The dinner had taken a strange turn. Luke had come prepared for an uncomfortable conversation, but not for this. On one hand, he was still curious about how a family of half puppet assassins actually worked. On the other, this felt like a scene out of some bizarre movie he had half watched at three in the morning.

His eyes flicked to the maid. Right. Not exactly a puppet, more like a living android.

She looked at him briefly, then lowered her gaze again.

Erza spoke quietly, almost as if the thought had been sitting on her tongue for years. "It's a sad thing to be a human doll. Puppets feel no attraction to anything whose soul isn't also a puppet. So even though Anne looks like one of them, the puppets don't want her. And my dear sister doesn't want them either, her soul's human. That's why she wants to kill me. She's trapped in a cursed body she doesn't even find beautiful, her human emotions smothered, never finding anyone to love and never able to love for real. It's tragic, isn't it?"

Her eyes flicked down to her hands. "She's my eternal servant, forced to watch me eat, sleep, scratch my back, yawn, drink water, take a hot bath, take a cold one. All these banal little things she'll never do. She'll cook a meal that tastes incredible but never know its flavor."

Luke froze mid bite, fork hovering just short of his mouth. Slowly, he set it down.

"That's a little family secret of mine," Erza went on, her tone brightening as though she had just told a mildly amusing anecdote. "Our double receives a mirrored system. We're soul twins. It's not under their control, it's a reflection. When I level up, the double levels up. As I age, her body ages. But…"

She fixed him with her eyes. "I have a bloodline skill. Not one I was born with, but one the god passed down to me, or rather, to her. He gave her a system of her own."

Her elbows rested on the table, chin propped on her hands, her smile almost playful. "The doll is free. Free to level up, take professions, classes, awaken a second one someday. Because her mission is to kill me."

Luke sat back, weighing the words. This was powerful, dangerous information, and Erza Grimhart was handing it to him like she was talking about the weather.

"Do you know why I told you that?" she asked.

"I'm guessing it's not just because we've become friends," he replied evenly. A part of him already sensed where this was headed.

Erza's smile sharpened. "That knight woman traveling with you. She's a bit like my sister, isn't she? Special enough, maybe, to have her own system."

Luke went still for a heartbeat but forced his expression neutral. "Charlie? No. She's not special like your sister."

"Lying... is bad," murmured the maid.

Great. And here I was starting to feel sorry for you.

Erza took her wineglass, gave it a slow turn, and drank. "That's all I needed to know," she said at last. "Now you and I both have special secrets, see? This is the analytical power of a priestess raised by the Order of Assassins."

Luke glanced at the maid. A living lie detector. Perfect.

Erza's gaze flicked from the maid back to him. "You understand now there's no deceiving the two of us. Don't worry about your secret. I have no intention of using it against you. That's why I shared mine. In truth, I'm interested in you. Now we can discuss the real matter, your invitation to the Order of Assassins."

Luke couldn't lie, but he didn't need to tell her everything either. Erza didn't truly understand how his bloodline worked. She only knew that Charlie had a system, and that wasn't exactly rare. Everyone in this world had one. To her, Charlie was just another player with access to the same framework of power.

The real secret was far deeper. Charlie wasn't human. She was a monster, a skeleton, and Luke's bloodline allowed him to convert monsters into loyal servants. Erza might have her maids like any other noble, but his ability went beyond that. He could command monsters, bend their will, grant them a kind of pseudo immortality, and even unlock more of them as his lineage evolved. That card would stay hidden. Erza knowing that Charlie had a system wasn't a real threat.

"I want to ask you something," Luke said.

"More questions?" Her tone carried a hint of mockery.

He pushed his plate away, making it clear the dinner no longer interested him. "I want to know if you're actually planning to help me get everyone out of this tutorial."

She tilted her head, brow arching slightly. "I thought that was already clear in our agreement. I said I'd help finish the tutorial."

"I know," Luke replied. He leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. "But if, during the final battle, there's an option to escape through the portal, leave everyone else behind to fight the army, the Midnight Lord, the Witch, and the Midnight King, would you still help?"

That thought had been gnawing at him. The final mission came with a timer. What if the real goal was just to reach the castle's portal before time ran out? Maybe fighting the bosses wasn't mandatory at all, just like how the Orc Lord or the Beast Lord could be avoided if you were clever enough to sneak past.

"If it comes to that," Luke continued, "people like you and me could make it to the castle. But the other two thousand? They won't."

He'd always found ways around impossible fights. Sneaking, exploiting weaknesses, taking risks no sane person would. But this time, it wasn't just about him.

"So let me ask again," he said quietly. "If it happens that way, will you help me save them? Or will you just move forward?"

Erza set her fork down, her gaze steady. "If one of those two thousand were in our place, and we were the ones trapped back there, would they save us?"

The question cut clean through the air. Luke didn't even need to think.

"No," he said.

"Then you already know my answer," she replied.

He didn't judge her. It wasn't cruelty, it was pure pragmatism. Cold logic from someone who saw the world as it was, not as it should be. Still, Luke remembered someone who'd made the opposite choice. Someone who'd chosen to die so others could live. And he still carried that person's body inside his storage item, Angelica.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"I'm not doing it for them," he said finally. "I'm doing it for me."

He stood up. "Which means I can't afford to relax anymore."

"And where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"To figure out how to save two thousand people and take down three bosses on my own."

Erza sighed, weary but faintly amused. "Sit down. We're not finished."

The maid stepped closer, her presence soft but commanding.

"For me, we are," Luke said. "If you're not my ally, there's no reason for me to stay here. I'll head to the capital and handle things my own way."

Erza rose slightly, her voice calm but firm. "Sit. Please." She gestured toward the chair. "Just because I wouldn't throw my life away for two thousand weak people doesn't mean I'm not willing to turn two thousand weak people into ones strong enough to save themselves."

Luke glanced at the maid, who also pointed insistently to the chair. With a reluctant sigh, he sat back down.

"Thank you," Erza said, resuming her seat with a faint, knowing smile.

"So, does that mean I have your full cooperation?" Luke asked.

"It means what it means," Erza replied. "Nothing more than that."

Her gaze drifted upward, sweeping across the ceiling, the walls, the floor, as if she were studying the space around them, calculating something invisible. Then her eyes returned to him. "Can I talk to you about democracy and atomic bombs?"

That caught him completely off guard. Of all things, he hadn't expected that from her. It had nothing to do with what he wanted to discuss, and the idea of debating politics with Erza Grimhart was absurd enough to make him blink.

"Democracy is such a strange word," she said. "A system where the people govern by electing representatives. Sounds fair, doesn't it?"

"It is," Luke replied. "I come from a country that's run by democracy."

Erza gave a quiet, humorless laugh through her nose. "Let me ask you something. If I started painting a picture right now and then walked away from the canvas, leaving someone else to continue where I stopped, and then another person came, and another, and another… by the time eighteen people had taken turns, do you think we'd end up with a beautiful painting? Do you think the next person would be as skilled as I am? Would the final result still be my painting?"

Luke hesitated, then said, "No."

"That's the problem with democracy," she said flatly.

He frowned. "I'm not sure I understand where you're going with this." He watched her carefully, wondering if this was about the final battle or about the two thousand survivors they'd been discussing. But her expression didn't give anything away.

"The world I came from is ruled by a monarchy," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I was raised to rule my people. I was raised to paint a perfect masterpiece. Now, if you pit someone who's trained since childhood to be an artist against fifty people all trying to paint the same picture together, you and I both know which one will be better in the end. Monarchy outlasts democracy."

She turned the wine in her glass, the liquid catching the light.

"A prince is shaped from birth to lead, trained in the art of war, diplomacy, strategy, negotiation, politics, even assassination. That is true power. Especially in a world governed by the System."

Erza lifted her glass and took a slow sip, her eyes distant and cold, tinged with something that almost resembled melancholy.

"Your world is dying," she said quietly. "The old world is fading. Our universe is racing toward a new era, our own version of a Cold War."

Luke rested an elbow on the table, watching her in silence.

"In the past, nations with atomic bombs were untouchable," she continued. "But that era is gone. A missile can't even reach the upper atmosphere before breaking apart under mana exposure."

She swirled the wine in her glass. The lamplight caught the crimson liquid and danced across her golden eyes.

"In this new world, technology decays in seconds because it isn't born from mana. A wooden pencil from your old world, carved from an ordinary tree, would vanish here. But one made from a tree grown in a mana-rich forest would endure. Do you understand what I mean?"

Luke gave a faint nod. "Yeah. The obvious outcome, fewer people living in my 'world', more moving to yours. Until, eventually, my society just ends."

She nodded back, no trace of satisfaction in her expression.

The pieces were falling into place in his mind, echoes of what Samael had once told him. Erza wasn't talking about politics. She was talking about power, control, and civilizations rewritten by the System itself.

"Technology becomes obsolete next to the System's power," Luke said.

"Exactly." A faint smile touched her lips. "A small price to pay for being absorbed into it. That's why nations stopped investing in technology. Society froze in the twenty-first century. Why chase something destined to disappear? It's the same story as when candles gave way to electric light."

She set her glass down, her tone gaining momentum. "Now technology is being replaced by magic. No pollution. No collapsing ecosystems. No mass extinctions, human or otherwise. The System expanded our world so vastly that the largest planet in your solar system wouldn't even compare."

"And the small price," Luke murmured, "was locking everyone inside a medieval cage."

"The magic reshaped everything," she went on. "Animals, plants, even the soil itself. There are continents no one has ever mapped, monsters beyond counting, beings the size of mountains sleeping beneath the sea. That's what the System created. In this age, an atomic bomb doesn't protect a nation. People do."

She rose from her chair and walked toward the balcony. Outside, the torchlight from the Safe Zone flickered across the stone walls, casting restless shadows through the windows.

"People have become the most valuable resource," she said, gazing down at the streets below. "That's how the families of the World Government operate. We search for talent. We cultivate strength. Even someone at level one has value. After all, a soldier can't wield a sword without a blacksmith to forge it. The new arms race isn't about building another atomic bomb, it's about becoming one. The kings of this world are playing their own game."

Luke joined her, unhurried. The cold wind brushed his face, carrying the metallic tang of iron and smoke. On the horizon, the black castle loomed against the dark sky like a jagged crown.

"The ones in the World Government," he asked, "or all rulers?"

"The monarchs and their factions," she replied, turning toward him. "I'm the daughter of a princess, but my family is ruled by a queen. And these kings of the New World, they're not fighting for land or wealth. Their race is for the divine throne. Our universe doesn't have a god."

She turned her head just enough to meet his eyes. "What do you think will happen when one of them becomes God and gains the power to unleash an 'atomic bomb' as easily as you can fire your arrows?"

The question hit him like a stone. Dozens of possibilities tumbled through his mind, each darker than the last.

"Divine Orders don't exist just to worship a god blindly," Erza said, her voice steady, almost sharp. "They're ladders, faster ways to climb toward divinity."

Luke stayed silent, watching her. There was too much conviction in her tone to ignore, a weight behind every word that felt less like theory and more like law.

"No god from another universe can rule ours," she went on. "If they could, they already would have. We're on our own in this race. And don't fool yourself, the kings of this world are running hard. If one falters, another will take the crown. They knew that the moment they placed it on their heads. Right now, each one is feeding power into their faction. Mine, of course, is the Grimhart faction."

She stepped back inside, the lantern's glow catching in her dark hair like thin threads of steel. Luke noticed the glint in her eyes, pure ambition, fever-bright.

"You may not want to join me," she said, turning to face him fully, "but this divine race is happening whether you like it or not. The winner will have the power to reshape the world. At the very least, belonging to a faction gives you protection. That's why I wanted this talk."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "And if I don't want to choose?"

"Sooner or later, you will," Erza answered without hesitation. "Be ruled by a god, or stand beneath one's wings and be protected."

Her smile was faint as she reached the door. "Rest a few days. Then go to the capital. Leave the tedious work to me, Allison, and the others."

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowing with that predatory glint again. "Consider this a warning to anyone who hates you: you're under my shadow now. I protect my allies. I reward loyalty. Remember who you're speaking to, a noble racing to become a goddess."

The smile sharpened as she opened the door. "You're my investment. Finish what you need to, and think about what I've said. As a princess and a leader of a faction, I'm offering you a place in my kingdom. For you and for your family."

With that, Erza Grimhart left, the door closing softly behind her, leaving Luke alone with his thoughts.

Democracy and atomic bombs.

He'd started out thinking the whole tangent was disconnected from his situation. Now he understood it fit perfectly.

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