On the blue sea.

A long black sail headed for the depths of the sea.

The sun was shining slanting over the entire deck.

On the sail, there is a large Blood Rose Double Cross Sword, indicating that it comes from the Eastern Continent Holy Blood Empire.

But contrary to the main sail that was blown full by the wind and moved forward, several Blood Clan warriors standing on the boat were obviously in a sluggish state, and their faces were cloudy.

After the previous defeat, the crowd does not seem to have recovered from the fear of facing Kaye the Watcher.

Along with Eliza, his eyes were glazed and his chest ached.

She still hadn't figured out why, the hero, had come back from the graveyard.

And the powerful magic unleashed on the Chosen One would be feared even by the gods.

Magic always comes at a price.

To resurrect a hero, one must lose one.

She remembered that in history, the archmage of the Holy Blood Empire once wanted to resurrect the divine envoy and sacrificed hundreds of lives, and the entire Shadow City was ablaze with huge fires.

But the power of the gods and the will of the ancestors did not protect them.

And the power of magic is not enough to summon that great soul who is powerful enough to sustain the life of the Empire.

In the end, the whole ceremony still ended in failure.

Eliza learned a very important point from that incident -

The greater the soul, the more difficult it is to be resurrected.

Even if the price paid is sufficient, it takes luck and timing.

Even in the long years in the past, she thought countless times:

Perhaps, heroes just can't be resurrected.

Whether it's Leslie, the captain of the guard, or Mira, King Catherine's twin sister, they are dead and disappear from the world forever.

Life falls, like a meteor flying.

The soul burns and falls into the place of eternal rest.

Until yesterday -

She was on the Crimson Coast and witnessed a terrible scene.

The Chosen One from Itnaire used his life to successfully recruit a hero.

This is something that only the gods can do.

He did it.

So, in a sense, the Chosen One is more valuable than the Hero.

Is that so?

Eliza's gaze became terrified.

She shook her head and sighed heavily, her eyes foggy.

I'll have to go back and discuss this with the Holy Blood Archmage.

She tried to calm down, her fingers pressing lightly against her chest.

The sea breeze blew her long, fiery red hair, and the water lapped against the side of the ship.

Eliza's attention returned to the deck, her brow furrowed slightly.

The sun illuminated the sails, but cast huge shadows on the deck.

Her loyal guards looked dejected, and the once powerful and arrogant knights were once again defeated in this battle, shattered along with their confidence and dignity.

The western coastline was like an insurmountable chasm for them.

A nightmare that will never wake up.

An unattainable ladder that goes straight into the sky......

But it shouldn't be that way.

Eliza's eyes perked up, and she looked at the sails on the deck with some anger.

There, the Blood Rose Twin Crosses still unfurled in the wind, hanging high in the air, showing the glory of the Empire.

She believed in the greatness of the King of the Night, and she believed that she would lead them to victory.

So, she turned her gaze back to her guards.

We have to be patient and wait.

……

A little girl with a pair of white wings shivered in a corner.

Sigrid, the magician, was unsure if she would be punished by the Crimson Guard captain when she returned, and she didn't know how to face the King of the Night, she was only instinctively afraid.

The fear of the unknown made her tremble all over.

and—

The chest wound when she was struck by Itnell's tall female warrior with the Holy Spirit Barrier still ached.

All of this overwhelmed her.

If it weren't for the fact that she still missed her magic mentor and the bright smile she had in the Bloodrose Castle, she would have died under the shield of the female warrior.

Just then, a hand touched the back of her head.

Sigrid trembled all over.

When she looked up, she saw Eliza's delicate face in her eyes.

The sunlight blurred her figure, casting a shadow on Sigrid's body.

It reminded her of the hot whip that the other party had whipped on her body in many previous combat trainings.

"Don't ...... Eliza," Sigrid's voice was sobbing and trembling with fear, "I've done my best, I can't help it.

That shield, the Holy Spirit barrier, I can't do anything Eliza.

I'm too weak, Eliza, I'll study hard when I get back......"

"I'm sorry, Sig." Eliza interrupted her, stretched her arms out, and took Sigrid's head in her arms.

The girl's pupils suddenly dilated, and her mouth opened silently in surprise.

Only the warmth from her ears and the tips of her hair made her feel inexplicably peaceful.

Unlike the previous stern, Eliza's voice became gentle and melodious.

So much so that Sigrid thought it was a hallucination, or a dream.

"Looks like I'm usually too you." Eliza looked at her sadly, "I'm sorry Sig, you've done a great job, really, I don't blame you at all for this failure."

You did your best and deserve rest and respect. “

Eliza crouched on the deck, leaning her head over her shoulders and gently stroking Sigrid's long gray hair, like a mother soothing her injured daughter.

After a while, when the little girl had calmed down, Eliza sighed heavily.

"War is far more brutal than we imagined."

"Eliza......" Sigurt lifted her fair face, tears glistening in her eyes.