Chapter 3: The Cost of Defeat

A long, straight dirt road led to a massive fortress situated in the middle of a pacified region, intersected by the serene Zephandor River. Outside the city gates, rustic peasant houses were scattered about, where the commoners lived simple lives relying on the golden wheat fields that stretched to the horizon.

That was the outer boundary of the Holy Capital Lungaris — the heart of the Holy Kingdom of Astrevan.

The merchant caravan and Rosalie slowly advanced through the city gates. All the guards on both sides immediately clicked their heels and bowed respectfully.

For the person entering was one of the Seven Holy Lances of Virtues of the Holy Church — those who held power second only to Counts and Dukes.

" 'I wonder, when they find out I am nothing but a miserable loser dragging my battered body back, will this respectful bow still remain... or will it instantly turn into glares of contempt and cheap disdain?' "

Rosalie thought to herself. She stepped through the city gates, looked up at the clear blue sky, and let out a soft sigh.

" 'Haaa... I must act first! Before the news reaches the ears of the Duke and the people of the Holy Church.' "

The Holy Capital Lungaris — the most developed city on the continent, magnificent and dazzling, yet heavily reeking of blood and misery.

The clean, beautiful marble-paved streets, the majestic towering statues of saints, the crystal-clear fountains in the central square... all that extravagance was, in truth, nothing but a perfect smokescreen. They existed to cover up the dark, rotting alleys where the wailing and cries of the slave class echoed every night.

Male slaves had their labor squeezed dry like beasts of burden, while female slaves were distributed like commodities into the filthy brothels of the nobility.

A land that was beautifully holy in the light, but had long been rotten to the core inside. How ironic that, beneath the light of the gods, other than gritting their teeth and enduring or running away, where would the weak find the right to rebel?

Rosalie pulled down her hood and hurried through the crowded streets. Many people recognized her and bowed in greeting, but she did not reply. She had to be faster.

She turned into a deep alley, crossing through the red-light district — where brothels sprang up closely packed together. The silhouettes of scantily clad women writhed to invite customers at their doors, their eyes hollow and lifeless like walking corpses.

Rosalie bit her lip tightly, her footsteps growing even more hurried. A sense of guilt surged within her, for she knew well that the maintenance of this rotten system... more or less involved the path-clearing hands of a "Holy Lance" like herself.

Finally, she stopped in front of a dilapidated orphanage — a trickle of a branch sustained by the Holy Church's charity funds. Standing outside the fence, panting heavily, she tearfully watched the children playing carefree.

A blonde little girl with a radiant smile threw away her toy the moment she saw her, rushing over to throw her arms around her.

Rosalie pretended to complain, hugging the little girl.

"I'm so tired..."

Ruby cheered with delight.

"Sister Rosa! Did you come back to visit us?"

"Yeah..."

Rosalie stroked the little girl's hair, unable to stop her eyes from welling up with tears.

"Sister... why are you crying?"

"Ah, no. It's just some dust in my eyes. I just missed you so much!"

"Nyah nyah! You're older than me but you're a crybaby, so you're not as good as me! Hehe!"

"My Ruby is so good! I lost this time."

Rosalie smiled forcefully, trying to hide the bitterness tearing at her heart.

Waiting for Ruby to skip back to play with her friends, Rosalie quickly sneaked to the back corner of the garden.

She labored to dig up a small wooden chest carefully buried under the roots of a tree.

It was all the money she had saved up, penny-pinching with blood and sweat since her days as an adventurer until she ascended to the position of the Sixth Holy Lance — over thirty Swizi gold coins and a few silver scraps.

She hurried inside with the chest, hastily pulling the Sister in charge of the orphanage into a closed room.

"What is the matter that you are in such a hurry, my child?"

"This is extremely important, Sister... please follow me."

In the spartan room with only a rickety bed and a faded blanket, Rosalie's knees suddenly gave out. She collapsed onto the stone floor, hugging the old Sister's legs, and burst into uncontrollable sobs like a child.

The Sister hastily bent down, gently stroking her head.

"What on earth has happened? Why is the proud Rose of the Holy Kingdom crying so pitifully like this?"

Rosalie emptied all the money from the chest onto the bed, her voice trembling and broken.

"Sister... please, Sister, I beg you to use this money to take care of Ruby for me..."

Between her choking sobs, she recounted the entire situation of the battle, the existence of the absurd monster in the Artila Forest, the disastrous defeat of the army, and the nightmare waiting for her ahead.

The old Sister let out a sorrowful sigh, her eyes looking with pity at the daughter she had raised with her own hands.

"I understand... But will they be willing to understand for you?"

Rosalie hurriedly wiped away her two trails of tears, looking up while choking back her sobs.

"I can't take it anymore, Sister... Oh God of Light, what am I supposed to do?"

She knew this money was more than enough to maintain the orphanage and raise Ruby comfortably for at least another five years.

But what about herself... perhaps she would never, ever get to see her younger sister grow up.

Evening fell, and the night gradually cast its pitch-black shadow over Lungaris.

Rosalie asked for permission to take Ruby to the central square. She freely spent her money buying the most delicious foods and the expensive toys that the little girl had never had before.

Under the flickering magical lights casting from the stone pillars, the two sisters held hands and laughed together, as Rosalie forced herself to forget the cold darkness waiting to swallow her by tomorrow morning.

"Ruby..."

"Yes, sister?"

"I am about to go on a very distant mission. Perhaps... it will be a very long time before I can return."

"Are you going to abandon me? I won't accept it! I'm going to tell the Sister, you'll see!"

Ruby puffed her cheeks and pouted.

"No, I promise, I will definitely survive and come back. Pinky swear with me!"

Rosalie held out her pinky finger, smiling gently.

Late at night, they returned to the orphanage. On the quiet porch, Rosalie sat holding Ruby's tiny body in her arms. Her younger sister was sleeping soundly, while she silently shed the final tears of a Holy Lance.

" 'Perhaps tomorrow I really have to go... Ruby, you absolutely must live well.' "

The next morning, before the fog had even cleared, an elite squad of the Holy Kingdom's soldiers along with a Cleric wearing a gray robe were already waiting in front of the orphanage's gate.

Rosalie and the old Sister calmly stepped out to meet them.

"We invite the Sixth Holy Lance Rosalie to return to the Holy Sanctuary to report the situation to His Eminence the Patriarch and His Grace the Grand Duke."

The Cleric smiled, an artificial, mechanical smile that was nauseating to look at.

She replied coldly.

"Very well, I will go now."

Suddenly, the old Sister burst into tears, lunging forward to tightly grip Rosalie's armored arm.

"Stop right there! You cannot arbitrarily take Rosa away like this!"

Two armored guards grunted, about to draw their swords to strike, but Rosalie immediately glared at them, using her body to block their path.

"Sister, please let go and let me leave. Do not touch the Sister!"

"Well, well, truly the embodiment of Kindness among the Seven Virtues."

The Cleric lowered his voice in mockery.

"Please be on your way, do not force us to use violence."

The squad of soldiers escorted her straight toward the central district of the Holy Capital.

That place was far more prosperous and magnificent than the slum suburbs; it was the very heart of absolute power.

Inside the vast, majestic Holy Cathedral, beneath the exquisitely carved statue of the Scholar Saint, two gold-inlaid high chairs were placed side by side.

Seated upon them were Patriarch Nathaniel and Grand Duke Damian. Two men who held the power of life and death in their hands, using their cold, soulless eyes to look down at the hall below.

"Oh, so you still have your life to drag back here, do you?"

Nathaniel smirked. Although he bore the physical form of a teenager, his tone of voice reeked of extreme, overbearing arrogance.

Rosalie slowly walked forward, collapsing to her knees on the freezing marble floor.

Damian asked, even though his face clearly showed he already knew everything.

"How did the mission progress?"

Rosalie bit her lip, choking on her words.

"I... failed. The army has been completely wiped out. Please punish me as you see fit."

Nathaniel let out a faint laugh. His golden eyes — which were praised as the symbol of divine justice — now only glinted with utter cruelty and apathy.

"There's no need to look so tense. But remember this well: from now on, no one will ever believe a word that comes out of your mouth again. Bringing up some nonsense legend about the Demon of the Artila Forest to cover up your own incompetence... How ridiculous!"

He waved his hand, throwing a pair of shackles and a tattered piece of burlap cloth straight onto the ground in front of her.

"Know your place."

Having said that, Nathaniel stood up, brushed off his robes, and left, not bothering to listen to any further excuses.

Seeing this, Rosalie panicked and threw away her pride, hastily crawling over to prostrate herself at the heels of the Duke's boots.

"Please! I beg you, listen to my explanation!"

Slap!

Damian swung his arm and slapped her across the face with a stinging blow, his voice growling with menace.

"Are you still not aware of your current status and situation?"

She sobbed, blood seeping from the corner of her lips.

"Please... please give me a chance to atone..."

"Hmph, trash should know its proper place."

Damian pulled out a pitch-black magical scroll from his sleeve — the Eternal Slave Contract.

He grabbed her hair, dragging her over to the iron shackles and torn cloth from earlier, and pressed her head down.

"So now what? Do you want to willingly put on my collar, or should I force you?"

Rosalie trembled violently. She bit her teeth together until they bled.

She slowly stood up, reaching out to remove every piece of her silver armor, stripping off the proud knight's uniform of the Holy Church.

In front of the powerful men, the Sixth Holy Lance was now left only in her thin undergarments, exposing the bruises and bleeding scratches left behind by the battle last night.

She silently picked up the rough piece of cloth and draped it over her body, then personally placed the iron collar around her neck, clicking the lock shut.

Bringing a finger to her mouth to bite it open, she squeezed a drop of fresh blood onto the black scroll.

The magic seal instantly flared with a brutal red light. Eerie rays of light pierced through the iron collar, carving deeply into the flesh on her neck to form a permanent brand.

In an instant, all her human rights, all her pride had been completely stripped away.

Damian bent down, reaching out to lift her chin, looking at her with a greedy, lust-filled gaze.

"Truly a peerless beauty... From now on, your life is mine."

He grabbed the chain and yanked it hard, dragging her along the ground as if leading a beast.

The teleportation circle beneath his feet flashed, and he immediately transported both of them back to his lavish private estate.

There, within the gold-plated walls, he used his expensive shoes to trample on her head, forcing her to bow down and lick up the leftovers and scraps scattered on the floor like an obedient dog.

" 'They... these people who call themselves the representatives of the gods, are in fact more brutal, sick, and disgusting than the bloodthirsty demon of the Artila Forest...' "

Rosalie choked down a mouthful of leftovers mixed with her tears and fresh blood, bitterly thinking to herself.

" 'The God of Light has never had mercy on the weak... Ruby, you absolutely, absolutely must live well.' "

Chapter 3 Information:

Organization - Holy Kingdom's Church

Role: The supreme religious leadership of many kingdoms on the continent, with its headquarters located in the Holy Kingdom of Astrevan.

Power: Dominates and manipulates the entire spiritual life of the populace, holding influence on par with, or in many cases, manipulating and overstepping the Royal Family itself

Patriarch Nathaniel

Age: 25.

Appearance: Bears the physique of a teenager, standing only about 1.45m tall. Possesses stark white hair and golden eyes — which are praised by the world as symbols of justice and clairvoyance.

Status: The head of the Holy Church, whose authority and words carry weight equal to that of the Holy King of Astrevan.

Grand Duke Damian

Age: Over 50.

Appearance: Tall and large physique at 1.85m, black hair, black eyes.

Background: Carries royal blood in his veins, the heir to a Ducal lineage tied to the history of the nation's founding.

Status: The current head of the household. Although not among the founding fathers, through underhanded methods, his financial and military power has reached a level on par with the Holy King and the Patriarch.

Magic Scroll (Contract / Seal)

Nature: A type of parchment scroll or specific material enchanted to store complex magical arrays.

Mechanism: Automatically triggered when sufficient commands or predefined conditions are met (such as blood or an incantation).

Application: Often used by the nobility to brand Slave Seals (locking away resistance), cast teleportation magic, set dangerous curse traps, or seal away special entities.

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