The training arena was vast and desolate, its barren expanse enclosed by towering stone walls etched with runes that shimmered faintly under the flickering torchlight. At the edge of the arena, a raised platform offered a commanding view of the chaos below. Serena leaned against the iron rail, her crimson eyes glowing faintly as she surveyed the harrowing scene. Below her, her special units—the Dark Army's finest and the 1st Dark Marine Forces—fought not for their lives, but for something far more valuable: their resolve.
Sweat dripped from every soldier as they swung their weapons against enemies that didn't truly exist. Illusions, crafted by Serena's magic and the infinite knowledge of Great Sage, roamed the arena, their forms grotesque and terrifying. The cruelest monsters to ever haunt the world's history had been summoned into their minds—hulking beasts with gnashing teeth, spiked limbs, and glowing red eyes. Some were twisted amalgamations of creatures they could scarcely comprehend. Others were born of the darkest fairy tales, figures meant to chill children to the bone.
Serena straightened slightly, folding her arms over the rail as Great Sage chimed in her mind.
"Simulation status: holding. All combatants are facing creatures tailored to their deepest fears. Randomized additions include figures representative of personal attachments—partners, parents, siblings, and mentors—added to heighten psychological pressure."
A faint smirk tugged at her lips as she watched one soldier—a burly Marine—freeze mid-swing, his weapon faltering as a spectral image of a woman appeared before him. She was crying, pleading with him to stop. The Marine hesitated, his composure breaking as his shoulders slumped. In that moment, an illusory monster lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. He screamed as claws raked across his armor, though the pain was entirely in his mind.
"Weakness," Serena murmured to herself, her tone cold but calculated. "It festers in the heart, but it can be burned away."
Her gaze shifted to another soldier, a member of the Dark Army, whose body trembled as he faced down an enormous, hulking beast with matted fur and dripping fangs. The illusion roared, the sound reverberating in his mind as he stumbled back, tripping over his own feet. The soldier's face twisted in terror, his breathing shallow as he raised his shield in a futile attempt to block the monster's crushing blow.
One by one, her troops fell, collapsing to their knees, gasping for air as the illusions battered their minds and spirits. The arena rang with their cries, their weapons clattering to the ground as the monsters closed in. Finally, as the last soldier dropped, Serena raised a hand, breaking the spell. The illusions dissipated like smoke, leaving only the trembling, exhausted forms of her troops sprawled across the arena floor.
"On your feet!" she bellowed, her voice a whip crack that echoed through the still air. "Again!"
The soldiers groaned, their bodies shaking as they struggled to rise. Some clutched their weapons with trembling hands, their eyes hollow with exhaustion. Others stared up at her, their expressions wavering between defiance and despair. But none of them dared to stay down.
"You think the enemy will give you mercy?" Serena called, her voice cold and sharp. "You think they'll stop because you're tired? Because you've fallen? No. They'll destroy you. They'll destroy everything you've sworn to protect. Is that what you want? To die broken and defeated? To fail those who depend on you?"
The soldiers gritted their teeth, their anger and determination flaring as they forced themselves to their feet. The clanking of armor and the scrape of steel against stone filled the air as they stood, battered but unbroken.
Serena raised her hand again, her fingers weaving an intricate pattern in the air. The runes on the walls flared to life, casting the arena in a sickly green glow as a new wave of illusions emerged. These were worse than before—larger, more grotesque, their roars louder, their presence suffocating. Some soldiers gasped audibly as figures from their past reappeared, their voices mocking, pleading, or condemning.
"Again!" Serena shouted, her tone laced with both cruelty and purpose. "You are not warriors. You are conquerors. And conquerors do not falter. They do not break. They rise. Again, and again, and again! Now fight!"
The soldiers surged forward, their cries of desperation turning into war cries as they charged at the new wave of illusions. Serena watched intently, her fingers gripping the rail as she observed their movements, their choices, their breaking points.
"This is not cruelty," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. "This is the fire that tempers steel. And when I'm done with them, they won't just be soldiers. They'll be unstoppable."
Great Sage chimed in her mind once more.
"Morale holding. Though combatants are nearing physical and psychological thresholds, their overall performance has improved by 18% since the previous round. They are adapting."
Serena smiled faintly, the pride in her expression subtle but unmistakable. She leaned further over the rail, her voice low and sharp as it carried down to the arena below.
"On your feet! Again!"
Serena stood at the railing, her crimson eyes fixed on the soldiers below as they charged into yet another round of illusory horrors. Their shouts echoed through the air, their movements growing more desperate, more determined. She didn't turn when she heard the faint shuffle of boots behind her. She already knew who it was.
"Greetings, Grand Commandant," Serena said smoothly, her voice carrying just enough amusement to make the figure behind her falter.
"Excuse me? My Lady—" Lian stammered, her voice laced with confusion as she stepped forward, her wide eyes darting between the troops and Serena's calm profile.
Serena let out a quiet, almost playful "Ah." She finally turned, her expression unreadable but her sharp gaze fixed on Lian. "My apologies. I meant to tell you sooner. As of tomorrow, you will be the Grand Commandant of the 1st Dark Marine Forces. The 1,500 Marines will be under your direct care."
Lian's mouth fell open slightly, her thoughts visibly racing as she tried to process the words. "My Lady… with respect, I think there's been some kind of mistake."
Serena arched a brow, leaning casually against the rail. "A mistake? Elaborate, Sergeant."
Lian straightened, her voice trembling slightly but her tone firm. "I'm… I'm just a common soldier. A mere inner guardsman who, until three months ago, had never even set foot outside the city walls. Surely there are others—better suited, more experienced—who could lead the Marines."
Serena's lips curled into a faint smirk, her gaze piercing as she replied. "Until three months ago, thirty-six men and women didn't think they could singlehandedly liberate a village overrun by more than a hundred bandits. Yet here we stand, with a village reclaimed, its people safe, and those thirty-six now serving as the foundation of a force unmatched in discipline and resolve."
Lian opened her mouth to respond, but Serena raised a hand, silencing her. "Do you know why they succeeded, Sergeant? It wasn't just because of me. It was because they trusted themselves. They trusted each other. They believed in the cause. And now, I'm asking you to do the same."
"But, my Lady," Lian protested, her voice rising slightly as panic crept into her tone. "I'm not… I'm not like them. I've never fought like they have. I've never been tested the way they were. I don't have the experience to—"
"Enough," Serena said, her voice sharp but not unkind. She stepped closer to Lian, her crimson eyes locking onto the sergeant's with a quiet intensity. "Do you think leadership is born out of experience alone? It isn't. It's forged in fire, in moments of doubt and struggle, just like this. You've proven yourself time and again—not just to me, but to the men and women who follow you. They respect you, Lian. They look to you. Don't insult their faith in you by doubting yourself."
Lian hesitated, her hands clenching at her sides. "They don't follow me because of my leadership, my Lady. They follow because… because they had you. A great queen who they didn't want to disappoint."
Serena tilted her head slightly, a small smile playing at her lips as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "And what makes you think that doesn't apply to you? They see in you the same strength I do, the same resolve. You don't have to be perfect, Lian. You only have to lead. I wouldn't place you in this position if I didn't believe you could rise to it. And believe me, the Marines wouldn't follow you if they didn't believe it, too."
Lian's breath caught in her throat, her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and determination. "But what if I fail? What if I'm not enough?"
Serena reached out, placing a firm but reassuring hand on Lian's shoulder. "Failure isn't in the falling, Lian. It's in the refusal to stand back up. You're enough because you choose to be. And you'll have me behind you every step of the way. Now, will you accept this responsibility, or shall I waste my time looking for someone who can't possibly match you?"
Lian stared at her for a long moment, her chest rising and falling as she grappled with her fears. Finally, she straightened, her expression resolute as she nodded. "I… I'll do it, my Lady. For the Marines. For Celestafell. For you."
Serena's smile widened slightly, approval glinting in her eyes as she stepped back. "Good. Then starting tomorrow, the Marines will call you Grand Commandant. Make them proud, Lian. Make me proud."
Lian saluted sharply, her eyes brimming with determination. "I won't let you down, my Lady."
Serena turned back to the rail, her gaze returning to the soldiers below. "See that you don't. Dismissed."
As Lian turned to leave, her footsteps steadier than before, Serena's voice rang out behind her, stopping her mid-step. "Wait."
Lian froze, then turned hesitantly, her brows furrowed as she met Serena's sharp crimson gaze. "My Lady?"
Serena stepped away from the rail, gesturing for Lian to join her. "Come here. Stand with me."
Confused but obedient, Lian moved to Serena's side, standing at the edge of the platform overlooking the training grounds. Below, the troops were still locked in their illusions, their bodies tense and battered as they fought phantoms of unimaginable horror. The sight of it made Lian grimace, her hands balling into fists at her sides.
Without a word, Serena raised her hand, slicing through the air in a sharp gesture. The shimmering magic that had enveloped the arena faded instantly, the monstrous illusions dissipating like smoke in the wind. The soldiers froze mid-strike, their breaths ragged and their bodies trembling as they looked around, confusion replacing the fear etched on their faces.
"Attention!" Serena's voice cut through the air like a blade, commanding every soldier to snap to attention. Armor clanged and boots stomped as the troops straightened, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten under the weight of her presence.
Serena turned to Lian, her expression calm but expectant. "Now, Grand Commandant, remind them of their duty."
Lian blinked, her eyes widening. "My… My Lady, I—"
"Remind them, Lian," Serena interrupted firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "This is your first act as their leader. Make it count."
Lian swallowed hard, her throat dry as she stepped forward to the edge of the platform. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on her shoulders, but she drew a shaky breath and shouted, "What is your duty?"
Her voice wavered slightly, her tone lacking the confidence Serena knew she had buried within her. The soldiers responded, though their reply was subdued, mirroring the uncertainty in their new leader's voice.
"Louder," Serena said, her voice sharp but patient. "Again."
Lian straightened, her jaw tightening as she tried again. "What is your duty?"
The soldiers' response was louder this time, but it still lacked the force Serena wanted to hear. She smirked faintly, stepping closer to Lian. "Again. And this time, don't ask them, Lian. Command them. Make them believe it."
Lian's fists clenched at her sides as she drew in a deep breath, her voice stronger now. "What is your duty?"
"To serve the Queen's Will!" the soldiers shouted back, their voices louder and more unified.
"Better," Serena murmured, her smirk growing. "But not enough. Again."
Something shifted in Lian's expression—a flicker of frustration mingling with determination. She raised her head higher, her voice booming this time as she bellowed, "What is your duty?"
"To serve the Queen's Will!" the soldiers roared, their voices echoing across the grounds.
Serena's smirk widened as she saw the fire beginning to ignite in Lian's eyes. "One more time, Grand Commandant. Show them who you are. Show them who they serve."
Lian's hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword, and as the words left her lips, she drew it high into the air. The blade caught the sunlight, glinting like a beacon as she shouted with every ounce of conviction in her being, "What is your duty?"
The soldiers' response was deafening, a unified roar that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. "To serve the Queen's Will!"
Serena's gaze remained on Lian, her smirk softening into something almost resembling pride. The hesitation was gone, replaced by a fire that burned bright and fierce. Lian stood tall, her sword still raised, her eyes blazing with the confidence she had lacked just moments before.
"Well done, Grand Commandant," Serena said softly, her voice carrying a rare warmth. "Now, lead them like the conquerors they were born to be."
Lian lowered her sword, saluting sharply as her voice rang out once more. "Marines, fall in! Prepare for the next round!"
The soldiers snapped into motion, their movements crisp and disciplined as they obeyed their new leader without hesitation. Serena stepped back, allowing Lian to take command fully, a satisfied smile playing at her lips as she watched.
Great Sage's voice chimed softly in her mind. "Decision made. Probabilities of success under Lian's command have increased by 27%. Leadership potential evident."
"I know, Great Sage," Serena murmured, her eyes gleaming as she watched the troops below fight their imaginary monsters. "That's why I chose her."
The grand chamber was illuminated by the soft glow of evening light filtering through the tall, arched windows. Serena sat on the plush couch, a stack of parchment balanced neatly on the table in front of her. She moved with effortless precision, her quill gliding across the pages as she signed each document and placed it into its proper pile. The sound of her strokes against the paper was rhythmic, almost soothing, broken only by the occasional shuffle of parchment.
The door creaked open, and Lucien entered, a tray balanced carefully in his hands. His expression was tight, worry etched deeply into the lines of his face as his emerald eyes darted toward the queen. The faint clinking of porcelain broke her focus momentarily, and she looked up, arching a brow at his uncharacteristic silence.
"Tea?" he offered, his voice steady but quieter than usual as he approached her. The teapot and cups rattled faintly on the tray as he set it down on the small table beside her.
Serena tilted her head slightly, her crimson eyes narrowing as she studied him. "You're unusually tense. What's troubling you?"
Lucien hesitated for a moment, then reached into the folds of his coat and produced a folded piece of parchment, its edges slightly crinkled from being carried. The wax seal was unmistakable—King Roderic of Valtheria. He held it out to her, his expression dark. "Another letter."
Serena blinked, then let out a low chuckle, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, Roderic. Ever the persistent one." She took the letter, breaking the seal with a sharp flick of her wrist. Unfolding it, she skimmed the contents quickly, her laughter growing louder as she reached the end.
Lucien's jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides as he stared at her in disbelief. "You're laughing?" he burst out, his voice louder than he intended. "That man is threatening military action—again—and you find it funny? How can you be so casual about this? He's not going to stop!"
Serena set the letter down, still chuckling softly as she picked up her teacup and took a slow sip. Her composure was utterly unshaken, her confidence radiating like a second presence in the room. "Lucien, this is the seventh letter he's sent this month alone. And every single one of them says the same thing: 'Withdraw your forces, or face my wrath.' Tell me, why should I take this one more seriously than the others?"
"Because he's serious," Lucien insisted, his frustration spilling over. He gestured toward the letter on the table, his voice rising. "This is a man with a military background that dwarfs anything Celestafell has faced. He's not going to keep writing letters forever. Eventually, he'll act. And when he does—"
"When he does," Serena interrupted, her voice calm but firm, "he'll find himself sorely unprepared for the reception waiting for him."
Lucien stared at her, his disbelief mounting. "You can't honestly believe you can keep this up forever. He's not going to just back down because you're ignoring him!"
Serena leaned back against the couch, crossing her legs as she regarded him with a faint, knowing smile. "I'm not ignoring him, Lucien. I'm baiting him. Every letter he sends, every idle threat, chips away at his credibility. His nobles grow restless, his soldiers grow complacent, and his kingdom falters under the weight of his obsession with me. Roderic is losing this war before it even begins."
Lucien hesitated, her words giving him pause, but the worry in his eyes remained. "And what if you're wrong? What if he finally acts, and we're not ready?"
Serena's expression softened slightly, and she leaned forward, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "Lucien, look at me. Do I strike you as someone who would leave Celestafell unprepared?"
He frowned, his eyes flicking to the stack of papers she had been signing. Each one represented some aspect of the kingdom's readiness—supply lines, troop deployments, fortifications. Her meticulous attention to detail was undeniable. Still, his unease lingered.
"I just… I don't want to see everything you've built put at risk," he muttered, his voice quieter now.
Serena's smile widened slightly, her gaze soft but resolute. "And it won't be. Trust me, Lucien. I've anticipated every move Roderic might make. When he acts, we'll be ready. And when the dust settles, he'll realize just how costly his obsession has been."
Lucien sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he sat down beside her. "I hope you're right."
"I'm always right," Serena teased, her tone light but confident. She reached for the teapot, pouring herself another cup of tea. "Now, stop fretting. You'll get wrinkles."
Lucien shot her a look, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself. "You're insufferable, you know that?"
"It's part of my charm," she replied smoothly, taking another sip of tea as her laughter echoed softly through the chamber.