Soon, the knight brought Dares tied up with a rope.

Ophelia stood in front of her father, who was kneeling before her. Placing her foot on his thigh, Ophelia leaned forward. She confessed into the ear of the trembling old man.

“Father, I don’t believe in God.”

Rather than believing in God, she would believe in people, and rather than believing in people, she would believe in herself. That logic was her belief and religion.

And Ophelia didn’t even believe in herself. The only thing she trusted was the love that had been poured out towards her. It was willful enough to be the motive for everything, and so incomprehensible that she had to accept it.

Ophelia believed not in herself, but in the fact that she would do anything to regain that.

She added to the old man who was groaning and flinching in pain as she trampled on him.

“So be grateful until you die for the fact that I believed your words.”

Dares should have done so with a glad heart. Didn’t it allow him to die in peace?

If Dares’ words had seemed false, Ophelia would have tried to find out the truth even if she had to skin him alive.

After finishing her confession that wasn’t a confession of an atheist, Ophelia gestured to Heizel who was waiting nearby. The knight, reading the situation well, dragged the old king and brought him to the woman below the altar.

Ophelia said to the woman who was looking at the enemy placed before her with disbelieving eyes.

“Kill him.”

“What?”

“Weren’t you dying to kill him? Kill him right now.”

As she spoke, Heizel untied the woman’s ropes and threw her a dagger.

Rensa, though dazed, stabbed the dagger into Dares’ chest.

Once she pierced the flesh, as if awakened to some sensation, she continued to move. Ophelia watched from atop the altar as the woman’s face became stained with red.

Finally, as Dares’ body tilted to the side, Ophelia spoke to the trembling opponent who seemed to realize what had happened only after being covered in the heat of death.

“For the next two months. Protect Reden by any means necessary.”

“Wh-what?”

“I don’t care who invades. Think of this land as your life and defend it. The reason, well, you can say it’s because the last child of your beloved elder sister is in Reden.”

“Insane talk! Do you think I would do such a thing?”

Of course, if she were in her right mind, she wouldn’t do such a thing. Ophelia knew that in this woman’s eyes, she appeared not as family but as an enemy.

The reality wasn’t much different.

But was that her concern?

“If you fail, your relatives will suffer the same fate as the late king. Do you want to see that?”

If she had cherished her dead sister enough to sharpen her knife for over twenty years, she must love her other family members just as much.

Not expecting to be threatened with such a thing, the woman trembled with a pale face.

“You, you…”

Ophelia looked down at the woman indifferently. Even though she was old enough to be her parent, surely she must have known that threats work faster than persuasion and coaxing, but perhaps she hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of it herself.

Either way, it didn’t matter. Ophelia continued speaking.

“However, if you succeed, I will give you land in Reden for your people to settle.”

These people used the southern islands of Reden as bases for their thievery, but like all those who steal from others, they were unable to settle anywhere.

But they must have had their own land and homes several decades ago, so there must be a desire to regain that past peace.

It wasn’t the first time she had provoked others with their desires. Ophelia asked the woman who was looking up at her with eyes full of shock and confusion.

“What do you think of my offer?”

[This is the timeline separator]

On horseback, Netepel Runtalis gazed at the border right in front of him.

He was now at the edge of the Saha River. Just across this river was the capital of Aglante. It was now Edegrun, no different from an empty house. Its king was his captive, and Ophelia was in Reden.

Ophelia. Netepel recalled the woman who had smashed his head with a rock while wearing a lovely face.

Although months had passed, he vividly remembered that night. The docile and gentle Ophelia, and the warm touch that filled his hand. Even how brightly the moonlight had illuminated them.

“Just die already.”

How could she do such an ungrateful act with such an angelic face?

In fact, he had died once because of Ophelia. It was the god of Runtalis who resurrected him from under the rock.

[You fool! To ruin everything by being deceived by a mere woman!]

Even that wasn’t a complete resurrection, so Netepel still suffered from discomfort.

The god who had regenerated his flesh sometimes even took away control completely. Because of this, Netepel had to hide and couldn’t even meet people until he negotiated with the god to gain some autonomy. If his mood twisted even slightly, the god would break down the body he had regenerated.

The experience of his head melting away was one of the most horrific things even for him, who had been through all sorts of experiences.

[If you don’t want to experience this again, hurry and bring me my blood.]

Since he needed the sacred object of Runtalis anyway, Netepel attended the imperial palace banquet. And he obtained the sacred object that should have been his by killing his heartless father.

After that, there were no more incidents of his body melting away, but the god continued to claim ownership and control over his body.

Because of this, Netepel often found himself in difficulties.

A prime example was his failure to kill Idren Sigrasal.

[I need the bloodline of Sigrasal for my descent.]

The god said such incomprehensible words and told him to get his hands on the king of Aglante.

So Netepel followed those words. It wasn’t a difficult task anyway, as he had abilities that came with his resurrection.

However, as he kept the king of Aglante with him, he didn’t want to keep him alive.

“You’ll realize the reality that you killed her beloved husband.”

Netepel still boiled with anger when he thought of the man who spoke with such brazen confidence.

How could he be so sure that Ophelia loved him? Did he steal her heart in just a few months of newlywed life? Was Ophelia such a fickle person?

If so, what does that make him who couldn’t have such a fickle woman?

Moreover, that crazy man even grabbed him and jumped into the river. The king didn’t let go of his neck even in the water. If his body hadn’t transcended the realm of humans by far, he would have lost his life once more in there.

Since there was no way he could be such an insignificant person who couldn’t even win a woman’s heart, Netepel concluded that the man was lying.

Of course, that didn’t mean he intended to carelessly regard Ophelia as the girl he once knew.

From the moment Ophelia seduced and killed him, Netepel realized he needed to be wary of her. Murder was too rough an act to be considered a woman’s whim.

When he brings her back, he will thoroughly correct the thorny parts. Ophelia was currently resisting at her family home, but Netepel had no doubt that she would soon fall into his hands along with Reden’s sacred object.

If she really wanted to resist, Ophelia should have gone to Aglante. Her husband’s knights would have been more loyal and stronger than her father’s. Reden’s army was nothing special, so Ophelia was even throwing a tantrum by dragging in a band of thieves.

Well, it was fortunate in a way that she stayed in Reden. He would be able to restore his face before meeting Ophelia.

The god who stopped him from letting the king drown said this.

[We need the bloodline of Sigrasal to fully recover the body.]

It was unsettling that it didn’t specify whose body it was talking about, but he was in no position to question such things.

[There’s an altar in the center of the old castle. Go to that altar and offer Sigrasal’s body to me. Only then can complete recovery…]

There was a burn scar on his face caused by the king.

He had healed all the wounds on his body, but there was just one, the flesh on the left side of his face that had shriveled up like a huge birthmark, that he couldn’t fix.

In the end, Netepel had no choice but to find a mask that could temporarily cover half of his face.

A man who was irritating to the very end. Netepel’s face twisted as he recalled the prisoner being transported at the back of the procession. In any case, his appearance was his pride, and he resented the man who had damaged it.

Moreover, Idren Sigrasal had even made a deal with a god. Netepel realized this fact after touching his body a few times.

He wanted to find out which god he had made a deal with and what he had wagered, but the king kept his mouth shut and said nothing.

He wondered what would happen if he burned his tongue, but the god threw a fit saying he would burn him completely if he dared to offer a damaged sacrifice, so he couldn’t torture him either.

Anyway, it would be over soon once he pushes him into the altar.

Looking at Sigrasal Castle across the river, where only the farthest edge was visible, Netepel prepared to give hand signals to the army waiting behind him.

A week ago, he declared war on Aglante. And he added that if they wanted to negotiate, one of the royals should come out. It was only natural to have that much, since he, who was currently on the throne, had come personally.

But of the only two Sigrasal royals, one was in Reden and the other was his prisoner, so they couldn’t respond to that demand.

Netepel was enjoying their anxiety and planned to show them the captive king. He even felt elation at the thought of Sigrasal’s reputation hitting rock bottom.

It was then that he saw something that shouldn’t have been visible from afar.

Across the river, an army was marching along with the sound of hoofbeats. What was unique was that they had two emblems at the forefront.

The silver tree with many branches was the symbol of the Sigrasal royal family. And the spread-winged hawk fluttering beside it was the emblem of Mevasa. Netepel frowned at the incompatible composition.

There was no one in the world who could use those two simultaneously. The current king of Reden’s fate was unknown, and both Sigrasal royals were not in Aglante…

While blankly watching that scene, Netepel realized who was at the head of that procession and his eyes widened.

“…Ophelia?”