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Chapter 833: An Unexpected Conversation

Lorgar’s heart sank at Roland’s unguarded stare.

She knew what she looked like. Back in Iron Sand City, she had heard the whispers — lycanthrope monster, half man, the Abandoned One — spoken behind closed hands, never directly. Fear of insulting the third daughter of the chief had kept those words at a careful distance. But she was not in Iron Sand City now. She was no longer the princess sheltered by the Wildflame clan, and whatever was said here, she would face it alone.

Roland hesitated for a long moment. Then: “Are your ears… and tail both real? Do you have to use magic power to maintain this shape, or have they become part of your body?”

Lorgar bit her lip. Instead of answering, she pushed her hair back, exposing the side of her face where her human ear had once been — and was no longer. “I can’t tuck them back, Your Majesty. I know they look very strange, but this is what I actually look like. I don’t want to hide my imperfection.” A breath. “If you insist, I’ll try to avoid public places so as not to frighten people.”

She had resolved, long before this moment, to embrace herself as she was. The resolution held. But being directly questioned still had a mean way of finding the seams in it.

Divine Ladies were held as powerful and beautiful beings by the Mojin clans — favored, admired by every young warrior. She was the exception. After her awakening, she had been overlooked rather than celebrated, her legitimacy questioned even by her own clansmen — which was precisely why her father had named her heir. She had thrown herself into physical training and pretended not to care about the rumors. Sometimes it was simply hard not to care, when so many fingers pointed and so many voices dropped to murmurs at her approach.

She had anticipated this. She had chosen her path anyway. The endless sand road from her dream had shown her where she was meant to go. At the thought, she straightened herself — trying to look audacious rather than braced.

Roland smacked his lips. “Strange? Why would you say that?”

Lorgar, prepared for something far worse, blinked. “Huh? Isn’t it because…”

“They don’t look like human ears?” He shrugged. “Ordinary men don’t have magic power either, and these ears aren’t affecting your hearing or your mobility. How could that be called a defect? They’re simply a unique feature — a very interesting one.” He tilted his head slightly. “Don’t you think they look pretty?”

From somewhere behind the chief, a woman’s voice cut in — low and soft, barely above a murmur, but Lorgar caught it. “Ahem, Your Majesty, please mind your language.”

But by then, Lorgar was no longer processing anything else.

Pretty.

She had never in her life associated that word with herself. For a moment she could not form a response. Her cheeks burned. The audacious posture she had been holding nearly collapsed entirely.

How is a half-man pretty?

“Anyway,” Roland continued, “I don’t require you to conceal your face or wear a hood in public. You can do whatever you like. Someone may point and stare at first, but they’ll get used to it soon enough. One solution would be to ask Soraya to make a picture-story book about you — or you could join the Star Flower Troupe and appear in a play, become a kind of idol. That’s the fastest way for the public to get to know you.”

Lorgar stood rooted to the spot, drowning in unfamiliar words. Picture-story book. Star Flower Troupe. Idol. She could not even begin to assemble a reply. Fortunately, Roland steered back to their original subject before the silence became painful.

“Right — Ashes told me you came here to fight against demons?”

Relief loosened something in her chest. “And to train myself, Your Majesty. I’ve heard there is a witch here called Miss Nana who can treat any battle wound. That matters enormously to a warrior. It is every warrior’s dream to fight and build experience without living in fear of injury. I’ll not only fight your enemies — I’ll cover all medical expenses myself.”

Roland nodded slowly. “I see. If you’re willing to join the Witch Union, there would be ample opportunity to fight—”

“But I prefer to act alone, Your Majesty.” She kept her voice quiet. “Like a mercenary. I don’t want to be distracted by anything other than fighting.”

She knew it was a partial truth. The fuller reason: she needed to understand the northern kingdoms before pledging anything. She was still, at her core, a daughter of the Sand Nation. If Roland failed to keep his promises from the Land of Fire, those Sand Nation people migrating south would eventually sever every tie with Graycastle. If that day came, the King of Graycastle would be her enemy. She could not commit without thinking it through.

“Is that so.” Roland considered her for a moment, then spread his hands with what looked like genuine regret. “Then I’m afraid I can’t fulfill your request.”

“Why?” The word came out sharper than she intended. A skilled independent fighter, available free of charge and willing to pay her own medical costs — who would refuse that? No sensible person, she had thought.

“Because this is a full-scale war,” he said. “Not a dispute between clans.”

The blood rose to her face. That dismissal — clans, as though the battles of the Sand Nation were children’s quarrels — lit a hot flame behind her ribs. Her tail rose. She was already forming a retort when Roland switched course entirely.

“You’ve fought Ashes, yes? What did you think of her?”

Lorgar swallowed the anger. “Very powerful,” she said, clipped. “She would be a first-class warrior even in the Southernmost Region.”

“That is the power of an Extraordinary,” Roland said slowly. “There are Transcendents far beyond even them — beings who have passed beyond every physical limitation of the human body, who possess strength that the word inconceivable was made for. Nothing constrains their improvement.”

“Tran… scendents?” The word stopped her entirely. She had heard Ashes speak of someone like that — in tones that could only be described as reverence.

“Even so,” Roland went on, each word landing with quiet precision, “three Transcendents, dozens of Extraordinaries, and thousands of combat witches were not enough to stop the demons. A great empire collapsed overnight. Now it is our turn.” He held her gaze. “The reason I declined your offer is simple. This is not a duel. It is a war between two civilizations — a war for survival. No matter how strong you are individually, solo operations will accomplish nothing here.” A pause. “More importantly, I don’t want you to die for nothing.”

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