Mirai sat before the physician, who maintained an air of calm focus. He examined her injury carefully, then began chanting healing spells. Raising his hands over the wound, he attempted to channel restorative energy into her body.

  After several moments of intense concentration, the physician's brow furrowed—the magic was having no discernible effect.

  "This is highly unusual," he muttered, attempting the spell again without success. Each effort met the same inexplicable failure.

  "Your injury defies normal healing. Something extraordinary is preventing my magic from taking hold," the doctor said, genuine concern coloring his voice. He added apologetically, "I'm sorry, but this is the first time I've encountered such a phenomenon."

  "It's fine," Mirai responded with detached calm and exited the clinic.

  Outside, she examined her wound with a calculating expression. Then she sighed slowly, whispering to herself, "You've truly outdone yourself, Iris. Neither medicine nor healing magic will affect me now. It seems I've been left in a more precarious situation than anticipated. The injury is minor, but from this point forward, any serious mistake could prove fatal."

  She also realized her concealed sword, upon which she had always depended, wasn't meant for continuous use. Three minutes—that was the extent of her limit.

  Mirai stood motionless, hand resting thoughtfully beneath her chin as she gazed skyward. The full implications of her condition were becoming clear. She couldn't rely on medicine or healing magic, and she knew another serious injury could genuinely threaten her existence. It felt like walking a tightrope over an abyss, where each misstep could be her last.

  Yet deep within, she felt that familiar surge of excitement, an enthusiasm that nothing could extinguish. For Mirai, abstaining from battle was equivalent to living without purpose. Ever since her exile from the demon kingdom and arrival in human territories, she had sought not mere survival but the thrill of testing herself against life's challenges—those moments that made her feel truly alive.

  She recalled the countless dangers she had faced, the moments from which she had emerged victorious against all odds. Mirai wasn't merely an adventurer; she was a warrior seeking meaning through every confrontation, every obstacle that dared stand in her path. Being an exiled demon princess wasn't cause for retreat—rather, it was a challenge compelling her to prove her worth. For her, ceasing to fight was tantamount to surrender, something her pride would never permit.

  Drawing a deep breath, she clenched her fist with renewed determination. "If Iris believed this would force me to give up, she truly doesn't understand who I am. I will never stop fighting."

  With this resolve solidified, Mirai surveyed her surroundings with renewed confidence. Fighting was intrinsic to her nature, an essential aspect of her identity as demon royalty—this was beyond debate. She would exercise greater caution, but the fire burning in her veins would never be extinguished.

  She headed back to the weapon shop where she had sold the diamond. As she entered, the merchant—who clearly remembered her—greeted her with a warm smile.

  "Welcome back. How may I assist you today?" he asked with a slight bow.

  "I need a sword," Mirai stated plainly.

  She browsed the shelves laden with weapons, her experienced eyes swiftly evaluating each blade. She sought something that could withstand her strength, reliable enough for the battles ahead. The merchant proudly showcased his selection.

  "I have some exceptional pieces here, forged from the finest metals. This particular sword was crafted atop a distant volcanic mountain."

  But Mirai, maintaining a neutral expression, surveyed the weapons and thought silently: "All of these are inferior. I can't believe humans fight with such inadequate weapons."

  She sighed inwardly with disappointment: "I have no alternative. I'll have to make do with one of these." Reluctantly, she purchased the cheapest sword available.

  Turning back to the merchant, she asked quietly, "Do you have anything I can use to create fire?"

  The merchant nodded, moving toward a shelf at the rear. He returned with a small box containing magical gems, selecting one for her inspection. "This magic gem contains a fire spell. Simply press it while concentrating on fire, and a flame will manifest."

  Mirai examined the gem briefly, then nodded and handed over payment. "This will suffice," she said flatly, pocketing the gem without further comment.

  The merchant smiled warmly. "I hope everything serves you well. Good fortune to you."

  Mirai departed quietly. She decided to venture outside the city, contemplating how she might use the gem to address her wound. To her, it was simply a necessary measure for survival.

  In a secluded area well away from prying eyes, Mirai sat down calmly. She produced the magical gem and her newly purchased sword.

  Focusing her energy, she pressed the gem until a small flame emerged. Holding the blade over the fire, she waited patiently until its tip glowed bright red.

  She examined her exposed wound, then slowly raised the heated blade and pressed the glowing metal against the injury.

  Mirai felt minimal pain due to her exceptional endurance. Smoke rose as the wound cauterized shut. After several moments, she removed the sword. The injury was now sealed, its edges burned closed. She knew this crude method would keep her alive.

  She briefly inspected the sealed wound before setting the sword aside. There was no time to dwell on discomfort—it was merely another step toward maintaining control.

  ---

  While Mirai explored deeper into the dungeon, the air grew thick with moisture and decay. The narrow passages reeked of mold and rust. Her quiet footsteps barely disturbed the silence as she approached clusters of weak monsters near the entrance. Without hesitation, she drew her ordinary sword and flowed toward them. Her strikes were swift and precise—the creatures posed no real threat, falling effortlessly before her blade.

  However, midway through the encounters, she sensed something amiss. Her grip on the ordinary sword felt wrong, as if a portion of her usual strength had vanished. She paused, examining the weapon in her hand. "Even without using my Spiritual sword, they remain worthless," she muttered softly, frowning. None of the monsters thus far had posed any genuine challenge.

  Descending deeper, the dungeon's environment grew increasingly treacherous. The cracked floors beneath her feet groaned with each careful step. Here, she encountered a large group of more formidable monsters. With calm efficiency, she drew her concealed sword from beneath her kimono's sleeve.

  In one fluid motion, she unleashed a series of decisive strikes. Her attacks left no room for resistance or survival. Within seconds, the battle concluded.

  She continued descending through several more floors without encountering anything of interest, eventually deciding to return to the surface out of sheer boredom. With each floor she ascended, her boredom intensified. After climbing several levels, her gaze swept across the worn floors and walls when suddenly, a small bag on the ground captured her attention.

  For a moment, her thoughts stalled upon seeing the bag—as if something deep within urged her to investigate. An unusual energy emanated from it, a combination of magical and spiritual forces. Yet resisting curiosity proved easier than surrendering to that pull. Shaking her head dismissively, she continued onward.

  Creeping boredom continued to consume her thoughts. "This is truly tedious," she sighed softly. "Even after losing my magic, my physical strength remains formidable. No one can stand against me when I wield my Spiritual sword." Her voice barely echoed in the silent dungeon.

  Exiting the dungeon, a desperate voice caught her attention near the entrance:

  "Please, I'm begging you!"

  Turning her gaze, Mirai saw a young man around nineteen years old, with disheveled white hair and anxious eyes, pleading desperately with a group of adventurers who appeared utterly indifferent to his distress.

  "My bag. It's extremely important! I can't leave it behind!" the young man begged with increasing desperation.

  One member of the group, a sharp-featured man with short black hair, sighed with obvious irritation. "I can't risk going back there. We barely survived this time."

  Another member, a young man with prominent eyes, added harshly, "You were nothing but a hindrance the entire way. We suffered because of you. You're the worst healer I've ever encountered!"

  The sole woman in the group said contemptuously, "You can't defend, attack, or even heal yourself. Have you lost your mind thinking you could ever succeed as an adventurer?"

  The trio walked away, ignoring the young man's desperate pleas. They seemed utterly unconcerned with his plight. Mirai, silently observing the scene, recalled the bag she had noticed inside the dungeon. However, she showed no particular interest and continued toward the city.

  ---

  Returning to the inn, Mirai reclined on the bed, her thoughts drifting back to the bag she had seen. Something about it felt peculiar—a mysterious sensation that continued to haunt her. She stared at the ceiling, attempting to analyze the strange feeling that had swept over her when she first glimpsed it.

  "What was emanating from that bag?" she whispered softly. "An unusual energy—a blend of magical and spiritual forces. But what truly disturbed me was the intensity of that spiritual energy. It surpassed even my own when wielding my Spiritual sword. How could something like that belong to an ordinary young man?"

  Her memory returned to the white-haired youth desperately begging the adventurers to retrieve his possession. His weary gaze lingered vividly in her mind, his trembling voice speaking as though his entire existence depended on that bag. No one else had seemed to care, but Mirai felt differently. "That bag must hold greater significance than it appears."

  Slowly, the idea of returning to the dungeon took root in her mind. The energy surrounding that bag was anything but ordinary—and she knew that ignoring it was no longer an option.

  ---

  The following morning, with dawn's first light creeping across the sky, Mirai stood once again before the dungeon entrance. She noticed the white-haired young man lying beside the cold stone wall, his features etched with exhaustion, his sleep clearly uncomfortable.

  Mirai drew a deep breath and passed him quietly, her steps calm and purposeful. She entered the dark corridors where silence reigned and tension hung thick in the air.

  She descended through several floors with practiced ease. When she reached the location where she had previously seen the bag, she paused. It remained there—untouched.

  This time, she decided to investigate more closely. Drawing her concealed sword for caution, she placed her hand gently on the bag. Its texture was rough, and it proved unexpectedly heavy. When she attempted to lift it, shock flashed across her features—it was far heavier than any ordinary bag should be.

  She paused, surprise evident on her face. It made no sense for a simple bag to possess such weight.

  "What could this possibly contain? I can't even lift it," she whispered in disbelief, stepping back.

  She stood still for a moment, processing the situation. Eventually, she decided to leave the bag and return to the surface. But now, her curiosity had transformed into something undeniable.

  As she exited the dungeon, she saw the young man who had been sleeping earlier. He now sat upright, looking even more exhausted than before. His eyes brimmed with worry as he rubbed them slowly, not yet aware of her presence.

  Mirai stopped, observing him briefly. Then she approached quietly and spoke in a soft voice, "Good morning."

  He lifted his head slowly, tired eyes meeting hers with surprise.

  "Good morning," he replied faintly, clearly startled by her approach.

  Mirai regarded him calmly. "Yesterday I heard you speaking with your companions about a certain bag. I saw it while returning to the surface. It seemed important to you. Would you like me to help retrieve it?"

  The young man froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. He remained speechless at first. After a moment of stunned silence, he finally replied, his voice trembling slightly, "You... You'll help me? Truly?" His words quavered as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening. "I didn't expect anyone would offer assistance."

  After collecting himself, he added with concern, "You just emerged from the dungeon. Aren't you tired?"

  Mirai smiled confidently. "I have more than enough strength. I reached the twenty-fifth floor alone. Your bag is on the tenth floor."

  A spark of hope illuminated the young man's eyes. "Thank you. I truly need to recover that bag."

  Mirai studied his exhausted features, attempting to gauge his sincerity, then asked, "What's your name? I'm Mirai."

  "I'm Hikari. Pleased to meet you, Mirai-san," he replied with a respectful bow.

  "Let's go," Mirai said simply.

  Hikari hesitated slightly, as if something held him back. She could see uncertainty in his eyes before he said quietly, "Excuse me, Mirai-san, but there's something I should tell you. I can't fight."

  She gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I can protect you. Do you have any magic?"

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  He nodded. "Yes, I possess healing magic."

  Mirai smirked faintly and muttered to herself, "Well, it's not like I can benefit from it anyway."

  She began walking toward the entrance, speaking with calm assurance: "Just stay behind me. I'll handle any monsters."

  Hikari nodded once more and followed quietly. They descended through the twisting corridors, Mirai leading while Hikari remained close behind. Whenever they encountered monsters, Mirai would raise her sword and strike them down without hesitation. Her raw power and precision left Hikari watching in awe—his only role was to remain within the protective space she carved out.

  Eventually, they reached the tenth floor. Mirai stood once again before the bag and turned to Hikari. "Is this what you were looking for?"

  Hikari's face brightened with relief, his eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Yes, that's it exactly."

  He stepped forward confidently, placed his hands on the bag, and—surprisingly—lifted it effortlessly, as if it weighed nothing at all. Mirai stood frozen for a moment, her expression betraying her shock. How could he lift something she herself couldn't even budge?

  But she said nothing, simply observing in silence. Once Hikari had confirmed the bag's contents were intact, he turned to her with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Mirai-san. I owe you a great debt."

  "It's fine. Let's return to the surface," she replied, her earlier surprise already fading.

  The two began ascending through the floors. Hikari carried the bag while Mirai scanned their surroundings with sharp vigilance. After climbing several levels, Mirai began to sense something wrong. She whispered to herself, "Something's not right."

  Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet erupted with strange light—before a magical vortex exploded beneath them. In an instant, both were swallowed into its depths, unable to react in time.

  When consciousness returned, a foul stench assaulted their nostrils. The place was entirely unfamiliar—surrounded by blackened stone and cracked walls on every side.

  Before them stood savage monsters, their red eyes blazing with ferocity.

  In a flash, the beasts charged, their footfalls echoing like thunder. But Mirai was faster—she drew her concealed blade and moved like a silent storm, cutting through the monsters with lethal grace. Within moments, they all lay slain, not a single scratch marring her form.

  Hikari stood behind her, utterly speechless. He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. Mirai's speed and strength transcended human limits. Monsters that typically required entire parties to defeat had fallen before her like wheat before a scythe.

  Once the battle concluded, she turned to him, her footsteps light against the rocky ground. Her focus never wavered as she asked calmly, "Do you know what just happened?"

  Still struggling to grasp their situation, Hikari replied anxiously, avoiding her gaze, "We've triggered a magical trap."

  Mirai raised an eyebrow. "A trap? I haven't encountered anything like that before. How does it work exactly?"

  Hikari hesitated momentarily, then drew a deep breath and explained, "It's called a Transfer Trap. It randomly relocates victims between floors. Fortune didn't favor us today—it sent us to one of the deeper levels."

  He raised his hand toward the monsters Mirai had just slain, adding with growing concern, "Judging by the creatures you just killed, we're probably on the forty-seventh floor." His voice carried a mixture of regret and anxiety.

  He stared at the ground briefly, then said quietly, his voice heavy with guilt, "I'm sorry. This happened because of me. If I hadn't—"

  Mirai cut him off decisively. "I offered to help you. There's no need for regret. We'll be fine. Just stay behind me." Her confidence remained unshakeable; nothing seemed capable of disturbing her composure. Then she asked, "Have you been to this floor before?"

  Hikari answered, "No. I've only studied texts about this dungeon. But I have information on all the monsters inhabiting each floor."

  "That will prove useful. Let's move," Mirai said.

  She advanced forward, her steps firm yet cautious. The forty-seventh floor was shrouded in suffocating darkness, where even the air felt oppressively heavy. The walls seemed to observe them with malevolent intent, and shadows writhed unnaturally across every surface. Yet none of it deterred Mirai, whose movements radiated purpose.

  Hikari followed in silence, eyes wide as he watched monsters fall beneath her blade as if they were mere phantoms. When they reached the fortieth floor, he suddenly spoke—his voice quiet yet laden with warning, "Stop."

  Mirai halted immediately, her eyes shifting calmly as she turned to regard him. "What is it?" she asked.

  Hikari answered with clear concern, his gaze fixed on the ground as if reading invisible warnings: "You need to exercise extreme caution. This floor is extraordinarily dangerous."

  Mirai raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet wary. "What dwells here?"

  Hikari drew a deep breath before replying, as if even speaking the name carried weight.

  "The boss of this floor is called the Flickering Phantom. A mysterious and lethal entity. It possesses the ability to move at unimaginable speeds, appearing and vanishing in an instant—making its location impossible to predict. It has killed many adventurers with single strikes. And worst of all, it can destroy weapons."

  Mirai felt a strange sensation stir deep within upon hearing that description. She paused briefly, her thoughts drifting toward a distant memory.

  She whispered to herself, "Its abilities bear striking resemblance to my younger brother's. But compared to him, this thing is merely a mindless beast. It shouldn't prove too difficult to defeat. Still, there's risk of injury."

  Despite acknowledging the danger, waves of excitement began coursing through her veins. A faint smirk curved her lips as she murmured internally:

  "Finally. Something interesting."

  Mirai stood tall and began walking forward with steady steps, showing no sign of hesitation. Hikari followed behind, his gaze filled with unease, tension mounting with every step.

  As they advanced, the atmosphere grew increasingly ominous—air thick with malevolent energy. The walls were veiled in black mist that crept slowly, almost seeming alive. The temperature plummeted, a bone-chilling cold settling over everything.

  Then, without warning, the attack came.

  A rapid blur zipped past Mirai, narrowly missing her core but still grazing her right arm—leaving a shallow cut and tearing her sleeve.

  Mirai glanced at the wound briefly, then muttered in self-criticism, "My reflexes have dulled."

  When she looked up, she beheld the entity responsible for the attack.

  Before her stood the Flickering Phantom—a shadowy specter cloaked in thick black fog. Its form wasn't fully materialized; it flickered in and out of reality like a mirage. Its eyes glowed like malevolent stars in a pitch-black sky, emitting a baleful gleam that pierced the darkness.

  It towered over two meters tall, its elongated, slender frame resembling a terrifying shadow that moved weightlessly through space. Luminous streaks of light pulsed chaotically within its form, as though reality itself bent around its presence.

  Mirai inhaled deeply, tightening her grip on her sword. She knew that one mistake here could prove fatal. But her eyes blazed with unshakeable confidence—eyes that had never known true fear.

  She pointed her blade toward the Phantom, which vanished instantly. In the blink of an eye, it materialized directly behind her.

  But Mirai proved faster.

  With a sharp pivot, she spun and blocked the attack with her blade. Another strike followed—but she parried, again and again. The Phantom moved as a blur, appearing and disappearing like an illusion made manifest.

  In the final exchange, her blade struck true—but the ordinary sword wasn't strong enough to withstand the force. It shattered into pieces.

  Mirai paused briefly, her expression remaining calm despite the loss. Without missing a beat, she reached into her left kimono sleeve and drew her Spiritual sword.

  For a moment, disappointment flickered across her features.

  Then she sighed, "What a shame. I got excited for nothing."

  In an unexpected turn, Mirai vanished from sight—just like the Phantom.

  Hikari could only stare, frozen in place. Everything had transpired in a heartbeat.

  The Phantom, wrapped in its thick fog, suddenly split in two.

  The fog dissolved as if it had never existed. The last sound was the faint whisper of steel slicing through air—before Mirai calmly sheathed her blade, as if completing a mundane task.

  She turned to face Hikari, who remained overcome with shock, his mind struggling to process what had just occurred. With a quiet voice, as though nothing remarkable had happened, she said:

  "Come on, let's head to the next floor."

  Hikari stared at her for several seconds, unable to believe what he had witnessed. Finally, he managed to speak—his voice tinged with wonder and admiration:

  "That was incredible, Mirai-san. Are you an S-rank adventurer?"

  Mirai replied simply, "No. I'm ranked B."

  Hikari's eyes widened as he watched her walk away with calm steps. "She's stronger than any S-rank adventurer I've ever seen. There's no way she's only B-rank."

  A sense of relief washed over him as he added silently: "I really am fortunate she agreed to help me."

  Mirai continued toward the next floor, glancing down at her left arm as she whispered to herself:

  "I won't be able to use my Spiritual sword for much longer. I'll have to rely on physical strength alone."

  As Mirai walked on, Hikari bent down and retrieved a small, shimmering diamond that had dropped from the Phantom. He then caught up to her, pulling a sword from his bag.

  "Excuse me, Mirai-san," he called out.

  Mirai turned slightly. "What is it?"

  He held out the sword toward her. "Here—please use this. Since yours broke."

  Surprised, Mirai accepted the weapon. "Where did you get this?"

  "I keep spare swords in my bag," Hikari answered.

  He then noticed the cut on her right arm and said, "Wait—let me heal that wound."

  Mirai gave a soft smile and pulled her arm away, replying gently, "Don't worry. It's just a small cut."

  Still, he insisted, concern evident in his voice, "But the wound could worsen if left untreated."

  Mirai responded calmly and reassuringly, "I appreciate your concern. But I have my own methods for handling injuries. Really—there's no need to worry."

  She turned again and resumed walking without hesitation, leaving Hikari standing there in slight confusion. Something in her response felt strange, but he had no choice except to follow.

  Over the next few hours, they climbed through several more floors. Every enemy they encountered fell instantly beneath Mirai's blade—as if they posed no threat whatsoever. Everything proceeded with surreal ease.

  Then, on the fifth floor, they stopped.

  Lying ahead were four adventurers, their bodies bloodied and covered in deep wounds.

  Hikari cautiously stepped forward, knelt to examine them, and spoke with deep concern:

  "Three have passed. But one still lives. He's in critical condition. Please, Mirai-san—give me a moment to heal him."

  He knelt beside the wounded man, gently placed his hands on the man's chest, closed his eyes, and focused his energy. His hands began glowing with soft golden light, radiating warm magical energy.

  As Hikari concentrated, Mirai felt something stir within her—an uncomfortable, unsettling sensation triggered by Hikari's energy.

  The golden light enveloped the injured man's body, and in an instant, his wounds vanished without a trace.

  Mirai couldn't hide her astonishment. Something about that energy made her deeply uneasy.

  Moments later, the adventurer slowly regained consciousness, his eyes darting around until he realized where he was. Then, suddenly, he bolted upright in panic:

  "We need to run now!"

  Hikari asked, alarmed, "What happened?"

  The man's voice trembled, his face pale with terror. "A demon. A killing demon appeared!"

  Hikari was stunned. Before he could react, the adventurer added quickly, "He slaughtered my team in the blink of an eye. There's no time—we have to escape!"

  At that very moment, Mirai sensed danger. A bolt of lightning struck toward her with incredible speed, but she dodged with agile grace.

  Before her stood a tall figure with black hair and glowing red eyes. He clapped slowly, his voice dripping with mockery:

  "Impressive, you dodged my attack. Seems you possess decent reflexes, girl."

  The surviving adventurer fled the moment he saw the demon. Meanwhile, Hikari, voice trembling, pleaded, "We have to run. We can't win against a demon."

  But Mirai ignored him completely, stepping forward with unwavering confidence, her gaze locked onto the demon. He laughed loudly, taunting:

  "Don't think you're powerful just because you dodged once."

  Mirai smiled coldly, her eyes gleaming with a dark red glow. In a calm, confident tone, she declared:

  "You're merely a low-tier demon. One swing of my sword will erase you from existence."

  Her words struck a nerve. The demon's expression twisted with rage. Hikari stood frozen behind her, torn between fleeing and staying. He tried to convince himself to run. But deep down, he couldn't abandon her.

  The demon advanced with heavy, thunderous steps, his glowing red eyes brimming with bloodlust. The air around him began to boil with dark magic. In response, Mirai calmly placed Hikari's sword on the ground and quietly drew her Spiritual sword from her sleeve.

  The moment she unsheathed it, the demon felt an unfamiliar chill ripple through his bones. His steps froze mid-motion, as if his strength had suddenly abandoned him.

  "Why did you stop?" Mirai asked coldly, her eyes gleaming with terrifying light. Her face remained unreadable—a perfect balance between deadly serenity and absolute confidence.

  Fear flickered across the demon's features. Attempting to cling to his courage, he hurled lightning and fire magic at her.

  The attacks struck directly.

  Yet she didn't fall. She didn't even flinch.

  She kept walking—completely unfazed, as if her body rejected all forms of magic.

  Dark clouds gathered above the demon's head as he watched in horror. He muttered to himself, "For a moment, I sensed something monstrous from her."

  Then, with a stuttering voice trembling in disbelief, he asked, "What are you?"

  Mirai didn't answer immediately. Her footsteps echoed with eerie rhythm, drawing inexorably closer. The demon's heartbeat pounded wildly as she neared. And finally, she smiled.

  A slow, cold smile.

  "I hope," she said, "you're not as boring as the rest of the monsters here."

  The demon stiffened, suddenly certain this woman posed a genuine threat. Desperately, he cast every element at his disposal—fire, lightning, wind. The dungeon roared with the chaos of his spells. But Mirai continued forward, unaffected, crushing summoned beasts beneath her feet like fallen leaves.

  In a final, panicked attempt, he summoned a horde of creatures—black-skinned hounds, clattering skeletal warriors armed with rusted blades. They encircled him defensively, awaiting her approach.

  But in the blink of an eye, they were gone. Erased. As if they had never existed.

  The demon's face twisted in disbelief.

  "This can't be happening. My magic. My summons. Nothing is working."

  Then sudden realization struck. His eyes widened, and he whispered to himself, "If magic doesn't affect her, why did she dodge my first attack?"

  A sly smirk crept across his face. "She looked confident when she drew that sword. If I'm right, maybe I still have a chance."

  He stepped back rapidly, gathering all his remaining magic, summoning another wave of monsters and launching every spell he possessed—nonstop. Lightning cracked, fire exploded, wind howled. Mirai pressed forward, destroying every monster in her path. But exhaustion began showing in her eyes.

  Finally, after eliminating the last creature, she paused to catch her breath.

  The demon didn't hesitate.

  He summoned a massive beast, its size dwarfing the entire chamber. "I forged it from the souls of the dead. You cannot win now!" he shouted triumphantly.

  As Mirai prepared to deliver her final blow, something unexpected happened—her sword vanished from her hand.

  Her strength was nearly depleted.

  And in that vulnerable moment, the monster lunged—its attack piercing through her defenses.

  "This is my chance!" the demon roared, merging fire and lightning into a blazing sphere of destruction, hurling it straight at her.

  Time seemed to slow as Mirai stared at the approaching attack.

  "If that hits me, I might not survive. I need to move!"

  But just before impact, a massive diamond shimmered into existence before her like a divine shield. The blast struck it, triggering a deafening explosion.

  The diamond shattered.

  But from its fragments, subtle warmth flowed into Mirai's body. With that final surge of energy, she summoned her Spiritual sword one last time.

  Her next strike was fast, precise—and devastating.

  In a single motion, she destroyed the beast and cleaved the demon in two.

  As his form faded into nothingness, Mirai felt her strength leaving her. Her sword disappeared once again, and her body trembled from exhaustion. She barely remained standing.

  "I was careless," she muttered, gasping for air. "I could have ended this much sooner. Father was right. This recklessness could get me killed."

  She glanced down at her wound, sighing softly. "At least it didn't hit anything vital. I can close this."

  Just then, Hikari rushed to her side.

  "Don't worry, I'll heal you," he said urgently.

  "I'm fine," she replied. "Let's leave before more arrive." Then added sincerely:

  "By the way, thank you. That diamond you threw. It saved my life."

  "I'll start healing now," Hikari said, raising his hands gently, his expression focused with determination.

  Mirai sighed. "It won't work."

  But Hikari softly whispered an incantation. Radiant golden light emerged from his hands, enveloping the area in warm luminescence.

  Mirai felt something strange stir within her. She turned her face away, eyes closed, resisting the unfamiliar sensation.

  After a moment, the spell concluded.

  She opened her eyes slowly—staring in utter disbelief. Her wounds were gone. Completely healed. Not even a scar remained.

  She looked at Hikari, who stood smiling softly, his eyes shining with quiet relief.

  "I'm glad you're okay," he said simply.

  "What just happened? How did my wounds vanish so quickly?" Her voice trembled with shock.

  "I told you before," Hikari replied calmly. "I use healing magic."

  Mirai kept staring at him, stunned. "I've witnessed healing magic before, but never like this. No scars. No pain. You're truly something extraordinary."

  Hikari flushed slightly at the compliment. A shy smile graced his lips.

  "Thank you. I'm happy I could help."

  But suddenly, sharp pain struck him. He nearly lost his balance but concealed it quickly before she noticed.

  Without a word, Mirai turned toward the rusted gate. "Let's go."

  Hikari followed, dragging his feet slightly but maintaining pace.

  As they walked, thoughts churned in Mirai's mind:

  "Nothing should be able to heal me. This boy, he's not ordinary. His healing magic is fundamentally different."

  Simultaneously, Hikari was lost in his own thoughts, his chest pounding.

  "What just happened? I've never drained this much energy before. Her injuries weren't that severe, but I used more than half my strength."

  They continued in contemplative silence until reaching the surface.

  Hikari stopped, looking at her with quiet admiration. "I don't know how to thank you, Mirai-san. For everything."

  Mirai stopped and turned to him, her tone serious: "No thanks necessary. But I do want something from you."

  Hikari's eyes widened with concern. "What is it?"

  "I want you to form a party with me," she said, offering a faint smile.

  Stunned, Hikari shook his head. "Are you certain? I'm weak. You've seen it yourself. I can't fight or even defend myself. And worst of all, I can't heal myself."

  She regarded him with firm conviction. "That's not true. I've never seen healing like yours. Fast. Clean. No scars. It's rare—extremely rare."

  He hesitated, doubt lingering in his eyes. "If you really think I could be useful..."

  She cut him off decisively. "I'm certain. I can attack and defend. And with your healing, we'll be stronger together. Don't underestimate yourself."

  Something new stirred in Hikari's heart—confidence.

  With a small smile and eyes full of resolve, he declared:

  "All right. I'll join your party. I'll do my best not to be a burden."

  Mirai smiled softly, saying nothing more.

  And so, a team was born:

  Mirai—the exiled demon princess. Hikari—the outcast healer.

  Both cast aside by the world. And both needing each other to survive it.

  (End of Chapter 1)

  Thank you so much for reading Chapter 1.2!

  I'm really excited to share more of this story with you. Today, I’ll be releasing Chapters 2, 3, and 4, so stay tuned!

  And tomorrow… Chapter 5 will be published as well.