He could practically see the Goddess of the Void glaring up through his ribcage at the blonde Villainess.

The irony was entirely staggering.

He was currently housing two incredibly possessive female entities... one wrapped around his physical arm, and the other swimming furiously through his spiritual core.

’She’s the Crown Princess, Ereba,’ Caius reasoned logically, perfectly maintaining his completely deadpan expression as he looked out over the mud. ’Her father is the Emperor... If she wants to cling to my arm, I let her cling to my arm. It secures our political immunity... It guarantees the Inquisition doesn’t put me in a mythril cage for angering her.’

’I do not care about her pathetic mortal father!’ Ereba shrieked indignantly. ’I am a Goddess! I predate their entire miserable Pantheon! Tell her to step back exactly five paces, or I will leak a fraction of the Void directly into your gauntlet and consume her hands!’

Ah when did things escalate to this level?!

’No, you won’t,’ Caius replied firmly, shutting down the divine threat immediately. ’We need her golden flames for the second wave... If you eat her hands, our support drops to zero and I’ll get killed by the Saint immediately. Ereba, please...’

Ereba let out a loud, incredibly dramatic and annoyed huff of pure divine breath.

’Fine,’ Ereba muttered bitterly, violently retreating back into the absolute deepest, darkest corner of his soul to sulk in the shadows. ’But if she attempts to kiss you again, I am shutting down your pain receptors, because you will be losing a lip.’

Caius let out a soft exhausted sigh that puffed into a white cloud of steam in the freezing air.

Managing his cheat goddess was rapidly becoming just as exhausting as managing the actual monsters.

The hours bled slowly into the late afternoon.

The constant deafening booms from the eastern horizon eventually began to slow in frequency as the blinding flashes of white light growing dimmer and further apart.

The Storm Saint, arrogant as he was, was finally reaching the hard-coded limits of his divine mana core as the hurricanes of lightning ceased entirely.

But the Saint’s aggressive bombardment had successfully achieved the primary objective.

The first massive gathering of the main wave had been completely scattered in the deep wilds.

The monsters had been shattered before it could even fully form.

Evening finally fell over the Carrion Front.

The bruised-gray sky slowly darkened into a deep starless pitch-black.

The freezing rains returned with a vengeance, turning the pulverized bedrock and white ash back into a slick ankle-deep black sludge.

The immediate threat was fully delayed and the sirens remained silent.

The tension on the palisade, while still incredibly high, lost its screaming edge.

The surviving Knights lowered their heavy silver shields with their exhausted arms trembling as they were ordered to stand down and initiate the guard rotations.

Caius finally pulled his hands off the sandbags, turning his broad shoulders away from the wastes.

Aurelia remained securely attached to his bicep with her golden hair completely plastered to her tunic by the freezing rain, but she didn’t seem to notice the cold in the slightest.

"My Lord."

The rough gravelly and extremely hesitant voice came from the shadows near the access stairs of the palisade.

Caius stopped with his crimson eyes locking onto the approaching figure.

Sergeant Vance slowly walked toward them.

The towering scarred veteran looked even worse than he had in the command dugout.

He was moving with a stiff unnatural rigidity as his heavy iron boots were dragging slightly in the mud.

The thick blood-soaked linen bandages wrapped around the stump of his severed left arm had been hastily reinforced with a fresh layer of cloth, but the dark crimson stains were already bleeding through.

But it wasn’t the physical agony that dictated Vance’s posture...

It was existential terror.

Vance didn’t walk with the arrogant, commanding swagger of a frontline Sergeant.

He walked with his head bowed deeply, his broad shoulders slumped in an exaggerated display of unquestionable submission.

He stopped exactly ten feet away from Caius and Aurelia maintaining a desperately respectful distance.

Vance didn’t dare look directly at the blonde Villainess.

His solitary slate-gray eye remained firmly, completely glued to the dark-steel boots of Caius Draxos.

Vance was terrified that the Imperial Princess might simply change her mind and execute him on the spot for his earlier, flagrant disrespect.

He had called her a wench...He had ordered her into the mud...

In the rigid, brutal hierarchy of the Solis Empire, men had been flayed alive and their families sold into the deep mines for significantly lesser offenses against the royal bloodline.

Vance was desperately trying to make amends before the axe fell.

"The first wave is broken, My Lord," Vance reported with his voice lacking any of its usual gravelly bark. "The scouts report the horde is regrouping deep in the Abyssal Leyline. We have... we have a window. Perhaps a day or so before they attempt a secondary breach."

Caius looked down at the broken veteran with his expression entirely unreadable beneath the shadows of his dark-steel collar. "And?"

Vance swallowed hard, a visible bead of cold sweat running down his heavily scarred cheek despite the freezing rain.

"And... I wish to offer my deepest most profound apologies for my earlier ignorance," Vance choked out with his voice trembling slightly.

He bowed his head even further, practically exposing the back of his neck. "I am a blind, foolish old dog. I did not recognize the divine grace that walks among us. I beg you to accept my submission."

Aurelia didn’t even blink.

She didn’t acknowledge his apology.

She kept her cheek resting against Caius’s dark-steel pauldron, treating the Sergeant like an annoying draft of wind.

Caius internally analyzed the situation.

He needed Vance functional... He needed the Sergeant commanding the penal fodder so Caius could freely roam the battlefield and covertly consume cores during the next wave.

Breaking the man further served zero purpose.

"Your apology is noted, Sergeant," Caius stated smoothly with his deep voice carrying a finality that accepted the submission without forgiving the insult. "Ensure the wall is manned as we are returning to our quarters."

"Wait, please, My Lord," Vance blurted out desperately, taking a half-step forward before violently catching himself and freezing in place.

Vance reached into his belt with his trembling right hand.

He didn’t pull a weapon.

He pulled a single etched mythril key.

"The dugouts are entirely unfit for... for your current status," Vance stuttered, frantically trying to offer the highest luxury his miserable station possessed. "As an Elite and as... as the designated protector of Her Highness... you are entitled to utilize the restricted facilities."

Vance held the heavy mythril key out in his trembling palm.

"I offer you my personal access to the Officer’s Bathhouse," Vance pleaded with his slate-gray eye finally darting up to meet Caius’s gaze. "It is secure snd it is heavily warded. Please. Allow yourselves to wash the filth of the trenches from your skin before the dawn."

Caius looked at the heavy mythril key resting in the veteran’s hand.

Beneath the sleek, pristine dark-steel armor, Caius’s skin was caked in a thick drying and intensely uncomfortable layer of his own sweat.

The toxic black blood of the Blight-Fiends he had slaughtered, and the fine gritty white ash of the lightning strikes.

His muscles were aching with the heavy fatigue of continuous exertion.

The idea of submerging his body in hot water wasn’t just a luxury... it was a necessity to prevent his pores from clogging with Abyssal rot.

Caius reached out with his dark-steel gauntlet smoothly plucking the mythril key from the Sergeant’s palm.

"Where is it?" Caius demanded.

Vance practically sagged with relief, his entire body trembling as the immediate threat of execution passed.

"Beneath the central command plateau, My Lord. I will escort you immediately."

Vance turned quickly, leading the way off the freezing palisade.

Aurelia’s grip on Caius’s arm tightened slightly.

The prospect of peeling off her ruined, stiff, mud-caked tunic and washing the scent of the Carrion Front from her golden hair brought a sudden bright flicker of genuine excitement to her glowing crimson eyes.

She eagerly pulled Caius forward, completely ignoring the rain.

The Sergeant led them away from the chaotic screaming frenzy of the outer trenches.

They bypassed the muddy claustrophobic penal dugouts entirely, walking directly toward the massive fortified stone foundation of the command plateau.

Vance stopped in front of a heavy ancient iron grate set deeply into the bedrock.

He didn’t open it.

He simply bowed deeply, gesturing to the heavy iron rings.

"The stairs lead directly down into the First Era ruins, My Lord..." Vance explained quickly, keeping his eyes firmly on the mud. "The chamber is yours. No one will disturb you. I have placed my best elite guards at the top of the plateau to ensure absolute privacy."

"Dismissed, Sergeant..." Caius ordered coldly.

Vance bowed one last time, turning and practically sprinting away into the dark, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the Mad Sun as physically possible.

’Wow.... It’s so satisfying seeing this guy run like a bitch.’

Caius reached out, gripping the heavy iron ring of the grate.

With a casual flex of his strength, he violentl ripped the rusted iron entirely off its hinges, tossing the heavy metal aside like a piece of scrap wood.

"Come on..."

He then led Aurelia down the dark descending stone staircase.