The Extra Who Shouldn’t Exist

The grand marble courtyard before the main entrance of the Royal Palace of Avaloria gleamed under the afternoon sun.

Two figures stood at the heart of the great staircase — Reynard von Crestvale, the Duke of the northern territories, and Serena von Crestvale, the Duchess.

The glittering banners of gold and azure fluttered in the wind, carrying the emblem of the empire high above them.

Reynard's arms were crossed, his expression visibly strained as his sharp eyes scanned the empty road leading from the city gates. His jaw flexed in irritation.

Serena, standing beside him in her pristine white and silver gown, finally broke the silence. "Are they still not here?" she asked, glancing sideways at her husband.

Reynard let out a grunt, nodding. "It's always a pain in the ass to deal with them."

'Tch… holy empire scum, always testing my patience,' he thought, his brow furrowing deeper.

Serena sighed. "Well, we don't have a choice," she said, her tone pragmatic. "The divine potions they supply mend wounds even our best healers can't touch. Their priests remain invaluable.

Each regiment stationed at the southern front now has at least one Holy Cleric. They're not just healers—they sustain our soldiers for months. Wounds close within hours, and infections never take hold."

Reynard turned to her, his irritation barely masked. "You do know they charge an astronomical amount for that, right? And they say it's all in the name of their goddess to help those in need…" He scoffed. "When they're busy filling their own asses with gold."

Serena smiled faintly, her gaze softening. "I know where you're coming from. But it's for the benefit of our nation. We have to be a little extra nice with them."

Reynard clicked his tongue, clearly unimpressed. "Okay, but don't expect me to kiss their ass."

"I won't," Serena replied with a gentle chuckle.

Reynard's eyes flickered to her with a knowing look. "I know you're worried about the kid."

Serena sighed. "Of course, I am. If something happened to him, your stubborn daughter would declare war on the Holy Empire alone."

Reynard burst into laughter, his deep voice echoing in the hall. "Well, she takes after me, after all."

Serena smiled warmly. "I take it you approve of Alex now?"

Reynard paused, his expression softening slightly. "To be honest, I'm still reluctant… we know next to nothing about him. But he's proven trustworthy more than once. And something tells me it's futile to come between him and Alicia. Neither of them would listen to me anyway."

Serena's eyes gleamed. "You're going to help protect him, right?"

"I'm not heartless," Reynard said firmly. "Besides, he's our nation's greatest talent. I won't let him die in vain—especially not because of those corrupt bastards from the Holy Nation."

Serena smiled beautifully. "That's why I love you."

Reynard's face flushed red as he turned away, clearing his throat. "Hmph… sentimental woman."

Before either could speak again, the sound of engines filled the courtyard. Dozens of hover cars approached from the skyway, each one bearing the golden insignia of the Holy Empire. One by one, the vehicles touched down before the palace gates, forming a semicircle.

At the center stood a single, extravagant car far grander than the rest—decorated with intricate silver-plated wings and the crest of the Goddess of Light.

Serena's eyes narrowed. "They're here," she murmured.

As the cars hissed to a halt, their doors opened simultaneously — all except the lavish one in the center. From each of the other vehicles, knights clad in black and gold armor stepped out in formation. The air grew heavy.

The ground itself seemed to tremble beneath their presence as wave after wave of sacred energy spilled across the courtyard.

Serena's eyes widened. "Aren't those the Black and Golden Knights? The Holy Empire's strongest force? Every single one of them is at least Transcendent rank. The power radiating from them is… frightening."

Reynard's expression darkened. "You're right."

Then came the priests — men and women in black robes embroidered with white sigils, stepping out with calm, cold expressions. Each carried an aura honed through decades of demon hunting.

"These units are specialized in purging demonic corruption," Serena muttered, lips pressed tightly.

Reynard clenched his fists. "Are they insane? Do they plan to start a fight, coming to the royal palace with that kind of force?"

"Relax," Serena said softly. "Don't overreact."

At that moment, the door of the ornate hover car swung open. Three figures emerged, each carrying an unmistakable aura.

The first was a man in his early thirties with maroon hair and calm brown eyes. He wore ceremonial white and gold robes trimmed with crimson—the attire of the Holy Empire's high clergy. His presence radiated majesty and quiet command; even the knights seemed to stand taller in his presence.

The second was a woman with flowing auburn hair and obsidian eyes, her expression serene yet powerful.

She was the current Saintess, Liana Campbell. Her beauty was breathtaking — ethereal, the kind that evoked reverence rather than desire.

A crown of silver light shimmered faintly above her head, and her aura pulsed with Monarch-ranked divinity.

The third was a tall man in his forties with hair as golden as sunlight — Michael Dawncrest, the highest-ranking bishop of the Holy Empire and father of Elias Dawncrest. His presence was sharp and commanding, his aura carrying the weight of a Transcendent.

Reynard's eyes hardened. "Where's the Pope?"

"They said he was coming," Serena replied. Then, with a composed smile, she added, "Why don't you ask them yourself?"

As the three approached, they raised their hands in blessing. "In the name of the Goddess of Light, may her radiance guide Avaloria," Cian Aurelias intoned.

Serena and Reynard both responded respectfully, "And may her divine grace illuminate your paths."

Serena's gaze settled on the maroon-haired man. "Your Grace, Cian Aurelias. I thought your father would be accompanying us today."

Cian smiled gently and reached into his robe, producing a sealed parchment stamped with the Pope's official seal. "There you go," he said, handing it to her.

Serena broke the seal and quickly read the contents. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Reynard frowned. "What's written in there?"

"The Pope has been sick for nearly a month," Serena said slowly, "and they haven't found a cause. In his absence, he's transferred all authority to his son, Cian Aurelias."

"What?" Reynard muttered, stunned. His gaze turned to Cian. "Why weren't we informed of this earlier?"

Cian chuckled softly. "We simply didn't think it was necessary."

Reynard's eyes darkened. "Are you looking down on our nation?"

Before tension could ignite, Michael Dawncrest stepped forward. "We would refrain from such accusations, Duke Crestvale—especially after the heinous crime committed within your nation's borders by letting someone summon a demon."

Reynard's temper flared, his aura beginning to rise—until a firm voice echoed in his mind.

'Reynard, let them come inside.'

Reynard straightened immediately. 'Are you sure, Your Majesty? They don't seem to have come with good intentions.'

The calm, authoritative voice of King Edward responded in his mind. 'Let them come. We'll judge their intentions after.'

With a slow breath, Reynard nodded. "Very well," he said aloud. "Let's move inside."

Together, the two Crestvales led the representatives of the Holy Empire through the towering gates of Avaloria's royal palace, the air between the two factions humming with silent tension.