I sat atop a mountain of corpses, the weight of their lifeless bodies pressing into my back as I gazed down at the sea of trembling faces before me. Behind me, one hundred thousand men stood in absolute silence, their presence a monolith of power. In front of me, twenty thousand civilians—elves, humans, dwarves, beastmen—stood frozen in place, their bodies quaking, their wide eyes locked onto me in sheer terror.
The once-great capital was nothing more than a graveyard now. Blood soaked the shattered streets, broken buildings stood as hollow shells of what they had once been, and the air reeked of death. Smoke curled toward the sky, blackening what little light remained.
I rose to my feet atop the pile of the dead, my voice cutting through the suffocating silence. "I have killed all of them. Your king. Your queen. All nobles. All Solgraths. All Archmages. All Obfuscators." I let my words settle, watching their fear deepen, watching hope drain from their faces. "Now, submit to me or die."
For a moment, nothing. Just shallow breaths, darting eyes, bodies teetering between survival and defiance. Then, finally, a single elf at the front dropped to his knees. His hands pressed against the bloodstained ground, his forehead touching the dirt in absolute surrender.
Like a wave, the others followed. One after another, they collapsed onto their hands and knees, their voices quivering, their fate sealed.
I looked over them, my silver eyes boring into every single person. "Serve under me, and you will live a life greater than the one you have now. Betray me, and you will die. Your family will die. Your friends will die. Everybody you know will die."
Behind me, one hundred thousand voices thundered in unison.
"ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS! ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!"
The twenty thousand before me flinched but quickly echoed their conquerors.
"ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS! ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!"
Their cries rose into the darkened sky, swallowed by the ruins of the city that no longer belonged to them.
…
(Present Day)
I glanced back at Ophelia, my stomach twisting with unease. She stood within the base while I was surrounded by Gloomtaurs, her expression as calm as ever. But then, she gave me a small smile. A quiet reassurance. Even surrounded by enemies, she remained composed. That was enough. I swallowed my fear and turned away, stepping into the darkness after the Gloomtaur leader.
"You're an assassin, right? Follow quickly."
The leader's voice was firm, almost impatient. Before I could respond, she took off into the shadows. Seventy other figures emerged from the darkness, moving with her like living phantoms. I barely had time to react before I was running too, trying to match their impossible speed.
But I couldn't.
Not even a minute later, I was at my absolute limit, struggling immensely. My breath came in ragged gasps, my legs burning with every stride. They weren't even at full speed, yet I was falling behind. My steps faltered, and before I knew it, my knees hit the ground.
The Gloomtaur leader skidded to a stop, clicking her tongue as she turned. "You call yourself an assassin and you can't even keep up at this speed? Just stick to being a mage."
Heat burned my face, frustration and embarrassment, mixing with exhaustion. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself up, pushing forward despite the pain. I refused to be left behind. But as I ran, I couldn't ignore the countless red eyes glancing my way, filled with irritation.
They had slowed for me.
I wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.
"ARGHHHHHHHH!" A single scream rang out from behind us. Far, far behind us.
Then, without warning, the Gloomtaur leader stopped. Every single figure behind her came to a dead halt. Her head snapped toward the direction we had come from, her entire body tensing.
Her face twisted in pure rage.
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, so hard that blood trickled down her chin. Then, her eyes—burning with fury—locked onto me.
The air shifted.
A crushing force slammed into me as her bloodlust erupted, thick and suffocating. My breath caught in my throat. My legs refused to move. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my body wouldn't listen. I collapsed where I stood, frozen in place.
Darkness surged around her, forming into a massive scythe. With a single motion, she swung—
No.
The blade stopped mid-air.
The other Gloomtaurs, who had reacted instantly to their leader's fury, also dashing towards me, had also frozen, their attacks halted at the same moment. The pressure remained, heavy and suffocating, but no strike came.
I could only shiver in place, helpless, my body betraying me.
Then, minutes later, another shift.
A silver glow emerged in the distance, calm yet chilling. Two golden lights followed, filled to the brim with malice. They stepped from the trees, their presence cutting through the oppressive atmosphere.
Ophelia. Alexandra. Edwin.
The relief of seeing them was so great that I fainted instantly.
…
Ophelia walked forward, golden light radiating from her form. Alexandra moved first, stopping beside Tridra's unconscious body before turning sharply. She faced a Gloomtaur mere inches from her, her expression twisting in fury. She pulled her fist back, her knuckles clenched so tight they turned white.
Then—
"Stop."
Ophelia's voice rang through the night.
Alexandra froze, her fist hovering just centimeters from the Gloomtaur's face. Her shoulders trembled with barely restrained rage. "Ophelia, are these all really demons?"
Ophelia didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Alexandra bit her lip, her hands shaking at her sides as she fought back the hatred in her chest.
Edwin let out a breath, his voice sharp. "I can't believe you're making us work with demons."
"Stop complaining." Ophelia's voice cut through the tense air. "This is the moment where all of our troubles within this forest will cease to exist."
Ophelia's golden glow dimmed for a moment and the change was immediate.
The invisible grip holding the Gloomtaurs released. Their bodies lurched forward, their balance momentarily lost. But as soon as they steadied themselves, their glares snapped toward Ophelia, filled with unrestrained fury.
They moved.
Like a pack of beasts, their rage surged into action, their bodies about to launch forward—
"STOP!"
The Gloomtaur leader's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, stopping them dead in their tracks. Her chest rose and fell, her breaths shallow, sweat beading on her brow as her panicked gaze met Ophelia's.
Ophelia watched her, tilting her head slightly. A knowing smile played on her lips. "What an incredibly cunning thing you are. You were planning on killing me from the beginning, huh?"
Lifting her boot, she revealed a writhing black mass clinging to the sole, tendrils of shadow dissipating like smoke. "You left that man to me, prepared for him to even be killed, so why are you so angry? Are you upset that your plan was foiled?"
The Gloomtaur leader's eyes flickered to the man with the scar beside her. For the briefest moment, uncertainty flashed across her face. The scarred man, however, remained calm. He shook his head.
Ophelia chuckled. "Just as I thought. He can read minds, can he not?"
The leader tensed, her breath growing shallower as more sweat trickled down her temple.
"It might not have been obvious to the untrained eye," Ophelia continued, "but he was poking you with some shadows. Morse code, perhaps? Confirming whether what I was saying was true or false?"
Her smile deepened. "That is not possible. You cannot read my mind. It is not possible. Maybe he was giving you advice then."
The Gloomtaur leader clenched her fists. "Lies. You have something on you that is preventing us from reading your mind."
Ophelia's grin widened. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a smooth silver stone engraved with intricate runes. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it to the side. The rune stone clattered against the dirt.
"Then, go ahead and read my mind."
The scarred man inhaled sharply before pressing into her thoughts.
Then…
A flood. A tidal wave. A storm.
Words. Numbers. Plans. Possibilities. Thousands of them. No—millions.
{If she lunges, step left. If she hesitates, speak again. If Alexandra moves, use it as a distraction. If the scarred man breathes too deeply, he is focusing. If Edwin clenches his fingers, he's ready to strike, I cannot have him ruining my plan. The Gloomtaurs to the left are weaker than the right. Their formations tighten when nervous. The leader shifts her weight before speaking—does she intend to lie? If she lies, probe further. If she falters, exploit it. If she attacks, shut them down. If she flees, shut them down. If the sky darkens, prepare for an ambush. If the ground shifts, anticipate a trap. If the wind changes, adjust stance. If shadows ripple, step back. If they do not, step forward. What is the probability of deception? Ninety percent. Eighty? Fifty? Recalculate… three percent. What is the likelihood of betrayal? How many ways can this go wrong? How many ways can this go right? Adjust accordingly. If she blinks too quickly, doubt her words. If she exhales too slowly, she is buying time. Count the seconds. Observe the microexpressions. Watch the way their muscles shift. Hear the patterns in their breath. Feel the shift in the air. Do not blink. Do not falter. Do not hesitate. What are the next three moves? Ten moves? One hundred? If she speaks, respond before she finishes. If she hesitates, press forward. If she stalls, dominate. If she kneels, she is bluffing. If she spits, she is provoking. If she screams, she is afraid. If she stays silent, she is calculating.}
This was just a fraction of what he managed to process before deactivating his mind-reading ability.
A wall. A sea. A galaxy of information.
The scarred man gasped, his mind lurching back into his own body as if he had been drowning and was suddenly thrown onto dry land. His knees nearly buckled. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts. His fingers trembled. His heart pounded in his ears.
His mind reeled. Overwhelmed. Shattered.
He couldn't think. Couldn't focus. Couldn't—
Ophelia was already watching him. Smiling.
Ophelia tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So, what did you manage to acquire?"
The scarred man dropped to his knees. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with the thin trail of blood trickling from his left nostril. His fingers dug into the wood below him as he whispered, "Everything… and nothing."
The Gloomtaur leader glanced down at him, her expression tightening. Then her gaze snapped back to Ophelia. Her breathing turned unsteady. She had thought she was prepared. Had mapped out every possibility. But now, standing before this woman, she realized—she hadn't planned far enough.
Ophelia's voice was calm, measured. "Some people would rather die in their pride than live in their humility. Which one are you?"
The leader's throat tightened. She forced herself to speak. "How... did you manage to do that? Freeze all of us at once?"
Ophelia chuckled softly. "And why should I tell you?"
The leader exhaled another shaky breath. She clenched her fists. "What do you want from us?"
Ophelia's response was immediate. "I only did this because you were about to interfere with our deal. Nothing more, nothing less."
But the leader's sharp gaze narrowed. Instinct and intuition surged through her, warning her, screaming at her. Lies.
"That's another lie," she said, her voice regaining its strength. "My instincts tell me that's a lie."
Ophelia's grin faded. Coldness settled over her features like ice. Her next words left no room for argument. "I believe we have talked enough. Go back to your home, but at dawn, I want every single Gloomtaur presented before me. If you do not... you all die."
The leader's breath hitched. A shiver ran down her spine. The same instincts that had exposed Ophelia's lie now screamed a different truth.
This wasn't a bluff.
Goosebumps rose across her skin.
This time, Ophelia wasn't lying.