“Holy crap! Gods are battling here, leaving mere mortals to suffer!?”

At this moment, Moen was curled up in the corner of the room, looking humble, frail, helpless, and pitiful all at once.

He glanced down at the slashing mark mere centimeters from where he was. He couldn’t help but shudder violently.

No way. I can’t stay here, or I won’t even know how I die here.

While the two people locked in combat, Moen inched his way along the edge of the wall toward the door.

Luckily, the maid assassin’s target wasn’t him, nor did she have the spare attention to deal with someone as weak as him.

Before long, Moen reached the door. As long as he opened it, he could escape easily.

“Huh?”

He gripped the doorknob and twisted it forcefully, only to find that it wouldn’t budge.

“H-Huh? Huh!?”

Moen’s face instantly turned an unnaturally pale shade.

As expected, the maid assassin had come prepared.

It was no wonder she dared to attempt to assassinate the Empire’s third princess in the heavily guarded Duke’s mansion!

“But this doesn’t make any sense! This whole scene isn’t even in the original novel!”

Moen clutched his head in pain and sank slowly back to a crouch as his mind raced frantically.

No matter how hard he combed through his memories, he could only arrive at one definite conclusion:

This scene was absolutely not in the original story!

“Why did an assassin show up out of nowhere? Where did this deviation come from?”

“This is the Duke’s mansion, for god's sake! How could an assassin infiltrate so easily and not trigger any alarms?”

“Don’t tell me…”

Recalling the words the assassin had said earlier, Moen was struck by a realization so dreadful that he felt unwell.

“Is it because of that order I gave, that these assassins found an opportunity to exploit?”

In the original story, the sick maid, Noor, had never been allowed a chance to rest.

The original Moen had never issued the order to hire new temporary staff from outside to ensure the banquet went smoothly!

But in the current timeline, everything had changed because of Moen’s small act of kindness.

The head maid had worked through the night to hire extra help from outsiders, unwittingly creating the one and only flaw in the otherwise airtight security of the Duke’s mansion today.

“But that’s absurd! It took the whole night yesterday to hire!”

Surely the head maid was well aware of the safety and trust issues involved and must have executed Moen’s order immediately without delay!

Her sole intention is to give the any outsiders with bad intention no time to react for such an opportunity.

Even so, among the unfamiliar new hires, assassins had still managed to infiltrate.

“Could it be that someone has been monitoring the Duke’s mansion around the clock?”

Moen racked his brain yet could only come up with this one seemingly plausible explanation.

But regardless of his guesses, none of them offered any practical helps to his current predicament!

He was still teetering on the edge of a game-over death scenario—an outcome of his own making!

“For now, I can only pray that Celicia can defeat the assassin. Someone as weak as me can’t do anything.”

“Wait? Hold on? Is Celicia winning… actually the best outcome for me?”

“It’s clear that the assassin’s only target is Celicia!”

Moen’s eyes suddenly widened, for in his moment of absolute despair, he stumbled upon an unexpected path to survival.

That’s right.

If Celicia were to die here, then all those things that had happened between him and her…

Wouldn’t that mean no one would ever know?

...

While Moen was caught in his internal dilemma, the tide of the battle suddenly shifted.

The maid assassin once again demonstrated her initial lightning speed, vanishing into a blur and evading the ice thorns Celicia had conjured—razor-sharp blades of ice that threatened to eviscerate her.

The thorns covered all possible footholds beneath the maid, ensuring that even if she dodged the initial attack, she would have no safe place to land—like prey caught in a spike-filled trap.

Yet when the assassin reappeared, it was as if she had shed all her weight. She floated down lightly from the air and landed skillfully on the very tip of an ice thorn that should have easily pierced her with the slightest pressure.

There she stood, poised and unbothered, as graceful as a dancer balancing on the edge of a blade.

“A footwork technique for short bursts of speed and… gravity magic,” Celicia murmured, her sharp gaze sank. The clearer she saw assassin's tactics, the heavier her heart became.

“No signs of spellcasting—likely bound to some sort of enchanted item.”

“My, my, as expected of Princess Celicia.”

A strange, otherworldly purple glint flickered across the maid’s right eye.

“You managed to see through my moves so quickly.”

“It’s you underestimated me.” Celicia narrowed her eyes with a cold smirk.

“To attack me head-on like this—did you really think I’d be easy prey?”

“Oh, we’ve given you all the respect you deserve, Princess Celicia,” the maid replied lightly.

Her gaze swept discreetly over Celicia’s lower body, and her lips curled into a faint, ambiguous smile.

“Still, it’s telling, isn’t it? Despite holding a slight advantage, Princess Celicia didn't choose to go on the offensive. Doesn’t that just explain our timing was perfect?

After all—

Princess Celicia is a woman. And any woman, having experienced something like that for the first time and in such a… vigorous way, is bound to have your stamina or, shall we say, your power, affected even just a little.”

“You—”

For the first time, anger twisted Celicia’s composure into an uncharacteristic loss of control.

“Do you want me to rip that disgusting, vile mouth of yours apart right this second?”

“Heh heh, as an assassin, I’m not usually one for small talk.”

“But…”

Suddenly, the maid’s smile vanished, replaced by a chillingly steely expression.

“Sometimes, assassins need to buy time, don’t they?”

As her voice dropped, a sharp, piercing humming sound erupted through the air.

The entire room began to tremble violently, as though struck by an earthquake of magnitude eight.

Golden runes began to emerge from the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling—as if pushing their way through from the inside. They wriggled incessantly.

Holy golden light radiated from these runes, enveloping everyone in its glow.

“Hurry. I can’t hold on much longer.”

Despite the room’s supposedly soundproof construction, a weak voice drifted faintly from outside.

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

The maid instantly raised her left hand.

In her grasp was a container filled with a crimson liquid.

**[Prayer]**

The world abruptly plunged into total silence, leaving only the solemn chant of the maid's voice.

A flicker of horror passed through Celicia’s eyes. In the next instant, fury blazed as she summoned a storm of ice thorns once again and directed them at the maid, but the golden runes temporarily suppressed the assault.

**[With the blood from the hearts of one hundred innocent children, I beseech thee—O World-Scorcher, Master of the Crimson Sun, the Great King of Wither—I offer this sacrifice.]**

The maid crushed the container in her hand, and the blood within—drawn from one hundred children—began to seep out and drift impossibly against the force of gravity, coiling upward like a serpent.

**[I ask thee, grant us the power.]**

**[To overcome the might of the wind and snow.]**

*Crack.*

*Crack, crack.*

A vortex like an endless black hole began to manifest in the void, spinning slowly.

An unbearably terrifying aura seeped from the vortex, pressing down on everyone and robbing them of their breath.

A skeletal, withered hand emerged from the vortex, its five fingers outstretched as if demanding for something.

The maid reverently presented the blood.

The hand, now crimson-stained, withdrew into the void.

A horrifying, grotesquely pleasurable sucking sound echoed from the vortex, sending a chill down everyone’s spine.

Moments later, the withered hand reappeared.

This time, it was wreathed in an eerily glowing red flame.