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    Long, unruly orange hair swayed in the wind. The pair of horns that usually adorned it remained hidden for now. For no particular reason, really. She simply hadn’t felt the need to show them.

    Though if she had to name one, it would be that she was not in the mood to stand out. Her current appearance was not so different from that of the dryads and the other forest spirits in the area, and that suited her just fine.

    Then again, with fauns and other similar creatures present, it could not really be said that her horns would draw too much attention either.

    But she was hardly in the right state of mind to consider all those details. After all, the fact that she was still alive was a miracle in itself.

    At that moment, her scarlet gaze was fixed on the vast valley where she had awakened.

    The place felt like another reality altogether compared to the days of battle she had endured alongside her brother since they had arrived in the world Avelle called Eryndea.

    Although the goddess called it that, apparently she herself had only learned the name recently, along with the world’s true extent. After all, Avelle had been born in the underworld and had never ventured very far.

    “To think I would end up meeting a goddess… That’s the only reason I’m alive.” Drazira touched her bandaged abdomen. “There are Titans, after all, so I suppose it isn’t really surprising for other kinds of gods to exist as well.”

    Drazira closed her eyes and spent a few moments in thought. When she opened them again, she had decided it was time to return to the dryads’ village.

    To her surprise, however, just as she was about to descend the high, flower-covered hill where she stood, she noticed a young man climbing up.

    Speaking of standing out, the newcomer had a striking appearance and an extremely mysterious aura, impossible to discern even for a powerful demoness like her.

    “I see you’re awake. I’m glad,” the stranger said once he reached the top and stopped near her. “Honestly, I have no idea how you survived with a hole running clean through you.”

    Drazira touched her metal belt, which soon split into many short, razor-sharp blades that coiled around her arm.

    “Who are you, fiend?!” she exclaimed, grabbing a thin handle dangling from her arm with her free hand, unfurling the blades and drawing them together into a long sword. “The dryads are all women. Why is something like you so close to the village?!”


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    Cold sweat ran down the demoness’s back. What stood before her felt less like a living being and more like some kind of natural disaster, something absolute and terrifying.

    But the only thing she had left to lose was her life. And what better way to lose it than protecting those who had rescued her?

    “Something like me…? And now I’m being called a fiend too… Aren’t you the demoness?” The mysterious stranger let out a tired sigh before continuing. “Did Avelle forget to tell you about me, or about what lies beyond her forest?”

    “You dare call the goddess by her name?! I knew it! Only an enemy would show such disrespect!”

    “…”

    Drazira swung her sword, and it separated once more into dozens of sharp blades, which soon turned into a bolt of lightning that shot toward her opponent.

    Her opponent, who of course was none other than Nerez, simply stood there and let the lightning strike him square in the chest.

    Though the impact destroyed the ground beneath him, raising a great cloud of dust in the process, once it dispersed, not even a scratch could be seen on his clothes.

    “I wanted to test how well this outfit could protect me. It’s not like I didn’t expect lightning and failed to react in time. Seriously!”

    Nerez brushed the dirt off his clothes, quite indignant about everything that was happening. Meanwhile, Drazira stared at him with her mouth open.

    “This sword… this sword is an artifact… It was given to my ancestors by my world’s god of thunder,” she finally muttered.

    “I don’t know if that god forged it himself or bought it from the same shop I use, but let me tell you, it isn’t the sword’s fault. These clothes cost a small fortune, after all.”

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