“This concludes my report.”

  I tightened my grip on Nyxara’s mouth despite her protests. She tried to smack my hand away, even resorting to licking it in an attempt to make me uncomfortable enough to let go. But I knew better than to let her speak freely in front of the war council, even if it meant enduring the odd looks everyone was giving me.

  The Queen, as always, looked mildly amused. Leaning back in her intricately carved throne, her green eyes gleamed with mirth as she observed the scene. Her regal composure remained intact, but the faint curl of her lips betrayed her amusement at my dynamic with Nyxara.

  “An enlightening report, as expected from you, Champion. I certainly did not expect you to bring Agamemnon to his knees and force him to sign a Geass. Though, I must admit, I would have preferred if it were harsher.”

  Her voice was smooth, rich with authority yet laced with a teasing undertone as she ignored Nyxara’s muffled protests.

  “Any harsher, and I’d have been forced to wipe out every last Gargarean,” I replied, my tone firm but measured. I could feel Nyxara bristle—either in agreement or irritation—beneath my grip. “To them, death is preferable to enslavement. As it stands, I secured their aid, neutralized Agamemnon’s threat, and ensured a steady influx of wealth from their lands. Any further demands would’ve guaranteed rebellion.”

  The council members murmured among themselves, most nodding in agreement.

  “You are not wrong, Champion. I am not admonishing you. However, King Agamemnon is a prideful man. Even bound by a Geass, he will harbor animosity toward you. You know the saying: don’t wound what you cannot kill.”

  Her tone grew sharper, laced with subtle warning. She knew Agamemnon better than I did—she had been dealing with him far longer than I had.

  “I know. And I can assure you, Your Majesty, I have never met something I couldn’t kill.”

  The Queen's amused smile widened, her eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Such confidence, Champion.” Her voice carried equal parts admiration and veiled challenge. “What did you think of King Agamemnon now that you've fought him?”

  I met her gaze. As always, her intentions were difficult to read. Did she want me to boast and put down Agamemnon to make me look good in front of the war council? Or was she asking for my true opinion?

  “Half-assed would be a good term. He certainly knows how to fight and wield a sword—I don’t even need to mention his physical capabilities or mana. But it almost feels like he’s never used them to their fullest. He’s so used to overwhelming others with pure power that he’s never had to take advantage of his natural abilities.”

  The Queen tilted her head, her emerald gaze sharpening as though dissecting my words for hidden meaning.

  “Half-assed, you say? Quite the insult to one of the most infamous warriors of our time. Yet, I agree with you. He has the potential to reach my level, but the fact that he never has, even after our little duel, proves otherwise.”

  Her words drew a few murmurs from the council—some nodding in agreement, while others seemed uneasy.

  “But that’s enough about him. He’s not our main problem. Moloch is.” Her expression grew more serious. “I expected you to return from the War God’s Battle Area with a powerful artifact, but it seems the words of our goddess are difficult to decipher—even for her champion.”

  Reluctantly, I let go of Nyxara’s mouth. She immediately glared at me, rubbing her jaw. I could only hope that, for once, she’d be serious.

  “If you wanted to choke me, you could’ve waited until we were alone.”

  Never mind.

  The room fell silent for a moment before a few braver council members stifled chuckles. I shot Nyxara a pointed glare, but she smirked, still rubbing her jaw as though savoring her minor victory. The Queen’s eyes sparkled with renewed amusement, though her lips pressed together as if restraining laughter.

  “Herald of Freedom, ever unrestrained in word or action,” she said dryly. “But this is not the time for frivolity, Nyxara. Enlighten us—if you can—with your insights.”

  Nyxara rolled her shoulders, the picture of nonchalance as her gaze flicked between me and the Queen.

  “Fine, fine. Since everyone’s so eager for my divine wisdom…” She paused for effect, her purple eyes—holding stars—glinting mischievously.

  “Moloch is not your run-of-the-mill demon—or even a typical Demon King. As most of you may not know, demons are born from negative emotions and grow stronger by absorbing more emotions and souls. They are not beings of flesh, which makes killing them far harder than mortals. However, as they grow more ‘solid,’ they begin to take on the characteristics of the mortals they consume. Naturally, that includes their weaknesses—hearts, brains, you know, the things mortals can’t live without.

  Moloch is not like that.”

  The room grew tense, the council members’ unease palpable.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Nyxara’s voice lost its playfulness as she leaned forward, placing her hands on the table.

  “He hates mortals far too much. He refuses to shape himself after those he deems beneath him. His body is utterly alien—no organs, no weak points, nothing to exploit. You could cut off a finger or stab what should be his heart, and there would be no difference."

  She straightened, her expression darkening.

  "Countless centuries ago, I— I mean, the Goddess of Freedom—calculated that killing Moloch outright wasn’t just impractical; it was impossible. Not without causing destruction on a scale that would wipe out entire civilizations. So…” She let the silence linger for a moment.

  “…she devised another plan: to starve him.”

  The silence that followed Nyxara's words was heavy, oppressive. The council members exchanged uneasy glances, their usual stoicism cracked by the weight of what she had revealed. Even the Queen’s amused demeanor gave way to a more contemplative expression, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “To starve him?” one of the council members asked, his voice betraying a mix of doubt and desperation. “How does one starve a being that feeds on emotions and souls?”

  Nyxara’s grin was sharp and feral, the glint in her star-filled eyes unnerving. “By cutting off his food supply,” she said, her tone almost too casual for the weight of what followed.

  She leaned back slightly, her fingers drumming against the table. “The Goddess of Freedom used her divine flesh and power to create a prison—a perfect seal. One that wouldn’t allow even a whisper of emotion or the faintest trace of a soul to pass through. Inside that prison, Moloch was completely isolated. No hatred to feed on. No fear. No despair. Just endless, maddening silence.”

  The tension in the room was almost suffocating. Nyxara’s smile thinned, taking on an edge of grim satisfaction. “And so, he’s been there for centuries. Starving. Weakening. His once unstoppable strength gnawed away by his own emptiness.”

  The Queen broke the silence, her voice measured yet laced with tension.

  “Does that mean he will be weaker when it is time to finally fight him?”

  Nyxara’s eyes flickered with something between amusement and bitterness as she nodded slowly.

  “Yes. But that also means he will be desperate. He will want to regain his power by gorging himself. If we don’t catch him as soon as he escapes, he will wipe out cities—or even countries—absorbing every little soul and tormenting them for eternity.”

  The Queen's gaze darkened, her earlier amusement now replaced by a calculating focus.

  "Desperation often makes monsters far more dangerous," the Queen said, her voice low and deliberate. "The moment Moloch escapes, he will be a force unlike any we have ever faced. His hunger will drive him to unimaginable extremes. Do you have a way to know when or where he will emerge?”

  Nyxara shook her head solemnly.

  “I can only give an approximation. He will emerge in less than twenty-eight days, but where… I don’t know. His prison is in the void between dimensions. Theoretically, he could emerge anywhere.”

  The room fell silent, everyone locked onto the Queen. I could see the gears turning in her head, trying to come up with a plan.

  “Inform our fastest riders. Order them to spread across the land and search for any sign of demonic corruption. Report back to us if they find anything.”

  She finally spoke up. Some of the council members rose from their seats, preparing to follow her orders.

  “Nyxara. The weapon you told me about. Give it to me.”

  I also spoke up. The talk about Moloch clearly spooked the council members. I had to give them something to hold onto and light a flame of hope. Nyxara’s eyes flicked to me, and for a moment, she seemed to consider my request carefully. Her playful expression slipped into something more guarded, more calculating.

  “Don’t want to.”

  She replied childishly, crossing her arms. I narrowed my eyes at her, not surprised by her response but irritated nonetheless.

  “Give it, or I will pluck your feathers.”

  I extended my arm and ordered seriously. Yet, my threat seemed to have the opposite effect as her eyes narrowed with glee.

  “Ah, do you see this, dear members of the council? The brute Champion threatens a defenseless lady like me!”

  The council members looked at her with confusion, clearly unsure what to make of this bizarre situation. I sighed.

  “Nyxara. I am serious. You remember our deal, don’t you? I am sure Aliera has spare chains in case you don’t behave.”

  Nyxara’s playful smirk never wavered as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs and watching me with that infuriating amusement.

  “Kinky. But darling, you should learn how to ask nicely. Nobody likes a rude Champion.”

  I sighed once again.

  “Nyxara.” I said, my voice hardening with the weight of authority. “Please give me the weapon.”

  She tapped her cheek, puffing it out.

  “I don’t know, dear. Exchanges must be fair. Like a kiss, a back massage—”

  I grabbed her collar, pulling her closer and kissing her on the lips. I tried to pull back after a simple kiss, but she held onto my head, pulling me closer. I only managed to separate myself by using Ice Wolf’s Breath, placing my cold hands on her neck.

  Nyxara froze at the sudden chill spreading across her skin, her lips parting in an exaggerated gasp. The council members sat in stunned silence, eyes wide, unsure how to react. I wiped my lips on my hand.

  "Well, well," she muttered, her voice tinged with a mix of irritation and amusement as she rubbed her neck where the cold had made contact. "You certainly know how to ruin the mood."

  I didn’t back down, my gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. “Give me the weapon, Nyxara. Now.”

  Nyxara studied me, her violet eyes glinting as though she were debating something. Then, with an almost reluctant sigh, she uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, her expression turning serious for the first time in the meeting.

  “Fine,” she said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “But don’t think this means I’m going to be nice to you after this.”

  She raised one hand, and for a moment, there was nothing but the hum of magical energy filling the air. The atmosphere seemed to crackle with power. Then, with a flick of her fingers, she conjured a spear as long as I was tall.

  Even before my eyes could fully perceive it past all the light and energy, I could feel the divine power emanating from it. It wasn’t Aliera's or the one I felt from Lily. It was Nyxara's—the Star of Freedom.

  This weapon was to Nyxara what the Sacred Sword of Selection was to Aliera—a sign of divine authority. It was made of the same type of metal found in Aliera's inner sanctum and Nyxara's prison. I decided to call it Divine Iron. Its silvery shaft looked lightweight despite its length.

  The spearhead was shaped like a wing, reminiscent of Nyxara’s. The wing was elegantly curved, reflecting every color found in a rainbow. Trailing from the base of the spearhead, attached with a divine string, was a long cloth that flowed behind it like a banner despite being in a closed room. The cloth was ethereal, translucent, shimmering with soft colors that constantly shifted like the sky at dusk.

  I extended my arm, grabbing it in the middle. At the same time, the divine power stored in the spear jolted awake, jumping into my arm and worming into my body and soul. Aliera's divine power reacted instinctively, meeting it in the middle. I gritted my teeth and focused on calming Aliera's divine power while finding a place for Nyxara's.

  "Huh. You didn’t explode."

  I glared at Nyxara, who looked far too smug.

  "A warning would have been nice."

  I infused my mana into the weapon, swinging it and earning amazed looks from everyone.

  "You’ve already absorbed a lot of power from multiple sources. I figured you’d be fine."

  Hmm. It was true. I had Aliera's power, a connection with G?kb?rü, the Mother Tree’s root, and the Ancestor Spirits’ power. But was it enough to defeat Moloch without losing lives?

  I closed my eyes, feeling the hum of mana and divine power. When I opened them, my gaze locked with the Queen’s. She gave me a knowing nod.

  Yes. I wasn’t alone.

  "You must be tired, Champion. Your companions are already resting. Join them."