Player’s Guide to Raising a BUG Angel-Chapter 63 : First Encounter with the Iron-Fisted Empress

Chapter 63: First Encounter with the Iron-Fisted Empress
Since the wyvern attack, the atmosphere inside the floating magitech carriage had turned even stranger.
The way Elsa looked at Mophis had shifted completely from “reverence” into “worship,” perhaps even “fanatic devotion.”
This left Mophis, who had originally intended to pry more words out of her, feeling awkward. She simply closed her eyes and pretended to nap.
The journey continued in silence.
When the carriage gradually slowed, and the endless mountain ranges and seas of clouds outside the window were replaced by a massive, breathtakingly majestic white city, Mophis knew they had arrived.
The St. Orleans Imperial City.
This city, the greatest miracle in human history, had been built upon a vast plain. The entire city was constructed of immaculate Holy Light Stone, which reflected a sacred brilliance beneath the sun. At its center, a spire taller than all surrounding structures pierced the heavens—the Sun God Tower, the very symbol of imperial authority.
Countless wide avenues spread out like a spider’s web, bustling with carriages and pedestrians, brimming with prosperity and vitality.
The carriage did not stop at the city gates. Instead, it flew straight into the heart of the imperial city, descending slowly onto a heavily guarded, massive plaza.
This was the forbidden ground of the royal palace, a place ordinary people could never set foot in.
“Your Excellency, we’ve arrived.” Elsa’s voice pulled Mophis out of her feigned slumber.
Mophis opened her eyes and followed Elsa out of the carriage.
A solemn, austere, and almost oppressive aura rushed toward her. The plaza’s surface was paved with enormous obsidian tiles, polished to a mirror-like sheen. Every ten steps stood a Royal Guard clad in golden full-plate armor, gripping massive halberds. They were as motionless as statues, yet the iron-blooded killing intent radiating from their bodies was enough to chill the bone.
This was the heart of the St. Orleans Empire, the stage for the “Main Scenario.”
Mophis felt as though she had stepped into a program designed with meticulous precision, where everything around her exuded the essence of “order” and “rules.”
Led by Elsa, she passed through long corridors and several checkpoints, finally arriving before a towering ten-meter gate of gold and ivory.
“My sister awaits you inside.” Elsa gave a respectful bow before stepping aside.
Two guards came forward and pushed open the massive doors together.
Blinding light poured out from within, forcing Mophis to narrow her eyes.
It was an incomparably vast, almost empty throne hall. Murals depicting mythic epics stretched across the vaulted ceiling, and a gigantic crystal chandelier glittered like a constellation of stars. A long crimson velvet carpet extended from the entrance all the way to the hall’s end.
At the end of that carpet, upon a raised dais, sat a colossal, awe-inspiring throne carved from pure obsidian.
A figure sat quietly upon it.
Her golden hair, radiant like sunlight, fell loosely over her shoulders. Her skin was pale as snow, her features so exquisitely refined they seemed like the gods’ most flawless creation. Most striking of all were her violet eyes—deep, serene, yet containing a thunderous, overwhelming might.
She wore a simple black court gown, devoid of excess adornment, its hem embroidered in gold with the emblem of the Empire. She bore no jewelry, her hands resting casually upon the throne’s armrests.
Yet even so, this seemingly “unadorned” woman radiated a suffocating sense of absolute dominion.
She was the master of this Empire, the Empress of St. Orleans—Seraphina de Orleans.
The moment Mophis stepped into the hall, her steps froze.
She could feel an invisible pressure bearing down upon her from every direction. This was neither magic nor battle aura, but a force born purely of power and status.
In this hall, Seraphina alone was the “law.”
Mophis took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She knew that the test had already begun from the moment she set foot in this place.
She did not bow or kneel like others would. Instead, she simply stood quietly, lifted her head, and met the Empress’s gaze with her own cold, silver eyes.
Time seemed to freeze.
The hall was silent enough to hear a pin drop.
After a long while, Seraphina finally spoke.
Her voice was neither soft like Elsa’s nor domineering like Ignis’s. It was calm to the point of coldness, yet every word carried an undeniable authority.
“You are Mophis?”
“I am.” Mophis answered evenly.
“Elsa tells me you were able to pacify an enraged dragon with ease… and could casually bring forth an artifact of the Divine Nation.” Seraphina leaned forward slightly, her violet eyes boring into Mophis as though to pierce her very soul. “I am curious—what kind of being are you?”
It was a blunt, uncompromising interrogation.
Mophis knew she could not use the same evasions she had used with Elsa.
“Who I am is not important.” Mophis’s voice was ethereal and distant. “What matters is that I can see what Your Majesty… cannot.”
“For instance, the ‘truth’ of the world.”
For the first time, a ripple flickered across Seraphina’s eternally unchanging violet eyes.
The truth of the world?
As one of the world’s top NPCs, she had long sensed certain “constraints”—an unseen ceiling. For example, no matter how prodigious, no one could surpass Level 100. For example, history seemed to repeat itself with eerie similarity, again and again.
She had always assumed this was the will of the gods.
But this mysterious girl before her seemed to know far more.
Seraphina glanced at the arcane star map, then at Mophis’s silver eyes that seemed to see through all things.
Her ruler’s heart, which craved absolute control, thundered violently in her chest.
For the first time, she felt such an intense… fascination for someone.
A wild desire to dissect her completely, to possess her utterly.
Slowly, she rose from the throne.
“Very well.” Her voice, no longer cold, now carried a smoldering heat. “The Empire can grant you everything you desire. Wealth, status, knowledge… even aid in defying so-called ‘fate.’”
“But there is one condition.”
She descended the dais, step by step, toward Mophis.
“Swear to me. Swear to the St. Orleans Empire. Pledge all of your loyalty.”
She stopped before Mophis, lifting her chin with one hand, violet eyes locked onto her at such close range.
“Become… mine.”
This was no longer recruitment. It was a bare, unrestrained declaration of dominance.
Mophis’s heart pounded wildly in her chest.