"Huh?!"
Witt's expression went completely blank as Hel finished recounting her "little story" — how she had wiped out eighty thousand Silver Wolf Cavalry by herself.
When she was done, Witt could only stare at her, eyes wide in disbelief.
"So… what you're saying, young master, is that the Heim Great Rift was created by your sword — not by some Saint's doing?"
He paused mid-sentence as if suddenly realizing something, then quickly added,
"No wonder you received the Radiant Knight's insignia back then! That explains it!
If that's the case, young master, your Four-Winged Angel Medal is practically guaranteed.
With Lady Vivian as your backing within the Church, and the Radiant Knight as your ally within the Empire, both sides will be scrambling to win you over — not suppress you."
"That's not necessarily true."
Hel smiled faintly, her tone laced with meaning.
"You said it yourself — Vivian's return benefits the Saint Faction the most. It'll make them the dominant force in the Church, which the other two factions won't tolerate.
So whether it's Vivian or me, there will always be some idiots willing to be used as pawns, jumping out to oppose us.
But don't worry. As long as no Saint steps in personally, there's no one on this continent I can't handle.
Anyway, that's enough about me.
How's the situation with Brenda?"
"A bit of trouble," Witt admitted, his face growing uneasy the moment he heard Brenda's name.
"Originally, I was working behind the scenes to strip Brenda of both her people's loyalty and her noble support.
At the same time, I managed to convince the nobles of Selphis City to start a motion of impeachment against her.
We even circulated rumors that she was dissatisfied with the new King of Selphis.
At first, the King was preparing to abandon her — but for some reason, today he suddenly decided to stand by her.
So now, my plan is to remove the King of Selphis from the throne entirely.
Only then can Brenda truly be finished."
"Uh… haha, I'll… leave that to you," Hel replied, forcing an awkward smile.
Just hearing Witt's plan made her back prickle.
She could now vividly imagine how helpless Brenda must have felt back then.
No wonder tacticians always seemed a bit sinister — this sort of scheming was definitely not her style.
As her power grew, Hel found herself more and more fond of solving problems the simple way — with brute force.
"All right, handle it however you see fit," she said. "If you need anything, just contact me. Otherwise, I'm hanging up."
"Yes, young master."
Witt bowed deeply as Hel's projection faded away.
He stood there silently for a moment, watching as her image disappeared.
Not long after Hel ended her conversation with Witt, a caravan from the Kingdom of Desserts arrived outside Heim City.
Ever since the Beastmens' retreat, the entire Mandrake Territory had begun the slow process of rebuilding.
Every fief was under reconstruction, and with the spring planting season nearing its end, Hel had already lifted the lockdown orders on the city.
During her recent trip to the City of Biology, more than a dozen foreign trade caravans had arrived in Heim.
Heim had wealth; the merchants had goods — a perfect partnership.
Many of the city's scarce or development-critical supplies had been steadily delivered over the past few days.
Among those caravans was the Caramel Trading Company, hailing from the Dessert Kingdom.
The Caramel family was an old noble house of the Dessert Kingdom — wealthy, powerful, and steeped in centuries of commerce.
Its patriarch, the Duke of Caramel, held the title of Honorary Duke in the kingdom and was renowned for two talents: keen investment instincts… and an unmatched ability to marry off his daughters.
His five daughters had all wed into great houses or royal families across neighboring nations.
He also happened to be the grandfather of both the Third Princess and Brenda.
Officially, the Caramel caravan had come to Heim to conduct trade — but in truth, they were carrying out a secret request from Brenda: to smuggle someone into the territory.
"Captain Derrick, thank you again for your help this time."
At the gates of Heim City's Merchant Guild, a burly man clasped hands with a middle-aged merchant.
"Mm. Safe travels," Derrick said with a polite smile, waving as the man departed.
He didn't ask what the man's true business was — he wasn't paid to pry.
He was just a caravan captain, and his biggest life goal was simple: earn enough for retirement, go home, and raise his children.
But ever since he had joined the Caramel family's trade network, he had learned one thing — in their line of work, few met a peaceful end.
Bandits on the road, natural disasters, and even "missions of no return" ordered by their patrons — such was the price of working for the Caramels.
Anyone who enjoyed the privileges the old noble house offered was expected to pay the price when called upon.
Otherwise, the family had plenty of ways to make them "return" what they'd taken — with interest.
"Pity," Derrick muttered to himself, shaking his head as he turned back toward the caravan.
That burly man wasn't one of their own, but he was clearly a loyal dead man belonging to some powerful figure.
Watching his retreating back, Derrick couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy — the sorrow of the fox for the hare.
But he knew better than to get curious.
The longer you lived in this business, the more you learned one rule:
Don't ask questions you don't need to know the answers to.
"I just hope this doesn't drag us down too," he sighed quietly, returning to his wagon and retrieving a small, tightly guarded box from his side.
It was the caravan's most precious cargo — so valuable that Derrick, a third-tier transcendent, had to personally safeguard it.
The box itself wasn't the real treasure — it was a spatial container,
sealed by a one-use magical lock.
It could only be opened with his specific mental frequency.
Anyone attempting to break it by force would cause the internal space to collapse —
and the contents would be lost forever, swallowed by spatial turbulence.
"For such a small territory, they sure have a lot of money to be buying high-grade alchemy materials like this," Derrick muttered,
unlocking the box and inspecting the contents.
"Three Hearts of Thorns, two Crimson Eggs, ten Dragon's Breath Blossoms, fifteen milliliters of Unicorn Blood, one Deep-Sea Behemoth's eye… wait — what's this?"
As he carefully went through the materials, Derrick suddenly froze.
Nestled among the items was a small vial of red liquid — and a folded piece of paper.
A sharp chill ran through his heart.
Hands trembling, he reached out with his spirit sense and scanned the note's contents.
His expression darkened instantly.