princess Roselle

[Kingdom of Aelfhim]

A colossal mountain stood before Princess Roselle, its towering peak lost within the clouds. Standing at its base, she exhaled sharply, steadying herself. Just over a week ago, she had been at the 5th Order, a level that should have taken her years to surpass. Yet, with the aid of Morgan Aelfhim, her great ancestor, she had ascended to the 7th Order—a feat unheard of in human history.

With a flick of her wrist, she summoned her sword. A blade of deep crimson, its jet-black hilt wrapped in an even darker shade of leather. A gift from Morgan Aelfhim, an 8th-grade artifact.

Pouring her newfound power into the weapon, it responded with a violent hum, releasing a scarlet glow. With a single, fluid strike—

BOOM!

The mountain before her split cleanly in two, its destruction rippling far beyond the impact point.

"So this is the power of the 7th Order..."

A voice, calm yet commanding, brushed against her ears.

"Impressive. You've entered your growth phase... I assume it's because of that lingering soul in the cemetery."

Roselle's eyes widened in shock. Spinning on her heels, she instinctively gripped her sword—only to freeze.

Two figures stood before her.

The first was a man whose presence alone warped reality—Luseraph, the Demon Lord. The second was his right hand, the same warrior he had summoned during their battle against the fallen angels.

"You—! What are you doing here?" she snapped, irritation lacing her voice.

Beelzebub, standing beside his master, narrowed his eyes.

"You dare question his majesty's presence?" his voice was like thunder. "Kneel."

A crushing pressure descended upon her.

Her body betrayed her before she could resist, her knees slamming against the ground. Cold sweat soaked her clothes, her breathing labored under the sheer weight of Beelzebub's authority.

Luseraph, arms folded, smirked inwardly.

"As expected from Beel."

But then, with a mere flick of his fingers—

"That's enough, Beel. Show her some respect."

The pressure vanished.

Roselle gasped, humiliated beyond words. Even after coming this far—after standing at the near pinnacle of human strength—she had been brought to her knees effortlessly.

Her fingers curled into fists, rage boiling in her veins.

Blood-red eyes gleamed.

A heartbeat later—

She moved.

With blinding speed, she appeared behind Beelzebub, her 8th-grade sword cleaving toward his neck with enough force to sever a mountain.

CRACK!

Her sword shattered.

Like fragile glass meeting unbreakable steel, the sacred weapon given to her by Morgan Aelfhim was reduced to useless shards.

A cold voice followed.

"Because of my master's order, I'll overlook that pathetic stunt," Beelzebub said, expression void of emotion. "Consider this my compensation."

A new sword materialized in her hands.

The moment she gripped it, an overwhelming weight crashed down upon her, forcing her knees to buckle. She barely stopped herself from collapsing entirely.

"Damn it..."

She let the sword drop.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered, turning away. "No matter how far I come, nothing ever changes..."

A hand gently rested on her shoulder.

Warm. Comforting.

For the first time in a long time... she felt at peace.

But the moment she realized who it belonged to, she brushed it off sharply, stepping away.

Luseraph merely chuckled.

"Now, now," he taunted, a smirk playing on his lips. "What's with that long face? Did I hurt your pride? I thought you were stronger than that, Princess."

Roselle's teeth clenched.

"Mocking me again... even now?!"

She took a slow breath, suppressing her boiling frustration.

"I assume you didn't come here just to irritate me?" she muttered, arms crossed. "Say what you came to say and get it over with."

Beelzebub's eyes flashed with anger at her tone, but Luseraph raised a hand, stopping him.

"Relax, Beel." He turned back to Roselle. "I just need a recommendation."

She frowned.

"A recommendation?"

"I need the name of the closest human settlement to Aelfhim." His smirk deepened. "Since staying here might make you think of committing suicide."

Roselle scowled.

"You're the Demon Lord," she snapped. "You can go anywhere. Why bother asking me?"

Luseraph tilted his head.

"Because," he said smoothly, "I'm simply curious about your opinion."