Leaving Chief Anton's office, the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind me. I took a deep, steadying breath, letting the cool draft of the hallway clear the tension in my chest.
Before stepping away, I instructed the clerk stationed outside to summon all available Branch 1 members. I needed my division fully assembled in the 8th District, right beside the Capital Knights Bureau Association building, within the hour. My strategy was sound, and despite Eirene's harsh, cynical doubts, I was determined to prove that we could save those sixty thousand souls without turning Caria into a slaughterhouse.
With my staff in hand, I began the long walk toward the 8th District...the high-security, elite military sector of Caria City. My primary objectives were clear: negotiate directly with Commander Roman Calico to borrow Evelyn and his branch's earth manipulators, and secure temporary custody of Lara Meyer from the district prison.
As my boots clicked against the paved street, my thoughts turned back to the list of individuals who shared my rare gift of Divine Regeneration. The results were bittersweet, to say the least.
The first person on Anton's list was Cherry Rootvale, a child living back in my hometown of Town Allure. It was incredible that a seven-month-old infant had been blessed by the gods with such a powerful, life-giving skill. But no matter how desperate our situation became, I would never drag a helpless baby onto a dangerous battlefield. I was a Commander dedicated to protecting life, not a monster who sacrificed children.
The second name, Noah Silkworm, brought a gentle, fond smile to my face.
I knew Noah very well. He was a fourth-year senior student at Sisiphon Magic Academy back when I served as the school's principal. He was a bright, popular boy among his peers, often seen hanging out with his close friend, Yellow Volcano...the academy's famous fourth-year combatant who commanded raw magma manipulation.
Because Noah possessed Divine Regeneration just like me, I had taken him under my wing. I still remembered how he used to knock on my office door every afternoon after classes ended. We would sit together for hours, and I would teach him advanced purification techniques and high-tier restoration spells that went far beyond standard healing magic. He was a good-natured, hard-working student, and I prayed with all my heart that he was staying safe during this chaotic outbreak.
Then, there was the final name: Lara Meyer.
I had read about her extensively in the Bureau's classified reports. She was once the notorious right-hand commander of the Immoral Knights...the rogue order of renegade mages who had turned their backs on humanity. But after my little sister Eirene hunted down the order, she captured Lara alive and handed her over to the authorities to be locked away in Dodorant Citadel.
The main reason the Bureau hadn't executed Lara was because of her miraculous Divine Regeneration. Her body constantly purified and restored itself. Even when trapped in Dodorant Citadel...a brutal, men-only fortress prison...her unique gift ensured that any physical harm, illness, or trauma inflicted upon her was instantly healed. Now that she had been transferred to the 8th District prison here in Caria, she was the most viable candidate to help me carry the heavy burden of purifying the infected.
I finally reached the massive, reinforced iron gates that guarded the entrance to the 8th District. Standing guard in full polished armor was a familiar face...Damien Morkov, one of Caria's finest Luminous Knights.
As I approached the checkpoint, Damien stood at attention, raising his hand to halt the line of incoming personnel.
"Ma'am, tolls and status card, please," Damien requested politely, his eyes meeting mine as he recognized my uniform.
I smiled warmly as I handed over my pass and coin. "Here, Damien. Take this gold, and keep the change."
Damien scratched the back of his neck, looking flustered. "Um... sorry, Lady Elicia. We can't accept excess funds like this. It goes against official gatekeeper policy."
"Well, consider it a gesture of gratitude," I replied gently. "Use the rest to buy a good lunch for yourself and the shift guards, alright?"
Damien's face brightened, and he gave a quick, respectful salute. "Ah... thank you so much, Lady Elicia! Stay safe inside!"
I nodded and passed through the heavy iron archway into the heart of the 8th District, making my way directly to the headquarters of the Capital Knights Bureau Association. Unlike the main Bureau building...which Chief Anton had recently renovated into a sleek, highly modern administrative hub...the CKBA facility remained entirely unchanged. It was a massive, traditional fortress built from aged gray stone, breathing an air of ancient military honor and unyielding history.
I stepped through the towering main doors, my boots tapping against the quiet stone floors, and headed straight up the central staircase to the chief's private office.
Knock, knock.
"Please enter," a smooth, composed female voice called out from within.
I turned the brass handle and pushed the door open. Sitting at a large, polished mahogany desk was Roman Calico, the Commander of Branch 3. Standing dutifully at his right side was his stepdaughter and official secretary, White Flower. Her striking silver hair cascaded neatly over her dark uniform, and her sharp, icy-blue eyes immediately locked onto mine as I walked in.
Looking at the two of them standing side by side, a profound realization washed over me.
What is the ultimate purpose of negotiation? Is it merely a petty clash over fleeting crumbs, or is it a grand crucible where destiny itself is forged?
Man is the spirit of all living beings, yet individual strength is like a solitary candle flickering in a vast, eternal tempest. To reach the distant shore of prosperity, must one not construct a greater ship? The Bureau stands at this exact precipice. For our collective survival, we cannot settle for mediocrity. We must elevate our shared future, realizing that a single strand of silk cannot form a robe, and a single tree cannot make a forest.
The negotiation table is ever filled with the brilliant sparks of colliding wisdom...a harmonious clash of minds. In this world's true system of values, first stands the strength to protect, and second rests the warmth of kinship.
What is strength if not the ultimate tool to shield the weak and uplift the righteous? And what is kinship if not the eternal flame that warms the human heart in a cold world?
Our branches may operate separately, but we share a deep-rooted history that has bound us together since the ancient past. We bear a profound, intimate understanding of one another's duties. Thus, the light of kinship is the perfect, unbreakable bridge to unite us in times of crisis. Yet, a bridge cannot stand without solid pillars. To truly solidify this bond today, we must rely on the grandeur of shared strength.
Roman looked up from his paperwork, a calm, respectful expression settling on his battle-hardened face.
"Greetings, Commander Elicia," Roman said, resting his hands flat on the desk. "We meet again."
"Greetings, Chief Roman. It's nice to see you again," I said, offering a warm bow as I stepped further into the room.
I took a seat across from him, and White Flower quietly stepped forward, placing a steaming cup of tea in front of me. "Here is your tea, Lady Elicia," she said softly.
"Thank you, White Flower," I replied, taking a small sip before setting the cup back on its saucer.
Roman leaned forward, resting his forearms against the dark wood of his desk. "Commander Elicia. What brings you to my office today? If I remember correctly, it has been over a year since you last stepped through those doors."
"Hehe... well," I chuckled softly, leaning back in my chair. "I came here to negotiate with you, Chief. I want to request permission to temporarily recruit one of your top soldiers."
Roman raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"
I took a deep breath and began explaining the entire framework of my plan...how we could herd the fifty thousand infected from Lulu City and the surrounding territories into the Lament of Autumn and Crystal Blue craters, isolate them using earth and slime barriers, and purify them without launching a mass massacre.
As I spoke, Roman's expression hardened, his brow furrowing deeper with every passing sentence.
"Elicia, I didn't realize you were thinking along such lines," Roman interrupted sternly, shaking his head. "Evelyn is our top combatant in Branch 3, and your strategy here is simply too absurd."
"Wait, wait, Chief! You must see the logic in it," I urged, placing a hand over my chest. "My plan is completely solid! I have accounted for the resource flaws, closed every gap, and reinforced the weak points with concrete solutions. Even without my sister Eirene's direct involvement, I can make this operation practically work if you grant me a few manipulators and support units!"
"You are acting like a frog in the well, Elicia!" Roman slammed his hand onto the desk, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Our very humanity is standing on the precipice of collapse! The chances of the next Great Demon War breaking out are practically certain! To think you can cure fifty thousand infected thralls within a single week is outright impossible! Give up, Elicia. You must understand that this world is far colder than ice!"
His words pierced the quiet room like winter steel, making the heavy curtains rustle as a cold draft seeped through the window frame. I sat there in silence, looking into his severe, unyielding eyes.
This world... why must it always be so cold?
The howling wind beyond the glass carried the faint, bitter scent of spilled blood and scorched earth. Everywhere I looked across Andromeda, people were killing, scheming, and betraying one another for a single gold coin, a shred of territory, or a fleeting, elusive dream of power.
Is this truly the only way to live? Must a person discard their humanity, step over the corpses of their own kin, and bathe in the tears of the innocent just to be considered 'strong'? If greatness in this realm requires me to become a villain, then what is the point of living at all?
I knew what they whispered behind my back when they thought I couldn't hear. Foolish. Naive. A lucky idiot who refuses to see the cruelty of reality. They looked at me with eyes full of quiet mockery, convinced that my mercy would eventually be the death of me.
Even my little sister Eirene, with her cold, deadpan eyes that seemed to have witnessed the destruction of a thousand worlds, looked at the universe as nothing more than a giant chessboard. To her, and to so many others in the Bureau, material benefits were the only truth. "In this world, there are no eternal friends, only eternal benefits." That was the absolute, unholy law they lived by.
But I refuse to believe it.
If everyone surrenders to the darkness, who will keep the fire burning? If everyone chooses to become a beast just to survive the winter, won't the spring find nothing but monsters left alive?
People say that the heavens are heartless, treating all living creatures like straw dogs. They say that destiny is a cage, and that the only way to survive is to be sharper, crueler, and more ruthless than the person standing next to you. But if the world is already a chaotic, bloody hell, why should I add more fire to the blaze? Isn't it precisely because the world is dark that a single spark of light matters most?
I was once just a commoner girl back in Town Allure. I have walked through the bleakest corners of this world. I have seen the very depths of human malice, where a brother sells his own brother for a quick handful of silver.
Yet, every time I am pushed to the edge, a miracle occurs. They call it divine favor. They say my Divine Regeneration protects me. But healing magic can only mend my physical flesh; it can never rewrite my heart. My heart will always choose to hope.
Let them plot. Let them scheme. Let them build their towering mountains of skulls.
I will still choose to extend my hand to the fallen. I will still choose to smile when the blizzard rages.
Because if I lose my kindness, then the chaos of this world hasn't just defeated me...it has rewritten who I am. And that is a fate far worse than death. If being smart means becoming a cold-blooded monster, then I would rather remain a fool until the very end.