While My Mage Wife Grinds, I Power Up Idly
Chapter 119: Isabella

Chapter 119: Chapter 119: Isabella

"This is a Demon’s Pearl—only a Greater Demon can possess one. As for its powers, you’ll have to study it yourself."

With that, Shava tossed the red pearl to Ashu.

Ashu caught it without ceremony and immediately demanded, "Your strength has dipped dramatically—what happened?"

"I used the Demon’s blood that ’His Excellency’ granted me, or I truly would have died under the Sword King’s blow," Shava explained. "But the price is a period of weakness. Still, I won’t return empty-handed—I’ve barely scratched the surface. I haven’t seen that damned Nun nor slaughtered that wretched Divine Mother Goddess Devotee yet."

"Heh, the Demon Huntress Nun could strangle you with one hand now."

"True. But she’s not here, is she? Had I sensed her presence earlier, I wouldn’t have taken the Sword King’s strike head-on."

"How long before you recover?"

Shava grinned wickedly, baring two rows of neat teeth. "I feed on fear and life. There’s plenty of fear here, and as for life, they keep butchering each other. By the way, during the fight I felt a powerful Divine Mother Goddess radiance down below. Perhaps a Devotee has appeared in this town. That level of power wasn’t from any Nun I’ve met, but it’s no weakling—be careful."

At this, Ashu turned and began to leave.

"Hey, where are you going?" Shava called after him.

"I’m going to hold off those damned Imperial Capital troops for you, you goat," Ashu replied.

...

Meanwhile,

Imperial Capital.

Inside the palace,

the Messenger sped back to deliver his report.

Upon hearing the news, Wilson Atras by the window broke into a broad smile.

Even from within the palace, he could see that earth-shattering strike. He’d witnessed the Sword King’s final move—he just hadn’t known the outcome.

Now he did.

"Excellent. My Sword King Lawrence, willing to sacrifice himself to save a demon-invaded town—truly a hero," Wilson Atras said hypocritically as he strode out of the palace. "We must comfort our hero’s family; we cannot let the Empire’s champion be left cold."

Before long,

a royal carriage came to a halt before a villa just outside the palace gates.

This villa was built in lavish style. Yet within its vast halls, only a solitary woman remained.

She gazed into the distance, one hand pressed to her heart, her face etched with worry.

She hadn’t even heard the horses’ hoofbeats.

"Milady," Wilson Atras said after a moment’s thought, greeting her.

At his voice, the woman came to herself and hurried forward, bowing. "Your Highness Wilson, was that blade wielded by my brother Lawrence?"

"Yes—it was him," Wilson replied without hesitation. That stroke had alarmed many in the Imperial Capital; as he left the palace, crowds were already gathering in his wake.

The woman pressed on anxiously, "Over there lies Rose Valley—what has happened? Why would my brother need to unleash such... a tremendous sword strike?"

"That town was overrun by demons, milady. Your brother is the bravest swordsman I’ve ever known: single-handedly he slew the powerful demon leader. He is a paragon for all warriors," Wilson said.

The more the woman listened, the more uneasy she grew. A wave of constriction in her chest reminded her of their blood bond. She ventured softly, "Your Highness... my brother..."

"He sacrificed himself," Wilson stated plainly. At that moment, the crowd at the villa’s entrance was swelling. Seizing the moment, he proclaimed, "A courageous swordsman has given his life for the Empire’s safety! He held back the demon onslaught at Rose Valley! Had he not done so, the Imperial Capital itself would have fallen! He protected every one of us—yourself, me, our people! His name was Lawrence. Remember it well! In my name, Wilson Atras, I posthumously grant him the title ’Rose Duelist,’ that his glorious name may live on forever!"

Honor was everything to the people of the Imperial Capital—even death must be dignified.

To be so honored by the crown prince, Sword King Lawrence was undeniably a hero in their hearts.

But Lawrence’s sister crumpled instantly, weeping like rain.

Her last living kin was gone.

Seeing this, Wilson Atras smoothly continued, "Yes, Lawrence is gone. My right hand has made the greatest sacrifice of his life. I mourn him, but I am proud of him. I... know not what I can do for a fallen hero, save to care for his family. His sister—milady, by my decree, you shall be known henceforth as Lady Rose, with all the honors of a noble."

At the villa’s gates, the assembled citizens could not help but applaud at such "generosity."

To them, Sword King Lawrence’s sacrifice was just, glorious, and grand; Wilson Atras proved himself a prince who honored his champions, and all who served him could hope for a favorable fate.

Yet

as the ceremony waned and the crowds dispersed, Wilson Atras left Lawrence’s sister behind without a backward glance. He climbed into his carriage and departed in haste.

Halfway along the road, he suddenly turned to his attendant outside the carriage and asked, "By the way, what was that woman’s name? I can’t recall it."

"Monica, Your Highness."

"Oh. Never mind. Issue my orders: have the army surround Rose Valley. Allow no Demon to leave, and no one to enter. Not until the threat is fully suppressed."

"Yes, Your Highness."

No sooner had the prince and his attendant spoken than the carriage came to an abrupt halt. Even the ever-composed crown prince was sent sprawling inside with a thud.

"Damn you, coachman! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Your Highness... it’s Imperial Princess Isabella Atras," the attendant stammered, his voice quavering with awe.

At this, the prince’s expression changed in an instant. He no longer berated the coachman but leapt out of the carriage with a beaming smile.

Before him stood a young woman with hair the color of burnished gold, faintly glowing in the sunlight, as if a celestial maiden had descended to earth. Yet everyone in the Imperial Capital knew she was not to be trifled with.

"Oh, my dear sister, God’s chosen Michael’s envoy—what brings you here?" Wilson greeted her, forcing a grin.

"Hmph! Brother Wilson! If Rose Valley’s under demon attack, why didn’t you send me to quell it? Are you favoring someone else?" Princess Isabella’s tone was feisty, sharply at odds with her pure appearance.

Wilson thought for a moment, remembering their father’s strict orders. "Father said you must not leave the Imperial Capital before your coming-of-age ceremony. Otherwise... who knows what might happen? You can ask him if you don’t believe me."

"Hmph! Only two months to go. You’re all such busybodies—so what if I’m nearly of age?" Isabella stamped her foot in a petulant tantrum. The impact shattered the carriage’s solid floor with a single blow, cracking it completely and sinking the foundation by at least five centimeters in a ten-meter radius.

Such was the divine strength of Michael’s chosen—born with uncanny might and Holy Cultivator Guild’s official blessing.

Wilson stared at the broken floor, swallowed nervously, and said, "Uh, right, my dear sister—only two months left. Just hang on a bit longer, have some food and drink, enjoy yourself, and time will pass in no time. When you come of age, I’ll give you a truly grand gift."

Isabella’s eyes sparkled with disinterest. She simply pointed toward Rose Valley and said, "If you want to give a gift, send me to the battlefield to slaughter demons—that’s the gift I want most!"

"That one I can’t allow."

"Why not? You’re the one who decides everything."

"If Father found out, he’d kill me."

"Hee hee—then I’ll slip out of the Imperial Capital myself and tell him you ordered it."

Watching Isabella’s triumphant grin, Wilson’s eyelid twitched in alarm. He hurriedly tried to dissuade her: "My dear sister, that wouldn’t be right—and besides, the front line’s already secured. My swordsman has slain the demon leader, and the remaining lesser demons will be wiped out by the army any minute now. By the time you arrive, there won’t be any demons left—only tasks like calming the populace, hauling bodies, and rebuilding homes. Is that what you want to do?"

Wilson knew full well that Isabella Atras was a battle fiend, consumed only by the thrill of combat—especially the thrill of slaying evil. Everything else bored her.

Sure enough, upon hearing this, Isabella wilted as if frostbitten.

"Oh, really? Brother Wilson, why didn’t you tell me sooner!"

"Sorry—next time, I promise."

"Mmm! Then... when will that ’Luminous Saint’ sent to anoint me arrive? Have him hurry up and perform the rite—only then will I consider myself of age! I want to go hunt demons! Father has always warned me the outside world is perilous—now I want to try my hand!"

At this, Wilson’s lip twitched. He had indeed green-lit the covert operation in Rose Valley.

Alas, he’d expected to receive word of the Luminous Saint’s Death tomorrow—never imagining that, a day early, a demon invasion would erupt.

After that earth-shattering sword strike, he had no idea what had become of Rose Valley—whether the Luminous Saint lived or died.

If dead, so much the better.

If alive... that would be problematic.

He knew exactly the nature of the Rose Valley Chapter: utterly incapable of saving townsfolk in desperation. If the Luminous Saint still lived, he would already have gained immense renown.

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