After bidding farewell to élodie, Nahla and Yenneferéa boarded the train from France to England.


    The train slowly departed from Paris, gliding through the bustling city before heading toward the vast French countryside. Through the window, the fields and rolling hills were bathed in the golden glow of the morning sun. Vineyards stretched neatly across the slopes, and occasional windmills turned lazily in the breeze. Small, tranquil villages dotted the lush green land, resembling a picturesque painting.


    Yenneferéa gazed quietly out the window, feeling the gentle sway of the train, while Nahla, on the other hand, was filled with excitement. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she admired the beautiful French landscape, occasionally whispering in awe, "This is breathtaking… The European countryside is even more poetic than I imagined."


    As the train continued northward, leaving behind the bustling charm of Paris, it entered the Normandy region. Vast farmlands and open meadows spread across the land, with cows and sheep grazing leisurely in the pastures, their relaxed presence adding to the serene atmosphere. Crystal-clear streams shimmered under the sunlight, winding through the countryside, while small white cottages nestled peacefully among the fields, exuding a sense of rustic tranquility.


    Gradually, the scenery began to shift as the train approached the Calais coastline. In the distance, the shoreline stretched endlessly along the horizon. White cliffs towered over the crashing waves, and seagulls circled overhead, their cries carried away by the wind under the expansive blue sky. This was the English Channel, the natural divide between France and England.


    Before long, the train entered the Channel Tunnel, transitioning from the vast open land into a long, dimly lit underground passage. The scenery outside vanished into darkness, with only the flickering tunnel lights illuminating the train’s interior.


    Nahla sighed softly, her voice tinged with wonder. "So this is the Channel Tunnel… I never thought humans could build something like this. It feels like we’re traveling to another world."


    "Indeed." Yenneferéa nodded slightly, her gaze fixed on the passing signal lights outside as her thoughts drifted.


    After about twenty minutes, the train emerged from the tunnel, once again greeted by daylight. As it left the passage behind, the landscape had completely transformed—this was Kent, England. Rolling plains interspersed with dense forests stretched as far as the eye could see. Quaint English villages lay nestled among the trees, their red-brick houses blending seamlessly with the greenery. Sheep roamed peacefully in the fields, and in the distance, an old-fashioned steam train slowly made its way along another track, as if transporting passengers back in time.


    The train continued its journey toward London, cutting through the heart of the English countryside. Along the way, remnants of medieval castles and towering clock towers stood in the distance, adding a touch of history to the scenery. As they neared the city, the rural landscape gradually gave way to modernity—skyscrapers and historic Victorian-era buildings stood side by side. The River Thames shimmered under the morning light, reflecting the sprawling skyline of London.


    After a two-and-a-half-hour journey, the train finally pulled into St Pancras International Station in London. The platform bustled with people as the station’s loudspeakers broadcasted an announcement in English:


    "The train has arrived in London. Please remember to take your belongings and mind your step as you disembark."


    Stepping off the train, Yenneferéa and Nahla took their first steps into the heart of the city.


    The London sky was overcast with thick clouds, and the cool breeze carried a slight dampness as it swept through the streets. The steady hum of traffic mixed with the rhythmic footsteps of pedestrians, creating a unique urban symphony. Around them, the familiar red-brick buildings and Gothic churches stood tall. A classic red double-decker bus rumbled past, its wheels clattering over the pavement. The sound of metal against stone, the murmur of distant conversations, and the faint scent of rain in the air—all of it painted the unmistakable portrait of London.


    Yenneferéa tilted her head slightly, watching Nahla, who seemed lost in thought. Her voice was gentle as she asked, “Do you still remember the address?”


    Nahla lowered her head, thinking for a moment before nodding lightly. “...I can barely remember it. It should be in the south, not too far from here.”


    There was hesitation in her voice, a trace of unease lingering in her words.


    Yenneferéa noticed the subtle shift in her emotions. Her deep blue eyes studied Nahla carefully as her tone softened even more. “Are you really sure you want to go back and see them?”


    Nahla remained silent for a while. Her fingers unconsciously clenched the fabric of her sleeve, her gaze evasive. Every part of her radiated tension and uncertainty.


    That place was once called “home” to her, but it was also the source of her deepest pain. She didn’t know if she was truly ready to face that home again—to face her cold and distant father, her silent mother, and… the brother who had ignored her suffering.


    Yenneferéa let out a quiet sigh before reaching out, gently resting a reassuring hand on Nahla’s shoulder.


    “No matter what you decide, I will support you.”


    Nahla lifted her head, meeting Yenneferéa’s clear and unwavering gaze. The anxiety and fear within her seemed to ease slightly. Slowly, the corners of her lips curled into a hesitant yet relieved smile.


    “...Yeah, I can’t keep running away.” Her voice was quiet, but there was resolve in it. “It’s time to face it.”


    Yenneferéa smiled slightly and nodded. “Then let’s go.”


    Without further hesitation, the two hailed a black taxi and gave the driver the address. After confirming the location, the car slowly pulled away, heading toward the southern district of London.


    Outside the window, the cityscape gradually shifted. The bustling commercial districts gave way to older residential neighborhoods. Nahla leaned against the window, her hands unconsciously clenching into fists as her gaze stretched toward the distance.


    That house—the place she had once desperately fled from—was drawing closer with every passing second.


    Beneath the somber sky, the old streets of South London felt particularly heavy and oppressive.


    Yenneferéa and Nahla stood in a narrow alleyway, facing a row of old terraced houses. The wooden two-story buildings were connected, their white paint peeling away in large patches, revealing weathered brick beneath. The small yards in front of each house were overgrown with weeds, unkempt and abandoned, as if no one had cared for them in a long time.


    Nahla stood motionless, her gaze filled with a mixture of familiarity and estrangement as she looked at the house before her. This place had once been her home.


    Yenneferéa noticed the unease on her face and gently patted her shoulder. “I’ll wait for you outside.”


    Nahla took a deep breath, nodding slightly before stepping forward through the overgrown yard.


    Once, this had been her mother’s pride—a garden meticulously tended with flowers and greenery. But now, all of it had fallen into neglect and ruin.


    She reached the door and hesitated for a moment before raising her hand and knocking lightly on the faded wooden surface. Knock, knock, knock…


    Inside, the sounds of movement ceased for a brief moment. Then, slow and heavy footsteps approached the door.


    Click— The lock turned, and the door creaked open just a crack.


    Behind it stood a frail-looking middle-aged woman.


    Her face was lined with deep wrinkles, etched by the weight of time. A faded gray headscarf wrapped around her hair, though strands of white peeked out at her temples. She wore a patched-up, worn-out dress, and her thin, calloused hands bore the marks of long years of labor.


    She squinted slightly, as if struggling to recognize the girl before her, and spoke in a hoarse, fragile voice.


    “...May I ask, who are you?”


    Nahla parted her lips to speak, but the moment she tried, her vision blurred with tears. A lump formed in her throat, her breath hitching as emotion overwhelmed her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she whispered:


    “Mom… it’s me, Nahla.”


    Just a few words—yet they carried a lifetime of emotion, an outpouring of longing, grief, and pain that had built up over the years.


    The woman froze instantly.


    She stood there, unmoving, her expression one of utter shock, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her lips trembled slightly, as if forming words she was too afraid to say aloud.


    And then, without warning, tears began to fall.


    Her frail hands shook as she covered her mouth, as though trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape—as though she feared that if she moved, the girl before her would vanish like a dream.


    “Nahla… my child…” Her voice broke, choked with overwhelming emotion. She took an unsteady step back, as if unsure whether to come closer or keep her distance—as if afraid she would lose her all over again.


    Seeing her mother like this, Nahla felt something tighten painfully in her chest. She could no longer hold back. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms tightly around her mother, pulling her into a deep embrace.


    She could feel her mother’s frail frame, her once-warm embrace now reduced to nothing but skin and bone.


    She was finally home… but her mother had grown so heartbreakingly fragile.


    “Mom…” Nahla buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, her voice trembling with indescribable emotions. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving you alone to suffer.”


    Her mother’s hands shook as she hesitantly raised them—until at last, she gently held her daughter close, her voice breaking into sobs.


    “You… you’re alive… My child, you’re alive…”


    Tears soaked into their clothes as mother and daughter clung to each other, unwilling to let go.


    After a long while, Nahla slowly pulled back, wiping the tears from her face before meeting her mother’s eyes with quiet determination.


    “Mom, come with me. Leave this place.”


    This time, she would not let her mother suffer alone.


    Nahla’s mother was still trembling, her hands reluctant to let go. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions—joy, fear, hesitation—all tangled together.


    Just then, a harsh voice bellowed from inside the house—


    “Hey! Where the hell have you been?! There’s still a ton of work to do!”


    Heavy footsteps stomped toward the door. A middle-aged man emerged from within the house, his gaze landing on the woman at the entrance. His face instantly darkened.


    “Always dawdling around! Do you have any idea that dinner isn’t even ready yet? The rooms are still a mess! All you ever do is waste time!”


    He wore a yellowed, worn-out shirt, his stubble unkempt, and his skin dull from years of smoking. His eyes were sharp and unforgiving, his tone laced with command rather than concern—as if the woman before him wasn’t family, but merely a tool to be used at will.


    But after his rant, his gaze finally shifted to Nahla, who stood beside her mother.


    The man frowned, clearly failing to recognize the familiar yet unfamiliar girl before him. His tone remained impatient as he barked, “Who the hell are you? What are you standing here for?”


    Nahla’s fists clenched slightly. She stared directly at the man, her eyes filled with disgust and hatred.


    “…You really haven’t changed at all, ‘Dad.’”


    She deliberately emphasized the word "Dad"—but there was no warmth in her voice, only cold, cutting sarcasm.


    The man’s expression froze. For a brief second, he was stunned. Then, suddenly, his gaze sharpened as he finally recognized the girl standing before him.


    “…Nahla?”


    At last, he realized that the daughter he had long considered gone was standing right in front of him. But there was no joy in his eyes, no relief at seeing her alive after all these years. Instead—


    “You ungrateful brat! You actually dare to come back?!”


    His furious roar shook the air, as if the years of pent-up rage had erupted all at once.


    “Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused us when you ran away?! And now you have the nerve to show your face here?!”


    Nahla met his glare with an icy stare of her own, her anger burning bright. She was done enduring.


    “…I caused you trouble?” She let out a short, bitter laugh, her expression dripping with disdain. “Since the day I was born, have you ever treated me as your daughter? Even once? Have you ever seen me as a human being?!”


    The man’s face darkened further, his jaw tightening in fury. “You little bitch, how dare you talk back to me?! You think I won’t teach you a lesson?!”


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    Without another word, he ripped a leather belt from his waist, wrapping it tightly around his hand with practiced ease.


    The motion was all too familiar. The punishment was all too familiar.


    Just like countless times in the past, he raised his arm high—ready to bring it down without mercy.


    Nahla instinctively raised her arms to block the blow, her heart pounding violently. But this time—she would not kneel and beg for mercy, nor would she run away.


    However—


    "Snap!"


    Just as the belt was about to strike, a slender yet powerful hand caught the man’s wrist in an iron grip—so fast that no one even saw when she moved.


    "Enough."


    A cold, commanding voice rang out.


    The man spun around furiously, his gaze locking onto a pair of icy blue eyes glowing with a faint luminescence.


    Yenneferéa.


    Somehow, she had already positioned herself behind him.


    Her white hair swayed slightly, the gradient blue hues in her eyes and hair emitting a soft glow. Her face was expressionless, exuding an aura of cold dominance—as if she were staring at nothing more than a worthless piece of trash.


    The man scowled, barking in rage, “Who the hell are you?! How dare you interfere in my family’s affairs?!”


    Yenneferéa didn’t bother to answer. With a sharp push, she sent him staggering backward, nearly knocking him off his feet.


    “Who I am doesn’t matter,” she said coolly, her voice steady yet carrying an overwhelming authority. “What matters is that you’re about to have a serious problem.”


    The man’s fury had yet to fully erupt when Yenneferéa lifted a hand and pointed behind him.


    He hesitated, then turned around—his eyes widening in fear.


    At some point, a black police car had silently pulled up on the dilapidated street. The doors had swung open, and two uniformed officers were already striding toward them.


    Yenneferéa spoke again, this time with an unmistakable hint of mockery.


    “Domestic violence, abuse, forced marriage… You’ve racked up quite a few charges.”


    The man’s face instantly turned a deep shade of blue, but he still refused to back down, snarling in defiance.


    “Where’s your proof?! How dare you slander me?!”


    His eyes darted around, clearly searching for an escape route—or hoping the police wouldn’t act without solid evidence.


    Yet, the way Yenneferéa smirked sent a shiver down his spine.


    “Proof?” she murmured, raising her smartphone. With a flick of her finger, she effortlessly pulled up a recorded video.


    On the screen, the exact moment he had raised his belt, his furious shouts, and Nahla’s defiant retort were all captured in perfect clarity. Then came the moment Yenneferéa intervened—undeniable proof of his violent actions.


    “And if that’s not enough, a forensic examination on this woman will surely reveal countless scars from years of abuse.” Her voice remained as frigid as ever. “Is this evidence sufficient?”


    The man’s eyes bulged in terror. For a split second, fear and rage warred within him—until, suddenly, he bolted, sprinting toward the back of the house.


    But just as he reached the backyard—


    Thick vines suddenly erupted from the ground, twisting like venomous snakes and coiling around his limbs with alarming speed!


    “W-What the hell?!”


    He let out a strangled cry, thrashing desperately against the vines, but the more he struggled, the tighter they constricted—binding him so tightly that he couldn’t move an inch!


    Standing in the back, Nahla slowly raised her palm. Green magical energy swirled around her fingertips, her eyes and hair glowing with a vibrant emerald light—like a sovereign of nature itself.


    "Y-You… you monster… what are you doing?!" The man’s face turned deathly pale, his eyes wide in terror as if he had just seen a ghost.


    But Nahla’s expression remained cold and unwavering, completely unlike the girl who had once cowered before her father.


    "You’ve spent your whole life oppressing others. Have you never once considered that one day, you too would be bound?"


    Her voice was devoid of emotion. The power of the earth and flora pulsed in her grasp, and it was clear—if she so desired, the vines would tighten instantly, inflicting a pain far worse than anything he had ever inflicted on his own family.


    Sweat beaded on the man’s forehead as he struggled violently—but the vines didn’t budge.


    "Nahla…" Yenneferéa spoke softly, her blue eyes watching her carefully. Her tone was gentle, yet carried an unmistakable message of restraint.


    Nahla flinched slightly, then took a deep breath and slowly lowered her hand.


    The vines loosened just enough to ease their grip—but they still held him firmly in place until the police officers arrived, swiftly clamping handcuffs around his wrists.


    Inside the police station, the artificial lighting cast a faint, sterile chill over the room.


    The formalities had all been completed. One of the officers finished flipping through the case notes before glancing up at Yenneferéa and Nahla.


    "Oh, by the way," the officer muttered, furrowing his brow slightly. "That guy got caught while trying to escape. Strangely enough, he somehow got tangled up in the backyard vines. Any idea how that happened?"


    Nahla’s heart skipped a beat. Instinctively, she glanced toward Yenneferéa.


    But Yenneferéa remained perfectly composed. With her usual grace, she lifted her teacup, gently blowing away the steam, before responding in a completely natural tone—


    "The yard was already a mess—overgrown with weeds and vines. He was probably too panicked and tripped over them himself."


    She set down her teacup, smiling faintly. "I suppose that kind of man doesn’t get much outdoor exercise. Can’t even walk through a backyard properly."


    The officer frowned slightly, as if something felt off, but ultimately didn’t press the matter further.


    "Well, anyway, that bastard’s finally behind bars." He waved a hand dismissively. "This wasn’t his first offense. We’ve received multiple anonymous reports about domestic violence in that household, but we never had solid evidence. This time, there’s no way he’s getting away."


    He shut the case file and nodded toward them. "Thanks for your cooperation. You’re free to go."


    Yenneferéa inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. Then, she turned toward Nahla, who remained seated beside her.


    As the sun set, its warm glow stretched the shadows of the two figures along the street.


    After a heartfelt farewell to her mother and brother, Nahla set out once more with Yenneferéa. Their next destination lay on the outskirts of London—a bridge underpass. There was still one more person she wanted to see—someone who had given her warmth and the means to survive during the darkest days of her life.


    Along the way, Nahla’s mood had clearly lifted. She turned her head toward Yenneferéa, a grateful smile playing on her lips.


    "Thank you, Luna," she said softly. "Thank you for shielding me back there."


    Yenneferéa merely smiled, her deep blue eyes reflecting the golden hues of the evening light. "It was nothing. I only did what any friend would do."


    Nahla blinked, suddenly recalling élodie’s words from before. A mischievous smirk crept onto her face.


    "But you know," she said, feigning seriousness, "élodie was right—you really are cool."


    Yenneferéa froze for a moment, then quickly turned her head away, trying to hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "…Don’t start copying her."


    Nahla chuckled, her steps feeling lighter than before.


    Nightfall. A bridge underpass in the outskirts of London.


    The area was far removed from the city''s chaos. Beneath the bridge, in the shadows, lay a small but meticulously kept camp.


    Though the tents and belongings looked old, everything was neatly arranged, carefully maintained, with no sign of neglect.


    At the heart of the camp, a small fire flickered gently. An elderly homeless man, clad in a worn brown coat, sat by the fire, carefully mending an old leather boot. The faint glow of the flames illuminated the deep wrinkles on his face and his kind, gentle eyes.


    The moment Nahla saw him, her eyes lit up. Without hesitation, she quickened her pace and called out excitedly—


    "James!"


    The old man slowly lifted his head. When he finally recognized the young woman standing before him, his clouded eyes flickered with surprise and joy.


    "Oh… my little girl… you’ve finally come back."


    He set down the boot, a warm, genuine smile spreading across his face. Though his voice was hoarse, it carried an undeniable warmth.


    "Where have you been?" He rose to his feet with some effort, looking Nahla up and down. "That day, when you went into the woods to gather herbs, you never returned… I thought you’d gone home."


    Nahla ran up to him, wrapping her arms tightly around the old man.


    "I’m sorry for making you worry…" she whispered.


    Standing nearby, Yenneferéa approached slowly, silently observing the reunion, her gaze filled with quiet warmth.


    James soon noticed her presence and gave a curious smile. "And who might this be?"


    Nahla released James and, with a bright smile, looped her arm around Yenneferéa’s.


    "This is my friend—Yenneferéa Lunaviel."


    Yenneferéa gave a polite nod, dipping her head slightly. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. James."


    James let out a soft chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. "So, you’ve made a friend, Nahla? That’s truly something to be happy about."


    Then, glancing around at his modest campsite, he let out a small sigh and chuckled wryly.


    "I wish I had something proper to offer my guests, but as you can see…"


    Yenneferéa shook her head gently. "Please, don’t worry about that. Your kindness is more than enough of a welcome."


    James smiled warmly at her response, then gestured for the two of them to sit by the fire. Nahla eagerly began sharing her story—


    She told him everything.


    About her sudden disappearance. About Esperan. About the battles she had fought, the people she had met, the world she had seen.


    The fire flickered softly, casting dancing shadows on their faces. Under the quiet night sky, Nahla’s voice wove her tale, echoing beneath the bridge…


    Nahla sat by the fire, clenching her fists slightly, a mixture of gratitude and nostalgia flickering in her gaze.


    “James… I’m truly grateful to you,” she said softly, lifting her head to look at the old man before her. “If you hadn’t taught me about plants, I wouldn’t have survived more than a few days in Esperan. Your knowledge helped me so much… and it has helped so many others too.”


    Hearing this, James’ weathered face softened with a gentle, heartfelt smile. His eyes remained warm, filled with the kind of affection one reserves for family.


    Nahla hesitated for a moment before asking, “But James… how do you know so much about plants? Every time you talked about their properties and uses, it never felt like random knowledge, but rather…”


    “Rather professional,” Yenneferéa added in a quiet voice.


    For a moment, James fell silent. The firelight flickered in the depths of his sunken eyes. Then, with a deep sigh, he lowered his gaze—but the faintest trace of a smile still lingered on his lips.


    “You’re right,” he said slowly, his eyes drifting toward the night sky as if recalling a past long buried in time. “The truth is, I was once a botanist.”


    Nahla and Yenneferéa stilled, momentarily stunned.


    A glimmer of sorrow flickered in James’ eyes. He exhaled softly, as though peeling back the layers of an old wound.


    “In my younger years, I was a botanist,” he murmured, his voice tinged with distant memories. “I was fascinated by the wonders of nature. I won awards, I stood proudly on lecture stages, sharing my research with the world… But then, fate played a cruel trick on me.”


    His voice grew quieter, heavier, as if each word carried an unbearable weight.


    “One day, my wife and I took a road trip together. On the way, we got into a terrible accident.”


    He paused for a moment before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper.


    “I was the only one who survived.”


    “My wife… she was gone forever.”


    His hands, which had once delicately handled the most fragile plants, now rested motionless on his lap—his fingers worn and rough with time.


    “At the time, she was already pregnant. Losing both of them at once… it was the greatest blow of my life.”


    His expression turned distant, the pain of the past still etched deep in his heart.


    “After that, I could never find the passion for my research again. No matter how hard I tried, plants no longer held the same wonder. So… I walked away from it all. I left everything behind and became a wanderer.”


    For a brief moment, silence settled over them, save for the faint crackling of the fire.


    Then, his gaze softened, filled with something different—something warmer.


    “Until one day, I found a dying child by the side of the road.”


    He turned toward Nahla, his old eyes brimming with quiet emotion.


    “And at that moment, I thought—if that accident hadn’t happened, maybe… I would have had a child as old as you by now.”


    His voice trembled slightly with emotion, but he let out a faint chuckle.


    “So, without hesitation, I saved you. And from that day on, I saw you as my own daughter. Perhaps it was a way to redeem myself… or perhaps, it was my way of making amends to my wife, for the life she never got to see.”


    A gentle night breeze swept through the camp, carrying away the lingering embers of the fire.


    Nahla’s eyes had unknowingly grown misty. She bit her lip gently, emotions swirling in her gaze.


    James wasn’t just her savior—he was her family.


    “James…” Her voice trembled as she reached out, wrapping her arms tightly around the old man.


    James was momentarily taken aback before letting out a soft chuckle. Slowly, he raised his hands and patted her back gently, just like a father comforting his child.


    Yenneferéa watched the scene in silence, a faint smile forming on her lips as she quietly took a sip of tea, her gaze drifting toward the distant night sky.


    The night was peaceful, the stars twinkling as if they, too, were watching over this family—bound not by blood, but by something even stronger.


    Before leaving the underpass, Nahla took one last, lingering look at James, her eyes filled with reluctance. She held his wrinkled hands firmly, speaking with heartfelt sincerity.


    “James, I will come back. Please wait for me, okay?”


    James chuckled, his voice brimming with warmth. “Silly girl, this old man isn’t going anywhere that easily. Go on and do what you need to do. When you return, I’ll tell you even more stories about plants.”


    Nahla nodded firmly, as if engraving this moment deep into her heart.


    Then, she and Yenneferéa set off on their journey once again.


    The Coastline. Nightfall.


    Under the vast night sky, the two of them stood by the shore, gazing at the endless ocean.


    Yenneferéa extended her hand slightly, and the waters stirred—forming a transparent ribbon of liquid beneath their feet, lifting them gently above the waves.


    “Are you ready?” Yenneferéa asked, glancing at Nahla.


    Nahla took a deep breath and nodded.


    In the next moment, they glided effortlessly across the water. The ocean breeze brushed through their hair, and under the starlit sky, the waves shimmered like a sea of diamonds.


    Just then, a familiar voice called out—


    “Oh? Looks like you’ve both wrapped up your personal matters as well.”


    A figure appeared mid-air, arms crossed, floating leisurely with an amused glint in her eyes.


    The Divine Principle in a young girl’s form.


    Yenneferéa shot her a sideways glance. “Where did you even come from? And why did you say ‘as well’?”


    “Don’t mind the details.” The Divine Principle grinned playfully. “I’m just here to check if you two kids have grown at all.”


    She then turned her gaze toward Nahla, studying her for a moment before smirking.


    “Seems like you’ve managed to let go of some of your past, huh?”


    Nahla blinked, then smiled softly. “Mmm… I wouldn’t say I’ve completely let go, but at least—I’m not running away anymore.”


    “Not bad, not bad.” Divine Principle nodded approvingly before shifting into a teasing tone.


    “Still, you humans and your family ties… So troublesome. Parents, siblings, friends—so much emotion tangled up in all of it.”


    Yenneferéa’s gaze turned cold. “What are you saying? Emotions are one of the very things that define human existence.”


    The Divine Principle shrugged. “I just find it interesting. Emotions make you weak, make you suffer—and yet, you still choose to protect them, even willing to sacrifice everything for them.”


    “And that’s exactly why humanity is strong.” Yenneferéa’s voice was calm yet resolute. “Because we stand together.”


    Divine Principle narrowed her eyes slightly, as if contemplating something. But in the end, she simply chuckled.


    “Perhaps.”


    Nahla then turned toward her. “What about you? If one day, you had to choose between ‘the world’ and ‘someone you cherish’—what would you do?”


    Divine Principle paused. For a brief moment, she hesitated. Then, her gaze hardened with determination.


    “If that day ever comes… I suppose I would…”


    But before she could finish, she suddenly smirked.


    “Guess.”


    Both Yenneferéa and Nahla let out a sigh, exasperation written all over their faces.


    “Alright, alright.” Divine Principle stretched lazily, waving a hand. “See you two later.”


    And with that, her figure dissolved into golden light, vanishing into the night.


    Yenneferéa watched the spot where she had disappeared, then shook her head. “That girl… she’s becoming more and more human.”


    Nahla simply smiled, saying nothing.


    The ocean breeze remained as gentle as ever.


    And their journey—was only just beginning