Chapter 3: The Arrival of the Flame-Bearer

When Anselm woke, Hitana was still sprawled on his chest, sleeping soundly with soft snores.

Having battled from eleven last night until six this morning, Anselm hadn’t slept and Hitana had only fallen asleep ten minutes ago.

The room’s self-cleaning spell activated, instantly dispelling the lingering scent of the night and releasing a faint, calming fragrance.

The spell could have run continuously, but Hitana seemed to love that scent.

After cleaning once, she’d blushed and asked Anselm not to purify it again.

Sometimes, our young Lord Hydra wondered whether Hitana’s lack of restraint stemmed from her youthful desires or if her beastly soul, with Anselm’s influence, had deliberately developed such intense needs.

Hard to say, but raising the topic with Hitana would likely earn him a flurry of embarrassed punches from the shy girl.

Even if Anselm found it curious, he welcomed it wholeheartedly.

He wasn’t normal… well, he wasn’t human and his greed for desire was never stated.

Since his personal maids hadn’t returned and Anselm didn’t accept the manor’s maids’ service, he changed clothes himself, leaned down to kiss Hitana, and left the bedroom.

Today’s schedule would likely be hectic and unsuitable for Hitana, so it was perfect for her to sleep and rest.

“I contacted the Ether Academy in advance. After that message was released, even with fate’s interference, Mingfuluo won’t sit still.”

The Hydra, ready to unfold his wicked plan, chuckled softly: “Don’t disappoint me in two days, Mingfuluo.”

“This time, it’s not like three years ago.”

In truth, Anselm’s initial target wasn’t Hitana, but Mingfuluo.

Three years ago, at thirteen, his plan to defy fate had taken shape.

Thinking himself fully prepared, he’d targeted Mingfuluo, but the result…

From Anselm’s perspective, it was an utter failure.

That attempt three years ago made Anselm realize fate’s daunting power.

Fortunately, he awoke at the last moment, changed his plan, abandoned training Mingfuluo and laid groundwork for future endeavors.

Anselm then left the Imperial Capital, traveling between Hydra’s territory and various parts of the Empire, building his network, biding his time, and refining his rebellion against fate.

Two months ago, the plan officially began.

Among the training plans for four heroes, Hitana’s was the simplest and easiest to execute.

Beyond her talent, she had nothing, and her experiences were the most tragic of the four.

The other three: Mingfuluo had Babel Tower’s backing, seemingly walking a tightrope but wielding resources unimaginable to Hitana, with a personality harder to manipulate; the Concordant Church’s saintess wandered the world, hard to locate and extremely tricky, requiring even Anselm to prepare thoroughly.

As for the last, the Revolutionary Army’s future spiritual leader, the great hero destined to topple the Empire…

In the burned memories of this “game,” she occupied most of them, so Anselm saved this hardest target for last.

As the young Hydra mentally reviewed his plan, descending the staircase, he heard a lively call.

“Anselm!”

Elnilisa, in a plain dress, stood on the landing below, waving at Anselm: “Have breakfast with Mommy!”

“…Alright, Mother.”

Anselm, descending, was grabbed by the arm.

The mature Lady Hydra patted his shoulder, chuckling softly:

“How was last night? Since that girl’s the Head of Strength, she must match you pretty well. Oh, I think Hitana’s figure is perfect for childbearing. When I bathed her last night, I didn’t notice at first, but her hips are so round and full, you can’t tell just by looking…”

Anselm listened to his mother’s chatter, occasionally responding with a smile but mostly staying silent.

“Oh, speaking of…”

Elnilisa touched her cheek: “Since Anselm’s back, visitors keep piling up. Lianyi said there are over twenty letters requesting meetings. Anselm, have you decided who to see? Or none? I can have Lianyi reject them all…”

“Before those letters.”

Anselm said calmly: “Someone will come first.”

“…Hm? Oh!” Elnilisa realized, “You mean that girl Ivora? With her personality… showing up this morning isn’t surprising.”

Their conversation ended when a maid hurried over, bowing to Anselm and Elnilisa:

“Young Master, Madam, Her Highness the Grand Princess has arrived.”

“She’s as whirlwind-like as ever…”

Lady Hydra pouted, not out of dislike for the Grand Princess but because her arrival likely meant missing breakfast with her son.

“Anselm, not going to greet Ivora?” Elnilisa tilted her head.

“No need, because she’ll—”

Before Anselm finished, a brilliant crimson flame flared in the wide corridor.

The flames wove intricate, ornate patterns, forming a fiery red dress.

A snow-white foot in red high heels stepped out, lightly touching the ground.

“Long time no see, Anselm.”

A proud voice emerged from the flames, a stunningly beautiful face appearing, smiling at Anselm: “You’ve grown stronger and found a remarkably talented Contract Head. Excellent.”

“You’ve made great strides in the Flame-Feasting practice, Your Highness.”

Anselm bowed slightly: “Long time no see, Your Highness.”

“Just call me by name… Oh, Madam, I almost forgot to greet you.”

The Empire’s Grand Princess flicked her fiery red hair: “It’s been a while.”

Elnilisa curtsied gracefully: “I’m the one who’s been remiss, Your Highness. I’ll leave you and Anselm to catch up and take my leave.”

“Go.”

Ivora said casually, then fixed her burning gaze on Anselm’s face.

“Haven’t had breakfast?” she asked.

“No.”

“Good, then come to my palace.” Ivora grabbed Anselm’s wrist without a second thought, ready to drag him off.

But the young Hydra stepped back, easily dodging her grip, saying gently: “Sorry, Your Highness, I prefer dining at home.”

“Your home’s not even… fine.”

Ivora’s brows furrowed briefly but soon relaxed: “It’s just a meal, no matter. Let’s go.”

They walked side by side, Ivora occasionally glancing at Anselm, her eyes growing more satisfied.

“Your Contract Head,” she said suddenly, “Hitana Lansmarlos, where is she?”

“Resting.”

“Resting… oh~”

The woman’s lips curved upward, reaching to tease Anselm’s chin: “You were impressive enough three years ago. Wonder how you are now.”

“Your Highness,” Anselm gently deflected her hand, “please don’t say such easily misunderstood things.”

“Ha, your little maid told me that, not my fault.”

Ivora seemed in high spirits: “You don’t know how delighted her response made me. Anselm… I always thought you were a true emotionless monster. Her answer showed me you still have desires, strong ones at that.”

“Hydra can’t escape desire’s grasp.”

“…Hmph.”

The Grand Princess glanced at him: “You don’t look at it.”

They chatted idly as they reached the dining room.

Ivora unceremoniously took the main seat, crossing her legs and sizing up the dishes with a slight nod:

“Not bad… I never doubt your taste, Anselm.”

Anselm picked up his knife and fork, his expression calm: “Your Highness, what brings you here so urgently?”

“What?”

Ivora raised an eyebrow, pulling her chair closer, resting her long leg on Anselm’s, her high heel dangling at the tip, revealing a pale pink sole.

“I’m the next Empress, you’re the next Hydra.”

She propped her cheek with one hand: “Do I need a reason to see you?”

The connection between Empress and Hydra was, in some ways, nearly as profound as that between Hydra and Contract Head.

Anselm sipped clear liquor, saying calmly: “Because Your Highness isn’t the type to visit just because. You always have a need, don’t you?”

“Hm…”

Ivora kicked off her heel, her foot slowly rubbing Anselm’s thigh.

Propping her chin, she nodded with satisfaction: “You know me well.”

She casually speared a piece of steak with her fork, chewing without noble etiquette, half-closing her eyes to savor the food.

“Not bad… Anselm, did you bring your chef?”

“Mother knew I was coming and had Old Mofur arrive at the mansion early.”

“…Madam truly cares for you.”

Ivora pursed her lips, glossing her blood-red lips with a sheen.

After finishing the steak, she withdrew her legs, crossing them again: “Now, let’s talk business.”

“About your Contract Head,” Ivora narrowed her eyes, “what’s her deal?”

“You’re curious, Your Highness?”

“I wasn’t at first.”

She examined her long nails, sparks flickering in her eyes.

“But that old hag’s words made me curious.”

“Calling Her Majesty that isn’t wise, Your Highness,” Anselm methodically cut his steak, “it harms your mother-daughter bond.”

“Ha, a mother-daughter bond? Anselm, not everyone’s as lucky as you with such a normal predecessor.”

Ivora sneered: “At the end of her life, instead of dedicating herself to the Empire, she clings to life like a rat, hiding in the Source Flame, seeking every way to prolong her existence.”

“Does such a wretch deserve to be my mother?”

Flame-Feasting Royalty, Dragon Clan, Callers of the Deep, Hydra.

Among these four divine races, only Hydra was singularly inherited.

In the other three, each generation randomly produced one heir with Tier 6 potential.

Like Hydra, these Tier 6 heirs were born at the pinnacle of extraordinaries, inherently Tier 6, though they still needed to gather the full energy from Tier 1 to Tier 6.

Each divine race had methods to transfer a generation’s full energy to the next Tier 6 heir, typically at life’s end, meaning… divine races could achieve seamless Tier 6 succession.

When one Tier 6 died, a new one, absorbing their vast energy, would rise.

This was why… young Anselm once said the Empire could never be destroyed by violence.

The generational succession of Empress and Hydra, both Tier 6, could crush any instability.

The Flame-Feasting Royalty’s succession was simple: the dying Empress cast themselves into Anticheg’s Source Flame, burning to extract their energy into the crown.

The next Empress, upon wearing it, instantly became Tier 6.

But in this generation… there was a problem.

Ephithand Flame, the current Empress, was… resisting death.

In the last decade of her rule, she grew increasingly tyrannical, disregarding the Empire, forcing the current Hydra, Flamel, to devise potions and secretly seeking ways to survive her chaos and madness.

Meanwhile, Grand Princess Ivora, both capable and ambitious, had set her sights beyond the Tianlu Mountain Range, on the vast lands the Empire hadn’t touched, determined to conquer the entire continent in her lifetime.

A decaying, death-defying Empress; an ambitious, power-hungry princess.

Their conflict was so intense it was nearly irreconcilable.

If not for the fact that only one Tier 6 heir could be born per generation, Ephithand might have killed Ivora outright.

“At that time,” Ivora’s eyes burned as she looked at Anselm, “when she learned you had a Contract Head capable of bearing two Contract Head powers… she got unnaturally excited and said something.”

“What did Her Majesty say?”

“She said the abyss lies in your palm.”

Anselm couldn’t help but laugh: “Her Majesty jests. Is she saying I hold the power to control the abyss?”

The young Hydra spread his hands: “Your Highness, do you believe that? The abyss, the essence of power—something I could control?”

“If I had mastered it, would I still need any Contract Head?”

“Of course I don’t believe it, so I think she’s nearly gone completely mad.”

Ivora said as much: “You should be cautious. Though Flamel is strong, his condition is worsening, and you know that better than I do.”

“Besides…” the woman paused, “even if I don’t believe her words, I feel… there’s something off about your Contract Head.”

She tapped the table lightly with her index finger: “Becoming Hydra’s Contract Head means bearing part of Hydra’s chaotic essence. If you add one more, it’s not as simple as one plus one. Otherwise, in the Empire’s thousand-year history, why has no one ever withstood two Contract Head powers?”

Anselm smiled: “Hitana is simply strong enough.”

“Simply… strong enough?” Ivora glanced at him, chuckling softly, “Fine, if you won’t say, I’ll take it as that.”

She lazily draped her leg over Anselm’s again: “The important business is done. The rest can wait. Recent events… oh, right, I heard Mingfuluo fell out with you?”

“She just didn’t recognize her place.”

“Ha, that’s because you were too good to her three years ago.”

Ivora laughed gleefully: “The great Hydra chasing after a mere talented sorceress… Though you proved you didn’t misjudge, I still can’t figure it out… what you were thinking back then.”

“Who knows? Even I can’t figure out what I was thinking three years ago.”

Anselm continued eating leisurely: “Maybe I liked her a bit, who can say.”

“Liked her?”

Ivora raised an eyebrow, her tender foot sliding toward a certain spot, growing hot and scalding.

“That’s your type? No wonder you’re not interested in me.”

“It’s only because Hydra and Flame-Feasting, though close, must maintain a certain distance, Your Highness.”

“No such rule exists.”

Ivora scoffed: “Just weaklings afraid of chaos deluding themselves.”

At this, she paused, her tone turning fiery:

“Anselm… when we take our thrones, won’t you consider bearing an heir with me?”

The Grand Princess’s voice carried expectation, desire, fervor, and a near-tangible ambition, but not a trace of affection for Anselm.

—Nor for the potential child.

“An heir is the most important thing in life for both you and me, Your Highness.”

Having finished breakfast, Anselm wiped his mouth: “You’d better think it over carefully.”

“…Heh, no rush. Don’t worry, to keep you tempted, I’ll preserve something as meaningless as virginity.”

Seeing no reaction from Anselm, her expression soured briefly but soon reverted to her haughty, regal demeanor.

Ivora kicked her foot, saying to Anselm: “Put my shoe back on.”

Anselm looked at her in surprise, then took her ankle, sighing as he moved it aside:

“You’re not young anymore, Your Highness. Don’t act like a child.”

With that, he stood, bowing slightly to Ivora: “I have much to handle this time. If Your Highness has no further business, I’ll take my leave. No need to see you out.”

“Hmph, hmph… hahaha!”

Ivora’s laughter was wild and unrestrained. Her form vanished in a flare of flames, reappearing instantly before Anselm.

“Anselm, Anselm…”

She licked her lips, the fire of desire in her eyes nearly consuming Anselm entirely.

“You’re truly the thing I want most, besides this entire world.”

“I’m already looking forward to the thrill of burning your chaos and pain.”

The Grand Princess laughed heartily, planting a deep kiss on Anselm’s throat before vanishing in a burst of flames.

Anselm touched his throat, watching the lingering embers in the dining room air, shaking his head lightly.

If this ambitious, fiery Grand Princess knew how miserably and laughably she’d die in the future, her rightful throne stolen by the one she despised most… how would she react?

“Quite willful, but…”

The wicked Hydra chuckled softly: “It’s exactly because you’re like this that I look forward to that moment.”

“Imagine… who will save you then?”

In Anselm’s plan, the four heroes were paramount, the key to changing the world and toppling the Empire.

Yet his grand plan included many parts, training those not pivotal but still impactful.

After all, useful resources shouldn’t be wasted.

A competent villain should seize every significant bargaining chip, shouldn’t they?

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