Looking at the withered hand ablaze with sinister flames, the maid's gaze remained calm. She reached out her own right hand—the one holding a dagger—and placed it before the withered hand.
The withered hand's fingers slowly tightened up, gradually gripping the maid's right wrist.
Sizzle...
The sinister flames danced violently, filling the room with the nauseating stench of burning flesh.
The maid's face turned pale, beads of cold sweat forming on her forehead, as if she were enduring extreme pain.
Yet, in her eyes, a fervent emotion brewed, like a devout believer witnessing the descent of a divine miracle.
Moments later, the withered hand released the maid's wrist and withdrew into the abyss-like vortex.
The terrifying aura vanished, as though it had never been there.
But the sinister flames still lingered, burning fiercely on the maid's right hand, along with the dagger she held.
"Evil Priestess?"
Celicia's voice came back to the world, laced with an indescribable anger:
"You sewer rats—how dare you show yourselves before me?"
"Rats? To the noble princess, we are indeed just rats."
The maid stared at Celicia, her eyes mirrored the flames and Celicia's slightly pale and exquisite face.
With a mocking expression, she said, "But, oh noble princess, you'll soon be killed by these lowly rats."
The maid disappeared.
Then reappeared right in front of Celicia.
The flaming dagger struck mercilessly at Celicia's heart at an ingenious angle.
"Hmph, such a daydream!"
Celicia let out a cold snort, unleashing a terrifying chill from her delicate frame. Everything around her was instantly shredded by ice and storm.
But it lasted only for an instant.
A fleeting moment, so brief it couldn't even affect the maid, already close at hand. It merely caused her dagger to shift slightly.
Because the next moment, that icy chill inexplicably disappeared.
Yes, without warning, suddenly—her power vanished.
Celicia was stunned for a moment but quickly regained her composure. Her eyes fell on the flames burning on the maid's right hand.
"As I thought, this is a power meant to counteract me?"
Celicia's ice magic was a blessed gift from the divine, different from ordinary frost spells; it represented the power of rules.
To freeze everything.
That was the essence of its rules.
In theory, even flames could be frozen directly!
But that power now seemed ineffectual. She couldn't even summon a simple ice sword in her hand.
Because another set of rules, completely countering her own, was burning on the maid's right hand and dagger.
"Do you think this alone can kill me?"
Celicia quickly composed herself.
Her strength wasn't reliant solely on divine blessings!
Before the maid could launch her second attack, Celicia suddenly moved forward instead of retreating!
Her slender fingers pressed together into a blade-like hand, a wave of sharp, concentrated energy pulsating in her palm as she struck fiercely at the maid's chest!
"I almost forgot, Your Highness's martial skills are also formidable. But, unfortunately..."
The maid did not dodge. Instead, she met Celicia's strike head-on.
Energy clashed, locking them in brief deadlock.
Intense wind stirred the neatly trimmed short hair of the maid.
Her expression remained cold.
"Unfortunately, though you're the expert in swordsmanship, you didn’t carry any sword for defense just for your habitual use of ice swords, did you?
And as for your excessive confidence, you don't even bother to carry a defensive magic device."
"!"
Celicia's expression stayed calm, but in the depths of her eyes, a trace of fleeting unease flashed unnoticed.
"So—"
The maid's energy in her palm suddenly reversed, absorbing Celicia's hand.
Taking Celicia’s strike directly caused her significant damage instantly, but it also ensured Celicia had nowhere left to escape!
"So I believe—I can kill you after all."
The maid's right hand had already been raised in advance, gripping the dagger in reverse. She aimed for Celicia's vital spot, ensuring this strike would be precise, forceful, and lethal.
Death had once again raised its scythe.
This time, there seemed to be no way out.
...
"Dammit, what the hell am I even thinking?"
Crouched in a corner, Moen suddenly slapped himself hard, jolting himself out of the thought that held an irresistible allure but was utterly inappropriate.
It's hard to believe that he had just entertained the notion of wanting Celicia to die!
For his own selfish desires, to see Celicia killed by that assassin!
"If Celicia dies, then no one will know my crime on violating the princess, and I could survive longer."
"But to even consider taking her life after committed such a despicable thing to an innocent girl?"
"What sort of ultimate, shameless bastard son of a bitch am I? Celicia, she’s innocent!"
Moen punched the ground hard, the sharp pain rushing in, helping him regain some clarity.
And because of that pain, a deep sense of guilt rose within him, consuming his whole body.
Yes, from the beginning to now, Celicia had been innocent all along. She hadn't made a single mistake.
She was only here because of Moen's cowardice, invited into this room because of his treachery, drugged because of his vile nature, and robbed of her virginity because of his foolishness.
Now, she might lose her life here due to Moen's one moment of oversight.
She didn't deserve this. She should have a happy life, like in the original novel—meeting the person she loved and finding happiness.
She shouldn't die here!
"No, I can't just watch Celicia die. I have to help her!"
Moen clenched his fists, determination flickering in his eyes.
But as he raised his head to look at the battle between Celicia and the assassin, that determination quickly faded.
"How... How can I help?"
He couldn't even see the assassin's movements clearly.
He had no blessings from the divine.
He recognized the assassin's "Prayer"—it was from the original book, a type of existence called the Evil Priestess, who obtained power through sacrificial rituals to evil gods.
It was a power beyond the scope he could currently reach.
He was a pampered son of a duke, a typical buffoonish villain whose only narrative role was to pave the way for the protagonist.
He was also merely a first-grade student at St. Maria’s Magic Academy and had spent much of that year idling away. The only spell he could currently recall was a nearly useless Illumination Spell.
There was simply nothing he could do to help Celicia.
"Maybe... not interfering is the best help I can offer?"
Like those TV dramas where the heroines with no capability try to help only to make things worse, perhaps just standing aside was his best choice now.
"Celicia will win for sure. She will! She’s so strong and powerful; she doesn’t need my help at all," Moen muttered, as if convincing himself.
...
*Click.*
Moen suddenly heard a crisp sound behind him, like the noise of a lock being opened.
"It's almost over. You can leave now, Moen Campbell."
The faint voice that had appeared once before—weak but distinct—spoke again, resonating faintly in Moen's ears.
