Iordera’s Reckoning and Resurgence

A dazzling burst!

Fireworks exploded right by the window behind them, startling Iordera.

Sorold glanced at her impassively. “Thank you for the documents. I will take Busius back to face his punishment.”

“But why are you still letting him continue,” Iordera stammered, unsure how to phrase it. “Still investigating… he’ll kill them!”

Sorold took a sip of tea, his gaze lingering on the fireworks outside the window. “Is that so? What of it?”

Iordera stared, incredulous. “Sword Saint, everyone says you are a man who upholds justice.”

“And I am,” he replied. “I will take Busius. What more do you want?”

“What about them, then? The people you’re letting Busius pursue,” Iordera grit her teeth. “What wrong have they done?”

Sorold shifted his gaze from the window back to Iordera. “According to Imperial law, Imperial citizens and honorary citizens are granted protection. So, what defines an Imperial citizen?”

Busius stepped forward, offering an explanation. “Those born normally on Imperial soil with registered household records are considered Imperial citizens. Those who have worked and resided on Imperial land for over three years, or who have entered Imperial territory through diplomatic means, are honorary citizens.”

Sorold’s eyes remained fixed on Iordera, as if she were a mere speck of dust. “Then, what do you call something created in a laboratory?”

“Property, Sword Saint,” Busius answered. “They are called property.”

Sorold rose, pacing to the doorway, and quietly left Busius with a single instruction: “Do not soil my room!”

Busius bowed respectfully. “Understood.”

Iordera’s eyelids twitched violently. ‘She understood the implication of his words.

‘What would soil the room? Her own blood!’

‘Dark gold bloomed in her pupils. If she could strike him first, with all her might, perhaps a sliver of hope remained…’

Whoosh—!

Busius merely raised a hand, effortlessly.

[Alert: Sub-core sustained critical damage, entering protective dormancy.]

The dark gold faded. Iordera had been denied her chance to strike.

“I truly commend you. You caused me so much trouble, only to find evidence and bring it here,” Busius snarled, his gaze filled with hatred. “But this is where it ends. You’ve ruined my future with your worthless life. Consider it a bargain.”

Though the blood was sparse and not intensely colored, Busius could discern from the currents of wind that the girl before him no longer drew breath.

No one of merely thirty-odd levels could survive a pierced heart.

The wind swept up her motionless body, tossing it from the window, down, down—with a crashing splash!

****

The fall stung, and the fireworks were quite beautiful, so Sophia lingered on the ground for a while longer.

A myriad of fireworks ascended, blossoming beautifully around the spire’s summit. The tower’s owner seemed to respond in kind, tossing something from a window.

‘Tossed something?’

Sophia rubbed her eyes intently, realizing the silhouette of the falling object was oddly familiar.

It was Iordera!

The young girl dared not tarry. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted forward, using a sword skill’s dash to cross the plaza in an instant.

Yet Iordera fell even faster, and more critically, she showed no reaction whatsoever, as if already dead.

‘Whether she was dead already or not, such a fall would surely kill her!’

Sophia peered ahead, looking down. On the far side of the spire, directly where Iordera was about to land, lay a pool of water.

Acting decisively, she drew her sword and swept it towards the pool. The sword qi struck first, scattering the water’s surface.

Then, with a resounding splash, water sprayed all over Sophia.

[Repair successful. Repair time: 48 hours.]

The intensity of the Level 60+ Wind Magic was significantly greater than the Silverlight Swordsman’s strike, requiring a longer repair time.

When Iordera next opened her eyes, two days had already passed.

Outside, the window revealed only darkness; it seemed to be the dead of night. The blonde girl was roasting a sweet potato on the stove, which she then picked up to sate her hunger.

Iordera looked around, realizing she was in the workshop’s cellar.

“You’re awake! You actually woke up!” Sophia exclaimed, overjoyed. “These past two days, I was so worried. I thought you might never…”

When she had first carried Iordera away, Sophia had examined the wound. A spear had pierced her heart, and with no breath, she was almost certain Iordera was gone.

Yet, recalling the maid’s words, she had brought Iordera back to the cellar with a glimmer of hope and watched over her for two days.

Over those two days, Iordera’s wounds had healed rapidly, leaving no trace, which had made Sophia believe she might truly recover. Still, seeing Iordera open her eyes again, she remained somewhat disbelieving.

‘What exactly *is* my friend?’

Iordera sighed, struggling to sit upright.

Memories from before her dormancy slowly surfaced, as vivid as if they had occurred just yesterday.

“How are things outside?” she asked.

Sophia offered her half of the roasted sweet potato. “Things aren’t looking good. Busius suddenly acquired a personal guard, soldiers from Saroyan. He’s commanding them in a sweeping search, and in a few more days, the safe house outside the city might be exposed.”

‘A personal guard, indeed. With his return to face punishment a certainty, Busius now had fewer reservations and could act with greater boldness.’

Iordera remained silent for a moment, then handed the half-eaten sweet potato back.

Sophia blinked. “You don’t like this?”

“No, I just don’t feel like eating,” she whispered. “Could you go to my house and fetch something for me?”

‘Having just opened her eyes, her body parts were still reconnecting, preventing any significant movement for now.’

Sophia devoured the sweet potato in a few bites. “You… what are you talking about?”

“There’s a small box under the pillow on my bed. Please bring it to me.”

“No problem.”

Sophia had been to Iordera’s house once before and knew the way. She quickly arrived by night shuttle.

“The small box under the pillow, this must be it, right?” Nina said, handing it over. “Though I don’t know what you’re up to, please tell the young lady that we’re still not running away.”

Sophia took the small box, looking at Nina with a bewildered expression.

‘She didn’t understand what that meant.’

“Exactly,” Yuna chimed in, poking her head out. “We’re just too lazy to run. Tell the young lady to give up on that idea.”

“…?”

Regardless of her understanding, Sophia relayed the message in the cellar.

Iordera took the small box, shaking her head with a wry smile.

‘Of course, she understood what her two maids meant: if they succeeded, they’d continue to live idly. If they failed, the sisters would be picking up pieces of her all over the ground.’

‘Either way, they definitely wouldn’t run. Don’t ask why; the answer was simply that they couldn’t.’

“Sophia,” Iordera said, taking a bone ring from the box and slipping it onto her finger, then closing her eyes. “Please leave me alone for a while.”

“Oh, alright. I’ll go up and get some sleep then.”

The young girl left the cellar, closing the door behind her. In the stillness, Iordera caressed the bone ring on her ring finger and softly called out:

“Hecate.”