In the dark twilight, the gathering of beasts was as if a section of the sky fell off. Above them in the sky, was an even more massive shadow that mirrors the movement the tide below.

Ovid stood still and silent amidst the barren trees. Along the distance between him and the monsters were at least several hundred kilometres, this magnificent and terrifying sight was was viewed by Ovid.

Ovid gazed at the two skies infront of him. After performing his breathing routine, he took a step toward the thousand upon thousands of beasts that made up the fallen sky. Their imposing mana fluctuation soaring towards the heavens as if wishing to return.

Ovid’s preception of mana was truly impressive, aside from the most powerful creatures, he could sense that the tide was made of sirens, centaurs, spineless serpents, stymphalian birds and many others, all casting a shadow over the forest.

If all those monsters attack at once, they could probably fill in the entirety of the Straton confluence. Let alone Ovid, the mysterious matriarch of the clergy, perhaps even the saints, could only flee for their lives. Besides the Pope or Julia, who could stay fend off the monster tide alone?

But while Ovid was not the Pope, he had two figures behind him that were of similar strength. Perhaps due to the gust of wind Irene had blown through the forest, that the monsters maintained a distance from Ovid, although they had let out frustrated cries, they avoided taking a single step slower.

Like a meteor, a gorgeous stream of light broke through the darkness.

Seeing this picture, Ovid did not feel a sense of wonder like he had in his previous life. Tightening his grip around the blade, a furrow appeared on Ovid’s brows.

It seemed that the speed of the figure was similar to that of a meteor. In an instant, it travelled through the barren woods and arrived at the space infront of Ovid.

A truly massive pair of pure white wings gently flapped in the gloomy night. Between the two wings was a girl that seemed around ten years of age but unlike the majestic appearance of her wings, the girl’s appearance was delicate, with a childish air that still hung about her. She couldn’t be considered that pretty, yet a strange brightness vividly brightened her features.

The girl sized up Ovid. Her thin brows lightly stained with dust slowly raising as an unhappy expression appeared on her ordinary face. “I don’t like a pretty woman.”

Ovid blinked, tilting his head somewhat, he asked, “Why don’t you like a pretty woman?”

The girl raised her hand and pointed at Ovid, “I am supposed to be the princess of the Aeon forest. How can I be a princess if you’re prettier than me? Your skin is white and your body is well developed, your mannerism is also very handsome. What if all the beast under me deflect to you?”

Ovid couldn’t simply scar his face to please the girl, in the first place, he never had any thoughts regarding controlling over the beast. Yet Ovid did not care about any of those topics, rather, he was somewhat surprised that the girl had called him pretty, and his mannerism handsome.

Maybe it was because the girl herself was dressed somewhat sloppily, a large coat made of hemp with rough embroidery made her already tiny stature seemed even smaller, causing the girl to appear extremely adorable.

In the end, Ovid lowered his head up and said, “There isn’t any point to being pretty.”

The girl’s unhappiness turned to rage, her features tussling.

This was because when Ovid lowered his head, it felt as if he was talking down to her.

The girl lowered her gaze from Ovid’s face to his chest, staying silent for a while, she said, “You are undeserving of such beauty.”

Ovid felt slightly astonished but remained silent.

This made the girl’s rage grow further, gritting through her teeth, she said, “I am Margrethe, the princess of the beasts,” Margrethe’s black hair danced clumsily in the night, but suppressed it regardless. “If you submit to me, I shall make you my vassal.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Margrethe’s name was seldom known in the human world, only great beings like saints would know who she is. However, to the silver elves and beasts, her existence is that of a miracle, an occurrence that happens only every thousand years.

Margrethe was the reincarnation of the mighty phoenix, yet that was not important, as there had been many cases of bishops slaying phoenix. The reason why she had garnered such great respect, was because she was the youngest beast to have ever gained sentience, at the age of eight, she had unknowingly done what many creatures cannot. Gain true intelligence on par with humans.

Yet due to her young age and impressionability, she had always been obsessive over the lives of humans, she would wear their clothing, conceal her true form to take that of a human, and force the beast under herself to call her their queen.

Furthermore, she was well known for kidnapping humans… It is just that the humans she captured would always be that of humble background, resulting in Margrethe adopting their style of wearing rural clothing and possess the pettiness a rural individual would have.

Some time passed, and Ovid had yet to respond. “You humans don’t know what’s good for you. I challenge you to a duel!”

Cai Hua floated slightly above the clouds, becoming somewhat amused at the antics of the creature that had recently gained sentience. Since Margrethe had lived for barely more than a dozen years, and possess the level of a mere bishop, he has no need to fret.

Ovid knew that this battle was not a matter of life and death, but to Margrethe, this was a matter of life and death. After asking a beast to retrieve herself a glove, she promptly threw it onto the slightly red ground.

In the next moment, a rapier was in her hands, slashing toward Ovid.

This was a terrible way to use a weapon as slender and long as a rapier, yet the force behind it was not unlike to those of a broadsword, carrying an unbelievable strength.

The sword style Margrethe employed was very amateurish, in fact, it could be conceived that she had no experience with a sword at all, aside from wild swipes, she seemed to know nothing else.

Margrethe’s wings fluttered along with the sword, blowing the wind across the forest, it also propelled her rapier!

Seeing this strike, Ovid’s expression remained the same, as he had been long prepared for the strike. The moment Margrethe struck, Ovid’s mind had gone through many calculations, arriving at the position best to block Margrethe’s strike.

This was, of course, able to be done due to Margrethe’s simple strike.

Ovid’s small and slender fingers wrapped itself firmly around the hilt of his blade, in a broad, sweeping motion that seemed to encompass the whole world, overthrowing the clouds and rivers.

A shrill cry, like that of a phoenix, broke through the black sky.

A loud bang!

The pillars of the old bridge trembled as the two swords collided, with powerful mana radiating off Margrethe’s body, even the heavens were not able to contain the powerful blow.

At the forest, the already barren tries began to crack, the dark bark revealing the soft, green core of the Steel Bark Tree.

The cracks originated from underneath Margrethe’s sandals.

Her sandals were evidently something made by a peasant with simple straws, but the scene created as it stepped on the forest was very shocking.

The tip of Margrethe’s blade moved at great speed, yet upon contact with Ovid’s blade, it formed a cross shape and did not manage advance further. Reflecting the starlight, the two blades began to vibrate.

Behind the rapier was Margrethe, her face switching between shock and rage.

Both sides were too stubborn, eventually, the momentum behind the rapier disappeared. With a sharp sound, the two pieces of metals separated.

Margrethe’s hemp coat swayed gently, before turning into nothingness.

Looking at the piling dust that had been her coat, a furious look appeared between her two brows as she complained, “I am a princess, how could her clothes be better than mine.”

In the next moment, Margrethe appeared on the banks of the river, only a few meters away from Ovid. Once again, she thrust her rapier forward.

However, Ovid’s speed was even greater, bending his blade through the air, the sound of a loud gust of wind arose from the empty forest under the night sky.

Margrethe’s inner garment now swayed, before turning into dust. She immediately appeared on another part of the forest.

Ovid found this sort of movement very interesting, as it should be logically impossible. While it did not affect Ovid’s ability to defend against Margrethe, a portion of his calculations was now placed on studying her movement.

Margrethe’s speed was too fast.

If a normal person like Anna saw the battle, she would see nothing but Margrethe appearing in and out, seemingly at random intervals and random place, along with a silvery light flashing by Ovid every time the two blades made contact.

However, a true expert like Cai Hua could see the nature of the battle very easily. Ovid was using his sheer mental power to remain at equal speed with Margrethe. Margrethe herself was using the inborn skill possessed by all phoenixes, Steps of Nirvana.

For humans, this was one of the most desired manuals, as it allowed one to simultaneously die and be reborn at their desired locations, creating an effect much like teleportations.

Ovid was placed in a passive role, although he did not mind it much, his interest in Margrethe’s manual grew each time she reappeared upon a mountain.

Yet this concentration on Margrethe caused Ovid’s pool of mana to grow weaker. After slaughtering the Dryads, the silver pearl in his body had already been exhausted.

When a person can no longer manipulate mana, they would become an ordinary person.

This was why aside from saints, individuals in the clergy would not partake in wars, as they would easily become overwhelmed by countless enemy soldiers, and run out of mana.

Ovid’s mana ran out, the silver pearl returning to a state of tranquillity.

With a loud sound, Margrethe’s body appeared close enough for Ovid to see the two dimples on her face.

An overpowering mana fluctuation overcame Ovid’s sensitive mana perceptions.

An extremely bright sword ray cut through the Steel Bark Trees in a circular arc, chopping violently at Ovid’s body.

The rapier carried a mana fluctuation of unparalleled dominance, giving Ovid the feeling of being consumed by a singularity. No matter what, he would not be able to escape.

A few strands of hair was sliced through, leaving figments of silver on the cracked floor.

If he was hit directly with the rapier, he would die.

Ovid did nothing and looked towards the sky, yet instead of seeing Cai Hua, he found a bright object that far surpassed the rapier in radiance.

Ovid’s long, silver hair danced gently in the wind made by Margrene’s sword as he said calmly, “SA51.”

“Tanin.”