Philip stood there, momentarily speechless, before blurting out, "Wait—the Empress of Avalondia... is the Realm Guardian?" He glanced at the System, half-certain he must have misunderstood. "Are you saying they made a living weapon of mass destruction their head of state?"
Standing at his side, the System—still garbed in that scandalous private-tutor ensemble from earlier—gave a sultry shrug. Her form-fitting pencil skirt and snug white blouse looked even more incongruous now that the discussion had turned to doomsday weapons. But she seemed unbothered, idly tapping a pointer against her palm.
The System folded her arms, her expression equal parts smug and amused. "Last time I checked, yes. The unstoppable doomsday weapon who can disintegrate entire cities is also the nominal head of the Avalondian Empire. Surprised?"
"Surprised is an understatement," Philip muttered, hands reflexively rubbing his temples. "And... you said I made a fool of myself around her for fifteen minutes?"
The System nodded in agreement.
An imaginary scene suddenly unfurled in Philip's mind: an imperial palace with sprawling arches, gold-trimmed pillars, and throngs of richly dressed nobles milling about. At the palace's center stood a colossal, fire-breathing dragon—a tiara perched on its head—occasionally puffing out smoke, as if this were perfectly normal. Meanwhile, a drunken "old Philip" clung to the dragon's giant paw, peppering it with sloppy kisses while crooning, "Rosetta, I love you, please don't leave me."
Philip's jaw dropped at the absurdity. "Seriously?" he mumbled, watching the mental image in horror. "I was... canoodling with a dragon paw at some fancy reception for fifteen minutes while everyone looked on? No wonder my grandfather wanted to disown me."
"Oh yes," the System replied dryly. "From the perspective of all the guests present, it was more than just embarrassing—it was as stressful as the Cuban Missile Crisis. Everyone was convinced the world might go kaboom at any second."
Philip shot her a sidelong glare, but the System merely adjusted her pencil skirt, slipping a hand into a pocket as though she were a professor about to read out exam results.
Philip let out a strangled groan. "So I literally spent a quarter of an hour kissing a dragon's paw while the entire imperial court held its breath, worried the world might end?"
"That pretty much sums it up," the System answered lazily, scratching her back like she'd recounted this story a hundred times. "Except that the Empress is not a dragon."
He frowned. "The Empress... isn't she some living entity of terrifying power? Or are you telling me I was kissing something even weirder...?" Philip's face went pale as nightmarish visions flitted through his mind—kissing a giant robot claw, a cyclops's foot, you name it.
The System chuckled at his horrified reaction. "Now that your bizarre imaginations are out of the way, let me show you what the Empress really looks like."
Her pointer in hand, the System snapped her fingers, and a 3D hologram of Empress Celestica in all her glory appeared. A tall, breathtakingly beautiful lady with two large, radiant wings spread gracefully behind her. Long, golden hair cascaded over a flawless face, crowned by an ornate diadem shimmering with emerald gemstones. Her so-called armor was more a scandalous adornment, hugging her generous curves with mostly decorative plates that left large swaths of smooth skin exposed—her ample bosom accentuated by her breastplate, and her shapely legs particularly on display, save for minimal greaves and a skirt made of metal plates.
Philip's eyes nearly popped from their sockets. The words tumbled out before he could stop them: "That's... impractical..." A heated flush coursed through him. "I meant the armor."
Standing beside him, the System clicked her tongue and gave him a wry smile. She flicked her pointer at the hologram, prompting the Empress's wings to flutter in the projection as if they were responding to Philip's astonishment. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩·𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢·𝔫𝔢𝔱
The System gave him a knowing wink. "Of course you meant the armor. It's totally impractical for a battlefield."
He stammered, "No, I really did mean her armor!"
"Yesss," she purred, eyes twinkling. "I know—you don't have to explain. You meant her armor is basically nonexistent around the legs."
"Exactly," Philip mumbled, gaze struggling to hide his embarrassment. "Very... nonexistent."
The System smirked and flipped a hand toward Celestica's holographic breastplate. "If you knew her power, you'd realize she doesn't need armor. She can flatten a city with one swing of her sword or a simple blast of mana. The armor's just ceremonial—maybe it blocks the odd meteorite that zeroes in on her midsection once in a billion years."
Philip tore his sight away from the Empress's... breastplate. "But... aren't Realm Guardians supposed to be giant summoned beasts or advanced AI weapons? That's what I gathered from your earlier descriptions."
"Indeed," the System said. "Guardians can be monstrous dragons, colossal sentient computers, living storms—you name it. The Arussian Empire got Cyberia, a supercomputer that can simultaneously destroy half of the planet with the magical equivalent of nuclear blasts. Avalondia, by contrast, ended up with this gorgeous winged lady."
He snorted. "And then they just crowned her Empress? Sure, that's a logical leap."
"If only it were that simple," the System drawled. "Avalondia spent ten years and fifty million Continental dollars on a top-secret weapons project, aiming to summon a terrifying colossus. Instead, the summoners got what most saw as an 'expensive pinup model.' The entire research team—dozens of summoners, hundreds of military officers, fancy-pants bigwigs—threw a collective tantrum. They assumed the summoners involved in the final ritual must have inadvertently tainted it with their dirty minds."
She leaned one hip against Philip's desk, crossing her legs. The pointer flicked again, transitioning the hologram to a dimly lit underground lab.
At a snap of her fingers, the System shifted the hologram to a scene of a massive underground facility ablaze with glowing mana conduits and panicked researchers shouting over each other. Rows of magical devices hummed in the background. Some demanded Celestica be "unsummoned," while others suggested testing her power first. Vendors, mage-engineers, and officers alike argued about wasted funds and reputations.
"Among those were the twelve summoners who participated in the final ritual. One of them was Winston," the System continued. "Quiet, unassuming fellow—and secretly an imperial prince. While everyone else lost their minds, Winston calmly said, 'Put on your protective gear. Let's see what she can do before we start blaming each other.' Then he had the newly summoned, nameless Celestica destroy a mock city on a testing range."
The scene changed again. At Winston's measured order, Celestica's eyes flared with sudden intent—gone was the docile innocence, replaced by fierce clarity. She soared high, her blade glowing with brilliant mana. One swift swing later, the entire test city lay obliterated in a smoking crater, flattened by an invisible blast of air. Soldiers and scientists gawked in open-mouthed horror, dust swirling in a thick haze of devastation. Then, as silence descended, she gently fluttered back down, her wings still rustling with the raw energy she had unleashed.
"When she finally landed," the System said, "everyone in the crowd tensed as if bracing for a second cataclysm. Her luminous eyes still glimmered with remnants of that destructive power, and her wings fluttered like she might unleash another slash at any moment. Instead, she padded calmly toward Winston—her bare legs moving with a strangely innocent grace. Gasps rippled through the onlookers; some even began edging backward, convinced they were about to witness an uncontrollable weapon go berserk.
"But then she knelt at his feet, folding her wings in a gesture of pure submission. Before anyone could process how surreal it looked, she leaned in and nuzzled her cheek against Winston's leg, very much like a puppy craving praise. Winston stood there, beet-red, as though every ounce of composure had drained from him. Unsure how to respond, he patted her head—the most awkward, public display of affection the empire had ever witnessed.
"In halting, broken speech, she murmured, 'Name... me?' The entire place fell silent, from high-ranking summoners to anxious soldiers. Winston, visibly flustered, hesitated just long enough for a wave of dread to pass through the onlookers—then he blurted out, 'Celestica.' That one word was all it took. She beamed at him, her wings giving a brief, happy flutter, and everyone watching realized in that moment that this unstoppable force submits to the whims of one man."
Philip made a face. "So basically immeasurable power meets childlike innocence. That's... a recipe for some fireworks."
"But there was one problem," the System continued. "The original purpose of creating Celestica wasn't just to have a pet superweapon. The Avalondian Empire wanted to reveal her to the world—like flashing a nuclear deterrent—to cement its status as a superpower. But as the massive research team began testing her capabilities, they uncovered a severe flaw: Celestica constantly drained mana from across the empire's leylines—like arteries in a living body—whenever she performed large-scale magic or even wandered about. Provinces faced magical blackouts, devices short-circuited. The top brass panicked and decided maybe she should be sealed in stasis for emergencies only."
She gestured to the hologram again, revealing a frantic debate among aristocrats and mages. "Winston—back then, just another member of the team—stepped forward to object. When he dropped the bombshell that he was an imperial prince, the uproar paused. The committee gave him five years to fix the crisis. If he failed, Celestica would be stasis-bound forever. Over those years, he poured his heart into a specialized ward to suppress her automatic mana draw. He discovered her aura of light is actually a concentrated mana barrier sustained by her body's non-stop siphoning of the empire's mana lines. He enlisted rotating teams of powerful mages to cast a sealing spell at her original summoning site—and it worked... mostly. If she becomes emotionally unstable, the seal cracks no matter what."
"Of course," the System added with a knowing smirk, "that was the easy part. Winston was also falling for Celestica—partly out of awe for her power, partly because her naïve, sweet personality tugged at his lonely heartstrings. He was just another shy prince overshadowed by family politics, but she, with her curiosity and mesmerizing beauty, quickly became more than his 'project.' By the time the Empire was ready to go public with this winged goddess, Winston and Celestica were already sneaking off on affectionate dates—candid photos of which soon splashed across the newspapers."
"When those shots went viral under headlines like The Prince and the Angel, the imperial family was livid. But the monarchy was crumbling in popularity after the last big war; many dominions had broken away or gained autonomy. Watching public sentiment skyrocket for Winston and Celestica's so-called pure romance, the Emperor realized this could salvage the empire's image. And so Winston rose to Crown Prince. He married Celestica, unveiling her to the world not just as a deterrent but as the Empire's beloved Guardian-Princess. Their only headache?" She paused, letting Philip absorb the scene. "Celestica's perpetual mana draw made her body perpetually sweat out mana-laden moisture, so constant bathing became her absolute favorite pastime. Winston, famously frugal, was mortified by the water bills—until they discovered her leftover bathwater replenished people's mana. Hello, Her Perspire brand! Bottles of Celestica's bathwater sold like hotcakes, men gave them to girlfriends, girlfriends squealed over owning a piece of Celestica. It was an instant sensation."
Philip grimaced at the thought. "I've seen plenty of celebrity obsessions back in Bortinto, but this is next level. I guess Winston and Celestica were... happy, though?"
The System shrugged lightly. "They were, except Celestica, being a magical creation despite her humanlike biology, couldn't conceive. Winston stayed completely devoted. No heir. When he died two decades ago, the Empire decided Celestica—ageless, powerful, and beloved—would remain Empress, unifying the realm as a figurehead. Politicians found her docile, easy to manage. Everyone else adored her."
Flicking a lock of hair behind her ear, the System straightened her blouse as though preparing for a final pop quiz. She leaned in closer to Philip, looking oddly delighted at how enthralled he was by the story.
Philip stared at Celestica's regal hologram, her wings shimmering in the light, her eyes exuding a strange blend of innocence and raw power. "A living weapon turned Empress... because she's both cute and terrifying," he murmured. "That's... ironically brilliant."
The System smirked. "Welcome to the new world, dear Host. Get used to it."
His gaze drifted back to Celestica's angelic visage and ridiculously ample... wings displayed in glimmering detail. He shook his head, awestruck. "So that explains why old Philip got so plastered he tried to kiss her hand for fifteen minutes. She's off-the-charts gorgeous—and that's ignoring her cosmic destructive potential. No wonder my grandfather nearly had a cardiac event."
"I'd say fifteen minutes of hand-kissing in front of the most dangerous being in the empire is a tad too long," the System muttered. "You're lucky Celestica's so docile. She just stood there, wearing her usual clueless smile, while everyone else braced for an apocalypse."
Philip massaged his temples. "Great. Another powerful, beautiful woman in my orbit, as if I don't have enough problems. I'm collecting them like trading cards."
"That's what happens when you inherit the old Philip's glorious mess," the System teased, winking playfully. "But hey, second-life freebies come with a price. Now hurry up and fix it."
He let out a dry laugh, but as the fading hologram left ghostly traces of Celestica's image behind, an unsettling notion struck him.
You know, he thought, this business of a beautiful magical girl who draws mana like a vortex and loves her baths... it reminds me way too much of Natalia.
The System tilted her head, eyes brimming with mischief. "Oh? Did you finally catch on to something, bright boy?"
Philip's face paled. "Wait, you're not implying... Are you saying Natalia is—? Is that why assassins keep turning up at my doorstep?"
A sly grin curled across the System's lips. "Bingo. You're starting to connect the dots. But I can't hand over all the answers, now can I? You'll never learn that way, my dear, adorably clueless student."
Philip's heart hammered as he stared at the empty space where Celestica's hologram had hovered just moments before. The implications swarmed his mind like a cloud of wasps: Natalia, the attacks, the forbidden nature of her summoning—did it all tie back to this? His pulse quickened at the realization. The pieces were sliding into place, but the picture they formed made his skin prickle with uneasy anticipation.
Could Natalia be a dangerous key to something far bigger than he'd ever imagined—and the very reason assassins want him gone?