The rhythmic pounding of boots against the dirt road echoed through the valley as The Vengeful One and her 1st Dark Marine Battalion made their way toward Brightshade, the first town conquered during the campaign against Voltheris. Once a thriving settlement, Brightshade's prosperity had dwindled in the dying world, its main source of income reduced to the dwindling trade of rare Brightshade lilies, which were used in alchemy for their potent restorative properties. The once-lush fields of lilies surrounding the town had withered, leaving only patches of their luminous blooms scattered across the desolate land.
The sun hovered low in the sky, casting long shadows as the battalion marched. The soldiers' armor glinted faintly in the light, and their banners swayed with each step. Despite the monotony of the journey, the energy among the troops was palpable. Their queen—The Vengeful One—rode at the head of the column, her crimson eyes scanning the horizon with unwavering focus.
The Marines whispered amongst themselves, awe creeping into their voices as they marveled at their queen's presence. Clad in her dark, intricately forged armor, her onyx horns gleaming faintly, and her cloak trailing behind her like the shadow of death itself, she looked every bit the warrior monarch they believed her to be.
"Brightshade's not far now," murmured a young Marine toward the back of the formation. "It's strange to think we're returning to the first place she conquered."
"Strange?" another replied with a low chuckle. "More like historic. We're part of history marching with her. You saw what she did during the raid—what she's capable of. It's like nothing in this world can touch her."
Their conversation was cut short as the forest flanking the road rustled violently. The soldiers tensed, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons. The sound of snapping branches and low, guttural growls grew louder, sending a ripple of unease through the ranks.
"Form up! Defensive positions!" barked Lian, riding to the center of the formation, her voice sharp and commanding.
Before the Marines could fully react, The Vengeful One raised a hand, silencing them with a single, deliberate motion. Her crimson eyes locked onto the dense underbrush ahead, her expression calm but alert. The ground trembled as the first of the creatures burst into view—massive, grotesque corrupted hounds, their eyes glowing with sickly green light, their bodies twisted and malformed by the dying world's foul magic.
The soldiers braced themselves, readying their weapons, but their queen moved first.
With a flick of her wrist, the shadows around her surged forward like living tendrils. Her aura darkened, and the air grew heavy as she raised her hand. "Obsidian Wrath." Her voice was calm, almost casual, as though she were issuing a command to an unruly servant.
A wave of black energy erupted from her palm, slicing through the air with a deafening roar. The ground shook as the spell obliterated the corrupted hounds in an instant, their bodies disintegrating into ash before they could even leap toward the formation. The shockwave from the attack rippled through the trees, leaving a gaping, smoldering scar in the earth where the creatures had once stood.
The soldiers stared, their breaths caught in their throats as the echoes of the spell faded. One Marine, his voice trembling with awe, whispered, "She didn't even flinch…"
"What did you expect?" another replied, his tone a mixture of disbelief and pride. "That's our queen. Nothing stands a chance against her."
The march resumed, but it wasn't long before another attack came—a swarm of winged fiends that descended from the darkened sky, their screeches piercing the air. Once again, the soldiers prepared for battle, but The Vengeful One merely looked upward, her expression cold and unbothered.
With a simple gesture, she unleashed Hawk's Dominion, her vision sharpening to pinpoint every movement of the creatures above. "Pathetic," she muttered under her breath before conjuring a hail of shadowy spears. The spears shot into the sky, precise and unrelenting, skewering the fiends mid-flight. Their bodies fell to the earth like broken dolls, crumpling into heaps before dissolving into nothingness.
The Marines exchanged astonished glances, their admiration growing with every step. This pattern repeated throughout the march—every time a magical beast or corrupted creature dared to cross their path, their queen annihilated them with such efficiency that the soldiers never had the chance to unsheathe their weapons.
By the time they reached the outskirts of Brightshade, the Marines were buzzing with pride and amazement. One soldier turned to another, shaking his head in disbelief. "She doesn't even give us a chance to fight. It's like she's protecting us before we even know we need protecting."
"It's not just protection," Lian interjected, her voice steady but filled with quiet admiration. "It's a message. To them, to us, to the world. She's showing us what it means to be unstoppable. To lead without fear."
The Vengeful One rode ahead, her crimson eyes fixed on the faint outline of Brightshade in the distance. Her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as she overheard their murmurs. Her people were learning, and so was the world. This was what it meant to follow the Goddess's will. To lead. To conquer. To save.
And she had no intention of stopping. As the rhythmic sound of hooves and boots filled the air, The Vengeful One rode at the head of the 1st Dark Marine Battalion, her posture commanding yet relaxed. The town of Brightshade loomed ahead, its faint outline just visible on the horizon. Her soldiers marched in disciplined silence behind her, the weight of their admiration palpable even without words.
As the minutes stretched on, the quiet hum of her ever-present companion, Great Sage, appeared faintly in the corner of her consciousness.
"My Lady."
She allowed the faintest flicker of acknowledgment, her crimson eyes glinting faintly as she gazed straight ahead. "What is it?"
"I have been monitoring the morale and perception of your troops."
She raised a mental brow, her thoughts tinged with amusement. "And? Speak plainly."
"Their favorability toward you has reached… extraordinary levels. Specifically, 227%. This surpasses the typical scale of loyalty or morale found in traditional leadership structures."
Her lips curved into a small, deliberate smirk as she processed the information. She didn't glance back at the soldiers following her, but the weight of their footsteps and their unwavering silence spoke volumes.
"Two hundred and twenty-seven percent? That's… excessive."
"It is logical, given your actions. Your unwavering presence, your willingness to bear their injuries, and your decisiveness in eliminating threats have created an environment where your troops view you as both a leader and a protector. It transcends loyalty—they see you as irreplaceable."
She chuckled softly to herself, her voice a low murmur that the soldiers might have mistaken for her speaking aloud. "I've turned them into zealots, then? Should I be concerned they'll throw themselves into the fire at the first opportunity just to please me?"
Great Sage's tone was as calm and neutral as ever. "The probability of unnecessary self-sacrifice is minimal. Their admiration is tempered by respect for your strategic mind. They do not wish to fail you."
Her smirk deepened, the faintest glimmer of satisfaction flickering in her crimson eyes. "Good. Blind devotion has no place in my ranks. But this… this is useful. Tell me, how many rulers can claim such loyalty?"
"Within your immediate region? None. Historically, few monarchs achieve even half of this favorability among their troops. You are unique in that your soldiers view you as more than a mortal leader. They see you as a manifestation of power and purpose."
She let out a quiet laugh, the sound barely audible over the march of her troops. "A manifestation of power and purpose… poetic, for a machine. But you're not wrong. They're learning what it means to follow someone worthy."
Great Sage's response was immediate. "Your methods have ensured that your soldiers understand their importance to your vision. The way you've embodied your role as the Dark Messiah has reinforced their belief in your leadership."
She glanced slightly over her shoulder, catching sight of the disciplined rows of Marines marching behind her. There was no hesitation in their steps, no doubt in their gazes. They followed her with the kind of faith that could topple empires and reshape worlds.
"Two hundred and twenty-seven percent, you said?" she mused, the amusement in her tone unmistakable.
"Correct, my Lady."
Her smirk widened, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly as her thoughts sharpened. "Then let's see if we can't push it higher. I have no intention of ruling with mediocrity. If they believe I'm more than a leader, then I'll show them why. The Goddess demands nothing less."
Great Sage's hum grew quieter as its presence faded slightly, its work done for now. The Vengeful One's thoughts lingered on the report, a faint satisfaction settling over her as she rode. The troops behind her weren't just soldiers—they were an extension of her will, an unshakable force bound by loyalty and belief.
And they would follow her to the ends of the earth.
Her smirk lingered, subtle but present, as the march continued.
The streets of Brightshade were eerily quiet, the faint clinking of armor and the rhythmic march of boots echoing against the cracked stone walls of the once-thriving town. The Vengeful One rode at the head of her column, her crimson eyes scanning the streets with a cold, calculating gaze. The buildings, many of which were little more than crumbling husks, leaned precariously toward one another as if sharing in their decay. Piles of rubble lined the alleys, and the air carried the faint, acrid tang of neglect.
Her jaw tightened as her gaze swept over the town square, where a few villagers cowered by the edges, their hollow eyes flicking toward her and her Marines. Children clutched at their mothers' skirts, their faces pale and gaunt. The men stood back, some lowering their heads while others barely hid the flicker of resentment in their expressions. None dared speak or step forward.
Despite the visible presence of her Marines, who were laboring to rebuild what they could—repairing walls, clearing debris, and distributing rations—the town's atmosphere remained heavy with unease. It was as if Brightshade itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to tip the balance.
She pulled her horse to a stop near the center of the square, her black cloak shifting in the light breeze. Dismounting with a fluid motion, she let the reins drop, her boots clicking sharply against the uneven cobblestones as she surveyed the scene more closely. The weight of her presence was palpable, the villagers shrinking further into the shadows as her crimson eyes turned toward them.
"Pathetic," she muttered under her breath, her voice low enough that only Lian, riding nearby, caught it.
"My Lady?" Lian asked hesitantly, dismounting to join her.
The Vengeful One didn't answer immediately. She took a slow step forward, her gaze lingering on a half-collapsed building where two Marines worked tirelessly to clear away the debris. The structure had once been a shop, judging by the faded sign barely clinging to its hinges, but now it was little more than a skeleton of its former self.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she spoke, her voice sharper this time. "Look around, Lian. What do you see?"
Lian glanced uneasily at the villagers, then at the broken state of the town itself. "A place in need of repair, my Lady. A place that has suffered."
"Suffered?" The Vengeful One's crimson eyes narrowed, her tone laced with distaste. "This isn't suffering, Lian. This is stagnation. Look at them. Hiding in their ruins, cowering in their filth. They cling to the scraps of a world that no longer exists. And for what? To waste the efforts of my Marines who toil to bring them salvation?"
She gestured sharply toward a group of villagers huddled near a dilapidated fountain, her armor catching the faint light as her voice grew colder. "Fear. That's all I see. They look at me as though I've come to take what little they have left. But it's not fear of me that keeps them like this. It's fear of change. Fear of rebuilding."
Lian swallowed, her gaze shifting between her queen and the frightened townsfolk. "Perhaps they need time, my Lady. They've endured so much already—"
"Endurance breeds complacency, Lian," The Vengeful One interrupted, her voice cutting like a blade. "They've survived this long doing nothing but enduring. If they want to continue living under my rule, they'll learn to do more than exist. They'll learn to thrive. Or I'll ensure someone else does in their place."
Her words sent an almost visible ripple through the Marines around her, their postures straightening as they absorbed the weight of her resolve. The villagers, too far to hear her exact words, nevertheless felt the sharp edge of her tone. Some shrank further away, while others exchanged uneasy glances.
She let out a slow breath, her gaze softening just enough to show a flicker of thoughtfulness. "I didn't march an army to this place to rebuild a graveyard. If these people won't help themselves, then they'll learn to follow my example."
Lian hesitated, then nodded slowly. "What would you have us do, my Lady?"
The Vengeful One's lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. "Start with the basics. Gather the able-bodied. Teach them. Show them what it means to take back control of their lives. If they refuse… remind them of the price of inaction. Brightshade will either rise with us or crumble without us. The choice is theirs."
Her eyes swept the square one final time, lingering on the terrified faces of the villagers. For a brief moment, she softened—barely noticeable but enough for Lian to catch it.
"They fear me, Lian. Let them. Fear is a useful thing. But if I have my way, one day they'll look up at me not with fear, but with pride. Until then, let them cower. They'll learn."
Turning sharply, she mounted her horse once more, her cloak swirling behind her as she pulled the reins. Her Marines immediately fell into formation, their disciplined movements a stark contrast to the shuffling and hesitant steps of the villagers.
As the column began to move, The Vengeful One cast one last glance at Brightshade's crumbling streets, her distaste mingling with cold determination. This place will rise, she thought.