"But I refuse."
Those words alone were enough to chill Sol, still kneeling before the goddess.
The crystalline amusement in her voice — as though all of this were merely a game to her — awakened in him a rage unlike any he had ever known.
Never in his life had he felt such fury. He wanted to leap at her, to rip away that serene mask, to strike, to destroy — to make her pay for her mockery.
Inhale. Exhale.
I am losing control again, he realized bitterly.
Sol struggled to subdue the wildfire of wrath burning within his chest.
Here and now, anger was useless — a waste of precious time.
Edea's voice echoed in his mind:
"Never let your emotions rule you. Whatever the circumstance, analyze from every angle before you decide."
Inhale. Exhale.
I must calm myself. I will have time enough to rage later.
Gradually, his thoughts cleared. Simply pleading would do nothing — and why should it?
What reason did she have to heed his begging?
Then — a spark.
An idea flashed through his mind so clearly that he almost cursed himself for not seeing it earlier.
Drawing a steady breath, still kneeling, he spoke:
"If I may ask… what price must I pay?"
Everything in this world carried a price. That was the law — the fundamental rule of existence.
Though Sol could not see her expression, a tender smile curved Luxuria's lips at his words. Her respect for him deepened.
Yet the warmth quickly shifted into her usual playful smirk.
"You've finally understood~!" she purred. "Let's see. Any one of the three requests Camelia made would have cost her the loss of my blessing. Two together would demand her life. But all three?" Luxuria chuckled darkly. "Even her soul would have to serve us for a very, very long time. And that's because she was among the most devout and powerful Saints ever born. The last time the Fall of a Saint ritual was performed, the Supreme Daughter herself required the aid of many others just to share the burden."
It's been done before? Sol thought. No matter.
Luxuria went on, seemingly indifferent to his thoughts.
"Let us be honest, my dear Sol. You cannot afford the price to save her. The contract is already bound. The rules are absolute. You will receive what she desired for you… and she will die."
"What is the price?" he asked calmly. Strangely, he felt no panic now.
"Hmm? I see." She leaned back, considering. "Since she wished for you to obtain a powerful beast, you shall lose the ability to wield mana. Since she wished for your dragon blood to be refined, you shall lose all hybrid traits and become purely human. Since she wished for you to enter the Astral Realm, you shall forever be barred from it, unable to form a single contract."
Her voice was smooth, almost mocking as she continued,
"So then — what will you choose? You have always wished to surpass your father, haven't you? Accept these conditions, and you may bid farewell to your dreams — and your throne. You will—"
"I accept."
Silence fell like a stone. Luxuria and the other goddesses froze, astonished by how swiftly he had answered.
"What?" she whispered.
"I said I accept all of your conditions," Sol repeated, his tone unwavering. "I am willing to lose all my power, all my potential, if it means saving her — if it allows her to keep her strength and her title. She should never have had to pay such a price for me."
Luxuria's voice softened with genuine curiosity. "Do you feel no reluctance?"
"Of course I do!" he burst out, his eyes burning as he glared at her. He was no Buddha, no saint — he could not mask every emotion.
To surpass his father had been one of his lifelong ambitions. To lose not only his mana but also his ability to form contracts would condemn him to an ordinary, powerless existence.
And yet—
"Yes," he said more quietly. "I feel reluctant. But I will pay this price for her."
Sol would never forsake those he loved in exchange for power. He refused to become that kind of man.
"You truly are unlike the kings before you," Luxuria murmured. "Even Mars. Perhaps your heart is ill-suited for the crown."
Her tone turned philosophical. "A king is the father of his nation — impartial, his authority beyond challenge. He lives for his people, and they for him. A king must never be selfish. He must always place his kingdom's welfare above his own."
She lifted her gaze toward the heavens.
"Jupiter manipulated your little teacher from the start to shape Lustburg as it is now. His son, Pluto, did not hesitate to use his descendants as bargaining tokens to secure peace between kingdoms. Your grandfather — he offered his own daughter to safeguard the power of the next generation."
Sol's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
Luxuria ignored the question, her gaze distant.
"Your father gave his life to protect the realm. Each of your forebears had different dreams, different virtues. But they were all worthy of the title King.
You, however—" she looked down upon him — "are not."
Realizing she would not elaborate about Lilith, Sol decided to confront her later. For now, he could only respond simply.
"So what?"
Power had never been his true pursuit.
"What is wrong," he asked quietly, "with being selfish?"
He felt no profound attachment to Lustburg, nor even to his world.
He had rarely left the Tower of Babel or the church; his sense of belonging was faint at best.
And he knew one truth well: the masses were fickle and ungrateful.
One day they praised you as savior, the next they demanded your head.
"In this world," Sol said, his voice steady, "only those dear to me matter. For them, I will pay any price — and I know they would do the same for me."
He did not doubt that if he lost his power, he would become a laughingstock — stripped of the throne, perhaps reduced to nothing more than a stud for royal heirs.
But as certain as he was of the kingdom's betrayal, he was equally certain of this:
The women who loved him would never abandon him, no matter how far he fell.
As long as they remained by his side, what did it matter if he lost everything else?