Published: January 24, 2026
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After leaving Kyokutō, Philly teleported to the neighboring country across the sea—the Ludain Federation.
She felt an unknown discomfort seep through her body alongside the flowing blood.
A torrent of power surged as if her body might burst at any moment, and she used every bit of her consciousness to hold it back.
"Haa... haa..."
Gasping for breath, she made her way through the central government building.
With unsteady steps, Philly finally reached the top floor and paused before a door.
Slowly, she opened it and stepped inside, almost collapsing against the floor.
"...A rare visitor," a man's voice echoed.
An elderly man with white hair and a white beard stood before a desk, dressed in a straight-backed military uniform.
His name was Gunnar Shurten.
The supreme authority of the Ludain Federation and its Federal Chairman.
But behind that title, he had another identity.
He was the second seat of the cyclamen cult—the Thunder Emperor.
Another man stood opposite him.
Solda, the new grandmaster of the Seeker's Guild.
With an unremarkable face and average build, he blended into any crowd.
So inconspicuous that if one relaxed their attention, their brain might forget he was even there—like air itself.
That was precisely the purpose of his existence.
Philly closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and slid down to sit.
Breathing heavily, she barely managed to force out a voice.
"...Sorry for interrupting your conversation..."
A dark mist gradually seeped from her body.
"Philly," Gunnar narrowed his eyes and asked.
"Why are you absorbing Oberon's mana? There should have been a vessel for it," he said.
"...That vessel was useless," Philly replied wearily, with a hint of pain.
"So... I had no choice but to do it myself..."
"You're reckless," Gunnar sighed.
"Even though you received cognitive alteration from Oberon, pushing yourself like this will lead to ruin."
His tone carried a trace of concern.
But Philly's expression turned cold.
"...I don't need your superficial worries."
She spat out bitterly.
"I won't be able to move for a while. But rest assured, I will fulfill my role."
"I see. Then that's good."
Gunnar nodded in approval and immediately continued.
"Solda."
"...Yes."
"Extract Oberon's mana from Philly."
"Understood."
Solda obeyed Gunnar's command and approached Philly.
He knelt before her and slowly reached out his hand.
His fingertips gently touched Philly's left shoulder.
At that moment, a dark haze wavered up from her body.
The torrent of mana ravaging Philly's whole body reversed direction and flowed into Solda's arms.
Like drawing out poison, the black power crept from her shoulder to her chest, then her abdomen.
Solda's face rapidly turned pale, his lips trembling.
Fine cracks appeared on his fingertips, and the joints made creaking sounds.
Then, without a sound, Solda's body began to crumble.
Like a sand tower toppled by the wind.
In no time at all, his body vanished completely, dissolving into the air without leaving a single grain of sand.
"......"
Philly watched him emotionlessly.
"...I feel a bit better," she said, exhaling.
"Sorry about that, Gunnar."
"Don't worry. That was just a puppet soldier made with cloning technology. We can prepare as many replacements as needed," Gunnar replied calmly, glancing at documents on the desk.
"I'll arrange for the next Solda. We'll send Soldas to you regularly. For now, focus on letting Oberon's mana settle within your body."
"...Understood."
Philly slowly stood up.
Staggering slightly, she corrected her posture and placed her hand on the door.
Over her shoulder, she spoke.
"Oh, by the way. Orun is currently in KyokutĹŤ."
"...Oh?"
"He'll most likely begin investigating the principles of techniques."
Gunnar narrowed his eyes slightly and showed a sardonic smile.
"Thanks for the information."
Then, in a voice no one else could hear, he muttered.
"I see. He's in KyokutĹŤ. It's inconvenient that we can't ask Philly to manipulate his information, but it's a sufficient excuse. For shaping public opinion on this level..."