The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the unspoken threat of violence. Owen stood firm, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, but his gaze was sharp, measuring. Behind him, three eight-star knights shifted uneasily, their mana rippling like shadows beneath the surface. They were ready to act on Owen's word, but something in his demeanor kept them in check.
"This is a bit of a problem," I admitted, my voice steady but my mind racing. A direct confrontation would be disastrous. Not because we couldn't win, but because the chaos it would unleash would draw more enemies, more complications. In a war-torn capital, reinforcements weren't a matter of if, but when.
And we didn't have the luxury of time.
My eyes locked on Owen. He wasn't just strong—he was calculating, deliberate. A man burdened by duty but not blind to reason. If I could appeal to that reason, we might avoid the bloodshed that would cripple our chances of saving the girls.
"Did you see engagement rings on the fingers of the three girls?" I asked, my tone shifting to one of urgency, almost pleading.
Owen's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't respond. I pressed on, knowing that hesitation was an opportunity.
"The two blonde girls would have them on the fourth fingers of their left hands," I continued, "and the half-elf girl on her fourth finger, right hand."
He didn't confirm or deny, but the flicker in his eyes told me he was listening. Observing.
"Those three are my fiancées," I said, my voice quieter now, almost a whisper, as though the admission cost me something. "There was an accident. They were teleported away from me, and I've been searching for them ever since. I came here to find them."
For the first time, Owen's stance softened—not visibly, but the tension in the air shifted. His grip on the hilt of his sword loosened, and the aura of hostility dimmed ever so slightly.
"I am not your enemy, Owen," I said, taking a step forward, my hands raised to show no threat. "I came here because I cannot lose them. I won't lose them. So please, help me. Don't make me fight you. Don't make me lose the people I love."
Owen's jaw tightened, his expression a mask of control, but there was conflict in his eyes. He glanced at his knights, who were watching him for a command, their expressions uncertain. He was weighing his options, torn between duty and what he likely saw as an unnecessary confrontation.
"You claim them as your fiancées," he said finally, his voice low and measured. "But words alone aren't enough to sway me."
I reached into my coat and pulled out a small device—a holographic projector. With a flick, an image shimmered to life between us: Seraphina, Cecilia, and Rachel, their faces alight with smiles, their rings catching the light. It wasn't just an image—it was a memory, one of the few I had stored for moments like this.
Owen's eyes flickered to the image, his stoic expression faltering for just a moment before he masked it again. His knights exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unsettled by the display of technology far beyond their understanding.
"You love them," Owen said, his tone unreadable.
"I do," I said, meeting his gaze. "And I'll do whatever it takes to bring them back. But I'd rather not fight you to do it."
A heavy silence hung in the room, the kind that stretched and tested patience. Then Owen exhaled, the faintest hint of a sigh escaping him.
"I cannot openly aid you," he said finally, his voice quieter but no less firm. "The High Sovereign's orders are absolute. But I will not stand in your way, nor will I report your presence to the palace."
Relief washed over me, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I gave him a respectful nod. "Thank you."
"But understand this," he continued, his tone hardening again. "If we cross paths again, and my duty demands it, I will not hesitate. You may love them, but my loyalty lies elsewhere."
"I understand," I said. "And I hope it won't come to that."
Owen turned to his knights, gesturing for them to follow. They hesitated, their gazes darting between him and me, but ultimately they obeyed. As they left, Owen paused at the doorway, his back to me.
"Good luck," he said, barely loud enough for me to hear. Then he disappeared into the shadows of the city.
As the tension finally eased, I exhaled deeply, my hands clenching and unclenching as the adrenaline slowly ebbed away.
"Well," Ren said, stepping up beside me. "That was... unexpected."
"Yeah," Lucifer muttered, his verdant eyes watching the door where Owen had vanished. "But it works. For now."
"
"Let's move," I said, tucking the projector away. "We don't have much time."
"Do you still plan to break through with brute strength?" Lillian's voice cut through the air like a blade. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, and far too knowing for my liking. "If you do, then free me."
"Free you?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes as my lips pressed into a thin line.
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," she said, her tone cold and matter-of-fact. "We share a common foe: the High Sovereign. You seek to rescue your women; I seek to dismantle the very foundation of his empire. We don't have to like each other to work together."
I stared at her for a moment, the silence heavy. Finally, I shrugged. "I'll consider it."
Her expression didn't shift, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—hope, desperation, or maybe just the thrill of a gamble she believed she would win.
"Got the information?" I asked, turning to Lucifer.
He nodded, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "We did."
As we exited the information guild, Jin caught up, slightly out of breath. "By the way, the City Lord paid for the inn."
I raised an eyebrow. "Generous of him."
"Not really," Jin said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I put binding chains on him to restrict his mana stars. He's not exactly in a position to betray us."
"Good enough," I said with a shrug.
The inn we chose was far from modest. Plush carpets muffled our footsteps, and soft, flickering mana lights illuminated the space with an inviting warmth. But we had no time to appreciate the luxury. Spreading the documents across the table, we began poring over them.
"Alright," I said, scanning the pages. "What do we have?"
Lucifer leaned back in his chair, his verdant eyes gleaming. "The three women teleported directly into the palace. Caused a mess—turned the place upside down, actually."
I smirked despite myself. "Sounds about right."
"But it didn't last. The High Sovereign recalled the Sword Saint and three eight-star knights to deal with them," Lucifer continued. "The knights arrived first and helped capture them. The Sword Saint came later. Details on how they managed to subdue them are unclear."
"What about now?" I asked.
Lucifer tapped a specific paragraph. "They've been split up. Rachel has been discovered as the true Saintess and is set to be handed over to someone called the False Pope."
"The False Pope?" I repeated, frowning. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It refers to Lucia," Lillian said, her voice tinged with disdain. "The current Pope of the Church. She claims to be a Saintess, but it seems she's a fraud."
"Church?" Ren raised an eyebrow. "As in organized religion? How quaint."
"In this world, it's more than quaint," Lillian said, her tone biting. "The Church wields power that rivals the Empire itself. But if the Pope's Saintess status is a lie, then her authority is built on sand."
"And Rachel?" I pressed. "What do they mean by 'harvest'?"
Lillian's expression darkened, a shadow passing over her features. "I think they mean to use her as a living battery. If the Pope isn't a real Saintess, she must draw her power from somewhere—or someone."
"That explains why she never showed up on the battlefields," Lillian muttered. "She's been hoarding power instead of using it."
"Rachel's in danger," I said, my voice steady but laced with urgency. "We need to move fast."
"And the other two?" Ian asked.
"Prisoners because of their beauty," Lucifer said as he pursed his lips.
"They won't break easily," I said, my voice firm. "But we can't assume they'll hold out forever."
"Then what's the plan?" Jin asked.
I leaned back, my eyes flicking to Lillian. "First, we figure out if you're actually worth freeing."
She smirked, unbothered by the implication. "Oh, you'll find I'm very worth it."
"And after that?" Ren asked.
"We go for the heart," I said, pointing to the map. "The palace. We take out the False Pope, rescue the girls, and get the hell out of here."
The room fell silent, the weight of the plan settling over us. It was reckless, dangerous, and far from foolproof.
But it was the best shot we had.