made a swift, slashing motion with her hand in Rostov’s direction, without making contact from a distance away. Rostov let out a pained scream and reeled back. The projection itself broke like scattered mist. Fleur’s expression didn't change one bit.

As an expert with myriad stories in his head, Viers could guess what Fleur did, unlike half of the strike team. The Sword Saint dealt damage to Rostov’s real body by slashing his magical projection. Viers had read and watched similar feats before but seeing it with his own eyes was really incredible. Furthermore, he sensed no Victa or Arte from the lady and she didn't even use a real sword, just her hand.

Just how strong is this woman?

Even as he was now, a Level 4 low capable of killing a Level 4 peak, Viers lacked the ability to gauge the powerhouses that stood on the peak of the mortal realm’s Path of Power.

Thinking of how much more there was to discover, to gain, to see, brought him joy.

“Now we can talk without the noisy one interrupting,” Fleur said.

Even though she looked like she was a university student, a young adult, she had a mature aura. Her expression looked kind and maternal.

“Sword Saint, it is an honor to be in your presence,” Prince Cassian approached respectfully. Even the proud royal gave someone who was called the Sword Saint the respect she was due.

“We are grateful for your aid,” Prince Lutz looked at the spatial tear that Fleur created when she entered, the real world could be seen from the gap. “May I ask why your esteemed self has come?”

“Is Princess Elvina not here?”

Sword Saint Fleur’s question was unexpected. There were murmurs, some even whispered to his friend who Princess Elvina was.

“It’s the half-elf, you idiot.”

“Ahh. Wasn't she eliminated in the first round?”

Prince Croix stepped up. “She isn't here, Madam Sword Saint. I have knowledge of her whereabouts but why do you seek her?”

“I’d like to ask if she wants to learn swordsmanship from me.”

An offer of discipleship? Many people were purple with envy.

“A friend informed me someone suited to inherit my sword has appeared in Latias, along with a recording of the Grand Prix. After seeing it, I agreed with his opinion. I was far away at the time so going to Latias took some time. Hearing the current Grand Prix is at Valentine Duchy, I set this as my destination. I did not expect to find an invasion underway.”

Princess Elvina, who dueled Croix in Round 1, the one that gave Viers reason to assault the Magisterium Tower in Zetel, was gifted in the ways of the sword. Her low affinity made her hone it instead of going for the more standard magical path. Even though she failed to pass Round 1, being able to catch the eye of someone called the Sword Saint spoke volumes of her skill.

“I see,” Croix nodded. “I have no reason to doubt the words of someone of your reputation and standing.”

The prince took a crystal, grasped it for three seconds, and offered it to Fleur. She took it and words appeared in her mind: Eleven Enclave Liapris, along with the way to get there.

“She has gone to a secluded place, wishing for peace. Whatever her choice is, I hope you can respect her wish.”

“I’ll give you my word, young prince. Rest assured I have no intention of forcing her or disturbing the sanctity of that place. You have my thanks.”

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Fleur dipped her head. Part of her voluminous orange hair fell to the front of her shoulders.

“A token of my appreciation,” her hand went inside her robes.

Before Croix could see whatever she was about to pull out, he stopped her.

“Your goodwill towards Elvina is more than I can hope for. I dare not accept any reward.”

“I see,” Fleur did not push the issue. “Regrettably, this is where we part ways.”

“Will you not fight with us, Lady Saint?” Tinade asked.

“I cannot,” Fleur shook her head. “My duty prevents me from getting involved in this war. The fate of mine and your homeland lies with you. Forgive me.”

“...I understand,” Prince Lutz broke the awkward silence. “Let’s go, everyone. Time waits for no one.”

“When you leave here, you’ll be separated. It’s the final gimmick of this spatial cage. Be on your guard, the numbers are on the other side and there are dangerous individuals among them,” Fleur added.

“Thank you for informing us,” Prince Vadym said. “Change strategy. Wherever you end up, go towards the nearest power source and destroy them.”

“You two, Dragonheirs,” Fleur addressed Croix and Celestine. “One of you, preferably both, needs to go to the main energy node at the center of the fort.”

“Why?” Cassian asked, hiding his ire as much as he could.

“You’ll know... when the time comes. Their power will be needed.”

Cassian inwardly cursed. He had tamed multiple Deva monsters. His Devaze Vulture and Devaya Cobra were both Rank 4. They were stronger than his half-siblings’ dragons! The Ancestors of the Deva species were NOT inferior to even True Dragons so what could they do that he could not?

Croix and Celestine looked at each other and nodded.

“I will heed the Sword Saint’s wisdom.”

“As will I.”

Celestine and Croix replied.

“Understood. You two will make for the center. The rest of us will hunt the auxiliary power sources,” Lutz said.

“...Roger,” Cassian accepted with reluctance.

Vadym just nodded with an indifferent expression.

The strike team made their final preparations with the knowledge they would be separated after going through the threshold. Tinade gave a solution to mitigate their disadvantage. She had a method to resist the displacement but only up to two people at a time.

In other words, they would be separated into pairs instead of singles.

They quickly make pairs. Most with their teammates. Croix paired with Falmerion. Viers with Boram, Ciel with Tinade.

Ciel was worried for Croix. There was no telling what danger lay ahead. She preferred his pair to be herself or Viers. However, Croix was adamant to be with his dragon.

“Don't worry, Miss Ciel. I won't be reckless and I have plenty of life-saving items,” Croix showed his protective ring.

Ciel relented and after they all finished, they went out of the trap woven by one of the Ten Tundra of Harkelan, through the breach created by Sword Saint Fleur.

From the time they were trapped until the time they got out, 28 minutes had passed.

“May the fortune of war be with you,” Fleur gave her blessing before they went out to the battlefield.

***

“Fuck, shit! Fuck, shit! Fuck, shit!”

At Fortress B, with a severe laceration on his face, Rostov paced left and right in a repeat. The wound from Fleur created an inferno of anger in his chest. After the connection was cut off, Rostov connected it anew, just moments before the strike team left in pairs. Now in the screen in front of him, only Fleur remained in the spatial cage.

“That bitch ruined everything! Who the hell does she think she is!” Rostov said aloud, twisting his expression. The men and women in the command center could only do their jobs in silence.

As soon as he said that, Fleur looked up to the magical surveillance camera. It was as if she was looking straight at him from across the feed.

Rostov felt a shiver looking at her eyes.

After a few seconds of silence, Fleur removed her gaze, created another spatial tear with her sword, and slowly walked out.

With her absence, the breath he didn't know he held flowed again. The oxygen inhaled brought disgust and shame. He was one of the Ten Tundra, not some nameless nobody yet he felt fear, even though it was for a moment, at a woman who was at another fortress!?

“You’ll pay for this humiliation one day. Mark my words.”

Contrary to how calm he sounded, Rostov’s hands were clutching into fists and trembling with rage. The Victa that he emitted was like a furious hurricane that filled the men in the command center with dread.

Rostov managed to control his emotions within a minute. The wound on his face had already stopped bleeding and began to mend.

“Report.”

“The infiltrators have entered the fort. As designed by Lord Oleg, they are separated. However, they were all in pairs,” a female officer in an army uniform said.

“Defenses?” Rostov asked.

“The garrison is ready and the troops are in full readiness. They have begun engaging the infiltrators in prepared grounds.”

“Good. Despite unforeseen setbacks, we have more than enough forces to exterminate them. Tell Commander Birsk that if he cannot hold the fortress I’ll have his head on a pike and his body in ice!”

“Understood.”

“And connect me with our collaborator.”

With a beeping sound, the magical screen showed a different scenery.

Rosov saw red.

“Hm? Is that you bossman?”

The red-eyed youth said to the screen that appeared in his proximity too. The somewhat dark room made the color of his eyes more pronounced.

“I thought you would be sleeping by now, as always.”

“I did, then there’s these guys that just appeared in my room from thin air. They tried to kill me while I slept. Talk about rude.”

The room was colored red too, and there were two bodies on the floor. Blood on the floor, blood on the walls, and blood dripping from the ceiling.

“Bossman, look,” the young man showed a helmet to Rostov. “Cool, right? As expected of Latias Knights. We don't have these where I come from. I will take it back home and hang it on my wall.”

Rostov didn't know if the cultist was talking about the full-face knight helmet or the severed head that was in that helmet.

“So what’s up?”

Even though the Level 4 was talking casually towards him, Rostov wasn't angry. Arguing with crazies was a waste of energy.

“There are rats in the fortress you’re in. Time to make yourself useful.”

“All right. Anyone good?”

Rostov picked the delight in his voice as he asked.

“Feel free to find out. Give them my regards.”