Melusine, Become my Noble Phantasm!

This battle wasn't about destruction—it was about proving strength. All three knew this. Yet, if an opportunity arose, killing the opposing emperor would be ideal. The conflict between the Huns and Rome was heating up. Removing the enemy's leader would tip the scales.

Only Aslan was relatively safe—relatively. In battle, anything could happen. But before Lucius and Attila faced a giant dragon's fury, they wouldn't deliberately target Aslan.

Lucius might, however, seek answers about Estee Lauder's whereabouts. The Roman emperor still cared deeply for the woman who had first captured his heart.

A gust kicked up dust as all three charged.

Attila thrust the Sword of the God of War, its colorful light flaring!

Aslan spun the Spear of Destiny rapidly, forming a shimmering circular shield. With a burst of magic, Attila's attack bounced off. Aslan twisted, slashing his spear backward. The silver blade clashed with Lucius's magic sword.

Sparks flew.

Above, Melusine roared, intimidating nearby soldiers to ensure the fight remained fair. Any arrow fired now would bring ruin upon the attacker's entire army.

Lucius parried Aslan's spear, swinging at Attila's sword again. Though small, Attila possessed natural strength and an innate war sensitivity—worthy of her title as Grassland Queen and God's Whip.

Though fierce, all three tacitly avoided unleashing their weapons' full power. Uncontrolled, the aftermath would cause mass casualties among their troops.

The Holy Lance, the Sword of the God of War, the Demon Sword, and potent magic clashed relentlessly.

Among them, Aslan was the weakest in combat skill—but the Holy Lance's healing powers kept him going. Magic injuries healed swiftly, making him the toughest in a prolonged fight.

Lucius wore special armor, granting formidable anti-magic defense, making him the strongest defender.

Attila was the ultimate attacker.

Swordlight from Attila's blade forced Aslan to retreat. Holding his spear against the Sword of the God of War, Aslan quickly inscribed fairy runes on the ground. The earth warped, sending soil-like vines rushing at Lucius, binding him.

Though Lucius couldn't identify the magic, it was clear Aslan was no ordinary paladin.

"You're impressive. I didn't expect such hidden talent. Magic and martial arts—rare for one person."

Lucius watched Attila while talking, recalling her history. She'd been sent to Rome as a hostage but grew under Roman tutelage. Lucius knew Rome had promoted her rise.

Attila remained expressionless, not yet a heroic spirit. Reflecting, she no longer cared about her past warrior identity. She acted as a warrior—pure and simple.

Aslan lowered his guard. The stalemate meant neither side dared unleash full power; the fight's outcome was still uncertain.

"I'm not asking you to stop fighting forever. One week. After that, do as you please."

Unaware of the Governor of Gaul's disaster, Lucius accepted. A week was brief in their war. It depended on whether the Hun queen would pause.

"I don't mind. But what about that girl? If she insists on fighting, I'll follow her to the end."

Melusine descended, landing behind Aslan.

Aslan met Attila's calm gaze with pale blue eyes.

"King of the Huns, Attila, if you press on, I'll join Rome to resist you—or even push you back to the grasslands temporarily. Is that acceptable?"

Attila's eyes widened—not because Aslan sided with Rome, but because the name "Attila" carried her warrior identity and sense of self.

Clenching her sword, the Grassland Queen studied Aslan, then turned, mounting her horse and leading her troops east.

Watching the rising smoke and dust, Lucius returned to camp instead of retreating. They couldn't be sure if the grassland warriors would return. Spies were dispatched to monitor them. One week—a brief but critical pause.

Lucius had no idea that in a week's time, he'd want to strangle the Governor of Gaul to death. By then, the Governor would already be dead.

-End Chapter-

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