Judgment.
The memory surfaced unbidden from the pages of the Saga of the Divine Swordsman—Lucifer's blade gleaming with white astral energy, his sword the very embodiment of divine justice. I could almost see it: his verdant eyes locked with his enemy, the unstoppable force of his judgment meeting an equally unstoppable fist. The woman with pitch-black hair and dark eyes who had destroyed an entire city, radiating power enough to send shivers down even Lucifer's spine despite being at the same mana rank.
A perfect match for him.
That was how the webnovel had described their battle. Lucifer at twenty-two, meaning this confrontation was still three years in the future. Since the clone would be an adult by then, I'd calculated she should be at least sixteen by now—old enough for complex reasoning, old enough to understand the gravity of her situation, old enough to make her own choices about escape and freedom.
So why the hell was she eight years old?
