In the outskirts of Solitude, at Elizabeth’s manor.
Blazing tongues of fire licked at the lead-black tiles, consuming the extravagant grounds that once belonged to the old nobility.
Plumes of thick smoke billowed into the sky, while the crackling of bursting wood and desperate screams intertwined to play a threnody of collapse.
Elizabeth’s manor, once an arrogant vampire stronghold outside Silvervein City, was now transforming into a scorching purgatory.
Servant A stood quietly on a patch of high ground about ten meters away from the fire.
She had already discarded her former attire of a sword-bearing maid, replacing it with a coarse burlap cloak she had pilfered from the stables.
At her feet sat two heavy, bulging leather satchels.
They were filled with the wealth accumulated by the Elizabeth family over centuries—Gold Sun coins, expensive magic gems, rare potions, and even several land deeds.
This wealth, which in the past would have cost someone their eyes just for looking at it, now belonged entirely to her.
“Help... save me...”
Faint cries for help drifted from the edge of the inferno.
Two scorched, half-naked figures stumbled out of the thick smoke, collapsing at Servant A’s feet.
They were low-level servants responsible for cleaning the cellars and pruning the gardens—Servant A’s former colleagues.
“Is... is that you? Save us...” The male servant raised a charred hand, gripping the edge of Servant A’s rough boots with a deathly hold.
“Take us with you... please, no matter how you got out...” the female servant crawled over as well, her face a mess of tears and soot.
In the world of the Red Moon, where healing magic existed, burns were nothing more than minor afflictions.
Servant A looked down.
Her eyes held nothing but pure tranquility.
These servants were innocent; they were just like her former self, lingering in this soul-eating place just to scrape by.
She had already staked every blood thrall in the manor to death. As Elizabeth’s most trusted maid, she had planned everything long ago.
However...
Servant A slowly crouched down.
“I really want to save you,” Servant A said softly. “I still remember how we used to steal leftover rye bread in the cellar together.”
A glimmer of hope ignited in the male servant’s eyes.
But the words that followed instantly extinguished that spark.
“However, you have seen what I look like now, and you know what I took from the fire. As long as you are alive, there is a possibility that the Patrol, the cultists, or any other Hero could interrogate you and discover my identity.”
She shook her head.
“I cannot allow even a fraction of a percent of risk to exist. My freedom cannot be weighed down by people from my past.”
With that, Servant A stood up and raised her foot, casually kicking the male servant in the chest.
Thud.
With a muffled sound, the male servant and the woman beside him rolled down the slope of the high ground, tumbling back into the roaring sea of fire.
The flames swallowed them instantly, and two shrill screams were cut short by the blaze.
Servant A didn't even give them a second glance.
She picked up the two heavy satchels, turned around, and left the ruins and her past behind forever, walking toward the capital of Solitude without looking back.
There was Hero activity in Silvervein City; she could not go back there.
...
A day later.
Solitude, suburban outskirts of the capital, an old aristocratic residence.
Steam filled the bathroom.
A massive bathtub carved from a single block of marble sat in the center.
The warm water was strewn with expensive petals purchased from a southern caravan, and a thick layer of bath foam smelling of rich rosemary and sweet orange floated on the surface.
Servant A submerged her entire body in the water, leaving only her head exposed.
She had been soaking here for a full half-hour.
She waited until those expensive bubbles had completely washed away the scent of the lower class and poverty from her skin.
Only then did she finally surface with a splash.
The road is winding, but the future is bright.
Servant A raised an arm.
Her palms, once rough and covered in calluses from years of gripping swords and doing heavy labor, now shimmered with the luster of the wealthy under the nourishment of expensive essential oils.
“This is what it feels like to be alive.”
Servant A took a deep breath, her lungs filling with the decadent fragrance.
She closed her eyes, recalling everything that had happened over the past few days.
From being forced to accompany Elizabeth to the altar to witnessing Sophie’s destructive power; from narrowly surviving on the Witch’s battlefield to personally driving a stake into her former master’s heart.
Although she had planned to do it anyway, that white-haired girl and the Hero had undoubtedly accelerated the process.
Every struggle, every betrayal, and every instance of trampling so-called loyalty, morality, and a subordinate’s duty underfoot made her feel the chains bound deep within her soul snapping inch by inch.
【A maid must obey her master.】
【A servant should not carry weapons.】
These were the pathetic curses of Identity originating from the Destined Sanctuary: Destinos.
“As I thought...”
She opened her eyes, her gaze piercing through the misty vapor.
“After struggling so many times, the shackles of my Identity are growing weaker.”
“As long as I reject the fate it grants me, it can no longer control my will.”
She thought of that blonde nun who always had a cold face and brandished holy light weapons.
The Hero.
That pathetic woman possessed unprecedented power, yet she acted like a string puppet, strictly adhering to the ridiculous dogmas that a Hero must save the weak and a Hero must eradicate evil.
By following an Identity, the Identity grants power.
“What a fool.” Servant A idly played with the bubbles beneath the water. “By constantly following the behavioral laws of an Identity, that curse will wrap around you like vines, tightening until it sinks into your very marrow.”
“The more people recognize your Identity, the more you identify with it yourself.”
“When everyone believes you are the Hero, and when you believe it yourself, you truly become the Hero, Kaila.”
“What if, in the end, your Identity as the Hero forces you to kill the demons by your side or demands that you duel a Witch?”
“At that time, will you still feel like you are walking the right path?”
Servant A blew bubbles in the water, suddenly feeling listless.
She and Kaila had known each other since they were children.
But their trajectories were completely different.
She was walking an entirely opposite path.
Betrayal, plunder, and discarding all unnecessary emotions.
Servant A raised her wet right hand toward the high ceiling of the bathroom.
Her five fingers slowly spread, as if trying to reach through the ethereal mist to touch something indescribable and substantial.
The texture of power.
The weight of wealth.
The freedom of being ruled by no one, able to dominate the life and death of others at will.
“Soon...”
She murmured to herself.
“I am... almost touching it.”
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